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Saturday, March 29, 2003

it's been a slow day today, and that's okay.

i needed a slower pace, no alarm clock, little bitty kitty loaf all curled up beside me, body waking at its own speed sort of morning. the fact that it spilled over into early afternoon is pretty fine with me. it's the best way to counteract the aggravation, and keep me from a full blown IBS flare, which is exactly no fun.

the afternoon (such as it was) has been eaten up with several phone calls, one of which was my best friend offering me a massage. i want to tell you about the show last night, but i have to say - massage takes priority. ;) that, another show tonight (Susan Tedeschi, blues guitar woman extraordinaire), and then a few musical reviews for you. back in a bit!

:: scribbled at 4:04 PM ... ... o

Friday, March 28, 2003

almost forgot! i wanted to hunt this link down, after forgetting to do so yesterday:

Books For Soldiers is a way to send books (and letters, and maybe some other care package type things) to our troops. whatever i may think about the war, i very certainly support those who are over there putting their lives on the line. here's a way to make that support tangible.

:: scribbled at 5:58 PM ... ... o

i had something cute to say about last night at the gym, but that's pretty much shot to shit right now.

because right now, i have a blinding migraine, i feel manipulated, i am hating that other people and their stupid fucking idiotic decisions can get me in such a twist, and it's been a long day and i still have to go to job #2.

*deep breath* okay. right. i know. they only get to me because i let them. sometimes, it's unavoidable, tho.

on the upside, i'm feeling pretty damn perky about future possibilities - and that's all i'm gonna say, because i don't want to jinx anything. yes, i'm superstitious. i'm Irish. it comes with the territory. ;) also on the upside is that tonight's show is the ever fantabulous Lyle Lovett.

i'm feeling the need for a good sippin' Scotch and a backrub right about now.

:: scribbled at 5:45 PM ... ... o

Thursday, March 27, 2003

aaaaand it's off to the races.

no, not really. it's off to the gym. i've been a little sporadic about attendance, but i'm working on it. plans for tonight involve several miles uphill (both ways) on the treadmill and a weights class. i'm hoping to get a treadmill by the window, so i can stare out and wonder about people scurrying from place to place. far more entertaining than watching badly captioned cable news. 'and on the Wet*3rn fr0t, we seeeee thatour troupes' - you get the idea. not bad enough that the news is sad and scary and depressing, you have to run it thru the typo filter to figure out what it all means.

my motivation seems to be oddly backwards lately. see, i haven't worked out the last few days because i've been mildly depressed. now that it's sunny and warm(er) and i'm feeling better, the motivation is easier to find. but i know from experience that the workout would have helped take the edge off the depression far more effectively than a nap. so you'd think i would have pushed myself, in order to feel better. then again, logic rarely has much to do with depression. i'm just grateful to be able to go tonight. and a veggie burrito may be in the near future, as well. :)

:: scribbled at 5:28 PM ... ... o

oh, it's been a while since i've done Reasons For Love.

'bout time, then, don't you think? because i am somewhat giddy with love, and not just because it's spring (finally!). no, it's because The Dane is part of my life.

  • he has a 'Happy Girlfriend Song' that he sings on his way over.

  • he makes a mean stir fry, and even meaner red sauce.

  • he can make me laugh so hard i can't see straight.

  • he's willing to talk thru everything, even when it's no fun, just so we don't stay mad.

  • i am grateful to him, every day, for the revelation that it is possible to be partners in a relationship.

  • he and my best friend get along like gangbusters.

i feel like i should have a big closer... which i guess is that i could keep adding something new to that list each and every day. and that's a nice feeling.

:: scribbled at 10:37 AM ... ... o

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

i love my car, really i do. Penny is a good and faithful little car.

of course, she needs a good going over, after the beating she got this winter. i'm sure an alignment wouldn't hurt (do they have chiropracters for cars?). and i've managed to punch a few holes in her (new!) front bumper, one from a pile of ice and snow, the other quite neatly under the signal light as i tried to get around the totalled van my landlord has left out back (a hunk of metal very cleverly snuck up on me). don't tell me *that wasn't aggravating.

so a new bumper is in order as well, to go along with the new door lock. yeah. the lock on the rear passenger door has been out of commision for some time. i tried to force it open once, before coming to the blindingly obvious conclusion that if it were going to be non-operational, it would be much better all around if it were non-operational and *closed*.

my mechanic has assured me that, while you really aren't supposed to be able to get the door panel off while the door is closed, he has his ways and can make it happen, which is good, as that's sort of the first step to replacing said lock. i love my mechanic. he is worth his weight in gold - or donuts, take your pick. i always bring donuts as a sacrificial offering right before any major work. and The Dane is quickly becoming rather fond of my mechanic as well. i'm pretty sure sexual favors were offered recently. ;)

faithful as she is, there are a few things i wish i had in my car. intermittent wipers, for instance. i'd really like that. a light in the trunk. back seats that fold down, maybe. a sunroof would be nifty. heated seats. mmmmm, heated seats. and a heated steering wheel. maybe an espresso machine for the console, so i can refuel while driving. and a DJ in the back seat, mixing my own personal soundtrack of road tunes. he'd have to have a tolerance for loud offkey warbling, but other than that i'm not fussy. just don't tell Penny i said any of this, okay? ;)

:: scribbled at 6:06 PM ... ... o

about all i'm good for today is fishing entries out of old notes.

fortunately, i have a lot of notes left lying around from the couple of months when i thought i'd be keeping a blog and a journal, because they have to be two separate things, now, don't they? eh. that's a whole different discussion.

what i meant to do was share a recipe with you. i don't have the cookbook in front of me, but i modified the recipe anyway, so here's the freeform interpretation of Southwestern Salad from Still Life with Menu by Molly Katzen.

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 can corn, rinsed and drained (note: make sure it's just corn, no salt added or any of that; should be as much corn as beans)
1 small red onion, minced
1 red bell pepper, chopped into pleasingly small bits
handful cilantro, chopped

1/4 c fresh lime juice
1/4 c olive oil
generous helping garlic
1/2 tsp cumin, or to taste
dash chili powder
handful parsley
salt and pepper, to taste

whirl dressing ingredients in blender. toss gently with other ingredients in salad bowl.

note: be careful tossing things, otherwise the black beans get smushed. also, this keeps pretty well, but if you're going to have it around for a day or two, hold out the cilantro and add just before serving, otherwise it gets all icky.

we also found that while this stand well on its own, it goes quite well with yellow rice. ;)

:: scribbled at 12:35 PM ... ... o

Tuesday, March 25, 2003


this past weekend's birthday party involved a rendition of El Paso, with some very alternative lyrics. and i was unable to stop humming that damn song all night, or the next day, to my increasing aggravation. i was sick of the song, alternative lyrics or not. and i figured everyone else was, too, which led to this very silly exchange at the breakfast table:

me: (humming El Paso rather tunelessly for the umpteenth million time, and not all the way thru either)
Chef: stop it!
me: (not even looking up) i'm sorry, i can't help it, it's a compulsion...
[dead silence for about 5 seconds]
Chef: i was talking to the dog.

:: scribbled at 3:17 PM ... ... o


i may be forever scarred by the song stylings of Mister Chicken Head. and that's just not right. see, i worked a Hall and Oates concert a few weeks ago (oh, hush - Sarah Smile is too a great song!). after we got most all the patrons in their seats, i snagged a seat for myself down front, in one of the boxes. i love sitting in the boxes. they often don't sell out, because they're usually obstructed view. but for me, half the show is the audience. from the box seats, i can see a fair bit of stage and a fair bit of the comedy improv in the seats.

before i get too distracted all over again by Mister Chicken Head, i should say - Hall and Oates put on a great show. they're clearly a touring act, by which i mean musicians who get really jazzed from playing for an audience. and i think i fell in love with their sax player - older guy with a long grey pony tail who blew some sweet, sweet notes, and strutted his stuff with an appealing confidence.

and then there was Mister Chicken Head. standing up brave and proud in the wash of stage lights, toodling around in some version of the Gopher Dance from Caddyshack was a man with his head up a chicken's rear quarters. i have no other way to describe what was on his head. it was some sort of nylon cap, pulled (pulleted?) down low, with a chicken head on the front, chicken wings on the side, little chicken tail in the back... and long, skinny chicken legs dangling down past his shoulders. the legs appeared to have been weighted with chicken fingers, as they swayed back and forth as he described a little hip-circle of gophery dancing goodness. the band played on, and the chicken stayed planted, and Mister Chicken Head danced, along with his quite attractive girlfriend, who seemed completely unfazed that her date had accessorized with poultry. and i was fascinated, in a car crash no good kind of way.

it got to the point that Hall (or was it Oates?) noticed Mister Chicken Head mid-song, and was so distracted by it that he had to turn around to laugh.

Rich Girl will just never sound the same on the radio. ;)

:: scribbled at 3:10 PM ... ... o


i'd like to thank Stevie Wonder for ruining romantic conversation for the rest of us. as i discovered much to my chagrin recently, it is possible to be so stupidly in love that every other phrase that falls out of your mouth sounds like a soppy pop song, prime among them that innocent little voice mail you'd like to leave when your paramour doesn't pick up the phone. yeah. the winge factor on that is pretty high.

also, The Dane and i both know far too much music for our own good. once the winge kicked in, the conversation turned into a retrospective of Top 40, by decade, more or less.

and when you can't shake that damn Whitney Houston out of the concert hall in your head, despite a variety of inducments to do so, you know you've got it bad.

:: scribbled at 2:39 PM ... ... o

maybe you need a little peace as much as i do today?

how about this: virtual meditation space, courtesy of our friends over at Daily Zen.

:: scribbled at 10:38 AM ... ... o

just out of curiousity - when did DUI become OUI? i seem to have missed the memo on that one. (just something that struck me (you'll pardon the phrase) as i was reading the local news.)

:: scribbled at 10:35 AM ... ... o

i am tired. bone deep tired.

the dreams i remember from last night involved people breaking into my house and beating the tar out of me. and those are only the ones i remember. i couldn't let myself go back to sleep, because i never would have made it to work otherwise, altho the value of my presence today is debatable.

i am tired. watching the news last night was necessary, and sad, and frightening, and made me angry. i forced myself to watch, because not knowing anything is worse. deliberate ignorance feels wrong, but watching the news feels wrong too. i only lasted about half an hour before flipping off the set.

the confusion may come from exhaustion, or vice versa. i don't really know, and it doesn't really matter. all i know is that there are things very, very wrong in this world, and i don't understand, or know how to fix them.

:: scribbled at 10:00 AM ... ... o

Monday, March 24, 2003

garlic tofu dip. because.

because i'm still recovering from a lack of sleep this weekend. because i just don't want to think. because not reading the news takes a lot of energy. because The Dane is an uncle, and the sun is out, and it's Monday, and because garlic is good.

this works well as a salad dressing as well - just add a bit more water. the amount of liquid also depends on the type of tofu you use; the softer the tofu, the less liquid you need. the seasonings could be infinitely variable; the original recipe doesn't call for cayenne, and I've used sesame oil in place of something more neutral.

1/2 lb. tofu, soft or medium, patted dry
4 T lemon juice
1/4 cup oil
2 T water (leave out if you're making dip)
1 T tamari
2-3 cloves garlic
dash cayenne pepper

puree well in blender. share with loved ones. :)

:: scribbled at 4:33 PM ... ... o