Fried Rice, Benihana Style

A little back story for you, the Irishman's family loves Benihana. For as long as I've know him (so 14 years now), his family has had a Christmas Eve tradition of eating dinner there (and at least 23 other times in a single year). When I finally asked what the Benihana obsession was about, his answer consisted of two words: fried rice.

So, being the perfectionist that I am, I set off to duplicate his favorite fried rice. (This is where I pause to commend myself on being the world's best wife. Ok, carrying on...) Following the Irishman's careful instructions (given in a Japanese accent), I started recreating this legendary fried rice. It took a couple of tries to get all of the elements correct, but I think I finally got it. I'm not sure that it's completely perfect, but in the words of my eloquent husband, "It's pretty damn good!"

Ok folks, here are our ingredients: Celery, Carrots, Onions, Garlic, Sushi Rice, Chicken Breasts, Butter and Soy Sauce. I want to bring your attention to my Nama Shoyu soy sauce. It's unpasturized soy sauce so it naturally has less sodium, but more importantly, it is the best tasting soy sauce in the world. Seriously, it's that good. I unabashedly bring my own bottle with me when I go to my favorite sushi restaurant and I have been to known pour some on my fingers and lick them. Did I just say that? Moving on then.



First, we're going to get our rice started. I did 2 cups of rice and 2 1/2 cups of water because the Irishman consumes ridiculous amounts of this rice every time I make it. While the rice is cooking, you have time to get everything else done.



Next, I season the chicken breast with salt and pepper and cook it in a little bit of olive oil until it's lightly golden. (Chef's tip: put the chicken breast in between two pieces of saran wrap and pound it with the bottom of your skillet until it's an even thickness. This prevents the chicken from being overcooked on the skinny end and it makes it easier to dice after it's cooked)



After I take the chicken out of the pan to let it rest, I add a little bit more olive oil to the pan along with the celery, onion and carrot. For 2 cups of rice, I used one good sized carrot, two stalks of celery and 1/2 of a large vidalia onion. (Of course, you can add whatever additional veggies you want at this point.)



I like to let the veggies cook on medium heat about 7-9 minutes until they're nice and soft. While they're cooking, I'm going to make my garlic butter. First, chop up 3 cloves of garlic:



Then, mix it into about 3 Tbs. of softened butter. (If you didn't happen to leave your butter out in preparation for this recipe, just pop it in the microwave for 10 seconds or so.)



Now, the veggies are still cooking, so I'm going to go ahead and dice up my chicken.



Ok, this is when everything starts coming together. Go ahead and add the rice and garlic butter in with the veggies (the rice should be done by now). Mix everything together and then flatten it all out and let if "fry" for about 5 minutes.



Now, just add in your chicken and as much soy sauce as you'd like and you're done! I'm not going to give you a set amount for this because, well, I obviously have a problem when it comes to over-consumption of this soy sauce.



On a final note, I left the room after we finished dinner (during which the Irishman ate more than half of the huge pan of rice) and when I returned to the kitchen, this is what I saw:



In other words, you must go make this recipe immediately. Thank you. Now, please excuse me while I go hide the remainder from my husband so that he has something to eat for lunch tomorrow.

The Best $10 I Ever Spent

Some days, I am absolutely overwhelmed when I walk into my closet (ok, most days). How did I accumulate so much stuff? I have my teaching wardrobe and my non-teaching wardrobe, my workout wardrobe and my collection of jeans. (If I was writing about the best $150 I ever spent, we would talk jeans, but we're starting small here.) About once a year, I randomly scour through all of my stuff and give 3/4 of it away. Purging is good. But there is one thing that I would never purge. My blue Nike hat.

Like many of my closet acquisitions, I randomly bought the blue Nike hat on a whim because (1) it was on sale, and (2) I was having a bad hair day (this was back when I cared what my hair looked like, so I think it was around 1995 or so). As I wore the hat out of the store, I noticed that it didn't need any adjustment and that the overall fit was perfect.

That hat became my constant companion. When I went to college the next year and couldn't be bothered with showering before class, my blue hat accompanied me along to philosophy and meterology lessons. When I went to the gym, my trusty blue hat went with me there as well. I have more pictures of me in college wearing that hat than not. (If any of you know the Irishman, he could be writing this post, except his hat loyalty changes on a biannual basis).

As I started packing for trips to Greece, Paris and the Grand Canyon, my Nike hat was at the top of my list in between deoderant and toothpaste. Fast forward about a decade and my Nike hat made the trip to the hospital with me when Parker was born. In other words, it's been on every single trip with me for the last 13 years and I've somehow managed to not lose it or stain it.

As I continue to put that hat on week after week, I can't help but think of the miles it's traveled and the trips that it's made and that every once and a while, among all of our wasteful spending on junky things, we happen to strike gold.

Sheriff Nona

After the Irishman and I got married, he talked me into getting a dog. I had never been a dog owner before (well, I did have my bionic cat Payton who chews everything and fetches, but I don't think he really counts), but I had always wanted a dog. We started researching breeds (ok, so I started researching breeds and the Irishman would offer grunts of agreement or dissent) and during the course of my search, I kept coming across the Cardigan Corgi. I had heard of Pembroke Corgis before (Queen Elizabeth has like six of them), but I had never come across the Corgis with the tail before. So, we bought a couple of books about Corgis and decided that the Cardigan was the one for us.

Fast forward a couple of months and we had selected a breeder, who had a black and white female pup available for us. From the moment we brought Nona home, she was a small adult. She never exhibited any puppy-like behaviors and she did great in obedience training. In case you aren't familiar with Corgis, they're in the herding family with Border Collies and German Shepherds. In other words, they're working dogs. All of the books about Corgis said that because of their natural instinct to work, family dogs will create their own jobs.

Well, Nona found her own job in our house in a BIG way. Nona is the law. She knows every rule that exists in the house. The cats are prohibited from doing the following things: playing with the mini-blinds, pushing the metal baby gate, and scratching the couch. If any of these transgressions take place during her watch, Sheriff Nona will come tearing around the corner, barking at the top of her lungs and nipping at their heels. "Move along you juvenile delinquents," she says. "We'll have none of your shenanigans around these parts, you hear?"

As impressive as this form of canine policing is, Nona has taken it upon herself to make new rules in the house. These are her additions to the cat rules: no jumping onto the kitchen counter, no meowing loudly for any reason whatsoever and finally, do not chase each other at full speed through the house. This will cause Nona to go absolutely ballistic and you can almost hear her shouting, "Walk, don't run you little punks!"

We weren't exactly sure how the addition of a toddler into our family would sit with the Sheriff. Toddlers are (by nature) loud, wild and everywhere at once. Much to our relief, Nona adores Parker. However, I suspect that this is because he tries to pick Payton up by the tail every chance he gets. In Nona's world, this is a just punishment for all of his kitty crimes. You see, for all of her bravado, Payton generally ignores her prodding. He squints his one good eye at her and says, "Listen you little whippersnapper, I was here first and I'll be damned if I let some hyper bitch push me around." Whoa, that Payton's a feisty one, eh? (Oh and technically, he's not swearing because Nona is a female dog).

The Best Week. Ever.

So, I just completed the first full week of my new life and I'm a little bit in love with it (ok, a lot in love with it). After 6 years of working full-time and 1 year of working full-time from home with an infant, the ability to leave the house at my leisure is a radical concept. Honestly, I feel like I'm back in undergrad, only this time around, I fully appreciate what a luxury a flexible schedule is. My buddy Meg and I nostalgically talk about how we used to lay out by the pool in between classes and go to the gym for a ridiculous number of hours (because to our 19 year old brains, being tan without being fit would have been a complete travesty). And guess what I'm doing now...going to the pool between jobs and hitting the gym/road for ridiculously long hours - does life get any better than this??

This month has been full of new beginnings. Let's review:

1. Parker started "school" (this is what elitists call daycare) and he just completed his first week. Parker is having a blast there and quite frankly, doesn't want to come home. Every day when I show up to get him I ask, "Parker, do you want to go home?" He consistently replies with a resounding, "No." No response could possibly make me happier. His classroom nickname is "busy bee" because he is constantly in motion (but in a non-ADD way). The icing on the cake is that he's so tired from daycare, he's actually sleeping for 4-5 hour stretches! (Ok, so this is a small victory, but when you're chronically sleep-deprived, you'll take anything you can get). He's such an easy kid and couldn't possibly be more lovable. For all of our respective flaws, the Irishman and I are both mightily impressed with how wonderful Parker turned out.

2. I started a new job. My new position is seriously a dream. I work 20 hours a week and I have an office if I choose to use it, but working from home is perfectly ok as well. Did I mention that I can work those 20 hours at my leisure? I keep feeling like I won the life lottery, but the truth is that a PhD should count for something and in my world, that something is total flexibility. I recall a conversation that I had with my brother a couple of years ago when he was up to his eyeballs in Corporate America working crazy hours and making good money. We were talking about the different directions that our lives had gone and I recall telling him that, "Bro, in twenty years, you'll be driving a 6-Series BMW with a bank full of cash, but you'll work so many hours that you'll never get a chance to spend it. In 20 years, I'll be driving a Honda and have just a little padding in the bank, but I'll be teaching one class a semester and spending three months a year in Greece. I think you should take it easy before you retire at 60 and have a heart attack the next day." Well, big brother has now joined "the other side" and works his own hours and for himself. And you know what, in twenty years, he'll have the Beamer and the money in the bank and the time to spend it. Hmmm, maybe I should be a life coach? (Don't you love how I take all the credit for everything? I'm good like that.)

3. Running and swimming and cycling, oh my! If you haven't figured it out yet, I like to work out...a lot. It's not so much the exercise itself or the physical results, it's the fact that I feel so damn productive. There is nothing like the feeling of finishing a really good workout. Pushing yourself beyond your normal limits, challenging yourself to go farther, longer, faster. Knowing that when push comes to shove, you are in total control. Plus, you're doing something good for yourself. Honestly, I work out solely for myself. An introvert like me is insanely happy with quiet time in my own head. I also like feeling strong and motivated. Plus, talk about a stress reliever. I challenge you to try to think about anything remotely stressful while you're trying desperately to get air and put one foot in front of the other mile after mile. You just can't and when you're done with your workout, you're too tired to care. I might add that running (or whatever your exercise drug of choice is) is much cheaper than therapy.

4. I've gone out with friends twice in the last week, and stayed out past midnight. I had a blast! This, more than anything else, is an indication of my liberation from my former life. My new life motto: Carpe diem!

Ok folks, that's our week in review. I should be posting another recipe in the next day or two, so stay tuned!

Hello Old Friend

Today, I did something that I have been putting off for a long time. Something that I've been yearning to do, but didn't have the courage to try. I got back in the pool. Swimming was my first real love (other than Chewbacca of course) and like an old relationship that lost its spark, I wondered how we would feel about each other when we met again. Oh sure, I saw the pool from time to time, but always from a distance and always with apprehension.

In my prime, swimming was an art form for me. I used to cut through the water like a sculptor molds clay. It was an intimate relationship to be sure. We spent almost 6 hours a day together for more than half of my life and we had been through a lot of ups and downs including injuries and victories. If any of you have ever been really into a sport, you'll know that the sport really does become almost a person to you. I agonized over quitting my senior year. It really was the worst break up that I've ever had. I knew it was time to move on, but what else would I do with myself? Picking up another sport was like asking a concert pianist to play the violin - it seemed almost silly.

So, I did what I do best. I cut it out of my life cold turkey. In one fell swoop, I was no longer a swimmer by trade, but if I'm being honest, I've always been one in my soul and that you can't erase. Gradually, I started running and cycling on the side, but neither sport ever got into my head like swimming did. We were soulmates and it was time that we gave it another chance.

So today, I packed up my suit, goggles and cap and headed down to the pool. I had butterflies in my stomach as if I were about to enter the Olympic arena. I walked over to an empty lane and stretched like I had been taught in what seemed a lifetime ago. I looked around at the other swimmers and wondered if I looked like an imposter. It was only a fleeting thought though because I was staring at the water, wondering what it was going to feel like when I dove in. So I put on my cap and goggles, took a deep breath and I took the plunge.

It was like diving into a warm embrace. Lovers, reunited at last and wondering what the hell took so long. As I gathered my bearings over the first couple of laps, I knew that my technique was still perfect, but my strength and endurance were sorely lacking. It wasn't until I entered the pool that I realized that I didn't have a workout planned for the day, but you know what? That was completely ok. The water and I, well, we're going to need some time to get reacquainted. There's really no rush because this time, we're back together for the long haul.

I swam until I was tired and content and with a small sigh of disappointment, I got out of the water. I got my stuff together and started to head back out to the parking lot. When I was almost there, I threw a look at the pool over my shoulder as if to say, "Don't worry, we'll see each other again really soon." All in all, I would have to say that it was a great new beginning.

Please do me a favor though. Kindly refrain from telling the pool that I've enjoyed a casual relationship with cycling and I'm currently dating the road via running. Swimming was always a time hoarder and I don't think that the pool would take too kindly to knowing that other sports are enjoying my company as well. Thank you.

Hello, My Name is Cyn And I'm An Elitist

Ok, so seriously, I'm obssessed with this demotivational poster. It's perfect. The picture, the message, everything about it resonates with me on the most basic level. I don't know what happened in America over the last 20 years or so, but somehow the unskilled and below-average acheivers took control over the "mission statement" of this country. Tell me if any of the following sound familiar:

"Everyone's a winner."

"Good effort...way to be a team player."

"It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game."


Can someone please explain to me how we got here? How did effort trump skill? We award gold stars to kids for trying hard, yet failing miserably at something and we give out trophies to both teams who played in the game regardless of outcome.

This kind of gratuitous back-patting is most apparent when I get 18-year old kids in the classroom who have a room full of gold stars and effort trophies. I know exactly who they are on the day following the test or the grading of an assignment. They say things to me like, "I studied really hard, doesn't that count for something?" or "But I followed the directions, why didn't I get an A?"

This phenomenon isn't just limited to undergraduates either. I've seen many grad students pushed through the program for "all of their hard work," yet who had an inability to master the material or come up with a single original thought.

I would argue that the kids are completely unprepared for the real world, but that would not be completely true. Having just come off of 7 years of working for state government agencies, it's grossly apparent there as well. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of very productive and competent people who work for the state and I've had the good fortune to work with a number of them. But let me just tell you, when you spot one another, you cling to each other for dear life. That person becomes your go-to gal/guy and you avoid all others at all costs because it's just so damn depressing to watch someone fumble so badly with something that they have no business working on in the first place.

Now, I know that this sounds completely elitist and on one level, it probably is, but I think there's an important point to be made. I absolutely believe in hard work. I don't think that you can get anywhere in this life without earning it, but there's a difference between rewarding someone's work ethic and rewarding their incompetence. For example, I can train for the rest of my life to run the best marathon that I'm capable of, but does that mean that I deserve a place at the Olympics because I worked just as hard as the women who qualified?

Failing is an important part of life because we will all fail. Hell, I've failed more times and at more things than I care to remember, but I picked myself back up from the temper tantrum I was throwing, I licked my wounds and my resolve to succeed grew even greater. Yes, watching your child or your husband (or yourself!) fail is a hard thing to do, but sheltering them from the heartache never allows them to find that inner strength that they need to try even harder next time.

If you've visited my profile, you'll have see that the Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged are among my favorite books (both by Ayn Rand). If you completely disagree with me and are currently vowing never to visit this blog again, I challenge you to read those books and tell me what you think (in the order listed). If what I said strikes a cord with you, I highly recommend that you read those books (in the order listed). If you're completely ambivalent to everything I said and you're just reading this because you're bored, well, then you have time to go read those books. They're that important. Really.

We are not all equally blessed at everything, but we all have strengths and a skill set entirely our own. Use it.

Running Update

Well, I can officially say that I'm back in the game. I've done three 4-mile runs in the last week and I feel pretty good about that, all things considered. A couple things I've learned though (and these are in no particular order).

1. Running up hills totally sucks. My knees told me as much a couple of days last week, so I'm going to stick with flat roads until I get my orthotics completely broken in.

2. 30 is NOT the new 20 when it comes to levels of fitness, particularly when you were crazily fit at 20. I have to keep reminding myself that it's ok if I can't go flying out the door to effortlessly run 14 miles (ok, so 4 miles isn't effortless either, but you don't need to rub it in, ok?) However, I love nothing more than a challenge so I'm looking forward to adding more mileage as the weeks roll by and I hope to report back pretty soon saying that I OWN 4 miles.

3. All sports bras are not created equally...I'll leave it at that.

4. Doing two runs less than 12 hours apart less than 2 weeks back in the game is not the smartest thing you can do. Rest days are good. Back-to-back runs are bad. Amen.

5. Running with someone else is a good thing. The miles seem to go by faster, you look cooler because you have a running partner, and your pride won't let you quit before you begin. I highly suggest having a running partner. I'm constantly looking for people to run with so if you're interested, let me know! I'm currently taking applicants for anywhere from 3-20 mile runs over the next 6 months.

And finally number 6. My son could care less what my running accomplishments are for this week. When I was telling him my progress, this was the response that I got: