I learned a new word from my daughter Quent today.

Don't Let the Smile Fool Ya

“Swag-Jacker” (short for “Swagger-Jacker”)

I’m sure I’m a little late to the party on this one, but I think it might be one of the best words I’ve ever heard.

I may be 45 years old, and a married mother of three, but you know I like to get my slang on. Sometimes no other type of language will do!  “Swag-jacker” is the ultimate in slang, combining two great slang words, “swag” and “jacking” into a highly descriptive compound slang word.  You will definitely catch me using it now that I know it.  After all, I already use “swag” and “jack,” so it’s just verbal evolution for me.

For those of you who don’t know, “swag”  (also “swagger”) refers to a person’s unique style — in fashion, art, music, sports, etc. — typically exhibited with self-confidence.  This exhibition of self-confidence may be slightly in-your-face, but not obnoxiously so.  “Swag,” or “swagger,” are exclusively used admiringly.  Believe me, you are being paid a high compliment if you’re referred to as a dude (or lady) with swag.

“Jacking” is stealing, as in car-jacking.  So someone who steals is a “jacker.”  You can pretty much “jack” anything:  cars, money, candy from a baby.  But you really don’t want to be caught swag-jacking.  It’s a sign of character weakness.  A clear indication that you don’t have what it takes to create your own swag, so you have to copy someone else’s style (their clothing, their lines, or their moves, to name a few examples).  In so doing, you are jacking that person’s swag, and thus exp0sing yourself as a swag-jacker.

Mind you, not all imitation is swag-jacking.  Sometimes, an act or action by someone (usually famous, but not always — after all this is the age of youtube) becomes so popular that the performing of it is more of a tribute than an actual attempt at jacking the swag of the creator.  A good example of non-swag-jacking imitation is the John Wall Dance Phenomenon. This is just an example of big love shown for Mr. Wall.  No swag-jacking intended.

Thanks to Quent for keeping me up to date.

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Let’s face it. Life as an out-of-work starving artist enduring the worst Kansas winter in memory (my memory, at least) has been a challenge for yours truly. Since mid-December it’s been nothing but nasty weather, head colds, car repairs, shoveling snow, vacuuming sand and salt off my floors every day, tight budget, no escape. . . ARGH! I’ve been feeling like a glass half-empty for weeks on end.

Today, though, I got that glass-half-full feeling back. And as the day goes on, mood is swinging wildly upwards.

Why? You may well ask.

Because it’s a beautiful, sunny, 58-degree day as I write this. No other reason at all.

I intend to celebrate with the hubby tonight. We’ll have a very spring-like meal. We don’t even have to argue about the gas fireplace — because I clearly won’t be freezing my butt off.

My dad brought over some very pricey, very good quality salmon. Thanks Dad! So Sebastian will fire up the grill and take care of the fillets. I got some pretty decent looking asparagus at the store, too. I’ll steam that and pair it with lemon butter. Add some couscous on the side, and we’ll be good to go.

There you have it — my mood update. A mood so good I just had to write about it!

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I was laid off one year ago, as of March 2, 2010.

I can’t say I miss the particular job or agency I was working for, but I sure miss getting paid for my work.

Now I’m officially a starving artist, trying to make a go of it as a writer online.  Not easy!   But I’m 45 years old, and I figure involuntary unemployment is reason enough to get serious about making a living doing what I do best:  writing.

I know you’re thinking to yourself:  “But Carolyn, writing isn’t the only thing you do best!”

Blush!

Well, I can share with my loyal readers all that I do best, then, right?  By writing about it!

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Part I:  Kale Chips

I’m a healthy eater.  Not religiously healthy, though.  I do enjoy a wide variety of food that includes some pretty rich stuff.  Like Baked Brie, for intance.  But I’m always on the look-out for good healthy snacks to offset my indulgences.

I recently discovered Kale Chips. I’ll credit Foodgawker for my introduction to this newly favorite treat of mine, since that’s where I first read about them.  They must be pretty trendy because I keep running into recipes as I surf around on my favorite foodie blogs.

You can easily check out the link in this post and find a few recipes posted on Foodgawker.

I’ve settled on preparing them this way:

I wash and COMPLETELY dry enough kale leaves to cover a large baking sheet (about 4-5 handfuls).  I use the deep green, firm leaves, tearing them into bite-sized pieces (after discarding the stem parts).  Once the kale leaves are completely dry, I throw them into a gallon-sized ziploc bag.  I add a couple of teaspoons of olive oil and toss the kale leaves around to coat them very lightly with the oil (sometimes I’ll massage them a little bit to make sure the oil is evenly spread).  Then I spread the leaves on the baking sheet, and sprinkle them lightly with salt.   Sometimes I also sprinkle a little garlic powder along with the salt.

The recipes I’ve read recommend baking the kale chips at a variety of temperatures, ranging from 35o-450 degrees.  I’ve tried them at 350, 400 and 425 degrees, and I’ve settled on 350 degrees at approximately 15 minutes.  They object is for the kale chips to come out very crispy, and that depends on how much oil is on the leaves.  So I’d recommend checking on the chips once they’ve been in the oven for about 12-13 minutes.  If they aren’t done at that point (and they usually aren’t for me),  just keep checking every minute or so until they’re nice and crisp, but not brown.

The first time I made these, I enjoyed them with a nice glass of chardonnay.  My curious family gathered around to see what I was eating.

“What IS that, Mom?”

“Is that spinach?”

“Are you gonna eat that?”

I explained the kale chip concept to the kids, and popped one in my mouth.  “Delicious!”  I exclaimed.  “Wanna try one?”

Blank stares.

“Can you give us some money for Taco Bell?”

Well, at least I didn’t have to share.

Part II:  Virtuous Healthy Drink Horrifies Anthony

I was paging through a food magazine the other day when I came across an article about juicing fruits and vegetables.  It put me in mind of V-8 juice, which I like.  I decided I need more of it in my life.

So I ran out to the store and got some V-8 juice yesterday, and decided to doctor it up by way of the juicer.  I poured a 5.5 ounce can of the veggie juice into the juicer, and added a few small slices of celery and green pepper, and just the tip of a jalapeno pepper.  I sprinkled in some salt, pepper and garlic powder, powered on, and created what I thought was a pretty darn good healthy drink.

About the time I was pouring my drink into a glass, Anthony walked up to the kitchen island to work on his science homework.  He noticed my drink.

“What’s that?”

“Vegetable juice.”  I took a drink.  Yum.

“Whoa!  Did you just drink that?”

“Yeah.  Why?”

“I thought that was to go in soup.”  He was looking at me a little mistrustfully.

“No.  I just told you it was juice.”

“Why would you want to drink vegetables, Mom?  You can just eat em.”

I took another drink.  A long one.  “Want to try it?”  I offered.

“Okay.  No.  Gross.  Don’t do that anymore, please.”  He was clearly rattled.

“Fine.  I’ll leave you alone with your homework, and just go enjoy my drink by myself.”

“Dad’s not gonna want to kiss you if you keep drinking that.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, buddy.”

At that point, I hustled off to the shower to get ready for Snacky’s basketball game.  I took my virtuous healthy drink with me to sip on while I got ready.

When I emerged from my room with the empty glass in my hand, I could feel Anthony looking at me out of the corners of his eyes.

“What?”

“Did you really drink that whole thing?”

“Of course.”

“Are you gonna brush your teeth before we leave?’

Wow.

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So Sebastian and I made it safely to the gym.  On the way home, I sent him into the grocery store to get supplies so I could make National Championship Chili and Queso. I generously offered to wait in the car and keep it warm for him.

He was so grateful.

While waiting in the cozy warmth of my car, I decided to check in with Anthony, who was still at his buddy’s house.

The voice that answered his phone was way too deep to be Anthony’s.

“Not Anthony, right?”

“Hi, it’s Kyle.  Anthony’s outside,”  said Anthony’s friend’s older brother’s friend.  “Playing football.”

At the time, it was a whopping 12 degrees.  But only on the thermometer.  In reality, the windchill factor dropped that number at least that far below 0 degrees.  Not to mention a nice deep layer of snow on the ground.

“You’re kidding me.”  I could only hope.

“Haha.  No.  They’re really out there.”

What idiots.

“Well, if his fingers are still working when he gets back in, have him call me.”

“Okay.  See ya.”

Oh, to be young.  Impervious not only to the effects of windchill, but to the concerns of your mama, as well!

(You will all be relieved to learn that the little darlings made it inside after the game with blood still flowing in all extremities.)

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If I do say so myself. . . you should really try this.

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