BURNED IT! Rachel Ray's Balsamic Pork Tenderloin.

WTF Rachel Ray. This doesn't work. Maybe if I had watched this episode of thirty minute meals rather than just finding the recipe in a google search, you know, so you could walk me through it. But yeah, no.

So I should mention that I have never cleaned a pork tenderloin. I've cooked them in a slow cooker, and by that I mean I opened the plastic package and scooted the meat in there without touching it. I'm not a meat person. I'm also too lazy to go vegan, so I eat meat anyway. But pull the fat off? With my fingers? What is silver skin? Preston, google silver skin for me, find some pictures.

And also, there's a smell that makes me turn my head to the side every once in a while and cringe, because I'm handling, you know, a dead body part.

Gross. I know it's not gross to most people, but I was thinking I probably wasn't going to eat the pork tenderloin anyway at this point. But I got this far, so I might as well try. Other people do this all the time without vomiting, so can I. But still gross.

I'm not even to the recipe yet and I've already done things that I'm not proud of.

I should mention here that pork and I have a history. Pork, through no fault of my own, burns in my kitchen. Its my slow cooker. Its my oven. Its the kitchen elves that live under my sink. But It's not Meeeee.

So this pork tenderloin is ready to go. Fresh thyme. Fresh rosemary. Fresh, like I had to get out the food processor and grind that junk. And in the oven it goes. The 500 degrees oven. I asked, "Are you SURE 500 degrees, Rachel?" And she was like, "Yes, this is so easy. Five stars, Katie. Five of them."

So I put the pork in the oven and step away because now I've got twenty minutes for baby bath time. Well, three minutes in, Pres says, "Katie, are you sure it's supposed to smoke like this?" And I'm all, "Leave it alone; you're gonna mess it up."

But then I start thinking about MY KITCHEN'S track record with pork. I ask Preston to take over bath time so I can check things out.

I saw a little smoke. I turned on the vent. I turned on the fan. I opened the window. All of these things should have helped, but by this point, the smoke monster from Lost has invaded our house. It's everywhere. In every room. How the alarms didn't go off is beyond me. Note to self: check fire alarms.

So, we take the pork tenderloin fire hazard smoke monster outside and let it do its thing on our grill. The pan is black. It's crusty. Balsamic vinegar is spitting everywhere like bacon grease on crack.

It's now been five minutes.

WTF, Rachel Ray? Where are you hiding your devil horns? Because this seems like a trick. So I check the reviews; they're all good reviews. How are they all good reviews? Smoke monster merits a bad review; you would think there would be one in there somewhere, but no. The closest thing to it is "maybe use a disposable pan" and "anything that burns at 500 degrees isn't coming off the pan." These reviewers must have had the same experience as I did, right? Right? No?

I still don't know what went wrong. All I can say is kitchen elves don't like pork and we definitely had take out that night. Cotton Patch potato cheese soup. Ironic because my kitchen can't make a good potato soup either.

Outside thoughts

Today. Today! Today, I'm sitting outside, with my computer and a cup of coffee, on the outside chairs that I just cleaned, enjoying the sunshine and mild weather. It's sunny, cool with just a hint of warmth, and the birds are chirping. Of course, it's January and I haven't touched my flower beds or potted plants in, oh, nine months, so those don't look so hot. But this weather makes me want to change that. I want to be outside again! I wonder if this means I won't be so pale anymore.

Yesterday, we went to Lowe's to get a few things, and thought it would be fun to show Charlie all the flowers... but there were none. No flowers.Just a big empty area with flower stands. I guess they're getting ready for flowers? I know there may be another freeze, but aren't there plants that can survive a freeze? I know so. I also remember buying pretty red flowers last year, planting them and finding them shriveled up after a freeze the next week. So something's going on with that.

I'm ready to have a pretty backyard again!

My baby eats better than me

He does. I make a lot of his food. Not in a crazy only home made organic baby food way, but yeah, okay it's mostly organic. All organic. The stuff I make is, because why not buy the good stuff if you're going to make it? But the other stuff doesn't have to be. I still consider myself not a food snob.

It's exciting to watch him eat, to feed him. To help him learn how to use a cup. Everything about him is exciting. And then I look up and it's 10 am, I've been up since 5 am and I've only had a cup of coffee with moderate fixings and I'm starving. Where are the cookies? Where are the sweets? Where's the candy? I don't have those?

You see, the thing about not having sweets in your house is that you don't have sweets in your house. I figure that if I want chocolate bad enough, then I can go to the store and get it. I always want it that much, but I am also too lazy to go anywhere except maybe the gas station down the street and that gas station doesn't have fresh candy because I guess no one in Nacogdoches buys gas station candy. And I am also picky.

Gluttonous, lazy and picky... Who wants to go on a date? Because I'm a catch.

Every once in a while, I'll have coco in the pantry left over from when I made fudge for some party / went on a fudge binge, and if the mood strikes, I can make something resembling chocolate. And if you microwave a banana, it tastes like pure sugar. And non fat Greek yogurt, or if I'm honest, the full fat Greek yogurt that I buy for Charlie, is really good with maple syrup. Usually though, I just pour myself some apple juice and eat a luna bar because that requires the least amount of effort.

Am I revealing too much?

Im not even talking about REAL food yet. Know what we eat for most meals? Sandwiches.

Preston's grandmother got us a panini maker for Christmas; know what we eat for most meals since Christmas?

Paninis.

I HAVE made waffles and French toast a few times lately, but it's because Im up and its for Charlie. Preston and I getting waffles and French toast is just collateral awesomeness.

I'm trying to cook more. I am. But it doesn't turn out well and I think it's because I've already steamed apples and pears, roasted butternut squash and baked sweet potatoes and then I just don't care what that recipe says about the chicken breasts so I'm gonna wing it.

It would be nice to be one of those moms that exist in TV shows and commercials, or in Parents magazine articles, that makes a meal in the evening and then somehow the baby eats the same thing as the parents. How the hell does that work? Do you just throw it all in the blender?

Maybe I should actually read Parents magazine instead of just looking at the pictures.

I went to the zoo and all I got was this oversized peacock feather body suit - do you like it?

We took Charlie to the Lufkin zoo yesterday.

This is what I thought zoos were like: Big. Smelly. You park far and walk. There's dirt and odd colored water in the walkways. There's trash. There's people selling snacks all over the place. Lots of people crowd into one spot to see an animal shake its tail. It smells. Really bad. Like poop and body odor. And then you get a toy at the end because you feel like you've been rescued.

We will call it Katie's Rescue Maze where you also happen to see animals if you're lucky.

I don't know why this is my mental picture of zoos. Maybe in the movies this is what zoos look like, except for the movie We Bought A Zoo. That zoo looks cool.

The Lufkin zoo was more like the cool 'We Bought A Zoo' Zoo than Katie's Rescue Maze.

Here's why: We parked right in front of the entrance LEGALLY AND WERE NOT TOWED!! It was not crowded. There were just enough people there that all of the kids were cute rather than annoying (strength in numbers). It was like strolling on a sidewalk in a park or something. There were PICNIC TABLES everywhere. We could have had a picnic next to a rhinoceros or a giraffe. Instead of a bird waiting around for your left over sandwich, there's a Rhinoceros waiting around for your left over sandwich. The animals are right next to the path. Five feet from a crocodile close. I didn't know bald eagles were so big... Is it looking at my baby close. There are peacocks everywhere. In the walkway, in the trees, in the tortoise cage, sitting on top of a crocodile. Like instead of a zoo, it could be called The Peacock Place, or The Peacock Palace, or The Peacock Pit Stop. At the end of the zoo, you think peacocks are just like squirrels. Because they are everywhere. And once you're sick of the zoo, like an hour in, you're done. Because its small and you don't have to walk miles to see each animal, only a few feet.

The only part of the zoo that smelled like what I expect the Rescue Maze smells like was probably the inside area where they keep small animals and where the sloths have an indoor viewing area. I think it's because the sloths have a little baby and rubbed poop all over their window so humans wouldn't get too close, which totally demonstrates how awesome sloths are. The mama sloth moved more than I've ever seen a sloth move just so we wouldn't be able to see her baby. I feel you, mama sloth. You go gurl.

So what I'm saying is, I have seen more sloths in my lifetime than I realized, peacocks are less special now and I liked this zoo. You should go.

Damn you, Southern Living.

There is always something worthwhile to read in Southern Living. For me, it's like paging through what my life could have been like if I was better at things, more organized, more crafty or born in a different decade. It's just so beautiful.

Like in Spring, Southern Living is all about gardens. Beautiful, strolling gardens with flowers and plants that I've never seen or thought to use, and pebble pathways and fountains, what attracts butterflies and hummingbirds. I want one of those gardens. I want to walk down one of those pebble pathways. And for just a second, or a few days and a trip to Lowe's if we're being realistic, I think I'm going to do that to my backyard. And I'm definitely ordering the new variety of hydrangeas that you advertised. But then I realize that I actually have to DO it, and IT is hard. And I would much rather sit around and read magazines.

And in winter, Southern Living is all about cooking. It's always cooking with Southern Living, but especially in Thanksgiving and Christmas mode. The tables are set with bronze and red and shades of orange, the special thanksgiving china is on the table, each dish was prepared with a pinch of Paula Dean and there's live turkeys in the backyard for ambiance. And not for a second do I think I can cook like that or decorate like that or rangle live turkeys but it makes me want to set weekly menus and go grocery shopping on Sundays and use coupons. And I do, once. And then things come up and all the meat I bought on Sunday spoils and Pres and I are left with Raman noodles and peanut butter crackers.

But this time, Southern Living, I've got you. I see what you're up to. You've put that pretty picture of lemon squares on a whole page. And really, who can resist lemon squares? Not me. When I see lemon squares, I have to know if they taste good or not. Because they always look good but they don't always taste good, so I have to know. And Southern Living, you wrote that recipe for lemon curd, homemade lemon curd, and said that it only takes six minutes in the microwave.

And this is where I should have called your bluff, Southern Living. You don't do six minute recipes. You do prep work and homemade pie crust and things that require sieves. But I read on, encouraged by your six minute recipe. And no, it's not a six minute recipe as you have led me to believe. Zest of six lemons, you say? A cup of squeezed lemon juice, you say? And butter and eggs and whatever else on the stovetop? Cover and refrigerate to prevent a film on the top? Um, if it can possibly get a film, mine will have a film. For shame, Southern Living. You have mislead me.

But still, all these recipes look so good. And there's a lemon tiramisu. Really its a parfait, but you've dressed it up by calling it something its not - A lemon tiramisu. Oh my MKA. You've used your really hard to make lemon curd in a really easy way. Enticing, Southern Living. You are good. Even though I know what path you have led me to, I still want to gleefully skip down it in my yellow dress and knee socks with my basket of fresh lemons. Even though I know you are hiding behind the next bend in the road, behind the next big rock along the path, ready to throw eggs at me when I fall over your trip wire that you made out of repurposed fabric scraps, I'm still tempted. I want those lemon squares. I'm planning parties so I have a reason to make lemon tiramisu.

Damn you, Southern Living. I shake my fist at you. I'm also holding a lemon square and there's powdered sugar on my face, but I'm shaking it at you still.

What's in your junk drawer?

Why do I always want to put a Y in the word drawer? TYMKA* for spell check.

We're childproofing around here. So far, we put covers on some light sockets. You would think the next thing on our list would be securing the drawYers in Charlie's room or moving all the trash cans to elevated surfaces.

Wrong.

Our** next goal is to move a large shelving unit out of the living room into what I call our 'mud room' which means were finally tossing the piece of furniture that's in our mud room right now: the desk from Preston's room when he was little. Yes, the sentimental Katie wants to keep it, but the lazy Katie doesn't want to mess with replacing GIANT GODZILLA broken drawYer pulls that left GIANT GODZILLA FOOTPRINTS in the wood.

So anyway, naturally this is next on our** prioritized list of childproofing. And the first step is to clean out the drawYers that we haven't opened in four plus years. Aside from the usual pens, cords, batteries and old mail, this is what we found:

One large bag of nickels.

This dog note pad.

Several puppy training supplies for our dog who is now almost eight years old.

A portable bike tire pump.

Three old iPhones.

This letter I wrote to my friend Becca but never mailed. The stamp was from our wedding invitations, circa 2005.

Bandanas in a variety of colors.

These awesome dog shoes.

A balloon shaped lamp.

A camouflage fanny pack.

Six VHS tapes of Preston playing high school football.

A VHS tape from my speech class in college. I think it's of me giving speeches.

Dog perfume.

This button pin.

* Thank you Mary Kate and Ashley

** This means Preston. My job was director and reporter, so I told him what to do while writing a list of interesting junk on my cool new dog notepad.

Snot Face!

My sweet boy is sick for the first time. Poor guy. However, he seems to like baseball AND be left handed. He hasn't put this bat down since he got it for Christmas.