Cauliflower Tots April 10, 2017

I posted a picture of my cauliflower tots on Instagram and have gotten a few messages for the recipe. Never fear, Chef Steph is here. 

What you’ll need:

• 1 medium head of cauliflower
• 1/2 cup parmesan cheese
• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
• 2 eggs
• 1 tablespoon of salt
• 1 tablespoon of pepper
• A pinch of cayenne pepper
• Cooking spray
• Sheet pan
• (I’m going to dice 1/2 of a yellow onion and cook it slightly to add to my next batch)

What you’ll do:

• Wash off the cauliflower and pat dry, cut florets that you can handle with your hand or that will fit in your food processor.
• Grab your grater or food processor (much easier / saves your knuckles) and shred all of the cauliflower.
• Take the shredded cauliflower and put all of it in the middle of a clean kitchen towel to squeeze the excess moisture out of it. Squeeze, squeeze, and squeeze one more time. Put the cauliflower in a mixing bowl.
• Add the eggs, parmesan, cheddar cheese, salt, pepper, and cayenne and mix thoroughly to incorporate all the ingredients together.
• Take a heaping teaspoon and form a tot, put it on your prepared baking sheet – repeat.
• Put sheet in oven at 400 for 25 minutes or until golden brown.
• Take out of the oven, serve immediately.

Enjoy!

15 February 8, 2016

15 eggs. That’s what the specialist told my sister Ashley she had in her ovaries. After weeks of pills and injections, 15 eggs is what she has.

15 chances to become a mother.

I have to be honest, I’m suffocating. I’m overwhelmed by fear; I have absolutely no control over this situation.

I hate it. I seriously hate this. It’s complete bullshit that my sister has to go through this. I wish I could hug her hard enough to maybe take this burden from her and put it on my shoulders. That really is the worst part; I would rather go through this myself. Sitting on the sidelines, watching my sister enduring this, being strong for everyone else. She must be screaming on the inside; I know I have.

I gave her an extra hug when she left tonight after watching the Super Bowl with the D’s. I wish I knew what was going to happen, I wish I knew what the bottom line was. Not knowing is like a personal hell for me.

I’d appreciate prayers, good thoughts, mojo, chanting, you know; you do you.

Chemo starts Wednesday.

 

9 degrees January 13, 2016

Tonight was a typical night for me. After work I had to run to Roncalli to pick up Kam, run over to the bowling alley for bowling practice, then hustle him downtown for play practice at the Anthenaeum.

Typical running, going through the drive thru for dinner, dropping him off to bowl with his teammates for about two hours, during the time he was bowling I was running errands – dropping off dry cleaning, talking to a friend on the phone, grabbed a Starbucks, and chatted with another friend before Kam came out of practice; jumped in the car and told me he forgot his pants for the dress rehearsal tonight. Looking at the clock, I knew I had just enough time to run him home, have him change his clothes while I made a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, sliced up an apple, grab a water and head back out onto the snow covered streets. I remember complaining the streets in our neighborhood  were basically a block of ice, I looked over and my comments were falling on deaf ears –  wireless headphones and iTunes had taken over.

I often don’t turn on the radio when I drive Kam around, mostly because I can hear what he’s listening to already. Windshield time is time for me to think about what’s next. Dinner, homework, work, tv, playing with Riley, and eventually sleep.

I dropped my aspiring actor at his destination a few minutes early (which makes me feel accomplished) and was ready to head back home to get dinner ready for Mr. D.

Downtown is usually quiet on that side of town, as I turned on Alabama I noticed there were lights about a block behind from me, but were heading my way. I pulled over and waiting for them to pass. It was a red, SUV type of vehicle, I noticed it was Indianapolis Fire Department vehicle as they passed. Almost immediately they got in front of me and went to the next block and started to get out of the SUV. Then I saw a guy on a cell phone with a blue coat talking to one of them. Two of the other firefighters were headed toward a bench a few feet away from the corner on the passenger side of my car. I don’t know why but I rolled down my window as I observed the scene.

There was a man (I’m guessing it was a man because they kept calling him bud) lying on a park bench motionless. It appeared to me that he may have been there awhile, the plastic like tarp that was covering him was covered partially in snow. He was motionless. One of the firefighters was calling something in and the other just stood there shaking his head.

That’s when a cop car pulled up to the scene and I got in the next lane and out of the way.

I cried all the way home. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. Someones father, uncle, brother, cousin, or son was laying on a bench downtown, motionless, covered by plastic and snow.

I’ve seen homeless people downtown before, but never in that condition. I’m sure there are people reading this saying “yeah, well if you think that’s bad you should see how it is in Chicago, New York, LA.” I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t care. I think it’s absolutely despicable that a man who had obviously been lying there for hours probably got past by a hundred times by people that didn’t make a call.

If I knew there was something I could do that would make a difference I would. I’ve volunteered at food pantries, gave money when I could but I just feel hopeless.

My heart broke for a man that I never met; but I will never forget him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surgery December 9, 2015

Tomorrow is the day. Ashley, my 29 year old sister,  will have a mastectomy tomorrow morning.

I keep hearing about how God has a plan, and yes, I can accept that for some people. This situation with Ashley was not even a blip on our radar. I suppose that is why I’m having such a hard time with this.

If my Dad were here it would be easier, not that he wouldn’t be devastated, but he would hold us all together. He would sit us down with BBQ ribs and tell us exactly how things were going to go for the next few days – Johnno was a planner, and I was his assistant.

The bottom line is we’re traveling into unchartered territory tomorrow. Neither me or my sisters have ever had any type of surgery – besides child birth – I mean, not even a broken arm. The only experience we’ve had with St. Francis is that my Dad died under their care – that pretty much sucks as a track record as far as I’m concerned. I’m not comfortable at all leaving my sisters health to St. Francis. I’ll just leave that there.

Let’s get through tomorrow, we will give updates throughout the day. We cannot express how much your support, love, text messages, and phone calls have meant to Ashley. If she doesn’t get back to you right away, it just means she’s snuggling with Norm on the couch, resting her body for tomorrow.

Updates will be posted at @Ashley’s Updates – please be patient with us, this is new for us also. We appreciate all of your support for Ashley, but I think that the best thing she can do tomorrow is – to get through surgery – rest enough to manage pain – go home as soon as she can.

Thank you so much for your support, updates coming soon.

 

 

 

 

 

Big – Small – Business – Jen Daisy Boutique November 28, 2013

 

Small Business Saturday is November 30th. Who are you supporting Indianapolis?

My pick:  Jen Daisy Boutique. Just on the out-cute-skirts of Indianapolis – (129 N. Emerson Avenue, Greenwood, IN.) You say Greenwood? I’ll call your Greenwood and raise you a County Line Road exit where you can step into a boutique that really cares about you and fashion, and how YOU want to feel and look.

It’s all about you, and fashionable chique at Jen Daisy.

I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t know the establishment existed until maybe six months ago. Now, I’m a regular. Jen and her staff are kind, inviting, and super fun! They carry items for S-M-L-XL-2X-3X – yes, that’s right, fashion for everyone!

I chatted with Jen recently and asked her about being a small business owner and what she is passionate about. I could have done this interview without actually meeting Jen or being a customer because her passion shines so true, but I thought I’d ask her anyway, and I wanted a new shirt…..

Q: What inspired you to open your own business? ” I have helped many friends with changing their style and updating their look. I loved seeing their faces after we changed their appearance. It changed the way they felt about themselves and gave them a confidence they seemed to loose over the years. I can look at someone and instantly know what will look good on them or how to take them out of their comfort zone of dressing. Many girlfriends said I needed my own store; I decided it was time and knew I could take my 13 years in the hospitality industry to good use (great in my opinion) using a different approach to customer service. I am a hands on boutique owner – (I can guarantee that.)

Q: What do you want to accomplish? “I want to help women feel beautiful and teach them how to dress for their body types. (Don’t you love her already?) I also love having the opportunity to give back to my community with different fundraisers.”

Q: What charities/events are you involved with? “Meeting Professionals International, Gleaners Food Bank, Red Cross, CGI, Teachers Treasurers, Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.”

Q: What is challenging about being a small business owner? “Knowing you’re buying the right things and the right amount of items. I also think boutique business is a very competitive business, staying ahead of your competition, and caring about your customer is the most important thing to my business.”

Q: Just curious, do you have a favorite author or quote? “My favorite author of easy reading is Jennifer Weiner. My favorite quote is from Audrey Hepburn: “The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman only grows with the passing years.”

It’s so nice to have someone make you feel so beautiful….and mean it.

P.S. She has some bitchin deals on #BlackFriday – get there at 7 am (she opens at 8 am)

You can also follow Jen at https://www.facebook.com/pages/JenDaisy-Boutique/374911262592639?ref=br_tf 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee” August 7, 2013

At least that’s what Muhammad Ali said….

How about stung by a wasp, and by the way, your momma is gonna collapse tomorrow?

That’s how I feel.

Sunday may have been the most scared I’ve ever been in a long time. Kam was out mowing the backyard and he got stung by a wasp on his ankle. When he came in he was scared, and obviously hurt, but nothing that he couldn’t recover from. As I was looking at the sting to see if there was still a stinger in his leg he started screaming and ran away from me. What I didn’t know, and found out seconds later, was that the wasp that stung his ankle crept into his shirt and continued to sting him. He became very frightened, which made me extremely frightened. He ran into his room screaming, Mr. D and I literally had to hold him down while he was twisting, screaming, and crying to pull his shirt off and kill that damn wasp.

That wasn’t the worst of it.

It hurts me, I mean it physically hurts me to be this honest. I just can’t lie, it’s just not part of my DNA anymore.

My son is damaged, and after this, there has to be something done. I’ll spare you the intimate details because he’s my son, I love him, and I would never ever do anything to hurt him. He’s hurting and I have to help him, and I’m the “CAN DO” person to the absolute extreme. I will do anything and everything to make absolutely sure that my son has the best life. It’s not negotiable.

I spent two and a half hours on Monday calling counselors. He didn’t want a female counselor, he wanted a male counselor. (By the way if you’re in college and thinking about a counseling career and you’re a upstanding male, that truly cares about children, I would highly recommend it, because you guys are in demand – big time.) The last call I made was to an out of network counselor that was accepting new people. I think the lady that I spoke to had pity on me (because after two and a half hours I was in tears) scheduled an appointment for my son because I basically begged her. I told my son that I had an appointment scheduled for him and he seemed happy about that, I was in turmoil. Questioning every move I’ve made for the last fourteen years.

“You’re only as happy as your saddest child” is what Dr. Phil says. I’ll be damned if that isn’t the truth.

I just have to believe that I’m doing the best thing for my son. I have to pray that the people around me will understand, and know that I have everyone’s best interest at heart.

But my son comes first.

60 Days… January 3, 2013

Have you ever had something so devastating happen to you that it made you want to crawl into a dark hole and never come out again?

I can honestly say yes, that happened to me. When my dad died a big part of me died. I changed. Even with the support of my husband, and friends I seemed to be getting worse not better.

I went to my doctor almost immediately after my dad’s death. I told him I was depressed, having panic attacks, and problems with my acid reflux (which I already had.) When he asked about how much I was drinking I lied. Not only to him, but I lied to myself about my drinking. He prescribed me some antidepressants and told me to cut back on drinking. The antidepressants made me more depressed. I quit taking them and drank more.

I decided to go to a grief counselor about a year and a half after my dad died. When I met with her she was shocked when I told her that he had passed away almost two years ago. She was concerned because I was still so distraught and it was starting to affect my health. I was beginning to have GI problems. She asked if I drank, I said yes. When she asked how much, I lied. She suggested that I go to the doctor to get back on antidepressants. I continued to see her, but after a year I still felt stuck. I decided to stop going because I didn’t feel like I was making much progress and the bills were starting to add up.

I went back to my doctor and over the next several months I had an endoscopy, colonoscopy, and more blood drawn and tested than I would like to remember. My blood work always came out fine, some levels were a little higher than others, but nothing to be alarmed about. They found after I had the colonoscopy that I had some hemorrhoids that would flare up and bleed, but that could be fixed with more fiber in my diet and less alcohol. When I had the endoscopy I thought for sure they would find I had ulcers. When it came back that I didn’t I couldn’t believe it. No one seemed to know what was wrong with me.

Depression, stress, feeling sick all the time, and medical bills adding up at a rapid rate, can be slightly overwhelming. Alcohol helps that right?

Around the end of October I started feeling really bad. Another test, another colonoscopy, a different doctor.

Going in I didn’t feel the same as I did with my regular doctor. I had been poked and prodded without any real answer as to what was wrong with me.

During the interview with the nurse before the procedure I had to go through my medical history with them. When the drinking subject came up I decided to be very frank with them. I was tired of feeling so sick and if being honest about that one thing could answer the question that no one could answer over the last year I thought – the hell with it. So I answered it, honestly. When I did it was like I had put down a sack of bricks that I had been carrying around for three and a half years.

After the procedure the doctor came in to talk to me and Mr. D. I’ll never forget him because he looked like Colonel Sanders. He had the white beard and hair, even the glasses were a spot on match. He told me that I had a fatty liver. No scarring, no cirrhosis ..yet. He was very frank, which I actually appreciated (he probably heard I was a no-nonsense kind of person after talking to the nurses.)

Then he said something that I will never forget. He leaned over and looked at me straight in the eyes and said “if you don’t stop drinking you will be dead in two years.” Everything in my body stopped.

I had one single thought.

I sat there in silence for what seemed like forever. I imagined Kameron’s prom, his graduation, his wedding, and grandchildren that I would not be around to see. I saw Kameron’s face and I knew in that moment I would never want him to feel the hopelessness that I have felt for so long.

I looked at the doctor and said “I just won’t drink again.” The Colonel sighed and said “do you know how many people say that to me and they’re back in six months with the same problem they had before?” He was condescending. I could tell he was frustrated, he probably has said that to who knows how many people. I looked at him square in the face and said “you’ll never see me again.”

So today, on day 60 of sobriety I can honestly say I’ve never felt better in my life. I’m not going to lie, the first two weeks of not drinking was like the worst hangover I ever had.. it just lasted two solid weeks. After that I started feeling stronger everyday. All of my symptoms that I was having are gone. It really is amazing.

I always wanted my dad to be proud of me, and he was proud of me for many things I accomplished when he was alive. I now know this is the proudest he’s ever been of me, I feel it everyday.

I’d like to thank Shawnie Quick-Raflik for encouraging me to write this. I thought I might disappoint some of you, it’s a shameful thing to admit, that is why I waited to write this. The many of you I do know.. if I hurt you in some way I’m sorry.

*If you feel like you know someone struggling, please don’t ignore it. Even though I’ve chosen to take this journey on my own with the support of Mr. D, friends, and family there are places that want to help*

Much Love, SED

Spook-tacular Dinner Cerulean Style November 5, 2012

When Duncan Alney of Firebelly Marketing  asked if I would like to attend a pop up dinner under the City Market on Halloween, how long do you think it took me to say yes? I think the look on my face was enough. A new restaurant Cerulean Indianapolis was hosting the event. He could have told me I was going to eat dirt and I would have been there. I did, by the way eat some delicious dirt.

There were 20 of us. Some social media foodies and great mix of people that won the restaurant’s pop up dinner sweepstakes. Everyone met at the Tomlinson Tap Room. Some of us whispering about actually eating in the catacombs beneath the City Market. Tales of ghost and haunting filled the room when our gracious hostess said it was time to head down.

Not knowing what to expect, I didn’t expect the dirt floor, or the hair on the back of my arms raising up and we shuffled down the old stairs. Through the dim lights we arrived at our destination.  Awesome right?

Speaking of awesome, the food, was absolutely delicious!  Chef Caleb France was very gracious and described his restaurant and the dishes we would be enjoying and that they would be paired with a wine sample.

They started us out with a seared scallop, which was not on the already prepared menu. It looked as beautiful as it tasted. Cooked to perfection, perfect start!

Our next small plate was kale, carrot, radish, caramelized onion, dirt. You read it right, edible dirt. It was paired with a Branborg Estate wine (Umpqua Valley, OR.) Everything was crisp and fresh, another delight!

My favorite option of the night was the yellow perch, sweet pepper, fennel, mushroom corn. The yellow perch melted in my mouth, the peppers were sweet, with the right amount of fennel. It was paired with a Overstone (Hawke’s Bay, New Zeland.)

I would have been satisfied with that dish alone but then they brought out the pork dish. It took me to Thanksgiving. Pork Loin, cranberry, fresh sage, apple, ginger, with a hint of bourbon. The loin was so tender you could cut it with a fork, the cranberries were just the right amount of tartness.  It was paired with Domain de Servana Cotes due Rhone Grenache Blend (Rhone Valley, France.)

Our next taste was of the smoske, beef, bone marrow, stout, mustard braised greens. The beef was well seasoned and tender, the greens were amazing! It was paired with Burgess Syrah (Napa Valley, CA.)

Usually I’m not much of a desert person but when presented with white chocolate, dark chocolate, milk chocolate that looked like a magician put it together I was all in. Surprisingly light and fluffy! I thought it would be impolite the lick the plate in front of the other guests. It was paired with Bodegas Dios Baco Amontillado Sherry (Jerez, Spain.)

What a perfect night! I asked Chef Caleb why he chose Indianapolis for his next venture? “I love that Indy has been transformed into a dinning destination by many great chefs and now, the stage is set to begin to redefine what it means to cook and eat in Indianapolis.”

Isn’t that delicious?

Cerulean Indianapolis opens Friday, November 23, Black Friday. Which I think is spectacular!

Find them on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ceruleanindy?fref=ts

Follow them on Twitter @ceruleanindy

Primitive Pleasures Candles September 18, 2012

Move over Yankee Candle, seriously, you’re in Primitive Pleasures Way.

I fell in love with these candles a couple of years ago at Anderson Orchard Pleasant View location. My mistake was I only bought one $12.00 jar candle. That’s right, not a $20.00 Yankee Candle, twelve bucks! After burning my Creme Brulee candle for a day I realized I needed more! Presents, one for every room in my house! (Although you don’t need it – the rich, delightful smell covers the entire house.) I went back to the orchard, apparently the word had spread because they were all gone!

I immediately went home to look up their website – they don’t have one. Looked up a phone number and contacted them. I spoke with a very kind gentleman that thanked me for calling and expressed appreciation for finding their company and my desire to have more of their delicious smelling candles.  I ordered only six (big mistake.) I asked the gentleman about having a website or a Facebook page in order to boost sales. He said he appreciated it, but just wasn’t interested at this time.  I was ready to give him my credit card number when he said he would send the candles and just send me an invoice for the balance. Was he kidding? Apparently not, I got my candles in just a few days with a thank you written on the invoice and a few of their other smaller candles to sample. Really.

This year I planned ahead to go to the orchard to get my candles, and perhaps a caramel apple. Got there, looked around no Creme Brulee candles to be found. I inquired with the people working the counter. They informed me they received a delivery earlier, 24 candles, one woman came in and bought them all earlier that day. Seriously?

So I called (I really love these candles.) Spoke to the same kind gentleman. Ordered my candles, no shipping cost. I got them today, sent out their check. I already have a delicious smell throughout my house. I love these candles!!  My surprise this year is a Cinnamon Bun Fragrance Oil. Smelled it, yum!!

I’m not crazy, I asked them about promoting their product on Facebook. They said they were happy with the business they had, and appreciated my business.

Damn if they don’t have the best candles.
Primitive Pleasures Candles

4871 East CR 900 South

Cloverdale, Indiana 46120

 

Questions You Wish You Didn’t Ask September 15, 2012

I was driving home with Kameron after picking him up from school yesterday. I’ve mentioned our drives and time to talk or catch up on the way home in previous posts. Kameron isn’t much of a talker unless it’s something he wants to talk about. I’m finding this is typical of 13 year old boys in general.

It’s been a gloomy week. A week of memories from three years ago. My Dad being at home alive, and in an instant gone. Just gone. It’s still hard for me to think about. With the help of grief counseling I can talk about my Dad most of the time now without crying. Sometimes, Mr. D and I can recall something Dad said or did and we can laugh about it, but there is always a pause or a silence after the laugh. It’s still not comfortable for me. I’ve caught myself over the last couple of weeks picking up my phone a few times to call my Dad about something that I would normally call him about. Then I remind myself that he’s not going to answer, and I cry.

Saturday he will be gone for three years. I’ve had people tell me that as time passes it gets easier, that’s a lie. Just because you don’t see someone physically crying, doesn’t mean that they aren’t on the inside.

With my Dad on my mind, I wonder who else is thinking of him. I know my family is, in their own way. I’ve discovered through grief counseling that people grieve in very different ways, my family especially.

For some reason I was compelled to ask Kameron about “Pop” yesterday on our drive home. So I asked “Kam, do you ever think about Pop?” He thought about it for a second and said “not so much anymore.” I have to be honest, I was very angry. I don’t normally bring up subjects that would make Kameron uncomfortable. I thought that we had a connection with my Dad that would never go away, how could you possibly not think about Johnno?

Then I thought back to when my Dad lost his father. It was definitely a different situation. I don’t remember my grandfather even walking. I remember him in a hospital bed in the middle of the living room at my grandparents house. My grandfather never took me golfing, never took me shopping, never really paid attention to me actually. Although, I have heard stories from my older cousins of being spoiled by my grandfather, which doesn’t surprise me, he was a very kind, generous man. I wish I had better memories than a wheel chair and a hospital bed.

Back to Kameron and his passive answer about my dad. I don’t remember what age I was when my Dad’s father died, I’m thinking it’s pretty close to the same age that Kameron is now. I just remember being bored with the funeral arrangements and all the people that were coming to the house. People I have never met before, bringing food, plants, and cards. They were overcrowding our 650 square foot Norwaldo address and I remember being annoyed. Not being shy, I asked when all these people were going to leave. I remember as clear as day my Dad looking at me and saying “I lost my father god damnit.” I never knew how he felt, I never knew that pain. Until now.

I think of my father every day. I wish he was here for me to help me with Kameron growing up. Mr. D is a great father, I was just hoping for extra support. My Dad was everything to me. I miss him more than anyone could imagine. One thing I do know about my Dad is that he wouldn’t want me to be in pain anymore. Although, every day is a struggle without him. He would say “Damnit Baby, hasn’t this gone on long enough?”

So after I picked Kameron up from school today he asked why I had candles lit at home. I just said I thought it would be nice. He said “it’s because of Pop isn’t it?” I said “yes baby it is.”

He looked at me with his 13 year old eyes and said “I’m sorry mom.” Then he said that “we should keep the candles going  for Pop.” I said I would.

The loss is indescribable, the pain you hide from everyone else is worse. It’s a silent hell that you trap yourself in. I wish I would have been able to make things different, I couldn’t.

I miss your hugs Johnno.