I turned the BFB in!!!!!!

Last night! Finally! Only 2 weeks late!

(What, you ask? My paper. The anti-thesis. The millstone on my soul. AKA the "Big, Fat Bitch." The project of much wall-head-banging and stupidity. The object my constant guillotine-threat feeling. Sometimes school is a labor of love and sometimes it is the labor of the CRAZEEEES!!)

Ye gods with the late thing. That's the first time in my life that has happened, and admitting defeat was one of the more uncomfortable feelings I've ever had to face. More on contemplating misery later.

I'm still going to have to revise, add, edit, and compile miles of appendices...

But! For now! The draft is DONE!

Huzzah!!!

Summertime lunch

In theory I am supposed to be having tortilla soup. If you asked me, I'd say that I'm having gazpacho with a topping of corn chex. In reality, I am eating a big, honkin' pile of cold tomatoes (and loving it! Even though it's spiked with what seems to be an entire head of garlic!!!) for lunch. Yay, summer!

(Wish I had my camera...)

At the workplace

Actually, crusty old men do not want to ogle women on the job and therefore society is better served when women in the workplace "cover up" at all times.

Wouldn't want to show those arms! Might offend someone.

How appropriate

Or, breast, breasts everywhere.

The opening band for the Indigo Girls (IG) was...Girlyman. I love it!! They, of course, had their very own girlyman, a manlygirl, and a hippie Asian chick. Everything one would need to create "gender pop." (Not my phrase!!!) I actually liked them a lot. Chipper, folksy, bluegrassish (why does everybody think that inclusion of a banjo = bluegrass?!), easy-listening early IG-ish tunes. Fun.

Lots of fascinating people watching at an IG concert, especially for a DC Metro-ite accustomed to yuppie prep conservative boring. Saw more cunning wine contraption thingies in a night than in a whole lifetime beforehand - neon glass stems, stick-in-the-ground cup holders, every shape and size of wine caddy...At first glance, the crowd is about 95% female. After a quick scan, however, many of the "girls" are revealed to be actual girlymen, so the count must be revised down to 90% female. Then another look finds that some of the boyish "men" are actually women. Back up to 95%! This is hard!! One must pay attention!!

I always wonder about the sign language people. This is my third IG concert and there is always a set of ASL (I assume) interpreters on the side of the stage. Now, I find this admirable, but puzzling. Since this isn't a razzle-my-dazzle show - in fact, it's quite the opposite of sequins and FIRE! and dancing animals! and costume changes, with two casual women in jeans and pajama? pants, a LOT of instruments, and...that's it. The set is stripped down to the minimum, actually, as the instruments aren't even kept on stage. As far as I know, the Girls aren't really known for frolic or antics. So what's in it for the deaf folks? There isn't much of a spectacle and the music doesn't have much bass, so you can't feel the vibrations through your body. I understand wanting to picnic on the lawn with friends and family, but you can do that at a more interactive venue where the whole point is not listening to music. So really, I don't get it. Why go if you can't hear the music? Which, I must point out, is SO GOOD.

Is this my Daemon?

Since this is the non-negotiable (as I am far past childhood) form of my soul living outside of my body, I'm not sure I agree...

What do you think?

Shampoo water

I always thought of Wolf Trap as a pretty down-to-earth place, but now that they are hawking that dang-ol' fancy water, the self-proclaimed water of the clubbing set:

I might have to revise my opinion. Yes, the bottle is distinctive, which I understand is a vital part of the company's marketing strategy, but every time I crack one of those bottles, there's a critical moment in which I expect to taste soap...

Hey honey

Thought of the day:

Honey bunches of oats is a good cereal. Great, in fact, since it's one of the few that I'll eat. But the phrase, when used in reference to a person, makes me want to vomit.

Like, gag me with a spoon.

There had to be a catch

Or, the flip side of karma isn't done with me yet!

Because I was traveling, I need to have a traveling story, right? My first flight was delayed for crew rest (argh), so the counter people didn't think I'd make it to my connecting flight. No problem - they kept me on that flight but also confirmed me on a flight a few hours later. Pretty slick. I was almost through security when I noticed they issued tickets in the wrong name!! Something the TSA would likely not have a sense of humor about...I ducked out of line (sad), went back to the counter, and got everything switched around properly. Unfortunately, I didn't notice that the second set of tickets were booked straight through to the later flight. Now, since they had changed my luggage tags (or so they thought), when my first flight actually landed in plenty of time to make my original connection, I was annoyed but understanding, as they wouldn't let me on because my bags were already checked through. When I finally got to National, I was worried that someone would steal the wine I had checked (in an obvious wine-carrying box and labeled all over as FRAGILE), so I ran to the baggage claim and waited...and waited. Half an hour later, the baggage finally came. I stayed until the end, but my bags didn't show up...because they were sitting in the leftover pile from the original flight!!! My bags made my first connection, even though they weren't supposed to go on that flight without me, and were just waiting in the claim area for hours!!!! (Um, hello TSA, anybody home??!!) Still, no one stole my wine and I actually arrived home (just barely) on the day I intended. So, not the worst traveling story in the world - an actual comedy, not tragedy, of errors.

Rubyfruit explosion

Our sick-to-the stomach, so-full-of-amazing-Napa-Valley-food-and-wine instincts were, of course, to hit every fruit stand on the way to the hotel. Because we wouldn't want dinner, duh!

The loot:
1 pint of strawberries
1 peach
handful of small (slightly-larger-than-cherry-tomato-sized) heirloom tomatoes in assorted colors (v. pretty stripes)
1 anjou pear
4 tiny asian pears
5 Santa Rosa plums (v. small, about the size of the tomatoes)
1 fig

Holy cannoli! Most everything I ate (hours later, when I was no longer drunk and/or extremely full) was insanely good. "Bursting with fruit flavor" is no longer a phrase that only applies to candy! I had some strawberries, an asian pear, the regular pear, a tomato, and a couple of the plums. The pears were fine, nice, etc., but the tomato and the plums, oh, the tomato and the plums!!!!! I've never had fruit like it. The tastes were so intense I could practically see the colors of the flavors dancing in my head, on my tongue, in my belly...I don't know if it was the freshness, the area, or the care and good vibes of the hippy-dippy farmer chick who oozed love for her produce, but this stuff was amazing. The tomato didn't even taste like a tomato. It was like the essence of every tomato and tomato product ever produced, including shades of flavor never previously imagined, distilled into one succulent, tender, yet perfectly firm and chewy bite. (Oh, to have had some mozzarella and basil!) The plums were the same way. If this is what it means to be eating in season and locally grown, then sign me up! TAKE ME TO THE FARMER'S MARKET!!!!!

On auto pilot

Before I actually drove to the airport on Monday, I was mildly terrified that I would automatically drive to Dulles. I've never even driven to the economy lot at National, so, unlike my car and body's institutional memory of the Gold Lot at Dulles, at which my car spent an estimated two months last year, I would have no familiarity to draw upon. In addition, I am a huge creature of habit and my unconscious sometimes takes over when I'm travelling on my well-worn hamster track, particularly when I'm not paying especial attention (Ahem. Like all the time). Consequently, I spent much of the weekend prior to my trip muttering, National, National, National...constantly, just under my breath, as a talisman against forgetfulness.

I'm glad it worked, but I wish I could have sounded a little less like a crazy old lady.

USAir loves me

Current mood: like silk!!!

and National, too. Witness:

No lines.

No (bonus!) strip searching in security.

On-time departures.

Aisle seats.

Early arrivals.

Making my connection.

Lack of screaming babies.

Bumped to first class.

My bag made it, un(more)damaged.

and to think, all I had to do was fly out of the Congressperson's preferred airport. Who would've thunk it...

(And now I've really gone and jinxed my flight luck for all time, but I just had to revel in the fact that yesterday's travel was a delight!!)

Cowen-style

Tyler makes some great points. I have to say that a number of my favorite places, which are favorite both by virtue of excellent (or at least excellently repeatable) food and affordable prices, conform almost exactly to his parameters. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I live way out in the 'burbs and love ethnic (okay, Asian) food. Let's see, some of my personal best bets for cheap and wonderful eats, most of which I believe are highly rated by The Man himself,

A&J (ethnic strip mall with no anchor)
China Star (non-ethnic strip mall with no anchor)
Minerva (off rotation for the moment due to extreme GREASE issues; non-ethnic strip mall with no anchor)
Italian store (strip mall; is Giant an anchor?)
Bombay Bistro (stand alone)
Pad Thai (strip! no anchor)
Rabeing (strip! no anchor)
Thai Square (line of run-down stores that resembles a strip mall)
Pho 75 (strip! no anchor, unless you count Rays the Steaks)
Minh's (1st floor of an office building)
Woodlands (strip mall, but can K-Mart really be called an anchor anymore?)
Four Sisters (ethnic-iest! strippiest! anchored by other Viet restaurants)
Taquiera el Poblano (strip mall; no anchor)
Kabob Palace (barely a strip mall)

Inexpensive restaurants that don't really fit the Cowen mold:
Eamonn's (Old Town)
Nooshi (DC)
Hmmmmm, still thinking...

Best sentence I've read today

Re: disco balls

"It's a wee sphere of glee."

Summer Country

Currently: silly smiley

Country music, the music of summertime, bringing to a radio near you such immortal lyrics as:

She thinks my tractor's sexy

Tequila makes her clothes fall off

I'd like to check you for ticks

Brilliant!

;-)

Getting keyed

Current mood: Silly sit-commers!

It isn't like on TV and in movies. There aren't really shouldn't be any gift boxes; no nervousness, no anticipation. It is not a hedge against having to say ILU4EVA. Sure, it's a sweet and logistically efficient gesture (one more ward against forgetting your keys - Yeah!), but if you get worried, or have sweaty palms about giving someone your key, perhaps you should stop and think before handing him/her free rein to search the premises.

I've been here twice now and both times, my most fervent thought was Yay! He can let his own bloody self in the door - the act is definitely anticlimactic in a way that Ross and Mona simply weren't (thank goodness!).

I could get used to this

Hi Honey, I'm home! What's for dinner!

These are, courtesy of my new houseboy:

Fried chicken and squash slices, served with a sauteed mushrooms in a wine reduction over pasta.

Felafel over pasta, tossed with tomatoes and marinara.

Chicken, squash, and mushrooms roasted in an herb-garlic dressing, with cold sesame noodles and green beans.

Freshly-baked cheese puffs, caramel fish, rice, and leftover Chinese greens.

Soba noodles with a sesame-soy dressing and green beans, topped with chicken and mushrooms sauteed in soy sauce, sesame, and sherry.

My favorite, eggplant parmesan and mushroom balls.

I think I will keep him.

Diagnose THIS

AYEEOSH. I know that doctors in America are particularly revered, causing a wee bit of a (arrogance? Self-importance? Assholity?) god complex, but I did not expect to be lectured in peevish tones that I, the foolish patient who didn't check with the doctor's office and the pharmacy to make sure they were doing their jobs, should not be "wasting a doctor's valuable on-call time" with my prescription request. (Which was originally made days ago and then apparently ignored.) After all, "doctors work very hard and get very little sleep" (this is relevant to me, unmedicated at 8 PM on a Friday night, how??!!) and therefore shouldn't be bothered about the little things, such as procuring required daily medications for their patients.

Now imagine that lecture in a halting, broken, Asian accent.

Sit on it, FOB man!!!