Bee Jay

On the drive into work yesterday morning, I was listening to a local morning radio talk show. The three hosts were speaking to a female caller who was relating a recent date night that ended up pretty hot and heavy at the movie theater; however, she’s never received so much as a phone call from her suitor, let alone an invitation for a second date.

She described the initial meeting in the post office, how she and this young man hit it off pretty quickly, and how he asked her if she wanted to go out some time. They made plans to meet at the theater and see 'Alice In Wonderland.' She described a very sexy scene that gave her the sincere impression she’d be seeing a lot more of this guy.

But she hadn’t heard a peep. So she called the show and asked for their help. She gave the morning hosts the phone number for the gentleman, and they agreed to call him on the air. The plan was that she would remain quiet and they would ask him questions and hopefully get the full scoop as to why he hadn’t yet called.

I figured he was going to say he was shy. That he’d been sick or out of town. He was away on business, but couldn’t wait to return and see her again. She sounded reasonable and I assumed the best.

When they called this young man, he immediately knew who the girl was, recalled the date, and began to relate his side of the story – and that’s when I was in stitches.

Apparently, she was late. He paid more than usual for the tickets and takes movies very seriously – this was, after all, Alice In Wonderland. IMAX. 3D. The fact that she was late to this, of all things, caused an immediate declination in her stock.

Upon her arrival, and even though she was late, she got inside and insisted on concessions. POPCORN? But we’re already late! They entered the theater, concessions in hand, and had no other option but to sit in the very front row. Stock = way down.

As if all of this weren’t enough, apparently she wouldn’t shut up. She talked throughout the movie. With this young man’s movie already in ruins, he decided to save the rest of the theater-goers and did what any honest, up-standing member of society would do…he planted a big one on her lips. Just to shut her up.

“That could only mean one thing!” the girl thought. She unzipped his pants. (Stock slightly up.)

Also, she didn’t talk for the rest of the movie.

The end.

Cherished Memories

Chynna's 6-1/2 and Darien's 4. Mommy and daddy are getting a divorce and the children are packing, getting ready to move back to Portland from Pittsburgh. They'll be leaving daddy behind. It's sad in the house and the heaviness is thick, like molasses.

Chynna decides a game is in order. "Sit down in this chair, mommy. I'm going to be the waitress and you and Darien are married and you're going to order dinner."

Chynna grabs Darien's hand and leads him to the table, offering up a hand-written menu with only three words: Menu, PB&J, and water.

She grabs an apron, puts it on, and goes about the business of preparing the food.

Darien and I review the menu for just a couple minutes, then Darien calls out, "Waitress."

After about a minute, he tries again: "Waitress?" this time just slightly louder. She doesn't answer.

He snaps his head away from the menu to stare at Chynna, who is working intently, spreading peanut butter on bread even before taking a drink order. I watch him stare, the seconds passing like minutes, his face twisting and brows furrowing with each tick of the clock.

He loses it.

"WAAAAAIIIIITTTTTTRRRRRREEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

Without missing a beat, Chynna whips around, peanut butter slathered knife in one hand, the other hand on her hip. "YOU HAVE TO WAIT, DARIEN. THAT'S WHY I'M CALLED A WAIT-RESS!!"

Yellow Curry Pork with Quinoa

Tonight I made a dinner that the family liked so much, I decided to post it. I know Dani and Jason will be super excited to have yet another recipe to try:-) Other than that, I'm sure the rest of you - all three of you - will run to your kitchens and get started straight away. Ready, set, cook!

Ingredients:

Pork
1¼ lbs pork sirloin chops, cubed
1 Tbsp butter
¼ c fresh cilantro
6 green onions, sliced
1 Tbsp “Thai and True” Yellow Curry Paste
4 oz coconut milk
Salt, pepper and garlic powder to taste

Quinoa
1 c quinoa, rinsed
2 c water
1 tsp butter
1 tsp “Better Than Bouillon”

Directions:

Pork
Melt butter in large skillet over medium-high heat; add salt, pepper and garlic powder to pan in browned butter, then immediately add pork and stir to coat; place lid over pork, stirring occasionally, until cooked through; turn off burner and add onion, coconut milk and cilantro.

Quinoa
In small saucepan, add all ingredients, bring to boil, cover and reduce heat to low until cooked, about 20 minutes.

Add quinoa to pork, stir and serve. Accompany with fresh guacamole, blue corn tortilla chips, and salad. Serves 4.

Sunrise

Probably the most surreal thing about living in this house is the view. A few weeks ago, Collier woke me, saying, "I wanted to let you sleep in, but look...I took pictures of the sunrise."

(In unison: "Awwwwwwww!!)

This Land is Your Land

When I was in second grade, my parents put me - their only child - on a plane from Portland to Burbank to visit my godmother for a week. She took me to the San Diego zoo to ride on the back of an elephant. She took me to Universal Studios where I thought a shark was going to snatch me out of the tour bus, and that same tour bus got stuck on a failing bridge. She took me to walk the walk of stars, my hands quick to see if they would fill the cemented hand prints of Marilyn Monroe.

But nothing compared, in my mind, to Disneyland.

I remember those spying eyes in the haunted house. I remember that it was a small world after all. I remember zooming around a dark space mountain. I was transported to a child's wonderland; the place where all dreams do come true. Even when I left, for years and years after, my mind would wander back to that place where anything was possible.

As I grew up and matured and began to form very sound logic and analyze all things with intense discernment, I (naturally) chalked Disneyland up to a deceptive conglomerate, luring children - parents in tow - into a world that would spit them out when their money was gone. Children need to learn that life is harsh; it's not some fairytale where Snow White will take a picture with you and all your woes will dissappear. Dammit.

That growing up and maturing thing? The one with sound logic? Yeah, that's your twenties. Clearly you know everything when you are 20-something.

This year we are taking our children to Disneyland. I can't wait to offer them yet another moment when anything feels possible. A moment when they believe all dreams do come true. That will all fade soon enough; life will happen, they will grow and mature and analyze with intense discernment (what is that, anyway??). But before that happens, I want them to take a picture with Goofy. I hope they enjoy the Pirates of the Carribean, and Tom Sawyer Island, and the Enchanted Tiki room.

And more than anything else, I hope they learn that it actually is a very, very small world...after all.

A.D.

Around Christmastime, Karin brought Aidan over for dinner while Tom was in Mexico with friends. We had fun watching him play with Oliver...hope you do, too!

Oliver Twist

Collier and I agree: Oliver has added at least a full year to Chelsea's life. Let me explain...

Oliver has enough energy to power our entire house for 7.84 months. At minimum. When we brought him home, Chelsea wasn't sure what to think. This is her house and he's clearly a temporary tenant, a guest, or better yet, an invader. Clearly. But wait, wha'? Why are my humans not taking this little rat back to wherever he came from? Why does he seem to be staying...what is going on here?!

I think Oliver finally jumped directly into her gut enough times to win her over. After she had him on his back, jowls wrapped around his little neck, I think it occured to her: I love this lil guy! They've been playing their attack, chase, jaws around neck game at least twice a day ever since, hence the extended life of our dalmation. I think some of that energy rubbed off...scratch that...shot off...scratch that...hurled itself at Chelsea. From a chair. More of a pounce, really. It was an energy transfer. And it's added a year to her life.

P.S. Chelsea visited the vet today for minor surgery and while she's fine, she is sleeping, and Oliver has no idea what to do with himself. Since the weather is so nice we have the front window open, and Oliver is staring intently outside from his perch on Chelsea's arm chair. His ears perk up every time he hears a bat.

Not that he understood me, but I asked him if he heard his own kind calling him.