Far Flung In Laws

We all know how Mrs. Tuna is distracted by shiny objects, losing her focus and misplacing her wine glass. Last week I had a post comment asking me to contact them for an interesting proposition. Since I am no longer the young nubile girl of my youth I knew it wasn’t going to be anything slutty. Imagine my thrill at being asked to be a regular featured writer on Inthepowderroom, a place to spew my random thoughts on life of over the edge. I will keep you posted on when the roll out begins but the most exciting part is they will pay me in vino. But…….that means that this week is going to be a bit of cheater. Rumors are swirling that a certain somebody is coming for their yearly visit.

Sesame Chicken and Phil (FFIL)
Many, many moons ago, the Big Tuna and I left the bosom of our families back east and moved to sunny Arizona. As a fairly new bride my cooking skills were at the kindergarten level but I managed to piece together enough of a meal to keep us from starving to death. I should at this point say that after more than a quarter of a century, between us we’ve gained enough weight to have added a 5th grader.

During cold and bitter months we are a favorite destination spot for long lost relatives. We have one Far Flung In Law (FFIL) or Phil who has a tendency to be a major critic of people for a little personal sport. On his initial visit he and the Big Tuna decided they’d go for a day of golf and we’d head out to a fancy dinner once I returned from my job at the old slave market. Upon my homecoming, the boys had been visiting the beer cart in the hot, hot sun and decided the little woman could hook them up with a bite to eat. So be it, bacon wrapped beef filet, broccoli, and Rice a Roni it’s a meal, or is it….

Me: Something wrong with the rice Phil?
Phil: Mrs. Phil never makes Rice a Roni.
Me: Well Mrs. Phil doesn’t work so she has time to grow her own stinking rice.

Okay, I said the last line in my head, not out loud.

The following day, the Big Tuna left on a business trip but the good sport I am, made another feeble attempt at cooking something to please this picky in law.

Sesame Chicken
4 chicken breasts
½ cup soy sauce
1 cup flour
2 Tablespoons Sesame Seeds
2 Tablespoons butter cut in pieces

Mix together flour and sesame seeds. Dip the chicken breasts in soy sauce and roll in the flour mixture. Place in shallow baking dish, dot with butter. Cover with aluminum foil, bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Remove foil and cook an additional 15 minutes.

Phil: This is the first good thing you’ve ever cooked for me.
Me: And also the very last. (Not in my head)

Phil staggers to town nearly every year, he stopped asking “What’s for Dinner” after about Year Ten. I will assemble a little meal for myself leaving them to forage for cold cuts and can openers. Sometimes he’ll even pop to take us out. The only thing I should mention here, is the best side dish with the chicken? You got it, Rice a Roni.

Keg stands and Mammograms

Hello, hello, hello!!!! I have reached the halfway point in the semester, Spring Break and I’m like a Labrador puppy unrestrained from my crate. I’m so excited to be free I might even piddle on the floor. I feel like I’ve been neglecting all my followers, haphazard commenting on your posts, writing weak things like “good job, keep it up”, I know feeble. My last post regarding The Boy’s Birthday was dashed off only to meet the appointed deadline, just cribbing info from his Facebook page. But now Team Tuna, I will be dedicating this week to catching up with all of you, being witty and filled with snappy comebacks.

Attending school has certainly reaffirmed that being surrounded by girls in short skirts and Ugg boots with their naughty parts hanging out magnifies my muffin top. My sensible flat shoes clicking loudly in comparison to the soft soled Van sneakers of boys with pierced lips causing them move aside and call me Madam. Sh*t, when did I go from Miss to Madam, it happened in a blink of the eye. More importantly, remember when we were all a little creeped out by pierced eyebrows? I actually saw someone with pierced nipples, I couldn’t look away, and it was mesmerizing. Ouch, that’ll leave a mark.

Two of my classes are in king size lecture halls, I always aim for the aisle seat and in my anal retentive manner get there nice and early to ensure early boarding passes. But it also places me near the electrical outlets, one chick tried stringing her power cord across my chest in order to check her Facebook status, ah no, step away or I will b*tch slap you. I’ve been up since 4:30 AM and I’m mighty cranky.

I fortunately haven’t had any sobbing fests in the urban planning movie class, but did have one kid nod off and try and rest his head on my shoulder. I now spread my crap all over the chair next to me marking my territory, daring anyone to make me move it. The added bonus is it has also kept those coughing, hacking, phlegm and germy little slugs away. You’re all running for the hand sanitizer now aren’t you. This week lets aim for something a little less fast to make up for all the drive thru food.

Rock Cornish Game Hens
2 small game hens
1/3 pound ground sausage or pork
¼ cup chopped onion
1 clove garlic minced
2 cups Pepperidge Farm herb stuffing
¼ cup milk
Chicken Broth to moisten
½ rib celery chopped
½ teaspoon thyme
½ teaspoon rosemary
½ teaspoon basil

In skillet brown pork with garlic, onion and celery until meat is no longer pink. Drain off excess liquid. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Stuff hens and place on meat rack in shallow baking dish. Baste hens with butter and cover with foil. Cook in preheated oven at 350 degrees for 1 ¼ hours. Remove foil for last 15 minutes.

So while my little school chums are off to Cancun doing keg stands, I have scheduled myself for all those pesky appointments I have no time for. Hair cut, skin cancer check, pap smear and mammogram. I know, I can see your jealously, all sad and transparent. If I could have worked in a tummy tuck, I would have invited all of you over for body shots. Ah well, maybe next year.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

Well that’s what they say little girls are made of. But boys, they are made of Axe cologne and sweaty hormones. My Sistah’s son, The Boy, is going to be 17 this weekend. Recently he quizzed me to find out if he’d been featured in any recent blogs posts, no worry Batman, it can be my present this year to ridicule you. Sheldon traveled in different circles playing her giant cello and doing the pageant wave. While I only have a daughter I also have four brothers and work with all men so I speak guy. The Big Tuna is surrounded by females, including the wonder dogs, swimming alone in the deep end of the estrogen pool.

Boys are just wired different, Sheldon and The Girl fixate about homework assignments, calculating how many extra credit points they need to keep up their obsessive compulsive grades. The Boy, like many male teens have lots of incompletes on their midterm reports, turning in missing assignments and acing their tests to attend the Disneyland field trip in the nick of time. In preparation of this post, I spent a little time scrutinizing his Facebook page for fodder.

The Boy Facebook Status:

SO apparently if I get staight A's in all my classes final semester I will officially own the .22 caliber bolt-action CZ rifle that I unofficially own!! I'M SO FREAKING EXCITED!! Now I actually have some incentive to get my work done instead of slacking! It's not final yet and my mother and father need to talk about it but I'm pretty sure that my dad realizes that I love that rifle WAY more than he does.

Really a gun, hold me I’m scared. Hopefully it won't turn into a Columbine incident. But also a more sensitive side.

The Boy Facebook Status:

At the midpoint in life I found myself in a dark forest for the clear path had been lost…..Dante’s Divine Comedy

How insightful, so mature, so alien from the rough and tumble man child he appears to the 10th grade population. I asked my Sistah for his favorite meal. He and the Girl were both adopted from Korea as babies, here is the recipe for Bulgogi, a Korean barbeque dish.

Bulgogi
2 lbs boneless beef (sirloin etc.) or chicken, sliced thinly; cut bite-size
4 cloves minced garlic
1 Tbs. toasted sesame seeds
1/3 cup soy sauce (I use low sodium)
2 Tbs. sherry
1/4 tsp. pepper
3 green onions finely chopped
2 Tbs. sesame oil
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. fresh ginger, minced (or 1/8 tsp. ginger powder)

Mix all ingredients except the meat to make marinade. Marinate the meat from several hours to overnight. Grill quickly or under the broiler. Serve over rice with Kim-Chee.

Last year we met up with some of his friends at my Sistah’s for his sweet sixteen. Clammy boys were focused on Sheldon’s awesome blondness and big boobs. I thought one of them was going to faint when she showed them her tattoo. I will leave you with another boy-ism,

The Boy Facebook Status:
Multiplication is like women. If they’re under 13, you just do them in your head.

Oh dear. Lock up your women, he’ll be driving before you know it.