Life as Cornucopia
It turns out that I was not entitled to a paid day off on Good Friday, so I will, in fact, not get paid for it. Despite the loss of the wages, I’m still ahead of the game (even without getting my first paycheck yet and not knowing exactly what it looks like). More importantly, I can honestly say that it hardly matters.
Ten hours of basketball! It was totally worth it. I spent it at home with Mom, calling the games together. We had good noshes. It sounds simple but it was an absolute pleasure.
Money or bliss? Despite the last 7 years, if given a choice, I will pick bliss every time. It’s naïve, but ignorance is bliss.
Besides, the news of my financial loss came with the announcement that my title comes with certain perks I was unaware of previously. (It’s good news.) In essence, it was like dropping a valuable coin – your last – and watching it shatter, but instead of losing its inherent value it turns into hundreds of little coins with greater value. A much welcome permutation…
We’re gaining on April’s Fools Day and already this is the best year I’ve had in a tiny eternity. My gratitude to the universe outweighs the loss and nullifies it.
Infinite Improbability
They said it would never happen… Four Number One Seeds would
never play in the Final Four. Statistically inconceivable! Improbable. Damn close to impossible. Nope, never bet on that. 2008 is a year of many firsts, of huge change and outrageous fortunes.
Only two of my teams made it through.
Although Davidson, whose admissions are about to go way up, tried awfully hard to throw in a Cinderella in the mix. Stephen Curry looks like a grown up version of a boy that lives down the block from us. We dubbed him “pretty baby” – and he not only answered to it but beamed when addressed.
I still have three more games to fill me till next year.
We’re trying out a new recipe that simply cried out to be made. It had all these ingredients we like: ground turkey, orzo, feta cheese, roasted peppers, dill, lemon juice and zest, onions, eggs. A Greek meatloaf, how can it not be delicious? As a side dish, we’re having Mom’s carrot and green bean salad in a mustard sauce.
Pride, en español
I don’t miss living in Puerto Rico. I have good memories that I have learned to cherish while putting he less savory in a gentler light. It’s not the complete rejection that I was accused of when I left. My feeling is that I am exactly where I belong and I can’t go back. End of story, no subtext.
The island treats politics with the same fanaticism as they surrender their soul to beisbol, boxing, basketball, horse racing, cock fighting and any manner of sport where wagering is a possibility. Politics for Latin Americans combines scintillating passions that capture the imagination of the young and old alike…
I don’t miss living in the island, but I almost wish I was there right now to watch the circus surrounding their own governor-gate. Our former governor spent thousands on some Jersey hooker. The current one inhaled. But the Puerto Rican governor takes the cake.
Indicted on 19 counts of corruption charges, stemming from a campaign finance scandal, and include conspiracy, perjury, and fraud. Twelve of his cronies join him and face more than a decade in federal prison and hundreds of thousands of dollars in fines and restitution.
Run of the mill, you say? He was elected two years ago, after running on an anti-corruption platform.
Priceless!
Resistance is futile
Sweet Sixteen rocks my world!
Ah, basketball...
(I have nothing else, I spent a mind numbing day watching intelligent people resist learning when none of that was asked of them, just their attention was required. It was freaking exhausting.)
Tragedy!
I have been injured in the line of duty and now suffer the most unfortunate hematoma on my middle finger. I’d go for disability, but this being Brooklyn, I can see how it might be seriously misunderstood when I try to show people my injury…
I was sitting on my desk, printing some information about mass hysteria (don’t ask, it was “homework” for a story). My left hand rested on the hand rest, because it kinda does that naturally, you know. Ergonomics and what not!
When my article printed out, I leaned over to grab it. I lifted off the seat a bit and the chair elevated, jamming my finger between the proverbial rock and a hard place -- right at the edge of the desk -- creating a rather vivid sensation at the end of an otherwise numbing day. I was blinded by the pain and mesmerized by the rapid clotting below the nail, a tiny dot the color of dark burgundy wine. Purpura indeed!
I haven’t felt such a violent little pain like that since childhood, nor have I sported a petechia since childhood. I had an ouchie and nobody to kiss my booboo.
This whole adulthood thing sucks!
Of faeries and whimsy...
Just because your hair has been dusted with the silver strands of hard living doesn’t mean I ain’t still my momma’s little girl. So, of course, I had a little gift bag for Easter. Amongst the treasure were quaint and sweet butterfly earrings to celebrate spring, a lovely blouse to celebrate the new job and a blank journal with beautiful butterflies on its cover.
There was one more gift that she happened to find at the Salvation Army, an old copy of
Stardust. Not the re-release done when the
movie came out, this one is a first edition soft cover. It has been read and loved. Now it is ours and we will give it a good home.
I have read some of Neil’s work and find him so charming and whimsical, endearing and witty. He approaches fantasy with such inventiveness that he alternatively makes me want to grab a pen and write or hide all my pens and stop trying because I will never again achieve that level of creative brilliance! He has found a way to populate his work with surreal mythos, spoken with a clear, mature voice, a twinkle in the eye and tongue firmly in cheek. The man does such acrobatic things with words you’ll think you’re in love… well, if that sort of thing excites you.
It was one of those March days*
Today was just odd. The best way to describe it is thusly: it was warm but nippy.
My raincoat was too hot, but I wish I’d been wearing gloves and a hat.
So, in essence, either I have malaria or it’s really spring...
It’s really difficult to switch off the temp mentality after so many years of bitter disappointment. I expect 20 inches of snow in the ground for tomorrow’s rush hour. Or another tornado, which will probably chase me down Fourth Avenue!
* It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. - Charles Dickens
It's like Spring Break!
I had a tiny bit of Dijon mustard left, so I crushed a head of garlic into the little container. I added lemon juice, olive oil, basil, freshly crushed black peppercorns and chili powder, and about a teaspoon of powdered bullion. The pork, lathered in this fragrant concoction, is ready for a good roasting… Rice with pigeon peas will accompany it. That will remain relatively simple because the meat will carry the dish with some strong and complex flavors. To the side, a few leftover grape tomatoes with some fresh dill, to cleanse the palate.
Breaking from the basketball action, we watched “
My Neighbor Totoro” (I’m trying to catch up with all the Studio Ghibli movies). As with all the other Miyasaki creations, I loved it! He has such a perfect vision of childhood and its whimsy, and such a unique creative flair, his work manages to toe the line between nostalgic and innovative. Certainly, it is always beautiful to watch.
We also watched Marcelo Piñeyro’s “
Cenizas del Paraiso” – a very interesting story that starts with two bodies and a story told in flashback by three characters, all of whom claim to be responsible for the second death. Certainly the opening montage is one of the most intriguing ones you’ll see in film. We watched it in Spanish and found the dialogue to be tight, the story moved at a rather fast pace and its layers very appealing. I can’t tell you what the experience will be like with subtitles because we didn’t try it. It’s def worth a watch though.
Sweet!
My bracket looks like it barely survived a massacre. And every time it takes a painful breath, sadistic killers come at it and stab it again, repeatedly.
Still, I am in basketball fan heaven! (Despite the fact that Duke bitterly disappointed me, again…)
I prepared the stuffed peppers and they are in the fridge. I decided to nuke them later, so I left the peppers raw. The extra stuffing I combined with the sweetest grape tomatoes (I know because I popped a few while cutting the in half).
Tomorrow? Pernil! And more basketball.
Busted Brackets
There are busted brackets all over America right now!
We’d planned on having the seafood stuffed peppers for dinner. It was going to be the celebratory meal for the good fortune that began on Monday with the new job. But you should never plan complicated meals during the first round of the NCAA tourney. That’s just crazy talk!
I opted for a quick meal that was nonetheless extremely obnoxious. I made penne with shrimp, one giant scallop and a tiny fillet of flounder sautéed in a caper/dill/mascarpone sauce. (It was unbelievable.)
I’ll make the stuffed peppers tomorrow, with sausage and orzo.
In the meantime, I leave you with this link to some interesting facts about Villanova head coach,
Jay Wright.
Bing Bang, Baby!
My head almost exploded last night! That Duke game was not a thing for the weak-hearted. For the last 7 minutes I kept forgetting to breathe and I am surprised I didn’t pass out cold. My mouth was wide open and no sound would come, I was just stunned. My hands went to my head, holding it in place as if trying to prevent too much spillage for the coming explosion. When the dust settled, so to speak, I was reminded why I love the game so much. That was exhilarating and exhausting and ecstatic!
The other highlight of the evening was a stop at
The Family Store in Bay Ridge. I decided that it was high time we had Sam’s crab cakes. Yesterday he’d also made shrimp cakes. I was going to have them for dinner tonight, but I neglected to tell them not to prepare them. I had these warm, aromatic disks of heaven with a lemon wedge and a creamy sauce… The bus ride home was torture!
(OMG, how do I convince Mom to skip our evening snack and coffee and get into those bad boys?)
She had the same idea the moment she caught a whiff of it. Again, I felt an urge to build a shrine to Mr. Dabas. Not only does he make the most delicious hummus, and the most succulent and sweet grilled shrimp, his fish cakes are the textbook definition of an epicurean delight!
It smells like madness!
I filled out my bracket this evening while having a cup of joe and leftover soda bread.
It was done on completely arbitrary choices, you know, like everybody else’s. I had a moment when I was tempted to choose George Mason as my Cinderella taking out UNC and I heard hundreds of thousands of groans.
I have Duke winning it all, but that happens with my bracket every year. Can they do it? I don’t know! They’d have to get past Arizona, or West Virginia, UConn or, worse, UCLA.
My Final Four are: Duke, Georgetown, Memphis and UNC. My championship would make April 7 absolutely legendary!
Of course, the way the dance works, we might see Kent State take it all. Or Clemson. Drake! It’s a crapshoot with pretty moves.
In less than 24 hours, it begins. I’ll join the party on Friday!
"I don't believe in God but I'm very interested in her."
Tonight is a sad one for us. Arthur C. Clarke has gone to another plane of existence – whether that involves consciousness, energy or simply the indelible memory that he has left millions upon millions of sci-fi fans.
I remember the story of one of the astronauts who first visited the moon wanted to send back a message that they’d found a monolith, but thought better of it. It was going to be their shout-out to ACC.
Not only did he do an outstanding job of making science and math awfully sexy, he inspired young minds to explore beyond fantasy!
While “2001” was very much a Kubrick vision, it was Clarke’s words and fertile imagination that fueled it. And, make no mistake, his ideas were brilliant and the inspiration for many discoveries and advances in science.
Who among us has not often thought of Clarke’s Law when newbie eyes glaze before us, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
My tribute to him would be inadequate, no matter how hard I try to put into words the magnitude of his influence. Let
Ars Technica do it. Many others will take the challenge and do his life justice. I can't. I'm not that articulate and I am too sad to try.
A man of science who never spoke down to us because he believed he could keep up, I loved his outspoken manner and his wit: “I don't believe in astrology; I'm a Sagittarius and we're skeptical.”
But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two…
Erin go bragh!
Corned beef, potatoes, carrots, cabbage and mustard . . . a little buttered soda bread and a cold one: everybody is Irish today and so were we! Long day, but satisfying in the relief of actually signing pension plan papers. Tomorrow will be a test, but I will bear it with dignity and good humor. Let god sort it out later.
"Wake up, goddammit!"
We have been great Don Cheadle fans since we first saw him do his stuff on “
Picket Fences.” Since then, almost everything he has appeared on has brought great variety of character, a full range of intelligence, emotion, charm and wit. We believe he is one of the most underrated character actors working today.
Then last night, we watched “
Talk to Me” and it cemented his street cred at the house! Of course, another big draw in picking the title was entirely
geeky: Chewetel Ejiofor. Martin Sheen’s participation was also a factor.
There was something endearing about the ex-con disc jockey because I have a feeling we all know one like him. Outspoken, funny, charming and just slightly out of place in our society, he belonged in the fringes and he loved it there. But he also had a clarity about who he was that most people lack. None of this is said to elevate the character of the man, he did what he did and he was who he was.
But it is interesting to watch. The music, the fashions, the history – that keeps repeating itself and makes you wonder how Petey would interpret the things that have gone on after he left us.
“This is a pimp I wouldn't trust to wash my car, but y'all done elected him city official...”
– Ralph Waldo “Petey” Geene
Feeling the Love!
I left the church when I was about 12. The truth is I never quite belonged to it or in it. I disagreed with their dogma since I was able to string sentences together (despite my grandmother’s prompting and prayers).
This year, I find myself in territory I have not been in since last century. Good Friday will be my first paid day off. To see the hand of god there smacks of superstition or drunkenness. But this afternoon, in the midst of a narcoleptic bout when I could not keep my eyes open, just as I was about to black out into unconsciousness, it
hit me!
Good Friday is Day Two of the First Round of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship! Sixteen games, all day and deep into the night! If that doesn’t say god loves you and forgives you all your trespasses, I don’t know what does!
But seriously, especially because I have no connection to the church, I wonder whether players from Jesuit colleges have to get special dispensations to play during the high holidays? That would encompass the entire First Round. I hate Marquette, so it works for me if they have to go fast or something… Cheesehead bastards!
Good News, Finally!
Tomorrow is my last day as a temp. It took almost 3 years, but I made the big show! I "start" on Monday, exactly 3 years to the day I got hired as a temp. So, thank you, St. Patrick. This, chocolate truffles and then March Madness. The Year of the Rat is my own personal jackpot!
I shall be poor no more. Finally medical insurance, sweet! Just call me
Supreme Commander of the Website. (
Web Mistress to my friends, though I doubt they’ll allow the words “Virtual Whip” on business cards…)
That easy breeze you felt earlier today was a sigh of relief.
Hearting Schadenfreude
Schadenfreude is probably the greatest aphrodisiac known to man. In this country it has become a spectator sport and an art form as it fuels several veins of the entertainment and publishing industries.
I first came across the word in the mid-80s and found it absolutely priceless in its poetry, despite claims that there is no direct translation to English. Other languages have borrowed it and in each it is a wonderful bon mot to give us all a multicultural cynical and slightly misanthropic view of humanity.
The Japanese have a proverb that refers to the misfortunes of others as the taste of honey. The Finnish claim that schadenfreude is the most genuine kind of joy, since it doesn't include even a drop of envy. The Dutch say there is no entertainment more beautiful than enjoying someone else's suffering.
Apparently nobody gave that up for Lent!
Child's Play in the 21st Century
You never know where kids pick up ideas -- they are little sponges -- and sometimes they’ll throw something at you so unexpected and relatively obscure, that you must wonder
how in the heck do they know that?!A co-worker shared her story of her daughter-in-law driving her son and nephew home from daycare and relating this conversation:
“Hey, you wanna play good guys and bad guys when we get home?”
“Yeah!!!”
“Okay, good. I’ll be the czar and you can be his friend Rasputin.”
That’s f*cked up! Funny, sure, but where does a preschooler get that from? Well, his mother asked just that. The boy went all Bobby De Niro and informed her that
he’s heard things…
Just Another Manic Monday
It looks like the Governor of New York is about to have a lot of free time in his hands, after the
NY Times revealed that he is the subject of an FBI investigation involving money laundering and really expensive hookers (rated by diamonds on a website catalogue, the highest rated a 7-diamond whore priced at over $5G’s an hour).
Stupid, stupid hump!My guess is his political career is over, his marriage will not survive the year, and his three young daughters will never be able to look at daddy the dame way again. This does huge damage to the Democratic Party in NY too, but it will make
Joe Bruno a happy, happy man – who has probably been drunker than Tara Reid on a Wednesday and probably proclaimed around 4:30 pm,
“Hookers for everybody!”
But for those men who aren’t lucky enough to be
Eliot Spitzer, a clinic in Oregon has a great offer for you:
"When March Madness approaches you need an excuse . . . to stay at home in front of the big screen. Get your vasectomy at Oregon Urology Institute the day before the tournament starts. It's snip city."
A vasectomy is a big deal, but most of you shouldn’t add more sludge to the communal gene pool. PLUS, you get to watch the tourney in its entirety! Good for humanity, good for the happy! The alternative sucks (and not in the way a $5,000 an hour hooker would).
"CLEAR!!!"
I half expected to find a disaster area outside, after hearing the sound effects to Armageddon last night. Instead, it was a beautiful, crystal clear day. It was milder than the radio forecast led me to believe too. I bought the papers and a couple of
maltas.
I made dijonnaise with scallions, spread it on kayser rolls, and broiled ham and Munster cheese sandwiches. I watched hoops and Mom worked on her puzzle. Then I did my taxes. It was hilarious when I inadvertently calculated the local taxes based on my gross instead of the adjusted wages. Under that scheme, I ended up owing the IRS and I could hear my inner anarchist child screaming, “The
hell those bastards are gonna get any more of my money. I’ll move to freaking Costa Rica first!
Extradite my ass in shackles, you humps. You'll
never take me alive!!!”
According to my miscalculation, I would have owed upwards of $30.
This happens more often than I should admit. In fact, I shouldn’t be allowed to touch those tax forms by law! It’s okay though, I don’t owe anything – especially because I hardly made any money last year. But had that not panned out, somebody would have had to come at me with those electric paddles to revive me…
The Comforts of Home
The wind is absolutely howling outside. The sounds that travel, muffled through closed windows, to our apartment are fascinating. I can identify some – garbage cans being dragged across the asphalt, rustling of leaves… Other sounds are mystifying, like the prolonged wail that reminds me of wooden houses when they shift in their foundation. Therein lies the mystery, I live surrounded by limestone houses!
Inside, we remain safe and warm. We watched a few college hoops games, we talked and lounged, we had a sandwich with steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee, hung out and laughed a lot. I made chicken soup and used the leftover green sauce for tomorrow. I wrote the March food column, picking asparagus as the monthly theme. Then I made pasta with ham and zucchini in a creamy pesto sauce for dinner.
I cherish my quality time because I realize that it is limited. I relish in my blessing.
Yeah, bay-bee!
This weekend will include a little bit of these things: college hoops, chicken soup, pasta with ham steak and zucchini, lots of rain, chocolates from
See’s Candies to snack on while watching “
King Arthur” and “
All About My Mother”, and cutting and pasting my pop-up cards.
I also will play with some friends online, write a little, hang out with Mom and find peace in the comfort of home.
I need to update my food column… And I have to do my taxes!
Then I’ll set the clocks ahead and hope they all display the same stupid hour for at least a day before they start to mess with my head.
This is all perfectly acceptable to me. I will be happy with it all. I’m in the groove. (More on that later, I promise.)
Gift of Love
I was shopping for herbs and vegetables. A lady walked up towards me with her precious baby boy on one of those carriers that strap on. He was facing outward and almost at eye level with me (mommy was an Amazon!).
I turned and there he was, smiling, cooing and giving me lashes. It took less than 6 seconds and he had me wrapped around his little finger…
I melted right there! She allowed us some time to get acquainted and play. I have a feeling she is used to this.
Then something that I can guarantee has never happened to me before: he lifted his left to his midsection, grabbed his sock and yanked it off. He flashed me a gummy smile and offered me his sock.
So I was standing there, holding a tiny sock. Apparently, that means he is smitten. And I am his latest conquest. For once, I do not mind being one of many.
Today, I was socked!
Sweet!
I have been on the blood pressure medication for about two weeks now. The doctor had told me that theoretically it would bring the pressure down and help me regain my pep.
I had my BP checked yesterday and it has gone down. I also have been awake on the bus ride home, giving me the opportunity to catch up with my reading. While I enjoy a good nap, reading is even better.
Right now, I am reading Barbara Bretton’s “
Just Desserts.” I love BB because she has a great sense of humor and a facility with language that I envy. I have read about the process she goes through when she writes, but even when it becomes the equivalent of swimming upstream in a river of pea soup, the result always feels effortless and real. Her dialogue always rings true. Some of her best writing, to me, is when she describes what seems like a quotidian scene. She gets details that are so familiar and vivid that you could swear they happened to you, but maybe not as interestingly as when Barbara puts it into words.
Plus this book has pretty cakes in it, so it has the food porn thing going for it. It’s just fun! (Like popping a really good chocolate truffle.)
And, if you click on the link, you’ll find a delicious surprise of the apple cheesecake kind!
Wave of the Future?
I stopped in at one of the specialty stores to get ahead on tomorrow night’s dinner (tonight was covered).
A little girl of about two grabbed two lollypops. She was cute, but in my day my grandmother would have given me the look, especially if she had just told me I was to have no candy on that trip. The little Miss was undeterred. And she had a plan!
She took her two lollypops and walked up to the cashier, all sugar and spice and postcard innocence, and handed her one. She shares, you see, and that lovely gesture got her a free sucker. What woman could resist that sweetness?
That is one smart little girl. Be afraid, because that is going to be one dangerous babe! She’s not likely going to take any prisoners…
Take a Chill Pill
There is this one pharmacist at the local mega drugstore near the house that has been the source of my contempt for a good decade. She is cold, impersonal, nasty and, in short,
a bitch!
I was forced into an uneasy relationship when my insurance company (back in the days when I had such a thing) decided that this store was part of their network, but would not cover prescriptions out of our local apothecary.
Poor Mom pulled a muscle in her back and was in considerable discomfort and pain. The doctor prescribed an anti-inflammatory/painkiller and a muscle relaxant. The genius in the white smock at the mega-store, in her infinite wisdom, crammed these horse pills – the painkillers no less, into a bottle too small and shut them down.
I arrived home and found Mom finally sleeping comfortably under a haze of pharmaceuticals. She looked at me and said, “I had to take the over the counter kind because I couldn’t open the bottle…”
I had to struggle with it and nearly break the thing to get enough friction to open the damned thing. I found myself echoing the very same thing I said the first time I met Miss Congeniality of the Pill Pushing Industry,
“I hate that bitch!”Mom is resting comfortably. I am calmer now.
Remnants of February
I seem to be stuck between a state of flux and ambivalence, which makes my life a rhetorical nightmare. On the one hand, it is metaphysically painful – or it would be if I weren’t as perverse. I find it rather funny. I am one twisted twit!
Maybe it’s time for a new war cry, but I can’t seem to care enough to come up with one. Apathetic much?
Meh…Whatever!
A clinician would have a freaking field day diagnosing me. Of course, that’s assuming I’d cooperate and not given to being as finicky as a cat. (Not to mention an impish inbred need to skew authority!)
Maybe I should get back to cutting my pretty colored papers now…
It turns out that I was not entitled to a paid day off on Good Friday, so I will, in fact, not get paid for it. Despite the loss of the wages, I’m still ahead of the game (even without getting my first paycheck yet and not knowing exactly what it looks like). More importantly, I can honestly say that it hardly matters.
