Speaking of cooking (as we were a couple of posts down), it still baffles me when someone makes a substantive change to a recipe, then proceeds to gripe that the dish didn't turn out well.  Over at Allrecipes.com there's a recipe for Broccoli Bites I'm planning on trying soon, and the reviews are mostly positive. 

Not the latest one, though.  Unfortunately, that reviewer was unimpressed by how they turned out for her.  Do you suppose there might be a reason for this, though?  "I love the Broccoli Bites from Bennigan's, and I was hoping this recipe
would replicate them, but I was disappointed. Perhaps it's because I
baked mine instead of frying..."

Gee, you think? 

Not that baking instead of frying doesn't produce good results a good bit of the time, but it sure seems it'd be fair to make the recipe per the instructions before weighing in with a less-than-enthusiastic review.  OTOH, at least she was honest about not having followed the directions.

Viktor and Vladimir's homecoming, even though I wasn't there when they
arrived, has brought Dmitry's adoption trip to mind, so that's the
subject matter for the Slide feed at the top. 

Happy, happy memories! 

[disappointed]  Well, darn.  Best laid plans, I suppose.  That's the trouble with not being on the "call" list when a family's returning from Russia....if the scheduled flight doesn't work out, one doesn't know it until everyone's off the plane and your people weren't there.

Which is what happened tonight.  Don, Dmitry and I drove out to DFW airport to meet the Buckholts' flight from JFK, taking with us four boxes of sandwiches, cookies, bananas, and bottled water.  The Waybourns were famished when they got home, I remember, so it was arranged that we'd meet their flight, bring food, and I'd do my infamous paparazzi imitation. 

Only they weren't on the flight. 

It's always a kick, though, being there while a flight from New York arrives, particularly one that originated at JFK, the international airport.  An elderly Russian couple arrived, happily and tearfully met by (presumably) their granddaughter.  There was a trio of Korean (I think, though possibly Chinese) young men greeting another young man, and I was amused and nonplussed to hear the one of those waiting observe the one arriving was, and I quote, "Bright eyed and bushy tailed!"

Didn't know Asians knew anything about bright eyes, never mind the bushy tails. 

A tired-looking woman came through the revolving door and a young boy ran eagerly up to meet her, pointing to his mouth.  "I've got a loose tooth!" he blurted.  Now there's a "welcome home" for a mom. 

Really, one of the most charming ways to spend an evening is to hold vigil at the baggage carousel, watching and listening to the travelers being greeted.

Still wish Viktor and Vladimir had been on that flight, though. 

Are there any Conventional Cooking Rules you break with impunity?  You know,  one to which every single cookbook, cooking article, cooking show, etc. sternly refer?

I've got one.

I wash my mushrooms.  Stick 'em right under the faucet. 

And for the life of me, I don't see the problem with doing this, but for years the CW has been.....whatever you do, do NOT wash mushrooms!  Just wipe them off with a damp paper towel.

Well, we haven't turned purple and shriveled up yet, so apparently lightly and quickly washing them isn't doing them any tremendous harm.

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So long's I'm on the subject of cooking, isn't it vexatious when one has a dish all put together and ready to go into the oven, only to find one of the ingredients still sitting on the counter? 

This evening I made a Ham and Broccoli Pot Pie (which I rather liked, Don tolerated, and Dmitry didn't eat, instead making a bologna sandwich).  As I lifted the crust to place it on top of the pie filling my eye lit on the can of mushroom soup I'd neglected to stir into the filling.  I stared balefully at it.  It sat sheepishly next to the stove, obviously wishing it were safely back in the pantry.

Decided to heck with it.  If I couldn't tell it was missing, then how crucial could it be, right? 

OTOH, possibly Emily Hughes should twitch in her sleep, after all.  

Had my second lesson with Laura this afternoon and darned if she didn't have me skating across the rink!  Okay, fine, it was across at the end so it wasn't as far as if I'd skated across the middle, but still....twice I skated from one side to the other. 

She's such a good teacher. 

That was a new low in customer service. 

Just returned from a short trip to the Wal-Mart Food Center out on
Vickery.  Yesterday I'd lifted with one hand a very heavy bag of
clothes and stuff that was in the middle bedroom, so as to hand it out
into the hall to the boys (we were clearing out that room a bit). 
Last night my left wrist began to hurt, and it finally dawned on me
what the culprit had been.

However, that's really neither here nor there.  Point is, due to
my wonky wrist I decided against my habitual practice of self-checkout,
instead preferring to let the checkout people scan and sack my
merchandise.

Except the ONLY....and I do mean only....lit checkout lane indicators were those of the self-checkout stations.  That's right, there was no one
at any of the usual, staffed lanes.   I went over to the
"customer service" counter and waited whilst another woman was helped,
and after a minute or two one of the employees appeared and waved me
over to the adjacent lane.

Do you know, I found myself apologizing for wanting to be checked out while explaining about my wrist?  

Not only that, but the gas price there was 4¢ higher than the Shell station at I-30 and Hulen. 

You've got to be alert every moment, no doubt about it.

Kirstin and the kids were over for a little bit this afternoon, after an abortive attempt to visit the zoo (massive crowds, between it being half-price Wednesday and spring break) and an abbreviated trip to the Museum of Science and History.  Before facing the hideous traffic going back to Keller they refreshed themselves here.  

I got a darling picture of Bryson, if I may say so myself:

There's no denying Emily Hughes sleeps well tonight, unconcerned about competition from the matron in Fort Worth, but still....all things considered, the lesson with my friend, Laura, went better than expected.

Meaning the only part of me that made contact with the surface of the ice was the blades of the skates, I discovered my ankles don't cave inward if the skates fit properly (who knew a size 8 1/2 shoe should wear a size 7 skate?), and doggoned if I didn't manage to take a good five forward stroking steps in a row without hanging on to the side of the rink. 

It's possible I might be able to manage this after all.  Laura's graciously giving me another lesson on Friday afternoon. 

The things I don't know. 

This morning it crossed my mind this, being the 15th, is "the ides of March."  Idly I wondered what the "ides" means, precisely.

Still don't know, but did discover this heretofore unknown factoid: 
In the ancient Roman calendar the fifteenth day of March, May, July, and October, and the thirteenth day of the other months.

Every month's got ides?  I didn't know that. 

Yesterday my sister, Jeanne, called me.  Seems she'd just been through the drive-thru at Panda Express, where her total due was $5 plus change, so she handed the young lady at the window a $20 bill.  Then Jeanne realized she'd get back four ones as part of her change, so decided to give her another dollar, only the girl helping her had moved away from the window.  She attracted the attention of someone else, saying "Here, would you give the girl who was helping me this dollar?"

Before she could continue the other young woman quickly responded, "Oh, we're not allowed to accept tips.  You can write her a commendation, though!" As Jeanne opened her mouth to explain TOYW called out to the one who'd helped her, "Hey!  Your customer is going to give you a commendation!"

Well.  The next thing Jeanne knew the window was filled with young ladies all excited about the customer who was so impressed with the service she'd received that she wants to praise her server to management.  Jeanne says she was quickly handed a form to be filled out and mailed in, while everyone beamed happily at her and congratulated each other upon the accomplishment of one their own.

"I might get a raise!" Jeanne's server exclaimed in delight.

Jeanne said she didn't have the heart to tell her "Actually, I just wanted to get a $5 bill instead of four one's" so weakly smiled, nodded, and promised faithfully to send in the commendation.

So she got a handful of singles and with any luck, her server will get a raise.