August 2007 Archives

I said I was feeling like doing a little cooking, and so I did. Not Friday night. Friday night I worked late and then I went running, so by the time I got home, it was really late. That night we ate a dinner so un-gourmet and processed that I don’t even want to admit to having consumed it.

Saturday and Sunday were a whole different story. On Saturday I went out and bought a whole mess of food. John has been bugging me to try making sushi at home for a while. Frederick has many delights, but a restaurant that serves his two favorite kinds of sushi isn’t one of them. I’d resisted the idea though. Sushi always seemed to be one of those items like spring rolls or croissants. Sure, I can make them, but isn’t it a whole lot easier to pay someone else to do it? But John really wanted to try it, so try it we did.

We started with the rice. Making proper sushi rice is way more work than just making regular rice. First you have to rinse it several times. Then you have to drain it. Then you have to let it sit in the water for 30 minutes before you start cooking it. Once it is “done” you’re supposed to let it sit for another 15 minutes. And you still aren’t finished! Then you have to spread it in a wide flat bowl and mix sushi vinegar (essentially rice vinegar and sugar) in it and wait for it to cool. I had no idea they were going through all that at sushi restaurants! Of course, while all that is happening, you can be getting your fillings ready. One new lesson I’ve learned – tempura batter gets everywhere. The second lesson I learned is that my husband is a sushi making genius! Seriously, you should see the rolls he made. They are beautiful, with pinwheels and swirls, and also very tasty. Using the various ingredients we’d prepared, he made vegetable tempura sushi, cucumber cream/cheese roll, potato/onion/cream cheese roll, and a vegetable inside out roll. It was very impressive. I was reading the directions for assembling the inside out roll and getting confused, and he just naturally intuited the way to do it that made sense. John could usually care less about cooking (although he is an appreciative eater) so it was a lot of fun to make stuff together.

Tonight we had fake chicken & veggie fajitas, sweet corn cakes, and mini-chocolate tarts with strawberries. I made the marinade, the tortillas, the corn cakes, and the tarts. I never knew making tortillas was so easy. I’m definitely going to do that again. They were way yummier than the ones you get at the store. And much healthier, too, with no preservatives, high fructose corn syrup or partially hydrogenated whatever. They were the flour kind. The recipe for the corn tortillas said you needed a tortilla press, which I don’t have. Plus, I wasn’t sure whether masa harina was corn flour or corn meal, or even what the difference is between the two, so it’s probably better to wait until that question it answered. And I was already making the sweet corn cakes.

The marinade ended up being a little spicier than I would have preferred – I put in a bit too much cayenne – but still good. And all pretty darn healthy too. Well, except for the mini-tarts, but they are mini. I know it sounds like a lot of work, and it was, and for that matter, I still have some pans to wash, but it was what I wanted to do with my time, and I loved every minute of it.

I also managed to fit in running on Friday and Sunday, an early morning hike in the woods with John and Seamus, and a workout with weights. John took care of some laundry, and I ran a bunch of errands that needed running. This was one heck of a satisfying weekend.

How was yours?

There was a story yesterday about how one in four American adults had not read a book in the last year. 25% of adults surveyed had not read one book in the last year. That blew my mind. It runs so counter to my own existence as to be almost unbelievable. It is rare for me to make through a day without reading a little bit of whatever book or books I’m currently making my way through. I read everything – general fiction, literature, sci-fi, fantasy, romance, mysteries, graphic novels, history books, books about current events, travel writing, memoirs, biographies, you name it, I probably read it. Except for really scary horror novels, which creep me out too much. Unless they are post-apocalyptic, of course. Then, maybe.

I clearly remember going to the Aspen Hill library and getting my first library card in first grade. I got a Nancy Drew book out, came home, and read it sitting at the kitchen table until I was done. It made an impression. Every Saturday my mom would take me to Cricket Book Shop in Ashton, and I’d get to pick out one book. It never got old. I still get nostalgic whenever I drive past that store.

I was a somewhat solitary kid. I had friends, but I went to school about 45 minutes away from my house, and no one lived anywhere near me. Every day after school I would go to my parents office and wait until my dad was done seeing patients and they had finished up whatever they had to do for the day. I was in charge of making sure all the exam tables had fresh paper on them for the morning. Since the paper was all on rolls, I had it pretty easy. So, once I finished my homework, I would go find some out of the way place to sit and read. There was one particular tree I liked to climb. I’d sit up there reading my latest treasure from the library – Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys and the Bobbsey Twins, Encyclopedia Brown, the “Soup” books, everything by Roald Dahl, Ballet Shoes, the Great Brain, the Dark is Rising, Half Magic…the list could go on for pages. I was a huge fan of the “underdog makes good” type of story, and a sucker for the any story where people had special powers. No wonder I’m a Harry Potter fan now! As I got older and had more control over my spare time, I continued to do plenty of reading. I still do today.

I’ll admit that my family is a little unusual when it comes to reading. My mom owns thousands of books. My brother and I both started reading young, and to this day, we read pretty much everything that’s put in front of us. Books have kept me company when I was lonely, have entertained me when I was bored, have distracted me when I was miserable, and have helped me cope when I was stressed out, and even helped me get healthier. Books open up your mind, take you to new universes, introduce you to new people and new ideas, and help you learn more about your world. It makes me sad to think such a huge percentage of the adult population is missing out on that.

If you’re looking for a coherent narrative or elegant flowing prose, I’m afraid this is not the blog for you today. But I do have a thought or two to share.

First of all, I’ve become obsessed with this site: www.seriouseats.com I came across it while researching something for work (yes, messing around on the internet is part of my job. That’s one of the many reasons I love it.) and I find myself checking it a couple of times a day. This may or may not have a direct impact on how hungry I am, but it definitely has me thinking about food more. Between serious eats and Top Chef, I’m feeling very inspired to do a bunch of cooking. It’s hard during the week because I get home so late, but I may just have to whip up something fancy this weekend.

Second is a question. I’m hiring again, this time for a marketing manager and an editorial assistant, which means I’m reading all sorts of resumes again. One item I’d like to note – it doesn’t matter how impressive your resume is if you put the wrong phone number on it. Just a tip. But my question is this: If you blog, would you reference the url on your resume? I looked at a resume today that listed the person’s website, and when I went to check it out, it was just way too personal. There is some information that you just don’t want to know about a job candidate. There were writing samples on the site too, but it just felt weird to me. My opinion is that unless someone was planning to hire me to write a personal column or a blog, the stuff I write here just doesn’t apply to my professional existence. What do you think?

Seamus is in loooove. He's got a little dog friend named Lucy who lives in a house on the street behind our house. She's a very sweet, very little dog -- I think some sort of rat terrier -- whose owners are very nice, but a little casual about things like keeping her on a leash. Every morning when we're out for our walk we just have to swing by Lucy's house just in case she's outside. Seamus is actually pretty insistent about that.

And now Lucy is in heat, and Seamus is just beside himself. He's up and down. He runs in to the kitchen, click-click-click-click, to peer longingly out the window. Then, click-click-click-click, he comes trotting back into the living room to flop down at the top the stairs, sigh, and lie there, willing the front door to open. A few minutes later, it's click-click-click-click, back to the kitchen. Every once in a while, like this afternoon when Lucy was actually out running around in the space between the back of our house and the back of her house, he started fussing to himself.

He's so worked up that he can't sleep, which means I don't get much sleep. On Friday night I actually encouraged him to get out of the bedroom, because the endless pacing and silent pining was keeping me up. I think he spent half the night standing in the kitchen, looking out the back window. This morning he started trying to wake me up somewhere around 5 am. Not cool.

I feel bad for the little guy, totally at the mercy of his instincts. At the same time, I sure hope this doesn't last much longer. I need my sleep. And click-click-click-click, flop, followed by intense obsessing is getting old.

I've done plenty of bitching here about all the times I've gotten screwed out of lunch at work because I'm a vegetarian. Well, today the opposite happened, and I thought I should take a moment to appreciate it.

They brought lunch in to my office for some reason or other, and the AE for my group made sure that there was a vegetarian option for me. And then, because I was in a meeting when lunch was delivered, she took one of the vegetarian sandwiches and stuck it in my office, so I would be sure to get something to eat. It was a really nice thing to do, and it made my day that much better.

Speaking of my job, it is connected to the stock markets, so I pay quite a bit of attention to what they are doing. I've been doing it for so long now that it is completely second nature, but it occurred to me that most people probably aren't hanging on the market's every move like I do. Do you? Were you aware that at one point today the Dow was down 292, but recovered to finish only slightly down? Do you even care? I've lost the ability to tell what is a normal interest level.

John and I saw Ocean's 13 recently, and I just want to assure all of my friends and family that if you ever need me to take part in a revenge caper, I'll be there. Particularly if Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Don Cheadle are involved.

I'm not 100% sure what I could contribute to the effort. Research probably. I'm pretty good at that, so you can imagine me visiting libraries and tracking stuff down on the Internet in the preparation montage. All while dressed in snappy outfits with hip and jazzy music playing the background.

And I'm positive I could play the ditzy blonde who distracts someone at a crucial moment. Seamus could help too. We'd work as a team, befuddling bad guys and striking blows against the man. We'd have to be dog burglars though, if it came down to a diamond heist or something. Seamus does have standards.

What role would you play if I had to assemble a crew for a job?

Another weekend draws to a close, and I find myself wishing for one more day, even though, technically, I already had one. I had Friday off, which was glorious. I lazed around the house, went to the bookstore, and luxuriated in just hanging out and having no obligations. I would like to place my order for more days like that, please.

On Saturday, my mom and I went to the National Powwow, which one of her friends had encouraged her to attend. I was a little worried we'd walk in and it would be "hey, white girl, what are you doing at our powwow?" but it wasn't like that at all. There was a very nice, laid-back vibe, with exhibitions of singing and dancing, and all sorts of people selling arts and crafts. There was gorgeous silver jewelry that I couldn't afford, and absolutely beautiful Navajo pottery that I really couldn't afford, and carvings and paintings and music. Oh, and there was food. I had fry bread with honey, which I would describe as like funnel cake, but better. The texture is more chewy where funnel cake gets mushy. My mom had fry bread with chili and said that was awesome too. But of course, it was the people who were the most interesting.

Suburban Maryland is not what I would describe as chock full of Native Americans. I don't think I've ever even met someone who is an American Indian. Yesterday I got to see people from all over the country, and even from Canada and Peru. I would have liked to have learned more about the different cultures, because you could tell there were pretty signicant differences in the way people dressed and danced. I'm sure some of that is tied to geography -- I get that someone in South Dakota is going to have a completely different set of wardrobe requirements from someone who lives in New Mexico -- but I'm sure there's a lot more to it than that. I guess I'll just have to go check out the National Museum of the American Indian to learn more. I don't think teaching was really the point of the powwow. The point seemed to be to get together and celebrate being Native Americans, which seems like a fine idea to me. It was a very cool experience, and I'm glad I went.

I think sometimes I have to freak out before I can get past my worries and start thinking clearly. And so I did, and now I feel better. Part of that is due to my wonderful husband who said, essentially, "listen, what ever you want to do, I'll do." And so, because that little voice that I sometimes try to avoid listening to is telling me the smart move is to try (no, not try! there is no trying. only doing!) to lose the weight, that's the plan. Take 90 days. Recover the healthy eating and exercise habits I'd built up before Nora's illness. Feel better about my control over my diabetes. Which is fine, right now. My blood sugar is good. But the healthier I am, the better my chances of a) getting pregnant (which there's no guarantee will happen even with IVF)and b) having a healthy pregnancy. I like the plan. I like having a plan. And I love that John's going to be right there with me, exercising, eating salad and working hard to make this happen.

As for work, reports of my frauditude may have been exaggerated. The project that has been making me nuts is now making my boss and her boss nuts too, so maybe I'm not the problem. Also, one piece of it which had been giving me fits -- I just could not get it right -- all came together last night in an hour and a half of inspiration and scribbling on big sheets of paper. Woohoo!

And the writing thing...I'll just have to find a way to fit it in. It's important to me, so I will. Perhaps I'll give up cleaning the house. I hate that anyway. We'll call the filth "bohemian."

Oh, and totally unrelated, except that my brother called me after that last post because he was worried about me and this came up. Anyone got any suggestions about great places to live in the Pacific Northwest? He and his girlfriend were considering a move to Olympia, Washington, but they visited it yesterday and weren't thrilled, and didn't like Evergreen State the way they thought they would. Now they are thinking about Portland, which they liked when they passed through two years ago. Must have a University nearby, as my brother is planning to go to grad school.

Jean Paul Sartre ain’t got nothin’ on me, lately. My brain has been locked in a loop for the past few days, spinning in circles as I worry over this and that, searching for the meaning I’m supposed to be creating in my own life.

First there’s the never ending infertility treatment vs. losing weight debate. I’ve gained 10 pounds since Easter, when we found out Nora was dying. So instead of being seven pounds from where I wanted to be, I’m 17 pounds from where I wanted to be. Aside from being pissed off at myself for gaining the weight, even though I’m not entirely sure what I could have done differently, I’m upset that I’m that much farther from being where I thought I should be to start fertility treatments. And so round and round I go in my head. Do I take three more months, focus as hard as I possibly can, and see if I can’t ditch those 17 pounds? I sit around concocting these convoluted plans where I work out every morning and evening and turn myself in to a little mini-athlete. Or, do I say fuck it, and just jump into treatment now? I even briefly considered trying to convince myself that maybe I don’t want children, but I had to call shenanigans on myself for that. Yeah, that whole intense longing/sadness/wistfulness thing that happens every time someone I know (or don’t know, a la Nicole Richie) gets pregnant, has a baby or even sends me a picture of their kid is a pretty good indicator that I want kids. And that’s kids, plural, and here I am 36 years old and needing to get my shit together and get moving.

Not to mention my continuing ambivalence about fertility treatment. I don’t want to do IVF. I know that’s exactly where I’m headed, and it’s not that I have any moral objection to it. I just don’t want to have to do it. I’ve never been able to make peace with the notion that I’m not going to get pregnant without some sort of intervention or assistance. Although four years in to this process, I probably need to start working on my accepting skills.

On top of that, my job is extra challenging right now, so whichever parts of my brain aren’t taken up plotting exercise schedules or wondering about infertility are busy struggling with work. I have one project that is extremely complex and taking a lot more effort to get off the ground than I thought it would, and another that clearly is not going to make its goals for August. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I may not even be doing anything wrong, but I had this moment today where I thought, “Oh crap, they are going to declare you a fraud and demote you back down to marketing manager where you can’t do any harm.” Which may, just may, have bit a bit of over-dramatizing on my part. Hey, I had to go to the dentist today. That always gets me a little high-strung.

And finally the creative side of my life just isn’t happening. Oh sure, I still write copy at work from time to time, but that’s not the kind of creativity I mean. My writing here has been mostly crap for months now. I’ve only been happy with a few of the posts I’ve written the last few months. I had a great idea for a graphic novel something like two years ago, and I haven’t done a damn thing with it. John and I came up with a bunch of cool stories on our non-vacation last October, and I haven’t done anything with any of mine. John’s got a whole outline written for one of his ideas, and I’ve got a shiny, empty notebook sitting next to the couch waiting for me to fill it with my brilliance. The ideas are there. I just can’t get them to come out properly. All the thoughts and words are jumbled up in my head. Writers write, but I’m not writing. I’m not doing anything. And that’s got to change.

I had a big long list of stuff that I wanted to accomplish this weekend. List queen that I am, generally, nothing makes me happier than having a list and getting the stuff on it done. This weekend was different though. Most of those items remain on the list, forlornly waiting for their triumphant cross-off, and yet I am content. For every task I did not complete, I managed to find something else to do that was better.

On Saturday morning John and I got up early and took Seamus for a hike in the woods before it got hot. That wasn't on my list, but it turns out that the park is lovely at 8:00 am, so it was worthwhile. The woods are somehow more still first thing in the morning than they are when we usually go, and the light through the trees is totally different. I think we'll probably do it again sometime.

I didn't vacuum the living room, but I did clean the kitchen. I finished the book I was reading. I took a nap. I went running, which was on the list, but I did not sort out my messy desk. I spent lots of time just relaxing with John and Seamus. That right there is probably enough for me to declare the weekend a success. Perhaps I should start including items like "ejoy hanging out with husband and dog" on my lists.

What was the best part of your weekend?

I'm pleased to say that conference call part deux went much better than yesterday's disaster. It was still no fun, but at least the suckiness factor dropped significantly. I will say that my boss's boss has an impressive ability to cut through the crap. I need to develop that skill.

There's nothing I can do to stop being pissed off at the Democrats or my dad, but I think I've gotten past my weird sensitivity to Nichole Richie being pregnant. Hooray for letting stuff I can't change go.

And, well, that's pretty much my whole day. Wow, what a thrilling life I lead. Hey, wake up!

Dear Universe,

I want to know what you are doing to address the following:

* I suffered through a horrific conference call today. I have a follow-up tomorrow. Please make tomorrow's better. No one should have to sit through two calls like that in one week.

* The Democrats have officially completely wussed out and caved on every issue that I think is important. Just listening to the news on the radio while driving home tonight, they covered how instead of moving troops out of Iraq, more troops have been steadily moving in...instead of impeaching Bush, that's been "taken off the table"...instead of tightening car emissions standards, they've decided they don't want to fight with the auto industry. Uh, hi. You're the fucking government. They have to do what you tell them...instead of ensuring health care for uninsured children, they are letting the Republicans turn it in to a debate on immigration. What the fuck? Stand for something you bastards.

* My dad is such a jerk. Lately he's taken to insulting my mom, It's the one part of their divorce that he ever handled with any class, but for some reason he's decided to take the gloves off. And now his crappy credit is making my mom's life difficult, even though they've been divorced for years. Why do we live in a society where my dad's finances are still considered a factor in my mom's finances? Stupid sexist society, and stupid, stupid dad.

* This turned out to be true. Why am I so obsessed with Nicole Richie being pregnant when I am not? I don't know. I just find it particularly unfair for some reason.

I'll tell you this though -- if Paris Hilton gets to have a kid before I do, that'll be the day I take to a clock tower with a rifle. Consider yourselves forewarned.

Universe? The ball is in your court.