Happy New Year, 2012!

Bitch, you better be good to me!!!

You know I don’t normally do the New Year’s resolution thing . . . or I make a joke of it . . . but I’m kinda doing one this time just so I can put out there all the shit I have to accomplish this next year for my own damn good.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my New Year’s resolutions, not in any particular order. Start thinking of yours because I’m going to ask you what they are at the end of this.

1) Quit smoking by my 43rd birthday.

This is imperative because if I don’t do it, I’ll die at age 53. Yes, I know when I’m going to die. Haven’t we covered this already? I come from a very psychic family, people. And it’s true, most psychics won’t tell you when you’re going to die, but I’m weird and am one of likely a few people in the world who can handle the information without freaking the fuck out. I only pray that once I quit, I NEVER pick up a cigarette again. If I can accomplish that, I’ll live to the ripe old age of 79. Obviously, I’m hoping for the latter, because 10 years just isn’t enough fucking time for all the shit I have to do!

2) Quit drinking soda altogether.

I can do this. I’ve quit drinking it before, but obviously not altogether. The issue is that I freakin’ LOVE the taste of Pepsi, damn it. Why must you be so bad for my waistline?! And my waistline is right where it all goes. *sigh* Which brings us to my next resolution…

3) Join a gym.

I know everyone and their fucking mother adds this to their resolutions list, but I actually mean it. I miss the gym and haven’t had the ability to go over the last couple of years. And I know I’m insane for saying this, but I miss the elliptical. It actually helped my lower back and hip. Perhaps not to the point where I can ever work a 9 to 5 job again, but certainly at least giving me a better quality of life than lying around the fucking house because I can’t move.

4) Get my damn passport!

I don’t know yet why this is important for 2012, but I’m spending the money on this because it’s long overdue. I have places I want to go, and even if I don’t get to those places in 2012, I just might in 2013 because let’s face it, folks, the world isn’t fucking ending on 12-21-2012. I hate to tell you this, but I know the world won’t end in my lifetime. Just sayin’.

5) Take Umi someplace special.

Just because she fucking deserves it after taking care of me for most of my life, and well, because she’s my mom.

6) Start working on my “Payback is a Bitch and Bitch, I am” plan.

Sorry, this is classified information. But I promise you’ll be told after the fact!

7) Change my diet altogether.

It’s not like I eat junk food or fast food, but I could add healthier things to our diet, since y’know, I’m the damn chef in this house. And if Victoria (executive chef extraordinaire and now my dietitian) ever sends me her massive missive of recipes, I’ll get right on that!

8) Create a freakin’ work schedule!

Between RIP and ZSC and my own personal writing (which suffers the most), I’m being pulled in multiple directions and don’t even have time to beta read or critique for my own RIP partner, let alone others, which is so not cool with me! And how am I supposed to get my name out there if I can’t work on my own writing? It can’t happen, people. You need books to read from me! And I need to get the next Kick-Ass Girls Club book written before some of you start stalking me! LOL

9) Move Umi, Moon, and myself into a HOUSE.

I’m so done with apartment living. I’ll consider making the move back east after that.

10) Moonbug…

Speaking of Moon, she and I need to start walking farther. It’ll be better for both of us, but mostly it’s good for her to work those back legs.

11) Stop drinking coffee.

Wait! I know this sounds absolutely INSANE, but I need to kick the caffeine habit as well. This will be the very last thing I give up, simply for the fact that I will likely be in the mood to kill people after quitting smoking and drinking soda. However, in the instance the Zombiepocalypse happens, all bets are off!


And…. *drum roll* ….What are your New Year’s resolutions, dear readers? C’mon, don’t be afraid to comment. *points to note* See? I’m a comment whore.  I WANT you to comment, damn it.


Spam Comment of the Week

No, I’m not talking about the meat-substitute wanna-be in a can that makes me gag when I walk past it in the store.

I get a ton of spam comments on my website daily, and I’m certain I’ll get some on this post, so on occasion, I get some really hilarious ones and I’d like to share. It’s not so much the comment itself that is funny, aside from the obvious “English is not their first language” issue, but it’s the posts they tend to comment on that usually have me rolling on the floor.

So, I give you this week’s Spam Comment extraordinaire from Blogger Tutorial (the name alone screams SPAM!):

Throughout the awesome pattern of things you actually receive an A+ just for effort and hard work. Where exactly you actually misplaced us was in the specifics. As they say, the devil is in the details… And it couldn’t be much more correct here. Having said that, permit me say to you what did do the job. Your article (parts of it) is actually rather convincing and that is possibly the reason why I am making the effort in order to opine. I do not make it a regular habit of doing that. Second, despite the fact that I can easily see the leaps in reason you make, I am not necessarily convinced of just how you appear to connect your details which help to make your conclusion. For right now I will, no doubt yield to your issue however hope in the near future you actually link your facts much better.

This comment was posted on (drum roll, please): Spinach & Artichoke Cheese Dip

I know, right? How fucking ri-goddamn-diculous is that and don’t these idiots read the posts they’re commenting on? You’d think they’d at least skim the post so they can look like they know what the hell they’re talking about. But no…

I’m sorry I “misplaced” you, Blogger Tutorial. And I’m not certain you’d recognize the devil in the details if the Devil himself stuck you in the ass with his pitchfork.  It’s a fucking recipe, jackass. I’m glad, however, that you’re convinced by my “article” about how to make Spinach & Artichoke Cheese Dip. God forbid should you not be convinced. As for the “leaps in reason” I made…I’m actually speechless here. Oh, and by the way, my conclusion was in another language. Did you catch that? It obviously isn’t your first language either.

Spammers, beware! I’m posting at least one of you fuckers a month!

#HorrorHound – Behind the Scenes: Part Four

Okay, the HorrorHound section is over, so technically, this is just me babbling about what happened the following week. Let’s see if I can remember it all, now that it’s after Christmas and this happened before Thanksgiving.

I last left you with My “son,” my wonderful trip to Maryland, and then back home to Arizona.

My “son”

Though I have never given birth to a child, I have many children. I have been a foster mother to a teenage girl, and kind of a mom to some of her friends. I’d attempted to give my nieces some semblance of a normal life outside of their home. I have been the mother figure for several of the Native American kids I used to work with when I was a Life Skills Coach/Mentor. But there is one person in particular, whom I’ve known since he was in middle school, and he was a part of the Writer’s Club I sponsored at the school. I love him as though he were my own for reasons only a parent could comprehend, and I’ve told him on many occasions that if I’d ever had a son, I would have wanted my son to be just like him. And this is why I call him my “son.” Online, I call him Pasha, and yes, he’s the one who had throat cancer a while back.

Pasha is on the ASU Quidditch team. Yes, there are actually Quidditch teams at universities across the United States and in other countries, and they run with a broom between their legs and the snitch is an actual person. It’s hysterical. Anyway, while I was in Cincinnati, Pasha was in New York for the Quidditch World Cup. I know, I know, it really does sound insane, and if Quidditch is real, where in the fuck is Hogwarts, damn it, and why didn’t I get a letter?! I don’t wear the talisman of the sacred three for just decoration, people. So, ASU came in 19th out of 92, or something like that. I’ve yet to have a chance to watch a Quidditch match or practice, so I’ll have to remedy that next season, but I just wanted to point it all out to you because I think it’s cool as hell and this is my “son” we’re talking about, so I have to gush. Oh, and his entire next semester is taking place on a cruise ship as he travels around the world, or at least South America. 😀 I’m so proud.


After stuffing the backseat with Lora, Juliette, and ALL of Juliette’s clothes, thereby burying the both of them, we spent the 9-ish-hour trek driving to Baltimore, or at least to a place very near Baltimore. Paul drove, and I got the front passenger seat because I get car sick on long rides in the backseat. I wish I could claim it’s just an excuse, but no, it’s unfortunately very true. When that happens, I’m useless for at least two days.

Paul decided, at the beginning of our drive, to play a game. I’d never played this game before, so I was intrigued. The idea was to name a movie that started with the last letter of the movie previously named. I don’t think I need to explain it other than that, and for a majority of the ride, it was just Paul and me playing.

We played this game ALL THE WAY to Lora’s house. I’m not kidding. Near the end, it was damn difficult to think of movie titles.

Tuesday morning, I woke up to the most beautiful sight when I looked out of Lora’s front window.

And I saw an even more beautiful sight when I walked out the back door…

That’s Lora’s backyard and how fucking gorgeous is that? Look, it’s FALL! We don’t have this where I live, unless you drive up to the mountains.

Juliette and I spent the week at Lora’s, working, shopping, working, going out to dinner, working……..do you sense a theme here? Yeah, Juliette worked my ass off. :p I can’t even tell you how many survival bracelets I made, but I ran out of black paracord. Actually, I made one of each brigade color in one of four sizes, so….32. I wrote posts for ZSC. I fixed some bios on the ZSC site. I got some ghostwriting done. And Juliette got the inventory sorted and into new plastic bins. All in all, I/we got quite a bit of work done before watching The Walking Dead, The Talking Dead, and Terra Nova.

The dinner out was at Outback, which I haven’t had in a long damn time, but holy hell, was that sangria awesome! So much so that I had two! And all three of us were so hungry we devoured the appetizer, the bread, and everything on our plates.

Lora and Juliette bought me these AWESOME shoes!!! They truly appreciate my shoe whore addiction.

Thank you, ladies. Sincerely.

I also made spaghetti for them one night. 🙂 It turned out pretty good.

During my week in Baltimore-ish, it rained, then it dropped to below freezing after the storms left, and then it rained again. One day, it was 65 degrees. WTF? Isn’t this November in Maryland? Why is it Arizona weather? Regardless, I loved it! Part of me wished it had snowed while I was there. Part of me was thankful it didn’t because I certainly didn’t have the shoes for THAT.


I left Baltimore at 4am on a train to Boston, since that’s where my flight was leaving from. We’d cancelled our ZSC trip to Boston, but it would cost too much to change the flight, so we opted for the train ticket instead. Actually, I’d never been on a train before, so I was kind of excited.

I know, now y’all think I’m sheltered or something, don’t you? LOL

I had a 7-hour train-ride to Boston, a 3-hour wait at the Boston airport before my flight left (thank God for Starbucks), which was heading to Atlanta. Don’t ask.

When I first scheduled these damn flights, they were non-stop from Phoenix to Dayton, and from Boston to Phoenix. I don’t think the fucking airline should be allowed to change that on a person.

My flight arrived late, so we left Boston about 45 minutes late. Landed in Atlanta late–another goddamn mile-long between concourses airport–and I took the tram this time, the moving walkways, and practically ran to my gate (which I really can’t do) to discover they were already boarding. I barely made it, and I’d like to thank all the jackasses on the previous flight for listening to the captain and allowing those of us who had connecting flights to deplane first (not). This is why I fucking hate people. Most of you don’t think about anyone but yourselves. Not you, dear blog reader. I mean that “you” in general–as in the general population. This is why I love apocalyptic stories, especially those movies that show the apocalypse actually happening.

I’ll let your imagination fly from there.

I boarded the plane and the plane finally taxied out to the runway. You know how when you’re sitting there before take-off, waiting your turn, and you hear and feel the engines basically shut down and start back up? Yeah, so the captain and his crew do that…and suddenly the a/c isn’t working anymore. He gets on the com to inform us that there’s a problem and we have to go back to the gate so maintenance can take a look because he doesn’t want to take any chances. I’m so more than cool with that because I really don’t feel like being in a plane crash. Captain takes us back to the gate, and then proceeds to explain to us, after he’s walked around the plane–I saw him outside my window–what exactly is going on. And I mean EXACTLY. At this point, we’ve been sitting at the gate for about an hour. I’ve still got my hoodie on, which my neighbor helped me pull off because a 6ft. Amazon sitting in a tiny coach seat on a plane isn’t going to have the room to do such a thing. El Capitan comes back on the com, explaining why we couldn’t take off–there was a valve that stayed open and apparently, if it had stayed closed, we’d have been able to take off, but since it stayed open, we couldn’t. Hey, I had to suffer through the much longer version of that, so be thankful I gave you the summary. Anyway, Captain Jack (or whatever his name was) explains–as we’re all wiping sweat from our brows–that the problem would affect the a/c so it wasn’t working…

Now, I have very little patience for stupidity and being talked to like I’m a child. I don’t need things explained to me in detail. I don’t give a fuck that there are approximately 250-some-odd other people on the plane. Perhaps they need it explained in detail. Or perhaps Captain Whats-his-name is a newbie at this, which does NOT instill my confidence whatsoever in him flying me to Phoenix. Regardless, me, being the smartass I am and having been traveling since 3am and it’s now 8:30pm–yes, that’s right, as my plane was now an hour late from departing–I decide to answer the pilot without thinking about it and completely forgetting I’m kind of half deaf because my ear buds are in my ears.

PILOT: “So the air-conditioning is out…”

ME *very loudly*: “No shit.”

BACK HALF OF THE PLANE: *raucous laughter*

ME: “As if sweating wasn’t a clue.”

PEOPLE SURROUNDING ME: *laughing harder*

Older guy in front of me says something hysterical, along the lines of my sarcasm, but I can’t remember what it was.

PILOT: “But we’re about finished here…and once they’re done…well…we should be on our way.”

ME: “Is he new at this?”

NEIGHBOR: *laughing* “Seriously.”


ME: “Are you fucking kidding me? Are we children?”


ME: “I’m sorry. I’m tired and just want to go home. I’ve been traveling since 3am.”

GUY IN FRONT OF ME: *turns around and waves his hand while laughing* “Don’t worry about it.”

PILOT: “And we’re ready to depart again.”

ME: “Thank the gods.”

PEOPLE SURROUNDING ME: *raucous laughter*

I’ll not bore you with the rest of my remarks, but know that as we took off, I wanted to shout something along the lines of “And we’re airborne! Duh!” and when we landed, I really wanted to yell out something to the passengers on the plane along the lines of “Welcome to the desert. Earlier in our flight, you’ve already experienced the weather. Enjoy!”


And so, my darling cousin Skywise had to pick me up–an hour late–and I finally made it home, whereupon I sat and told Umi the ENTIRE day.


***Note: I’ll try to get a recipe post up this week, but my phone isn’t working right now–which is where all the pictures for said recipe are–and I can’t get it to talk to my laptop, so it may have to wait a week. This is also the reason I can’t add some of the other pictures I took during my travels. Oh well.

#HorrorHound – Behind the Scenes: Part Three

I last left you with Shutdown, The Walking Dead, and “Are those Juliette’s clothes all over the road?” And yes, I know that was two weeks ago. I’ve been busy, but apologize. I felt the Christmas post was more important last week. And since I’m kinda finished with the dating site stuff, even though I still have a couple of months left on my subscription, I’ve decided to post this on a Monday.

Welcome back to Behind the Scenes of the ZSC. This will be the third post, covering two days worth of activity. Aren’t you fucking excited? I know I am!


Sundays at cons are generally either completely insane due to all the last minute crap or boring as hell, but then we’re all tired as hell by Sunday too. What? Did I not mention the 4am pizza and “It’s the Captain”? Anyway, this particular Sunday held both elements. As Paul (you remember him…the 6’7″ cutie who is my entertainment during boring shit and, well, pretty much all weekend) and I sat there yawning and waiting for our Starbucks, the con dragged on as people dragged themselves through the various rooms. This was the morning I found this most awesome sticker on a car in our hotel parking lot…

…whereupon owner of said car told us we could find it at the con. Paul and I looked EVERYWHERE during our walkabout that afternoon and couldn’t find the fucking sticker anywhere, although we did find some other really cool stuff, so if any of you find that sticker, I WANT ONE, please! Thanks!

First thing in the morning, I pulled down Norman’s banner to dispel any ideas that he might still show up at the con when we knew damn well he wouldn’t. Also? That way Sean didn’t have to answer more questions along the lines of “Where’s Norman?” and “When’s Norman getting here?” *sigh* Didn’t you people get the memo already? Oh, right, you’re not in the loop. Never mind.

I helped Juliette with getting Michael Rooker packed up and off to the airport, and then that’s about when Paul and I ran around the con. Until I got a call right about the time we got back to the booth, where Sarah was. Lora still had a migraine. The call was from Juliette, who asked me to send Sarah to the front of the hotel because Rooker had been in an accident. I shooed Sarah off to go help Juliette, and sat with Paul at our ZSC booth as Juliette and Sarah took off to go get Rooker. Don’t you just hate knowing someone’s been in an accident, but all you can do is still where you are and wait for news, which ALWAYS takes forever to get? I sure as fuck do, but what else can you do?

It turned out that Rooker was okay. A little stiff, but okay. Sarah is an emergency response person…I forget the actual title, but I don’t think it’s EMT, though she’s probably had that training. LOL Whatever. They get Rooker to the airport and start heading back to the con, where Paul and I have started shutting down because I’m bored out of my mind and am ready for the con to be OVER. No one was buying anything anyway and there were only two hours left. We get the truck loaded with all of our crap as soon as Juliette and Sarah return, and then I drove Sarah to the airport…where she didn’t make her flight for some stupid reason I can’t remember. Oh, wait, there was a TON of traffic on the way to the airport that is entirely too goddamn far away from Cincinnati. I think the Dayton airport was closer! This made Sarah late for her flight and even though her flight hadn’t left yet, she missed check-in by however many minutes and they wouldn’t let her board. Stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, but okay, Sarah gets to stay another night. While I’m waiting to hear the news about Sarah staying, I get a call from Juliette that Jack and John are on their way to the airport and I have Jack’s luggage in Juliette’s truck, so once I get Sarah back in the truck, we have to wait for Jack to arrive, which thankfully didn’t take long. Then we raced back to the hotel, headed out to dinner–sushi again–and back to the hotel to watch…


We got Paul to sign up on Twitter–Viccer–and he hasn’t touched the account since that night. LOL We also watched the Talking Dead later in the night and cringed when Aisha Tyler choked Michael Rooker. You could see in his face that he was still stiff from the accident.

Now, let’s talk about Monday…or as I like to call it, Zombie Day. Why was it Zombie Day? Well, let’s see…Paul was up before dawn to drive Sarah to the airport, Juliette was up entirely too early to work, Lora finally came out of her migraine coma, and though I’d had enough sleep the night before, I was still having to recover from the entire weekend. Check out was at noon, which I thought was a helluva lot better than 11am, but I was up and packed and ready to go by the time Juliette walked into the room at ten till noon.

We loaded up Juliette’s truck, because since I wasn’t heading back home until the following Monday, we were going to have to stuff all four of us AND our luggage (and let’s face it, Jinxie never packs light) into Juliette’s 4Runner. This would not have been an issue with my Avalanche. Yes, I like to rub that in whenever I can. 🙂 Of course, it really is sometimes good to have a man around because they’re generally pretty good at tying things up…

We had a lovely brunch at IHOP, where Paul decided to have a little coffee with his sugar. Jesus, man, how are you so goddamn skinny?

And then we were off to Maryland!

“Are those Juliette’s clothes all over the road?”

Approximately 15 minutes into the drive, and directly after taking the following shot of Juliette…

…we noticed the tarp on top of the vehicle seemed to be flapping a helluva lot louder than a few minutes before. In fact, the tarp was quite noticeable from Juliette’s window, and I looked at Paul and asked him if he tied the rope through the handles of the bags. Silence, but a look that said no. Uh oh. So Paul pulled off to the side of the highway, where he and I climbed out to inspect. I met him at the back of the truck, and he informed me that a bag was missing from the top. Shit.

“Whose bag was it?” I asked.

“Juliette’s dufflebag,” he replied with an expression that showed what a complete piece of shit he felt like, and I felt bad for him. Trust me, if you’d seen the look on his face, you’d have felt bad for him too. Poor guy.

At this point, several people have driven by to inform us that our bag was a ways back down the road. However, the issue with this was that people don’t seem to understand that when they’re in a moving vehicle and they shout something to people STANDSTILL on the side of the road, the words get all discombogulated and fucked up and WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU. Fucking idiots. Except for the guys in the first vehicle that drove by, who were smart enough to slow waaaay down before shouting. Thank you, gentlemen. I actually understood you.

Of course, none of that mattered because a DOT guy pulled up behind us and stopped. I met up with him, he informed me of the bag, to which I acknowledged I already knew about, and he and I sat on the concrete barriers and chatted while Paul pulled the other two bags off the roof and MADE THEM FIT inside the 4Runner. Then we followed the DOT guy around and back about a mile until we found Juliette’s clothes all over the median. Actually, that was a good thing because ALL of her clothes were on the median and NOT in the road. Once we got her clothes and the two halves of her dufflebag back in the truck, I giggled like the bitch I am and took this shot…

Oh, poor Juliette, but at least we found all of her clothes!

Next episode: My “son,” my wonderful trip to Maryland, and then back home to Arizona

What I Want for Christmas

Good evening! I know, this post is a tad late today. I had an appointment with the neurologist this morning, which means I stayed up all night, which also means I just woke up from a 4-hour nap. I also spent a good portion of this morning before and after my doctor appointment working on something important after spending a good chunk of my evening checking in on a sick friend. Hence, the late post.

Anyway, I’ve decided to post my Christmas Wish List, just because I feel like it…

1) I would like for Water.org to meet any end-of-year goals. You can help with that by clicking on that link. It’s an amazing project founded by Matt Damon and Gary White. There are 2.5 billion people without clean water in the world and a child dies every 20 seconds from a water-related disease. Let’s change that.

2) I wish that every child on every angel Christmas tree receives a present. They’re in the malls around your town. Go, pick a name, and make a child smile on Christmas day.

3) I would love it if you supported indie authors and purchased a book or two for your Kindle. Go, browse the books and buy one, and make an indie author smile.

4) That maybe one less family in the world will go hungry. They say you can give a man a fish and feed him for a day, but if you teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime. Along the lines of the Water.org project, this one gives families a fruit tree rather than a fruit basket, a goat rather than a few cuts of meat or a container of milk. Help a family feed themselves somewhere in the world.

5) That more of you will look into renewable energy and help save our planet. I know most of you can’t be bothered with thinking about this, but maybe you could think about your children, or your grandchildren, and what kind of world you’re leaving them. It really doesn’t take much to start. Recycle. Use less electricity by turning off lights for rooms not in use. Step out of your comfort zone and look at the world around you. Open your eyes. What do you see? Don’t like it? Be the one to change it.

6) Enjoy those around you, your loved ones, the ones who know you inside and out, who love you regardless of the mistakes you’ve made in life. I know that might sound odd coming from someone who disowned a quarter of her family, but believe me when I say that I dearly love those family members I still have, and I even love a few of the ones who think they were disowned.

Make the next 12 days of Christmas count.

Photo by Jinxie G

Online Dating – Week 13

Oh hey, that’s my lucky number!

Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to go on the Match.com site lately because I’ve been slammed with several other things–writing and editing, my disability hearing, and being there for an old friend, to name a few.

Said old friend is one of my ex-boyfriends, and he cooked his spaghetti for me last Friday. I think he was trying to kill me because it damn near set my mouth on fire. I call it spaghetti with a kick. His recipe had more of a kick than the one I posted early summer. Holy hellfire! And he wouldn’t tell me why it was so damn spicy either. Little shit.

I’ve pretty much grown bored with the dating site anyway. *shrugs* What can I say? I’m a Gemini and I get bored quickly if you don’t hold my attention. The A.D.D. makes it worse, I think.

So I think for now we’ll put this little experiment up on the shelf way in the back because why prolong the torture . . . I mean, the pain . . . er, the fact that I’m perfectly fine with who I am and being by myself and who the hell needs a man around when I’ve got toys . . . er, never mind.

Awkward moment . . . .


Merry Christmas!

*hopes the image distracts you from that*

No? Shit.

Oh look! It’s snowing on my blog!

G-ma Rainie’s Swiss Steak

This should have posted yesterday, but I’ve been distracted by a friend in need for the past few days, so I apologize for the delay.

Both sides of my family have a Swiss Steak recipe and one is COMPLETELY different from the other, so I’m going to share both with you. You get one today, and one next Friday (if I can get Umi to write the damn thing down for me or dictate…whatever).

G-ma Rainie’s Swiss Steak


1 boneless chuck beef roast (or roast beast, as I like to call it)

4 – 6 cups crushed tomatoes (canned or homemade)

1 cup diced onions, sliced carrots, and diced celery (optional)

After searing* and seasoning the roast beast with salt and pepper, put it in a Dutch oven (or slow cooker/crock pot).


Add the tomatoes, onions, carrots, and celery (each are optional – I don’t like cooked carrots), and add desired spices.


Cover and simmer for about an hour or so until beef is tender. Check seasoning and add more salt and pepper if so desired. Experiment with other seasonings as well. I added garlic powder and Italian seasonings this time around. Next time, I’ll likely experiment with a few others.

Now, the timing is based on using a Dutch oven. I used a slow cooker (or crock pot) and cooked it over several hours on a low setting while I slept all day. If you have a lot of experience using a crock pot, you’ll know what setting to cook it and for how long.

Instead of using diced celery and onion, I used celery salt and onion powder. Also, when I use salt and pepper, I use the kind you have to grind. Sea salt is much better than regular salt.

My g-ma Rainie always served this dish over mashed potatoes. It’s quite tasty! I have it next to the mashed potatoes.


Vive bene, spesso l’amore, di risata molto!

(live well, love much, and laugh often)

* Don’t know what “searing” is? What I’m telling you to do there is brown all sides of the roast before placing it in the Dutch oven or crock pot.