Susannah Locketti's Blog

Lemon Rosemary Grilled Chicken - Recipe courtesy Susannah Locketti

This is a quick and easy recipe that will make use of fresh rosemary in your garden. If you don't have any, stop by my place and I'll be happy to give you some right off the plants! I whipped this up at a catering gig on Saturday and was asked a million times for the recipe.

If you make this for the 4th of July, here is an easy way to determine how much chicken to buy. Estimate 6-8oz. of chicken per person based on the appetities of your guests. An easy way to stretch the meat is to cut a single breast into three pieces and pound it out thin. This way, you'll get three servings from one piece of chicken, the meat will cook up evenly and fast ,and the rosemary won't burn on the grill. Enjoy!

Ingredients:

1lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts cut and pounded thin

juice and zest from one lemon

1/4 cup olive oil

4 cloves crushed garlic

3 TB chopped fresh rosemary

Kosher Salt and Pepper

Method:  Add all ingredients to a ziploc baggie, shake it up to coat all the chicken  and marinate for at least an hour. Grill on both sides until done and plate with a lemon slice and sprigs of fresh rosemary. Note: You can substitute any flavorful fresh herb that you have on hand.

It is appraisal time at work…gotta love review time at the office….where you performance is evaluated and either rewarded or just noted. Wouldn’t it be nice if we applied the performance appraisal tool to our spouses? Imagine if we created criteria and goals and sat down with them at the end of the year to go over their successes or areas in need of further development? I imagine it something like this…(Disclaimer: This is not about you honey...)

Independence

Unable to book own doctor appointments, prescription refills, and dental visits.

Outsourced all major home renovations leaving little opportunity for growth in this area.

Inconsistent in maintaining vehicle oil changes every 3000 miles. Could benefit from not asking children to perform assigned duties.

Suggest making a To Do list everyday and actually sticking to it. Suggest you dig out that lawn mower and just use it…just pull the starter for god’s sake.

Unable to wrap Christmas gifts without assistance.

Unable to sign own name on cards; often requires assistance from wife.

Interpersonal Communication Skills/Teamwork

Unable to speak when caught in a lie which makes conflict resolution difficult.

Vulgar and explicit language during key romantic moments did not work for this reviewer.

Could benefit from asserting oneself with the neighbors and contractors.

A reminder again for this year that this goal was not intended to take place at sporting events.

Time Management

Recommend implementing the use of an alarm clock to assist in waking day-to-day.

Recommend the use of a calendar or daily planner to be aware of what day of the week it is.

The same effort and planning you apply to tailgating would be beneficial in your personal life.

Unable to remember and plan for birthdays, Mother’s Day, anniversaries and all other major holidays.

Professionalism

Would benefit from changing shirts several times per week.

When answering the telephone, would be beneficial if you did not say “Pauly’s Pizza”.

Refrain from swearing in front of the children and our priest.

Keep areas clean and tidy both indoors and out as impressions are formed.

Suggest lowering the toilet seat after urination, and not urinating in the shower .

Do not recommend using other people’s face cloths to clean your body.

I think having fresh flowers in the house is a luxury. It is also a luxury I cannot afford. I once served as a catering assistant for a function at the home of a wealthy family in Osterville, Massachusetts. I kid you not, they had fresh flowers in every single room of the house including the bathrooms. I’m surprised there weren’t rose petals floating in the toilet water! I was envious. How could I enjoy the same luxury without the cost?

It all started one summer as I was running errands. I passed endless perfectly landscaped entrances to lovely developments…they were so pretty…and so tempting. So I ran my errands the next day with hedge clippers, a shovel and a pail filled with water. In a blink, I had hydrangeas in shades of blue, pink and white, lilies and whimsical daisies. I even grabbed a few hostas to divide and plant at home. In the spring, I cut the tulips and irises lining white picket fences, along with those pretty little daffodils to add sunshine to my morning. When I’m feeling really greedy, I dig up the whole bulb and they become the gift that keeps on giving. At funerals, I’m tempted to walk out with a vase, at weddings I’ll cheat to win the floral centerpiece, at hotels I stuff the exotics in my luggage, and many of my neighbors have awakened to find their entire front yards razed.

I conduct a site survey the day prior and also check for dogs. Once I have found several suitable locations, I set my alarm for two in the morning, put on my sexiest gardening outfit, grab the gardening gear and quietly slither though the grass lawns until I find my worthy floral treasures to dig up. I’ve fought off raccoons with my shovel, stood my ground with foxes and never let a little snake get in the way of my prize. I love when the automated sprinklers go off mid-digging. I feel like a dirty little vixen in a new movie called "Splashdance". I pretend my hoe is George Clooney and we heat up the mulch until it steams.

When I return home, I shower up, make a great pot of coffee with Equal I stole from Dunkin Donuts, find homes for my pretty new petals and sit at my ketchup and Sharpie stained kitchen table to admire my newfound views. Aaaaah…this is the life and I even managed a cardio workout during my overnight horticultural escapades.

Years ago, I used to shop for flowers at large garden centers. Now, I peruse their selections with a tiny pair of scissors and pilfer clippings. I take the clippings home, go online and read exactly how to propagate them for a lifetime of blooms. I am the blue collar Martha Stewart thanks to our ailing economy. By the way, cinnamon is a great propagating aide and I can steal some from the Starbuck’s shakers when I go in "just to use the bathroom". Am I the reason Starbuck’s had to close 100 retail stores?

My new friends are flower seed packets for under a dollar. A little soil, water and sunshine and I grow perennials in my old plastic pots from Home Depot. Granted, I had four years of murdering before I finally bred life and perfected the process. Every time I experienced the death of a plant, I heard cash register sounds in my head reminding me I just lost money. Last year, I grew lime basil from a seed packet. When the plant died and dried, it produced new seeds that shook off easily onto a paper plate. I feel like a modern day pilgrim which is just a fancy way of saying, I’m too broke to buy the new packet of seeds. And why should I when my blue collar methods are flourishing just fine.

The best perk of all? Now I finally have rose petals floating in my toilet water.

I discovered consignment stores after my ex-husband secretly gambled our money away on March Madness...madness indeed. I  found a consignment store called Penny Lane and I knew instantly by the name I could afford what they were selling. Rather than get depressed over the whole situation, I decided to reframe my image of a consignment store. I decided I was shopping “vintage”. It sounded so much more glamorous. After all, don’t all the celebrities wear vintage couture?

 The store was on the edge of a tiny little strip mall. I decided this was Rodeo Drive. I would need a different car to make my presence known. So I showed up in a rented Ferrari for my first day of vintage couture shopping. I hired a few friends to serve as paparazzi and even provided them with disposable cameras I stole off the tables at a wedding once. I didn’t know the cameras were for taking candid wedding photos.  I swiped them off every table, dumped them in my purse and did the bride and groom a favor. They wouldn’t want all these memories when it came time for divorce.

 My next step was media coverage. I issued several press releases to the local media, called Fox News, CNN, TMZ and any other three letter acronym I found online. Turns out the band POD would be playing on the sidewalk as I arrived.

 With all of the people present at my couture coming out party, surely I would have to provide refreshments. I managed this by setting up multi-line phone systems in my home, manned them with my kids and their friends, and told them their job was to enter every possible radio station contest that involved winning food. These kids were good. I had Brueggers bagels, Dunkin Donuts munchkins, polska kielbasa (Polish polka radio station), farm fresh eggs (organic information radio program) and a bowl of Howard Stern’s dried nose discharges. How did they tap into Sirius?

 I obviously needed to look my best for this event so I wrote the producers of Extreme Makeover…eight times. I begged Ellen, Tyra, Oprah and even made an appearance on Judge Judy with a discrimination complaint against the producers of Jerry Springer. Naturally, I was awarded damages and used them to go to Procuts for a new look. Makeup was an easy goal to accomplish without spending a dime. I hit up every cosmetic counter at Saks. Foundation was by Clinique, eyes by MAC, cheeks and lips by Elizabeth Arden. Voila, my master shopping plan was complete.

 Almost complete. I needed a driver for the Ferrari and a bodyguard to escort me and hold my bags. The driver I nabbed while waiting in court listening to people contest speeding tickets. I made my selection by who was wearing the best suit and had the communication skills to talk their way out of any situation. The bodyguard I grabbed on the side of the road picking up garbage. Turns out he was an inmate from the correctional facility and pumped iron regularly. I was on a roll!

 My plan was now complete. Sauntering into the consignment store was pure luxury. My bodyguard convinced them to close the store so I could shop en prive. I found a pair of vintage Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, managed to find boots and coats for the kids from the Talbots 1985 collection, and even had enough spending money left over to tip my hired hands. POD was a smashing success, I landed on a segment of TMZ (they thought I was Rachel Ray so I kept picking my wedge and bashing Oprah), Howard Stern sent a girl with his booger bowl willing to serve the kielbasa and CNN captured the arrest of my bodyguard live. So I gave him the only thing I had left, a disposable camera to take pictures of prison life...and my driver who posed as his attorney.

Predict PMS Like The Weather

Does PMS really exist? Oh you bet you’re a$$ it does! You can predict PMS like the weather…take notes Rick. Here are some early warning symptoms.

Cloudy Emails

PMS makes you overanalyze a perfectly innocent email, or become paranoid about the person’s thoughts…you assume the worst…and then become angry for no apparent reason. The worst thing you can do at the onset of this symptom is return an email. Simply unplug the computer and step away from the keyboard. My friends have learned not to email me the third week of the month.

Hypersensitivity to Light and Sound

When the sun rises you’re pissed…no apparent reason…just pissed off. The endless ringing of the phone makes you want to rip it out of the wall…so you do… this is the week you [...] about all the lights left on in the house…the tv’s left blaring…the video games…the dogs barking…this is the week you want to avoid a parent/teacher conferences…and don’t answer the phone.

Heavy Rains

Once a month every woman has a good cry and PMS is the perfect week for it. If it happens on a rainy day, god help you. I’d pop in the Les Miserables sound track and really set the mood. This is the week when our husbands and co-workers think we are crazy. God forbid all women in the office end up on the same cycle…yikes!

Thunder & Lightening

Aka..screaming and yelling. If you work in customer service…this is the week you take a vacation or call in sick. Do not deal with the public. This is the week my kids call “Godzilla Week”. I yell at the dogs, my kids, my husband, my co-workers, my friends…essentially everyone.

Hurricanes

You have to feel sorry for the grooms that have their bride PMSing the week of their wedding or honeymoon. That happened to me and there was a category five hurricane during the honeymoon…no lie.

We were also without running water and were barricaded in a villa for five days confined to one room. You can imagine given these luxurious circumstances that I was a joy to be with…an absolute premenstrual category six bucket of joy…

Can you imagine Rick's PMS traffic report with these new weather factors?…

Hey everybody today it’s going to be cold and rainy highs only in the forties…bad day for you gals suffering with PMS…recommend staying off the roadways, avoid human contact and listen to new age spa music. ..tomorrow we expect a hurricane…electrical outages expected…a hurricane shelter has been setup at Los Angeles Sports Arena for husbands and children living with PMSing women…looks like we have an accident below me in the chopper...a minivan driven by a woman with PMS went into a road rage forcing drivers to pull over...I'm gonna drop her a survival kit from the helicopter donated by our good friends at Ralph's grocery stores....the kit contains Chamomile Tea, Motrin and a box of Kotex...

 

 

 

Having worked in news, I love watching the trends in anchor styles and sets from newscast to newscast. Mornings and afternoons are more conservative at the "news desk" and in the evenings, the anchors roam the studios reporting the news looking hot from head to toe. 

If I were at Fox, I would take a more real-life approach to anchoring. There would never be a morning newscast before 7am.  Girl needs her beauty rest. I'd report live each morning from my kitchen in my favorite bathrobe, hair a disaster, yesterday's makeup with a cup of coffee in a huge mug.  Coffee talk news...

I can just see the intro to the morning show. Me dead asleep, the alarm going off with the Fox crew bedside waking me for the newscast. We'd shoot right from my kitchen so I could work from home. I can just see it now...the dogs barking while I introduce a liveshot...the UPS guy needing a signature in the middle of the intro...my kids doing armpit farts off camera during a tease...

The noon broadcast would take place while I cooked lunch...viewers would get a recipe and the news all at the same time. I'd be in the same bathrobe only now my hair is wet from the shower and I have a face mask on. This would be the broadcast where all the bill collectors call and interrupt. It's always the middle of the day, isn't it? I'd get rid of them by telling them I was in labor and couldn't chat.

So now we reach the 5pm broadcast. I've showered, I'm looking good and vacuuming the downstairs as I report the news...this is called multi-tasking people. Noto to mention, it would be nice to get home from work and have all the depressing news muffled. The vacuum is turned off for sports, entertainment and weather. This is when I dust, load the dishwasher and feed the dogs.

The 11pm newscast is where I'd let loose. The kids are in bed and I finally have some peace and quiet. I'm drinking a Smirnoff Watermelon wine cooler dishing the news with my girlfriends during a three way call. David Cook music would be playing in the background for ambiance, some candles would be lit and I'd recap American Idol.  Maybe even prank call a couple lucky viewers...the possibilities at this hour are endless...can you imagine the ratings?

 Here I am in my glorious bathrobe on the set of a cooking shoot with my biggest fan...my dad.

Funny how people live up to their names. Amy Winehouse is one of them…an alcoholic named Winehouse…now that is funny. At the rate she is going she’ll need to change her name to Crackhouse.

 Regardless of her addictions, Amy is a talented artist. Her Back to Black cd is ultra hot, fresh and sexy. The pace of her music is sultry, the lyrics are seductive and her voice spills soul. It is the perfect music for me to sweat my buns to each night on the treadmill. I imagine a posse of her crack dealers are chasing me. I went from walking to running overnight with that visual. I just wish the cd were longer. I’d be in a size 2 by next week.

 When it comes to exercise, I need motivation. I need someone to pay me to exercise…which is exactly why I got certified to teach fitness classes. I have found other creative ways, however to squeeze in this daily ritual. The grocery store is my favorite “gym”. The aisles are long and wide..perfect for doing walking lunges with two large jars of spaghetti sauce over my shoulders. Rolling cantaloupe down the aisles in a bent over position is great for the lower body, and balancing on the inside of a moving carriage does wonders for your core.

 I’ve read in magazines you should park as far away from the store as possible to add a little more walking to your routine. I park the next town over. Hauling those bags down the highway is a killer upper body workout. Not to mention, nobody stops to ask you if you need a ride anymore. You are forced to finish that walk whether you like it or not.

 I even do my Kegel exercises while waiting in line at the grocery store. For those male readers that have no idea what these are…they prevent our uterus from falling out in ten years. Kegel exercises are discreet, nobody has a clue you are doing them, although I would get glances from passersby wondering why I was breaking out into a sweat while holding expired coupons.

 Sprinting is never an issue at the grocery store. I accomplish these quick bursts of cardio by deliberately forgetting key items on my list. I select the longest grocery line, begin to place my items on the belt, pretend I “forgot” an item, and then run back to the aisles full steam ahead. I do this with at least ten items and estimate an average burn of 500 calories. I manage to even impress myself sometimes.

 I used to be a cashier at a grocery store. I was rotten. If a customer rubbed me the wrong way, I would put my elbow on the scale as I weighed their produce. Only in my line would you see a bag of grapes cost $249.82. I ripped lids off Yoplait yogurts while bagging them and would even wrap my hand around the core of a nice soft loaf of bread.

 I loved when customers came through my line with condoms. It was the only time I meant it when I said “Paper or..uh….latex….I mean plastic”.

Hey George...so nice of you to mail our stimulus checks...I feel like one of Pavlov's dogs that just received a treat. Only the treat is merely a miniscule snack in a current life of starvation....and I'm not salivating.

BUT, this blue collar mom is going to remain optimistic. I've devised several strategies to beat the recession. C'mon...turn those frowns upside down people...we'll get through this with a little medication, booze and blue collar mom creativity...

1. Turn off the heat and use blow dryers to wake up the frozen kids, hubby and pets. Go for a low watt cheapie at CVS. The blow dryer can also double as a crude microwave in a pinch.

2. If rice can be rationed, why not ration toilet paper. Number 1's get one square, Number 2's get, well, naturally two squares. My brother was in the military and told me how to creatively make a small amount work for even your worst output.

3. Go in on some livestock with the neighbors. That's right...invest in a cow, a pig, couple chickens....sounds like fun doesn't it? Take turns feeding the poor things and once they get good and fat....bon appetit!

4. Create a community youth hostile...turn a neighbor's barn into housing for the local kids...no electricity because they'll waste it anyway...make em use the great outdoors as the bathroom to save on septic pumps, and force them to grow and cook their own food...kind of like backyard Kid Nation...

5. Say goodbye to the playdates...this gas guzzling ritual always leaves one parent doing all the driving...

6. Speaking of gas...just don't drive....let's all just put up a stance and stay the hell home. No work...gas saved. No grocery store because we have the kids growing produce and grown ups raising livestock...gas saved. Can you imagine the panic we would create?...and how much fun we would all have??? For once, we'd know who the heck lives next door to us and what their good, bad and ugly sides look like...free entertainment...no need for cable now.

7. Go naked in the summer. Why fall victim to fashion week's trends? Just waltz your butt around in your birthday suit....believe me...this would prompt Washington to dole us out some serious cash.

8. Feign illness. Seeing as we all have to have health insurance, let's make use of it. Be sure to create an illness that requires hospitalization. Before you call the ambulance, turn off the circuit breaker in your house to save electricity and kill the heat. Always report pain at a 10 to prolong the stay...extra time is money saved, the food is free and you'll have people waiting on you plus free meds. (am writing from my hospital bed now...bad case of dysentery from my missionary work)

9. Try out for game shows...someone's gotta win and they fly you out for free. I wanna be on the Price is Right with Drew Carey...

10. Start a recession themed phone sex business....oh yeah...tell me how poor you are...mmmm...you really are broke....soooooo broke......you make me feel so poor....so needy.....oh my god I am so broke! I am so close to foreclosure....so close.....almost there.....yes...yes...yes....I've foreclosed!!!

Every Presidential election, I watch the candidates battle it out as they vie for the ultimate throne while their wives anxiously await the grandeur of life as a First Lady. To me, life as a First Lady would be no different than any other day, just in a cleaner house with a better view.

 I think I’d make a great First Lady. For one, I’d make the best damn coffee the White House staffers have ever tasted in their entire lives. My first job at thirteen was at a coffee shop and I mastered the art of coffee making very young. Coffee sets people off on the right foot in the morning.  Even though those staffers would dread another boring meeting with my husband, at least their saving grace would be my coffee. I’ll even serve it to them in my fuzzy slippers, bathrobe, green facial mask and curlers still in my hair from the night before. I will prevent the interns from quitting over my pots of coffee, calm the Vice President down after a veto, and keep the Press Secretary awake long enough to sneak in one more redundant question from the media. I’d have a variety of flavored creamers, sugar, whipped cream, plus Equal for the democrats and Splenda for the Republicans. I’d even bake a variety of cookies to go with their java. Even with a staff of chefs, I’d join them in the kitchen and get my hands dirty because I’m used to it and I love it. No to mention I’d want to make sure they weren’t grinding up Exlax in my husband’s scrambled eggs.

 The Oval Office would be due for a few changes. I’d go for a sexy primal theme. The rug in the oval office is designed by the new President or First Lady. I would want it to be an animal print. Ya know what would sell a lot of Newsweeks…a picture of me as the First Lady under the President’s desk. I would go down in history as being the second person after JFK Jr. to have their head pop out of the sliding door. Wouldn’t that make a memorable cover?

 The artwork in the Oval Office is also discretionary by President. I’d have the framed photo of me topless on our honeymoon right above the fireplace. Gosh my legs looked great in that shot. It would sure beat staring at a picture of George Washington or Abe Lincoln.

 I would insist all tours of the White House be given by me. No stuffy historical tours up my sleeve. I’d show them all the stuff you never get to see…like my husband’s toilet seat left up, what cologne he wears and the prints on his boxers. I’d sit them down in the green room and tell them about our first date, first kiss, first fight, what turns him on…isn’t this the stuff people really want to know?

 Entertaining foreign Presidents would be my forte. I’d pop open a few beers, play some cards and shoot pool with them. Talking politics would be off limits. I’d just get them drunk, show them a good time and give them marital advice. I’d be sure to photograph our parties in case hubby ever needed any negotiating materials.

 I would drive security crazy because I’d insist on doing my own gardening in my cut off jeans, tank top and no bra. On Sundays, gardening would get done in my pajamas.

I would even teach free yoga classes on the White House lawn and invite the yogis in for a post workout Bloody Mary...

And, once a week I'd do a live cooking show from the White House kitchen...now that would make for great television.

 

Yeah…yeah…yeah, I saw her belly months ago at the Spirit Awards and recently she looks like she's ready to burst  but I still say Angelina finally ate a big steak and cheese sub. Either that or she hid Jennifer Aniston in there out of charity to bring her closer to Brad.

 

After all, I have been congratulated at least fifteen times for being pregnant and I wasn’t!

Look people. Don’t ever congratulate someone on their belly or make any pregnancy related comments or rumors unless you are 100% sure there is a baby on board. If you break this rule you are just asking for trouble. Expect bowling balls up your wazoo, black eyes, ruptured pelvises, bloody noses and dislocated shoulders. This is just a major faux-pas in my book. I carry brass knuckles, pepper spray and my dog’s electric fence collar for people like you.

 

After the birth of my first child Evan, I made my first post pregnancy appearance. This blue collar mom didn’t get a chance to do it on Ellen like Christine Aguilera. I made my hot debut at…the grocery store. I got dressed to the nines in a shiny little pair of silky pants, underwear the size of pita breads and a sultry little red top. I was nursing and udderly proud of my ample breasts. I carefully applied my makeup, slipped on my Payless heels and ventured out to flaunt my post-pregnancy figure. When I arrived at the grocery store, I immediately noticed all heads turning in my direction. In fact, they were gawking! My confidence was immediately boosted. I pretended the aisles were the catwalk, and deliberately toppled over the oranges to bend over and show off my cute pita clad butt. With all the stares I was getting, you would have thought I was Angelina.

 

I approached the checkout ready to make my grande exit. The cashier was looking at me in amazement. I thought she was impressed I was out and about so soon after delivery. Then she said in sheer shock “You haven’t had that baby yet”! Insert the following sound effects: cat screeching, dishes breaking, gun shots and a Psycho movie scream...plus another cat screech. When I returned home, my mother looked at me disgusted and said “You went out looking like that”? I looked down and noticed I forgot to put in my nursing pads and had circular shaped breast milk stains where my nipples were. More sounds effects please. Better yet, bring in the sound effects guy from Bourne Ultimatum. He won an Oscar.

 

Once I complained of a backache while picking up my littlest Aidan at pre-school. One of the other mothers said ”Baby resting on a nerve”? I replied through clenched teeth, “What baby”? She responded by telling me it was so obvious I was at least five months along and backache is common during the SECOND trimester”...ouuuuch. The ambulance arrived shortly after to haul her away. I felt like Hillary Swank in Million Dollar Baby. No pun intended.

 

I admit it, I have a fat lower ab, it droops, there are stretch marks that could span US 1 and there is nothing I can do about it. After two kids and years of yo-yo dieting, this is what blue collar moms look like. I can’t afford the tummy tuck. Instead, I go for the girdle. The more metal pins securing the thing the better. When I was dating my first husband he took me to New York to see Les Miserables. God that Broadway was so symbolic of our three and a half year relationship.

My girdle’s metal pins set off the alarms at Logan Airport and I was groped by security in the midsection for hours. The ribbing in the girdle felt like I was packing drugs so I was strip searched. It was the best action I had had in ages. Those silly men and their big bad batons…still brings back a little chuckle…even after all these years.

 

Why should Jack Black or even Angelina have to formally announce she’s pregnant? I tried that once and it was a flop. I hired a press secretary (my daschund Jackson), faxed press releases and held the big event at Beacon Hill. Gotta love Fox for graciously covering it. However, they mistook my message for an animal pro-life movement and aired it on the noon news. Jackson must have made a few typos on the press release with his paws…damn that dog!