Occupy Elm Street

Stuck at the end of the cul de sac I’m losing track of the comings and goings of the real grown up world. I have risen from my ignorance coma to watch with interest the Occupy Wall Street protests. Basically, people objecting to corporate greed and economic peril are camping in downtown areas. Am I smart enough to figure out the point or am I embracing my role as a faux domestic goddess and letting world news roll off my back?

As someone who formerly worked in downtown Phoenix and as a card carrying scaredy cat there is no way I’d leave the safety of my couch to save the world. I’ll just keep watching Judge Judy and looking for jobs at online websites. I’ve stepped over too many sleeping beggars and vomit in my time to want to actually pitch a tent at the city park. I hate camping anyway so it’s a victory anyway you look at it. I wonder if their solidary will survive the first frost and the end of Starbucks pumpkin spiced lattes. While the east coast is covered with snow, we are now congratulating ourselves on surviving another summer of Dante’s Inferno. The air conditioner only clicked on once today. In honor of the protesters here is a recipe to keep them warm and toasty with thoughts of super plums dancing in their heads.

Pumpkin Soup
¼ cup butter
½ medium onion sliced chopped fine
1 clove garlic minced
1 teaspoon curry
1/8 teaspoon coriander
1/8 teaspoon crushed red pepper
½ teaspoon salt
3 cups chicken broth
16 ounces solid pack pumpkin
1 cup half and half
Sour Cream
Sliced green onion for garnish

Sauté onion and garlic in butter until soft. Add curry, coriander, red pepper and salt. Cook 1 minute. Add broth and boil gently for 15 to 20 minutes. Stir in pumpkin and half and half. Cook for 5 minutes. Serve with sour cream and green onions. I know you’re thinking pie right? Do I garnish with whipped cream? This doesn’t taste anything like Thanksgiving and if you like squash, you’ll love this soup.

In my personal Occupy Elm Street, I vacillate between boredom and fascination with happenings in the hood. There are strange goings-on during daylight hours. It’s not enough that one neighbor has determined that no emptied trash can should remain curbside and rushes out to return ours to its rightful place before the garbage truck has cleared the curb. Or the elderly corner neighbor who greets the mailman in his boxers and slippers every day to pass the time.

This week I was positively giddy when young lads left a landscape flyer announcing that they were in the market to buy mature palm trees. I’d been pricing having our oversized pigeon holding vegetation removed and it was going to cost a bazillion dollars. I was so happy to have them gone I stupidly tipped my hand and only got them to eradicate with no extra dough on my checking account. But pigeons are like flying rats and they have resorted to staring at me with homeless accusing beady eyes from atop our roof. Which reminds me of the creeper neighbor who has taken to smoking on his back patio when I’m doing my faux magazine workout. I’m sure he and his bare and hairy potbelly are just looking for exercise tips right? I wonder if rather than peering out my patio blinds my next home project should be adding a few rows of block to the back wall. This exercise shit is going to get me killed yet.

PS Don't forget to "like" Mrs. Tuna on Facebook, we all know what an attention seeking little tramp I am. Also, if you've been enjoying this blog, please follow, only a few more to reach the magic 400 members of Team Tuna.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Have you ever wondered why Mrs. Tuna picked a picture of a dog wearing reading glasses for my profile? Working at Giant Engineering Company I needed a disguise in order for them to think I was a serious and dedicated employee, blah, blah, blah. Interesting enough once I removed the superhero outfit I could reveal myself to a fellow employee/blogger that I’d been secretly following. Please visit Mr. Twintastic today since his wife is birthing those babies as we speak and wish them congrats. So glad Sheldon is all grown up, don’t think I could live through baby barf in my hair and the smell of poopy diapers overtaking the house again.

We got the lovely Penelope when she flunked out of guide dog school for being too timid to cross the street. I didn’t believe them until I was at a horse show with her and she balked at going up metal steps. After carrying 65 pounds of wimpiness up the stairs I pondered how this might be a tiny bit difficult if I was eyeless. She was what they called a “soft” dog, bred more for companionship then whack a doodle Labradors of old. They are happy to lie politely at your feet. The translation is she and Tonka the high functioning idiot savant mutt are all whipped up when you put your tennis shoes on for a faux run but are dragging at the leash by the time I hit the end of the cul de sac.

I’ve been doing my magazine workout in the backyard and when I start running in the yard the mongrels are convinced we’re chasing feline intruders running crazy, snarling, wrestling circles. They biffed me out yesterday by crashing into me. All of could think of is has the Big Tuna’s health insurance started covering me. Thought I broke my arm, but mostly bruised my ass. A freaking giant hawk flew down last week and snatched a pigeon off the birdbath and killed it in front of them. The little chicken shits wouldn’t even consider a romp to chase away, the hawk might have carried them off too.

But mostly I find Penelope to be passed out after those little 5 minute jaunts that seem to sap her energy. A few shots on how she spends her days, every day, every hour.

In the back yard

In the hall

Please note how the sofa cushions are turned up to prevent napping on the sofa

You little hussy

Recipe du jour? Something to celebrate the sluggish in all of us.

Lazy Dog Pot Roast
2-3 pound chuck or pot roast
1 package onion soup
1 large yellow onion, peeled and quartered
4 potatoes peeled and chunked
1-1/2 cups baby carrots

In large crockpot dump in onion soup mix and dilute with a few cups of water. Place beef in bottom and layer with veggies. Add enough water to cover. Cook on high for 4 to 5 hours and turn down to low for an additional 2 hours. The perk on this is that leftover beef can be sliced and eaten as sandwiches with mayo and hot peppers. YUM!

But the weirdest behavior is that any stuff dog toy we bring home she immediately gnaws off their eyes in order to fulfill her destiny to help the blind. Nothing like owning a working dog.

Enjoy reading this? Well this is a double header. After leaving me an adoring comment here, run over to In the Powder Room and read “Layoffs and Stroganoffs” where I figure out that labret is not Latin for labia and leave another amazing note there.

There’s No “I” in Team Tuna

I’ve been pondering if I should change the name of my blog to Un-Working Women’s Guide to Dinner. Thoughts? Comments Team Tuna? Or perhaps Bitchy Women’s Guide would be more fitting. Been interviewing and applying for engineering jobs like crazy, but as of yet no takers for my mad skills.

But I am approaching midterms at ASU. The theme of the semester is “group” projects. I hate working in groups. I barely have patience for the little whiny thugs in class, now I’m supposed to complete hand holding projects in 3 of my classes. I’m wildly torn between taking over so I know it will get done, thus reinforcing my place as the most bossy, or watching in amusement while they flail around showing their raging emotional hormones. Somehow I’m evolving into the mom figure, well as the mommy of these dysfunctional groups anyway.

In one class, they have resorted to snarky emails presenting their opposing points of view for mediation. I told the two narcissistic queens that “perhaps if you see a different vision, you would be more suited to developing your own group approach.” Followed by tears and cyber bulling. It’s okay, as teacher’s pet I tattled on them and earned a gold star for leadership skills. You all need to man up and stop being filled with righteous indignation that we’re not using the correct color paper clips. Personally I will not be resorting to time outs, I will institute spankings and being sent to bed without Starbucks. This week is a new little ditty I tried, be warned, major dirty dishes operation.

Chicken Tetrazzini
5 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 boneless chicken breasts
Salt and pepper to taste
¾ pound mushrooms
3 cloves garlic
1 medium onion diced
1 teaspoon thyme
½ white wine (drink the rest of the bottle with dinner)
1/3 cup flour
2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup chicken broth
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
12 ounces linguine cooked
¾ cup peas (you can leave out if they remind you of bloated ticks)
¼ fresh parsley chopped
1 cup parmesan cheese
¼ cup Italian Bread Crumbs

Grease 13”x 9” baking dish with 1 tablespoon butter. Melt 1 tablespoons butter with olive oil in frying pan with medium heat. Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper, add chicken to hot pan and cook until just cooked through approximately 4 minutes per side. Transfer to bowl and coarsely shred into bite size pieces. Add butter to same skillet and add mushrooms, onion, garlic and thyme. Once cooked, add wine about two minutes and add to chicken bowel. Add remaining butter to skillet. Whisk in flour for about 2 minutes. Add milk, cream, broth, nutmeg and salt and pepper. Cook over medium high heat until boil, reduce to simmer, uncovered until sauce thickens whisking often. Add pasta, sauce, peas and parsley to chicken mix and blend well. Transfer to baking dish. Stir cheese and bread crumbs in small bowl and sprinkle on top. Bake uncovered at 450 degrees until golden brown, about 25 minutes.

The zoning professor with major roots needs has also assigned groups to do a mock neighborhood meeting. The biggest challenge? We have to find our own faux neighbors. You all remember what happened during our last Public Service Message. Maybe I’ll lure them in with free cookies and beer. In closing while there is no “I” in Team, if you rearrange the letters it says look AT ME! Because we always know it’s about ME, ME, MEEEEEEEE.

PS Don’t forget to like Mrs. Tuna on Facebook.

Blogs, buddies and a whole lot of pasta

Wheeeee!!!!!! Today I am guest posting over at In The Powder Room where I discuss my online affair with my favorite little hussy Sandra from Absolutely Narcissism. Don't forget to "Like" me on Facebook because I continue to need to be validated. So head on over there and comment so they ask me again since they pay enough per post to keep me in wine!

The Vagina Aisle

First, if you love me Team Tuna you will like me on Facebook? There's a little button below my profile and above my followers. It's a work in progress, don't judge.

I feel for the Big Tuna, our entire married life he has been surrounded by women. Hormone producing, emotional, weeping females. As a burly blue collar guy, it reduces him to hand wringing, throwing flowers at us and escaping to the garage. Not only did he have to feel his way through our daughter “Sheldon’s” teenage years every household pet has had girlie parts. He is swimming with his floaties in the deep end of the estrogen pool.

I keep thinking I’m on the far side of menopause but that tricky devil rears its ugly head in an erratic fashion. Like the day before I got laid off from Giant Engineering Company it paid a little visit. It could have gone either way, sad mascara stained face or condescending bitch. I’m still not sure which personality I flashed that day.

I make him get in touch with his sensitive side from time to time by strolling down the vagina aisle for tampons and pads with wings. He does it because on the good days we all know vaginas have super powers. And that PMS stands for Punish my Spouse. Thank goodness Sheldon is living in her own place, any man worth his salt knows that a gaggle of females cycle together. Since we all need a little comfort food to soothe the savage beast here is this week’s recipe.

Aunt Lenore’s Brownies
1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
Dash salt
4 squares chocolate melted over hot water
1 cup flour
2 cups chopped walnuts
1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream butter and sugar well. Add eggs one at a time and stir well. Add the rest of the ingredients. Spread in a greased 9” x 13” baking pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Cut in squares when cool. Mmmmmm...I feel less bitchy already.

I wish I could take full credit for the term Vagina Aisle, but I saw it on Rescue Me and about shot wine out my nose. I’m not technologically smart enough to copy and crop so just watch the first 3 minutes and give up. If I was able to do it I’d be an engineer, oh wait I am an engineer. You’re welcome.