Gourmet?

I think I know why I'm not married...I would probably either kill or starve a husband.  I can't cook a simple dinner to save my life.  And I have no idea how to just 'throw' something together.

Tonight was my first night home with nothing to do in a long while.  I had some sea bass in the freezer, some frozen corn (which I'd boiled and saved from the spring), and I still had some potatoes. How hard could it be to broil the fish, microwave the corn and bake a potato?  Well, problem one - the potatoes were a little old... no biggie, I can just boil and mash'em, won't even notice!

So I put the still partially frozen fish in some blueberry vinaigrette, some lemon juice and garlic... ok yeah, like I said I don't know how things go together...into tin foil and put it under the broiler on high (then I decided it would be a good idea to find out how long to cook it by googling it).  I cut up the potatoes, threw them in the pot to boil and put the corn in a microwaveable container.  Man, I felt like it might all come together.  Ha!

I looked in the fridge - uh, no milk, oh, there's heavy cream... err, well, there WAS heavy cream, this was more like moldy cream.  While in there, I noticed the cheese had gotten completely covered (and I've cut off mold 2 or 3 times before), so out that went, then there were the strawberries from...who knows...and some Greek yogurt that was at least a couple weeks old.  Guess I should take the garbage out tonight (for the second time, since when I got home the old garbage was home to a pod of fruit flies)... oh did I mention that while cleaning up my living room I learned that beef jerky grows mold?  Yeah, totally gross.

Now that your mouth is watering, back to the food.  After 8 minutes, the fish wasn't close to done, so I put it in a different dish on top of some butter (like google said!), put some garlic powder and cayenne on it - yes, I'm sure these would all go together perfectly.  Google also told me what to substitute for milk in my mashed potatoes - sour cream (that was not expired).

Once the potatoes seemed sufficiently boiled, I drained them, added a stick of butter, sour cream, garlic, bacon bits (cuz bacon makes everything ok, right?).  Pulled out my hand mixer and went to town.  Who knew you could mess up mashed potatoes?!  At one point, I tried scooping the edges of the pot into them middle with my fork...got the fork caught, sprayed mashed potatoes (very thick and sticky potatoes I might add) all over my counter and when I cleaned it all back up, I finished mashing them, only to see that in the battle between fork and blender, the fork won... my beater is completely twisted. :(

I was so ready to throw in the towel at this point, but hunger won out.  I pulled the finally finished fish out of the oven, the warmed corn out of the microwave, and loaded up my plate.  All in all, it was edible.  I've definitely made worse (oh the burnt mac and cheese... bleh!).  But I guarantee, I won't be recreating this anytime soon.  I just kept think, the poor fish died for this?!

So, anyone out there interested giving lessons in cooking simply?

Single and Mingling

*Sigh*  I always love it when someone who has been in a relationship for more than a year gives dating advice.  "You find the person when you stop looking", "Don't date guys in bars", "It's creepy to meet a guy in the gym", and "Online dating, you could be meeting Ted Bundy".  I'm sorry, where should I meet guys?  Oh through friends?  Yes please, I love when a friend says they "know someone who would be 'perfect' for me" and he turns out to be rude and overbearing.  I'm sorry, what about me says I like rude, overbearing men?

I have to admit, I recently signed up for eHarmony.  My bestie and her mom were doing it, she invited me to join them for a 6-month membership... 1 date/ month.  What was there to lose?  My dignity?  I had a date with a guy tonight.  Very nice, good profile, easy to converse with, good job, established, yadda, yadda yadda.  And I couldn't help thinking to myself at the end of the date - what is wrong with him?  Why isn't he married by now? (ok, he is 10 yrs older than me)  And I realized, as I climbed into Meredith - what the f*ck is wrong with ME!?

I have been single for (almost) 2 years now.  And honestly, I have enjoyed EVERY minute of it.  I can't help feeling that where I am is wrong in other people's eyes.  Whenever you see someone after an absence the first thing they ask "are you seeing someone", or "23, you were old when you got married" (said to someone else... apparently, I should be put out to pasture!).  The best is hearing that my father thinks a girl should do certain things to get a guy... I'm sorry, but even my daddy doesn't believe I am good enough.  So, where does that leave lil' old me?

I'm here, and I'm queer... oh wait, no, I'm happy.  Happy with who I've become.  Happy with my beliefs.  Happy with how I love others and accept people for who they are.  Happy that I'm able to do what I want (travel, shop, eat, drink, be merry).  Happy that I have a great group of friends who accept me for who I am as a person.

So to all you married/ relationshiped up couples out there - don't be scared or jealous of your single friends.  Be happy for them in where they are in life.  Support them, and put your worry towards your own relationships... not our lack thereof.

Devil Worship

Not too long ago, a church leader in Seattle had a few choice words to say about yoga, calling it "demonic" and "a little bit of devil worship".  Makes me think this person hasn't actually gone to yoga.  A friend of mine turned me on to Bikram's (aka hot yoga) about a year or so ago, and since then, I've been making use of the Living Social and Groupon deals to try out different studios.  It's an hour-and-a-half in 120 degrees.  It's the same every class, repetitive, and the only speaking is telling you what to do next - not what to believe or think.  

It's also the only time of my day/ week/ month that I am quiet and still.  It's a time where I feel at peace and pray, meditate on God and practice what I learned in the Quaker church about silence and worship.  During the movements, I don't think about my day, the worries, the stresses or anything else other than breathing, balancing, and sweating :-) (and the only way I can describe the amount of sweat, is to say that I am as wet as if I just climbed out of a pool).  I feel amazing after and realize how much I need the down time in my life (as, even when I'm at home at night, I'm never fully relaxed or at peace - tv, friends, cleaning, and day-to-day life creep in).


Also, when I practice yoga, I feel at peace with me.  I'm okay with who I am, and I feel good when the session is complete.  I love the endorphins coursing through my body, making me feel alive and happy (and even, happy to be alive).  There aren't many times in my life where I've been okay with me.  As far back as I can remember, I was always self-conscious.  About wearing glasses, my height, my size, my teeth, my braces, my glasses, my personality, my lack of athletic ability, my posture, saying the wrong thing, becoming fat, my glasses, everything.  I have never been comfortable with who I am.  I've had the pressure (both actual and perceived) to be perfect.  And I hate that I fail, disappoint those around me, and it even drives me nuts that I'm not okay with me.

But yoga, yoga makes me feel good.  I know I can do it.  My first time, I made it through the entire session without sitting down.  And every time I do a back bend and realize I'm closer to where I should be, or I feel the pain while stretching my hamstrings, I feel like I'm accomplishing something good.  I like that the instructors tell you that some days you can do more than others, and that's okay.  Few other things energize and make me feel like that I actually like me (dancing is another of them, and while there are other moments where I'm okay with me, I'm always self-conscious of what I am doing or how I might be failing).

My therapist has been working with me a lot to start being okay with me, saying what I think/ want and not apologizing for it.  Telling me it is okay, and human, to fail.  To realize, it is okay not being perfect.  It's definitely a journey, but I've enjoyed the little "crumbs" of love I've felt today.  Reminders that life is okay, I don't have to beat myself up when I fail, and that I am loved.

I'll close with these (non-demonic) inspirations, from the Sweatbox's New Year's email:

Yoga is an opportunity-- this year, last year, next year, every day-- to accept ourselves for who we are. To view ourselves with compassion and kindness through our imperfections. When we practice our postures day after day, we practice acceptance of what we can give on that day. We practice letting go of judgment and criticism.


From Hannah's blog (what I feel is nothing compared to what her family has been going through lately, her strength amazes me):

Zephaniah 3:15-17 "...The Lord, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm... The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." 


And from this evening:

"It's not about perfect, it's about practice."

Beaver one, Beaver all...

Tonight, as I was driving on the dreaded Seattle-Portland slog, I finished my audiobook and was forced to be alone with my thoughts. This drive always brings that out - miles and miles of solitude. I've avoided it for a long time, never knowing what my brain would conjure up.

Tonight my thoughts turned to the conversation I'd had with Jackie earlier, about my strong defense over my Beavers. There are only 2 things that will do that to me, my family and my Beavers.  Make fun of or question my alligiance to either, particularly when first meeting me, and you will have removed yourself from me further than the grand canyon is wide. Even now I can feel my defenses going up, my heart rate rising, my bristles coming out.  I'm like a momma bear who is growling at the person who looked at my cub wrong.

I began to think that this was slightly unnatural. I mean, I didn't go to Oregon State, why do I get so defensive?  I thought about how far back my memories go...all the way back to when I was an ugly little girl (and I say that mostly because what I remember people telling me about is how funny I looked in my big glasses...like it was something I could control at the age of 3, but I digress). I remember playing on the basketball court with my cousin, sitting at the football games being entertained by the helmet races on the screen, collecting bottles after the games, having dinner with the family, traveling to bowl games. And as I was driving and thinking, it clicked.

My team is the only true connection I have to my family. The only part of me left that I share with them, the only honest part of me they see. I can't share the rest of me, so this is the only thing left.  The only thing we have in common, what we talk about on the phone, the only reason I come back for more than holidays.  It's sad really, but I suppose it's true. And I guess the real reason I get so defensive, is because it seems like people are trying to sever that last thread, cutting me off from my family completely. The last piece holding me off from becoming an orphan...

So the next time I seem to get overly Beaver crazy, part is because of my loyalty, but the other part is because I still want some connection to my parents, I guess I'm not ready to give up that last thread of hope that I have a family that I can feel a part of...

Life Expected

Sometimes your day is boring and dull, sometimes, it's just fully unexciting.  And then, there are those days when it is great.  But there are those OTHER times where your day, your night, your weekend are amazing.

I had that recently.  I was bored with life.  It was dissatisfying, I was unhappy....depressed.  And then on Thursday night I had dinner with my friend.  A friend who you wouldn't ever give up on, no matter what happened.  A friend who reminds you that it takes work to be a friend and to keep a friend.  Man, was dinner with my wife on Thursday awesome.  And then, I got to repeat it all again on Friday.

Friday...Lynsey and I met up at a wine bar in Post Alley, we were flying solo because of sick or boyfriend sick friends...never mind that, we were together.  Chatting, drinking wine flights, having chocolate and a grand ole time.  One more drink we decided, at a fantastic bar called White Horse... and that one more drink kicked our lil' asses right into the Post... where we bemused, befuddled and bewildered all those Nebraskan boys.  There was nothing but giggles and kisses on our end.

And you could have said my good day ended then...with me waking up the next morning 45 min AFTER my flight had departed. But somehow, it didn't.  The fun times were still rolling along... right with Oregon State beating Louisville (and of course, I think of Elizabethtown every time I say that word, because there are SO many versions of it).  After a little Qdoba with the fam, I headed back north, listening to my book on tape the whole time.... at Gervais I stopped to change into my "going out" attire... skinny cargoes and a hot top... the heels would join my feet later.

Saturday night in Portland was great... it was different from Seattle... not quite as busy and hot to trot, but great all the same. And with Jodie and her friends, we inevitably ended up at Kells, just like any great night would.  Kells provided cigar bars, Celtic bands and Guinness.  Along with drunk couples, sweaty girls and dancing the Irish gig.  Me and my 9" heels finally joined in and had a fantastic time dancing the gig joined with 10 other drunk, happy, pretend-Irishmen.

The night ended, and we all went our separate ways... no one too drunk, but no one too sober either.  I parked, found my bed and slept happily until 5:30am...when Meredith (my car) decided to let me know someone was touching her (you know, in that way in the courts when they give the doll to the child and ask "where did the bad man touch you" kinda way).  I heard her, looked out the window, hoped it wasn't... and then heard her again - they were towing cars on the street I'd parked.  Meredith was being violated, and she was letting the world know.  On went the shorts and shirt, and out the door I went.  Jiggles had nothing on me.  I found the man hurting Mer and begged him to let me park her elsewhere... this man happened to be a friend from college... irony at 530 was more than I could deal w/...especially as the hot mess I had to be...

So Mer and I drove around, and finally found a space in the visitors lot far away...woke up to cheers from the "Race for the Cure" supporters...once showered and coherent, breakfast was had.  Now you have to understand that Portland, Oregon has THE BEST breakfast places in the world.  This morning the Veritable Quandary was chosen... and 7 of us gathered around the round table of King Arthur,  I mean King Veritable, and had our various French Toast brioche, eggs benedict (with or without crab), or corned beef hash... along with VQ-8, Espresso or Champagne cocktails....and an incredibly healthy dose of laughter.  Honestly, I haven't had that great a time laughing and communing with friends since God knows when.  The day was capped off with a tour of the Saturday Market (including hilarious boxers and insanely intelligent art).

My weekend ended with a bang...I finished my Stephen King novel on the drive home.  I mean...and really, that story ended with a bang of a finish.  All I know is that fantastic weekends are still possible and I want more of them.  I had drinks with Sofia tonight.....and then realized that the night was young enough to still have drinks with Lynsey.  If that's not a great way to end a Monday, I don't know what is.

All I can say is that if my life may be boring and dull sometimes, it more than makes up for it when it is exhilarating and fantastical.  I wouldn't trade it for the world, I just have to think that my poor future kids will get tired of hearing, "I remember when"...:)