I wanna go back ...

... to the island,
where the shrimpboats tie up to the pilin'.
Give me oysters and beer,
for dinner every day of the year,
and I'll be fine.

So, we made it back from Key West Sunday morning, 7 a.m. It's a 22.5 hour drive, half of which is just Florida. Dave said that the drive from the southernmost point of the U.S. to Pensacola, which is the westernmost point of Florida was "surreal." I said it was boring. Honestly, I slept from Shreveport to East Texas.

If you were wondering, yes, there are photos, almost 100 of them. Check them out on Flickr.

Here's a taste:

Our Top-Down Future

No, I'm not talking about convertibles here, but about a method of organization that is entrenched in American culture: top-down management. I can't really think of a branch of government or an economically successful organization that doesn't use a top-down form of organization, where the final word rests in a board of directors and a CEO, with the board being a kind of mirage of stockholder autonomy in a bought-and-sold-by-the-share market. Many people may own a publicly traded company, but in truth only one person really controls it.

Same with our government. In the press you see the president take the heat, World-Bank chief Wolfowitz get an ouster over bad management practices and House Majority Leader Nancy Pelosi getting sound bites left and right, telling conservatives "Whoa there!" but posing no solutions to our problems. All this makes our government look like a circus ruled by apes -- entertaining, but going nowhere.

So, in this system, where power is veritably concentrated and corrupted, nothing really changes except vacuous, self-serving laws. Most change that happens on a large scale is engineered by demographic shifts and market changes that are almost independent. These changes are large-scale differences in mentality, the mentality of citizen consumers.

So, lately people in my neck of the woods have been all atwitter over immigration problems, a problem so entrenched in society that our government has no real answers to. At least, answers that have any real hope of working. One side says, "Build a fence!" but fences can be climbed over and tunneled under. Another says, "Deport them all!" but splitting families of legal-born citizens from their illegal immigrant parents creates a burden of orphans and wards of the state, and they knew this when they had children here. "Penalize companies that hire them!" cries someone else, but when companies have to increase wages to attract another labor pool, this will cut into profits and thus, prices for goods and services will increase.

So, all of these top-down, federally mandated answers seem a little silly when you think about it. Though, how do we solve the cultural, societal and economic woes that are wrecking American culture without causing more damage than good? I think the answer lies in the proposed solutions. If the strategy leaves much to be desired, then the strategy is lacking. Change strategies.

Something happened last week in North Texas. A small community called Farmers Branch, very close to Dallas, approved an ordinance that would restrict illegal immigrants from renting apartment in the area. All apartment managers would have to verify that the lessors in the complex were legal citizens.

This seems fundamental enough -- community tires of negative impact of illegal immigrants and decides to prohibit them from living in some areas, thus reducing the resident population of illegal immigrants. But this doesn't keep illegals from living in rented houses, or keep them from working in the area, or keep them from having a market impact. It just says that they can't live in apartments in Farmers Branch.

This is an examptle of democracy, or the opposite of top-down managment, or even more liberally, Populism. People that voted wanted a change, they formulated a very calculated rule to have a specific impact on property owned in the area, a protracted attempt at immigration reform. It passed.

Too bad we'll probably never know whether or not it would have worked.

Too bad that today, Federal Judge Sam Lindsay overturned the ordinance, saying that immigration is a federal issue, an issue that should be solved on the Congressional level, which happens to be cluttered with top-down, power hungry sycophants.

Too bad our social experiment of democracy isn't what our democratically elected leaders want.

Blogging on holiday

So, Matt blogged while he was on vacation in the Pitts. I don't know if I'll have access to a computer while I'm away, so I don't know if I'll be on here for a week! I really want to post updates and piccies, but we'll see what happens. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that the hurricane season is staved while I am on a rather tiny island.

Otherwise, the weather is here, wish you were beautiful!

XOXOXO

Center of the Universe indeed

We were supposed to crash at a friend's house in San Antonio on Friday, but because plans with them fell through we stayed in Dallas and left for the Texas Hill Country on Saturday after Yoga class. The drive was bumpy; I-35 is the worst interstate highway by far, worse than I-45 only due to it's condition because there's plenty to look at from the road.

When we arrived at our friend's digs, we unloaded and headed out for a beer or two (or three) at a wonderful, mystical joint emblazoned with a bold sign toutint "HILLS & DALE'S -- CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!"

We walked in from the overcast afternoon to a sparsely lit ice house with a concrete floor. The spartan main room was decorated with plank picnic tables and a billiards area in back. But the main attraction was covering the side of a main wall: AN ENORMOUS BEER REFRIGERATOR!

The wallside cooler was stocked to the gills with any and every kind of imported beer and malt you could crave. They even had St. Peters and our favorite Oatmeal Stout!

I started off with my pint of Guiness and then had a couple of bottles of St. Peters and one of Sam Smith. I was so full of fuzzies that I barely ate dinner! From there we went to Floore's Country Store, Dave's favorite music hall. We listened to Jay Farrar and Son Volt play, had a frozen margarita (or two) and headed back, where I crashed and burned!

The next morning we washed off the previous night, had biscuits and country muffins and washed it down with copious carafes of coffee, black. Well, I washed it down with black coffee, but Dave has to have frou-frou in his cuppa joe, you know what I'm saying, sugar cream and all that! We swapped cds to upload to iPods, gushed about our vacation and then we were a gonner!

Hours later we were back in Dallas again, with laundry to do and loose ends to tie up. I love weekend trips but the reality of the work week is a bummer, especially before an all too short vacation in the American Caribbean!

Making my vote count

Today is the final day for early voting in the May 12 election. Because I'll be on the beach May 12, I need to vote today.

Earlier this workday we were running down predictions on what the Sunday headlines would read the day after. My wager:

Dallas Mayoral runoff between Don Hill and Tom Leppert; Farmers Branch passes immigrant rental ordinance; Prop 1 passes by a mile

Any other Dallasites out there wanna take a shot at 'er?

I could go on, and on, and on...

Food is the one thing that I can easily talk about for hours. I'm in love with the stuff. Really, any kind of cooking method, any kind of recipe, ingredient, flavoring or hardware -- I'll gab to the person closest and most interested. Which is why I was likely stunned this morning when I sat down next to what looked like a punky, disenfranchised gal. I chose her because I had inadvertently left my iPod at home (in my godforsaken gym bag!)and she appeared to be the least likely person to bother me on my downtown-bound train ride. I was wrong.

I quickly fell into the seat next to said punky girl, unzipped my case and unsheathed my dog-eared copy of Family Circle, which I subscribe to mostly for the recipes and home tips. As I was leafing to the back to scope out the recipes, Punky queried, "Do you cook?" Flabberghasted by the sound coming from Punky's direction, I slowly turned my face to hers and said "HUH?"

Yes, I love to cook, Punky. She then asked me a whole bunch of questions like, what do I like to cook most, am I married, does my husband appreciate my cooking (to which I registered a resounding "Of course!") and did I learn to cook from my mom (yes and no; I learned a few key things from mom, like how to follow the directions on the box and that to make fluffy scrambled eggs you add water, not milk, but I did not develop my passion for cooking until much later). It was a very pleasant conversation, and to think I would have completely missed it had I remembered my iPod, which is still lodged in my godforsaken gym bag!

We parted ways and she said that she appreciated the tips on flavoring rice and using a slow cooker, and that she was thinking about moving to Austin, mostly for the nicer political climate and environmentally savvy politics. Yeah, I'd move to Austin, too, Punky, but then I'd miss out on experiences like our little chat.

It's a good thing when it's gone

So, I've lost another pound. I just might look decent in a bikini this vacation after all! The downside? I've become a food Nazi. I've been counting calories like Scrooge McDuck appraises his pool of cash. I've been limiting my intake to 1,200 to 1,500 calories daily, 500 to 800 below what is needed to maintain, and I've started running 2.5 miles daily with a healthy regimen of yoga and weights.

I'd almost given up on my goal, which I made in January. The scale was stuck at 150 lbs. and for three months there was seemingly nothing I could do to get it to budge! I was working with a personal trainer to get my cardio routine together and do exercises to tone the hail damaged areas of my mushy physique. All that was left was diet. I abhor dieting. I just love food, and depriving myself of food that I love seemed awful. I didn't think I was going to be able to do this.

But, I then became addicted to Hungry Girl, which is a great resource for fast, easy and healthy substitutions for the stuff that I love. And I really cannot say enough about how important getting enough fiber is to losing weight. You've gotta eat whole grains, raw veggies and suppliment when necessary with psyllium husk powder.

So, hopefully I'll have some brilliant photos when I come back from vacation! Keep your fingers crossed!

Weekend bliss, Vacation angst

A weekend among family is always welcome. They're so much fun to be around; my dad is a really unique individual. He loves his daughters, and he loves sharing his life with others. He could talk baseball with Dave, show off his new pistol grips, talk about his trips to the deer lease or go on and on about small block Chevys. And he cares about whatever you bring to the table. Morning debates around a high-fiber breakfast, fresh coffee and blue jays are the best.

It seems though, that I can never make enough time to visit. I'm always eager to get back "home" and reluctant to leave. We have dinner and conversation, watch baseball and hang out, and then all of the sudden they're waving good bye in the driveway as Dave almost backs into one of the nefarious trees that come out of nowhere (I've collided with my fair share of them). Before that, Jessica, Brent, Sara and Kara were drawing figures in the dingy accumulation on my car's hood, and Fitzgerald was relegated to the guest room upstairs because he just couldn't get along with a 100-lb. black lab, an overly playful Jack Russell terrier and Ginger (Zoe), the mutt with a heart of gold.

One thing that I noticed about my family is their love of food in large quantities. My mom opened a container of oatmeal raisin cookies on Sunday around lunch time; they were gone shortly thereafter. The cookies were 140 calories each! That's insane! With some of them eating two, I could see how throwing caution into the wind like they do could be consequential to their midsection. Although I didn't partake, I felt strangely guilty that I didn't grab the carton of cookies and slam dunk them into the waste bin! It's for their own good!!!

So, it's become obvious that although I've been working pretty darn hard to lose the weight before we vacation in Key West, I'm still about 8 to 10 lbs. short of my goal. That sucks, because I was looking forward to finally having pictures that I love to plaster all over our home. "This is a shot of me and Dave sunning on a lovely pier on the island. Don't I look fabulous?" Instead, it'll be more like, "Here's Dave and ... What is this? How did a manatee manage to get into ... Oh wait... That's me! This is where I was in my bikini and didn't lose all that fat I said I was going to... yeah, one too many trips to my parents' house!"

And to top it all off, I can't figure out what to do for Dave's birthday. It'll be while were at Key West. I wanted to plan a super-secret special day trip for him, but I can't figure anything out. There's no baseball in the area, he's already been to the island. All I can think of is hitting a nice restaurant for a romantic dinner and giving him a fabulous gift, which also still escapes me! And 35 is kind of a milestone, so I want to do something memorable (although, we will be on Key West, what's not memorable about that!?). Maybe I can have the kitchen at the Bed and Breakfast we're staying at make him a birthday cake that I can surprise him with on the morning of his birthday... And then have something crazy planned, like I dunno, horseback riding or something... GIMME SOME IDEAS, FOLKS!!!

Also, what do you get a guy that has everything baseball, that he'll absolutely flip for, and won't totally kill my budget!!! ARGH!

So it goes...

Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.

-Kurt Vonnegut

News has just reached my desk that the world's most revered Humanist, Kurt Vonnegut, has died. His fatalistic, morally quixotic and dubiously contrived works, including his most famous novel Slaughterhouse Five, earned him the fame that eluded him early in life.

I remember during our trip to San Francisco, we made a few stops at City Lights Books, a Beat Generation mainstay with poetry and philosophy from every continent a large contingent on its shelves. Vonnegut was the only thing that quenched my literary appetite, and I left City Lights with a new copy of Slaugherhouse Five and Breakfast of Champions. If you haven't read these Vonnegut classics, you're missing out.

Vonnegut was a man that wrote in such a way that compelled you to at least try to understand ideas that would normally be repulsive. His style was dictated by his early years as a hard-news journalist, a reporter at a Chicago newspaper's city desk. That style made his novels easy to read, easy to follow and easily consumed by readers that may not be so adept with philosophy. He's told stories of near-death tea parties with modern icons and has attracted a diverse yet critical following with tales of planets far away and people near and dear.

Vonnegut died due to brain injuries from a fall several weeks ago.

Get green, make green

Sheryl Crow and Laurie David (wife of Larry David, creator of Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm) just rode into the sunset in their biodiesel-powered tour bus to start the "Stop Global Warming College Tour." Kicking the tour off at Southern Methodist University, the soon-to-be-home of the George W. Bush Presidential Library and think tank, i.e. they Anti-Kyoto Monument of Environmental Ennui, may have been a less-than-optimal choice for the sassy duo.

As Crow and David made the media rounds yesterday, people in my line of work started debating just what they could accomplish by handing out energy-efficient light bulbs, doing a slide show and singing a couple new-folk songs. The debate then evolved to a global scale: These two harbingers of the global climate change end-times are trying to motivate Americans to do something for our planet at the grassroots. What if America really started, as a means of necessity, to make our country more ecologically friendly? What if we started to take coal-burning power plants offline and constructed new and more environmentally feasible energy sources? What would that kind of large scale investment (investments with dubious or unknown rates of return are calculated as losses) do to our economy? What if China and India don't follow suit, and for every one coal-fired power plant that we take down, they construct two more?

I kind of stopped listening when somebody asked if we would be willing to bomb China to stop them from polluting. That's a new concept to me: hurting the world to save it? That's like a coyote chewing its arm off to escape a trap, right?

But then I began to think, why are such ecological improvements necessarily a loss? Why would new construction and taking down older polluting plants be economically harmful? Why must ecological improvement and economic growth be mutually exclusive? It seems a bit specious to me.

Look at San Francisco, Calif., or Seattle, Wash., or Portland, Ore., or Madison, Wisc., or even Austin! These cities are striving towards sustainability; abating environmental impact to the point which the environmental gains negate human impact. All of these cities are not only environmentally friendly, but are also economic powerhouses. The investment in their infrastructure to make the cities cleaner, safer and more ecologically integrated has made them attractive, boosting land values and making them sought-after locations for creative-types and progressive firms.

Dallas could do this, too. We could be come the next green-living outpost. Too bad we've got business leaders and council members that would cut their noses off to spite their faces. They'd rather have toll roads running through our greenspace and intruding upon what was supposed to be our own verson of Golden Gate Park... It's too bad that we won't have a dense urban core, afforable multi-family highrises or a downtown peppered with well-manicured parks and recreational facilities. It's too bad that companies come to Dallas looking for a steal, and then they really do, they steal from the communities' investment in infrastructure, developing reinvestment zones that take tax revenue from the city for new bells and whistles for their towers of babel.

What will get us there? What will make us as beautiful and preserved as San Francisco? As ecologically sound as Eugene, Ore. or Seattle? Progressive leadership -- a commodity that we sorely lack.

To make Dallas whole

I fell hard into my uncomfortable chair at work, the recoil of the hydraulic lift making my bean soup slosh gently. The warm bowl in my lap and my cool caesar salad on my desk, I thought about how I hadn't blogged in such a long while. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, mostly while baking bread and doing yoga at the gym. I've been wondering if I really had anything to say at all.

Sure I'd read something that would make my blood boil, but how on earth do you really speak out about anything if your job is the proverbial cat with your tongue? So, I've decided that I'll get back to the nitty gritty of Dallas, what's wrong, what's right and what we should do about our myriad problems.

If you're ever in Dallas and want to have a pleasant trip, do not talk about race, ever. That's like pulling a lion's tail, especially if you're white. It would make what Don Imus is coming back from look trivial. So, it's astonishing that in our Legislature, two lawmakers are asking that the state formally apologize for slavery. Note, they're not from Dallas, but Houston also has a history of racial tension.

So, it's really peculiar that so many racially charged issues are on the floor in the Texas House. On March 21, David Swinford effectively killed a bill from Rep. Sid Miller, R-Stephenville, that would disallow the removal of any memorial plaques or statues from state property without the approval of the Legislature, including several Confederate memorials at the University of Texas that have recently drawn fire.

Not that I agree with slaveholding, Southern, belly-up aristocracy, but history is history, even the ugly parts. Will an apology do any good at resolving centuries of ingrained racial dischord? Not really, but if it makes Texas and it's pussilanimous Legislature feel better, then sure, go ahead and apologize for slavery.

But instead of just an apology, a third-rate collection of words officially saying "Gee, we're real sorry about the whole indentured servitude thing, forgive?" How about we do something that will really change the tides of race relations and its associated poverty, something that will wash away the geographical dividing lines that still segregate. Why don't we do something meaningful instead of asking a bunch of completely oblivious white dudes to say "I'm sorry" for something their ancestors did?

With the money the Texas House has wasted debating an apology for slavery we could have gotten started with programs keeping black kids in school, providing their parents with opportunities to start over, to break the cycle of poverty, to end their relegation to Dallas' "Southern Sector" and to dissolve fifedoms of racial inequity through combined community investment.

Nah, that'd make way too much sense.

Four cups to shake the cobwebs

For the past few nights I've been so restless, and I haven't been able to sleep. I'd toss and turn and roll over again and again, but nothing could keep me comfortable enough to make me go to sleep and stay that way. Not even my dashing husband and his loyal mutt!

But last night was different. I skipped cardio at the gym and did Marj's Iyengar yoga class only. We did lots of backbends and a few twists, no inversion, but Savasana, some Pranayama and some chanting. I came home though, to only panic about dinner. I couldn't figure out what to make! It was the end of the week, and pickings were slim. There were a few sprigs of cilantro, some silken tofu, whole wheat tortillas... I got the genius idea to make enchiladas! But, wait... I've never made enchiladas before...

So, I created a whole new animal: The Enchilada Lasagna! Layers of whole wheat tortillas separated a spicy mixture of sauteed onions, red peppers and celery in a tomato and green chile base, with a middle layer of chicken and corn, all laden with a thick, creamy cilantro/tomato/tofu sauce! Baked for 30 minutes and served with long grain and wild rice with black beans... Tasty!

Satisfied, I cleaned up after dinner and retired. My creativity was spent, I had no mental energy left. I crawled into bed and minutes later I was in a peaceful, uninterrupted slumber, only to be stopped by the annoying soliliquy of my alarm clock.

Now, Friday morning with so much junk to do at the office because three key staffers are out today, I'm having to down cup after cup of hot fresh java to get the gears turning in my cranium!

Tonight we're going to Benihana for my brother-in-law Marcus' birthday. Tomorrow, we look for houses, and tomorrow night, Kara is coming to town! YAY!!!

Hope I can blog again soon, with pictures!

Stuff I luv!

I know you're all dying to know what I think about the new Trinity River Project plans for a toll road inside the river's corridor, but until I see a few key pieces of evidence, you'll just have to wait. In the mean time, I'm going to share just a few products that I've grown to absolutely adore!

1) Aveda Blue Oil: This pepperminty oil comes in a roll-on vial that easily and weightlessly smooths on skin in areas that you feel tense or need relaxing. It's cooling and warming, with a divine scent and gentle tingle. A little bit on achy muscles before bed is a recipe for relaxation!










2) Aveeno Skin brightening Daily scrub: Gentle little beads in a creamy oatmeal-infused base exfoliate gently to reduce the size of pores. It's easy on dry, irritated skin and won't clog pores. Admission: I have occasional hormonal acne around my mouth and chin, but using this regularly keeps my face clearer without using harsh chemicals.













3) Aveda Hand Relief: This was a real skin saver this dry Dallas winter. Smooth on just a little of this rich, creamy lotion with an awesome scent and it almost instantly heals hardened little mitts!












4) Bath and Body Works Black Rasberry Vanilla: You've just got to smell it. Oh-so-sweet!

I loaf you!

One of my coworkers just complimented my sandwich, and that wasn't a euphemism for a body part, she really was telling me that my lunch looked tasty -- my deli sliced turkey and ham sandwich with sprouts, tomato, red onion, dijon mustard and red cabbage between two slices of fresh, home-made whole wheat bread.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

There's something alluring in home-made goodies. All the hands-on labor that went into it, nothing automated, just a few beautiful, many-flawed things. No cellophane, no preservatives, no barcodes or labels. Just a firm yet squishy, dense loaf of good-for-you stone ground wheat.

It's the same with the coffee we buy from the roasters down the street, or the herb garden I'm planting in my back yard. It's like the scarves I made my family for Christmas last year, the curtains I sewed for our living room. All of these things are beautiful if only because they were loved bit by bit.

That's a lot of what's missing these days. We pollute so much, but it's because we're pressed for time, we'd rather have our mass-produced "gourmet" coffee than the delicious espresso from the roaster down the street that's only open Monday through Saturday, 7 A.M. to 6 P.M., but while you're there, check out their local produce cooler for a few fresh veggies.

This all comes down to planning, believe it or not. We live in cities and towns that are approved and built by a small swath of representatives and commissions. These people, supposedly operating in the city's best interest, award contracts and city development changes to people who want to make money off of the citizens in return for a service. The low-income developer wants a zoning change of residential, single-family areas to multi-family areas to make more dense groups of people closer to an existing retail intersection and near a proposed mass transit hub. This is an example of good planning.

More often is the case though, that the zoning change will go to the developer paying off more council members or commission representatives. Such is the case in Dallas, where you can't get needed mass transit to relive congested highways because people in Southern Dallas swear up and down that they've been neglected for so long that mass transit is the only way to relieve their economic and developmental poverty. Not so, I say, since I notice that most people who ride the light-rail lines through downtown get off at Union Station in droves before the lines make the leap into South Dallas. Why? because there's nothing there worth riding towards.

First, build it, then transit will come. But we have a culture of poor planning in Dallas. The area it self is shaped like a hand giving the bird -- much of Dallas itself that is populated by the rich and the influential sits at the North, whereas poverty-stricken South Dallas has few if any wealthy or influential groups, neighborhoods or business.

Putting transit in place and the hoping that business will follow is a very bad idea. First you need good infrastructure from the city -- the two slices of fresh, home-made whole wheat -- then you build it with the meat, the families -- to be topped off by the array of goodies, like the sprouts, cabbage, tomato and onion; flavors that will mix and meld and make the whole sandwich, the city, the neighborhood, that much better.

If you can't stand the heat...

... turn the bleedin' oven off!

For the first time since October, it was actually warm in my kitchen. Dave and I have officially survived this house for one year. *Scattered Applause* I know, it's hard to believe, especially since the place is a seive and has no central air. We're thinking of buying a house, and if we do, I'm going to go mad with a caulking gun. We're going to re-insulate everything and make the sucker totally energy efficient. The only thing I'm concerned about is that if we move to a house out of our current neighborhood, we have to change gyms. And we might have to reconfigure our commutes. Two very undesirable situations. I like our commute, I like my gym, I like my yoga classes... Harrumph...

But, back to the kitchen. Saturday, after early yoga, a little inspired shopping and pulling weeds and tending my garden, I developed a vegetarian gumbo recipe! I call it, "Joanna's vegetarian post-modern gumbo" for it's use of white wine, vegetarian sausage, whole okra, bits of Boca crumbles, a white roux, (made it myself, thankyouverymuch!) halved new potatoes with long strips sweet onions, whole garlic cloves and sauteed red peppers. All that stewed up with cayenne pepper, gumbo file and cumin with a bay leaf and some sage. It was served over a bed of herbed brown rice. YUMMY!

Not to be outdone, Sunday was quite the clip with a thorough home yoga practice and a run through the neighborhood with Fitzgerald. I hung out with Dave for a bit, trying my salmon dip on for size again (could have only been better with walnuts and some fresh parmesan), went to the market to pick up a few things, and then I got to baking:

First, from-scratch basil tomato pizza with marinated tofu


Then a loaf of whole wheat bread (it actually turned out!!!)


And from-scratch key lime pie


That was my first attempt (successful!!!) at making meringue, which is the golden and white topping on the key lime pie. That little knob to the left is a key lime, and must've squeezed God knows how many of the suckers to make the darn pie. Totally labor intensive, but well worth the effort.

I hope you folks are salivating, I'll show you what it looks like from the inside tonight! The gorgeous thing is setting firmly in our fridge, awaiting our own just desserts!

Lobstera: Queen of the shellfish

Sunburned? Me? Actually, my archnemesis, Shrimp Boat Captain, dipped me halfway into a pot of boiling brine before my army of crustaceans was able to rescue me. That's why my arms and neck are a punchy shade of crimson.

All right. Fine. I went golfing, and idiot that I am, I forgot to put on sunscreen. Conditions were perfect for a less than average 18-holes and a skin searing. Had fun though.







Jessica's wedding was this past weekend, and it was neat getting all gussied up with my sisters. I ran around, hammed it up and acted like a complete ass. Worth it. Totally. This whole weekend really reminded me why I treasure my family like I do. They just get me, you know? Like we speak our own language when we're together, so many memories tangled up that one word or phrase can make them flood an entire room with laughter.

Thursday night, when we arrived at my parents house, we had wine (3 bottles) and cheese with roasted chicken. I was so spoiled this past weekend with great food and wine. I'll be punishing myself this week for all that gastronomic sin. Like my sunburn isn't punishment enough, right?

Hopefully I'll have pictures from my sister Sara to post here later. In the mean time, take a look at that crazy backswing!!!

Deluded enough to work?

It's been a long time since I've blogged about Dallas, the armpit of the South. Come March 12, the filing deadline for mayoral candidates in Dallas, we'll either have a bevy of would-be exercisors in futility, or just a few annointed business-class mouthpieces. Just a few weeks ago, 21 local nutjobs announced that they had campaign treasurers, a precursor to announcing candidacy. Most, if not all (I'm not going to bother with the specifics) have now announced. Most of these half-wits have not qualified for the ballot, which requires about 475 signatures (reasonable, if you ask me) from registered voters.

So, since so many people tossed their hat into the ring initially, why all the foot-dragging to make it official? Heck, why even bother with running for mayor? I mean, the position has almost no power, we're a weak-mayor/city manager city with 14 districts/wards that hardly see eye to eye. Dallas has no single person that can make the executive decisions that Dallas needs, no one to be ultimately accountible, no one to open doors and close windows, no one to make sure that what's in Dallas' best interest is held higher than what is in one council members' interest. Dallas has no Rudy Giuliani, no person to clean up the streets because we need it. In fact, if someone even aspired to do this, a councilmember would be threatened with that kind of power and sabotage the only way to turn this dying city around.

About a month ago, two of the annointed candidates were discovered to be members of the racially exclusive Dallas Country Club. In fact, one of them left the Anglo upper-crust because a black man was recently refused membership (something to do with his previous affilitations with progressive black and racially oriented action groups). The other annointee? Still a member, but mostly because he doesn't sit on the board that choses those who gain membership to the club. The other annointee, did.

In other mayorally pertinent developments, Don Hill, current southern sector City Council member who will be ousted due to term limits, is running for mayor. Good for him, except for the fact that he is currently under investigation by the FBI for possibly being on an unscrupulous developer's take. Not only that, but it wasn't too long ago that Don Hill was driving a BMW that he had "earned the right" to drive. How does an elected municipal officer "earn" the right to drive a BMW that doesn't belong to him? Was it provided by a campaign contributor? If so, that's a big electoral no-no. Actually, the owner of the BMW, Sheila Farrington, was a business associate of the unscrupulous developer, and Mr. Hill's girlfriend, for whom he would later divorce his wife and then turn around and marry once the ink dried.

That's a great example of what Dallas is up against when it comes to politics. Who's to blame? Where, or to whom do we look to find and solve the problems that plague our city politics, and in turn plague our city?

The problem is not a who or where, it's the way our city is organized; it's our single-member districts that have created sectors and viceroys with no inherent leader to unite them. Yeah, there's a mayor, but what's a mayor's purpose if they are equal to the council? They are employees with executive titles. It's the office that so many people are willing to run for on platforms of change and equality yet they should know after two strong mayor referendums that it just ain't gonna happen. Dallas doesn't get a strong mayor, a system that actually has a chance of working because the other 14 council members don't want to relinquish any power, even for the greater good. This results in an absolute lack of accountability; there is no final word, only a recumbent blame game, where fingers are pointed and accusations are thrown like proverbial bombs among the racially and socially segregated wards, the fifedoms of Dallas.

Once when I first moved here and knew little about the history of Dallas, I thought how cool it would be to start a unity campaign, how neat it would be to actually have ALL of Dallas come together and try to get things done. I was riddled with idealism, I thought that it was possible, but now I know better. You see, southern sector city council members will continue to chase the illusion that if they have control over their districts, then everything will be okay. Well, everything is definately not okay. It's not okay in Oak Cliff, it's not okay in Southern Dallas, it's not okay anywhere south of the Trinity. People are still moving out in droves, crime, murder, burglary, gangs and poverty still choke Dallas in areas that are historically neglected or newly inundated with the poor. Fair Park is a detritus strewn shadow of its former greatness. Pleasant Grove is anything but. What will it take for Dallas to leave ward politics to the past?

Why the hell would you want to run for mayor in Dallas knowing all this?

Driving ambition

It was my first road trip in my new car. Last week there was so much anticipation surrounding that Friday afternoon departure that when I left Dallas in such miserable weather, the sky half dark and my windshield wipers sweeping the drops from my view, I was let down, very disappointed. When I had visualized the windows down, sunshades on, hair blowing in the wind with my favorite rock tunes blaring, rain and bumper-to-bumper traffic seemed like the shaft.

And then, when I got to Conroe, everyone was just hanging out at home and no one wanted to go out! Sara and Brent rented a movie, Kara was at Mom and Dad's and Jessica came by to get her eyebrows waxed. I got a little much-needed waxing, too. But, with all that disappointment, the evening turned out to be great comic relief with several detours down Memory Lane.

We were digging through boxes of ancient photographs for Jessica's slideshow at her wedding reception. I was a freakin' cute baby. I should scan some of those shots, cuz damn! Cute baby! Right here! You know, I think my parents really did dote on me much more than any of their other children. I don't necessarily think this was because I was "the baby." Maybe it was because I was quiet and occupied all of the time. I had a rampant imagination. I could sit out in the sun for hours and play in the dirt, completely amused. I'm still kind of like that. I love the simple things. I'm still very salt-of-the-earth, but I no longer wash rocks in my mouth.

On Saturday, we shopped 'til we dropped at Target, getting a couple of things that Jessica had registered for, like a four-slice toaster. You could fit half a loaf in the sucker. Who needs that much toast and can't wait for a two-slice toaster to do the job, eh? and isn't it a waste of energy if you just want one or two slices, but you have to fire up the whole job? Bonus: There was a lingere sale and I got 4 new bras for $16! Yay for boob harnesses!

At Jessica's wedding shower, the very reason I was in town for the weekend, I couldn't shake the feeling that I just didn't belong there. I couldn't really summon the proper enthusiasm for the event, so I made myself comic relief, exhibiting apropos excitement to the nth degree. Shouts of joy, oooohs and ahhhhs, all that crap. I felt like Meg Ryan in the famous restaurant scene of When Harry Met Sally. Funny though that I ran into Erica's mother, Bettye, there. I had no clue that she'd be at the shower. In fact, I think everyone on the face of the planet knew that she'd be there, except me. I asked her how Erica was, bad idea because I should have known that she wouldn't have anything nice to say. Everyone joked that she was still in college to get her "MRS" degree. Trying to avoid people, I gorged on the fruit and pastry buffet and washed it down with some piss-poor coffee and tea. Horrid tea. Lukewarm tea with no cream. Ugh.

My mother and I left the shower, both of us feeling that we'd never get back that hour wasted.

We got home and I got dressed down to do some yoga and have some dinner before the evening began. We saw a special on Barbecue on Food Network. I remember seeing some really good stuff, and then I said, "You know, I've never had ribs before." My mother immediately got up and said that she was going to go get dinner. Dad and I hung out cleaning his rifle when mom returned toting a big brown paper sack, which could only mean one thing: McKenzie's Barbecue. McKenzie's is like a Conroe tradition, and it is THE BEST BARBECUE. Honest. You'll never taste better. In fact, if you ever traipse through Conroe, or Texas or Houston for that matter, you better stop at McKenzies.

Their ribs were awesome, even despite my complete lack of reference. So tender, the flesh was easily tugged from the tidily trimmed bones. I could only eat three and I was reeling. It was like crack, despite my complete lack of reference.

I went over to Phillip and Megan's house. There I met Kara, Mel, Sara, Brent, etc. etc. We played Wii. Dear God, that was so fun. I'd consider getting a Wii just for the incredibly fun parties you could throw. Everyone gets throwed while playing video games! Yay!





We all slept over Saturday night and woke to stale booze breath and a few siblings munching on fast-food breakfast. I did not indulge (no fast food in over 2 years!) and instead opted for a protein bar. I made the trip back to my parents house, changed clothes and went shopping with my mom. We had the BEST time. Seriously. We went to the Apple store in the mall and I got a car adapter for my iPod! Now I can play my iPod through my car stereo! YAY!!! I got some new iPod headphones for Dave, just like he asked, and then we went to HEB to scout the bulk sections and crazy produce. You'd be surprised at the larger selection that the HEB we went to had compared to the Whole Foods in my neighborhood or even the Central Market in my old neighborhood. We totally raided the bulk area, the olive bar, and the produce section. And we picked up all kinds of cool Italian sodas. Yum!

But just as soon as I got there, I had to go. I strapped myself in and pulled away from my parents' house slowly, waving at my mom out the window of the car that will help me visit my family much more often, which is great, because there's nothing quite like them.

Rain, rain, go away...

I promised myself that since I wouldn't be able to go to the gym this weekend that I'd atleast take a run around the neighborhood in the morning. I got up at 8.30 and put my running shoes on and let my parents know I was going to take a quick run around the place. Just my luck though, it was raining a steady drizzle. Not to be intimidated, I trudged around about halfway through the 'hood when I thought my brachial tube was just about to collapse. In Dallas, the air is much drier, and it doesn't really rain so much. This was definately new for me, running in the rain, so I wasn't ready for what it would do to my lungs. I walked around for a bit and then got back into my rhythm, and found that after my rest it was much easier to make a go at several inclines. Truth be told, if it rains during the Turkey Trot, the 5k I'm running in November, I'm screwed. I don't think my little ol' lungs could take it.

I came back inside and dried off, and then my dad said that he had a nice bottle of 18 year old Glenlivet, so we had a tipple before coffee and breakfast. It definately made my morning a little more loose. I had forgotten how easy my relationship with my dad is. We see eye-to-eye on lots of things, but on others, I prefer to just nod and smile. These precious moments aren't worth wasting on arguments.

I have to get my bridesmaid dress altered this afternoon, and we have to go shopping for Jessica's wedding shower, which is this afternoon as well. blah.

Signing off, from the Piney Woods,

-Your intrepid, but soggy correspondent.

Over the highway to the piney woods

Well, I'm leaving work early (I swear to God this is a first!) to head out to Houston to visit my family! I'm packing my running shoes and my yoga mat, so we'll see what happens. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!

Flattery gets you everywhere

Yoga class last night was awesome. I had been racing to the gym after getting off of work and I got stuck behind an awful fender-bender on Mockingbird Ln., and thusly I missed the 6 p.m. spinning class. I always miss that class. I got to the gym, dejected of course, and suited up to get on an exercise bike. I figured that since I wasn't going to be training intervals in a group, I'll train in intervals by myself. Buckets of sweat and 45 minutes later, I was stretching it all out getting ready for my glorious Hatha yoga class.

Last night, we changed things up a bit, and instead of having all our mats horizontal throughout the room, we rotated them to where we were all aligned vertically. What a difference! It kind of made me feel like I was in class for the first time. We did a lot of complicated hip openers that made some of our newer yogis and yoginis a little uncomfortable. One of these is Pigeon pose. We did a pigeon series, first with just our hands grasping the ball of our foot and our knee, opening our ches and extending our back leg to open the hips. Later, we bent our back knee and pulled up our foot towards our torso, to look like this:



The full pose, which I cannot do yet, looks like this:



I am so self conscious about this pose, so much so that I am usually reluctant to do practice it in my asana routines, although it is a great all-over stretch. But, I think I'll be doing it more, especially since last night, one of our class regulars "Dangerous Debbie," said that my Pigeon pose was looking exquisite, graceful even.

I may not be able to post again until Monday or Sunday. I'll be in Conroe for the weekend for my sister Jessica's bridal shower, and hopefully I won't be a dolt and I'll take lots of piccies!

Guilty, as charged

My old dear friend Jack used to help me work through what has become such a problem for me: guilt. Most of my behavior, sometimes perceived as altruism, is motivated by guilt. I stay late at work because I feel too guilty to leave people with work to do. I get to work early so I can help pick up other duties to help our department run seamlessly (or at least attempt to run seamlessly). I went to a cardio bootcamp class at the gym for three months because I was guilted into it, I just couldn't tell the instructor that his class just wasn't for me.

Guilt is really starting to keep me from doing all the things that I love and want to do. I usually don't get out of work until 5:30, but there are classes at 6 p.m. that I really want to attend, most notably a spin class. But I stay late to meet other peoples deadlines, and therefore I miss the class.

Today, I'm going to change all that. I'm leaving at least 15 minutes early to go to that class. No one better stand in my way, and I'll be damned if I'll feel guilty about doing something for myself. Finally.

I hope that Jack would be proud, whatever the heck he's doing these days...

Shave and a haircut

There was so much going on this weekend that I didn't feel guilty about not going to the gym to get gross and sweaty. Friday night, Dave and I had a comforting dinner and watched Jesus Camp and then I curled up in bed and went to sleep, which was awesome. It's nice to be married, and to be so comfortable that we can stay home, watch a movie and I can go to sleep because he knows I love him, and I do, so very much.

For Valentines day, I wasn't expecting anything, and he even told me that he's not so much into it, but when I came home from work, he had a little sack full of goodies for me; a canvas bag that will be perfect for toting around Key West in May, Some herb seeds for the herb garden I've been wanting to plant, glue sticks for the recipe stash I'm working on, and a baseball on which his scribbled "the greatest doubleplay partner a man could ask for -- I love you." It now sits next to my monitor at work so that I can glance at it and know that I have something very, very special at home.

Saturday, I got up early and met a couple of very great friends at the gym for a Saturday morning Hatha Yoga class. They both really enjoyed themselves, and I'm so glad. It's always fantastic to go to a great Yoga class with dear friends, although the room is small and the class is popular. We went to brunch afterwards at The Garden Cafe and we all ordered omelettes. We drank coffee and talked culture, work and movies until it was time to walk back to our house.

After they left I got to work turning the soil in the box that will become my herb garden. I'm going to buy some organic humus and peat for my garden, to lighten it up and create perfect conditions to yield tons of basil, dill, cilantro, sage, oregano and mint!

Saturday evening, after I made a wonderful pot of New England clam chowder, we went out for drinks with a few of our friends and had a wonderful time. We went home, gorged on yogurt and granola, and again, snuggled up in bed. Awesome.

Sunday was relaxing, we played in the dirt in the back yard, played catch in the back yard, and then we had several friends over for dinner (Cajun style rice with veggies and herb cornbread) and we made lemon poppyseed scones, which were awesome!

My sister cut my hair, which is really cute, too.



Anyway, gotta get back to the grind!

Out from both ends

I came home yesterday evening with a sore and upset stomach, therefore, no yoga for me. I cooked a little dinner, green bell peppers stuffed with rice pilaf, seared marinated tofu and steamed soy broccoli. It was very good the first time I tasted it, less so later. I woke up in the middle of the night heaving dinner up, went back to bed only to wake up again for round two.

This morning I tried my damndest to get out of bed and go to work, only to get there and have my boss send me home. So, here I am, at home, on a Thursday, arguably the busiest day in my office as we prepare for the weekend. Thank goodness I was ahead before I left yesterday.

This isn't all bad, I suppose. I feel guilty for not being at work today, but at least I now have time to cozy up next to the furnace and work on my recipe stash, do a little laundry and try not to literally spill my guts everywhere.

Keep your fingers crossed, folks, that I can go into the office tomorrow.

Like water spilled on the nightstand...

... these are the mornings in which I cannot force myself to hit the snooze bar properly. We woke up 10 minutes late, which left me 10 minutes late to the train station, which left me parking in the lot most distant from the platform, which made me walk in the freezing cold temperatures, which left me exposed to the buffeting winds that nearly bowled me over, which made me wish I hadn't lost my other glove.

Stupid glove.

Actually, they were lovely gloves. Black leather and fleece-lined things, supple and elegant with a coy zipper along the back that, when undone, exposed a bright red swatch of calfskin. They were a gift from my mother-in-law. Now I only have one. Where did my left one go? I hearby order all coat makers to put a glove pocket on the inside of each winter coat, so ladies like me can stash their gloves without risking losing one! I'll just sew one in the lining of my pea-colored pea coat...

(Insert utterly cliche segue here)... So, I hop on the train and head into downtown, but instead of listening to the moody folk rock that has become a staple on my iPod, I switched to some drum-and-bass (if you are unfamiliar with drum-and-bass, please try Aphrodite, Dj Dara or Vektor). Niiiiiiiiiice. Very much an urban vibe, especially "Smoke" by Dj Dara. It's like the background music I always wanted to the story of my morning. Like, if I had a camera following me on my morning commute, with the crowded train and me leaning against the car, standing in the stairwell while gazing out the car's window at the skyline and grey atmosphere of a cold Dallas morning, and the camera takes a wide angle shot of me, with the rest of the car out of focus in the background but my reflection visible as I stare out the window.

And now, here I am, steadily editing my way into oblivion. Finger still hurts. Still haven't posted about Sunday. Too much coffee and too much to do. Too much to be to too many people. Thank God for Yoga.

Left turn of phrase

Editor's note: Typing is very painful today because my right ring finger has an infected bit on it due to the cold, murky air of a North Texas winter.

This past weekend was a realy doozy. So much going on can really exhaust you, but at the same time make you feel so real, so alive, so much a participant in a world that you usually watch from the editorial sidelines, telling each team after the fact what they should have done in the first place, knowing that you don't have the guts to follow your own damn advice.

I finally bought a new car this past Saturday. *Hurrah* It's a royal blue pearl 2007 Honda Civic! It's name: Hahn Solo Civic! It's really cute. The new design makes it look very Prius-esque, which is great because I really wanted a Prius, but had to settle for something a bit more modest. He's a lovely machine tho.



That's my father-in-law on my right (your left) and my husband Dave on my left (your right) standing in front of Hahn. Lovely creature, right? I'll put some nice wheels on him and do a few other upgrades when I have a little green to spare.

When I brough Hahn home, I parked him in the driveway and immediately snapped a few shots. Good thing I did, because immediately thereafter a flock of birds descended up on our lot and, however perfunctorily, made many massive bowel movements on my gorgeous, immaculately detailed car. Nice.

That evening, we hopped in Hahn and took a spin down to an art gallery in Deep Ellum called 500X. Great modern art by graduate students from SMU decked the halls. A good friend of Dave's, Vance Wingate, was there, and regardless of the fact that he was charming and entertaining, his work was astoundingly good. Fresh, understated and rich in metaphor, Wingates' rune-like play with construction and symbolism played with the viewers imagination, much like the simplicity of his medium (brown paper lunch bags) and depth of color (rich reds and saffron yellows on hazy beds of sage green).

Dave had been begging me to wear this dress I got at retropolis*. It's this floor length psychadelic gown with a scoop neck and 3/4 sleeves with an empire cut. It's very flowy, and doesn't have great berth for shoes (my heels on my boots kept snagging the flowy train) but it's a gorgeous dress about a hem away from perfection. I put it on with some heavy black eyeliner and smoky lids, a black pashmina shawl wrapped loose around my neck and my hair held back tight with a wide black headband. I slipped on my knee-high, black leather boots and pinned the dress up at the hip to give it a little flirty drama and show a little leg. Very cute.

We went to a quick dinner at St. Pete's Dancing Marlin. I had 1/2 Chin Chin's chicken sandwich with a house salad (dieting, folks) and Dave had the penne tossed with fresh basil pesto (very tasty! He got this just so I could try it without feeling obligated to eat a whole thing!). We went home and I rinsed off the night and crawled into bed, knowing that in my driveway was a gorgeous, birdshit clad car, in my living room was a wonderful, sweet, baseball-addicted husband and under the covers was a neurotic, chaotic, loving and loyal little dog with a superiority complex.

Coming Soon: What happened Sunday???

I've seen worse, right?

First little thing before I break into an angry rant:

The worst aspect of being deaf is the paranoia at work. I am constantly watching conversations go on in other people's offices where I cannot read lips and cannot hear the conversation. I wonder if they're talking about me. What would they be saying? Are they plotting my resignation? It's really terrible and stresses me out like you wouldn't believe.


Okay.

So this morning isn't shaping up so great. I was exhausted going to bed last night so I was sure to turn my alarm up to "loud." Well, that didn't help, because I overslept. Actually, we all overslept. We were racing to get out the door this morning, and as we were getting situated in the Jeep, I looked at Dave's travel mug and asked, "Where's your lid?"

"It's right there?"
"Where? There's no lid."
"There isn't?"

He tipped the mug to the side and forward and observed that, right as rain, his mug really didn't have a lid on it. This observation was followed by maniacal, hysterical laughs, and he then demanded my house keys so he could go back inside and grab the lid he was so certain that already covered his coffee.

Off we went, and sure enough, at the end of our block we hit the crowded channels of traffic one would normally expect later in the morning. A few choice expletives later and we were back on track. Dave swiftly dropped me at the train station and I got my iPod on, like I always do, and put myself on autopilot. Well, so much for that when I discovered that the escalator to the platform was broken, again. I had to wait and miss my train for the elevator (that's right, only ONE elevator) to come back up. I snatched a tabloid, caught the next train and snaked a seat (usually never happens, so I thought my luck was changing).

Read, read, read... And it's my stop. I exit the train car and hustle across the tracks. Now, the freedom of my morning ends when I have to take my iPod off and actually communicate with my coworkers. If it were up to me, I'd ignore them and listen to music all day if I could. I can't. That sucks. I try to savor those last few moments before I have to sit down and my desk and face the void. I walked very slowly to the building, shuffled through the lobby, and trudged up the stairs while listening to the Garden State soundtrack. Really, it was as close to bliss as I'll probably get today.

Then, I reached the fourth floor, impending doom... I put my satchel at rest on my desktop and began to unpack my lunch when I noticed an oily spot on my calendar. My lunch had leaked through it's protective sheath (plastic grocer's bag)! So I set it down on my desk (!!!) and it leaked onto my iPod headphones and a few papers (!!!). So, I wiped my calendar and desk down with a Kleenex, stuffed my lunch into the refrigerator and went back to my desk to take off my own protective sheath (H&M pea-colored wool coat) when I noticed that one of my earrings was missing! (nuclear breakdown!!!)

Now, I'm really trying to keep from getting too involved with my coworkers. A little while ago I noticed that I was really cluing them in way too much about my personal life. I was talking about me too much and asking too few questins about others; a sure sign of a self-involved bitch. I don't want to be that person, so I figured if I wasn't going to ask questions about others, then I was just going to shut up.

Let's see how long I go before I unload this sorry story of how incredibly crappy my morning has been.

P.S. The earring I lost was a Christmas gift from my brother and his wife!!! :( I suck!

100% Wool

I started knitting a hat on Tuesday from the most gorgeous variegated chunky wool by Crystal Palace Yarns. I'm really self conscious about it, so I won't post pictures until I'm a ways into it. I haven't knitted with wool in a while, staying with novelty yarns that hide mistakes, but now, I'm ready to take the leap.

After this hat, I plan to knit some gauntlet fingerless mittens and then another hat, and then another hat...

I got plenty of yarn for christmas, including a gift card to Joann's, but I have yet to find a good LYS (knitter-speak for Local Yarn Store). If anyone out there knows a particularly good one in the White Rock Lake area, please turn me on to it!

Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics

Just took a gander at my blog stats. Pit-e-full. I wrote 143 blogs in 2005 (June - December) and less than half that in the full duration of 2006 (70). My record for 2007 isn't looking so swell either, with only 3 blogs so far and the month is coming to a close!

So, I think that I should probably get to work a little early to blog in the morning. Mostly just to get my brained warmed up so I can edit a little sharper and make better picks for our pages. You know, writing takes up about 20 percent of your active brain, whereas most tasks usually take less than 5!

This morning on the train I was listening to "If it was you" by Tegan & Sara. The whole album is such a mixed bag. When I'm actively listening to music, be it on the train, bus or while I'm ignoring Dave, I like to put my iPod on shuffle and hit the advance button until something clicks, and there I'll stay until it's time to shuffle and click, shuffle and click. Shuffle. Click.

But I decided to listen to the album most of the way through, resisting the urge to skip to the next track. Best. Decision. Ever. The way the album is laid out, you've got a flowing mixture of up-tempo, acoustic/lyrical, ballad-type songs that all mingle and mix incredibly well. And, if you've ever sampled the Canadian twins that harmonize like sitar and flute, well, you're missing out.

I got off the train today, sipping my coffee and enjoying the brisk, chilly wind against my cheek as the conductor crossed the intersection and waved, and I departed toward my downtown desk with a smile. It's amazing what difference a good soundtrack will have on a usually lackluster commute.

Addendum

I looked at the previous post and there was nary a photo of Fitzy. Pity that!

Didja miss me?

It's been hectic around here, still recovering from Christmas, still longing for my family that I haven't seen since Thanksgiving... It's rough being popular.

Everyone is doing well at the House of England.

The cats, realizing their lifelong dream of real estate ownership, have aquired a condo together:


Dave, realizing that Italy is only a plate of pasta away, has over indugled:


Knowing that it just isn't New Years Day without Hop 'n John and cabbage, have cooked up plenty of good luck and money:



My photogenic sister has visited, knowing full well that I am addicted to black and white film, good vodka and relaxing weekends with my camera:



Mr. Orange, emminent tabby of the block that he is, frequently enjoyed his newly acquired digs with a decent view of the front yard, that is frequently less-than-decent looking:



And I have, and will continue to drink San Francisco beer although I am far from the Bay area, which is quite disconcerting, considering those bastards over there ripped my heart out and buried it there (San Francisco, that is):



OH!!! And Heavens! How could I forget!? We made pizza from scratch!

My fridge is full, yo.

I didn't feel the post-Christmas letdown like most everyone else. Why? Because the day after is my birthday, fool! God! How on earth could you forget???

Well, those who didn't forget made it one of the nicest birthdays I've had (even though I didn't get any knitting needles or yarn). Dave drove me to work and dropped me off with a kiss, and throughout the day my siblings called to wish me a good 24th birthday. Sweet!

At lunch, Dave made his way upstairs to my office with a bunch of pink Gerbera daisies! They're so sweet! (They're what keeps me cheery in this bleak oak-paneled hell.) We then went out to lunch at Landry's Seafood restaurant, which was nice, too. What I really enjoyed was the walk to and from lunch. We strolled, partly with my camera out, down to the West End (the really super touristy part of downtown that has since become decrepit but still houses the Sixth Floor Museum from which you can gaze the line of sight that Lee Harvey Oswald used to shoot JFK). We talked and laughed -- I hadn't felt so happy in a long time. It was incredible.

When we got to the restaurant I felt so relaxed, it was nice to have an intimate lunch all to ourselves, with me not worrying about getting back to the office on time. We used to do this a lot when Dave was working in a retail outlet and had Wednesday off, but now he works straight 8-to-4 at the corporate headquarters and our lunches are but a memory.

I hated to leave him at the parking area, but I trudged upstairs and returned to the grind.

That evening we went to dinner with his parents, after which a big fat Italian guy sang some Italian version of "Happy Birthday" and embarassed me so terribly that I buried my face in Dave's jacket. For dessert I had chocolate mousse with a vanilla ribbon. It was terrific.

Rewind to Christmas Eve, well, that was an experience. It was my first away from the "Jemison Clan." My first Christmas as an England. We had a very non-traditional dinner at my in-laws on Christmas Eve and opened each others gifts. I had knitted my mother-in-law a scarf and framed a photo of Dave and I at Lombard St. in San Francisco. We also gave her a box of sweet-smelling potpurri and the most awesome scented candle you could imagine. It was "Mexican Pumpkin" and good enough to eat.

On Christmas Day, well, it was my turn to pay it all back. I cooked a stuffed loin of pork with a spinach gratin, wild mushroom risotto and fingerling potatoes. This being not just any dinner, I made it all full-flavor, full-fat. That's right, I used real butter, fresh ingredients and prime pork loin, lightly trimmed. Everything was delicious, and it was incredible having my mother-in-law in the kitchen helping with the meal. By the time we were done, she had been washing the dishes as I dirtied them, leaving nary a one in the sink while we served dinner. That was such an incredible help. She can help in my kitchen any day!

Ahh... just thinking about all those wonderful leftovers has gotten me hungry!

Party pooped

I busted my hump to take Friday off. I dropped Dave off at work, came home and woke myself with coffee and the newspaper. I often heard of people that enjoyed this custom, never really experiencing it myself. I think retirees are the ones that sit down at the breakfast nook with ink-stained fingers, warm coffee and contentment.

I decided to go to lunch with Dave, but he was able to take the rest of the day off. We strolled over to a German deli next to the bookstore and took in some ham, potato soup and sauerkraut. With the day in front of us like a veritable buffett of holiday shopping and potential bankruptcy, we hopped in good ol' Gertie (Dave's Jeep Wrangler) and set out for the DVD store, World Market and later, the gym.

Flagged only by our waning bank cards, which were begging to be left at peace in our wallets, we headed home to put up our booty. We picked up a couple of bottles of vino, one bottle of Brut, and settled in for the night. (I think that's what happened. It's Thursday already and I can't remember exact details that far back.)

Saturday, we knew was going to be a little trying. We had two appearances to make, one of them being the over-priced and underwhelming annual dinner with a few of our friends (Dave's friends mostly. I'm the youngest member of this group, which is mostly comprised of old college friends, their glistening and gilded wives and a few hold-outs with no immediate plans for wedded "bliss," ie. the symptomatically single friends.)

I decided to go do a little yarn shopping while Dave took Fitzgerald out on a run. I had to get a few skeins for last-minute Christmas crafts. When I got back, we showered and agonized on what we would wear to dinner and the cocktail party later. I settled a slim-fitting, black, 3/4 sleeved wrap dress with fishnets and stilettos garnished with a long tied string of faux pearls and a gauntlet of pear bracelets wrapping my wrist.

We arrived at dinner, fashionably late, and hobbled down a spiral staircase to a private dinner in the wine cellar of a North Dallas bistro. The wine was dated and over-priced, as were the dishes. The bruschetta was remarkably fresh and well done, as was the courgettes and calamari, the small zucchini was sliced thin and fried in an airy tempura along with the calamari, which was the most perfect texture. Everything else, including the shrimp cocktail and the bottle of bubbly, was less than optimal. I'd venture to call it staid.

We drove to the next party, a heavy languor from the previous one still riffing, and we hastily grabbed glasses of a fresh, fruity Pinot Grigio as I headed to the back to shoot pool with complete strangers. I had to kick off the stillettos as the room that kept the poot table was carpeted with a thick pile, and if I had sashayed around the table as I normally do in ice-pick, 4-inch heels, the scene would be embarassing to say the least. We left the party, our night salvaged along with some espresso and chocolate truffles.

I was totally unprepared for Sunday's party. It was a lunch-time office get-together and I was completely wrecked from the night before. After an entire pot of coffee and the Sunday paper, I knew I would make it after a shower and a brief nap.

The party was office-y. The gifts were deeeee-lightful. Homemade pate and cranberry orange conserve. Hosts after my own heart!

Monday and Tuesday are still a haze. I changed my name legally and went car shopping. Still looking to get a VW Jetta, but I'm not sure if we can afford it. We'll try, though.

Anyway. There's the update. I hope to blog again soon with pictures of Christmas glee!

Newest member of an exclusive club

On Sunday, as we unloaded our belongings from the trunk of Cody's car in the misty morning drizzle, I noticed that we had a new member of our family hugging the curb.

We are now members of a very exclusive club in Dallas: Owners of a Big Blue Recycling Recepticals, courtesy of the city of Dallas!

Dallas is new to the idea of recycling. When we moved to the Lakewood area, we were astounded by the lack of recycling recepticals in the community. We used to drop our glass, paper, aluminum and plastic off at a nearby church, but for some reason, they discontinued their recycling program.

After that, Dave had to haul our recycling to work, because at Half-Priced Books they had enormous recycling bins where we could unload two weeks worth of junk. Now, we will journey no further than the end of our driveway with our recycleables! Dallas now has single-stream recycling. Just toss all your recycleables into one can and they sort it all themselves!

YAY!!!

Open Bar Matrimony

Friday night we slipped out to go get a wedding gift for Mark and Nichole, two crazy kids that were to get hitched the next day. Thank goodness they had a few things left on their registry.

We usually go out on Friday nights, and I was craving sushi. Too bad, though, because every restaurant we considered going to was packed. After we stopped at Whole Earth Provision Co., we considered going to Rockfish, but we bet the wait was going to be heinous. Then we hatched a plan: We'd drop the packages off at the house, and then we'd get a table at our neighborhood Mexican seafood restaurant, La Calle Doce.

I figured, what the hell, seafood is seafood.

When we got there, the tiny lobby was packed. There was a 30 min. wait. That was the third strike -- we had to get dinner, and we had to get it fast. Lo and behold, there was a beacon of hope -- a seedy looking cafe with a neon sign professing "Bangkok Inn - Authentic Thai."

Me, I'm a culinary wuss when it comes to adding a little heat to anything, and all of the Thai food I've had in the past was over seasoned. "If it's too hot, I can't eat it," I told Dave. He said we could ask them if we can get any chili or peppers on the side. So, in the cold and wet evening, we trotted across the street.

When the door openend just a crack, we heard jangling bells that announced our presence to a short, thin Asian woman with stylish glasses and Texas-style hair. Dave asked her quietly if the food here was very spicy, and from her tiny frame she guffawed, "Thai food is not spicy when good! Come sit and try!"

She ushered us into a table for two bathed in a faint red neon glow. We ordered jasmine tea and tofu satay. Dave ordered the shrimp and chicken pad thai and I ordered the peanut chicken. I'm sure their satay is great, but ours didn't arrive, but our orders came out very quick.

The rice was perfectly steamed. The peanut sauce was sweet and tangy, had plenty of savory spices, and went well with the chicken and crisp vegetables. The pad thai though, it just wasn't as flavorful as I expected. It tasted kind of off, a little too fishy for only having shrimp in it. The rice noodles were done well, but it was like everything else took on this crazy fish taste. I stuck with the peanut chicken.

Alcohol wasn't served, it was strictly BYOB. It was obviously a family operation. The father was in the kitchen, the son and daughter took orders and bussed tables while the mother managed the cash register and picked up drinks. Stray Asian art clung to the greasy wood-paneled walls, just above the threadbare carpet. It was definately one of those "authentic" experiences.

We went home and collapsed. We woke up late on Saturday, had breakfast, went on a run with Fitzgerald, showered, packed and then Cody showed up at about 3:30. The wedding was at 4:30 at the Perkins Chapel on campus at SMU. I had never been on campus there. It was neat.

Anywho.

The chapel, with it's classy, faintly gilded mouldings, grand pillars with great curves and golden recessed cross just above the altar, was probably one of the most sedated yet elegant churches I've been in. There was no stained glass, no icons; it was very small and utilitarian.

We got there just in time to watch the procession. The bride and groom are really sweet people, but a few of the bridesmaids looked like they were wearing teal-colored sausage casings. Ushers and groomsmen were clad in black, the flowers, the outfits, everything was modest in an attempt at elegance. It worked.

We then hit it on the head to the reception. That's where things got impressive. There was a DJ, two buffetts, two bars and a champagne cocktail bar. Big gripe: Way too much Sinatra. The people seemed nice and accomadating, the drinks were generous and the salad and vegetables were very fresh, but the chicken looked like it had been sitting in the oven all day -- dry and shriveled, caked in breadcrumbs. It was all wrong.

All was forgiven after a few trips to the champagne bar. What an awesome idea!

We had to cut out early to Denton for a concert. We got to Caffery's, changed and went to Rubber Glove's to watch The Drams and Centro-matic. I caught up with Caffery during most of the show.

If you followed this narrow staircase up the the second level, you were in the midst of such a awkward, secret-seeming room. The walls were bordered with a few old arcade games and odd-and-end chairs. The back was cornered with a broken-in black leather sofa. That was our domain. It was the only bar I'd ever been in with a book by Jimmy Carter sitting out on one of the tables. Oddly enough, most bars I go to don't have books anywhere. Ever.

We went downstairs a couple of times for a drink and I noticed a chick wearing this fuzzy, knee-length coat. I brushed my hand along it and asked if it was real fur, "Of course it is," she haughtily shot back. All I could say, while keeping my hand from accidentally smacking her across the face was, "I'm so sorry." She wanted to say something to me, but I merged with the crowd hovering about the bar and placed my order.

It was like the summer I first moved to Dallas, me and Caffery at the bar, she with a Coors Light, me with a Lone Star, everyone else so self-absorbed that nothing else, not my Lone Star and not Caffery and not my existence, none of that mattered.

We all crashed at Caffery's that night, we woke on Sunday and made it back to Dallas in the drizzle that covered the near-noon sky. It was impossible to imagine that there were people running a marathon in downtown Dallas right at that moment.

We stopped by the house and dropped off our belongings and headed over to the Garden Cafe for omlettes and coffee. Then, it was off to the gym... Then it was all over. My weekend, as Dave would say, was murdered.

Proofs...

Even after a good show, there's nothing that stings quite like seeing your favorite band and not hearing your favorite song. No matter how hard they rocked, or how much you lived the music, it still kinda hurts to be a loyal fan and not have the one memory of that one song belted out live and loud so you can sing with them, at the top of your lungs.

If anyone out there was at the Friday Mates of State show, I was the moron screaming "PROOFS!" after every song, hoping that they'd play it. Silly me. I did get a bitchin' shirt.

We were out kinda late at the Sons, so I didn't go to yoga class Saturday morning, but we did go shopping LIKE CRAZY! We got a new stainless steel step trash can for the kitchen, that came with a little baby one just like it that I've put in the bedroom! (Yes, I am clearly excited about the new waste receptacle). And, I got a new hard drive for Agnes, my computer, 250 GB IDE drive. We'll see if I can actually get it to work as a slave. *FINGERS CROSSED*!!!

I got a new necklace, it's a gold pendant with a cutout of a lotus flower. If Dave really loves me, he'll get me one of these for Christmas or my birthday.

You know, I had a ton of things I wanted to blog this weekend. Lots of intriguingly philosophical tidbits. Just like me, though, to forget them and go on with this completely vapid, humorless post.

Enjoy?

"WINTRY MIX 06"

Today is a "snow" day, if you can call it that. There was a fairly annoying drizzle and temperatures have dipped to 29 degrees. Flurries and ice have been reported. Sounds pretty lame, but people actually stayed home to avoid driving in the weather. Heck, if I drove to work, I just might have worked from home (if I could) only because North Texans are generally terrified of driving in icy conditions. Sprinkle a few hyper-paranoid soccer moms with SUVs in winter weather driving conditions, and well, you've got a bona fide crisis on your hands.

Sitting in my cubicle, though, I am envious. I'm surrounded by dark, empty offices. Several couch jockeys scoff at my oak-paneled hell here in downtown Dallas. While they are snuggled up with their pets, tea and slippers, I brave the wind, the sleet and the "snow" in heels and a parka to get the next edition out...

... bastards.

And doggie makes three!

Dave, Fitzy and I headed down to Houston this weekend. Thank God Dave's dad let us borrow his Passat, which has made me change my mind about buying a Toyota. Volkswagens are just so nifty. And cute, too!

It was fun to be with the Jemison Clan this long weekend. Everyone was in town, except Aron, who couldn't make it because he was in the middle of an out-of-state job.

We cooked we ate and we enjoyed one another. I honestly don't think there was any major conflict during the weekend between any of us, which is a feat in itself.

I visited Kara in her new apartment and Phillip and Meggo in their new house. My brother and sister-in-law and my newly minted hubby watched Shogun Assassin. Really, it was awesome. The most campy Kung Fu movie ever! It was a real blast to watch, considering the large amounts of orangey-red blood in every scene and the half-assed special effects! A real must-see!!!

On Saturday I went yarn shopping with my mother. Honestly, that was the most fun I had all weekend, excluding going on a motorcycle ride with my dad! If I have time later this week, I'll post pictures, but even though I don't have a vacation coming around for a while, this past four-day excursion will do well to hold me over!

Tossed, turned, battered and fried...

I felt like a half-eaten chicken fried steak Thursday morning: tossed, turned, battered and fried, then left in the fridge for later. It was the second in what I fear will become a succession of nights in which sleep is won in an epic battle between man and beast and man.

Fitzgerald insists on sleeping in our bed. I'm okay with that, except that he insists on sleeping right in between me and Dave, which makes our roomy Queen-sized bed seem like an Army cot. And I can't just usher him to the foot of the bed ... I feel like that would be mean, and I intend to spoil him rotten. So I roll over and over to get comfortable without disturbing the dog and without falling off of the bed. It's like mattress olympics, but not sexy.

My mother called last night and asked me what I thought about Donald Rumsfeld's resignation. I really was kind of taken that my mother asked in the first place, so assuming that she really wanted to know, I went off in my analysis of current events leading up to Rummy's pink slip and what his permanent vacation might mean for the Bush administration and our troops in Iraq.

When I was done she said, "Well ... Okay. Let me tell you what my friend is doing. She's working for this Presbyterian church and they've brought in this fundraiser ... "

I should have known. She was just being nice!

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Thursday night we watched Woody Allen's Match Point. Honestly, how did this flick garner so much critical acclaim? It was so slow, and predictable, notably due to the fact that the plot was the premise of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I have to say that the book was boring, even torturous, when I was forced to read it in high school. Honestly, it might have been worse, because we were obliged to fast-forward through some parts.

That was one wasted Netflix rental. I gotta check the queue to make sure that we don't have any more flops in line.

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We're due for car shopping soon. I think that once my payroll situation is straightened out, I'll get one of those Nissan Versas, or maybe a Toyota Yaris. Not sure. I was once dead set on getting a Scion xB, but I'm not so sure now. I really wanted to get a Prius, but I don't think that selling the Jeep is in the cards right now. We're having a lot of difficulty being a one-car household with all of the things we're involved in. Maybe once we're ready to buy another car, and we sell the Jeep, we'll get a hybrid. Looks like for now though, I gotta give up the dream of having a Prius.

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Feels good to blog again, folks. Feels good to be back.

Toofless

Everything was nuts on Thursday morning, as I was making preparations in the office to be out that afternoon and Friday to have my wisdom teeth removed. During my consult with the oral surgeon on Tuesday, he said that instead of four wisdom teeth, I only had two, indicating that I am indeed the pinnacle of evolution, as our genes fail to produce the two bottom, more superfluous teeth.

Dave retrieved me after the surgery, and it was the weirdest sensation ever having your entire mouth deadened. We picked up my prescription for vicodin and antibiotics and some coffee-flavored ice cream, and I proceeded to rock my new faux-fur-trimmed slippers all weekend.

That evening, Vicki came by to drop off some chicken potato soup and some magazines. I tell ya, those womans' magazines are so interesting when you're locked in a drug-induced haze. I read through Woman's Day and Family Circle during the incredibly embarrassing Maverick's game. Marcus had come by to join us, and while leafing through the recipes, I managed to get a few shots of the boys.









Fitzgerald now has quite the wardrobe. He has a tee shirt, a cable-knit sweater and a collared tee shirt. All he needs is a pair of boots and he's fully dressed! However, we did somehow manage to loose his collar. How pitiful!

Yesterday, I baked. I made my first two successful loaves of bread! I'm not talking you're banana-nut confections, or my zucchini bread, but real, honest to goodness sandwich bread! It's soooo good!



I also made one regular sized loaf of buttercup squash bread and three mini loaves for folks at work.

I can't wait to make more bread!!! YAY!!!

Mr. Burns or John Waters?

Usually I don't post about what goes on between 9 and 5, or if you want to get particular, what goes on between 8:15 and whenever the dude with the whip lets me go home. But, in this case, I can't hold it in. In the impending but nonspecific future, Secretary of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff (JERK-off) will be visiting. If you're less than familiar with Mr. Chertoff, lemme stir your drink: He's the anorexic, anemic looking fellow that is at the top of the chain of command in the only federal department that is more commonly referred to as a debacle. What's he responsible for? Oh, just our lovely TSA, those rat bastards that hold you hostage in the airport; the Hurricane Katrina aftermath and our less-than-secure ports that we were going to sell to a foreign country.

I know what you're thinking: "Oh, that asshole... How'd he get that job?" Lest ye not forget Brownie, who's doing a "Heckuva job."

Oh, and here's a good one: Bush is campaigning for Republicans in Texas! HA! Love it.

Anywho, I got woefully off track. The object of this post is to make fun of Secretary Jerk -- I mean Chertoff, Secretary Chertoff. Below, you'll see a few side-by-side shots. Tell me folks, who does Chertoff look more like: Mr. Burns or film freak John Waters?






It's really tough to decide. Chertoff, like Burns, puts the 'D' in diabolical. But The likeness to Waters is astounding. Separated at birth, maybe?

The screen is winning

Okay, so, I've been in front of a computer screen all day and trust me, it's the last thinkg I want to do when I get home, but I thought I'd give you kind readers a little micro-update. Since I've been gone I have:

Had a wedding shower and a wedding

Gone to and come back from San Francisco

Been stuck in front of a computer at work for 50 hours

And become the proud owner of a video iPod. :)

Tomorrow morning Fitzgerald and the cats will go to the veterinarian. Good luck to them all!

Until I dig myself out of my heaving pile of muck, what you see is what you get.