I've been hit with a case of nostalgia something bad. Maybe, like allergies, it's something in the air...Nora and I recently dyed Easter eggs, a craft that hearkens many years of spring weekends spent. I also took up a sewing project and tried to remember my Grandma's instructions on hemming, pinning and sewing in a straight line. My daily perusing through the food blogs dredged up classics such as banana pudding, a snack my mom would make and serve after nap time. And I channeled my father when making my NCAA brackets this year, letting my heart dictate wins for KU and OU. But the clincher, the memory that if it was a cold would set me up on the couch with a roll of toilet paper for my nose for at least two days, was this: a commercial for the Miss USA pageant.
My friends parents and my mom always advocates of slumber parties for my friends and me. A group of us regularly met at each others houses and set up our sleeping bags in dens, played cards, Nintendo and ate junk food to our hearts' content. We'd stay up until 4 am or until the very last one of us couldn't hold her eyes open any longer.
The best slumber parties were the ones when Miss USA was on. From 1990-1993 it was hosted in Wichita, so naturally the whole town was excited and we'd host our own viewing parties. Simultaneously, we'd host our own version of the competition-- Miss Fruitcake (we were enlightened 12 year olds and never took the competition seriously. We all expected to go to college and work hard and if in the course of life we were viewed as attractive in swimsuits, well, that was a bonus). We raided our mom's closets for old dresses and put on make up. My house had a staircase leading to the den and I remember LH vamping in a white satin gown with her golden curls.
Sometimes the best cure for disease is administering a small dose of the offending allergen. With that in mind, if you call on me Sunday night, you might just find me wearing a tiara on the couch, watching the pageant Live from Las Vegas. And that roll of toilet paper? Not for my nose...as any good adolescent girl knows, tp is best stuffed in bras to create falsies.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Passover Advice From Two Non-Jews
Last year ET#, a former roommate and I staged our first Passover Seder. A year later, being not quite experts in the Jewish faith, we still query each other on technicalities. But anyone could learn from us! Who needs Joan Nathan?!
me: last night had matzoh ball soup from the mix for passover but got a headache from the msg
ET#1: i don't make from mix
me: you are a good Jew
ET#1: it is super easy yes i am a good jew
i threw away all my bread
me: but I like the salty goodness from the mix and I did use schmaltz from my chicken earlier in the week
ET#1: wow
me: but since the chicken was roasted in milk it wasn't kosher
ET#1: i think it might be milk and chicken okay
me: really?
ET#1: milk an beef not okay
me: huh well, it's okay by me either way
ET#1: because a chicken sandwich with ceese okay but a cheeseburger bad
me: really? why would you have a chicken sandwich with cheese? unless it was chicken cordon bleu which is illegal
ET#1: chicken parm
me: OH YUM!! and it's kosher you say?
ET#1: am pretty sure me: using matzoh crumbs?
ET#1: will email my friend i think it is korsher just not allowed during passover big difference anyway matzo balls totally easy to make sans schmaltz as long as you have tasty broth and seperate eggs
me: yes, I am sure you are right
ET#1: no jews in baltimore
me: really??
ET#1: or at least near where i live
me: what about those movies about jews in the 50s in baltimore...
ET#1: i think they live up north in reierstown
me: I'm trying to think
ET#1: really? what movies
me: I don't know I have to think/google but I feel like I can see one in my mind
ET#1: now i am hungry for matzo ball soup
me: last night had matzoh ball soup from the mix for passover but got a headache from the msg
ET#1: i don't make from mix
me: you are a good Jew
ET#1: it is super easy yes i am a good jew
i threw away all my bread
me: but I like the salty goodness from the mix and I did use schmaltz from my chicken earlier in the week
ET#1: wow
me: but since the chicken was roasted in milk it wasn't kosher
ET#1: i think it might be milk and chicken okay
me: really?
ET#1: milk an beef not okay
me: huh well, it's okay by me either way
ET#1: because a chicken sandwich with ceese okay but a cheeseburger bad
me: really? why would you have a chicken sandwich with cheese? unless it was chicken cordon bleu which is illegal
ET#1: chicken parm
me: OH YUM!! and it's kosher you say?
ET#1: am pretty sure me: using matzoh crumbs?
ET#1: will email my friend i think it is korsher just not allowed during passover big difference anyway matzo balls totally easy to make sans schmaltz as long as you have tasty broth and seperate eggs
me: yes, I am sure you are right
ET#1: no jews in baltimore
me: really??
ET#1: or at least near where i live
me: what about those movies about jews in the 50s in baltimore...
ET#1: i think they live up north in reierstown
me: I'm trying to think
ET#1: really? what movies
me: I don't know I have to think/google but I feel like I can see one in my mind
ET#1: now i am hungry for matzo ball soup
Monday, March 30, 2009
Lenten Resolutions
I started observing Lent well after I quit attending church. Protestants aren't so big on Lent anyway (there's no rules like fish on Friday) and most Catholics I knew seemed to make it like a diet. But I started observing maybe 6 or 7 years ago, in part because my sister started. I found it kind of refreshing to take away something I enjoyed for a limited amount of time and appreciate my life going on without that item. Many years I gave up shopping for fun. Obviously I'd allow myself necessities like groceries and soap, but would not allow myself to purchase dresses, makeup, skirts or going out shirts from H&M, for example. One year I tried to give up gossiping, but I realized a goal is only as good as it's ease.This year I am trying two things. The first is going to church. So far so good. I only go on Sundays so it's not like I have to think about not eating chocolate every day of the week.
The second is a pantry challenge-- I only eat the food I have in the pantry and in the fridge and freezer before buying new food, and I only allow myself to go to the grocery store once a week. After G left, I never really got used to cooking for one, so would still make enough for at least two, and therefore the freezer was stuffed to the gills with frozen soups and casseroles. Since grocery shopping is also one of my favorite pastimes, I frequently make purchases willy-nilly. Thus my pantry was filled with bulk items such as kasha and millet and wheat berries, boxes of fancy pasta from the North End, dried fruits and puffed rice for homemade powerbars. Oftentimes I'll find a recipe and buy the ingredients and just use some of it. See kasha, above.
So as Lent started, so did the challenge. I've learned that pasta does go a long ways. As does bacon. Together with some sour cream I improvised a pasta carbonara, which lasted the whole first week in various iterations (including adding braised tomatoes and eggplant). I've learned that soups can use up ingredients like scallions and mushrooms. I also made a soup using anchovies, a can of tomatoes and some pasta. "How interesting you had anchovies" said my mom. My point exactly! I've learned that the crock pot is my best friend-- bread pudding uses up leftover bread, eggs, cranberries from the freezer and the end of a carton of milk.
A month down and I can see the bottoms of my shelves of the fridge and have freed up some pantry jars for more pasta and rice. Above all I've learned that I don't need to go to the grocery store every few days. Careful planning has helped me save money and trim my waistline. But maybe above all I've learned to cook for myself. Just one.
See my recipe for pantry cleaning muffins on my friend's blog, Puff and Choux.
The second is a pantry challenge-- I only eat the food I have in the pantry and in the fridge and freezer before buying new food, and I only allow myself to go to the grocery store once a week. After G left, I never really got used to cooking for one, so would still make enough for at least two, and therefore the freezer was stuffed to the gills with frozen soups and casseroles. Since grocery shopping is also one of my favorite pastimes, I frequently make purchases willy-nilly. Thus my pantry was filled with bulk items such as kasha and millet and wheat berries, boxes of fancy pasta from the North End, dried fruits and puffed rice for homemade powerbars. Oftentimes I'll find a recipe and buy the ingredients and just use some of it. See kasha, above.
So as Lent started, so did the challenge. I've learned that pasta does go a long ways. As does bacon. Together with some sour cream I improvised a pasta carbonara, which lasted the whole first week in various iterations (including adding braised tomatoes and eggplant). I've learned that soups can use up ingredients like scallions and mushrooms. I also made a soup using anchovies, a can of tomatoes and some pasta. "How interesting you had anchovies" said my mom. My point exactly! I've learned that the crock pot is my best friend-- bread pudding uses up leftover bread, eggs, cranberries from the freezer and the end of a carton of milk.
A month down and I can see the bottoms of my shelves of the fridge and have freed up some pantry jars for more pasta and rice. Above all I've learned that I don't need to go to the grocery store every few days. Careful planning has helped me save money and trim my waistline. But maybe above all I've learned to cook for myself. Just one.
See my recipe for pantry cleaning muffins on my friend's blog, Puff and Choux.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Home Buying: A Tragedy
A close friend (we'll call her Dora) recently purchased her first condo. A new home requires lots of upfront work, like painting and minor repairs and renovations. But also some future planning. I sent Dora an email offering to go with her to Home Depot to plan her porch container garden and she sent me this response: "Russo's is much cheaper for this stuff than Home Depot! I've heard it through the grapevine by people that compared prices! "
However, just today her Facebook status says, "Dora is getting to know Home Depot so well! Like we're best buds now." I sense future conflict. Let's see how this pans out over the next few months...
The condo walls look fantastic. Dora and Terry (her hubby) spent the better part of three days painting, courtesy of paint purchased at Home Depot. What does Russo's think about this?
Dora: "Fortunately Russo's is mainly a grocery store, so doesn't even know that I get painting supplies from someplace else."
Three months hence, on a balmy spring day-- grilling and drinks on the porch.
Andrea: "What a great grill-- Terry, you can really do a number on these veggies! Speaking of which, so delightful! Where could you ever have purchased a fine grill like this and such handsome, fresh vegetables?"
Terry: "We picked up the grill from Home Depot! Dora's really developed a close relationship with Depot recently. Depot even joined her bookclub!"
Dora (eyes averted, sheepishly): "But the veggies...they came from Russo's."
Andrea (suddenly serious, with judgement in her eyes): "Don't you think it's a little unfair for you to still be seeing both Depot and Russo's? I think you ought to pick one and let the other know."
Two months later, in the heat of summer, I visit Dora and Terry. Dora looks ravaged and thin, with dark circles under her eyes. The condo is quite...hot.
Andrea: "Can't you guys get an AC, or at least some fans in here? It's 95 degrees outside!"
Dora: "No...Depot won't see me. I buy too much produce from Russo's and Depot has shut me out! And Russo's is too 'cheap' to give us a cooling device. We'll have to sit outside, where at least there are plenty of ferns."
Fortunately there's still time to get this resolved, early in this relationship...what will Dora decide?
However, just today her Facebook status says, "Dora is getting to know Home Depot so well! Like we're best buds now." I sense future conflict. Let's see how this pans out over the next few months...
The condo walls look fantastic. Dora and Terry (her hubby) spent the better part of three days painting, courtesy of paint purchased at Home Depot. What does Russo's think about this?
Dora: "Fortunately Russo's is mainly a grocery store, so doesn't even know that I get painting supplies from someplace else."
Three months hence, on a balmy spring day-- grilling and drinks on the porch.
Andrea: "What a great grill-- Terry, you can really do a number on these veggies! Speaking of which, so delightful! Where could you ever have purchased a fine grill like this and such handsome, fresh vegetables?"
Terry: "We picked up the grill from Home Depot! Dora's really developed a close relationship with Depot recently. Depot even joined her bookclub!"
Dora (eyes averted, sheepishly): "But the veggies...they came from Russo's."
Andrea (suddenly serious, with judgement in her eyes): "Don't you think it's a little unfair for you to still be seeing both Depot and Russo's? I think you ought to pick one and let the other know."
Two months later, in the heat of summer, I visit Dora and Terry. Dora looks ravaged and thin, with dark circles under her eyes. The condo is quite...hot.
Andrea: "Can't you guys get an AC, or at least some fans in here? It's 95 degrees outside!"
Dora: "No...Depot won't see me. I buy too much produce from Russo's and Depot has shut me out! And Russo's is too 'cheap' to give us a cooling device. We'll have to sit outside, where at least there are plenty of ferns."
Fortunately there's still time to get this resolved, early in this relationship...what will Dora decide?
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Herding Cats
Soul is about six years old, but still on occassion has the fire of a kitten. He's recently taken to jumping in the kitchen sink and on the kitchen counters-- really the only places in the apartment he's not allowed. Below are some suggestions and tips I've received to dissuade him from this bad behavior.
1. Spray him with a water bottle.
tried? yes.
result? hates it, but not enough to keep him off the counters permanently.
2. Solitary confinement: catch him after he jumps off the counter and toss him into the dark bedroom for the evening while Nova and I enjoy tv and snacks.
tried? yes.
result? keeps him off the counter for the time he's in the room, but the jealously tactic doesn't work and he's back on the counter as soon as he's released.
3. Whisper, "you're a goooood cat, you're so well behaved! be a goooooood cat" to him in his ear while he's sleeping, as sort of subliminal messaging.
tried? yes.
result? positive! he seems to like positive attention at least as much as negative attention and since I've started this tactic, he's maybe jumped on the counter slightly less. But he still jumps on the counter.
4. Scold the counter, not the cat. Idea being that who would want to jump on a counter that always gets in trouble?
tried? nooooo....
5. Spiritual guidance.
tried? not yet. St. Francis prayer cards, candles and icons will soon be ordered from totallycatholic.com.
1. Spray him with a water bottle.
tried? yes.
result? hates it, but not enough to keep him off the counters permanently.
2. Solitary confinement: catch him after he jumps off the counter and toss him into the dark bedroom for the evening while Nova and I enjoy tv and snacks.
tried? yes.
result? keeps him off the counter for the time he's in the room, but the jealously tactic doesn't work and he's back on the counter as soon as he's released.
3. Whisper, "you're a goooood cat, you're so well behaved! be a goooooood cat" to him in his ear while he's sleeping, as sort of subliminal messaging.
tried? yes.
result? positive! he seems to like positive attention at least as much as negative attention and since I've started this tactic, he's maybe jumped on the counter slightly less. But he still jumps on the counter.
4. Scold the counter, not the cat. Idea being that who would want to jump on a counter that always gets in trouble?
tried? nooooo....
5. Spiritual guidance.
tried? not yet. St. Francis prayer cards, candles and icons will soon be ordered from totallycatholic.com.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Advice For Tough Times
Times are tough. No doubt you were surprised a few months back when Economic Officials declared the U.S.A in a recession. Turns out that all the job losses, home foreclosures, expensive groceries and limited goods (Wiis stilll hard to find) were not just coincidental.
We've had eight years of free reign in the school yard, and now President Obama has asked that we make hard choices and sacrifices. Here's some advice on how to live in this New Order.
We've had eight years of free reign in the school yard, and now President Obama has asked that we make hard choices and sacrifices. Here's some advice on how to live in this New Order.
recycling and reusing:
We've all been conditioned to drink our water out of Siggs or Camelbaks, but how far can we take it? While in the Tannery* yesterday an old episode of American Top 40 was on. ET#1 and I were stopped in our tracks as the Long Distance Dedication came on. Instantly time was recycled. Were we in 2009? Or 1989?
ration coupons:
We're in the middle of two wars and thus have to limit our coffee, sugar and gasoline consumption. We've been granted ration cards. Oops, wait. Actually, we've been issued government coupons for the digital tv box converter.
shopping:
Can we go shopping even though we need to use cash not credit? Yes We Can! Go downscale: skirts at Old Navy can be found for $1.99. Or better yet, go upscale. Make a day of shopping at only stores like Barney's and Louis Boston. Make remarks like, "Ah this Ferragamo bag is on sale-- marked down from $1199 to $699-- not bad!" Or, try on BCBG dresses marked down 70%. When the salesclerk asks how you are doing, sigh and say, "I really wanted this in green." Don't buy anything.
(*Unless you need a pair of fur lined boots, to keep you warm when you aren't using your heat. All shoes at the Tannery are buy one pair, the 2nd pair is half off).
With a little determination, elbow grease and ingenuity, we will have Change We Can Believe In!
shopping:
Can we go shopping even though we need to use cash not credit? Yes We Can! Go downscale: skirts at Old Navy can be found for $1.99. Or better yet, go upscale. Make a day of shopping at only stores like Barney's and Louis Boston. Make remarks like, "Ah this Ferragamo bag is on sale-- marked down from $1199 to $699-- not bad!" Or, try on BCBG dresses marked down 70%. When the salesclerk asks how you are doing, sigh and say, "I really wanted this in green." Don't buy anything.
(*Unless you need a pair of fur lined boots, to keep you warm when you aren't using your heat. All shoes at the Tannery are buy one pair, the 2nd pair is half off).
With a little determination, elbow grease and ingenuity, we will have Change We Can Believe In!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Alternate (Superhero) Endings to My Recent Mugging
About a month ago, while walking down my street around 7:15 pm, I was mugged, but not hurt, by a group of teenagers in front of a church. They got away with my going out purse, containing my keys, my T pass, my debit card, my license, my phone, and $15.
The following are imagined scenarios with better endings.
1. As the kids snicker about 20 feet behind me, I turn around. I am a vampire and with lightening speed rush towards them. I need only bare my fearsome teeth and they all turn and run.
2. When approached by two kids right behind me, I stop, jab my elbows backward, expertly knocking them both in the chins, a la Angelina Jolie. I then do a roundhouse kick, knocking them both to the ground and step, with my navy patent 4 inch heels, on hand of the one holding the gun, daring the others to continue their assault. They flee in fear.
3. As the kids snicker and approach behind me, a winged Christian Bale/Batman jumps off the daycare building to my right. He wrestles the gun out of the assailant's hand, knocks the heads of two sidekicks together and swoops me to safety.
4. When the kids surround me, I blink my eyes, stopping time like Hiro Nakumura. In stopped time I manuever the kid with the gun to face instead his friend. I remove the belts of the whole group of kids and pull down their hats over their eyes. I hide behind the Mary statue and start time, watching as chaos ensues.
5. I'm walking fast, but not fast enough. The kids surround me. But just then, lightening strikes and thunder rumbles. God comes out of the church and smotes the kids. He is pissed, but I am saved.
In all scenarios, I straighten my jacket, rub a smudge off my right shoe, and continue on to the party that in real life I missed.
The following are imagined scenarios with better endings.
1. As the kids snicker about 20 feet behind me, I turn around. I am a vampire and with lightening speed rush towards them. I need only bare my fearsome teeth and they all turn and run.
2. When approached by two kids right behind me, I stop, jab my elbows backward, expertly knocking them both in the chins, a la Angelina Jolie. I then do a roundhouse kick, knocking them both to the ground and step, with my navy patent 4 inch heels, on hand of the one holding the gun, daring the others to continue their assault. They flee in fear.
3. As the kids snicker and approach behind me, a winged Christian Bale/Batman jumps off the daycare building to my right. He wrestles the gun out of the assailant's hand, knocks the heads of two sidekicks together and swoops me to safety.
4. When the kids surround me, I blink my eyes, stopping time like Hiro Nakumura. In stopped time I manuever the kid with the gun to face instead his friend. I remove the belts of the whole group of kids and pull down their hats over their eyes. I hide behind the Mary statue and start time, watching as chaos ensues.
5. I'm walking fast, but not fast enough. The kids surround me. But just then, lightening strikes and thunder rumbles. God comes out of the church and smotes the kids. He is pissed, but I am saved.
In all scenarios, I straighten my jacket, rub a smudge off my right shoe, and continue on to the party that in real life I missed.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Grocery Shopping
At the Boylston Street Trader Joe's last week....
Checker: And would you like paper or plastic?
Me: Oh, I brought my own bag, thanks!
Checker: Great! And, how will you be paying, credit or debit?
Me: (taking out wallet) Credit
Checker: (looking at me) You've got a pregnant...
Me: (to self) Oh.My.God. If he even says I am pregnant?! I know after my depression starvation I've put on a little more weight, but really, I've been doing crunches. Is my shirt to tight? I need to clean out my clothes. And hold in my belly! But really, I could be pregnant. I really only have a limited time frame left anyway...but why does this guy need to be telling me that? I think he has an accent. Maybe it's a cultural difference and it's okay that he's saying this. Oh, God. I think I'm going to cry! I'm not pregnant! I'm turning bright red, I can feel it! I've got to get out of here. This is so embarrassing.
Checker: (finishing sentence) ...wallet.
Me: (to self, relieved) Oh. The George Costanza wallet.
Checker: Have a great night!
Checker: And would you like paper or plastic?
Me: Oh, I brought my own bag, thanks!
Checker: Great! And, how will you be paying, credit or debit?
Me: (taking out wallet) Credit
Checker: (looking at me) You've got a pregnant...
Me: (to self) Oh.My.God. If he even says I am pregnant?! I know after my depression starvation I've put on a little more weight, but really, I've been doing crunches. Is my shirt to tight? I need to clean out my clothes. And hold in my belly! But really, I could be pregnant. I really only have a limited time frame left anyway...but why does this guy need to be telling me that? I think he has an accent. Maybe it's a cultural difference and it's okay that he's saying this. Oh, God. I think I'm going to cry! I'm not pregnant! I'm turning bright red, I can feel it! I've got to get out of here. This is so embarrassing.
Checker: (finishing sentence) ...wallet.
Me: (to self, relieved) Oh. The George Costanza wallet.
Checker: Have a great night!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
A Legacy for the Ages
Dubya's in lame duck mode right now, and in a couple months we'll all be contemplating his legacy. A lot has happened over the past seven and a half years, and I think we can all agree on his most successful act: the marriage of his daughter Jenna to a hand-picked up and coming Republican. Before 9/11, before we invaded Iraq and before gas was $4/gallon, Bush vacationed at his ranch non-stop, sharks were rampant on America's beaches, and the Bush twins were out of control...
At approximately 10:19 on Tuesday, May 29th, the Austin Police Department received a 9-1-1 call reporting minors attempting to purchase alcohol. The caller was the manager of Chuy's Restaurant located at 1728 Barton Springs Road.
APD patrol officers arrived and found that Jenna and Barbara Bush, 19, were alleged to have been involved in this incident. As no offense was witnessed by APD officers, following routine procedures, further investigation is required to determine if any charges will be filed. APD and the Texas Alcohol Beverage Commission are investigating this incident.
ABCNEWS.com, June 4, 2001
*The night of the "alleged incident" is clear in my mind. Barbara was visiting from Yale and I had promised her a good night on the town. It had been chilly and rainy the previous week, but Tuesday was beautiful and warm and everyone was ready to go out and pary. Barb is very sweet, but just doesn't know how to have a good time. This is off the record, but I generally think of myself as being the social butterfly. I mean, she goes to Yale where all they do is study! Anyway, the end of the semester was approaching and I had a few favors to call in. I borrowed Maggie's ID--she's 21 and I had lent her my favorite capris a few weeks earlier and she had spilled beer all over them, ruining them. She felt so bad about it that she was more than happy to lend me her ID. I gave my Secret Service guys, Joe and Nathan, twenty bucks each to leave us on our own for the night. I have them wrapped around my finger. My good friend Lisa assured me her roommate was tending bar at Chuy's and that if we asked for Sarah, we would have no problem getting served. Once there, I couldn't find Sarah, but calmly and cooly used Maggie's ID to order a round of margaritas. So when APD officers arrived at the restaurant at around, I guess, 10 o'clock, I had no idea what had gone wrong...
Of course she had no idea what went wrong! The girl was wrecked. I don't know what Jenna told you, but I knew the night was ill-fated from the beginning. First of all, she was still in the doghouse with mom for her possession of alcohol incident about a month ago. I told her we should lie low and maybe just take in a movie. My friend Ashley was with me and didn't have a fake ID and didn't want to risk getting in trouble. But there is no stopping Jenna when she puts her mind to something, even though she rarely thinks things through. We may be twins, but we are as different as night and day. To tell you the truth, I always consider myself to be the smarter one. But back to May 29th. Early in the evening Jenna snuck into this girl Maggie's room and searched through her desk until she found her driver's license. She mumbled something about capri pant, and when I asked her if she should really be searching through this girl's private stuff, she just said something about Maggie owing her. Then she broke out the Coronas. After about three beers, she said this girl Lisa's roommate, Sarah, worked at a restaurant in South Austin and that she had some stuff on her about cheating on a Biology exam first semester, so if she refused to serve us, Jenna would have only to make a call to the dean. Ditching our Secret Service guys was the hardest part of the evening. But by 8:30 Jenna had already downed the whole six-pack of beer, and was determined to get to that restaurant! Jenna tried to bribe Nathan and Joe with 40 bucks, but they just laughed at her. So we came up with something and ended up having to climb out of the second floor bathroom window and shimmy down the drain pipe.
Once at Chuy's, I was hoping to just sit down and order some food, but Jenna had to make a big production. You'd think, since she was using someone else's ID, she would keep a low profile and be subtle, but no. She was dancing and singing on the table! Before I knew it we all had drinks in front of us. Some guy bought us a round of shots. By then the manager had already called the police. Jenna was angry and kept yelling at the police, asking them if they knew who her father was. She said she would tell Daddy not to give them their tax rebates.
After we got home, I knew we were really going to be in for it. There were irate messages from Maggie, Lisa and Sarah. Nathan and Joe were not happy. They had already called Daddy and seemed pretty concerned about their jobs. I think I overheard them say something about Chelsea being an ideal charge.
I remember it being a great night--except for the police coming. I'm not sure why Barb is so grumpy. What's the big deal? She wanted a good time and I showed it to her. Nathan and Joe just laughed at us and joked about how much more fun we were than that goody-two-shoes, Chelsea. I'm really lucky they have such a great sense of humor. Appeasing Daddy is a piece of cake, but Mom's another story. I think she might still be mad about last month. The other week at Camp David I caught her in the kitchen taking some pills and mumbling something about Chelsea being a dream daughter.
Yeah, I'm pretty mad at Jenna right now. I'm going to have to smooth things over with Mom and Daddy, as usual, not to mention straightening things out with her friends. She just takes no responsibility! I don't know what she would do it she didn't have me.
Barb is so lucky she has me. I mean, who else is as much fun as me? She would be stuck at Yale, studying, studying, studying.
*This bit of fiction is reprinted, courtesy of myself, Andrea. I found it in a box, where it's been sitting since I took a summer creative writing class years ago.
At approximately 10:19 on Tuesday, May 29th, the Austin Police Department received a 9-1-1 call reporting minors attempting to purchase alcohol. The caller was the manager of Chuy's Restaurant located at 1728 Barton Springs Road.
APD patrol officers arrived and found that Jenna and Barbara Bush, 19, were alleged to have been involved in this incident. As no offense was witnessed by APD officers, following routine procedures, further investigation is required to determine if any charges will be filed. APD and the Texas Alcohol Beverage Commission are investigating this incident.
ABCNEWS.com, June 4, 2001
*The night of the "alleged incident" is clear in my mind. Barbara was visiting from Yale and I had promised her a good night on the town. It had been chilly and rainy the previous week, but Tuesday was beautiful and warm and everyone was ready to go out and pary. Barb is very sweet, but just doesn't know how to have a good time. This is off the record, but I generally think of myself as being the social butterfly. I mean, she goes to Yale where all they do is study! Anyway, the end of the semester was approaching and I had a few favors to call in. I borrowed Maggie's ID--she's 21 and I had lent her my favorite capris a few weeks earlier and she had spilled beer all over them, ruining them. She felt so bad about it that she was more than happy to lend me her ID. I gave my Secret Service guys, Joe and Nathan, twenty bucks each to leave us on our own for the night. I have them wrapped around my finger. My good friend Lisa assured me her roommate was tending bar at Chuy's and that if we asked for Sarah, we would have no problem getting served. Once there, I couldn't find Sarah, but calmly and cooly used Maggie's ID to order a round of margaritas. So when APD officers arrived at the restaurant at around, I guess, 10 o'clock, I had no idea what had gone wrong...
Of course she had no idea what went wrong! The girl was wrecked. I don't know what Jenna told you, but I knew the night was ill-fated from the beginning. First of all, she was still in the doghouse with mom for her possession of alcohol incident about a month ago. I told her we should lie low and maybe just take in a movie. My friend Ashley was with me and didn't have a fake ID and didn't want to risk getting in trouble. But there is no stopping Jenna when she puts her mind to something, even though she rarely thinks things through. We may be twins, but we are as different as night and day. To tell you the truth, I always consider myself to be the smarter one. But back to May 29th. Early in the evening Jenna snuck into this girl Maggie's room and searched through her desk until she found her driver's license. She mumbled something about capri pant, and when I asked her if she should really be searching through this girl's private stuff, she just said something about Maggie owing her. Then she broke out the Coronas. After about three beers, she said this girl Lisa's roommate, Sarah, worked at a restaurant in South Austin and that she had some stuff on her about cheating on a Biology exam first semester, so if she refused to serve us, Jenna would have only to make a call to the dean. Ditching our Secret Service guys was the hardest part of the evening. But by 8:30 Jenna had already downed the whole six-pack of beer, and was determined to get to that restaurant! Jenna tried to bribe Nathan and Joe with 40 bucks, but they just laughed at her. So we came up with something and ended up having to climb out of the second floor bathroom window and shimmy down the drain pipe.
Once at Chuy's, I was hoping to just sit down and order some food, but Jenna had to make a big production. You'd think, since she was using someone else's ID, she would keep a low profile and be subtle, but no. She was dancing and singing on the table! Before I knew it we all had drinks in front of us. Some guy bought us a round of shots. By then the manager had already called the police. Jenna was angry and kept yelling at the police, asking them if they knew who her father was. She said she would tell Daddy not to give them their tax rebates.
After we got home, I knew we were really going to be in for it. There were irate messages from Maggie, Lisa and Sarah. Nathan and Joe were not happy. They had already called Daddy and seemed pretty concerned about their jobs. I think I overheard them say something about Chelsea being an ideal charge.
I remember it being a great night--except for the police coming. I'm not sure why Barb is so grumpy. What's the big deal? She wanted a good time and I showed it to her. Nathan and Joe just laughed at us and joked about how much more fun we were than that goody-two-shoes, Chelsea. I'm really lucky they have such a great sense of humor. Appeasing Daddy is a piece of cake, but Mom's another story. I think she might still be mad about last month. The other week at Camp David I caught her in the kitchen taking some pills and mumbling something about Chelsea being a dream daughter.
Yeah, I'm pretty mad at Jenna right now. I'm going to have to smooth things over with Mom and Daddy, as usual, not to mention straightening things out with her friends. She just takes no responsibility! I don't know what she would do it she didn't have me.
Barb is so lucky she has me. I mean, who else is as much fun as me? She would be stuck at Yale, studying, studying, studying.
*This bit of fiction is reprinted, courtesy of myself, Andrea. I found it in a box, where it's been sitting since I took a summer creative writing class years ago.
Monday, July 14, 2008
On Being a Good Friend
If you happened to pass by the corner of Boylston and Clarendon around 6:30 the evening of Wednesday July 2, you might have seen two professional 30 year old women fishing around in the gutter. Had Rashmi and I fallen to drugs? Not exactly...the following is the series of events leading up the the gutter episode.
4:30 pm-- Decide to meet for dinner and drinks at the Globe. Contemplate The Cactus Club but decide that burgers and waffle fries would be better.
5:20 pm-- Arrive at the Globe and decide to drink iced tea and Roy Rogers, making it a "sober night". But I decide to subsitute the iced tea for a Rolling Rock.
5:45-6:15 pm-- chow down and sandwiches and waffle fries and comment on passers-by.
6:25 pm-- walk down Boylston deciding where to go next...and Rashmi gives her necklace a thoughtful tug, which causes the line to snap and a cascade of beads to fall into the gutter.
Since she still had a good handful, I said, "quick, just stuff those into your bag and you can restring them. It will be okay!" She looks unsure and says, "But it's my favorite necklace [later confirmed by her sister, who knew exactly which necklace it was without missing a beat]! It's from Target but..."
As I'm telling her it will be okay, that she still does have most of the beads, she starts picking loose beads up off the sidewalk...and then fishing them out of the gutter.
"Uh, do you need help?" I hesitate, but can't stand by while my friend dirties her hands, while balancing on her haunches. So down I go, and start fishing them out as well.
"Andrea, there's one over there."
"No, that's a cigarette butt."
When we had sufficiently gathered the beads into our hands, I looked at her and said, "You realize we need to beeline for the Filene's Basement bathroom stat." We hurried across the street with our hands in front of us and ran upstairs equally laughing and pushing bargain shoppers out of the way.
When we were washing the beads and our hands, Rashmi said, "thanks-- you are such a great friend!" Well, if all it takes is fishing around in a Boston gutter, I'll take it!
4:30 pm-- Decide to meet for dinner and drinks at the Globe. Contemplate The Cactus Club but decide that burgers and waffle fries would be better.
5:20 pm-- Arrive at the Globe and decide to drink iced tea and Roy Rogers, making it a "sober night". But I decide to subsitute the iced tea for a Rolling Rock.
5:45-6:15 pm-- chow down and sandwiches and waffle fries and comment on passers-by.
6:25 pm-- walk down Boylston deciding where to go next...and Rashmi gives her necklace a thoughtful tug, which causes the line to snap and a cascade of beads to fall into the gutter.
Since she still had a good handful, I said, "quick, just stuff those into your bag and you can restring them. It will be okay!" She looks unsure and says, "But it's my favorite necklace [later confirmed by her sister, who knew exactly which necklace it was without missing a beat]! It's from Target but..."
As I'm telling her it will be okay, that she still does have most of the beads, she starts picking loose beads up off the sidewalk...and then fishing them out of the gutter.
"Uh, do you need help?" I hesitate, but can't stand by while my friend dirties her hands, while balancing on her haunches. So down I go, and start fishing them out as well.
"Andrea, there's one over there."
"No, that's a cigarette butt."
When we had sufficiently gathered the beads into our hands, I looked at her and said, "You realize we need to beeline for the Filene's Basement bathroom stat." We hurried across the street with our hands in front of us and ran upstairs equally laughing and pushing bargain shoppers out of the way.
When we were washing the beads and our hands, Rashmi said, "thanks-- you are such a great friend!" Well, if all it takes is fishing around in a Boston gutter, I'll take it!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
On Ageing Gracefully
A celebratory birthday trip to D.C. yielded some helpful lessons On Ageing Gracefully.
My mom and I arrived just in time for cocktail hour on Thursday. We had a few drinks at Liz's apartment, then proceeded on to Lauriol Plaza for Mexican food and margaritas.
Liz ordered a round of tequilla shots for us. We all downed them...or so we thought.
My mom and I arrived just in time for cocktail hour on Thursday. We had a few drinks at Liz's apartment, then proceeded on to Lauriol Plaza for Mexican food and margaritas.
Liz ordered a round of tequilla shots for us. We all downed them...or so we thought.
Lesson 1. If you feel you can't do the whole shot in one gulp, just go, "whew, that was strong!" and wipe your brow AS IF you too had taken the shot. When your daughters realize you faked them out, just dump half untouched shot in your margarita, swallow the rest of it, then proceed to finish everyone else's margarita at the table, shaming your daughters. Old does not mean lame!
We arranged time for birthday facials on Friday afternoon. In the waiting area we were asked to fill out a questionnaire regarding our skin care regime and skin quality, texture, etc. A series of boxes asked that we indicate what age range we were, ie, 20 and under, 21-30, 31-45, etc.
Lesson 2. Upon realizing that you really fall in the very last age range of 60 or older, declare that "they don't really need to know that" and check off the 2nd to last box instead.
We arranged time for birthday facials on Friday afternoon. In the waiting area we were asked to fill out a questionnaire regarding our skin care regime and skin quality, texture, etc. A series of boxes asked that we indicate what age range we were, ie, 20 and under, 21-30, 31-45, etc.
Lesson 2. Upon realizing that you really fall in the very last age range of 60 or older, declare that "they don't really need to know that" and check off the 2nd to last box instead.
After a disappointing Nationals game (the game was disappointing, the beer, peanuts and hot dogs were not), we decided to go to Kramer's for dessert and drinks. Our young server asked us for our IDs, which my sister and I gladly handed over. To my mom, in all seriousness, she said, "I'll need to see yours too." My mom blushed, "really?" then dug out her ID when the server sheepishly apologized but said she didn't want to get in trouble.
Lesson 3. Being carded is the sincerest form of flattery.
Having eaten out and walked the city for three 90+ degree days, we stayed in on Sunday to make dinner. Matt set up the Wii so we could play Mario Kart and Liz worked on the dinner. My mom and I teamed up and raced through multiple levels while Matt was grilling. Liz asked for someone to set the table to which I responded, "I can't-- I've got two more laps!" She looked at my mom, who responded, "I can't either-- we're a team and I've got to cheer her on!" (My sister huffed and purposely kept walking in front of the tv).Lesson 4. You're only as old as you feel, or when in doubt, enact mother-daughter role reversal.
Lesson 5. Note to self: Remember these lessons, and this weekend, so that when you are 40 years old (with a couple extra decades of experience), you can age gracefully as well.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Boston, I Love You
Something strange has been happening in Boston recently. Sure, the Celts are kicking it and Lester had a no-hitter, but something more subversive has been taking place. I asked my friend Rashmi, "Have you noticed that people are a lot more...friendly recently?" Once my eyes weren't clouded by a daily deluge of tears, I realized that basic courtesy and then some has been running rampant throughout Beantown.
It started with a low point a few months back. On one (probably rainy) day, I was yelled at by both the bus driver (for not waiting the appropriate amount of time to tap my Charlie Card on the sensor) and the librarian at the BPL (for mistakenly believing that when she had finished helping the patron in front of me that she would be ready to help me). In the words of LCD Soundsystem, "New York I love you, but you're bringing me down." Only substitute Boston for New York. I retreated home and emerged only when the trees started to green and the crocus and daffodils started to bloom. And that's when I noticed it.
The crossing guard by the school near me sees me coming down the street and always pushes the walk button before I get there. Then she waves me across and we wish each other good morning. The high school kid working the register at Harvest notices that the celery I'd picked up were fairly limp; did I still want to buy them? A bus driver with an out of service bus picks me and one other woman up, saying he'll at least make two people happy, although he has to bypass the hoards of people waiting at other stops while the buses get back on the right time. On the last T of the night a tired woman with many bags looks at me and offers me her seat! (I respectfully declined). And finally, most impressively, the Haymarket vendors not only lack their usual surliness, but are downright chatty: they joke with us, tell us which fruits really are best, let us choose our produce and even ask what we're planning to cook. Totally unheard of.
Rashmi's response to my original query was this. "The citizens of Boston are a mirror of you. I'm glad you're feeling happier."
It started with a low point a few months back. On one (probably rainy) day, I was yelled at by both the bus driver (for not waiting the appropriate amount of time to tap my Charlie Card on the sensor) and the librarian at the BPL (for mistakenly believing that when she had finished helping the patron in front of me that she would be ready to help me). In the words of LCD Soundsystem, "New York I love you, but you're bringing me down." Only substitute Boston for New York. I retreated home and emerged only when the trees started to green and the crocus and daffodils started to bloom. And that's when I noticed it.
The crossing guard by the school near me sees me coming down the street and always pushes the walk button before I get there. Then she waves me across and we wish each other good morning. The high school kid working the register at Harvest notices that the celery I'd picked up were fairly limp; did I still want to buy them? A bus driver with an out of service bus picks me and one other woman up, saying he'll at least make two people happy, although he has to bypass the hoards of people waiting at other stops while the buses get back on the right time. On the last T of the night a tired woman with many bags looks at me and offers me her seat! (I respectfully declined). And finally, most impressively, the Haymarket vendors not only lack their usual surliness, but are downright chatty: they joke with us, tell us which fruits really are best, let us choose our produce and even ask what we're planning to cook. Totally unheard of.
Rashmi's response to my original query was this. "The citizens of Boston are a mirror of you. I'm glad you're feeling happier."
Monday, April 28, 2008
Spiritual Help, Part 3
I am a midwestern raised Protestant which I like to tell people means I have certain inherent qualities: the Protestant work ethic (ie, even if I'm sick, which in itself should never happen, I would still report to work), a sense of patience (attributed to long drives over the prairies and farmland) and a reticence to talk about personal stuff too much (no need to burden someone else with my problems). Since Protestants are allowed to interpret the Bible as best they see fit, church services are short and sweet, with the ultimate goal to get into heaven, but with a stop at the social hall after service for donuts and coffee first.
Needless to say the pomp and ritual of Catholicism was always fascinating to me. Remember the scene in Mermaids where Winona Ryder is praying to a homemade shrine to the Virgin Mary and her mother played by Cher says, "Charlotte, we're Jewish."? I think of that scene often...
So when I was waiting to act on my psychic's advice, I started getting anxious. Some research (http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/sf/real-estate/real-estate-superstition-st-joseph-statues-043270 ) revealed that St. Joseph is the patron saint of housing. I didn't exactly need to sell my house, but I did in effect need to sell one room. Despite months of living frugally and saving every last penny, I had no compunction about immediately purchasing the Double Novena St. Joseph & Jude Housing Kit from totallycatholic.com.
It arrived a few days later and contained 1 2.5 inch plastic Saint (I'm guessing Joseph?), one tiny 1 inch Saint in a plastic case (St. Joseph, to bury in the ground), one St. Joseph medallion (perhaps good for a certain cat's collar) and 2 saint cards.
The best part of the package may well be the invoice. One line on the invoice says, "Catholic Church Canon Law forbids the sale of items that have been blessed - please have your items blessed by a Catholic priest so that they may become true sacramentals. Tell your family and friends about TotallyCatholic.com - make $$! Sign up free for our affiliate program!" This doesn't make sense to me so if anyone can elucidate, please do so! Further down along the invoice they request the customers share their successful home selling stories, saying "We have sold thousands of kits since we first invented the idea 13 years ago." Um, I guess I was under the impression that this was "invented" by St. Joseph? Finally, at the very bottom it reads, "TotallyCatholic.com now serving Mystic Monks Coffee - the finest coffee in the world, made by real monks! www.MysticMonksCoffee.net" Ah ha! Finally the lost connection between us social hour loving Protestants and our Catholic brethren.
The psychic and/or saints paid off-- I had a roommate by the end of the week.
It arrived a few days later and contained 1 2.5 inch plastic Saint (I'm guessing Joseph?), one tiny 1 inch Saint in a plastic case (St. Joseph, to bury in the ground), one St. Joseph medallion (perhaps good for a certain cat's collar) and 2 saint cards.
The best part of the package may well be the invoice. One line on the invoice says, "Catholic Church Canon Law forbids the sale of items that have been blessed - please have your items blessed by a Catholic priest so that they may become true sacramentals. Tell your family and friends about TotallyCatholic.com - make $$! Sign up free for our affiliate program!" This doesn't make sense to me so if anyone can elucidate, please do so! Further down along the invoice they request the customers share their successful home selling stories, saying "We have sold thousands of kits since we first invented the idea 13 years ago." Um, I guess I was under the impression that this was "invented" by St. Joseph? Finally, at the very bottom it reads, "TotallyCatholic.com now serving Mystic Monks Coffee - the finest coffee in the world, made by real monks! www.MysticMonksCoffee.net" Ah ha! Finally the lost connection between us social hour loving Protestants and our Catholic brethren.
The psychic and/or saints paid off-- I had a roommate by the end of the week.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Spiritual Help, Part 2*
In my opinion, the best way to pass the time when feeling blue is to coerce your friends into spending time with you, and perhaps forcing them to cook for you as well. If you force them to cook a 5 lb brisket, all the better. And, if you force them to cook brisket for you, while pretending to be Jewish, well, it just doesn't get any better than that. Mood improvement is guaranteed.
Last Wednesday I emailed ET#1 and told her we should be on the lookout for Passover Coca Cola. It is made with actual sugar, not high fructose corn syrup and thus brings about a nostalgia for so many things past (taping songs off the radio, watching movies on beta max, Atari, Sweet Valley High...). She responded that she would indeed look for it, and that also she'd had a dream about brisket. Should we have a Passover Seder? Of course. Not being Jewish is just a technicality, plus don't we all need to free ourselves from captivity at some point?
By Friday she had a 5 lb brisket, a shank bone and a full menu planned. I had invited our other former roommate, Brandi, who agreed to attend our seder without batting an eye. I collected recipes from Jewish (thanks for the charoset, Nora) and non-Jewish (the flan was a hit, Rashmi) friends alike. Saturday morning ET#1 and I met at 8:30 am at Mike's Pastry before hitting Haymarket. I ordered my standard canoli and when I mentioned it to my mom later, she snarkily replied she was glad to know it being Passover didn't stop me from eating pastries. I reminded her we aren't Jewish. Haymarket provided some necessary fruits and veggies (apples and leeks) and some non necessary ones (a 5 lb bag of salad for $2). I spent the remainder of the Sabbath preparing the flan using a dozen eggs and snacking on matzoh. I headed over to ET#1's abode and was greeted with the following menu:
Matzoh ball soup
Frisee Salad with orange
The 5 lb. Brisket
Sauteed carrots
Steamed asparagus
Charoset (apples, walnuts, dried cherries and just a touch of red wine)
Red Wine
Roasted tomatoes
Potato Kugel
Orange Almond Flan
The Seder Plate and Matzohs
I started to feel full just looking at it all. Needless to say, it was too much food for 3 people, even though we left the door open for Elijah. But eat we did, and I really did get full. And I really did not feel blue at all!
*Due to the time sensitive nature of Passover, this post is going up before the totallycatholic.com post.
*Due to the time sensitive nature of Passover, this post is going up before the totallycatholic.com post.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Spiritual Help, Part 1
Those of you who know me and read this know the past 6 months have been less than stellar. Sure, the mice got caught and friends supported me with crappy food* and entertainment, but despite my best efforts life was difficult. A couple weeks ago I decided my life was out of control and someone else needed to help.
It was time to go to the psychic.
It was my mom's idea. Apparently mom advice only lasts so long, so she said to me, "You and ET#1 need to go to the psychic." Some yelp research landed us at the Tremont Tearoom. A call to make appointments rendered a chuckle; apparently business is not so great as to require appointments. So we went on a Sunday, when we could claim the $5 off discount. After stopping for breathmints and a lotto ticket, we found our way into a dark building and took the beer smelling elevator up to 3. Nag Champa and Patchouli lured us into a studio with a handful of psychics at small tables, at least one working the phone for call-ins. I paid cash upfront for our adventure and we each chose our psychic after consulting a menu of services (the combo platter of palm reading and tarot reading sounded delicious to me). Like making a birthday wish, I'm not sure one is supposed to reveal their reading but let me say that my reading was satisfying. Being a perpetual renter I am annually or biennially looking for a roommate and was assured by my pyschic that I need only wait until the end of the week, re-word and re-post my ad. She also said I should take sailing lessons.
ET#1 and I left with renewed focus and determination and wandered over to Chinatown to eat soup. My peace of mind lasted a few days, but I started getting anxious mid-week. Once again I needed help outside the earthly realm. I needed God.
I decided to place and order with totallycatholic.com.
*My friends are good enough to not just endure, but actively support my watching of bad tween movies like The Baby-Sitter's Club. A recent viewing was paired with Tostinos frozen pizzas, Doritos and queso, GirlScout Cookies and donut holes. And because we actually are adults, red wine.
Up Next, how an order from Totally Catholic might just have saved my life.
It was time to go to the psychic.
It was my mom's idea. Apparently mom advice only lasts so long, so she said to me, "You and ET#1 need to go to the psychic." Some yelp research landed us at the Tremont Tearoom. A call to make appointments rendered a chuckle; apparently business is not so great as to require appointments. So we went on a Sunday, when we could claim the $5 off discount. After stopping for breathmints and a lotto ticket, we found our way into a dark building and took the beer smelling elevator up to 3. Nag Champa and Patchouli lured us into a studio with a handful of psychics at small tables, at least one working the phone for call-ins. I paid cash upfront for our adventure and we each chose our psychic after consulting a menu of services (the combo platter of palm reading and tarot reading sounded delicious to me). Like making a birthday wish, I'm not sure one is supposed to reveal their reading but let me say that my reading was satisfying. Being a perpetual renter I am annually or biennially looking for a roommate and was assured by my pyschic that I need only wait until the end of the week, re-word and re-post my ad. She also said I should take sailing lessons.
ET#1 and I left with renewed focus and determination and wandered over to Chinatown to eat soup. My peace of mind lasted a few days, but I started getting anxious mid-week. Once again I needed help outside the earthly realm. I needed God.
I decided to place and order with totallycatholic.com.
*My friends are good enough to not just endure, but actively support my watching of bad tween movies like The Baby-Sitter's Club. A recent viewing was paired with Tostinos frozen pizzas, Doritos and queso, GirlScout Cookies and donut holes. And because we actually are adults, red wine.
Up Next, how an order from Totally Catholic might just have saved my life.
Friday, November 16, 2007
The Man of the House
Before G left, things were fine. There were no major apartment issues or other "manly" things that needed to be addressed. However a few days after his departure things went downhill and I quickly had to become the "man of the house". But upon further reflection, the "man of the house" can only be with help from a woman. Here's a few examples, with reasons why the woman really is "the man":
1. I return home from a long day at work and the house is dark. The kitties are ready to mutiny so we all head to the kitchen for food and...*blink*! The kitchen light burns out. I normally would have asked G to change the fixture since he is tall and I am short. I found the flashlight** and found the lightbulbs***. I climbed on the dining room chair, undid the fixture and replaced the lightbulb.
**The man would not have known where the flashlight was
***ditto the lightbulbs
2. The downstairs neighbors had a small mouse problem. When the exterminator came upstairs and asked if we needed any traps, I replied, "no problems here! I've got the cats!". The following weekend three rogue mice escaped upstairs and the cats tossed them around until they were dead, or nearly so. When faced with a twitching mouse at my bedroom door, I would have been tempted in the past to ask G to deal with it. But it was just me and the cats, and cats do not have opposable thumbs which to dispose of mice. So I used two shoeboxes* for two mice, and one dustpan, brush and a toilet for the other.
*Would a man have had so many extra shoeboxes laying around? I don't think so.
3. The Red Sox just won the World Series. But there was no time to relax; football season was well under way and the Pats and the Colts were both undefeated. After a call from one of my best bachelor(ette) friends (ET#1), I got into manly mode and we headed to a bar and watched the game, ordered our weight in buffalo wings (bone in) and cheap beer (dollar drafts)*.
*There's nothing here that a woman could do better, but I try to relegate myself to watch only one sport a year, so the fact that I was on to sport #2 is impressive in itself. And ET#1 and I can drink beer and eat wings with the best of them.
1. I return home from a long day at work and the house is dark. The kitties are ready to mutiny so we all head to the kitchen for food and...*blink*! The kitchen light burns out. I normally would have asked G to change the fixture since he is tall and I am short. I found the flashlight** and found the lightbulbs***. I climbed on the dining room chair, undid the fixture and replaced the lightbulb.
**The man would not have known where the flashlight was
***ditto the lightbulbs
2. The downstairs neighbors had a small mouse problem. When the exterminator came upstairs and asked if we needed any traps, I replied, "no problems here! I've got the cats!". The following weekend three rogue mice escaped upstairs and the cats tossed them around until they were dead, or nearly so. When faced with a twitching mouse at my bedroom door, I would have been tempted in the past to ask G to deal with it. But it was just me and the cats, and cats do not have opposable thumbs which to dispose of mice. So I used two shoeboxes* for two mice, and one dustpan, brush and a toilet for the other.
*Would a man have had so many extra shoeboxes laying around? I don't think so.
3. The Red Sox just won the World Series. But there was no time to relax; football season was well under way and the Pats and the Colts were both undefeated. After a call from one of my best bachelor(ette) friends (ET#1), I got into manly mode and we headed to a bar and watched the game, ordered our weight in buffalo wings (bone in) and cheap beer (dollar drafts)*.
*There's nothing here that a woman could do better, but I try to relegate myself to watch only one sport a year, so the fact that I was on to sport #2 is impressive in itself. And ET#1 and I can drink beer and eat wings with the best of them.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Costa Rica: The End!
A small delay in posting, but delightful descriptions are forthcoming! One of the wonderful things about Costa Rica is that, like Hawaii, you can be on the beach, and then a short couple hours later in the mountains. So on my birthday we left Jaco and started the drive to Santa Elena/Monteverde. My mom said it would take several hours, so when we got to the base of the mountains not too long later, I was kind of surprised. We'd stopped at a gas station earlier where I stocked up on Tostitos and surprise eggs (as if my blond hair didn't give away my Americanness, I bought "imported" chips from the U.S.A.). As we headed up the moutain the clouds started floating in and out of view revealing the ocean below. Then, when we were a mere 30 kilometers away, the road became gravelly and rocky and unmaintained. This slowed us down considerably. We passed cyclists going faster than we could (again, kids on bikes, going uphill without huffing and puffing!). But it was a pretty day and we had Tostitos and Cokes. About half an hour later we passed a sign saying 27 km to Monteverde. A Dios mio! This was going to me a long trek.
By late afternoon we hit the town and asked a local woman if she knew where the Mirador Lodge was. She didn't speak English, but said in Spanish that it was quite far. We kept driving not knowing how far was "far". We eventually came upon an office with "Mirador Lodge" and various activities on it, but we parked and it looked quite locked. Signs on the door revealved it had been shut down! We figured we could find alterate arrangements, but this was strange. We turned back to town and Liz and I sought help. A man told us the lodge was quite far (that word again!) and brought us upstairs to point through the window where we needed to go. He indicated the place we had been so...we inquired at the Chamber of Tourism. The woman said no one had been answering the phone at the lodge, so she didn't know if they were open or not. But, we convinced her to give us a map and looked up the lodge. Lo and behold, it was actually much farther than we had gone before. And...on more unmaintained road. We were getting low on Tostitos too! It took us about another 40 minutes to get there, but when we did, it was breathtaking! The lodge is literally off the grid, making their own electricity. Our cabin had a small porch overlooking sloping green hills and the Arenal Volcano and Lake. Clouds drifted in so that walking on the grounds was liking walking through a moor or heather. We hiked down a small trail near our cabin and found ourselves in the middle of the rainforest.
We dined at the lodge restaurant that night, but were warned ahead of time that a large group of students had a reservation at 7:30. We arrived around 6:45 and practiced our Spanish (the young waiter spoke very little English). The food was delicious and then...the Frenchies arrived. The student group was large-- probably around 20 French students and a few adult chaperones. We surmised they were French by a) they spoke French, b) their European clothes and c) the fact that they smoked at the table. We quickly finished and retired to our cabin.
In the middle of the night a fortuitous event happened (for my mom and myself): my sister got sick. Many people get sick in foreign countries, but Liz gets sick in foreign countries like Canada, and California. So, while she was in the bathroom, my mom and I took turns out on the porch-- the sky had cleared and the stars were out. And by stars I don't mean the pinpricks one sees in the city, I mean 3-D layers of stars-- some dim, many bright, some close, some far, clusters, colors...it was like nothing I had ever seen. I couldn't help but think of all my city girlscouts who might never have seen the sky like this. Further, to add to the magic, the lake was illuminated and fireflies darted about. None of us slept so great the rest of the night, so we also got to see the sun rise over the volcano.
Liz still wasn't feeling so hot, but rallied the next day (if college teaches one anything, it is that being sick from a hangover, say, should not deter one from following through with the next day's plans). So, we headed to the forest where we had reservations to do the canopy tour. I was a bit apprehensive about sailing on a zipline hundreds of feet off the forest floor, but Liz agreed to do it despite a timid tummy, so I couldn't let her show me up. Plus, I just turned 30, so thought it a memorable way to celebrate. In our group there were kids, parents, teenagers, and maybe some grandparents? You get strapped into a harness and the (cute and friendly!) Costa Rican guys working there hook the pulley to the zipline and send you on your way. Some of the lines were more than a hundred feet and you probably zip up to 20 mph (well, it's hard to judge-- maybe more, maybe less?) through trees and clouds until you land at the next platform. It was a really amazing experience-- totally solitary and beautiful and it felt safe and not scary at all. Of course it's no way to see any animals, unless a bird flies right into you. The tours lasted about 2 hours and towards the end it had started raining. We warmed up in the restaurant waiting for the rain to die down. It didn't really, so we bought plastic ponchos and walked the bridges through the forest.
The next day we headed out early to drive back to San Jose and catch our flight back to D.C. It would have been nice to stay longer, perhaps as long as it's taken me to post all these updates. I'll get some quality photos up too, for those of you not brave enough to read this whole thing.
By late afternoon we hit the town and asked a local woman if she knew where the Mirador Lodge was. She didn't speak English, but said in Spanish that it was quite far. We kept driving not knowing how far was "far". We eventually came upon an office with "Mirador Lodge" and various activities on it, but we parked and it looked quite locked. Signs on the door revealved it had been shut down! We figured we could find alterate arrangements, but this was strange. We turned back to town and Liz and I sought help. A man told us the lodge was quite far (that word again!) and brought us upstairs to point through the window where we needed to go. He indicated the place we had been so...we inquired at the Chamber of Tourism. The woman said no one had been answering the phone at the lodge, so she didn't know if they were open or not. But, we convinced her to give us a map and looked up the lodge. Lo and behold, it was actually much farther than we had gone before. And...on more unmaintained road. We were getting low on Tostitos too! It took us about another 40 minutes to get there, but when we did, it was breathtaking! The lodge is literally off the grid, making their own electricity. Our cabin had a small porch overlooking sloping green hills and the Arenal Volcano and Lake. Clouds drifted in so that walking on the grounds was liking walking through a moor or heather. We hiked down a small trail near our cabin and found ourselves in the middle of the rainforest.
We dined at the lodge restaurant that night, but were warned ahead of time that a large group of students had a reservation at 7:30. We arrived around 6:45 and practiced our Spanish (the young waiter spoke very little English). The food was delicious and then...the Frenchies arrived. The student group was large-- probably around 20 French students and a few adult chaperones. We surmised they were French by a) they spoke French, b) their European clothes and c) the fact that they smoked at the table. We quickly finished and retired to our cabin.
In the middle of the night a fortuitous event happened (for my mom and myself): my sister got sick. Many people get sick in foreign countries, but Liz gets sick in foreign countries like Canada, and California. So, while she was in the bathroom, my mom and I took turns out on the porch-- the sky had cleared and the stars were out. And by stars I don't mean the pinpricks one sees in the city, I mean 3-D layers of stars-- some dim, many bright, some close, some far, clusters, colors...it was like nothing I had ever seen. I couldn't help but think of all my city girlscouts who might never have seen the sky like this. Further, to add to the magic, the lake was illuminated and fireflies darted about. None of us slept so great the rest of the night, so we also got to see the sun rise over the volcano.
Liz still wasn't feeling so hot, but rallied the next day (if college teaches one anything, it is that being sick from a hangover, say, should not deter one from following through with the next day's plans). So, we headed to the forest where we had reservations to do the canopy tour. I was a bit apprehensive about sailing on a zipline hundreds of feet off the forest floor, but Liz agreed to do it despite a timid tummy, so I couldn't let her show me up. Plus, I just turned 30, so thought it a memorable way to celebrate. In our group there were kids, parents, teenagers, and maybe some grandparents? You get strapped into a harness and the (cute and friendly!) Costa Rican guys working there hook the pulley to the zipline and send you on your way. Some of the lines were more than a hundred feet and you probably zip up to 20 mph (well, it's hard to judge-- maybe more, maybe less?) through trees and clouds until you land at the next platform. It was a really amazing experience-- totally solitary and beautiful and it felt safe and not scary at all. Of course it's no way to see any animals, unless a bird flies right into you. The tours lasted about 2 hours and towards the end it had started raining. We warmed up in the restaurant waiting for the rain to die down. It didn't really, so we bought plastic ponchos and walked the bridges through the forest.
The next day we headed out early to drive back to San Jose and catch our flight back to D.C. It would have been nice to stay longer, perhaps as long as it's taken me to post all these updates. I'll get some quality photos up too, for those of you not brave enough to read this whole thing.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Costa Rica, Part III
The midpoint of our trip (both in time and location) was the small town of Jaco. It's a touristy surfing town, but there was the allure of the Best Western Resort replete with pool. On our way out of Manuel Antonio, we got a flat tire, reminiscent of last year's escapades with the rental car. Two locals immediately helped us change the flat and directed us to the nearest service station. In the time it took Liz and I to remember how to ask "how much" in Spanish, my mom had communicated to the non-English speaking attendant the universal language of flat tire. Liz and I watched the telenovela in the parking lot and hoped the sunny day would hold out.
Eventually we were back on the road and made it to Jaco by lunchtime. The main drag in Jaco consists of mega hotels and small tiendas, and the requisite strip mall. We headed to a little French Bakery for lunch and the native French speaking owner spoke with us in nearly the same passable Spanish that we spoke. We all ordered the same sandwich for simplicity's sake, but then Liz's Spanish came out like gangbusters; those who do not like mayonaisse are very adamant about it and will find a way to communicate it! After lunch Liz and I were eager to hit the pool (the beach was full of waves, but also debris, so the pool was the better option) before it stormed.
And storm it did. That evening we took the covered walkway out to the bar while the rain pounded down all around us. We were three of about five people at the bar (maybe at the resort at all). The bartender was friendly and asked us where we were from (being from Seattle, Washington, DC and Boston caused endless confusion for most people, so we started just picking one place) and made us margaritas. Since it was dark and rainy (I mean soooo rainy!) we didn't feel we could easily walk along the highway to find someplace to eat, and we were unsure about taking out the car and parking. So we bid adieu to our bartender and went in to the restaurant. And that's when things got really dicey. Because although it was a Tuesday night, it was International Night. Nothing good comes from International Night. A mishmash of pastas and taco salads and leftovers to create not one signature dish, but a series of mediocre dishes. Plus it was buffet. We headed back to the bar and the bartender laughed when he saw us coming back. This time we really were the only people there. We ordered hamburgers and they were just right. Bar food is bar food-- it doesn't pretend to be anything else. So we were satisfied.
next up: canopy tours in the clouds
Eventually we were back on the road and made it to Jaco by lunchtime. The main drag in Jaco consists of mega hotels and small tiendas, and the requisite strip mall. We headed to a little French Bakery for lunch and the native French speaking owner spoke with us in nearly the same passable Spanish that we spoke. We all ordered the same sandwich for simplicity's sake, but then Liz's Spanish came out like gangbusters; those who do not like mayonaisse are very adamant about it and will find a way to communicate it! After lunch Liz and I were eager to hit the pool (the beach was full of waves, but also debris, so the pool was the better option) before it stormed.
And storm it did. That evening we took the covered walkway out to the bar while the rain pounded down all around us. We were three of about five people at the bar (maybe at the resort at all). The bartender was friendly and asked us where we were from (being from Seattle, Washington, DC and Boston caused endless confusion for most people, so we started just picking one place) and made us margaritas. Since it was dark and rainy (I mean soooo rainy!) we didn't feel we could easily walk along the highway to find someplace to eat, and we were unsure about taking out the car and parking. So we bid adieu to our bartender and went in to the restaurant. And that's when things got really dicey. Because although it was a Tuesday night, it was International Night. Nothing good comes from International Night. A mishmash of pastas and taco salads and leftovers to create not one signature dish, but a series of mediocre dishes. Plus it was buffet. We headed back to the bar and the bartender laughed when he saw us coming back. This time we really were the only people there. We ordered hamburgers and they were just right. Bar food is bar food-- it doesn't pretend to be anything else. So we were satisfied.
next up: canopy tours in the clouds
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Costa Rica, Part II
I live my regular life in a tourist destination. While waiting for the bus home after a day of work, after the gym, eating a banana, and mentally listing what I need from the grocery store, inevitably three duck tours will go by and every tourist on them will snap of picture of the church in Copley Square, with me in the foreground rummaging through my bag. I can balance my phone, a latte, and my reading material, in heels, crossing Boylston St. with the same grace as the helmetless hurricane enduring renegade biker in Costa Rica. But on vacation our roles do reverse, and I become the tourist who snaps pictures of...a squirrel.
I embrace my inner tourist.
Our first two full days in Costa Rica were spent on tours to see the famed wildlife. There is a beautiful protected forest in Manuel Antonio, just off the ocean. Our guide impressed us with his abililty to spot bats in trees twenty feet above us, camoflauged Jesus Christ lizards, three toed sloths hanging around and insects-- colorful (grasshoppers) and famous (leaf cutting ants straight from a PBS special. Of which I intrepidly filmed two videos on my camera). The heat, humidity, jungle itself and the wildlife prompted my mom to comment that this was like the best kind of zoo. Indeed!
We hit the beach in the afternoons. The water in the equatorial Pacific bears no resemblance to Northern Atlantic water at all, except being wet. It was so warm I'd hazard to say it wasn't even refreshing! Families on the beach interacted happily-- several generations would play a game of soccer together with the requisite adopted dog jumping in. We read and enjoyed happy hour (two for one margaritas-- never mind that a margarita is more of a Mexican drink).
In a mangrove boat trip, our guide spotted a crocodile snacking on a dog and impressed us with all manner of bird and animal imitations. He also deftly navigated American humor; when asked what kind of animals might prey on the Jesus Christ lizard, he answered, "Oh, hawks mostly. But only the sacreligious kind!" Or when driving across an especially precarious bridge, he asked if we knew what the name of this bridge was? "The Oh-My-God bridge!" The humor was sometimes unintentional-- an alcholic concoction made of the bark of a native tree that became more potent as the weather gets hotter through the day was said to be "illegal in any other country, but here it is an appetizer."
Our tourist destiny was fulfilled by approaching and befriending the "friendly" group of white faced Capuchin monkeys. Half a dozen or more jumped out of the trees and into our boat, on our heads and eagerly snatched bananas* out of our hands. They are clever devils and not to be trusted because in short, they are smarter than us. One of them had no problems peeing on my mother while reaching out for a banana at the same time!
Time in Manuel Antonio was winding to a close-- we would travel to Jaco and Monteverde before the week's end.
*feeding bananas to the white faced monkeys is actually not recommended; it is not a native food, it causes them to become dependent on people and thus become overly trusting. They also need to travel through the trees many, many kilometers a day to stay fit, and if they know people will feed them, they will not do this. In short, we become the McDonald's of the monkey kingdom.
next up: surviving International Night and keeping our heads in the clouds.
I embrace my inner tourist.
Our first two full days in Costa Rica were spent on tours to see the famed wildlife. There is a beautiful protected forest in Manuel Antonio, just off the ocean. Our guide impressed us with his abililty to spot bats in trees twenty feet above us, camoflauged Jesus Christ lizards, three toed sloths hanging around and insects-- colorful (grasshoppers) and famous (leaf cutting ants straight from a PBS special. Of which I intrepidly filmed two videos on my camera). The heat, humidity, jungle itself and the wildlife prompted my mom to comment that this was like the best kind of zoo. Indeed!
We hit the beach in the afternoons. The water in the equatorial Pacific bears no resemblance to Northern Atlantic water at all, except being wet. It was so warm I'd hazard to say it wasn't even refreshing! Families on the beach interacted happily-- several generations would play a game of soccer together with the requisite adopted dog jumping in. We read and enjoyed happy hour (two for one margaritas-- never mind that a margarita is more of a Mexican drink).
In a mangrove boat trip, our guide spotted a crocodile snacking on a dog and impressed us with all manner of bird and animal imitations. He also deftly navigated American humor; when asked what kind of animals might prey on the Jesus Christ lizard, he answered, "Oh, hawks mostly. But only the sacreligious kind!" Or when driving across an especially precarious bridge, he asked if we knew what the name of this bridge was? "The Oh-My-God bridge!" The humor was sometimes unintentional-- an alcholic concoction made of the bark of a native tree that became more potent as the weather gets hotter through the day was said to be "illegal in any other country, but here it is an appetizer."
Our tourist destiny was fulfilled by approaching and befriending the "friendly" group of white faced Capuchin monkeys. Half a dozen or more jumped out of the trees and into our boat, on our heads and eagerly snatched bananas* out of our hands. They are clever devils and not to be trusted because in short, they are smarter than us. One of them had no problems peeing on my mother while reaching out for a banana at the same time!
Time in Manuel Antonio was winding to a close-- we would travel to Jaco and Monteverde before the week's end.
*feeding bananas to the white faced monkeys is actually not recommended; it is not a native food, it causes them to become dependent on people and thus become overly trusting. They also need to travel through the trees many, many kilometers a day to stay fit, and if they know people will feed them, they will not do this. In short, we become the McDonald's of the monkey kingdom.
next up: surviving International Night and keeping our heads in the clouds.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Costa Rica, Part 1
My recent foray into foreign travel started with a joke of sorts; my director saw my luggage in my office, came in and told me, "you know Logan is closed...". My look of shock and disbelief caused him to break and he admitted that he was trying to get my goat. He then wished me safe travels and I smiled and prepped my out of office responses. Ten hours later, the joke on me after all, I was in near tears heading home from Logan in a cab which would not accept the USAirways cab voucher I was given for my cancelled flight to D.C.
I headed back to Logan the next morning at 4am, and from there on out, the skies were friendly. I met my mom and sister in Philly, where we flew on to San Jose, Costa Rica.
Some people do not travel to the Carribbean or Central America during the late summer, due to the "rainy season", but those people probably did not grow up taking marathon car trips in a station wagon without AC in the dead of summer through hundreds of miles of Western Kansas plains. They were likely not taken across the border to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico at age 10 and told they would not have any water to drink or be able to use the bathroom until all matter of cheap pinatas, faux Retin A and colorful tin Christmas Tree ornaments were thoroughly examined, haggled, and bought. So a little occurrence called Hurricane Dean did not hamper our spirits (although our shoes got a little wet). The heavy downpour (which lasted the entire 4 hours of our drive from San Jose to Manuel Antonio) did not hamper the locals either-- every few miles we'd pass someone biking, without a helmet, while carrying a long pole or some contraption, possibly a second rider, AND and umbrella, with a dog trotting alongside.
Manuel Antonio is on the southwest coast of Costa Rica and we arrived around 6:30. We were tired, travel weary and hungry (we did not pull over for any snacks) but the front desk attendant at our hotel was enthusiastic and friendly, and recommended several restaurants as well as set up a tour for us to see monkeys, er, all sorts of wildlife, the next day in the park.
We did eat well that night (platefuls of mariscos and steak and beer) and slept even better. The next morning only the dripping trees, bathed in restorative sunlight, reminded us of the previous day's rain.
next, monkeys, monkeys and more monkeys!
I headed back to Logan the next morning at 4am, and from there on out, the skies were friendly. I met my mom and sister in Philly, where we flew on to San Jose, Costa Rica.
Some people do not travel to the Carribbean or Central America during the late summer, due to the "rainy season", but those people probably did not grow up taking marathon car trips in a station wagon without AC in the dead of summer through hundreds of miles of Western Kansas plains. They were likely not taken across the border to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico at age 10 and told they would not have any water to drink or be able to use the bathroom until all matter of cheap pinatas, faux Retin A and colorful tin Christmas Tree ornaments were thoroughly examined, haggled, and bought. So a little occurrence called Hurricane Dean did not hamper our spirits (although our shoes got a little wet). The heavy downpour (which lasted the entire 4 hours of our drive from San Jose to Manuel Antonio) did not hamper the locals either-- every few miles we'd pass someone biking, without a helmet, while carrying a long pole or some contraption, possibly a second rider, AND and umbrella, with a dog trotting alongside.
Manuel Antonio is on the southwest coast of Costa Rica and we arrived around 6:30. We were tired, travel weary and hungry (we did not pull over for any snacks) but the front desk attendant at our hotel was enthusiastic and friendly, and recommended several restaurants as well as set up a tour for us to see monkeys, er, all sorts of wildlife, the next day in the park.
We did eat well that night (platefuls of mariscos and steak and beer) and slept even better. The next morning only the dripping trees, bathed in restorative sunlight, reminded us of the previous day's rain.
next, monkeys, monkeys and more monkeys!
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