Month: May 2011

Read ‘Em

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I am not personally fond of bumper stickers. I prefer a one on one exchange rather than a drive-by introduction. But admittedly I may be in the minority since on some days it’s possible to read my way through every intersection.

Timely notice.

Even though I limit myself to a decal from the art museum, I do admire the reckless pluckiness of these slogan lovers.

They are proud of their political views and typically rock solid in their religious beliefs. They revel in their labels: a parent of an honor student, a grandmother of a shih tzu or a cheerful retiree. They mutely rant, rave and rally around good works and obscure causes.

Many strive to entertain, a legion of sit-down comedians passing along one liners:

Boldly Going Nowhere.
I have the body of a God…Buddha.
What is a free gift? Aren’t all gifts free?
Forget World Peace. Visualize using your turn signal.

I saw one of the best bumper sticker matches today. It was a gleaming new model BMW luxury convertible. The slogan? DRIVEN.

Singing in the Rain

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It is a dreary rainy morning. Good for plants but not for planting. I am looking at this as a sign to shop for rain gear. First on my list is this heart-shaped umbrella (about $30) from Umbrella Heaven; (I like that the London weather forecast is right up front on their home page.)

It does come in red but I think the black has a lot more panache.

Then some boots. These are black rubber cowboy boots that are mid-calf with a 1 1/2″ heel. They are at Overstock.com and will run me $35.99.

Faux alligator, I suspect.

I do have a raincoat in the closet but it is a little heavy for a light rain. I like this one from an Etsy shop in Santa Barbara. It’s only $35.00 and has lots of pockets.

A rain coat has to be yellow.

Okay, the final gotta have. It’s from Shopstyle and wouldn’t you know it, costs more than anything else — $50. But that’s just the thing with gotta haves.

Of course, I can wear it with a lot of things.

Blue Colon

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I see a poster in the elevator going to my doctor’s office encouraging everyone to wear blue for Colon Awareness Day. I ask the doctor whether she is planning to wear blue on Friday. She glances up from my chart with a puzzled look.

“What for?”

“Colon awareness day,” I said, as if I had celebrated it for decades. “Looks as if the whole building is going to take part.”

“Why blue? What kind of sense does that make? I can see red for heart. If they are going to do colon, why don’t they choose brown, that I can see.”

I tell her she needs to sign up for next year’s committee.  She doesn’t bother to reply.

Pangea

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This morning is like any other. Coffee, the paper, and e-mail check. Uncharacteristically,  a pop-up labeled, Win 7 Anti Spyware 2011, announces officiously that my computer is under attack from unknown sources.

When I click it closed, another pops up saying HIGH ALERT: System in Danger and offers two choices: “Yes, take care of the problem” or “No, do not stop the assault.” What the hell,  I think. You’re not My system security and firmly click close.

The messages start popping up like pop corn, every 2 minutes or so. Well, my computer security system must not be on the J.O.B. I open it and order a complete scan. When the Win 7 message keeps right on coming, I think I know I am grappling with a VIRUS.

That is how I meet Pangea. He lives in New Delhi and works at my computer security’s headquarters in India.  He speaks English with a sing-song Indian accent. He carefully enunciates and I listen carefully.

He tells me he needs to control my computer and in a few clicks he is running the mouse. I watch him as he looks for errors and stuff, and deletes and adds things in obscure corners. He wants to explain what he’s doing; I want to wash my hair before I leave for a lunch date.

Finally, he is done. He gives me instructions about computer hygiene starting now. I take a few notes. I say thanks, great talking to you, good-bye.

He says he’s coming to the States, to Florida.

“Oh, good, nice place.” He says, “You have a young voice.”

“Hmm, thanks.” All and all it was a great way to start the day.

Inside the shell

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There is nothing like Taco Bell for a fast car food. Two crunchy tacos with a 1/2 dozen packets of mild taco sauce and good to go. When I think about it, I have liked Taco Bell for nearly 4 decades. That is one long affair with a taco.

What kinda sauce do you have?

When I started out with them, the bean burrito was long and skinny.  I think the beans were rolled up in a deep-fried tortilla instead of steamed. The old ones were flaky like pie crust and much less likely to drip all over.

Another thing on the original menu was a Bell Burger. It was really a Maid-Rite, crumbled hamburger on a bun. I always did think that was  strange even though the Bell was never what I’d call the real deal Mexican cuisine. Back then, they also served up frijoles and tostadas. (You can ask for a tostada now but you may have to tell them how to make it since it isn’t on the menu.)

The baby in the photo showed up on all sorts of blogs around Cinco de Mayo without a tag. Bravo, unknown photographer, thanks.

Catapulted

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I Wonder

If Kate’s sister was not Pippa,
would she be just a little less hipper?
Say, if her name was Pat, Jo or Jane,
would the crazy press be a lot more sane?
Pics of Pippa flood the air,
wherever she goes, it’s like I’m there.
I — for one, will be glad to see,
the day she marries a handsome marquis.


Edamame (Ay duh Mah May)

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This is So good.

Put them out while people are milling around for the first course.

They’ll be asking you for the recipe.

This combo serves four, multiply accordingly.

Edamane with Chile Salt

1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 tb coarse salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1 pound frozen edamame in shells

Pulse red pepper flakes in a spice grinder until finely ground. (Or use a mortar and pestle.) Mix with salt and sugar. Add edamame to boiling water and cook until bright green and heated through, about 4 minutes. Strain and transfer to a large bowl. Toss with seasoning and serve.

It is Moving…

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Today, Sig’s mother moved into a retirement community. The place has meal service, a hair salon, transportation to doctors, stores and wherever and a 24/7 front desk in case somebody needs it.

Her apartment is small but clean, efficient and accessible. The doors are wide and the lighting is great. It looks great, a clean carpet, a sparkling kitchen and bath.

Of course, Marj is not so happy.

She thinks she has been dropped into a place where she will be forced into bingo games, eating way too much food and being nice to her neighbors. She hates the caring environment, can’t stand the apartment and hates being on the third floor. She feels as if she has way too much furniture but has no idea of how to get rid of it.

I want to say — Buck up Marj, deal with it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for all your help”

“You’re welcome.” And I leave with neither one of saying what is really on our minds.

Mixin it Up

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Sig’s mother is down-sizing in preparation for living in a smaller place. Needless to say there are lots of ISSUES cropping up not the least of which is looking at everything and singing –will you go or will you stay?

Kitchen stuff is a prime target. Her new place doesn’t have much of a kitchen and truth be known she has really gotten out of the cooking business.  But of course, that doesn’t really count when parting with things that spark memories of good food and good times.

I come home tonight with her KitchenAid and an aluminum cookie press with about 30 discs to make spritz cookies for the holidays and a lamp shade I claim I can recover.

I am really excited about the mixer; over the years I’ve toyed with buying one but a lack of counter space usually trumps the feeling. But when someone asks me if I want hers, I don’t hesitate.

It is squatting on the kitchen table right now with its arms holding tightly onto its stainless steel bowl. It may be going through a little shock. It’s not a new model. I’d say it is 25 or 30 years old and change might be difficult. Its mind is probably racing, trying to remember all its old paces — bread dough, mashed potatoes, whipped cream …

I turn off the light to give it some me time. I think it is gonna love being back in the game and bread dough? Not on your life.

Rant in Minor

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This is simply annoying: Martha Stewart’s advice to copy a hotel technique to remember to flip mattresses 4 times a year to preserve their lives (the mattresses, not the employees).

So you make two tags, one says January and April (which is upside down) which you pin carefully to the top end of the mattress; the other says October and July (which like April is upside down) and yes, pin that to the foot end of the mattress.

Are you still with me? I know, there is NOTHING WORSE than Martha Stewart’s extraordinary anal instructions: January is printed upside, April down, October is printed upside, July is down. I feel I am a marsh-mellow head.

And then the cheery finish. Every January, April, October and July, just make sure that it’s That month that is on Top of the Foot of the bed. (As if this action alone ranks close to finding a Cure for Cancer.)

Despite my disdain, if my mother was still alive, I’d report this tip to her and she would say,  “What a great idea, would you do that for me the next time you visit?” And I would hear myself saying, “Sure, no problem.”