| And it's a good thing I like mangos |
[Jul. 16th, 2009|10:02 am] |
There's a fellow who sometimes stands at Mariposa and Pennsylvania selling whole boxes of strawberries and mangos. Passing by one day, I smelled one of the mangos and found it to be unusually and perfectly ripe and fragrant (most US mangos I've had are kind of hard and sour) so I bought a box -- 11 mangos -- for 10 bucks. How hard can it be to eat 10 mangos between two people?
Well, mangos in breakfast, mangos in the dinner salads, mangos as snacks -- here we are almost 7 days later with two mangos left.
I now know two ways to cut a mango (I've come to prefer the first method on the page). I've come to appreciate both small and large knives (when this adventure started I was using just the big knife.
I also just made some mango-orange compote by chopping up a mango, cutting peeled orange rings, and thinly slicing up some orange rind and tossing it into a pot with a cup of water and some (1/2 cup??) sugar until it cooked down and thickened. It is tasty. I was hoping to put it on my pancake this morning but it took too long.
I also made up a salad that I've repeated twice now (Chris and I like it) that I call
Mango de Gallo (riffing off of Pico de Gallo, though it makes no sense since it riffs "Beak of the Rooster" (Pico de Gallo) to "Mango of the Rooster" but oh well)
Chop up a mango into chunks
Chop up a head of romaine lettuce (crunchy! and I don't care if you're supposed to tear lettuce :P)
Mince some white onion (to taste, maybe a 1/2 cup)
1/s a chopped tomato (optional)
Toss the salad with a lime vinagrette (I was using Newman's Own, but making your own probably great too)
It is a sweet, tart, and crispy salad. |
|
|
| The other jackson |
[Jul. 15th, 2009|11:38 pm] |
I'm obsessed with Joe Jackson's Steppin Out. This song was on the Hot Chip DJ Kicks compilation (which is an awesome mix of electronic, pop, funk, and blues, btw). I play the CD over and over on Chris' DVD player through the TV (haven't hooked up speakers yet in the new place) while I read. Sometimes, I run around the apt when this song comes on, dancing as if I were in Flashdance in a leotard and leg warmers.
Enjoy!
|
|
|
| when you miss your train... |
[Jul. 14th, 2009|04:28 pm] |
|
You walk to the nearest bar, drink beer and wait for the next one. That's what my Mama always said. So that's what I'm doing and that's what I'll continue to do. Not sure the name of the place, but they have Lazy Boy IPA on tap and the jukebox went from the Grease soundtrack to Steve Miller's Greatest Hits. I feel like smashing something and hugging my barmates all at the same time. It's a beautiful day in Seattle. |
|
|
| allow an easement |
[Jul. 13th, 2009|09:40 pm] |
The internet already knows there's everything to like about the Sunday Magazine's awesome interview with Ruth Bader Ginsburg this week, for example,
Time is on the side of change.
But what we really can talk about is how me and Ruth would have the comfiest office in the whole world together:
I think Truman suggested the possibility of a woman as a justice. Someone said we have these conferences and men are talking to men and sometimes we loosen our ties, sometimes even take off our shoes. The notion was that they would be inhibited from doing that if women were around. I don’t know how many times I’ve kicked off my shoes. Including the time some reporter said something like, it took me a long time to get up from the bench. They worried, was I frail? To be truthful I had kicked off my shoes, and I couldn’t find my right shoe; it traveled way underneath.
AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!
That is hilarious. That is always happening to me when I have to get up to meet someone who's come into the office. I like imagining me and Ruth at work together taking off our shoes. I would be a half-decent assistant and she would be the kind of boss who is right all the time but we would come together in a stocking-foot understanding, and I would pursue her encouragement and take her book recommendations.
I haven't worked in a carpeted office for three years and I miss that the most. My office has really bad floors. Shortly after I started I walked around in my socks one afternoon and got so many sidelong looks, and I thought they didn't approve of my sparkling quirkiness but I understand now what everyone knows: don't trust the floor. |
|
|
| SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE |
[Jul. 13th, 2009|03:06 pm] |
First things first: our wedding was wonderful. The honeymoon was short, but divine.
I knew it would be good as soon as I woke up and looked out the window. The sky, which the meteorologists said should be full of clouds, was a perfect baby blue with a gentle breeze to match. A salad day.
The ceremony was brief and beautiful, with a friend of ours singing Etta James' "A Sunday Kind of Love" (it was a Sunday wedding). Serenna was as lovely a bride as ever there was.
The rest of the afternoon was spent sipping champagne in the sunlight, talking with friends, and munching on Thai food. Later, we cut the cake and then cut the rug, dancing to old soul records on the oak floor of the pastor's house. We drove off with the sound of cans banging from our bumper, and a few friendly horn honks from well wishers.
On the way home we stopped at a red light and a couple riding in a vintage convertible pulled up alongside. "Congratulations," said the woman. "We hope your honeymoon lasts forever!"
Me too. |
|
|
| the rain came in from the wide blue yonder |
[Jul. 12th, 2009|10:17 pm] |
I know today was beautiful, which is why I think I did the right thing by mostly staying indoors and watching Merlin and making salads and tea and inventing punches using moxie, and the depths of my liquor cabinet. It's okay because I don't have a liquor cabinet so much as a shelf in my closet where half-filled bottles lurk, but, you know, half-filled bottles can be emptied into Igloo coolers just as well as the next guy. What am I saying? Anyway I did go outside, briefly. To buy the Igloo cooler.
I'm tired, is what I'm saying. Worn down. Do you know what it is, as of tomorrow? The All-Star Break, of course. My arch nemesis. These days we don't battle so much as pass each other in the street and accidentally " " brush each other with our shoulders, but. At any point one of us could snap. I have a feeling though that it sent advance guards to make last week, I don't know, would you call it harrowing? A bit harrowing. That's why at the end of it all I could be found at Great Lakes alongside Christine, shouting our heads off about Nine Inch Nails and then, no goddamn kidding, right in the middle of that, "Closer" comes on the jukebox. You can only do that kind of thing if you've been touched by the black magic. I know because I've been watching Merlin. I may have mentioned that.
Happily though, there are happinesses. Dinners with people you just never see. Parties for departing coworkers that lead you back to bars you can't help but love. And a play, called Monstrosity, now playing. It's produced by 13P, written by Lucy Thurber, a lady of great talent whose work just gobsmacks me every time, with how good and unexpected and true it feels. Last summer I took a class with her and it was basically responsible for reminding me what I was here for, responsible for me + Final Draft rekindling our relationship, responsible for making me feel like, yes. I have a shot. So I'm sentimental. But if you know me, and you do, you know I like what I like. And sentimentality doesn't necessarily apply, and if it does I'll say so. here: it's just good.
Basically it is a big, epic story, with war and family and media. And it is stylized. And it is so big. And it is funny. And it is infused with a love and life and spirit and scenes where the stakes are just, ceiling-high, but moreso the emotions are. Moreso you are getting these windows into lives. It shouldn't succeed, it has such a sprawl, but I cried three times and after the second act (there are three) I just about wanted to high-five the stage I was so excited. I don't know how you guys feel but I personally get scared by the high-stakes, high-concept, big money games. I feel like my place is two chairs or a park bench, except how many times do I hate park benches? Big stories appeal to me, they just sometimes seem so distant, cold, out of reach. When they are successful, though--they feel like family. Raise high the stakes and then show me the people living underneath. That is what I want.
(so like, note to self, if you are going to write about windmills, fucking write about windmills.)
Go see it, if you can, it is here in New York and only playing for another week. Here are some rehearsal photos, also, what a foxy cast amirite.
Okay. Let's hold on through the rest of this. Eat a good breakfast every morning and only listen to the music you really want to listen to. These are your best defenses. Away! |
|
|
| just before the lights go out |
[Jul. 8th, 2009|12:55 pm] |
For filing-away purposes, today we're going to watch this homemade video for the song "Big Ass Rock" of The Full Monty. Because guess what, showtune from unlikely 2000 movie-to-musical? Surprise! You are still extremely funny. Like friends prepared to strike you dead, you are always there to get us through.
I'll tell you what, I can admit that even at times when I am not at all interested in dating showtunes, "Big Ass Rock" has been there to hold my hand. This weekend I even went to see the show itself again, which did some good, as well. Sometimes what you need is a musical that can really turn a swear word.
(Thanks to Andrea for the tip. I will dump you in the river any time.) |
|
|
| learning, growing, caring and sharing. and shit. |
[Jul. 7th, 2009|04:46 pm] |
- I think it's important that meals, of any variety, no longer be served in or eaten out of bread bowls. Enough is enough.
- I'll no longer try to modify or otherwise infuse classic BBQ items because a photo looks good in a recipe. Burgers should not be stuffed, beer-steamed bratwurst should not have mustard infused in the beer. It's not for the cook to decide how a guest would like his BBQ item dressed. That's what squeeze bottles and jars are for. Just cook a good brat or burger and put it on a bun. Add cheese upon request.
- Strangers who are serious collectors of bootleg concerts make for terrible company at a bar. As soon as that can of worms is open, it's non-stop concert trivia and grinding fucking minutiae about events leading up to and surrounding each show.
- Cheap beer is underrated.
- Always over-think a situation involving sharp knives or spinning blades. You can't possibly be too careful or methodical in your approach. Think thrice, cut once.
- Roaming the aisles of Costco brings me great inner peace. I haven't discovered the personal roots of this phenomenon, but it's real and I can't deny it.
- Having too many interests and so-called hobbies in my life has left me feeling a mile wide and an inch deep.
- I want someone to create a reality show about guys who sucked at some sport or whose Mom wouldn't let them play a sport, and put them through professional training to play a big game in a Pro stadium. It'll be a feel-good show about getting a second chance and becoming a better man along the way. And I'll be the star quarterback. I won't win the big game during the series finale, but I'll win the hearts of America and I'll look fuckin great in a uniform. |
|
|
| -24 +sturtevant |
[Jul. 7th, 2009|12:34 am] |
Sometimes, in the 21st century, you run across the word "quillow" someplace, and that reminds you of your penpal from horse camp when you were 10, and you go forth onto the social networks of the universe to bring her back to you, but find that somewhere in between 1) the day she finally came over to your house in 5th grade while the tornado siren went off and you were under the desk in the basement when she showed up, and 2) today, a character on "24" received the same name as her, so much for that. At least she looks like a badass. At least it also makes you dig out your journals from 1993 and find your letters about new kittens and cross-stitching, and the ones where you wrote backwards as "code" to read in the mirror. |
|
|
| jewish wedding traditions I love |
[Jul. 6th, 2009|11:45 am] |
Even if you don't marry a Jew, you should totally Jew up your wedding, in my opinion. Jews, as you know, are pretty awesome in a lot of ways; their weddings are tops.
1) You and your partner will both be escorted down the aisle by BOTH of your parents! I know! This is two-fold goodness. First, and most obviously, the bride as chattel thing goes by the way-side. From your father's house to your husband's? Please. 1a) It wasn't my FATHER'S house, it was my PARENTS'. You mother carries you for 9 months, nurses you and probably does the lion's share of the childraising. So as much as I love my dad, it seemed pretty unfair to me that he was the one to "give me away." (Terrible expression, by the way. Points up a lot of what's wrong with it.)
The second part of the goodness is that it made it feel, for me, like it was a day for both of us, not just me (the bride). Did you know that most women report their level of happiness decreasing after marriage, and most men report their level of happiness increasing after marriage? If I were a dude getting married, I would be celebrating my newfound increased happiness. I'd want the day to be about me too.
2) The chuppah: the little house Jews wed under is like the home you're building together. What I like more about it is that it's traditional to have it open on all sides, to show that you will open your home to others. I like that. I also thought it had this overtone that no matter how basic the house you live in, that with two of you, it will always be home. Nice thought.
3) The Old Testament readings are way better than the New Testament readings. The new testament's all "love is patient, love is kind, etc. etc". The old testament is much hotter. Song of Songs? Not exactly the patient lover. "As an apple-tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. Under its "shadow" I delighted to sit, and its "fruit" was sweet to my taste."
4) The ketubah, or wedding contract, is maybe my favorite part. Everyone should have a wedding contract, because then you have to talk about what your expectations are. Sadly, most Jews have forgone the idea that it should be a meaningful, detailed document. Because weddings are about showing off how much money you have (in every culture), the ketubah similarly has become all about getting something expensive, and basically generic. ketubah vendors have pre-selected text, and they fill in your particular details, like your name. that's how generic they can be.
Also, sadly, most ketubahs are ugly. But it's a fine tradition that should be adopted and (in my opinion) improved. my husband found an israeli caligrapher and artist who sold nicer-than-usual-but-kind-of-plain ketubahs, but he also made really lovely regular art. so we chose one of his regular works and had him modify it to suit our needs.
5) smashing the glass: apparently this is supposed to mean either a) that you and your partner will stay together until the glass becomes whole again or b) that in the midst of your joy you should not forget the sadness of having lost the second temple. however, there's something about this that feels like it probably started out as a sexual metaphor. Just saying. either way, it also def. has an overtone of "let's get this party started!" much more so than a "church" kiss and a walk down the aisle.
6) the chair dance: my (large, burly, lutheran, macho) cousins saw the chair thing as an opportunity to work out some of their feelings toward me. I have never been so scared in my life. it was fun. |
|
|
| north shore |
[Jul. 6th, 2009|09:25 am] |
so you're in boston and your friend calls and says, lets go get seafood at that place in revere with the killer gulls. or maybe lets go to rockport or manchester or wherever really.
you get in the car and you get out of town and you drive and drive and there are these little working class towns and boardwalks and it's not that warm but everyone looks relaxed. as you get further north, there's less traffic. the towns are further apart.
you see a place next to the two-lane highway, a little grey-colored low building with long vertical slats. it's probably captain jacks or polly's or the shack or something like that. you don't even look at the sign. there's a patio in the back that looks over the water. it's cafeteria-style, and you order up twin lobters, corn on the cob, and a lot of hand-i-wipes.
it's july and the ocean smells lovely. |
|
|
| get back and let a man do the popcorn |
[Jul. 5th, 2009|10:07 pm] |
Today I went to New Jersey to visit the past! The past. The past came in the form of The Full Monty at Paper Mill Playhouse. Oh my god, you guys, The Full Monty. I guess this is a recurring thing for me when I return to musicals that used to mean the world to me, but yeah, I accidentally cried a little during the not-quite-an-Overture. It's been nine years since that show opened on Broadway, seven since it closed, a day since Lindsay and I sung "Man" at karaoke. This production used the Broadway sets and the costumes were all from the Broadway mold as well--if you look at these photos, you can see, it's like looking at echoes.
I mean if you weren't around when this show was my favorite show( proof of the childlike wonder that used to live inside of me. )
So this Sunday morning I woke up, put on a nice sundress, put up my hair, put on my nice earrings and a nice necklace, too, met up with Liz and Lindsay and Andrea and we took the train out to Millburn, New Jersey for to see a matinee of one of my favorite things. Maybe we looked a little tired but that's only because we plus Chris were up until what, 2am? Just short of? Playing Risk. Losing Risk, most of us, but, just don't get involved in a ground-war in Alaska and we'll be fine from now on. Plus never let Australia go without a fight. (It's a woman's world.) Also we had deviled eggs and I made a damn good pasta primavera, because I cook. I cook, you guys. But that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about
The Full Monty. And it was good! I mean it can't touch the memories, c'mon, but the things were all there. Less the Jason Danieley dance. But it's just so sweet, such an infectiously affectionate show, not without its flaws but WHO AMONG US sorry who among us is. None! Among us. "Breeze Off The River," I always have and will continue to say. That's my jam. I'll sing it if you'd like. In particular I thought Wayne Wilcox was an excellent Jerry. It's a great part. He has long legs. It all works out.
Oh and--Elaine Stritch was there? In it, I mean? The show? Elaine Stritch, you remember her. Dropping lines left and right, sure, but selling it, and that's showbiz, kid. Don't rest.
Counting backwards, here's the rest of my week: sung karaoke for the second time in the week. Helped Christine paint her apartment. Ate popsicles. Saw Public Enemies. Went to a play reading. Aborted a plan to go see a coworker's softball game (rain). Sung karaoke for the first time in the week. Slept in.
And if anytime David Yazbek wants to debut a new musical, you know. I'm ready. My heart is open and I know how to spell his name. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
merlinmann's Friends Page