news flash . . . .

. . . winter will finally be making an appearance. Yesterday was 83 and tomorrow will be 57. Hooray. So this means I can finally break out the warm weather meals. Since we saw something interesting on Rachael Ray's 30 minute meals the other day, this morning I bought the ingredients and tried it out for dinner. In our house, we experiment a lot. Some end up in the trash while we put in a quick SOS for pizza and some earn our top honors and are named "do agains". We lucked out, this was a definite "do again". Of course we had to do a little modification to fit Frank's diet but here is the original:

Chicken Sausage, Pepper and Onion Pasta Fake-Bake

1 pound rigatoni
Salt
1 pound cooked chicken sausages
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 green or red bell pepper, seeded and sliced
1 cubanelle pepper, seeded and sliced
1 large onion, thinly sliced 3 to 4 cloves garlic, chopped
Ground black pepper
1/2 cup dry white wine or chicken stock, a couple of glugs
1 (28 ounce) can crushed tomatoes, (recommended: San Marzano)
Handful chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup fresh basil, 10 leaves, torn or shredded
1 cup ricotta cheese
1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, plus some to pass at table

Place a pot of water on the stove to boil for pasta. When the water boils, salt it and cook pasta to al dente, with a bite to it.

Prick sausages with a fork. Place chicken sausages in a large skillet and add 1 inch of water. Add 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil to the skillet, 1 turn of the pan. Bring water to a boil then reduce heat a little. Allow all the liquid to cook away then brown and crisp the casings, 5 to 6 minutes.

Preheat broiler.

While pasta and sausage cook, heat a deep skillet over medium heat with 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, 2 turns of the pan. Add the peppers, onions and garlic and season with salt and pepper. When the sausages are cooked through, slice them on an angle and add them to the peppers and onions. Cook together until peppers and onions are tender and sliced sausages are crisp at edges then deglaze the pan with white wine or chicken stock. Stir in crushed tomatoes and bring to a bubble, reduce heat to low.

Drain rigatoni and return to warm pot. Add ricotta cheese, salt and pepper, parsley and basil and half of the Parmigiano, a couple of handfuls, stir to combine.

To assemble the "fake bake," place half the sausage, peppers, onions and sauce in the bottom of a baking dish. Top with all of the pasta and then the remaining sausage and sauce. Cover the top of the dish with the grated Parmigiano and place until broiler 2 minutes to brown cheese and set pasta.

Yummy, yummy in the tummy, tummy, tummy.

Little Drummer Boy

Totally love this. . .

forgot to mention . . .

. . . Katie has a new friend. He greets her on her way to class in the morning. I am not thrilled, especially with this close up!!!! Yikes!!!! And apparently he likes french fries. No no no.

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small town parades . . .

gotta love them. Ours was tonight so Frank and I headed out . . . scored a corner section of curbing and plopped down to wait for the start. Didn't take long. With roads blocked off . . . police sirens wailing . . . kids jumping up and down with glee, we could see the first of the parade.

Then came the obligatory mayor, all the area representatives, beauty contest winners and then what I love best, the kids .

Why the karate kids? Glad you asked. That's our granddaughter on the far left. She had just tested this morning for her blue belt and kicked butt!!!! Yeah Kaity.

And of course you have to have Santa

and as with all home town parades, you have to have your home town oddities. Love this one.

and so if your Christmas spirit is still lacking, I dare you not to grin at this fellow.

God bless small towns, cities, villages, burgs and everything in between . . . may the memories stay bright.

IKEA . . .

is finally open and I dragged Frank 1/2 way across the state to go see. Oh, how I wish I had brought my camera. Rows and rows of colors and bin after bin of goodies. It was heaven. Having never been to one before, I was surprised at the set up. You walk into the monster warehouse, take the escalators upstairs and follow the path. Room by set up room, you look at all the possibilities . . . my favorite? . . . the 730 square foot apartment. Yikes, so tiny, so cool. But downstairs, I was in my element. Stacks of this and that broken down by department. I got stuck in Kitchen and would still be there had not Frank had the where-with-all to bodily drag me out by the seat on my pants. I didn't do much damage . . . some new wine glasses . . . I pop them on a regular basis . . . they were my most expensive buy at $4.99 per six. I bought 2 sets. A grater for $1.99, a set of soft spoons for .59, and a scrubber for .99. Oh, and a package of white cardboard magazine holders for $2.99. And we were out of there and over to Olive Garden for fried calamari. Then to the mall to ogle. And finally home again. It was a fun day's adventure. Frank is now hanging the Christmas lights while I test the wine glasses.

some things never change . . .

thankfully! Last night, Frank and I went to a little independent bookstore that opened this summer just a few miles from the house. Yep, in the midst of losing so many book nooks to B&N, Borders and the like, we get our very own hideaway in which to snoop around. It features both new and used books, mostly used, a coffee bar, great comfy seating, hand made crafts and a back room for cinematic events and hootenannies. Yep, you read that right. I doubt very much if my daughter even knows what a hootenanny is. And, the best part . . . they haven't changed since I went to college, except maybe for the prevalence of gray hair both on stage and in the audience. One of Frank's gym rat buddies was enjoying his singing debut and we went to cheer him on. We were originally only going to stay until John was finished and we could sneak out but we got sucked in . . . and had a blast. While most of the locals in the open-mike venue were folksingers, there was also a really good jazz singer, an opera singer who stepped out of her element and sang an hysterical little ditty about a woman so entranced with making herself beautiful that she forgot to dress before leaving the house . . .

While John was warming up, his wife asked me if I played or sang and I had to explain that I had not one musical bone in my entire body. She then asked what kind of music I preferred. While my quick reply was "eclectic", I started to think about the last six songs I downloaded from iTunes: The Blacksmith Blues by Ella Mae Morse, Bubbly by Colbie Caillat, Dance Tonight by Paul McCartney, The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani, Someone is Missing at Christmas by Anne Cochran and Here We Go Again by Country Joe and the Fish. Yep, definitely eclectic.

So, I am happy some things are coming around again in my life time so that Frank and I can share them together.

friendship . . .

One of my closest friends moved away. Am I upset? Am I bereft? Am I crushed. One would certainly think so, but truly, I am not in the least any of those. This recession has not been kind to her and her husband. They have moved to Tennessee to start life over again. I am happy they have been given this opportunity. Am I all that altruistic that I have no feelings of my own? Not at all.

I met Sheri on the Internet some eight or nine years ago on a scrapbook board. Despite Frank's fears of axe murderers skulking on the net, and his insistence of joining me on our first IRL meeting, Sheri was exactly who she was in text; kind, humorous, smart, savvy, caring and best of all she shared my addiction for all things paper. The only thing our marathon rounds of IM's and email did not share, was the New York accent and the twinkling eyes. I should have guessed at both.

We blurt out the same sentence at the same time, we console each other, we laugh and giggle, we roll our eyes at family antics and commiserate on child rearing, we exchange birthday presents, we know enough to blackmail each other from here to Zanzibar, we share our frustrations and joys over our morning drinks. Because, isn't that, after all, what friendship is all about? So does it really matter that we do this all through the magic of the net? I think not. Someone once scoffed at the idea that a cyber friendship had value. I beg to differ. I am blessed that I have found this friend. That she lives not around the corner but miles and miles away makes no difference. Not to me. Not to Laura and Leonore, Gracee and Marg, or Chris and Sue.

So Sheri has moved away and while I am not upset, I cannot wait until their Internet service is hooked up once again. I need to hear the details of the trip, the ins and outs of the new home, the minutia of the life I share with my friend.