She is such a Loser

My sister Jenny has lost her cell phone...again.

She is always wrecking or losing her cell phones. Three years ago, she let an elderly man at the nursing home she volunteered at spill water all over a VERY expensive cell phone - a phone that I used up my "every 2-years get a $100 upgrade credit" to purchase because she wanted to TEXT MESSAGE. A credit that I was planning on using for my husband's new cell phone. A credit that I had been dangling in front of his nose so that he wouldn't spend a gagillion dollars on a new cell phone. When I came home that night and told him I had given the credit to my sister, steam practically hissed out of his ears.

Last year she lost her cell phone for close to a week before telling anyone. Someone could have been charging calls to shady businesses in Guam for a few days, but she was afraid of getting yelled at by our parents and myself to concern herself with what would happen to me if a million dollars got charged to my phone bill.

She lost that phone because she was at a crazy Amherst College party located in a stairwell(?!) and for some reason, everyone stampeded out and she lost her cell phone, her shoe, and got banged around.

How could she have lost her cell phone and her shoe?

I don't know if I really believe that story - but she's sticking to it, and our parents have a policy of "Don't ask. Don't tell."

Luckily, campus police found it and called my Dad, who then emailed her so she got that one back...until she lost it today.

She went for a make-up application workshop(?!) and walked around Fort Lee. According to Jenny, she put the cell phone in her bag and POOF! it disappeared.

Yeah. Right.

I Hope I Won't Ever Have to Shave

Peter went to his mom's house a few days ago and noticed that she had two cans of shaving cream in the bathroom. When he asked his mother what she needed shaving cream for, she pointed to her face.

No Christmas Tree, No Christmas Tree

This always happens:

1. I get excited about an event
a. wedding
b. Thanksgiving
c. Parties

2. In my head I plan all sorts of things I am going to do for said event
a. design beautiful programs for my wedding
b. make little butter pats shaped like leaves for Thanksgiving dinner
c. clean up the house

3. Time gets away

4. Before I know it, it is a week before the event and I realize that I will never
a. have time to make the programs
b. find the butter pat molds
c. clean up the house

This year, I planned to have a very elaborate Christmas tree, which will be the first Christmas tree I've shared with Peter (and yes, we've known each other more than 9 years - sad? yes!) - and in fact, the second Christmas tree I will have purchased myself, the first being the Christmas tree I got for my sisters when I was in college. My parents decided to go away on a lovely trip to Taiwan, leaving me to handle Christmas.

My sisters were 12 and 6 at the time - prime ages in which Christmas is still full of magic and unrealistic expectations. I was assaulted by a tremendous feeling of anxiety because not only did my sisters have to face Christmas without my parents, but I had to fulfill all wishes and desires.

I got them a tree on a very snowy and bitter cold day while running a 103 degree fever. I wasn't even going to get a tree, since we don't usually, but the six-year-old put on such a sad face that I went out and got a tree. I was so freaking happy and so proud of myself. I remember reaching the door, and being ridiculously excited to show the tree to the girls.

When the little one saw the tree she wrinkled her nose and said:

"That tree is too small."

I felt as if she had yanked out my heart and stomped on it with her teeny-tiny feet. All I could remember is that I screamed some jibberish at her (it was the fever talking) and collapsed on the sofa, where I passed out.

When I woke up a few hours later, the tree was completely decorated (albeit badly). My sisters had felt so bad that they wanted me to wake up to a decorated tree.

I cleaned up the condo yesterday, and Peter asked me why.

"I'm clearing out space for the tree," I said.

"You do realize that Christmas is next week," Peter said. "And we don't even own any decorations."

The Hummingman

When you go apartment-hunting or house-hunting, there are always a thousand different things that you can never know about a building until you live in it.

For instance, our new condo has central air-conditioning vents that enable us to hear our downstairs neighbor. We can never make out what she's saying, exactly - it kind of sounds like what Charlie Brown's teachers say during a Peanuts cartoon show.

These past few months, our neighbor has been renovating her bathroom. Her handyman hums bad R&B while he tiles her bathroom, and it's been driving the dogs a bit batty. I think that they believe the humming noises belong to a puppy who is being tortured in the downstairs bathroom. My dogs run around in circles and whine. Occasionally, they will come up to me with a look of concern on their faces and I can almost hear them say, "Well, aren't you going to DO something about that?"

The thing is, that today the handyman was talking to my neighbor in the bathroom and I could hear EVERY WORD CLEAR AS A BELL.

Because she is a single mom lady, and I've never heard her talk to anyone while she's been in the bathroom before, I never realized that the vents in the bathroom are completely un-sound-proof. Which got me to thinking - that she hears me every time Peter's in there and I shout, "HEY! Are you POOPING in there?"

Ugg

Are Ugg boots really that comfortable?

A Beautiful Mind

The scariest scene in the movie "A Beautiful Mind" is when Jennifer Connelly walks into the shed and she discovers that her husband has been filling up the room with reams and reams of writing that covers every square inch of space and is wallpapered all over the shed.

I think that every couple has a secret fear that their better half will one day go bonkers.

Sometimes when I have my crazy insomnia, I will try to work out a game of Sudoku. I find that it occupies my brain in a minimal way - if I read a book, I will want to get to the end - and then I can just kiss sleep good-bye.

Of course, I'm too lazy and cheap to go out an buy a Sudoku book. Instead, I will go to websudoku and copy a game on a sheet of printer paper.

The other day, Peter found my Sudoku papers scattered on my bedside table and he came into the livingroom, thrust them at me and said in a voice that was trying to sound calm and soothing, but you could tell that there was an underlining panic riding just under the surface: "What is this?"

I told him it was Sudoku.

"Thank God, when I saw them, I thought - oh no, she's gone crazy."

Yet Another Way The Office is Morphing into Lost

Just like Lost, The Office is killing off characters one by one. First the tailies, and now this. I'm wondering when they're going to get their own doomsday button.

At Least I Don't Talk About Stuff I Know Nothing About

I teach a fiction writing workshop at the Continuing Ed. program in Westchester, and one of the assignments was to write down some of the dialogue from Thanksgiving dinner.

There was one point after dinner that Peter's sister asked his brother about the situation in North Korea. She didn't even know the difference between North and South Korea.

Hey, at least I only talk about the things I know and read up on.

Like Britney and Kevin's divorce.

What She's Learned in Massachusetts

I'm going over my mom's house today because my sister's home from college, so I call her before I take off.

Me: I'll be there in forty minutes, okay?

Jenny: Cool beans!

I hang up the phone.

I call her again.

Me: Did you just say cool beans?

Jenny: oh...yeah.

No More Lostage!

I ordered a Garmin Nuvi 360 last night because Peter and I have the worst sense of direction EVER. It is not unlikely for us to be 2 hours late because we took a wrong turn (or a multitude of wrong turns).

Last night I told Peter:

"I ordered that navigation system you wanted."

Peter (with a small sigh of relief):

"That means that there will be no more lostage."

That's right - we're not lost, we're experiencing lostage.

Another Don't Eat Meat Story

There was a report tonight on Nightline about McDonald's burgers and that each burger is made up of hundreds of different cows.

Yuck.

Peter comes in the room and says, "What? Another story that says don't eat meat?"

Kids=Terrible Marrige?

Last Thursday, I went to a party and talk inevitably turned to kids because there was one woman there who was hugely pregnant. In fact, Thursday was her due date. My friend Beth has a two-year-old, so she was the "voice of experience."

I've never had a child, and my opinion is that labor is different things to different people.

According to my husband's friend's wife Katie:

"Have you ever had really bad cramps? Childbirth pains are like that."

According to my friend Amanda:

"I can't believe there are so many people on this planet...and they're all a product of THIS!"

Beth took me aside and asked me if we were trying. I told her that we were, but we're not stressing out about it. Basically, Peter and I have been together almost ten years now, and although we would love to welcome kids into the world, we are nervous about how it's going to affect our lives - especially since none (and I mean not one) of our breeder friends seems to be getting along with their spouses (although to my face they always tell me, "it's great, I mean, totally great").

"Well," she said. "My marriage is completely terrible right now."

I love people who overshare, mostly because I'm an oversharer myself - so I grilled her about her situation. It's the same thing I see in all of my other friends...children are stressful.

"I love my daughter," she said. "And I've never experienced the kind of love she has for me and the love I have for her and I would never say that I regret bringing her into the world, but my marriage is terrible right now. But just because it's tough doesn't mean that it's not worth doing."

That is basically the best advice I've ever gotten from a friend about parenthood. Most everyone who talks about it goes on and on about how wonderful everything is, automaton-like. They give me lines like, "It's never too early," "I wished I'd started earlier," "It's the best thing I've ever done." But at the same time, they won't sit next to their husbands at the dinner table.

That's what we've been struggling with. Peter and I have a great marriage and relationship and we're best friends. We know that having kids is going to change our relationship radically, but we still want to do it. Call us crazy.

Lexington Square Cafe in Mount Kisco

Peter and I have been trying to eat at home as much as possible lately - but we had an early dinner, so last night we decided to go out and get some appetizers and dessert.

Peter wanted to go to a tea lounge, but I couldn't find one in Westchester, so I looked for a cafe. I found a place via google-search called Lexington Square Cafe which is in town.

Normally we're wary of trying new places, especially in Westchester, because even places that get good reviews are pretty disappointing.

The main disappointment at this cafe, is that it's not a cafe. I view a cafe as a place that serves coffee and is a place you can hang out with your newspaper and get dessert. This place is a restaurant. A cafe's main trade should be beverages - and I think that restaurants should not be allowed to call themselves cafes.

The bottom line is, the Lexington Square Cafe, although not terrible, was disappointing. We ordered two drinks each (Peter's wine was good, my mixed drink sucked), the hummus (terrible - and the pita breads were caked in salt - not good) and the pumpkin ravioli (not bad). The dessert was good, it was a banana roulade. The thing is, that the bill came out to be $60, which is really too pricey for a hit and miss meal. So we won't be going back.

They played really terrible 80's music during our entire meal.

That was the last straw.

Mount Kisco is Taco Fillingless

Because Peter is a vegetarian, we need to buy a product from Fantastic Foods called Taco Filling, which substitutes for the ground beef in regular tacos.

I drove all over town this past week trying to locate it. I went to the Shoprite, the A&P, and the Stop & Shop (which, by the way, had hardly anything - no cilantro, no taco filling, no pomegranate juice - the produce aisle was only a produce corner - it should be called Stop & Try to Shop). No store carried this product.

It's just not right.

Why I Will Never Register My Parents to Vote Again

My mother and I have been American citizens since I was about ten years old. During that next election year, I asked my mother if she was going to vote. Her answer to me was that she wanted to wait until I was old enough to vote, so that she could vote for the same person I would vote for.

This makes complete sense to me, because as a child of immigrant parents, I was the one who translated my school notes and had my mom sign them. Whenever there was a field trip, I would tell my parents that, yes, it was mandatory - so cough up the $15 so I can go upstate with the rest of my class to partake in a terrible production of Huckleberry Finn put together by people who couldn't even be bothered to remember their lines.

My parents always needed my help filling out any sort of legal form, which used to keep me up nights - because my Taiwanese wasn't that terrific, and I would worry that I explained something to them the wrong way, a way which might cause the government to come and take away our house.

I used to accompany them (and still do) to doctor's appointments. Once, when my dad's hay fever eyedrops fell behind the scalding hot stove at the restaurant, he called me and asked me whether or not I thought it was still okay to insert the drops in his eyes.

Me: Well, how hot does it get back there?

My Dad: I don't know, about a couple of hundred degrees? The drops were pretty expensive, so I don't want to just throw them out.

Me: Sure, use them...if you NEVER WANT TO SEE AGAIN.

During my sophomore year at Barnard College, I registered to vote for the very first time. I also brought home registration materials for my parents - and it was the first time either of them voted.

My dad is a staunch single-issue Republican. That is, he believes that Republicans will defend Taiwan in case of any war with China. I planned on voting for Clinton, and my mother had been promising that she would vote my way.

Cut to the day of the election. I went into the voting booth first and waited outside until my parents were done. My father comes out looking all proud of himself and I told him that it didn't matter who he voted for, because my vote cancelled his out, and I had an extra vote in my mom - at which point my mother looked rather sheepish.

When I asked her who she voted for, she looked at me, then at my dad, and then told me that she had to vote for who my dad voted for - and I said:

"I will NEVER register you guys to vote again. And that means that YOU'LL NEVER VOTE AGAIN."

Because essentially, they're too lazy - and the paperwork? Without me, it's more than they can handle.

Alan Alda's Baked Pasta

Alan Alda gave me the easiest pasta dish.

Because it's so easy, I now make this almost every week. I don't use as much olive oil, and I use my covered Le Creuset instead of aluminum foil to cover the pasta.

Alan says to stir it every 5 minutes, but I just do it every ten. Because the pasta is cooked in the oven, it gives it a different texture than boiled pasta. It's a bit gummier, in a delicious way.

Peter makes his own rendition of this. He puts in fresh tomatoes and zucchini and half a can of crushed tomatoes, along with some Italian herbs and spices.

Soooo good.

The NYC Marathon

Since it was a nice day, Peter and I decided to go to Park Slope, Brooklyn to look at some open houses. Yes, we just bought a place in Mount Kisco, but we don't think the suburban life is for us.

The problem is, that every time we try to go to Brooklyn, we hit a ton of traffic. For a split second, we thought that we might want to get married at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. It took us about three hours to get to Brooklyn and we completely missed our appointment with the caterer.

Also, almost every time I meet my friend Maribeth, who lives in Park Slope, God throws down hurricanes and floods.

We completely forgot that today was the day of the NYC MARATHON. Traffic was really crazy - we were literally going about five miles an hour.

At one point, as we were on I-87, I said:

"Hey, look! See the runners?"

Peter looked.

Unfortunately, that was the same exact moment that the signs for I-278 West appeared and Peter completely missed it. So we had to turn back, but the ramps to go back on the highway were all closed off.

Finally, we get back on the highway. Then, for some reason, we overshot the exit, so we turn back on the highway to go back to the Tillary Street exit, which was closed going north. So I said, "since 29B is closed, let's take 29A."

Big mistake - since exit 29A without warning takes you straight into CHINATOWN!!

Let's just say it took us about 3 hours to get to Park Slope and Peter said:

"Maybe God is trying to tell us something...something like Park Slope is NOT FOR YOU!"

Q-Tip OCD

When I travel, I carry around a little plastic travel-sized Q-tip container. It is the perfect travel companion which can hold 30 Q-Tips if you line them all up.

I get genuine pleasure out of coming home from a trip, emptying out the now-messy clump of Q-Tips and lining up another batch of 30 and putting it back into our travel bag.

That'a recent addition to the other rituals I do, like using paper towels to open public restroom doors once I've washed my hands.

Jenny is No Longer Credible...or Easy to Love

My sister told me today that she is going to register as a Republican, and immediately I regretted ever having taught her how to read and for wasting my time and energy taking her to swimming classes at the YMCA.

It's the sort of feeling you get when you break up with a guy after he does something horrible and all the good memories are tainted by the bad thing that he did.

I might as well give her Dixie Chick CDs to burn and a large glass so she can fill it up with that good'ole Republican Kool-Ade.

What's the point of educating these children if they're going to run off and listen to Rush Limbaugh?

But tonight I watched the pilot episode of Shark (which is terrible - and stars James Woods, who I think was the one super-glued by Sean Young) and one of the characters said:

"It's easy to love someone who is easy to love. But when you really love someone, you have to love them when they're not loveable."

When I got off the phone with Jenny, Peter saw I was upset. When I told him about this, he said:

"If she's going to go down that road, that girl's going to lose all her credibility."

Cold Feet

For some reason, right before bed, my feet turn into icicles. I usually try to sneak them onto Peter's feet to warm them up. He used to want to help me out, but he's become less and less amenable to it. Finally today, one week before our two year wedding anniversary, he says to me:

"Nuh-uh. No more. Put on some socks."

This is Who They Hired

As you know, I did not get that copywriter job. Ever since, I have been really curious about who they ended up hiring. This is the newest issue of the magazine and I laughed when I read the first sentence.

"Though the American press may not have known what “secure location” Vice President Cheney was in on September 11, 2001, prompting much idle speculation, Marine Corps Lt. Col. Bob Darling ’87 did, because he was with him."

I mean, what the hell is that?

This reminds me of an interview I saw on TV with a famous chef regarding Rachael Ray.

"Yes, she's very charming. But a chef? I don't think so."

I read this woman's article and my feeling was this:

"I'm sure she's lovely, but a writer? I don't think so."

We Really Missed Liz Cho

Peter and I are back from our three-day vacation in Vermont - well, we thought we were staying in Vermont because the house we rented was advertised as Vermont, but when we got there, it was upstate New York. The old bait-and-switch.

Peter and I watch ABC news with Liz Cho and - without fail - she flubs her lines at least three times during every broadcast. This drives us nuts and Peter says, "Sue Simmons would never do that. She and Chuck Scarborough are total professionals." It also drives us nuts that Liz Cho makes stupid side comments about news stories.

We also think that Scott Clark should stop with his wacky "Out of This World" and just concentrate on doing a real sports report, GODAMMIT. Although, that's not nearly as annoying as Len Berman's "Spanning the World."

So why do we keep watching ABC news?

For some reason, it's the channel the TV's already on when it's time for the news and God forbid we change it.

While we were in not-Vermont, the local newscasters were ridiculous. They kept flubbing their lines every other sentence and making stupid side commentary like nobody's business. Peter looked at me and said, "Maybe I should audition to be a newscaster. I mean, at least I can read."

"I don't understand how they can keep their jobs," I said. "I mean, if I had a job where I made twenty mistakes a day, I would get fired."

Their local weather man wore a white shirt with the cuffs all rolled up. Where was Sam Champion with his impeccable suits and pretty hair? It was all wrong.

The sports report was the last straw.

According to Peter:

"They're leading with the GIRL'S HIGH SCHOOL SOCCER GAME? I don't care HOW GOOD THEY ARE."

"I really miss Liz Cho. I mean, at least she's pretty."

There are Tailies at The Office

Peter and I love the show "The Office," which reminds us of the place we both worked for when we met. We had a boss who clipped his nails in his office and played favorites. Michael is actually a much better boss than the one we had because at least Michael would not have cut people's work hours so that the company could deny them benefits which padded the bottom line and therefore padded his Christmas bonus. Yes, that guy is going to be carried in a handbasket straight to Hell.

What I don't understand about this season in The Office is this:

Why is Jim working at the Stamford office, and why are we subjected to these new Stamford office people?

This happened on "Lost" - during the second season, we were introduced to "The Tailies." They were the survivors who were on the tail end of the plane.

I just want to concentrate on the regular office, I DON'T want to know about these new frat-boy/sorority-girl types and I hope that they go away. I like Pam and Jim. I DO NOT like this new girl the show is foisting on us.

Peter, on the other hand, says he likes the new girl better because "she's prettier."

Me: Even though Pam is better you would pick the other girl because she's prettier?

Peter: (big pause)...Yes.

It's a Turn Lane, People

Our condo complex is right off Bedford Road, which is extremely busy. Usually, the only way to make a left when you come out of our street is to wait for all the cars going left to right to pass by, turn into the turn lane, and then wait to get into the right lane.

But very often, people on the right lane get FREAKED when you get into the turn lane. I guess they don't see the turn lane and assume that you are planning on crashing your car into their car. Sometimes I get a lot of beeps from people, but the other day, a little old lady was screaming at me and giving me various hand gestures.

Get a hold of yourself, people.

It's a turn lane.

Oh, the Places I've Been

All the places I've been - I haven't covered much ground at all...

Peter's so going to kick my ass with this map. Actually, maybe not, he only visited a ton of teeny-tiny European countries and I've got CHINA!

But then again, he got to be a rock star, so I guess he still kicks my butt.



create your own visited country map

The Smoker is at it AGAIN!

That smoker is forever smoking outside. I think he's actually smoking cigars because the smoke is really heavy and dense.

Do you think it would be too passive-aggressive to get the fan and blow the smoke back in his direction?

What to do?

Today I told Peter that we shouldn't be pissed-off at someone who is just minding his own business and he said:

"Well, how would he like it if we kept farting outside HIS window?"

If only we could.

Cafe Antico

I found this cute cafe during my mad search for the Mount Kisco Post Office. It was sort of in the middle of nowhere in a sort of industrial part of town. Today Peter and I tried the food there.

We don't like to try new restaurants unless it comes pre-recommended, because we like good food and feel gypped whenever we pay for a bad meal. But we were feeling plucky today.

When we got to the restaurant, there was a sign that said it was "Zagat-rated" so we took that as a good sign. I mean, if Zagat is bothering to rate a restaurant in Mount Kisco, it must have something to it.

The restaurant is located across the street from a cemetery and everyone eating there was about 80 years old. It's more than a bit odd that old people are eating fancy Italian meals while looking out the window enjoying a view of tombstones. Peter and I were the youngest people there. The food was pretty good. I had Lobster Ravioli and Peter had the Tortellini.

One thing I noticed about Mount Kisco is that whenever we go to a restaurant, the owner comes out and says hello to everyone. He (the owner's usually a he) walks over to every table and chats with his customers about their vacations, knows all their kids by name and asks after them, and dispenses a few chuckles at each table.

I'm getting a little paranoid because the owners never come over to introduce themselves to us. So now I'm feeling self-conscious about this. Do we look unfriendly?

Of course, whenever I'm being treated differently by any person or organization, my mind immediately spins over to - "Is this because I'm Asian?"

Peter thinks that this is ridiculous and always points out that he is not Asian, to which I say to him:

"Well, I AM, and since you are with ME, you are perceived, not as the white person, but rather, the person with the asian person. Just like when we go to a Chinese restaurant, the waiter plunks down two forks at the table. My Chinese-ness is negated in your presence."

The Count of Monte Kisco

Peter now wants to be referred to as the Count of Monte Kisco.

I guess that makes me the Countess?

The Post Office is NOT a Post Office in Mount Kisco

In the town of Mount Kisco, there is a beautiful building on Main Street with "UNITED STATES POST OFFICE" in large serif fonts clearly etched across its front. I had a large bag full of packages to mail and walked down to - what I thought - was the post office.

I get to the building, and a paper sign outside says:

"This is not the post office. This is a private office building. The post office is located..."

Apparently, the post office is a historical building which is no longer the post office. I think there should be a larger sign people can read FROM THE STREET so that we don't find parking (which, by the way, is not free in this town), lug all our stuff to the post office, just to find out that the post office is not the post office.

The Smoker Outside

In our new apartment, we like to open the windows and the sliding glass door which leads out to the terrace. It's really nice to have a terrace - we go out there to sit on our $7/piece Home Depot outdoor chairs to watch the sunset. The terrace is also the place where we have placed the grill we got on sale last month, which sits unused because we have not gotten around to getting a propane tank.

Unfortunately, the smoker who lives a few doors down likes to use his terrace to suck on his cancer sticks. The smoke wafts into our windows and fills up our apartment with tobacco smoke. Apparently, he smokes about 300 cigarettes each night. Basically, he's slowly trying to kill himself and bringing us all down with him.

Although I am a person who truly believes that anybody who wants to smoke has a right to do whatever the heck he wants, I find all this really irritating. I mean, this guy isn't doing anything other than enjoying his terrace and not stinking up his house with the foulest of foul stenches. But he's stinking up MY HOUSE with this stench most foul.

What is my recourse? I wish that I could ask him to give me a warning, so that I can close all my windows. The part that really annoys me is that he doesn't even live that close. He's about five apartments down from us. He either smokes super-potent cigarettes or that the physics of this complex is created so that any odor molecules are magnified exponentially as it drifts down to our apartment.

What Happened on Grey's Anatomy?

Since we moved into this apartment, we have had issues with our cable box. I've had three different cable guys come in - for some reason, the HDTV DVR boxes we've had take one look at this apartment and say to themselves, "No way am I working HERE."

One box refused to change channels or communicate with the remote control. It would seize up and demand access cards be inserted - even though the access cards were already inserted.

The next box would invite me to press the remote buttons. When I did, it coyly laughed in my face by freezing its screen.

The third box seems to be the charm - it records great! It changes channels when I press the remote! It does not demand access card insertion with the petulance of an irate child! --- However, for some reason, it did not record Grey's Anatomy!!!!

So the first thing I do is call my sister, who picked up the phone and said, "Did you just watch Grey's? Wasn't it great?"

When I told her I wanted a synopsis, she said:

"It was such a great episode...Izzy was lying on the floor of the hospital and wouldn't get up...an abandoned baby was found and they had to find the mother...the Chief's wife left him...and...oh, yeah...for a little while, they all thought they had The Plague."

My reaction was "WHAT?" "What happened to the underpants?" "Did Izzy get kicked out of the program?" "Who did Meredith choose?" "Did Burke get his hand back?" "Did he forgive Christina?"

"WHAT'S GOING ON IN THAT SHOW?"

L'Anjou Patisserie is Rude

Before our drive into the city, Peter and I stopped at the local patisserie for some breakfast. We were in a rush, so we ordered two croissants to go. The girl they have working the cash register could not get it together. She charged me $18 for two croissants, a coffee, and a juice.

When I pointed out that it shouldn't cost that much, the old lady who works there acted like I was trying to sneak off with a pastry under my shirt. She insisted that the total was correct. I told her (very nicely) that I wasn't paying $20 for two croissants.

Of course, during this whole exchange, Peter is sitting at a table, munching on his chocolate croissant because he "couldn't wait a minute longer" and watching this whole exchange as if he was just a casual observer not in the process of consuming what may well have been $8 worth of croissant.

It took about 10 minutes for me to spell out what I had ordered and for them to straighten it out. While the old lady was punching in the numbers, she said - under her breath, "I bet you'll end up paying even more."

The total came out to be $9 and I said, "Where I come from, that's a lot less than $18."

After all the hubbub, we got in the car and I was so annoyed at the old lady. I couldn't believe that she made that snide comment.

"Oh, come on. She was just joking. You can't read people at all," Peter said.

She was so NOT joking - but Peter didn't want me to blacklist the patisserie because he likes their food.

I get settled in the car, take a sip of my juice, and on the Saw Mill Parkway, I bite into the ham and cheese croissant.

It was ice-cold, and rock-solid. I couldn't believe it!

I spit it out, turned to Peter, and said:

I am NEVER going back to that place EVER AGAIN!!

I Interviewed for a Job

I interviewed for a job today at a college.

Anyway, I applied for the copywriter's job there, mostly because it seemed like a great job opportunity - but I'm 90% sure that I'm not going to get hired.

Instead of asking me pertinent questions about my job experience or what I can add to the college, the interviewer wanted to talk with me about what I enjoyed reading. She also told me that in her last interview, she talked about reality TV shows. I really didn't know how to steer the interview back to my qualifications and the job. I've never interviewed for a writing position where they did not ask for any writing samples and did not give me a writing task.

I think that, to the interviewer, writing is very much like stocking oranges and apples at the A&P - anyone can do it.

I wasn't sure if she was a really inept interviewer or if she already had someone in mind for the job and was going through the motions. I thought that perhaps she was not that bright and considered explaining my qualifications - like:

Barnard College is a really good school, it's a top-tier liberal arts college, not one of the top 250 colleges in the Northeastern region like this one.

My graduate degree from NYU is really prestigious - they only accepted 20 students the semester I attended, out of the thousands of people who applied. The program is the 6th best program in the country according to US News and World Report.

I wrote for the New York Law Journal, which is the most widely-read legal daily newspaper in the country.

During my interview, I came to the realization that, perhaps I should be interviewing for a job where my skills and talents and credentials actually mean something, because according to Peter, the same lady who was interviewing me once said something disparaging to him about "people with fancy degrees."

Which all boils down to this. I think I should work at a place for "people with fancy degrees." I might fit in better.

We Have Been Traumatized

So the movers we hired - Seaman's Movers from the Bronx - SUCK BALLS.

They broke our bookcase, overcharged us for everything, and hit our new neighbor's car with their gigundous moving van. I am traumatized, Peter is traumatized, and the dogs are oblivious.

Also, the foreman was a complete jerk. Instead of wrapping our furniture in blankets like ALL previous movers have done, he decided to use boxes that he charged us $20 each, to wrap our furniture - hence breaking our stuff.

In the future, I plan on interviewing and personally meeting all moving foremen. Either that, or I'm NEVER moving again.

I'm just going to throw out all my stuff and buy all new stuff.

That would be MUCH less stressful.

We Are Moving to Mount Kisco

I have been a bit crazy because we are moving to a condo in Mount Kisco. Why are we moving from a house to a condo? I don't really know - we were "just looking" at condos and Peter found one that he wanted to bid on.

What can I say?

Real estate makes us giddy.

Acquiring real estate is our aphrodisiac.

So now we have to move.

I Love Being Quoted in the Press

My friend Angela wrote an article about online dating for the New York Press.

This taste of fame is getting to my head.

Lentil-Walnut Burgers

I made these veggie burgers from the Everyday Food Magazine Show. They were sooooo good. Every time I took a bite, the burger tasted better and better. Peter said that this was the best veggie burger he ever had. When he found out that this recipe had been in my possession for several weeks, he said, "You've been holding out on me!"

I never really want to take the food processor out, and the recipe kind of looks complicated because of all the ingredients, but it was easier than I thought and completely worth it. I had some leftover lentils and made a lentil-walnut dip. I put a little bit of Brown Rice Syrup to their recipe to make it a little sweet.

Peter made sweet potato fries to go with the veggie burgers and they came out great.

Pizza with the Meatless Meatball Sauce

I made pizza using the sauce from the meatless meatballs. It was super-easy. I got the pizza dough from the Trader Joe's (whole wheat kind) and I put the sauce and cheese on top and baked it. Super-yum. And super-easy.

Spaghetti and Meatless Meatballs

We didn't grill anything for the 4th yesterday because we've let our grill go to pot and we haven't cleaned it up yet.

Therefore, I made:

Spaghetti and Meatless Meatballs (from Trader Joe's)

Ingredients:
Box of Spaghetti
2 cloves of garlic
half an onion - minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 can of crushed tomatoes
1 can tomato sauce
2 tablespoons red wine
italian herbs

Start by heating up the olive oil (low heat) in a pot and putting in the garlic for two minutes. Then I throw in the onions and let them caramelize. When the kitchen gets to smelling really yummy, I open up the cans of tomatoes and pour them in the pot along with the wine. I let the tomatoes cook and soak up the wine. I put in few dashes of italian herbs and let things simmer for at least forty minutes with the top covered. Then when the tomatoes are nice and soft, mush everything up with a potato masher or hand blender.

When the sauce is about done, cook up a box of spaghetti and you're ready to eat!

This recipe is really easy and I use it all the time. It's always a hit. Although my sister thinks that the meatless meatballs should just be called Meatless Balls.

I've tried to share this recipe with a friend who only uses jarred sauce. I told her it was super easy, but when I started explaining what to do, her eyes glazed over like: "I am NEVER going to make this sauce WHY are you insisting on telling me about it?"

According to my mother, children who eat jarred sauce didn't have mothers who really loved them.

The Gazpacho Incident

Tonight we had a Gazpacho mishap. The recipe calls for crumbs made from French bread. In my house, we only have old hamburger buns that were in the freezer.

Unfortunately, the frozen hamburger buns bread crumbs congealed into pieces of glop in the Gazpacho. Peter was really upset. He kept saying things like, "Why would you do that?" and "You ruined it."

Of course, whenever I ruin food, I now get this terrible food guilt. I didn't used to, because in my family, we're like, "Ruined food? That's okay, you could stand to lose a few pounds anyways."

But Peter is Italian, and in his household, the 11th Commandment is "Thou Shalt Not Throw Away Food. Ever." 

So, in order to remedy the situation, Peter decided to blend the Gazpacho to make it more one-texture-like, sort of like the Gazpacho at Harry's Burrito in Larchmont (and in NYC).

Now the Gazpacho looks like Lobster Bisque. The tomatoes and green peppers have turned the soup into a puke-like, seafoodish color. Totally gross. And now I can say that HE ruined it more.

Sloppy Joe's and Gazpacho

Tonight I made Sloppy Joes using the Fantastic Foods mix I bought at the local supermarket. I wanted to make hummus, but couldn't find any tahini at the local Stop & Shop.

When I asked one of the supermarket ladies where I could find tahini, she looked at me like I was crazy and said, "I've NEVER heard of that."

"Have you ever had hummus?" I asked.

She said, "Yup, all the time!"

"Well, tahini is what makes hummus taste so good."

Anyway... Last week I picked up Lost Recipes : Meals to Share with Friends and Family by Marion Cunningham. It was brand-new and only $3 at the library book sale. I tried out the Gazpacho and Peter really liked it. I looked through the other recipes, and they seem like they would be good, but almost every recipe that is not a salad starts out with a stick of butter. It seems like these recipes might have gotten lost because everyone who used to make these recipes died of heart disease.

There was one section of the book called: "Yesterday's Side Dish - Today's Vegetarian Centerpiece." I thought that was great, because I like to buy regular cookbooks that contain vegetarian meals, but you always have to hunt around for the vegetarian options. Here, it was all nicely compiled in one section.

HOWEVER - the second vegetarian recipe, Pilaf, calls for beef broth. Go figure.

I guess Marion Cunningham is just like my grandmother. Whenever Peter comes over the house, she always says stuff like, "I know Peter's vegetarian, but he'll have chicken soup if I pick out all the chicken, right?"

I Married a Vegetarian

Yes, I married a vegetarian. And now I keep a mostly vegetarian kitchen and have had to make friends with beans, vegetables, soy products, and something called TVP. In case you don't know what TVP is, you've probably had it in your beef tacos at Taco Bell. I mean, c'mon, how do you think they make they're tacos so cheap? By putting real meat in it?