Winging it

When people ask what I do at work sometimes I say that I am not a lawyer but I play one at the office.  (You remember "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV.")  It's easier to say that than to get into the roles and responsibilities of TQ vs. GCO vs. any number of other EY-specific acronyms that many of us lifers can't even remember and others couldn't care less about.

I can think of a lot of other jobs that technically I am not, but I get to play from time to time - baseball coach, accountant, mediator, taxi driver, teacher, cook.  But no, this blog is not about under appreciated parents who juggle a bazillion different responsibilities and someone manage to end the day with the same number of children that they started with when they woke up.

I have had my current job or one basically similar to it for the past 15 years.  I started with a college degree in political science because people told me in sixth grade that I liked to argue too much, I should be a lawyer, and if you want to get into law school you should major in political science.  I didn't question any of that or waver at all until faced with the reality of at least three more years of school, incredible amounts of tuition, and no income.  I made the rational decision to work for a couple of years before committing to law school.  Guess what?  I didn't even have my first paycheck before deciding I wanted to keep working and not become a lawyer after all.

What job could I do that would pay a decent salary, give me flexibility to raise a family, and not require any additional letters after my name?  Well, for me it's a sort of paralegal, risk manager, trainer, number cruncher.  If I had to, I could probably think of a more eloquent way to express that on a resume.  But for now, I'll be happy that I have the opportunity to keep winging it here until I figure out what I really want to be when I grow up.

That's the advice - find a place to work that is big enough that your role can morph over time as you discover what you like and what you're good at, because there are very few people who ever figure that out, let alone at 22.

Lobster

In my first WW blog I mentioned Julie and Julia, which is just a thoroughly enjoyable book and movie, foodie or not.  I love the lobster killing scene especially.  Does that make me a bad person?  Oh well.  Making Julia Child’s lobster thermidor is not your usual weeknight endeavor.  Between finding the lobster, cooking and cleaning them, trying to make sure you’ve kept the right internal organs, and assembling the dish, you’re talking about several hours of work.  (I’ve done it twice without ingesting enough of the wrong internal organs to suffer any adverse consequences, so I don’t worry about it too much.  I mean really, who has time to perfectly distinguish between sand sacks and coral matter?)  So this weekend rent yourself a copy of the movie, sing along with “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads, and enjoy some buttery goodness.

Serves 6

Tools and Ingredients

·         Covered, enameled or stainless steel kettle with tight-fitting cover or stainless steel saucepan

·         4-cup enameled or stainless steel saucepan

·         1 1/2-quart enameled saucepan

·         Wooden spoon

·         Wire whip

·         3-quart mixing bowl

·         12-inch enameled or stainless steel skillet

·         Shallow roasting pan or fireproof serving platter

·         3 cups dry white wine or 2 cups dry white vermouth

·         2 cups water

·         1 large onion, thinly sliced

·         1 medium carrot , thinly sliced

·         1 stalk celery, thinly sliced

·         6 sprigs parsley

·         1 bay leaf

·         1/4 tsp. thyme

·         6 peppercorns

·         1 Tbsp. fresh or dried tarragon

·         3 live lobsters, 2 pounds each

·         1/2 pound sliced fresh mushrooms

·         1 Tbsp. butter

·         1 tsp. lemon juice

·         1/4 tsp. salt

·         5 Tbsp. butter

·         6 Tbsp. flour

·         1 Tbsp. cream

·         1 Tbsp. dry mustard

·         2 egg yolks

·         1/2 cup whipping cream

·         4 to 6 Tbsp. more whipping cream

·         Pinch cayenne pepper

·         4 Tbsp. butter

·         1/3 cup cognac

·         1/2 cup grated Parmesan or Swiss cheese

·         2 Tbsp. butter, cut into bits

Directions

Steaming the lobsters: Simmer wine, water, vegetables, herbs, and seasonings in the kettle for 15 minutes. Then bring to a rolling boil and add the live lobsters. Cover and boil for about 20 minutes. The lobsters are done when they are bright red and the long head-feelers can be pulled from the sockets fairly easily.

While the lobsters are steaming, stew the mushrooms slowly in the covered saucepan with the butter, lemon juice, and salt for 10 minutes.

The sauce: When the lobsters are done, remove them from the kettle. Pour the mushroom cooking juices into the lobster steaming juices in the kettle and boil down rapidly until liquid has reduced to about 2 1/4 cups. Strain into the 4-cup enameled or stainless steel saucepan and bring to the simmer.

Cook the butter and flour slowly together in the 1 1/2-quart saucepan for 2 minutes without browning. Off heat, beat in the simmering lobster-cooking liquid. Boil, stirring, for 1 minute. Set aside. Film top of sauce with the cream.

Split the lobsters in half lengthwise, keeping the shell halves intact. Discard sand sacks in the heads, and the intestinal tubes. Rub lobster coral and green matter through a fine sieve into the mixing bowl, and blend into it the mustard, egg yolks, cream, and pepper. Beat the sauce into this mixture by driblets.

Return the sauce to the pan, and stirring with a wooden spoon, bring it to the boil and boil slowly for 2 minutes. Thin out with tablespoons of cream. Sauce should be thick enough to coat a spoon fairly heavily. Taste carefully for seasoning. Set aside, top filmed with a spoonful of cream.

Sautéing the lobster meat: Remove the meat from the lobster tails and claws, and cut it into 3/8-inch cubes. Set the skillet with the butter over moderate heat. When the butter foam begins to subside, stir in the lobster meat and sauté, stirring slowly, for about 5 minutes until the meat has turned a rosy color. Pour in the cognac and boil for a minute or two, shaking the skillet, until the liquid has reduced by half.

Final assembly: Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Fold the cooked mushrooms and two thirds of the sauce into the skillet with the lobster meat. Arrange the split lobster shells in the roasting pan. Heap the lobster mixture into the shells; cover with the remaining sauce. Sprinkle with cheese and dot with butter. The recipe may be prepared ahead up to this point and refrigerated.

Place in upper third of 425-degree oven for 10 to 15 minutes, until lobster is bubbling and the top of the sauce is nicely browned. Serve immediately on a platter or serving plates.

Timing

Let’s summarize the past week.  Mere hours after I published my last Wednesday Words, in which I was so proud of my car for coasting across the 200,000 mile mark, someone’s momentary mind farkle resulted in said car landing in the repair shop for the next week (maybe two, based on the last call from the insurance company).  I was patiently waiting at a red light, but the person behind me was not fully concentrating on the task at hand and crashed into me.  I am fine, and my car really didn’t look that bad off, but even a minor fender-bender can result in some hefty repair bills.

This unfortunate turn of events made me think it might be a bit unlucky to gloat about my worldly possessions in my WW blog.  So, I didn’t talk about the accident too much until dealing with the associated appointments made it necessary to take a day off of work and explain my absence.  I accepted a fair settlement for my inconvenience, aches and pains, and missed work on top of the repairs and rental car that will be covered.  Guess what?  The next day the radiator on the other family car goes kaput (the mechanic described it as “hanging on by a paper clip”), and the settlement check is freakishly close to the radiator estimate.  Luck?  Coincidence?  Provision?

So, Mr. Red Suzuki loses focus and hits my car, but has insurance that pays out the extra amount needed to pay for repairs on a different car the same week.  It is not so often that one can connect the dots so neatly.  Usually life is more like Jeff Goldblum’s chaos theory in Jurassic Park: “A butterfly can flap its wings in Peking and in Central Park you get rain instead of sunshine.”  In other words, everything we do impacts everything else, but the distance, time lapse, and intermediary steps make it very hard to see the big picture.

What about this?  Yesterday the boys were delayed in getting back to the Boys and Girls Club from a field trip.  As a result, I had to leave, pick up the girls, come back, get the boys, race to practice, arrive an hour past the start time, and not feed anyone until after practice was over.  Was this a random inconvenience?  Was it intentionally designed such that we would miss some yet unknown disaster, interaction, or opportunity?  What butterfly flapped its wings and why?

As one of my baseball dad friends often says… go marinate!

Mileage

Since today is Christopher’s birthday, I definitely want to wish him a happy day and upcoming year.  But first, here is a note on another birthday of sorts.  My trusty car (can you call it a car when it seats 7?) will hit 200,000 miles today.  It is a 2004 Acura MDX that we bought used a few weeks before Miss Corda was born in 2009.  It was the newest car I had ever owned.  Someone had maintained it perfectly.  There were no scratches, no stains, actually no evidence that anyone had ever driven the thing other than the 69,000 or so miles on the odometer.

Before I got this car, I never had a clicker to unlock the doors.  I thought I had a major malfunction the first time I accidentally turned on the seat warmers, and I jumped out looking for a fire under the car.  I felt pretty cool way up high looking down on the commuters around me.  The car was so quiet and smooth!  

With two boys and a baby girl in the middle and back rows, soon the Cheerios and graham cracker crumbs began to pile up.  Several baseball tournaments in the mud left their mark.  There was that time the lady leaving Sonic was too busy drinking her Route 44 to notice my massive vehicle and bumped into the side of us.  Add another kid, more backpacks and permanent markers, and the Acura is definitely not new anymore.  The charger doesn’t charge my cell phone.  The seat warmers don’t warm.  The A/C doesn’t reach the back row.

It is still the perfect car for me.  I grumbled after needing to dump most of a paycheck into it last week for brakes and various other necessities that I can’t even begin to describe, but that’s what you do when you love and need something and want it to stick around for 200,000 more miles.

Hmmm…sounds a bit like marriage.  Everything starts off new and fancy, and through the day after day grind you invest time and energy so that it will keep on going.  So, on his birthday, while I can’t buy a bunch of fancy presents due to the aforementioned repairs, I do wish my bubbly hubbly the very best day ever.  Here’s to 79 (more) years together. 

Back in 1983...

Corda and I celebrated birthdays this week.  My kids are 10, 7, 5, and 14 months.  I wonder how much of their daily lives they will remember once they get to my ripe old age of 36.  I am so old that it was literally only a couple of days ago that I realized I was turning 36 and not 35.  I lost (gained?) a whole year somewhere.  I hope that they will forget the times I yelled at them and forgot to do things I promised.  Besides forgetting my age, I have forgotten most of the little details from my childhood.  Here are a few of the memories that have stayed with me.

I remember attending morning preschool at Little Elves in Manassas, Virginia.  There was one time when I had to come in face paint, probably Halloween.  My teacher commented on how cute or scary I was, and I promptly got shy and tried to rub it all off.

I remember getting chicken pox in kindergarten and spreading it to other kids in my class.  (Sorry Sudley Elementary!)  I also remember there were three Jennifer B’s in that class. 

This is the year Uptown Girl by Billy Joel came out.  I thought this was the best song ever.  I sang it all the time like little girls today sing Katy Perry songs.  I also had a thing for Culture Club - Karma Chameleon.  I was allowed to listen to it but not see the album cover.  My older sister Elizabeth was in high school, and I can picture her cassette tape collection on the wall of her room: the Police, Duran Duran, Billy Idol, the Eurythmics, Tears for Fears, Rick Springfield.

When I was in first grade, my brother had to have surgery.  My mom took me to the neighbor’s house at the crack of dawn to get a ride to school later while the rest of the family was at the hospital.  Despite the fact that her sole job was to get me to school on time, the neighbor got me to school very late.  Class was already in session and I needed a note from the office.  I didn’t like having that tardy on my permanent record. 

I remember an icy Christmas Eve around that time when we went to church and came out to find the car frozen over.  Someone had to use a lighter to melt the ice enough so that we could unlock the doors.  This struck me as very resourceful and a better use of a lighter than smoking!

At the beginning of second grade, I took some placement testing to see if I could move up to third grade.  The test administrator asked me if I liked my pencils sharp or dull.  I said that it didn’t matter and I never really thought about it.  She said that I needed to decide what kind of pencil I wanted to use because if I was distracted by anything I might not do well on the test.  I remember thinking that if third grade involved weird questions and mind games like this, maybe I didn’t want to go!  (I do not recall what kind of pencil I ultimately used, but it must have been okay, because soon enough I was packing up for Mrs. Quell's class.)

Our report cards had a box that a teacher could check to request a parent conference.  My second grade teacher checked that conference box to start this process of moving me to third grade after the first six weeks.  At the end of the second/third grade year, I took that report card and scribbled out the conference requested box because I didn't want anyone (college admission officers? my future children? Congress?) to think I needed a conference for disciplinary reasons.  Later on, I decided that wasn't enough, so in my best Ms. Bell handwriting I added a note that said "We think Dianne should be promoted to third grade."  See, I've been like this forever!!

Speechless

Statements and questions to which I had no logical or smarty-pants responses last week…and only some of these were from my kids.

 I have to go outside because I need a stapler. (What other office supplies are we storing in the yard?)

We are the A-Team. (I really liked MacGyver a lot more.)

Did I mention that I am very famous? (If you have to mention it…)

I don’t know what I meant when I wrote this sentence, so can you tell me what I meant? (Biting tongue because you outrank me…)

How long does it take to destroy a light bulb? (I know you have to come up with a list of activities that take one second, one minute, and one hour…maybe you’ll get creative points for this one.)

I can’t eat dinner right now because I didn’t die yet. (I’ll make zombie food next time.)

If you had read the book you would have been able to tell me how to describe the character. (True, but you would only know if I was doing your homework correctly if you also read the book.)

We need a team of lateral thinkers. (Why did my eyes just move sideways like I was preparing to cross the street?)

If we start at 9 and end at 9:50 that will be 45 minutes. (Fuzzy math)

 I need to Google how to sleep. (Start by walking away from the computer.)

I might need to make you a new debit card because the expiration date stopped working. (I might need to find a bank that doesn’t mess up my life on a whim.)

This is a small, intentionally Christian college.  (Oh, I was looking for an accidentally Christian college.)

In time for Valentine's Day

As Christopher and I approach our 15^th wedding anniversary this summer (yes, child brides were ok in Virginia back then), it is interesting to look back and think about the ways I have changed.  I don’t mean the obvious like oh, we’re married, so we should figure out the biggies like money, kids, and religion.  I don’t mean the changes that are more attributable to being parents (free time consists of playing Legos) or age (we go to bed by 10).  And I don’t mean the sappy stuff like I love you more every single day, because I don’t want to gross out anybody.  I mean the more subtle or unusual traits that I know I’ve picked up straight from my bubbly hubbly or do because of him such as….

1.  I will occasionally eat a sloppy joe sandwich now.

2.   I listen to sports radio…and I like it.

3.   I never wear heels.

4.  Pizza is supposed to have pepperoni and black olives.

5.  If you can’t get front row seats, it’s not worth going.

6.  I have a splint in my car in case I need to splint somebody I guess.

7.  I know who Legendary Santa is.

8.  I can sort of speak intelligently about baseball (although I still don’t keep a scorebook to his liking).

9.  You’ve heard of mama bear, right?  Wife bear is scarier.  If you mess with my man, you better watch your back.

10.   I know as many emergency medicine acronyms as EY acronyms.

11.   I have an alter ego who can be pretty aggressive at booking speaking engagements and public appearances for our Never Forget Foundation.  This requires not just talking to strangers (see previous grocery shopping post) but COLD CALLING them.  Egad.

12.  I will go to multiple grocery stores to find Scotchy Scotch Scotch.

13.  Not sure this fits, but when I was a teenager I went to see a psychic (Michelle Nolton are you reading this?) who told me that I would marry someone a little shorter than me (check), with dark hair (check), have two kids (we’ll say some multiple thereof), and my work would involve being published (I have proofed all of Christopher’s articles).

14.  I was a political science major, but I didn’t appreciate local campaign tactics, primary voting, or political party infighting until a certain Mark Earley staffer walked in.

15.  I drink Coke not Pepsi.