Monthly Archives: September 2007

Simplicity.

carbonara

Like potato salad, spaghetti alla carbonara is one of those dishes that just doesn’t seem right made any way other than they way YOU make it, or the way your family makes it, even when you can admit it tastes good no matter HOW it is prepared. Start people discussing their carbonara and suddenly you are involved in a heated debate about the proper ingredients – cream or no cream, splash of wine or splash of pasta water, whole eggs or just yolks, etc.

The truth is that there is probably no way to argue that one is more authentic or true than the other – people in different regions of Italy even make it different, as I learned discussing with my friend Francesca. Her father, from the fatherland itself, makes it with cream; while I learned the no cream method from my Italian host mother. Neither one is right, but the way we prefer it is shaped by how we learned it.

I love making carbonara. It is so easy, so filling, so pure in ingredient. It is not to be eaten lightly, or often, as it is very very fattening. But as an occasional warming comfort food it cannot be beat, and I also assure you that it is the key to many menfolks’ hearts; they will pledge undying affection for you should you serve them this rather wonderful dish.

Since the vegan month I haven’t craved it at all, but Davey mentioned the idea of carbonara with a sort of glazed happiness in his eyes a couple days ago and it did sound awfully good. I decided it was probably a good idea to get rid of the bacon we had in the freezer anyway, since we aren’t really eating it much these days and it was taking up room. So we bought some eggs and cheese and I retired to the kitchen to make it. Alert – this recipe is the opposite of vegan.

The way I make it is as so: first, slice up your bacon in little slivers. Pancetta is best, of course, but we had bacon and it is delicious as well. Throw a bit of olive oil in a pan with your bacon slivers, and turn on low medium heat and let it start cooking up. In the meantime, put enough spaghetti for 2-3 people (Davey eats slightly more than a single person’s portion) in boiling water and let it do its thing. While the spaghetti is boiling and the bacon is sizzling (you want all the fat burned off and the meaty pieces nice and cooked), crack two whole eggs and two egg yolks into a bowl. Add salt and pepper and a healthy handfull or pecorino or parmigiano into the eggs, and mix it all up with a fork. Stand around and wait for your spag to cook, checking your bacon to make sure it does not burn.

When the spag is cooked, strain it and shake a bit, but no worries about getting all the water out or anything. Pour it into the bowl, on top of the egg mixture. Let it just sit there on top. Take your time walking over to the stove, stir the bacon a little, and turn off the burner. Bring the bacon pan over to the bowl and scrape in your bacon pieces and probably about 2 tablespoons of the hot fat. I let it sit another minute or so, allowing the hot fat and pasta to cook the top part of the eggs, then I stir it all up really well so the bottom part of the eggs gets coated all over the spaghetti and warmed through.

Serve to hungry fiance. Watch his face melt with joy. Be really happy that some shepherd in Italy somewhere sometime came up with this magical combination.

Sometimes carbonara just makes me feel really satisfied and thankful for the simple things in life, no matter how it is prepared. 


Recent pet peeve.

Siam

Everyone has pet peeves. I have a few, though they rarely get me all riled up. For example, I hate it when closet doors or drawers or cabinets are open. I don’t know why. I just automatically go to close them. I don’t get upset that people (David) leave them open, I just feel the need to shut them because they become all I can focus on. Also, people who fart/take fast food/remove stinky shoes on an airplane and sit next to me. I don’t get all angry about it because, hey, people fart/need to eat/want to get comfortable. But geez, have a little awareness about other people around you, you know?

However, I have been moved to shouting about my recent pet peeve. Everytime someone talks about Myanmar in the news, it is always with this phrasing: "In Myanmar, the country formerly known as Burma…"

HEY PEOPLE! It’s been Myanmar since 1989! WTF? Here, News-Insulting-My-Intelligence-People, why don’t we start using the following phrases too:

The Czech Republic, the country formerly known as part of Czechoslovakia!

Thailand, the country formerly known as Siam!

Serbia, formerly known as part of the State Union of Serbia and Montenegro, and then before that, Yugoslavia!

Russia, formerly known as part of the USSR, but even formerly to that known as the Russian Empire!

Germany, formerly East and West Germany, but originally just Germany!

I realize that some question the validity of the renaming due to the military rule, but please. After almost 20 years, shouldn’t everyone know what Myanmar is if that’s what it is called? Maybe I’ll start calling North Korea simply Korea since I don’t really agree with the Japanese occupation then Communist and military rule that caused it to be renamed North Korea.

Shit, I’m going to start referring to countries as whatever I want. "Crazyland, formerly known as the USA"; "Cheeseapalooza, formerly known as France"; and "Sandplace, formerly known as Saudi Arabia" all come to mind.


Check it up, funk it up, minna hisshi de ore ni tsuite koi, come on!

We like Risk.

We finally moved the old couch out of the house, cleared the tools off the table, swept and vacuumed, and generally found new homes for lots of things just sitting in the front room and VOILA. We have not simply a living area, but a whole ROOM. With space and a table and couch and shelves and everything. OK, I am missing two bits of baseboard and a light fixture but it is FINISHED, really. To celebrate we had Wells and John over for a game of Risk, which fortunately ended up being one of those games you can’t finish because you started too late, and just as well, as I put on my worst showing yet. I mean, I never win, but I tend to be the surprise power for some time, and then everyone is like "Wow, you did pretty good!", which I take to mean that even though they know me to be a relatively smart person they still don’t REALLY expect a blond girl to do very well at this game. Just kidding. (Not really.)

David and I have decided to take a break from drinking this week and weekend as we have really overindulged this month, and also I have rather rashly signed up for a 5 km race on Saturday. A couple years ago I got really gung-ho about doing the Reykjavik half-marathon, and trained a lot, and got to the stage where I was running about 10 miles at a time. But then life was just life, and I couldn’t afford to go, and figured I would go the next year; and then David happened, which somehow threw off all my running. So here I am, two years, 15 pounds, and seriously decreased mileage later, just hoping I’ll make it the 5 km without keeling. I’m sure it will be fine. But a great week to not drink. I suppose.

This morning I rode the train into work, and watched the sky grow lighter and lighter while I listened to happy Japanese pop music from the Katamari Damashii soundtrack, and randomly I got really excited for our wedding. There is some metaphor there, but I’m not sure what it is.


Thought of all my great reasons for leaving; now I can’t think of any

Wellesley spirit.

This morning I awoke and the light was very dim indeed, boding the arrival of autumn and winter. I was reminded, suddenly and without warning, of awakening to a dark Amsterdam morning and starting my bike ride to work as so, watching the sky grow lighter and lighter as I navigated the streets and bike traffic to work, my scarf flapping behind me. And then of Boston mornings moving into October, growing ever crisper and darker, leaves beginning to turn and fall. I wanted to start knitting something new in preparation for it. But of course I remembered that my autumn and winter are about to be very different.

It has been so long since I lived here I’ve forgotten what the fall and winter are like, and when I would visit at Christmas I would find them so wildly different year to year I was never certain if I would have the right clothes. There was one year when it was so warm I had to borrow cooler clothes from my mother; another when it was so cold I seemed the only person prepared for it, having just come from Switzerland.

One thing is for certain – it is still in the 90s here and for the next week at least it seems there will be no change. It’s right now I am really starting to miss Boston, and Amsterdam, and even Luzern; all these places with seasons demarcated the way you always learned it in school, but growing up in Dallas never was. I have adjusted myself to these rhythms completely, having lived with them since the age of 18, that fall sixteen years ago when I relocated to Wellesley. And now I even start to miss Wellesley when I think of these seasons: the leaves jeweled across the lake in the fall; kicking through snow in my pajamas to get to class; the glorius breezy springs. It was idyllic in that way.

I try not to miss places too much, or at least not think about it. There are other adventures to be had, other people to meet, other cities to try. But something about knowing it is almost October, and I am missing the ONE constant thing I have had as an adult – seasons – makes me a little melacholy this morning. Something seems out of kilter. I want to sit in our living room and knit a useless hat; I want to cry a little bit. I miss Annie and Dabney and Terra and Seth and Carmen and Johan and Danielle and Tom and Anita and Sara and Pal, yes, even Pal, old Mr. NonCommittal.

Maybe I’m still just really really tired.   


It’s like nothing’s got a pulse in this whole damn place.

Cat on butt.

I went into my Flickr account archives to see what happened on this day last year, and would you believe it was one of only five days in September 2006 that I did not take a single photo? However, the day after, September 21, 2006, I was laying on the bed when Tugboat decided to settle in on my butt. I also took no photos on September 21, 2005. I think tonight I will have to break my streak of no photos on September 21.

Despite the fact I entertained myself with a couple of shots around the house night before last, I have not touched my digital camera for a full week. I did pull out my old normal camera and the fisheye lomo, however, and played around with those; though truth be told I am not sure I remember how to use my old clunky camera, so we’ll see if any of the shots actually work out. I could chalk this up to wanting to do something different photographically, but really I just left my memory card to the digital at work a couple days after loading photos, and just haven’t picked it up since.

Tiredness overcomes me constantly. It is possible I am so bored at work that I can’t keep myself awake, but the more likely explanation is that I continue to sleep either poorly or not long enough. I fight to keep my eyes open at work, having to take frequent breaks to go outside for fresh air. The days I drive I feel like a menace, trying valiantly to stay alert on the road. I come home and collapse on the sofa, falling immediately and deeply into a nap for a half-hour… and I ONLY get up because I tell David to not let me continue to sleep longer. My brain hasn’t been nimble enough to eek out anything remotely interesting on this blog, and I can barely read three pages of anything without drifting off. The invariable exhaustion is making me feel boring and old. I wanted to fool around with Davey last night but once I was on the bed it was all over – poor guy; I’m sure that wasn’t frustrating at all.

David and I are working out more than we had in a while, which means I need more sleep; but I’m focused on finishing some of the house, which means I stay up far too late. Then I’m up early for work. GOD HELP ME. I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. So, from now on, it’s a Unisom at dinner for me with a glass of wine, and with any luck I’ll be sleeping like a baby by 10:30.

Aside from the fatigue, it has been a nice week. David and I finally got our prints framed so we can put things on the wall and finally I can post some photos of what the house is looking like, though we haven’t picked up our great chair we bought last weekend yet. We got the little polydactyl neutered (we’ve taken to calling him Ernie, but who knows if it will stick) so now Davey is officially the only creature in the house with balls. I’ve done some of the last paint work in the hallway and it would seem the only major thing left in the front room is two walls worth of baseboard to finish. And voila! Like that, most of the house will be finished.

We have even started to toss around ideas for the kitchen now, though I dread starting it a little. It’s exciting to have a blank canvas though.

Considering going to the Plano Balloon Festival tomorrow after work . I have never been to a balloon festival before. Not sure the balloons will be the main spectacle though, what with "Family fun-filled Street Dance with "Kraig Parker as Elvis" presented by Elliott’s Hardware" featured so prominently on the first day’s schedule.   


They tried to make me go to rehab, I said no no no.

Booby bartender.

Boy howdy, is September turning into one social month. I’m going to have to go to that Vipassana retreat now just to dry out and chill the fuck out after all the goddamn fun I have been having. Frankly, I have been enjoying myself far too much to write on this thing the past few days, but Monday returns and waits for my update like a garter snake under a piece of wood. David caught three last week, which was all part of the fun, because we like snakes, but seriously folks, now I digress.

Thursday we met Jimmy and Paula and Carrie out for drinks, which, unsurprisingly, ended up being a really fun evening despite Jimi and Paula fighting about… something. But mostly I talked to Carrie, who found my blog by way of David’s MySpace page (they have known each other for a long time), and we’ve since gotten along virtually very well, because she likes to sew and has a healthy appreciation for crafty things and cooking. I am liking my track record with meeting blog crushes in person (big shout out here to Brandon, Kat and Jenny – and sort of BicycleMark, though we haven’t REALLY met yet), because we got along very well. And then at some stage Gen and Keith showed up, and I always seem to see them when I’m already at the slurring stage, which is unfortunate, because it would be nice to talk to them in clear voice and mind. Nevertheless, so it was. Then a beer with Wells, and at that stage I was totally done and had to go straight to bed.

Friday night was The National show with Kenley, which we enjoyed and where again I saw Miss Carrie. It was seriously a good show, even though they didn’t play that song I like. St. Vincent opened, and I am still lukewarm on her. I don’t know why; her voice is really beautiful. But the music just did not do much for me. At this stage I’ve seen her twice and listened to her CD a couple times, so I feel pretty safe in saying I have given her a fair shot and she is just not in my taste. After The National we karaoked at The Dallasite again, where I gave my final performance of That’s Amore (I have a strict 2-time limit on songs). Then we hung out briefly at my sister’s house before retiring.

How I looked forward to sleeping in on Saturday! It was going to be so great! ALAS: the lawn dude came. Unlike David, I find it impossible to sleep through a weedwacker and lawnmower right under the window, so despite a 3am bedtime I was up and about at 8:30am. Sigh.

It was unfortunate, because I really wanted to see Magnolia Electric Company that night, but they played all the way in Denton, and to me that is so far. Well, not just to me. It IS far. It’s like, 45 minutes away. But by evening it was clear I wouldn’t last through another 3am night, so I reluctantly suggested we not go after all. We decided instead to meet Jimmy and Paula again, as they called and said they were in the city (they live way outside of Dallas). Generally I hate a weekend in the Lower Greenville area of Dallas, as it is crowded with bachelorette parties and frat boys, but we got there pretty early and were able to enjoy a quiet roofdeck almost all to ourselves for a good couple hours.

(I will not – I repeat, NOT – have anything resembling the traditional bachelorette which seems to involve a night on the town wearing a veil and dressing like a slut [I have no personal problem with sluts, but I don't (often) want to dress like one]. So far I may have a weekend in NYC with some friends, and a weekend on the Cape with a different set. And that sounds just splendiferous to me.)

Yesterday David and I had a very couple-y type day brunching with our friends Jennifer and Sean, followed by household shopping, including an awesome antique armchair and a new rug to protect the beautiful hardwood floors we worked so hard on. We started hanging stuff up on the walls and it is really starting to look homey and cozy now. We were really excited and pleased with ourselves and all that business.

Life has been wonderful and I cannot complain about much right now, though I am starting to feel, perhaps, a little soft in the social responsibility part of my brain. Obviously I am still keeping up with the news and do my part with general social awareness, but I fear a slide into Middle America indifference based not on willful apathy, but self-involvement. Which is fun and all, but I think maybe it’s time to think about adding something into my schedule to be helpful – be it volunteering at an animal rescue (like I did in Boston) or working with the oh so many homeless people in this town. Doing socialist commie work in this red state might end up feeling futile, but I do not think I will feel good if I continue for too much longer without the occasional night volunteered to the less fortunate, in lieu of drunken revelry.


You changed the clouds to the sun, it’s easy to tell you’re the one.

Sleepytime.

David gave notice at his job, and while it is only temporary, I love our schedule this week. I have switched my hours to 7:30am to 3:30pm, which helps me avoid a lot of traffic – mostly in the afternoons, which was what was killing me before. Depending on if there is some or no traffic, I get home around 4 or a little after to find Davey at home just finishing up working on the garden – he is building another raised flower bed to transplant the potted plants we have into, as our squash and potatoes look gorgeous but have no more room to grow further. I’ve been pretty sleepy at the end of the day so I’ll flop onto the sofa with a cat and have a half-hour nap. Davey will wake me with kisses and we go to the gym – last night I made him try a spinning class (I used to be a spinning fanatic, and have decided to become one again). At home again and it is still only around 7 and we do more house stuff, cook dinner, and have a beer and I’m STILL able to go to bed by 11! It is wonderful, I say. I want to make lots more money so I can keep this house-husband scenario going forever.

The only drawback is that the mornings still are challenging. My pre-David early-riser days squarely behind me, I find it so hard to extricate myself from the warm, musky covers. I’ve taken to showering in the evenings so I can stay in bed even longer; hitting snooze which I never EVER have before, just for five more minutes sandwiched between David’s warm back on one side and my big fat lump of Gus pressed against me on the other (I think David thinks I like the bedroom airconditioner unusually low, but he does not find himself in between two hot blood bottles all night).

Last night the temperatures seemed unseasonably low for Dallas, but just perfect in my mind – almost a Boston autumn feel. We opened the windows finally and turned on the fans and slept with cool fresh air circulating around the room, which was such a simple pleasure after these 2-3 months of airconditioning.

This morning I breathed the fresh grass air as I woke to a purring body on one side and an arm wrapped around me on the other. My alarm stirred David and he gave me a sleeping, closed-eyed, morning-breathed peck on the lips. "I love you," he said.

The drawback may be that it is so hard to get up, but now that I think about it, it is perfect all the same.


Lemurs, man, lemurs start wearing purple.

Help: Minus the Bear OR Gogol Bordello?


Red hair and blue eyes, na na na na na na; no sign of a friend of mine.

Red bob.

So last Wednesday I went to my hair stylist who is really great. She does all sorts of spectacular colorful things with her own hair – it is different every time I go into the salon. I always feel a slight flurry of nervousness when I go there as I know she knows David’s ex (of all the stylists in Dallas, I get a friend of his ex’s): it’s silly and it’s just residual guilt but a part of me is afraid I’m going to get a talking-to or something. Dumb, right? Anyway, I think they just know each other, not exactly good friends or anything. But everytime I go she is awesome and really fun to talk to and I am generally not a hairdresser-chatter. And she likes me, I think, because I pretty much just let her do what she wants.

This time I told her to go ahead and chop some off but not pixie-like or anything, since I’m still fairly certain I want some shoulder-length curls for the wedding and I have time to grow it still; and that I like the idea of red but I really don’t have a preference of where or what shade or anything. So she got to work and gave me a bob, which I haven’t had in ages. And she put some lovely reddish-brown over the top and front, and kept it my natural blond underneath with a few bright highlights as well. David says he likes it because from the front I am new exotic girlfriend, but from the back I’m blond familiar girlfriend. So I guess it worked out well for everyone.

Red on blond.

It was a good past few days, starting Thursday when David and I decided to go to a new Asian grocery. In Boston we shopped pretty exclusively at our local Asian grocer, Super 88, because they were around the corner and CHEAP CHEAP! We looked up an Asian grocer here in Richardson where I work and decided to go to the one called Tian Tian 88, because it reminded us of Super 88.

Dallas Asian supermarkets are so clean! And bright! Super 88 near our house was always kind of dark and dingy and boxes stacked all around (the produce was always clean though, no worries). Dallas stores have bright lights and clear floors and fun pop music! Wheee! I would say a bit pricier though. We go there now just because they have products we want, as opposed to the prices on produce being really inexpensive. And, of course, there are none near our home, so we haven’t gone much at all.

Super 88 in Boston also had far superior dishes and whatnot. Here is a photo of one of my happy rabbit bowls that I bought there before we moved. Super happy bowl noodle hot! Wheeeee!

Happy rabbit bowl.

Saturday night we went to Rubber Gloves in Denton for a free show, headlined by Centro-matic. It was, as usual, a great performance by Mr. Johnson et al. He’s a funny, weird little guy with an amazing voice. <3. Anyway, totally worth the drive out, and it was a haul. I hadn’t been up that way since we lived up there in high school, and the exit where I once got off to go to my mom’s house has gone from a open country field to a proper built up Texan exit complete with McDonalds and fifteen gas stations. Crazy. But back to the show – also really enjoyed one of the openers, Bridges and Blinking Lights. Should listen to them more and see if they are good recorded as well.  I thought the lead singer was sort of dreamy while he was playing, but once he stopped thought he was pretty normal looking. I am sure many people think this way at the foot of a musician.

In other news, next May/June has turned into wedding-o-rama. We’ve decided on May 31; my friend Sharon is getting married in Chicago June 15, and I just received word that my friend Karen is getting married in Amsterdam at the beginning of May! Did the stars align? Does this always happen? I guess we’re going to have to proceed carefully with our financial planning, because I really want to go to both. Hrm. Stupid lack of money. Making things difficult.

In more other news, I bought my very first sofa (we got it in lilac, and it was on sale – no way I can spend the money it is listed for!). I’m about to be 34 and yet it made me feel more like a grown-up than… well, pretty much anything. And that includes getting married. Signing a paper and having a fun party seems like kids’ play next to dropping a wad of cash on a piece of furniture. I think I also just don’t like owning big things anymore either, so I experienced low-level anxiety during its purchase, but I just couldn’t deal with that shitty hand-me-down sofa we have ANYMORE.

And one other thing: I gave in to fucking Facebook. I’m so bored with social networking sites, but what are you going to do… I did find some of my old European colleages though, which was nice, because they generally aren’t on MySpace.


Shit.

14%? I totally failed THAT test.


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