Thank you, Canada

Without those fine folks in Canada, this would not have been possible.

For quite some time, I have been hooked on the Persephone's Bees that they serve at Kitty's. Last night on my way home from work, I finally remembered to stop at BevMo to look for the key ingredient -- Pearl Persephone Vodka. (While mixing the drink, I checked out the bottle and discovered that it is a "Product of Canada.") And joy of joys, they had it. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Persephone's Bees is a mixture of Pearl Persephone Vodka, lemon juice, and honey. It went well with dinner.


Yes, I went with the duck.

Loved how the duck was cooked. The raspberry was a little too sweet for my tastes though. And I didn't get the joy of watching the guy cook because I had to get canned food for Her Royal Uppitiness and the Porn Star. (Some of you may refer to the pair as "Natasha and Boris." I live with them; I know their true selves.) And of course, while there I had to pick up the very necessary lemon juice.

I've always been against the whole moving to Canada thing because they have this thing called winter. But I think that the fine products from Pearl could help me get through that ugliness. I just don't know if Natasha will allow us to move.

Inspired

Perhaps it's been the unusually unseasonable weather we've been having in the Bay Area. All I know is that when I read Heidi's post earlier today, I started having a Veruca Salt moment. OK. Maybe it started earlier in the day when a coworker proclaimed her love of Augustus.

After a couple of hours of retail therapy on Bay Street, I headed home to feed the cats and to start on my mission -- on foot in my ever so stylish Dr. Scholl's. (And I really needed the mission because nothing can make one more depressed than to put on a pair of Diva jeans at Old Navy, look in the mirror and once more feel fat. And yes, I realize that they were size fours and that they basically fit. Because the largest size I bought tonight was a four and they did not look painted on. They looked normal. But I have one word for you -- muffintop. And although Whitney wears a larger size, she does not have muffintop. And ultra-lowrise do not camouflage the muffintop whereas other cuts do.) After hitting the second gelateria that is nearby, I realized that I would have to rethink the plan. OK. Actually there are three gelaterias nearby but I only go to two of them.


Pineapple-tangerine sorbet with rum and club soda.

And of course the whole rum thing got me thinking. What if I got an ice cream maker and started making my own sorbet? Sure there would be the frozen mint juleps. But what about a mint-lime sorbet? See where I'm going with this? Yep. I'm seeing a summer full of sorbet-based drinks.

Of course, there was food with this. Because I'm a fat pig who only thinks of food. Tonight was another stop at Gregoire's. And everyone stressed that I should try something different. But I had to stick with the grilled artichoke and the potato puffs.


Grilled peppercorn ribeye with Roquefort sauce.


And this time I remembered to order the strawberry bread pudding with chocolate cream. Isn't it cute?

Oh, and you want to know what is absolutely horrible? A new mixed use building recently opened around the corner from me. In one of the ground floor windows I saw the planning notice. What are they planning to put in the space? A dessert and wine cafe. How wrong is that?

Bad girl

Over the last few weeks, this song has haunted me. I have danced to to it way too many times to count.

Not enough hours in the day

I am still recovering from Queenie's birthday. We went out for a couple of cocktails on Thursday with another co-worker. Then I had to hurry off to get ready to meet Sports Guy for dinner. I could post photos of my food but I had the same thing I had back in August. Highly impressive is that when I arrived, on time, Sports Guy was already waiting for me. He's always quite punctual. My aunt says it has something to do with being a Virgo.

Friday it was off to continue celebrating Queenie's birthday. This time with a group of coworkers. And Sports Guy. And one of Queenie's guys. Oh, and the boyfriend of a coworker. There were many Persephone's Bees consumed. And then it was time to head to Nation's. Because we needed food. (Hmmm. I see a pattern. Somehow Persephone's Bees always seem to be followed by Nation's.)

I spent a good deal of Saturday sleeping. Because I actually had work I needed to finish on Sunday. And Sports Guy says that we will no longer be going out on school nights because it makes me too tired on the weekends. So instead he calls every night. When we end one conversation, he tells me what time he will call the next evening. He always calls within ten minutes of whatever time he has told me. I have never experienced anything like this in my life.

And now I am contemplating a nap before I continue on this week's cooking -- things that simmer. Last night was the pot of limas with ham. Tonight it's Beef Bourguignon. Later in the week will be potato leek soup.

The end is near

Today is the last day of school before the winter break. Can you feel my excitement?

The past week has had some stress. One normally expects the kids to go wild right before a break. That's why you plan the hell out of the time for the week. Part of these plans has been completing the cookbook. (I meant to take a photo of the finished products for you but I forgot in my stupor.) I stayed at work until 5 last night finishing those books. Why did I feel that they needed to be spiral-bound? Do you know how tiring that is on your arm when you have to complete 40 or so books? Thankfully two-buck-Chuck can get rid of that pain.

And I am looking forward to not seeing rain. Rain sucks in an elementary school. It means that the kids are stuck with you at recess. And my kids? They need to run free a few times a day. Wednesday morning started as the most perfect day I have ever seen from the kids. Honestly. Then I had my prep period at the end of the day. My kids were supposed to be at PE but it was raining. This meant that PE was heald in my classroom. The PE teacher found them to be trying but no one could have expected the end. (Well, maybe I could have because I know my kids.) She dismissed them as a class -- something I never would have done in my most brain-dead states. I dismiss them individually. Complete havoc ensued. I have heard tales of chairs flying and overturned desks. Think drunken rock band trashing a hotel room. Somewhere along the line the principal showed up and made them clean it all up. By the time I saw my room, there were no signs left. Today the students turned in statements about what they had witnessed per the principal's instructions. Four of my kids ended up suspended as a result of the statements. I will not be seeing them again until January. I would be completely stressed out if this had all happened under my watch but it didn't. Therefore, I am feeling OK. Especially since others had reported how perfect the kids were in the morning.

So today is the last day before break. A break that I think is well deserved. Three teachers have birthdays within a week or so of each other. Today after school we are heading out to celebrate. By contract we have to stay at school until 3:09 pm. (The kids leave at 3:00 pm.) One of the teachers wrote on the invite that the festivities start at 3:11 pm. Show's you where all our minds are. The plan is that we will be out the entire night at various spots along College. I cannot wait. Just as long as I can wake up for my hair appointment tomorrow.

Oh. Here's a bonus, thanks to Tami. A day early. But there will still be another quiz tomorrow.

So I will keep this in mind as I am out tonight. Because I need to keep my thoughts light today so that I can stop crying. My dad called last night. My aunt's cancer is back and she is starting chemo again today. This time it's on her liver.

Best of times, worst of times

I think that sums up Friday night pretty much. I have spent most of the weekend toying with whether I would write about Friday. After I decided I would, it became a debate about how much to share. Because I am still processing some stuff.

Friday I headed home from work and then realized that I was restless. I didn't want to go to the usual place though. I needed something different. So I called up this other teacher and we agreed to meet at Kitty's.

We managed to have one cocktail at Kitty's before deciding that the scene was a little too dead for us and so headed into North Beach. To go dancing at a place I haven't set foot in in many years.

The first highlight was when the bouncer carded me. I think he was a bit surprised. As he returned my ID, he said, "I'm two years older than you." It didn't hurt that he's pretty cute. We set off inside to purchase the warm-up drink. (For those of you -- yes, I mean you, Neil -- who are not aware of the practice, it is customary for a woman to purchase her first drink upon entering an establishment. Theoretically this is the last drink that she will purchase in the evening because by the time she has finished it, the guys in the place have had enough time to check her out.) We headed off for the dancefloor with cocktails in hand.

We were first joined by a group of attractive guys. But then they disappeared. We then headed outside to check out the other possibilities. We spotted a group sitting at a picnic table. They definitely had potential. Along the way my friend was cornered by some guy who has a girlfriend. Even better when the girlfriend eventually showed up and my friend realized that she knew the girlfriend.

Next I was approached at the bar by one of the guys from the picnic table. He was conservatively dressed. I guess that's why I was kind of surprised when he greeted me by slapping me on my butt and then inviting me to feel his ass. (It was rock-hard, by the way.) He also insisted that my friend check it out as well. I felt obliged to see if the abs were as tight as the buns which sadly they were not. He said something about being hot. I replied, "I need something cold before I have anything hot," and so he bought my drink. I should have realized that this was the turning point of the evening. When we hit the dancefloor, he was a wild man. No. Really. At one point he picked my friend up -- literally. Lesson learned here -- never judge a book by it's cover.

Somehow we managed to ditch the wild man but it took some trying. I guess the next batch was this group of Irish guys. One of them was rather smitten with my friend. When the place closed, they tried to convince us to come to a party out in the Sunset. We finally agreed.

The party was OK. Eventually my friend was ready to leave but I wasn't. I was assured that they would help me find a way home. So I told my friend to go. At this point, large amounts of coke suddenly appeared. I immediately sent a text to my friend but there was some sort of delay and she didn't get it for at least 30 minutes. By the time she called back, I told her to not come back and I would just figure it all out on my own. I made it home eventually and there were more adventures in between.

Originally I was going to call this post "The Queen of Bad Decisions" because that was my specialty in my old hardcore partying days. I thought I had gotten a little bit smarter but I guess I still have some learning to do. I'm still going to go out though. Because that's my nature.

Just another clingy Cancer

... or another layer of the onion is peeled back.

When I was growing up, my mother repeatedly told me that she didn't believe in astrology. Then she would open the newspaper to read her horoscope. Always an avid reader, I discovered the section of the bookstore that was classified as being "Occult" by age 15 or so. My first purchase was Linda Goodman's Sun Signs. I had never taken much faith in the daily horoscopes in the paper but when I read Linda's words, I felt that she had peered into my soul. I was hooked. I went back looking for more books. And found a book that gave instructions on how to calculate natal charts. There was just one problem. You needed a couple of other books to complete the calculations -- an ephemeris and a book of houses. I had to look the first up in the dictionary. What the hell was that anyway? I then set out searching local bookstores and libraries for the magical books. (I was 16 by this time and quite resourceful.) no luck on all fronts. But somewhere along the way I came across the word "metaphysics." So I searched for metaphysical bookstores in the Yellow Pages and found one in Berkeley. They had everything I needed. (It's a shame they went out of business a few years ago. A part of myself died with that store closure.) I then set out to do my own natal chart. Once friends learned of my newest interest, they requested that I do their charts as well.

A year later I went back to the store to buy my first Tarot deck. But I mistreated that deck. Along the way I ended up losing a few cards. When I replaced it, I was much wiser. I bought the replacement deck at a shop in London, the first time that I was there. It is kept in a wooden box, wrapped in a silk scarf. But don't ask me to do a card reading because it's been years since I've done one. Grasshopper treated me to a reading for my birthday this year. I think she thought I was oblivious to the deck. At times she struggled with the meaning of a particular card and I would tell her what it was. I trained myself to read the pictures so even if I haven't touched the cards in years, some of the meanings come back to me instantly -- especially since there are a certain group of cards that always show in readings for myself.

Thinking of England and cards reminds me of a certain intoxicated evening the summer I was there. One of the women in my suite in the dorms had discovered that I could do a simple relationship reading with regular playing cards (which are based upon the Minor Arcana of the Tarot). After a few days, I came to expect the knock on my door at a certain time of night. It was time for a study break and I needed to bring the cards to the common area of our suite so that I could do readings for all of the women in my suite. One night they decided to change things up. We headed out, me with cards in hand, to the pub on campus. They wanted their readings but they also wanted a few pints. Once the other patrons realized what was going on, they started to queue up at the table. They asked about payment. I stated that they simply needed to keep my glass full. One would argue that I was merely channeling a voice from an earlier life. I mean, isn't this what minstrels did in days of old? No one left unhappy. Maybe a bit more contemplative, but not unhappy.

So what does this have to do with the price of tea in China, or my post title for that matter? Well, I am prone to stream of consciousness. This is why Faulkner is one of my favorite authors. I was thinking of Laurie's latest horoscopes and the Drummer Boy. And then I thought of men in general. As Laurie rightfully pointed out, Cancers love adoration; we just have a hard time asking for those things that we need. So when we don't receive the adoration that we so crave, we start questioning everything. (OK. So maybe all of us don't. Maybe it's just me.) If I don't hear how great I am from a guy on a regular basis (That would be at least every other day at a minimum. Can you say insecure?), then I start to question the relationship. And Drummer Boy? I have not talked to him since Saturday. So I checked the band's website. They had a gig on Thursday night. I know that means that they were in rehearsal every night until midnight. I also know that he knows that most nights I'm asleep by the time he gets home from rehearsals. He would never call "too late" because he is considerate. I am very logical. That's why I love math so much. But sometimes logic has a hard battle with emotions. And that's where I am now.

Just another clingy Cancer. Looking for unconditional adoration. Thank goodness it's Fleet Week. And thank goodness for the kids because without them, I'd probably be an emotional wreck. Because yesterday I got another picture and the student wrote on it how great she thought I am. *sniff* So I went out last night and bought them some more books.

As promised

So I managed to snap a couple of quick photos of Natasha at one of the few times she manages to stay in one place. My neighbor has already told me to take loads of pictures because they grow up so fast. (Why do I suddenly feel like I have given birth?)


Between trying to teach Natasha that electrical cords are not chew toys, I did actually go out. Friday night I went out for dinner and drinks with one of my best friends from high school. In the middle of dinner, I had to ask for her autograph. Her job to pay the bills is in theater education or educational theater -- something like that -- but she still acts in local productions. In the middle of dinner, this guy comes up to our table and asked her if he had seen her in a certain production. He had indeed. He then went on to say that he is a critic and he thought her performance was so great that he has not gone back to the theater for fear that any subsequent productions would pale in comparison. See why I had to ask for her autograph? When we were in high school, I thought she was a fantastic actress. I was too shy to act and so did tech work on the productions. I limit my acting to hanging out at bars and parties.

Last night I went to see Sisterhood with another old friend. It was ok. If I hadn't read the books, I probably would have liked it a lot. After the movie, we went for drinks at a bar in my neighborhood. I hadn't been in the place since college. (Oops. I almost said high school. I didn't go to the bar in high school; my friends did. My high school drinking was limited to splitting a four-pack of California Coolers with friends on the Berkeley Marina.) Back to the bar. When we walked in, these people were being served a drink in a huge bowl with several straws. I figure that any place that has a long list of cocktails on the menu and plush armchairs and sofas for seating has got to be my new hangout. It also doesn't hurt that it is two blocks from home.