Taster Spoon

NaBloPoWhoa

Wow, I didn't sign up for NaBloPoMo until Tuesday because I didn't want to pressure myself (and also because I don't really care; I participated for the same reason Edmund Hillary climbed Everest), but after I did, my daily hits quadrupled via that ring randomizer thing.  (Which may tell you a little too much about my average volume of hits, but that's okay, I count any day somebody gets here by actually typing out the URL as a successful day.)

Which, I should also add, is not to say I read too much into my stats.  Vaguely Urban started her blog (and mentioned it) nearly a year before I looked it up, and it wasn't because I wasn't utterly interested in what she was up to and what she had to say.  I just didn't "get" the whole "blogging" "thing."  Then one day a mutual friend related some incident of which I was unaware because I had just completely forgotten about the blog.   

But the next day I looked it up, and whammo, it was like falling down the rabbit hole.  Not only did I spend the afternoon reading the entire thing (and commenting - I didn't realize at the time that comments were popping onto her Manage screen and into her Inbox all day long - I thought I was being stealthy), but I followed her links and discovered: a whole new world, a different set of people, a keyhole view into all of these different lives, expressed in all kinds of ways.  (I don't know what I did with my time before I discovered the blogosphere.  Sudoku?) 

It's like a different life stage now, like that summer I listened to Whitney Houston and Elvis Presley again and again and again until the tapes unraveled, or the time when I was looking for a job but was actually spending a majority of my waking hours making the Sims way more successful and productive members of society than I was, or even the couple of years when I was trying to get my hands around religion. 

Where do you begin, where do you end?  There are people I started out reading whom I never look up anymore.  Some because their lives were too divergent, some because they didn't update (I still don't have a reader, I'm stuck in 2004!), some because they intimidated me, some just because they were big names who were out of my league and wouldn't notice if I came or went anyway.  (With one exception, I don't think I read anyone who regularly gets more than ten or so comments.) 

I think everyone I read nowadays is someone who genuinely impresses me one way or another, but also someone I would be tickled to meet someday.  (But of course it's unilateral.  They may think I'm numbingly boring.)  Some blogs are invariably good for a snuffle-laugh, some blogs have good ideas for self-improvement, some blogs have neat cooking or crafty ideas that let me domesticate vicariously, some blogs are just like comfortable friends you don't have to change out of your sweat pants to enjoy spending a little time with.  (I'm pointedly not making these descriptions into links, because I know you're all, "Wait, am I sweat pants or am I snuffle-laugh?  I wrote about painting my toenails that one time...does that mean I'm not funny?  Why don't you think I'm funny?  Is it because I'm always going on about my job/ diet/ baby/ wedding/ pet/ backyard/ book-in-progress/ neighbor's Christmas decorations?"  No, it's not.)  It's nice to know you all.

My mom won't read my blog unless I've been radio silent for too long.  I kiddingly gave her a hard time for 'revealing' Ace's name in a comment early on (when I don't care that much, you all know who I mean, and if you don't the sidebar provides a pretty generous hint, and also, did you know you have cancer if your palm is bigger than your face?) and she got scared off.  And a couple of Real World People have mentioned that they check in now and again but never leave a note.  I guess I don't really know who's out there, but I'm glad you stopped by.  For what it's worth, I aspire to be in the sweat pants category.

So anyway, a shout out to anybody who's visited here today on purpose - right back at you!  Leave a comment, or better yet - give me a call.  I'm going to get way less frequent now that this NaBloPoMo obligation is off my back.  A Super Shout Out to the Queen, for her phenomenal participation in NaBloPoYe.

Jazz hands.

Google a Go Go

I'm wikkid bizzay so I'll let you do the work today. 

[A prize of some kind] to whoever can guess either 1) the most frequent text search term from which people link to this here blog, or 2) the most frequently clicked image which brings you to this here blog. 

[A somewhat better prize] to whoever guesses both!

Unless you're really killing time, I imagine it's a pretty obscure egg hunt (is that giving too much away?) so unresearched guesses are encouraged.

Looking South

Not again.

300 w/o: 2/50

Did my second 300 Workout last night.  I split it in half, did 25 of everything twice through and it was MUCH easier.  That, or I'm totally jacked from last time.  It still took me 45 minutes; I still got sideways glances from the boys in the Boys' Section of 24 Hour.  (The 24 Hour has five main rooms: the pool/hot tub/steam room, the "Club X" multi-purpose room where they do classes, the cardio room with all the treadmills and TVs, and then two weight-lifting areas - a room with machines, and a free-weight room.  The machine room is female-dominated; the free weight room is male-dominated.)  The guys were all, "Psshht."

There's not a lot of open area in any of the rooms, so you're always in someone's way.  You don't care, but I'm trying to keep track of any improvements, so here's what I did.

15 pull ups with 100 lbs assistance

25 push ups in 2 sets

25 1-foot box jumps

25 "dead lifts" with a 40 lb bar (I definitely was doing less than 40 lbs last time, because this, I could barely carry across the floor to do the...)

25 "floor wipers" with the 40 lb bar - these were very time consuming

25 "clean and presses" with a 10 lb flat weight (they require a kettle bell, and I thought the flat weight was more similar than a dumbell)

10 pull ups with 90 lbs assistance

Then I did it all again, with 90lbs assistance on the pull ups and a 15 lb dumbell for the "clean and presses."

I was thinking of splitting it into thirds and doing it 3 X through, but the transition times would make it take forever, I think.

(Why the picture?  I watched Alien Resurrection Monday night, and let me tell you, Sigourney Weaver looked fantastique.  So I had her in my mind as I did this.)

I'm a Growing Girl

The other thing I did this weekend was clean up the back patio and the front entrance. 

I'm continually chastened by people more environmentally inclined than I, and the green thumb secretary at work advised me that there were definitely things I could grow through winter here in California.  Greens, mostly, and onions.  The only reason she doesn't, she said, was that slugs nipped everything she planted in the bud - or really, as soon as it sprouted.

So on Sunday I ripped out my disappointing zucchinis, left the tomatoes and jalapenos that are still (barely) producing, and planted seeds from the packets I had left over from summer.  Mostly herbs; a little lettuce and watercress.  I guess I could go out and buy spinach starts or something, but I'm afraid to invest until I find out whether anything at all will manage to grow - the summer was such a bust.  Maybe I'll bury a turnip. 

What is remaining there, besides the stringy tomatoes, is an African Daisy (that got all long-legged, but appears to be working - I had a ladybug clinging to my tomato), and nasturtiums, which seem to thrive no matter what I do.  I also rearranged the paving stones to eliminate the bark mulch that is all over the place.  I know it looks terrible - trust me, it's better than it was.

To prevent slugs I crushed eggshells all over the top of the dirt.  (Supposedly slugs don't like to slime over the sharp edges.)  I also planted seeds in containers in the entrance area, since that gets more light than anywhere.  It's a shamed it's all paved over.

Can anybody give me tips for making that front area look the slightest bit better?  Except for getting rid of the growing things...  It looks so bleah.  Remember that I'm renting, though.   And where the pots are now is pretty much the only part of the landscape that gets any sun.

The back of all the seed packets made all kinds of health claims.  These leaves make an antiseptic compress, those roots prevent coughing.  I'm going to go all Clan of the Cave Bear on you guys.  Ace is already suspicious because I ground up Vitamin C and Zinc to sneak into his honey lemon tea when he had a cold a few weeks ago.  I think he thinks I'm going to slip him a rufie.  (If that's what it takes!)

This morning I checked on matters, and was reminded of the hazard that besets everything I ever plant.  Squirrels dig into everything.  I don't know if they can actually smell the borage seeds and can pick them out, or if they're just curious.  I guess I need to string fishing line or something.

Anyway, I figured the lifting and carrying and stooping gave me a credit for skipping my second 300 Workout - so that's the plan for tonight.

T-minus Turkey Day

For the past several weeks I was looking forward to sharing Thanksgiving with one of my favorite people anywhere.  It came about, however, that my brother was able to join us, and he independently hatched a last-minute scheme involving a two-seater airplane that suddenly subjected our holiday to the vagaries of cloudy skies and practice-intensive hobbies. 

He left Seattle on Sunday morning, and it wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that he arrived in California.  It wasn't till Wednesday night after the Beer Mile that all three of us were finally assembled and able to determine a Thanksgiving plan. 

A track, four beers, and thou.  Miller Time.

It was about 11 p.m., as Beaker followed his 7+ beers of the evening with a couple of glasses of port, that he informed us that would not be able to fly before 11 a.m. the next day.  "Twelve hours, bottle to throttle."

(He's a font of these little aphorisms.  On sleep: "The more you get, the more you need."  On exercise: "Pain is the feeling of weakness leaving your body."  On clean runways and consciences: "If there's doubt, there is no doubt.") 

Given that it's a 5 hour drive to L.A. in non-holiday traffic, and Beaker was insistent for his part on flying, the logistics of arriving at my heart's desire by dinnertime proved overwhelming.  We went to bed.

I woke up on Thursday thinking, how am I going to put together a Thanksgiving dinner by tonight, when my mom freaks out with weeks to prepare?  I looked around the kitchen, and lo, we had all the vegetables we needed from the farmer's market the week before.  Potatoes, turnips, sweet potatoes, celery, mushrooms, Thai broccoli, bread for stuffing.  And we had everything we needed for pie in the cupboard.  At first I thought it was remarkable, because I picture Thanksgiving preparation as a lot of rushing around buying specialty foods.  Then I realized that the whole point of Thanksgiving was to celebrate the bounty of Autumn, and since that's what the Farmer's Market (and the Milk Pail) served up regularly, we were all set.  Except for one thing.

Where was I going to find a turkey in time to cook it for dinner? 

Brining was out of the question.  Frozen would be impossible.  But more to the point, would there be any turkeys left on Thanksgiving morning?

I set out with a sense of foreboding.  The roads were empty.

Not a good sign.

I headed to the Milk Pail, because I remembered they'd had signs up about ordering fresh, local turkeys well in advance.  Maybe they'd have a cancellation.

But the Milk Pail was closed.

A terrible sign!

I'd never seen a turkey at Trader Joe's, but decided that if my luck ran out I might be able to get a chicken there.  After all, there were just us three.

So I next went to Safeway. 

The store was jammed.  Not just with people, but with trolleys full of bread, cans of french fried onions and cream of mushroom soup and green beans, stacks of baked pies and mountains of three different kinds of sweet potatoes.  I walked over to the fresh poultry department and the refrigerator case was bare. 

Of course it was.  What was I going to do?

Then I turned around.

Dozens of birds, all of them on sale for six dollars.  Jackpot!

But what was I going to do with a frozen turkey?  They were labeled "2 Hour Turkey," but I don't know which two hours they were referring to.  The turkey packaging said to defrost it overnight at a minimum, and that it would take an additional 4-6 hours to roast.  I wandered around and found cornish hens on sale, so I picked up two of those.  The Barefoot Contessa did a Thanksgiving for two the other day and she made hens. 

But far be it from me to refuse a good deal on a turkey.  I decided to chance it.  The 12 lb. turkeys tempted me - as I said, they were all six dollars.  But I tried to be sensible and got the smallest bird in the bin: 9 lbs.

To be honest, I felt kind of bad about the six dollar turkey.  It seemed so disrespectful.  I mean, to look a turkey in the eye and say I valued its life at six dollars, I was really uncomfortable with that thought.  But it was a little late for that, and efficiency took over.

As soon as I walked in the door I put a pot on to boil and immediately started soaking it in super-salted, warmish water, on the counter, just like you're not supposed to.

Here's what else I did in the next hour and a half.  Chopped old bread into cubes and dried them in the oven.  Boiled and drained both kinds of potatoes.  Cooked down the sweet potato cooking water and added just a little brown sugar and cinnamon; poured it over the sweet potatoes and added marshmallows.  Sweet potatoes: done.  Warmed milk with smashed garlic.   Ace went to town on the mashed potatoes and garlic milk - creamier mashed potatoes I've never had.  I couldn't keep my finger out of them.  Mashed potatoes: done.  Poured OJ, ginger and cinnamon into a small pot of cranberries and turned on the heat till they popped.  Added Torani Pomegranite Syrup and a little cornstarch and thickened it.  Cranberry sauce: done.  Sauteed the onions, celery, Japanese eggplant and sausages for stuffing; added the bread cubes and chicken stock.  Stuffing: done.  Grabbed the pastry cutter and made a pie dough of lard, butter, whole wheat pastry flour and hazelnut meal and put it in the fridge to chill.  Throughout this process we'd pull out the turkey and re-heat the brining liquid - a total microbe soup, I'm sure - and put the turkey back in.

By this time it was 1 pm, and Beaker was itching to fly his airplane.  Ace insisted that I get the first ride.  Unthinkingly, I downed a glass of egg nog for sustenance and we headed on over.

Isn't that the cutest airplane you've ever seen in your life? 

As Beaker did all his pre-flight checks, the manager at the Palo Alto airport piped Glen Miller over the loudspeaker.  (A Very Miller Weekend!)

I did what I was told, adjusting altimeters and punching 'horizon' buttons till they were level, and wondering aloud what I would do if my brother had a heart attack up there.  This airplane is a trainer from the 1950s, so both front and back seat had the same controls and could fly the plane.  But he offered to let me fly in a straight line and I declined.

Here we are over San Gregorio:

And here we are making a right hand turn over Pescadero:

Yeesh. 

Here we are over Half Moon Bay:

We flew all along the coast.  It was a beautiful day, but as always it was windy at the coast and we jumped up and down until my egg nog made itself felt.  We headed home.

When we landed, the airport manager was playing the Top Gun sound track over the loudspeaker.

During my flight Ace went for a run, washed all the dishes and put the turkey in to roast.  He met us at the airport and I walked over to the duck pond and watched as they took off. 

Beaker again offered his passenger the controls, and Ace flew them to the Golden Gate Bridge and back.  I reckon I managed to take in more scenery than he did, though. 

Beaker pointed out a corn maze, and I spied a pumpkin patch and an even smaller hay maze, plus horses and cyclists taking the routes we take to the coast.  An awful lot of people in Atherton have swimming pools and tennis courts.

By the time they got back, there was just time for Ace to shower, Beaker to pour the wine, and the two of them to invite the neighbors for dessert.  The turkey was resting, the vegetables were warming in the oven, I made gravy (it was way too salty when I added the pan "juices" - but that tip to cut up some plain old potatoes and fish them out later totally worked), sauteed the broccoli, filled and baked the pie.

Mom, you'd be proud.  Except that it was a pretty low-fat meal.  Mom might not be so proud.

Anyway, we spent Friday sleeping and playing with iTunes and going for a run on the Baylands and eating leftovers and watching a terrible movie, and Saturday Beaker left really early. 

Ace and I went out on the duck path to wave him goodbye. 

The wiggle is Beaker waving back.

Looking back on looking forward, II

In more recent years, I have set myself goals for the year.  (I like "goals" better than resolutions, because I feel like I have a target to hit, rather than just a vague wish to be better than I am.)

2005 was probably the height of my goal-reaching drive.  I decided I had to get a move on and forcibly shape multiple areas of my life into what I wanted them to be.  I was very enthusiastic, and made a goal for five different "dimensions" of my life.  (1. relationships, 2. athletic, 3. career, 4. spiritual, and 5. financial).  For each dimension, I charted out where I wanted to be by the end of the year, then broke it down into steps, so I could make mini-goals for each month.  I wrote these down and put them in a three ring binder with five tabs.  In those sections I could add relevant articles or information as I came across it (organizing ideas, running trails, adult ed syllabi, that sort of thing).  This way I could check in periodically to see where I was, and have resources at my fingertips.

Doesn't that sound great?  (As you might imagine, I didn't have a job when I started this.)

I wasn't so diligent in 2006, and I'll spare you the "baby steps," but in the two years under this system I

1. tried to figure out where I was headed romantically, became more punctual when meeting friends, and tried to not get so riled up by my family (relationship category)

2. qualified for the Boston Marathon and participated in a triathlon world championship (athletic category)

3. got a job I love and developed some new skills (career category)

4. tried out a couple of venues like the Kannon Do and ordered a bunch of books from various religious traditions or philosophies (didn't read them all though) (spiritual category)

5. figured out where my money's at (financial category).

This year hasn't been so directed, and I think it's been kind of wandery.  I've had several stretches of malaise and uninspiration.  So I guess it's time to kick things into gear again, and pick some projects.

Next step: the resolutions.

Looking back on looking forward

My camera cord is at work and I'm working strictly from home this weekend, so instead of telling you about the excellence of this long weekend, I'll treat you a couple of days of droning on about my New Year's Resolution introspections (which I'm doing a lot of this weekend, mostly in the shower).

For most of my life, I ignored the concept of New Year's Resolutions, because it seemed so arbitrary and, for most of people, a source of self-berating.  Why knowingly walk into that?

After college, though, I did set myself "theme years."  One year, frustrated with some aspects of my personality (competitiveness, need for external validation, only enjoying things if I was good at them), I decided it would be the year of doing things I was bad at.  I went out of my way to find things that I had always done poorly (I was awful in pottery class in high school, so I signed up for a pot-throwing class); to which I had never been willing to apply myself (I took "beginner" tennis three times in college with no discernable improvement, so I joined the neighborhood evening tennis lessons); and which I frankly had to suck up and face (I sought out projects at work that weren't my forte).  Every time I had to decide to do something, I would opt for the thing that seemed harder for me.

It was an excellent year.  I maybe picked up a few extra skills, but I wouldn't say I got markedly better at any of the things I tried.  What changed was that I had a complete attitude adjustment. 

I relaxed.  I stopped trying to be better than others and just enjoyed the process.  I wallowed in my mediocrity.  I had fun laughing at myself and embracing my mistakes.  I met several new sets of people.  And I think other people liked me better.  A high school friend once observed that it was always good to have friends you respected, but whom you were better than at various pursuits, to keep you feeling good about yourself.  For countless people that year, I was that friend, and I didn't mind at all.  I could celebrate other people's gifts without caring whether I could match them.

The next year, my theme was doing things that scared me - on purpose.  I quit my job, I moved to New York City, I participated in my grad school's cabaret show, I asked out certain boys.  All things that made me highly trepidatious, but all experiences that improved my life exponentially.   Again, every time I had to decide what to do, I would opt for the thing outside of my comfort zone.  (To distinguish from the previous year, the "bad at" year was about doing things where I wouldn't perform well...but it largely wouldn't matter.  This next year took out the safety net and I did things with unknown outcomes.)  It was an excellent year.

Aside: Sometimes I look back on fond memories, and attribute them to my circumstances - New York City, or my awesome roommates, or stimulating work, or being young.  But I think some of what I - and a lot of people - reminisce about is a lost state of mind - a sense of adventure or credulity or earnestness or abandon - that we've since replaced with caution and practicality and cynicism.  The circumstances may not be recapturable, but I think the attitudes are.

Are you there, God? It's me, Margot at the Wedding.

Ace and Beaker and I just got home from watching Margot at the Wedding.  While I sympathized with their independent proposals to walk out early, I kept hoping for something to happen that would make up for the already-invested hour, the $28.50 we would never see again. 

"A sunk cost is just that," Beaker said, but still I resisted.  As we left the theater (which was full, by the way), we heard fellow movie goers bent over laughing at the awfulness of it.  I posed the possibility that it was appropriate for Thanksgiving because it made us grateful to have the families we do.

Well, all I can say is, you take that $9.50 and go get yourself a Matterhorn at Baskin-Robbins and that will be a far better investment of your entertainment dollar.  Sheesh.

Attitude of Gratitude

Happy Thanksgiving! 

It's not too late to share yours with someone.  Our office just finished its food/donation drive for the local branch of Second Harvest this week, but you know they'll take your donations all year long.

The one here says they spend 96 cents of every donated dollar "to feed hungry people."  Here's a description of how they spend them:

The Food Bank has expert staff dedicated to bulk purchasing food, and often has the opportunity to buy needed foods at much lower prices than those at grocery or warehouse stores. Here are some examples of how far we can stretch your financial contribution to purchase and distribute food:

$1.00 = 3 Snacks for Children's Programs
* 3 Cheese & Cracker Packets
* 3 Boxes of Apple Juice

$5.00 = 15 Breakfasts
* 1 Large Box of Cereal
* 1 Gallon of Milk
* 8 Cans of Orange Juice

$10.00 = 20 Lunches
* 2 Jars of Peanut Butter
* 2 Loaves of Bread
* 20 Boxes of Apple Juice
* 20 Bananas

$15.00 = 30 Lunches
* 3 Pounds of Beans
* 3 Pounds of Rice
* 3 Packages of Flour Tortillas
* 1 #10 Can of Corn
* 30 Bananas
* 3 Packages of Carrots

$20.00 = 100 Snacks for Children's Programs
* 100 Mini Pretzels
* 100 Packages of Raisins
* 3 Gallons of Apple Juice

$25.00 = 60 Meals
* 10 Pounds Jasmine Rice
* 4 Chickens
* 2 Bottles Fish Sauce
* 5 Pounds Bok Choy
* 4 Pounds Onions

$50.00 = 40 Meals
* 4 Hams
* 20 Pounds Potatoes
* 2 #10 Cans of Green Beans
* 8 Pounds Fresh Carrots
* 40 Servings of Fresh Fruit
* 40 Rolls

$75.00 = 150 Meals
* 19 Pounds Pasta
* 5 Gallons of Spaghetti Sauce
* 10 Loaves of Bread
* 150 Servings of Green Salad
* 150 Servings of Fresh Fruit

$100.00 = 80 Meals
* 3 Turkeys
* 4 Boxes of Stuffing
* 2 #10 Cans of Yams
* 2 #10 Cans of Green Beans
* 40 Pounds of Potatoes
* 1 #10 Can of Cranberries