Return from Appalachia

I am back in Alabama. West Virginia was a great time. I will write more later. Today is a wash and I need to take some Excedrin and call it.

Today was easily one of the crappiest days in recent memory. I woke up, had some breakfast at the hotel, showered and packed up my stuff. Right as I was leaving, I began to feel kind of queasy. I dropped off the rental car, and on the ride back to the airport IT really hit me. I don't know what IT was, but I have been dealing with IT all day. I checked in, wobbled through security (behind two people who have clearly not flown in this post-9/11 world) and then ran into the nearest bathroom I could find. Barfed, got all clammy and lightheaded. Cleaned up, found my gate. Sat down. Got sick again. Rinse and repeat. My flight out of Charleston was an hour delayed, which was probably a blessing in disguise. I've never puked on an airplane, and I never want to. Airport bathrooms are bad enough but I'd rather keep it on the ground, kthx.

Usually throwing up helps me feel better. Not this time. I was a sweaty, clammy girl on the airplane which SUCKED. For once, I was grateful to have an aisle seat. Fortunately, I didn't need it... I just kept my eyes closed and breathed deeply and deliberately. We sat at the gate forever because there were weight and balance issues with the airplane. Normally, I would have been slightly nervous about that. Today, I could not have cared less.

Because of the delay, I only had 20 minutes to change planes in Atlanta. Which means Queasy McGhee had to RUN to another terminal, and then RUN to a distant gate only to make it on to the airplane with a couple minutes to spare. Again I had an aisle seat, so that was good (or so I thought). Now, I am not exactly svelte... but I fit into an airplane seat. The person next to me, however, did not. I felt horrible feeling annoyed by this, but I think it's because I was not feeling well and my patience was worn thin. Because my neighbor was spilling over onto me, I was spilling out into the aisle. Because of this, my little overhead fan was not hitting me and I was burning up. So, I spent the flight from Atlanta to Birmingham doubled over with my chin in my hand like The Thinker, praying to make it without barfing or fainting. I was able to nod off a couple times, only to be slammed into by someone walking down the aisle. Oh, and did I mention the turbulence?

Finally, I land in Birmingham only to wait at baggage claim in vain... my bag is lost. I have no idea where it is. I head back to Montgomery. Normally I would be angry as Hell, but I am so resigned right now. My roof could cave in and I would probably start laughing hysterically.

Despite today being Lousyville (not to be mistaken with Louisville), I have a lot of good things to write about. I was VERY impressed with Charleston, and took a lot of photos which I will post in the next few days. There were some things I didn't like about the city, but that's going to be anywhere. Still, I'll be making a list of pluses and minuses when I evaluate the transfer offer. Charleston is a beautiful town with a lot to offer for its small size. So, yes, more on that when I don't feel like a dying slug. Because I want to do justice to all the fabulous things going on in my life right now that have me so very happy and excited for the future.

Almost Heaven

This is Yeager Airport in Charleston, West Virginia.



Do not be fooled that there is a terminal named after a Rockefeller. That would imply that this is a big airport; an airport which commands the naming of terminals. This is not a big airport, although it is larger than Montgomery's "Winn Dixie Regional" airport. In fairness to Montgomery, our airport underwent some remarkable improvements over the past couple years and it no longer feels like flying out of a Winn Dixie.

Back to the original point of my story: After I de-planed, picked my bag off the sole baggage carousel and walked outside, I heard the gentle strains of John Denver's Country Roads playing all Muzak-stylez like a gentle breeze for all to groove to as they waited for ground transportation. No lie.

That's right up there with Louis Armstrong International playing, you guessed it, Louis Armstrong the first time I ever flew to New Orleans.

I wonder if the airport authority in Detroit has chosen Don't Stop Believing as their official welcome music?

Anyway. I'm in Charleston, WV until Sunday. So far, so good. If first impressions count, this is a lovely and charming little city. Beautiful, with a dash of funkiness for good measure. I'd write more, but I am spent, there is one helluva rain/thunderstorm going on outside, and I have HBO and a gas fireplace in my room. More later!

Down With Oppression

And when I say oppression, I mean this insanely oppressive heat wave.



I was over this last week, when it was-- oh, hey!-- totally hot.

Rockin' The Kitchen Like It's My Job

Who's up for some more foodiness tonight? Because I'm still all about Campaign for a Less Fat Coco while attempting to zero in on easy things that I really like as to not be deterred from said campaign. Dig? Dig!

I really did not want to make dinner tonight. The heat has been oppressive and draining this past week. Anything involving a flame or radiant heat does not appeal to me at this juncture. However, I just spent $6.00 on two organic chicken breasts and I'll be damned if those sweet little cluckers die in vain because I'm too lazy to appreciate their sacrifice and make something delicious out of them. So, I changed into the thinnest, shabbiest t-shirt I own, slid on my garden clogs and fired up the grill.

2o minutes later:



I ain't tryin' to brag, but this was one of my best experiments yet. And you can do it, too! Here's how it all came together:

1. Take a boneless, skinless chicken breast. Rinse and pat dry with a paper towel. Rub completely with olive oil. Sprinkle salt and black pepper on both sides, rub in to the chicken breast. After I do this, I go turn on the grill and let the chicken sit out to "sweat" a little.
2. Once the grill is hot 'n' ready, turn the heat down to medium-ish and throw the breast on. Get yourself a portabello mushroom. This is a personal preference, but I never rinse or wash mushrooms under water. They absorb water quickly, and that screws up the texture IMHO. Rather, wet a small piece of paper towel and spot-wash the mushroom, removing all dirt. Drizzle with olive oil, put on the upper grill rack (or the non-heated side for indirect grilling).
3. Hang out a bit, then remove the mushroom. I think I left it on for 5 minutes, tops. Just enough to get it tender and give it a couple grill lines. Then, remove the mushroom (leave the chicken). Go inside, get yourself a small baking pan and put your grilled shroom on it. Sprinkle generously with feta cheese and drizzle with olive oil. A dusting of Hungarian sweet paprika is good if you have any. Place under your oven's broiler until the feta starts to melt together and brown slightly. Remove da shroom; set aside.
   
4. Get a dinner plate, throw a handful of baby spinach leaves on it, squirt some bleu cheese dressing on the spinach leaves (go easy, though, too much will overpower everything else) and sprinkle with some pre-cooked, crumbled bacon on top. Not too much, just enough to give the end result a slight smoky flavor.
5. Yank the chicken off the grill, and cut into strips. If you put it on the spinach leaves while it's still really hot, it'll wilt the leaves which is good for texture. Arrange the chicken, garnish with sundried tomato (I like the julienne-cut tomatoes that come in a pouch).
6. If you're like me, dice the Hell out of everything and mix it all together. Best salad ever. Filling, tangy, smoky and nutritious!

If anyone makes this, let me know what you think!

Now, I order you to cast your gaze upon my handsome boy.

Loitering at the Shop 'n' Rob

It appears when I made that wrong left turn in Smuteye, I ended up in Springfield.