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Hilary With One L

Hilary With One L

Hilary With One L

Hilary

Monday’s Message

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This image and the message will come together in a bit. . .just bear with me.

So, a couple of days ago, Craig and I had to go to this black-tie event downtown.  The day was one of the books, let me tell you.  I got the girls off to school, took a class, came home to clean up, had a newborn photoshoot, came home, met my parents, went to read at Morgan’s school, got the girls from school, came home again, went on an audition with my parents and the girls, came home and got dressed to go back out for this shin-dig.  I was really doubting that I would be able to get myself together in a timely manner for this event.  Miracle of miracles, I had a clean dress, stocking without any runs, and some 5 minute shoes to go with.  I had recently purchased this awesome pearl necklace and bracelet set from my friend Tamy, a Stella and Dot super seller, and I have been wearing it with everything. It just goes with everything. The combo I whipped up for the black-tie event was no exception. 

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I had my make-up right, I had the hair “did”, and I had the dress on with room to breathe (Hallelujah)!  I was looking good and felt like I needed to share all of this fashion forward goodness with the masses.  So Craig snapped a picture and I turned to FaceBook. I know, I know, but I like to think I don’t do this very often, so I can show off just a little bit.

Can I tell you, the response was AH-mazing?!  Oh my goodness, I got such great compliments. It was awesome! And yet, I had this overwhelming desire to reply to each one with “Thanks, but you know I don’t always look like this” or “Thanks, but believe me, I’ll be turning into a pumpkin at midnight.” 

What’s that all about? Why can’t I just take a compliment for what it is and move on? Several years ago, I posted about this very same thing.  I was making excuses as to why I should not receive compliments.  For example, a typical exchange back then went like this:

You: “Wow, the last time I saw you, you were out to here (miming a beach ball tummy) pregnant. You look fantastic! And it’s only been 3 months!”

Me: “Oh, thanks, but I worked out the whole pregnancy”

or

You: “What a sweet little girl you have. She is so polite!”

Me: “Yeah, but she was SO bad yesterday, I thought we were going to have to exorcise the demons!”

See what I mean? What’s up with that? Why can’t I just take it for what it is? Was it because I didn’t deserve kind words? Was it because the giver was so blatantly full of crap, how could they expect me to accept their foolishness? No and no.   I think I was too conscientious of someone else’s feelings that to just take it at face value was to be selfish, stuck-up or self-centered.  Bottomline: I didn’t want to make you feel bad because you were trying to make me feel good.


Oh, I just heard dozens of psychiatrists dusting off their couches. . .

A compliment is defined as an expression of praise, commendation, or admiration. It’s meant to be taken as such. There is no qualifier that says you must explain to yourself or anyone else why you deserve that praise or admiration. I don’t know if this is just unique to me or if it’s a woman thing, but I don’t think guys have this problem. I mean, have you ever seen an exchange like this?

Jack: Dude, great coverage on the defense during that last play (swats teammates’ butt in a strong, masculine way).

Joe: I know, right?! I’m on fire today! I’m the man! (pumps fist in the air and then punches teammate in the face with a strong right hook).

Okay, I grossly exaggerated that, but you get the point, right? Men just take the compliment. Actually, it seems like that take it and then they embellish it! Like telling you, “Yes, I agree with my greatness and let me point out some other things for you, too.”   

In any event, regarding the receipt of compliments, the plan is to be gracious and accepting, consider each compliment a bite-sized morsel of something decadent and totally satisfying (it always comes back to food for me), because that’s really what it is.  


The image above of the free compliments? Notice how the one highlighted item simply says, “Take one!”

Alright, I will!
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IN: ON: October 17, 2011 TAGS: advice, sharing BY: Hilary
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recipes

Recipe Friday

rec·i·pe  (rs-p)

n.

1. A set of directions with a list of ingredients for making or preparing something, especially food.
2. A formula for or means to a desired end: a recipe for success.
3. A medical prescription.

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At first, I didn’t think that this Magnificent Maple Bacon Scone mix counted as a recipe because there wasn’t any measuring of flour, sugar, or salt on my part (though I did add some heavy whipping cream).  It was basically open box, mix, and bake, which as a set of instructions, constitute a recipe! Sometimes, it’s a nice change of pace to have a three step endeavor than a multi-step task involving ingredients you can’t pronounce and have to acquire in shops that also sell eye of newt and wing of bat. 
I was under the impression that scones were hard, dry, and flavorless, despite the fancy monikers they have (lavender rosemary or chai vanilla anyone?).  Still, maple + bacon? Two of my favorite flavors in a baked good? Hot ziggity pig!
Start to finish, the whole thing took 20 minutes.  I will say that the box is deceiving.  Look at that box, look at those bits o’ bacon embedded in the scone.  That’s all the bacon that you get.  There was n’er nada piece of pork in that mix!  Seriously, the only way you’re getting bacon in these scones is if you fry some up and stud the dough with it before you bake it. 
After you mix the dry mix with the cream, you get this tough kind of dough, which made me think these scones were probably going to be used as doorstops when they came out of the oven.  I was conservative in my cook time, keeping it to the lower end of the suggested range and it paid off.  Once they came out, all golden and smelling good, they remained soft. 
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(these kind of have a gangsta lean going on here, don’t they?)
I slapped some butter on those little wedges and it was delightful.  I felt very British, very Cheerio! God Save the Queen! Pip-pip!  These might not make it to Sunday brunch.
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Happy week-end, y’all!

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IN: recipes ON: October 14, 2011 TAGS: baking, cooking, fall, food, om nom nom, recipes BY: Hilary
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Monday’s Message

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My dad says that my expectations of other people are too high, and that’s why I’m consistently disappointed when things don’t go the way I think they should.  I have a hard time just accepting this overly- pessimistic assessment of people, but could never point to a reason as to why it wasn’t true or why it shouldn’t be that way.  “It’s just not right. . .” and “Why shouldn’t I expect more from people. . .” — those are pretty weak retorts.  
A couple of days ago, I found this quote and realized, that’s why my expectations are where they are.  I know what I’m willing to do.  
What about you? 
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IN: ON: October 10, 2011 TAGS: honesty BY: Hilary
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recipes

Recipe Friday

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Asian Turkey Meatballs with Carrot Rice
After the disappointment that was Avocado Fries, I had to get back into the kitchen and whip up something more pleasing to the tastebuds.

This is a recipe that I was introduced to from my friend Tavya at one of our oenophilic book clubs.  Over the course of our bookclubs’ existence, it has morphed from a few snacks shared over poignant discussion about the latest selection to a more Bacchanalian type revelry where the only thing we end up reading is the label on the wine bottle.  Ahhh, literature.

But I digress.  Last fall, Tavya graciously opened her home (and her wine bottles) to us, complete with a homemade Asian repast.  She and another friend had taken some Asian cooking classes at one of the local schools and decided to share their knowledge with us.  Enter the Asian Turkey Meatballs.

Now, I’m strictly a chicken and beef kind of girl. Turkey, pork, lamb — eh, I’ll eat it, but give me a steak or a chicken breast first and then another one later to wash out the taste.  I think my aversion to using turkey when beef is clearly indicated stems from my mother’s attempts to “put one over” on us as kids.  Back before Jessica Seinfield was slipping pureed cauliflower into brownies, my own mother was subbing ground turkey for ground beef and telling us, “Really! These are the same tacos I made last week.” I’m not saying my tastebuds are Eric Ripert sophisticated, but even I know the difference between mushed up meat, Old El Paso seasoning or not.

I like my turkey (when I deign to eat it, that is), either cut off the bird or sliced off a log emblazoned with the Boar’s Head logo on it.  Ground turkey? Eh.  There’s something about the bubble gum pink waves of meat laying in the styrofoam tray that makes my stomach do several half-gainers.  Then, when you cook it? It’s not an odor, not an aroma, which implies something pleasant. It just gives off this whiff of poultry, just too much poultry.  I’ve been over-poultried; I can’t season it up fast enough.

So, Tavya presented the meatballs with several dipping sauces, describing how she made them and promptly lost me when she said, “ground turkey”.  Not one to be a bad guest, however, I loaded one on my plate with the other goodies and decided to give it at least a courtesy bite.

Between animated discussion not centered around the book (yeah, I can’t remember what it was), we drank and ate and ate and drank. After a while, I realized, my meatball was gone and I had been steadily spearing others from the serving tray.  They were delicious! And I’m even going to go as far as to say they were kinda healthy because it was. . .. turkey!

I got the recipe several days later and stocked up on the ingredients to try it out on Mo and Co.  When I got to the meat department at the store, I couldn’t go all in with the ground turkey (old habits die hard), so I split the difference with some ground pork.  That was actually a good call because I was able to make enough meatballs for dinner that evening and freeze a whole bunch for dinners down the road.  What was that?! Menu planning?! I know, I’m just as surprised as you are.

So, the meatballs were browned and cooking in the oven. I had some basmati rice with shaved carrots on the stove. I made of the Trader Joe Cilantro Chicken Wontons, which if you don’t know, you must educated yourself immediately.  I called the girls to dinner and hyped up the whole meal as “better than Chinese food” (dangerous, yes, but I was pretty proud of my culinary skills).  With a flourish, I handed them some kiddie chopsticks because if you’re going to sell it, sell it all the way.

Talk about clean plate club.

Asian Turkey (and Pork) Meatballs? You’re a welcome guest any time. 

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IN: recipes ON: October 7, 2011 TAGS: baking, cooking, food, Odds and Ends, om nom nom, recipes BY: Hilary
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Thank you, Mr. Jobs

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How fortunate to have been witness to a great mind. 
How amazing to have been able to experience exceptional innovation.
How unbelievable it is to think about how we communicated before.
Thank you, Mr. Jobs.
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IN: ON: October 6, 2011 TAGS: Odds and Ends BY: Hilary
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No Compliments to the Chef

When I picked up Mo-Dizzle from school yesterday, I asked her how her day went.

“Oh, it was good,” she said, buckling herself into her seat.  “I left you a note in my lunchbox about my sandwich, though.”

“Huh?” I asked, wheeling us out of the carpool lane and into traffic.  “What happened to your sandwich?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t eat it.  I left you a note about it.” she repeated and then promptly severed communication by sticking her nose in a Magic Tree House Book.

Fast forward to the great unload from the car: backpacks, library books, assorted jackets, sweaters, and stray papers.   As girls hung up their stuff,  I opened up the lunchboxes.  In Morgan’s lunchbox, I found the aforementioned note:

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“I do not like crasty sandwichs.”
What the devil? What happened to her sandwich between last night when I made it and this afternoon when she was supposed to have eaten it?  I popped the top of the sandwich keeper to find this:
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Unblemished (uneaten) PBJ
“Morgan!” I called, holding the “offending” sandwich out in front of me. “What’s the matter with this? Why didn’t you eat it?”
(insert exasperated six-year old eye roll) “I don’t like crasty sandwiches! Next time, will you please cut off the crast?”
Crast? Crust! Cut off the crust!  Oh, good lord. 
Request for crast-less sandwiches duly noted.  And far be it from me to waste a perfectly good PBJ, so 
guess who had a “crast-less” PBJ for dinner? 
Here’s a hint: she’s six years old and has a wicked eye roll.
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IN: ON: October 5, 2011 TAGS: Odds and Ends BY: Hilary
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Lunch

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I’m embarassed to admit how often I have a Chicken Fajita Bowl for lunch.  Let’s just say, I think I need a Chipotle-vention. . .

. . .right after I finish this last bowl.

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IN: ON: October 5, 2011 TAGS: Odds and Ends BY: Hilary
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Hilary With One L

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