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.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
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!!"
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!!"
Monday, March 1, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
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!!)
Thursday, February 25, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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!
Monday, February 22, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
The Weekend
For such a gorgeous day, I feel guilty that we didn't get outside more. Sundays are tough. Part of the mormon religion is recognizing Sundays as the Sabbath. We try very hard not to work, not even housework, and we try not to shop or go anywhere that profits from someone else working on a Sunday. It's a family day and we've been working hard to live by that.
Speaking of the mormon religion, I'm getting frustrated with the missionaries. They stop by unannounced, even though we've told them we don't appreciate people just stopping by. They call me weekly to schedule discussions. I understand that my children are baptised, and I do love going to the church and even think of it as my church. But I struggle with one basic principle: that there's only one way to God. I don't presume to have the answer, so I guess it's a difficult thing to accept others who "know" they have the answer. And yet I understand that you'd have to know your way is the right way, otherwise why would you follow it?
Enough of that. I think love is above all else, so I'm gonna love even those who believe differently. This world is already too tough a place for religious intolerance.
So Darien spent a few hours up at his school. He's got a new friend, a girl, and I think he believes she's his girlfriend. Little does he know that he's not allowed to have a girlfriend at age 11! Poor thing - to have me for a mom. Why is it so hard to remember your own thought process at that age? I swore to myself, when I was a child, that I would always remember what it was like. But I didn't. I can't. It's an impossible task.
Game night last night was at the Baker's. We always have a blast and I hope we stick with this once-a-month thing. Dinner was as great as the company. Plus, as parents, I think it's good for us to get together and have fun. Once parents settle in and become responsible adults - trust me, it usually doesn't happen BEFORE the having of the children - they tend to stop taking care of themselves and center their lives around their children. Everything has its time and place and putting your children at the center is no exception; however, I've seen too many mid-life crisis, too many failed marriages from people who lose themselves to their parental lives. Gotta laugh, gotta remember to have fun, and above all else, love. Love you, love your husband or wife, and love being alive.
[/soapbox]
Oh, would you look at the time? Time to help the kids with homework...
Speaking of the mormon religion, I'm getting frustrated with the missionaries. They stop by unannounced, even though we've told them we don't appreciate people just stopping by. They call me weekly to schedule discussions. I understand that my children are baptised, and I do love going to the church and even think of it as my church. But I struggle with one basic principle: that there's only one way to God. I don't presume to have the answer, so I guess it's a difficult thing to accept others who "know" they have the answer. And yet I understand that you'd have to know your way is the right way, otherwise why would you follow it?
Enough of that. I think love is above all else, so I'm gonna love even those who believe differently. This world is already too tough a place for religious intolerance.
So Darien spent a few hours up at his school. He's got a new friend, a girl, and I think he believes she's his girlfriend. Little does he know that he's not allowed to have a girlfriend at age 11! Poor thing - to have me for a mom. Why is it so hard to remember your own thought process at that age? I swore to myself, when I was a child, that I would always remember what it was like. But I didn't. I can't. It's an impossible task.
Game night last night was at the Baker's. We always have a blast and I hope we stick with this once-a-month thing. Dinner was as great as the company. Plus, as parents, I think it's good for us to get together and have fun. Once parents settle in and become responsible adults - trust me, it usually doesn't happen BEFORE the having of the children - they tend to stop taking care of themselves and center their lives around their children. Everything has its time and place and putting your children at the center is no exception; however, I've seen too many mid-life crisis, too many failed marriages from people who lose themselves to their parental lives. Gotta laugh, gotta remember to have fun, and above all else, love. Love you, love your husband or wife, and love being alive.
[/soapbox]
Oh, would you look at the time? Time to help the kids with homework...
My gut hurts...
...from laughing so hard! Who knew 'Animal Farm' could be so funny?! Collier's mom - hahahaha! - wasn't so happy when we walked in the door at 1:15am.
Sidebar: yes, I AM going to see how many vocabulary words I can cram into my post.
It was a dark and purple night as Jason slipped into his footie pajamas. All he could think about was getting into bed with Jen's mom. He crept toward the bedroom, when out of nowhere came Trish Stratus walking two midget bitches on leashes, wearing a white tshirt with fake gems glue-gunned onto the front: Cockfishers. "Those dirty rotten nazis!" Jason thought.
How to get rid of them? Jason ran to the closet and grabbed his ice skates. He didn't know where the girls had gone, so he moved slowly across the hard wood floor. Creeeeeek. "There they are," he thought.
As he heard the footsteps get closer and closer, Jason suddenly realized they were right around the corner. Jason jumped in front of Trish Stratus and the midget bitches, swinging his left arm around with full force. Trish Stratus screamed. "TOOOEEEEE PICCCCKKKKK!!!!" (Sidebar: you had to see where that was going, right?!?!)
Trish Stratus and the midget bitches ran out of the house and J sighed with relief. Now he could get back to Jen's mom. He set his bloody skate shoe down on the kitchen counter, right next to his tickets to the 2010 Taser Show and headed toward bed, knowing he'd be protected from rapists and Heather's.
Jason's mom would be proud.
Sidebar: yes, I AM going to see how many vocabulary words I can cram into my post.
It was a dark and purple night as Jason slipped into his footie pajamas. All he could think about was getting into bed with Jen's mom. He crept toward the bedroom, when out of nowhere came Trish Stratus walking two midget bitches on leashes, wearing a white tshirt with fake gems glue-gunned onto the front: Cockfishers. "Those dirty rotten nazis!" Jason thought.
How to get rid of them? Jason ran to the closet and grabbed his ice skates. He didn't know where the girls had gone, so he moved slowly across the hard wood floor. Creeeeeek. "There they are," he thought.
As he heard the footsteps get closer and closer, Jason suddenly realized they were right around the corner. Jason jumped in front of Trish Stratus and the midget bitches, swinging his left arm around with full force. Trish Stratus screamed. "TOOOEEEEE PICCCCKKKKK!!!!" (Sidebar: you had to see where that was going, right?!?!)
Trish Stratus and the midget bitches ran out of the house and J sighed with relief. Now he could get back to Jen's mom. He set his bloody skate shoe down on the kitchen counter, right next to his tickets to the 2010 Taser Show and headed toward bed, knowing he'd be protected from rapists and Heather's.
Jason's mom would be proud.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Let's try this again...
Today has been a great day! I LOVE the sunshine and today is flawless. This weather gets me antsy, itchin' for summer. Summer is barbeques. It's heat and fresh flowers. Summer is jumping into rivers, cycling around town, choosing the patio at restaurants, moonlit walks, reading in the park, being outside and feeling the breeze and the sun on your skin. I do love that first rain of the year, around September...but nothing buts that first day of pure sunshine after months of cold, wet weather.
Portland is like that. It rains a lot here. I used to laugh at people who use umbrellas, but I've become one of those people. Actually, I bought a rain hat recently. Then I don't have to hold an umbrella ALL the time because it ALWAYS rains;-)
I love the person my daughter is becoming. She's watching a TV show, female cops arresting people. One of them, says, "Lower your voice and shut your mouth." My daughter catches how unintelligent that comment is. She's just like her mother. I carefully craft my words. And I notice when others do not. Lately I feel as if I'm losing my vocabulary. I can't lose my words...they are one of the ways through which I define myself.
I feel alive today. I am so excited to work out, to accomplish, to invest in me today. Something has changed, has moved, inside me. I just feel excited and giddy and happy and alive:-)
Portland is like that. It rains a lot here. I used to laugh at people who use umbrellas, but I've become one of those people. Actually, I bought a rain hat recently. Then I don't have to hold an umbrella ALL the time because it ALWAYS rains;-)
I love the person my daughter is becoming. She's watching a TV show, female cops arresting people. One of them, says, "Lower your voice and shut your mouth." My daughter catches how unintelligent that comment is. She's just like her mother. I carefully craft my words. And I notice when others do not. Lately I feel as if I'm losing my vocabulary. I can't lose my words...they are one of the ways through which I define myself.
I feel alive today. I am so excited to work out, to accomplish, to invest in me today. Something has changed, has moved, inside me. I just feel excited and giddy and happy and alive:-)
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