Mangoes, Margaritas, and Chili Peppers

So I won a contest here.  Now I have a cookbook coming in the mail. This makes me happy.  I'm not sure where I found the original recipe; I think it was from Green and Crunchy - remember her? I miss the Green and Crunchy blog.

Anyway, speaking of food, I am fatter than I've ever been in my life.  I'm going on an Effing Diet.  And I'm going to Effing Work Out.  And let me tell you, when you lose weight at my age, you run a very serious risk of becoming gaunt. Like Helen Hunt.  So I'm really nervous.  If I were rich and famous I would merely have fat from my a$$ injected into my cheeks after losing weight.  But I'm not and I'm not.  So....gaunt, here I come.

I would like to do a little de-toxing to jump start my impending weight loss.  I plan to eat lots of fruits and veggies.  I think one of the problems I have, as a *mostly-vegetarian, is that my protein sources are carb-based or dairy-based.  And I do like my carbs.  You want to bore me to tears?  Give me a steak or a chicken breast.  Ho-hum.  I'll force it down but then I'll want some rice or pasta or quinoa.  None of which are good for weight loss.

*A Mostly-Vegetarian, in my case, is a person who only eats his/her own meat. I realize this could be misconstrued as a most extreme form of cannibalism....so let me clarify that I meant to say "raises his or her own beef/poultry so as to know it led a healthy and humane life consuming only the kind of food it was meant to consume (as in grass for beef and seeds/grass/bugs for chickens)."

Speaking of fruits and vegetables, last week I over-bought mangoes.  I was innocently heading into the grocery store when I was accosted by a store employee screaming about an over-abundance of mangoes!!  She seemed very concerned that the store had over-bought mangoes and was indeed standing in front of a Mountain of Mango Crates.   "We have too many!!" she said.  "Too many mangoes!!  ALL MANGOES MUST GO!!"

I succumbed to the mob hysteria, and like everyone around me, began frantically buying mangoes.  I bought two cases of mangoes for $10 and was very pleased with myself until I got them home and realized we were going out of town the next day.  This was a problem that could only be solved by making mango margaritas with my friend, Wendy-Girl.  So we did.  The mangoes pictured below in my fruit basket represented only about 1/8 of the remaining mangoes after the first round margaritas.  So you can see this was a serious problem of enormous proportions.

Oh, and Mark...if you're reading.  I know the clutter is bothering you.  It was bothering me, too....up until about the second round of mango margaritas. The first round we sugared the rims of the glasses per the recipe.  The second round, we salted and chili powdered the rims, instead - and very much preferred it.

I'm worried about what my tattoo will look like when arm is gaunt.  (Look, Mark!  The dishwasher door is open and you should see the counters....)

And this picture is proof positive that I am currently not gaunt.  Wendy-Girl is also not gaunt...but she is a) a bit younger than I and b) a yoga instructor and c) taller and d) lots of things that make it easier for her to Not Be Fat.

Wendy-Girl did not come alone.  She brought her husband whose picture I will not post.  We call him El Narco and he's in the Witness Protection Program.  He and Jeff like to sit around and play guitar.  She also brought their two teenage sons who have been running around my house since they were tots. 

It was Wendy's son's birthday. His name is Reagan. (Yes...REAGAN....I'm telling you....we don't just hang out with Liberals).  We tried to do Reagan justice by singing and stuff but, as you can see, there was a fly attacking Jeff, Reagan's brother wouldn't stop playing his guitar...and well, poor kid.  I think he eventually blew out the candle and then we all eventually had cake to ward off gauntness.

Reagan is a good boy and he loves his mama.

Shortly after this picture was taken, Reagan was set up. By his brother.

And my daughter.

Who casually said, "Hey, Mom. Reagan's into the Red Hot Chili Peppers."
She and Grayson (Reagan's brother) were communicating via Teen Code Talk, which they think (incorrectly) I don't understand.  So what Grayson understood from the above-mentioned apparently innocent statement was: Watch this, Grayson.  My mom's going to go nuts now -AND - it will terrify Reagan.  Bonus!

"Really?" I said (while sloshing my margarita). 

"Yeah," said Reagan.  "There's a song I like..."

Ellie:  Snort.
Translation:  Wait for it, Gray....here it comes....

Me, interrupting Reagan: "Oh my god!"  I then predictably launched into the entire history of the Red Hot Chili Peppers all the way from Hillel Slovak and Freaky Styley / Uplift MoFo Party Plan to Stadium Arcadium. I could see that I was terrifying Reagan, but I couldn't stop myself.

Ellie:  "Mom knows a lot about the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Isn't it impressive?"
Translation:  I told you, Grayson.  Stark, raving insane.

Grayson:  "Wow."
Translation:  Holy crap, Ellie.  You weren't kidding.  She's totally crazy.  And look how frightened Reagan is! This is awesome.

Ellie:  "So. Mom.  Do you think the new album will be okay without Frusciante?"
Translation: Watch this.  She might cry.

I won't bore you with the details but I then launched into my opinion of Josh Klinghoffer, what I think he can bring to the band, a brief description of the progress of the latest album (due out late summer), and an Intro 101 on John Frusciante and his solo work.  I also took a mini-side-trip into the Dave Navarro era which led to Jane's Addiction and my retrieving two CD's that I forced upon a trembling Reagan.

Grayson:  "This is so awesome."
Translation:  I love crazy old people.  Ellie, I totally feel for you.  How do you stand it?

Ellie:  "Have I mentioned that I'm leaving soon?  As in...going away forever?"
Translation: That's how I stand it.

Me: "I'm just a fan, Ellie.  Stop it."

Ellie:  Laughing.  "No.  I'm a fan of a few bands.  You are more than a fan."  Looking at Grayson she adds:  "There is an honest-to-god Chili Peppers logo sticker on the back of the church bus she drives....right next to our stick-figure-family."
Translation:  Seriously.  I could die.  I try really hard never to go anywhere with them.

Grayson: "Really?  Cool."
Translation:  The stick-figure family ALONE is enough to make you want to slit your wrists.

Ellie:  Nod.
Translation: No kidding. There's a bow in the hair of my stick figure. You're so lucky. Your parents are....(Ellie raises an eyebrow as she searches for the correct words.)

Grayson, glancing at his parents:  Sigh.
Translation: I deal with a different brand of crazy....but it's still crazy.

Ellie:  (They are now reduced to communicating via facial expressions) Sympathetic smile...followed by a head jerk in my direction.....I'm digging frantically around for my Live at Slane Castle DVD....
Translation:  I still win. 

Grayson: Shrug, followed by a head jerk in the direction of his parents, who were by now singing very loudly. 
Translation:  We'll call it a tie.

Ellie doesn't like ties.  She's a winner by nature.  So she said: "Mom, do you know how tall all the band members are?"
Translation:  No. Seriously.  No tie. My mom is Way Crazier Than Anyone Else's Mom. She's about to go Beiber on us.

Me:  "Okay! Okay! I DO know how tall they all are but I learned it by accident!  I didn't go LOOKING for that information.  And I only remember it because, with the exception of Chad Smith, they're all really short! (I then gave heights.)
Translation:  You're welcome, you little competitive twerp.

Ellie:  Big Grin.
Translation: Thanks Mom!

Sheesh.  Kids today.

Before I close out this post on mangoes, margaritas, and chili pepper insanity....I'd like to say Happy Birthday to my dad.....who has been beautifully embarassing me for over 46 years.
Translation:  I wouldn't have it any other way.