I was talking to my friend on the phone just now, and he pointed out that I'm actually only funny when being sarcastic. This is a shame because I do so feel that sarcasm is a bit mean-spirited. But what is a girl to do? Be dull or spread ill will? For this post, I have chosen the latter. The sole funny comment that I made during our conversation occurred while I was relaying my recent experience with an online dating site. I'd answered some questions about myself (improving my chances! finding the man of my dreams!) and apparently had some astronomically high chances, statistically speaking, of being a great match with this fellow I knew. The problem is that I have seen him before in person and always thought that he looked. . . well, . . . evil.
"What do you mean evil?" my friend asked, "is he ugly?". "No" I replied, "his face is very symmetrical, it just looks equally evil on both sides." This comment strikes me as mean, but my friend got a real kick out of it. He was also humored when I mentioned that this friend of his -- for whom I do not care -- seems to have social skills on par with those of an ant. No art was present in that sarcastic cut down, though, so I'm hesitant even to mention it.
In terms of good 'ole self-deprecating humor, which is less likely to hurt the feelings of any reader (which, I suppose, would only be myself), I'm in a bit of a pickle. Basically, I'm waiting for a break-up email, although it will be from a person whom I just met online. Somehow, I develop feelings for people whom I've never met virtually out of thin air. . . and a few vowels and consonants tossed up in front of my eyes on the computer. The problem is this: normally, I cope with frustrating events by eating. However, because I couldn't deal with the angst of expecting to receive a break-up email from my non-boyfriend on the internet, I already ate the ice cream. So now I'm out of ice cream, the email hasn't arrived, and I have no idea how I'll cope once it arrives.
Oh, the pain of life as a single, somewhat-symmetrical, woman, trapped in the throes of an internet relationship in this age of cyber fake breakups and real life ice cream.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Week ?: Bad Idea!
Since I haven't been able to fit in a long ride like I'm supposed to do, I decided to mix things up and ride my bike to the coffee shop where I work sometimes. The shop is really nearby, so I thought that I'd take a longer route to give myself at least a tiny bit more exercise.
I loaded myself up with my backpack (which is slowly compressing my spine with its weight), water, and snacks and jumped on my bike. Whew! There is a HUGE difference between riding with a heavy backpack -- laptop, 3 books, papers -- and not. I must've weighed 200 pounds with it or something! The gears were squeaking, and my rear-end hurt will all of the pressure on it. The streets around here kind of busy, so I know that drivers were passing by in their cars like, "Who is *this* girl?". I took a detour through a residential neighborhood so that I wouldn't be on the main street. This took me far past where the coffee shop was, so I had to double back . . . and I wound up on the sidewalk. I know that this must've been annoying to pedestrians . . . however, the two 14-year-old boys in front of me clearly did not notice that a biker was following them. The boys were young and thin, but both had their pants really low and their underwear showing. . . with belts on . . . to keep their pants up underneath their derrieres!
Eventually, I made it to the coffee shop and got some work done. I stayed late, though, and left around 10pm . . . when it was RAINING and COLD! ha! I tried to wipe off the seat and dry it with napkins, but as soon as I'd wipe it off and try to unlock the bike lock, more rain would fall on it. Or I'd wipe it off and put my helmet on. . . more rain would fall. Ahhhh! I hopped on and pedaled home as quickly as possible through the dark, cold and rain. (I do have a blinking light on the back so that people could see me -- but I stayed on the sidewalks for most of the time.) When I got home and carried my bike up the stairs, I hadn't realized how quickly your muscles tire out and get cold -- I felt the weakness in my thighs from not being able to warm up and riding in cold rain. Also, I hadn't had dinner yet, though I'd had a snack, so I may've been low on glucose.
Anywhoo, when I got home, Rumi, one of my cats, started makin' love to my bike. :) He was rubbing his face all over the gear and wriggling around like he was really enjoying it. I took the snapshot above. :)
Time: 0:10:32
Distance: 1.532 miles
Avg. spd: 8.7 mph
Max spd: 18.1 mph
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Bread, Basil and Adventurous Relatives
As a celebration of my new life here in L.A., I am making a very conscious effort to search out interest that I have and cultivate them instead of imagining how things could be while eating ice cream and watching TiVo'ed episodes of The Office.
So, I started cooking. I've made granola twice. The first batch was a little overcooked, and it didn't have quite enough oil and maple syrup mix. The second time I added coconut, more maple syrup, a bit more oil (olive), and I think that this batch will be pretty good! I haven't taste tested it yet; I'm waiting until the morning, although I nibbled bites before I baked it, and the flavor was good. Don't know about the final texture yet. Granola doesn't need to bake that long - maybe 15 to 20 minutes - but when it has more goop (oil, syrup, etc.) on it, you can bake it longer. The basic recipe is oats, coconut, sunflower seeds, mixed nuts, cinnamon, a dash of salt, oil and maple syrup, with dried fruits added after you've toasted it. While you're making the original mix, you should microwave the oil and syrup together for about 20 seconds so that they mix completely.
I've also got whole wheat bread in the works tonight! It's been quite a cooking night, which is really fun. I have the Pandora radio station set, and sometimes I dance around the kitchen - bursting into either modern or ballet moves, as the song inspires. (As an aside, I also had sausage for dinner. My yogi vegetarian mother would not have indulged! I didn't have any potatoes, so I put the sausage on toast that had fake 1000 Island dressing spread over it. I didn't have any pickle relish, so the fake 1000 Island was just Vegenaise and ketchup. :o) )
The bread recipe that I used actually had more white bread flour that wheat flour. The bread that I buy in the store gets held to higher standards -- I usually don't buy it unless whole wheat flour is the first ingredient. But when I'm cooking, I s'pose that the easiest recipe wins. At least for my first venture into whole wheat. I've make herb bread before that used a combination of whole wheat and white flour, but it's not been successfully fluffy yet. Oh well. Maybe the third time's the charm. Although this is really only the first time I've made this recipe; it's the third time I've made bread ever. So, I feel a little proud.
There is also a newly-purchased basil plant hiding out on my back porch now that I got this weekend. He's a cute li'l thing that had been sitting outside at Whole Foods for way to long. (The plant is male, I think, by the feel of it. Not any sort of botanical indicators.) His branches hadn't been pinched and they were sprawling everywhere and couldn't hold their heads up because of the weight of the leaves. I pinched back the leaves and set some in water to sprout. The internet tells me that the stems should sprout, just from sitting in water, after 5 - 10 days, but I'm not holding my breath. I also had to search the internet to find out whether the plant was dying due to the stem browning. If the base of the basil plant starts to turn woody, that's okay. It just means that it's becoming sturdier to account for the larger life that it's sustaining up top. The recommendation is to pinch the leaves back to take some of the weight off. If the stem is brown and slimy, instead of woody, that might indicate overwatering, so you should let the soil dry out and the plant may improve. Another thing about the plant is that the leaves taste a bit like licorice. This worries me because the problem might be irreparable. I'll have to google that problem to see if I can find any suggestions. You can find out anything on the internet. Some people must have nothing else to do . . . like I'm doing right now. :-)
Speaking of taking the weight off, I've had hairstylists refer to giving me layers or bangs as "taking the weight off". Once a hairstylist told me that and proceeded to cut of pretty much all of my hair. It was about 1" long, all the way around. I hadn't had overweight hair to begin with, but I really had to develop a tougher attitude to keep up with that super-short cut! (Maybe I'll post a picture, if I can figure out how.)
I also planted oregano from actual seeds! This is very exciting but not likely to result in an actual plant because the mechanism of growth makes no sense. The directions on the package and the recommendations on the internet make it sound like you basically put some dirt in a pot, water it, and sprinkle the seeds on top. You don't even plant them! A couple of internet sites recommended that you can smoosh them into the soil a bit, so I sort of did that, but I have a hard time imagining that anything will come of them. The seeds were so tiny and looked like crushed pepper -- not freshly cracked pepper -- like the super-fine variety that comes in plastic with salt in a combination packets that you're supposed to take on picnics.
For a total change of subject, my younger cousin, Mary Margaret, is on a fishing boat off of the coast of Mexico. She sent an update to her family, and it got circulated around to me. I am thoroughly impressed with her spontaneity and adventurous spirit. She and her finance don't know anything about fishing. I think that they're on a tuna boat; it's a very small one with a tiny crew. She's the cook, but she fishes, too. She commented that her role as chef somehow brought her back to her roots -- she made Bar-B-Que sammiches! Tres southern.
My brother, Adam, and his girlfriend, Gena, are on a cross-country documentary adventure, and I am pleased as punch that they've decided to take this plunge into the life that they want to live. They bought an RV, and they are driving around the country filming a documentary about unique ways that people are coping with the economic downturn by spending less money but shifting to make their lives fuller in other ways. He visited a self-sustaining community in Virgina called Twin Oaks. http://www.twinoaks.org/. It has every sort of occupation from accountant to farmer, everyone works 42 hours per week, including domestic activities, and they produce a wide variety of foods and goods for trade. I think that their main monetary income is from a high tech business that they've created. Adam and Gena are headed down to Athens now, but they are planning to be out here in Los Angeles around the end of November. We'll have a real thanksgiving feast! Maybe I'll have figured out how to make bread by then . . .
So, I started cooking. I've made granola twice. The first batch was a little overcooked, and it didn't have quite enough oil and maple syrup mix. The second time I added coconut, more maple syrup, a bit more oil (olive), and I think that this batch will be pretty good! I haven't taste tested it yet; I'm waiting until the morning, although I nibbled bites before I baked it, and the flavor was good. Don't know about the final texture yet. Granola doesn't need to bake that long - maybe 15 to 20 minutes - but when it has more goop (oil, syrup, etc.) on it, you can bake it longer. The basic recipe is oats, coconut, sunflower seeds, mixed nuts, cinnamon, a dash of salt, oil and maple syrup, with dried fruits added after you've toasted it. While you're making the original mix, you should microwave the oil and syrup together for about 20 seconds so that they mix completely.
I've also got whole wheat bread in the works tonight! It's been quite a cooking night, which is really fun. I have the Pandora radio station set, and sometimes I dance around the kitchen - bursting into either modern or ballet moves, as the song inspires. (As an aside, I also had sausage for dinner. My yogi vegetarian mother would not have indulged! I didn't have any potatoes, so I put the sausage on toast that had fake 1000 Island dressing spread over it. I didn't have any pickle relish, so the fake 1000 Island was just Vegenaise and ketchup. :o) )
The bread recipe that I used actually had more white bread flour that wheat flour. The bread that I buy in the store gets held to higher standards -- I usually don't buy it unless whole wheat flour is the first ingredient. But when I'm cooking, I s'pose that the easiest recipe wins. At least for my first venture into whole wheat. I've make herb bread before that used a combination of whole wheat and white flour, but it's not been successfully fluffy yet. Oh well. Maybe the third time's the charm. Although this is really only the first time I've made this recipe; it's the third time I've made bread ever. So, I feel a little proud.
There is also a newly-purchased basil plant hiding out on my back porch now that I got this weekend. He's a cute li'l thing that had been sitting outside at Whole Foods for way to long. (The plant is male, I think, by the feel of it. Not any sort of botanical indicators.) His branches hadn't been pinched and they were sprawling everywhere and couldn't hold their heads up because of the weight of the leaves. I pinched back the leaves and set some in water to sprout. The internet tells me that the stems should sprout, just from sitting in water, after 5 - 10 days, but I'm not holding my breath. I also had to search the internet to find out whether the plant was dying due to the stem browning. If the base of the basil plant starts to turn woody, that's okay. It just means that it's becoming sturdier to account for the larger life that it's sustaining up top. The recommendation is to pinch the leaves back to take some of the weight off. If the stem is brown and slimy, instead of woody, that might indicate overwatering, so you should let the soil dry out and the plant may improve. Another thing about the plant is that the leaves taste a bit like licorice. This worries me because the problem might be irreparable. I'll have to google that problem to see if I can find any suggestions. You can find out anything on the internet. Some people must have nothing else to do . . . like I'm doing right now. :-)
Speaking of taking the weight off, I've had hairstylists refer to giving me layers or bangs as "taking the weight off". Once a hairstylist told me that and proceeded to cut of pretty much all of my hair. It was about 1" long, all the way around. I hadn't had overweight hair to begin with, but I really had to develop a tougher attitude to keep up with that super-short cut! (Maybe I'll post a picture, if I can figure out how.)
I also planted oregano from actual seeds! This is very exciting but not likely to result in an actual plant because the mechanism of growth makes no sense. The directions on the package and the recommendations on the internet make it sound like you basically put some dirt in a pot, water it, and sprinkle the seeds on top. You don't even plant them! A couple of internet sites recommended that you can smoosh them into the soil a bit, so I sort of did that, but I have a hard time imagining that anything will come of them. The seeds were so tiny and looked like crushed pepper -- not freshly cracked pepper -- like the super-fine variety that comes in plastic with salt in a combination packets that you're supposed to take on picnics.
For a total change of subject, my younger cousin, Mary Margaret, is on a fishing boat off of the coast of Mexico. She sent an update to her family, and it got circulated around to me. I am thoroughly impressed with her spontaneity and adventurous spirit. She and her finance don't know anything about fishing. I think that they're on a tuna boat; it's a very small one with a tiny crew. She's the cook, but she fishes, too. She commented that her role as chef somehow brought her back to her roots -- she made Bar-B-Que sammiches! Tres southern.
My brother, Adam, and his girlfriend, Gena, are on a cross-country documentary adventure, and I am pleased as punch that they've decided to take this plunge into the life that they want to live. They bought an RV, and they are driving around the country filming a documentary about unique ways that people are coping with the economic downturn by spending less money but shifting to make their lives fuller in other ways. He visited a self-sustaining community in Virgina called Twin Oaks. http://www.twinoaks.org/. It has every sort of occupation from accountant to farmer, everyone works 42 hours per week, including domestic activities, and they produce a wide variety of foods and goods for trade. I think that their main monetary income is from a high tech business that they've created. Adam and Gena are headed down to Athens now, but they are planning to be out here in Los Angeles around the end of November. We'll have a real thanksgiving feast! Maybe I'll have figured out how to make bread by then . . .
Friday, October 9, 2009
I went to a ballet class today. It was taught by a tiny Russian woman, who probably weighed 85 pounds soaking wet. However, she was able to use all of those teeny, muscular limbs to demonstrate beautifully and her waving arms smacked any part of her own body that she wanted us to focus on. Sort of physical exclamation point. I was thankful for this because her Russian accent was very thick.
At the barre, I stood next to this woman who was quite good and had obviously danced for many years. Her leg extensions nearly touched her nose and her pointed feet arched over as though her toes were about to touch her heel. But that was okay, I hadn't lost steam yet. The class was challenging. I think that some of the people in the class were retired dancers. It's funny to spot old dancers. They wear layers of stretchy clothing tied oddly around them, sometimes belts secured at various locations, and pants made of this funny material that sounds like rainproof windbreakers. And they wear all of this clothing at once. In a climate-controlled studio. After they've been dancing in a studio in Los Angeles, which is a very warm location.
They were all quite good, though. I chickened out during the part where we were supposed to go across the floor. The combinations weren't exceedingly difficult, but I felt awfully out of place. For starters, I was only wearing a leotard and pants (although I had started class, appropriately, with leg warmers and a thermal underwear shirt). But my brain just wasn't in ballet mode, and it was hard for my arms, legs, and torso to decide that they understood anything either. This nice man introduced himself with a firm, warm handshake, which was nice. Then, he got a bit chattier. He'd moved here to become an actor -- 20 years ago -- now he's an attorney who takes long lunch breaks on Fridays to go to a dance class. He asked about me and found out that I did research at USC. He asked if I'd made friends out here yet, and I said, "Oh yes!" so as not to encourage too much conversation. He had on tights and a shirt; he must've left his windbreaker pants at home this morning because he seemed to fit in with the class in other ways. He talked a bit more to me, and I was even less able to pay attention to dancing after that. So, I picked up my stuff and officially wimped out, walking out of the studio. The attorney followed me and suggested that we could have lunch sometime. I replied that it was a nice suggestion and perhaps we'd see each other at the studio some time. Maybe the poor guy was just trying to be nice. But he was quite a bit older than me, and he was in my ballet class. I couldn't even figure out how to do the 8 count combination across the floor. I certainly couldn't deal with living in a new town -- Los Angeles of all places! -- and dating an out of work actor masquerading as a ballet dancing attorney. I have enough to deal with as it is.
At the barre, I stood next to this woman who was quite good and had obviously danced for many years. Her leg extensions nearly touched her nose and her pointed feet arched over as though her toes were about to touch her heel. But that was okay, I hadn't lost steam yet. The class was challenging. I think that some of the people in the class were retired dancers. It's funny to spot old dancers. They wear layers of stretchy clothing tied oddly around them, sometimes belts secured at various locations, and pants made of this funny material that sounds like rainproof windbreakers. And they wear all of this clothing at once. In a climate-controlled studio. After they've been dancing in a studio in Los Angeles, which is a very warm location.
They were all quite good, though. I chickened out during the part where we were supposed to go across the floor. The combinations weren't exceedingly difficult, but I felt awfully out of place. For starters, I was only wearing a leotard and pants (although I had started class, appropriately, with leg warmers and a thermal underwear shirt). But my brain just wasn't in ballet mode, and it was hard for my arms, legs, and torso to decide that they understood anything either. This nice man introduced himself with a firm, warm handshake, which was nice. Then, he got a bit chattier. He'd moved here to become an actor -- 20 years ago -- now he's an attorney who takes long lunch breaks on Fridays to go to a dance class. He asked about me and found out that I did research at USC. He asked if I'd made friends out here yet, and I said, "Oh yes!" so as not to encourage too much conversation. He had on tights and a shirt; he must've left his windbreaker pants at home this morning because he seemed to fit in with the class in other ways. He talked a bit more to me, and I was even less able to pay attention to dancing after that. So, I picked up my stuff and officially wimped out, walking out of the studio. The attorney followed me and suggested that we could have lunch sometime. I replied that it was a nice suggestion and perhaps we'd see each other at the studio some time. Maybe the poor guy was just trying to be nice. But he was quite a bit older than me, and he was in my ballet class. I couldn't even figure out how to do the 8 count combination across the floor. I certainly couldn't deal with living in a new town -- Los Angeles of all places! -- and dating an out of work actor masquerading as a ballet dancing attorney. I have enough to deal with as it is.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Crazy things I've read in books
(1) At different points in Western History, sex within marriage has taken on wildly different roles within marriage. At one time, religious leaders composed texts asserting that--because sex was only to be used for the purposes of producing offspring--it was better to have sex with your father or cousins if you were trying to conceive than to have sex with your husband just for pleasure. Eew! How crazy is that? I hope that the people weren't fooled and that only the religious leaders were running around spouting off this wackiness.
(2) So, this isn't a really crazy thing, but it's a really interesting thing that I've been pondering lately. I read it in a book, so I figure that it falls under the domain of this post's title. I'm reading "Psychology's Sanction of Selfishness" which was written by these two incredibly adorable old Psychologists who have visited the bookstore regularly since it opened over 30 years ago. I found one of the Wallachs books in the basement of the library (on a totally cool shelf that automatically moves itself when you push a button). I'm not that far into the book, but I'm already intrigued. An important thesis from the book is that Freudian therapy aims to decrease the SuperEgo's control over the Ego. One way to safely re-phrase those concepts using a concrete example is to say that Freudian psychoanalysts try to make you feel less guilty about doing the same activity if doing that activity is not harmful to you or others and doing so brings you pleasure. The Wallachs argue--if I have gotten this right--that emphasizing selfish motives and praising self-assertion as the end-all goal of "mental health" leaves out the possibility that altruistic behavior may be very healthy for people, indeed.
I just wanted to put this point out into the internet-ether to see whether anyone else had any thoughts about it. Should we be making people less guilty? Is guilt always a bad thing? Being overly-guilty unnecessarily does seem inhibiting and less mentally healthy, but doesn't it help keep people aware of their value lines to experience some guilt or other negative emotion when they cross those lines?
I'd love to hear your thoughts (citizens of the internet), but I'll write more later, when I've read more of the book and collected my thoughts a bit more coherently.
They also wrote some articles about how mainstream research Social Psychology is often built on circular reasoning. I am really excited about reading their article because I definitely recall having that thought when I was a psychology student and hoping for a more in-depth analysis of the issue. Once a philosopher, always a philosopher, I guess . . .
(2) So, this isn't a really crazy thing, but it's a really interesting thing that I've been pondering lately. I read it in a book, so I figure that it falls under the domain of this post's title. I'm reading "Psychology's Sanction of Selfishness" which was written by these two incredibly adorable old Psychologists who have visited the bookstore regularly since it opened over 30 years ago. I found one of the Wallachs books in the basement of the library (on a totally cool shelf that automatically moves itself when you push a button). I'm not that far into the book, but I'm already intrigued. An important thesis from the book is that Freudian therapy aims to decrease the SuperEgo's control over the Ego. One way to safely re-phrase those concepts using a concrete example is to say that Freudian psychoanalysts try to make you feel less guilty about doing the same activity if doing that activity is not harmful to you or others and doing so brings you pleasure. The Wallachs argue--if I have gotten this right--that emphasizing selfish motives and praising self-assertion as the end-all goal of "mental health" leaves out the possibility that altruistic behavior may be very healthy for people, indeed.
I just wanted to put this point out into the internet-ether to see whether anyone else had any thoughts about it. Should we be making people less guilty? Is guilt always a bad thing? Being overly-guilty unnecessarily does seem inhibiting and less mentally healthy, but doesn't it help keep people aware of their value lines to experience some guilt or other negative emotion when they cross those lines?
I'd love to hear your thoughts (citizens of the internet), but I'll write more later, when I've read more of the book and collected my thoughts a bit more coherently.
They also wrote some articles about how mainstream research Social Psychology is often built on circular reasoning. I am really excited about reading their article because I definitely recall having that thought when I was a psychology student and hoping for a more in-depth analysis of the issue. Once a philosopher, always a philosopher, I guess . . .
These kids today
I was babysitting last night for Maggie and Anna, two EXTRA-lively girls in the neighborhood. Maggie created this game for us where she played a ghost in a hotel called "Shangala" (phon. Shang-GAH-luh"). The hallway of the hotel was the hallway between her bedroom and her parents, and the bedrooms were the hotel suites. She was pretending to sleep in her room, and Anna and I were pretending to be guests in the parent's room. Maggie told us the entire plan before we started, so there wouldn't be any confusion or deviation from her expertly-crafted game idea, and so we wouldn't be scared when we saw a "ghost". She said that she had pretended to put on a white sheet and paint her feet white. Then, she was going to go out into the hall, wave her hands around, and say "OooooOOOOhhhOOOHhOOO" just like a ghost. We were supposed to act scared. Then, she was going to run back into her room and shut the door. At this point, Anna and I were to leave our room, go out into the hall, and go into her bedroom pretending to be ghosts and say lots of "OOOOooohhhhhoooS" and "AAAhhhhhaaaaaahhHHHHss".
Everything went according to plan, we looked petrified at Maggie's ghost impersonation, Anna even hid behind me when we peeked out into the hall. Then, we sneaked over into Maggie's room, waving and ghosting, just as instructed (except that Anna took the liberty of sticking her fingers into Maggie's eyes to try to rouse her from her faux slumber!).
Then, Maggie modified the plan a bit (without sending us a memo or anything--but we caught on) to incorporate a much-needed snack. She went into the kitchen and began toasting a piece of bread in a toaster that is made to toast only one piece of bread at a time. (I pointed out that I found her toaster amusing for that fact, and she feel on the floor laughing. The comment really wasn't that funny, but I like to think that I've got real panache with the little ones.) While we were waiting for the one-bread-wonder toaster, Maggie started talking to me in a thick country accent while Anna helped herself to an enormous carrot from the fridge--complete with greens on the end--and sat down on the kitchen floor. Maggie went on and on about how she'd heard stories that the Shangala was haunted, and she wondered whether I'd heard anything about the ghosts. "Ghosts!" I said, mimicking her country accent, "Now that's just a rumor. Where'd you hear about that? See it in the paper?"
Nope. She shakes her head.
"I read it on the Listserv."
Of course you did, Maggie, of course you did.
Everything went according to plan, we looked petrified at Maggie's ghost impersonation, Anna even hid behind me when we peeked out into the hall. Then, we sneaked over into Maggie's room, waving and ghosting, just as instructed (except that Anna took the liberty of sticking her fingers into Maggie's eyes to try to rouse her from her faux slumber!).
Then, Maggie modified the plan a bit (without sending us a memo or anything--but we caught on) to incorporate a much-needed snack. She went into the kitchen and began toasting a piece of bread in a toaster that is made to toast only one piece of bread at a time. (I pointed out that I found her toaster amusing for that fact, and she feel on the floor laughing. The comment really wasn't that funny, but I like to think that I've got real panache with the little ones.) While we were waiting for the one-bread-wonder toaster, Maggie started talking to me in a thick country accent while Anna helped herself to an enormous carrot from the fridge--complete with greens on the end--and sat down on the kitchen floor. Maggie went on and on about how she'd heard stories that the Shangala was haunted, and she wondered whether I'd heard anything about the ghosts. "Ghosts!" I said, mimicking her country accent, "Now that's just a rumor. Where'd you hear about that? See it in the paper?"
Nope. She shakes her head.
"I read it on the Listserv."
Of course you did, Maggie, of course you did.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Food and Tea!
I am sitting in a coffee shop, listening to a Cold War Kids song (thank you, Andy) over and over on my iPod, halfway thinking about choreography and halfway thinking about . . . well, I'm not actually thinking about much else. I am, however, typing a blog entry. Perhaps, I will eventually share this site with, um, someone. Guess I'll see! Yesterday, David and I drove to Winston-Salem to eat at Mary's Of Course http://www.marysofcourse.com/. I hadn't been in probably over a year, although I used to go almost every weekend when I lived there. They have fantastic vegetarian options (not that I'm an actual vegetarian anymore, at all), and it was absolutely wonderful. If you live anywhere near there (or actually do live there and are a little pissed that I didn't get in touch with you when I was in town (a) sorry, I suck and (b) go to Mary's!) I got the vegan Tofu scramble which has tomatoes, squash, red onions
interruption, David has coined a fantastic word: Blognosticator.
that's right.
. . .
and tofu sauteed in Shoyu (which is similar to soy sauce but a bit sweeter). I got English muffins, and the stone-ground, yellow, extra-buttery grits. David, who is, shall we say, HIGHLY interested in pimento cheese, got an omelette with jalapeno pimento cheese, bacon, and red bell peppers, toast, and grits. I may have snuck a bite, and it may have been delicious, too. We were in town to see All In This Tea, which is a beautiful movie about a man who single-handedly creates a trade market in America for organic, handmade teas from China. http://lesblank.com/more/TeaFilm.html It was a Les Blank film, and Les was actually there to answer questions! He was dressed in old dark-blue Levi's and a bright, Hawaiian-y looking shirt, and Tevas, I think. Very casual. He answered questions, but he's certainly more of the quiet type, I think. :0) The showing was at the Reynolda House, and I'd never actually been inside the house. We wandered around some in there--they had a bowling alley, swimming pool, roller-skating lane, bar, and billiard table downstairs in their home. Whew! After the movie showing, there was a tea-tasting outside the house in a little lawn/garden area in front of the sun porch. It was delightful, but we didn't get in any talking with Mr. Blank himself. :-D
Later that evening, we ate dinner at the Federal and ran into Elliot at the convenience store. It was his birthday, so we had to follow him back to the Federal with our "present"--a fat, mini-sausage called "li'l Chub"--that we'd picked up at the convenience store and buy him a beer. We hung out for a bit with his friends; it was really nice outside. Gina and Elliot had gone to the Farmer's market that morning and bought steak, asparagus, tomatoes, and sweet potatoes and cooked that for his birthday dinner. The dinner sounded delicious, and they said that they certainly tasted the difference between the locally-grown produce and the conventionally-farmed kind that you buy at the grocery store. They made an interesting comment about the meat, though. The steak was a bit tougher, but it was tastier, than what they would get conventionally.
The psychologist in me would love to have a blind taste test comparing a locally-grown version of some food with a conventionally grown one. Now, don't get me wrong, I am completely in support of locally-grown foods for their environmental friendliness and of organic foods because of their ecological value, but of course I wonder how much the placebo effect creates a tastier morsel in the mouth of a local food "believer" than the same bite on the tastebuds of a pure-bred grocery-store goer.
interruption, David has coined a fantastic word: Blognosticator.
that's right.
. . .
and tofu sauteed in Shoyu (which is similar to soy sauce but a bit sweeter). I got English muffins, and the stone-ground, yellow, extra-buttery grits. David, who is, shall we say, HIGHLY interested in pimento cheese, got an omelette with jalapeno pimento cheese, bacon, and red bell peppers, toast, and grits. I may have snuck a bite, and it may have been delicious, too. We were in town to see All In This Tea, which is a beautiful movie about a man who single-handedly creates a trade market in America for organic, handmade teas from China. http://lesblank.com/more/TeaFilm.html It was a Les Blank film, and Les was actually there to answer questions! He was dressed in old dark-blue Levi's and a bright, Hawaiian-y looking shirt, and Tevas, I think. Very casual. He answered questions, but he's certainly more of the quiet type, I think. :0) The showing was at the Reynolda House, and I'd never actually been inside the house. We wandered around some in there--they had a bowling alley, swimming pool, roller-skating lane, bar, and billiard table downstairs in their home. Whew! After the movie showing, there was a tea-tasting outside the house in a little lawn/garden area in front of the sun porch. It was delightful, but we didn't get in any talking with Mr. Blank himself. :-D
Later that evening, we ate dinner at the Federal and ran into Elliot at the convenience store. It was his birthday, so we had to follow him back to the Federal with our "present"--a fat, mini-sausage called "li'l Chub"--that we'd picked up at the convenience store and buy him a beer. We hung out for a bit with his friends; it was really nice outside. Gina and Elliot had gone to the Farmer's market that morning and bought steak, asparagus, tomatoes, and sweet potatoes and cooked that for his birthday dinner. The dinner sounded delicious, and they said that they certainly tasted the difference between the locally-grown produce and the conventionally-farmed kind that you buy at the grocery store. They made an interesting comment about the meat, though. The steak was a bit tougher, but it was tastier, than what they would get conventionally.
The psychologist in me would love to have a blind taste test comparing a locally-grown version of some food with a conventionally grown one. Now, don't get me wrong, I am completely in support of locally-grown foods for their environmental friendliness and of organic foods because of their ecological value, but of course I wonder how much the placebo effect creates a tastier morsel in the mouth of a local food "believer" than the same bite on the tastebuds of a pure-bred grocery-store goer.
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