Delta S*CKS

Current mood: a bit peeved

90 percent on-time rate MY A**!!!!!

That is all.

Reggaefest

Current mood: fare thee well

While the crowd was large, loud, and intensely cheerful, I just wasn't in the reggae mood. I'm not sure if it was the mugginess, the fact the I was not drunk or otherwise chemically altered, or that I just don't like the music, but likely, my first Reggaefest will be my last. I did like the second group, Ozomatli - their crowd-working and energy was infectious,and I couldn't help but join in. But I think a lot of that had to do with their Latin and world-beats rhythms. When it got back to the hard-core reggae with Bunny Wailer (the cutest, funniest, little old guy), I immediately lost interest again. I suppose, if I had wanted to get the real experience, I should have stayed for the Marleys but I just wasn't feeling it.

Ah well, my last concert of the season went out with more of a whimper than a bang, but there's always next summer! See you later, Wolf Trap!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Current mood: raw, exposed, and a little carpal-tunnely

Some days I feel beautiful - I am adorable, my clothes and hair hang just so, my cheek dimples irresistibly, and my smile lights up the world. Other days, not so much - I'm sloppy, pocky, and skin-shiny, and my dragonlike demeanor (and breath, let's be honest) does nothing to improve the view. However, even on the best days of brimming confidence and a swaying walk (which are necessarily high-heel-days) my parentally- and societally-induced issues about looks and perceived self-worth come are always lurking just below the surface, ready to come roaring to the fore. While I know, logically, that most days I look like, well, the average of me, and the extreme highs and lows are mostly in my own head, my perception of myself can have a profound affect on my moods, mindset, and thoughts.

I don't know if it's just me, but others' perception of me strongly affect my perception of myself. And I don't mean, on the street, stranger-others ('cause seriously? Different strokes for different folks and all), but those others I already know; coworkers, friends, family, etc. An officemate's passing remark about my pretty hair can significantly improve my day's outlook. Correspondingly, the knowledge that a family member thinks rather...little of my looks, is a burden that I nurse every single day. (BTW, yes, I'm fully aware of how incredibly vain and vapid I am for dwelling on this when there are many, any! more important topics to ponder, but sometimes I can't help the direction my thoughts trend.) And yet, curiously, the closer a friend is, the less believable I find his/her positive opinion on my physical appearance (though the negative still counts for full price!). I think, somewhere in my warped brain, that close friends, the family that you get to choose, are required, through the mutual love bonds you share, to find you attractive. Probably because for me, the bonds of affection, interest, and attraction (or perception of attractiveness) are so inextricably linked.

Enter the role significant others.

They somehow manage the escape the relative discounting of the close-friends'-opinions-rule. I think that in general, I choose to be with people that find me provocative, special, and wondrously attractive (Nope, don't date much, but when I do, it's good.). Understandable and predictive of human, nature, correct? That, through the reflection mirrored in his eyes, I can catch a glimpse of the better parts of me. (And yes, well aware that these are therapy-worthy issues and blah blah blah, no one will love if you can't love yourself-cakes. No worries, I do value and esteem and even love myself, see above occasional perception as queen of the universe.) Of all the people in the world, he wants me, because I'm better, nicer, smarter, and cuter than the rest. And, because of his regard, I am sanctioned in my feeling that I am not ordinary - that I have a beauty, both within and without, that is worthy of individual worship.

I think at the core, this feeling of specialness is why all people choose their mates. (The initial choosing, anyway - the compatibility required for daily living is nonessential to this discourse.) At least, I hope they do. So, the question for today is, if I don't feel this way, why would I stay in that relationship?

Class is in session!

Current mood: Whee! And I'm not even in a Mini!

It begins again, and I'm wicked excited. I don't remember bring this excited for the first day of school back as a kid - I was a nerd, but not that big a nerd, and in those days, kids were actually allowed to roam free and have fun during the summers. However, now that I'm going to school purely for edification and entertainment purposes (interspersed with much cursing and why am I doing this? Homework s*cks!!!), I find I look forward eagerly to the start of each class. Of course, the start is where I can still imagine the best of teachers, the most stimulating of discussions, and the fiercest and funnest classmates, before I'm brought back to cold, hard, and often disappointing reality.

Anyway...I disregarded two other classes that I was supremely interested in taking in favor of Public Health: History, Policies, and Politics, which, in my "can't do an MPH in the Virginia system so dang it, I'll cobble together my own-" mentality and its topical focus on environmental health, made a perfect fit. Can't wait to see what unfolds.

And, as an added bonus, I'm down in Old Town once a week, and I never get to eat there! Eamonn's fish and chips (and curry sauce!!!) are looking like a very dangerous hitch in the get-in-better-shape-in-time-for-the-reunion plan!!!!

Oh, a hoop. May I please jump through it? Pretty please? I can do that thing with the cherry...

I'm not sure if it's the D.C. internet dating scene, or internet dating in general, but the amazing pickiness (and sometimes, to be true, not) of the hot D.C. internet studs is genuinely puzzling. (Though I'm sure the D.C. women are equally maddening. Portfolio and pedigree, please.) Of course there are those who really just want a living breathing, female with female parts. Not too much to ask, right? I mean, understandable. Others though...ooh asian? What kind? With an accent? From where? Will you... And after the chill, I'm from Boston, camaraderie has been established, there are the normal questions, where did you got to school? For your grad degree? What do you do? For fun? On the Hill? How tall? How old? Dupont or AM? Skinny? Colors? (Dude, I'm asian. Next.) Do you like to ski? What's your take on Dave Matthews? The Clash? Brittany? W? What about Ethiopian food? Wine or beer? Neither - next...and so on. And at any time, any of these answers can lead to a precipitous cutoff in communication. Did he leave work? Or is he not answering evermore? What exactly did I say that turned him off from my obvious magnificence? Where did I give the wrong answer? When exactly did I confirm that I'm not the perfect goddess of his internet dreams?

So, I got tapped on Friendster the other day. I signed up back when everyone was sending out invitations, put up the bare essentials of info and a picture, and forgot about it - haven't updated or been on the site in years. So when a seemingly personable young fellow with non-hideous pictures and a mildly interesting profile emailed me, I was surprised, but amenable to chatting. We exchanged a few notes back and forth - nothing particularly sparky, but kind of entertaining (hey, at work, everything non-work-related is interesting). Until I answered the dealbreaker question, what part of Arlington are you in? To which I honestly answer, Oh, I moved out of Arlington a year ago. Not far, though... And that was the end of that - haven't heard from him since. I'm really not upset, just confused and a bit amused. I mean, this is a dealbreaker, considering that you like my pictures, profile, and other charming emails? Not being within walking distance is really a criterion now? Mystifying. Seriously, dude? You're trolling for women on the internet. Are you sure you want to limit it to your actual neighborhood? Isn't that sort of beside the point?

Heh. And then I remember, I once rejected a guy for being too funny on email (not my kind of humor). Internet dating is really rough, man. To each his own!

In which I learn a valuable lesson about power washers

Current mood: Someday you WILL be clean!

I like to try to be self-sufficient and energy-conserving whenever possible. These days, that includes walking to places that are remotely close by (which must defeat a hefty dose of late summer laziness that has overcome me) and doing more things for myself in the home, such as hand-washing delicate clothing, nail care, etc.

A friend has pointed out that this approach doesn't maximize my time utility (i.e., counting how much I could have been paid for that hour, had I been working). My dad actually seconds this in a class-conscious way, telling me that, since I'm now a "professional," I should pay others to do distasteful or boring chores, such as cooking and cleaning. This makes me think uncomfortably of Jane Austen books where people only participate in such activities that are suited to their "station," and makes me both giggle and groan, because that's exactly what my father, child in a British-colonized land, means. Also, I don't really think of all my time as "time I could have been making $," so it doesn't really bother me that I could more efficiently pay someone else to do my chores. There's an odd, peasanty, DIY streak I have that takes pride in trying to do things for myself. Even if those things don't come out very well.

Anyway...this weekend I thought it would be entertaining to wash my car. I've never really tried this, but I've seen people washing their cars at my housing complex and I wash dishes all the time, so therefore, piece of cake, right? Armed with a big sponge, a bucket, a chair to stand on, and some car detergent (Is this stuff really that different from other types of detergent? Why do we have so many different kinds of detergent available? Isn't it all just soap?), I drove over to the car washing station and set up shop. It was rather warm out, so playing with the hose and foam was kind of fun - at first.

My car is white, I drive on the highway quite a bit, and I have to park at home under a big tree, so it's usually pretty grimy from bugs and birds. (Whose idea was it to get a white car?! Stupid white car!!) I was dutifully scrubbing and scrubbing, bottom to top, with little effect. Even with the protective layer of dirt removed, the car wasn't noticeably cleaner. It was as if, bugs having sacrificed their lives to make those stains, created permanent monuments to their glorious deaths. Same for the "temples" of bird, um, "essence." (Ew. Washing a car is nasty, yo!) That crap (literally) would not come off!!! And then there was the trifecta of water, exposed skin, and heavily breathing (scrubbing is hard work!) human. Bing - instant mosquito attractor! It's hard to concentrate when you're constantly paranoid that horrid little suckers are landing on you. So, on occasion, I was wildly spraying the hose and doing the swatting dance, trying to chase away the mosquitoes. Unfortunately, as I tried to spray them away from my head, I got my ear instead. AEEEEEEIIIIIIIII!!! (And lots of swearing, which wasn't really well received at the pool, because it was full of kiddies and moms and definitely within hearing distance.) For the record, pressurized water cannon to the ear = very bad.

I had intended to climb onto the chair to scrub the roof of the car. Except, when washing bottom to top, as instructed, you're covered with foam and quite wet by the time you reach the roof. At this point I was at least sensible enough not to attempt to wash the roof - I was already slipping and sliding in my flip-flops on the ground! Too bad that left a wide more-dirty strip at the very top of the car, where I can't reach. Ah well, no one looks at the tops of cars.

I guess that wet and soapy girl, while in reality is just dripping and itchy, with soap-stung eyes, seems to be great entertainment for the neighborhood. Several cars drove by more than twice. (Seriously, stop and help, or go away. I'm covered in bug guts and bird poop, people!!!)

Verdict: 5 bug bites, not fun, aching ear, icky neighbors, and car still crusty. Not my finest hour. Car wash, here I come!

Full, full, full

And poor. Restaurant week has wiped me out again! It was delightful, as usual, and a good chance to catch up with some people, but really doesn't save that many dining dollars, especially when you go out to eat far more often than usual.

So, Viridian, Corduroy, and Colvin Run, oh my! You were great, but it's back to chicken and salads for the next few weeks. And the gym. Oh yes, a lot of gym time...

Thai Square

Current mood: full. again.

I'm glad that Tom S. isn't hyping it anymore, because it's now safe to go back! While they are still busy, it's possible to get seated at some point in the evening, and they are now willing and able to fill takeout orders in a reasonable length of time.

When I eat here, I'm reminded of how much I enjoy eating simple, homey, Thai food. None of this bland, oversauced, and terribly underspiced poor excuses that they've been serving up at some of the many, many random Thai joints that have popped up (I do appreciate the attempts to use clever names, though I've wondered why no one has yet tried Thai Me Up!) as Thai food has increased significantly in popularity with the masses.

Last night we had three dishes: pad see ew with beef, eggplant with chicken and basil, and catfish with chilies and eggplant. The noodles were dry-fried, with just enough sauce and grease to caramelize the noodle edges. Yum! I like that they use Chinese broccoli, as is right and proper, instead of regular broccoli.

We had told the server, "spicy is good," in response to her concerned query about our choices. However, the (chunks of asian) eggplant and basil chicken dish, while bursting with basil goodness, was not exactly searing to the palate. (But how do I justify deep-frying my vegetables, if I don't get a restaurant to do it!) The dish was delicious, but mild. Maybe next time I'll tell them that "spicy is necessary."

The catfish was fried (thin steak slices) and served with thin slices of those cute, green, baby (Thai?) eggplants, a lot of basil, and the same basic brown sauce, with the crucial addition of a generous amount of chilies. While the flavor was excellent (and definitely needed rice to ensure consumer comfort), I have to say that my enjoyment of the dish was reduced somewhat because of the effort involved in finding and removing the spine and other bones. Each bite required rather delicate chewing to avoid stabby points of fishy revenge. I understand, though, that this might not be a problem for others.

Great service - friendly but unobtrusive. My water glass barely had time to dip below full (key for me when chilies are involved) before it was refilled.

Ummmm, Thai comfort food.....

SNAKES ON A MOTHER_______ PLANE!!!

I'm having a lot of fun sending out those Samuel L. Jackson messages... I have no idea if I'm going to see the movie or not. Frankly, John.Tucker.Must.Die is higher on my list of movie priorities, but the hype around this movie really cracks my sh*t up ;-)

Viridian

Current mood: satiated

So, I went into this dining experience with sort of an attitidue about "spa food." They try to limit the amount of added fats, and concentrate on seasonal and healthful, as well as delicious, dishes. This is a great idea in theory, as long as the flavor stays intact.

The dining room is beautifully modern, though very, very light-on-bright-white during the daytime, and warms up considerably as the night progresses. The patio is a very comfortable place to enjoy a meal - I don't generally care for dining outside in DC, but Logan Circle isn't yet *quite* as busy as other parts of the city, so we weren't sucking down fumes with our food.

I wasn't sure what to make of the arugula pesto, which comes out to accompany the focaccia bread. I'm still not sure if I liked it, as I just couldn't wrap my mind around a non-nut? (I think) "pesto," but others at the table seemed to like it. The onion jam tasted vaguely like tamarind chutney to me, (am I on crack? Is that what properly confit-ed onions are supposed to taste like?), spread very easily on the bread, and was gone in mere moments.

The tuna and streak tartar appetizer was tasty and generously apportioned (em, each was about the size of a small can of cat food - I'm sorry, but that analogy is stuck in my head and I can't think of a better one). The (fresh, high-quality, not-at-all fishy) tuna was chopped and very lightly dressed with herbs, and the yolky steak mash paired nicely with a tangy mustard sauce. This dish was served with several homemade, seasoned crackers. In contrast, the scallop appetizer only had one scallop. The disparity in portion size was surprising, but there was more than enough tartar to share.

For mains, we tried the trout, the barramundi, artic char substituted for the red trout, and the lamb. All enjoyed their entrees, which prominently featured vegetable or fruit-spiked sauces and sides. The phrases "bright," "summery," "light," and "coulis" kept springing to mind. However, the feelings inspired by the different tastes, while all kind of generically "good," were not as memorable as the pretty and colorful presentation of the dishes. I guess am partial to strong flavors, or maybe I just miss my finishing pat of butter.

Desserts included the champagne sorbet, the flourless chocolate cake, the citrus cake, and the lemon and lime bars. The lime bar was extremely tart and verrrry easy to gobble up. The lemon bar was less tart, but still retained a lemony, fruity essence. The citrus cake was strangely unheavy and mildly flavored, and went well with a luscious-and-yet-also-oddly-light orange cream.

Overall, I liked it, though going into the experience I wasn't really sure I would. Sometimes, I feel that I eat out so I don't have to know exactly how much oil and butter is going into the creation of my meal, but it's nice to have an option that can deliver diverse flavors on a slightly lower (in theory, anyway) caloric budget.

Bow down to Bela!

Current mood: jammin'

I think my most overused phrase in the past few days has been, "Bela is a banjo god." Standard answer to, "Who is this BEELAH guy, and what is a Flecktone, anyway??" I've been talking about the concert enough that non-interested folks probably want to beat me with something pointy, but it would be worth it. This was probably my favorite concert this summer, similar to how Bela Fleck, Jean-Luc Ponty, and Staley Clarke in Trio! (which I fondly refer to as the the night of the three maestros plus little Jake, of the adorable ukelale) was my favorite concert last year.

In a nod to the seamless quality of jam band music, the performers played a neat trick so the music never had to stop. The stage was set up with all their instruments from the very beginning (which did make me wonder, why exactly do they need dueling drumkits?) and at each set change, the new performers would make their way onstage, joining in the playing already in progress, and the then the original performers would slowly drop out and casually leave the stage. Awesome. If you weren't watching, you would never notice the players had changed!!!

Marc Broussard has himself a hot voice! That scratchy, low, and soulful sound is perfectly suited to the booty music he favors (first song went something along the lines of, "shake your booty"). It was fun and entertaining, but was taken to a whole new level whenever Bela came out for a guest spot, and then -man! That's why people make bootlegs and go to live shows! Yeah!

Umphrey's McGee sound like a college band. Maybe not so much a band from the college scene as one that a lot of college-aged kids listen to. During this set I noticed an upspike in the sweet, sweet smoke drifting around the park. Deep inhale = noncontact high!

The best part was definitely towards the end, when all three bands were tooling away together, with Marc belting out Stevie Wonder songs for all his booty's worth. Four hours of nonstop, amazing music, wine and brownies, perfect weather, great company, lots of dancing, ah...bliss.

Eh, at least some of it came out well

Current mood: dinner parties take work!!

Yesterday's menu:
- cassava bread
- broccoli and toasted almond soup
- spinach salad w/ balsamic vinaigrette dressing
- corn bread
- angel hair pasta tossed with tomatoes, chicken, olives, and mushrooms
- brownies

The brownies are easy, because I'm lazy and bake from the box. Now, this is a choice, as I've baked brownies from scratch many a time, but really do find the taste and convenience factor of the boxed mixes to be acceptably high. The only trick is to pull them out early enough, so they will be fudgy and gooey, and they came out particularly well this time. I'd threatened to stop making brownies, because the past few times, hardly any got eaten, so this time my friends managed to convince me that they still deserve brownies by consuming half the pan on the spot!

The soup was also good, though I made the mistake of trying the blend hot liquid (ow! d*mn! splat everywhere!), so it wasn't as smooth as I'd wanted it to be. This got raves, as I intended it to (some of my friends are very reliable for kudos!). The pasta was meh; could probably have used some fresh herbs, and the corn bread was a tad dry. This was sort of a puzzler for me, as I always use the same recipe and it usually comes out better, but perhaps my cornmeal is getting old (um, I think it's a holdover from my last apartment, and since my insurance is coming due again...) and cranky. The salad was fine (even grape tomatoes have flavor in the summer!)

The real disappointment was the cassava bread. I'd baked them the night before, and was pleased at their springy texture and cheesy flavor, but it turns out that they don't age well at all. Even stored in an airtight box, they went stale far quicker than I'd anticipated Ah well, next time I won't cut corners and I'll bake them fresh(er).

"Dwarves are very upsetting"

Current mood: frantically washing my face

(It's from Into the Woods, get over it.)

You know what else is very upsetting? The light pen of doom!!! I thought I was being good to my skin; exfoliating occasionally, dermatologist-prescribed face wash, SPF-enriched moisturizer almost every day... Well, I've had a lot of root canals and at that moment, when the lady with the unidentifiable accent was highlighting my facial flaws and berating me for my "pomples," I would have much rather been undergoing dental surgery than looking into my clogged pores. EW!! Nasty!! Now I remember why I hate makeup stores and their ilk...

4 pore strips (OUCH!), an exfoliation session, a face-scrubbing session, a cucumber face mask, quite a bit of toner, and a ton of moisturizer later... scr*w it, I can't really see the problems without the light pen, so the obvious answer is...

I slept for 25 hours this weekend

Current mood: and yet...still sleepy

What did you do?

Perplexment

Current mood: much head-scratching, but no hotel fleas thank god

So, if you complain to someone about a behavior, the person changes said behavior, in somewhat (more than less) the manner you prescribed, and it turns out that you don't like that either, do you have the right to complain (again)? When is it time to sit back, shut your trap, and be glad the other person is trying? Am I just a big, whiny, meanie?

Round up

Current mood: I'm back!!!!

* Yesterday I got to tour a facility where they process photographic film. D*mn, do we take a lot of pictures(!) and yes, someone really does look at your photos as they are being developed. Keep it clean, people! But the fun part came when we were passing through the storeroom and we encountered an item that I just had to comment on. I asked the manager what the large bags of what appeared to be tiny, tiny condoms had to do with photo processing. He just smiled and let me know that, no, his employees do not need "a lot of very small prophylactics" to do their work, but that they do need finger shields in order to not leave fingerprints behind as they peer at our vacation pics. Who knew?

* I was having a perfectly lovely nap in the sun out by the pool (I love working! Working is fun!) when an evil child had to come and break the peace. I guess it wouldn't have been socially acceptable to yell at the (extremely LOUD, splashy, whiny) child or tell his parent to mind his kid, but I really, really wanted to. Instead, I left in an untanned huff. I don't think they noticed. Ugh.

* Allison Janey will always be my sweet C.J., but I was impressed to hear her convincing version of a shrieking, harpy b*tch. Not tones you heard out of her a lot on The West Wing, but perfectly suited for the cute animated flick, Over the Hedge. Her sound was so different from the dulcet tones she uses in the fake White House that I almost convinced myself that it wasn't her. Good show of range.

* Over the Hedge and Mission Impossible III. This flight pretty much flew by. Hardy har har. I guess they were making up for me having to watch 16 Blocks (Hey - United loves Bruce Willis!) twice in two weeks. Bleah. I'm glad I finally got to see the JAbrams version of MI, but I am so over Tom Cruise. He's not as pretty as he used to be, and he sort of runs funny. Which he seems to do a lot in his movies nowadays.

* Getting up at 4 AM always hurts, no matter the time zone.

* In the land of no cable (my house), I will no longer get to watch World Series of Poker events that I don't understand. (Blind Man's Bluff is fun, but how the heck does the low card game work?) Sadness.

* The people movers at Dulles kind of look like Imperial transporters from Star Wars. It never fails to make me giggle, which is a valuable thing during a time when I'm typically falling-down tired. No (work) travel for a few months, yeah!!!

Happy

Currently: not hungry yet, but not deathly ill anymore either

Heh, I actually saw someone eating one of the corn dogs for breakfast! Happiness! I, myself, had two bowls of miso soup. Yum - and exactly what the doctor ordered for my ailing, unhungry belly. It really was an interesting breakfast selection...

Also for the happy ledger, my flesh doesn't *quite* feel like it's going to fall off my bones anymore. I'll try to remember the feeling next time I complain about deep-body aches...

Ooh, and I get to go home tomorrow!! And I don't have to work this weekend!!! What did I do to deserve such bounty! Yay.

That's not exactly, er...sunshine

Currently: smelly

So, I got to inspect a place where they make seaweed salad and *other* seafood products. It was sort of interesting, being queasy in the first place (my body has decided to stop traveling well. Right now.), and walking into a room full of defrosting octopus parts. The wave of scent wasn't quite a stench, but it was nearly more than my poor, overwrought stomach could handle. What didn't gross me out was walking on flying fish roe (the really itty-bitty, orangey-red roe). There were small puddles of it lying around, and walking over it (in our plastic booties, double hairnets, lab coats, and safety goggles - whoa, were we smokin'!) was kind of like walking on tiny, tiny bubble wrap. Hee, neat! I may or may not have walked (jumped, slightly) deliberately over several puddles, to the great amusement (and likely exasperation) of my fellow inspectors...

Six inches of heaven or h*ll?

Current mood: drawn to the dog

Corn dogs for breakfast - someone at the airport Marriot has a fun time planning the continental breakfast buffet! Though I have to say, I'm mysteriously tempted to eat one. Or at least say I did. Last week's travels saw my first ballpark frank. Perhaps this is a sign that I'm meant to encounter hot dogs of the world as I roam the country...