| Thanksgiving: the year of the epic pie |
[27 Nov 2010|12:33am] |
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mood |
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 thankful |
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No, livejournal, I haven’t given up on you just yet although I do miss your days of glory.
The wifey stayed in Chicago for Thanksgiving this year since it’s impossible for me to travel to family (I have to work on “Black Friday”). I spent last year alone. It wasn’t so bad—I slept in, went to the gym, got take-out, and spent the rest of the day trying my best not to mope around the house—but spending time with her was much better.
We made turkey and other various traditional foods. It made me realize how much I’ve undervalued my mom’s ability to pull off a Thanksgiving feast. Granted my first time making turkey is bound to be harder, but I think getting everything done at the same time is a nearly impossible feat.
We bought our turkey from a local organic farm. It spent its days roaming free in pastures eating bugs and grass and whatever else it is that turkeys eat when allowed to roam free. Of course exercise and a healthy diet change an animal’s meat; our turkey tasted like the flavor of three turkeys was somehow concentrated into one. Good, but different. Since the meat was leaner it took less time to cook than a conventional turkey. We didn’t realize this until it was too late, but generous amounts of gravy more than compensated for the drier portions. If we ever embark on the herculean task of cooking a turkey again we’ll likely get a free range turkey again. Just think about all the extra omega 3s we’re getting.
This is not to say that our meal was healthy. We went through several sticks of butter and used a generous amount of turkey drippings for the gravy. The highlight of our meal was homemade pumpkin pie. Worth. Every. Single. Calorie. Seriously, this pie was epic. It started over a month ago when we selected a pumpkin. It hung out on our coffee table looking all festive as we allowed it to age. Maureen went through the work of turning it into pie on Wednesday so that the flavors had a night to “marry” before Thursday’s feast. It tasted amazing.
And now is the time to enjoy leftovers. Yum!
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| The Lightning Bug Fiasco of 2010 |
[21 Jun 2010|09:38pm] |
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mood |
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 aggravated |
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My wife grew up in an environment too arid for lighting bugs (fireflies if you want to sound fancy). Because of this she sucks at catching them—I guess if you don’t acquire this skill by age 7 you’re screwed for life, kind of like mastering a foreign language. In a bizarre attempt to impress her, I decided to catch a lightening bug outside tonight and bring it inside to show off. I mean that’s impressive, right? Sort of like a hunting/tracking type thing...?
I figured that as long as I was showing off I should go all out, and what better way to do so than to release the bug into our home where he could hover about flashing in all his bioluminescent glory. Much to my mother’s dismay, I have a fair amount of experience setting lighting bugs free inside. As a child I recall them acting pretty much the same way they do outside—fairly static in their position, easy to capture again.
As soon as tonight’s lighting bug got airborne, he bolted. I’ve never seen a lighting bug fly so fast. We’re talking moth speed here. The wife was furious (justifiably so), but I never saw it coming. You might recall my complaint about the abnormally sluggish lighting bugs of Chicagoland. How was I to know I caught the Michael Phelps of lightening bugs (for that metaphor to work just pretend that air is water).
It took me almost an hour to find that damn lighting bug. I would have given up, but M insisted that it would turn into a beetle and someday infest our house with its icky beetle babies. I considered killing it out of spite, but just don’t have that kind of rage in me.
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| Writer's Block: Do-over! |
[26 May 2010|08:58pm] |
The answer to this question hinges upon whether I would get to keep the knowledge of how my current choices turned out. If I had stuck with a path toward a career that earns more money, I might have ended up feeling resentful I never “followed my heart.” Now that I know about the value of extra cash, job security, and good benefits I don’t care about following my dreams as much. I wish someone had told me to go to pharmacy school.
Almost everything else I would keep the same...even the terrible things have led to good eventually.
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| boys are icky |
[08 May 2010|02:28am] |
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mood |
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 reminiscent |
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I find it strange that some people are suggesting that the current oil mine spill will change people’s consumption of fossil fuels. Remember the Exxon Valdez? The images of oil-soaked wildlife in Alaska did little to curb our continued infatuation with all things non-renewable.
This whole mess made me recall a history project a friend and I made in middle school. We created an edible reproduction of the Exxon Valdez disaster featuring a wafer cookie oil rig, gummy bear sea otters, and Hersey’s Syrup crude oil. The effect of the chocolate syrup spilling over thick waves of blue icing was quite dramatic. It clearly outshone my classmates’ rudimentary attempts at recreating historical catastrophes; we received an enthusiastic A+ from our teacher (an impressive feat as he clearly favored members of the after-school Christian club).
After our presentation, the boys insisted on eating our creation. Preteen boys are so disgusting. While the basic components of our project were food, sticking everything together involved generous amounts of hot glue and rubber cement. The boys tore into it anyway, devouring wafers caked in giant globs of glue. Seriously, boys are icky.
I felt very smug about tricking the popular kids into eating potentially toxic glue. But then one of them, a person I actually liked, got sick. I remember feeling the intense shame of knowing your actions harmed another. I spent weeks apologizing to him until he finally admitted he wasn’t really sick, he only wanted to get out of class that day by visiting the school nurse. Yet another example of why boys are icky.
Lessons learned in this post
1. No amount of sensationalist destruction is going to make us love oil any less
2. I pretty much kick ass when it comes to three dimensional history projects
3. Hersey’s Syrup’s startling resemblance to crude oil is unsettling
4. Boys are icky
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| It's about democracy. |
[06 May 2010|08:21pm] |
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mood |
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 amazed |
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I discovered how to calculate the number of signatures obtained for a petition.
X * Y * (M/2) = Z
X equals the number of people collecting signatures
Y equals the number of self-identified registered voters waiting for their train
M equals the number of minutes people have to wait for their stupid train to come already
This simple equation works because people will sign anything if you have a clipboard and use the word “petition.” On the way home from work, a woman collecting signatures (petitioness?) approached me:
Woman with clipboard: Would you like to sign this petition?
Sad commuter on L platform: What’s it for?
W: Blah blah blah put some guy on the ballet, blah blah libertarian—
S: I’m not a libertarian
W: Well, you don’t have to be a libertarian
S: I don’t want to vote for a libertarian.
W: You don’t have to vote for him.
S: Then why would I sign something supporting him?
W: It’s about democracy...[proceeds to say the word “democracy” 7 times in a single sentence]
S: I don’t want to sign your petition. I’m not a libertarian.
W: I have a flyer [produces flyer, says the word “democracy” another 16 times]
S: I don’t want to sign your petition.
W: [I am going to keep awkwardly jabbing this flyer at you and saying the word “democracy” even though you told me no]
Her persistence was bizarre, like a telemarketer that has to hear the word “no” a certain number of times before they can hang up. Even more bizarre was how most people signed their names and addresses without even questioning what the petition was for. Some of them even signed it twice when a second worker came by shortly after.
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| cold brew, fundraising, and zucchini butts |
[26 Apr 2010|08:57pm] |
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mood |
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 full |
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I’m waiting for my coffee to finish draining. It’s a painfully slow process, like watching a maple tree give sap. I started using a cold brew system about a year ago. The advantage is only making coffee twice per month. The disadvantage is remembering that you have to make coffee twice per month--if you forget to plan ahead, you face 30+ hours sans coffee.
Next weekend, my dog and I are going to a 5k walk to raise money for a local animal shelter. I worried about meeting my goal ($196) because I started fundraising so late, but in one day I made it to $145!
Salmon was on sale this week, so tonight’s dinner featured broiled salmon, steamed zucchini, and rice pilaf. The rice pilaf was on clearance and the zucchini was also on sale. Total cost for a generously portioned two person dinner: $8.50. Feeling the omega-3s coursing through your veins: priceless. Dexter got to eat all the fish skin. If only I’d had guinea pigs to eat the zucchini butts, it could’ve been be a no-waste meal.
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| random things |
[24 Apr 2010|12:31am] |
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mood |
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 okay |
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Well, I’m officially addicted to caffeine again. Thank you, mister goat herder man who experimented with coffee berries back in the day. It is because of your discovery that I want to punch someone as soon as I get up and every 4-6 hours thereafter.
I need to get myself together and start going to the gym more. I feel better when I get in a routine, but starting out is so hard [pout]. I joined this public fitness campaign, Women Out Walking, where you wear a pedometer and track you steps. So far I haven’t modified my behavior, but at least it’s improved my attitude toward public transit...my commute to/from work adds an extra 2,000 steps compared to driving. So far my best week was 51,000 steps, but the ladies winning the competitions are logging over 300,000 steps per week. Too many steps.
My fingernails are getting super-long. I wonder if I could get them to the point where they start curving.
And finally, this story cracked me up: You Can't Show Some Lady's Bod In The Middle Of 'Dancing With The Stars'!
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| Fresh, green almonds |
[19 Apr 2010|08:17pm] |
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mood |
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good |
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Yesterday I discovered Market Place, a large multi-ethnic grocery store. It’s always an exciting shopping trip when you cannot identify all of the produce items. I found like 17 new things I want to try, but decided to limit myself to one new item each trip (see I do have self-restraint). So, here’s the review for week #1:
Fresh, green almonds
Buying something fresh was a tad risky, but thanks to the good ol’ interweb I figured it would be easy to learn preparation techniques for fresh, green almonds. For only 38 cents, I got a generous handful of these fuzzy little babies. Turns out they are very easy to prepare. You just eat them. Raw. In all their fresh, green, almondey goodness. The green husk tastes tart, much like a gooseberry (gooseberries, by the way, suck). The center contains a tiny almond fetus, like a little pocket of cream-colored gelatin. I do appreciate that they leave no residue in your mouth--unlike mature, roasted almonds you don’t have to worry about getting nutmeat lodged in between your front teeth.
The moral of this story is that almonds taste best fully developed and covered in salt. But I’m glad I tried something new, especially because fresh, green almonds are only in season a few weeks a year.
Next trip, rose petal jam.
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| spanx monster |
[20 Mar 2010|11:00pm] |
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mood |
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 like a tick, ready to pop |
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What a terrible night for tv. First I watched KU lose. Then I watched Precious. What a depressing movie. Netflix should put a disclaimer on that shit.
On a brighter note, my friend is getting married in April. As an official bridesmaid I get to wear a spiffy pink dress, matching pink shoes, and other maidenly items. I bought some spanx to wear under the dress. I’m right between sizes on the official spanx size chart. People on the internet advised to always round down when dealing with spanx, so I opted for the smaller size.
I tried them on today and oh. my. god. they are so tight. Once I wrestled them off and the blood flow returned to my lower half, I vowed to lose at least five pounds by the wedding. My present fat deposits cannot spend hours smashed into such a cruel undergarment. Can you believe some people actually wear spanx underneath their clothes every single day?!? I guess nothing motivates you to eat less like having your internal organs crushed by the spandex equivalent of a vice grip.
I should suggest a livejournal writer’s block: Have you ever worn spanx? If so, what was your experience? Did you eventually fall to the floor in a writhing heap, desperately clawing at your midsection, or did you find that your entire torso went numb from blood loss? Do you have a newfound sympathy for ticks that are about to pop?
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| It's getting Christmasey up in here... |
[12 Dec 2009|11:48am] |
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I’ve had such a productive weekend and it’s not even Sunday yet! Maureen and I bought a Christmas tree yesterday (I count Friday night as “weekend”). It’s a towering monster at 6½ feet. This is my first time having a live tree and it smells fantastically piney.
Today started with a visit to a fossil museum. A nearby store that sells rocks, jewelry made of rocks, and other rock-related items maintains a small but impressive fossil museum in their basement. It’s always nice to see someone able to share their fanatical hobby with the world.
Next, we went to 10,000 Villages and got the majority of our Christmas shopping done. After that we headed to Target for Christmas tree decorations. I have no idea how many items it takes to decorate a tree, so I might have gone a bit overboard. I found a reasonably priced package of 100 ornaments. That’s a lot of freakin ornaments.
Finally we went to the highlight of the day, the Nutcracker on Ice. People in the community put it on each year so the cast was primarily children who are taking ice skating lessons. The little children were too cute, especially during the battle scene where the nutcracker takes out the rat king.
Tonight I watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I haven’t seen it since I was a kid, so I forgot some of the plot. My favorite character was the water gun that shoots jam instead of water. Most of the networks featured feel good holiday movies, but WGN showed Fargo. I find that movie terribly depressing, but I ended up watching the last 30 minutes because it was so funny hearing all the ways they covered up the word fuck.
And on that friggin note, I’m flapin outta here!
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| October is here! |
[01 Oct 2009|08:51pm] |
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mood |
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 cold |
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It is cold and rainy outside. And dark. I forgot how dark it is here after mid-September.
My dog ate all my Chapstick, which is unfortunate for both myself and the rug. I need to purchase a few tubes and leave one at work along with some lotion--my hands and lips are already feeling the effects of colder weather.
I finally got around to buying a portable radio so I can listen to NPR on my way to and from work again. I put it off for so long because finding a radio was more difficult than I expected. The young employees at Best Buy looked at me like I was asking them for an 8-track. Target still caries portable CD players, but no radios. Thank goodness enough radio-loving freaks like me exist to make it worth amazon’s while to sell them.
I ended up buying a $100 radio that was on sale for roughly $60 with tax and shipping. For that kind of money I expected gold plating or something, but it’s rather dull looking. It works better than my last one, but still has problems with picking up reception when it’s too close to a radio tower--at certain points in my commute all of the frequencies play the station(s) I’m physically closest to.
Back to the Chapstick eating dog... I want to teach him to roll over. The video and training book I consulted both made a big deal about not pushing your dog; you’re supposed to lead the dog’s head with food so that his/her body follows. Dexter follows the food by twisting his head as far as he can go, and then moving his head back around to the other side. I resorted to pushing him over tonight. I am a bad dog mom sometimes.
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| Death to the squirrels? |
[09 Sep 2009|10:15pm] |
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mood |
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 hopeful |
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Does it make me a bad person to want a large backyard so my dog has a decent chance of catching a squirrel? I don’t think so, considering how the squirrels violated Mr. Stripey, my beloved heirloom tomato plant.
Today I allowed Dexter (my dog) more freedom on his retractable leash to chase squirrels. Despite his limited experience, he’s figured out the basics of cornering and cutting off escape routes. A year ago I would have found it repulsive to encourage the capture and violent shaking of a small mammal, but having your tomato plant pillaged changes a person. Apparently, a few ladies who happened to be walking by when Dexter had a squirrel trapped behind a bush did not have reason to hate the squirrels; they glared at me and I felt a little embarrassed.
Dexter does have weekly access to a backyard now. We were recruited off the street for a small dog play group. It didn’t meet this week due to Labor Day, and I found myself quite disappointed. Then, it made me happy to notice I was disappointed because it means I found an activity in my neighborhood that I look forward to. I really hope Dexter doesn’t manage to catch a squirrel during play group, though...blood and gore rarely enhance a social gathering.
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| Book Group™: My Night of Discussing Dangerously |
[08 Sep 2009|10:50pm] |
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mood |
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 disappointed |
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In my effort to make friends, I attended a book group™ tonight. We discussed Julie and Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously.
I give the book 4.5 out of 5 stars. If I have to stick with round numbers, make it a solid 4. It’s a book based on a blog, and thus retains the stylistic qualities--I see this as a bonus because I <3 a fast and easy read. Several parts made me laugh out loud. Although she’s overdramatic and immature, I identified with the narrator’s crisis about hitting the big three-oh. It’s not literature, nor does it pretend to be; it is what it is, and it’s good at that.
No one at book group™ shared my opinion. They found it simplistic, hated the narrator/author, and didn’t believe the French really make/consume such disgusting/unhealthy foodstuffs. While I cannot speak for all of France, I do know it is common to make your own mayonnaise. Also, their butcher shops display skinned rabbits, heads still intact. It doesn’t get much more disgusting than that. The book group™ people were also mad about there being too much cussing in the book. I vaguely recall cussing. Clearly we are of a different stock, the book group™ people and I.
I felt like the class Neanderthal for enjoying such crude writing. Several group members spoke with disappointment about the book making some best seller list; they felt misled and betrayed that a lot of other people think the book’s worth buying. I considered pointing out that while Transformers was the #1 movie in America this summer, a Sundance-loving, pop-culture-hating club shouldn’t buy tickets on opening night.
There was a lot of discussion about ensuring that the next book meets the criteria for “literature,” which is all well and good, but really...since when does liking novels mean you can’t appreciate a straightforward, blog-based memoir? Now I feel like I have to go back next month and say I liked the “smart” book too in an effort to make them respect my opinion. Apparently proving myself to strangers means a lot to me these days.
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| Writer's Block: As the Cookie Crumbles |
[01 Sep 2009|08:58pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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Just today I was thinking about the writer’s block about the strangest advice from a fortune cookie, and now today’s writer’s block is about fortune cookies again. If I was superstitious, I would have to start taking my fortune cookies more seriously.
Anyway, the reason I was thinking about fortune cookies today is because I ate one. It said:
God can mend a broken heart, but He needs all the pieces.
I think the writer intends to illustrate that God can help you, but you must do some work too--He’s not gonna break out the heart-mending super glue until you crawl around on your hands and knees with a flashlight and dig out all those broken pieces from behind the refrigerator.
I find this a little insulting to God. Does the fortune writer really think there is a limit to God’s powers or creativity? Couldn’t He use a sturdy molding putty to fill in the holes? Even my dad can fix broken lamps and mugs and what-not using some type of filler and paint.
Furthermore, what if your heart shattered outdoors and some of the pieces went down a storm drain? Would God turn His back on you, leaving you on your own to convince the Streets and Sanitation Department to let you dig around a million people’s street muck in a futile effort to find all the pieces of your broken heart? I know He was pretty grumpy in the Old Testament, but come on...street muck? Who’s gonna worship the guy leaving you elbow deep in street muck? Gross.
Anyway, regarding the message I would make sure gets put inside the cookies. I’d totally go with, Today is lucky day!
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| Sudsing up the streets |
[26 Aug 2009|09:00pm] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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After living here almost a year, Chicagoland has yet to win me over. It doesn’t help that I got another parking ticket today. Twenty-five fucking dollars because I forgot that today was Street Cleaning Day. This seems especially outrageous because it rained ALL FUCKING DAY--since when is asphalt immune to the cleansing power of rain?
I wish they had a punch card--pay 9 tickets get the 10th one free! Or maybe give out prizes at milestone counts, e.g. 5 tickets gets you a coffee mug, 10 a t-shirt, 20 a fancy deck of playing cards. Sadly, no such rewards system exists, so I must pay my ticket for the sole reward of keeping my car sans boot. As I mentioned before, it rained ALL FUCKING DAY so my soggy mess of ticket fell apart on one edge. I think enough of it is intact for me to mail to Wisconsin. Yes, their “citation processing center” is outsourced to Wisconsin. Nothing against Wisconsin, but if I’m paying bogus fines I at least want them to generate some jobs in my local economy. Damn.
So I guess I should say one positive thing about living here to keep it Fair & Balanced. Once I saw a street cleaning machine decorated in a pink ribbon for breast cancer motif. It was pretty funny, and also a little inappropriate since the logo was splattered with dirty water. I took a photo and everything.
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| A fur real update |
[18 Aug 2009|08:51pm] |
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mood |
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 lonely |
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I am really and truly going to start regularly updating again. And no, this isn’t like all the other times I’ve promised that. I am fur real this time.
Rather than write about the important stuff in life, I thought I’d share a few mundane details of my evening walk with Dexter.
First, we ran into the little old Eastern-European couple who always smile and tell me he is “like horse.” I love this for two reasons:
1. Their description creates a more vivid mental image than if their English vocabulary included the verb “prance”
2. They are the only people on the street I have ever met who make the assumption that Dexter is a boy
We also passed the ice cream cart. There are no ice cream trucks here, just carts that combine the power of a deep freezer with the portability of a wheelbarrow. I have yet to understand what powers them, as they appear too small for a generator. Maybe they are like electric cars and people plug them into their garages overnight. I would stop and ask, but the ice cream mongers always look hot and grumpy. And sticky. So very, very sticky.
By the time we got home, the lightening bugs (or fireflies, depending on where you grew up) were out. The lightening bugs here are, for lack of a more PC term, retarded. Out of habit, I catch lightening bugs if they are near my path. The Northeastern Kansas lightening bugs are quick to recover; they fly away within seconds of you opening your hand. The Chicago lightening bugs just cling to you. I walked three blocks with one on my hand once, waiting for it to take off, and finally got so frustrated I scraped it onto the grass. Maybe all the pesticides have caused nerve damage (or whatever the nerve equivalent is in bugs). Or maybe there aren’t as many kids out catching them, so they don’t have to be as quick-witted. Or maybe they have adapted to adults catching them by becoming sluggish and gross; I certainly don’t catch them anymore.
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| Writer's Block: Cookies |
[04 Feb 2009|11:42pm] |
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mood |
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reflective |
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I still have the slip of paper in my wallet: Alas! The onion you are eating is someone else's water lily.
I saved it in 2001 on the same day I got another fortune, Don't be afraid to take that big step, which struck me as very meaningful at the time--it was at a farewell lunch with some coworkers celebrating my move to Lawrence and enrollment at KU. I just saved the onion one because I thought it was funny.
There ended up being a lot of unexpected "big steps" I had to take over the next year, and in many aspects it was the most miserable year of my life. Trying to make sense of everything, I finally got the onion fortune--someone else's life sucks even worse, so be grateful for what you have.
I sometimes think about it when I'm depressed. It helps put things in perspective in a count your blessings type of way. Also, I love that it starts with Alas!...how can that not cheer you up?
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| Chinese New Year |
[01 Feb 2009|12:08am] |
We went to a Chinese New Year celebration today. The parade included fireworks, dancing dragons, and lucky candy. I love fireworks, dragons, and candy.
My favorite part was immediately after the parade when the businesses hung lettuce over their doors like mistletoe. The dragon roamed the streets with its entourage of men beating various noise-making objects. When it encountered a business door, it approached with curiosity, sniffed around a bit more, and then proceeded to messily chomp down the lettuce. Well, actually it spit the lettuce out and consumed only the red, money-containing envelope nestled in the middle of the greens.
Next the dragon went into the business for a while. I'm not sure what occurred inside, but outside in the doorway the drum beating was supplemented by firecrackers thrown into the doorway. Eventually it returned and the procession continued to the next doorway. The Chinese know how to party it up--much more exciting than watching a stupid ball fall down in Times Square.
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| Iced beverages: good / iced water: sometimes bad |
[30 Jan 2009|06:24pm] |
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mood |
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 nostalgic |
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I'm for really real going to try to write in this more again. For real.
Right now the city is on some kind of water-conservation alert. I guess the pipes that get water out of Lake Michigan have frozen over so they are unable to get enough water into the water processing plant. Seeing how it gets FUCKING COLD* here every winter, it seems like they should have had this figured out by now. Currently, you can't do any laundry or dishes or other water-consuming things that are not necessary to sustain life, or the city will hunt you down and yell at you for using too much water. I had been debating the merits of showering today, but this tips the scale toward stink-fest.
The city also suggested citizens "draw and store drinking water before going to bed tonight" as "weather forecasts indicate that conditions will remain optimal for ice formation to reoccur for the next several days." I started gathering vessels to "draw and store" water in, and found I am entirely unprepared for a disaster. Even our camping supplies fall short as we always go places that have a water spigot nearby. My mom used to buy me cases of bottled water as gifts, instructing me that one should always have bottled water on hand in case something happens to the municipal water source. I ignored her good advice, choosing to greedily consume all the water within a few weeks. After a few years of this cycle, I heard a story on NPR about the environmental/social consequences of people in the US buying bottled water and swore to never drink it again. I started keeping the bottled water from my mom in the trunk of my car to avoid temptation. Ultimately this led to the water tasting so horrible (who knows what chemicals leeched into it?) that it was thrown away after a few years, which is actually quite a bit sadder than if I had just drank it.
Anyway, the point of all this is that I now see the value in having some bottled water hanging out in my pantry. The only things to drink in there now are some cans of V8, a bottle of vinegar, a jar of spaghetti sauce, and some olive oil.
At least I have some items for storing drinking water, including 3 Nalgene bottles, 2 half-gallon empty milk jars, 1 Brita pitcher, and 1 stock pot. I think that will be more than enough because I don’t think the city will really run out of water anyway. I'm an optimist like that.
*Seriously, it is cold, a lot colder than Kansas. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either a lying sack of dog poop or recovering from head trauma that caused memory loss. A few people who had lived both places told us the weather "isn't that much different." I am unsure what category they fell into...maybe both.
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| The election |
[05 Nov 2008|01:46am] |
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mood |
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hopeful |
] |
What a relief tonight--I still can't quite believe it really happened.
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