New to me

This whole weight loss thing? Fairly new to me. And the idea of my losing weight right now? Well, I think that Jade and some of my coworkers summed it up best. "Why?" Actually it was that look that my "favorite pest" gave me as he walked into the midst of my conversation with a couple of female coworkers about weight loss yesterday. He looked me up and down several times like I had completely lost my mind.

Why? Because as I said previously, I camouflage exceedingly well. I haven't worn anything truly fitted since my mother asked me earlier this year when her grandchild was due. Because my build is from my dad's side of the family. And we gain the majority of our weight around the middle. Nowhere else.

My dad's older sister who has been staying with him since early September understands. The other day she announced to me that since she has been in California, she has gained 15 pounds. This aunt has always been the reminder to me of what can happen. She's probably about a size 12 or 14 these days -- thanks mostly to her midsection. Nowadays she doesn't wear dresses much but I remember when she still did. You'd see a size 12 dress hanging over some size 4 legs. And her legs seemed so tiny compared to the rest of her. I told my mother back then that I had no problem with gaining weight; I just wanted it to be proportionate. And since I know that it would not be, I vowed to fight it every step of the way.

My dad would be the tallest one in the first photo. Check out the gut. That's what I have been hiding under the loose clothing. And if you're saying to yourself, "That's not that bad," look at the lower part of the photo. Check out his legs. Do those legs go with the rest of him? I say not. Oh, and the other end of the photo? One brother hiding his gut behind another brother. And that brother, the one in blue, is the one I hope to be like. Because he is so chill. He goes through life without anything upsetting him. Except the death of his younger sister back in July. It was the only time I saw him lose it. I use this as a point of reference for folks. If my uncle who is so Zen loses it, then what do you expect from me? Reminds me that once I've pared down the stack of books to read, I really must get around to The Art of War.

But let's talk about the second photo now. The photo in which my dad kind of hides his gut with proper clothing selection. The one that makes me scream, "Why can't my stomach look like that now?" Because the photo was taken only eight years ago. And at this point in my life that feels like yesterday. Yes, in my mind I'd love to be that size again but I am now settling on five pounds heavier than that.

That said, I've never really had to try to lose weight. I mean I've tried to lose weight in the past, and was pretty successful at it, but I didn't need to back then. That was just my twisted mind at work. The mind that told me that at 5'10" and 120 pounds that I was fat. OK. Back then I had a modeling agent tell me that I could stand to lose about five pounds or so. When I was 21, I managed to get down to 110 pounds. As I pointed out in comments the other day, I'm currently somewhere between 135 and 140. So those of y'all who have met me try to imagine that. Because even though I was told that I was really thin in some of those photos I posted on my birthday, I wasn't that skinny.

Yesterday I remembered all of this. I have an obsessive personality. This is why I don't own a scale. If I did, I'd weigh myself at least twice a day. So years ago I gave up owning a scale and started to rely upon how my clothes felt, how I felt -- without the definition of a number.

I've been eating over these last few months because the other end of the spectrum is still frightening to me. I realized in wanting to drop ten pounds or so, this obsessive part of me has now kicked in. I am completely addicted to Calorie Count. Before I eat something, I now enter it into my food log to see what the calorie impact will be. (This is how I was able to substitute a cup of yogurt for some goat cheese yesterday.) I look each morning to see what the calorie count from the previous day was and tear it apart to see where I can eat less.

The first day of the log, Monday, I ate about 1700 calories. For Tuesday I was able to drop it down to 1500. Yesterday was a 1250 day. Yesterday was also the first day during which I actually felt hungry for a bit. But I'm good at ignoring that voice. Because until I started playing around with some of the other foods in my diet, I was starting to think that I would have to give up meat to reach that calorie level.

The other fun on Calorie Count is that they have a quiz to discover what kind of eater you are. Shocker. Apparently I am an emotional eater. Yes, I have an emotional connection with food. It's just that in years past, I would get upset and not eat. Thus the rapid weight loss.

All this week, I kept thinking that the idea of calorie control was foreign to me. Last night it dawned on me that it wasn't. At least since I was in high school, my mother has tried out a number of diets. When she was given choices, she would hand the reading material over to me. My job? Plan a week of meals that stuck to the guidelines yet gave her some variety. I realized that this is why it was so easy for me to know what I needed to eat during this week. I thought it was all new to me when in fact I'm an old hat.

So yes, I honestly believe in my mind that I need to drop a few pounds. I just need to be aware when my old habits start to come back -- the ones that told me that being skinny were worth any cost. Or I could just go out and invest in a body shaper and say, "Screw it all."

Oh and on a different note, since I'm up early enough to see those few moments during which MTV actually plays videos, I must admit that I am kind of addicted to this one. (Sorry. Would have embedded it if I could have.) "You say I'm crazy. I've got your crazy." Or "Lollipop. Must mistake me for a sucker."

And then it all went downhill

Eggs Louie

This weekend was in many ways supposed to be a mom weekend. Right now a whole weekend of my mother can be rather trying. I spent days trying to get myself ready for it all emotionally. I failed.

Yesterday was not originally supposed to be about my mom. I had hoped to go to Sacramento. But my mom has always been jealous of my stepmother. She would never understand how I could cancel out on doing something that I had previously promised that I would do for her so that I could go see my stepmother. And more importantly, to see my dad. Because in the past when I have had to cancel out on my mom, I get to hear her say in a petulant voice, "But you promised..."

I had planned on taking care of all of my mom's crap last weekend. Thing is that I wasn't feeling well last weekend. I tried to explain this to my mother when I showed up. Her response was, "Have you felt this way for days? Well, you showed up to work and you didn't complain to them so I don't want to hear it." She then offered to take me to Thrive! but I told her that I wasn't sick enough for a doctor's; I just needed bed rest. She basically told me to suck it up. The second time we got into this conversation, I walked and went back home to bed. But I felt bad about not taking care of her whole list so I went back yesterday.

Yesterday was also combined as a movie outing. We went to see The Secret Life of Bees. I read the book years ago and had forgotten just how many sad moments there were in the story. I probably spent at least half the movie in some sort of tears. But at least I didn't walk away from it saying to myself, "This is such a letdown from the book." I think overall it stayed pretty true to the book. My mom was slightly peeved with me for not warning her how sad the story is. My response was, "But I brought you extra napkins from the snack bar."

This morning I got up at what is ass crack of dawn for me on a Sunday -- 9 AM. Why? Because Zombie Mom was running the Nike half-marathon in San Francisco. There was no way possible that I could be up early enough to cheer her on at the various points along the race but I knew that I could meet her and the rest of the Zombie family for brunch after the race. Also meeting her at the finish line would have meant that I would have to drive. Today my car could not move. More about that later.

The photo above is of my brunch selection over at Stacks in Hayes Valley. Not only did I get up at ass crack of dawn, but I did some walking as well. I was about to include the walk to the Berkeley BART station but that's only four blocks away -- in case you potential stalkers are interested. Fastest way to Hayes Valley on PT? Get off BART at Civic Center and hoof it the rest of the way. I did this without the aid of caffeine.

Seeing Zombie Mom flashing her Tiffany's bling? Hello? You get a pendant from Tiffany's for completing? Almost enough to get my lazy ass up and running. Key word here is "almost." Because while I love that little blue box, there are limits.

But most importantly, I got to see my favorite parts of the Zombie family -- the Commander and Lala. (Sorry about that Zombie Mom.) Because I have come to realize that through all of the crap over the last few months, those two are a large part of what has kept me tethered in the here and now. I love them because I realize that if I had kids, they would be like them. I also don't have kids because I realize that they would be just like them.

Then it was time to head back to Berkeley. I met this wonderful gay couple from Austin at the BART station in San Francisco. We helped this woman navigate her way through the system. Once we were finally on a Richmond train, I told them that I had been fascinated by Austin for years. A friend from undergrad -- OK. So he was a major crush -- had ended up there. He told me at the time that Austin was like Berkeley in the middle of Texas. The couple told me that in Austin, they always like to compare themselves to San Francisco but that Berkeley was probably the more apt comparison. They also bemoaned the gentrification of Austin. It's driving all the quirkiness out of the city. And that offbeat kind of vibe? That's what makes cities like Berkeley and Austin what they are.

So I stepped off the train to start part two of the mom weekend. Because today was The Spice of Life Festival. I have never missed this festival since moving to Berkeley. The first year, I attended it alone. Every year since then, my mother has been in attendance. Not that I necessarily wanted her to be.

My mother's worst traits come out at street fairs. "They want how much for this item? The food is crap. The music is crap." But I have heard this every year so in some ways I was prepared.

I met my mother at the BART station and we began our trek. I kept waiting for her to tell me how much she hates my hair worn in this way but then I remembered she had already told me that last weekend. It's all about tearing me down. Don't say that to her though. She will tell you how she had been nothing but supportive of me. And in some ways, she has been.

So we started our way through the fair. The food was overpriced. The Obama t-shirt, at $20, was overpriced. This after she complained about the long walk from the downtown Berkeley BART station to the fair. (Number one. I live north of the BART station but I met her there. Number two. The walk from the start of the fair was no more than seven blocks. My mother is just a suburbanite who just needs to suck it up.)

We finally found food that was a value in my mom's eyes. She then started to mention that it would be nice to sit down. I found her a table and then said that I was off to search for food for myself. Specifically potato puffs from Gregoire. After checking the last few stands that I had not previously, I headed to Gregoire. Right after I placed my order, I realized that perhaps there was a slight fiasco. But my mother was more than a block away enjoying her food so I stayed. And I waited. Once I had potato puffs in hand, I headed to a stand for the lemonade my mother had requested.

Upon returning to the table, my mother was nowhere to be seen. She is also too cheap to carry a cellphone. (Actually she's too cheap for a lot of things but is really big on telling you about how poor she is.) So I sat down at the table to wait for her return. In between, I called Zombie Mom. I just knew that my mother would be pissed off with me when she returned. I was right.

After I had been at the table for about 15 minutes, my mother showed up. And then screamed out, "Where have you been?" I said, "Getting food -- and your drink." She didn't like the tone of my answer and so said, "I don't need to put up with your sass." In my mind, I thought, "Kiss mine, bitch." Instead I answered with telling her about waiting for her at the table at which I had last seen her. And apparently all my responses were disrespectful, so I said, "I am sorry for not catering to you every second of the day today." (Ummm. I told y'all that I can get real bitchy at times.) And then she said some crap back and I said, "Next time I'll be sure to check in with you beforehand so that you can plan each second of the day." That was me being nice. I had wanted to add, "This is why no one else wants to do anything with you." Which would have been true but really hurtful.

My mother's response was to walk off but not before asking for the phone. I shit you not. Once I got my iPhone, my mother has been bugging me about what I was going to do with my old phone. She kept telling me how I should give it to her. And this is one of the other things that pisses me off as far as my mother is concerned. I get something -- either through my work or my father -- and she feels like she has earned a piece of it all. It is my obligation to share with her -- and no one else. I briefly thought about telling her, "Hell no," as far as the phone is concerned but then I decided that I am the bigger person and gave it to her. (There is still a part of me that thinks that I have "sucker" written on my forehead.) A minute later after storming off, my mother returned to ask if I still would buy the Bed, Bath & Beyond gift cards off of her. I pulled out the cash and took the cards. I then told her that the stuff she wanted me to come to Pacifica tomorrow for? Leave that stuff at her house. I don't need to see my mom anymore this trip.

After my mom left the fair, I was in such a foul mood that I didn't want to be there. I was blocks from home so I went there. And along the walk, I fought back the tears. Because when I'm really mad, I cry. Once home, I started making phone calls. But no one was available. Except for that one person. And so in desperation, I called my dad. Because there was no one else.

And so my dad and I talked about how bad things are with my stepmother. And how he's just dealing. And then we talked about my mother. How she is so obviously lonely. And how that's all about her and not us.

My dad started talking the steps. How we should not care about those things over which we have no power. Instead we should concentrate our energy on those things we can change. And also realizing that we cannot change others.

And this is why I love my father. Even when I know that he is dealing with pain beyond his imagining, he can still find it in himself to point me in the right direction.

Even though my father's words did a great deal, I am still trying to pick myself up form the place in which I was left after my interactions with my mother. Because since walking away from her, I have found myself crying. Thank goodness she's going back to Mexico on Tuesday.

But now she's crawling back in. Just as I was ready to post this, I listened to a voicemail that my mom left. A family friend has had a heart attack and is in the hospital. When will it all end? Because just when I think that I have nothing left it me, something else happens.

Get out of my head

Baked escargot with caramelized onions on puff pastry

... or at least stop reading the same recipes that I have.

While trying to pass time til quitting time today at work, I suddenly remembered that it was a new month. That meant a new menu at Gregoire. I didn't go at all last month because nothing really called to me on the menu.

This month? Well, imagine my surprise to see "Grilled pork tenderloin medallions with quince chutney." Huh? So I read on. "Beef Bourguignon." Make that all the time. And there was this other dish but more about that later. But something did leap out at me. And then I needed stuff to go with it. So I decided to try the escargots since I've been thinking about them for some time. And of course, I had to get my usual order of potato puffs.


Roasted duck breast with grilled plums

I supplemented the food from Gregoire's with this. I already had the duck breast in the fridge to cook up tonight. If I hadn't, I would have been tempted to order the duck from Gregoire's. But not tonight.

Whenever I see recipes that call for grilling, I quickly turn the page. I don't have any outdoor space at my apartment to set up a grill. Well, I could be like some of my neighbors and set up a grill on the roof. That always kind of worries me though. It would be just my luck that I'd end up burning down the building. Or another neighbor sets up his grill by the back steps. It's just that I don't want to cook my food in such close proximity to the dumpster.

But I really wanted to try this recipe. So I headed over to one of my favorite stores to purchase a grill pan. (I really need to stay out of there because cupboard space has become almost non-existent. I guess I should pick up that cabinet from my aunt's house one of these days. I think the pan was a great investment. In fact, now I'm wondering why I didn't get one sooner.


Pumpkin bread pudding

This is what really got me to Gregoire's. Because it's going to rain tonight. So now I have all these yummy comfort foods. And plenty of good books to read. Not to mention hours of Fall TV saved up on the DVR. I think I'm set. Because I don't think I'm heading out tomorrow at all.

Finding balance in the PRB*

I suddenly have a lot of posts bouncing around in my head -- perhaps because my weekend was so full. I thought I'd start with the easy one first.

Today was "me" day. The family members who I know really care are totally respectful of this idea. The idea that at least one day a week has to be completely mine. If I have that, then I can deal with all of the rest of the stuff.

I awoke at 8:00 a.m. with all these thoughts of what needed to be done. By noon after much thought, I realized that they didn't need to be done today. Well, especially those things that involve driving. Those can wait until tomorrow evening when I will be in my car because I have to drive to work. So I caught up on TV viewing and took a nap.

Around 4:00 I headed out to the library. I finally managed to finish two of the Stephanie Plum books I had checked out weeks ago. Only four more to go and I will be caught up on the series. Of course, returning the books could have waited until tomorrow as well as I pass the library on my way to work every morning. But I had items on hold. This would be a result of the Netflix meltdown during this past week. It dawned on me that some of the older titles on my list might just be available at the public library. They were -- and were already checked out so I put in hold requests. But this is just the why of the walk. The walk itself was the more important part to me.

As I neared the BART station, I could hear the sounds of music over a P.A. system. The "Free Tibet" group was set up there once more. Apparently this is the new hot protesting thing in Berkeley. There haven't been protests in front of the Marines recruiting center for months. And somehow magically around the same time that those ended, the "Free Tibet" marches started. The one I saw on Friday night as I was leaving for Sacramento was at least two blocks long. Anywho. I gladly took a flyer from one of the adorable children handing them out. Actually it was more of a race as two of the kids made a beeline for me, rushing to see who could get to me first. It made me smile. Enough that the homeless guy I passed had to comment. Something along the lines of, "Keep on smiling. Yeah. I'm talking to you."

The return was all about food. I needed gelato. Really. But Naia is still down to two cases instead of the three they used to have and there was no cardamom. *sigh* So I trudged on.

There was a quick stop at Astronomico's (This is Marin's name for the place and I kind of like it.) to pick up canned food. I just didn't have the energy to walk to Berkeley Bowl to save fifty cents a can. Besides I just needed a few to tie me over until I could stop at Berkeley Bowl on my way home from work this week. But I thought of Zombie Mom while in the store as I saw a woman pulling a child in a red wagon down an aisle.

And I remembered how I didn't get the tuna the last time I hit my fave takeout spot. But I still needed gelato -- and maybe sorbet -- so I headed over to Ciao Bella. And I guess it was a good thing that Naia didn't have the flavor I wanted because I suddenly remembered that if I used my debit card at Ciao Bella, I could earn airline miles. By the way, I ended up with blood orange sorbet and rose petal gelato, if you're interested.

On my way home with all of my goodies (Tucked away into one of the many tote bags I received while teaching. I felt so "Berkeley."), I saw what was probably the most interesting site. A woman was power-washing the sidewalk in front of her house. I found myself thinking, "Aren't we supposed to be conserving water? How did she get into Berkeley? I mean at Marin's house they have a bucket in the tub to catch some of the runoff water from the shower to use for watering." OK. I mostly thought this because I was forced to walk in the street. Her back was to me and she could not hear me approaching because of the noise of the washer. So while walking in the street to avoid getting wet, I thought of the other stuff.

Ahhh. But how to conclude this all? As I feasted on the tuna, eggplant and potato puffs, I got sucked into "Confessions of a Go-Go Girl" on Lifetime. By the end I had a few questions. Because even a cheesy Lifetime movie leaves me asking questions.

Are all women who take their clothes off for a living unhappy? Why do people say it's degrading? Aren't you "selling yourself" at just about any job? But then I got to thinking about how women our often objectified in our society. It all gets back to that double standard. Women are being told that men like them to act in a certain way and then are punished for doing exactly that. Oh, and please do not mention religious morality to me. Those books were written by men. And no, I am not trashing religion. It's just that I have issues with a man writing about how a woman should behave and then masking it all in religious beliefs. Or those men who choose to interpret passages in this manner.

So this is the stuff I will be pondering while I write my next couple of posts. Until then.

* Whenever I use the acronym "PRB," I always mean "The People's Republic of Berkeley." It's from my childhood. No matter for what others may now use the acronym, it will always mean this to me. Maybe one day I'll get around to adding a glossary to the sidebar.

Repetition

I know that I've done this before but then I saw it at Camels & Chocolate and decided it was time to revisit the list. I am also stalling to get around to writing all the stuff that has been happening.

Let's just put it this way. I have been sleeping an average of three to four hours a night. And working fulltime. My mind and body are tired. And the crazy ass shit just keeps happening. The hard times of day? At night when I try to go to sleep but my mind suddenly starts going through all of the craziness and I can't seem to shut it off and next thing I know, it is the wee hours of the morning. Then I get hit on the other end. Mornings I wake up and realize that I need to talk to someone about all the craziness so I reach for the phone to call my aunt. (For the last eight years or so, I have talked to my aunt on a near daily basis.) And then I realize that she isn't around to talk to me. And the tears flow. Then I go on with my day and people ask how I'm doing. I say, "Fine," because I know that most of them don't really care. Or if I say anything other than that, they will freak out. I cannot tell those close to me, like my dad, how much it really hurts. I remember writing a post in the past. I'm not sure if I actually posted it but it was all about how one woman alone cannot be the mother that so many of us need and so you make up a "pie" of various people. I lost part of the pie a couple of weeks ago -- the part that taught me that it was OK to be me and that it was OK to dream.

But this is not what this post is supposed to be about so let me get on with it.

The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed.

1) Bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE (I opted for asterisks).
4) Reprint this list in your own blog.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee**
6 The Bible - I would have bolded this but I have not read it in its entirety.
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman**
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier**
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger**
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini**
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden**
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold -- I'm still debating whether I want to read this one.
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

And yeah, some of the books are ones which I should have read for various classes over the years but didn't. I'm still not going to read them. Instead, I am currently working my way through the Stephanie Plum novels and am currently on the seventh. Then I'll hit the books that Fluffycat gave to me.

The definition of happiness

I've been doing a lot more reading over the last month or so than I have since ... Hmmmm. It would appear that the last time I did this much reading just may have been last summer.

I like to read mysteries but there's only so many dead bodies one can take in one week. Over the last couple of days I needed to switch over to some chick lit. No dead bodies and not a great deal of thinking to do. Or so I thought.

Nearing the end of the book, I came across this -- "...happiness is not getting what you want but wanting what you get..." I don't know about y'all but I had to let that one marinate for a bit.

How many times have we heard someone say, "I could be happy if only..." Oh, let's be honest. How many times have we said these words to ourselves? I know that I have too many times to count. I am also guilty of the variation -- "I can do these things once x, y, and z fall into place." Thing is those things rarely happen and so you end up in this continual holding pattern.

A few weeks ago, I questioned here what it meant to be living. That's because it's always been that happiness was this future thought. And now I'm starting to think that while I may occasionally think that here can suck at times, there is happiness as well. And it's time to start looking for it.

I love my job; it's my commute that gets to me at times. But my commute is going to improve before the end of this year since the company is going to move. I love coming home each night. Yes, Boris can be an annoying little arse. Then there are those times that I'll be reading a book and he'll curl up next to me. And then I remember why I put up with the other stuff. And it's not just my apartment. I love my neighbors, my neighborhood. I have a near impossible time imagining living anywhere else. And some days I am in absolute awe that the former nomad has managed to stay in one place for over three years now.

And then I think about the rest of my life. Sure I'm not dating anyone but I often have doubts that I'm the marrying type. Along the way, I have managed to assemble my own family though -- people whom I love and who I have never doubted love me. And some of them are y'all. The hard part has been in finding the balance between the family that I have created and the one that I was given by virtue of birth.

I do love my blood relatives; I just don't always like them. Probably because deep down inside, I like myself and just can't understand why they act like I should be someone else. I just don't like that person they seem to want me to be. Well, not quite my father. I know that he'd love for me to not be "his wild child" -- the person who can be brutally honest at times and who will do things like dancing because aren't we supposed to be having fun? My father almost never voices his displeasure to me though. He tells me that it's important to be true to ourselves because this is the only way that we can truly be happy. Who cares what other people think? You can't live your life for other people. I know it's cliche but it's so easy to forget along the way.

And so now I'm starting to think that this is all that it's supposed to be -- nothing more, nothing less. And you know what? "It's alright with me."

Junk in the trunk

So Rachel posted this video a few months ago but I decided that it was worth another post.



It still cracks me up. Maybe because I've been reading too many Stephanie Plum books recently. And I could easily see some of the characters in those books in this video. (I must remember to thank Emerald for getting me hooked.) I will eventually be making my way through all of the other reading recommendations I have received over the past month or so. All I have to say is that I currently have something like ten books checked out from the library.

Back to regular programming ... sort of

The last time I did individual therapy, right after that last suicide attempt, my therapist made me read this book and do the exercises in it. For years I have struggled to remember the name of the book but today I decided to do a search on Amazon and found it instantly. With all that has been going on, I figure that it can't hurt to give it another read so I ordered it -- along with some knitting books. From what I remember, the book is all about how women are trained to be caretakers and along the way we forget to take care of ourselves. This is turn leads to self-esteem issues. So it's all about taking care of one's self. And learning to better handle one's various emotional triggers.

And I needed books. And knitting stuff. Because starting tomorrow evening, I will be dogsitting Dumb and Dumber for the weekend. This means no cable TV. So I'll be loading up on DVDs and books for the weekend. And some knitting.

There has also been some food around here this week.


Chicken casserole.

Marcia is always recommending casseroles. This was inspired by the one they make at Poulet. It has farfalle, diced chicken breast, peas, sauteed mushrooms, and a parmesan bechemel sauce.


This is what happens when you're not patient. Note the broken crust. I would have put the missing pieces back but they hit the floor.

When I went grocery shopping on Sunday, I got really excited over the berries. I thought to myself, "I should make a tart to take to work." But after making the casserole -- and cleaning and doing laundry -- I just didn't have the energy to make the tart. Monday was tutoring night so I didn't get in until 9:30. Last night? Well, y'all know I was pretty fried last night. It had to be tonight. But then I got impatient and took it out of the pan before it had cooled enough. And it broke. *sigh* I'm usually so patient. But I know it tastes good. So they'll probably eat it anyway.

So through all the craziness, I managed to cook some food. I had a pretty kickass day at work today. Oh yeah, and I'm inspired to knit once more. And that tells me that all is not lost yet. That and the fact that I can still laugh. Because believe me when I say that when you have lost the ability to laugh and joke? Well, you might as well just check yourself in.

Various stuff on a Friday evening

After a hard week at work, I headed out to get my 'do done. I have found that Fridays after work are the best time. Less disruptive to my schedule. In the past I went in on Saturdays. But that doesn't leave me free to go to Sacramento for the weekend, if necessary. And yeah, next weekend I'm heading up there. Hopefully to hit the nail salon with my stepmother. Because she's blind now -- I mean really blind according to the doctors at the UC Davis Medical Center where she went earlier this week for a full day of testing on her eyes -- and keeps fucking up her nails when she runs into stuff. Yet she keeps telling my dad that she doesn't need someone at the house with her 24/7. And she's telling her friends that my dad is spending too much money. This coming from the woman who loves shopping at the dollar store. Oh, and when she first married my dad, she was still buying Velveeta. EWWWWW! Bottom line is that she has always been rather cheap. But yeah, she's blind and has lost at least 40% of her hearing and people are supposed to leave her at home alone during the day while my dad is at work. Sure.

But back to me. I headed into San Leandro after work. And while I was at the shop, my hairdresser was also doing her niece's hair. They shared some dark news with me. Apparently, Neldam's Danish Bakery will be closing this year. NOOOO! Growing up, all of my birthday cakes (Strawberry Rum Cake, in case you wanted to know.) came from this place. As did my cousin's wedding cake. They are the bar to achieve in baking, as far as I am concerned. And they have been around so long that you start to take the place for granted. I know that I will start going there frequently in the coming months. Hell. I love the place so much, I might just have to stage a protest.

And then I had to give the niece a ride home from her aunt's shop as the niece too lives in Berkeley. She's in her senior year at Berkeley High. I felt obliged to chat with her during the drive. And talking to her, I was reminded of why I used to love teaching so much. She wants to go into cosmetology, like her aunt. And she wants to one day own a chain of shops that are multi-ethnic/multi-cultural. She pointed out how most salons are still so segregated and that there must be an end to this. We discussed racism in our society. And then I dropped her off near the Whole Foods -- which she swore was her favorite place of all.

And then I continued along Shattuck. And my heart skipped a beat. The old Eddie Bauer store had lights blazing. Since Eddie Bauer left, the only activity in that spot has been in October when the place has become a Halloween store. So I slowed down to take a peek. It's now a new branch of Cody's Books. I wanted to scream -- in delight. I have been heartbroken since the original location on Telegraph closed almost two years ago. And now to have it within walking distance? Be still my heart.

Except for the family health issues, I am starting to think that 2008 is going to be a very good year.

Lost in books

Thanks to Jill's recommendation, I recently finished reading Parable of the Sower. I enjoyed that book so much, I knew that I had to read the sequel, Parable of the Talents. A couple of pages into the book, I knew why Jill had recommended the two books to me.

I have also read that the Pox was caused by accidentally coinciding climatic, economic, and sociological crises. It would be more honest to say that the Pox was caused our own refusal to deal with obvious problems in those areas. We caused the problems: then we sat and watched as they grew into crises. I have heard people deny this, but I was born in 1970. I have seen enough to know that it is true. I have watched education become more a privilege of the rich the basic necessity that it must be if civilized society is to survive. I have watched as convenience, profit, and inertia excused greater and more dangerous environmental degradation. I have watched poverty, hunger, and disease become inevitable for more and more people.

Overall, the Pox has had the effect of an installment-plan World War III. In fact, there were several small, bloody shooting wars going on around the world during the Pox. These were stupid affairs -- wastes of life and treasure. They were fought, ostensibly, to defend against vicious foreign enemies. All too often, they were actually fought because inadequate leaders did not know what else to do. Such leaders knew that they could depend on fear, suspicion, hatred, need, and greed to arouse patriotic support for war.

Amid all this, somehow, the United States of America suffered a major nonmilitary defeat. It lost no important war, yet it did not survive the Pox. Perhaps it simply lost sight of what it once intended to be, then blundered aimlessly until it exhausted itself.

What is left of it now, what it has become, I do not know.

After reading that passage, I quickly flipped to the front of the book to check the copyright date. 1998. The Pox that the character describes officially occurs between the years of 2015 and 2030. Not really that far from now. Looking at events since the publication of the book, one cannot help but wonder if this is our path. And I guess that it did not help matters in my mind, when I chose to watch the season finale of Salt and Pepa's show on VH1. In the finale, they traveled to New Orleans. And showed the utter destruction that still exists there. Two and a half years later.

Speaking of the South. Family. My dad's older sister is still around and she has been a great help. She has set up systems and routines at my dad's house that will hopefully make things less stressful for him. Their big sticking point has been weekends. She has arranged for someone to be present at the house on weekends so that if my dad needs to get away and do something relaxing -- like play golf. She keeps telling him that this is necessary or else he will burn out quickly. She should know. She has many years of being a primary caregiver -- for her husband and my grandmother. That's why I knew that I wanted her to come out here to help out. Plus she's kind of bossy.

On a happier note (I just say this because things are still up in the air as to my stepmother's condition. She has lost some ground since getting out of rehabilitation.), things are going really well with my new position. And I've been doing things that I enjoy once more. Like going out. And reading.

Oh, and Nat, you can dismiss your Outlook reminder this month. I remembered since I now have enough of a routine once more that I do things like look at the calendar.

The detective

So I wrote this post weeks ago but I thought it was appropriate to post it. Because my new boss? Well one of the things he stated last night was that he was concerned about my stress level. I told him that I am a big girl and know how to take care of myself appropriately.

Perhaps I should have seen it as a sign when my new Thrive! card showed up in the mail on Wednesday. And that means that I can schedule that follow-up with my OB/GYN that should have happened in August but when I showed up, someone at my previous job had decided to cancel my health insurance a month early! And of course my appointment was at the end of the last month in which I was to have coverage. By the time I got it all straightened out, it was too late. Because that testing I went through back in April last year? It was for cancer. Everything seemed OK but then my doctor realized that she should have taken a larger sample. My choices were to go through the biopsy again or to come back in a few months for another PAP smear. I, of course, chose the latter. And then the whole insurance thing came up so I haven't been back for the follow-up. I guess I should make the appointment really soon since I'm still not that sure about my job security given yesterday's events. Because "Mom" told me that I should watch my back because we know how those people can be. And I'd like to say that she is just being paranoid, but she isn't. Experience has taught me that people in the work place will bleed you dry for your knowledge and then throw you on the wayside. I mean they were all saying today how much they liked my former boss as a person...

And now onto something slightly lighter...



When I first heard this song, it was like an infection. (It's now one of those songs that I listen to when I am feeling a little beat up by the world. Reminds me. I am overdue for a re-reading of The Tao of Pooh. Both help to add perspective to the world.) I needed to know everything about it. So I bought the CD. And then I read the liner notes. Because the chorus? That was the really infectious part. The first sample listed in the liner notes could not be what was haunting me. It was obviously a rap song and that hook? Well, it definitely wasn't rap. That left the other credit in the liner notes -- Stan Getz. And thus was the start of a long journey.

It seems that the Stan Getz song they sampled -- "Saudade Vem Correndo" -- is now only available on one CD. And I had to special order it. When it came in, I explained to the assistant manager who was ringing up the sale why I had bought it. She asked, "Can we crack it open right now?" As it turns out, she loved the Pharcyde song as well. I told her it was fine with me. So she opened my CD and played it throughout the store. And I was the first one to catch the hook. I screamed, "That's it!" And the next time it came around, she said, "You're right." And then she called the other employees in the store over to take a listen. And we all nodded our heads in agreement.

How was I to know that by buying a Stan Getz bossa nova album that I would start down a long road of various forms of Brazilian music? But that's what happened. And then somehow last spring I found myself in a samba class. If I had stuck it out, I would have danced in the Carnival parade in San Francisco this past spring.

So I guess this is what they mean when they talk about a butterfly flapping its wings. One little action leads to so much.

And if you haven't guessed it yet, music means a lot to me. Probably why when asked if I would rather give up my sight or my hearing, I always say that I would give up my sight. Because long before "Ally McBeal," I assigned theme songs to people. And then cellphone technology advanced enough that I was able to assign individual songs to each person in my address book. Because once I really know a person, I tend to think of them in terms of music. Like Jade will forever be "Baby Got Back." Although she has been trying to lobby for "Bust a Move." And that would mean that the former song would be freed up for someone else. And my dad will always be "Angela" by Bob James. Most folks know this song as the "Theme from Taxi." Me? It will always be the other title because I kind of borrowed the album, "Touchdown," many years ago from my dad and forgot to return it.

Bottom line is that I hear a song, I instantly think of a specific person or a specific place. Even when I have tried to "unlink" a song with a certain memory, I have not been successful. So for me, music will always be filled with a kaleidoscope of memories. Like when I hear "Friends and Lovers," I will always think of my dad's wedding to my stepmother. And that's why I have made y'all suffer through so many music videos lately. Because life always has a soundtrack.

The end is a beginning

This post was what I had imagined to be all that I would have to say on the subject. I had thought at first that it would be better to begin at the end but then it didn't make much sense. And then I started to try to organize my thoughts in my head and realized that there was so much more to be said.

It all started one day last week when I was a little bored at work. I started off reading through the selections available on Project Gutenberg and then realized that there was no Kierkegaard available. I thought of this because while I've always wanted to read Nietzsche as a result of reading Crime and Punishment in high school, I've always meant to read Kierkegaard as well. And a number of other philosophers. I spent a number of my college years reading Eastern philosophers but very little of the Western philosophers. Although one could argue that one my favorite books, The Tao of Pooh, is an amalgam as the author argues that Pooh is the great Western Taoist. So I spent an afternoon searching through the writings of various Western philosophers online. But I was a bit confused as to what would motivate me to do such. Then everything clicked into place Thanksgiving evening.

"Julia, honey, that's exactly who I am talking about. You have to understand what we are trying to do here. We are trying to to keep these kids in the church, because the church is the only hope most of them have. They go to school, and they can dress any way they want and they never hear about God but they hear about sex and they hear about being themselves and doing their own thing. Well, maybe for the white folks in the suburbs, it's okay to tell kids to do their own thing, to be themselves, whatever they learn out there. I wouldn't know. I only know that for our kids, it's a disaster, Julia. Just a disaster.
Some stupid boy gets some silly girl pregnant, and the white folks say they don't have to get married and it's wrong to pressure them. We fall into line. We do what the white folks tell us. See, Julia, we're still basically on a plantation here. The white folks get to set the rules. The white folks say no God in the schools, so there's no God in the schools. The white folks say you can't tell the kids not to have sex, so they have sex. The white folks say you can't make them feel ashamed if they get in the family way, so nobody feels ashamed. Like I said, the white folks set the rules. And then they get to live in the big house. Down here in the fields? Nobody asks our opinion. So, we live on the street corner or we live in the Lord's house. Down here, there isn't any third choice."
From New England White

When I read that passage, I suddenly knew what had sent me on that search for materials of various philosophers. And why religion has always been so important to my family. I had been there before. And religion had been appearing throughout the book as well as other organizations of the well-to-do African American community. (I chuckled when I saw mention of the Boule and Jack and Jill.) Even though these things are not active parts of my life, they are still a part of me. Especially since they are still active in the lives of my family members.

And the hardest part of my mental journey was when I relived those days during which I decided to stop attending church. I remember the consternation of some members of the congregation when the choir started singing gospel songs as well as the old hymns. (In a Presbyterian church, the only music should be psalms and hymns.) And the hymns? There weren't enough hymnals to go around so over time I memorized them. Every now and then I catch myself singing one. And that's what I miss about not going to church -- the music.

But I won't go back. The man who was the minister passed away about ten years ago. The only time I set foot in that church since age 17 was for his memorial service. I felt that I owed it to him. Summers during college, I would take the bus into San Francisco to go to work. On my way home, I would have to pass the church. At least once a week, the minister would be out front sweeping the walkway as I passed. So I would stop to talk. I mean this was a man who knew me before I was me. (My parents had joined the congregation before my mom became pregnant with me.) And I could tell him all the things that I was afraid to tell my parents. And he never judged. Even more shocking was that he never asked me why I didn't go to church anymore. (And this was a man who was known for showing up at parishioners' homes if they had missed too many Sundays.) Because I like to think that he understood. Because those were dark times for me. I did not believe there was a God or any other higher power. I was in pain and had seen too much death, or so I thought.

It took a great number of years before I realized that faith and spirituality have nothing to do with going to church. Kind of like I had tried to argue to my mother back when I was 17 and had decided to stop attending church. But now I also realize how much of a wonderful place church was when I was younger. It was a place in which I could feel safe. In which I was encouraged to be all that I could be. And this was really important when I wasn't necessarily getting it from the rest of the world.

And I also realized that this was all important to me because over the last year or so, I have wandered from my spirituality. And I realized that the whole getting organized at home would help me to achieve this goal. Because then I could easily find the books and whatever else I needed. (And then the whole leg thing started up. Vicodin seems to cover the hip problem. The knee is a little more challenging. And now I know that I won't be heading back up to Sacramento next weekend for my stepbrother's birthday party like my dad requested. Besides I had other plans.) So now I have a new impetus for getting everything all together. Because I need to do some more reading.

Anywho. I hope that I haven't rambled too much. (I wrote the two posts over the weekend so that I could have time to edit. But then I didn't do much because that's just how my mind works. And I had already spent days thinking about what I would write.) There was just so much that I felt like I needed to get out. And I had to get it out. Because if I didn't, it would continue to haunt me and I wouldn't be able to move onto anything else.

The main event

This year has been all about doing things a little differently. For one thing, I was kind of tired of the turkey thing. I was planning on trying a duck recipe until I read the reviews on the recipe. So I went for my second choice.


Pork roast with cornbread-poblano stuffing.


And I always have to have some kind of green beans. These are indeed with pine nuts.


And sweet potatoes. But this year I went for a roasted recipe.


Who says that you can't have cranberries if you aren't having turkey?

And I really love cranberries, so I opened that jar of relish that someone gave me long ago as well.

The roast was supposed to be a crown roast but after Frenching it, I just wasn't in the mood for all the other work. The sweet potatoes (OK. So I really used garnet yams.) were surprisingly wonderful. I would have never thought to combine all of those flavors in one dish. Overall, it was a rather satisfying meal. And now, I'm going to take a nap. And then read some more of my book.

Starting things off

... or how I begin to torture y'all for a few days.



Years ago when I decided that I had forgotten who I really was, I made one important decision. That I would start making my own traditions and would stop letting others dictate what I should be doing. The easiest of these was Thanksgiving.

When I was in college, I never came home for Thanksgiving. It seemed silly to pay for a plane ticket for a long weekend when I'd be going home in a couple of weeks for the much longer winter break. Besides by then, my mother was never home for Thanksgiving. And things were still pretty strained between me and my dad. I also argued that in the relative quiet around campus, it was easy to get a jump on studying for finals. By my junior year, I had started cooking the traditional meal for myself.

By the time that I returned to California after deciding to leave law school, I had spent at least six Thanksgivings completely on my own. Things were better with my dad and so each year he insisted that I show up. After a couple of years, I got tired of spending three to four hours on the road though. Because although things are now better between me and my dad, I am not particularly fond of my stepmother's family. Now I only go up for Christmas. But even when I was doing the drive, I began to miss having leftovers at home. I mean that is the best part of the holiday, in my opinion.

So I started cooking again. And by this time, I had acquired quite a few cookbooks and cooking magazines. Cranberry sauce from the can? Nope. I should make my own. Turkey? Nah, let's try a duck recipe. Makes much more sense for one person than a big ole turkey. And besides, I also get the opportunity to partake of one of my favorite pastimes -- list-making.

Now I spend the day at home alone. And I like it that way. I cook loads of food. I read some books. (And if I don't already have enough books around, I have been compiling yet another list of more stuff that I would like to read via Project Gutenberg.) Maybe knit a little. All in all, it is a stress-free day of relaxation for me. (Yes, cooking is relaxing.) And so this year, I decided to take the whole menu concept a little further. This year there will be appetizers and a soup course.


Blue Cheese and Carmelized Onion Squares.


Baked Oysters with Bacon and Leeks.


Pumpkin and Shrimp Bisque.

I made up the squares on Monday because I figured that they would keep fine. They did. Last night I made a small amount of the oysters to make sure they were as tasty as I thought they would be. I also made the soup but only cooked enough of the shrimp for tasting/photographic purposes. I liked all three but I think the oysters were my favorite. Probably because they contain two of my absolute favorite ingredients -- bacon and cheese.

Tonight will be work on side dishes, marinating meat, and dessert. Because there is always dessert.

And now another part of my tradition is that my aunt usually helps me to consume some of the leftovers on Friday. I know that this is something that I will continue to do for years to come. And maybe one day I'll get wild and crazy and stop being such a hermit and actually invite other folks over. But we don't want to get too crazy there. But if some of y'all are hungry and in the area over the weekend, let me know. I'll probably have some leftovers for you as well.

Cue the spaghetti guitar

The Good ...

I'm feeling a lot better after the weekend. The dogs didn't bark that much. I got to read some cool books. Yes, I am back to reading young adult stuff again. I've run out of unread grown-up stuff at home. And I haven't finished reading everything in the various series yet. I started off with the first book in each series. Then I continued with the Charlie Bone stuff when I went to check on Boris & Natasha on Sunday. That reminds me. I probably should re-read The Golden Compass soon. And I checked out a couple of movies as well.

And it's always fun to check out what other folks have hanging on their fridges. I absolutely adore this postcard.


The caption reads, "Here he is! He destroyed my environment, squandered my savings, started a war ... and, ate my porridge."

Oh, and I had something I haven't had in years...


Canned soup.

The Bad ...

Hmmm. Can't really think of anything here right now. Well, except for the old stuff. Still no job but I still have some prospects out there.

And The Ugly

The worst part of the weekend? Bug bites. Painful ones on my right hand. One is on the joint of my thumb. The other is on the tip of my pinkie. So not pleasant.

And that reminds me. I should see about adding some Clint Eastwood to my DVD collection one of these days. Before my dad and my uncles consider disowning me. That and The Godfather Trilogy and maybe some George Carlin.

Still reading

Every week I say to myself, "I should go out and get A Thousand Splendid Suns," but it seems like something always gets in the way. This week I finished the Midnighters series. Next on my list was supposed to be The Poe Shadow. Actually I have already read the first couple of chapters of Poe but had put it on hold to read the other stuff. So I was going to read A Thousand Splendid Suns after Poe. OK. I probably will. It just looks like there will be some other reading in between.

Yesterday I let my mother talk me into leaving home. My first public appearance. Occasionally people gave me strange looks. *sigh* At least my mouth is no longer crooked. An important lesson I learned yesterday is to not leave home without one's painkillers. I ended up out longer than I had thought I would and the painkillers had not been working for hours by the time I got home.

The plan was to go to the movies. The only problem was that we wanted to see two different things. My mother ended up seeing El Cantate while I opted for The Bourne Ultimatum. I think I enjoyed my selection a great deal more than she did hers. She said the best thing about the movie was the soundtrack. I also got to see some cool trailers before my movie.

There was a slight difference in starting/ending times of our selections so we both killed time shopping. She hit various clothing stores while waiting for her movie to start. I went to Barnes & Noble while waiting for hers to end. Mistake. I don't think I have ever walked out of a bookstore empty-handed.

Two years ago, I read two books that I still kind of remember -- The A-List and Sex, Murder and a Double Latte. I received two surprises. Apparently The A-List is now a series of books. And Kyra Davis has a new book out, Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights. I couldn't resist the Kyra Davis book and have started reading it. It's much easier to read now too since I had my mother stop by the eye clinic yesterday as well so that I could get my new glasses. Maybe one day I will read the rest of the A-List series but for now I am going to go with the latest Scott Westerfeld series.

And then there was that other thing that I noticed while shopping. I noticed this other series of books and thought, "No, it can't be." It seems that one of the new CW shows for the fall is based on a teen book series. Hmmm.

Well, time to get ready to head out once more. The cat food is getting low and I need to return a pair of shoes. And perhaps a little more grocery shopping.

My own kind of Prozac and Xanax

After yesterday's adventures, I decided that I was more than deserving of treats. After my brief stop at home, I knew I deserved a trip to Poulet.


There wasn't any carrot cake but there was lime curd tart.

After the hair appointment, I came home and chatted with friends on the phone while catching up on some TV viewing. Then I realized just how tired I was and decided a nap was in order. I set the alarm clock for 11 p.m. By 11:30 p.m. I was toddling down the street so that I could get in line. You should have seen the look the cats gave me as I was heading out. Because they were still sleeping by the front door. Poor things.


By 12:15 a.m., I was back home with my book.

Then lunchtime hit today and I was not thrilled with the selection of food in the fridge. I wanted gelato and the only place to go, in my book, is Gelateria Naia.


After sampling seven or so flavors, I ended up with a pint of cardamom and a pint of pannacotta. Pure heaven.

Luckily I remembered before leaving home that one of the corner markets had added a food area that included one of my favorites, Khana Peena, as well as Su Casa Mexican and Blimpie's.


Rice, saag aloo (spinach with potato), chicken tikka masala, and naan.

And finally for Jill ...


One day Boris may finally learn to stop putting himself in such strategically weak positions. Natasha moved so quickly that I was unable to capture it.

Oh, and what the heck. One for Jolene as well.


I love the windows on this building.

And now I need to get back to my reading.

Summer reading

Most of my reading this summer has been young adult fiction. I started off with some fluffier stuff but over this weekend turned to books that were more thought-provoking -- the kind of books I like to teach in the classroom.

The first book of this type was Messenger. I had been meaning to pick this one up for some time but just kept forgetting to. I first read (and taught) The Giver my first year of teaching. It's one of those books that gets even the most reluctant reader completely involved. Because they just have to know how at all ends. The next year I was discovered to read that Lois Lowry had written a companion book, Gathering Blue. I thought it was all going to end there and then I discovered Messenger. The Giver is about a society in which people do not feel any of the unpleasantness of life. Well, everyone except for one person -- the Giver. It is this person's job to be the receptacle of all emotions for the society. Gathering Blue is about a society in which those who are seen as being weak are cast away. We see a bit of the society in Messenger in Gathering Blue. The world of Messenger is one of acceptance and knowledge. But something has happened and now the townsfolk want to close their borders to outsiders.

These three books always make me think of that need to conform. Who defines what is the norm? What happens to those who fall outside of the norm? What makes us decide who should be allowed and who shouldn't?

So I had all of this kind of stuff swimming around in my head when I started to read Uglies. Obviously I was in one kind of mood when I was shopping. So now I have new questions added to the previous. What makes someone pretty? While we strive for conformity, do we really want a world in which everyone is more or less exactly the same? There were some other questions but that would give away some of the surprises in the books. Needless to say, I enjoyed this book so much that yesterday I went to the bookstore to pick up the rest of the trilogy.

And next maybe I'll get around to some "grown-up" reading. That is after I read the final Harry Potter this weekend.

Just another weekend

All this past week I have been feeling the urge to shop. Perhaps it has something to do with it being my birthday season. Perhaps it has something to do with the three months' salary currently sitting in my bank account. This has, of course, led to quite a bit of anxiousness. If and when I return to my old job, then I can actually spend a nice chunk of that money if I really wanted to. But if not ... Well, then I need the money for living expenses.

Saturday I decided to stay within reason. I went to the grocery store and broke one of my cardinal rules -- shopping while hungry without a list. The list is important. As long as I have a list, I can fight off the temptation of all the wonderful things around me. I should have only spent about $40 or so with what I actually needed but instead ended up shelling out over $100. The refrigerator is bursting at the seams.

I had managed to avoid the temptation of Shoe Pavilion. Well, I really didn't. They just didn't have the pair of shoes I really liked in my size. I took this as a sign that I was meant to try the other location -- the one at which one of my students' dad is the manager.

To which temptations did I give in? A stop at Bed, Bath & Beyond as well as at Barnes & Noble. I realized that all of my Sisters Grimm books had disappeared -- imagine that -- and that I still hadn't picked up the fourth in the series. And besides, my educator's discount card expires at the end of October. I need to shop while I can. So the weekend meant a stocked fridge and lots of young adult reading.

Hush and Double Dutch were great but a wee bit depressing. After that I wanted something lighter. That's how I ended up reading The Accidental Cheerleader next. This was followed by Minerva Clark Gets a Clue and Princess Academy. By this time it was around noon on Sunday. It was time to get out of the house. And I knew just the place.


By now, Sunday morning has almost become synonymous with chicken hash and poached eggs.

There has been something missing from my Sunday breakfasts for quite some time -- Bartlett pear jam. This meant a drive out to Pt. Reyes Station since that is the only place of which I know to get the stuff. (And apparently I answered Hilly's question too soon because as soon as made the decision to head on out, I started singing, "Bitch better have my jelly." Because I'm goofy like that and like to make up my own lyrics to songs I know. Not that I would have ever said it to the folks at Cowgirl Creamery. Because they're all so nice there.) Good thing Sunday was such a beautiful day. There was also the realization that I still hadn't gotten my dad a Father's Day gift and that he loved the jams and jellies as much as I do.


"Will you leave already, silly lady? We have no need for you currently as our bellies are full and the sun is shining."

I love driving out to Pt. Reyes Station. Something about the drive centers me, makes me believe that all is right in the universe. Maybe it's all the interesting sights along the way.


One of my favorite signs. I'm always tempted to turn and to inquire if there is a Headless Horseman about. But they probably hear enough of that.


The view along Sir Francis Drake. Perhaps it is not wise to try to snap photos while driving 50 mph. And perhaps I should clean my windshield.



Nicasio Reservoir. When I see this, I know my destination is near.

Alas it is too early for pear season but there were all other kinds of goodies to be found. And I learned that while the maker of these jams no longer comes to the Pt. Reyes Farmers' Market, she now goes to the Healdsburg one as well as one in either St. Helena or Napa. Life is complete now that I have all of this jam goodness.


For my aunt, there's Apricot and Strawberry -- two of the three "new" flavors.


My dad's Father's Day gift consists of Pink Grapefruit Marmalade, Roasted Pasilla Jelly, and Meyer Lemon Marmalade.


And finally for myself, I got Cinnamon Pear and Pink Lady Apple. Don't tell my relatives about the pear. It was the last jar and it's all mine.

Then it was time to try out my purchase from BB&B along with some of the purchases from the grocery store. The end result?


Mahatma yellow rice mix with sausage, shrimp, mussels, bay scallops, and sugar peas.

I started using the Mahatma mix a few years ago when saffron was difficult to find. I am starting to rethink it because (1) it in combination with the sausage can end up too salty for my taste at times, and (2) saffron is a lot easier to find. And the new pan? As I was taking it out of the box, I realized that I had spent more on this one pan than I had on my first set of pots and pans eons ago. They were good for -- boiling water. Not much else now that I think of it. Not since I've discovered that it's better not to be so cheap about certain things. I'm starting to think that there is a little bit of a grown-up in me after all what with the slight shift in my priorities.

So yeah, this is a pretty typical weekend for me. When I'm not busy trying to defend my title as professional partygirl.