Tasting Grace

Tasting Grace is on the Move

2009-08-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

Tasting Grace is moving! I have designed a new website, and with the help of my husband Toby, have set up Tasting Grace at a new location: http://jadekeller.com. So for those of you who are following through google reader, google friend connect, blogger dashboard, or rss feeds will need to update the web address (sorry!). The new website is through Word Press instead of Blogger, so should be much easier for nonmembers to make comments.

The website design is done 100% by yours truly, so I'd love to hear feedback and commentary on whether you like the new art and layout.

Sorry for any inconvenience, but hopefully the new site will be cleaner and easier for everyone in the long run!

Spontaneously Not Spontaneous

2009-08-10T12:31:00.000-07:00

I am spontaneous. I love going out on random expeditions at the drop of a hat, whether it be just out to a movie, visit family, or to scamper off to a foreign country (when the wallet permits). If a friend calls me up wanting to do something fun, I have no problem dropping everything to show up on their doorstep seven minutes later. And I'm adaptable. I can go with an itinerary or without.

Unless I have serious work to do. Then I either need a little extra cajoling or perhaps an hour or two to finish up and then head out.

I kind of like this part of my personality. It gives me freedom and variety in my life, and I think inserts a dollop of vivacity and fun in my otherwise reserved demeanor. If I had to write a Top Ten list of things I like about myself, this would probably be on it.

So it comes to my surprise and dismay when I learn that actually I don't always do well when there is no plan at all and I expect there to be one. This isn't true in foreign countries because...well, frankly, I generally expect things not to go as planned in foreign countries. But if I have notions that things will pan out one way and then everything is suddenly up in the air, I get frustrated. I seethe. Especially, as my husband points out, when the lack of plan gets in between me and the consumption of food within reasonable intervals. I get grumpy and sarcastic and am suddenly that old man grumbling incoherently at innocent passersby.

I don't think it's a control issue because I don't always feel I need to be in control or always have to have my way - though things going my way is, of course, desirable. But it might be true that the crux of the biscuit lies somewhere in the category of whether I feel the plan changes involved consideration of me. For example, if someone says they'll visit at a particular hour, but then calls 15 minutes after they were supposed to arrive to say that, actually, they'll be there in another half hour. And then this happens repeatedly until half my day is wasted waiting - because what can you do for half an hour when you're prepared and expecting to leave? - when I could have spent the time doing something else until the time the person actually showed up.

And this is when I face the fact I'm a self-centered curmudgeon who appreciates punctuality, and failing punctuality, at least an apology. Nothing big, just some token to show they realize they've been obnoxious. Because people should always be thinking of the effects their actions have on me, right?

...No? ....Oh. Darnit.

I mean, because that's the consideration I would show them.

...and I expect everyone to act like me.

Wait...no, that's not what I mean either.

So, yes. Self-centered curmudgeon. Must work on that. Oh, the failings of being an only child.

P.S. This post is my 100th post! I had actually hoped to celebrate with the unveiling of my blog's new location, but am still waiting for new location to be ready. It's thisclose to being ready, but alas, it is not. So I'll have to settle for Ugly-Truth-About-Self blog instead.

MaeKhun.

2009-08-07T11:07:00.000-07:00

The yogini walked around the class dabbing essential oils in our palms; some mixture of roses, citrus, and yleng yleng. As I rubbed the oils between my hands and brought the scent to my face, I was hit, forcibly, with the scent of my grandmother. She died two years ago, and still her scent has the power to undo me. Overcome, I lay there, crying in shavasana.

My grandmother was the salt of the earth. Raised on a farm in Supunburi, Thailand, she knew what it was to till the soil and set ancient roots. She gave birth to five girls, and when her husband met an untimely passing, she raised them on her own. She was solid, heavy-boned. Her skin looked like worn, browned leather, but felt like soft butter cream. Barely 4'11", she was compact in size, but dynamite can come in small packages. She didn't talk much, but she never hesitated to tell it like it is.

She used to tell my father, who had quite inappropriately never paid a dowry when he married my mother, that proper Thai women will massage a man's feet when he comes home from work. My dad would eye my mother and say, "I don't get any of that." My grandmother would retort, "You get what you pay for."

Because we lived on two different continents for most of my life, I never spent much time with my grandmother, and most of the time we did have together, I was fairly young - around 7 or 8. She spoke only Thai, and at the time I spoke only English, so most communication revolved around sleeping, eating, and making funny noises at each other until we both heaved with laughter. With such little verbal communication between us, I don't suppose I can say I knew her in the way most people know others. But somehow I don't feel that I needed to. Because sometimes, when it comes to family, words are superfluous. I feel in her my blood, and in my bones, and it is there that I know her.

My Asian grandmother was like a solitary storm cloud hovering on the south east horizon. She was silent and steady, heavy with the volition of ancestral spirits. Though diminuitive in size, her presence was larger than life. She was hardened, tough, and weathered by the processes of time. But there was a depth to her; a depth so profound that one couldn't help but always keep her in the corner of one's eye, even when she was far away. She was the matriach. It was foolish to make a move without first considering her. All of life moved below her, under her watchful eye. When she passed, it was like the heavy storm cloud dissipating into the light. Though she is gone, the memory of her is an indelible imprint; like a footstep pressed into sand.

You Capture – You

2009-08-05T11:08:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make.
I'm a mommy blogger wannabe.

I want into that club. But no matter how badly I might want to, I cannot join that club because I am missing one key ingredient: a child. I want children. I want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet down wooden hallways. I want to read my kids stories, to see their first steps, hear their first words, and meet their first friends, favorites, and loves.

But since I cannot have children or even a house just yet, I have to soothe the beast that is my biological imperative by any means I can. So I embarked upon a project to take our tiny little shoebox apartment and upgrade everything I could to make it a home. (To see the results, you can go to my blogpost on it here.)

So this is me. Laying bare my heart's desire and my modest attempts to seek it.

This is my hand, painting my dream, that I may call it a home.

These are my feet, bearing me upon the precipe, that I might reach for the sky.

This is my face wishing, and my heart thrumming, that I might satiate the beast within...
... just one day more.

“I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” - Calvin & Hobbes

For more self-portraits, check out Beth's website: I Should Be Folding Laundry and this week's You Capture challenge!

Things I Wish I'd Learned in High School

2009-08-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

When I look back on my high school education, there's not much I can think of that I learned that's really stuck with me over the years. Geometry? Pssh. Biology? Ha! History? Doubt it. Most of what I know of history I learned after high school. Pretty much only some books I read in my Literature class and the lessons on how to write essays really stuck with me.

And really, I'm not feeling like I'm missing out on too much for not remembering most of those four years because in my daily life I just don't encounter such things often.

But what I do wish is that high school had a Life Skills class. This class might be similar to Home Ec, which my school actually didn't have. But a Life Skills class would be more comprehensive; not just cooking or carrying an egg around, pretending it's an actual child. It should be a year long course, senior year, when students realize that hey, maybe this stuff could come in handy. (Yes, I know, I hear teachers and administrators grumbling "Good luck finding resources for that.")

It would include segments on:
- How to write a business letter and resume

- How to do well in a job interview, and other professional etiquette

- How to change your oil & tires, and other basic car maintenance
Because you never know when you'll actually need this kind of information. Or at least, if you'd rather not spend the dough to have someone else do it for you (because pedicures are much more fun ways to use that money).

- How to use a sewing machine
I confess. For the life of me, I cannot use a sewing machine. I can sew well by hand, but that takes forever. So I borrowed my mom's machine and I got online instructions on how to thread it and of course it was step-by-step with illustrative pictures for mounting the spool and getting the thread to the needle. But then the complex bit with the bobbin was reduced to "you just put the doohickey in and around the thingamabob, turn and pull the loop up tight and there you go!" Wait, what? The more sure I was I had finally gotten it right, the bigger disaster I created when I actually tried to use the thing. In the battle between me and the machine, the Singer won.

- How to understand credit cards, mortgages, and manage them wisely
Credit crisis. Need I say more?

- A whole month could be devoted to conflict management
In college, I took a class on conflict management and it was definitely one of the most useful classes I've ever had in my life. People don't know how to deal with conflict, and often end up exacerbating the argument when they're just trying to resolve it. Little do they realize, their own actions are what fuels the conflict more than anything else. Learning how to stand up for yourself, listen to what the other is saying, and still find ways to de-escalate a tense situation is a lesson everyone can use. Might save a marriage or two. At least, people might come to understand that everybody has a role to play in creating a conflict and that we all must own up to our own responsibility when things go wrong. Nobody is only victim, much as we might like to think so.

- How to be a good citizen
More than just understanding the process and knowing the institutions (which is what your Government class is supposed to cover), students should be taught the importance of various civic duties like voting and charity & community service, as well as how to perform such functions. But they should also learn more about other roles they can perform as a citizen, such as: buying products in a socially conscious way, engaging productively in discussions with others about politics to learn about different points of views, serving in the military, and the myriad ways they can make themselves heard (not just once every four years at the ballot box). Not saying everybody has to do all these things all the time, but students should be encouraged to engage with society in deeper and broader ways.

- How to live in a more eco-friendly way
This is a huge topic, so maybe it would work best to be directed by class interest, beyond such staples as recycling and being product conscious. But it could cover anything from energy efficiency to urban farming, all in ways that are simultaneously cost-conscious. Ultimately, people are free to choose to live life how they want to, but I do think these things are becoming a big enough fact of life that people should know at least how to go about living in a more eco-friendly way, should they decide to do so.

True, we live now in the great age of the internet, where most of this information can be found online. But who wants to learn everything the hard way? (wink) Are there any life skills you wish someone had taught you, or that you think more people need to know?

Something's in the Water

2009-08-02T19:09:00.000-07:00

The weirdest thing just happened today. I was thinking about things I just need to get up the gumption to go out and fight for. Things that require leaving the comfort of "I will do it someday" to actually go out and do right now. There will almost inevitably be frustration and disappointment...but the dream is worth fighting for.

And as I was thinking those thoughts, I strolled across a blog I read regularly that spoke right to me and told me to get out there and fucking fight for it, and what the hell are you waiting for, already? Pardon my french.

And I was thinking: What a strange thing to come across something I needed to hear when I wasn't looking to hear it. Was it fate? Was it coincidence? And as I was thinking those thoughts, I came across a blog I've never read before in my life that said, quite randomly, at the very bottom of its page:

I don't believe in coincidence.

Message received.

Nesting Pains Soothed

2009-08-01T12:35:00.000-07:00

For those following the Nesting Pains saga, today we find its culmination. In the final fit of turning Shoebox Apartment into Home, I painted our kitchen cabinets and living room walls (landlord be damned). And the result is deeply satisfying.

I sought to try out a new aesthetic: something along the lines of vintage Victorian; classy, with a little funk.

These were my tools.
This was the coffee I cracked myself out on.
This is what the kitchen used to look like.
This is what it looks like now.
Instead of the drab old gray, I introduced a sunny, minty green. With cute little accents like these.
And these.
Then I took our boring, white living room walls and painted them a lovely, dove gray, which complements so nicely the new kitchen green.
And looks so elegant with the white trim, and blends so well with our new bathroom decor.
I especially love little details like this pink orchid against the gray wall.
And the gorgeous new pillow covers I found on Etsy (from seller Clee27).
I'm still waiting for my new table runner to arrive in the mail, but once it does, my renovations will be complete.

A little paint will go a long way towards soothing one's soul.

Cinnamon-Nutella and Coconut-Raisin Cookies

2009-07-30T00:24:00.000-07:00

I really wanted to make some cookies as a gift for friends, but we're on a bit of a tight budget lately, so I tried to scrounge around the kitchen for something I could make with just the ingredients I happened to have on hand. What did I come up with?
Coconut, raisins, and nutella. What the heck was I gonna make with that?

I figured coconut and raisins would go well together and nutella could probably stand on its own. So I went to a recipe for cinnamon cookies, which I thought would make a good baseline recipe for my little treat experiments.

I should probably take a minute to explain my style in the kitchen a bit. My mom owns a Thai restaurant and was trained by the chefs for the King of Thailand. So let me just say she knows her stuff. I grew up helping her in the kitchen and she doesn't go by such silly things as "measurements". Pshaw. She was taught to know something is right by how it smells. I'm no where near her league, but being her daughter, I learned to cook by sight and smell. So discussing recipes for cooking in terms of precise measurements is a bit difficult for me. My measurement system consists more of scientific terms like: “some”, “a few splashes”, and “until it smells right”.

But when it comes to baking, I've always followed recipes religiously because baking does seem to require more precision. Which, funnily enough, is why my mom can't bake. Her pineapple upside-down cake is only upside-down 'cuz that's the only way she can get it out of the pan. With the help of a hammer. And a lot of sweating and a rapid stream of Thai expletives. So the family - in a fit of self-preservation - calls on me at Christmas time to deliver the baked goods. And for that reason, I follow baking recipes down to every last 1/16th of a teaspoon. The fact that I'm experimenting with baking recipes is actually me going out on a serious limb here.

Anyway, back to cooking.

Ingredients:
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 cup sweet butter, room temperature
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ brown sugar

Add ins:
about ¼ - ½ cup nutella
½ cup raisins
¼ cup shredded coconut

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Sift flour, salt and cinnamon into a bowl.

3. In a separate bowl, cream butter until soft. Add white sugar and beat until light and fluffy. Beat eggs and vanilla together, then stir into the butter-sugar mixture. Mix well, then stir in the dry ingredients. Add brown sugar and mix thoroughly.

[Interesting side note: The baseline recipe I used to launch my experiment called for only 2 cups of flour, but this produced a mixture so wet it reminded me of the time I worked at a B&B and was making chocolate chip cookies for a busy weekend. I got distracted by the phone and ended up with only half the flour I was supposed to have, leading to a chocolate-buttery splooge instead of proper cookies. Being busy and not a little panicked, I scooped it up into little bites and sprinkled powdered sugar over it, and smiled nonchalantly as the guests gobbled it up. Goes to show: add enough sugar and butter and you can't go too far wrong with what people will eat. However, for this recipe, there was no way the sticky mess would roll into a decent log, so I doubled the flour and added a little brown sugar and salt for good luck.]

4. Spread out a generous handful of flour on a rolling mat or cutting board. In the bowl, knead the dough into a ball and cut roughly in half. Take one half and roll out into a ¼”-thick rectangle (I think mine was about 9 x 12” in size.) - orienting it with one of the longer sides facing you is probably easiest.

[Another note: a superb rolling pin is a MUST in any baker's kitchen. Anything less is like showing up to the Preakness with a mule.]

Using a butter knife, carefully spread a thin layer of nutella across the dough, trying to get as close up to the edges as possible. Then very carefully, take one of the longer ends and begin to roll the whole piece into a log. The first bit takes a little bit of coaxing, but it goes fairly smoothly if you're delicate with it. Wrap the log and stick it in the freezer to chill until hard to the touch (about 45 mins – 1 hour).

5.Take the bowl with the other half of the dough and knead in the raisins and coconut.

6.Grease two cookie sheets really well. Scoop spoonfuls of the dough and roll each like a ball between your palms until smooth and round.
Place them at least an inch apart on the cookie sheets and bake about 15 minutes or until the edges just start to turn brown. This will leave them crispy on the outside but still soft on the inside. Let cool for a few minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

7.When the nutella log is ready, pull it out of the freezer. Unwrap the foil, and with a sharp knife, cut the log into ½”-inch pieces. Like so:
Place them about an inch apart on lightly greased cookie sheets (I just reused the ones from the coconut raisin cookies, without washing them in between ~~because I was lazy~~ to get the perfect amount of grease.).
Bake for about 12-15 minutes, or until the edges start to brown. Let cool for a few minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yields about 18-20 coconut raisin cookies...
and 32 cinnamon nutella cookies.

Survey said:
YUM! These make really cute, decorative cookies, and being a little less malleable than regular chocolate chip-style cookies, they're easier to stack, organize and present. The flavor combinations are really wonderful too, with the coconut raisin cookies more on the spicy side and the nutella cookies on the nuttier side. I'm not usually a fan of the harder, crispier, crunchier cookies, usually erring more on the side of soft and gooshy, but these are super flavorful. In fact, they're downright deceptive: so easy to pop in your mouth, you don't even notice you've become a glutton until you've eaten half the plate. (cough) 'Cept I would never do a thing like that. Nope. Not me. (cough) All in all, these would be great additions for any party! ♥♥♥

-----------------------------------------
Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!
♥♥♥♥ Wow this is amazing for a special meal!
♥♥♥ Great choice for a dinner party!
♥♥ Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime.
♥ Eh. S'all right....
♠ Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share.

You Capture - Friends

2009-07-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

After months of lurking around Beth at I Should Be Folding Laundry's website and checking out the various contributions to her You Capture challenge, I finally decided I would up and take that challenge. When I saw this week's You Capture was Friends, I thought to myself, “Sweet!” We had a slew of friends visiting this weekend, and even better, a bunch were coming up to collaborate on a project: the birth of the Spearmint Dino art car for Burning Man. What better opportunity to capture true friendship than a bunch of friends putting their heads together to create a communal art project?

Goes to show, what works in your head doesn't always turn out on film. So we're just gonna have to make do with “happy accidents”, m'kay?

I wouldn't say these are the most gorgeous pictures I've taken aesthetically, but oh, I do love them for their irony.
You can see here, the guys are contemplating the art car because they ~~have effed up~~ have been presented with a challenge. Having built the majority of the art car, they (yes, apparently just now) realize they need to get it from the shop to the house where it will be stored and they hadn't quite planned that far out in their schemations. Trouble is: with the dino coming off about a foot on either side of the golf cart, it no longer fits in the bed of a truck. Being a golf cart which zooms along at a stunning 25 mph, it can't exactly be driven down the 101 – lest even slow-ass old grandpas be reduced to gesticulating rudely in our general direction. Built for the playa, it's meant to be outpaced by passing butterflies. And the guys, as proud little papas of their new baby, are loathe to dismantle it for transportation.

So what do they do? They call AAA.
This picture makes them look like a Christian rock band. 'Cept they're burners. Which is pretty much the antithesis of a Christian rock band.

AAA is entertaining the idea and asks for the addresses of pick-up and drop-off. My husband is negotiating with AAA, but doesn't know the address of the guy's house where it will be stored. Jeremy, the guy who does know the address has gone to the loo. So our friend, Jaime, is calling the guy in the loo for the address on one phone and relaying the information to Toby, who is on the other phone to Triple-A.
They're talking to each other while on their cell phones – just not on the phone with each other.

So while this week's You Capture was supposed to capture friends, and I was going for collaboration, what you see in the pictures is anomie. And a whole lot of technology.
Oh, the irony. (But hot dang, my man – the one in the black top – has a hot bod. Mm. Sorry. Easily distracted, I am.)

And as it turns out, AAA has no problem towing a recreational white and pink dino. What they do have a problem with is the fact that it is unregistered. No unregistered white-pink dinos for Triple A. Their dinos must come with papers. So after all that, the boys had to rent a U-Haul to tow it. Then the U-Haul turned out to be about 4 inches too short and they had to dismantle the dino anyway.

Because this happened:
Dino upload FAIL.

But it'll all be worth it once that dino hits the playa.

A Virgin’s Guide to Burning Man

2009-07-24T11:49:00.000-07:00

I believe everybody deserves the opportunity to go to Burning Man. Whether or not you decide to take that opportunity is a decision only you can make. Never let someone else tell you whether you should or shouldn’t go. Only you can determine just how willing you are to deal with adverse climates and how open you are to letting go of all societal inhibitions. But there’s nothing worse than being left behind because you’re told you probably can’t deal with it (especially if, in your heart, you disagree). I have a pretty rigid layer of societal inhibition, but it is also pretty thin. When I made the decision to go to Burning Man for the first time, I also made a decision to let that layer go. Turns out, when I opened my eyes on the playa that first morning, I took to that dry lake bed like a duck to water.
That said, Burning Man is not something to take lightly. It’s not camping in Yosemite with the grandparents and it’s not a spectator sport. It’s a mindf*ck, and it’s everything and more you could ever want it to be. But it helps to be prepared. And not just with your camping gear, but with your entire being, mind, heart and soul. To really go to Burning Man, you really have to BE there. To do that, you have to come mentally prepared.
So here is a list of suggestions to help you prepare for your virgin trip to Black Rock City:

1. Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely, you MUST read the Event Survival Guide. In order to be mentally prepared for Burning Man, you must first be physically prepared for it. Make sure you have good shelter, proper equipment to protect yourself and your camp, enough food and water, and other creature comforts to ensure your basic survival. People think Burning Man is all about dropping acid and having sex in the desert, and while for some people that is true, you can’t do either of those things if you’re suffering from dehydration or you’ve effed yourself on some wayward rebar in a duststorm. While people are more than willing to help, there is no guarantee they can and it’s not fair to assume you can leech off the good will of others. It IS radical self-reliance.

2. Bring the craziest, awesomest costumes you can think of. Nobody expects you to act or dress in any particular way – and that is the beauty of Burning Man: you can be WHOEVER the f*ck you want to be. You can go as Superman; you can go in your prom dress, you can go as your total free self; you can even go completely naked the entire seven days you’re there. If you could step into an alternate universe and your outfit could really reflect your inner mushu dingbat fliftybuck, what would it look like? Whatever that is, wear that. You can look however you want to, but do think about it and prepare for it, because otherwise when you get out there and see everyone else floating around with their mojo shining, you’re gonna wish you did that too. My absolute favorite outfit from my first time was a bright hot pink miniskirt with matching cowboy hat and Hello Kitty pasties. And I was hot. Not because I was topless save for two little stickers, but because when I wore that outfit I just exuded confidence and my own little spirit and other people responded to it. It’s not uncommon to walk around the playa and have random strangers tell you how beautiful you are. Because not only are you less inhibited to be yourself, you’re also less inhibited to recognize the beauty of others and tell them you appreciate their existence.

By far, the biggest concern I hear most often from Burning Man virgins is that they fear they don't have the self-confidence to put themselves out there like other burners. My first response is: Don't worry about it. Absolutely nobody cares what you wear or don't wear. So if you don't feel comfortable dressing up, just go in your comfy camping/vacation clothes. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. There are absolutely NO expectations regarding dress codes. My second response is to remind you that you have an entire week to get acclimated. So bring what you would wear if you had the cajones, and decide once you're there whether you want to wear it or not. Most likely, once you see all the cool stuff people are wearing, you're gonna want to do it too, and you'll have started to get used to the whole no-judgment atmosphere. The only thing that would suck is to wish you had an outfit to wear, but to be stuck having brought nothing. It's better to at least have the option.

If you’re having trouble coming up with ideas, take a gander at Patrick Roddie and Scott London’s photos of what people have worn in past years.

3. Set your intentions and release your expectations. It helps to go to Burning Man with a goal in mind, but you cannot have any expectations for what will happen, how people (including yourself) will be, or what it will be like. Burning Man will screw with you if you expect something out of it. But if you have a little wish, it’ll deal it back to you in ways you could never dream. My first time, I wanted to recover from a very difficult and traumatic experience. My only aim was to go write something on the Temple and hope that it helped. When I arrived, when I discovered the Temple that year was the Temple of Forgiveness, I cried. It was exactly what I needed to hear; it was exactly what I had come for. I made my gift for the Temple and when I sat in the silence with tens of thousands of others watching it burn, I felt the most incredible cleansing and release. I found forgiveness, and I found it in abundance. So come with a wish. It can be as little as to just have a good time, or as big as a soul-changing experience. Just don’t have any preconceptions for how it’ll play out.

Photo by Toby Keller

4. Bring a gift. You’ll hear this a thousand times: Burning Man is not a spectator sport. It is full participation. One of the best ways to participate is to bring something you can offer the community. This year, my camp is bringing a full bar stocked with $1,500 worth of good booze. We will unload ALL of it by the end of the week. And remember, it’s a GIFT economy; you give, you don’t barter, and you sure as heck don’t sell. In fact, it’s very odd and disconcerting to make your first cash transaction after leaving the playa and re-entering the default world; it seems a gift economy is the way things should be. But the number one reason why giving is great participation is because you put yourself out there and meet so many wonderful people. My first time, I baked 200 cookies and walked around with a little spray bottle filled with water and lavender essential oils, asking everybody I saw whether they wanted a cookie or a misting. I met so many wonderful people and got to see so much cool stuff, it was pure joy to do it - it just feels good to give. And within two days, people would recognize me and call out, “Hey it’s the Cookie & Mister girl!” (Don’t be surprised if you develop a playa name.)

5. Lastly, I would recommend bringing one or two items that would just make your trip the tits. The one or two creature comforts that transport you from doing just okay, to saying, “Life is aaaalll rriiiiight...” For me, that is baby wipes and the lavender water. I take little “baths” with the baby wipes every morning to freshen up, and the spray bottle helps cool me down in the heat and the lavender oil is relaxing and refreshing. Perfect for my soul. But find your thing, whether it’s your kick-ass homemade bloody mary mix, your favorite tunes, or your must-have comfort food (dry ice does wonders for keeping things cold), and be sure to bring that along.

Burning Man is a million things indescribable, but the first words you’ll hear when you step foot on the playa are “Welcome Home.”

Come find our bar at Spearmint Dino (Adapt & 7:30) and we’ll pour you a drink!

The Ballad of Jack & Rose

2009-07-23T09:56:00.000-07:00

Watching this movie, for me, was something like watching an exquisitely produced and gorgeously rendered slow-motion series of train wrecks. It was so beautiful, and yet so traumatic to watch. The acting, direction, and cinematography were all absolutely superb, and the characters had such great - or at least understandable - intentions and desires, but they went about them all the wrong way. And you, the audience, know the travesty is coming and are powerless to stop it.

My husband and I got two very different readings of the movie. Or perhaps, more accurately, we came away from it with two very different messages. Honestly, what he got from it was probably much closer to the filmmaker's intent. It's as the film wanted to say "See? This is how it's supposed to be! Happiness is freedom from the corruption of others."

I wanted to shout "No! You've got it all wrong!" Because if that is indeed what the movie intended, then I disagree with it's basic view of human nature and the purpose and effects of human society, and I can draw evidence from it's own characters and plot to show why I disagree.

I realize at this point I'm not doing a very good job of selling this movie. But if you like independent films, films with multiple possible interpretations, or movies that make you think about where you stand in this world, then this is the movie for you. (Highly recommended for burners, artists, philosophers, and political and literary theorists. Burners especially will relate to the difficulty of moving between an ideal world and the 'default world'.) I don't want to spoil any of the movie for anyone, so I won't say exactly what happens in it. Beyond its premise, I'll only say what it made me think about.

Daniel Day-Lewis does an outstanding job of portraying an environmentally-conscious father, Jack, who raises his daughter, Rose, on a remote island where they are almost entirely self-sufficient. They live in near total peace and happy harmony until he becomes terminally ill and realizes he must work out some other arrangement to care for his daughter when he passes away. So he tries to introduce other people to their little happy commune and trouble ensues from there. Catherine Keener, Paul Dano, Jason Lee, and Beau Bridges also star in this film.

It's rather difficult to discuss without getting into specifics, but what I thought when I saw the movie was that it shows just how powerful socialization is in shaping us. Our parents and all the people around us have a very important role to play in shaping our beliefs, in how we interact with the world, and what we know to be right and wrong. And what I really thought when I saw it was that what is really important is to have a variety of people around us, to teach us right from wrong as well as how to interact well with others. Perhaps it's the Buddhist in me speaking, but what I saw was a need for balance: that going too far for one ideal means sacrificing others (and in this movie, it puts you in the awkward position of facing the question: is incest wrong because society says it's wrong, or is there something inherently wrong with incestuous relationships?). Growing up with only her father, Rose acquired all his ideals, but she also suffered tremendously because of his failings. Because he didn't know how to communicate, she didn't either - and her attempts at communication devolved into increasingly hurtful and dangerous actions designed to protect her self interest. I'm not saying she is wrong; only that she didn't know better. She had only ever been allowed to be with her father, could only know what it was to love him, which led to a sexual mess when it came to any positive feelings towards men.

We may not always like what people different from us do and say, but that doesn't necessarily mean they are indecent people. As different as people may be, we do share commonalities, and more importantly, there is often something we can learn from others. Ideology is important, having a set of values is what defines us as a people and as individuals, but sometimes ideological coherence is not itself ideal. Ideals taken to the extreme can lead to suffering, and ultimately undermine their own purpose.

Sandwiches on the Grill

2009-07-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

I {heart} summer, and most especially for the plethora of divine fruits and vegetables sprouting cascades of color and earthly delight. For the past week or two, I've been enjoying the abundance of zucchini and summer squash by grilling up sandwiches. These are so yummy and filling, I just had to share.

To make them, I slice up about a third to a half of a zucchini, and the same of summer squash. I cut thin slices of a third of a red bell pepper. Then I slice one portobello mushroom and grill them up with a couple of sprays of olive oil. I use a panini press (and every day thank the glorious person who got us this wedding gift) to grill the veggies and then press the whole sandwich, but not everyone has one. So if you don't have a panini press, ~~go out and buy one now~~ you can just pan-fry the veggies together. Toast two slices of wheat bread (with a spritz of olive oil on each side) and add a little mayo, garlic powder (or a garlic clove, chopped, if you're feeling feisty), oregano, and salt and pepper. Layer the hot veggies on the bread and add a slice of provolone to melt. Et voila!

And I can definitely give this five hearts: ♥♥♥♥♥ because I have been eating this every day for lunch. (If you have a toaster oven at work, you can make these babies ahead of time and just heat them up in the toaster oven.) It's mouth-watering tasty, and plus it's just so pretty with that riot of color! But as difficult as it might be to hold off, you might want to let this one sit for a few minutes before eating "to let the cheese melt"...a.k.a. the veggies will be nuclear and we don't want to sear the skin off our delicate little mouths. Says the {sad} voice of experience.

-----------------------------------
Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!
♥♥♥♥ Wow this is amazing for a special meal!
♥♥♥ Great choice for a dinner party!
♥♥ Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime.
♥ Eh. S'all right....
♠ Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share.

Nesting Pains Continued

2009-07-21T13:09:00.000-07:00

In the unending saga of desire to make a nest and call it home to fill with approximately two munchkins, I've decided that if I can't have a real nest at least maybe I can have a half nest and fill it with pretty things to help me pretend I have a real nest.

I recently visited a friend who lives with her husband in an apartment in San Francisco. It's a two-bedroom, but they've decorated with nice furniture. Furnishing we call adult furniture. Not college furniture. Not the fossilized hand-me-downs from parents. Not the Back-To-School sale items from Linens N' Things, and definitely not the lumpy old couch filled with beer stains, old farts, and that one sticky spot that nobody can quite identify ('Cuz really, does anyone even remember what happened that one night?).

I bought a townhouse when the market was good and I had a well-paying job, and I remember being overwhelmed with how much it would cost to furnish the townhouse with nice things. It seemed practically empty. But when I made the decision to go to grad school (what was I thinking?), I had to rent that one out, turn it in for a shoebox room in a (crazy) house, shared with other (crazy) people. Enter boyfriend-now-husband, I've upgraded to shoebox apartment. And now I'm stuck in a tiny space, with furniture crammed in without an inch to spare.

But the nesting pains are hitting hard, with no end in sight for the foreseeable future. And when it does come time to buy a house, I don't want to be quite so overwhelmed with all the stuff we'd have to get to fill it properly.

So I figure, in the meantime, it would be worthwhile to at least UPGRADE the stuff we do have. We can exchange the college things we have just because we have to have something to sit on/eat at/cook with, and turn them in for nice things in an aesthetic we actually enjoy (the wedding went a long way towards helping with this). We have nice dishes, stemware, and bedding we adore. We have a big ass flat screen TV (and pretty much everything Apple has come out with). I can't control the fact that we live in a shoebox, but I can control what a lot of our stuff looks like. With a few low-cost touches, I think we can make our place much nicer, much more OUR OWN, spread out the financial pain of getting stuff to fill a real home, and also try out different aesthetics to get a feel for what we like and what we'll tire of before committing whole-hog.

Step 1:
Upgrade the bathroom. Now, some of you might remember the fiasco that was our shower tile remodeling. For those who don't, you really ought to read this post: Construction Madness.

There's still not much I can do about the navy blue tile, but at least I can hide it behind a shower curtain. And not this one:

This curtain was a gift from Toby's stepmom (and I'm pretty sure she purchased it with an inordinate amount of glee from Ikea). The little dancing stick animal figures are not entirely my aesthetic, but it was a gift, kind of cute, and it has served us well for several years now. That rug has definitely served its time, having come from my old college roommate, Katie, back in oh-naught. Somehow, move after move, it has ended up in my possession, and I am very ready to retire it.

I saw a gorgeous satin teal and brown shower curtain (honestly, the picture doesn't do it justice) and had to snap it up immediately.

I got towels and mat to match, and am very pleased with the results. For a full two days afterward, I kept walking by the bathroom just to bask in the glow of excitement for pretty, new decor. (Yes, I am this domestic. Bite me.) I plan to add a couple more accents, but that is for a later post.

Step 2:
Renovate coffee table. We don't have a dining room; all we have is this coffee table that serves simultaneously as a work station, TV viewing spot, and dining table. It is a hand-me-down from my parents. I'm pretty sure it's approximately 20 years old, and given perhaps another 10 years, it might actually come back in style. But it is still a perfectly good table, and I think combined with our current living room furniture, would serve really well in a future office, den or game room. It's worth holding on to, but after 20 years, it definitely collected some dust, grime, and gunk.

So last night I spent a couple of hours scrubbing and sanding it down. I really wish I had the forethought to take a Before picture. But even just cleaning it was a marked improvement. It looked quite pretty.

But this morning, we hauled it out onto the front lawn and I whipped out my trusty little brushes and stained it.

And now it's all pretty. And shiny! Who knew it could shine? Not me. It just needs to dry a couple more hours, I'll slip the glass back on and ba-da-bing! Brand new old table. I'll cover it with this table runner, and our living room will have a much needed face lift.

Steps 3 & 4 will involve painting our living room walls and kitchen cabinets. True, our landlord would have a hissy fit if he found out, but we plan to paint it back when we move out. And I have officially decided I Say No to swiss coffee. I am so tired of that stupid wall paint. From henceforth, my walls shall have color! We have visitors coming this weekend, so next weekend I will continue the decorating extravaganza. So stay tuned! Same bat time. Same bat channel.

Because Maybe Accountability Works

2009-07-20T10:07:00.001-07:00

I have been much less productive than I have wanted to be lately - and certainly less productive than I need to be, and I am seeing the result in my waistline and to-do lists. Why, oh why, can't conspicuous consumption and consummate laziness equal health and prosperity?

Truth be told, I haven't been lazy exactly. I've just been too lax about my priorities. A little too much socializing, too little work, too much eating, too little exercise, and so the story goes. It's so much easier to forget to do something, or to bullshit away the time than to commit to a project and see it through. I do have discipline and can be disciplined, but the past couple of weeks haven't really proven it.

So today begins a new day. I got up at a decent hour, showered, exercised, and created my list of things to accomplish today (because nothing is more satisfying than crossing of items from a to-do list - even if the item you crossed off is "create a to-do list"). The fridge is stocked with fruits and vegetables, and I'm re-committing to my healthy diet. I'm also restricting my socializing, at least for now, something I haven't had to do since the first few years of grad school. But socializing is cutting too much in to my time to get work done. Moreover being out with others also inevitably introduces food and alcohol that I shouldn't be consuming. And the more alcohol there is, the more food I am guaranteed to shovel into my mouth. Oh margaritas, how you mock my resolve.

But not today. Today, I've got my running shoes on, and I'm raring to go.

Asian Orzo Salad Served Up With Fresh Lemon-Lime-Mint-ade

2009-07-16T12:19:00.000-07:00

We've been eating out a LOT lately, with heavy and large meals on the menu several days in a row. While it's great to be social and get out on the town a bit, it does do a number on our digestive systems. So this week, I really just wanted to do something light, healthy and super fresh. My bloodstream was clamoring for a detox, so I delivered.

A friend of mine had once made an Asian Orzo salad, and I remembered how light and crisp it was - perfect for summer eating. So I decided I would try that too. I perused a bunch of recipes online, and they all seemed to be roughly the same (but rather heavy on the oil). I wanted a lighter version, so with the online recipes as a vague guidepost, I came up with this variation to serve two:

Asian Orzo Salad

Ingredients:
1 chicken breast, cooked & shredded
4 oz. dry orzo (or 2 cups cooked)
1 carrot, diced
1/2 red bell pepper, chopped
3 green onions, chopped
3/4 cup sugar snap peas, steamed
3/4 cup cherry or grape tomatoes
1/2 cup canned sliced water chestnuts
1/4 cup diced cucumber
4 tsp. oil
3 tsp. rice vinegar (rice wine vinegar also works)
2 tsp. soy sauce
2 tsp. hoisin sauce
salt and pepper

Directions:
1. I first grilled the chicken on a panini press to cook it, but pan frying it would work just as well. While the chicken was grilling, I boiled the orzo until cooked (about 8 minutes), drained the water and set it aside in a large bowl. Then I shredded the cooked chicken and added it to the orzo bowl.

2. Next I steamed the sugar snap peas, and chopped up all the veggies and chestnuts, and added them to the orzo and chicken.

3. Then I mixed the oil, vinegar, soy sauce and hoisin sauce until blended. Then I added it to the salad and tossed until mixed. I added a little salt and pepper to taste for the finish.

4. Chill for at least half an hour before serving.

My thoughts:
The Asian Orzo salad was perfect for what our mood was: it was light, crisp, cool and a great summer eat. I loved that it was heavy on the veggies, with chicken for protein (and of course the chicken can be substituted with tofu for vegetarians, or delete it completely and just use more orzo for balance with the veggies). The orzo was filling, but I didn't put a lot, so it was decently light on carbs. My husband thought it was great, so I'm happy when he's a happy camper. For me, as a recipe itself, I would probably give it two hearts: ♥♥. It was pretty good and I would be happy to have it again, but I'm not sure it'll quite make it into our usual repertoire. I might also experiment a bit more with the sauce. Hoisin sauce is not one I use regularly. I might try substituting it with oyster sauce instead and adding a little sugar or Splenda if it needs extra sweetening.

EDIT: A week later I tried the same dish and added a dash of white pepper and a few splashes of fish sauce and it was perfect! Just the thing the sauce needed for a little kick: a little savory to counter the sweet of the soy and hoisin. I'm pretty sure that officially bumped it up to three hearts ♥♥♥, and I served it to dinner guests with fresh cherries and lychees for dessert and it was a hit. Light but filling. Yup, fish sauce fixes everything.

However, I did serve it up with fresh, home-made lemonade, which I absolutely LOVED. I have a feeling I'll be making this all summer long.

The Best Lemonade Ever

What makes this the best lemonade is that it is not just lemons. It is lemons plus limes and mint. YUM. I make it with Splenda because I try to avoid too much sugar, but of course it can be made with sugar.

Ingredients:
4 lemons
4 limes
8 sprigs of fresh mint
18 packets of Splenda (or 3/4-1 cup sugar, depending on taste)
1 cup of water to boil
2 cups of cool water to add

Directions:
1. Add Splenda to 1 cup of water and bring to a boil. Stir occasionally to dissolve Splenda in the water.

2. Squeeze the lemons and limes (makes about 3/4 cups of lemon-lime juice).

3. Add the Splenda-water to the lemon-lime juice, and add 2 cups cool water. Taste to see if you prefer more lemon-lime juice or more water, but this amount is my personal preference.

4. Muddle and mush the mint sprigs in the bottom of a glass with a spoon (this helps release the menthol). Add to lemonade. Chill for at least an hour before serving.

My thoughts:
I LOVE LOVE LOVE this lemonade. I first stumbled upon it by accident when I only had one lemon available, but a bunch of limes and REALLY wanted lemonade. The limes add just a hint of complexity to the lemons, and the menthol adds a real fun kick. This would also make a great mixer with some good tequila (not Jose Cuervo, but something more along the lines of a Corzo Reposado). I give it: ♥♥♥♥♥ because it is simply amazing.

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Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!
♥♥♥♥ Wow this is amazing for a special meal!
♥♥♥ Great choice for a dinner party!
♥♥ Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime.
♥ Eh. S'all right....
♠ Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share.

Nuala & Garren Get Hitched!

2009-07-15T12:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, yesterday
In a land that time forgot
Nuala Mansard and Garren Fisher
Lately did tie the knot.

In a sacramental service
Oh so beautiful, intimate, and sweet
At the Santa Barbara Mission Rose Garden
Two beloved hearts did meet.

Some pretty pictures
Toby that day took
So all that maybe wish to
Can later have a look.
And under threat of Michele's fury
Hellfire, damnation, and rot
Toby processed them and published them
Where all can be quickly seen and got.

They look so happy!
They glow with such bliss!
Nuala smiles lightly, lovely and often
As she gazes at her man.
And well you can see love shines bright
When Garren gazes at his lamb.

And a muppet in his pocket
Apparently 'tis what I am.

We are so honored to have been a part of this glorious, wonderful and special day.
Congratulations, newlyweds!
(Apologies for the crappy poem. This is why I am not a poet.)

Happy for No Reason

2009-07-14T12:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, while running errands, I tuned into a segment on NPR where Marci Shimoff, author of Happy for No Reason, was giving an interview based on her research into happiness. I only caught a brief snippet of the interview, but what stood out to me was that she said everybody has a happiness quotient. This is the baseline ratio or number of how happy a person is, regardless of circumstance. You could win the lottery and within a year, you'd return to this baseline number.

This happiness quotient is about 50% genetic, but the rest of it is largely up to individual choice: how one chooses to view the world and respond to it. True happiness has nothing to do with what happens to you, what things you have in your life or what things you don't have. That happiness is superficial and fleeting. True happiness comes from what you give out. So for example, one of the things she said is that being loved is not a cause for true happiness. But giving out love, in gratitude, forgiveness, doing for others, caring for others...that's what brings true happiness. She quoted a Chinese proverb:

"If there is light in the soul, there will be beauty in the person. If there is beauty in the person, there will be harmony in the house. If there is harmony in the house, there will be order in the nation. If there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world."

It seemed from what I caught in the interview that much of what she said was based on scientific research, though when I went to her website, it seemed very commercialized, with very little mention of data or credentials. So that makes me a little skeptical. But what she says has a lot of face validity to me - it sounds logical and true on it's face. It certainly reflects my own particular perspective and experience in the world.

What really struck me was the notion that people have a baseline happiness quotient regardless of circumstance-and that that happiness level has an affect on the people around you. I have known people whose mere presence in a room can either brighten it, or suck all the energy out of it.

There is a very remarkable difference between happy people who fall on hard times, and truly sad or angry people. Even if the hard times are lasting for happy people, and they turn to others for support, it is never an encumbrance to help them and be there for them. But people who are naturally more negative can be intensely draining to be around, even when they are in a decent mood. With them, there is always a problem, always a drama, and in my experience, they always find passive aggressive ways to let you know they're upset. And while I have been known to be passive aggressive when I was younger, once I got old enough to really see what I was doing, I worked hard to recognize and change that about myself because I can't stand passive aggressiveness. It's weak and ultimately harmful because: 1) it makes solving the problem infinitely more difficult because you're never dealing with the real issue, only smoke and mirrors and symptoms of the issue, 2) the passive-aggressor is only punishing everybody else for the unhappiness they feel, instead of ponying up to their own responsibility, and 3) the passive-aggressor gets to pretend they're the victim, they're misunderstood or unappreciated. They're so good at pretending this, they can't see past their own bullshit. They martyr themselves for others and resent it all the while.

But I digress. You can see this is a pet peeve of mine.

I don't know if Shimoff's argument is appealing because it contains both an ability to blame unhappiness on something over which we have no control, and an element where we can tell ourselves we can change how we feel-that we do have choice and control. We can tell ourselves, "I'm not to blame, but I have the freedom to change if I want." It's the epitome of American dogma, isn't it? I have long believed that happiness comes from how you choose to respond to the hand life deals you, but maybe we are predisposed-whether through nature or nurture-to be more optimistic or pessimistic. But I do know, of the unhappy people I've known, some could benefit from a healthy dose of gratitude for what others do for them and the others could do with a little bit of forgiveness.

But then, perhaps, they don't want to be happy. This is something else I have observed: some people are actually genuinely and perfectly content to wallow in a cocoon of self-pity.

Vacation or Staycation, Try the Wine Country

2009-07-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

For our first wedding anniversary, my husband and I decided to go wine tasting up in the Santa Ynez region, recently made famous by the movie Sideways, and conveniently enough, located in our backyard.

We enjoy wine tasting up in this scenic area, but this time we decided to splurge and hire a driver to take us around. A quick Google search online introduced us to Cloud Climbers Jeep Tours, who do group wine tours, including 4 wineries, more wine than you can taste, tasting glasses, a fabulous lunch, door-to-door service and a driver who will tell you all about the area and its wineries. Best of all, you get to ride around in a jeep - and not haggle over who gets to be the designated driver. How cool is that?

We were joined by a couple up for a mini vacation from LA, and having such a small group, our wine tour talk quickly devolved from the usual local history tidbits, to which everyone politely nods with bemused interest, to the latest news about the pot farm just beyond the ridge and how much tax money we're wasting on suicide barriers on the nearby bridge. Not your mother's wine tour, I must say - but infinitely more entertaining. We also more readily herdable, being a smaller group, which meant we got the added bonus of hitting up a fifth winery since we had time.

The thing I loved most was that the tour did not have preset winery destinations. Our driver asked us what kind of wines we liked, what we were in the mood for, then took us to his recommended spots. We hit up Brander, Lincourt, Gainey, Saarloos, and Artiste. My husband and I had planned to buy one bottle of wine. We took home three.

Of the five, Artiste was the only one we had been to before, and it was the last one on our list. I would like to tell you their wines were amazing, fabulous, and not-to-be-missed. But as it was the fifth winery that day, my wine palate had disintegrated from detecting floral, citrus, or spice and earth tones, to only being able to distinguish between whites and reds. Though, the sweetness of the final port did shine through enough for me to smack my lips on it, find a scrap book and draw a picture of a turtle. My husband added to the drawing: his turtle humped my turtle. You can see what a state we were in.

We ended up buying one bottle from Brander and two from Lincourt - all of them were whites of some kind or another. I think the heat of the day ruined my taste for reds this trip around. But the winery I truly enjoyed visiting was Saarloos & Sons.
Family owned and operated, this winery has quirky-yet-cool staff members who love to talk to you and tell stories. It also has the most AMAZING cupcakes...I might have to say they even beat Crushcakes. They were oh so moist, and flavored with wine. But the part I loved best was the aesthetic: vintage Victorian with a hint of modern, and a twist of grunge.

The day ended with dinner at Via Maestra 42, the top-notch, authentic Italian restaurant who catered our wedding. All in all it was a fabulous day and a magical way to spend an anniversary. For all you Californians out there, or others near a winery, this is a great vacation idea for these tight times when you want to keep it close to home.

A Year Ago

2009-07-10T12:27:00.001-07:00

A year ago today, I was in my kitchen with my mom and my matron of honor preparing food for the wedding rehearsal dinner. I was worried and anxious that the party would go well and that the food would turn out nicely. I was thrilled to have my loved ones all around me. I was trying to think if there was anything I'd forgotten, and mostly surprised by how smoothly things were going. But most of all, I was impatient and excited for one of the most important events of my life: my wedding day.

On July 11, 2008, I married Toby Matthew Keller, and tomorrow we shall celebrate our one-year anniversary. So much has happened in one year, I still cannot believe it has already been a year. Somehow it feels as though the three months right after the wedding just never existed. It's like our honeymoon was another world to where we time warped, only to boomerang back sometime in October, when reality really sank back in.

I didn't think it was possible to love him more than I did on our wedding day. But marriage has changed us, and deepened our relationship in ways I could never imagine. There is a sense of security and comfort, where we are each other's foundations, our rocks on which to lean and find the courage and will to pursue our dreams. Even when we argue or disagree, there is no fear, because we know, underneath the disagreement, we are solid and secure with each other. Yes, marriage is a lot of work. To constantly be aware of another's needs and desires, to want them to succeed and always be happy, to find ways to get past the problems life hands you, it is work. It takes energy, commitment and will-power. But it is so worth it, because the good times are so very, very good.

Inevitably, there will be times when it is so very, very hard. But I write this so that my future self will always remember the good times, and to help us get through the bad. I don't wish to sugar-coat marriage, because I think over-sentimentalizing it and over-romanticizing it leaves one in danger of being unprepared for the reality of it.

But I also believe that people who say marriage doesn't matter, that it's just a piece of paper, are full of sh*t (no offense), and are probably masking a fear of commitment. There is something indescribably important about standing up, with your loved one, in front of all your family and friends, and pledging your entire life, heart and soul to each other. And to know that all your family and friends have witnessed that moment, support you, honor that commitment, and pledge to help you sustain that commitment. A marriage is not just a pact between two people; it is a pact between two families (to whatever degree those families are present in your lives) - and I come from a large, in-your-business, love-you-until-rocks-bleed Asian family. And once there is a marriage, we don't believe in distinctions between blood relatives and in-laws. Every one is family. Every one has a place and belongs, where there is no judgment, only love and support. Whether (you think) you want them to be there or not.

So tomorrow, we will celebrate the passing of a year. We will go wine-tasting, we will flirt with each other, we'll dine on fine foods and wedded bliss. And we'll celebrate the day when two became one.

*Wedding photos taken by Kelly Segre Photography.

Grad School Killed the Lit'rary Star

2009-07-09T12:16:00.000-07:00

I have lost my ability to read, and I blame grad school entirely. I no longer read. Ever. I skim. It actually takes a concerted effort to really read, and even then, halfway through I forget and skip a few lines.

I've always loved great literature and language that transports and inspires. But grad school quickly knocked that notion out of me. My first quarter I had to get through 600 pages a week, on top of 3 3-hour seminars, papers, presentations, a readership, and a 25-hour a week job - a perhaps an emotional breakdown or two. And those are 600 academic pages, mind you. Not Harry Potter. Six hundred pages of fiction I can get through in a matter of hours. I challenge any non-academic to try reading Moravcsik with any kind of efficiency and get his argument on the first read. Or Skowronek. Brilliant scholar he may be, but Lord, he cannot write.

The only way to survive graduate school is to learn to skim, and skim so well you can get through an article in minutes, and a book in less than an hour and have the main argument. I don't think any scholar (in my field at least) ever reads an entire book.

But while this is a handy skill in grad school, it means the rest of my reading suffers. I just finished getting through two very similar books: Possession, by A.S. Byatt, and The Rossetti Letter, by Christi Phillips. Both books are about scholars stumbling across some historical artifact that changes our understanding of history and follows two simultaneous storylines: that of the scholars, and that of the lovers in history. And by far, I enjoyed The Rossetti Letter, not because it was a better book, but because I was more entertained. The plot-literary moment balance was skewed more in favor of the plot, and so I stuck with the book more. Possession had great swaths of text that contained no plot, and I jumped over whole passages, waiting to get to the interesting part. And my reading of the book suffered for it, I'm sure. I should probably go back and re-read it and pay it the attention that it is due.

But honestly, I don't have time. If I'm going to stick with a book these days, it has to compel me. Which is sad, because I miss savoring books. Instead, I devour them. And leave crumbs all over the table.

Pumpkin Pie Muffins with Cream Cheese Filling

2009-07-08T10:41:00.000-07:00

Omigod. YUM. Just that name alone makes me drool. Last week, we went to The Palace Grill, which always has these amazing mini muffins (like apricot, or molasses, or jalapeno cheddar...) and I felt inspired to make some yummy muffins for my husband's birthday, which was yesterday. I was thinking of some of his favorite flavors, maybe something along the lines of maple and pecan, and then it struck me! Pumpkin pie! My husband LOVES pumpkin pie. So I started googling recipes for pumpkin pie muffins.

I found a few that were interesting, but seemed lacking in one sense or the other, and began to think I'd need to patch together several recipes, all the while thinking that a cream cheese filling would be the perfect touch. That's when I came across this recipe: Bakergirl Creations' recipe for Pumpkin Pie Muffins with Cream Cheese Filling. OOoooh yeeeaahhh...

So I tried to make the muffins and document the process as I went. I wanted to take a photo of the part where you have to make a well in the muffin, using two spoons, and plop in a teaspoon of the cream cheese filling. But it turns out it takes two hands to make a well with the two spoons, and a third hand to hold the camera. Of which I am lacking. So all I got was a stupid photo:

And a splooged muffin:

But thankfully, when they came out of the oven, they looked like this:

And they were pure sin in a pocket. Filled with pretty much everything decadent you could imagine to put in a muffin, these little babies were so moist and flavorful, you could eat them all day. The cream cheese was a perfect counterpoint to all the myriad spices. They taste rich and sweet, but not sickeningly so. The spices balance the decadence nicely.

My rating
♥♥♥ I would give it 5 hearts because I definitely could eat them all day long, every day. But if I did, I would quickly look like a cream cheese muffin. I think these are perfect additions to a dinner party, where you can spread the love around (as much as you might want to hoard them all to yourself).

------------------
Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!
♥♥♥♥ Wow this is amazing for a special meal!
♥♥♥ Great choice for a dinner party!
♥♥ Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime.
♥ Eh. S'all right....
♠ Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share.

The Language of Love and Grief

2009-07-07T10:55:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, I heard a theory that people give love in different ways and it is important to learn to speak each other's language of love so that your loved ones perceive and appreciate your tokens of affection and so that you can see when others are giving love in return. It is when we misinterpret or don't even see each other's efforts that feelings of hurt and under-appreciation arise.

According to this theory, there are five languages of love: quality time, words of appreciation, expensive gifts, acts of service, and physical intimacy. We all engage in all or most of these actions to greater or lesser extent, but we usually tend towards one or two predominant ones. We give love and expect love back in those terms (or at least recognize it most easily). Quality time people relish most the time spent in their loved one's company. The act of being together, even if not really doing anything, often is more meaningful than the finest diamonds in the world. Words of appreciation people love to lavish praise and verbal affection, and it is warm words that mean the most to them. Meanwhile, for others, words are not as important as other gifts. For some, love is measured in extravagance. These people love to spoil and pamper, and the cost of the gift is proportional to the act of love. For others, love is measured in gifts of devotion. Cooking special dinners, helping with various and sundry tasks, and otherwise doing for others becomes a demonstration of love and affection. And finally, physical intimacy and the need and desire to embrace, hold hands, or just be in touch with someone (literally) becomes a manner of expressing love and affection.

I would say my language of love is primarily acts of service, with quality time and physical intimacy as secondary traits. I do engage in the other two, but to a much lesser extent. My husband, however, I would say is primarily and "expensive gifts" person, with quality time and physical intimacy as secondary traits. I used to expect more acts of service from him, and felt slighted and undervalued when I didn't always receive them. It wasn't until I began to see all the little and big tokens of affection - anywhere from buying groceries, to taking me to dinner, to the fabulous, expensive coats - as all the ways he shows me he loves me that I could truly see and appreciate his devotion on the level it deserved recognition. But with quality time and physical intimacy as both our secondary traits, we speak easily in those domains.

However, I think what might be true of love, might also be true of stress and grief. I've been listening to various family dramas lately and it occurs to me that people deal with grief differently too, and if we don't understand and respect each other's way of dealing with grief, increased conflict and hurt feelings could result.

From what I have seen in my limited experience, I think there might be four languages of grief: sympathizers, bottlers, imploders and exploders. Sympathizers (of whom I would be one) reach out to others for empathy in their grief. They love to console and be consoled, and this constitutes a major part of the grieving process for them, as well as a way to bond with others. They see empathy in times of need as another way to deepen a relationship. Bottlers, on the other hand, shut people out. They may even act passive-aggressively in dealing with their grief, but they keep it close to their chest and much prefer to deal with grief and anger on their own terms. Imploders are similar to bottlers in their sense that they are better left to themselves when upset. They grumble in anger, they may even be spectacularly violent in their fury and perhaps destroy a few inanimate objects, but if left to their own devices, their pain is usually short-lived. Finally, exploders are those who deal with anger and grief outwardly. In more positive ways, they may insist upon dealing with problems and hashing out concerns with the targets of their frustration, working at a problem until it is resolved. In more negative manifestations, they may engage in accusations, argumentation and blame.

I think these categories may even fall along two dimensions: intimacy and time to deal, where intimacy refers to how inwardly or outwardly grief manifests itself in relation to other people. Time to deal refers to how long it takes to manage and resolve the grief.

While I'm a sympathizer, I would say my husband is an imploder. But I quickly learned to give him space and he learned that a warm embrace and a few sweet words go a long way towards me finding me inner peace again. Thankfully in doing so, both of us help each other deal with grief more efficiently so the bad times don't last any longer than they have to.

But this is just a theory based on my own personal observations. I would be very interested to know if this theory holds true in other lives. Also, being a sympathizer and married to an imploder, I feel I might understand these perspectives a little more clearly - and may have given short shrift to the other two personality types. If anyone feels they can elucidate those two perspectives better, I would be most willing to amend my little theory here. It's a work in progress. Please pardon my dust.

The Fidgety-Fidgets

2009-07-03T11:02:00.000-07:00

I started off the week feeling blue, shifted quickly to anxious, relieved, happy and productive, and now I'm on to fidgety. I am so female. I suppose the fidgety-ness comes from the fact that it is FRIDAY(!) before a glorious holiday weekend that will be spent in San Francisco with fabulous friends. Some of whom are moving to Morocco (booo!...except that I might get to visit, maybe even as soon as next spring as my husband and I are talking about doing a trip to Syria and Morocco...YAY!).

I'm very much looking forward to festivities and good times with the friends. But a large part of me is very sad that I cannot be in Australia right now. Well, okay, I almost always wish I could be in Australia, but I do have a very particular reason today. My cousin, with whom I'm very close, like almost-sister close, is getting married. It's a quick and small wedding due to extraneous time and budget constraints. But all of her family is either in Thailand or California, and because of the timing, none of us can be there with her. I feel...displaced somehow, not being able to witness this moment in her life and stand by her side through it. I want to see her glow; I want to see her radiantly happy. And pictures, no matter how well-captured, are but pale imitations of the real thing. I feel a loss, not being able to be there, and I only hope she does not feel alone on that day. I will be thinking of her, as will all of our family.

But I can't succumb to the fidgety-fidgets for very long. I have much to do today! My manuscript is, I think, about 99.5% done. I have just one last read-through to do, mostly for cosmetic changes, and this makes me excited, nervous, and proud all at once. Even if it gets rejected, I feel proud that it is complete. (Well, I'm sure it will get rejected. Probably multiple times. But all it takes is that one yes, right?)

In the meantime, I also have laundry to do, survey data to enter, weekend items to pack, and a multitude of other various and sundry tasks to complete. So, as the French would say, "On y va!"

Happy Fourth everyone!

Bacon Wrapped Dates and Spanish Meatballs with an Almond Sauce

2009-07-02T10:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry vegetarians, this week's taste test constituted a veritable meat orgy. With the July 4th weekend and the requisite BBQ parties fast approaching, I thought I would try a couple of dishes that would make great party platters. And what better way to do party appetizers than Spanish tapas? I suppose Spanish food might not be considered quite appropos on a day celebrating American Independence to those who believe the BBQ should be all-American...but well...hey, at least it's not British.

These two appetizers are so yummy and flavorful, I guarantee they will be a hit with the guests—at least your carnivorous ones. The first one, the bacon-wrapped dates, are less of an experiment for me this time because I have made them before. However, I did discover them in a restaurant and just had to kind of wing the recipe. And they were so good I served them at our wedding rehearsal dinner and they disappeared before I even finished putting out the rest of the platters.

Bacon-Wrapped Dates with Honey

1 package bacon (I prefer the maple smoked variety)
1 package dates
Honey
Toothpicks (the thick, flat ones are sturdiest)

Cut the bacon slices in half (not lengthwise), so you have double the number of short pieces. Roll each date up in a bacon slice and spear them with the toothpick. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet and bake at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes, or until the edges are crispy. Serve on a platter and drizzle honey over each piece.

My thoughts:
These appetizers are so easy to make and they really are party favorites. The combination of salt and sweet is so perfectly balanced, and it hits everyone's tastebuds just right.
I give this one: ♥♥♥♥. I think it is “Omigosh so amazing” I could eat it every night, but seeing as how it is bacon, I probably shouldn't.

Spanish Meatballs in an Almond Sauce

(These proportions served 4 people as part of a larger meal and made about 25 meatballs.)

For the meatballs:
1 slice wheat bread with the crust removed
2 tbsp water
2 c. ground pork (ground beef, lamb, or veal would also be good)
¾ small onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, chopped
1 tbsp fresh flatleaf parsley
1 egg, beaten
a few sprinkles nutmeg
a few sprinkles cinnamon
dried, crushed red chilies to taste
salt and pepper
all-purpose flour, for coating
2 tbsp olive oil
juice of 1 lemon

For the sauce:
2 tbsp olive oil
1 slice white bread, crust removed
½ cup blanched, slivered almonds
1 garlic clove, chopped
1/3 c. dry white wine
dried, crushed red chilies
salt and pepper
1 c. mushroom broth

Directions:
For the meatballs, put the bread in a bowl, add the water and let soak in a bowl for about 5 minutes. Take the bread out and squeeze out the water and place bread back in the bowl. Add the pork, onion, garlic, parsley, egg, and seasonings & spices. Knead the ingredients together well.

Spread some four on a plate. With floured hands, roll the mixture into bite-size meatballs and roll each in the flour until coated.

Using a large, deep skillet for frying, heat the olive oil and fry meatballs in batches for a few minutes per batch. Turn the meatballs to sear each side. Do not cook through, only brown the outsides. Remove the meatballs from the pan.

Heat the olive oil for the sauce in the same skillet. Break the bread into pieces and add the almonds. Stir-fry until golden brown, then add the garlic and the wine. Allow to boil for a couple of minutes and add the seasonings.

Pour the sauce into a blender with the mushroom broth and blend until smooth. Return to the skillet, add the meatballs and simmer for 25 minutes. Season sauce with more salt and pepper, to taste.

Serve the meatballs on a platter. Add the lemon juice to the sauce and mix until blended in. Pour the sauce on top of the meatballs. Garnish the platter with parsley and serve dish with sliced french or sourdough bread to mop up the sauce.

My thoughts:
These meatballs were super yummy. The sauce was not a combination of flavors I'm really used to, but it was surprisingly good and complimented the meat so well.
We served the two tapas with a feta and balsamic vinegar salad and artichoke-heart couscous and everything went really well together. I will definitely be making the meatballs again. My one caveat is that I personally am not a huge fan of parsley; I much prefer cilantro. So the next time I make this, I will use cilantro instead of the parsley. It took a little over an hour to make (though I do move slowly in the kitchen), but was much easier than I thought it would be. I give this one also: ♥♥♥♥. I could definitely eat it every night; but it does take some time to make, so I think it'll have to stay in the special meal category.

Happy Eating!

----------------------------------
Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!
♥♥♥♥ Wow this is amazing for a special meal!
♥♥♥ Great choice for a dinner party!
♥♥ Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime.
♥ Eh. S'all right....
♠ Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share.

A Spectacular Fall

2009-07-01T10:47:00.001-07:00

Night photo "Knapp's Castle Electrified", taken by my husband, Toby Keller.

Last night we went up to Knapp's Castle for a sunset picnic to celebrate my sister-in-law's 25th birthday. It's a gorgeous setting in the Santa Ynez mountains. The road leading up to it has fabulous views of both the ocean and Santa Barbara below on one side and of Lake Cachuma on the other. The "castle" is a ruined old property built by George Owen Knapp, founder of Union Carbide, in 1916. It was later purchased by Frances Holden in 1940, who invited her friend and world-famous opera singer, Lotte Lehman, to live in the property. But it caught fire soon afterward and was destroyed. Now it is a popular hiking destination as it has an air of mystery and sadness juxtaposed against the stunning backdrop of the Santa Ynez Valley, with Lake Cachuma below and exquisite sunsets above.

Excited we were, and thus, heavily laden with food, pots, blankets, and barbecue equipment, we trekked out to the spectacular spot. Little did we realize how treacherous our endeavor could be!

I happened to be carrying a pot full of boiled potatoes. I was trying to navigate a particularly steep little spot in the trail, when all of a sudden, zzyuuupp!, I slipped and fell plunk on my bum! It was a quite spectacular fall, yet ever so efficient! I barely knew what had happened before I was jolted on my ass, straight up through my head. I blinked. Then for lack of any other reasonable response, started laughing like mad.

I figure I must have slipped on some round stones in the path, because my legs had flown straight out from under me, and I landed as if I had just planned to sit down in the path. I even managed to not discombobulate the pot I carried. It was perfectly safe and sound, though I did splash potato water all over my arms and pants.

Unfortunately, as the night progressed, it became increasingly difficult to sit down on my poor thwarted tailbone. But after a little Icy Hot, a couple of Ibuprofen, and a good night's rest, it is feeling better--if a bit stiff--this morning. At least it wasn't one of those "Oh no, I am falling!" falls, where you can see it happening before your very eyes, and yet are powerless to prevent it. I much prefer to be surprised by my spills and tumbles.

P.S. For those who were following the "Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop" storyline, the proverbial other shoe has dropped. While we didn't talk about the situation quite overtly, the other person let me know in their own way that my message had been heeded and no ill-feeling was meant. Following their lead, I showed them too that, despite the criticism, I very much care for and appreciate them, and so our little to-do came to a very sweet and satisfactory resolution.

Waiting For the Other Shoe to Drop

2009-06-30T12:18:00.000-07:00

I am thankful to say I'm past the blues which plagued me yesterday. However, there is a certain bit of anxiety I still face today. Recently, I told a certain person off, something I almost never do because I tend to shy away from conflict. I tend to choose understanding and forgiveness, and tell myself this is the higher path; though if I am being honest, sometimes it is because I lack the courage to face the conflict directly. But I am trying to be better about facing conflict more honestly, and more maturely, with a level head, and fair mind. And I had quite literally reached the end of my rope with this person, and I felt I needed to stand up for myself, and not allow them to treat me with such little respect simply because they are used to treating everybody in that manner. I realize part of the reason I am so highly offended is related to some degree of cultural difference, but I think most people would agree the basis of my complaint is reasonable, even if they don't find it quite as offensive as I do. (I hope it is understandable that I don't divulge the particulars publicly.)

I tried to be as fair as possible without getting mean at all and even made several efforts to compliment them where I felt it was due, though let's face it, criticizing someone is never a pleasant prospect. Perhaps it wasn't my place to say some of the things I did, especially since there is a high probability that others might be affected by my decision. But I did feel it was fair to tell them that I did not appreciate their conduct towards me, whatever anyone else might feel with regards to themselves. I made a pact with myself that I would only say it this once, so that my feelings at least be made known, and this person can choose to consider them or not. At least I know I've made the effort, and the person will know why I might be distant and reserved around them.

But I told the person my feelings about a week ago, and I still haven't received a response. I'm not sure if the person will respond outright, but it's a bit nerve-wracking waiting to find out the consequences of my actions. I will try to face them honestly, whatever they are, and not back down simply because conflicts make me nervous. But the more time goes by, the more nervous I become waiting to discover the result.

The Monday Blues

2009-06-29T12:22:00.001-07:00

I feel vaguely disgruntled today and I can't really fathom why. There is just this indistinct sense of irritation and melancholia plaguing me today and I can't pin down the cause. I have many blessings in my life that I feel grateful for, and no real dire concerns to speak of. Just a few petty inconveniences, but maybe they add up...

My husband has been out of town, and I'm not sure if he'll return tonight or tomorrow morning. I tell myself he'll return tomorrow, so that way I might be pleasantly surprised if he returns tonight. But in the interim, I have spent several days in near total solitude, which, while nice at first, tends to weigh on me after awhile. I enjoy my solitude, but I begin to miss the society of others. And friends I might normally have called upon, have also been busy and out of town for one reason or another.

I'm making progress on my work and projects, but it is going rather slower than I would like. Mostly my fault as my attention span is not quite what it should be. But at least I am making forward movement and feeling very ready to be productive today.

I have also been sleeping A LOT lately, and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe I'm a little burnt out and need the rest, though I don't feel I should be burnt out. So it makes me think I really should nip that lethargy in the bud.

Looking through some recent photographs, I've noticed my face is starting to age. I've been lucky in that my face had looked pretty much the same from 15 to 25 or so, thanks to having inherited my mother's soft, youthful Asian skin. But age is beginning to creep up on me, and it wasn't until I did the facials this weekend and noticed the vast difference a little skin care could make that I realized it's time to amp up my skin care routine. I've been lucky so far in that I really haven't had to do much in the way of skin care. In my early 20s, I realized inexpensive makeup no longer cut it and I had to switch to higher quality products, but ultimately I needed very few products. But now, on the cusp of 30, I'm going to have to invest in a more extensive skin care regimen if I want to maintain any sort of youthful suppleness and glow.

So all in all, nothing really worth complaining about, but there you have it. Maybe I should go for a walk, get some fresh air to clear my head. Now I think about it, it is past noon and I haven't had my coffee yet. Perhaps that is the real reason lurking behind the suicidal tendencies...

Pamper Yourself Madly

2009-06-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I came across a blog with recipes for homemade facials and I became so excited; I had to try it at the first convenience. (They were so wonderful, I just had to share.) So with my husband planning to be out of town this weekend, I began making preparations for a full day of pampering. Seriously, I even had dreams about it. Then the day before I planned the decadence extravaganza, Adrienne mentioned she would have a lavender milk bath. I had no idea what a lavendar milk bath was, but it sounded decadent enough, so I thought it would be the perfect addition (it was).

Step 1
So to start the pampering, I began with a 90 minute yoga session, to stretch and meditate and relax. Then, using this recipe I found for a lavendar milk bath, I immersed myself in the pure luxury of bath salts and essential oils. The recipe called for nerouli oil, but I could only find a 5 ml bottle for $40 – a little too much for my blood. I used a combination of grapefruit and jasmine instead of the nerouli oil.

It smelled so heavenly! Complete with tealights and my favorite music, true bliss was achieved. There is something about floating in lavender and cream that makes you feel so soft, feminine, and sexy. I began to wish my husband wasn't out of town! Had I known about this, I would have made sure to do this on the day of my wedding. I also left the bath undrained for a few hours extra after I finished and my bathroom smelled deliciously of lavender. P.S. It helps to keep well hydrated with this bath. I felt so relaxed, soft and suppliant, but I was definitely thirsty afterward.

Step 2
Then I began the facial treatments, using the recipes I found on Our Best Bites. They were all amazing. I started with a steam of lemon and mint. It felt so soothing and calming, not to mention lovely just smelling the lemons and mint leaves.

When I finished the steam, I exfoliated with a paste of oatmeal and baking soda. I used regular rolled oats, but I suspect baby rolled oats might have worked better, being smaller and easier to mush.

I must admit I felt a bit stupid plastering oatmeal to my face, but I was home alone, so whatever. But I enjoyed the way it made for a gentle scrub. And it was most satisfyingly followed by a cleansing honey yogurt mask.

Made of yogurt and cucumber with a swirl of honey, it was super cooling and soothing on my face—once I actually stopped sneaking tastes and managed to put it on.

Next I tried the tightening strawberry-lemon mask. It's a simple mixture of strawberries, lemon juice and cornstarch (though I ended up needing quite a bit more lemon juice than the recipe called for to make a decent paste), but it did wonders for my skin.

I looked something like a horrific strawberry shortcake when it dried, and this one was probably the hardest to wash off. But when I rinsed it all off, my skin was suddenly soft and glowing.

After all the masks, my skin was definitely ready for some moisturizing, and apparently avocados are amazing moisturizers. I made a final mask with avocado, and added honey for brightening and tightening, and egg yolk and olive oil for softening and moisturizing.

And TA DA! When it was all said and done, my skin was so soft, smooth and glowy. I think the strawberry-lemon mask and the avocado finish worked the best on my skin. I couldn't believe how well these homemade facials worked. Makes me wonder why we pay so much for them, when we can get just as well from all natural ingredients available at the local Farmer's Market? Most of the chemical ones we get at the beauty shops are made from natural ingredients anyway, might as well go whole hog, no? I am so doing this again, next chance I get, and sharing with my mom and sister next time I go home.

Step 3
And because all the above did not constitute quite enough girly time for myself, I popped in Pride & Prejudice (the BBC version of course – these things must be done properly!) and spent the rest of the day watching Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy dance, while I ate fresh strawberries and soft-baked cookies. YUM. I {heart} Colin Firth. Gentlemanliness is so sexy. And under-rated these days I think. Plus, there is no more pleasing expression than that of a man looking with love upon his beloved.

All told, almost 12 hours of solid pampering = a totally contented Jade. So, ladies, pamper yourselves immediately and pamper yourselves madly. And let me know if these recipes worked for you too!

Tribute to MJ

2009-06-26T10:28:00.000-07:00

Image from: http://www.solarnavigator.net/music/michael_jackson.htm

I wasn't planning on writing this. Probably everything I want to say here has already been said a million times, by a million voices all across the globe. With twitter and facebook, I could literally watch the world's response ripple out as we learned the news. I'm not normally engaged with celebrity lives and don't usually give a rat's hoot about any scandal or other such thing involving people whose name I know simply because they've been on TV. But MJ was more than just a pop star, and even when I woke this morning, I still felt saddened by his loss. (And yes, I know a bunch of other crises are going on; I'm capable of caring about multiple things simultaneously.)

I think we feel his loss so keenly because he was not just some really talented performer. He is the backdrop of so many memories in our lives. Who here, who has lived through the 80's, hasn't sung Beat It at the top of their lungs, or tried to moonwalk in socks on their mom's kitchen floor? Who doesn't remember watching Thriller on Halloween? Who hasn't danced to Billie Jean at skate nights and weddings? Who hasn't felt the bitter truth of Man in the Mirror? And when he sang Heal the World, I almost believed we could.

Looking back over his life, I am struck by what a tragic figure he was. He gave us so much, in music, in dance, in fashion, not to mention hundreds of millions of dollars in charity to children's foundations and famine relief. But the cynics don't like to remember that part. What they remember are the scandals, mocking him for bleaching his skin, when really he suffered from two separate skin diseases (lupus and vitiligo). And of course the child molestation charges. I'm not entirely sure I believe those (maybe just because they're too horrific to imagine), but what I do believe is that he was an exploited child, who lost his childhood before he even could experience any of it. And I have seen others who have lost their innocence too young and how it left them psychologically stunted. So I have no trouble believing that all his strange behavior came in part from not being able to grow up in a normal way and in part from his desire to recapture childhood. And he cared so deeply about children because of it.

But instead of falling into bitterness and anger, he seemed to accept that his life made him who he is, and he chose a path of love and forgiveness instead. Speaking with the public, he was nothing but humble and shy; respectful to his parents and gracious about his achievements. But his lyrics, and how they've changed over the years, tell us quite plainly who he was, with almost a childlike simplicity. From the fun and vibrancy of early years, his later music shifted to plain speaking calls for love, understanding and acceptance. He was hurting and he told us so through his music.

There are always going to be the haters and cynics, who find it easier to point fingers and pass judgment, than to find optimism and forgiveness. But MJ, when you left us, we played your music for you. We danced and we sang your songs in tribute to you. Because even though you're far away, we wanted you to know, "you are not alone."

So here's to you, Michael, who died of a broken heart.

Rest In Peace
Michael Jackson
1958-2009

Mint-Yogurt Chicken with Fried Polenta Tomatoes

2009-06-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

Being super busy this week, I really just wanted something quick and easy, but still light and flavorful. This chicken and tomato combination was the perfect solution. I marinated the chicken and then prepared the tomatoes while it was marinating and broiling. The marinade was so tasty just on it's own, I would recommend it as a sauce to put on top of sauteed tofu for my vegetarian friends.

Ingredients for the chicken marinade:
3-4 chicken thighs
1 clove garlic, chopped
2 tablespoons greek honey yogurt
juice of 1 lime
1 teaspoon turmeric
salt and pepper
1 handful mint leaves, chopped

Directions:
Mix the garlic, honey yogurt, lime juice, turmeric, salt, pepper and mint. Cut slits into the chicken thighs and immerse into the marinade. Keep covered for at least 40 minutes. Broil for about 18-20 minutes, or until cooked through, turning it over at the halfway point.

Because I thought the marinade itself was so tasty, I made a little extra with just 1 tablespoon of the honey yogurt, ½ a lime, some turmeric, salt and pepper to make a sauce to pour over the chicken after it was cooked. It added extra flavor and kept the final dish moist and juicy.

Ingredients for the tomatoes:
1-2 beefsteak tomatoes, not quite ripe
½ cup polenta
sprinkle of dried oregano
sprinkle of garlic powder
½ cup of flour
1 egg, beaten with Cajun seasoning
2 tablespoons of oil

Directions:
Mix the polenta with oregano and garlic in one bowl. Put the flour into another bowl, and the egg into a third bowl. Cut the tomato into thick slices. Dip each slice into first the flour, then the egg, and then pat the polenta mix to finish. Heat a pan with the oil and fry the tomato slices. Each side probably takes 2-3 minutes to fry, but you can see the edges start to brown so you get a sense of when to flip it.

My thoughts:
This dish was so yummy! The chicken was moist and tangy, and the tomatoes were so crispy! Served up with red potatoes, it was the perfect dish for summer and pretty easy to make. Plus the leftover polenta mix and egg can be saved for the next morning to make a little light egg and polenta scramble. YUM.

My rating:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!

-----------
Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!
♥♥♥♥ Wow this is amazing for a special meal!
♥♥♥ Great choice for a dinner party!
♥♥ Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime.
♥ Eh. S'all right....
♠ Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share.

Wardrobe Fail

2009-06-25T01:34:00.000-07:00

I went to the market today, and as I was paying for my groceries, the guy bagging the groceries complimented me on my shirt. He went on in quite some detail about the little images that were printed on the shirt and how he really liked all of them. I smiled and said "thank you", paid for my things and went on my way.

Then I got home and happened to walk past the mirror. That's when I realized the shirt I was wearing today is a tiny bit see-through and my bra was...shall we say, slightly off-center. And thus bagger-boy had most likely seen more than just shirt. I'm officially never wearing this shirt in public again. Wardrobe fail.

Developments

2009-06-24T11:39:00.000-07:00

So I've gone underground the past couple of days and haven't kept up with posting, but I swear it's been because I've actually been {gasp!} productive. When I haven't been banging my head about transcribing interviews, I've been making new revisions to my manuscript, AND....designing my own website. I'm very excited about this. The design is a something like Jane Austen with a hint of Kurt Cobain. Actually I had planned a little bit more Kurt Cobain, but achieving that level of grunge was just too much effort.

...and I realize you probably have no idea what I'm talking about here. I want to show you, give you a sneak peek, but I won't. It'll just have to be a surprise. I've laid out the blog/home page, which is the main bulk of the design. Now I just have to put together some of the other pages, which should go very quickly now that I've gotten the main design fleshed out. Then Tech Support (aka: my husband) will help me work it into wordpress. And then Tasting Grace will have a new home! It will be at jadekeller[dot]com. But don't go there now. Now there is just a half-assed pre-made wordpress layout. Very boring.

And hopefully, design trends won't quite change in the next 5 minutes making me look out-dated just as I got in. I'm hoping to be a published, pregnant woman who can work from home before I have to do another design overhaul (which, as those of you who are familiar with the Jadian timeframe know should be a few years off), because it's a lot of work! On top of other career work to do...

Anyway, that's where I am. If I disappear for a while, it's because I'm tidying up my manuscript. In the meantime, here's a little tidbit for all the Buffy fans out there. Nuala, I think you especially will enjoy this.

Buffy v. Edward.

I love you, Dad

2009-06-21T11:53:00.000-07:00

So I wrote this post: Lessons From My Father in some state of anticipation of Father's Day.

But now as I reflect, I think more needs to be said. My father is losing his ability to remember things. It makes me cry to think about it because, as frustrating as it for the rest of us who must hold the same conversation with him multiple times and help him manage his life, it must be a billion more time frustrating, frightening and debilitating for him. My daddy was my larger than life super-hero, and it is so very hard to watch him become broken by the processes of time.

Because he is losing his ability to remember, the rest of us must do more to keep the memories alive. So Dad, here is what I remember:

I remember riding piggy-back on your shoulders and laughing like I couldn't ever stop.

I remember playing hop-skotch at the playground after school and then running to the swings. At my beck and call, you would push me higher and higher in the swing and I'd watch my feet kiss the sky.

I remember when I was six and found out it was your birthday, I felt horrible for not having a gift. So I took a book from your library and wrapped it. When you opened it, you still pretended it was the best gift ever.

I remember wishbones, and how you'd always let me have the wishing side.

I remember you giving me rides to friends' houses, piano lessons, school and wherever else I needed to go. We always had our great "talks" in those car rides.

I remember how you always made my sandwiches so lovingly. And those sandwiches always tasted better than any other sandwich, because they were seasoned with Tender Love and Care.

I remember every single time you told me I was beautiful, I was talented, you were so proud of me and I could do anything. Even if my self-doubts meant I didn't really believe you, some little place in my heart always did.

I remember when others say you as being too gruff, too demanding, I always wished they could see through the surface and really understand you. You weren't being mean; you were trying to help them be better people. Because you hold yourself to such a high standard, you try to teach others to do the same.

I remember how giving you always are. When you find a true friend, you give them everything you have and more.

I remember all the times you helped me move, from dorm to apartment to apartment. You even helped my boyfriend move, when he was too sick to do it himself.

I remember how you kept my secrets; the ones I dared not ever tell anyone else.

I remember how you used to call every night and when you'd complain three days was too long to go without hearing from me.

I remember when I told you I was getting married, my fiance instantly became family.

I remember on my wedding day, when we danced, how you lingered at the end, not quite ready to let go.

And through everything, I remember how your eyes would light up and I could read every emotion in your face. And I remember your big, warm embraces, and how no matter how big I got, I always seemed to fit just right.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

TGIF, Mate...TGIF

2009-06-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you're hurtling through weeks, swinging from one anxiously-awaited Friday to the next? Where Monday through Wednesday is some lengthy abyss that seems never-ending, until suddenly it's Friday and you feel a glorious reprieve...only to have the next Monday come all too soon? It's like you're on a weighted pendulum, with the momentum all at the wrong end. Meanwhile, Fridays keep flying past you, 'til suddenly it's past mid-June, and you wonder where all the weeks went. They went the way of the endless roller-coaster of anticipation and dread.

Yes, I suspect some of you might be familiar with that feeling. It's called the rat-race, and it's probably the reason why every Friday I log into Facebook and half the words on the screen are TGIF. And I nod in blessed agreement every time I see it. I wish there were some way to slow it down and balance it out. To even out the time spent on work I don't want to do versus projects I love to work on.

I want a life where I can scale things back. Where I can bake my own bread and smother it in pesto sauce made with fresh herbs from my garden. Where I have a garden full of staples like bell peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes, and a lime tree. Where I have the time to read and write books, and still work on artsy-crafty things for the house. A life measured more by pride in my little projects and less by convenience.

And this is why I feel so lucky to live in the States. We have the option to scale it back and still live luxuriously. We "can" bake our own bread (with ingredients from local farmers), not "have to". Or we can shop at Nordstrom's and Urban Outfitters, and have a night on the town, cocktail-style. We can choose between a mass-produced life or one wholly closer to home. We can even move fairly effortlessly back and forth between those options at whim.

The trick is to find a way to do more of what I love and less of what I don't and still have a sustainable income. I haven't figured that part out just yet.

Get Your Wrap On: Asian Stir-Fry Wraps

2009-06-18T09:39:00.000-07:00

This week’s food experiment is very similar to a Thai dish I make fairly regularly. The Thai version would use fish sauce and lime juice instead of cornstarch, soy sauce and vinegar, and it would include mint and shallots or red onion, rather than white onion, bell pepper and ginger. But this recipe is closer to Chinese-style food and I was up for a little twist on an old favorite.

I found the recipe on Martha Stewart's website, but you’ll notice I’ve added my own personal tweaks; being Asian and all, I have my peccadilloes. So I made a spicier version with pork, in a somewhat Thai-Chinese fusion.

Asian Stir-Fry Wraps

Ingredients
1 ½ pound chicken breasts, cut in thin strips (I used ground pork; ground chicken or ground beef might also be used)
Coarse salt and ground pepper
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 small white or yellow onion, thinly sliced
1 large red bell pepper, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons peeled and grated ginger
red-pepper flakes or dried crushed red chilies to taste
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 ½ teaspoons cornstarch, mixed with 1 tablespoon water
Plenty of lettuce leaves to serve (I used iceberg lettuce. Boston lettuce or Chinese cabbage would also work)
(optional: chopped Serrano chilies to taste)

Directions
Season meat with salt and pepper. In a wok or large, nonstick pan, add 1 tablespoon of oil over high heat. Add the meat and stir-fry until cooked. Transfer to a plate.

Add remaining oil to pan, along with the onions and red bell pepper. Stir-fry until onion is golden brown and red peppers are softened (reduce heat if it browns too quickly).

Add garlic and ginger (and optional Serrano chilies); stir-fry until fragrant.

Stir in soy sauce, vinegar, and cornstarch mixture. Then add the meat back in and red-pepper flakes (or dried chilies) and stir until evenly coated in the sauce.

Serve with lettuce for a light appetizer or small meal, or serve with rice if you prefer something more filling and hearty.

My Thoughts
I would say this recipe is pretty forgiving, so if you're feeling bold, you might experiment with different flavors, perhaps adding basil or chopped mushrooms, or using different types of meat or tofu instead. Or try going Thai style! The only caveat is that the recipe described here is about as fusion-y as I would go. Choose either Thai style flavors (with mint, red onions, fish sauce and lime juice) or Chinese style (with bell peppers, ginger, cornstarch, vinegar, and soy sauce). Don’t mix and match.

This recipe turned out to be very yummy and was fun to eat with the wraps for a little change up from the regular routine. It is light and fresh, surprisingly filling, and pretty simple to make. Served with rice, I think it could easily be a staple dish to eat regularly. Served with lettuce wraps, it does get a little messy...so that might be more fun as a party appetizer or some other special occasion where you don't mind having a little fun with your food. Top it off with a cool beer, and you've got yourself a great summer dish.

My rating?
♥♥♥♥

----------
Weekly Food Experiment Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ "Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!"
♥♥♥♥ "Wow this is amazing for a special meal!"
♥♥♥ "Great choice for a dinner party!"
♥♥ "Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime."
♥ "Eh. S'all right...."
♠ "Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share the failure that was this meal."

Year of Wonders

2009-06-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

Book Review: Year of Wonders, A Novel of the Plague
Author: Geraldine Brooks

This book is an amazing testament to the vivacity of the human spirit, our ability to meet calamity, to sacrifice ourselves for a greater good, and find the strength and will to endure.

Set in 1666, the novel chronicles the goings-on of a small mountain village in England, where an infected bolt of cloth had carried the plague from London and beset the village in tragedy. The story is told through the eyes of a young, widowed housemaid, Anna, who unwittingly becomes the town's healer. Led by their minister, the town voluntarily elects to quarantine themselves to prevent the spread of the plague, thus sacrificing themselves to save other towns from the same fate. As the town suffers, not knowing the cause nor cure for the disease, they battle with questions of faith, of good and evil, and of justice. And the town learns that sometimes disease is not the only threat to survival.

It's a relatively short book, especially for a work of historical fiction, but it is chock-full of truths about humanity and our existence in this life. It is vivid and engaging, with strong and well-developed characters. It does a fantastic job of transporting the reader to another world and another time. I was feeling a little melancholy before I read this book, but envisioning the hard lives of our ancestors makes me only that much more grateful for the time in which I now live. True, suffering is a constant part of human existence, ever eternal and universal. But going back to another time helps put some things in perspective, and serves as a reminder that sometimes petty grievances and just petty grievances.

What Do You Give a Father Who Doesn't Want Anything?

2009-06-16T10:37:00.000-07:00

At the risk of sounding like a curmudgeon, I must confess Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, and Father's Day are all among my least favorite holidays. I love giving gifts spontaneously, just because I saw something that reminded me of someone, or because I hit a fit of gratitude and wanted to shower someone with love. Birthdays are great because you are really celebrating a day that is special in a person's life, celebrating the fact that they are alive and a part of your world.

But these holidays are just random days some bureaucrat picked off a calendar and decided the whole nation should be obliged to observe. And I am not a fan of obligatory gifts; both as a giver and as a receiver. It feels to me like these holidays supposedly meant to be a special day to show someone you appreciate them are really only contrived routines perpetuated by an industry playing on people's guilt feelings and celebrated by people who appreciate their loved ones all year long, and thus do not need a special day. The ones who don't, forget or don't even bother.

For me, gifts for my parents are also always the hardest. It's not because I don't love them or that I don't want to celebrate them and show them they are appreciated. I call them on the phone regularly, sharing our life stories. I drive down to visit often, and I consider their needs whenever I make important decisions. And when we are together, I love to do things for them and spend time with them. We show our love in shared moments, not in a collection of "#1 Dad" trinkets.

My parents are getting older. They don't want or need things, and especially not cutsy knickknacks. The stuff they do have, they're really selective about. So as a daughter, my range of gift-giving possibilities for my dad on Father's Day is quite limited. And really there are only so many Borders gift cards, wine and cheese baskets, and gift certificates to "a dinner with your loving daughter" one can give before the whole idea grows stale.

Life was much simpler when I was 10 and I could just paint my dad a rainbow and write a card in crayon, where the color of each letter in "I love you" was painstakingly selected. Because really, everything that needed to be said was contained in that little piece of crayola and construction paper.

Worst Birthday Gift Ever

2009-06-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

In honor of my birthday, which was yesterday, I would like to tell you a tale of the worst birthday gift I have ever gotten in my entire life.

Back in college, there was a short period where I was dating a young musician. Let's call him "Drummer Boy". Every Tuesday my bff/college roommate and I would go to his studio and I would hang out with Drummer Boy and his friends, watching him play, while my friend went and spent the evening with her then boyfriend (now husband). Drummer Boy was fun to hang out with (read: make out with) for a while, but he reached such heights of total stoner-hood that I was quickly over it. It was so bad, we ended up calling him Four Tuesdays because that was how many times I knew I'd see him before summer came and I could gracefully make an exit sans scene. (You know it's bad when there's a countdown.)

Let me illustrate. Right before the arrival of that summer, it's my birthday and I invite Drummer Boy to meet me and my friends for dinner. He arrives, complete with gift, and we have a fun dinner. Good times. And then I open gifts.

Drummer Boy's gift comes wrapped in a brown paper bag à la grade school sack lunch. It isn't taped shut; just the open end is folded closed. I start to open it, then stop.

"Uh, it's all sticky," I say, completely befuddled, wondering what mystery substance is now all over my fingers.

"Oh yeah," says Drummer Boy, in that long, low stoner drawl. "I didn't have tape, so I tried to seal it with honey."

Pregnant pause as I try to school my face into a look of polite understanding and commiseration, rather than scathing derision.

I continue to open the gift, trying carefully all the while to not spread the stickiness. I pull out this little box and I see it is a tiny, stuff-in-your-junk-drawer type sewing kit. Moreover, the package is open and some of the spools are half empty, so clearly it has already been used.

I look at him and he flashes me a devil-may-care grin and says, "I figured girls like to sew."

Thanks, Drummer Boy.

So I told you that story, to tell you this story. This weekend, my husband and I were with some friends, and he was telling my friend about the nightmare that was the wedding tux situation when we were getting married. We had ordered tuxes for him and all the groomsmen from Men's Wearhouse and they F-ed up the order three times in less than two days--which also happened to be the two days before the wedding. Long story short, the groomsmen had tuxes but they believed for some unknown reason that the groom didn't need his tux.

I mentioned I should have known not to go with Men's Wearhouse, considering I had dated Drummer Boy (who worked there), and thus had become familiar with all the potheads who work there (but think they're Rico Suave because they get to wear fancy suits to work). It should have come as no surprise they would F up something so simple in such a retarded way. And so I told the story of Drummer Boy and his fabulous previously owned gift, wrapped in a sack bag, and sealed with honey--because really, I love to tell this story.

And that's when we collectively realized that, not only was that a Gift Fail, he probably got off work, realized he should probably bring a gift, looked around Men's Wearhouse and tried to think, "What in Men's Wearhouse can I bring that a girl might like? Oh, I know! A sewing kit!" Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf is just a few stores down, so that's probably where he went for the honey.

We laughed so hard at the poor boy's foibles, we were practically crying. And thus I came to the conclusion that the worst gift ever had actually become one of the best gifts, because the running joke keeps me laughing every time. It's like a gift that just keeps on giving.

So, thank you Drummer Boy, where ever you are.

Where, Oh Where Have the Accoutrements Gone?

2009-06-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

Hats need to come back in style. Yes, I know some people wear hats (especially baseball hats) all the time. But I think it's mostly guys who do so and a few brave girls looking cute with a special outfit. But we as a collective don't wear hats all the time, everywhere, like we used to in the old days. Like the 1920s when everyone was bedecked with an embellishment for their noggin.

Hats need to be a staple accessory like socks. Or maybe watches. They're so expressive; I think the kind of hat someone wears and how they wear it can say a lot about a person.

I have a couple of hats I love, and I would wear them every day, except I feel awkward doing so. As if people think I'm trying too hard to be cute, when really I'm not...I just like my hats. So I end up never wearing my hats because most of the time it doesn't feel appropriate.

Maybe the biggest area where the social acceptability of hats needs to change is at work, in the corporate office. People used to wear hats to work every day. Now if you come in with a hat, people would look at you funny. Or maybe even suspect you're unprofessional. I hate when people choose stupid reasons to think others are unprofessional.

But I digress. I think if it was acceptable to wear hats to work, people would wear hats more often.

Maybe I should be taking advantage of the fact I no longer work in a corporate office. Maybe I should just dare to wear my hats. Maybe I can boldly go where no hat has gone before. Maybe I can single-handedly change the hat world, one hat at a time.

Ha ha, or maybe I can just get over myself and wear the stinkin' hat.

Food Experiment of the Week

2009-06-11T11:49:00.000-07:00

With summer fast approaching, my creative food juices are kicking into high gear. I've decided to try a little project where I will experiment with one new recipe a week and post the results here. By experiment, I mean I tend to adapt recipes to suit my tastes and needs, so usually these recipes will be something I've never tried making before, but have altered in some way or created an amalgam of multiple recipes. I can't guarantee it'll be the same day every week, but I will try to do it in advance of the weekend in case anyone likes what they see and wants to use it over the weekend. I will post the recipe, my thoughts on it and its social uses (in keeping with the theme of my blog), and my rating, according to the system below.

Rating System:
♥♥♥♥♥ "Omigod this is awesome, I could eat it every night!"
♥♥♥♥ "Wow this is amazing for a special meal!"
♥♥♥ "Great choice for a dinner party!"
♥♥ "Hey, that was pretty good. We should have it again sometime."
♥ "Eh. S'all right...."
♠ "Ugh, no! That was so bad I just had to share the failure that was this meal."

Food Experiment of the Week
Feta and Roasted Garlic Pizza

I've never made a pizza entirely from scratch before. I've tried using pre-made dough, but was less than satisfied. But this week I was feeling confident, mature, self-composed, adventurous... :) So I thought I would give it a shot.

For the dough
Makes one 10-12 inch round pizza base
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon rapid-rise dried yeast
1/2-3/4 cup lukewarm water
1 tablespoon olive oil

Sift the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl and stir in the yeast. Make a well in the center; pour in the water and oil. Mix to a soft dough. Knead the dough on a lightly floured board for 10 minutes until smooth and elastic. Place in a greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap and leave until doubled in size - about an hour. Turn out on to a lightly floured surface, knead gently for 2-3 minutes and roll out to desired pizza size and shape.

For the pizza
1 whole garlic bulb, with cloves peeled
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 red bell pepper, seeded and quartered
1 yellow bell pepper, seeded and quartered
2 plum tomatoes
1 1/2 cups feta, crumbled
12 oz. artichoke hearts
pinch of black pepper
1-2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano

1. Preheat oven to 425. Toss garlic cloves in 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Cut artichoke hearts in half and use a little of the garlic and olive oil mixture to lightly saute.

2. Broil peppers skin-side up, turning them until skins are evenly charred. Place in a covered bowl for 10 minutes, then peel off the skins. Cut the flesh into strips.

3. Make a slash in the skin of each tomato, then put them in a bowl and pour over boiling water. Leave for 30 seconds, then plunge into cold water. Peel, seed and coarsely chop the flesh.

4. Spread pizza dough into pan and push up the dough edges to form a thin rim. Brush with olive oil and scatter with the chopped tomatoes. Top with the peppers, crumbled feta cheese, artichoke hearts and garlic cloves. Drizzle on any remaining oil and season to taste with pepper. Bake in the oven for 15-20 minutes until crisp and golden. Garnish with chopped oregano and serve immediately.

My Thoughts

I served it up with a strawberry-balsamic vinegar salad, and finished the meal with a shot of limoncello. Bellissimo! I really enjoyed this pizza and pretty much talked about it the rest of the evening. It was a little time-consuming but on the whole, rather easy to make. I must say homemade dough is SO worth the effort. This pizza was so much fresher and less oily than anything I've eaten in restaurants (let alone frozen or by delivery). Because it does take time, I couldn't do it regularly, but it is a nice option for special occasions. This would be a great option for a romantic dinner at home. Or, alternatively, instead of one big pizza, one could easily cut the dough into smaller circles and have mini-pizzas which might be fun for party appetizers to share with friends.
My one mini-complaint was that it was a tiny bit on the dry side. Not bad, but I think the next time I try this, I will either add more tomatoes or perhaps brush on some pesto sauce before layering the veggies et al, to give it something to tie it all together. My husband suggested marinara sauce, which I think could work, but I would be afraid it might be too overpowering. Perhaps plain tomato sauce would do the trick. The flavors are so light, fresh and delicious, I wouldn't want to risk them getting lost under something heavy.

My rating? ♥♥♥• Three and a half hearts. Buon appetito!

Nesting Pains

2009-06-10T07:24:00.000-07:00

I promise I'm not ready to have kids yet. I'm still very much enjoying the Simple Married Life, which is so full at the moment and getting fuller towards the horizon. So the thought of taking on the responsibility that is motherhood is something I'm just not up to tackling just yet. Plus labor pains. Oh labor pains. How I do not look forward to thee.

But I find myself spending increasing amounts of time thinking about what kind of mother I will be. Will I be strict and over-protective? Will I be haphazard and over-indulgent? Will I be the one my kids come to for advice? Will I be the one they ask for an extra special treat? I quietly observe other mothers with their children, mentally taking notes of what I admire and what I hope to avoid. I peruse blogs of families with their stories of pregnancy, childhood and the sweet things kids say. I'm constructing my little mental nest for my future chicklets, in preparation for what might become.

It's slightly dangerous to do this; dangerous to my emotional well-being because it might be quite a while before we really do have kids. And in my family, the women have a history of miscarriages. I might be prepping myself for a child who will never be. And what if...what if we are one of those couples who cannot conceive? I almost can't believe I wrote that down; a thought too unfathomable I feel I shouldn't have put it in words.

I shudder, try to rid myself of the thought.

And I go back to perusing blogs and imagining all the cupcakes I'll make, the sweet little party ideas. I imagine I'll be the kind of mother who bakes fresh soft chewy cookies, decorates the kids' bedrooms in super-cute creative yet classy ways, and throws birthday parties that look like this.

I imagine I'll be the kind of mother my kids know not to piss off. But I'll also be the one they come to when they skin their first knee, when they lose their first tooth, when they discover a best friend, and when they have their first heartbreak. My husband will be the one they go to when they want to ride their first bike, blow sh*t up, and explore adventure at break-neck speed. He'll teach them the value of independence and self-confidence. I'll teach them the value of family and taking care of one another. Together, we will take our kids to museums and libraries (and probably far-off places) and show them the world.

Oh Hate, How I Love Thee

2009-06-09T11:01:00.000-07:00

Perhaps a little known thing about me is that I truly admire New Yorkers' ability to hate so well. All the New Yorkers or New-Yorkers-at-heart I know are so gleefully misanthropic, I die laughing at their caustic witticisms. They love to hate, and they hate with love. It's not blind hatred; it is hatred which comes from seeing through someone so well you can't help but mock their foibles.

I've never been able to hate very well, and sarcasm comes to me only in small doses prompted by lively conversation. When I was a kid, even my enemies at school never gave me much to worry myself over. I certainly never had one of those Potter-Malfoy type of relationships. Hating just took too much energy. Why hate when so much else was going on in the world? I very much subscribed to the notion that hatred only hurt the beholder. Very zen, I was.

But now, maybe I'm getting crotchety in my old age. I'm starting to learn there's two kinds of hate in the world. One is the blind, all-consuming hate that saps you of everything. The kind of "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! DIE, DIE, DIE!" kind of hate (Did anyone catch the Dave Matthews reference?), which I still don't subscribe to very much. The people I could feel this way towards, I just don't think about often. It's wearying, and I have other things to think about that are far more worthwhile. Like belly button lint.

But then, there is another kind of hatred. I don't know if you can even really call it hatred because hate is such an ugly word. It does not at all capture the pure glee there is in hating some people. People I enjoy thinking about because I love enumerating in my head all the reasons they're deserving of scathing, pithy remarks. People I hate so much, it gives me energy. (Dylan Moran is a god for coining that phrase.) As un-Buddhist of me it is to feel this way, and no matter how I try to Catholic-guilt my way out of it, there are one or two people I can't help but hate, liberally and gleefully. With these folk, there is no end to the sharp-tongued witticisms and blistering commentary just begging to be uttered. I try to be discreet and keep my thoughts to myself, but I'm fairly dancing with all the vitriol I'd like to spew.

Lest you think I'm a hate-filled, spiteful being, I'd just like to reiterate that there's only a rare one or two people who bring out my inner New-Yorker. And I swear these people are "special". Maybe I was just more mature as a kid than I am now, but I think I shall lovingly cling to this little slice of hate pie.

Blankety-Blank-H-S

2009-06-07T15:09:00.000-07:00

For my dissertation, I'm trying to come up with easy ways to refer to the high schools I worked with that makes them easily identifiable in the context of the book but still preserves their anonymity. Something short and sweet, so I don't have to keep saying "the homogeneous, upper-income, predominantly white school" or "the diverse, bi-modal school" every time I want to refer to them.

I have three schools:

1) fairly homogeneous, predominantly white, mid-upper income. (Top test scores of the three schools)

2) bi-modal racially and economically. It is half rich white kids and half poor Hispanic kids. (Second best test scores of the three schools.)

3) predominantly low-income Hispanic, the rest of the students are a mixed bag of white, Asian, black, etc. (Lots of gang activity in the surrounding neighborhood and lowest test scores of the three schools.)

"Alpha", "Beta", and "Gamma" have already been used in someone else's work. The only descriptors I can come up with are colorful enough to get me my a** whooped. So I am in desperate need of help. Any suggestions?

Musings on a Friday Blessing

2009-06-05T09:54:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things going on in my life right now that I could complain about: it's a rainy day, with plans thwarted, mini-stresses, and plenty of inconveniences that should make me grumpy. But when I woke up this morning, I felt inexplicably happy and at peace. Maybe because it is Friday, I feel more like celebrating than grousing. I have many reasons to feel blessed and thinking of those blessings seems to me like a good way to start the weekend. So, instead of the rain outside today, I take a picture of a sunflower rising.

Today I must focus on finishing my theory chapter of my dissertation. I've set a deadline for myself to finish it by Sunday night so I can give it and my Intro chapter (which is already more or less complete) to my committee. Such relief it will be to have that finished, because once it is complete, I'll be doing data entry for a (long) while. While that probably sounds tedious--and it is--it'll be a nice break from the craziness that has been this past year. Plus, it will also give me the requisite mental space for getting back to my manuscript in the evenings. One more set of revisions await completion, and once those are ready, I can send my manuscript off to agents and publishers!

On Saturday, I'm holding a Thank You BBQ for my students and I'm really looking forward to it. They've done fantastic work this quarter as research assistants and they deserve a little party in their honor. Plus, I really do enjoy my students as people. I'm looking forward to an opportunity to know them better as individuals, and let my hair down so to speak, so they can know me better too. At this stage in their careers, they should know I'm rooting for them and happy to support them any way I can.

I have an awesome, amazing, wonderful husband who brings me joy and giggles every day. This little slice of bliss has become even more important than I imagined. It gives me a safe foundation where when everything else in my life goes to sh*t, there is a space where I can come home and say, "Life isn't so bad".

I have amazing friends. Even though almost all of them are far away--and one is due to leave soon and another is going halfway around the world!--they are all incredible people to know and love. I feel extremely happy for them as they embark on their new journeys and I feel lucky to have them in my life. I'm looking forward to the celebrations in their honor, bitter-sweet though they may be.

Now that the data collection phase of my research is done, I can work almost entirely at home. This makes my little heart go pitter-pat. Working at home is the shiz-nit because you can wear whatever you want.

And last but not least, it's FRIDAY and I'm just about to enjoy a good cup of coffee. Sounds like bliss to me.

What Were Your Favorite Childhood Books?

2009-06-03T22:55:00.000-07:00

I probably would never be able to compile a comprehensive list of all my favorite childhood fairy tales, stories and books. Being an only child, I read A LOT, and developed early on a love for reading and the way books can whisk me away to foreign lands and the lives of others (even if they're fictional). How does one choose between the likes of Shel Silverstein, Judy Blume, and Madeleine L'Engle? How many times did I re-read Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451 or The Halloween Tree? Or Beverly Cleary's Ramona books and David Sobol's Encyclopedia Brown? Not to mention classics like Where the Red Fern Grows, Anne of Green Gables, and Charlotte's Web. (This, of course, does not include books like Harry Potter which I read later as an adult.)

But one story that always stuck with me, that is the one I always think of first when I think of childhood favorites is Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Match Girl. (Read the short story here.) The story is about a little girl on Christmas who braves the freezing snowy cold to try to sell matches. At the edge of her means, she strikes a match to warm herself. In the glow of the match's light upon the wall, she sees warm, wonderous visions—until the match burns out. She lights match after match trying to catch the visions, until she sees one of her beloved grandmother. She watches this vision until the last match dies. As the flame goes out, so does her life.

I think what draws me so much to this story is the little match girl's ability to find beauty in tragedy. It has so much to it: the plight of the rich versus the poor, life and death, coldness and warmth. But this theme of transcendence is one that inspires me. There is comfort in knowing that even in the depths of despair, we as humans can find the strength to rise from the ashes and learn to fly. Out of our deepest sorrows come our greatest joys, and I hope I should always have the will to find grace.

What childhood favorites stick with you?

New Twitter Profile Background!

2009-06-03T14:45:00.003-07:00

I saw so many other people on Twitter had cool, unique profile backgrounds and I wanted one too. So I created this:

(You can click on the image to see it larger.)
Too bad the pretty cup saucer doesn't show up too well on twitter. ::sigh:: But at least Toby got a fresh cup of cappuccino out of it. :)

Transitioning to Tweens

2009-06-03T07:26:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I attended a younger sibling-in-law's sixth grade graduation. The principal gave the typical speech about “the challenges ahead”, advising them to always think critically, be themselves, and not be pressured by their peers. As an educator and socially responsible person, I'm nodding “yes, yes, of course, sound advice that is”, but as someone who has suffered through and survived junior high, I found myself thinking I could have used an entirely different set of advice before embarking on that adventure/tragedy that is junior high. Oh, the social awkwardness. So this is the non-parent/principal-approved list of advice I wish I had gotten when I was 13. To the adults out there: what advice would you like to have gotten before going to junior high? Feel free to add your own to the list!

The (Alternative) Guide to Junior High School

1. Don't pop your zits – As satisfying as it is, you never know when you'll pick the wrong one and just get a bloody mess and scars for your efforts.

2. Yes, it's true. The social hierarchy does depend almost entirely on the clothes you wear. The sad truth is it is so easy to move up the hierarchy but the kids at the top almost never deserve it and yet the kids at the bottom don't realize how such tiny, inconsequential, superficial things determine their fate. It's not a matter of “following the crowd” like your parents warn about; it's a matter of social survival.

3. That said, it's not worth caring much about the social hierarchy in the long run. Most of the popular kids end up barefoot and pregnant before adulthood, and the nerds and geeks come into their own and end up being the really cool people you want to know right around college.

4. Avoid being in photographs at all costs. You'll only want to burn them later because a) hormones and braces are evil, and b) 7th & 8th graders are just not the best judges when it comes to make-up.

5. These are the years you discover sarcasm, rolled eyes, ineffable boredom, the joy of cussing and general negativity. Embrace it with your peers, but realize every one else finds it supremely annoying.

6. To the A students: If the choice is between doing homework and hanging out with your best friends, more often than not, opt for friends. You only need to test well to get into advanced classes in high school (and even without that, you can petition)...other than that, NOBODY looks at your grades from junior high. Fun times and hilarious memories are far more worthwhile.

7. Guys, as much as it might seem cool to act like a badass, you're not fooling anyone. Except maybe yourself and other wannabes.

8. Girls, ALWAYS have an extra tampon/pad, even if it's not that time of the month. You never know when emergency or disaster will strike you or a loved one.

9. Eighth grade dances are not like the proms you see on TV. Imagine all the girls on one side and all the boys on the other side, insert awkwardness and music compiled by people three sheets shy of cool, and you have the first half of an eighth grade dance. In the second half, when people start actually dancing, awkwardness increases exponentially as everyone realizes they have no clue how to dance. Successful slow dancing requires being able to rotate slowly in a circle, while weaving from side to side, without stepping on anyone's feet or dress. This can be hazardous when people's feet and arms are out of proportion from the rest of their bodies thanks to growth spurts and when boys are a head shorter than girls but girls must still find a way to rest their heads on the guy's shoulder.

10. Romantic relationships will probably be the most dramatic, soap operatic, and short-lived of your entire life. Two survivor rules: 1) Dating your best friends' (ex)boy/girlfriend is so not cool. No, it's not like they're not going to get married, but it is a code-of-honor issue among friends; 2) Don't freak out when your friend gets a bf/gf and spends less time with you. They'll be back eventually when they discover how much of a dweeb their bf/gf was.

And above all:
Nothing that happens in junior high is the end of the world (though it all seems like it), and so remember: This too shall pass.

Eating As We Are

2009-06-02T09:55:00.000-07:00

I think I'm starting to believe in that old maxim, “You are what you eat”. I don't believe this in a literal sense, in that if you eat ham you must be a porker. But I do think that what we eat and our relationship to food says something about us. That “something” is probably up to interpretation. But I think it is worthwhile to take a moment and reflect on our eating habits and what we interpret our habits to say about us, because maybe some of our habits do not reflect who we want to become.

Food for thought: Do you tend to eat your meals alone in front of the TV, or perhaps in 10 minutes at your desk, with 8 applications open simultaneously? Quietly around the family table, or with the TV blaring in the background? Or are you the type of person who eats a meal spread out across a 2-3 hour time span over conversation with friends and family? (I'm sure these categories are not mutually exclusive...I'm just musing here.)

Do you eat a lot of fast or ready-made meals or are all your dishes whole-grain and all-natural?

When you go out to eat, do you always go to your favorite restaurant and order your favorite meal? Or are you always trying new places and new dishes?

Do you eat just until you're satisfied, or do you eat with a feeling that you're never quite satisfied? That there is an emotional hole that food caresses, but never satiates?

When you cook, do you follow recipes down to every letter, comma, and fraction, or do you sprinkle, twist, and tweak your recipes to suit your tastes and needs?

I am one of the folks who love to experiment in the kitchen. I love trying new recipes, new foods, and playing with new twists on old favorites. I'm not sure if that says I'm open-minded and adventurous...or just easily bored.

This weekend I pulled out the old master cookbook and made a Greek lamb pie involving phyllo dough, ground lamb, cinnamon, nutmeg, onions, tomatoes and mint. It definitely scored points with the husband so I will be doing that one again. I also made a Moroccan Chicken involving cinnamon, onions, honey, orange and tumeric, and I served a bulgar dish on the side. In the bulgar, I put almonds, orange, honey, sesame seeds, salt and mushroom broth. It sounds complex but was actually quite easy to make and definitely yummy and flavorful. Then yesterday, I found rhubarb at the Isla Vista Food Co-op (I've never seen it fresh in a store before so I had to snap it up!), so I made my first strawberry rhubarb pie. I could eat rhubarb pie every day. Please feel free to email me (jadecelene@gmail.com) if you'd like to have any of these recipes. I'm also excited to hear of any one else's suggestions.

Do you have any food-related habits you think reflect something about you? Or any recipes you'd like to share?

P.S. The rhubarb pie recipe is vegan friendly.

Approaching the Hill

2009-06-01T10:54:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and discovered it was June, the month of my birthday. Usually I'm excited for my birthday. Not quite little-kid excited when I used to demarcate my birthdays by the number of digits in my age. "Ten, mom! This year I become ten! I'll have two numbers in my age!" I used to say. Or by the introduction of "teen" into my age. "Thirteen, mom! I'm officially a teenager!" Though I'm no longer little-kid excited, I still look forward to a special day spent with family, friends, booze and good food. And of course gifts!

But this year I turn twenty-nine, which in and of itself is innocuous enough. But with twenty-nine, comes the inexorable march towards thirty. The big three-oh. This is the age where I look back on my life and evaluate what I've accomplished. And how far I still have to go.

I'm married and happy, and in that sense I'm right on track. House and kids are on the horizon, but that horizon is still a few years away and I'm happy with that. But career-wise, I have yet to still figure things out. When I envisioned my life when I was ten, I thought that by thirty I would be a high-powered executive at a top-notch advertising firm. Well those dreams are no longer my dreams, but I have yet to make my new dreams a reality. Most people I know are already settled in their careers and doing well at them. I keep making new starts. And, at twenty-nine, I'm still in college. Granted, I'm not an undergrad (thank heavens for that!), but still.

Does everybody have this evaluation point at thirty? Does it give you a kick in the butt, or does it just make you feel good to cross the third decade threshold? Are people excited to become 30, because then you're just that much more mature, more adult, more respected? I wonder if it's just a construction in my head or if maybe I'm joining the ranks of the 30-year-old bachelors who discover the party days are over and it's time to settle down and find a wife.

Teavana is Right

2009-05-31T11:37:00.000-07:00

There's something so soothing about a good cup of tea. With its delicate flavors, comforting warmth, and mellow tenderness as it sits on your tongue, tea does wonders for the soul.

Most days, I drink coffee, needing energy to push me through when I'm running on fumes. And lattes and cappuccinos are my decadence when I want a rich treat.

But I've recently discovered truly superb tea. A new tea shop called Teavana just opened up in Santa Barbara. They have a wide selection (even better than the one at Vices & Spices--and the staff is more knowledgeable about the teas) of real quality teas, all loose-leaf and sold by the pound. They do free tastings, and I fell in love with the ones I tried. I picked up two blends. One is a blend of Jasmine Dragon Phoenix Pearls and Rooibos Tropica. The combination has the fragrant undertones of jasmine, with hints of strawberry, citrus, and rose petals. The other blend is of Samurai Chai Mate and White Ayurvedic Chai. This more invigorating combination bursts with cinnamon, cloves, lemongrass and coconut. Both are amazing, perfect for a pick-me-up or a calm-me-down, depending on whatever suits your mood.

And so tea (like this really good tea I found) is something else altogether. It's like a warm blanket and a mother's touch for a tired heart. I brew a pot and let it steep in my pretty little glass teapot. I pour a cup and then take a sip, savoring the delicate herbal, floral and spicy tones. And my heart gives a little sigh.

Tea reminds me of rainy days and good books, of my grandmother and soft, wrinkly skin, of honey and lemon on a sore, scratchy throat. It feels feminine and lovely. Sophisticated and elegant. It feels like the perfect ending to a beloved story; a feeling like you've finally come home...to yourself.

In Limbo

2009-05-30T11:27:00.000-07:00

This year is the year for forks in the road; for choosing between paths and praying they lead somewhere towards happiness. I have officially finished collecting data for my dissertation and now must start writing it. Which means this fall I will start looking for a job. With the job market being so tight, it will be a tough search and if I'm lucky enough to find a job, it almost certainly will entail moving who-knows-where. Meanwhile, I will start sending out my manuscript, in hopes a publisher will see promise in it. Unsure which road will lead to a career, I'm pursuing both simultaneously.

On top of all this, my husband and I have been talking about moving somewhere completely different--as in foreign country different. Berlin and Thailand are probably the best options, given our ease with the languages, family connections and job possibilities. We both would love to live in a foreign country for 6 months to a year, and we wonder whether we should do it now while we're young and relatively mobile and responsibility-free. We don't want to wake up 70, and regretting never having taken the chance.

But the housing market is prime right now for first-time buyers. We could probably afford a nice-sized three bedroom house where we could settle down and have a place of our own. Which means we could also have the dogs we've been jonesing for, for almost a year now. We could get a home with fairly little down and amazingly low interest rates. It would almost be stupid to wait too long. My parents are pushing for this option, saying it's such a great investment that can't be passed up. Part of me wonders whether they're also pushing us to settle down and stay close to family rather than wandering off some where far away.

I always wanted to study abroad when I was in college as an undergrad, but I never did because I was too close to my parents. Plus with a boyfriend, I usually had too many ties keeping me at home. I have a strong belief of never having regrets in life, and I can honestly say I've held to that belief. But never studying abroad is probably the closest thing I have to regret. Now, I don't want to make an irresponsible decision. I don't want to do something that will set us back financially or unduly jeopardize our careers. But I also don't want fear and worry to be what prevents us from doing something we've always wanted to do. I don't want choosing security and responsibility over the opportunity of a lifetime to become something to regret.

I don't know what we will choose. But we are fast approaching the proverbial fork in the road, and I wonder whether we will choose the road of home, career, family, responsibility and settling down, or whether we will choose the road less traveled.

Sorry I'm Lagging

2009-05-28T17:32:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to let any readers who're wondering where I've frittered off to, I'll catch up on posts soon. The parents have been visiting, and would probably find me rude if I hide in my room for an hour to post. They're in town until tomorrow, so I'll resume Tasting Grace then. Much love!

Lessons From My Father

2009-05-26T06:57:00.000-07:00

1. We are always on stage. Whether we like it or not, we always have an audience and should dress and behave accordingly.

2. When you love someone, you take care of them. You find ways, little or big, to show you care, without having to be asked. To do for others is to show them they are loved.

3. To always be gracious, say thank you, and genuinely appreciate the gift, even if you hate it.

4. Hopskotch is the happiest time.

5. Appreciate good wine, good cheese, good friends, and good music.

6. Sometimes capturing footage of a rampaging elephant is more important than staying in the safety of your vehicle.

7. Sometimes making your loved ones happy is more important than being right.

8. Always act so that you'll be proud of yourself 5 years from now. And 10 years from now. Live life with no regrets.

9. Start with an outline: who, what, where, when, why and how. Can you say it in 25 words or less? And look it up in the dictionary.

10. Always explain to your children why. Punishments are never unjust when kids understand why what they did was wrong, and thus the lesson will be much more quickly learned. Treat kids like adults and they will act with maturity.

11. Library is NOT pronounced “lie-berry”.

12. I can do anything I want, if I want it badly enough.

13. I have many talents and I can be a little good at a lot of things, or really, really good at just one thing, and this is the choice I must make.

14. A woman can never have too much adoration, especially from the special men in her life.

15. Sometimes you just need to let a man make his mistakes.

16. Parenting is on-the-job training. Have pity.

17. Let the man pay for dinner. It's good for his ego.

18. No matter what happens, there is never any reason you cannot come home. Your parents will always be there for you and always love you.

19. There is nothing you cannot tell your parents. (But there are things you probably shouldn't tell them.)

20. English muffins topped with sour cream and boysenberry jam is heaven on earth.

21. Tea with honey and lemon works wonders on a sore throat.

22. Sandwiches always taste better when someone else makes them. If you wrap them first in saran wrap and then in tin foil, they'll stay fresh through lunchtime.

23. Hugs and snuggling are always wanted.

24. Take every opportunity to learn foreign languages. You never know when Norwegian or Zulu will come in handy.

25. Don't get high on acid and burn your dissertation. As much as you might want to, it just makes for a depressing story.

Things I Learned From My Mother

2009-05-25T01:42:00.000-07:00

1. Arrange food artistically when serving it. Food tastes even better when it looks appetizing.

2. Respect your elders, even if it seems they do not deserve it. There is always something to be learned from them, if only a lesson in your own humility.

3. A good chef knows if food is well-prepared just by the smell, when there is balance between the salty, the sour, and the sweet. I think there's something true about life here too: it's about finding the balance between salty, sour, and sweet.

4. Be frugal if you must, but never in food. You can scrimp and save everywhere in life, but when it comes to food, eat like kings.

5. It is our actions, not our words, that define who we are.

6. It's the little feminine touches, like lotion or body sprays, that take no effort but make all the difference when you're traveling.

7. Laugh often and uproariously. Life is meant to be laughed at and there is no shortage of ways to find pure glee.

8. Sometimes you say the most when you say nothing at all. Well-placed silence can often be more effective than the slickest words or loudest shrieks.

9. It can be a powerful tool when people don't quite know what to make of you.

10. Family, above all else. When you are at the end of everything, when there is nothing left, only family can be trusted to be there.

11. When you are broken and bleeding, a mother's hand upon your face can work magic.

12. Tell your children you can't always afford to buy them the toys they want (even if you can) and make them do chores (even if it would be done more efficiently by you). This instills the value of money and hard work. They'll grumble, but they'll appreciate you for it later in life.

13. Stupid rules are meant to be broken. But always be prepared to pay the consequences—or at least to outsmart the authority figures.

14. Life's too short to wear uncomfortable shoes. And if you can get away with it, bras should be discarded for the exact same reason.

15. Diamonds really are worth it.

16. You should never be too uptight to enjoy a good joke about sex.

17. Do not imbibe margaritas when you should be cooking dinner for your husband's boss, who is about to arrive.

18. Don't be afraid to wear bright beautiful colors. Do it tastefully, but do it.

19. Don't be rude, not even to people who serve you or work for you.

20. Watching movies with someone, even when neither of you are talking, is spending quality time together.

21. This too shall pass.

22. Fear thy mother's wrath.

23. Weekends are for fresh-baked bread, smoked salmon or foie gras, shallots and lime. Paired with a good sauvignon blanc.

24. Travel while you're young. If you wait until retirement, you'll be too old and fatigued to endure the travails which inevitably come with travel.

25. Families require management. As a woman, it is your job to manage the family and do it in a way that they don't realize they're being managed...and yet they always come to you for advice.

How You Know Clothes Have Been to the Playa

2009-05-22T08:19:00.000-07:00

And by the playa, I don't mean the beach. I mean Burning Man, the place where all collective intentionality coalesces generating a mind-bending, spirit-stretching, communo-phenomatic experience.

Yesterday I posted about the clothing swap. Well, at said clothing swap I picked up a gorgeous red-pink-magenta-maroon-toned, hand-knit scarf. I've seen similar ones at Urban Outfitters, but never could quite convince myself to pony up the cash for an accessory. So when I saw the scarf, I did not hesitate to grab it and stuff it in my pile of takens before anyone else did.

However, when I got home and pulled out the scarf, an overwhelming, overpowering odor hit me upside the snout. It wasn't musty like attic, or noxious like BO. It wasn't even a bad smell, really, just some indefinable brand of pungent. And there's only one thing on earth that could create a smell like that--the Black Rock Desert. And clearly this scarf had not been washed since. Most likely its former owner came back exhausted, euphoric and caked in playa, shoved the scarf into some unknown recesses not wanting to deal with de-playafying it and forgot about it until the swap. Tossing it in the swap pile is easier than coping with such an object.

This object, this scarf, was the succubus of clothing. The smell was so pungent it infiltrated all the clothes around it, and infused them all with its evil. I had to hand wash it separately to prevent further spread of the nefarious fumes.

And this is how you really know an object has been to the playa: it takes four separate hand-washings to get out the grey alkali mud that is so fine it is invisible on the object, but nevertheless fills the suds you rinse out of it. It takes four washings to turn the soap suds from grey to white. Then it takes a fifth washing to get the object to almost smell as if it had been washed. And your hands feel chalky even though they're clean. It almost makes you want to douse the thing in vinegar, set it on fire and have done with it.

Cleaning up after the Burn is a pain in the ass. I bitch, but anyone who has been to Burning Man knows, I bitch with love. (And would happily subject myself to it all over again.)

Fishbon Clothing Swap at the Pescadrome

2009-05-21T08:33:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to a clothing swap--and it was pretty much awesome. A bunch of women got together and brought old clothes that they never wear anymore, laid them all out, socialized as they eyed the clothing and waited for everything to finish getting organized, and then had a free-for-all. Scarves, skirts, and estrogen flew everywhere as women scavenged for cute clothes that fit. Whatever you wanted and could get your hands on, was yours. All free! It's the best idea ever. Not only do you get rid of the old clothes sucking up space, but you get new (to you, at least) clothes in return. No minimums, no quotas. Just what you want to give and what you want to take. In today's economy, events like this one are a godsend. You get new clothes, and might try a style that perhaps you wouldn't normally wear because you don't have to worry about whether or not its worth the price. Paired with appetizers and cocktails, it's a romping good time.

If events like this happened seasonally--or perhaps even more regularly--it would be a great new way to update a wardrobe. And if you pick up something you eventually decide you don't like or never will wear, you can just swap it out at the next one. And any clothes that aren't picked up at the swap are donated to Goodwill. Fabulous, huh?

Got Milk (Suggestions)?

2009-05-20T08:36:00.000-07:00

When it comes to the essential vitamins and nutrients, the one I always seem to have trouble including in my diet is calcium. Does anyone have any suggestions for low fat, low calorie options to get my daily double dose?

Mot dairy options I find (like cheese and ice cream--so yummy, yet so bad for you) are not worth the caloric content since this is supposed to be a daily part of my diet. I've picked up yogurt and those 100-calorie pudding snacks. But there's only so much you can eat before you get pudding-ed out. Plus I need two servings a day. Two of those and I've consumed 1/4 of my daily calorie/fat allowance, which frankly, I'd rather be spending on something else more filling.

I've started drinking a glass of nonfat milk, but I don't particularly enjoy it. Are there any options for dressing up milk (besides Nesquick or Hershey's)? I'm also taking calcium supplements but I don't really trust them as much as real food. I'm always afraid my body won't absorb the nutrients as well as with real produce, which comes with it's own natural carriers and absorbers.

Does anybody have anything they think I should try?

House, Can You Give Us Something Different?

2009-05-19T11:02:00.000-07:00

The Husband and I don't have TV. I mean, we own a TV, but we don't watch television. We watch only movies because cable is a lot of money for a heck of a lot of dreck. We used to have it, but mostly our time just got sucked away into a vapid nothingness, and we'd turn to each other at the end of the night and wonder why we just wasted a whole evening.

So now, it's just movies for us, and the glory that is Hulu and Netflix for the few shows that are actually worth watching. We Netflixed the entire Sopranos series, and now we are working our way through House, M.D.

I love House. I adore the show, with its snappy banter and acerbic wit. And yes, it is formulaic. After about 5 episodes, you get the gist that some medical mystery occurs, House has to be persuaded to take it, the first three or four tries only make the problem worse, and the patient is now not only peeing blood, he or she is also losing their skin in huge swaths, having a seizure, and their bones are disintegrating. Meanwhile House is busy brow-beating his team, abusing Wilson, and sexually harassing Cuddy. But then, at the last minute, a random conversation leads to a flash of insight and House suddenly solves the mystery. Meanwhile the patient (and family) hates his guts, but can't help being grateful that House saved their life. You want to hate House for his lack of morals or sensitivity, but you can't really, because you know he serves a higher calling than social grace. And he's damn funny as he does it; getting away with stuff you sometimes wish you could say, though you know you'll never have the cajones to.

And I'm okay with the formula, even if it is so predictable, because I watch the show for said banter and wit, and because I love House as a character. But there is one little micro-formula that drives me batty.

At the beginning of each episode, the medical mystery is introduced. We follow some unknown character until disaster strikes and they start bleeding out of their eyeballs. But quite often, disaster strikes on one character, another character rushes to save them and then suddenly a whole new disaster strikes the hero. The first character ends up just fine, but it's the hero who suffers from the medical mystery. Fascinating plot twist, n'est-ce pas? Not when it happens EVERY SINGLE TIME.

So writers of House, M.D., I love you. But please...when it comes to this little mini-plot move...can you mix it up a bit?

ADDENDUM: As I mentioned, we watch House on a combination of Hulu (most recent episodes) and Netflix (prior episodes we missed), so this does mean we're rather behind the times. Having just now seen Season 5's finale, I must admit this post came at a somewhat inauspicious time. It was in response to episodes in season 3. Meanwhile, the end of season 5 came as quite a shock. Especially to my little romantic heart beating to the tune of the House-Cuddy relationship. So for any readers who wondered what the heck I could be blathering about, I apologize for the delayed reaction. :)

(House, MD promotional image taken from: http://www.wpromote.com/blog/wpromote/5-things-wpromote-will-do-in-2009/)

Hollywood's Running Out of Ideas

2009-05-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or do we seem to be hurtling toward a critical mass of re-hashed ideas dominating the silver screen? How many books/TV shows/previous movies are going to be spun and re-spun and regurgitated before we all, as an audience, regurgitate? It seems the list keeps growing: Chronicles of Narnia, Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Iron Man, Spiderwick Chronicles, and The Reader just last year alone. Then we have Star Trek, The Transformers, and Dukes of Hazzard. I swear, I think the upsurge of indy-style flicks might be my only saving grace--though movies about awkward teenagers may reach their own critical mass pretty soon.

Don't get me wrong; I absolutely love some of these movies, and I don't necessarily think there's anything wrong with taking something and re-appropriating it in a different form. But I do take umbrage when EVERYTHING coming out is a complete knock-off of something else.

Last night I went to Angels & Demons (see, I don't mind re-appropriation!), but I think every single one of the previews for the movie I saw was ripped from some other source. There was My Sister's Keeper, which is of course a Jodi Picoult novel. There was My Life in Ruins, which by involving the following three elements: Nia Vardalos, Greece, and awkward romance, manages to feel like the exact same movie as My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding. Then there was another movie, whose title I couldn't be bothered to remember, involving Johnny Depp as yet another criminal we can't help but love.

And the one that really ticked me off was The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3. This upcoming release involves Denzel Washington as the reluctant do-gooder who gets sucked into saving the world (or at least lower Manhattan) from an impending terrorist threat (terrorist played by John Travolta). John Turturro and Luis Guzman are also starring, and I'm almost willing to bet they will play two of the spunky, but endearing hostages. Anybody else sick of the reluctant hero saving the world from a terrorist attack? I'm bored already. All we need now is another man-against-nature movie about the Armageddon, and I might swear myself off movies all together.

Bringing Nature into Writing

2009-05-17T15:26:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I went to a writer's workshop in Ojai and it was amazing. It was all about using the natural world as metaphor, or another language even, to express the self and life experiences. I've been wanting to find ways to slow down the pace of my manuscript in certain spots and to add an extra layer of depth and meaning to it, and I think what I learned in this workshop will really help with that.

The workshop just consisted of a series of writing exercises, to which we would do a free-response and then read aloud to the other participants. I really enjoyed this process, so I thought I would share a few of my responses.

We started with a meditation where we were to imagine our bodies as landscapes and then we wrote about what came in our meditations. Here's mine:

I am the rolling hills, golden and dotted with the lushness of deep greens. Golden and green like the strident colors of a battle flag. I am like the hills, gentle and sensuous, warm and inviting.

But a river runs through these hills, carving through the landscape, bringing with it life, vivacity, breath and energy. Where the hills would be soft and sleepy, the river awakens. Where the hills would be warm and glowing, the river brings coolness and slippery edges. While the whole of me is the gentle, sensual silence of the hills, a river strikes through my core.

In this river core, I am waiting, anticipatory. In this core, I am like the spark of electricity that lights a fire. In this core, I am vibrant.

Another assignment we had was to think of a person we love and describe them using clouds as imagery. Here is what I wrote:

My Asian grandmother was like a solitary storm cloud hovering on the south east horizon. She was silent and steady, heavy with the volition of ancestral spirits. But with her always loomed the potential of a sudden strike. Though diminutive in size, her presence was larger than life. She was hardened, tough, and weathered by the processes of time. But there was a depth to her. A depth so profound that one couldn't help but always keep her in the corner of one's eye, even when she was far away. She was the matriarch. It was foolish to make a move without first considering her. All of life moved below her, under her watchful eye.

When she passed, it was like the heavy storm cloud dissipating into the light. Though she is gone, the memory of her is an indelible imprint; like a footstep pressed into sand.

A different assignment was to take a character from one writing piece we did and place them in a landscape totally foreign. I chose India:

A world-weary traveler of the American heartland, I am overwhelmed by the discordant bustle of the streets of Bombay. Instead of floating through the wide open vistas of purple and gold, I am deluged in a sea of spices and curries, melodious car horns, loud voices and jostling vendor stalls. Bright orange wars with reds and greens and blues and pinks, the colors a riot on my fatigued eyes. Incense shocks the system, children clamor for money, cars screech to a halt and I can't see the sky. I am out of my element, tossed out of peaceful vistas into a brash landscape I can't comprehend. The heat and humidity are oppressive. Walking outside is like slamming into a wall of water.

And yet. And yet there is a happiness here. A joie de vivre unparalleled in the States. An endless extension of family and friends and neighbors who welcome you to a cup of chai. After the initial thunderstorm of shock, there is a pulse, a rhythm, the steady beating hear of India. And I find I am home.

The final assignment was to take a cumulative look over everything we covered in the workshop and write a poem as response to the whole experience. Here is mine:

Clouds
Thick with history
Heavy with mood
They strum along the horizon
An ominous interlude

Clouds
Wistful and transcendent
Dissipate in the light
Misty and ethereal
They slip through the night

So many magical shapes
So many wondrous forms
Whisking happy travelers away
Or comforting the widow, who mourns.

Where will they go?
Where shall they be?
Watch them flit whither and nigh
As they float by and by and by.

Definitely not Yeats or Whitman, but not bad, I think, for 10 minutes' work. :)

Table for One, Please

2009-05-15T17:19:00.001-07:00

The Husband is going out of town this weekend for some time with his boys. I'm invited, but I'm just not motivated to go. I like his guys, and I'm going to miss him every minute that he is gone. But I also truly love time to myself.

I love quiet time. I love to read a girly book, and I love staying up till 4 am because I just can't put it down. I love having my own space. I love girl-time; the time of gossip and chit-chat, of lemon-drops and appetizers, and of trying on each others' clothes. I love painting my toe nails and watching the chick movies we wouldn't watch together. It's all the little things I used to do as a Single Woman that no longer fit in the rhythm of Married Life.

And I love the time right when he gets back and we tell each other about all the little nothings that happened in each others' absence. It reminds me of when we were dating; excited to see each other and any minute apart seems too long.

Some people say I should keep him on a shorter leash; that we should do everything together. But I don't think so. I think that even when you are a We, you still need time and space to be just You. Time apart helps us not take each other for granted, helps us not feel smothered, helps us grow and change as individuals, and make us a stronger couple. It keeps us interesting and interested. I've seen couples who do stay too close and they don't last, or they make each other miserable. Maybe not at first, but 20-30 years down the line. Wives who keep their husbands too close sometimes create husbands who cling to secret information as their only lifeline for privacy. They keep secrets and hide things they don't necessarily need to hide, just for the sake of feeling they have some control.

I'm going to miss him every minute and I'll be sad to see him go. I'll be excited to see his name on my phone when he rings me to say goodnight. But I'm also going to love my little dose of independence.

Fashion Forward?

2009-05-14T10:22:00.000-07:00

My research involves spending a lot of time on high school campuses, which beyond making me relive tedious high school classes, observe dramas worthy of soap operas, and cringe at the gangly awkwardness, gives me a good synopsis of teenage haute couture. I got to see the hipster movement filter through the popularity ranks. I saw the proliferation of 90's plaid cut in 80's mod and I witnessed the mass resurgence of Uggs paired with Daisy Dukes. I know I'm getting old when I look at these kids immersed in the movement of purported irony and think out loud, “You kids don't know what you're talking about. In my day...” With those three words “in my day” I'm transported from young and hip to old and geezerly.

Still I don't say this too often. My initial dismay has worn down and I'm starting to like the look of the flat-footed, knee-high boots over skinny jeans, and I can appreciate the concept of the movement even if fashion flew ahead of thought on this one.

But I met my match today. I saw someone who made me channel my inner New Yorker and my senses were appalled. I saw a girl with barbell piercings in the middle of her cheeks. Now I have nothing against piercings at all. And I have nothing against multiple piercings. Depending on the piercing and the person, I think they can be quite flattering. But this little chicklet had an eyebrow piercing, two nose piercings, piercings on her top lip, piercings on her bottom lip, and one piercing in the center of each cheek. And those are just the ones on her face. Granted, a piercing in the middle of your cheek is no more or less arbitrary than one on your eyebrow or tongue or ear. But I'm sorry; teenagers have acne. And when your piercings are warring with your zits for space on your face, you've done something wrong.

What happened? Did she give up on a smooth complexion entirely and instead decide to rival the moon's surface? Did she think that a surplus of bright shiny metal balls would draw attention away from the bright shiny red ones? What would possess a person to do that to themselves? Does she really look in the mirror and think, “Hey, I look good”?

The logic in this fashion statement is beyond me. Although, having gotten my rant out, I suppose something might be said for being able to squirt your soda out of multiple orifices with one good belly laugh.

Loving the Local Borders

2009-05-13T13:31:00.000-07:00

Last week I happened to bump into an old friend who mentioned the local Borders Bookstore in our downtown area was closing, and I was dumbfounded. That Borders is always packed. I know times are tough economically, but I had difficulty believing my favorite bookstore in town was closing down.

Then this morning, I went into the Goleta branch of Borders and talked to the employees there and apparently I wasn't the only one to be misinformed. The Santa Barbara Borders has no intention of closing; it is surviving well and still in business. The Barnes and Noble across the street, however, is shutting down. This information does not surprise me.

The reason I love Borders bookstores is because they give their customers oodles of communal space to just come, sit down with a book, and enjoy a cup of coffee where no one will bother you. In a society where communal spaces are diminishing in favor of virtual space, Borders offers a safe and welcome haven to its customers. I can watch people as I work, and quite often Borders has musicians and author events to attend as well. And the thing I most treasure is that not one of the staff ever makes me feel guilty for sitting down with a book I may or may not purchase in the end. Instead, they seem to encourage it, with their large cafe spaces and plush couches scattered about the store.

I admit there have been times I've read entire books or magazines that I didn't end up buying. But more often than not, I have picked up books, read them for an hour or two, and then purchased them. I've also wandered by books twenty or thirty times before eventually breaking down and buying them--and ended up getting the entire series. If I had felt rushed or in any way uncomfortable just hanging out in the bookstore, I most likely would never have bought those books And probably the largest chunk of my paycheck outside rent goes to Borders because I am able to do that; I am able to just hang out and peruse at my leisure.

At Barnes and Noble, one is hard pressed to find a space to sit other than the floor, and the cafe is shoved hidden towards the back, and there is less of an atmosphere encouraging one to stay and relax. Somehow the organizational scheme makes a little less intuitive sense than at Borders, and at the Santa Barbara branch at least, the store is darker. I am attracted to open, sunny spaces, and thus am a happier soul at Borders.

Life After Fire

2009-05-12T10:33:00.000-07:00

She eyes me as I take another bite of pastry.

"All the women on her dad's side of the family have big hips," she says with a conspiratorial nod to our guests, who smile politely, though somewhat uncomfortably.

"That's a true story," I say, laughing it off a bit.

She pats her thighs. "But she gets the big thighs from me." She laughs. Our guests smile nervously, flitting glances over at me, trying to gauge how I react.

"I guess I'm screwed on both sides," I laugh. And the guests relax, relieved by the easy banter. Meanwhile, I think, Thanks Mom.

In less than a minute we have slipped into our old routine of half-joke/half-warning and feigned nonchalance. It fits like a favorite old pair of slippers. I know why she does it. She watches my weight like an eagle-hawk ready to shred any excess pound because she worries about my health. She has diabetes and doesn't want me to go the way of needles and insulin like she has. And I appreciate that about her, even if I don't appreciate the verbal harping.

But 20 pounds lighter and in a healthy weight I haven't seen since high school, I am still the fat girl. Still the one who must watch her poundage and battle the bulge. While I was losing the weight, part of me was looking to prove to her I could. Nearly a year since I lost the weight, part of me still hopes to prove to her I did, and could keep it off. And yet, no matter how skinny I get or for how long, I will always be the one who has big hips and big thighs and have to weigh each bite she eats.

And in less than a minute, I am struck by how, after everything happens and the dust settles, old patterns rise again like they've never left. After trauma, after marriage, after weight-loss, after fire, the life before returns and things are as they always have been. Some things in life will never change, no matter what you try to prove.

Bird Loves Ray Charles

2009-05-12T00:17:00.001-07:00

Click on this link (not the picture):Bird Loves Ray Charles (at Maniac World)
You must watch this video immediately.

Most awesome thing I have ever seen. Ever.

Needing Space

2009-05-06T13:14:00.000-07:00

How is it that sh** accumulates so easily? You know how, when you move, you always catch yourself wondering how the heck you managed to acquire so much stuff? At first, you carefully wrap items and place them neatly in boxes, but then you keep coming across stuff you didn't even remember you had. You're slightly amused at yourself at the beginning, but by the end of it you just start chucking stuff at random into the car or box truck? You don't care anymore, you just want it all to go away, and frankly, are wondering if maybe you wouldn't be happier just tossing it all into a bonfire and watching it burn.

I'm not in the process of moving, but I almost wish I were. I'm feeling stifled in our shoebox apartment. Coming from a studio, we were ecstatic when we first moved in to our 1-bedroom shoebox. We felt we were bouncing off the walls we had so much space. We were mostly excited just to have actual separate rooms. Well now, two years later (and post-wedding-gift-mania), we barely have room to walk in our bedroom, we can't really see our coffee table most of the time, and every single inch of space along the walls has some pile of something or other. (And most of it, I must admit, is mine). I could be a little more organized, but honestly, the biggest problem is that we just don't have enough space. Both of us work from home, so we have our myriad computer and photo equipment. Plus, I am a grad student working on a dissertation, so I have stacks of library books and research materials lining all possible floor space. I have my files all neatly filed away in boxes, but am running out of places to stack the file boxes.

What I would LOVE is to find a place where a) we don't work at the same table at which we eat--saves potential spillage on fancy computers, and b) we had some place for guests to stay--other than the couch or floor. Ideally, we would have a 3-bedroom place with a dining area separate from the living room area. One bedroom would be for us; one office for me, which could double as storage place for books, files, and other stuff; and one office for Toby, which could double as guest bedroom.

Seeing as how that is not financially viable in Santa Barbara (even the mortgage on my 2-bdrm townhouse--with garage! and laundry room!--was $150 less than what we pay now for a 1-bdrm closet), my options are either to move or get started on that massive pyre.

Santa Barbara On Fire. Again.

2009-05-05T14:17:00.001-07:00

After the rampages of the Gap Fire and the Tea Fire which burned 200+ homes last year, Santa Barbara is on fire yet again. A new fire just started, burning more than 4 acres already in the San Roque Canyon in just a manner of minutes. Plumes of smoke are rising in thick columns up the mountains. Evacuation orders are issued for Tunnel, Foothill, Spyglass and Holly roads. The sounds of choppers and sirens fill the air as emergency crews enter the scene, and we're expecting the dreaded sun-downer winds later tonight.

I'll keep you posted as I learn more.

UPDATES:
* All traffic on La Cumbre, north of State Street is being shut down.
* Orange Grove and Las Canoas roads and the area north of the Botanical Gardens are being evacuated.
* There are police reports that gunshots were heard in the area around the time the fire started.
* Winds are shifting to a southeasterly direction (as of 3:39 pm), which may push the fire down the slope.
* The Santa Barbara School District has cancelled class.
* As of 4:30 pm, more than 150 acres have burned. The entire canyon area has been evacuated.
* As of 10:00 pm, more than 400 acres have burned.
* CORRECTION: It appears the fire is not as large as originally thought. As of the morning it appears to have consumed less than 200 acres. However, it is not contained. Calm weather in the morning is helping, but strong winds are expected in the afternoon and evening. There is a lot of aerial support, but according to fire crews, teams on the ground is what is really needed to put this thing out--and that is difficult because the fire is burning up in very rough, very steep terrain.

**UPDATE: We are in the evacuation warning zone now, so we have packed up our stuff and hightailed it out of there.

Dealing with Domestic Flights

2009-05-04T13:44:00.000-07:00

I love traveling, but despise the actual act of traveling, especially if it involves airports. And the new "security theater" with all kinds of stupid regulations only make it worse. I could rant and rave about that, but before I get distracted, let me focus on my main point: the thing I hate most about flying is the lack of communication between company and consumer. Perfect market information, my ass.

For example, on both my flights to and from Florida on Delta, I checked in early with my flight and travel insurance confirmation number in tow for a flight I had booked in January. But somehow I did not get an assigned seat (despite having picked one out online). I just got a pseudo-ticket with a bold stamp on it saying "Seat Requested". WTF?! Yes, I paid for a flight, I do request a seat on the mother-f'ing plane. So I go through security, and go to my terminal, and the people at the counter say they will call me when they have a seat ready. What does this mean? Does this mean I might not make the flight? Both flights were overbooked with a mile-long "wish-list" (Since when did they start calling the waiting list a wish list and really does it make people feel better that they're wishing rather than waiting?). Was there a possibility there might not be a seat for me? Why do they do this? Why couldn't they explain it? So I wait around, praying I'm not getting bumped off the flight and preparing myself to raise hell especially as they're starting to board people and I still haven't gotten my seat. They finally call me when the terminal is nearly empty and I get my seat, but underneath the relief I am fuming because I've been stressed for no apparent reason. A little communication people! I'm just saying, it would have been nice to know in advance what was going on.

When you purchase your ticket, there is never any information about what you're getting for your money. All flights are not equal, and in the era of cutbacks, they're getting worse. Instead of getting the usual food, movies, blankets and pillows included in the whole flight package, you now have to pay for all said items--and hope they haven't run out of what you want because the airline didn't prepare for demand. Moreover, some flights offer some of these things and others don't. Some offer meals, others offer junk food you have to pay $7 for or go hungry. Some flights have pillows, others have blankets, and still others have neither. And now they're charging $15 apiece for check-in luggage--which of course means people try to squeeze their big-ass bags into the overhead bins and create delays, cramped space, and all around headaches for everyone else.

I, for one, would much rather have a set price included in the actual price of the ticket in order to have a comfortable flight, than to be nickeled and dimed every step of the way. But if they are going to charge separately for these items, they should offer a rundown of prices so you know what you're getting yourself into when you buy the ticket. Choosing flights solely on price and travel times can leave you stranded with a subpar or positively hellish flight.

So what is the consumer to do? Short of demonstrations, boycotts, and strongly-worded letters, the only thing to do is adapt. Having flown 8 domestic flights in something like 2 months, I have compiled a list of ways to have a smooth flying experience:

1) Prepare to play your part in security theatre:

Only carry liquids and gels in 3 oz. containers and keep them in a clear ziploc bag you can easily pull out of your bag
Wear shoes that are easy to take on/off so you don't have to bother with laces and such in the security line
Pack so you are prepared to slip your laptop out of its case and place it in a separate bin
Minimize the amount of metal accessories you'll have to take off before going through the metal detector

2) Pack light. If you cannot travel light, don't be a cheapskate. You're allowed 1 carry-on bag (please keep it small) and a purse or laptop case. If you cannot fit everything you want to bring in either of these items, pay the lousy $15 and check it in. The overhead bins are overcrowded and trying to stuff your duffel bag or almost-suitcase just creates problems for everybody. You'll hold up the line as you puff and sweat trying to shove your bag where it won't fit, piss off everyone behind you, and most likely end up having to check it anyway.

3) Be prepared to bring whatever you might need on the plane because there is no guarantee the flight will offer what you want and it most certainly won't come at a reasonable price. So if you want a pillow or blanket, go buy one of those little travel-size ones. A good quality travel pillow is worth its weight in gold when you want to get some shut-eye. Also, bring some food like a sandwich, fiber/protein bar and/or fruit; something that is filling and doesn't take up too much space. You'll be so glad you did when you see the flight attendants going down the aisle offering unhealthy, unsatisfying, and expensive snacks. Seriously, who wants to pay $5 for a bag of peanuts to sustain themselves on a 5-hour flight? No thank you.

4) Last but not least: arrive early. Better to be bored than harried and stressed out.

I hope this list is useful (especially for anyone who hasn't flown recently). Happy travels!

"Rachel Getting Married"

2009-05-02T20:34:00.000-07:00

I was all set to write my own little review of "Rachel Getting Married", but a quick glance online showed me the critics have already hashed it out well. Everything I had wanted to say is already out there. It's fabulous. Raw. Real. Emotional. Powerful. Anne Hathaway is brilliant in a way totally unexpected, given her past repertoire. Rosemarie DeWitt plays with unparalleled subtlety and grace the wounded older sister-bride. The cast of characters is multicultural, diverse, touching and spot on. And by not leaving any mention within the film of its multiracial nature, the filmmakers impart an even more powerful statement to the viewer: we are here, all the same, all human, with hopes, loves, needs and desires. As different as we are, we are all family.

And though the critics have already said all this, I still feel compelled to respond to the film because it so moved me. The film delves into the complex hurts and history of an addict and her dysfunctional family, but it also transcends that into something more. While the film traverses a world of pain, in the end, what you feel is hope. And even though the ending feels unresolved, it's okay. It's the perfect ending because it is real. In real life, there isn't always a happy resolution. Sometimes, things do just go on. But what matters is (what I thought to be) the film's ultimate message: that underneath and above it all, family is stronger than anything. No matter the hurts, no matter the history, family always has the power to forgive in a way no one else can. And family has the power to love, in spite of it all.

What Am I Thinking About Today?

2009-05-01T12:05:00.000-07:00

Pretty much nothing. After wracking my brains for oh about 5 minutes over what to write about today, I gave up and decided to go stream-of-consciousness today. I'm on vacation and apparently my brain went on vacay as well, so I hope you'll bear with me. If not, hopefully you're on vacation too, or at least thanking the powers that be that today is Friday.

I'm visiting one of my best friends, who lives all the way across the bloomin' continent in Florida. It's her little baby boy's (who, by the way, is pretty much one of the most adorable kids I've ever seen) very first birthday and I'm here for the fiesta. I took the red-eye from L.A., after playing translator in the airport for a lovely old French woman, and arrived in Ft. Lauderdale at 5:30 am. Since then I've been running on coffee and the fumes of excitement.

We ran some errands this morning and I was summarily reminded of how hot and humid Florida gets, even at 8 in the A-M. And I am giggling with glee because I love it. It reminds me of summer in Thailand. Not that hot, but remniscent of that hot. I'm also rediscovering air-conditioning. What a nifty little invention that is. We in Santa Barbara of course do not have air-conditioning because in theory it never gets above 75 degrees there. On the rare days it does, we all decamp to either the mountains or the beach and bask lovingly in the heat. The flip side of that idyllic weather is in the rickety, uninsulated, ramshackle apartments we fork over our life savings to have, we bake in the summer and freeze in the winter, regardless of what the weather outside the apartment is doing.

So what are my plans? Nothing other than digging out my bikini, making some Thai curry, eating a Columbian fruit salad and then hightailing it for the park and pool. I think I was born to live in tropical weather.

Tick Tock

2009-04-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

My Cousin Vinny/My biological clock is ticking like this...

Walking down State Street today, I came across a woman with the small, but distinct bump of pregnancy and I felt a pang. Pow! Just like that, I wanted to be her. Just for a moment.

Lately, I have found myself occasionally imagining what it would be like to be pregnant. I rub my belly lovingly as if there were a tiny little burgeoning being in there. I see cute little toddlers waddling and can't wipe the silly grin off my face (and no, I'm not the type to think all kids are cute). I have a soft spot in my heart for tiny little baby booties, and I go nuts buying up all the adorable little clothes for my nieces and my friend's baby boy. And even more recently, I have started wanting that feeling of excitement at being preggers, feeling the flutter in my belly, watching the little lovely alien in the sonogram, and counting little fingers and toes too tiny to be real.

I don't actually want kids--not yet. The thought of dealing with a child screaming in the store, sticky fingers all over my things, changing diapers, and feeding someone who thinks food belongs anywhere but in their mouth makes me cringe. I have been married less than a year and I LOVE life with just the two of us. I love that we can travel without too much hassle. I love that we can go to the movies--or do anything we want--on the spur of the moment. I love that our home is peaceful and quiet. I love knowing there is a possibility we might just up and move to a foreign country--that we can take the opportunity of a lifetime at the drop of a hat and not have to worry about the needs of a child. And I'm not ready to give that up yet. Much to the relief of my husband.

But my biological clock is quietly ticking away, and the pang I felt today was like the first alarm going off in the morning before you groggily slap it off. I hope it'll be a few years yet before it becomes insistent, demanding and all pervasive, à la Marisa Tomei's in My Cousin Vinny. (God I love that scene.) In the meantime, I will willfully keep hitting the snooze button.

Book Review

2009-04-29T12:53:00.000-07:00

Gladiatrix
by Russell Whitfield, 2008
"In the arenas of Ancient Rome, the ultimate female warrior is born"

I went to Borders bookstore in search of historical fiction to get a sense of what the market in that area looked like. I especially hoped to find novels focusing on Ancient Greece, but alas, to my dismay there were none. Almost all the historical fiction I saw dealt primarily with European history--and medieval European history at that. We seem obsessed, as a culture, with the stories of kings and queens, emperors and the upper crust. I saw little, if any, stories about regular people and every day lives, as if somehow human struggles and daily toils do not transcend time. And what I saw of ancient times dealt almost exclusively with Rome (with one or two exceptions focusing on the likes of Genghis Khan). It's as if the Romans stole everything from the Greeks and we all decided the thieves were more interesting than the creators. Perhaps because they were marginally bloodier with all the sex still intact. It seems only philosophers in the ivory tower of academia bother themselves with Socrates and Plato and their ilk.

But I digress.

I saw Gladiatrix and seized upon it, grateful to find a book that, if set in ancient Rome, at least had a protagonist from ancient Greece. Albeit Spartans were a special breed of Hellenic folk, but at least one could say Greek characters appeared in the book.

Overall, I found the book an entertaining read, full of lively characters, vivid battle scenes and a good plot of a woman's struggle for freedom. The heroine, Lysandra, is strong and noble, even if a bit arrogant. In real life, I find people with too much ego obnoxious, but in Lysandra I found it gave her character a bit of spice. Instead of being annoyed, I found myself smiling indulgently at her like a parent might smile at an overly precocious child's attempts at profundity and pat them on the head.

What I especially appreciated about the book was its attempt to break down borders of traditional fiction in a way that was entertaining and less overtly activist. It dealt with issues of ethnicity, gender, class, homosexuality and human nature but it didn't bludgeon the reader over the head with it. A lot of breakthrough fiction deals with these issues more overtly--and that is important and good to force readers to think about issues and perspectives they may not have thought of before or may not have wanted to think of. But it's also nice to have a book that weaves these themes in so unselfconsciously you almost don't even notice they're there. You identify with the protagonist's point of view before you even realize you might be uncomfortable with it. I think that might be a very powerful way to advance more activist causes and still entertain while you're doing it.

However, what I did find less than fulfilling was the book's treatment of the sexual relationships between the gladiatrices. I think it's fantastic the author attempted to deal with it and treat it just like we would read heterosexual encounters in romance and literary fiction. But there is something about it that rubbed me the wrong way. It could be that because I knew the author was male, my perceptions were colored perhaps unfairly. But to me, it read a bit more like an adolescent male's wet dream of two women oiled up for battle rubbing each other in explicit and lascivious ways. The only thing I can imagine that he could have done to lend that part of the story a little more emotional credibility (maybe especially for his female audience) is to delve a bit more into the characters' relationship, especially between Lysandra and Eirianwen. Why did they love each other? What attracted them beyond the physical? There is clearly a strong and deep emotional attachment between the two, but why? Perhaps in delving more deeply into their love, the author can strengthen his treatment of their loving.

Overall, the book is entertaining and satisfying in the end and I would recommend it to anyone looking for a good summer or lazy Sunday read.

A Shift in Generations

2009-04-28T08:28:00.000-07:00

What did you want to be when you grew up, before you grew up? I remember when I was a kid (ten to twenty years ago) it seemed that people used to dream big about professional careers. Everyone wanted to be doctors, lawyers, scientists or high-powered executives. After about the age of 5 or 6, nobody really dreamed of being bakers, poets, or carpenters.

Now it seems to be less true. We've all heard stories about highly-paid, highly professional bankers or marketing executives who, mid-career, get disillusioned by the whole deal and suddenly quit the rat race. They leave their jobs, uproot their lives and move to the south of Spain and start all over as a florist. Or they paint. Or they write. They do something they've always wanted to do and never did because they were so consumed before by the paycheck at the end of the day. But now, instead of individuals, it seems like an entire generation is becoming disillusioned and making that shift.

It seems now, that instead of dreaming big about making their mark as elite doctors, lawyers and executives, people are dreaming big about freelancing, opening their own B&Bs or restaurants, setting up their own studios and becoming yoga instructors. Instead of wanting to be politicians and veterinarians, people dream of being firemen and dancers. Instead of managing teams in established industries, people are dreaming of ways to make smaller, yet more unique, imprints on the world.

In a way, I wonder if it's a sign of the times, the reckless consumption and drive for money of the 80s and 90s being tempered by people of the new millenium questioning themselves about what they really want in life. Do they really want the bigger home or do they want to have more vacation time with their loved ones? What makes them really happy: the size of their 401(k)s or the chance to try something they've always wanted to do? People are taking stock, and maybe some are deciding that when push comes to shove quality of life is outweighing quantity in life.

In that sense, maybe some good can come out of this economic downturn. I hear that many people, now faced with unemployment, are taking the opportunity to pursue higher education and degrees they've always wanted to have but, for whatever reason, never had the chance to pursue before. People are branching out and trying new things in an effort to pay the rent and keep busy. But they would never have put themselves out there if they hadn't lost that crappy, but stable job with the decent pay. It's of course idealistic to think a surprise happy ending will come out of all, or even most, of the layoffs, but it would be nice to know if the innovative, entrepreneurial spirit is being revitalized. I wonder what it would mean for our economy (and perhaps general health) if people relied less on mega corporations and started afresh at the grassroots.

So of course my observation is in no way based on any empirical, scientific evidence, and perhaps is even wildly skewed given my present location. We all know the dangers of extrapolating from a non-random sample! But what if it were true? What if we saw significant shifts in how people thought about their careers and desires in life? What kind of changes would we see?

My Closest Friends Are All Far Away

2009-04-27T09:05:00.000-07:00

There is something indescribably wonderful about having friends with whom, no matter how close or far away, no matter how much time has passed, you can always pick up the threads as if you were never apart.

This weekend I spent time with some of my closest friends. I haven't seen them in almost a year, yet when I am with them, it is almost like it was only yesterday we last saw each other. We can laugh and joke and fall into an easy rhythm. There are no awkward silences because you love each other so much, just being with each other is enough. You talk about the big things, you talk about the little, insignificant things and all of it is important and meaningful--something to remember.

And who knows where we all shall go? Some may fly off to foreign lands, some moving for career opportunities, and some finding their home in which to settle down. No matter where our paths will lead, there is never good-bye because we know we will always find ways to touch base, to reconnect and pick up as if we never left off.

There is something so indescribably comfortable and sweet in that.

The Art of Flattery

2009-04-23T08:33:00.000-07:00

Confessions of a Socially Awkward Grad Student

If there is anything I fail miserably at doing, it is receiving compliments gracefully. Compliments make me nervous. Effuse praise makes me positively wish to flee. I feel as if I am thrust up on stage and I don't know my lines. The audience is waiting and all I can do is draw a blank.

I used to try the whole deflection routine. You know, the one where you tell the flatterer that they're totally wrong.
FRIEND: Your hair is lovely today!
ME: Ugh, no. I had to scream at it for hours this morning to make it stay.
FRIEND: Well...it looks very nice.
ME: No it doesn't. I hate my hair.
And therefore, Friend has poor taste. Way to reward a compliment with an insult.

So I discover that tactic is not modesty so much as rudeness. Advice columns suggest instead just saying “Thank you” warmly. I try that, but the “Thank you” inevitably precedes a big, empty space in the conversation. A pregnant pause where it feels like the other person is always waiting for something and I always struggle to close the gap.
FRIEND: You did an awesome job on that article!
ME: [smile warmly] Thank you!
...pause
ME: [grinning wider to stave off nerves] So...how about this crazy weather we're having?
Ugh. Awkwardness galore. Plus I just feel immodest. I try to send a grateful smile, and feel I just come off looking smug.

Then I get to thinking: what if I follow up the compliment with another compliment?
FRIEND: Hey, cute dress!
ME: Aww, thank you! That's very kind of you to say (Bing! Compliment 1!). I really like your shoes (Bing! Compliment 2!)
FRIEND: Oh really? Thank you, I... (And SCORE! Attention effectively diverted and friend feels good.)
Fantastic plan, right? Except sometimes I am caught off guard and don't have a genuine compliment handy. Not because I don't like the person, but just because all I can think to offer as a compliment would be something stupid to say in that moment. Like when they've complimented your new coat and you look at them to compliment an article of their clothing and they're wearing the same outfit they've worn once a week for the past year. So what do you say? “I like your...eyes”? “Oh that sweater always looks good on you”? If you're lucky they take the compliment, but to my ears it sounds trite and disingenuous. Even if I genuinely mean it, it comes off sounding like I only said it because they complimented me.

Thus my only option left is to compliment first. So what is it now? A war of the compliments, where you hope to pre-emptively compliment and hope your companion doesn't have second-strike capabilities? First one to strike wins?

I have only met a couple of people in my life who roll off geniune compliments so easily, I feel completely comfortable in their presence. There is no pregnant pause, no awkward silences because they're not waiting for a response. They're not waiting to be complimented in return, or congratulated for their own kind words. And I find it so easy to compliment them because there are no expectations. They say thank you warmly and the conversation moves on effortlessly. And I can give a sigh of blessed relief. All relationships should be so easy.

Emotion in the Public Sphere

2009-04-22T15:34:00.000-07:00

I just heard (yet another) fantastic discussion on NPR on the US's use of torture as an interrogation technique. The commentator, who argued that torture is not justified and punishment should lay on the heads of the top policymakers who sanctioned the abuses in the first place, (I'm sorry I missed his name, I only caught 10 minutes of the segment) was very erudite and polite in his arguments and gracious in receiving criticism. In the spirit of full disclosure, I agree whole-heartedly with his arguments. The commentary which follows addresses things his critics have called in to say and I wish to take issue with these comments, not because I disagree with their argument, but because I find fault with the presentation of their arguments—or the reasons they provided. If someone had called in using emotion in the same way to support the commentator's argument, I would find fault with that as well.

Argument #1: “I'm sick and tired of you Europeans coming here and criticizing America.”
So the commentator had a British accent, but as he so eloquently pointed out, he too has a stake in the issue. His family is fully American, he was there on 9-11, people he knew died in the 9-11 attacks, etc., etc. The point is: don't assume that because you know one bit about a person that you know what their entire life has been.
But more than that, 9-11, the War on Terror, wars abroad and American responses are global issues. We are not some backwater country living in isolation. Our actions (as a global leader, if you will) have global effects. We're not talking about some domestic issue like the death penalty or legalizing abortions. We're talking about issues that have repercussions and consequences worldwide. Other countries have a stake in these issues as well, and therefore have a right to participate in the discussion, even if we don't like what they have to say.

Argument #2: “Where is your anger?”, implying that if you were truly angry you'd agree torture is necessary. But since you're a cold SOB, your point of view is invalid.
Commentator's response: He is deeply angry but also passionate about the values that America and democracies in general uphold. He argues we must stick to our values because it is our values that sets us apart from the terrorists. It's the fact that we have a judicial system instead of beheadings that makes America great and resorting to the other side's tactics reduces us.
Hear, hear I say! But I would like to add to that and question the caller. When has anger ever led to wise decisions? We do stupid things, things we regret, when we are angry. When have you ever heard of anger leading to wisdom? (Except by way of a mistake and lesson learned.)
[As a side note, it always amazes me that some of the very same people who will argue until they're blue in the face that America is great because of the liberties it provides are also the very people who are so quick to abandon those liberties whenever it suits them—in this case, presumably because they're angry. But maybe I am wrong? Maybe they believe in liberty but not equality? Or maybe they just think the principles sound good in the abstract, but don't believe in them in real life.]

Argument #3: “Even presented with evidence that torture doesn't work and has negative consequences, I still think we should engage in torture. Because I have family fighting over there and that's just how I feel.”
The commentator said he respected this woman's viewpoint and thanked her for airing her views. But I take umbrage at this kind of argument. I will say that there are valid reasons for her viewpoint even if she didn't express them and even if I may disagree with them at the end of the day. But I take issue with the notion that in discourse people can fall back on their emotions as a substitute for reasoned argumentation. Don't get me wrong. I believe emotions DO have a role in public discourse. They help mobilize and inspire people in ways that logic and reason perhaps cannot. They demonstrate intensity in ways that hard facts or numbers cannot. Very few people can argue completely without some emotion, and I don't think people or their viewpoints should be excluded because they are emotional. But I disagree entirely when people resort to their emotions because their arguments are flawed and they let emotions supercede reasoned debate.

I understand this woman's point of view and have had to think long and hard about the justifications for torture before finally coming to my decision on where I stand. But instead of arguing she supports the use of torture just because that's the way she feels, I think the more appropriate response would be for her to examine her feelings on the subject and figure out why, even presented with evidence that torture tactics are not only useless but harmful, she feels they are justified. Is she seeking revenge? Does she think that even if 99% of the time it doesn't work, innocent people are tortured, and it causes the growth of more terrorism, that the 1% of the time it might work is worth all the risk involved? If so, why? Is there something else going on? Is there a better way to address her core concerns? If that is really her root viewpoint, she should learn to express that. If not, maybe her reaction is just knee-jerk and should be re-examined.

So, issue of torture aside, what role should emotion play in public discourse? Can there be guidelines for its use? When is the use of emotion in an argument or discussion helpful, and when does it obfuscate the point? Are there points where emotion can actually hinder good policy making?

10 Habits of Highly Effective Fat People

2009-04-22T08:27:00.000-07:00

And I say this as one who has looked in the mirror and saw someone roughly approaching the circumference of Chicago staring back at her.

1. Offer to split a meal with your friend—and sneakily take the bigger portion for yourself.
2. Schedule in exercise, buy cute exercise clothes and an expensive gym membership—and then don't go (see Tuesday's post).
3. Have a salad and water for dinner—and brownies and ice cream straight out of the container for dessert.
4. Buy loads of healthy veggies for yourself and Cheetos, frozen pizza, and hamburgers “for the husband and kids”--even though you're single and childless.
5. Diligently measure out the appropriate serving size of the dinner ingredients—then effectively double it when you discover you're still hungry afterwards.
6. Buy skinny jeans to motivate yourself—then throw them out 6 months later when you have to make room for your fat jeans.
7. Drink a margarita instead of dinner—and then during the 4th one down the line, tell yourself calories don't matter if you're drunk. Because by then, you're incapable of counting them even if you wanted to.
8. Send hate at all the skinny bitches you see—and then congratulate yourself for at least being thinner than that one woman over there.
9. Congratulate yourself when you still fit in your jeans—and cut the seams to make more room when you don't.
10. Only allow pictures of yourself from the neck up. This allows for easy photo manipulation to paste your head on supermodel's bodies and saves you the trouble of burning everything else.

Top 10 Reasons Not to Exercise

2009-04-21T08:26:00.000-07:00

(Or excuses I give myself.)

1. Bad weather. In places like Minnesota, this probably involves snow. In California, this means rain. Or rain's younger sister, drizzle. It also includes: fog, hail, anything below 55ºF and winds above 15 mph.

2. Good weather. Because clearly the better reaction is to celebrate by trying that new ice cream parlour and plopping down on the beach with a smoothie and a good book.

3. No time. Between work, school, chores, eating, drinking, socializing, watching favorite shows on TV, reading books, scoping the net, sleeping, petting the kitty/puppy (and no that is no a euphemism--unless for you, it is), taking care of the kids, and um....washing one's hair--who has the time to exercise?

4. Too tired. After doing all of the above, who has the energy?

5. Sick or injured. Obviously you can't bring your germs into a gym, now can you? That would be rude, selfish and gross. And of course, how can I go for a walk when I've stubbed my toe?

6. I'll do it later. This is not so much an excuse as procrastination--until you've procrastinated so long it is now midnight and you can't do it until the next day. So you promise yourself you'll exercise tomorrow--and repeat.

7. I've already done it. I walked from my car to my office and back again. Surely that's enough for one day, right? In fact, I even took the stairs (because the elevator was broken) so that justifies having dessert!

8. I exercised yesterday so I can take today off. Wouldn't want to overdo it now. I might hurt something.

9. I forgot! Truly I meant to, but I got wrapped up and before I knew it my exercise hour was over.

10. I'm too lazy. I've run out of excuses but still can't get my ass off the couch.

Honorable Mentions:
I'm too fat and therefore must stuff my face in a vat of ice cream (for bad mirror days).

I'm thin enough and therefore don't really need to exercise (for good mirror days).

Don't Give Me No Stinkin' Cheese

2009-04-20T13:22:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when you go to a restaurant, it is now nigh impossible to get an average, run-of-the-mill, plain old salad? It's like how a plain old cup o' joe has now become a mocha cappa-frappaccino latte, all soy, hold the whip. It used to be you could always count on there being the staple garden salad. But now it seems the best you can do is maybe a caesar salad, dressing on the side. Everything else is slathered with eggs, chicken, tofu, shrimp or fish, dried fruit, nuts and cheese. Nuts and cheese! On everything! With who-knows-what-kind-of-caloric-content dressing. Why do restaurants feel the need to truss up salads like Little Miss Sunshine contestants?

I mean seriously, who really voluntarily chooses to eat a salad as the main course when there are all manner of amiable delights elsewhere on the menu? Nobody. That's right. Nobody. We only eat salads as a vague attempt at healthy eating. Or to make it look to our dinner companions as though we are trim consumers, when really we go home and nosh ice cream straight from the carton. And wonder how the entire carton of Oreos or bag of Doritos disappeared in one sitting.

But the more restaurants insist upon adding feta, bacon bits and croutons to their salads, the less we can delude ourselves that we're making the smart eating choice. (Or worse, stinky cheese like bleu and gorgonzola. My apologies to the 'zola fans...but bleah. I'll take goat cheese any day of the week, but you won't catch me within a mile of moldy cheese.) Check out the menu at Quizno's and you'll quickly discover some of the salads are heavier in calories and fat than the sandwiches. If that's the case, give me the fucking sandwich.

It shouldn't be so hard to find the healthy choices on a menu. And I reserve my right to eat a salad without any stinky cheese.

This I Used to Believe

2009-04-17T23:25:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I used to believe it was of utmost importance to command the respect of my significant other in my relationships. I choose those words precisely. I say "command the respect" because, in my little belief system of the time, it was more than just having his respect. The way I understood respect was something more along the lines of having him bow at my feet. Whatever I wished, he would make so. If there was anything I did not wish, he could not press me. I thought it was my duty as a woman of the modern age, my duty as a feminist, to have total, complete control in the relationship. Of course, that also meant respect was a one-way street. For how could I respect a man who did not stand up for himself, even if it was me he must stand up against?

My command of my boyfriends' respect sounds atrocious now put in such words, and in all honesty, I am exaggerating to some extent. I am not unkind and I do care for the people in my life. I do try to please and find ways to make my loved ones happy. But when push came to shove, there is more than a kernel of truth to my statement above. Part of it came from having a supremely strong mother, and part of it came just from what I understood it meant to be a strong woman. And I was happy because I pretty much got whatever I wanted. And the men I dated were happy to supply it. And when I was ready to move on, well...I'm sorry darlin', but it was good while it lasted, right?

But then I fell in love. And I don't just mean the love you feel for really special people in your life. I mean real, head over heels, no one but him kind of love--where rationality has no place because logic--or even Haagen Daas ice cream--can't fill the hole in your soul in which only he belongs. Where you can't even put up any defenses, because somehow he got past them when you were looking the other way. And then I discovered there is no such thing as feminism in love. There's no such thing as 'commanding' respect. Because when you love, when you really love with your whole being, there is no room for pride. There is no ego; there is only the two of you.

And then respect becomes, unerringly, a two-way street. Because respect is intrinsic to true love; without it, love wouldn't exist. Love wobbles without trust, but it perishes without respect. You don't have to fight for your rights as a woman, you don't have to prove your equality. You just are and he just is, and everything clinks into place. Gender roles don't matter. You just do your thing and he does his...and on everything else you meet in the middle. Because really, who the fuck cares who does the dishes and who smashes the big, scary bugs? At the end of the day, all that matters is you take care of each other. Not saying it is easy, not by a long shot. Just saying, in true love, there's no such thing as keeping score.

I heard a segment on NPR today discussing "This I Used to Believe". It's not about what you believe now, but what convictions you once held. It's less about who you are now, and more about how you've changed and what brought about that change. So I invite you to comment: What did you use to believe?

Never Go Back

2009-04-16T14:15:00.000-07:00

You've seen it before. Chances are, you've even done it. And despite all good intentions, all self-admonishments, all promises to the contrary, it will happen again. Why do we always have so much trouble saying goodbye to our exes? And I don't mean the slam-the-door-in-your-face kind of goodbye. I mean the really-I-have-moved-on-and-truly-wish-you-happiness goodbye.

The pattern is so well-established it could be cookie cutter. You break up, you weep backslash get bitter backslash party like you're 19 again, you may or may not find someone else for a time, but then like the inevitable repeal of the boomerang you discover you miss your ex and have to see them just one more time. Just talk to them that once. Or if the ex caved first, you get that call and decide it's a good idea. No. Not. Stop. Before one or both of you gets hurt, yet again.

So you put your frock on, do up your hair, and put on that scent you know will ram nostalgia like a wrecking ball in your ex's gut. You look fresh, new, vibrant...yet still seductively comfortable familiar.

Let me skip ahead. It ends badly. One of you might actually have moved on, and begging to change their mind will only cause you both grief. But even worse, if one or the other of you hasn't had the good sense to say no, you will have gotten back together for the simple, inane reason that you miss each other and still love each other. It is inane because it is a lie you tell yourself in your weakened emotional state, when caring is too easily mistaken for loving, and loneliness is too often more powerful than self-preservation.

Missing each other and thinking you still love each other is NEVER enough to save a failed relationship. It might be the first of a mountain full of steps, but it is never enough. In time, the giddiness at your reunion will wear off and the stupid fights, the outrageous arguments, and the infuriating habits will resurface and drive you just as insane as they did the first time. Remember? There was a reason you broke up in the first place.

The only thing, I repeat, the only thing that can save a failed relationship is some seriously deep soul searching and a commitment to both partners changing. No matter the circumstances, both of you did at least something to contribute to the relationship's demise. I'm not trying to place blame or say it's your fault your ex was a lying, cheating slut/bastard (so wait...why are you going back?). I'm merely saying that from every experience there is an opportunity to learn how to be a better person and a stronger couple. It is only until the two of you sit down and really evaluate what fears, insecurities, poor habits, and line of thinking led to the break up that you can figure out what you need to know and do to prevent it from happening again. And that is just the beginning. It's not enough to say you will change. You actually have to do it, and have the courage to help each other do it.

So the next time you consider going back, I challenge you to ask yourself two questions. One, are you strong enough to do what it takes to make it work? And two, is your ex really worth it?

If you can honestly answer yes to both questions, then good luck and best wishes to you. I say you can get past old hurts, you can learn to trust again after infidelity, and you can make something strong, beautiful and wonderful out of something that was once failure. But you must first change the ways and thinking which brought you there in the first place.

Thoughts of Shantaram

2009-04-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

"We know who we are and we define what we are by references to the people we love and our reasons for loving them....I'd lost my closest freiends and with them I'd lost the mark on the psychic map that says You Are Here". --Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram

Why is identity so amorphous? Why is it that the things that are so intrinsic to our sense of selves, our worldviews, our entire understandings are precisely the things we can never truly understand? In my research I do a lot of work with things like identity, conflict, power...acceptance and understanding. These words...we use them so effortlessly. And when we use them, we most certainly mean something by them. We have an idea in our heads of what power is, what identity is. And yet these concepts remain elusive, intangible and unquantifiable. In my own life, how I see myself today--what defines me--is most likely something very different from what I'll see tomorrow. I haven't changed per se, but what becomes salient has.

These things are not merely abstractions either. Wars have been fought, people killed, damaged and forgotten over competing claims to identity, righteousness, home and family roots. Does "home" come from ties to land or other physical, material things, or does it come from the people who become our references? Does the physical world define us, or is it the people who make us feel comfortable in our own skin?

I struggle with these questions in my research because scholars need to define their concepts to ensure they're using them properly, and not just abusing them with loose rhetoric to suit the argument. But countless of other scholars have struggled with the same thing. It is a jihad, and equally as fruitless and insurmountable a task. The more we try to pin these words down, tie them to physical observable objects, and put them in a neat tidy box, the more I feel affronted. I feel we are robbing these words of their power, of their own identity, making a stick figure out of a fully dimensional being with a life of it's own. Language is too flat to capture the essence.

I struggle with this is my own life because I feel I haven't quite caught hold of the essence of myself either. When I was about 6 or so, I remember standing in the shower and staring at the drain beneath my feet. The water dripping in the drain looked so strange from above. Have you ever seen the top of a drop of water? It looks like a little shiny ring, there for just a second and then it disappears. But right after that, another would appear. I used to spend ages in the shower staring at these drops trying to figure out what they were, and trying to stick my little fingers in the drain to catch them, only to come out of it frustrated and with pruny fingers. Somehow I feel like that again now, standing naked in the shower, trying desperately to capture the shiny little ring.

Prologue to "Fatima in Corinth"

2009-04-13T14:39:00.000-07:00

I have finished my new manuscript! Well, the draft is written anyhow, but now the revisions must start. But in the meantime, I thought I would give my readers a little teaser. Here is the prologue for your reading enjoyment.

Prologue

The sun glittered over the ripples in the water, like a million stars in a turquoise sky. Fatima breathed in the rich, salty air and spread her arms open wide.
She relished this first trip over the Aegean, as different as it was from the camel caravans on which she and her father customarily traveled. What wonders would Corinth have in store for her? She let her imagination run wild as the sparkling, gleaming, white city gradually came into view. Excitement for the newest adventure bubbled up inside her. She could barely sit still, waiting impatiently for the long, wooden ship to dock. She glanced quickly at her father in anticipation, and he gave her the tiniest of winks and a smile. It would be one of the last of his smiles she would ever see.
A sudden shiver raced up her spine, surprising her momentarily, as she turned to greet the new city.

Sending love from Santa Barbara, CA to Weston, FL

2009-04-13T13:09:00.001-07:00

One of my bestest friends in the world, my matron of honor, my confidante lives all the way across the continent. I think the only reason it really works is because we're each other's best friend. We can't seem to make a decision--at least not any of the important ones--without running it by each other first. We talk at least once a week, even if we don't have time, and even if our husbands complain about us racking up the cell phone minutes. There are priorities in life, right?

Thank God it's not a romantic relationship! I did the long distance thing in college, for WAY too long. Why is it girls have trouble giving up their high school sweethearts when they move to college? It never works out. Let it go. You grow up, you change, meet new people, discover yourself, and grow apart. And the boy who is still at home waiting for you stays the same. And somehow it becomes all too difficult to telling when loving someone slips into caring for someone. And it all ends in pain two years after it should have.

Being Happy Trumps Being Right

2009-04-13T10:19:00.000-07:00

In family dynamics, one of the saddest things I see is the destructive nature of trying to prove that you are right. This "I told you so" attitude can rear its ugly head in nearly any situation where two people disagree. It comes in basic arguments about nothing of import. It shows up in stupid arguments about who forgot to do what on the honey-do list. And worst of all, it displays itself proudly in serious arguments, where the very foundations of trust and respect in a relationship are at stake.

Let me give you an example: Johan and Marie.
Johan and Marie have been married for several years, and though it has been rocky from time to time, they still love each other and have made it work. But Johan feels a bit unfulfilled in his career and wants to try something new. He used to play bass guitar in high school and college. He had even been part of a band. Now he is wondering if maybe he can make something of it. He picks up the guitar again and starts writing songs.

Marie sees this and she is worried. She knows how competitive the music industry is and how difficult it would be for a 40-something to break into the industry and make anything of himself. The last thing she wants to see is Johan pour his heart into song-making only to fail and have his heart broken. She knows he would be devastated and insecure. But how can she say that to him? Obviously she can't tell him he might fail so it's better not to try. So what does she do? She passively-aggressively undermines his attempts, making it difficult for him to have the time to practice or to work (more on passive aggressive manipulation in a later post).

And it works. He never writes anything completely, and eventually his dream falls by the wayside. He still dreams of it, wishing it could have been, but ultimately he has given up. Marie is sorry he is sad, but she figures he will get over it in time, and in any case, being sad is better than being heartbroken. But the trouble is, in the end, Johan is heartbroken--just in a different way.

Her passive-aggressiveness has not gone unnoticed. Johan thinks back and remembers why he never had time to practice music or write, and he ends up resenting Marie because somehow, however vaguely, he senses she has not supported him in his dream. Now he feels he would never know how he might have fared because she didn't give him the opportunity to try. Resentment, anger, sadness, distrust and betrayal build up slowly over time, undermining their marriage. He retaliates in other ways, perhaps by engaging in power plays with her, trying to reassert his power over her. Of course, by doing so, they can never actually talk about the real problem, because they are too busy dealing with superficial things covering up the true pain they should be addressing.

Marie was so sure she was right, she was willing to sacrifice Johan's dreams. And very probably, she was right. But did that spare anything? No, it didn't. It only caused bitterness and distrust in their marriage, and Johan was still heartbroken for not having achieved his dream. If she had only supported him, regardless of the outcome, then it is possible the two of them could have found happiness. Even if the worst had happened and Johan failed, then she could have been the bedrock of support to comfort him and help him stand up again. In his mind, the blame for his failure would have lain with the industry or himself, not with her.

This is just one example, and the need to prove ourselves right comes in a myriad of guises. But underneath it all, when we find ourselves in a conflict, we can always ask ourselves what is at root. Are we really hurt and angry, or are we just trying to prove our idea is right and the other is wrong? Are we really so insecure that we need validation, that we need to prove someone else wrong? Sometimes, it is enough just to know that we are right. Sometimes it is more important to soothe a loved one's feelings than it is to prove to them why they shouldn't feel that way. Sometimes it is better to resolve the conflict than to win the conflict--because when the conflict is resolved, everyone wins. Think of it this way: if you "win" the conflict, that means your loved one loses. And in what world is it a good thing if someone you love loses?

A Letter to my Loved Ones

2009-04-13T09:59:00.000-07:00

I am returning to my blog in an attempt to turn blogging into a daily (or at least 5-day-a-week) habit. The hope is develop a readership who will then be interested in picking up my novel(s) if I should ever be so lucky as to get published.
The trouble is, blogging 5 times a week is a lot of work--and words! And what could I possibly have to say that's of any interest, that I could discuss that much? There's only one thing: love. Family, love, relationships. That's what I do best. That's what makes me get up in the mornings. That's what I think about the most. And that is what I feel most qualified to talk about. And while my novels will primarily focus on issues of identity, themes of family, love and relationships will all be prominent as well. So if people enjoy my observations here, they'll have a good sense of what they're going to find in my novels as well.
However, I also realize that all my observations and ruminations written here are going to be based on my own personal experiences and my family and friends may not totally appreciate having their own stories pasted on the world wide web for all to see. The only thing I can say in my defense is I will never use names and will endeavor to keep things theoretical to avoid pointing fingers. Hopefully no one will be too bothered by this, and please know it was always well-intentioned. The things I say here, the things I think about...it is because I love you all.
A note on the title: This blog was formally titled "The Chinaman Is Not the Issue". It was a reference to The Big Lebowski, and it served my purposes as being both humorous (to me) and (in my mind) an oblique reference to my biracial identity. But it does not seem to fit a blog on family, love and relationships, so I've decided to change it. My working title now is "Tasting Grace". It has a dual meaning. One, I love and adore food, especially really divine food and so when I have a really superb bite of chocolate or sip of cappuccino in my mouth, I believe it is like tasting grace. Two, I am moved by and inspired by transendance, and the strength to move beyond pain to grace. The efforts we make as human beings to be more--our epiphanies, our triumphs--that, to me, is tasting grace. So we'll see how well that goes.

An Ode to Coffee

2009-03-13T12:28:00.000-07:00

Santa Barbara is really a gem of a little city to live in. It's not a big city, so doesn't have quite the flair and pizazz of San Francisco or London, but it's got a lot of funk. And the best thing about it is that even though it is a small city (in a gorgeous location with perpetually perfect weather), it has a plethora of good eats, if you know where to go. Amazing sushi, decadent Italian, artful healthnut stops, fabulous tapas and drinks, to-die-for Indian, and quite a few places that have made sandwiches an art. And the list goes on.

But the one thing that Santa Barbara lacks is really, really great coffee. The locals are quite proud of their mom-and-pop varietals like the Daily Grind, the Coffee Cat, or Santa Barbara Roasting Company. And major chains like Starbucks and Peet's Coffee do very well. (In fact, between the two of them, I think they own a quarter of the real estate on State Street.) But I have yet to find a single place that does really, really fine Italian coffee, the likes of which you get when you are actually in Italy. Most of the coffee here is about mid-range and tastes fine, but some of it verges on bitter and you can actually taste separate layers of weak mediocre coffee flavor, artificial flavor as a pathetic attempt to mask the mediocrity of the coffee, and then oils from the beans.

The Italians have it down to an art: the high quality of the beans, the perfect degree of roasting, the exact grind, the temperature of the steam and press of the grounds. All of this combines to create a rich, smooth level of decadence that is unparalleled. When I first discovered true Italian coffee in a little cafe in Florence, I actually thought I might have found heaven. I even brought some Illy home with me, but alas, could not manage the artistry of the Italian barista.

I looked everywhere for good coffee, and eventually succumbed to my fate, thinking I wouldn't be able to find such good coffee anywhere but Italy. But then we went to Costa Rica and discovered Costa Rican coffee. I was astounded. Costa Rican coffee does not have the decadence of Italian coffee, but it does have a wild variety of smooth flavors that make for a different, wondorous java experience. I was so surprised since normally developing countries export all their good stuff and the locals have to make do with the dreck. Not so with Costa Rican coffee. They hoard all their delicacies so that even the chain bakeries have coffee superior to that of the States. Apparently, they export all their dreck. Smart.

So I sighed, again wondering why the U.S., which has access to the best of just about everything, continues to have only mediocre coffee (yes, I am spoiled and discerning when it comes to my taste buds). And then I went to New York. Besides the bagels and other baked goods which are divine, Manhattan offers real, true, primo Italian coffee. We popped into a little Italian bistro called Via Quadronno and ordered a couple of cappuccinos to go as we were on a trek across Central Park to the Natural History museum. I took my first sip and practically melted into a little puddle of delight in the middle of Central Park. It was so good I couldn't decide if it was heavenly or a sin. Still, perhaps that little bistro could have been an aberration. A bright spot; a diamond in the rough, so to speak.

And then we found Joe the Art of Coffee. Well, I can't exactly claim that we found it as the place was recommended to us by friends who had lived in New York. But they have several locations across Manhattan and they have mastered the art of truly fine coffee. They select the finest beans, and they have a policy of never using any artificial flavors, and when they serve up their coffee, it is an actual artpiece with designs swirled into the foam.

With the offer of places such as these and Employees Only (which has turned cocktail-making into an artform as well), I could almost consider happily trading my sunny apartment in Santa Barbara for an over-priced shoebox in Manhattan.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-01-05T13:05:00.000-08:00

I'm generally pretty good at forgetting what my New Year's Resolutions were by, say, February. So maybe by putting them down someplace I check every so often, I might actually be reminded enough to keep them. :)

This year, I resolve to:
1. Maintain my current weight. In other words, stay healthy and exercise, which--ahem--the Christmas holidays have cruelly and evilly put me off of. I blame the holidays entirely. But as soon as I get over this friggin' cold and replace the shoes the dog ate, I'm back to the yoga studio and my daily walks.

2. Finish my dissertation. Or get very close to finishing. I want to have an end in sight by this time next year.

3. Get published. Something, anything. An article...or even a novel! Just gotta get my name out there.

4. Be more frugal. I must confess, I am a clothes whore. I have apparently no self-control when I find something I like, that fits, and I could theoretically have the money for. Which basically means, I'm not in any kind of debt, but I'm not so good at saving either. Thus I vow to avoid the shops as much as possible.

5. Wear underwear every day. Not that I don't already (tho Toby might complain about this one if presented with the option that I might not wear underwear every day). I was just looking back at the previous resolutions and they all seemed like a lot of work. So I thought I'd include one that was easy so come December 2009 I can look back and say "Hey, well at least I kept 1 resolution!"

Officially Four-Eyed

2008-10-28T20:39:00.001-07:00

So after at least a year of squinting at the TV, asking Toby to read subtitles for me, and desperately trying to make out street signs, I finally acknowledged I might be in need of glasses. I used to just blame my inability to see the TV properly on our tiny ass old TV that was all the way across a longish living room. But then when we went out and bought a big ass new TV and I still couldn't see anything, I admitted my eyes officially sucked.
So I went in for an eye exam. I did two tests before I even met with the doctor, and before me even saying why I was coming in, the doctor was like "So...distance vision getting a bit blurry these days?"...."Yes..." I say sheepishly. He runs a few more tests and doesn't even bother with the news that I will need to wear glasses and goes straight to telling me he is figuring out what prescription I need. Le sigh.
And today I have brand new glasses! I'm sure the novelty will wear out soon enough, but I'm excited cuz all of a sudden I understand what "sharp detail" looks like. And I don't have to wear them all the time, only when I'm driving, in a lecture, or watching a movie. So 5 years into being an academic and I finally look like one.

Losin' that booty

2008-09-29T22:54:00.000-07:00

It's taken me a little while to decide whether I would post this or not. It's a little private and somewhat embarrassing. But on the other hand, I'm proud of myself for achieving a goal and want to have a reminder for myself to help me stay motivated in the future. Something about making this public might help me be more accountable to myself.

I did it! I finally made it to my goal weight! Well, that is almost true. I had a goal weight of 115, but when x-smalls, 0 & 2 size clothing got to be too big (mostly cuz I'm so short), I decided I might need to re-evaluate my end goal. So I'm quite happy at my 119...a weight I haven't seen since I was about 16. It's nicely within a healthy BMI for my height and I think it should be sustainable, which is really the key thing. Since diabetes runs in my family I feel extra motivated as I don't want to be poking insulin needles into my belly every day.

It took me nearly 8 months to lose 22 pounds (having a wedding and honeymoon in the middle of that didn't help, I must say). I suppose I gotta put up the requisite "Before" and "After" photos.

I thought a comparison from our engagement photos to our wedding photos would be apt. Ooo. Even now, looking at these two side-by-side, I'm rethinking my decision to post this. Ack! But I really want to be able to look at this a year from now and say that I've maintained my goal weight. Because ultimately, it's not about losing it so much as it is learning to be healthy and staying that way.

And I gotta say the hardest part about being healthy is being social! I have no problem eating right when I'm at home, cooking dinner for just me and Toby. It's when we go out to eat at restaurants with friends (especially when margaritas are involved....all self-control goes straight out the window and chips and salsa go straight into my belly!) or to our families' houses for dinner that it gets tough. And people don't always respect the fact that others are trying to lose weight. It's always "have another helping" or "you have to try the chocolate souffle" or they lay out the spread of tempting, fantastical delights without a single veggie in sight. I think because for a lot of people food = love. They want to please you, so they make their best dishes which are so yummy because they're filled with all the sinful things that taste so good. So it's hard to turn down lovingly made comfort food because it is actually personal. People put time and effort and love into the food as a proxy for giving love to you. Turning it down is tantamount to rejecting them as well.

I've resorted to such sneakery to deal with this too. When going to visit others, I offer to bring a plate acting like I'm trying to help them out, when ultimately it's because I'm trying to get in enough veggies for the day, and want to have a low-fat option at the dinner table so I can politely nibble on the butter and cheese loaded pasta without starving myself. And I invite others over for dinner, rather than going out to restaurants, so I can cook a scrumptious seafood feast that also just happens to be waist-hip-and-butt friendly. Rather than the cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory, we have raspberry creme brulee from Trader Joe's for dessert. My guests think I'm serving something rich and divine, meanwhile I'm still on plan. Honestly, I don't think Toby would have survived my change in diet if I couldn't make healthy food still taste good. Lucky for me herbs and spices don't add calories. :)

So I'm still on my journey. I've reached a milestone, but I'll really be measuring success by whether a month from now, a year from now, or 10 years from now I've still managed to maintain a healthier lifestyle.

Fire on the Horizon

2008-07-03T10:46:00.000-07:00

Tuesday evening a fire started in the brush up by Lizards' Mouth, just a little northeast from Goleta. It started out small and firefighters got on it right away, but then by Wednesday evening it started to get quite large. It even cut out electricity for several hours in Goleta. Here's a picture Toby took of it, from his parents' house:

As you can see here, you can definitely see the flames from their house, which is off Patterson.

Everyone up from Glenn Annie and in the La Patera Canyon have been evacuated. People between Glenn Annie and Fairview are on evacuation warning.

I'm really hoping this gets contained soon, but that brush up there hasn't burned since a fire in the 1950s. According to the latest news reports, the fire is only 5% contained.

I'm worried for Toby's family's house for all the obvious reasons. But I'm also worried for our wedding reception as it is being held there. If they don't contain this soon, we'll have to come up with a contingency plan quickly. Don't get me wrong--I'm definitely concerned about the people whose homes are threatened and all--but I can't help feeling I'll be upset if this significantly changes my wedding plans and things don't turn out as nicely as I hoped. I'm not trying to be selfish or unreasonable. It's just that I've been dreaming about this for a year and half now, thinking meticulously about every little detail. And it's not stubbornness--it's just I feel like if things don't work out nicely it's like there will always be a little tinge of regret that I didn't get to see my dream totally come true. Normally I'm pretty roll-with-the-flow I think, and I don't get my panties all in a twist if things don't turn out the way I expect. But this is different. It's hard to explain.

And another part of me is thinking back to our "playa wedding" at Burning Man which got derailed by a major dust storm. Sure it makes for a good story now, but it's hard not to take it as a bad omen. I mean, seriously, we're going two for two here. Why does something vaguely apocalyptic always have to happen when Toby and I try to get married? Well at least we'll have a total of 3 ceremonies. Third time's a charm, right?

Construction Madness

2008-06-12T20:18:00.000-07:00

Last summer after Toby and I moved into our cute new apartment, our landlord decided some "renovations" were necessary. He hired two guys to come by and paint the outside of our apartment. It was a nice swiss mocha (kind of off-white) with a green trim, and we thought it was cute. But they decided to paint the green trim white instead. We didn't like it too much since it kind of made it look more like a mental institution...but whatever, not that big a deal, right?

Wrong. I don't know who these painters were but they sure didn't know their ass from the end of a paint brush. It took them about 4 months to do (probably about 5 times as long as any normal person) and it was a mess! They went to paint the trim on the lattice of the windows, but they used a wide brush on a quarter-inch trim. What's more, they apparently haven't heard of painter's tape. So there were these big globs and swaths of paint on the windows themselves.

Then they realized they couldn't leave paint on the windows, so they went back with a razor blade to try to fix it. Which of course took forever, and did nothing but leave huge scratch marks on the windows since you can see there's still paint on the glass.

They also left big swaths of paint on the walls around the window as you can see here (you can click on the photo to see it in more detail):

And did I mention this took them the better part of 4 months? It was so obnoxious because I do most of my work from home and I was studying for a major exam at the time, and I had to do it all with these nimrods peering in the windows.

So, okay we got over that episode without too much complaint. Until now...

The landlord has decided again he wants "renovations". This time he decided he wanted to take out the window in our bathroom shower and replace it with a new one. We said alright, whatever. Nothing was wrong with the old one, but whatever he wants to do, fine.

Well. So the same "painter" crew comes in and takes out the old bathroom window (banging on the outside with a hammer, thus creating cracks in the bathroom tile around the window), and puts the new window in. Except the new bathroom window is about 1/3 the size of the old bathroom window. So they have to fill in the missing wall and cover the empty spaces with tile. But of course they hadn't actually ordered the replacement tile until after they put in the new window, so we were left showering with a minor construction mess for two weeks until the new tile came in.

Meanwhile, we're both too busy to care overmuch, so we just deal with it and didn't think much of it...until we saw the new tile.

Okay, so the old shower tile is pink with a green trim (kind of reminds us of a watermelon--like Nicole and Allyson's old apartment senior year of college!). Not exactly the height of style, but kind of cute in it's own funky way. But does the landlord get more pink or green tile?

No, he gets navy blue.

Talk about ghetto fabulous. I would say it's hideous, but I don't think it even makes enough sense to be hideous. I don't know what the landlord was thinking but whenever we move out, I would love to see prospective tenants' faces when they walk in the bathroom.

Zoom Zoom Zoom

2008-05-20T10:56:00.000-07:00

So a few weeks ago some irresponsible a-hole backed into Toby's motorcycle in the middle of the night and just left it lying there in the street. No note, no attempt to right it back up. As a result, Toby found his bike the next morning completely totaled. Parts of the tank, side mirror and gauge and tail were busted from the impact, but what's worse is oil spilled out over a bunch of the internal engine bits. It's possible that if the person had just tried to put the bike back up there wouldn't be nearly so much internal damage. But because the oil had time to seep out, everything got all messed up inside.

Toby had to get it towed to a repair shop and was dealing with the insurance company for over a week, sitting on pins and needles trying to figure out what could be done. The shop came back with an estimate of over $2000 worth of damage, and Toby was praying the insurance would cover it. But alas, at that point the bike was declared totaled and even if he bought back the bike and fixed it all up, it would still have a salvage title on it, vastly reducing its resale value.

So the insurance company came back and said they'd pay pretty much the equivalent of what Toby paid for the bike initially. Although bummed he lost his "Suzi", he was able to use that money to go and buy a new little beastie. Check this one out:

Hee hee! Idn't it sexy? :) Sure is sexy watching T on that bike anyhow. And this one turns out to be a bit better than the old one. It's a little more comfortable for me to ride on and there's room in the back for luggage so we can take it up to go camping or for extended trips. We've been taking it on trips around town--sure is a good way to beat the heat these days! And Toby's happy with it, so all in all it looks like a happy end to a sad little story.

Hallelujah!

2008-04-15T16:16:00.000-07:00

Thank the heavens! I've just got an email from my adviser saying I'm (finally) ready to defend. It's only been, what, 6 months of editing and re-editing...and re-editing my dissertation proposal and now I can finally go ABD (All But Dissertation).

I suppose I should be more nervous about the defense. It's basically two hours where you give a 20-minute presentation in front of a committee of three faculty members and spend the rest of the time answering grueling questions about whether or not a) your research proposal even makes sense and b) you know enough about what the hell you're doing that you can do the research. From what I hear from friends who've already done this, the faculty ask you all kinds of questions you'd never have thought of, sometimes even questioning the most basic things, like: "You know, I think your dependent variable is problematic." What?? You couldn't have told me this earlier?! But surprisingly, I'm not that nervous--at least not yet. But I take solace in the notion that they don't really let you defend unless they think you're actually ready for it. I'm starting to think they just bombard you with tough questions to see how well you deal under pressure. I guess as long as you don't collapse in a puddle of tears or start screaming at them, I think really it just becomes an opportunity to discuss how to make sure your project is solid. So pretty much everyone passes it--though your knees might be Jell-O by the time you're done. I still need to prepare responses to any wild question that might even possibly or impossibly come up, but hey, I'm on my way!

In other news...we just saw "Once" last night, which is a cute movie about two musicians who fall in love while making music together. It's a bit slow, but I loved the ending and the music is great. I've been listening to the soundtrack all afternoon. :)

Leaving On a Jet Plane...And Coming Right Back Again

2008-03-19T19:22:00.000-07:00

Toby is having his first major art opening at Harvard tonight and a panel discussion tomorrow evening. His photography is showing up among the top names of night photography. You can check out the details at: www.darknessdarkness.com. I'm so proud of him and I've been so excited for this chance to go to Boston and see his first big opening!

So Toby and I had different flights to Boston since we had to book them separately (long story, not worth telling). His flight went through Denver, and mine went through Dallas. So yesterday we got up at 4 am to catch our 6 am flights. My flight was just approaching Dallas when the captain got on and said he had bad news. Dallas was experiencing lightening, thunderstorms and tornadoes. They were evacuating personnel out of the towers, closing down the air space, and so we wouldn't be able to land there. So they re-routed our plane to Abilene, Texas...which is this little po-dunck town, where the airport basically consists of a couple of silos in a cornfield. We got off the plane to find several other full flights had been re-routed as well, so hundreds of us were stuck together in this tiny little terminal built to serve maybe a hundred passengers. They gave us no information and just kept extending their estimate of when we'd get out of there. Meanwhile, everyone was starving after long early morning flights (since they no longer serve food these days), but there was only one tiny restaurant and a vending machine. I didn't want to wait in the hour-long line to get food from the restaurant, since we had no idea how long we would be there, so I only had a cinnamon roll and a bottle of water from the vending machine.

Finally, after 5 hours of waiting around they said we could get back on our plane and get to Dallas. Meanwhile, of course we had all missed our connecting flights. So I got to Dallas and said if there was any way I could get to Boston tonight I would try to go, but I absolutely had to be back in Santa Barbara on Thursday, so if I couldn't get to Boston soon enough then I'd just have to go back to SB. Well there were no flights left to Boston, so I had to catch a plane back to SB which was leaving in just an hour. So I had to tell Toby I wouldn't make it to Boston, and was gonna miss his first big art opening. I got back on the plane, and finally made it back to SB around 8 in the evening, only to discover that my luggage didn't make it with me--interesting, considering I left on the same plane I came in on, so apparently just keeping the bag on the plane posed too much of a difficulty for them. I checked today and they still haven't located my bag. Sucks. My cell phone charger is in there and my phone is now out of battery.

I guess I can be glad I made it safely and don't have to worry about being back on time. I've been trying to find news reports on it, and it looks like American Airways canceled around 720 flights, and American Eagle (the airline I was on) canceled around 260 flights. I wonder though...Dallas Fort Worth is a large airport, so what happened to all the other airlines? Not that I really want to be carried away in a twister, but why weren't other airlines canceling their flights? The airline industry astounds me sometimes. Basically my lesson for the day: direct flights only from now on.