“I am Woman, I am Invincible, I am Tired” from Born to Shop
I got news recently that I need to have surgery. It’s not life threatening, well at least the problem is not, the surgical procedure itself I cannot speak for. Not fully vested in the belief that medical professionals always make the problem better, I get a little nervous when handing my well-being over to them for anything longer than a doctor’s visit.
Truthfully, I’m kind of a big puss when it comes to unsolicited poking and probing, and not a big fan of long needles and tubes going places I’d prefer they didn’t. Normally I’m not much into prescription drugs either, and try to keep my intake at a minimum if at all possible. I must admit though, when I’m in enough pain you can sign me up for the full spectrum, start with A and work yourself right down to Z and don’t be stingy.
Being somewhat of a lightweight, I am very susceptible to medications of any kind. Once I was prescribed Benadryl for a bee sting and slept for eighteen hours straight after taking the first pill. I woke up with the most incredible “hangover” without enjoying one minute of fun getting there. One thing I never do, is read the substantial precautionary literature included with medications I’m prescribed. Not because I’m trying to be purposely negligent but because when I get to the side effects which often include “may cause stroke, loss of limbs, heart attack, insanity, bankruptcy (this after you pay for it) or death”, I won’t take the pill. Every time I’ve finished taking a course of medication, a law firm airs a commercial immediately following my last dose encouraging survivors who have used the same drugs or relatives of the deceased users to come forward if wishing to seek retribution for damages. I’d rather wait for the movie to come out.
Also a concern of mine about being incapacitated, is how will the rest of the household will manage while I’m down. Now, I’m not saying I’m indispensable. Well, in essence, I may be hinting at it. Truly, I think my other half still holds fast to the belief that as the toilet paper rolls dwindle in the basket provided for them in the bathroom, the Charmin fairies replenish the basket with new rolls while keeping an eye on empty rolls as they appear on the holder. Hello? Once I drew a complete chart explaining in ridiculous detail steps on how to replace an empty roll with a new one, and had it printed on tee-shirts. I sold a truckload, mostly to women.
After a brief discussion with my granddaughter the other day about the importance of changing her sheets on a weekly basis, soliciting an eye roll when she thought I wasn’t looking, I could see this tack was not sailing the boat where I wanted it to go. Sinking down to her level, I went on to explain that dead skin cells reside in dirty sheets, and small bugs with inordinately large pincers thrive in such environments burrowing deeply under the skin of hosts with icky sheets and set up housekeeping. Gross, I know, effective, you bet. Linens flew off the bed quicker than Justin’s Bieber’s new haircut got posted on the Internet. Desperate times call for desperate measures I say.
There is no doubt, and you will get no argument around here, that my list of responsibilities tends to run a little longer than the other parties cohabiting with me. To sum up; my list requires an index and a 3 ring binder, theirs requires one half of the front of a 3 x 3 Post-it note.
As much energy as I’ve spent in my lifetime trying to push some of my load over to the opposing team, somehow it always slowly oozes back like luke-warm lava and I find it once again piled on my side. Why is this? I need answers.
The trash, for example, is an interesting phenomenon. In spite of the fact that everyone in the household eats, I somehow have assumed ownership of whatever residue remains once the meal is consumed. In my defense, I have tried everything short of dumping it in the middle of their beds to draw attention to a bag that needs to be taken outside. How does one miss a huge 33 gallon black plastic bag full of trash sitting in front of the door? People will repel across it, fly over it on a trapeze, hop over it on a pogo stick, skateboard above it or simply go out another door to escape actually grabbing the handles above the bag and placing it in a receptacle on the way out. My son, when in high school, would expend the energy to remove the screen in his window to avoid finding a bag in front of the door he’d have to take to the garage. Once, I’m embarrassed to admit (not so embarrassed as to not mention it) I got so frustrated, I stowed a bag of trash in the trunk of his car and forgot, or perhaps chose to forget, to mention it. After a week in the full heat of summer, it seemed there was no need to bring it to his attention, as at that point the aroma spoke volumes for itself. I did offer up room spray if needed. Well?
The cats are already talking amongst themselves sensing that if Mommy goes, who will have a ready hand on the kibble bag or keep up with their Greenie (treats) fixes as their addictions warrant? Serious business for two fat bummed felines who seem to think I was put on this earth to ensure that their lives pass by with the least amount of discomfort possible.
Soooo, I am stocking the freezer with frozen meatloaf, spaghetti sauce and pizza and in order to keep my indispensable badge, filling baggies with kibbles and treats, and getting an assortment of reading materials together for a day or two with my feet up.
Got to tell you these chops actually rekindled my belief in pork. Moist, crunchy and delicious. Cook until just done but resist the urge to overcook.
Extra Crispy Pork Chops with Mustard Sauce
8 thin boneless center-cut pork chops
1/3 cup half and half
2 large eggs
1 Tbsp. garlic powder
1/4 tsp. white pepper
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1 tsp. salt
1 Tbsp. parsley flakes
1 cup Italian breadcrumbs
1 cup Panko breadcrumbs
Olive oil or grapeseed oil
Beat eggs. Add half and half and seasonings. Pour into large resealable bag and add pork chops. Squish around to cover chops with marinade and place in the refrigerator for 2 hrs.
Combine both types of bread crumbs and put in another resealable bag.
Reduce heat to medium and continue cooking until golden brown. Drain on paper towels. Serve on top of sauce.
Dijon Mushroom Sauce
1 Tbsp. butter
1/4 cup shallots
1/4 cup mushrooms, chopped fine
1 cup dry white wine
3/4 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup sour cream
2 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp. chopped parsley
Salt and pepper to taste
Melt butter in medium skillet. Add shallots and cook 1 min. Add mushrooms and cook 3 mins. Add 1/2 cup of wine and bring to a boil. Stir in stock. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 15 mins.
Add remaining 1/2 cup of wine. Increase heat to med-high and reduce by half. Add heavy cream and sour cream and boil about 3 mins. until sauce thickens. Remove from heat. Whisk in mustard and parsley and adjust seasoning to taste.
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