(This post originally ran on the Framingham Patch)
As many of my blog readers know, I’m a Brit living in the USA. I’ve been here 13 and a half years now, 11 of those living in Framingham.
While I am proud of my cultural assimilation into the American and, in particular, Massachusetts culture (despite our amusing language differences), I can confidently boast that now is the time for you, dear Americans, to become an Anglophile! Here’s why:
- The Queen has just legalized same sex marriage
- Kate Middleton is about to produce a new heir to the throne
- Britain has a maze that is Doctor Who-themed
- Andy Murray won Wimbledon
- J.K. Rowling wows us with another novel written under a pen name
Cheers to the motherland!
Posted by samanthamcgarry on July 22, 2013
To know my daughter is to love her, goofiness and all ….
Posted by samanthamcgarry on July 19, 2013
by Gabriel McGarry
My sister has a secret! And I will tell you!
My sister is awesome.
She is awesome because… She plays with me and follows me.
So I will tell you how to be awesome.
Be nice help your friends
And kids you don`t know. And make new friends.
If a kid was lonely go to him and talk to him. And you made a new friend!
Gabriel McGarry is 8 years old. He likes cats, nature and Transformers.
Posted by samanthamcgarry on July 17, 2013
Last night, I cooked meat and I didn’t kill anyone.
The truth is that every time I cook with meat of any kind, I’m convinced that I am endangering someone’s life. When it comes to cooking, I am insecure, unconfident and a generally a klutz. It’s as if my hands turn into giant lumps, unable to coordinate, cut or stir with precision. Timing several items to be ready simultaneously causes me to break out in hives.
The fact that I am married to a professionally trained chef just makes matters worse. “Just make a roux,” he’ll suggest. Like I know how to make a roux and what you do with one? “That’s the wrong knife!” is a common complaint. Scuse me, it’s metal, it’s sharp, it cuts – so what is wrong with that? Also, I need to improve my stirring technique, apparently.
Unlike my husband who is very patient with me and who can whip up a gourmet meal in a jiffy without breaking a sweat, I need the following conditions in place to even attempt cuisine success:
- A recipe to follow, preferably with 4 or less ingredients and steps
- A timer – and plenty of time for mistakes and do-overs
- No husband within 10 metres
- Plenty of space for things to spill, get dropped, messed up
- No children within 5 metres
- Clorox wipes
Many of my cooking miss-haps are now the stuff of legends among family and friends. This one, for example, has become fondly known as the Hippo cake. (It was supposed to be a honey cake.)
I guess only practice can make perfect, right? As long as I don’t kill anyone in the process.
Posted by samanthamcgarry on July 12, 2013
My mother always says ‘there’s a lid for every pot,’ meaning there’s a match out there for each and every one of us. While this may apply to our love lives, it does not translate to my tupperware cupboard. Lawd, how I dislike tupperware.
And this evening, I lost it. I was looking for a particular-sized tupperware container. Meaning, I had to reluctantly rummage among the mismatched, chaotically organized lids and containers. Could I find what I was looking for? Of course not. Not only could I not find what I needed but the rummaging caused lids to fly and containers to topple. Ever so quickly, I tried to slam shut the cupboard door so that the lava of plastic vomit would not cascade out onto the floor. I managed to somewhat stem the flow but the dratted door wouldn’t shut. I opened it another teeny inch, squeezed my arm in and blindly waved it about, hoping to jigger the insides into a less imbalanced stack of plastic. But alas, the door would still not shut.
So I swore. And walked away.
Being somewhat of a control freak, maybe you are surprised at my lack of desire/need to corral these plastic tubs into orderly discipline. However deep my desire for neatly stacked, logistically organized kitchen cupboards, the reality is I don’t like the smell of day-old food hermetically-sealed in plastic, I don’t like packed lunches and I don’t much like leftovers.
Ergo, I don’t like tupperware.
So there you have it.
Posted by samanthamcgarry on July 9, 2013