Author: Josh

They say if you change 3 ingredients, you can call a recipe your own. This strawberry ice cream recipe originally calls for sliced strawberries (we pureed ours because I prefer strawberry ice cream sans the fruit chunks), vanilla extract (we omitted), and we added chunks of frosted sugar cookies to make our own Frosted Sugar Cookie Strawberry Ice Cream!

This recipe was adapted from our Cuisinart Frozen Yogurt, Ice Cream & Sorbet Maker’s recipe book [buy ice cream maker from Amazon].

Frosted Sugar Cookie Strawberry Ice Cream

• 1 pint ripe strawberries, stemmed and sliced
• 3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1 cup suger, divided
• 1 cup whole milk
• 2 cups heavy cream
• 3-5 frosted sugar cookies (frozen)

1. In a small bowl, combine strawberries, lemon juice and 1/3 cup sugar; stir and let strawberries macerate for 2 hours.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk to combine the whole milk and remaining 2/3 cup sugar until sugar dissolves. Stir in heavy cream.
3. Blend macerated strawberries until smooth.
4. Combine cream and strawberry puree in ice cream maker’s bowl.
5. Mix in ice cream maker for at least 30 minutes.
6. Add chunks of frosted sugar cookies and stir to mix in.
7. Pour into freezer safe container and freeze for at least 2 hours.

Last night Elise and I had an extended date night. My mom drove up to stay at our house and take care of the Zombie Eater for the night so Elise and I could have the night off. Elise booked a room for us at the Mansion at Judges’ Hill. We left the house around 6:30 and the original thought was to have dinner at the mansion, but we were pressed for time and probably wouldn’t have had time for dinner and a movie given that they only had a reservation available for 8:45. I suggested we go to the Domain to have dinner at North and to see the movie Inception.

By the time we found a spot to park and were less than a block from the restaurant, Elise stopped a security guard to ask where the movie theatre was. He told us that it was way off yonder in Phase II of the Domain, which was not within walking distance. He noticed that I had “We are on a dinner and a movie date” written on my forehead, so he said, “you probably won’t have time to eat and make the show. However, the movie theatre does serve food and drinks. You two could have dinner there.”

“You are a fantastic human being, Mr. Mall Security Guard Guy!”

So we walked back to the car and drove to the movie theatre. We had plenty of time, so we walked leisurely to the swanky counter to purchase our tickets. They were sold out for the 9 p.m. show. There were two seats located together for the 9:45 show. So I told the nice young lady that we’d take those two tickets. She told me my total would be $45. I told the nice young lady that I didn’t think she understood.

“You see, it’s just my wife and I that are here to see the picture show.”

“Yes sir.”

“I do not have a bus full of small children that are also here to see the movie with us.”

“I understand. It’s $45.”

Actually, that’s not the way it happened at all. She told me it was $45 and I handed her my credit card. You see, if you told me that a bicycle was $15,000 because it has a derailleur, and you show me a piece of paper with the word derailleur printed on it as one of the features of that bicycle, I will pay because derailleur is a very nice, fancy word.

Elise, on the other hand, would not pay. She said something to the effect of, “OH NO YOU DIDNNNN N’T!” as she pulled off her wig and started swinging.

“What comes with a $22 movie ticket?”

The young lady explained that there are only 40 seats in the theatre, reclining chairs, fresh blankets, pillows, and a private server call button.

I asked if a foot massage was included. She told me “no.” I would’ve had no problem paying $22 for a foot massage and a movie.

So we left, drove back south and bought our movie tickets for the 9:45 show at the Alamo Drafthouse. It was 9 p.m. and Elise was starving at this point, so we walked over to Casa Garcia. They were closed. We walked across the parking lot over to Suzi’s Chinese Kitchen and had 30 minutes to spare. Elise had the seafood combo. I had the scallops. We shared the restaurant with one other table — a couple, probably 30 years our seniors, sitting at the table next to us.

It wasn’t until just now, while I was recounting the events of last night, that I thought about the relationship I have with my wife that I’m guilty of taking for granted. As trivial as making ad hoc plans for a date night, driving all around Austin, finding a place to have a late dinner and going to a movie so close to our bed time is, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have the wife that I have. When I have no problem handing over my credit card and paying $45 for a pair of movie tickets, she steps in as the frugal one. I don’t complain or question her judgement. She fills in in that part where I’m lacking. When I’m stressed and in a hurry, she grabs my hand, holds it and makes us both walk a little slower. When we have dinner at a Chinese restaurant and I invariably tell her, “if I wanted that, I would have ordered it.”, the thought never crosses her mind to reconsider sharing with me. It’s just her nature.

The movie was just okay. The night with my wife was the priceless reminder.

It’s been a couple years now that I’ve had “rain barrel” on my to do list. When I’m not sending out resumes or waiting by the phone to sell a Bohemian Hose Guide, I’m looking for projects to do around the house. So last Thursday I decided to finally get to work on the rain barrel project.

My inclination was to just buy a relatively inexpensive rain barrel on Austin’s craigslist. As of last Thursday night, I couldn’t find a rain barrel that fell within my price range (I don’t recall what my price range was at that point – maybe $50 if memory serves me correctly). And I didn’t want to spend $100+ for a rain barrel at the local Home Depot. And I didn’t want to have to spend $250 at homedepot.com in order to get a rain barrel that I wanted. Although after it was all said and done, I think I would have made out better by just buying a rain barrel at the Home Depot. More on that later. But keep in mind, this is a project — man work!

After some research, I found Barrel City USA down south in Buda, TX. They sell 55 gallon food-grade barrels. So Maly and I got up early on Friday morning and headed down to Barrel City USA and good ol’ Philip sold me a big blue barrel for $18.

We stopped at the Home Depot (what project doesn’t involve a stop at the HoPot?) for some lumber, deck screws, mesh screening, water spigot, downspout attachments and a gasket kit.

After a stop at Starbucks, a blood letting and lunch, we headed home and the rain barrel project commenced. First I had to clean the dead Russian hooker parts out of the barrel. I jest, but seriously, good Lord that barrel stunk. It didn’t really smell like dead Russian hooker parts, but more like an industrial dead Russian hooker parts cover-up scent. If you’ve ever smelled the scent that’s emitted from the Flamingo Casino & Hotel in Vegas, or spent more than 30 seconds in a truck stop bathroom, then you know 1/10th of the potency of this smell. There was a pink gelatinous goo smeared amongst some industrial grime about the interior and exterior of the barrel that required copious amounts of dishwashing soap, elbow grease and the business side of an abrasive dish sponge.

First I built a two-foot tall table on which to place the rain barrel. The table would elevate the rain barrel enough so gravity would lend me some water pressure, and so we can get a watering can underneath the spigot.

Next I drilled the bung hole. Yes, bung hole. I didn’t have a bung hole bit (The Bung Hole Bits would be a great name for a band), so had to make a quick trip to Home Depot for a set of spade bits. I used a 7/8″ spade bit to drill my hose approximately 2″ from the bottom of the barrel. I used a PVC female adapter and a gasket that I made from the purchased gasket kit to ensure the spigot was water-tight.

It’s worth noting that if you buy a barrel for your rain barrel, make sure there isn’t a top to your barrel, otherwise you’ll have to saw the top off to install your spigot. Philip gave me a clamp for the top rim so I could cover the top with a mesh screen.

Next I used my jigsaw to create a 3″ hole for overflow. A 3″ hole is too big. Another trip to Home Depot to get some PVC parts and my rain overflow was complete.

Next I painted my downspout attachments to match the house. I already had paint from another downspout project some 5 years ago.

So, building a rain barrel is a relatively inexpensive ($99 if my math is correct) and fun project. Here are the parts that I purchased and their approximate prices:

• 1 – 55 gallon dark colored plastic barrel (I’ve read that white barrels promote UV penetration which will foster faster algae growth.) ($18)
• 1 – treated 8′ 4×4″ (cut into 2′ sections for the legs of the table) ($6)
• 2 – treated 8′ 2×4″ ($6)
• 1 – box 2″ deck screws ($7)
• 1 – 3/4″ water spigot ($6)
• 1 – rubber gasket kit ($5)
• 2 – 18″ accordion downspout attachments ($6)
• 2 – 60″ accordion downspout attachments ($20)
• 1 roll of mesh screening* ($5)
• PVC parts & glue** ($20)

* 55 gallon barrel had a 22″ opening at the top, so make sure your mesh screening or lid is at least 22″ in diameter.
** You could probably get away with just using 3/4″ or 1″ tube for your overflow. Or PVC and gutter attachments that will let you tap back into your original downspout.

And it just so happened to rain late in the afternoon on Saturday, just after I’d pieced together my overflow downspout. We got 4/10″ of rain and the rain barrel was full (and watertight)!

Today I’ll paint the barrel so it matches the house. And I’d also like to get a trash can lid with a cutout for the downspout to cover the top of the barrel. I don’t like the wire mesh hanging over the sides of the barrel.

Photos of the project can be seen here.

Southpark Meadows used to be the large track of acreage way out in south Austin where we would go see big name concerts. Off the top of my head I remember seeing the Dave Matthews Band, Rage Against the Machine and Pearl Jam there some 15 years ago.

Now it’s a concrete jungle strip mall. Wal-Mart, Target, PetsMart, a store dedicated exclusively to popcorn, among thousands of other retail chain outlets.

Here is a Haiku I wrote about today’s Southpark Meadows:

Southpark Meadows is
a place for you to consume
things. All of your things.

And a banana spider cameo…

[flv width=”500″ height=”375″]http://www.janicek.com/video/20100708_BlackWidow.flv[/flv]

[flv width=”500″ height=”375″]http://www.janicek.com/video/20100707_Grasshopper2.flv[/flv]

Since losing my last job almost three months ago, life has really slowed down — and it’s been a welcome change. I can’t emphasize enough how welcome that change has been. One thing I’ve found comfort in over the past couple weeks is the plants. Just yesterday I sent a photo of our yellow 4 o’clocks, or Mirabilis jalapa to my mom, and we exchanged a series of three emails relating to what have become one of my favorite flowering plants. Maybe it’s a sign of finally maturing. Maybe it’s because I’ve truly experienced hustle and bustle; the stresses of providing for a family and maintaining some kind of semblance of what others might call success. Perhaps it’s something that I want to do, and it provides me with a form of fulfillment.

Just this morning I transplanted a jade pup plant to a new pot for my office. And this afternoon I potted a newly-acquired desert rose with some ice plant clippings from our front yard. Six months ago these moments would have seemed trivial. Now I take a moment to focus on what I’m doing and appreciate what will eventually, with patience, be “explosions of beauty” in the near future.

As I type this I’m looking at my little jade pup plant that sits atop my desk where I spend most of my time. It’s a pup from the big jade in the pot in our backyard. It started out as a pup as well. It was from the original jade plant that my mom gave me 16 years ago when I moved to Austin for college. When I first moved here, the plant-concious part of me that is all mom hadn’t surfaced. I think she gave me the jade plant because it’s relatively tolerant of neglect. And I gave that plant plenty of neglect. We endured a hard frost some 10+ years ago and the jade she gave me was on the verge of total death. For whatever reason, I plucked the only little branch that had an inkling of green life left in it and potted it. And that’s the jade plant that I’ve had ever since. It’s never neglected nowadays. The green thumb genes from my mom are, I guess, finally starting to rear their head. And I welcome that change as well.

John posted a link to Derek Powazek’s post titled “They Don’t Complain and They Die Quietly” on Facebook yesterday, and the timing was just right for a read like that…

These changes don’t happen at internet speeds. You’ll hardly know they’re happening at all. This is one of the gifts plants give me. They remind me to slow down, to take the long view, to breathe, relax, and just wait for what happens next.

Good stuff.

I like to bend rebar when I’m not out saving baby seals and the rain forests.

Yesterday was just a good day. Elise had an early morning photo gig with a newborn so Maly and I headed out early in search of some garden walking paver stones for my new “Garden of Serenity”, or whatever the hell I’m going to call out little section of backyard that I’ve started “redesigning.”

Instead of just going to Home Depot or Wal-Mart, I decided we’d support the local guy. We drove over to the mom and pop stone yard in Dripping Springs where we were told that they didn’t carry the circular pavers that I was looking for and that we should go to Home Depot or Wal-Mart. Okie dokey. Fadeaway, hook, swish on supporting the local guy.

Instead of leaving right away, we walked around and looked at the fountains, waterfalls, stones and huge piles of rocks. After 20 minutes, Maly’s flip-flops were good and muddy, so we decided to continue on our quest for pavers.

We drove to Wal-Mart. After a quick perusal of the garden section, no pavers were to be found. So we headed over to the toy section. It was about that time that Elise texted me to tell me that her photo shoot was over. She headed back south to meet us. Meanwhile, Maly and I browsed the Barbie and Princess aisles of the toy section.

Elise showed up and we hopped in one car and headed to SoCo. It was lunch time, so we stopped in at El Gallo. El Gallo is the Mexican restaurant on Congress, just across the street from St. Ed’s. I hadn’t been there in 15 years, and Elise had never eaten there. Good food.

Then it was time for the grand finale — the real reason I decided to take my daughter out on a date that morning. We drove a little north up Congress and parked behind Big Top Candy Shop.

Maly was just like, well, a kid in a candy store. She opted for Runts and Pixy Stix. I went for the malted balls and cordials.

Elise took lots of photos of the shop’s interior. Maly and I fed our faces with sugar. After half an hour, we were back in the car where the child quickly conked out and we toured south Austin on a photo location scout.

It was one of those days that just couldn’t have been been scripted any better.

Last night I was stricken with feelings of regret and pride. Maly has always been really good about tending to her “duties”, specifically her bedtime to do list. She gets a drink of water, goes to the bathroom, washers her hands, brushes her teeth and brushes her hair.

Last night, after the above ritual was complete, Rocio came over to drop off Rafter. We all hung out in the kitchen for a bit and Maly and I shared a sprig of grapes. Over my shoulder, and without putting too much thought into it, I told Maly that since she ate grapes, she was going to need to brush her teeth again.

Ten minutes later I found myself sitting at Maly’s bedside, finishing the Snow White story we’d started earlier in the evening. I remembered telling Maly earlier that she was supposed to brush her teeth. I just assumed she hadn’t, so I told her, “I asked you to brush your teeth, but since it’s late and you’re already in bed, it’ll be okay this one time if you don’t.”

“Daddy, I did brush my teeth.”

“No, I meant after you ate the grapes.”

“But I did brush my teeth.”

“A second time, after you ate the grapes?”

“Yes.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You brushed your teeth twice tonight?”

“Yes.”

I assumed that my child wouldn’t heed my instruction and lie to me about it. And I had absolutely no reason to make that assumption. I still wonder what that says about me.

This morning Elise asked, “Did you tell Maly that she needed to brush her teeth again last night?” I told her that I did. And it was confirmed that the child did in fact brush her teeth a second time last night. I praised Maly this morning for brushing her teeth, and I apologized for assuming that she hadn’t. I didn’t go into the details of my assumption – I just made sure to praise her because she did the right thing.

You know what happens when one assumes…

And so now we fast-forward to 3 p.m. today. I was walking out of the bedroom and into the living room where I caught the angel of a child on the couch with the cat’s head locked between her knees. Before I could say anything, and before she noticed my presence, she punched the cat in the head.

I’ll spare the details, but will say that it wasn’t pretty. There was no beating or bloodshed, but the child probably felt like she was an inch tall after I was done.

I had to go out to the garage and pace as the rain poured onto the driveway and contemplate the punishment for the Shiny Toothed Cat Mangler.

It’s amazing how in one day the child can be a saint, and in the next, she can be a demon.

“I think you have too much time on your hands.”

I’ve been told that a couple times recently and nothing chaps my ass more. I used to think that Austin drivers were my #1 pet peeve, but today I was reminded that it’s the person who says, “you have too much time on your hands.”

I really like what Terry Border says, and how he challenges people to be creative instead of being parasites. And anytime someone tells me that they think I have too much time on my hands, I send them the link to Terry’s post:

I come across that line far too often- “They must have too much time on their hands.” I’ll see something really neat on the internet, and written somewhere in the comment section, I’ll find those words. How many hours does that commenter spend watching television, surfing the internet, or playing video games?

If you spend 3 hours a day on passive entertainment (which is probably a very low estimate), that’s 21 hours a week that could be used to write something interesting, make something cool, or creating something absolutely nutty that you and some other people might really enjoy. If you aren’t doing something along these lines, then I think that it might be you who isn’t spending your time wisely, and not the other way ’round.

I challenge you to try it.

Terry takes photos of ordinary objects in interesting settings and situations. And he put these photos together in a book. And he sells his book. For money. He’s contributing something creative for you to consume. I’ve consumed his works as well, and I really appreciate him using his time to be creative and share it with the world.

So I’m with Terry. I challenge you to make something. Do something. Contribute.

[flv width=”500″ height=”375″]http://www.maly.tv/video/20100618_MalyHeisman.mp4[/flv]

It’s been almost two years since I noted my thoughts on Twitter and Facebook. Today I stand partially corrected. I’m a pretty avid Facebook user. And by user, I mean that I contribute invaluable nuggets of real-time information to my online social circle. For example, I recently noted that “if I were Bobby Flay and I had a little daughter, I would probably name her Sue.” While I was at Home Depot, I saw a product in the lighting department that were called Steel Nipples. I took a photo, uploaded said photo to Facebook and professed that “Steel Nipples” would be a great name for a band. I also use Facebook to keep up-to-date on the goings on of my friends, family, colleagues and a guy named Jimmy “Legs” Hamstercaster.

I’ve “unfriended” lots of “friends” because they really weren’t “friends”, but were “friends” at one point and now, well, even with close to 500 “friends”, it’s almost too much to keep up with. It’s to the point of distracting and the reasoning behind why I only browse my friends’ Facebook statuses in the evening.

We have company in town from Des Moines (French for “the Moines“) this week, and we found ourselves out on the driveway this evening playing foursquare. I thought to myself, “where I have I recently heard the term ‘foursquare’ a lot recently?…” It wasn’t long before I remembered Facebook – I see Foursquare updates from my “friends” who “check in” at places like Starbucks, Chick-Fil-A and Ernie’s Shack o’ Fresh Dead Bait, Tackle & Tanning. And just today, Mike Elgan tells us that we all will use Foursquare or we might run the unfortunate risk of not being awarded the illustrious titles of “Gym Rat” for checking into the gym, or “Super Matter Excrementor” for checking into the 3rd stall in the bathroom on the second floor of the mall from our smart phones.

He says:

The reason I say you’ll soon use Foursquare or some other location service is that even if you don’t embrace a location-based social networking, one is likely to embrace you.

The products, services and businesses you enjoy will increasingly offer incentives to persuade you to use location services.

I get it. I understand it. But I just don’t buy it. If I want a latte, I’ll go buy one because I want one, not because I have I a merit badge on my phone.

My friend Joey uses location-based social networking services to show to his followers that he’s at the Eiffel Tower, and then three hours later, he’s checking in at the In-n-Out Burger in Marina Del Ray, all while actually sitting on his back patio watching squirrels and deer eat corn.

My other friend Travis notes a social networking update observation in, “Oh wait… you just now checked into Chick-Fil-A and took a photo of your waffle fries with your iPhone? No f&%$ing way!”

Most other friends are “checking in” at bars. Or commenting on conversations held with their cat. Or buying a slip cover (whatever that is).

I genuinely hope that Jimmy “Legs” Hamstercaster has a great egg salad sandwich tomorrow. That’s his business. My business will be in the now, probably playing foursquare out on the driveway with friends and family.