Friday, June 30, 2006
Message to no-one, to everyone, and likely to my sister: I am really craving pierogis. This is in direct relation to another blogger’s mention (twice!) of Veselka’s in Manhattan. Somehow, and I really don’t understand this, I never ate there. I went to Kiev a number of times, which was only two blocks away.
But anyway. Pierogis. Not the frozen, boxed kind I can get at the supermarket. Again, with the hydrogenation. Ick, ptooie. No, I’m looking for fresh tasty morsels of potato/sauerkraut goodness, like Grandma used to buy probably somewhere in Fair Lawn or Clifton.
Mandy, if I’m still craving them in two weeks (only two weeks!), I’m positive we can find them in your fair cities. Unfortunately, Nye’s serves only a combo platter that includes prune filling. Thanks, but no.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
I am soooo going to Hell
That is, if I believed in Hell. Of course, if there IS a Hell, my non-belief is yet another reason I’ll be spending some time there. Unless the God in whom I don’t believe is a nice, forgiving God and not a vengeful, wrath-y God.
Anyway, I’ve been trying to eat up the weird/small/unusual food bits in the fridge in order to make more space for my roommate’s stuff. As one would imagine, this leads to weird/small/unusual food pairings. Last night was a couple of slices of deli ham and some unintentionally-aged goat gouda. And then I thought to myself “hmmm, maybe an omelet would tie this together nicely” and it probably would have, but no. I had to go and make matzoh brie — with ham.
Yep, Hell. Straight there, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
It was kinda tasty, by the way.
Friday, June 23, 2006
a new religion
Growing up, my favorite dinner entree was Shake-n-Bake pork chops. It’s still occasional comfort food, though I search out the shake-in-bag coating mixes which are non-hydrogenated, non-partially-hydrogenated.
Growing up, the atheist kid of atheist parents, I never gave much “deep” thought to holidays. We spent Easter and Christmas with my dad’s parents; we spent Thanksgiving with my mom’s parents. To me, each of those holidays was about family and love and food and love-of-food. I knew that Christmas had something to do with Jesus being born, but it added no meaning to our own celebration. I had no idea that Easter had anything to do with anything other than Springtime and bunnies and eggs and jellybeans and marshmallow Peeps.
Growing up, it took me years to put together that we spent EASTER and CHRISTMAS with my dad’s folks, and THANKSGIVING with my mom’s. We even exchanged gifts at Thanksgiving, with my mom’s side of the family. (And if Aunt Sylvia is somehow, somewhere, reading this post: I am still, right now at this very minute in fact, wearing the garnet ring that you gave me when I was eight or nine.) And that every meal at my grandmother’s (on my mother’s side) was always turkey or beef. No ham. No kielbasa. No pork chops. I had heard somewhere back in time that my dad’s parents were Episcopalian, that my mom’s were Jewish. But the food was the first indication to me that my grandparents still honored their faith. There was no other sign, no other symbology that I ever noticed in either house. No mezuzah at the door, no crucifix on the wall. But still, my parents must each have grown up with a certain measure of dogma. I have my father’s Sunday school pins. Was my mother bat mitzvahed?
Growing up, with no religion of my own, I learned to have great respect for others’ beliefs. Not necessarily WHAT they believe, but THAT they believe. While religion isn’t important to me the way it is to many others, my parents’ own respect for the seriousness of the matter taught me that it is Important.
Growing up: The first time my mother cooked pork chops, it had to be, even if only in some small way, an act of rebellion.
I think my religion is food.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
I live in a high-traffic area
High traffic, but also a seemingly abnormal number of people who MUST be HERE or THERE a full 3.14 seconds earlier than the next guy. So I’ve been expecting a car accident at my intersection for some time.
Feeling ill, I left work early and was half asleep on the couch when it happened. I was semi-aware of the odd giggle and chatter of children on a sunny afternoon, the occasional dog-walker, then the screech and thud that could only be a ton of steel trying to be all in the same place at the same time. I walked over, already dialing 911 to report the accident, not sure what I would find. Onlookers were standing around, doing nothing. The operator was trying to verify that this accident was not, in fact, the same accident that had been reported nearly two miles away. ‘Is anyone hurt?’ No, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t KNOW, but I don’t think anyone’s life is threatened. ‘What vehicles are involved?’ Well, some kind of 4×4 Jimmy or something, and, um… well, it was some kind of sedan. Oh, there’s an officer IN THE CAR. ‘Is it an unmarked car?’ No, I don’t think so, the hubcap says it’s a Toyota.
Honestly, you would think that with an officer involved in the accident, and with the main poh-lice station just a mile and a half down the road, they could have gotten there a little quicker. The officer turned out to be a Boulder County sheriff. The guy in the Jimmy felt so bad, he was so apologetic. You could tell he felt awful. Only one witness came forward; he said there had been a third car, the one that had stopped short in the first place, but it took off. The Toyota had been in the middle. The front end was barely touched, the passenger compartment was wholly intact. But the back end… I’ve honestly never seen anything like that. It looked like a ball of aluminum foil, liberally sprinkled with glass and plastic. I am simultaneously impressed with how well the crumple zones worked, and alarmed at how much the crumple zone CRUMPLED.
The one witness who stopped, and thank goodness for him, remarked that the police might have taken so long because of a stop for donuts. Seriously, dude, even if that were funny, do you think you should be saying that in front of a sheriff?
I made sure that nobody needed any ice packs or water or anything, and went on my way.
Note: either the impact shot the driver’s seat forward on the rails, or the driver of that Toyota was sitting way too far up. Her knees were practically against the dashboard. As one who is reminded daily of what happens when a leg hits a dash, I ask each and every one of my faithful readers to take a moment to see where your knees are the next time you get in your car. While sitting there, picture the impact of being rear-ended or t-boned. Where are your legs going? (I had no idea that my leg would hit the steering column like that.) I’ll bet you want to move that seat another inch or two father back. And let’s hope that you never have to find out.
June 20, 1999
It’s been seven years since we lost you. I haven’t spoken with anyone in your family, but occasional cyber-stalking tells me that your parents are in the same house. A glance on GoogleMaps shows that there is no evidence remaining of your track. Time erases things.
I’m sure I’ve forgotten as much about you as I remember, but I hold on to certain memories. My favorites. Our first day together: you picked me up in the Doctor’s 300SL (nice way to impress my dad, BTW) and we went touring for the day. Getting pulled over in Harriman, but being let go with only a warning (did we even get a warning?) even though we were blatantly speeding and in someone else’s car. Dropping in at the show, and finding out that the car was entered in the Concours. Everybody knew you, knew the car. That was the first time I heard you speak Hungarian, too. And you thought you had an accent. :) Many (many, many) rides on the FZR… and swapping it out for the CBR at Fred’s because your parents still didn’t know you had bought yet another scooter (and another after that, and I don’t know how many you finally had in the end). Jeez, the CBR felt like a sofa after 100 miles on the fizzer. Breakfasts at The Dairy, stretching our legs. Finally being at Lime Rock together, since our mutual interest had sparked our friendship in the first place. The sound of frogs and crickets and cicadas (and our leathers creaking) and whispered conversation while we worshipped in the church of a summer night out at the meadow.
People tried to console me, telling me that you were doing what you loved. And I appreciated the sentiment. But I know you, I know that in that last second, it wasn’t joy that was running through your mind. But I do hope that you were too busy berating yourself to feel terror. I’d rather you be angry than scared. Angry tells me that you thought you’d come out, battered and bruised and perhaps broken, but alive.
“Well, there’s hours of time on the telephone line
To talk about things to come
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground.”
I love you, Scout. And miss you.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
The Grand Total at today’s gem show. Far below my self-set limit for the day. A few of the vendors I wanted to do business with weren’t at this particular show, but I’ve added a couple to my list for further purchases. Alas, I wasn’t able to source the little vermeil fan I’ve been obsessing about for the last 18 hours, and I’m sure I forgot to add some basics to my stash. I also had no intention of buying… heck, I don’t even know what these stones ARE but they’re so… JUICY! I otherwise kept to my mental list. Pearls, chalcedony, turquoise, citrine, carnelian. And a strand of apatite that I just couldn’t stop playing with (esp. after the vendor dropped the price for me). Some more Hill Tribe silver (52.6 grams! It really adds up, even at the bargain wholesale price).
I’ve added a few new pieces to my store, if anyone is looking for anything…
Friday, June 16, 2006
too too hot
A fun email exchange at the office today. I’m not sure if the backstory is required or not; I’ll include it just in case.
The other day, I prepared a fragrant Indian heat-n-eat lunch at the office. It turned out to be too spicy for my sensitive palate, and Bill, colleague/friend who was conveniently walking by my desk, was the lucky recipient of the lunch that I didn’t want to go to waste. Today, Bill was in the kitchen while I was preparing an almost-as-fragrant Thai heat-n-eat lunch. He commented that he hoped it would also be too hot for me. The following electronic conversation commenced after we left the kitchen:
Me: It’s hot. But not too-too hot.
Mr. B: As good as it smells?
Me: yes. and a little sweet.
Me: shoot, I missed a completely good opportunity to drop a sleazy “almost as good as YOU smell” comment
Mr. B: I think YOU are sweeter than I smell. And we’re both hot (but not too too hot).
It put a smile on my afternoon.
Both artsy happenings went well tonight, though I would have enjoyed a bit more time/space to speak with people at the second event. I nearly hugged a guy who, at the last minute, turned out to NOT be who I thought it was. I’m glad I noticed, though it probably would have made for good conversation among his friends. It was nice to finally have a chance to chat with Sky for a few minutes while OTHER people tended the bar at Doja. And I had only recently been telling someone that she’s the only Doja-crowd person who hasn’t made my Friends list.
I was stopped at a ginormous every-cop-in-Westminster DWI checkpoint on the way home, but I must have passed the “lucidly conversational” test because I wasn’t asked to get out of the car or anything. Which is a good thing, because though I didn’t have much to drink, I am a lightweight and I honestly don’t know if my BAC would have been kosher. I was up-front with the officer about having had some alcohol during the evening, but he seemed satisfied with my admission, my clarity, and with the fact that I was heading home. I think my new contact lens prescription might actually be more of a hindrance than the martini.
AAAAAaaagh! Large flying bug! I’m okay with beetle-y things, but beetle-y things with wings kinda freak me out. New self-observation. Um, I think I need to get outta here and let this thing do whatever it’s going to do. G’night, folks.
So, met the Potential Roommate last night, and he seems a decent bloke. He’ll let me know early next week if he would like to enter into this living situation. Having flown solo for so long now, excepting the six agonizing months when my mom was staying with me, I’m in no hurry for him to make a decision. I do not Play Well With Others. However, I shall make a whole-hearted attempt to share and be nice and to ask for the rent on time.
Kyro has written, with a few gaping holes and perhaps a bit of a chip on his shoulder, an interesting missive describing his solution to the immigration debate. Recommended reading. Don’t blame me if you don’t like it, but I do agree with the general sentiment if not necessarily the plan of attack.
I spent half an hour this morning picking out my outfit for tonight’s art fun, and can almost guarantee that it won’t be what I wind up wearing. I love drama, but insist on a certain level of comfort as well. The dark jeans may have looked a little better, but they’re cut lower and I don’t want to be hiking them up all night. Or perhaps I should honor the event(s) and wear a skirt. At least I know (I think) what top I’m wearing, simply because I need to justify its purchase. :)
My car guys (see previous blog) fixed the loose thingie on one of my valves, and I no longer sound like a VW Bus. They were very nice, and apologized for the inconvenience. I really do love my guys.
I’m surprised that nobody (particularly my sister) has commented on my profile song. It’s funny, I had always thought of my sister as being so much older, cooler, hipper, more musically learn-ed than I. Looking back on it now, she couldn’t have been more than 13 when she got this album. While we are both now a far cry from 13, she is still older (slightly, and only in a chronological sense), cooler, and hipper than I.
(and here I am, being all parenthetical again)
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
the check-out line
Setting: parking lot, approx. 9 am.
Our Heroine is getting out of her car, and checking out the ‘Billy, with his sideburns and deep-cuffed jeans and black cowboy boots, exiting Starbucks. He is unaware of her gaze. She then turns her full attention toward her safe passage into Starbucks, and realizes that she herself is being blatantly checked out by two suburban teen cholos as they exit behind the ‘Billy.
An amusing non-fat latte morning.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
I simply cannot comprehend why I am sooooo sore from painting fences yesterday. I get that it was, essentially, three straight hours of squats but OH MY GOD my quads hurt. HURT. Thankfully, it’s masking the pain in my back and shoulders. :)
Also, I think I may have pinched something in my foot the other night, because one toe has been tingly for a few days. It’s… odd.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
I almost went to Europe.
But instead, I had my car fixed.
Okay, I’m still planning on Barcelona in January. But the money I had just suddenly and unexpectedly come into, has instead gone into a new radiator/master cylinder/battery/brakes/CV boots/etc. On one level, this totally sucks. On another, I now know that my aging-yet-sportalicious car is healthy and strong. Even if the paint sucks.
Plug for my car guys here: I love my guys. They are Jeff and Joe at Interlocken Imports, specializing in Hondas and ♥Acuras♥ but if you drive anything Japanese and would like servicing in the Broomfield, CO area, I cannot recommend these guys enough. Seriously, they rock. They do good work, they tell you when something DOESN’T need doing, they charge fair prices (and occasionally come in under their own estimate), and are generally all-around nice guys. And, as an added bonus, they hand-wash my car whenever they work on it.
So yeah, Barcelona. I’ll have to save up a little harder now. S’alright. I was planning on it, anyway.
Currently listening :
By Rufus Wainwright
Monday, June 05, 2006
I knew that Person was scheduled to drop a big, honkin’ pile of work on my desk while I was at a shoot on Friday. So, I had planned to go to the office over the weekend and get a head start on it.
Coincidentally, I ran into Person after work on Friday, and she assured me that the task ahead wasn’t bad, to not concern myself with it. So I happily rearranged my weekend schedule to allow for lazy nothingness. Frankly, I was a little bored.
There was a big, honkin’ pile of work from Person on my desk this morning. Not feeling well, cranky, and burning out after 10-1/2 solid hours on the project (thank you, Kim, for grabbing lunch for me), I am now home. If I go in eeeeaaaarly tomorrow, I can finish up only a couple of hours past my original deadline. Instead, I’m going to shift the deadline to the END of the day tomorrow and try to regain a little control over the situation.
It’s not the end of the world, I know, it’s just frustrating.
Currently listening :
By Jon Langford
RMRG v. DRD
Rocky Mountain Rollergirls: better sound/music/play-by-play. better skating track promotes somewhat more aggressive skating style. cheaper beer.
Denver Roller Dolls: better seating for us attendees. better cooling system (it was hot as Hades at the ‘Girls bout). better uniforms. better skaters – but that means there are fewer crashes, and that’s really what derby is all about, right? oh, and I can’t say enough about the presence of cotton candy. that rules. larger crowd – because there’s room!
I’ll continue to see both. :)
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Things That Are Good
Okay, this would be a very long list if I were to be complete. I’ll stick to the most basic items that are currently playing around in my head:
Friends and iced chai on a warm, sunny day.
Intelligent conversation. And/or ghost stories.
Toasted angel food cake with ginger ice cream.
My ice cream is melting…
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Addendum to Query
Well, whaddya know. The morning that I woke up with the sudden realization that I should probably commemorate my ex’s nuptials was, in fact, the morning of his wedding (we had never discussed the actual date). I guess there’s still some weird subconscious connection.
Who the heck gets married on a Thursday?
Thursday, June 01, 2006
My ex (fine, fine, ONE of my exes) is getting married this month. I would like to send the couple honest, sincere, best wishes. Is a card appropriate? Would a gift be considered too much? I have no idea what sort of gift. I’m pretty dialed in to what he likes, but I’ve never met her.
Open to suggestions.