The Zany Machine

What A Difference A Decade Makes

2009-11-07T09:19:00.022-05:00

About 10 years ago, this was what I wanted in a guy:

Family, religious, and educational backgrounds similar to my own
Roughly the same taste as mine in movies, music, and TV shows (though I don't think I've ever found this, except with one guy who barely ever knew I was alive)
Good conversational skills so that we could talk nonstop for six hours and still have plenty to say
Cute smile
Confidence
Sense of humor
Intellect
Love of reading
Strong ambition/work ethic
Consideration and respect for other people
Ability to spell and use correct grammar (well -- that's always a given, for me)
A personality outgoing enough to balance out my hyper-serious, quiet, introverted one
No tattoos or piercings
Willingness to dress nicely when required
Blah. . . blah. . . blah
Oh yeah, and if he could cook, that would be a wonderful bonus.

Here is what I would want now, if I were looking for somebody to date:

A functioning pulse
Some degree of sanity
Interest in WOMEN -- NOT men -- *WOMEN*
Must at least live in the same state
No kids or desire ever to have them (which, right off the bat, eliminates 99% of everyone I've ever known)
No past or present marriages (which means I would now be limiting myself to guys five years younger than I am)
No clingy/possessive exes who phone and e-mail them around the clock, refer to them as their "best friends," and have massive problems with their ever dating anyone else (even while those exes are always inevitably dating someone, themselves)
On a similar note -- no exes whom they put on a sky-high pedestal and will never fully get over

. . . and that pretty well covers it.

One reason I'm not looking for anybody to date is that, in this age bracket, even my significantly-edited list is full of qualities that seemingly cannot co-exist.

I like being in charge of my remote control, anyway.

Tonight's Entertainment

2009-11-02T22:59:00.010-05:00

1) Coming home at 9:15 p.m. and treating myself to breakfast-for-dinner after a long, hard work day. Chocolate chip waffles! Yeah, seriously!

2) Swapping childhood memories with my sister through e-mail. The first one she submitted was one I'd TOTALLY forgotten. The "don't-run-into-a-tree" game! I was amazed!

3) Listening to the '90s channel on Music Choice (most of it really, really bad) and joking about it with friends online. I wish they were here in person, but on Friday the 13th, they will be!

November so far is fun!

Seesaw

2009-10-27T23:06:00.005-04:00

Favorite sentence today: "Have you been losing weight?"

Least favorite sentence today (when I checked my messages at work): "Your mailbox is full."

(Actually, that might be my least favorite sentence on this planet.)

Just Have to Say...

2009-10-26T23:06:00.010-04:00

. . . YAY!

The upstairs walk-through (which I neglected for eons) is finally done, and I love it!

It has a futon decorated with comfy pillows and blankets, a bedside table with a touch lamp and alarm clock, and all this other random stuff (though I'll admit that some of the gadgets look really stuck in the 1990s, at this point). Stereo, Xbox, CD rack, TV with cable, and combined VCR/DVD player. Shelves full of stuffed animals, DVDs, and videos (yeah, videos -- I know -- stop laughing!). Plus, there's a crazy amount of floor and closet space. I can easily exercise in there now. . . or just hang out with a book and some popcorn. . . or take a wonderful nap. Whatever.

Bring on the overnight guests; I am practically too psyched to see straight!

Possibly Wasting My "Breath"

2009-10-26T21:49:00.005-04:00

Dear Numerous People,

"It's" = contraction for "it is" or "it has," as in "It's a rainy day today" or "It's been fun."

"Its" = possessive, as in "Its color changed to green."

So, there you go. Now GET IT RIGHT, because I'm sick of seeing this butchered by college-educated people in their 30s every single damn day.

Love,

The Hilmeister

Brilliant Product Concept

2009-10-24T20:01:00.002-04:00

Perhaps stackable plastic containers should not be stacked so tightly inside each other that they turn your fingernails bright purple and make you practically die of pain when you're trying to pry them apart.

Just a suggestion.

The Week of Kitchen Abandonment

2009-10-22T20:48:00.011-04:00

It's come to my attention that today was my first time eating dinner at home in the last eight days.

October 15: There was a spaghetti dinner at the office for work.

October 16: I had a dinner outing at a hamburger restaurant for my second job.

October 17: My parents suggested I come over for pizza at night.

October 18: My godparents, who live out of state and whom I hadn't seen in eight years, were in town and therefore invited me, my parents, and some of their old friends out to a pizzeria.

October 19: My parents hosted a dinner party for my sister's birthday.

October 20: My parents came over to see my new furniture, then offered to take me -- can you guess where this is going? -- OUT TO DINNER. (At this point, I'm having dinner with my parents way more often than when I actually lived with them.)

October 21: My friend, who had helped me with getting a great deal on the aforementioned new furniture, suddenly took me up on my offer to treat him TO DINNER. At a RESTAURANT. (Another hamburger place, by the way.)

Today, as you can imagine, I've been giving the kitchen a compensatory workout. Pumpkin pancakes for breakfast. Chicken cacciatore in the slow cooker for dinner (though I suspect that the onions were major attention whores and insisted on dominating the entire flavor). Pumpkin cake rolls (yes, pumpkin again) with cream cheese filling for dessert. Yummy!

Hey -- cut me a break, here. Somebody has to use up all these groceries from five days ago before they turn into science projects!

Mollycoddling

2009-10-21T20:46:00.024-04:00

One of the best (and worst) aspects of moving to a new place? Having to confront and acknowledge everything you own. That's why I say it's been, not just physically exhausting, but emotionally so. Every ghost you once shoved in some shoebox in a dark closet and swore you would deal with "later." The skinny clothes that you vowed would someday fit again. Hallmark greeting cards from everyone you've ever known. In my case, the plethora of stuffed animals from boyfriends past. Ancient notebooks, yearbooks, letters that sear your eyes, mementos you'd forgotten even existed. What do you do with all of it when, unbelievably, "later" becomes "now"?

My personal solutions at the moment? Bookshelves for select keepsakes in the spare bedrooms, a paper shredder for old documents that trigger negative memories, roomy paper bags for donating clothes to the Salvation Army, and trash cans for everything else. You know. . . it's only natural to want to leave the past behind. Stay somewhat mindful of your roots, but also accept the chance for fresh new adventures. For the last two months, I've led a slightly barer-bones lifestyle than what I was used to, and have actually liked it -- enjoyed not having quite so much stuff around. For much of 2009, I've felt strangely hyper-aware of my own mortality, feared pack rat syndrome (to the extent that I had to shut off the show "Hoarders" after not even one episode), and worried about burdening people with all my things someday, years down the road. Maybe it's because I watched my grandmas move recently. Perhaps it's because I had a very small glimpse into the process of emptying out this house before I moved into it. I don't know.

There is something, though, that I won't give up, and I can't even explain why.

American Girls Collection was a huge craze when I was in elementary school, almost middle school. Maybe it still is, but aside from quickly hopping onto its Web site out of curiosity right now (and man, are there a lot of new dolls!), I don't keep track of that. Anyway, my grandma gave me, my sister, and our cousins American Girl dolls and the corresponding book sets for Christmas in 1991. My cousin Grace and I were each granted a Molly doll, which was then the most "contemporary" one, with books taking place in the 1940s. For my sister and two other cousins, there were Kirsten and Samantha dolls. (I believe Felicity came along in the collection shortly afterwards.)

I recall reading through the AGC catalog and calculating how many decades I'd have to save my allowance to buy everything on the pages. Really, every item I saw for the dolls was so tempting -- so richly detailed and historically authentic-looking. (The catalog even mentioned a super-expensive, faraway "doll hospital" for dolls who had suffered the unfortunate injury of losing their heads or any of their limbs. I think the hospital would send dolls home in the mail with a bandage, a balloon in hand, etc.)

Anyhow, it turned out I didn't have to buy the catalog goodies, after all, because Grandma eventually gave us complete doll wardrobes that her friend had sewn. These were just amazing. All at once, my Molly was equipped with pink striped pajamas, a birthday party dress, a Christmas dress in green velvet with lace, a plaid jumper and blouse for school. . . you freaking name it (except, say, swimwear). I outfitted her depending on the season, tucked her into a little wooden cradle with pillows and blankets at night, pretended she was alive constantly, and picked up a few extra dresses for her at the mall. Grace gave me some accessories for her -- a purse, a tiny picture book, a little report card for playing school, some miniature arts and crafts (such as a paint set and a wooden horse). Molly always went on vacations with me in those early years, too. We were like good old buddies!

Now, after almost 18 years, I still have Molly. She's lived in two countries and four different houses with me. For eons, she sat neglected on top of my tallest bookcase, surrounded by dusty stuffed animals from ex-boyfriends. I'm pretty sure she wore pajamas and bunny slippers for the last few years in a row. These days, I have her arranged on a low shelf upstairs where I can easily switch up her clothes once in a while, just for fun. True, she no longer looks anywhere near as pristine as when I first received her. Her braided hair is a frizzy mess at the ends. Her legs are on the verge of falling off. Her left eye is slowly developing a sparkly silver circle inside it. Still, I wouldn't part with her for anything.

I used to promise I was keeping Molly as a gift for a future daughter. Now, I'm finding that this is highly unlikely. First, I'm chronically single and getting old -- therefore, doubtful that I will ever have children at all. Even if I did, I don't know if Molly would be very much appreciated. My hypothetical kid would probably swing her around by the arm, yank off her legs, chop off what remains of her hair, and toss her carelessly aside while seeking out some toy that is more up-to-date and exciting. Thus, I don't really know why I hold onto this doll so stubbornly. Sentimental value? Hopes of selling her for buttloads of money in the year 2060? Who knows?

I do know that she looks awfully cute sitting there beside her boxed-up wardrobe and books in the guest bedroom, and so any guys who complain about her being there will just have to deal with it!

Silver Canvas

2009-10-21T19:52:00.003-04:00

Picture all the times you say good-bye to every person in your life. The end of every phone conversation. The final words before falling asleep at night. The mechanical "Have a nice day" to strangers, such as at the checkout counter. The hugs -- sometimes comfy ones, but sometimes hesitant and awkward, if you're not sure that the person even wants to be hugged. The accidental "See you laters" when you're moving away from a school/job/city/whatever, and thus expect that you may never see those particular people again.

Of all the good-byes you say to someone, only one is ever permanent.

What I've learned in this decade is that, either way, it's frequently not the one that you think.

Against the Odds?

2009-10-17T08:35:00.023-04:00

This morning, I woke up just marveling that I was here, that my life had even become what it is right now. I mean, in order for that to occur, all of the following took place:

This house's last occupant, who lived here for 60 years, passed away in March. (I am not celebrating her death, in case that's what it sounds like, but am just a bit startled by the timing.)

On June 30, my sister found an ad on her company's intranet (posted by her co-worker, who just happened to be the seller's neighbor) that this house was newly up for grabs. THAT'S probably the kicker to me. For a year and about two months, I had been fruitlessly browsing real estate listings, touring one house after another, and worrying about whether other potential buyers would swoop in on what I wanted (which often was the case). I had made several unsuccessful offers, including one on June 16, for heaven's sake! This house didn't even have a sign in the yard, and almost nobody realized it was available, so I wasn't really up against competition. Anyhow, I never would have known the house existed if my sister hadn't been working at that company and miraculously checking that part of the intranet on that day.

The house passed inspection and had so much of what I'd wanted. Affordability, clean conditions, three bedrooms, most appliances included, quiet street with all sorts of conveniences nearby, and the two features I'd been unwavering on -- a garage and a basement. Oh, and it was about two miles from my office, two doors down from relatives on my dad's side of the family, plus close enough to my sister that I could walk to her house in 20 minutes, easily. I had never, ever expected to find all of THAT!

Bonuses: First-time homebuyers' tax credit (enough said!). My grandmas moved and cut down on their possessions in January and May of this year, so I inherited silverware/dishes without having to buy new ones for myself. My co-worker got married in the same month that I closed on my house, so I scored his fridge at a low price. My parents' neighbors moved that same month, so I got their TV and I can't even remember what else. Late summer/early fall struck me as an optimal time of year to move -- neither too hot nor too cold. On top of that, this all somehow came along at an emotionally hard stage for me, a stage where I couldn't sleep at night, where I needed a major distraction and a change in scenery. Well, I won't say I'm 100% healed now from what I lost (because I still do have my moments/slip-ups), but I will say that this has made a dramatic difference. For the first time in many years, I finally have full awareness of my capabilities. It's like a fresh new start in life.

Every day really is pretty amazing, and only getting better.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me reach this point.

Good Health is...Good

2009-10-16T07:37:00.004-04:00

Hmmm. . . maybe getting a treadmill in the basement this week was a smart move. Now I've FINALLY broken through a plateau after being stuck at the same weight for six weeks. (I'd gotten so used to that number that I actually blinked in disbelief this morning and stepped on the scale again to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.) Altogether, I'm down seven pounds since July 31, and two pairs of dress pants are already fitting better.

Also, amazingly, I haven't been getting sick (which is strange, since I can't log into Facebook without seeing at least half a dozen new status updates from people who are unbelievably ill). One of my latest big crazes that I forgot to mention in the last blog posting? Hand sanitizer. I keep huge bottles of it everywhere and use it generously, almost whenever I see it. It helped me on a four-day cruise when I shared a room with my sniffling sister, and it seems to be working now, too. What are you waiting for? Go out there and buy some!

(Yes, that does sound more than slightly like a commercial!)

The Small Things

2009-10-15T01:23:00.011-04:00

I've hit this point where:

I love checking e-mail. All at once, it seems I'm receiving a lot more of it (I mean, other than ads for Bath & Body Works), and hearing from any family member now has a completely different meaning.
I'm looking forward to winter and the holidays more than in recent years.
Less is more. I used to be fairly big on cutesy little knick-knacks -- you know, ceramic kitty cats and the like. Now? -- not so much. Well, maybe sparingly.
Doing dishes is calming and relaxing (never thought I'd say THAT!), and I really enjoy setting up the coffeemaker for the next morning.
The slightest out-of-the-ordinary noise makes me jump out of my skin.
I never feel lonely, but if I ever did, turning on the TV or the radio (for some reason) would promptly extinguish that.
I wish I'd resisted the temptation to shine a flashlight inside the deep, dark, freezing, attic-like closets in my study a few nights ago, because they gave me the creeps (and still sort of do). With an obstinacy that probably puzzles my mom, I WON'T store anything in there or even open those closet doors anymore. I just plain refuse. It's for the best if they don't exist to me.
Speaking of my mom, I am turning into her. Yeah, no surprise, but now it's becoming particularly clear. In the course of everyday life, I find myself automatically following her old suggestions almost to the letter (almost!) and adopting a bunch of her habits/methods that I once swore I never would. I can't seem to halt this development. It's as natural and predictable as the rising of the sun.
I didn't mind the view from my kitchen window before I had blinds installed, but now, I am hooked on the blinds and they stay pretty much permanently shut.
My cooking is slowly but surely improving. Menu planning before buying groceries on Sundays is an excellent tool, but I've sailed through this past half-week without any kind of structure. Maybe I'll return to it next week.
Speaking of shopping, I buy significantly less food overall than I thought I would, and by the way, Super Wal-Mart on Sunday nights MUST. BE. AVOIDED.
Whenever I'm anywhere near the front door, I check the mailbox compulsively, even if it's my fifth time checking it since I'd already picked up that day's mail. (Learned by accident this weekend that my sister does this, too.)
A water stain on my desk (my own fault) bothers me so profoundly that I have gotten more than a little obsessive about coasters.
Staying up until the middle of the night and eating junky things (despite my "Sugar Coma" post earlier this month) are no longer all that exhilarating. Really.
If I dislike something (such as, say, a furniture arrangement), I no longer give it another chance, thinking, "Maybe it will grow on me later." Instead, I swoop in and change it. Right away. Pretty much no tolerance anymore for something that leaves me lukewarm.
I cannot sleep without my cell phone next to my bed, and believe me, I have tried.
I don't feel angry or scared about certain people anymore. Or preoccupied with them. Usually.

I'm a Big Kid Now?

2009-10-14T13:21:00.003-04:00

Ever reach the startling realization that, even assuming the BEST-case scenario (with no ill-timed surprises, nothing going wrong, no appliances breaking down ahead of schedule, et cetera), you'll pretty much never have an excuse to be bored again for the rest of your life?

Roomy Closets FTW

2009-10-13T20:36:00.006-04:00

What I just spent this whole evening ruthlessly setting aside to give away (since I hadn't really cleaned out my wardrobe since April 2005):

138 tops
23 dresses
15 pairs of pants
12 nightgowns
8 skirts
6 belts
5 vests
4 sets of pajamas
3 suit jackets
3 never-worn bras
2 slips
1 bathrobe

YAY. . . much better!

Sugar Coma

2009-10-11T12:03:00.015-04:00

Random/novelty stuff that my sister and I purchased on a total whim yesterday:

Edy's Hot Cocoa ice cream
Edy's Take the Cake ice cream

Birthday Cake milk, which is just as brightly blue as it looks, containing 66 grams of sugar per bottle

Afterwards, we taste-tested small bowls of the ice cream and decided that the Hot Cocoa kind was better, especially since it has marshmallows in it. (Take the Cake is ridiculously sweet -- a little too sweet for me.) The Birthday Cake milk accompanied us to a 30th birthday party in case anyone was bold and daring enough to do shots. After all the breathtaking stories I've heard from human guinea pigs, I seriously don't think I can ever bring myself to drink it -- EVER. As far as I know, it's still sitting in the fridge at the guest of honor's house, but I passed out on a couch for roughly two hours before we left, so I'm not 100% sure what wound up happening with it.

As for the ice cream's fate, my sister left it all in my freezer so that she could eat it only when she visits me. Therefore, at the moment, my humble little freezer is almost bursting at the seams. Hey. . . anyone want to come over for an ice cream night?!

Story of My Year

2009-10-06T23:00:00.017-04:00

You'll have to excuse me. I'm just feeling very burned and not very trusting at the moment. I'm just, you know, getting a little sick of being the one woman out there (well -- one out of 10, if we're going by official U.S. statistics) who can't find a guy. The one woman who apparently looks sort of convenient when guys want a favor, but when it comes to a real relationship, I have to hear their (sometimes 10-minute-long) speeches about how, oh it's nothing personal, but they couldn't possibly consider dating right now because they're way too emotionally damaged by how badly their exes treated them. Then, of course, I have to watch them practically kill themselves chasing the (always-taken-by-someone-else) women they do want to date. Of course.

What fun.

No, really, this pattern has worn out its welcome eons ago. . . but shows no sign of going away. At this old age (exactly four months shy of 29), I'm seriously thinking of just giving up and permanently shutting off any desire for a relationship so it won't have the power to bug me any longer.

Tonight's Big Time Drain (Or, Why I Should Not Have Kids)

2009-10-01T23:00:00.005-04:00

Wooden salad bowls look so nice and idyllic when you buy them.

Too bad that taking care of them is such a certifiable Pain In The Neck!

Now, that is all for tonight, because I don't want to think about them anymore.

At a Loss

2009-09-24T23:15:00.002-04:00

Maybe it's not necessarily that everyone has left me so far behind where all of life's natural, expected, socially acceptable milestones are concerned.

Maybe it's that I'm so obsessed with everyone else's big changes this year, I'm not even cognizant of my own.

Retiring the Blog

2009-09-22T21:18:00.000-04:00

No one reads this anymore.

It's been fun.

Bye.

Then & Now

2009-09-21T08:58:00.011-04:00

Today is the one-month anniversary of closing on my cute little house. In honor of this, I just woke up doing some number-crunching, as follows:

1) Before moving into this house, I had severe insomnia almost every single night. Couldn't fall asleep at night for the life of me, couldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time, always felt exhausted and run-down during the day. In the last month, I've effortlessly fallen asleep on a nightly basis and have even looked forward to my bedtime routines. There have been about two or three times I've woken up in the middle of the night, but those occasions were brief. Most days, I wake up feeling reasonably well-rested, thanks probably to how much darker my new bedroom is in the mornings (although I still love coffee a little too much and hit my snooze button a little too often).

2) Like clockwork, I used to have two or three headaches per week. Violent ones, sometimes. Migraines. They would occasionally be unresponsive to medicine and keep me home from work. I would just spend 12 hours lying in bed with the lights off, curtains drawn, a washcloth over the alarm clock, and a thick blindfold on my eyes. (Even then, the room still wouldn't be dark and quiet enough for my liking.) Well, since August 21, I've had zero migraines and one mild headache that I suspect was caused by too many frozen grapes the night before. That disappeared within an hour or two of my taking medicine, and I went right to work that day with no problems.

3) My main recurring dream (which I'd had two or three times per week since 1996) has sharply decreased in frequency. I had that dream once while napping on the couch for three and a half hours, and even then, there were some significant changes to it. Otherwise, I don't remember most of my dreams anymore. There have been a couple of oddly-timed nightmares about something that occurred one year ago, a couple of weird dreams about my grandma's old house (which I've noticed has been the case more often since she moved out of it in January), and that's about it.

I don't know the exact cause of these developments, but whatever it is, hey. . . I'm not about to complain.

Quotable

2009-09-19T22:19:00.004-04:00

Me (reading the paper): "Wow, this new Jennifer Aniston movie looks really bad."

Brother-in-law: "Yeah, but there's no way it could be as bad as Jennifer's Body."

Mom (sounding indignant): "Oh, come on! There is nothing wrong with her figure!"

Oh No, Not You Too

2009-09-17T20:31:00.022-04:00

For a while, I stupidly thought I had a safe friend in the radio, but now I can't face even that anymore. It's somehow psychic. It apparently knows that I'm 28 years and seven months old and could not snag someone romantically if I were the last woman on this planet.

Today, a rub-it-in-your-face ad about some local matchmaking service assaulted my eardrums. Now, mind you, I'm OK with being single -- and it's probably even for the better that I am, since I'm an antisocial, inflexible neat freak who needs to do everything just a certain way -- but this commercial was cruelly taunting me, mocking my 13-year history of awful luck with men. "Do you have everything you could ever have wanted in your life. . . except that ONE PERFECT PERSON to share it with? Well, we're here to HELP you! After all, there must clearly be something wrong with you, and you need all the help you can get! Now, here's our phone number. We deliberately made it really easy to memorize, so you'd have no way of forgetting it. And here's the Web site! And the exact spelling of the URL. Be sure to write it down! No, we don't care that you might currently be driving 66 miles per hour on the thruway, just WRITE IT DOWN! After all, finding a mate right now is really, EXTREMELY important!! Get your frigging priorities straight, why don't ya? Oh. . . can we say 'frigging' on the radio?"

Yeesh. . . it's annoying enough to hear the pity-fests now and then when out in public, but now I can't even enjoy any peace while driving alone in a car with no mp3s or CDs available? And, what's more, this person's kindly, well-intentioned voice was blaring deafeningly in my ears! Like, INCREDIBLY loudly!

Well. . . to be fair, maybe the cranked-up-ness was kind of, sort of my fault.

After all, this ad played not even two seconds after "It's a Nice Day for a. . . (growly shriek). . . WHITE WEDDING!", and I couldn't possibly listen to that at a meek and understated volume, now, could I?

Localisms

2009-09-14T12:02:00.021-04:00

I'm home for lunch right now (I adore Mondays; they strike me as weirdly relaxing), and a train just went rattling past my house. It's about the fourth time I've seen that train in three and a half weeks. The cars are so colorful, I should really take a picture sometime. The first time I ever heard it, I ran out onto my porch and just STARED! You'd think I were watching a meteor shower!

Anyway, some trivia about where I live now:

I am about halfway between where my parents grew up. They had their first date almost 40 years ago at a pizzeria around the corner from me (and still like to get pizza there now and then, for old times' sake).
I have memories of walking on this exact street with my grandpa when I was three years old.
Dad still remembers when the dental office around the corner (yeah, everything is "around the corner") was a candy store. Ahhh, how those tables have turned. Open wiiiiide! (evil laugh)
The people two doors down from me are related to me in two different ways.
My dad, way back in elementary school, was friends with this house's last owner's son. He thinks he might have come over here to visit.
I have a few neighbors who inherited their homes from their parents, or who have lived in the same homes since the day they were born.
I have no neighbors across the street (unless a nearby apartment building counts). In the opposite direction from the apartments, there is a firemen's park with covered picnic tables. I look out the windows and see lush green trees (which are now turning orange and yellow) pretty much everywhere. Railroads aside, the area is quiet and peaceful 24/7, with almost NO traffic. It feels a bit like being in a remote getaway -- like being on vacation. Some mornings I almost fall into a trance and forget that I have to be at work in an hour.
I am just a stone's throw away from a recently-opened COFFEE SHOP! My sister and I went there yesterday afternoon, all optimistic that this might become a new favorite. It looks like a cute little boxcar with a house directly behind it (maybe for extra seating?), and the sign out front boasts of amazing iced coffee drinks. Alas, the "Open" sign in the window was inaccurate. The place is closed on Sundays and after 2:00 p.m. every day of the week. Tell me, just how much of a bummer is THAT! But we will definitely try coming back, maybe on a Saturday morning. . .
For that matter, I'm walking/biking distance from a LOT of enjoyable people and things. Almost too many to name.

My guess is, the above list will probably keep growing over time. I love it here!

Breaking the Mold

2009-09-12T09:44:00.025-04:00

I am up to my frigging EARS in produce!

Here's how my last week has gone (and bear in mind that I already had about half a dozen apples in my fridge to start):

Friday, my next-door neighbor showed me the vegetable garden behind his garage. He handed me two or three cucumbers and a small green pepper on the spot, and offered me all the tomatoes I could ever want, because they seem to grow out of control back there. I went home vowing to come back for the tomatoes later.

Saturday, I walked to the Farmers' Market around the corner and bought a container each of strawberries and blueberries, a cantaloupe, a head of lettuce, a bag of peaches, and a bulb of garlic. That same night, I spontaneously biked a mile over to my sister's. She insisted on giving me three or four tomatoes from the garden next to her garage. (I think she wanted to give me four, but I talked her down to three.)

Monday evening, my parents came over and I took them on a tour of the vegetable garden next door. For some reason, my mom plucked a couple of HUGE green peppers and said I should take them. (Thank goodness for freezers. . .)

Maybe you know how it is at first. You have all these grand intentions while washing and cutting them up for storage. . . oh, I'm going to eat so fresh and all-natural and healthy! I'll dig up all these recipes and become an unstoppable, imaginative cooking machine! I'll whip up luscious soup, salad, smoothies, fruit-and-yogurt parfaits, veggie lasagna, you name it, and I will look and feel fabulous! In reality, however, that's not QUITE what happened.

To my credit, I really tried (because I'm a bit of a cheapskate and HATE wasting money by letting food rot, especially expensive food that is packed with antioxidants). Dad and I easily finished off the cantaloupe within the first day after I'd purchased it. I made a blueberry smoothie, blueberry pancakes, blueberry syrup, blueberry sundaes, a couple of green salads, plus pizza with green peppers when I had company over. Also, I've been snacking on apples and peaches every single chance I could get. Somehow, though, those efforts haven't been quite enough. In this particular week, I haven't been at home very often, due to crazy work hours or people who suggested going out to eat constantly. What's more, free food has been available at work right and left because our building had a couple of picnics late this week -- therefore, a lot of yummy leftovers. This means there's a lot of produce I haven't even looked at yet. I'm kind of scared to examine it now and see what has happened in the last few hectic days.

The apples and green peppers are still in good shape, but I don't know about the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers (and don't know if I want to!). The garlic bulb is still wrapped up in a paper towel, untouched. The strawberries. . . well, I had to throw out half a dozen yesterday because they were squishy and had white mold growing on them. (It seems that, of all my boxes of cereal, not a single one seems innately compatible with strawberries. Do you know what I mean, or am I just being weird and neurotic?) Two of the peaches also sported grey fuzz yesterday, so I sadly chucked those in the trash. It felt like an admission of defeat. I swore I'd never let that happen!

What I need to do, I guess, is some honest-to-goodness meal planning. I should lay out a menu at the beginning of each week, THEN do my shopping and buy only the foods I will need for those recipes. Fit the ingredients into the menu, not the other way around. That sounds more effective and probably more healthy, even if it takes up some time at first. I don't want to feel slightly overwhelmed, stressed, and panicked by having a kitchen full of abundant produce to stay on top of. It's felt like just another "to-do" -- a pesky set of deadlines to keep track of, as in "Eat the strawberries within two days, the lettuce within a week," et cetera -- and we all know that's the last thing anyone needs.

So, my immediate goals are to skip the Farmers' Market for today, prepare a big pot of spaghetti sauce to keep in jars this afternoon (if the tomatoes and garlic are still viable), and sit down to make a menu maybe tomorrow night. If anyone has any historically helpful ideas for using up produce in a hurry, toss 'em this way. Next time, I certainly won't load up on so much at once!

Nothing Personal!

2009-09-08T11:43:00.003-04:00

When I cancel my magazine subscription of eight years over the phone, and the customer service representative keeps saying "I understand" in a kindly tone, why do I suddenly feel like the absolute scum of the earth?