Thanksgiving week is officially almost over, but it's never too late to be grateful. It's so easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season and lose sight of what really matters, especially when you're going straight from Thanksgiving into the hullabaloo of Black Friday. After all, nothing says "I'm thankful" like turning around 24 hours later and getting in a fight with a stranger over a 75-inch flat screen TV. The older I get, the more I appreciate things I used to take for granted, so here's a list of 10 things I've found myself appreciating this year.
A loving, close-knit family
A warm, safe place to go home to every night
Food in the kitchen and the ability to get it when I need it
A good job that challenges my abilities
The joy of the Christmas season
Books to take you places when you need to get away
Our family dog - getting older, but still adorable!
A funny, supportive friend group to do life with
Early enough detection of a retinal detachment that it was able to be corrected without significant permanent vision loss
The opportunity to take trips and have exciting new experiences
This ain't your mama's Manwich. I spent my formative years dreading that soupy, flavorless sauce from a can before I stumbled across this Pioneer Woman recipe and never looked back. Tangy, juicy, and full of flavor, you *need* this recipe in your repertoire. You definitely want the fancy kaiser rolls for these to get the full experience, but I rarely take the time to toast them and it still manages to turn out delicious every single time. Perfect for when you need a quick dinner!
Ingredients:
2 1/2 pounds ground beef
1 large green bell pepper, diced
1/2 large onion, diced
5 garlic cloves, minced
2 TBSP packed brown sugar
2 tsp chili powder (or more to taste)
1 tsp dry mustard
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
Worcestershire sauce to taste
Tabasco sauce to taste
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
8 kaiser rolls
2 TBSP butter
Directions:
Brown the ground beef in a large pot over medium-high heat, then drain off the fat.
Add in green pepper and onions and stir.
Add minced garlic, ketchup, and 1 cup water and stir to combine, then add brown sugar, chili powder, mustard, red pepper flakes, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, salt, and pepper.
Stir to combine, then cover and simmer over medium-low heat for 20 minutes.
To serve, spread kaiser rolls with softened butter and brown them on a griddle or skillet. Spoon a good amount of the meat mixture onto the bottom roll, then top with the other half.
Source: "Sloppy Joes", The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Food From My Frontier
I have a problem. Actually, I have two problems. Actually, I have a lot of problems, but for the sake of this conversation, we'll limit it to two. Problem 1) I buy a LOT of books because I read a LOT of books, which gets very expensive and leads to Problem 2) I have a LOT of books I have read, didn't care for, and are now laying around taking up valuable real estate in my humble, not-overly-large-abode. As you can imagine, books in + no books out = *cue Marie Kondo weeping*. But friends, there is a solution, and that solution is Pango.
Now, a couple of rapid-fire disclaimers here. Yes, I could just borrow books from the library and occasionally do, but my tolerance for sticky library covers and weird stains has gone down the older I've gotten. Yes, I could also just donate the unwanted books to Goodwill, but that would require collecting them until I have a decent load and then carting them over for drop-off, which would result in an anxiety-filled exchange in which I'll question if they're questioning if I was the same chick who dropped off a box of cheesy Hallmark-esque books last month. Yes, these are all first world problems and yes, I still support our local indie bookstore if I'm in the mood to just browse and I'm not looking for a specific title. And, last but not least, no, this post is not sponsored by Pango. Sadly. Okay, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
I have absolutely no recollection of how I first heard about Pango as it's been a couple of years now, but, much like the invention of weighted blankets and waffle makers, it's hard to imagine what I did before it came into my life. Pango is essentially Poshmark for books; you can list and sell books for "Pango Bucks", which can be cashed out for real money or left in the app as store credit, or you can buy books from other sellers on the site. If you choose to sell, Pango takes 20% of each sale as a platform fee and provides a prepaid shipping label; all you have to do is package it up, slap the label on, and drop it in the mail. However, if you then turn around and use Pango bucks to buy something, you get 2% of the purchase price back in Pango bucks. It's not much, but
it's a nice little incentive to keep your earnings as credit until you
need them. Much like buying books from the Amazon marketplace, books are graded from fair to new condition and listed at (usually) shockingly good prices. Unlike the Amazon marketplace, sellers usually have multiple pictures so you can see exactly what you're getting. Additionally, sellers often have multi-buy discounts where you can get a percentage or flat amount off if you spend a certain amount.
One of the nice things about Pango is that you can buy or sell or both. Obviously, if you're like me, it makes sense to sell and then apply those earnings to future purchases, but you could also just convert your sales to real money if you need a little extra cash. Or, if you don't want to sell, you can just pay with a card like any other online purchase. You can often find exclusive, special editions from places like Owlcrate and Fairyloot that you wouldn't be able to get anywhere else, so it's a great place to look for some of those harder-to-find items. There's a search function if you're wanting a specific title, but there's also a feed where you can see the most recently posted books, or you can browse by category. I've found a lot of great, random books I never would've found on my own if I hadn't stumbled on them in the main feed. Additionally, I really like the idea of buying secondhand books where the money is going to actual people and not just some soulless corporation. A lot of sellers include fun stickers or cute little notes when you order from them, so getting Pango mail is a lot more fun than your average retailer.
Like any third-party arrangement, there's some risk in buying from random people. Buyers can rate sellers they purchase from on Pango so you can usually tell if someone is a bad egg, but bad eggs also tend to not stick around for very long once they're on the Pango team's radar. In all the years I've been using Pango, I haven't had a single situation that hasn't been resolved quickly and efficiently, usually before it even has to be escalated. Even an order I made for several books that was lost by the post office was immediately refunded by the seller when I reached out to her. Sure, it might take a couple of extra days without that 2-day Prime shipping, but how many times has Amazon put frog stickers in with your order just for funsies? I would be willing to bet the answer is 0.
And so, to summarize, that is the story of why you should consider Pango for all your bookish needs. (Or at least most of them; brand new releases usually take a hot second to circulate their way into the Pango world.) Buy. Sell. Get cowboy possum stickers. The end.
My work friend's birthday was this week, so I decided to make her a cake and throw her a little surprise party. The surprise part didn't last thanks to my poor planning, but neither did the cake. It was a big hit! White chocolate-y and mocha-y and not overly sweet, it was a nice change from the sickeningly sweet, mostly flavorless cakes you usually get at the store.
Now, the original recipe suggests piping decorations on top, but I didn't realize until it was too late that the only piping tips I have are for cookie decorating. It was almost midnight at that point and I had already spent a couple of hours just making the cake and getting the frosting on, so I did the only thing I could think of, melted some of the white chocolate mixture that was left over, let it cool a little, and then poured it on top to do a drip decoration down the side. I couldn't even find my drip bottle, so I really had to wing it. I also ended up having to redo it after a dismal attempt at writing "Happy Birthday" on top; the drip didn't turn out nearly as well the second time, but at that point, I knew it was as good as it was going to get.
Ingredients:
For white chocolate cake layers
4 oz white baking chocolate, chopped into small pieces
2 1/2 cups cake flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups white sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
2 tsp vanilla
1 1/3 cup milk
For espresso mixture
1 TBSP instant espresso
1 TBSP granulated sugar
1/4 cup boiling water
For whipped white chocolate ganache
12 oz white chocolate
6 oz heavy cream
For espresso cream cheese frosting
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
16 oz cream cheese, softened
1 TBSP espresso granules dissolved in 2 tsp vanilla
6 to 6 1/2 cups powdered sugar
Instructions:
Make the cake layers:
Preheat the oven to 325 F.
Grease and flour 3 8" round cake pans, then cut out a circle of parchment paper to fit in the bottom of each.
Heat the milk in the microwave or on the stove, but don't let it boil. Add the white chocolate. Let it sit for a couple of minutes to soften, then stir until melted and smooth. Let cool before using.
Combine flour, baking powder, and salt, then whisk for 30 seconds to blend and set aside.
In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat butter until smooth. Slowly add the sugar and beat on medium for 4-5 minutes.
Add the eggs one at a time, mixing after each until fully incorporated, then add vanilla.
With mixer on low speed, alternately add the flour mixture and milk/chocolate mixture, beginning and ending with the flour (3 additions of flour and 2 of milk mixture).
Mix until just combined, being careful not to overmix.
Pour batter into prepared pans and bake for 22-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let cool in the pans for 10 minutes, then turn them out.
Make the espresso mixture
Mix boiling water, espresso powder, and sugar until dissolved. Set to the side and allow to cool.
Make whipped white chocolate filling
In a microwave safe bowl, combine white chocolate with the heavy cream and microwave in small increments until chocolate is almost melted. Once chocolate has almost completely melted, stir until smooth.
Allow to cool and thicken, but not get firm.
Whipped the chilled ganache until it fluffs up and stiff peaks form.
Make espresso cream cheese frosting
Cut the butter into slices and add to the bowl of your mixer. Beat on low to medium speed until butter is softened.
Cut the cream cheese into pieces and add to the butter, beating at low to medium speed until blended.
Add the espresso that's been mixed with the vanilla.
Gradually add powdered sugar and beat on low to medium speed until blended. Don't overmix or it will become too soft. If it does, refrigerate for a few minutes, then continue. The frosting will also pipe best when chilled.
Assemble the cake
Place the first cake layer on cake base or pedestal. Brush the top with espresso mixture.
Spread the top with a layer of white chocolate filling and place the second cake layer on top, then repeat steps 1 and 2.
Fill in any gaps between the cake layers with frosting, then apply a crumb coat of frosting to the cake and chill in the freezer for 15 minutes. This firms everything up for the final coat.
Smooth a second layer of frosting around the sides of the cake, then decorate as desired.
The year is 1967. 51-year-old Dick Proenneke is living and working in Alaska as a diesel mechanic after being discharged as a Navy carpenter for medical reasons. Although very skilled and sought after in his work, Proenneke's true passion has always lain somewhere else: the great outdoors. With a change at work on the horizon, he makes the radical decision to move to the remote Alaskan wilderness and try his hand at living off the land.
More at home in nature than in the big cities, Proenneke selected an isolated piece of land in Twin Lakes to set up camp. With the exception of hunting season, when human traffic would increase a bit, his only contact was to be with Babe, the pilot who flew him in and would drop by periodically with supply runs, and writing letters. The arrangement suited him perfectly; he wanted solitude, after all.
Borrowing a nearby cabin for a temporary base, Proenneke got to work building his new home. He felled trees and meticulously notched them to fit together as closely as possible, carted gravel from the lakefront for the floor, cut and peeled more wood for window panes and roof slats and a door, hunted for the perfect stones from which to craft a fireplace and chimney, and, in between all of that, somehow managed to find time to build furniture and repurpose things like old gas cans into usable tools. It's hard work, but work that he's well-suited to and enjoys.
To get the resources he needs for his cabin, Proenneke is often out exploring his surroundings and gets to know the other inhabitants - the non-human inhabitants, that is. "Camp robbers", caribou, rams, bears, fish, ermine, and a handful of other critters all make an appearance, whether for good or ill. As the cabin is completed and winter sweeps in to the region, the focus switches from creation to survival. How can he stay warm in temperatures as low as 50 degrees below zero while still accomplishing everything that has to be done? Will he be able to supplement the food supplies that Babe brings in as the journey becomes riskier the colder it gets? Will he get cabin fever being cooped up for extended periods of time?
Like a lot of people these days, I am completely fascinated by stories like this. Life gets so complicated and stressful sometimes that it's easy to fantasize about what it would be like to chuck everything in the bin, move to the middle of nowhere, and spend the rest of your days communing with nature and singing kumbaya around the campfire. Idealistically, it sounds pretty great. Realistically, I would've accidentally chopped my leg off trying to cut down that first tree. A girl can dream, though, and that's why I love this book.
Proenneke is one of those people that everyone would want on their zombie apocalypse team, including the zombies: he's resourceful, a meticulous planner, a hard worker, and - look away if you're squeamish - he's not afraid to eat brains. For realsies. Aside from that, he's conscientious about literally everything he does. Nothing goes to waste and I mean nothing (see above brain comment). Whether it's turning old tin into items he needs, repurposing or recovering things people have left behind, or even salvaging what he can from animals that were killed for sport and left to rot, he approaches every situation with the goal of maximizing the outcome with minimum waste. His quiet philosophy is sprinkled throughout the book and some of the ways in which he takes things into his own hands are really quite moving, especially with his little animal friends.
Aside from just the sheer impressiveness of dropping into the wilderness and building a completely new life from the ground up, it's some of the notes in his journals that make his story extra special, not to mention the beautiful photos that he took along the way for documentation. I think today's world needs a lot more of what he had: respect for nature and the things that live in it, less focus on accumulating things, the satisfaction of a good day's hard work, and an appreciation for the simple beauty that's all around us, but that we miss because we're too busy rushing around.
Proenneke died in 2003 after spending a total of almost 30 years living in the cabin that he built with his own two hands. In fact, you can still visit the cabin today; he bequeathed it to the National Park Service and it's a popular tourist destination (as popular as it can be for being in remote Alaska) to this day. There's also a short documentary about his life, which is called "Alone in the Wilderness". While it's fun to read about people doing incredible things like this, there are some important lessons to take away from his story. By examining our own lives through the lens of conscientious responsibility for which Proenneke advocated while pursuing his dream of a simple life, we can ensure his legacy lives on to inspire future generations.
Pros:
Gorgeous photography from Proenneke himself
Man vs nature
Proenneke is, quite possibly, The Coolest Man Ever™
Cons:
Written in diary format, which is both a pro and a con as you know exactly what's going on when, but 1) the days can be a little repetitive sometimes and 2) there are jumps in the entries, which can be a little disorienting if you're not paying attention
This is from a few decades ago and, very rarely, a comment will reflect a view from that time that would probably not go over super well today
There are some disturbing scenes if you're an animal lover, but he doesn't get super gory with descriptions
It all started, as things often do, with a trip down a YouTube rabbit hole. Back in the good ol' days, my siblings and I were allotted an hour of screen time and I liked to spend mine watching funny animal videos. Who doesn't? But one thing led to another which led to something else and, as it often goes, I somehow managed to find myself on a completely different subject than where I'd started. That subject was Michael Flatley.
Now to set the stage here, it's important to remember that, at the time, I was a small town girl going to a very small school and spent most of my free time reading and watching cooking shows on the weekend after the Saturday morning cartoons were over. We didn't even really watch movies when I was growing up. As a result, my threshold for intrigue was (and still is) very low. So when I found myself watching the finale of the original Lord of the Dance, it absolutely blew my tiny pea brain into smithereens. The lights, costumes, music, rhythm, and insane precision - okay, okay, fine, and Flatley himself... I was hooked.
Learning more about that world soon became one of the great phases of obsession that delineated my younger days. I found full versions of the shows, I learned about Riverdance and the controversy that drove Flatley to branch off and create his own production, I read his biography, and, as much as it makes me cringe now, I watched and rewatched my favorite clips to try to make my feet do what theirs were doing. Spoiler alert: they never did. For me, though, that was never the point. Sure, I was pretty much just running around legs akimbo while the video played in the background, but it was the joy of feeling like I was part of the dance that made it so much fun.
As with all my obsessions, my interest was eventually diverted to some shiny new thing, but I never completely lost my love of Irish dancing. Instead, I developed a more well-rounded, slightly less obsessive appreciation of it: discovering the different types and styles of the dance, learning that endless hard work and grit are the bedrock of an effortless-looking performance, and even switching from a rose-colored glasses view of Flatley himself to one that recognizes his immense skill while still acknowledging that he is, like the rest of us, only human. But for all my interest, I never really went any further with it.
Fast forward to a couple of years ago when a YouTube short from the Gardiner Brothers popped into my feed. If you weren't aware, they're two Irish brothers, formally part of the Riverdance troupe, that pair lightning fast taps and fun choreography with modern, popular songs. I started following them and, once again, found myself wishing I could learn how to do that... and then I wondered why I couldn't. After all, you can learn almost anything online these days; why not Irish dancing?
So I poked around on YouTube, found a couple of channels I thought might be helpful, and tried to teach myself a few skills. I even got a pair of tap shoes and a little board to practice on. What I quickly realized, though, is that this approach was like learning to play a song on an instrument without any kind of training on technique; maybe you can play the right sequence of notes, but without knowing how to play them or put them together into a song, you're not going to get very far. Similarly, I could replicate what the videos were showing me how to do, but they referenced things I knew nothing about and I felt like I was starting in the middle. Without some kind of formal instruction, I could tell this wasn't going to be a very successful endeavor and resigned myself to once again retiring my dream, maybe for good this time.
But those pesky Gardiner Brother shorts just kept popping up, my shoes stared at me wistfully from the floor, and the tap patterns from my favorite routines - old and new - once again started playing in my head. Finally, I told myself it wouldn't hurt just to look and see if there were any classes in the area. I wasn't going to do anything with the information, after all. It was just to shut my brain up for a bit. But lo and behold, my searching uncovered a legitimate Irish dance academy in town, barely 15 minutes from where I work. After a futile couple of months of trying to forget this information, I reluctantly decided to give it a try.
Signing up for an actual class was the last thing I wanted to do for a variety of reasons. For one thing, the typical Irish dancer takes up the sport around 3-4 years old and many of them retire in their early 20s. At 29, I would be majorly pushing that envelope, especially given I've already had the occasional knee issue from time spent in Brazilian jiu-jitsu and running. Aside from that, all of the Irish dancers I'd ever seen were tall and lithe and graceful; I'm short, a few cookies heavier than I would prefer, and I could count the number of times the word "graceful" has been applied to me on my fingers even if I were a double amputee. Would people make fun of me? Was I physically capable of participating? Would people make fun of me? Was it worth starting at the bottom in a completely different form than what I was really interested in since you have to learn soft shoes first? And, most importantly, would people make fun of me? I know, I know, I'm working on it.
The first class was, as anticipated, challenging. Adults are lumped in together here, so you've got people like me - who wouldn't know a change-2-3 from a do-si-do - with people who have danced before and know what they're doing. Being a beginner is always hard, but it's harder when half the class is obviously way ahead of you. Luckily, my sister decided to sign up too, so we had the advantage of at least being able to struggle together. After what I'm sure were some truly hideous attempts at what we learned in that first class, I went home, sore but already looking forward to the next class. My poor muscles had no idea what was about to hit them.
The next day, my legs were a bit stiff, but that was pretty much expected. They'd had us doing a lot of drills on our tip-toes and I spend most of my week sitting behind a desk, so there was bound to be some of that. It seemed to get worse as the day went on, but I still wasn't too concerned: using new muscles, need more practice, etc etc. By the next day, my legs were so sore I literally couldn't walk straight. Thankfully, it was a Saturday so I could spend most of the day abusing a tube of Icy Hot and laying on the couch with my legs propped up in weird positions, but a thread of doubt started to worm its way in. How long was this going to last? And was it going to be like this after every class? The stiffness slowly went away and I showed up to the next class with slightly more trepidation than the first one. It went better than the first and I was both shocked and delighted the next day to discover that, except for being a little achy, my legs seemed like they'd already acclimated pretty well. And we've been going ever since.
It's now been about 3 and a half months since that first semi-disastrous class. We've learned two full dances and are just starting to learn a third. It took some getting used to being taught by younger instructors and having to watch myself in a mirror - something I usually try to avoid - but I can honestly say I'm having more fun than I ever imagined I could. Our class has been whittled down quite a bit from the original group, but we all help each other when we get stuck and there's no judgement when anyone messes up. It works up a good sweat and the concentration required to get the sequences right makes the stresses and cares of the day disappear for a while.
Despite my initial hesitation at having to start in soft shoes, I've found there's a different kind of beauty to these dances. I may not look the same as the dancers I grew up watching, but that doesn't change the feeling of freedom I have when I'm flying across the floor or the fierce satisfaction of landing the final step in a dance perfectly executed at full speed. One of the practice songs is even the same tune as one that's featured in Flatley's Lord of the Dance, which was absolutely surreal the first time we got to dance to it. It was one of those full-circle moments that makes you realize that, sometimes, things can turn out way better than you even dared hope.
So what's your dream? Maybe there's something you've always wanted to do, but you're afraid to try it. Maybe, like me, you're worried about the judgement of others. Maybe there are other obstacles standing in your way that you think are insurmountable. But maybe - just maybe- all you need is a little courage and then you can fly too.
