The Art of Nation Building or How I learned to Stop Thinking and Trust The Nanc

It's that time of every few years where we set up the one and only: Pappas Family Christmas Village! It's kind of a big deal... well in certain circles (ie: our house). Apparently i agreed to this earlier in the week but have no memory of it and therefore was not mentally prepared. It is a picturesque day for it though.

I've mentioned and even shown complete pictures of this majesty in previous posts, but this year you'll have the "pleasure" of going through it's recreation step by step. 

According to my mom DPL and i have an arrangement from our youth that stipulates she will get the village and I will get the trains. This is okay with me on account of I don't like owning things and also putting up the village is a real bitch. Also Scotty loves Christmas more then, like, anyone on the planet so it makes sense that she would have the opportunity to truly deck the halls every year in village form. In which case she should probably just take the trains too cause what's a village without a train?

Step 1: lug a ton of boxes up from the basement.

All the Tupperware you see in this photo doesn't even begin to cover it. Also don't be fooled by this picture!

All this + four boxes we didn't realize were missing until halfway through the set up. Then we had to go search for them in the nasty poop crawl space you can sort of see in the back of the basement picture. Also this is all only village stuff, no ornaments or light or anything else. 

This is the primary reason we have to make a conscious decision to village. And by "we" i mean Nanc decides then enlists me when i'm oBviously distracted with something else and answer something probably along the lines of, "Sure, whatever you want," in an effort to be left alone.  

The real reason is because her 18 month old Granddaughter is coming for Christmas and she wants to fill her with memories she won't remember. This is also why we've raised the village to waist height and installed door locks on all the lower cabinets in the kitchen. The picture will be adorable. 

Step 2: Clear a space.

Originally we were going to clear off the mantle and piano, but Nanc decided she wants to get the piano tuned so DPL can play it while she's home. I don't think DPL has played the piano in years and is likely not aware/prepared for this. I'm pretty sure she reads this blog though and should consider herself warned. 

I was also Okay with this on account of being morally against taking down any glamour shots of myself or DPL. The people must not be denied! 

We went with the corner. 

 

At this point Nanc decides we should push the long couch against the far wall and starts to sort of hip-check the side of it before I point out that the wall she's trying to push it too has about 10 boxes in front of it. We agreed to move it later. 

Step 3: Set up a base.

So we staple blue sheets to a wall and set up these collapsable tables and this is when the inevitable bickering begins. Nanc starts to cover the tables but not drape the white in front so you can see under them. Then i say something and she's like, "I'm not done yet!" and "there's limited sheets!" So I go to the closet and bring back some white sheets to which she replies, "Not my good white king sheets, what are you nuts?" or something along those lines. So I shut up and start the other table with the limited 'village approved' sheets. Then she starts telling me how to do it and i'm like, "You do your table, I'll do mine." And we both seem to agree that that's acceptable. At this point Phil comes in and asks, "Who's prom are we re-creating?"

It is kind of "Starry Night Banquet Hall." We actually talked about getting stars to hang on the blue sheet. This gives me the opportunity to sneak off to the kitchen are remember my motto, "Chill out and have a La Croix." When I come back Phil looks at me and asks, "Do you need a bourbon chaser?" and I politely decline saying, "No thanks, I think I need my wits about me for this," also it's 1pm. Mine's the table on the right.

Around this point I remind Nanc that I'm writing a blog and that she should feel free to take pictures of our process, which I realized later means she will only be taking pictures of me in awkward positions. So I was like, "Whatever... I just won't use them." And she said, "Oh, you'll use some of them or I'll post them all on your facebook page." So I was like, well at least there's no plumbers crack in this one:

and she said, "Oh there is, if you zoom in properly." Please don't. 

So now it's time for the train, of which i've prepared an epic pattern of two trains interweaving threw each other with figure 8's and...

the tracks don't fit on the table, which results in a new design layout and also the Christmas Tree going in the other room. 

So we put the tables parallel to each other allowing for exactly one pattern where the train tracks fit. For reasons I don't understand we left the outermost table the one that doesn't have the sheet going to the floor but honestly whatever.

It is apparently at this point I got so captivated by the village that I forgot to take pictures. So we decide to put the longer of the small tables on top of this new platform to give it some height. This requires covering it in satin which we should have done on the floor:

clearly. Hopefully this covers the photography blackmail demand. So then Nanc decides it's just not maximizing our space enough and we need to put another smaller table on top of that one which is oBviously a prime location for a ski slope. Throughout this whole process Nanc has been sporadically ironing satin in another room, something that i've failed to mention, but is an integral part of this story. So while one of these ironing events is happing I take it upon myself to start setting up the top most layer of the tri-table tournament. I think this makes sense because it's probably best if my 69 year old mother doesn't attempt to balance on two collapsable plastic tables. I'm doing just this when Nanc comes back and says, "I'm going to have to override you on this one Chris." And I say, "My name's not Chris." Suddenly I have a pretty good idea of what it's like growing up with Nanc as your older sister. But i guess we know who wears the pants in this village. This conversation follows:

Mom: I don't like the ski slope coming around the side like that, let's move it here.

Me: But then there's this weird space gap between the hill and under the table.

Mom: We can put a house there.

Me: I'm pretty sure you can't see through a hill, plus the ski slope now ends on a cliff.

Mom: We can fill in the gap with powdered snow.

Me: Why would there be powdered snow floating above a house.

Mom: It'll be fine.

At I just let Mayor Nanc do her thing. So we get the slope set up.

Mom: Why don't we put the brewery between the two slopes? That way if you need a break from skiing you can stop and have a beer.

Me: Sounds good, sign me up.

Mom: Then we can put the kids building snowmen over here. Then you can say, "Hey kids why don't you go build a snowman?" and they'll give you some peace while you finish your drink.

Nanc is full of parenting gold. Finally we finish the upper tables and i'm like, "Grab me the figures that go with these houses," and Nanc is like, "No, I don't want to put up any figures until the end, they're too fragile." So then I'm like, "Yeah, but we're not going to touch these two levels again and I won't be able to stand on the table when we get the bottom set up." And she says, "No, I don't want to put any figures on until the whole things done. We can use a step stool." And I don't care anymore. So we're here:

Do you see them?!?

She put up two figures! And in the most accessible place! No comment. Also at some point Phil has started watching a football game in the next room and is yelling to us what is happening for reasons neither of us understands. He apparently thinks we suddenly care about football. We don't. 

So at this point I think we both agree that we've had enough of each other  we're tired. So Nanc says she'll finish tomorrow with our neighbor and I have never been so happy to have to work on a Sunday. Then she says, "Oh, look at the ski slope! It leads to nowhere! Oh well, I'll just put up a fence or something. 'Ski at your own risk!'"

5 hours and a case of seltzer later and we're here:

To be continued.

Just Navajo it!

  So I was reading this book about how androids take over the planet and start mass murdering humans but a small group of survivors is able to overpower them, reinstating the US government and interweaving it with Lakota beliefs and rituals when i discovered this mysterious bread.

Apparently it can be both sweet and savory, which to me is even more impressive then a small group of humans taking out thousands of non-sentient robots.

 There are a ton of recipes for fry bread but i choose this one for no specific reason. There are various styles for different nations which you can find recipes for at the Manataka American Indian Council.  I thought Indian was politically incorrect but apparently many indigenous Americans don't care too much according to Indian Country Today and some other articles. Anyway political correctness can be ridiculous, but also you don't want to unintentionally offend anyone which is the catch 22 of modern times. One work around is to just consciously be offensive... though i guess then you'd still have to be aware of what's politically correct so you're not  accidentally not offensive.  It really is a conundrum.

Basically you mix the dough then you roll it out then you fry it. The recipe i used called for 3 cups of water but that was way too much and i only used two.

Make sure the oil's hot enough, whoops.

Much better. Tada:

 I mad some sweet (Shaking them in a bag with cinnamon and sugar:

These are delicious and taste a little like funnel cake. I left more plain because i'm a savory person.

I asked Phil and Nanc if they wanted a sandwich and Phil was all, "I'm going to lunch with Steve," and Nanc was like sure. We had some leftover chicken so I microwaved some bacon and made a California Club with Guac:

 I wrapped it in parchment because this is special. Then Nanc was taking her sweet time cleaning something and not eating it hot so Phil came by and was like, "Where'd you get that from?" And I said, "I made it." And he took a big bite and said, "What the hell are you doing making a sandwich like this when i'm going out to lunch?" so I said, "Don't worry, i'm making dinner."

When you search for fry bread recipes "Navajo Tacos" are often mentioned. So i was like, "Well that sounds delicious, I wonder what kind of spices they use?" But it's just a regular beef taco with fry bread as the shell, which was a little disappointing but also sounds delicious. So I asked Phil if we had any ground beef and he said, "Of course." But then when it was time to make dinner we only had four beef patties from Omaha Steaks.  I figured we should probably use them for burgers and not taco seasoning because it's high quality meat which resulted in "Navajo Cheeseburgers" because now anything wrapped in fry bread is Navajo. 

I wanted to heat up the bread so I broiled it with some shredded cheddar on top.  Then I caramelized some red onions because this is special.

 

I made the burgers like the Smitten Kitchen Fakeshake ones where you freeze them a little them smash them onto the hot pan. And finally lettuce, ketchup, and kiwpie mayo (that tastes like McDonalds).

 They were overall successful. So was the Navajo omelette I made this morning. Phil already asked me how to recreate that sandwich because he wants to make one "for Popou." Which i think means "for Phil" but what do I know? I'm not part of a small group of humans that take back the US from killer androids. Anyway that bread only lasted us like a day due to it's deliciousness which is probably good because it's fried bread and you shouldn't eat it at every meal. But know if you do it is a delight.

χαρούμενα γενέθλια

This title of this post is "Happy Birthday" in greek (according to Google), because Nov 1st was Popou's 98th (but really 97th) birthday! Congratulations Popou!!

So oBviously we took him out to dinner to celebrate. The conversations began with me and my dad.

Me: "Is the World Series Over?"
Phil: "What?"
Me: "The World Series. Are there any Games left?"
Phil: "Games?"
Waitress: "I think there's the last game tonight."
Me: "Oh, thanks."
Phil: "Oh, I thought you said games! Yes, tonight it the last game."

So clearly we got lost in plural-ity.
Regardless **Spoiler Alert** Houston won, so... Go Sports!!

This is what Popou had to say:



...which is clearly the correct response. Sadly that's the only pic I got of him because i'm an asshole was too busy eating.

So then on the way home we had this conversation:

Me: Hey Popou?
Popou: Yeah?
Me: You know how bean soup is fasaláda?
Popou: Yeah?
Me: So what does saláta mean?
Popou: salad.
Me: No, I get that, but like taramasaláta is a fish dip.
Popou: Yeah.
Me: So, like... *silence* what does saláta mean?
Popou: salad.
Phil: I had an aunt named vasso. So vassoláta.
Popou: There is no vassoláta. Fasaláda!!
Phil: V & F are B in greek.
Me: Okay. So like spanakópita is spinach pie, tyrópita is cheese pie, & kreatópita is meat pie.
Popou: Yeah.
Me: So what's saláta?
Popou: salad.
Me: No, but like, the suffix.
Popou: I don't know what you're talking about.
Phil: Just give up kid, we're home.

So anyway 2 days later I was craving fried chicken. This at 8pm I started making karaage. I made a marinade of Mirin(sweet saki), soy sauce(salt), sesame oil, garlic, and ginger. Then I cut up a chicken breast I found in the fridge and marinated it for 1/2 an hour (because that was the minimal time on the recipe).

*/A note on the chicken breast - it smelled bad, so i asked Phil if it was ok, and he said he had just defrosted it and decided not to use it so put it in the fridge and that it was fine. No one can be certain of the time line here so if i have food poisoning tomorrow we'll all know why #followUpPost */



Anyway so after marinating toss in corn starch. The directions said fry at 175 until if floats, but mine never floated so i took out the biggest piece and cut it in half. It wasn't pink so, done!



It was pretty good, but oBvs i should have marinated it longer because the awesome marinade that I made wasn't coming through that strongly. I happen to have a little okonomiyaki sauce on hand from a recipe i meant to blog but didn't. That and some kewpie mayo (Japanese mayo that tastes like McDonalds) and we've got a hit:




Sorry, i started eating it before i remembered to take the picture.

Well, the start of this post had nothing to do with the end, but anyway: Happy Birthday Popou!!

Tube-Ziki

Welcome back to the bi-annual addition of I Like Making Things (because apparently i don't anymore)! That being said, I try to give my fans what they demand, so here we go!

 I'm thinking about changing the name to 9 Times Out of 10 A Mediocre Recreation of a Smitten Kitchen Recipe because that seems more accurate. So for this post i decided to paint.




Ha! JK, it's a recipe from Smitten Kitchen. Indian Spiced Cauliflower Soup!

So to start off i went to the store to get some groceries, and when i came back little did i know a monster would be waiting for me!

Oh wait, that's just ChibiCheeky (I wish she actually was the monster waiting for me!!). But what i'm actually referring to is this: 

Gigantic Beetle!!! I mean terrifying! It wasn't until i was doing laundry later that i realized Phil must have seen this too, and that was his inspiration

for painting the trashcan.With a brush no less! For texture i'm sure. Just to really bring out the beetle like qualities. 

Yesterday was Popou's birthday. He was born in 1926, so he's 96/97 because according to Popou the Greeks count the time you were in the womb as being alive, so on your birthday you're already a year old. And i don't know why this bothers me. Maybe I take issue with this because i'm taking a class on logic right now, which i hate is fine, but really:

1. You're only 9 months old at that point, maybe. So your not a year at all. Plus! it's your birthday, not your conception day, which also gross. No one wants to remember that day but your parents, maybe. But even if you were to actually figure all that out, you would still have to subtract it from 12 months and then you could call yourself that age, which is just Riddikulus. 

b) False! The Greeks don't do that.

My favorite is if you ask him he'll say in his combination greek/brooklyn accent "What's the difference? 96, 97, I'm old! Who cares."  Also, he came to this country in 1937 when he was 14 which is inaccurate according to subtraction. So either he was 11, or he was actually born in 1923 which would make him 99. 100 according to make believe "The Greeks." If i confronted Popou on this he would just say, "Loooren, Looren, Loren. Why argue?" And he's right! Why argue logic in an illogical situation? Even in discrete structures if P and Q are both false, then the statement is true. And Popou may be many things, but discrete is not one of them.

If you read the directions carefully you'll see that you are supposed to heat up the oil, put in the cumin seeds, wait 1 second, put in the fennel seeds, wait two seconds (this is actually what is says), then put in the potatoes and onions. You have no reason to walk away from the pan, because you're doing something literally every second. Except i did walk away from that pan, i sure did. I must have seen something shiny. 

So Round 2! (after failing on the actual first step).

 Success!! Time to spice it up!

Then throw in some diced tomatoes and water and simmer that shit! Except i used crushed tomatoes on account of not liking tomatoes except in cooked down sauce form. 

The recipe says you can dress with yogurt, but who likes plain yogurt? Lots of people. But if you're gonna throw in unflavored yogurt you might as well use Tzatziki (because that shit is fucking Riddikulus!)." The problem is i'm really lazy 'efficient' (I mean cut me some slack, I've just been through two weeks of exams. We're just lucky i'm already crazy.) I think this picture says it all:

*note: i rotated this in google photos then I rotated it on my phone and added it again to google photos and for some reason it's still not rotated. Fuck it.

So my Yiayia was a lovely person, and i miss her dearly. I can remember her showing me how to use a cheese cloth to thicken the yogurt over night, and how to keep tasting to make sure the balance was right, and i'm just... glad she's not around to see the way i made this Tzatziki. Because that photo and my shame are the birth of this blog title. 

So you might be saying to yourself, 'If you're that lazy, why don't you just buy a pre-made Tzatz?' 

a) They don't do the cucumbers right.

2. Garlic. 

So squeeze in some garlic. All the garlic! To the point where you're asking yourself, 'Is there yogurt, or is this just garlic paste?' 

Yes.

Then go ahead and squeeze that dill in. Like a champ! 

This is the point that i realize that like the rest of the planet, i don't like warm cucumbers. So i put some of the garlic yogurt to the side for the soup and end up with a cucumber heavy "tube-ziki." 

Also my Indian Spiced Cauliflower Soup! looks nothing like the photo in the recipe. 

When Popou likes some thing he says, "AND IT WAS A DELIGHT" angrily for some reason.

Usually he's referring to The Olive Garden, Red Lobster, or any place run by Greeks.

(**SPOILER ALERT: he did not say that about tonight's meal.) 

Anyway, i simmered the crap out of this, added salt, and wah-la!:

Discretely Delightful.

Royal Pancakes

Last Wednesday was the first day i had off from everything in three months. So oBviously i was like, "I need to start this off with some Chocolate Chip Banana Pancakes!" like it was a title. (Shout out to Gwen for teaching me how to spell bananas!)

So i sought out the most delicious recipe, made sure we had bananas, and started compiling that mixture of delight! I didn't even qUEstion if we had chocolate chips. We have had chocolate chips in this house since 1981 when my parents bought it and Nancy P. L. Pappaster moved in and graced it with her baking excellence. It wasn't even a thought...

BUT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN!

In hindsight, i was the blind one. Living through years of plentiful chocolate chip naiveté, because it was only when i got to the stage where you have to add chocolate chips that i realized there was none to be found. NONE! Alas poor Yorick, i knew them well.

But then, THEN! the brilliant light of day shined on through the kitchen window, and brought with it a simple realization: I had chocolate! And not just "chocolate," but pretty damned good chocolate in the form of a Cadbury Fruit and Nut Bar! Can you believe it? I'm still baffled.

And the recipe continued!

I've probably only made pancakes like twice in my life. This is because Phil (Philip G, if you will) loves them. He loves them! So if we're having pancakes, it's because he's made them (I personally think his best is Corn Pancakes, but DPL would disagree). So I knew to wait for the bubbles to come out of the top:

But i turned the burner on a little to high (turns out medium low is best):

  Also i made some PG tips because it's my fav tea of all time. I can only assume PG stands for Philip George, or as I like to call him: Dad. I didn't take any pictures though, because its a pretty intense process. I mean you have to steep the tea, then add sugar and just the right amount of milk (only a splash!) and really I forgot who has time for pictures?

But it came out perfectly, of course.

Here's a PG tip: Put your best looking pancake on top.

That is incredible. And edible! But don't be fooled... it's not the incredible edible egg (though they did go into the production of this fine feast)!

Nothing like delicious food, drink, and magazines to start off the day!

Here's a PG Tip: Don't eat all the dang pancakes! because it's really easy to do that, i mean throughout the day. You won't feel good about yourself after though, especially the digestion-al part of yourself. Trust me... Good thing PG himself stepped in to eat a few. Phew!

Besides, i've got to take care of myself. I'm an aunt now:

Get some moxie and go epoxy!

   It's crazy how you can just type in "What rhymes with epoxy" and a list of words and definitions will appear before you. I didn't think I was going to be the first person to try to rhyme epoxy, but apparently I'm not even close. I'm like the millionth person to try and rhyme epoxy. And, like, what kind of a crazy world are we living in that one million people are trying to find words that rhyme with epoxy. This crazy world. And you may ask yourself, "How did i get here?" But let the days go buy and you may find yourself the millionth and oneth person to need a rhyme for epoxy. You probably won't You just might.

  I really want to build a boat. That has nothing to do with this post except that upon researching "How to build a Boat" i discovered that fiberglass comes in sheet form. Who knew.

 So my car bumper is falling off.

About three months after i bought it brand new i was driving on The Parkway and this car in front of me suddenly zooms to the left, drives off the pavement then pulls back right over the slight curb and zooms all the way to the right, crashes into the side divider zooms back to the middle and quickly decelerates directly in front of me. So i cut over to the left lane and it lightly touches my front bumber, and just barely knicks three of my right side pannels. The car behind me i guess didn't notice what was going one because it slammed right into the other car. They lived. 

Anyway my bumper seemed fine except for my fog light cover popping off, so i didn't have it checked out because my parents said it would raise my insurance, which is not true because my insurance wouldn't have been the one paying for it, which is why you shouldn't always listen to your parents. That's what google's for. 

This was two years ago, and my bumper has gradually been falling off ever since. The right fog light cover finally popped off on a road trip i took a few weeks ago, and that was the final straw for me to stop ignoring this problem. 

I got an estimate at the dealership and the price of a new bumper is $150, shipping is $200 (WTF?), installation is $100, and also it doesn't come painted so that's between $100-$200.  Lets say it would have cost me $600 plus a new fog light cover at $30. 

So i don't have a spare $600 at the moment as schools about to start and that shit's expensive. But i did just learn about fiberglass in sheet form (see how that worked) and epoxy. $13 to cover those costs. 

So, with a new found determination guided by a savings of 587 dollars or 97.8% (according to math)  i threw open the front door and greeted the day with a hard stomp to my car, a look of sheer moxie (Moxie means determination, if you didn't know. You could find out by googling what rhymes with epoxy. The answers include the definitions. Moxie is also a gross interpretation of cola.), and a cup of mediocre coffee. 

I got just past popping the hood before i had to break down and google. You see there are these weird plastic screw things without screw heads: 

And i couldn't figure out how to get them out without breaking them, which is what i was about to do. 

The trick is to jimmy them up with a flat headed screw driver between the circle and the screw. Which had previously been my downfall. It seems so simple now... 

The thing is some of them come up with no problem and some of them have, like, melted together overtime and are a real bear (not literally). There are like 14 of them surrounding the whole bumper (exactly 14) and when you're lying on your back with the fear of pulling a screw driver down into your arm or face and causing a bloody mess and the annoying voice in your head from yelling, "Game off!" they're especially annoying. And just when you finally get them all off and are like: Success!

You realize the fog lights are attached to the bumper with rusty bolts that fit nothing in your ratchet set (as you can tell from the totally clear picture above). Luckily I've encountered this problem before with the break lights, and found that there is a size of socket between the two sizes of socket that almost fit, that actually fits perfectly on all light related bolts.  Mine says 10 HUSKY and i forget what the actual size is, but probs 10mm if i had to wager a guess. Luckily i never will have to because i keep that socket head hidden in my trunk with all the other parts i buy specifically for my car where no one can find them under the trunk carpet in the spare tire... oh. Well, if it's not there next time i'll know it's because you stole it for a lighting bolt related issue (and not because i forgot to put it back) you bastard. 

As you can see the bumper is pretty broken. The gap isn't supposed to be there. There's also another hanging piece close to the middle that i can't show you without showing my licence plate which i won't... fully.  (also i'm too lazy to photoshop).

So above is the driver side bottom panel where the bumper is attached. It's a 90 degree angle from the wheel well which you can obviously tell from this picture that was taken to accent the angle (except not). 

The passenger side is more like a 231 degree angle because it's broke.

This is what a car looks like without a bumper:

Totally trashy right? Which is funny because this car is in excellent shape. This is why you can't judge a book by it's cover, and you can't judge a car without a bumper. So if you see a car driving without a bumper you should know in your heart that that car will be pulled over as soon as a cop sees it because that's illegal.

Epoxy!

So you just squirt, mix, and spread the epoxy on the broken parts:

And cover it with the fiberglass strips (according to the rules i just made up):

it takes 5 min to hold into place, 20 min to dry, and 24 hours to confirm dry-mation. With the car itself i held it in place for 5 min, which is a really long time when your holding two pieces of plastic together and wondering if your fingers are going to get stuck together like that time you made dream catchers with crazy glue and you had to basically rip them apart under very hot water and now your finger prints are different (except not really because they grow back the same unless there's a scar through them (in case you thought that was a good idea for crime-ing (twins that have the same DNA can only be told apart by there fingerprints which are different for reason science cannot explain (or at least the FBI detective that was giving us a tour of the Hoover building could not explain when asked by an 11 year old (me))))).  Then was like, "Fuck that." So i used packaging tape to hold it together on the bumper because its relatively strong and you can see through it. It's not just for packages ok? jeese. 

I then epoxied and fiber-glassed until it formed it's original shape (or pretty dang close!).

Also I used a clamp on the one side, which is that orange blur on the right. Anyway i let it sit 20 min then put it back on.

Then i'll let it sit 24 hours just so it's for sure dry. So when the fog light cover comes in next week i think it'll look pretty good from far away, which is what i was going for. Plus i found a bumper from a replica sight for $150 with free shipping but they're totally out of stock so hopefully this will hold be over until there not. Anyway ta-Da! Plus:

Sense of accomplishment: a bagillion % (according to math).

So job done, i washed off my hand:

ate a waffle cone:

and looked up a rhyme for epoxy.