Monday, July 6, 2009
Friday, May 23, 2008
It's Time For A Change...
I'm moving to tumblr. It's easier. Cooler. Prettier. And I can actually link to things in such a way that you'll click on the link and just be there. Something that would come in really handy right now since I'm about to have to write out a link for you to cut and paste. Sorry. This will never happen again.
http://inmyopinion.tumblr.com
Check it out. If for no other reason than to see plenty of pics of the world's best looking dachshund.
http://inmyopinion.tumblr.com
Check it out. If for no other reason than to see plenty of pics of the world's best looking dachshund.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Breakfast With My Brother
Everett: I saw some thing on the news this morning about a Smiley Face Killer. They sign a smiley face in spray paint where ever they leave the bodies.
Me: I bet that really freaked you out.
Everett: Oh yeah.
Me: I know how afraid you are of creepy killers.
Everett: Yeah, and get this. The Smiley Face killer targets young, attractive, popular, smart men. I'm surprised I'm not dead already.
Me: I bet that really freaked you out.
Everett: Oh yeah.
Me: I know how afraid you are of creepy killers.
Everett: Yeah, and get this. The Smiley Face killer targets young, attractive, popular, smart men. I'm surprised I'm not dead already.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
List Maker/ Chef
There is an art to being unemployed. It would be very simple to spend entire days in pajamas covered in images of barking dogs. It would also be easy to slip into a bathing suit, grab one of those novels that has been sitting unread on my shelf since I entered the working world two years ago and spend an afternoon by the pool. Other temptations include, but are not limited to, spending hours in Chic Fil A hanging out with old friends over chicken biscuits, watching all of my pirated Desperate Housewives DVDs and just rolling around on the floor with Rosie for hours on end.
All of these temptations have been considered. Some have been attempted. A few (ok, a lot) have actually been completely fulfilled. But, the thing is, at the end of the day, being unemployed, even when you're living in a rent free house where they'll occasionally feed you, is still kind of hard. Mostly because eventually you start to feel kind of worthless.
So, I have begun making lists. Like, kind of insane lists. They include absolutely everything I have to do. This way when I "let Rosie outside" I can mark it off the list and feel that nice sensation of accomplishment one doesn't get very often in the world of being unemployed. In fact, the lists are multi functional. They can also be used for the purpose of creating tasks to put on them. For example, this week, at the top of my list was "Learn how to make Pad Thai."
I'd put that on the list last Friday and had been considering it for a few days so when my mom asked me to make dinner last night, I agreed, under the condition I could make pad thai. Despite her distaste for most Asian food she went along. I think she probably understands the list system.
As it turns out, my pad thai making goal was going a little beyond my usual culinary prowess. (That prowess that includes having several take out restaurants on speed dial and a lifetime supply of Lean Cuisines in my refrigerator) However, I can read a recipe and generally I can make a decent dish when I set my mind to it so I didn't see any reason pad thai would be any different. I had no idea.
The first problem I faced in my quest was the issue of grocery shopping in Shelby, NC. This is a town that only learned what hummus was about 6 months ago, totally foreign food that it is. Sushi sounds like some kind of crazy raw fish trend imposed on us by "those yankees up north." So, with all of this knowledge, I'm not sure why I was remotely surprised to find that the local Ingles didn't offer thai rice noodles or tamarind. (It's also worth noting that I had to call home from Ingles to have my mom google tamarind to determine if I should be looking in the spice or produce section so I can't be too disappointed in Shelby for that one.)
After purchasing my fish sauce, Japanese rice noodles (I figured they were at least in the same region) and some chopsticks—I thought we should be as authentic as possible— I headed home to begin my creation.
I had found the recipe online so I set my computer up in the kitchen and went to work. Early on I could tell there might be some timing problems. I think reading the words "make sure the pot is on high and continually stir" as you're supposed to be throwing other stuff in made me understand that I was going to be facing fairly inevitable disaster. But I had no idea how bad.
My mom was upstairs. Rosie was at my feet. And I started to systematically destroy the kitchen and create the strangest pad thai ever made. First, it turns out that "shallots" have the same affects on my eyes as "onions" so there was a great deal of crying at the start of the project. The next problem came in that I was supposed to fry some peanuts in the hot vegetable oil and then take out the peanuts while leaving the oil on high heat before adding in the next ingredients. I'm deathly afraid of hot oil so I chickened out on taking the peanuts out and just tossed everything in on top of them, thinking that couldn't be that big of a deal. Apparently it is. Apparently it leads to a lot of black, burned peanuts in your pad thai, which are just as tasty as you might imagine.
Another large problem came in the form of the Japanese Rice Noodles. They didn't work. They were hard and stringy so I tossed them in the sink and threw in some good, old-fashioned angel hair pasta. The thing was, by this point, things had gotten pretty frantic. I was just dumping things in because the recipe insisted that I keep the heat on high and oil was flying everywhere, Rosie was barking and my mom kept yelling down stairs to see why I was screaming. Halfway through I realized I'd forgotten to add eggs. I cracked them on the hot pan, almost burned my hand off, stepped on Rosie and then threw in some bean sprouts. I was supposed to "sprinkle" in chili powder, but by that point in the process things were completely out of control. I dumped all the chili powder on one piece of chicken. A piece of chicken that later, as I was eating the pad thai and trying to avoid burnt peanuts, nearly killed me.
I finally finished. Breathless and exhausted, I called for my mom to come and enjoy our Thai/Italian meal. Her face, upon walking into the kitchen, was the first time I really realized how out of control things had gotten. There were noodles strewn across the sink, egg all over the counter, open containers everywhere and her wok pot may never be the same again. Interestingly enough though, the pad thai didn't taste half bad. I'm now determined to get it right—and maybe do it with a little less insanity.
I think I'll put that on the list for next week.
All of these temptations have been considered. Some have been attempted. A few (ok, a lot) have actually been completely fulfilled. But, the thing is, at the end of the day, being unemployed, even when you're living in a rent free house where they'll occasionally feed you, is still kind of hard. Mostly because eventually you start to feel kind of worthless.
So, I have begun making lists. Like, kind of insane lists. They include absolutely everything I have to do. This way when I "let Rosie outside" I can mark it off the list and feel that nice sensation of accomplishment one doesn't get very often in the world of being unemployed. In fact, the lists are multi functional. They can also be used for the purpose of creating tasks to put on them. For example, this week, at the top of my list was "Learn how to make Pad Thai."
I'd put that on the list last Friday and had been considering it for a few days so when my mom asked me to make dinner last night, I agreed, under the condition I could make pad thai. Despite her distaste for most Asian food she went along. I think she probably understands the list system.
As it turns out, my pad thai making goal was going a little beyond my usual culinary prowess. (That prowess that includes having several take out restaurants on speed dial and a lifetime supply of Lean Cuisines in my refrigerator) However, I can read a recipe and generally I can make a decent dish when I set my mind to it so I didn't see any reason pad thai would be any different. I had no idea.
The first problem I faced in my quest was the issue of grocery shopping in Shelby, NC. This is a town that only learned what hummus was about 6 months ago, totally foreign food that it is. Sushi sounds like some kind of crazy raw fish trend imposed on us by "those yankees up north." So, with all of this knowledge, I'm not sure why I was remotely surprised to find that the local Ingles didn't offer thai rice noodles or tamarind. (It's also worth noting that I had to call home from Ingles to have my mom google tamarind to determine if I should be looking in the spice or produce section so I can't be too disappointed in Shelby for that one.)
After purchasing my fish sauce, Japanese rice noodles (I figured they were at least in the same region) and some chopsticks—I thought we should be as authentic as possible— I headed home to begin my creation.
I had found the recipe online so I set my computer up in the kitchen and went to work. Early on I could tell there might be some timing problems. I think reading the words "make sure the pot is on high and continually stir" as you're supposed to be throwing other stuff in made me understand that I was going to be facing fairly inevitable disaster. But I had no idea how bad.
My mom was upstairs. Rosie was at my feet. And I started to systematically destroy the kitchen and create the strangest pad thai ever made. First, it turns out that "shallots" have the same affects on my eyes as "onions" so there was a great deal of crying at the start of the project. The next problem came in that I was supposed to fry some peanuts in the hot vegetable oil and then take out the peanuts while leaving the oil on high heat before adding in the next ingredients. I'm deathly afraid of hot oil so I chickened out on taking the peanuts out and just tossed everything in on top of them, thinking that couldn't be that big of a deal. Apparently it is. Apparently it leads to a lot of black, burned peanuts in your pad thai, which are just as tasty as you might imagine.
Another large problem came in the form of the Japanese Rice Noodles. They didn't work. They were hard and stringy so I tossed them in the sink and threw in some good, old-fashioned angel hair pasta. The thing was, by this point, things had gotten pretty frantic. I was just dumping things in because the recipe insisted that I keep the heat on high and oil was flying everywhere, Rosie was barking and my mom kept yelling down stairs to see why I was screaming. Halfway through I realized I'd forgotten to add eggs. I cracked them on the hot pan, almost burned my hand off, stepped on Rosie and then threw in some bean sprouts. I was supposed to "sprinkle" in chili powder, but by that point in the process things were completely out of control. I dumped all the chili powder on one piece of chicken. A piece of chicken that later, as I was eating the pad thai and trying to avoid burnt peanuts, nearly killed me.
I finally finished. Breathless and exhausted, I called for my mom to come and enjoy our Thai/Italian meal. Her face, upon walking into the kitchen, was the first time I really realized how out of control things had gotten. There were noodles strewn across the sink, egg all over the counter, open containers everywhere and her wok pot may never be the same again. Interestingly enough though, the pad thai didn't taste half bad. I'm now determined to get it right—and maybe do it with a little less insanity.
I think I'll put that on the list for next week.
Friday, May 9, 2008
A Story
Our second afternoon in New Zealand was one of those crisp and sunny early fall days that you can expect in the southern United States right around Labor Day. Of course, it was the day before Easter, but in the Southern Hemisphere that means autumn is just around the corner.
It could have reminded me of Labor Day weekend because Laura and I spent that afternoon next to the beach on an island called Waiheke and most Labor Day weekends I manage to make my way to a beach for one last stinging sunburn before my winter white skin sets in. Anyway, after a very large lunch on a very large porch (something also reminiscent of my beach time), we meandered through the streets on the small island, popping in and out of art galleries and quaint boutiques.
Eventually we made our way into a small children's bookstore where the petite owner was dressed like a fairy complete with sparkles on her face, a tiny upturned nose and long tendrils in her hair. The shop was filled with old and new children's books and miniature chairs meant for very small bodies. Across the wall in the store had been painted the following passage in whimsical letters. I love it.
Once upon a time long, long ago before time was caught and put in clocks in a time when magic was easier to find...there was a story.
Do you mean like a book?
No, I mean like a story.
A book story.
No, a story-story like the first stories. One that falls in through your eye when you are out staring up at the stars one night, or perhaps you swallowed it...or maybe it seeped in through your skin like air or water or the thick warm scent of summer, or maybe you caught it like a cold from your great, great, great grandmother, or like a fish on a long line of truth... Do you remember someone telling you a story?
It could have reminded me of Labor Day weekend because Laura and I spent that afternoon next to the beach on an island called Waiheke and most Labor Day weekends I manage to make my way to a beach for one last stinging sunburn before my winter white skin sets in. Anyway, after a very large lunch on a very large porch (something also reminiscent of my beach time), we meandered through the streets on the small island, popping in and out of art galleries and quaint boutiques.
Eventually we made our way into a small children's bookstore where the petite owner was dressed like a fairy complete with sparkles on her face, a tiny upturned nose and long tendrils in her hair. The shop was filled with old and new children's books and miniature chairs meant for very small bodies. Across the wall in the store had been painted the following passage in whimsical letters. I love it.
Once upon a time long, long ago before time was caught and put in clocks in a time when magic was easier to find...there was a story.
Do you mean like a book?
No, I mean like a story.
A book story.
No, a story-story like the first stories. One that falls in through your eye when you are out staring up at the stars one night, or perhaps you swallowed it...or maybe it seeped in through your skin like air or water or the thick warm scent of summer, or maybe you caught it like a cold from your great, great, great grandmother, or like a fish on a long line of truth... Do you remember someone telling you a story?
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Buyer's Remorse
"In her 2007 book, Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster, journalist Dana Thomas quotes an investigator who raided an assembly plant in Thailand and found children younger than ten on the floor stitching counterfeit bags. 'The owners had broken the children's legs and tied the lower leg to the thigh so the bones wouldn't mend,' the investigator said. 'He did it because the children said they wanted to go outside and play.'" - Atlanta Magazine, May 2008.
This is the kind of article I wish I had read before I became a fake handbag fanatic in south Thailand.
This is the kind of article I wish I had read before I became a fake handbag fanatic in south Thailand.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Life. Currently.
Ah, unemployment.
It has some downfalls. Like, even cheeseburgers seem a little overpriced these days. Putting $20 worth of gas in my car this morning was like I was making a major life investment. Considering I pretty much spent my life savings on fake handbags and scarves in Thailand, I really have no one to blame for this but myself.
Another drawback to unemployment is the fact that my current situation kind of inhibits me from renting my own place. So, I'm living with my parents, which is actually quite nice at times. However, yesterday, when my mom explained to me the "living here means helping out around here" philosophy and that that philosophy also meant "wheelbarrowing sticks from the flower beds to the gully down the field for all of Sunday afternoon," I have to say I started to see some glitches in my "hanging around the rent-free house indefinitely" plan. Those glitches became even more apparent as I had to load Rosie into the wheelbarrow and run through the high grass dragging it in fear that a snake was going to bite me. I'm just not cut out for yard work.
Anyway, so unemployment and living with your parents at 26 isn't perfect. But it's not bad either. My mom cooks my meals. I spend a lot of time outside. And a fair amount in bed. I get to meet friends for lunch. And stay up late watching movies. It's like I'm getting to have a summer vacation and I'm appreciating it more than I ever did when I actually got to have summer vacations. Kids these days just don't know how good they have it.
I hit the peak of the benefits of unemployment today when I took an impromptu (on my part) trip with Jenn to Charleston to help with a few preparations for her upcoming wedding. When you've got no plans, hopping in a car and "helping" with things like cupcake sampling (something I've been waiting for the opportunity to "help" with my entire life) is totally possible.
So, while I may never be able to entirely fill up the tank of my SUV at one time again, I will have had my cupcake sampling experience. And I'm pretty sure that qualifies as priceless.
It has some downfalls. Like, even cheeseburgers seem a little overpriced these days. Putting $20 worth of gas in my car this morning was like I was making a major life investment. Considering I pretty much spent my life savings on fake handbags and scarves in Thailand, I really have no one to blame for this but myself.
Another drawback to unemployment is the fact that my current situation kind of inhibits me from renting my own place. So, I'm living with my parents, which is actually quite nice at times. However, yesterday, when my mom explained to me the "living here means helping out around here" philosophy and that that philosophy also meant "wheelbarrowing sticks from the flower beds to the gully down the field for all of Sunday afternoon," I have to say I started to see some glitches in my "hanging around the rent-free house indefinitely" plan. Those glitches became even more apparent as I had to load Rosie into the wheelbarrow and run through the high grass dragging it in fear that a snake was going to bite me. I'm just not cut out for yard work.
Anyway, so unemployment and living with your parents at 26 isn't perfect. But it's not bad either. My mom cooks my meals. I spend a lot of time outside. And a fair amount in bed. I get to meet friends for lunch. And stay up late watching movies. It's like I'm getting to have a summer vacation and I'm appreciating it more than I ever did when I actually got to have summer vacations. Kids these days just don't know how good they have it.
I hit the peak of the benefits of unemployment today when I took an impromptu (on my part) trip with Jenn to Charleston to help with a few preparations for her upcoming wedding. When you've got no plans, hopping in a car and "helping" with things like cupcake sampling (something I've been waiting for the opportunity to "help" with my entire life) is totally possible.
So, while I may never be able to entirely fill up the tank of my SUV at one time again, I will have had my cupcake sampling experience. And I'm pretty sure that qualifies as priceless.
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