Jones

It's supposed to be a common surname. So much so that we have a phrase about it -- keeping with them. But this post is about a much more common name -- The Smiths.

Nowadays I listen to The Smiths in private. Music has always had a great deal of associations for me. It's what makes it easy for me to assign a specific song as a ringtone for a particular person. I hear a song and am instantly reminded of a specific person or place.

I fell in love with The Smiths the shortly after buying a copy of "Meat Is Murder" back in 1985. But it was a few years later in life that the band became permanently enmeshed in my emotional life.

By 1986 I was well on my way to showing folks what an emotional wreck I was. And The Smiths released their album "The Queen Is Dead."

In 1987 I started dating the guy my friends eventually called The Roach. He wormed his way into my heart when I was at my absolute lowest. He made a lot of promises and broke my heart. And then I took him back many months later just so that he could do it again. We repeated this whole process over a course of two years. I guess on his side I was his goddess with clay feet since he had observed me for many months before we even started dating and as a result he had this image in his mind as to who I was. I don't think that I ever lived up to this image.

But back to The Smiths. This guy was also the bassist with a popular party band around town. They did covers and one of the two songs he sang lead on was this one. And still to this day, I cannot hear this song without picturing him. So I usually don't listen to it.


Around this same time, I had this alleged friend with whom I would catch a ride between the Bay Area and San Diego. Our soundtrack for the drive would be The Communards and The Smiths. But this song just had so much meaning as you're cruising 5 with your "friend."

Oh, and the reason why she ended up not being a friend? The reason why I lost several female friends in college and grad school days -- they were using me for my social connections. As a result of those years, I have an easier time becoming friends with men that women. Well that and the lovely relationship I have with my mother. And girls are a rarity on my father's side of the family; they treat me as a hybrid of princess and tomboy. I'm much more guarded with women than I am with men. So if you're one of those women with whom I've dropped my guard, consider yourself lucky. Then again maybe it's part of an ugly cycle. I feel more comfortable hanging out with guys.


But at least I have one song that isn't about any of them. And this is the one I play most often.

Ms. Monk

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.