Identity

This time of year brings out a myriad of emotions for me.

As a kid I had no patience for surprises. Put a present under the tree and tell me that I must wait for several days to see what's inside? Well I'll just carefully slide under the tape to see the end of the package and then reseal it.

Reminds me of a conversation I had with my boss recently. I told him that I prefer when people are blunt. None of that trying to guess one's way though the minefield; one knows completely what one's standing is. This was in response to being told that others don't like "my attitude." Attitude from my part is a response to a lack of communication or a lack of respect. But then I pointed out to my boss that even if the lack of communication is on someone else's part, the end result is my fault. I'm getting tired of cleaning up other people's messes.

Back to the surprise thing. Surprises are good. Just don't make me wait days, weeks for them. Because I will carefully peel back the tape on the end of the package to see what's in there. This would be why after I turned 11 or 12, my mother stopped putting name tags on her Christmas gifts. This just meant that I peeked at them all of the packages and guessed which were mine.

At seventeen I stopped going to church. (My parents are Presbyterian.) This should not have been a surprise to my parents. I had gone to church, attended Sunday school, been an active member of the youth group for years.

I was 12 or 13 when I first began to question. I asked my mother about those years she did scientific research work. How she balanced her faith with her belief in science. Her answer was that she left her religious beliefs at the door -- much like African Americans leave their cultural identity at the door in corporate America. It made sense to me at the time.

At 17 I decided that I was agnostic. The summers that I was 18 through 20, I would pass the family church every day on my way home from work. The pastor would be out front sweeping the stoop and I would stop to chat with him. I would ask him questions about faith and other belief systems. He never once suggested that I return to the church. The only time I set foot back in that church after age 17 was for his memorial service. Because I had to say goodbye to the person who had christened me but had also respected my choice to walk away from it all.

Christmas? It bothers me greatly because it's a part of that life I've been trying to escape. It's not that I hate people who celebrate Christmas. What gets to me is the lack of respect for those who claim to be Christian toward those who are not Christian. The idea that being American is Christian bothers me. OK. Let's get real. It's the idea that one is white, heterosexual and Christian that is OK. If one does not fall into all of these categories, then one is suspect. And I go into work each day and feel like that if you fall into the latter two, then the first can be forgiven on some part.

I have walked through life feeling like I have to hide away a part of myself. That if I let this part show, I am somehow less.

But there has always been that one person who has been the best at seeing the real me. That person who asked me in October if I wanted to take a peek at my gift since she knew my habit of peeling back the tape. That person who knew that I fell in love with drinking tea at age nine and has seen my eyes light up ever since when I see a tea set. Unlike my father who tells me to pretend to be someone I'm not because that makes everything better. And who would never have bought me this gift because he knows so little about me.

I know that when my mother is gone, I will pull out this tea set and remember all of this. That no matter how crazy she makes me, she knows me so well. Like last year when she gave me a cookbook on Indian cooking. She knows my passions without even asking. And that's a rare thing.

I originally posted this on November 28 but promptly took it down after others suggested that I send the text to my mother. I then became paranoid that with her limited computer skills she would use my words to find this blog. Yeah, I know it sounds all kind of crazy. But then again most of you do not know my mother. Those who do know how unbalanced her presence makes me.

Some things never change

You ever feel like you have so much to say yet nothing at all at the same time? That's where I am. I take photos and say that I'll write a post but then I have nothing. So let's see if I can make sense of images from last weekend.


The last time I grilled arrachera, I followed the traditional marinating procedures. Now I love cumin as much as the next girl but it had way too much cumin for my taste. Sheesh. Never thought I would say that. This time around I wanted cleaner flavors. So I stuck with salt, pepper, garlic, lime juice and olive oil. Much more the experience I sought. After tasting the cooked meat, I wrapped it up and deposited it into the freezer.


While the meat was marinating, I took another stab at potato salad. I have always thought that I was following my real mom's recipe in the past but it turns out, I wasn't. I knew in the past I had not used nearly enough boiled eggs and mustard. But the real secret is the pickle relish. I grew up believing that Yankees use dill while Southerners use sweet. Turns out that Mom uses a combination of both. And since she makes the best potato salad in the world, I have to believe in her choice. I've barely put a dent in the bowl.


While I was in the store picking up potatoes and celery for the potato salad, I thought that I may as well pick up some peaches for a cobbler. I made it in a smaller pan this time so the crust to filling ratio was more to my liking. I finally tasted it today.

Here's the thing. I like to cook. And in the past I rarely ate it. I woke up last Sunday knowing that I had gained a few of the pounds that I had lost back and wanted to be rid of them once more -- and then some. I then proceeded to cook a bunch of stuff guaranteed to put more pounds on my ass. Why? Because cooking relaxes me. It also helps me to forget that I really don't have anything better to do -- except clean.

Mostly I haven't posted because I've been dealing with a lot of emotions which I have struggled to put into words. Now I think I have some ideas.

I am once more fighting my nomadic soul. There is a voice in my head that is screaming, "Run. Pack up and move away," but I know that I can't right now. Instead once a week I look at real estate listings.

I keep telling myself that I need four more years. Hopefully by then I will be in a position to move once more. Hopefully back to Berkeley. I love that I own my condo; I am just not enamored with the location. Then again maybe the development across the street will finally happen. If so, that could change my opinion completely.

Then there is my job. I like what I do. And I'm really good at it. This is now the longest I have been at any one place as far as work is concerned. Usually I left because I felt like I had plateaued. See? More of the nomadic soul. I'm pretty much at that place once more but I really want to give stability a try. And I guess it could be a lot more bearable except for the one thing I just realized today. This is the first job at which I do not socialize with my coworkers on a regular basis. In many ways I have always buried myself in my work but because there was also a social aspect to it all, I never really minded.

Bottom line is what I guess I am feeling is loss. I feel like I'm replaying every time I have had someone close to me die. Except this time someone hasn't died. And so I have had to spend the past couple of weeks defending my position to others. And I feel tired. But what I really want is something different.

One year

Yesterday started out kind of crappy. On my drive into work, it suddenly hit me that yesterday marked one year since my aunt had her stroke. My cousin and I say that that's when she died but she stayed on life support for two days so tomorrow is technically the anniversary of her death. Yesterday was also the one year anniversary of the day I signed the closing papers for my condo.

I walked into work sure that it was going to be a crappy day. Then my boss called me into his office. My first thought was, "What have I fucked up now?" Not that I regularly fuck things up. Yes, I occasionally make mistakes -- that become huge fuck-ups in my head. Because no one is harder on me than myself. But my boss was calling me in to give me my review and to tell me about my bonus check. Yeah, we still get those around here. Not as lavish as in past years but a check nonetheless. And my boss told me that he wished it could have been more. And that while they don't say it every day, they appreciate my efforts.

So now I am starting to think that this is what each passing year will be -- a mixture of really crappy with really good. I am determined to try to remember the happy instead of the sad. That's what my aunt would want.

The obvious is getting my condo. Truth be told, this is not the end of the road as far as home for me though. I dream of moving in another five years or so. I still want a yard. And another bedroom. But buying the condo has taught me that things that I once thought to be impossible just might be possible.

I have a job at which for the first time in a really long time I am appreciated. I spent years at jobs at which I felt emotionally beat up on a daily basis. This has been a refreshing change. I don't know if I could have survived the past couple of years in other working environments. When I had those days in which I just couldn't get out of bed due to the depression and called in sick, I was told to take care of myself so that I could come back the person they had first gotten to know. I am eternally grateful for having understanding employers during the last couple of years of crazy. In the fall I will hit my three-year anniversary at this employer. I have never worked in any one place for more than three years but I know that I have no intention of leaving here any time soon. I guess this is another example of how I am kind of giving up my wandering, non-committing ways.

I like to think that I am finally learning how to truly take care of myself. I have spent the past year disengaging from dynamics that I just didn't feel were healthy for me. The hardest part is when others don't get it and try to get me to change my mind. "You only have one mother..." Yes, I do but that doesn't mean that she has to be an active part of my everyday life -- especially since she has repeatedly shown no respect for the boundaries that I have tried to set.

It's strange, to me at least. For the first time in years I feel truly happy. I guess that this is what has made the crappy moments bearable -- the knowing that I have come out the other side a better me.

Luxury

That's what I consider having four days in a row in which I am free to do whatever I please. Now if I can just make it through to Christmas since that will be my next long weekend.

The focus of Thursday was sleep. Lots of sleep. I think with all my naps that I probably slept about a total of 12 hours. Now you may have forgotten but I'm used to getting four to six hours of sleep a night. 12 hours? Just plain crazy.

Friday was about getting out of the house -- on my terms. After I left the zoo, I heard from my mother. She asked, "You had to pay to get into the zoo?" Yeah. Whatever.

Saturday I knew that I would be heading out with Fluffycat. Strange thing is that I awoke in the morning with lots of energy. So much energy that I finally got around to sorting through the boxes of children's books that I have -- still. Hopefully for not longer. And I discovered stuff mixed in the boxes that went straight to the trash. Two boxes full of trash. It felt great.

So great that on Sunday, I decided to conquer more of the crap. Because yes, I moved in April and there are still boxes that I have not unpacked. Nor is there a single thing hanging on the wall. But I don't feel bad about it. Every month when I make the mortgage payment, I know that it is mine.

OK. So maybe the real reason for some of the organizing on Sunday was because I had also done three loads of laundry over the weekend and I thought it might be nice for the first time in months to actually put the stuff away. Because for months, I have been folding the stuff and leaving it in the basket. Until it's empty. Then I start the whole process again. So the laundry is put away and I can walk through my closet without having to worry about tripping over anything.


When I created this blog, I said there would be food and crafts. There's been plenty of food but really no crafts. This weekend I started three knitting projects. (Actually in the last couple of weeks I have completed the good portion of a fourth project as well.) So I present the above to you as proof that there is actually some crafting going on around here.

And the great thing about Sunday is that I told my mother that I could not come to take her to the mall. She needed to return something that she had bought on Saturday. And no, I did not take her to the mall on Saturday; one of her neighbors did. I said no because there were things that I had to take care of for myself, things that no one else was going to do -- like cleaning and knitting. I also figured why ruin a perfectly good weekend. And although she found another way to the mall, I am sure that this is all being recorded on the bad daughter list to be enumerated to me at a later date. Really don't give a flying fuck anymore.

Done with people telling me that if I love them, I will do fill-in-the-blank. Done with the people telling me that I am responsible for someone else's happiness. Tired of being angry because some people just are not reliable. My bad on that one. They are who they are. As such, I'm done with asking them to be there. I am done with the people who only pick up the phone when they need something -- except for coworkers as long as it is work-related. And I really don't care if that doesn't leave a lot of people because I'll just start all over again. This time I'll do it better though.

And so that's what happens when I have the luxury of time for me.

Something different

Most days for lunch, I run out to pick something up and then promptly return to the office. I eat while I continue to work.

Today I decided to use part of my lunch hour away from the office though. For months, I have thought to myself that I should head to the marina at lunch time since it's only a couple of miles away. So after picking up lunch in the neighborhood (Taco Bell, or as I call it Taco Hell. Because yes, sometimes I eat complete junk.), I headed on over.

It was a bit windy and I didn't have a sweater or jacket so I retreated to my car with my book after a few minutes. But I was parked right near the bench so I was able to still enjoy the view. And that land in the distance? That would be the runway at the Oakland airport. So yeah, I got to watch the planes land as well.

I think I'm going to be taking lunches like this more often.

An epiphany of sorts

I work for a company that has 120 employees at its peak. Of the 120, 6 of us are female. I'll let that sink in. One more time. Six of us are female. Out of 120. It is the epitome of "working in a man's world."

When I tell folks about my typical day at work, many folks are shocked. Mostly about the stuff that comes out of my mouth while at work. I drop f-bombs quite liberally. I make all kinds of hand gestures. Today I threatened to flog one of the guys. And one of my coworkers regularly threatens the guys with punching them in their throats. It's a weird dynamic. We have made them fear our ire. I also know they recognize that we're smart. We can do stuff that they can't. And I'm not talking about giving birth. It's a question of why they treat us as they do -- the fear of bodily harm or the respect of our intellect.

Being at work is like being around my dad's family to me -- I'm just one of the guys. Like I said previously, I don't wear skirts or dresses to work that often. When I do, it's like I'm not really one of the guys anymore; I'm that chick with legs. And I like being one of the guys.

I also like to protect my wardrobe as I often have to go into the warehouse. And there was that time I climbed the ladder. As a result the guys keep joking about sending me out on walks. OK with me. I make good money but they make even better. They know that I want to understand everything that they do. The thing that I have learned through my experiences in life is that if you're female and give certain guys a doe-eyed look, they'll tell you all kinds of things. Things that can help you get a better job. And sometimes my inner feminist screams her head off but then I tell her, "By any means necessary." Because it's not like there's any sex or stuff like that. Well, maybe in their minds but can I help that?

What got me going through this whole train of thought was this song. (Wish I could have embedded the video but apparently it's not allowed. And yeah, I still love this song.)

I can tell the guys to kiss my ass, to fuck themselves, whatever because I bail their asses out just as many times as I tell them what they can do. And if I didn't, I would have been laid off when the receptionist was. Then again she never told them to kiss her ass so maybe there's something to it all.

Birthdays suck

Some of you might not realize it but today is my birthday. And today? I've spent most of the day on an emotional roller coaster. There have been a lot of tears. It wasn't until late in the day when I realized the why of the tears.

Birthdays with my mom are all about her. With my aunt? It was all about me. And this was the first birthday when I suddenly felt that it was all about other people.

It started with the phone call from my mother this morning. There was the wish of "Happy birthday!" but then it became 10 minutes about her. And I thought to myself, "It's my birthday. Can't it just once be about me?"

So I got to work. Where most of my life there is about other people. But I thought long about lunch. And I looked over the calendar. I would pick up lunch and then go sit somewhere other than my desk. Perhaps read a few pages of the book I picked up recently while I ate. Instead I walked into the door and was assaulted by people worrying about stuff that really didn't need worrying over. And then they walked out the door to their own lunch as they do every day. And then I felt the first tears run down my cheek. All I had wanted out of the day was a nice lunch and now that was shot.

So my friend, the HR person, insisted that I eat lunch in her office. But they still found me there. But I guess she said something to them all. Because later they surprised me with cake and a card containing an iTunes gift card. Because yeah, the AT&T store had called me to say that my new phone had arrived.

I left work with the thought of getting my new phone being the high point of my day. I don't know why I thought that that would be the high point of my day. I'd love to tell y'all about the experience but I just don't have the energy. Bottom line is that this salesperson rolled her eyes at me (I had my back turned to her and turned around at the "wrong" moment. She thought that I wouldn't catch it. Bottom line is the bitch should not work retail.) and I had the consuming desire to slap the shit out of her. (OK. That last part may have been a bit hormonally induced.) Bitch had the nerve to say that she did not see me when I was in the store for at least five to ten minutes. I am tempted to go to the point of the race card because all the other folks she noticed were of similar ethnic background -- not the same as mine. And folks wonder why there are issues in that area of the East Bay between Blacks and Latinos? I told the person who finally helped me that the bitch (I did not use that word.) owed me an apology for the eye roll. He said that he couldn't help me. I think it's time to write a letter to somewhere. Because I don't care how "unrational" a customer may seem, you just don't roll your eyes at them.

But I got my phone. Even though when I asked for the apology, they threatened to hold my phone and have me escorted from the store. I told the guy, "Oh no. You've already charged me for the phone so I will be leaving with it." This was after his snarky ass comment about keeping things civil. What? Saying that I would like him to tell her that her eye roll was inappropriate is not civil? Saying that I would like an apology was not civil? I can show them non-civil...

So at that point I decided that my birthday was pretty much hosed. The sad thing is that I have received more birthday wishes from folks online than I have from my own family. Oh, and Jade and Emerald as well. After all these years neither can seem to remember my actual birthday.

So right now I'm pretty much done with the whole birthday thing. Because is it too much to ask to have one little part of one day be about you and not someone else?

Caffeine-free life

Last week was all about the power of caffeine as my allergies kicked in. Now I don't have the "normal" allergy thing. No. When mine rear their ugly head, folks start thinking I have mono or some yet to be discovered strain of the flu. But I knew it was the allergies because I didn't have a fever and I was achy. I was just congested and coughing and really tired. Of course it could have been the long days at work as well. And the way it's looking, the long days at work will be continuing for at least another month. But hey. At least I still have a job. Unlike the receptionist who was laid off last Friday. And this week I'm trying to lay off the caffeine.

I have managed to do some things other than work though. Like Saturday. The furnace guy showed up in the morning to take care of some other stuff for me. All for the cost of $21. I guess a smile goes a long way. Or maybe it was hearing for hours on end about all the problems in his life. I can be a good listener if there is a discount involved. So he was hard at work and I started feeling a little guilty. Somehow, as a result, I managed to unpack almost all of the boxes that were inside my condo. Know what that means? I could finally move more boxes in from the garage. I'm hoping to start on those boxes tomorrow. But the box moving was later in the day.

After the furnace guy left, I headed into San Francisco. There was this huge furniture warehouse sale going on and I was hoping to snag a new dining set. No luck there but I found some great wool rugs for the bedroom.


Boris would like it if you could ignore his pear shape.

Like I said, I'm keeping things simple food-wise around here as shown by Sunday's dinner.


Lamb chop, peas and baked potato.

Oh, and I guess I should share one of those things that Zombie Mom already knows. Notice all that blank space on the plate? If you don't see blank space in the photo, then I'm probably eating off of my usual salad plate -- something I've been doing for too many years to count. If it's a full dinner plate? Then I definitely did not eat it all in one sitting. Depending on what it is, it would take me 2-3 meals, or grazing over a period of 4-5 hours, to complete an entire dinner plate full of food.

Monday night I had no peas left so I decided to start with a salad. And since I had some cooked shrimp, I decided why not a Louis. Tonight I made the Louis my whole meal -- larger portion -- because I had to eat the shrimp before they went bad.


And finally, I leave you with this.


I picked this up on Friday and tonight I wrote my first blog post from it. (I spent a few days installing software and copying files. Didn't want to use it until everything was in place.) I love my new toy. Mostly because I can recline on the sofa while being online. I have dreamed of this moment. And today I ordered a snazzy bag to carry it in. And I think I'm done with intentionally trying to help the economy for a bit. Unless there is a Kate Spade sample sale this month.

The power of the skirt

So I'm still texting away with that guy I met at the firefighter party. Here's the thing though. He's always working. So we text a great deal but rarely see one another. This weekend would be an example of such. And this weekend I will actually be home for the first time in weeks. and faced with the task of unpacking. Well, I'm all about procrastination. So it was off to Berkeley this evening after work.

The first stop was for some shopping. I'd love to tell you more about it but ... You know the rest of that.


The next stop was to get a pedicure. And once I was there, I decided that a manicure wouldn't hurt in the least.

As my nails were drying, I called Gregoire to place my order.



After picking up the food from Gregoire, I probably should have headed home but noooo. I had to go to my old hangout. It had been six months since they had last seen me. Just like me, my bartender had a new look. Didn't matter. He still looks hot. Kind of like me.


Then I met this really cool guy. (Ummm. Yeah. Still chatting with the guy from the party but like I said -- he's crazy busy.) Oops. And I forgot. Before I met this guy, my bartender came over to tell me that some random guy had bought my next drink. And I said thank you and started to chat with the new guy. But new guy disappeared while I was trying to settle my tab. Perhaps because while we had been outside, some other guy had settled into his seat when we returned. And new new guy let me grab my original seat -- the one that was next to him. And sad thing is that I don't remember new guy's name but I remember new new guy's name. May have something to do with the fact that I kept catching new new guy's eye while I had been talking to new guy. Bottom line? I promptly took my ass home.

Oh, and the dress thing? I had a pretty good idea of how my day would end when I walked into the work. My boss exclaimed, "You're wearing a dress! You have legs!" And then later one of the VP's asked,"You look nice. Do you have a date tonight?"

I usually wear khakis to work. And now I'm known as the smart girl at work. But I wonder if I had been wearing skirts/dresses all along if that would still be the case. When I got to work, I usually look pretty frumpy compared to the other women. And I get to be one of the guys. And I know they have total respect for me. Just how I want it. Because when you're a woman who has been told that she's pretty, you sometimes wonder about the motivation of others and so you learn how to dim it all. This might be why I go all out on weekends. Too much time being dim the rest of the week.

But every now and then you like to shine. Screw what everyone else thinks.

Preview

Beth asked recently when I was going to let y'all see the new place. Well, here's a preview of the work in progress.


Last Saturday was a busy day of cleaning the fireplace...


potting plants...


and putting together my new computer desk and chair.


My handyman has been busy as well. The first thing he did was to install the new light fixture. This is so pretty that now I don't want to take my old furniture with me and have been shopping for new stuff. Luckily my mom has said that she'll pay for one or two chairs as my housewarming gift. I think I can get my dad to pay for the rest. (Stop calling me Veruca.)


His next major project was the counters. (Please ignore the ugly shade. It no longer exists.) Sorry but I don't do formica. And once the old counter came out, I had to get a new sink. And a new faucet. And a new garbage disposal.


I also decided that it was time to move up as far as TV is concerned. He was kind enough to mount everything for me. Oh, and the shelving unit? I was supposed to be buying it off of one of the guys from work. When he brought it in, he said that his wife told him to tell me it was my housewarming gift -- as long as I invite them to the party.



And look at this beauty. Doesn't it just scream, "Create wonderful things!" I had wanted to share the new fridge with y'all as well but they brought the wrong one last weekend and will redeliver this Saturday.

Hmmm. I may owe y'all some more photos after the weekend since my piano is also being delivered. And a week from Saturday I actually move in.

Nine four seven something

Now that I am shifting into moving mode, I have decided that the kitchen is closed until I have moved. That's OK though. There's lots of food in Berkeley to which I must say goodbye. Yes, I know that I'm not moving that far away. But all of this yumminess will no longer be within walking distance -- or a quick drive.


I guess you could say that it all started the minute I signed that huge stack of papers. To make up for being out of the office for half a day, I stopped at Love at First Bite Bakery and picked up mini cupcakes for the office. Oh, and a couple of regular-sized red velvet cupcakes for the Commander and LaLa Bean. (And a thank you to Zoomie for pointing out this gem in my neighborhood.)

Then later that evening I headed to Poulet to pick up dinner for the Zombie family as they had been moving that day and were not equipped for dinner preparation. There will be at least one more trip to Poulet before I move. And the folks there, upon learning that I would be moving, asked if I would come back to visit them occasionally. Of course.

Saturday I dined on the short end rib dinner from KC's. Sauce on the side of course. And they still serve it with white bread instead of the wheat that so many places have changed over to.

Sunday afternoon I hit Cesar with Emerald and her little girl. I'm a bit worried about her daughter who is now 14 months. She spent most of her time trying to chat with the other patrons. To the point that she turned her back on us almost the entire time. The only time she turned around was when she heard the bartender shaking some drink at the bar. Emerald and I made jokes about what her daughter's order would be. Emerald decided on, "I will require some whole milk. Slightly warmed. Shaken, not stirred."

Last night I had to make a quick change in dinner plans. I found myself at home and a little hungry. (The free pizza from lunch had disappeared. The pizza was courtesy of the president of the company because he won the March Madness pool. I ended up in 5th or 6th place.) What to have? Gregoire's!

Grilled Ecuadorian shrimp with harissa sauce


Grilled beer and lime marinated beef skirt steak with carmelized onion cream

There are so many other food experiences to say goodbye to. Mayflower. Mint Leaf. Perhaps T-Rex. Fonda. The Cathedral of Coffee. And of course, there will be a stop at Beckett's at some time in the coming weeks.

Possibly Still the #1 Bitch

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.

Guilty pleasure

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.

Feel the burn

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.

If you worked with me

First of all, you could have received this beauty in the gift exchange. It's a wine chiller in case you can't tell.


You would have also been greeted by this sight at 8:00 in the morning. The drinking officially started at 10:00. And continued for about 10 hours or so. Thank goodness I don't have to work today. But I do have to get cleaned up. Something about a date. For now I'm crawling back into bed though.

In search of a post

I'm feeling a little guilty right now. My last two posts? One was a quiz and the other about music. I feel like I'm dialing it in.

It's not that I haven't thought about posts over the last few days. There were many moments over this past weekend during which I thought, "I should write about this." Then I remembered that these things fell into areas about which I no longer blog.

I picked up lunch for myself and others in my office on Monday. I took a photo of the food. I thought that I would write about it. It was going to be a whole discussion about the lack of green in the chile verde. Until I started burping up the stuff the whole drive home that evening and found myself wondering, "Will I make it home in time?" At work yesterday, I told my coworkers about this. Three out of the four of us felt ill after that meal. I won't be returning to that place ever again.

Before this I had meant to write about the holiday party I attended on Saturday night -- at the wonderful Fairmont. I was the only one from my company who attended minus a plus one. The president of the company told his wife -- and everyone else at the table -- how he told the senior vice president that he should show up to be my "date" for the evening. So I kind of have a crush on the guy -- lack of dating and all -- but he didn't show. (And I have a firm rule against dating coworkers. But I question this instance at times because if things worked out, I could be a trophy wife. I think I'm well-suited for that role.) My mom was concerned about the music thing at the party. Except for my boss, all of the guys from my company danced with me at some point in the evening.

The receptionist and I got into a huge discussion about the holidays yesterday. She said, "Why can't people just say 'Merry Christmas?'" I pointed out to her that not everyone celebrates Christmas. She said that my answer was the same as her sister-in-law's. Her sister-in-law is a public school teacher. (I've known this for some time.) I pointed out that in public schools it's important to not show any kind of religious preference. In case you're wondering, Christmas is a completely secular thing for me as I am a Pagan. I can't believe I just wrote that. Because saying that you're Pagan can be tantamount to saying that you're a devil worshiper. I'm not. The concept of the devil is a purely Christian concept. So yeah, I love it when someone else tries to impose their belief system onto mine. But I really love it when someone celebrates a holiday that is really about my belief system. (Except for the crass consumerism.) Ranks right up there in the lack of knowledge of the appropriation of customs and traditions from other groups. Because to do so would mean that one would have to acknowledge that these other groups exist/matter. (And yeah, I've had this cheery holiday discussion with family members in the past. When others doubted the veracity of my statements, my uncle, the imam, told them that I had done a good job with my research and that I was correct.)

At dinner on Saturday, one coworker's wife, who had attended "finishing school" in her youth, pointed out the three taboo subjects in polite conversation -- politics, religion and sex. As a rule, I usually try to veer clear of these subjects just as I know the proper fork to use. (I told my mother after the dinner about realizing that a soup was going to be served simply by looking at the place setting. Followed by a salad. And that there would be red and white wine as well from the same.) And so while I avoid the topics at company functions, I think I would be untrue to myself to do so here.

So this is all I have right now. My father is going to Mexico for Christmas and I'm trying my best to not feel like an orphan once more. But once he returns, he wants to discuss finances with me and my stepbrother. (My stepbrother is currently in the hospital, by the way. Maybe he'll get a kidney soon. Just like my mom's brother. I'm so done with this shit.) There are things that were supposed to be coming to me upon my father's death that may be coming to me now.

So along with the grief, I've been dealing with a wild roller coaster of other stuff. Good thing that I like roller coasters.

So-so day at work?

The move at work has not been a smooth one. We moved on 21 November. As of Monday, we were still having huge computer issues. As in for most of the day, we had no access to the internet, email or files that reside on the server as well as the accounting database. (In my eight hour workday, I'd say that all things were down for about seven hours.) What happens when I don't have access to these things? Oh, I rearrange my files. That took about a half hour. The rest of the day? Reading blogs and personal email on my phone. Oh, and playing games on my phone as well. We all kept muttering under our breath, "Can't we just go home?" But nope. Didn't happen.

I think I've mentioned it before but I'm kind of an emotional eater. Thankfully I have been blessed most of my life with a pretty good metabolism. Feeling a little stressed? It's either feast or famine. This time I opted for feast.

One of the websites I checked out during the day was the one for Gregoire. Because new month, new menu. Unfortunately the folks at Poulet are a bit slow at posting their new menu. Anywho. I decided I really deserved this one pound baby from Maine. And potato puffs. And banana and walnut bread pudding with chocolate sauce. So upon reaching home, I called in my order and headed down the street.

First stop? Poulet to pick up the printed December menu. Such an awful assault on my senses. They had this yummy looking chicken in a paprika sauce. If I hadn't already ordered the lobster... But I had. Next Monday. Next stop was Astronomico's because lobster deserves a glass of chardonnay. At least the folks at Poulet carry wine so that one only has to make the one stop.

By the time I reached Gregoire my order was ready. I hightailed it home. And I was not disappointed. And for once Natasha was not begging for a potato puff. Don't know what it is about those things but she loses her mind when I bring them home.

Necessity

Yesterday I was forced to finally leave home because I needed some food items. (You'll see that tomorrow.) This still remains my primary communication with the "outside world" though. After taking calls from my mom's family and my mother on Thursday, I decided that I was done with talking to people on the phone -- except at work. I started letting calls go to voicemail and if I knew whom the message was from, I didn't bother listening to it. Because if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm pretty depressed and pissed off with the world in general. We all have triggers and mine have been pretty bombarded over this past week. But then I decided to suffer through the messages. One was from Zombie Mom -- and yes, I will admit it. When she called, I just sat and watched the phone ringing. That's how foul a mood I've been in. About an hour later, I listened to her message. Looks like I might just be heading out later today as well. And then later I actually answered my dad's phone call and told him exactly how I felt.

Anywho. I headed out. Because I had waited so late in the day, I first had to walk to the main post office as I needed to send off my response card for that $100 a plate dinner. (Sorry folks but my RSVP was for one.) The RSVP is supposed to be in by Monday and that post office is the only place, save driving into Oakland, that still had a pickup for Saturday. Then it was off to Safeway, Ciao Bella, and Poulet -- in that order. I told you I needed stuff. And the guy who rang me up at Poulet asked if I had had special plans for the weekend. When I responded that I did not, he asked, "Laying low, huh?"

On the way home, I regretted not having a battery for my camera at this time. (I'm trying hard not to go into the rant of how that happened.) As I strolled along Shattuck, there was a group of people staring at the night sky. Of course, I looked up. Sitting low in the sky was a lovely crescent moon. But up higher were these two lone bright "stars" in the sky -- Jupiter and Venus. This combination of sites is not supposed to be possible again until 2052. The real beauty of it all was that since it was early evening (around 6:00 pm), none of the real stars were visible.

Perhaps I am boring you but I have always been fascinated with the night sky. I remember that when I was a kid, occasionally my mother would stand on the front porch with me and show me the constellations. Summers with my father's mother led to my love of mythology -- and understanding of the names of the constellations. I also remember being at a party, when I lived in Virginia, that was at Lake Matoaka. It was the wee hours of the morning and we all started studying the sky that was filled with so many stars while we were hanging out in the Amphitheater. And one of my friends pointed out the really bright star in the sky -- the Morning Star. And last night I finally got to see the Evening Star.

And so I headed out with one necessity in mind and found another need partially filled -- a feeling of belonging. Or at least some clues of how to get there. Because just when I was finally starting to feel comfortable with being me, I also lost my sense of belonging -- my place in the world. And so I've cut off communication lines because I need time -- to mourn and to figure out what's next. And hopefully I can stop throwing tantrums at work. Because I like my job and really would hate to be fired.

Time keeps on slipping

I only have a few weeks until the first of the holiday parties to which I have been invited. I have to send in my RSVP for the party by the end of this week.

This party is a work-related one. It's a $100 a plate thing at the Fairmont. I know what I will wear to it, if I attend. The only question is the date thing. (I know I said that I would not discuss dating here but this is different.) My company is footing the bill and I am allowed to bring a date. As such, my mother feels that I should scrape up a date. But it's work. And the Fairmont. And did I mention that it's work? Because I never discuss dating at work. And to show up with a date? Kind of like showing up to a family wedding with a date, in my mind. I used to have guys upon whom I could call in this kind of a situation but not so much anymore. So part of me says that it's better to show up stag.

The next weekend I have to attend a party with my dad. This one is formal. And I still don't have a dress. I'm leaning toward this dress though. Yes, I know it is Sacramento in late fall/early winter but it's all about looking cute.

The last party is the office holiday party. I'm planning that one. No worries there. Except for finalizing the menu over the next couple of weeks.

*sigh* I love the holiday season -- as long as I am working in the right place. This is all almost reminiscent of my days with the Death Star.

And for those of y'all in the States, have a happy Turkey Day!