Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Everybody said it was a shame, 'cause her mama was a workin' on a chain gang...

This is actually a recipe post, and it's not about Poke Sallit.  But I did make some salad with pork, and it was pretty damn good, if you like spicy and tangy things.  It's... not really southern, either, but the song still ran through my head while I was making it, because pork was involved, which, yes, I know is not poke.  This doesn't make any sense!  Well?  Guess what?  It doesn't have to make sense, because I just don't care if it does.  It's just... what happened, OK??  Did I mention I'm basically a Porketarian?  Anyway, just... whatever.  I'm going to share that recipe now.


3 decent sized thick-cut pork chops.
Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
4 big fat sexy limes
2 teaspoons granulated garlic
2 teaspoons cumin powder
1/2 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 heart of romaine
4-5 serrano chiles
1 avocado
1 yellow onion, halved, then thinly sliced

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Place pork chops in a baking dish with pats of butter underneath.  Salt with big, crunchy flakes of sea salt, and grind fresh pepper over the tops.  Bake for 25 minutes, or until golden brown on top.  Flip, and salt/pepper the other side.  Bake again, for about the same amount of time.

Just before taking out the chops, squeeze your sexy assed limes, and then add your garlic and cumin to the juice.

Once you have removed your chops from the oven, allow them to rest for about 5-10 minutes, and then slice them into thin strips.  Add this to your juice, and chill for 2-3 hours.  Doing this while the meat is still hot, will make for tangier strips, but you can also add the lime juice to cold chops, and they will still be good.  You can probably also marinate the meat overnight in this juice, and grill the chops.  If you do this, though, be sure to discard your lime juice once you cook the chops, and make a bit more of this fine mixture to go over them when they are finished cooking.

At the time you are ready for your salad, dice your avocado, and slice your onion, cilantro, and chiles.  Add the last three ingredients to your chilled pork strips, and toss.  If you are serving small children, leave the chiles to the side.  Let that sit for a few minutes, while you chop your romaine heart.  Serve over the romaine, with avocado on top.

Serves 4-5.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

One size does not fit all.

Last night, as I was flossing, I got stuck.  Horribly stuck.  Try as I might, I could not get the floss to come back out from between my molars.  I sawed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, tugging in a gentle upward motion, until I broke the damn floss. 


It would go in, but it would not come back out!  I had no idea what to do, because it was bedtime, I was exhausted, had already removed my bra, and didn't want to go to the damn store, just for better floss that wouldn't do this.

I started freaking out at this point, because the third time, was NOT a charm.  The minute gap between my molars was filling up with floss that had meant well, but kept dying on the rocks, before what should have been a safe return.  Yeah... no such luck.

At this point, I noticed that not only was the gap full, it was also starting to push on all of my other teeth.  I had the worst vision of all of my periodontal bones shifting slightly to the right, and jumping ship, in the night, AND I WOULD DIE BECAUSE I WAS GOING TO CHOKE TO DEATH ON THEM!

Man overboard!!!  Or... man aspirated!  Either way, AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

I ran into the bedroom, crying at Mr. Hed, who goes:  "Dude, calm down.  We may have to go to the store, but we'll get it figured out.  Do you want one of my plastic flossers from the basement?"

I looked down at my fingers that looked like they had been sawed in half, all the way around, at this point, because the floss had made that much of a dent in them.  "Uh, yes, please?"

He runs downstairs, and I frantically look through the drawers of my vanity, because sometimes I stash odds and ends from dental visits in the bottom right drawer, for those times in-between boxes of floss.  I also keep floss in my purse, because you just never know when you are going to be out and about and have to deal with something annoying between your teeth.

And even with all of this, I forget that I have any of it, in the moment, because that moment is nothing but SHEER PANIC, DOOM, AND ALL OF MY TEETH ARE GOING TO JUMP OUT OF MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS?

I may have a compulsion that I forget I have, when I need to have it.  I suppose I might look into that, someday.  Some part of that is worth examining, 'non?  Who can tell?

Anyway, I did manage to find a small box of glide floss in my drawer.  I felt a little bad about this, but before Mr. Hed could return from the basement, I had the situation completely resolved.  But well?  I felt the need to ask, anyway, because it never hurts to have backup in case of a dental hygiene emergency:  "Did you find one?"

"Yeah.  Here."

"Oh, OK.  Well, I don't need it now, but you know, just in case, we'll have one up here, in case some real shit goes down."

Because, you never know.  One minute, you could be flossing happily, and humming to yourself, and the next, you could be waking up the neighbourhood.


Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Oh soup... don't go changin'...

I like you soup.  Just the way you are.

So, I made this soup tonight.  Got the idea from the internets, but the recipes I found, seemed a bit boring, so I livened it up a bit.

It's got cauliflower in it, so if you aren't a fan, this is probably where you can stop reading.

There had been talk recently of cauliflower/tahini soup.  I was intrigued.  I've used tahini in the past, but usually for more traditional foods, like Baba Ganoush, and Hummus.  In a soup?  Not so much, but I figured it would be good.  Just cauliflower, stock, onions, and tahini sounded pretty great, to me.  Sounded... well?  Nice.  And easy.
And I'd like to do that for you.  But you see?  I never, ever do nuthin' nice.  And easy.

And this soup?  No exception. 

All right, I'll get to the recipe now.

You will need:

Stock pot. 
Immersion blender, or blender tolerant of heat.  A vitamix would probably also work fine.
Decent vegetable knife/cutting board
Roasting pan


2 tbsps butter
1 tbsp butter for sauteeing.
1 head cauliflower, cut into even pieces, and spread out over a roasting pan
1 pint of your favourite stock.  I used pork, but you could also use beef, lamb, chicken, or vegetable.
1 onion, diced.
1 cup tahini
1 can coconut milk
3-4 lemons, juiced; zest of one lemon.
1 tablespoon Vadouvan curry powder
1 bunch cilantro, chopped.


Preheat oven to 350. 

Melt butter.  Chop cauliflower into even pieces, and spread out over a roasting pan.  Drizzle butter over the tops of the cauliflower, and roast in oven for about 20-30 minutes.  I like the tops to be brown, but not burned. 

Once the cauliflower has come out of the oven, dice your onion, and sautee until caramelized, but not crispy.  Add stock, and simmer for about 5 minutes.  Add the rest of the ingredients, except the cauliflower and cilantro.  Stir and simmer, another 3-5 minutes.  Be sure, when you are doing this, that you do it over a relatively low, to medium heat.  You don't want the coconut milk to curdle, because once that happens?  There's no coming back from that.  Trust me.  It's very sad, when it happens.  You will cry.  Or you may throw things, depending on what kind of day you've had.

Remove from stove, and add cauliflower.  Blend.

Add chopped cilantro, and blend, again; enough to make the soup colourful, but not enough to bruise the cilantro.  Be sure you chop it well enough that it doesn't get tangled in your immersion blender.  That's not really all that sexy.

Serve, and prepare to be dazzled.


Thursday, October 10, 2013

My little commentary on social media, and why I will be cutting back.

Why is it so important to be happy every day of the world?  I have been examining my life lately, and while most of it is great, I am one of the pathetic masses that seems to have gotten sucked into social media, to a fault.  I have such a love/hate dichotomy with it, really.  I love feeling connected to my peers, but I hate the comparison and envy play that goes with it.

I know this is definitely more the rule than the exception, and hear plenty of supporting evidence when I talk to other people who seem to be experiencing the same bizarre phenomenon.  I get so bitter when I hear about people getting together without me, or spending money on outings, shows, and date nights constantly, or buying the latest, greatest things money can buy.  I find all of it very irritating, and yet, I can't stop reading about it!

I will admit it is an addiction.  It is one of those addictive behaviours that many think serves them, but in reality just sort of erodes their well-being.  A friend pointed out yesterday that she read an article about how the happiest cities also seem to have the highest rates of suicide.

Why?  Comparison.

It is evil.  It truly is.  Seeing what the "haves" are able to do, when you are stuck at home, and can barely afford the gas to go about your daily life; let alone that extra trip across town just to hang out with people?  It's really fucking depressing; in and of itself.  We all have different circumstances.  It's true.  I should be grateful for what I have. I have plenty, really.  But when comparison is in play?  That goes right out the window.

I think, for me, it is time to figure out how to make a life involving less social media, and more actual socialization.

Maybe I need to focus on only using social media as a means of promoting art and let the rest of it go. It is going to be tricky, because I have allowed it to be my main source of connection for way too long, but it is a false prophet, for sure.  It is not an accurate depiction of anyone's life.  Most don't even see their lives for what they really are, when they are that glued to a screen, and tuned into everyone else; an "everyone else" that they may not even know that well, or may have never even met in person.

And good fucking Christ!   Some of the people you meet in that way are TERRIBLE real life communicators!  They don't do face-to-face well, and prefer facebook as a means of communicating and connection.  They even post there constantly while hanging out together, about things only the people sitting right there understand; barely looking up from their phones at times, and joking away on their walls with one another. 

WHY???  No.  Really.  WHY???

 Do they understand how annoying that is to anyone else who might be tuned in at that time?  It does not make them look more attractive, or intelligent, sought after, or anything.  It just makes them look like people who can't seem to function any other way, or that they have to prove that they do actually get off of their asses and see people face to face... sort of.  Or, they are just showing off.  Whatever it is, it's obnoxious.

I am not referring to photos of events, or fun little happenings, per-se.  I am, however, referring to the little inside jokes that only the people sitting across from one another, understand.  I, along with quite a few people I know, see it as sort of a neener-neener approach to alienation, and honestly?  Yeah, it works.

And online communication can be frustrating, as well.  People are often terse, short, rude, and sometimes even openly hostile, because there is no immediate consequence.  There is no one sitting there with them, ready to slap them in the face.  It's safer.  You can take on any affect that you think might suit you, because you see it working for someone else.  Yeah... no.  Honestly?  It probably isn't working as well as you think it is for that person.  And if you are doing it, bear in mind that sadly, the person you are writing to, is still a human being, regardless of what you might be looking at.  You see words and a screen.  You think you are being brilliant, witty, and smart, but there is no way to actually read the tone, or mood of the person you are supposedly communicating with.  You aren't actually connecting at all, and you may very well be hurting someone pretty deeply with your careless communication style.

Furthering that, I have noticed people who will say that they are straight shooters, and tell it like it is.  That's fine.  Do that, but for fuck's sake, figure out a way to do it so you don't sound like an asshole.  Find words that tell the truth without digging in and causing pain.  Not everyone is in a place where they can receive that sort of thing well.  You can certainly do that without being terse.  If you disagree, you should probably examine your intentions, because chances are?  You won't be heard if you choose to be a terse asshole.  In that case?  You are busy serving yourself, rather than your audience.  What I am referring to, is called non-violent communication.  Look into it.  Know your audience.  Stop alienating people.

As for actual effects on my own well-being, besides all of this;  I have noticed is that my own brain gets so foggy, and distracted, distractable, and then irritable when I spend too much time reading social media.  I can't really imagine it being that different for others, and yet, I know some people who are online... all the live long day!  Scrolling through the feeds, I often skip something if it looks like it's too long.  Sometimes my eyes stop focusing altogether.  What am I even doing then?  I almost find it to be the antithesis of stimulating.  I really do feel stupider, and also find it harder to cope with every day situations because I feel like I know too much about people I honestly barely know.  And dear reader:  some of those things?  They frighten me!

Yes.  False intimacy.  It works both ways.  We find out all sorts of interesting tidbits about people we probably wouldn't even know well enough to name and say hello to on the street, and vice-versa.  When we share things in this way, we are sharing with everyone, and no one... because how can we remember everyone on our friend list?

I suppose we all want connection and this is a way to feel closer without actually getting closer, because closer is scary.  Because when we actually speak face to face, topics change.  It feels less safe, because truthfully, there was never a proper foundation built for this level of intimacy.  It is why I don't share a great amount about my life on my Facebook wall.

Want to actually get to know me?  Let's go do something.  Let's actually talk.

Otherwise, it just feels weird.  Also, with people you don't have this foundation with?  You need to be prepared for their reactions to what you have to say.  It isn't something you will ever be able to predict.  We all come from different spaces and backgrounds.  We have all had different influences.  Our perceptions are coloured by our unique experiences.  So often, when someone I barely know says they are an open book, and are keeping things real; sharing VERY intimate things with everyone they have accepted a friend request from and vice versa, I feel a little scared, and worried about that person.  I also often step back and wonder why they felt the need to tell me something so deeply intimate without actually knowing me, or anyone else that well.  There is such a thing as too much, too soon, at times.  I already know too much about my immediates!

But I suppose there are some good things about it.  I know a lot of funny people.  I get access to some cool things I may not have known about, otherwise.  I get to share funny things I see and hear, as well as my art.

Not everyone I have gotten to know from a distance has been annoying to me.  In fact, there have been cases in which I have enjoyed getting to know quite a few people in this way, and really would love to some day, be able to hang out in person, but distance keeps us apart, so it has to wait.  That's all fine.

It does act as a tool for communication at times... I have gained business, I have planned fun little outings and events, I have really enjoyed a lot of it, hence the dichotomy.  But... I sure can't spend my whole life on it.

And with that, I'm going to go buy some booze and hang out with a friend.


Modern Life -- a poetic tale of disconnection.

- Modern Life -

In this day and age- 
People have access to what they need;
Sort of.
People connect; 
Sort of.
People fall in love; 
Sort of.

If you live in a city, 
you really need no one.
Because you have everyone;
Sort of.

You are never stranded;
there is a bus.
You are never hungry;
there are shops and restaurants.

 You have community; 
Sort of.
It may be conditional, but if you do as as they say;
play their games; 
don't challenge them too much;
don't question their actions, motives, or sanity;
You may have friends for life.

Be normal-
Hope that what you are following actually serves you.
If it doesn't?
Keep following anyway,
because it's better than being alone;
because doing anything else is too scary.

Doing anything else will piss people off
Don't rock that boat.
Don't cause drama
Curl up into your shell, where it is safe.

Die there, unnoticed.

Much safer, that way.



Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Room dividers from hell.

When I was a kid, going to school in LA, we had a lot of bizarre building arrangements in schools.  Especially suburban LA, where things basically popped up in less than five minutes to serve a brand new community.  Because after all, if you build it, they will come.  And they did.  And we did. 

One of the schools I went to, had old fashioned bungalows for the younger set.  We weren't in the main building, but in something that sort of resembled a slightly more substantial food truck.  The bungalows were in rows, and located across the playground from the rest of the school.  My memory of these little buildings is skewed, of course, because I was small.  They seemed enormous to me at the time, but if I were to go back as a 36 year old 5'7" woman, I would probably think they were right puny.

Anyway, later on, as I went to a different school, on the other side of the Santa Susana Pass, things got even more bizarre.  The school consisted of three buildings; one was the office/nurse/counselor's area/cafeteria with patio.  One was lower school.  The other was upper school.  The school buildings; beige, stucco, and flat-roofed; had enormous, thick eaves that I hated walking under.  Earthquakes can kind of do things to your brain, and make you question why the hell someone would design a building that could potentially kill people, just so there was a little extra shelter on the outside. 

And, let's face it.  This was LA.  It rained... maybe 3 days out of the year, there.    Thankfully, I was only around for the Whittier Earthquake in 1987, and the eaves stayed put.

Earthquake drills unnerved me, because they were so unexpectedly rude.  The principal would come onto the intercom and say: "DROP!"  Not "Drop, please!"  Or... "If you don't mind, we need to get under our desks now."

But, I suppose that's sort of how earthquakes roll, too.  They don't give a shit, and neither did that guy.

The rule involved crawling under our desks.  Because a desk is what will save you from a fallen roof.  It will.  They said so.

School lunch at these places, was a trip.  Everything came pre-packaged in cardboard, with plastic over the top.  This included salads. Sometimes, there would be a tiny apple sitting on top of the salad.  I have no idea where they got those little apples, but they tasted like crunchy, mealy desiccant, meant to kill us, or at least make us not want to eat them.  I only ever ate one of those apples, because I was sure they were evil .  The salad was usually wilted, and the other half of the lunch was usually some gross entree that the lunch lady would heat up.

Later, when I moved to Oregon, I was taken aback by food that was actually prepared in the school cafeteria.  It wasn't necessarily better, but eating from a plate with actual metal utensils, was pretty foreign, and almost novel enough to compel me to buy lunch there, rather than make myself a delicious sandwich, made of some odd Jewish delicacy that other kids would revolt at the sight of. (My dad was really into chopped liver, and the like.)

More for me!

Between the three buildings, there was a courtyard that was all lawn, and beyond that, a sidewalk, followed by hill that led to a ball field.  Rolling down that hill with my friends, was always great fun.  None of us cared that we would end up with burrs in our clothing from the weeds that they simply mowed with the rest of the grass.

But, back to the buildings.  This is where it gets interesting.  I am sure you are probably riveted by this point, right?  Anyway, in these buildings; with the exception of the first, everything was separated by enormous, heavy, metal partitions, covered in a rose-tan, fabric that had a really heavy, heathered weave to it.  It reminded me of chocolate milk, poured over Mini-Wheats.  I don't think there were actual walls separating the rooms from the main area, and the partitions could actually be rolled, and folded together, to create one giant room, inside the confines of each building.  They even had doors, and those doors were made of the same materials.  When they closed, they were closed tightly with levers.  It was all very space-age.  The levers had black knobs on the ends of them, that made you feel like you were doing something very official when you were permitted to close them.

Well, one day, some friends and I were playing, during indoor recess.  It was one of the rare days when it rained there.  When it did rain?  You took that shit seriously.  It may not have actually rained cats and dogs, but I had seen garbage that resembled cats and dogs floating down the road when the streets would flood.  Our car would always stall out, because for some reason, water would splash under the distributor cap, and then... yeah.  For some reason, it had no undercarriage cover. We... didn't go out much when it rained.

Anyway, as we ran through the common area of the building, my friends entered our classroom before I did.  I grabbed hold of the door jamb, as if to fling myself into the room, for added drama.  Only... This did not work!  Oh no! 

See, they closed the door, not realizing it closed... on my hand!

And then, I saw the lever rotate.  I am pretty sure my eyes rotated in every direction they would go before  I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I am not a master of  much.  Delayed reactions?  Yes.  Even when reacting is probably THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO DO! 

Upon receipt of my eventual vocalization, the lever went back up again, and my hand; purple, and quasi-flattened, was released.

I could not write or do much with my right hand for many weeks after this happened.  My friend who made the offending maneuver felt so ashamed and awful, that she carried all of my books, and dictated for me until I could write again. 

And to this day?  The finger nail beds on my right hand are flatter and wider than the ones on my left.

School can be a dangerous place.


Sunday, February 17, 2013

The hardest work of all.

I have been pondering a certain, common thought that many people seem to be expressing, lately.  Not sure why, but I have heard it said that: people who pursue their passion, and get lucky; perhaps even famous doing what they love, have it really easy.  Well?  I am here to tell you... that's pretty mythical.  Belief in oneself must come from somewhere.  Maybe it is easier for those who had formative encouragement, and support.  Hard to say.  I am unfamiliar.

I had a brief encounter with this particular belief in oneself phenomenon, once upon a time.  It made me want to see more of it.

But you know?  Believing in yourself?  It's really hard.  Especially when you are the one who must keep it up.  You can't really expect everyone to be there for you one hundred, or even twenty percent of the time.  The mind can be very powerful, for sure.  It really can make, or break you, and your attitude really does make all the difference.  And you know?  This applies to everyone, except the very lucky few who don't have to think about what it is to make a life for themselves.  Although, I have to wonder if they actually are lucky.  That seems terribly boring to me.

At any rate, life isn't fair.  It never has been, never will be. 

It is.  That is all.  

So, you see someone dancing, singing, acting, writing, or selling their art successfully?  Believe me.  Whatever led to where they are now, was not an easy road.  They probably sunk their entire spirit into what they are now doing, and it came at great cost.  They may have had to give up toxic family members, or friends who did not support them, and made them doubt themselves.  But!  They did not give up on their dream, even when people told them it wouldn't work.  They didn't confine themselves to a cubicle after resigning themselves to the fact that... for them, desk work was the only way to make a living.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.  Unless, there is.

That said, successful artists may have taken really shitty jobs to make ends meet, while pursuing what it was that they were passionate about, and they either hated it, or later, realized that this was not just putting food on their table, but part of the work they would need to do, to appreciate the rest of it, and support their higher goals.

Often, when I think of what I am trying to do in my own life, that line from "Climb Every Mountain", comes to mind:  "A dream that will need all the love you can give; every day of your life, for as long as you live!"

Yeah, try some of that.  It's not easy.  It isn't. 

Sometimes, we need to take breaks, especially when we are faced with challenges that require our attention, and won't let us move forward, until we do.  When that happens, it is important to recognize the necessary detours, act accordingly, and learn from them.  Eventually, those little lessons may very well enrich our experience when we go back to what we are passionate about; that much more!

Conversely, sometimes we get nice little boosts, or coincidental things that just happen to be in the right place at the right time, and we use them, because we recognize that they are opportunities, and not something to waste.  Life will help out once in a while.  Just start noticing when it does, because there really are times when it does.

I am currently implementing a detour in my own life to deal with some important life transitions.  It may be difficult to focus on my original dream, yes, but for now, it is a necessary step for me, and I am learning that this is OK.

Success is never a straight line, people.  It just isn't.  I may be working in a position that I consider to not really be that stimulating, but guess what?  It's not a forever thing, and I know this.  I have not resigned myself to thinking that I have no other skills.  I recognize that while perhaps they are not easily accessed presently because of this other work I need to do in my life, surrounding these transitions; I have plenty of skills, and they are fucking glorious, and awesome.  I may not always be able to generate income using those particular skills.  I may need to fall back on something else from time to time, but I still believe that some day, I'll arrive, and when I do?  It will be worth everything else I have had to work hard at, along the way.

But believing this 100% of the time?  It may be the hardest work, of all.