Monthly Archives: September 2008

The Past Revisited

For the first time since I wrote it, I just went back and reread my opening Blog:  June 3rd, 2008, the title read, ‘Hello World!’  I couldn’t help but smile as I read it.  I was so naïve back then…

Now as I write my September 30th Blog I feel like an old pro.  Give or take a day, I’ve written four months worth of Blogs just as I said I would.  Some days it’s hard, some days it’s easy.  Some days I wake up and know exactly what I want to write while others are spent looking online for a topic that strikes my fancy.  The point is, I’m doing what I set out to do.  I wanted to write a Blog everyday for a year to see where it took me, to see if it helped me ‘find my voice.’  The result thus far: it’s been uncomfortable, but I’ve realized that I need a lot of work as a writer.  There’s a reason my books weren’t getting published and it’s not because they aren’t good.  It’s because I can do better.

I’ve found that since beginning this Blog, writing outside of the Blog, is harder.  I begin and stop, begin and stop at least a dozen different stories a month.  None of them seem good enough.  None of them seem right.  Some are written in chapter form, others are written as TV shows.  It’s been tough and I’ve questioned myself quite a bit.

In the meantime however, I just keep Blogging.  Tomorrow will be October 1st and maybe it’ll be the day when all the pieces click together.  Maybe October will by my lucky month of grand articulation – the month my masterpiece becomes clear.  Or maybe it’ll be the month where I give up this whole crazy notion and get a job at the bank.  I saw a sign the other day that said ‘tellers wanted’…I think I’d make a great teller.  Counting money has always been a talent of mine.

Until then…over and out.

 

 

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M E A T

Pork. Sausage. Beef. Lamb. Venison.  There’s a whole lot meat out there.  This doesn’t include our ‘light meats’ like chicken, fish, and perhaps some put would eggs in this category.  Light meat is not the same as Real Meat as anyone would tell you.  Light meat is usually thin, white, and doused with sauces – Real Meat is bloody and stands alone.  And finally for those of us who’ve stopped dragging our knuckles on the ground, there’s the bean-meat, otherwise known as Soy. 

Since the day I stopped eating the Real Meats in the 11th grade, spurred by my mother, I’ve been on a search for alternative proteins.  Like alternative fuel, there are options.  One such option is Trader Joe’s Soy Chorizo. 

Ingredients: textured soy protein, water, soy oil, distilled vinegar, salt, spices, red pepper, garlic.  Calories: 140. Total Fat: 10g.  Sodium: 700mg.  Total Carbs:8g.  Protein: 9g.

Last night, Sam made me a sandwich of this exciting new stuff and swear to god, I was up all night.  Soy Chorizo translates to Salt Stick in Spanish.  I kept dreaming about fountains and waterfalls of icy, cold, freshness that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to.  I woke up and broke the news to Sam.  No more Soy Chorizo.

Then, out of curiosity, I took a peak in our fridge.  You see, it was Sam’s turn to do the grocery shopping this week…and I think I’ll let the pictures of what I found speak for themselves.

The Freezer:

   Please notice if you will the plethora of prepared foods.  Pizza, Mochi, some kind of Chinese-wok beans, sausages, TeriyakiBowls, Bag O’ Orange Chicken…  I shut the door and moved on.  The last time I opened the freezer door, there were a few bags of frozen vegetables, ice trays, and some mostly empty liquor bottles that never got drank, but somehow kept making it from one move to the next.  (That bottle in the front has been with Sam since he graduated form UVA back in ’63)  Anyway, you can imagine how overwhelming this freezer was at 8am this morning.

The Refrigerator:

  And now I’d like to give you a close up of the Meat drawer…

  Please notice that the Meat drawer is so filled, Meat has spilled out onto the shelves.  Yes, that’s salami and prosciutto on top of my tub of fruit.  Inside the drawer I found pork and beef and several kinds of sausages.  There was also salmon and chicken and more nasty sausages.   Who wants to eat that much sausage?  I feel as if my refrigerator is hosting OctoberFest this year. 

Luckily, I’ve learned my lesson via Trader Joe’s Soy Chorizo.  I’ll be making a side trip to Whole Foods today – a little goat cheese, some toast points, maybe even a tub or two of chocolate ice cream…he never has to know.  Some women hide the shoes they buy from their husbands.  Others stash clothes and jewelry.  Looks like I’ll be one of those women who hides food that doesn’t begin with the letter MEAT.

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Friends in the News

Straight from the LA Times… Go Birds Boxers, Go!!! 

THE SOCK DRAWER

Boxers with punch

in Sea Island cotton
The classic: in Sea Island cotton
Could one pair of boxer shorts really be worth $76? A recent convert tells how he got hooked.
By Adam Tschorn, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
September 28, 2008
AT THE risk of over-sharing, I have a confession: My job got me hooked on high-priced underpants.

For most of my adult life I’ve been perfectly happy with the same standard-issue, boldly patterned, $14 J. Crew knickers I’ve always worn, the ones festooned with hamburgers, tiki drinks, mermaids and deck chairs in the summer, snowmen, Christmas trees and Santa Clauses in the winter.

That was until I read about Birds boxer shorts, $76 handcrafted skivvies with single-needle tailoring and mother-of-pearl buttons, and wondered how any pair of underwear could be worth five times my normal tariff. Especially when the choices are just two colors (white and light blue).

I had my doubts.

Then I tried on a pair of the 160-thread count, two-ply handmade trunks made from Sea Island cotton (a variety prized for the luxe feel of its long, silky fibers) and instantly felt the difference all those dollars can make.

It was like slipping between the crisp sheets of a freshly made bed — and then being able to wear them into the office.

They’re light, roomy, comfortable and (most important for the boxer wearer) non-bunching where it counts.

All these details add up to top-drawer under trou, and that’s exactly what husband-and-wife team Megan and Michael Papay were shooting for when they launched their Sausalito, Calif., company last year with just one goal: to make the world’s best pair of boxer shorts.

And based on our preliminary test drive they have a leg (or two) up on the competition.

The dapper-looking underdrawers come in two styles. The retro-looking custom fit is slim through the hips, long in the leg and has a three-button fly, curved yoke and no elastic waistband.

The classic fit (which is recommended for the more ample man) is shorter in the leg and roomier in the posterior, with an elastic waistband and two-button tab closure.

Boxers that set you back nearly a Benjamin may sound overly extravagant, particularly in these times of economic chaos, but they’re actually one investment that comfortably covers your assets — without leaving you overexposed.

Birds Outstanding Boxer Shorts, $76 each (for the holidays, two pair for $140), at www.birdsboxers.com.

http://www.latimes.com/features/lifestyle/la-ig-boxers28-2008sep28,0,4429041.story

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Numismatics, Tintinnabulation, and Other Things to Immolate

Numismatics – The collection and study of money.  As in: Who on Wall Street forgot to take a class in numismatics and in ‘Bankrupcy Bad, Solvency Good?’  Answer: Seems like everyone.

Tintinnabulation – A tinkling sound of a bell or bells.  Example: Working on Wall Street, one is surrounded by the tintinnabulation of breaking glass as greedy men and women throw themselves out of windows.  Oh no, never mind.  That’s just my sick imagination.

Immolate – To sacrifice.  To kill or destroy.  In a sentence: I believe the time has come to immolate Alan Greenspan to the gods.  May they take him in good health.

Last night Sam told me that Washington Mutual had folded.  I liked Washington Mutual.  2 weeks ago BofA gobbled up Merill Lynch.  I feel like I’m in the prelude of a futuristic sci-fi movie…It’s 2012 and our world has become one big monopoly.  Bank of America is the only bank, WalMart is the only store, and both are owned by the Chinese.  

Only one airline has survived, AmeriUnited, and it sucks.  Borders sold out to Barnes and Noble, Barnes and Noble sold out to Walmart, and Walmart doesn’t have room for books in their magazine section.  Books are out, tabloids are in – rednecks nationwide rejoice.  No more having to go to school!  Everyone votes for the person on the front page of the National Enquirer the most.  Luckily in 2012 it’s the boy who played Harry Potter.  His vice president is a grandmother from Texas who had quadruplets.

Abortion is illegal, health care is a concept people whisper about after too many glasses of high-octane, and illegal immigrants are shot on sight.  Sometimes even not-so-illegal ones, but who cares right?  One less person in line at the local WalMart. 

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When Worlds Collide

My friend, Natalie shared with me a great website yesterday.  It’s NASA’s ‘Picture of the Day’ site: http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/archivepix.html 

Today’s picture is titled ‘The Case of the Very Dusty Binary Star,’ which totally sounds like a Nancy Drew novel.  The picture however, shows two massive, planet-sized objects colliding into one another – smashing together like a head-on collision and crumbling into nothing but dust.  Like the wreckage of an 18-wheeler driving into a Prius, there’s not much left.  Of course, this got me to thinking about a little drama I had the other day.

Almost a year ago a woman I considered a good friend and who I loved, broke up with me.  It was heartbreaking and it’s taken me a long time to let go.  On Tuesday I was invited to a party that sounded like a real blast, but I was afraid to go for fear of bumping into my ex-friend.  Why?  Because when worlds collide it’s never pretty – something always gets smashed up.  In this case, I worried that it would be me.  I knew that if she was there (and she probably was) I would be excited to see her.  I would want to walk up and say hello, catch up with her, find out how she’s doing and what she’s up to.  I guess the point is, although our friendship didn’t pan out, I do still care.  My concern was that she wouldn’t play by the same rules.  As my girlfriend Krista wisely pointed out, “The rest of us try to behave like adults and she’s still acting like we’re back in high school.”

I wish that when worlds collided it could be more of a bump than an explosion of force and destruction.  I wish that politeness and curiosity could win over ego and will.  I wish that we had the wherewithal to step into the other person’s shoes for that moment of impact – to have the strength to put our most authentic and caring self into the crash.  It wouldn’t be such a crash then, would it?  More like two individuals who recognize that they’re connected by the universe (hence the running into one another) and that there’s nothing to gain by being ugly.

Think of what this attitude would mean when we collide with ex-lovers, ex-bosses, ex-bad habits, and ex-disappointments and hurts.  A simple hello, maybe a smile or a nod of the head in recognition of the past – no drama, no insecurity, no hate.  No obsessing over who said what or guilt over why in the heck did I say that.  We could leave ‘The Case of the Very Dusty Binary Star’ to Nancy Drew and the planets.

  Note: this is a picture of galaxies joining.  The NASA collision photo was copyrighted so I couldn’t ‘borrow’ it.  This picture looks a lava lamp that got out of the lamp to me, but what do I know.  I’m just a blogger without a book deal.

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Dream a Little Dream With Me

There is nothing more boring than talking about your dreams or listening to someone else talk about his.  “I was superman and then it was night out, but I could still see really well and then all of a sudden I was in the bathroom with my third grade math teacher and she was trying to steal a mirror so I arrested her…”  You know how it goes; neverending nonsense. 

I’ve been sitting here on my sofa (nightgown, sweater, heavy socks) trying to come up with something, anything to write about other than the dream I had last night, but it’s all I can think about.  I’m totally freaked out.  I had one of those ‘all of my teeth are falling out one by one until there are none left’ dreams.  I think this is a common dream, which is weird.  Even in our subconcious we’re not individuals, but a group of beings connected in more ways than we can understand.  Naturally, I looked up my dream online.  The findings were not reassuring.

  1. teeth are a part of appearance and beauty – when you dream they fall out you’re expressing your insecurities with how you look or about getting older.
  2. teeth are power – when you dream they fall out you’re expressing insecurities about something you are doing or want to do.  You feel powerless, frustrated and self-concious in this situation.  You need to be more assertive.
  3. the Bible – teeth falling out means that you’re putting what man thinks before what God thinks
  4. the Tooth Fairy – with each tooth comes money
  5. Greek Mythology – teeth falling out means you’re pregnant or some one you love is about to die
  6. Jung and Freud – teeth falling out has to do with castration and masturbation

None of these sound good to me except the money theory.  (And maybe the castration/masturbation idea.  How those two go together I have no clue.)  So next I went online and researched gold teeth.  At http://www.goldteethusa.com/ I can cover my teeth in diamonds and gold and never have to worry about them falling out.  I’d have to change my name from Sara to something more exotic naturally…maybe Gold Biter or Glitter Tooth or Rodeo Chomper.  People could call me Rodeo for short.

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Fat, Fat, and their brother Chunky

In today’s world, where looking good and feeling good revolves around being thin, there are 3 types of people.  First you have those genetically lucky people who are just born with a metabolic system that keeps them lean and sinewy at all times.  I have a friend down the street like this.  She’s 52 years old and looks as if she competes in triathlons for a living – she doesn’t, she’s a full-time mom.  It’s hard not to hate her. 

Then there are the people who work really, really hard at staying svelte.  They watch every single piece of food that goes into their mouths, exercise everyday, and maybe have/have had a slight bought of anorexia bulimia…or maybe not, but they’re so vigilant about food and working out that you just never know.  I have another friend who fits into this category.  I admire her willpower, but it’s not that fun to be around her.  I don’t mind if your body rocks the kazba, but please don’t make me self-consious about being hungry. 

And finally you have your food lovers.  This category of people wants to be thin, they really do.  They look at magazines and say that tomorrow is the day that they’ll eat only salads, tomorrow is the day that they’ll start exercising regularly.  But tomorrow brings with it chocolate donuts at work and lunch with the girls at the Italian restaurant.  At 4, your stomach is feeling a little emptry and somebody left chips on your desk.  One chip turns into 2, 2 turns into 3, and before you know it, it’s too late to stick to the salad plan and so you eat a million.

The human body is a machine.  The more we treat it like one, the better it functions.  But for some of us, food is what we turn to when we’re sad or depressed or lonely or tired or stressed.  It’s not just food-food, but it’s food that nurtures us, food that wraps us up in a blanket and tells us we’re okay, food that blocks out the frustrations and disappointments of the day with each delicious bite.  What can these people do when food is so much more to them then just sustenance?  They could pick up drinking, drugs, sex…these addictions could replace their current dependency – because really, they would have to change their entire lives.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this except to notify you that you’ll be seeing more on this subject  in the future.  This is an ongoing project of mine since I, if you haven’t already guessed it, fit into the ‘I love food’ section.  For those of you who never think about food, never think about the battle of the bulge and how in the world you could have gained 2 pounds in one weekend in Nashville – sorry.  I assume you’ve got other issues and perhaps what I find in this exploration will help you fight them, whatever they might be.

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