My Dog is Chelsea

I don’t think I have ever skipped a whole month in the entire history of this blog, which I’ve kept up (depending on how you define “upkeep”) for about 4.5 years now.

Side note: 4.5 years?! Sheesh. In that time I could’ve gotten a second and perhaps more useful degree.

Anyway. I’ll skip the bit about how I have photos and video footage to share that I don’t have time (read: I’m too lazy) to upload. For now, I’ll just leave you with this:

Yesterday, I was perusing a newspaper about the Northwest microbrew industry (I was at a brewery, OK? Reading options were limited) and I came across a note from the editor with the following pull quote:

A new kind of writing has taken the country and the world by storm in the last decade: online magazines, journals, and blogs.

And I thought to myself, “My, MDIC, now isn’t that an astute observation?! This is exactly why I turn to the Northwest Brewing News for all of my breaking-news needs!”

So apparently blogs have taken the world by storm! Storm, I tell ya. If you hadn’t read it yourself in the NBN, then you heard it here first.

See? Just because I didn’t blog in the month of June doesn’t mean I’m not capable of bringing you the highly relevant and infinitely insightful news and tidbits you’ve come to rely on me for.

Right?

Right.

(Roll with it.)

I know, I know. It’s been nearly a month since my last confession blog post. In the last week, I’ve received a nagging email and a nagging Facebook wall post from two of my most dedicated readers alerting me to this sin.

But, you see, the sun has started to come out. It’s that time of year when us Northwesterners remember what a fantastic place we live in, and we celebrate it profusely, namely by not EVER going inside when we don’t have to be. For instance, last weekend I rejoiced the end of the rainy season by going camping along the glacial runoff of the Little North Santiam River (pictures and a movie of Calla chasing butterflies to come, with any luck). This weekend? Hikes and barbecues and frisbee and gardening.

Note that none of these activities involve the computer. That’s because my job requires that I sit and stare at a computer for 8-hour stretches. Astigmatism and carpal tunnel are side effects of my work. So when I get home and it’s not raining? I don’t sit in front of the computer.

(Truthfully, I’m simply making excuses for having absolutely nothing to say.)

However, should you need reading material in my absence, rest assured that MDIC’s online presence extends beyond the reaches of this little website. You can also find me:

• Lambasting Frito-Lay’s abhorrent new “local” marketing campaign
• Questioning the value of StockTwits
• Ranting about why salads should never be main courses
• Waxing poetic about the connection between food and memory

And, should that list prove to not exhaust your patience with my opinionated self, there’s always my Twitter feed.

In the next edition of MDIC’s semi-regularly published blog, I’ll tell you about my star-studded week, which includes an encounter with both Indiana Jones and Encino Man.

Until then, I’ll be working on my tan.

Yours,
My Dog is Chelsea

Yesterday I received a “priority overnight” FedEx package from my mother. Printed on the envelope were the words “Extremely Urgent”:

What could it be? I wondered. Important documents that required my signature? Something scary, like a will? Or, perhaps I’d never actually paid that parking ticket I got 9 years ago while borrowing my mother’s car, and it was coming back to haunt me with a vengeance?

Turns out, it was none of the above. Inside were two pairs of lace underwear.

As a Twitter follower (and reader of this blog) put it: “Either you told her your laundry got eaten by a washer, or your mom has a wicked sense of humor.”

It’s definitely not the former, and I doubt it’s the latter—her sense of humor isn’t that intentional. In reality, she was probably underwear shopping for herself and decided to get something for me while she was at it. Then, she sent it from work, where the only FedEx envelopes they have are the ones designed to arrive the next day.

That, or she’s hinting not-so-subtly at the fact that I’m running out of time to get married and produce grandchildren.

I just received an email from a reader who noted the distinct absence of an update on this site. Sorry ’bout that. I have been: out of town at a frisbee tournament, up ’til all hours working on the neighborhood newsletter (which is now online-ish! Read it here), and dealing with a landlady who snoops around my house and asks me to do things like “clean the bathroom ceiling” and “oil the kitchen cabinets.” Plus, now that I am famous and all, you know, it’s hard to go anywhere without getting stopped by the paparazzi.

So, because it’s late, and because I’m lazy, and because I think I just undid the last four months of physical therapy by sloppily diving for a disc (and not catching it) and I need to go ice my shoulder, I am going to repost something I wrote over on my Culinate blog last night:

If I only had a steam-free milk frother…

My mother always says that a kitchen isn’t complete without a lettuce spinner and a food processor. When she visited me a few years ago, she was dumbfounded by my lack of both.

“I couldn’t function without mine!” she said. (And I don’t doubt it—it was a crisis of epic proportions when her microwave gave out.)

I don’t think I need to tell you what she gave me the following Christmas.

Now, I do love my lettuce spinner—almost as much as I love my Cuisinart—but I’m not sure I’d make the case that a kitchen isn’t complete without one. In fact, I think I got along quite fine before either item entered my world. Even now, without all of the appliances and accoutrements I wish I had—a crock pot, a stand mixer, a Le Creuset pan—I’d say my tiny little kitchen is pretty well stocked.

But, just like your self-esteem, your confidence in your kitchen is fragile. One little nudge and mine shattered.

Enter the cooking.com catalog that arrived, unsolicited, in my mailbox. After drooling through the All-Clad section, I discovered a trove of kitchen gadgets. It turns out that not only am I missing some basic gear, I also lack in “essentials” I didn’t even know existed.

Such as:

• Non-stick paring knives
• A cookie dough scoop (spoons are so passé)
• A cupcake courier (this is a “must-have for the baker”—it safely transports up to 36 cupcakes without disturbing the frosting)
• A salad-dressing mixer (I guess shaking your dressing in a jar is inefficient)
• The “Garlic Zoom” (a little plastic ball on wheels that chops your garlic—like a garlic press, except straight out of the Jetsons’ kitchen)
• “Poach Pods” (silicon egg poachers)
• A lemon and lime squeezer AND a device to store sliced citrus (anyone who is anybody knows not to squeeze by hand, didn’t you know?)
• A potato ricer
• An apple peeler (apparently regular peelers aren’t good enough—this one even cores and slices your fruit)
• A clip that holds stirring spoons to your pots (never lose a drip again!)
• A vegetable sanitizer
• A brownie cutter-upper (The blurb says: “Take the guesswork out of evenly slicing brownies.” Thank goodness someone has finally solved the inequitable distribution of brownies in this world.)

I read the catalog cover to cover, partly out of jealousy for the things I couldn’t afford or wouldn’t have room to store even if I wanted them, but mostly out of outrage over the fact that there’s actually a market for things like “ice orbs” (vertical ice cube trays that store ice while making it) and “muffin top pans” (inspired, I’m sure, by that episode of Seinfeld).

And yet, despite the ridiculous nature of about half of the products in the catalog, part of me couldn’t help but feel like my kitchen has a long way to go. Just like those clothing ads designed to make us feel inadequate about how we look (ergo forcing us to spend money on more outfits), this little kitchen-supply catalog was twisting a non-stick paring knife in my side. And then sprinkling salt from a battery-operated grinding mill on my wound.

LAURA, I KNOW THE TRUTH, it said. YOU DON’T EVEN OWN A REGULAR PARING KNIFE. IN FACT, YOU’RE NOT QUITE SURE WHY A PARING KNIFE IS NECESSARY.

AND I KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE A COOLING RACK.

I put the catalog down. You know what? My kitchen might be smaller than most people’s cars, but it gets the job done. True, I don’t own a fat separator or fancy stainless steel cookware. But then again, I don’t need a cinnamon mill to make good food.

As far as I’m concerned, all anyone really needs is a chef’s knife, a cutting board, a couple of pots and pans, a baking dish, olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper.

Sure, lettuce spinners and food processors are nice, but you’ll be complete without them.

You know someone decidedly isn’t famous when they need to announce that they are. But, nonetheless, I am having a moment of almost-semi-kinda-sorta famous-ish-ness! And: that’s thanks to you all!

That is to say—my carrot story won the culinate.com blogging contest! YEE-HAW!!!!!!!!! Observe the current state of the Culinate homepage:

Here’s a close-up:

For those who don’t have their reading glasses on but should, that says, “We like the sound of ‘Lucky Laura,’ but of course, more than luck was involved.” Well, I’ll say! This is what was also involved: drumming up votes via Facebook, Twitter and MDIC.com* and spamming nearly everyone in my address book. Knowing me over the last week was like being on Barack Obama’s mailing list during the last month of his campaign—which is to say, pressing delete a lot. I was probably the only finalist launching a full-on social media marketing campaign, which would explain why I won even though I was up against a bunch of really kickass entries.

But… no one said you couldn’t Tweet the hell out of your story!

Thank you so much to you all for a) voting and b) putting up with my broken record about remembering to vote!

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Signed,
MDIC

PS: I discovered that I had won after returning to the office from my lunch break. I checked my email, gasped and squeeled “I won!” and everyone on my side of the building popped up from their cube and erupted in cheers and clapping. This celebratory atmosphere may or may not have been related to my incessant chatter about the contest and spurred, at least in part, by the relief that its being over may bring.

*MDIC.com is short for mydogischelsea.com. The actual MDIC.com is apparently for sale at the incredibly reasonable price of $4,950. Wow, what a bargain! In retrospect, I should’ve just written MDIC out, since this footnote has far usurped any time I may have saved with the shorthand.