Another ass whuppin', that is. I feel that everyday something is out there in line to dole another one out to me. Another issue with the car, a paycheck that doesn't go anywhere, groceries that cost too much, relationships that soar then fizzle. That little house in the back was another one this morning. Oh, so much junk! I figure I do two more mornings like the one I had this morning and most everything will be moved out. It'll look like hell downstairs in the basement, but I suppose that's what garage sales are for.
Going in and out of that house with stuff was not so much a physical but spiritual and emotional ass whipping. I felt those kids of mine behind every box of toys I humped. I felt the bank riding me hard with every meaningless stack of stuff I hauled. I felt the Estranged One most of all, whipping my ass for hiding back there and not fully engaging her with our problems. Hauling things out of that little cottage was like taking a lease out on my soul. I felt the weight of every object, dialed into every lash, registered every kick in the ass. And somehow, strangely, it felt good.
I know it sounds like I'm being hard on myself. I suppose at some point in life I needed to be. I don't think...and maybe that's been my problem. I've emoted all my life, not really thought too hard about things, and that's what has gotten me into this current mess. I feel too much. I felt too hard when the Estranged One left, felt too hard when the family came back, felt too much about meaningless trinkets, felt outrageous amounts of pain when Jane said goodbye and even felt sad about missing the kids even before the kids left. I felt too much about my issues at hand, but didn't give too much thought to thinking about them. About how they would all add up if I didn't do something about them. I suppose that's where the ass whuppin' comes from. From the realization that I haven't been thinking at all. And now, with my mind wide open, it's finally registering the pain of neglect. Things are all very clear to me. Thank goodness for that.
You know, the world gets in line every morning for this bit of exercise. From the moment I open my eyes at six until I go to sleep at eleven. I feel that one way or the other that I've needed this, not so much getting beat up by the world, but the reflective time that I've denied myself, to fully understand everything, not just the workings of my heart but what it is that drives me to listen to my heart instead of my head. Being a Romantic is not without it's costs.
So, know that in all that shifting something good has come out of it, something more than just acquiring an empty space. Oh, so much cleaning left to do. Maybe a paint job, too. After all that ass whuppin' that kind of work will be a relief.
Salud!
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Small coincidence
I watched her walk in the branch. It was the cut of her face that threw me, but more, it was the color of her hair that I recognized. That all too familiar shade of silver. She walked up to the desk and asked to place a book on hold. That part was easy. But it was her face that knocked me down. I knew that face.
After I found the book she requested I asked for her library card. As I placed the book on hold I saw her name.
"I feel funny even mentioning this" I told her.
"Mentioning what?" she asked.
"You remind me alot of my grandmother" She asked if she was someone I had liked. I said, yes, that she was special to me as she helped raise me when I was very young.
"But what's truly interesting is that you both have something else in common."
"What's that?", she asked.
"You see, my grandmother's name was Eva, too."
A strange, sweet library moment.
Salud!
After I found the book she requested I asked for her library card. As I placed the book on hold I saw her name.
"I feel funny even mentioning this" I told her.
"Mentioning what?" she asked.
"You remind me alot of my grandmother" She asked if she was someone I had liked. I said, yes, that she was special to me as she helped raise me when I was very young.
"But what's truly interesting is that you both have something else in common."
"What's that?", she asked.
"You see, my grandmother's name was Eva, too."
A strange, sweet library moment.
Salud!
Home to a cat
With a cat around you don't have to worry about coming home to an empty house. You go away for a few days and you might come home to a somewhat pissed off roommate, but at least you are coming home to something.
I got back yesterday afternoon from a three day conference in Spokane. It was nice to get out of the neighborhood, to take to the road, to drive again. It was great to feel sun on my face, to talk to old colleagues, to blow the taxpayer's high dough on professional enlightenment, to eat good road food, to find and revel once again in small adventures. It was a 24/7 experience of taking in the moment, whether that moment was speaking before a crowd, hanging out with other librarians in the presidential suite or walking the streets of a faraway city in search of decent plate of Greek food and a well maintained bookstore.
All in all getting away for a bit does what it's supposed to do..opens up the mind to new possibilities but also pads the way to appreciating what you left behind. For me a few days of travel is only as good as that moment I experience every time I come back home from the road, when I hit that downward slope on Sidney, see the sweep of the Sound before my eyes, knowing that my home is only a minute away.
I thoroughly enjoyed mussing up someone else's room, eating food someone else prepared, having a channel changer to click and wine to sip that other folks paid for. I loved finding cookbooks far from my usual haunts, eating chow that was easy to criticize, listening to speakers that helped me both better understand and tell my tale, and finding interested ears for my tawdry tales. It was more than good to get away, but yesterday as I pulled into the drive I was equally happy to be back home again, home to my little house, my bills, my overgrown yard and especially to my somewhat irked cat. Irked? Yep, I have the bite marks and scratches to prove it.
I suppose if I had a gal waiting for me here at home I could have gotten bites and scratches out of her, too, but that cat is lot less hassle and bit easier to maintain.
Yeah, nice to be home again. Irked cat and all.
Salud!
I got back yesterday afternoon from a three day conference in Spokane. It was nice to get out of the neighborhood, to take to the road, to drive again. It was great to feel sun on my face, to talk to old colleagues, to blow the taxpayer's high dough on professional enlightenment, to eat good road food, to find and revel once again in small adventures. It was a 24/7 experience of taking in the moment, whether that moment was speaking before a crowd, hanging out with other librarians in the presidential suite or walking the streets of a faraway city in search of decent plate of Greek food and a well maintained bookstore.
All in all getting away for a bit does what it's supposed to do..opens up the mind to new possibilities but also pads the way to appreciating what you left behind. For me a few days of travel is only as good as that moment I experience every time I come back home from the road, when I hit that downward slope on Sidney, see the sweep of the Sound before my eyes, knowing that my home is only a minute away.
I thoroughly enjoyed mussing up someone else's room, eating food someone else prepared, having a channel changer to click and wine to sip that other folks paid for. I loved finding cookbooks far from my usual haunts, eating chow that was easy to criticize, listening to speakers that helped me both better understand and tell my tale, and finding interested ears for my tawdry tales. It was more than good to get away, but yesterday as I pulled into the drive I was equally happy to be back home again, home to my little house, my bills, my overgrown yard and especially to my somewhat irked cat. Irked? Yep, I have the bite marks and scratches to prove it.
I suppose if I had a gal waiting for me here at home I could have gotten bites and scratches out of her, too, but that cat is lot less hassle and bit easier to maintain.
Yeah, nice to be home again. Irked cat and all.
Salud!
Kitsap Street cinema
Looking at my film collection you might think it would be time for me to open up my own little movie house. I think it would be grand to build it into some kind of pub-like setting, spin some music, pour a little wine and then turn down the lights and splash a bit of old cinema on the walls, just like that theater down there in Portland. How cool would it be to serve up pub food, play tunes while the crowd rolls in, then, when everyone is poured and well oiled and lightly fed, pop in a film, chat it up a bit and let it roll.
I took in a film tonight downtown, something I rarely do. I don't know why I don't do it more often, but tonight it was easy to catch, as the film I wanted to catch was right up the street at the Historic Orchard Theater. Seven o'clock showing of Gran Torino. I can't tell you how many films have come and gone out of that little house that I've wanted to see. Some I've caught up with at home on dvd, but most I've only gotten to read the reviews about or heard tell about them through my colleague at work. But tonight I managed to drag my groceries home in time for a quick turnaround and had cash enough in my pocket to pop for a flick. It was a good thing to do. Great movie, wonderful time.
Wonderful if only because I felt that I was doing my part in keeping that little house going. There were only a half dozen or so of us in the theater tonight. That made the screening feel very intimate. For a moment I sat to the back of the auditorium, right next to the door, close enough to the projection booth to hear the film sproketing through the projector. I moved a bit closer to the screen after that, not close enough to hear my neighbor rummage around in his popcorn tub, but close enough to block out the ambient light of the exit sign. I paid good money to experience the movie on a big screen, and I sat close enough to make that screen seem bigger than anything I could experience at home.
What's wonderful, too, about the whole movie out in town thing is the joint emotional experience you share with the crowd. It it never fails to thrill me, those shared cinema moments. It's one thing to be at home and get all intellectual about a film, really study it in a somewhat controlled environment, but it's another to register the movie through other peoples reactions. Isn't it something to sit there and groove with a bunch of strangers and laugh at a scene together? I find it fascinating that we all find different things to laugh at, or find similar ways to feel that grand sweep of panic or joy or pain that the characters feel together as a group. I suppose that's why I am so dogged about keeping my little film group going, why I work it so hard at maintaining it's momentem. It's that communal experience, that vicarious thrill we all share together, each and every month, that makes watching movies together so worthwhile. It's a grand thing, indeed, even if that grand thing only lasts for a moment or two.
Tonight, in order to earn that movie time, I had to hump almost fifty pounds of groceries..on foot. I have friends coming over for supper on Saturday. I plan on making Mexican that night. Always a crowd pleaser. Enchiladas, spatchcocked chickens, fresh frijoles, a pan of Mexican rice, a jar of my cousin Ray's famous salsa, and couple new sauce and salad recipes I cadged out of the Seattle Times on Wednesday. I think it will be great to break bread, drink wine, chat books and all that with new friends and family of my colleague. Get out some toys for her boy to play with. Play some parlor games together as a group. Nothing better than having friends over.
But later on this weekend, after the food is put away and the dishes are done, I hope to find some time to plow through some of the movies I found today at Goodwill. Sure, all of them are on VHS, but still. Get aload of these titles:
House of Games
Mona Lisa
The Sheltering Sky
The Handmaid's Tale
La Cage Aux Folles
Shiri
Sybil
The Rose
The Quiet Earth. And all, except for two, were new in the box. A buck a throw. How nice is that?
So all that, plus a screening of An Inconvenient Truth at the Port Orchard Branch on Sunday at 2PM. Wow. All the movies a man can stand. Maybe, just maybe.
I took in a film tonight downtown, something I rarely do. I don't know why I don't do it more often, but tonight it was easy to catch, as the film I wanted to catch was right up the street at the Historic Orchard Theater. Seven o'clock showing of Gran Torino. I can't tell you how many films have come and gone out of that little house that I've wanted to see. Some I've caught up with at home on dvd, but most I've only gotten to read the reviews about or heard tell about them through my colleague at work. But tonight I managed to drag my groceries home in time for a quick turnaround and had cash enough in my pocket to pop for a flick. It was a good thing to do. Great movie, wonderful time.
Wonderful if only because I felt that I was doing my part in keeping that little house going. There were only a half dozen or so of us in the theater tonight. That made the screening feel very intimate. For a moment I sat to the back of the auditorium, right next to the door, close enough to the projection booth to hear the film sproketing through the projector. I moved a bit closer to the screen after that, not close enough to hear my neighbor rummage around in his popcorn tub, but close enough to block out the ambient light of the exit sign. I paid good money to experience the movie on a big screen, and I sat close enough to make that screen seem bigger than anything I could experience at home.
What's wonderful, too, about the whole movie out in town thing is the joint emotional experience you share with the crowd. It it never fails to thrill me, those shared cinema moments. It's one thing to be at home and get all intellectual about a film, really study it in a somewhat controlled environment, but it's another to register the movie through other peoples reactions. Isn't it something to sit there and groove with a bunch of strangers and laugh at a scene together? I find it fascinating that we all find different things to laugh at, or find similar ways to feel that grand sweep of panic or joy or pain that the characters feel together as a group. I suppose that's why I am so dogged about keeping my little film group going, why I work it so hard at maintaining it's momentem. It's that communal experience, that vicarious thrill we all share together, each and every month, that makes watching movies together so worthwhile. It's a grand thing, indeed, even if that grand thing only lasts for a moment or two.
Tonight, in order to earn that movie time, I had to hump almost fifty pounds of groceries..on foot. I have friends coming over for supper on Saturday. I plan on making Mexican that night. Always a crowd pleaser. Enchiladas, spatchcocked chickens, fresh frijoles, a pan of Mexican rice, a jar of my cousin Ray's famous salsa, and couple new sauce and salad recipes I cadged out of the Seattle Times on Wednesday. I think it will be great to break bread, drink wine, chat books and all that with new friends and family of my colleague. Get out some toys for her boy to play with. Play some parlor games together as a group. Nothing better than having friends over.
But later on this weekend, after the food is put away and the dishes are done, I hope to find some time to plow through some of the movies I found today at Goodwill. Sure, all of them are on VHS, but still. Get aload of these titles:
House of Games
Mona Lisa
The Sheltering Sky
The Handmaid's Tale
La Cage Aux Folles
Shiri
Sybil
The Rose
The Quiet Earth. And all, except for two, were new in the box. A buck a throw. How nice is that?
So all that, plus a screening of An Inconvenient Truth at the Port Orchard Branch on Sunday at 2PM. Wow. All the movies a man can stand. Maybe, just maybe.
But still, it's a time thing we're facing here. Like with books and music, there's all too much to see, to read, to listen to. Where are we going to find the time? Well, how 'bout right now? Who needs to open a movie house when the best local cinema is right upstairs? Come on by and I'll pour you a glass of some Barefoot Pinot Grigio. Heat up some enchiladas. We'll nosh abit, then turn down the lights and let those reels spin!
Salud!
Found photo
I walk a lot these days and so I tend to find things. Not quite in the same way as my patron Bob does. He's constantly finding stuff..tools, coins, and yesterday even a wallet full of ID. But then again he walks hard everyday, puts in lots of miles, really racks it up. Me, most of the stuff I come across is common everyday trash. All too much trash. To some folks the world is a mobile garbage heap. But today I was coming home and off to the side of the sidewalk, almost buried in the high spring grass but not quite, was a photograph. Had to have that photograph.
Knowing that quite a few photos of mine have been scattered by the seven winds I had to pick that one up, study it a bit. I was a sepia toned shot of a matron with two kids. The woman is definitely a Latina, judged not only by her facial characteristics and skin tone but also by the costuming and the looks of the kids. What got to me more than anything else was that that woman was dressed up in bridal array. She had the veil up and over her head, but the rest of her gown was a dead giveaway that it was a wedding day photo. Pearls, flowers, shy beatitude, pure unmitigated happiness.
The girls..were they relatives? Her children? Her sisters? Nieces, cousins, kids of the same? I want to ask that gal some questions...was the day a good time? Did everyone show? Did you have a band, a catered reception? Was it held in a hall, or like my cousin Sonny, was it held in the backyard of some good natured relative, or maybe in your own backyard? Are you happy now? Heaven forbid, are you still married?
I found that photo and I think of all things I've found over the years by the side of the road...screwdrivers, a silver wedding band, a few quarters and once a small bottle of Jack Daniels..and know that things just find their way out of car windows or from under hoods of cars. Roll off car roofs. Get tossed. But that photo. Where are the rest of them? What about the rest of that day? What about the rest of her life, the moments in between that Mona Lisa smile and the rest of her adventure called life? Why was that photo sitting there off to the side of road? Was it a slip up? Was it a case of not liking it and tossing it out the window like my Estranged One used to do with the mobile Polaroids I used to shoot of her? Was it the case of some thieving types that came across her car or a household load of things that they had to unload and that stretch of the highway was where that one particular photo happened to land?
I know that it is not impossible to find folks these days. If I had a digital camera or a scanner I could shoot and post that photo but then again maybe the totemic magic of that shot is in the mystery that it provides. Maybe some day I will be standing in line at Saars or Safeway or wandering around the farmer's market or just be out there, in the aisles of some second hand or rummaging around at some garage sale and I will look up and she will be there. What could I possibly say to her? Hello? Haven't we met somewhere before? Or, "hey, I found a photo of you off the corner of Tremont and Sidney. How was the wedding? Are you happy? Sure looked like it in the picture..."
One way or the other that photo is now part of my life. Right now it's sitting in front of me on my computer. Later on I'll post it on my fridge, maybe even frame it. Make that mystery trio part of my family, part of the journey that we all take in this life, and that is a wandering amongst strangers, strangers who sometimes in the end become more important than kin or blood relatives ever hope to be.
Ah, to the lessons that my father taught me.
Salud!
Knowing that quite a few photos of mine have been scattered by the seven winds I had to pick that one up, study it a bit. I was a sepia toned shot of a matron with two kids. The woman is definitely a Latina, judged not only by her facial characteristics and skin tone but also by the costuming and the looks of the kids. What got to me more than anything else was that that woman was dressed up in bridal array. She had the veil up and over her head, but the rest of her gown was a dead giveaway that it was a wedding day photo. Pearls, flowers, shy beatitude, pure unmitigated happiness.
The girls..were they relatives? Her children? Her sisters? Nieces, cousins, kids of the same? I want to ask that gal some questions...was the day a good time? Did everyone show? Did you have a band, a catered reception? Was it held in a hall, or like my cousin Sonny, was it held in the backyard of some good natured relative, or maybe in your own backyard? Are you happy now? Heaven forbid, are you still married?
I found that photo and I think of all things I've found over the years by the side of the road...screwdrivers, a silver wedding band, a few quarters and once a small bottle of Jack Daniels..and know that things just find their way out of car windows or from under hoods of cars. Roll off car roofs. Get tossed. But that photo. Where are the rest of them? What about the rest of that day? What about the rest of her life, the moments in between that Mona Lisa smile and the rest of her adventure called life? Why was that photo sitting there off to the side of road? Was it a slip up? Was it a case of not liking it and tossing it out the window like my Estranged One used to do with the mobile Polaroids I used to shoot of her? Was it the case of some thieving types that came across her car or a household load of things that they had to unload and that stretch of the highway was where that one particular photo happened to land?
I know that it is not impossible to find folks these days. If I had a digital camera or a scanner I could shoot and post that photo but then again maybe the totemic magic of that shot is in the mystery that it provides. Maybe some day I will be standing in line at Saars or Safeway or wandering around the farmer's market or just be out there, in the aisles of some second hand or rummaging around at some garage sale and I will look up and she will be there. What could I possibly say to her? Hello? Haven't we met somewhere before? Or, "hey, I found a photo of you off the corner of Tremont and Sidney. How was the wedding? Are you happy? Sure looked like it in the picture..."
One way or the other that photo is now part of my life. Right now it's sitting in front of me on my computer. Later on I'll post it on my fridge, maybe even frame it. Make that mystery trio part of my family, part of the journey that we all take in this life, and that is a wandering amongst strangers, strangers who sometimes in the end become more important than kin or blood relatives ever hope to be.
Ah, to the lessons that my father taught me.
Salud!
What two hundred and sixty dollars gets you
$260. Chicken feed, I know, but seems like a lot when you don't have it. And when you do, it pretty much just flies right out of your pocket. But I had a bit left over from taxes, a bit left over from my mom's little gift to me, and there were a few things that I wanted to get. So I did what any red blooded American would do on a nice day like today: I went out and shopped! All so patriotic of me, yes indeed!
So, what did 260 bucks get me? Not a whole heck of a lot, but I spread it around some and picked up a few things, like a new discontinued Kodak digital camera at Walmart. A small hamburger supper at Wendy's. I upped my membership at Hollywood Video, had a nice filling lunch at Kim's Teriyaki and picked up couple of propane cylinders for creme brulee and bbqing. Grabbed a one way bus ride to Freddies and bought a nice couple bags worth of groceries, including some long range pantry ingredients, like mushroom flavored soy sauce, cardomon powder, Mirin, a bottle of Marsala and a small bag of turmeric. Picked up a half way decent bottle of cabernet, Meridian, at Rite Aid and bought a couple of Hershey bars with almonds to take to work. And, the really big deal of the day, I bought a bag full of lamb shanks at Farmer Georges to use in a very tasty recipe I found in Nigella Bites. Just can't wait for that.
It was money well spent. The walks that went along with all that spending were pretty wonderful, too. The walk last night came with a grand sunset attached to it, and today's walk was beyond stellar, the day being about as gorgeous as a day could possibly be. It was so fine I wouldn't be surprised to see a bill in the mail charging me for it. Those walks always come with small adventures, or take me to places where I see folks that I know. Today I ran into one of the moms I know from the branch. Then I hit up an estate sale and came across a cockatiel for sale and found out that that bird had the same name as me. Damn near made a sale just on that small point alone, but I knew that I would be bummed out to come home and find my namesake in Guapo's mouth, so I passed on the offer.
The biggest thrill of the day though was finally hitting up the much heard about butcher shop on Bethel, Farmer Georges. I had to to tell those counter folks that I've lived in this town for almost twelve years and had never stopped to shop there. I have to think that says alot about where I'm going with my cooking. It's one thing to want to stretch out a dollar, but it's another thing entirely to want to eat well. I think today was the little food revelation that I needed, cholesterol count be damned. The meat in that place was all too awesome. Just the beef shanks alone will get me back there next weekend. I see a major pot of pasta sauce coming out of my kitchen soon, with those beef shanks playing a starring role.
So, what to do to top a day like I've had today? It sure has been grand, no doubt about that. I woke up late, watched Standard Operating Procedure by Morris, his latest documentary on the excesses of war in Iraq. After I dropped that off I picked up Mamet's Red Belt and a copy of the Dark Knight. Need to see what all the fuss is about with Heath Ledger's (poor son of a bitch) roll as the Joker. I know that my lawn is beginning to resemble a movie backlot jungle (the neighbor's cheese eating chihuahua gets lost wandering around in it) so that means that I must drag out my push mower and get to work. But you know, I would rather just read a couple magazines, or wile away the hours here at the computer, or even take a nap. Maybe I'll bake a cheesecake, or cook up a pot of beans. I think that it's waay too early to consider having cocktails on the veranda, but I know that a nice chilled glass of chardonnay or three will be fine later on.
It's great to have a day off when the rest of the world is working. Made all that walking and errand running and spending a bit more pleasurable. Yeah, all two hundred and sixty dollars worth of spending! Mighty grand time, yes indeed!
Salud!
So, what did 260 bucks get me? Not a whole heck of a lot, but I spread it around some and picked up a few things, like a new discontinued Kodak digital camera at Walmart. A small hamburger supper at Wendy's. I upped my membership at Hollywood Video, had a nice filling lunch at Kim's Teriyaki and picked up couple of propane cylinders for creme brulee and bbqing. Grabbed a one way bus ride to Freddies and bought a nice couple bags worth of groceries, including some long range pantry ingredients, like mushroom flavored soy sauce, cardomon powder, Mirin, a bottle of Marsala and a small bag of turmeric. Picked up a half way decent bottle of cabernet, Meridian, at Rite Aid and bought a couple of Hershey bars with almonds to take to work. And, the really big deal of the day, I bought a bag full of lamb shanks at Farmer Georges to use in a very tasty recipe I found in Nigella Bites. Just can't wait for that.
It was money well spent. The walks that went along with all that spending were pretty wonderful, too. The walk last night came with a grand sunset attached to it, and today's walk was beyond stellar, the day being about as gorgeous as a day could possibly be. It was so fine I wouldn't be surprised to see a bill in the mail charging me for it. Those walks always come with small adventures, or take me to places where I see folks that I know. Today I ran into one of the moms I know from the branch. Then I hit up an estate sale and came across a cockatiel for sale and found out that that bird had the same name as me. Damn near made a sale just on that small point alone, but I knew that I would be bummed out to come home and find my namesake in Guapo's mouth, so I passed on the offer.
The biggest thrill of the day though was finally hitting up the much heard about butcher shop on Bethel, Farmer Georges. I had to to tell those counter folks that I've lived in this town for almost twelve years and had never stopped to shop there. I have to think that says alot about where I'm going with my cooking. It's one thing to want to stretch out a dollar, but it's another thing entirely to want to eat well. I think today was the little food revelation that I needed, cholesterol count be damned. The meat in that place was all too awesome. Just the beef shanks alone will get me back there next weekend. I see a major pot of pasta sauce coming out of my kitchen soon, with those beef shanks playing a starring role.
So, what to do to top a day like I've had today? It sure has been grand, no doubt about that. I woke up late, watched Standard Operating Procedure by Morris, his latest documentary on the excesses of war in Iraq. After I dropped that off I picked up Mamet's Red Belt and a copy of the Dark Knight. Need to see what all the fuss is about with Heath Ledger's (poor son of a bitch) roll as the Joker. I know that my lawn is beginning to resemble a movie backlot jungle (the neighbor's cheese eating chihuahua gets lost wandering around in it) so that means that I must drag out my push mower and get to work. But you know, I would rather just read a couple magazines, or wile away the hours here at the computer, or even take a nap. Maybe I'll bake a cheesecake, or cook up a pot of beans. I think that it's waay too early to consider having cocktails on the veranda, but I know that a nice chilled glass of chardonnay or three will be fine later on.
It's great to have a day off when the rest of the world is working. Made all that walking and errand running and spending a bit more pleasurable. Yeah, all two hundred and sixty dollars worth of spending! Mighty grand time, yes indeed!
Salud!
Cooking with Jane: one too many breasts!
My mouth is on fire and it's your fault.
Well, something like that.
Maybe it's the chicken's fault. I found a great pack of chicken breasts last week at Safeway for a good price and have been using them up a little at a time, a breast a day. Hmmm. Let's not go there.
But seriously, I've tried them many different ways these last few days. I have been using my grill pan a lot, which makes cooking them all too easy. A quick turn of the pepper grinder, another quick turn of the salt grinder, a bit of olive oil, five minutes or so over medium high heat and viola! a very nifty piece of meat ready for just about darn near anything.
So, last Thursday I turned the first piece into a sorta a Greek type sandwich. I used up one of the last pieces of flat bread that I made for my dinner party last weekend, heated and folded and added a spritz of that very tasty garlic sauce that I only seem to be able to find at Central Market. A handful of green leaf lettuce, a slug of tomato slices, a rather large slice of onion (not too cool since I had desk duty that afternoon), a slice of deli provolone and that chicken, raging hot with that oil/pepper/salt thing. WOW. Had to go back to work and brag about that.
The next day I tried to recreate an old pasta sauce standard that I made a lot in the fall but the sauce failed miserably. I sauteed everything in butter but the butter did not go well with white wine I used I added a can of tomatoes to try to turn the thing around but it was a failed mission. I ate my fill and tossed the rest out. What a waste. One for one.
The next day I grilled up another breast, but this time tucked it in the middle of a freshly baked sourdough bun. Added a bit of lettuce, a squirt of mustard and a rather large slice of onion. No kissing me, babe, not unless you were onion happy, too.
Today I was hankering for tacos so I fried up four corn tortillas, loaded each of them up with a slim slice of cheddar, a schmear of quacamole, a nice pile of chopped grilled chicken breast, a handful of cilantro/green leaf/Walla Walla Sweet and a dash of Tapatio sauce. Four down and that's gotta be it for the night.
One breast left for tomorrow. Should I attempt to redeem myself with another round of that pasta sauce? I have the half and half on hand, I just don't have the proper amount of cheese to really do it justice. The cheese makes all the difference, you know? Maybe I'll try it again next week with another batch of breasts. I'm sure I'll just grill that last one up, slide it between a couple slices of sourdough. A bit of provolone, a nice big wedge of lettuce, put some garlic butter in the pan and man, a new grilled cheese sandwich thrill. Oh wow, maybe it won't make it till tomorrow! It was hard working kind of day today!
Salud!
Meanwhile here's a joint that I have to try! The pizza sounds to me to be out of this world!
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/restaurants/2009221500_deal15.html
Well, something like that.
Maybe it's the chicken's fault. I found a great pack of chicken breasts last week at Safeway for a good price and have been using them up a little at a time, a breast a day. Hmmm. Let's not go there.
But seriously, I've tried them many different ways these last few days. I have been using my grill pan a lot, which makes cooking them all too easy. A quick turn of the pepper grinder, another quick turn of the salt grinder, a bit of olive oil, five minutes or so over medium high heat and viola! a very nifty piece of meat ready for just about darn near anything.
So, last Thursday I turned the first piece into a sorta a Greek type sandwich. I used up one of the last pieces of flat bread that I made for my dinner party last weekend, heated and folded and added a spritz of that very tasty garlic sauce that I only seem to be able to find at Central Market. A handful of green leaf lettuce, a slug of tomato slices, a rather large slice of onion (not too cool since I had desk duty that afternoon), a slice of deli provolone and that chicken, raging hot with that oil/pepper/salt thing. WOW. Had to go back to work and brag about that.
The next day I tried to recreate an old pasta sauce standard that I made a lot in the fall but the sauce failed miserably. I sauteed everything in butter but the butter did not go well with white wine I used I added a can of tomatoes to try to turn the thing around but it was a failed mission. I ate my fill and tossed the rest out. What a waste. One for one.
The next day I grilled up another breast, but this time tucked it in the middle of a freshly baked sourdough bun. Added a bit of lettuce, a squirt of mustard and a rather large slice of onion. No kissing me, babe, not unless you were onion happy, too.
Today I was hankering for tacos so I fried up four corn tortillas, loaded each of them up with a slim slice of cheddar, a schmear of quacamole, a nice pile of chopped grilled chicken breast, a handful of cilantro/green leaf/Walla Walla Sweet and a dash of Tapatio sauce. Four down and that's gotta be it for the night.
One breast left for tomorrow. Should I attempt to redeem myself with another round of that pasta sauce? I have the half and half on hand, I just don't have the proper amount of cheese to really do it justice. The cheese makes all the difference, you know? Maybe I'll try it again next week with another batch of breasts. I'm sure I'll just grill that last one up, slide it between a couple slices of sourdough. A bit of provolone, a nice big wedge of lettuce, put some garlic butter in the pan and man, a new grilled cheese sandwich thrill. Oh wow, maybe it won't make it till tomorrow! It was hard working kind of day today!
Salud!
Meanwhile here's a joint that I have to try! The pizza sounds to me to be out of this world!
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/restaurants/2009221500_deal15.html
Joy of sweat
I woke up aching, but I sort of like it that way. I went to bed the night before last and hit the pillow, thinking I would watch a bit of tv but the next thing I know it's Sunday morning. All I can say is that my favorite time of year is here, and that's yard work season!
I can't say that it's been a regular source of fun the last couple of years. In fact I pretty much turned my head away from it all and sort of let my yard become the bum of the neighborhood. More the butt of jokes, an object of derision. I don't know how I couldn't "see" it, as I was walking back and forth to work, seeing the yard both coming and going everyday. I was off somewhere else, apparently, immune to the logic of cut and make pretty. Heck, I even went off to help some gal with her yard to settle a babysitting deal, all the time slighting mine. As my perennials would say, what a jerk.
Well, that's all over with. As Arnold said to himself after the fact, I'm back.
This weekend was a taste of what came before, years before, when those yard work duties blocked out every weekend, and summer vacations were spent taking care of the house. But what is somewhat perverse about that is that I enjoyed it, loved shifting soil, making things look good. The yard, when I bought this house eleven years ago, was a disaster, or least ways, a design that was functional in the eyes of another man. I chalked it up to a absent landlordism and left it at that. Spent the first four years moving railroad timbers, knocking out old and mismanaged shrubbery, putting in rose beds, the like, all the time working on the inside of the house as well.
I am not saying that I am a master gardener or the ultimate handyman. I've seen that kind of action all around me since I've lived here as I have neighbors who really excel in those kinds of things. I am a putterer but I feel I do that kind of thing well. Well, again, not the last few years but I am back on the case. I now have my assignments before me and I feel good about it. For starters I told myself "three bins a week". That's how much noxious weed control I would get out of the yard and down to the dump. I also told myself flowers this year as well, and after much work now have the makings for three really sweet little beds. I also told myself that the railing and the porch both needed tending to and those jobs have already been started. Lots more to do on top of that and that's grand, so long as the weather holds out.
And even if it doesn't, so what? Back in the day I worked outside until the rains of November helped me understand that it was time for me to refocus my energies on my inside work. If I remember correctly that's when the muses would come to visit. One year they even helped me think up and build up my mantle piece. Maybe something new and exciting like that will come to me this fall, like the exhaust fan above my stove or a real reworking of the basement. But for now I see tomato starters, sunflower seeds and dahlia bulbs before me. I see an outside fire pit aching to be used and the sinking of two posts that needs to be done so I can rock outside in my Guatamalan hammock. I see plenty of bbq time coming up because this year I can actually see the bbq, whereas before it was just too much to handle.
This year I see flowers where before there were weeds, and I couldn't be happier, or feel more alive.
Salud!
I can't say that it's been a regular source of fun the last couple of years. In fact I pretty much turned my head away from it all and sort of let my yard become the bum of the neighborhood. More the butt of jokes, an object of derision. I don't know how I couldn't "see" it, as I was walking back and forth to work, seeing the yard both coming and going everyday. I was off somewhere else, apparently, immune to the logic of cut and make pretty. Heck, I even went off to help some gal with her yard to settle a babysitting deal, all the time slighting mine. As my perennials would say, what a jerk.
Well, that's all over with. As Arnold said to himself after the fact, I'm back.
This weekend was a taste of what came before, years before, when those yard work duties blocked out every weekend, and summer vacations were spent taking care of the house. But what is somewhat perverse about that is that I enjoyed it, loved shifting soil, making things look good. The yard, when I bought this house eleven years ago, was a disaster, or least ways, a design that was functional in the eyes of another man. I chalked it up to a absent landlordism and left it at that. Spent the first four years moving railroad timbers, knocking out old and mismanaged shrubbery, putting in rose beds, the like, all the time working on the inside of the house as well.
I am not saying that I am a master gardener or the ultimate handyman. I've seen that kind of action all around me since I've lived here as I have neighbors who really excel in those kinds of things. I am a putterer but I feel I do that kind of thing well. Well, again, not the last few years but I am back on the case. I now have my assignments before me and I feel good about it. For starters I told myself "three bins a week". That's how much noxious weed control I would get out of the yard and down to the dump. I also told myself flowers this year as well, and after much work now have the makings for three really sweet little beds. I also told myself that the railing and the porch both needed tending to and those jobs have already been started. Lots more to do on top of that and that's grand, so long as the weather holds out.
And even if it doesn't, so what? Back in the day I worked outside until the rains of November helped me understand that it was time for me to refocus my energies on my inside work. If I remember correctly that's when the muses would come to visit. One year they even helped me think up and build up my mantle piece. Maybe something new and exciting like that will come to me this fall, like the exhaust fan above my stove or a real reworking of the basement. But for now I see tomato starters, sunflower seeds and dahlia bulbs before me. I see an outside fire pit aching to be used and the sinking of two posts that needs to be done so I can rock outside in my Guatamalan hammock. I see plenty of bbq time coming up because this year I can actually see the bbq, whereas before it was just too much to handle.
This year I see flowers where before there were weeds, and I couldn't be happier, or feel more alive.
Salud!
Discarded finery
When spring comes around I'll always think of road trips up past the San Fernando Valley to the place where the Green Man and hobby horses once roamed. It's been years since the Faire played that region, and since then Renfairs have become big business. Somehow it's not quite the same thing, but maybe that's how things get to be as you get older. Things change and that's okay.
The Renaissance Faire Pleasure Faire seemed to be a natural fit for the region back in those days. Started by theater students, starving actors and hippies in the mid sixties as a way for them to practice their crafts and put on a show, it was first held out at the old Paramount Ranch in the hills above Agoura. In later years it turned into a heavily sponsored seasonal bachannal, an outlandish showpiece for artisans and costumers and LA daytrippers to disappear into. It was our local annual spring festival, one where folks bent on participating in ancient pagan revels were allowed to get wild and crazy, even if only for an afternoon.
The switch of faire from Agoura to the state park in San Bernadino took a bit of the shine off of the old thrills. The faire was transferred and then transformed in such a way that it was never quite the same faire again. Maybe that's the price of the corporate life. They took a grand pagan event and watered it down with Michelob values and in the end weighed it down with a boatload of rules and regulations that went contrary to the wild pagan event that they started out with. Bacchus doesn't really crave rules and regulations, you know?
Nevertheless, prepping for the spring Renfaire in Agoura was a pretty big deal for those of us who participated back in those days, something we took seriously all year long from the moment the spring fair closed. Sure, there were other obligations we had to attend to, things like marriages and jobs and finishing up pesky school degrees, but all those things seemed to be less important, just sidelights, distractions, food to fill the belly while we gathered goods, read books and watched movies to feed the collective Renfaire soul. Face it, there was a time when The Taming of the Shrew outweighed Casablanca in my eyes. That in itself says an awful lot about where we were coming from.
But still, I wasn't an artisan or an actor or even plugged into the Faire as a participant. I was just a paying man at the gate, but a man with an obsession. By the time I hit my third or fourth faire I couldn't stand the idea of going in street clothes anymore. I looked around casually in second hand and antique stores for costume pieces, but by 1983 I became fairly militant about it. I
The Renaissance Faire Pleasure Faire seemed to be a natural fit for the region back in those days. Started by theater students, starving actors and hippies in the mid sixties as a way for them to practice their crafts and put on a show, it was first held out at the old Paramount Ranch in the hills above Agoura. In later years it turned into a heavily sponsored seasonal bachannal, an outlandish showpiece for artisans and costumers and LA daytrippers to disappear into. It was our local annual spring festival, one where folks bent on participating in ancient pagan revels were allowed to get wild and crazy, even if only for an afternoon.
The switch of faire from Agoura to the state park in San Bernadino took a bit of the shine off of the old thrills. The faire was transferred and then transformed in such a way that it was never quite the same faire again. Maybe that's the price of the corporate life. They took a grand pagan event and watered it down with Michelob values and in the end weighed it down with a boatload of rules and regulations that went contrary to the wild pagan event that they started out with. Bacchus doesn't really crave rules and regulations, you know?
Nevertheless, prepping for the spring Renfaire in Agoura was a pretty big deal for those of us who participated back in those days, something we took seriously all year long from the moment the spring fair closed. Sure, there were other obligations we had to attend to, things like marriages and jobs and finishing up pesky school degrees, but all those things seemed to be less important, just sidelights, distractions, food to fill the belly while we gathered goods, read books and watched movies to feed the collective Renfaire soul. Face it, there was a time when The Taming of the Shrew outweighed Casablanca in my eyes. That in itself says an awful lot about where we were coming from.
But still, I wasn't an artisan or an actor or even plugged into the Faire as a participant. I was just a paying man at the gate, but a man with an obsession. By the time I hit my third or fourth faire I couldn't stand the idea of going in street clothes anymore. I looked around casually in second hand and antique stores for costume pieces, but by 1983 I became fairly militant about it. I
started reading costume books, started accumulating fabric and friends who could sew. But there were big problems, though, living in the Big OC. We had actors and artists in abundance, sure, thinking in terms of the grand old Laguna pageant, but nothing that really supported the means and ways of folks who really wanted to upgrade their Faire personas. In other words if we wanted to play we had to hustle, and hustle I did.
I couldn't really find much in the way of used costumes in Orange County. I'm sure that if I had trolled the junk shops in Hollywood I would have struck gold, but the closest I ever got to finding anything worth a damn was finding an old velvet waistcoat and a pair of pantaloons in a junk shop in Orange. A label on the inside of the jacket said that it was an New York Metropolitan Opera piece. That in itself made it a totally pedigree piece, but it was at least two sizes too small. Try as I might I couldn't fit into it let alone had the cash to buy it on a starving student's salary. It would have taken too much reconstruction to make it work. So I left it behind and learned how to sew and built up costumes of my own. Wove and dyed and messed around. Learned to paper machie and make masks. Cut up wool blankets, cobbled together pieces and made stuff for my friends. Nothing elaborate, but workable. Much, much better than going in street clothes.
So when I saw the story below about the sale of costumes at the Rep in Seattle it made my mouth water and made my mind reel. I have to wonder what was there that could have transformed my wardrobe into something truly grand. Sure, I haven't been to a Renaissance Pleasure Faire in years and I have to admit that I haven't attended any of the local varieties of faire if only because I knew that they are not in league with the Faires of old. Back in those days I was in league with Bacchus. When I took those trips to Agoura I went up into the hills and cavorted about with satryrs, wenches, minor gods and all the great unwashed who wished to drink, sing bawdy songs, eat turkey legs and pasties and watch the plays of The Bard.
Yeah, times and bodies and tolerance levels change. Maybe I should approach this local summer fair thing with the temperate mind of an older man. Tip my flagon with the new breed and find a haybale where I can comfortably sit and sing the songs of the old times and tell tales of the days when the Renaissance Pleasure Faire really was all about partaking in pleasure, pleasures that have long escaped most of us in this heavily sponsored age.
Salud!
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/thearts/2009309882_seattlerep07m.html
Renaissance Fair page with tons of links: http://www.renfaire.com/
Beautiful site and store about one of the artists of the "old faire":http://www.baymoon.com/~ukulelebooks/RPF.htm
Wikipedia take on the fair, with numerous links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaissance_fair
Friends of the old Faire:
http://www.dragondance.com/faire/
Boy as packhorse
We started out our evening knowing we were in for a long walk. The idea was to hit up a second hand and come home with a couple pair of shorts, catch something to eat along the way. Instead we went a bit crazy and bought an awful lot of stuff. Four games, a dozen movies, about ten cookbooks, a ton of Garfield titles, a nice quality knife, miscellaneous kitchen gadgets, a half dozen shirts and finally a couple pairs of shorts.
It must have looked funny seeing us walk home last night, two cats humping home big bags full of loot clearly marked Goodwill. At times I felt a bit guilty, as only a 51 year old man can. For a moment or two I felt that no teenager should be subjected to this, but then I thought about all those walks I took when I was a young man and knew it wasn't going to kill him. Besides, we tucked in at King's Teriyaki and ate well before our long slog home. I distributed the load so that he wouldn't have a hellacious and discouraging walk. We stopped when we needed to and I salted the walk with the promise of a comedy and dessert once we got home.
We came in the door and plopped our bags down in the kitchen and broke out the scale. Since the movies and books were my jones I carried the bulk of weight, but still, he carried almost twenty pounds worth of goods over two and half miles. I was proud of him. That's the kind of thing that builds character and bone mass. All to the good. And man, you should see those shirts he got! Wow!
Salud!
It must have looked funny seeing us walk home last night, two cats humping home big bags full of loot clearly marked Goodwill. At times I felt a bit guilty, as only a 51 year old man can. For a moment or two I felt that no teenager should be subjected to this, but then I thought about all those walks I took when I was a young man and knew it wasn't going to kill him. Besides, we tucked in at King's Teriyaki and ate well before our long slog home. I distributed the load so that he wouldn't have a hellacious and discouraging walk. We stopped when we needed to and I salted the walk with the promise of a comedy and dessert once we got home.
We came in the door and plopped our bags down in the kitchen and broke out the scale. Since the movies and books were my jones I carried the bulk of weight, but still, he carried almost twenty pounds worth of goods over two and half miles. I was proud of him. That's the kind of thing that builds character and bone mass. All to the good. And man, you should see those shirts he got! Wow!
Salud!
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