Let Me Show You How It's Done - Part I

It's not that the food in Canada is weird, it's just that there is a definite lack of southern comfort. Forget about grits, they've never even heard of them. Sausage isn't the same either. I'm no expert on sausage but I know there is more to it than just links. For example, Jimmy Dean = John Doe here in Canada. It doesn't exist. I don't know how they expect to make a decent breakfast. How does one make breakfast casserole? Sausage egg scrambles? Sausage cheese balls?

Let me show you. 

The Canadian has to bring more food to work tomorrow and when I suggested sausage cheese balls he kind of looked at me like I had eight heads. That was enough for me - it's time to show the Maritimes what they're missing and why Jimmy Dean should be translated in French.

You start with 1/2 cup of milk. No, I don't know how many milliliters that equals.

Then you go to three different grocery stores in search of sausage in a tube. You graciously act like you don't notice the weird looks you get when inquiring about the whereabouts of this strange sausage. Spicy sausage in a tube? Not happening. I was lucky to find normal sausage in a tube.

Then you add 16 ounces of cheese. No, I don't know how many grams that equals and I don't care.

Then you go to two more grocery stores looking for Bisquick. Then you finally find it, with no help from the employees, on the bottom self, way in the back all by its lonesome.

You add three cups. Again, I don't care or want to know how many grams that equals.

Then, because you're feeling sassy after all the grocery store hunting, you throw in some rosemary.

Then you mix it all up with your hands and try not to develop arthritis. Then you wash your hands and try not to contaminate your whole house with salmonella.

Then you roll it all up into little balls and remember how yesterday you won the Wife of the Year award. And you'll probably win it again today, too.

Then you bake it for 20 minutes at 350 Fahrenheit. No, I don't know what that is in Celsius.

Then you sit back and enjoy your eggnog because you just single-handily showed Canada what an authentic southern appetizer looks like.

God bless the South. And Betty Crocker. And Jimmy Dean.

Wife of the Year

I had one mission today: make 8,000 batches of chocolate chip cookies for The Canadian's co-workers.

In the States, making cookies is not too difficult. It's one of the few recipes I manage to do fairly well.

Here in Canada, it is the world's largest pain in the rear. My recipe is American, therefore calling for cups and ounces of ingredients. Here in Canada all the all the ingredients are measured in grams and milliliters. Not to mention the French labeling. Not to mention the bizarre brands. Not to mention the bizarre shelving assignments at the grocery store that I will never understand. What used to be simple trips to the grocery store are now enough to make me pull all of my hair out, bite off all my nails and have a minor stroke.

The chocolate chips look weird, even though they're made by Hershey.

Why can't they all just look the same? What can't we all just get along? And what the hell is a Chipit?

Whatever...I finally gathered the ingredients so I got out my glorious super-sized mixer (thank you, Grandpa).

I mixed and I mixed. I made a complete mess of my kitchen. The government may declare a natural disaster area tomorrow. Watch your local news.

I got my hands dirty, but fortunately I remembered to take off my rings this time. God forbid I lose a diamond in this chaos.


In the end, after countless hours, endless cleaning, and never ending expletives, the cookies were complete.

Wife.

Of The.

Year.

My New Favorite Game

We celebrated Christmas with The Canadian's family this past weekend since we won't be here for the actual holiday (watch out Atlanta, here we come!). We both received great gifts...but one in particular stole the show. Let me ask you, when was the last time you got a toy for Christmas? I'm talking the kind you can play with for the rest of the afternoon and can't wait to show off to your friends. It's been awhile, right?

Let me introduce you to your new favorite toy - ColorKu.

You've played, or at least heard of, Sudoku...this is the colored wood version. No numbers, just colors.

Hours of endless entertainment.

The same rules apply. Each color can only be used once in every row and once in every square.

Instead of the 'fixed' numbers written in the boxes, you choose a card that shows where to place the fixed colors.

The set comes with just over 100 puzzles, ranging from easy to extreme.

I chose the easy route. It may be several years before I reach moderate.

The best part is there are no nasty erase marks. You just pick up the ball and start over.

When you finally, three cups of coffee (or wine) later, solve the board you'll feel like you've just climbed Everest. The feeling can only be described as pure joy. Or relief. Whichever.

I lied before, the best part is actually not playing the game at all but just arranging and rearranging all the pretty colors in fun patterns. It's my ADD and OCD. It makes fidgit and organize.

I can't help it.

PS - They give you the answers too - NO CHEATING!