V:
Maybe i am bad luck for you.
RJ:
[Looks up from lawnmower pending repair]
Maybe you are fattening up for me? Is that what you said?
Tips for Finding Happiness in Your Daily Life
10 years ago
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Snippet 143
V:
Didn't we say that, if bad things happen in three, you should be done already?
RJ:
I'm on my second or third batch.
Didn't we say that, if bad things happen in three, you should be done already?
RJ:
I'm on my second or third batch.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Snippet 142
V:
Do you know what the Cantonese call snot-infused, crunched up tissues?
RJ:
What?
V:
Wontons.
Do you know what the Cantonese call snot-infused, crunched up tissues?
RJ:
What?
V:
Wontons.
Silicone Rules
Ingenious finds of the unemployed
This Pac Man potholder cracks me up. His mouth is imprinted with Pac Man tracks!
This is a pot handle gripper. Of course. Who wants to be holding a handle when one can be grabbing a banana?!
This Pac Man potholder cracks me up. His mouth is imprinted with Pac Man tracks!
This is a pot handle gripper. Of course. Who wants to be holding a handle when one can be grabbing a banana?!
Canine Conundrum*
Alley sleeping on her back. My jaw dropped when i spotted her this morning. Her arms (um, i mean front legs) straight up. How does one balance?! I know I can't!RJ claims all dogs do this. Really? How come the dogs i've lived with have never done this??
*There, i have alliterated again.
Feline
A kiddy motorcycle with training wheels. Precious! (Yes, it runs!)
Lovely are all things porcine. This happens to be a silicone trivet.
My Famous Skewered Prawns 2
Making sauce out of the marinade a.k.a. killing the salmonella
This time with a real grill! It's my American dream come true. God bless RJ for grilling in the rain...
Such a lovely sight, almost brings a tear to my eye...
The dueling prawns
My Famous Skewered Prawns
I've made two other versions before. This time I replaced the green onion in the original recipe with cilantro and added mirin, crimini and three kinds of peppers: jalapeños, Serrano, and Thai.
I keep poking myself in the process. Ou! But so worth it :P
14 skewers yielded (not all pictured so don't bother counting)
I keep poking myself in the process. Ou! But so worth it :P
14 skewers yielded (not all pictured so don't bother counting)
Firsts
Blueberry Lemon Drop
Cocktail sauce with avocado. I was skeptical at first but it's an amazingly harmonious combo.
So... pretty
怪味雞 ("Strange-Flavored Chicken"). Soy + Vinegar + Spicy oil = Yummy. Nothing weird about that!
"Lion's Head". The humongous meatball is supposed to symbolize the head and the cabbage, the mane. Who knew? The Beijing version is called 四喜丸 ("Four Happy Balls"). Now THAT's hilarious!
Homemade Burgers
Nice smile. The red glob on the side could pass for blood from chapped lips...
Mushroom Swiss is my absolute fave
Prawns with Lobster Sauce
Last Thursday, upon taking my order, my bartend asked if i wanted rice with that.“No,” i replied with a coy smile, aware it wasn’t fair practice.
“No?” Responded the bartend, incredulous. Cuz God forbid an Asian should consume an entrée without the staple. It’s unfathomable.
I’ve gotten the same response at Thai joints when i order curry. My Aunt Mae has commented, repressing disgust, “So you eat it like a stew?” As if it was blasphemy.
I slurp it, for your information. And i don’t miss anything.
It’s frigging refined carbs, people! And everyone knows refined carbs are evil.
RJ has challenged the steadfast notion, quoting Michael Pollan.
I have yet to read Pollan. But supposedly he argues that fat does not make you fat.
Sounds dreamy. I shall put all my half-finished reads aside and place that at the top of my list.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Nova
Lately, since my early retirement (ha, ha), i've noticed i tend to see birth dates of people who have been close to me when i read the time on a digital clock.
Mostly 5:12 and 10:19.
W's and JD's respectively.
Enough times to alarm me and prompt me to analyze what it all means.
Probably nothing. Probably at other times i'm simply out and about and nowhere near a digital clock.
Mostly 5:12 and 10:19.
W's and JD's respectively.
Enough times to alarm me and prompt me to analyze what it all means.
Probably nothing. Probably at other times i'm simply out and about and nowhere near a digital clock.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
道
This evening, as i revisited my favorite downtown Chinese restaurant, this young group of four sat at the table to my right just several minutes before i wanted to bail.
The relatively loud guy who sat closest to me already knew what he wanted and ordered without having to review the menu. I deemed it an attempt to demonstrate his familiarity with the joint implying frequent patronage, a transparent attempt to impress anyone within earshot. Especially me, of course. Narcissism: it takes one to know one.
The neo-hippie chick and her beau, however, took longer. She finally decided on vegetarian fried rice when the waiter came back a second time. Really? After 5 minutes of perusing the literature cover to cover?
"Cuz i'm vegetarian," she added, feeling obliged to explain to the waiter.
I rolled my eyes inside my head. Duh! Was an explanation warranted? What kind of a carnivore would opt for vegetarian when s/he can have MEAT?!!
And to top it off, when the fried wontons came (an appetizer to share), she asked the server what they were fried in.
The poor Chinese dude didn't quite catch on.
"I mean what kind of oil was used?" Elaborated la Boheme. "Was it lard? Peanut oil?"
I rolled my eyes further back in my head. Seriously, if this is such an issue, don't eat out.
My late Buddhist grandma is conjured. She used to insist in asking if lard was used.
20 years ago in Asia every server would respond indignantly, "Ma'am, no one uses lard anymore."
Apparently lard is alive and well in America. God bless the U.S. of A.!
Commentary: Fine. Maybe i'm not as tolerant as i thought.
The relatively loud guy who sat closest to me already knew what he wanted and ordered without having to review the menu. I deemed it an attempt to demonstrate his familiarity with the joint implying frequent patronage, a transparent attempt to impress anyone within earshot. Especially me, of course. Narcissism: it takes one to know one.
The neo-hippie chick and her beau, however, took longer. She finally decided on vegetarian fried rice when the waiter came back a second time. Really? After 5 minutes of perusing the literature cover to cover?
"Cuz i'm vegetarian," she added, feeling obliged to explain to the waiter.
I rolled my eyes inside my head. Duh! Was an explanation warranted? What kind of a carnivore would opt for vegetarian when s/he can have MEAT?!!
And to top it off, when the fried wontons came (an appetizer to share), she asked the server what they were fried in.
The poor Chinese dude didn't quite catch on.
"I mean what kind of oil was used?" Elaborated la Boheme. "Was it lard? Peanut oil?"
I rolled my eyes further back in my head. Seriously, if this is such an issue, don't eat out.
My late Buddhist grandma is conjured. She used to insist in asking if lard was used.
20 years ago in Asia every server would respond indignantly, "Ma'am, no one uses lard anymore."
Apparently lard is alive and well in America. God bless the U.S. of A.!
Commentary: Fine. Maybe i'm not as tolerant as i thought.
Deep Thoughts (Not By Jack Handey) 16
I always signal when making a turn. I could be saving someone's life by doing so. Hell, it could be mine!
Peg
RJ has informed me that one major factor in our relationship that bothers Amelia the most is our age gap.
First i laughed it off. Then i was reminded of Goldie.
Of all the women Taylor has dated since me, Goldie bothered me the most. Because she was 18.
And it bothered me that it bothered me.
Every schoolgirl i drove by reminded of Goldie. Well, not all of them. Just the skinny Asian teenage ones who all dressed alike. I wanted to run them over.
Just as i cyberstalked Goldie on myspace then (i'm not proud), Amelia is cyberstalking me on Facebook nowadays. Self-tormenting: i do not recommend it. Those were my darkest hours indeed.
I wonder if Amelia wishes me bodily harm. If she did i wouldn't blame her.
I wanna tell her i understand her pain. But she'll probably spit on that sentiment.
Many women will concede, mumbling "hussy" and other expletives under their breath, that the clichéd scenario of older man with a younger woman is loathsome.
Thank God RJ does not have money. That would be more clichéd.
Why should age matter? Because we're all sick of our youth-worship culture? Because as our age advances, "younger is better" precludes us and we're resentful? Because we haven't lived until we've been arm candy at least once?
Age shouldn't matter. But it does. I keep wanting to trick RJ into saying that it doesn't. But it does. It's the entire package. Okay. Age is part of the package.
It's been researched. A man's pursuit of a younger partner is essential on an evolutionary level. You want your babies to survive. A younger mother generally has a better chance at that.
But RJ and Taylor did not set out to nail young chicks. It just happened.
That's better. Really.
Tell the exes that.
First i laughed it off. Then i was reminded of Goldie.
Of all the women Taylor has dated since me, Goldie bothered me the most. Because she was 18.
And it bothered me that it bothered me.
Every schoolgirl i drove by reminded of Goldie. Well, not all of them. Just the skinny Asian teenage ones who all dressed alike. I wanted to run them over.
Just as i cyberstalked Goldie on myspace then (i'm not proud), Amelia is cyberstalking me on Facebook nowadays. Self-tormenting: i do not recommend it. Those were my darkest hours indeed.
I wonder if Amelia wishes me bodily harm. If she did i wouldn't blame her.
I wanna tell her i understand her pain. But she'll probably spit on that sentiment.
Many women will concede, mumbling "hussy" and other expletives under their breath, that the clichéd scenario of older man with a younger woman is loathsome.
Thank God RJ does not have money. That would be more clichéd.
Why should age matter? Because we're all sick of our youth-worship culture? Because as our age advances, "younger is better" precludes us and we're resentful? Because we haven't lived until we've been arm candy at least once?
Age shouldn't matter. But it does. I keep wanting to trick RJ into saying that it doesn't. But it does. It's the entire package. Okay. Age is part of the package.
It's been researched. A man's pursuit of a younger partner is essential on an evolutionary level. You want your babies to survive. A younger mother generally has a better chance at that.
But RJ and Taylor did not set out to nail young chicks. It just happened.
That's better. Really.
Tell the exes that.
Snippet 141
V:
Hey... Wait a minute. How did she know i was gonna be here? I should be at work!
RJ:
She didn't. She wasn't expecting you. It was just as much a shock to her.
V:
So it wasn't true that she'd come to meet me.
RJ:
No.
V:
Oh.
[Pause]
Shit.
Hey... Wait a minute. How did she know i was gonna be here? I should be at work!
RJ:
She didn't. She wasn't expecting you. It was just as much a shock to her.
V:
So it wasn't true that she'd come to meet me.
RJ:
No.
V:
Oh.
[Pause]
Shit.
Obtuse
It's 9:47 a.m. I am sitting by the coffee table in RJ's robe staring blankly at the labtop screen with RJ's worn brown shoes on because my feet are cold.
A knock on the door. Alley barks.
Oh, must be the UPS package RJ is expecting. He did mention they usually come in the morning. This is wine that needs to be signed for.
But it's not my house so i remain seated. RJ goes to the door and, as usual, opens it without peeping first.
It's Amelia*, RJ's wife.
That's right. RJ is not divorced yet.
Amelia explains why she's here. Something about the rose bushes. "And to meet V," she adds.
I am so in shock i can't get up. Heck, my face is greasy, i have coffee breath, and i was just pondering taking a dump.
RJ and i have joked about this pivotal moment but damn, could i be less presentable?!!
She says it is nice to meet me. "Hi Amelia," was all i can utter.
She couldn't be more civil and collected. I feel ill-mannered.
They head out. I go and get dressed.
Do i go out to the garden or not go out? I decide I should go and acknowledge my awkward behavior.
At a distance RJ is holding a hoe (i just joked about his having a ho earlier this week). He appears to be in a conversation with Amelia even though i can't see her behind the archway. It doesn't seem an appropriate juncture to intrude.
So i return to the couch to blog. And now more time has passed and i feel even more ill-mannered.
Has she left yet? Will she say bye?
Ugh!!!
When can i take a dump?
*Not her real name
A knock on the door. Alley barks.
Oh, must be the UPS package RJ is expecting. He did mention they usually come in the morning. This is wine that needs to be signed for.
But it's not my house so i remain seated. RJ goes to the door and, as usual, opens it without peeping first.
It's Amelia*, RJ's wife.
That's right. RJ is not divorced yet.
Amelia explains why she's here. Something about the rose bushes. "And to meet V," she adds.
I am so in shock i can't get up. Heck, my face is greasy, i have coffee breath, and i was just pondering taking a dump.
RJ and i have joked about this pivotal moment but damn, could i be less presentable?!!
She says it is nice to meet me. "Hi Amelia," was all i can utter.
She couldn't be more civil and collected. I feel ill-mannered.
They head out. I go and get dressed.
Do i go out to the garden or not go out? I decide I should go and acknowledge my awkward behavior.
At a distance RJ is holding a hoe (i just joked about his having a ho earlier this week). He appears to be in a conversation with Amelia even though i can't see her behind the archway. It doesn't seem an appropriate juncture to intrude.
So i return to the couch to blog. And now more time has passed and i feel even more ill-mannered.
Has she left yet? Will she say bye?
Ugh!!!
When can i take a dump?
*Not her real name
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Snippet 140
RJ:
It's our imperfections that make us beautiful. And you have so goddamn many!
V:
Thanks!
It's our imperfections that make us beautiful. And you have so goddamn many!
V:
Thanks!
Babylon
This afternoon, 6 months after having been acquainted with Elle, my curiosity piqued, I decided to inquire what it was that she spoke in addition to Farsi that i'd observed.
"It's Assyrian!" Replied Elle.
And i couldn't tell if she was intrigued or a tad annoyed.
Oh, okay. It'd reminded me of Arabic but didn't think that was it. I had wondered Armenian but had heard enough to have doubts. And there's that which echos Yiddish but not quite. As it turns out, the Akkadian language is a Semitic branch. Wow.
I expressed amazement in that she spoke three languages.
"Do you also speak three languages?" Asked Elle.
Which i found an odd question. However I did thwart enough fear to admit that i, too, spoke Farsi.
The fact was well-received to say the least. I am timid in revealing as i never know how someone may react. Some turn a little stand-offish. Some ignore it and continue the conversation in English. Some may convey positive sentiments but only lukewarm and volatile. But Elle was delighted. Stoked. She wanted more. And every bit i fed her quenched her thirst.
I have missed speaking Farsi at times. It's part of who i am. Speaking it again was like paying homage to my partial heritage.
Elle remarked that i was fluent and without an accent. It's the best compliment. And all that i ask! Now, if i can get that speaking English too all the time... : )
We wound up spending about half an hour sharing our exposure to the Iranian culture and what we'd taken away from it. And our two cents on marriage and life in general. (Wait, wouldn't that be four cents if it's two per head?)
"You are beautiful," said Elle at the end of the evening. "And any man who gets to be with you is very lucky."
If i didn't know any better i'd think my 49-year-old chiropractor was hitting on me.
"It's Assyrian!" Replied Elle.
And i couldn't tell if she was intrigued or a tad annoyed.
Oh, okay. It'd reminded me of Arabic but didn't think that was it. I had wondered Armenian but had heard enough to have doubts. And there's that which echos Yiddish but not quite. As it turns out, the Akkadian language is a Semitic branch. Wow.
I expressed amazement in that she spoke three languages.
"Do you also speak three languages?" Asked Elle.
Which i found an odd question. However I did thwart enough fear to admit that i, too, spoke Farsi.
The fact was well-received to say the least. I am timid in revealing as i never know how someone may react. Some turn a little stand-offish. Some ignore it and continue the conversation in English. Some may convey positive sentiments but only lukewarm and volatile. But Elle was delighted. Stoked. She wanted more. And every bit i fed her quenched her thirst.
I have missed speaking Farsi at times. It's part of who i am. Speaking it again was like paying homage to my partial heritage.
Elle remarked that i was fluent and without an accent. It's the best compliment. And all that i ask! Now, if i can get that speaking English too all the time... : )
We wound up spending about half an hour sharing our exposure to the Iranian culture and what we'd taken away from it. And our two cents on marriage and life in general. (Wait, wouldn't that be four cents if it's two per head?)
"You are beautiful," said Elle at the end of the evening. "And any man who gets to be with you is very lucky."
If i didn't know any better i'd think my 49-year-old chiropractor was hitting on me.
Lobster Dinner
A five-pounder!
Bubbly from J. I love the logo!
Five-pounder deceased. Its murderer had named it "Lobby".
