Your Brain is 80% Female, 20% Male
Your brain leans female
You think with your heart, not your head
Sweet and considerate, you are a giver
But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!
Your Brain is 80% Female, 20% Male
Your brain leans female
You think with your heart, not your head
Sweet and considerate, you are a giver
But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!
And yes, this is coming from a woman who rarely watches sports. But I have a dad who is a sports junkie. I've also sat next to the man at a blackjack table. He understands odds very well.
So I just finished reviewing the results of tonight's NCAA championship games. Nat, that would be American college basketball. The rest of y'all? March Madness.
Before the whole thing started, I submitted my bracket based upon my father's recommendations. Seriously. Five minutes or so on the phone with my dad and then I laid my money down. And going into this round, I was in first place in the office. That's right. The chick who doesn't watch basketball was in first. But I understand the game. And I understand statistics. And I grew up around a bunch of guys (my dad's family) who treated me as their intellectual equal in just about everything and they still do. Sure. I may not have firsthand knowledge of the topic but they have always believed that I had the ability to understand. Even if they feel the need to sit on the front porch to ward off potential suitors who just may see a pretty face. These guys, just like my mom, taught me that pretty gets you in the door; it's the rest of what you have to offer that allows you to stay. (And on a tangent, the older I get, the less makeup I wear. Some friends have said that I am pretty enough to pull this off. But that's not my point of origin. For me, it's all about, "This is who I am. Accept it.")
My mom will tell you that this is why I am still single. She will tell me that I am just like my aunt -- waiting for a man who well measure up to the men in my family. Because they are good-looking, intelligent men. Who know that I can dish it out just as fast as they do. But whom I also know will always have my back. Because even though they may occasionally try to tell you otherwise, they do think of me as a princess in need of their protection in their minds. And the guys with whom I work? It's just like being around family. Huh. I just realized that every one of the guys at work is either exactly like one of the men in my family personality-wise or the amalgam of two family members.
But yeah. Dad made only one mistake today. He chose Memphis over Missouri. And now I just might be fucked. Because I had Memphis in the final two. *sigh* It's a good thing that the idea in the office is that the winner buy pizza and/or drinks for everyone else. But no more pomegranate margaritas for me. Unless it's a Friday night.
Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am a reality TV addict.
A few weeks ago, my lovely aunt in Savannah started describing a new upcoming reality show to me. And all I could think was, "Damn. We're ripping off the British once more." You see, the show she described was eerily close to "Last Restaurant Standing."
When I moved into this apartment four years ago, for the first time in almost ten years I had the chance to have cable TV once more. And I was picky. I said, "I need the lowest cost package you have that includes BBC America. And IFC." I had cable for a couple of hours when I called the folks back and said that I would need DVR as well. I got it the same day as well. Before getting cable this time around, I thought that I was a TV junkie. I was gravely mistaken.
But back to the main topic. I love me some tangents since I discovered the term "stream of consciousness" in high school. Thank you, Mr. Faulkner. OK. So I was always this way but now I had a name for it. And Mr. Faulkner made me believe that perhaps it was a Southern trait. Yeah, I know that Joyce did it first. Bug a lot of Southerners? Descendants of Erin.
Where was I? Oh yeah. Some cooking competition in England. This time around the commercials for the show almost made me spew whatever I was drinking at the time. There's some comment in the commercial about how the contestants cannot understand anything that Raymond Blanc says. My question is that if this the case, then why aren't there some friggin' subtitles? Ya know. Like Guy Ritchie was kind enough to provide in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Yes, I know that was a completely different accent.
And of course I like to compare Raymond with Gordon Ramsey. Because yeah, I watch "Hell's Kitchen" as well. I love Gordon because he is one of the few people on this planet who perhaps has a bigger pottymouth than I do. And folks, that is hell of impressive. Ask the guys at work. I drop f-bombs several times a day although I'm more known for my colorful hand gestures.
So if you're a "Top Chef" fan and you have BBC America, I say check this show out. It comes on Tuesday nights. I know the season is winding down but it takes them two weeks to eliminate a team. I kind of like that idea. Fuck up one week and you still have one more week to prove why you should stick around.
And now I'm going to return to couch and question why I thought drinking a bunch of pomegranate margaritas on a Monday night was a good idea. (2 pitchers, 4 women.) No, I did not consume them at home. I was out with coworkers. Sheesh. But y'all should have seen the expression on the president of the company's face when he took a taste from the second one. And then we ladies all proclaimed, "Oh, this one has a lot more juice in it." But we were all at work on time today. Even if there was a lot of rehydrating involved. And cravings of greasy, high in carbs foods.
Yesterday I did indeed return to Seabreeze for more crab. This time around I also picked up dessert -- a yummy pineapple coconut cake. (Yes, there was red velvet available as well but that's rarely my first choice.) Per usual, I read the label to see who had made this slice of yumminess -- Cassandra's Wedding Cakes in Richmond. And that got me thinking.
I rarely purchase desserts. Some of my favorites though are the lovely creations from the folks at Rubicon. And when I buy a Rubicon product, I also have the satisfaction that I am doing something socially positive as well. And I guess after this weekend's events, I find myself thinking even more about doing things that have a positive social impact. Because it seems like whenever the East Bay makes the national news it's because someone has been killed.
My nerves have been on edge as of late. And so I found myself dropping my car off on Saturday morning to get it serviced -- finally. Tune-up, timing belt replacement and something else. I took a deep breath when they gave me the estimate and told them to proceed. I then took a seat in the waiting area waiting for a shuttle ride home. Seems that they forgot about me though. I was there for an hour and that shuttle is supposed to run once every half hour. Just as well. My phone rang. It was the service rep. Seems that one of those things that keeps your engine from moving around was broken. Probably was broken in the first accident in January. The good folks of Honda could repair it for an additional $200. I called my insurance company. They want an adjuster to look at it before the repair is made. That will be on Monday. So yes, once more I am in a rental car.
Another half hour of waiting around at the dealership. Did I mention that I was half asleep when I arrived there? My original plan was that I would return home, get a little food, and then take a nap. But no. And have you ever tried to get a rental car on a Saturday? Not much selection. I ended up with the smallest thing they had at the time -- a Pontiac Vibe. That thing feels like a boat compared to my Civic. But it was better than the minivan. I was also thrilled by the fact that once more I'd have to shell out some money for a rental car because my insurance does not cover the full amount. Let's not mention the car I turned in last week -- that I actually kind of liked. I'm still waiting for reimbursement for the rental in January. And then I went to drive off and the friggin steering wheel was in my lap -- literally. And I couldn't figure out to adjust it. May have something to do with food and sleep deprivation. Oh yeah, and the pain in my left shoulder had returned full force. Because part of my plan upon returning home was to take some more pills. (And I did call the doctor about it. They said maybe it was time for an MRI.)
Finally I got out of there and got the boat back to my neighborhood. And that's when I lost it. I had to park this thing on the street in my neighborhood. And that's when I hit full meltdown. There was lots of crying and screaming with my insurance company while I sat double-parked waiting for a space to open up. Hopefully we have reached an understanding by now. All I know is that it looks like I won't be seeing my own car until middle of this week at the earliest.
Thankfully I had made a couple of stops on my way home -- BevMo, Office Depot for boxes... But the really important stop was to Seabreeze. (Thank you, Zoomie, for the reminder.) I started with the fried calamari. And some clam chowder.
Then it was onto the main attraction -- garlic crab. It seemed like a no-brainer. I was supposed to have been going to a crab feed last night but I found out Friday night that that would not be happening. After I had been dreaming of crab all week.
And so I felt a little better.
You Are City
You prefer big lights and big dreams over the slow paced life of the country.
You crave excitement, and the city has many opportunities for you.
While you appreciate the peace and quiet of the country, it's a little too quiet.
You need lots people, culture, and action to feel truly alive.
Today I got all kinds of wild and crazy for lunch and finally headed over to Wing Stop to give them a try. I've been curious about this place for a number of months. I mean they offer a flavor called "Atomic."
I don't know if that's the right word but I did think they were hot. Didn't stop me from eating them though. Of course, I did split my order -- half Atomic, half Original Hot. The Atomic left my lips tingling for at least a good 20 minutes. Good stuff.
After dining, I called my dad. He had not heard of the place but apparently there is one in his neighborhood. He's hoping to try them out this weekend.
And now I must go back to see how things are going in the first round of the NCAA tournament. Since right now I'm tied for the lead in the office pool. And no, I did not make my picks. My dad told me who to pick when I called him earlier this week. The guys at work say that I have to buy them drinks if I win.
First of all, a reminder. The creativity will start flowing again once I move. Which should hopefully be in about a month or so if everything continues to go as it has. In the meantime, I've been spending a lot of time on Facebook catching up with old friends and some new ones as well.
Last weekend hanging out with high school friends I was reminded of one thing -- you can take the girl out of Richmond but you can't take Richmond out of the girl. They may be closing my high school. Many from my class think it's a good thing. According to my friends, we were one of the last classes to graduate from the place while it was still decent. And then there's that prison thing. Every time I've taken someone past the place, they say the same thing. "That was your high school? It looks like a prison." I pointed out Saturday night that not only did we get a fine academic education but we also got an education in some survival skills.
I wasn't born in Richmond. Heck. We didn't even move there until I was three. (Prior to that we lived in Berkeley and Bend.) Since most of my childhood was spent there though, I have always considered it to be my hometown. And for this reason, I joined the Facebook group devoted to my city. And then I found this gem. That's right. A blog devoted to my city. OK. So maybe y'all are not as excited about it as I am. Unfortunately when the semester ended, it seems these two students stopped writing.
Years ago I was constantly asked why I didn't have a MySpace page. (Yeah, I'm feeling nice tonight.) It was quite simple. I was teaching and most of my students had pages. While I was pretty honest with my students -- because that's just who I am -- I also felt that there were parts of my personal life that did not need to be known to them.
And so last night the inevitable occurred. I received a friend request on Facebook from a former student. I know that it was not due to a name search because I have a frightfully common name. She located me by my email address.
Several of my former students know my email address because they would send me assignments that way. Many had computers with no printers. As a result over the years, I have received the random emails where they let me know what is going on in their lives. And I really like getting these updates.
I'm just not sure if I'm ready to be friends with my former students on Facebook at this time. Sure I'm friends with one of my teachers. But I graduated from high school 25 years ago. This young woman just graduated a year ago. And being friends on Facebook is so much different than when I went back to visit my old English teacher during my freshman and sophomore years of college. Like I didn't know that she had run a random name generator to come up with her stripper name. Then again, my students did know that I like to party -- within limits. As in no partying on a school night. OK. There was that one slip up. But I was at work on time. Albeit a bit dressier than I normally would have been...
My solution was to send her a message. And tonight she responded. She's graduated and is still attending school. Hey. This is a big thing for that neighborhood. So for now, I think I'll leave things at the corresponding level. Because I really want to know what she's doing. And I also want to be her sounding board in the future if she finds that she needs one.
And all of this has made me remember that my first group of students will be graduating from high school this year. I showed up for their eighth grade promotion. Hmmmmm. I'm thinking that I may have to wrangle some tickets for various high school promotions in a few months.
So I still haven't gotten the eyebrows done. But so many photos of me were taken this past weekend that I figured that I could probably find one I could kind of live with. And of course the one I liked the best was taken by my official photographer at her birthday party. I unfortunately had to leave the party early to head to another one that I helped to plan for folks who went to my high school. Where I got to see my ex. I showed Emerald a photo of him tonight. She looked at me and yelled, "I thought you said he had gained a little weight?" OK. So maybe it was more than a little. Then she asked her husband to look at the photo. And being around a bunch of folks I haven't seen in 25 years? Not as bad as I thought it would be.
You Communicate Honestly
You don't mince words. You are to the point and all about the facts.
However, you are charming enough to tell people the truth yet still not offend them.
It's likely that you have a hilarious, no holds barred sense of humor. And you sure tell an entertaining story!
You're also quite open. People can ask you anything, and you don't shy away from controversial conversation topics.
Sunday's dinner was pretty basic -- pork chop seasoned with salt, pepper and tarragon before being pan fried, baked yam with butter and steamed broccoli. I didn't have energy to get fancy after cooking this other dish for the week.
Green Chile Pork Pozole
(From the April 2009 issue of Bon Appetit)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups chopped onions
1 cup chopped celery
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 pound pork tenderloin, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
5 cups (or more) low-salt chicken broth
2 15-ounce cans white or golden hominy, drained
12 ounces fresh tomatillos, husked, rinsed, coarsely chopped
2 7-ounce cans diced mild green chiles, drained
4 teaspoons ground cumin
4 teaspoons chile powder
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro plus additional for garnish
Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add onions, celery and garlic. Saute until soft, about 7 minutes. Sprinkle pork with salt and pepper. Add pork to pot; cook until no longer pink on outside, about 3 minutes. Add 5 cups broth and next 5 ingredients. Bring to boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer uncovered until meat is tender, broth is reduced to thick sauce, and flavors blend, stirring occasionally, about 1 hour. Thin with additional broth, if desired. Stir in 1/4 cup cilantro. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide among bowls, sprinkle with additional cilantro, and serve.
Yesterday was my day to treat myself. First I went to get a new 'do. (Perhaps there will be photos -- after the eyebrows are dealt with.) Then I headed to Gregoire's. I tried the portabello, grilled onion, and goat cheese on puff pastry tart. Oh, and the braised and seared pork shoulder with Fuji apple and honey. Both were yummy. And yes, Fluffycat, I did get the bread pudding. Haven't eaten it yet since I need to throw it in the oven. (Somehow when I got my order it had soup instead of the bread pudding. I said that I was more than happy to bake it myself at home.)
There was some other stuff that happened today that I had thought about going into but I realized that in some ways I'm still processing the guilt, pain and anger. Because basically I got called selfish/self-absorbed today because over the last few months I've had the audacity to take care of me before taking care of other people. So now I'm off to deal with it all in my usual way -- cooking.
You Are Peanut Butter Sandwiches / Do-si-dos
You are easy going and naturally happy. You don't need a lot to make you smile.
You genuinely care about people and are a great friend. You're always doing your best to make the world a better place.
Even though there isn't an immature bone in your body, you still are like a big kid sometimes.
Why make life complicated when the best parts are actually quite simple? You enjoy the small joys of life.
I told y'all there would be more food -- Shrimp and Fingerlings in Tomato Broth. It's cold and wet around here so this has been just perfect. Especially tonight.
Tonight I had the pleasure of leaving work a bit early so that I could drop off my car at the body shop -- again. This past weekend I learned that the manager of the shop is close friend's with my cousin's husband. I also learned that he and his wife live in the same complex where I'm buying my place. Turns out they actually live in the same building as my unit and had been worrying over who their new neighbor(s) would be. So now I have been declared family and am invited to the anniversary party for the shop this Saturday night.
After getting the rental car, I headed straight for Thrive since I've been in pain since last night. Huh. Last night I couldn't find the Vicodin to save my life. I looked down just now and realized that the bottle is right in front of me. And I sat at my desk last night. I guess I was out of it. I guess it doesn't matter much since I now have a new bottle of Vicodin. And one of my real fave -- Flexeril. How some folks feel about Vicodin, Xanax or Claritin? Yeah, that's how I feel about Flexeril. I wanted to do a little dance to welcome my old friend back to my medicine cabinet. (Oh, and in case you're wondering the doctor said that I have muscle injuries that are typical to the kind of car accident in which I was involved.)
So now my tummy is filled with all kinds of tomato-shrimp-potato goodness topped with a little Vicodin and Flexeril. Hopefully I can keep my eyes open for The Bad Girls Club. Because the girls are heading to Mexico this week. And I think one of them might just get arrested.
I was planning on posting about food. Then some skank caused damage to my car on my way to work this morning. She rear-ended the car behind me that then crashed into me. And the skank acted like we were inconveniencing her. Oh, and then a fourth car hit the skank after she hit us but then they quickly fled the scene. Everyone has been asking, "Didn't you just get your car repaired?" Ummm, yeah. That was January. Almost seven years of owning the car with no accidents and then I end up in two in a two month period.
In happier news, I submitted my check for the deposit toward my down payment. It's really happening.
Food will resume later this week.
I used to think that I was a pretty picky eater. Then I went to college and met folks who were much more picky -- well, at least in my opinion. The most memorable was one of my roommates from junior year. Let's call her Ms. Monk.
Why, you ask? Well, Ms. Monk had issues with food touching. Salads should consist of nothing but veggies. The idea of putting anything other than a veggie in a salad was utterly repulsive to her. Chow mein or fried rice? The ultimate in indignities because not only is the stuff touching but it's all mixed up thus making it hard to separate. She was definitely a creature of habit.
But she was also one of the coolest roommates I had in college. And there was one of her food habits that I acquired -- French fries with a little salt and lots of black pepper with mustard for dipping.
It's cold and wet here once more. So easy to forget that we're in the middle of a drought. Dreary weather equals comfort food for me. So I battered up the cod fillet in a beer batter and cooked up some fries. Then it was time for the condiments. I almost went tartar sauce and ketchup because those are my faves with fish. But then I remembered my former roommate and went with the mustard instead of the ketchup.
Oh, and I'm feeling much better. And know that there will be more food in the coming week. Sorry about the lack of quiz yesterday.