Wednesday, August 29, 2012
bread! and registration!
I made what I thought was a pretty kooky salad last night, but it turned out to be pretty dang delicious. It was mostly based on the canned food I brought out with us in Komfy because I figured that it would be incredibly wasteful to throw out perfectly good food just because we were moving across the country. So this salad consisted of fresh cabbage and celery (purchased here), garbanzo beans, pineapple, pickled banana peppers, and water chestnuts, with a homemade dressing consisting of peanut butter, rice vinegar, garlic, mirin, and some Dave's Insanity Sauce. I was shocked when the bowl was emptied after dinner. We also had Rice-A-Roni with ground beef. And some feta. Because we're poor, but I put feta on everything.
Then I made The Bread. Flour, yeast, salt, and water (and a dusting of cornmeal in the bottom of the pan for that gritty goodness). Perfection in a loaf. My first batch of homemade carbs. It exceeded my expectations on all counts.
(Also, that's a random shot of turkeys in the driveway this morning. My ISO was set too low, so it's dark, but I got some flight feathers!)
We got our Tennessee plates today. We came to the County Clerk armed with passports, birth certificates, a marriage license, CA titles, CA registrations, our mortgage contract, and our social security cards for good measure. The Tennessee state website put the fear in my belly that we wouldn't have the documentation necessary to make our vehicles official (there was a list on the state website of these required documents, so I am not completely crazy showing up with a file folder full of them). Turns out, all we needed were the titles. No proof of residency needed. No proof of insurance. I drove back to the holler with a shit-eating grin on my face. (Forgive my filthy car -- it really is impossible to keep them clean out here. I don't know why Jaybird's truck is so much cleaner than mine.)
And, finally, the Nekster. I'm pretty sure he's a good three-feet long stretched out. (Also forgive the brassiere. I don't clean up before taking impromptu shots.)