Amazing Zippered Woman

Powerful Peppers Produce Potentially Pissy Problems

I am broadcasting today from a facility for the visually impaired.

First of all we need to establish the fact that I am indeed a gourmet cook. NOT! We also need to note that Arizona has been experiencing some of the coldest weather we have had in over fifty years. Lastly, it must be stated that I am a wonderful wife who caters to my husband’s every whim. A combination of the above statements is a nice lead-in for the story I am about to share.

This last weekend, my usually hot husband, mentioned that he might be getting a cold and was feeling chilled. He went on to say that chicken tortilla soup sounded reallllly good. So, being the good wife that I am, I poured over all my Weight Watcher’s cookbooks until - BINGO - I found the recipe for “perfect chicken tortilla soup.” Each serving counted only 3 Weight Watcher’s points. It was like a dream come true. Let me tell you, the dream slowly became a nightmare.

The recipe called for 1 serrano pepper. I think these guys are raised on the other side of the planet and flown in one-by-one to be sold from a small cart located in the bowels of Phoenix. (I always wanted to say “bowels of Phoenix.”) After dashes into 7 different stores, I finally isolated and purchased my prey. I spent 13 cents for three of the little suckers. Two in case I decided to double the recipe and an extra for good measure. As evidenced in the above picture, serrano peppers are quite small. That’s a tiny tangerine pictured next to it.

My first direction was to combine onions, tomatoes, yellow pepper, garlic and serrano pepper in a food processor with a steel blade. Since my food processor has never been out of the box, I opted for my blender - it has a steel blade. When I added the tomatoes, I noticed a small oozing around the bottom of the glass blender jar. When I lifted it up. the whole bottom fell off. The last person to use the blender (Tom frequently makes frozen margaritas) had neglected to tighten all the pieces together during the post-wash re-assembly. As I cleaned up this giant mess, I noticed a slight stinging around a cut on my finger. Esther helped clean up, or a should say. started to help. One lick and she fell into a heap and started crawling to her water dish. You know that slight stinging I mentioned? Well, within 20 minutes I was writhing in agony with my whole arm suspended in ice water. 

Now I had no choice but to make just a single batch. I have blown 2 of my peppers on my ill-fated first batch. Things progressed nicely, and I served a wonderful soup that the Big Irishman raved about. As I climbed the stairs for bed, I was fairly certain that I was the reincarnation of Julia Childs. I’m visualizing a cookbook with my name on the cover and my own T.V. show. All these delightful thoughts were swimming around in my mind until I removed my contact lenses. My right eye exploded in searing, fiery pain. Unfortunately I had already started to remove my left lens when the pain first registered. As I felt my eyeballs blistering, I must admit to being a little excited as I thought about selecting my first seeing-eye dog. I would name him Brownie to commemorate the color that my eyes used to be.

After much flushing and more flushing and again flushing, I recovered enough sight to feel my way across the room and into bed. For the first time ever I knowingly failed to brush my teeth. (There have been other no-brush occasions - new hearts, drunken stupors, etc.) My eyes are still very sensitive and a very attractive shade of pink. Through this whole ordeal, one concept became painfully clear - when chicken tortilla soup is on  the menu, TAKE OUT is a much better choice. 

Well Folks, Things Is Good.

I was informed by my husband this morning that he felt my blog readership would skyrocket if I stuck to writing humorous fluff pieces. I think he is taking money under the table from some republican think tank that is intent on silencing those who express outrage at the way the current administration is running our country. I’m also fairly certain that his next wife will be named Bambi, and that she will have gigantic breasts . I can just picture Bambi quietly humming to herself during political discussions to cover up the fact that she has no knowledge of or opinions about our government. Note to Tom: There are extra blankets in the downstairs guestroom closet. That couch can be very cold at night. (Just kidding.) Anyway, dear readers, never fear - The AZW will not be silenced. I promise that I will always give you the straight scoop - from my heart. If I offend you or you think I’m “wacko” (Tom’s favorite word to describe me) the solution for you is simple — don’t click on the AZW.

Now the AZW’s response to Bushie’s State Of The Union Address:

I was absolutely astonished to find out that the state of our union is so strong. I want a little of what he’s been smokin’.

This speech contained no surprises - just Bushie’s same old list of platitudes. I noticed he still struggles pronouncing those darned hard six-letter words.

Did anyone notice that our fearless leader had on an ice-blue tie? Was it a conciliatory gesture (democrats = blue) or was it meant to symbolize the ice water running through his veins? Or maybe it represented the feelings of all the families who have lost a child in his oil war.

According to our president, “Each of us is guided by his own convictions.” I’m sure he was referring to all the republicans who have been convicted or who are awaiting conviction.

Yes, dear George, wages are rising — thanks to the Democrats raising the minimum wage.

I surely wouldn’t have bragged about the debacle called, “No Child Left Behind.” Hey George, why don’t we divert some war money to education. That would make a “real difference.”

Did anyone else hear Bushie’s hidden message? “We’re hitting Iran next.”

Was John Mc Cain sleeping?

FYI George. The democrats voted for a military incursion into Iraq that was intended to find WMD’s. This vote was based on information you falsified.

I was outraged by some of the conservative commentators snide remarks  about Hillary Clinton’s appearance. So in response - I thought Laura looked beautiful in her red ensemble. It was the perfect choice for a chain-smoking librarian.

Guns and Dogses

Guns and Dogses - get it? - like Guns and Roses. OK, probably not my best title, but if you have suggestions, I’ll be happy to change it.

Esther and Mary Lou have really enjoyed Tom’s elk. Several times I have returned from running errands, only to find them busy in the kitchen preparing elk. They have even created some of their own recipes - pate de fois ELK, spaghetti and ELKballs and, my personal favorite, ELK Wellington. Esther dices and chops and Mary Lou stirs and pours. They are actually a great team. Every night, at bedtime, the Big Irishman reads his doggie girls a story. For the last several weeks, the usual story has been replaced by a rendition “the big kill” - the story of how he tracked and killed the poor beast. They never tire of hearing all the gory details.

Well, unbeknown-st to us, our doggie duo, applied for and were granted a “big game” permit. Elk season is officially over. So when the girls set out this weekend on their first hunting trip, much to our dismay, their specific target was MOOSE. They carefully packed all their gear (sleeping bags, kibble, food bowls and etc.) and left early Saturday morning - with Mary Lou driving and Esther reading the map. There were supposed to keep us posted by cellphone, (Esther got a cellphone for Christmas) but we didn’t hear one word. Late Sunday night they pulled into the driveway, creating a cacophony of horn-honking and shouting. Sure enough - tied to the hood - a dead moose.

We drug the poor thing into the house and I took several photos of “the carcass.” We stayed up until 2:00 a.m. hearing all about their adventure. Apparently, Esther did the spotting because Mary Lou has really bad eyesight and had forgotten her glasses. Mary Lou was the trigger-puller. (a gun term) The story is that they downed their prey with one shot. The force of the blow totally knocked off one ear and one antler. The body was still oozing guts as we carried it in. Yesterday morning they left early to take Moosie to the meat processor. The fiber-fill is being made into summer sausage. My suspicion is that it will be very dry. They have informed me that I must find a place on the fireplace to mount Moosie’s head.  I DON’T THINK SO.   

Do Javelinas Leap?

I intend to tell you about the wineries we discovered near Sedona, but first I wanted to share this picture. This is the Tonto Natural Bridge. This beautiful place is located 12 miles north of Payson, Arizona, just off Highway 87. As we were entering the park, the grade was so steep that we could smell our breaks. I spent most of the trip down the hill envisioning our mangled, twisted bodies in the wreckage of our burned-out van. But, once again, the Big Irishman kept us on the road.

This is the world’s largest natural travertine bridge. It went through several stages of development. The west side of Pine Creek was formed by a flow of lava. This rock eventually eroded, leaving behind purple quartz sandstone. The various rock layers then faulted. Sea water left behind a sediment of sand and mud. More volcanic eruptions covered the layers with lava and this formed a cap of basalt. More erosion and faulting created Pine Creek Canyon. Water seeped through underground weak points in the rock and created limestone aquifers. Emerging streams carried dissolved limestone and calcium - eventually forming a travertine dam. Pine Creek then forced it’s way through the travertine to form the natural bridge. Now if someone asks you at Happy Hour on Friday how natural bridges are formed - you will be able to answer intelligently. Thank you very much. Keep in mind this process didn’t just take a couple of weeks. It was at least a month.

On to the wineries. Our first stop was Javelina Leap. We were greeted by a 220 pound English Mastiff. He was adorable and had a face covered with stinkles. (wrinkles that have the potential to become stinky) Rod, the winemaker, was wonderful and super knowledgeable. His Petite Sirah and 2003 Zinfandel were exquisite. When we left, Tom and I both agreed that we will make this a regular stop on our trips to Sedona.

We also enjoyed a wonderful tasting experience with Carol at Page Springs Cellars. I felt an instant bond with Carol and she taught us a lot about the winery and their different wines. One of my favorites was Mule’s Mistake. It is a blend that was actually mistakenly created. We plan a return  visit to see Carol. We want to arrange a trip for our dinner club to enjoy these wineries. We spent a glorious afternoon sipping wine while restocking our own wine cellar. It just doesn’t get much better than that.

I must end with an exciting news flash. One of my favorite conservative republicans actually got an entry published in THE VENT - our local newspaper’s opinion column.

“The sleazy old men currently running the Republican Party that removed (Rep.) Jeff Flake from his committee post are exactly why I and millions of other lifelong Republicans voted the Democratic Party into power last November. They just don’t get it.”    Do you suppose that crazy, old AZW might be right about a few things?  

A Day That Will Live In Infamy

Fifty-seven years ago today, at 5 minutes after midnight, the AZW came into this world - a bouncing black-haired, almost 10 pound wonder. I was a giant baby and I think on that day my tiny 4′ 11” mom regretted ever having met my father. To celebrate this auspicious occassion, the Big Irishman brought me to our time-share in Sedona. I think he intends to spoil me rotten for three or four days. We have so much fun when we travel. We aren’t ever at a loss for conversation topics. Every time we take a trip we fall in love all over again. Fortunately,he always agrees to renew my contract when we get home.

When we left on Friday we decided to take the scenic route through Payson. Of course, right outside of the Payson city limits we found ourselves driving through a blinding blizzard. After Camp Verde, the snow subsided and our drive into Sedona was uneventful. Our room is beautiful and the above picture is the view from our terrace.

Yesterday we shopped and attended 5:30 mass at one of our favorite churches. The priest at St. John’s almost makes me regret my decision to leave the church. We had dinner at a micro-brewery and a very strange thing happened. We sat at the bar until our table was ready and started talking to a gentleman named Mike. During our conversation he told us that his wife (seated beside him) was scheduled for a total mastectomy on Tuesday. When I looked at her,  she was surrounded by a soft light. Suddenly I had an  overwhelming feeling that she would be just fine.  This isn’t the first time that Perpetua has helped me to see and feel things that I would have missed before my transplant.

Today we are going to enjoy some Arizona wineries. This morning while Tom was drying his hair, I looked at his back and was totally overwhelmed by his strength and kindness. He is the best thing in my life.

Yet Another Gift From Perpetua

This a a very distorted picture of my right foot, but it will serve the purpose for which it is intended. Several years ago, when I had my first heart surgery something went terribly wrong in the operating room. I ended up losing most of my heart. I won’t bore you with all the gory details. I’m not even sure how to describe all the things that went wrong. But during the drama in surgery, an assist pump was placed into the femoral artery in my groin and threaded up into my heart to help it pump. Because my situation was very unstable, this pump was allowed to remain in my artery for far too long. As a result, the circulation in my right hip was destroyed and this led to an eventual total hip replacement. Another, more immediate, consequence of the pump was that a whole bunch of micro-emboli (tiny blood clots) were forced down into my feet. These caused my feet to swell and turn black. At one point - so I’m told - all the doctors were worried that I would need a double amputation. At the time, my primary concern was that all my beautifully pedicured toenails were falling off one-by-one.

I suspect that I was being given some fairly hardcore drugs to keep my level of hysteria under control, because I don’t remember being very worried about my feet. But losing my toenails began to symbolize all that was wrong in my world. I know I should have been worrying about much larger issues, but all I could grasp was that without toenails I was now considered a freak. I can remember waking the Big Irishman in the middle of the night to tell him that yet another nail had hit the deck.

As you all know, I survived and my feet survived . And I’m happy to say that 8 of my toenails returned to their former glory. For the past several years, I have been applying huge globs of polish to the skin on my pinky toe and the one next to it. I soooo wanted the world to see me as a complete toe-nailed woman. About 7 months ago, during a pedicure, Ellie (my nail lady) shrieked and announced that there appeared to be a small, hard smidge growing on my little toe. Then she yelled again when she discovered a similar small, hard smidge growing on the big guy next to my pinky. Praise the Lord - at long last the moment I have been waiting for. I felt like I had won the lottery.

For the past several months we have had great fun watching these toenails grow. Dr. Copeland explained this wonderful life-changing event with two simple words, “increased circulation.” Those of you in the toe-nailed world will never understand how much this means to me. Seriously, because toenails had become a symbol of my whole ordeal, now I finally feel whole and healthy. THANK YOU  PERPETUA.  

This Sucks

When I signed on to be a blogger, I promised myself that I would share not only the good, but also the bad and the ugly. Well, something so horrendous has happened that I have spent  most of the morning deciding whether or not to keep this promise. Finally, literary honesty has dictated my decision. It is with dread and trepidation that I share the following. 

 TUESDAY MORNING I AWAKENED WITH MY THUMB IN MY MOUTH. Can you even believe it? I am positively mortified. My first thoughts were, “I wonder if Tom saw me? Was I actually sucking my thumb or did it just inadvertently find its way into my mouth? Is this the beginning of a second childhood? Will wetting the bed be next?”

All day Tuesday I searched my inner self looking for an explanation. I consequently developed several possible theories ….

1.  Perpetua is actually younger than we originally thought.

2.  I’m sorry to say that one of our family’s “dirty little secrets” is that Esther enjoys a nice finger- suck every once in a while. My research has uncovered the fact that this is frequently a characteristic of her breed. If there is no finger available, she sucks on her back foot. How precious. I’m sure that you have all read about people taking on the traits of their pets. Could this be why I find myself in this situation? If I start whining at the door to go outside - mystery solved.

3.  I do have a small hang-nail on the thumb that appeared in my mouth. Maybe this was just an attempt to soothe my boo boo. (Is anyone worried that I just said “boo boo?”)

4.  The current administration (I can’t even say his name after hearing last night’s speech) has screwed up this country so badly that my elevated sense of insecurity has mandated a return to infancy.

5.  Probably the most reasonable explanation for my odd behavior is the “power of suggestion.” On Monday, as I was sitting at my desk working on quarterly reports for Tom’s company, I turned on the TV just to provide background noise. Dr. Phil was discussing strange New Year’s resolutions. (Even if tortured, I will never admit to willingly watching Dr. Phil.) One of his guests, at age 23, has vowed to stop sucking her thumb before her wedding in June. I’m sure this dialog planted a seed in my mind, and my subconscious took over from there.

Tom and I are headed to Sedona tomorrow for a romantic getaway. I certainly hope I don’t experience a repeat of this thumb thing. I somehow don’t think he would find it very alluring. Wish me luck. 

I’m Floored (Or Soon Will Be)

I’m taking a break from political diatribes today so my blood pressure can return to normal. Instead I’ll update you on Mount Kitchenuvius. I received a phone call on Thursday afternoon from the  company that installed our tile when we built the house. During the past several weeks our builder has paraded a variety of people through my house to try to determine the reason for the eruption of the kitchen floor. It was also discovered that over 3/4 of our tiles are loose. Finally we have a bottom line. FAULTY INSTALLATION. Soooo the tile company is going to replace all the tile in the whole house - upstairs and downstairs.

We have talked about what to do and have decided that we might take this opportunity to upgrade to a natural stone rather than ceramic. We’re thinking maybe slate. We will only need to pay the difference. From my conversation with the tile guy, I think we are signing on for a huge upheaval in our lives. I guess that the process of breaking out the old tile is dusty, dusty, dusty. He talked about taping registers and used the term “dust permeation” several times. It sounds intense. I sure hope I’m up to the task.

I started yet another diet today. I only gained 1/2 pound over the holidays. That translates into an actual loss of 9 pounds. Please don’t ask me to explain my calculation. It only makes sense to me. If this attempt at diminishing my girth (I love that word) doesn’t work, I’m considering amputating my left leg. That should cause a quick lose of 20 or 30 pounds. And think what I’ll save on clothes. Pants with just one leg are lots cheaper than pants with two legs.

Yet Again

This is a public service announcement. I just want to make sure that all Americans are aware of George’s most recent power grab. Democrats and privacy advocates are flabbergasted by this latest violation of our rights. Every American should share in the outrage.

Last month Bushie signed a little-noticed statement in which he asserts the authority to open our mail without judicial warrants during emergencies. I guess he gets to define “emergency.” Once again this administration has attempted to bypass laws that were designed to restrict its power. A ”signing statement” is a statement that Bully Bush can attach to any bill when he signs it. In this case said bill was a postal reform bill.

Tony Snow, as usual, tried to explain away any concern, by saying that this isn’t a change in law, but merely a restatement of present law. Nice try, Tony Baloney.  Experts in civil liberties and national-security law said that once again Bushie’s language is unduly vague, and goes far beyond recognized limits on the ability of the government to open mail without a warrant from the bench.

So now, George and his pesky band of misfits, can read my mail, read my emails, listen in on my phone conversations, and peruse lists of everyone I’ve come into contact with. How long will it be before he knows how frequently I change my underwear, or if my bowel habits are regular? I can just imagine sending a required daily memo to the White House. “Dear George. Today I’m wearing my frilly pink panties. Oh, and by the way, I pooped twice this morning - usual consistency.”  

Same Song - Next Verse

I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed I am that Bully Bush is getting ready to announce to the American people that he is increasing the number of troops we have in Iraq by maybe as many as 25,000. Somehow we need to stop him. The consensus among his top advisers, both military and civilian, is for a decrease rather than an increase in troop strength. The panel that was commissioned to evaluate his current war strategy, strongly supports deescalation. How can this pompous jerk totally disregard all these opinions?

Few Americans still believe that Saddam Hussein or Iraq was responsible for 9/11. Few Americans still believe that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction. Few Americans still believe the daily slaughter in Iraq is just the result of an insurgency and not a civil war. Few Americans still believe that Bush went to Iraq  just to free the people from an evil dictator and oil profits weren’t involved. Few Americans still believe that the U.S. economy is doing well even as the U.S. dollar is losing world value every day. Few Americans still believe that George W. Bush is a good Christian when all he really cares about is the profits made by the top 1% of Americans. Most Americans believe that Bush started a war that has cost thousands of lives, caused outrageous destruction, and carried a price tag of hundreds of billions of dollars — a war totally based on lies. Somehow we need to stop him.