things I'm grateful for.

-that our dear friends invited us over for dinner the night we returned from a week with family in san diego. in light of the sadness that comes after the end of cherished time with family,  God gave me a sort of buffer and reminded me that He has provided friends where we are now.
-that i did not get sick until the day after we returned from san diego.
-for my husband, sitting on the floor, with his headphones on listening to a french lesson and pronouncing random words and sentences aloud.
-for my new scarf.
-for the chance to get a massage tomorrow.

Season's Greetings from the Spastic Housewife

Well, it's been some time since I've had the misfortune of dropping things, burning things, or generally creating messes in the kitchen.  In the past two weeks, though, I made up for it.  In the past, I've thought to myself that increased opportunities for cooking mean I will grow in my experience and expertise as a cook.  While this is hopefully true, I was not prepared to grow by means of failure.


Holiday Baking Endeavor 1 -  Chocolate Chip cookies
Everyday Food had the greatest looking recipe for chocolate chip cookies - classic. I set out to make them and was doing well, with minimal clean-up to do in the kitchen. However, when I went to turn on the mixer to add in the dry ingredients, my hand slipped and I flipped it to high speed with about 3 cups of flour in there.  FLOUR EVERYWHERE. On the floor. On the wall. On me. On our appliances. Behind and under our appliances.


Failed on one count.


Holiday Baking Endeavor 2 - Orangettes
These orangettes (chocolate covered candied orange peel) needed to be boiled in sugar water for 1 hour.  Despite the recipes heeding to check frequently less they burn, I happily bummed around on facebook instead and then leisurely went to check on them after what I thought had been an hour.  SMOKE EVERYWHERE.  To the extent that my eyes started burning, I was coughing, and there was a slight haze throughout our house.  In an attempt to air out the apartment, Alex placed our box fan on our dining room table, level with the windows in that room.  It fell off. Twice (loud noises).  The second time one of the blades broke off.


Failed on two counts?


Holiday Baking Endeavor 3 - Cranberry Upside-down Cake
In preparation for a craft tea a friend and I hosted this Saturday, I decided to make a Cranberry Upside-down cakefor the main feature of the food table.  Yum.  This cake is where it's at -- a "topping" of cranberries, orange juice, brown sugar, butter.


After you bake the cake, you have to turn it upside down onto a plate or cake platter of your choice.  When I went to do this, I noticed that the center of the cake looked rather...gummy. gooey. totally and completely not finished, with absolutely no way of getting it back into the pan or oven, and a total and complete need to get driving up to Pasadena.  Another friend of mine was driving with me and encouraged me that maybe it would "set" in the car or in the fridge once we arrived.


Friends, it had no chance. 85 degree heat in bumper to bumper traffic for an hour (My, how I love how L.A. brings in the Christmas season), that uncooked cake center broke a hole through the cake's exterior and began making its way around the plate.


Facing the fact that we would have to throw the cake in the trash, we consoled ourselves by sampling the edge -- it was DELICIOUS. Once we arrived, we offered a sample to the other hostess -- she agreed.  We couldn't throw the cake away.  We cut off the edges and served it as "cranberry coffee cake."


Failed on 3 counts (uncooked cake, heat, traffic). Succeeded on 2 (deliciousness of cake, ability to salvage cooked pieces).


Holiday Baking Endeavor 4 - Buckeyes
Last night, I made buckeyes with my friend Janna.  We mixed the peanut butter center, carefully dipped them in tempered chocolate, and set them on wax paper, layed out on a baking sheet.  After we had finished, I suggested we put them in the fridge to harden the chocolate. I grabbed the baking sheet, walked over to the fridge, and tried pushing in a drawer with my foot so I could open the fridge door. Not so good. The shift in balance caused a slight tilt to the baking sheet. The wax paper slid off. In. slow. motion. all. the. buckeyes. fell. to. the. floor. CHOCOLATE EVERYWHERE. PEANUT BUTTER EVERYWHERE. SADNESS, DISAPPOINTMENT EVERYWHERE.


Fortunately, the wax paper saved most of them from touching the floor.
Fortunately, we had more chocolate to re-dip them, as any elegance they had had departed after their 3 foot descent and encounter with the counter, the cupboards, the floor.
Fortunately, the combination of chocolate and peanut butter tastes good enough that looks lose their importance.


Failed on every count except one (the extra chocolate/peanut butter we got to snack on due to this incident).


-----


Sometimes I do wonder how I got this way.

Oh November

Something about this month is beautiful.  I could say that about every month -- being out of school, each month is no longer peppered and pressured with deadlines, and I am learning a new character of the calendar.
November is an orange and blue-gray month.  Daylight savings brings brighter mornings and earlier evenings.  The first hours of the day verge on being cold; the afternoon sun is still warm.  Sunny southern California (hopefully) kisses summer goodbye.


November is a month for anticipating.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, time with family, the end of the calendar year.  These things come in quick succession, and once they begin sometimes reflection and preparation is no longer possible.  The first few weeks of November are maybe the last "normal" weeks of the year.


Tonight Alex and I went out for a pizza.  We walked from our apartment, in the cold air. Now we are back, I am wearing a wool sweater, and we are each enjoying a glass of Chianti.


Oh, November.  You and your occasionally sullen skies can visit anytime.

Life at the Elmore residence: a.k.a. Team Elmore

Currently, it's Saturday morning. A (that stands for Alex) is still sleeping, I have been up since the crack of dawn (actually, before dawn) because I had to work for a couple of hours this morning.  It is only 10:30, and I have already driven the town, drank some coffee, worked two hours, had my bangs trimmed, put away clean dishes, and made and eaten breakfast. What a Saturday.


Now I sit at the computer, whose power cord is so finicky that when I breathe it comes disconnected, and panicking, I fiddle with it as the computer plunges towards its speedy demise. So I hover over this keyboard, afraid of typing too vigorously lest that little green light turn off.


The rest of the day should be filled with normal Saturday things -- a few errands for him, a bit of pilates for me, some requisite tidying and cleaning, maybe an episode or two of Friends.


This is what A and I are as a team -- doing life together by being in the same space and enjoying one another's company on this Saturday. Supporting each other in our separate tasks and different ambitions. Working together to ensure that chores get done so that we can live in a clean, functioning space, working so that we can move forward together into whatever is next. I know being a team in marriage works itself out differently in every stage of life. This is what it is for us now.

Needed: One cup of tea. Cooler weather. Oh, and this room.

from Anthropologie.com

What's in a name?

As many of you know, about five years ago I changed my name.  For the first 18 years of my life my family and friends, teachers and coaches, coworkers and classmates called me Becca (or during first grade when I wanted to sound grown up, Rebecca).


The year before I made the switch, my childhood friend Amy was living with me.  As a sort of joke we called ourselves by our middle names - Liz (for Elizabeth) and Jane.  We documented our adventures of the year (and what adventures we had!) in a journal, always referring to ourselves as Liz and Jane.  But our fun only went so far --though we schemed that we would go by these names at our community college, both of us chickened out and did not 'correct' the teacher when she called our name during role the first day of class.


But then, going off to college, I had another chance -- a chance to do something utterly random, a chance to change my name and get away with it because there were few people at the school who knew me as "Becca".  I asked my brother if he thought I should do it, if I should go by my middle name, and he said "why not?"  That became my new mantra when asked why I changed my name.  There was no other intention behind it, nothing that made me want to stop being called Becca and start being called Jane (although my grandma's name was Jane and I think it is a lovely name).


The initial days were a little rocky.  My first attempt to introduce myself with my new name I said, "Hi, I'm.......Jane."  I'm sure it must have seemed odd for someone to hesitate to try to remember their name.  Later, just seconds after I had introduced myself to my now dear friend Kat, my Dad came around the corner and said, "Oh, so you've met Becca?"  I believe Kat just looked back and forth between me and my Dad until I explained myself.


Gradually, I became comfortable telling teachers and employers that "I go by my middle name," and my response time to my new name shortened until it seemed almost normal.  My brother and sister obstinately refused to call me Jane, and many non-college friends remained confused, despite my assuring them that they could still call me Becca.  Other friends, upon discovering my recent change, decided to combine the two names and call me "Becca Jane."  One friend decided that she would call me Jane when she wanted advice, and Becca when she wanted to have fun.


Now I have trouble responding when friends call me "Becca."  I momentarily think to myself "who's that?"  I feel oddly disconnected from the name that was close to me for some years, the name my parents gave me and that will still grace all my official transcripts and records since I made no legal change.  When my dance teacher neglected to hang on to her initial role sheet (with revisions from me), I did not correct her again.  Every time she calls me "Rebecca", I treasure it (after a 2 second lapse of trying to identify to whom she is referring).

Living in Fullerton

It has been a great thing that Alex and I decided to up and move to Fullerton for year 2 of our marriage.  We live on the 650-square-foot top floor of a triplex, with interior walls of a light grey color, some beautiful painted white woodwork and built-ins, and a bedroom with two large windows that peer out on a lovely tree.  We live on the edge of downtown, close enough to walk to a frozen yogurt place, to Starbucks, to shops and to get our haircut.  Since Fullerton is an older town, it is home to some of the more elegant and quaint architecture in our area of L.A., including Fullerton College, which has a sort of Spanish Architecture and to which I walk every Monday and Wednesday for my dance class.


Yes, DANCE CLASS. This fall I started dancing again, and it has been so good.  I enjoy the teacher, and have enjoyed feeling my body get used to modern dance movements again, by learning to let go and sink into the floor and maintain balance and be strong in the midst of it.


There are some fun and quirky things about living in our new place, as well. I have already mentioned the strange habits of our garbage man and the dripping flowers on our tree. I should also say that our kitchen is the size of a small walk-in closet and the counter-space barely surpasses the square footage of an ironing board. Our shower also resembles a cave, which you must sort of duck/climb in to - but the drain works and the water works so we are HAPPY.


Overall, I love it. I love the light in our place  --  the early morning darkness that becomes a cool blue light, the tired, late afternoon light, the brightness of light mid-morning on a Saturday, and at nighttime, when the only light comes from our lamps, a few overheads, and the glow of the computer (it had to be said). And the company? (meaning my husband of 1.25 years) Can't be beat. (It is Alex's birthday this weekend. Consider this the birthday celebration shout-out to the one I love).

Banana Bread

Tonight I had two things on the agenda -- make soup for dinner, and make banana bread.  The soup was a nice smattering of ingredients - I started with frying some bacon, removing the bacon and sauteing shallots, garlic, celery, carrot, mushrooms and potatoes (in the bacon grease, of course) - then throwing in some chicken broth, the crumbled bacon, and bits of cooked rabbit. Finished it off with a couple sprigs of rosemary and let it simmer while I worked on....


Whole-Wheat Banana Nut Bread (From Williams-Sonoma's baking cookbook)
This recipe makes two loaves.
2 1/2 cups whole-wheat flour, plus extra for dusting
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus extra for greasing
2 cups sugar
2 cups mashed ripe banana (4 large bananas)
4 eggs
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans


Preheat the oven to 350. Grease two 8 1/2 by 4 1/2 loaf pans and dust with flour.


In a bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside. In another bowl, beat together the butter and sugar until blended; a hand-held mixer is useful for this step. Beat in the banana, then beat in the eggs until completely mixes; don't worry if the mixture looks lumpy and curdled. Stir in the nuts. Add the combined dry ingredients and stir just until blended (At this point, it is totally fine to taste the batter. multiple times).


Pour and scrape the batter into the 2 prepared pans and spread evenly. Bake until a thin wooden skewer (otherwise known as a toothpick) inserted into the center of the loaves come out clean, about 1 hour. Allow to cool in the pans for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely (or if you're me, leave them in the pans for an hour because you decided this step was not worth 
getting up off the couch for).
________


The soup was pretty tasty. The banana bread - downright delicious. Alex and I each enjoyed a piece fresh from the oven, topped with a bit of butter and accompanied by a glass of cold milk. That's right - downright. delicious.

What's been cooking

Without the use of Alex’s beloved camera (it has an error message that we need to get checked out), it has been harder to think it worthwhile to document our weekly cooking. However, I have been having a lot of fun experimenting with cooking recently, so, pictures or not, you are going to get a record of these experiments:

Picnic sandwich on ciabatta loaf with bologna, salami, pesto, artichoke hearts and havarti cheese
Lemon Crumb Bars 
The above two items I made for Alex and my anniversary date to see Planet Earth: live! at the Hollywood Bowl.  The sandwich was made by improvisation, the lemon crumb bar recipe can be found here. It was quite easy, and they were delicious.


We had our friends over for dinner one night, and I had fun with the following recipes:
Goat Cheese Empanadas. For their July issue, Real Simple had a section featuring three-ingredient recipes. These had goat cheese, placed into store bought pie crust, baked and served with store bought salsa. Some things need to be simple. Alex actually made these while I worked on the main course.
Chicken with Olives. Thank you, Pioneer Woman. This was delicious (If I do say so myself). The chicken was quite moist and the olives complimented the flavors nicely. I served it over brown rice.
Blueberry Ice cream. What I love about homemade ice cream is that it is easy to make and loved by many.  Often ice cream recipes are only 3-4 ingredients, mixed together and placed in the ice cream maker which does its thing while you get on to more pressing chores. I also added chocolate chunks to this ice cream -- what can I say, I tend to think things only get better when you add chocolate.


Random experiments:
Strawberry and Chocolate Gelato. Supposed to be Cherry-Chocolate Gelato. Fresh & Easy’s jam selections are limited. The flavor of this was not.


Moussaka. Greek dish. Eggplant, ground beef, cinnamon, Parmesan, bechamel sauce. It might sound strange, but it was quite good. Alex and I made a real supper of it with salad, french bread, and some red wine.


No-bake lasagna. Being the first time I made lasagna, I decided to do an entirely nontraditional version that was also less time intensive. This lasagna alternated layers of typical lasagna noodles with cooked zucchini, summer squash, tomatoes and ricotta. I also threw in a few pieces of salami to add some flavor (for me) and “meat” (for my husband). As the title indicates, this lasagna does not need to be “popped in the oven.” Fresh and yummy.


Spinach Quiche with whole wheat crust. This was made on a Saturday night, out of a need to use up extra milk, cheese, eggs and spinach. I had pepper-jack cheese on hand, so there was a nice spicy kick to it. The simple, laid-back, yet strong flavors of a hot quiche really hit the spot, especially since the weather had become cooler that evening.


Pork Chops with Gruyere Polenta and cherry tomatoes. This was dinner for this week, or for at least two of the nights. In recent years I have come to really enjoy polenta, particularly the fine-grain version cooked fresh on the stove top (rather than the pre-cooked, shaped version). I still am not the biggest fan of pork chops, though I continue to try them when they are a part of recipes whose other parts look delicious. I love cherry tomatoes and eat them by the dozen.


Finally, Alex’s parents gave us a hefty supply of apples and plums from their fruit trees in Fresno. Even if each of us ate one apple and one plum per day, we might not have made it through them in a month’s time. Hence, the three recipes listed below:
Plum and Apple Sangria
Peach and Plum Shortbread
Plum-Apple Butter


Next-up...
Preparing for the Supper Club meal we will be hosting on October 23rd. In case you aren’t aware of the fun involved in this group gathering, the Supper Club requires a minimum five-course meal prepared for 8 people and themed around the book chosen by the couple who hosted previously. Alex and I will be experimenting with and choosing dishes centered around Wendell Berry’s Nathan Coulter. Tonight we are going to go out to a southern restaurant in Los Angeles called Tart (for inspiration) and then to Barnes and Noble to peruse the cookbooks. Wish us luck.

Three things that are funny, one that's absurd.

ONE. Our forest green honda. It has tinted windows, a large dent on the drivers' side door, and a subwoofer that takes up half the trunk. In its current parking space, a tree consistently seeps pollen on it so that 1) it is embarrassingly dirty two days after its washing, and 2) it attracts ants, who happen to like this pollen and crawl all over the hood and roof (also embarrassing, hoping no one sees the bugs crawling all over your car). One of the only bugs I fear is ants. Today when I was driving with the window down (because there is no air conditioning), I imagined lots of tiny ants flying onto me. Also, it is impossible for me to get out of the car in any elegant manner (it being so close to the ground), which is made even more complicated by the pencil skirts I wear to work.


TWO. Our trash man. Every time we leave for work on Tuesday morning, the landlord has kindly brought out the trash cans. These are neatly placed to the side of our parking spot, so that we can easily back out our car and head off to work. Every time we return from work that same day, we find the three trash cans spaced a yard apart from each other, ENTIRELY blocking BOTH parking spots we have been given, and making pulling in to our parking spot (without getting out to move the trash cans) difficult to impossible. I don't know what we did to the trash man, but he is exacting his revenge, one week at a time.


THREE. The fact that we live across from a fire station.


ABSURD. How long it takes me to make decisions, and the number of times I change my mind while doing so. Today, I wondered around Cost Plus World Market for 45 minutes looking for cushions for our dining room chairs. I held 6 cushions in my arms, walked back and forth across the store to the various locations for cushions, scattered the cushions on various tables to see how they looked against the wood, asks the sales people whether the 14 different types of cushions they had in the store were all they had, walked next door to Target to look for cushions, realized their selection consisted of one small shelf of mismatched cushions, went back to World Market, resumed the process, chose a cushion, walked around the store with it once, put it back, chose another cushion, walked around the store twice, put it back, called my mom for advice, tried to think of any other friends I could call for advice, panicked, bought a bar of chocolate, refused to let the sales reps take any of the six cushions I was holding to the front because "I was deciding between them", and finally ended up taking home two mismatched cushions so I could "try them out." When I approached the register with these two mismatched cushions, the salesman looked at me and said, "Couldn't make up your mind?"


Right man. Like I needed you to tell me that.

Ten things I learned from my husband

1. How to not panic when writing a college essay. This involves not being afraid of the hard work, but also sending the paper off to loved ones for some editing. When you've hit a wall, stop working, get a cup of hot chocolate, and watch an episode of something on Hulu. (Also, when I (memorably) panicked sophomore year, he sat with me for two or so hours to help me rethink my argument. This we call "woo-ing").


2. How to be curious in a way that reading satisfies, and how to be glad when your husband decides that library books are as satisfying to his curiosity as those purchased on Amazon.


3. How weather works. No, really. These things are fascinating to me, and he has a good enough memory to recount all the details he learned in 7th grade science class. Once when we were driving up the coast, I asked him why the temperature was cooler outside then it had been earlier that week. He proceeded to tell me about moisture, humidity of the air, cold and hot fronts, wind directions...and then entertained my questions about earthquakes, tectonic plates, volcanoes, hurricanes, and tsunamis.


4. The history of Rome. and England. and Israel (the latter he has repeated to me time and time again, without frustration and only the occasional laughter at my inability to hold historical facts in my head for longer than 4 days).


5. Food fact number 1: Sometimes, simple tastes are better - like vanilla ice cream. and bacon. Me, I would want to mix these flavors together. Experiment. Alex prefers them independent from one another and at the appropriate times of day. (Not that he doesn’t sometimes eat ice cream for breakfast).


6. Food fact number 2: Sometimes, simple tastes are not better. One day at the school cafeteria, Alex suggested we exchange preparing breakfast for each other. In an attempt to introduce me to a new creative concoction (since he knows I like these sorts of experiments), Alex brought me a nice bowl of sticky oatmeal and cantaloupe. These foods, while nice on their own, are quite bland when slopped together. I did not eat the oatmeal. (Poor guy). But I did laugh at him and think him cute. (Poor guy).


7. How to be moderate.


8. Patience... partly from his tendency to run a little late, but more from his example (See #1, 3, 4).


9. Kindness. Gentleness.


10. Life isn’t perfect - you can still have joy. Joy doesn't come despite imperfection, it comes alongside imperfection, because joy is unrelated to our perfection or imperfection. Joy is about the grace of God in our lives, therefore take joy in the Lord in the midst of an imperfect life (this one I am still learning).

For the love of fall.

Yesterday was the first semi-chilly, drizzly day in Los Angeles. This means that it was 68 degrees, and I saw students all over campus wearing knee high boots, leggings and baggy sweaters. Two things in this life I cannot get over -- 1. the fashion sense of a college student, and 2. the quickness of those living in extreme climates to don clothing suited to the weather that is opposite to their typical weather experience (example: the propensity of a midwesterner to wear flip-flops as soon as the weather turns 50 degrees ). When I went to Oxford, I participated in both of these phenomena - so eager to wear cozy clothing once in a non-southern california enviornment, I also was encouraged by (a) my college fashion sense, and (b) my interpretation of the "funkiness" of british style, so that I readily layered sweater upon long-sleeved shirt upon scarf upon tights upon skirts, all varying in pattern and color, without hesitation or remorse.


Today, though my fashion sense is slightly more cultured (or so I like to think), I felt inclined to put on my new brown leather boots and pull the tweed skirt from the back of my closet. I still can't resist the pull all southern californians feel to "celebrate" the colder weather with attire that feels a bit out of place when the morning fog burns off and it turns out to be 80 degrees that afternoon.


But I don't care.


_____________


Lovely and romantic: two words that come to mind when I think of fall -- the daylight escapes a little bit earlier. Yesterday on my drive home from work the trees and fields in parks were golden-green, rather than the more light-saturated kelly green of summer evenings.


The colors of fall are rich and beautiful, turquoise and crimson and plum and forest green. The popular textures of fabric (wool, tweed, corduroy) are warm and cozy.


So many of the activities that take place in the fall hold memories from past years. Whereas the months of spring and early summer pass without many "annual" events (aside from Easter and Memorial Day), fall is the time for going back to school, for crisp apples, for halloween parties, fall sports, warm soups, the joy of an hour more sleep when we "Fall back" for Daylight savings -- all the while the days are shortening as we head into Thanksgiving, Christmas and "winter." (sorry, L.A., I just can't take that word seriously around you).
Yes, fall is precursor to the dive into winter, which will lead to the next spring and the warm, long days of summer again. Perhaps it is the cycle of seasons that allows each to be beautiful. We can acknowledge and perhaps appreciate the bitterness of winter because we are looking forward to the thawing of spring.


I do think all seasons have their own glories. But to me, fall recalls beauty of a type I forgot existed. Each time autumn comes it catches me off guard; I am surprised  by its beauty and wonder at it and relish it.

Chester, the cockroach: The extermination

About a week ago, Alex and I came home from visiting his parents up in Fresno. As we approached our doorstep, we noticed several cockroaches lying about. It was still light outside. These were dead cockroaches.


There really isn't much to say when you've named a cockroach and given him a personality and then discover that he is dead. Not just dead, murdered. Exterminated. I thought I might be a little sad. I'm not.


I do continue to look forward to the day when Alex and I can have a real pet - a dog. Here's what needs to happen before we can get one:


1. We need to move to a residence that allows for dogs. This might mean we need to move to Canada, since Ontario has had a law since 1990 that bans apartment owners from discriminating against animals in lease-terms, and other provinces are now fighting for "Fluffy's Law" too.


2. We need to set up our 401ks. I am not going to invest in a dog who has CONSTANT NEEDS and will drain my bank account for many years -- not until I have financial stability and security, man. No, but really, dogs cost money.


3. We need to decide on a breed. (Current leanings are towards larger dogs, like retrievers and labs, although I still have a soft spot in my heart for Beagles ever since my childhood dog (Frisky, the Beagle) passed away on December 18th, 1998. Frisky was the typical beagle who liked to bay and chase rabbits, although when he finally caught them, he would just lick them. The rabbit would be trembling, shaking, and there would be Frisky, happily panting andlicking the poor thing. Also, Frisky liked to cross the street to the junior high and steal food from the students. Once he ate a piece of cake off a teacher's desk. Another day, he came trotting (trotting? do dogs trot?) up our driveway with a package of hotdog buns in his mouth. Frisky was twice the recommended weight for beagles his height).


4. We need to decide on a name. I guess this could wait until we actually have the dog. But I am one of those types who likes to have a list of 10 possible names a year before I am ready to purchase said animal. So, yes, we at least need a smidgen of inspiration before we are ready to take the dive. Or maybe I will just work on becoming more free-spirited.


So while Alex and I continue to wait for the lodging, funding and unity of decision necessary to buy a dog, why don't YOU tell me about some of the animals you have, used to have, or would like to have someday? (This is my attempt to begin brainstorming names. Participation is appreciated).

Chester, the cockroach: A family reunion

Chester, our beloved Cockroach, has in the last seven days.... multiplied. And not just by two.


One evening last week, Alex and I were leaving for our night walk when we noticed more than one dark shape below our doorstep. There were three. Chester had, apparently, invited his two brothers over for a little family get together.
We turned the outside light on.


And all their children. I kid you not; there were too many baby cockroaches to count.


Evidently, Alex had noticed this surplus of cockroaches the night before, but had neglected to tell me. I think he was trying to protect my ability to sleep at night. At night -- when all the cockroaches come out to chill in front of our apartment.


We talked to our landlord about it, and apparently this is a seasonal thing. The cockroaches never come inside (they would have a flight of stairs to make it up anyways), and he would spray for them soon.


All I know is tonight when we returned from our walk (which was a different walk then we had left for the week before), one of Chester’s brothers tried to chase me through the grass. I screamed like a maniac, jumped up the stairs, open the door, slammed it and left Alex outside to fight them off for me.


Not really. But I did scream and jump, just as I had earlier in the night when I saw a cricket. My poor husband.


Chester, I understand your desire to host your family party on our doorstop. You are, after all, a butler, and hosting must be one of your primary joys in life. But your brothers are a little wild, and the kids are over-running the place. The fun needs to stop. Now.

Chester, the cockroach

Alex and I have a cockroach. The word alone grosses me out. The bug itself makes me want to scream and jump onto a chair, or a counter, or whatever elevated surface is nearest.


In our last apartment we had one itty bitty cockroach so we set up multiple traps, consisting of coffee grounds placed inside glass jars, with the lid resting partially against a wall and partially on the rim of the jar. We caught nothing, nor did we have any "run-ins" with other resident roaches. I did, however, have a dream that a cockroach the size of a ferret was in our kitchen cupboard, banging (loudly) around the pots and pans.


I'm sorry.


The good thing about our current cockroach is that he lives outside, about 4 feet away from our door. Every once in a while when Alex and I come home at night we see a dark shadow on the ground and then we'll turn on the outside light and he'll scamper back to his safe (dark) hiding place under the house. The funny thing about this is that consistently seeing the cockroach sitting quietly outside our doorstop made us feel a strong enough attachment to...well, name him. We call him Chester.


I'm sorry.


Also, Chester sounds like a name a butler would have, and as cockroaches shiny wing-like things slightly resemble a butler's coat, we feel that Chester (our cockroach) is sort of a butler. (This inspiration may have come from our recent discovery of P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster series. We just finished watching the A&E version of the first season and enjoyed it very much).


So, there you have it. Consider yourself introduced. If I can bear to write any more of these repulsive creatures, I may have other stories to tell. All I know is, if Chester ever comes inside, his days of buttling will be over.

A few things worth living for

The other week, a co-worker mentioned to me that he had developed two rules which he hoped to keep during his life:


1. Never drink bad coffee.
2. Never listen to bad music.


According to him, there is no excuse for allowing a poor sample of a good thing to lessen one's enjoyment of it. A poor version of a good thing might even make the thing bad. We have been given plenty of delicious coffee and quality music (thanks be to God)! Do not settle. Do not compromise. Life's too short to half-heartedly partake of its pleasures.


In lieu of this realization, I thought I might develop my own list of rules, rendered necessary by the phrase "Life's too short...":


1. Life's too short to speed through it. I start with this rule because it is hard -- especially for someone who likes toget-things-done-as-quickly-as-possible-so-I-can-relax. No, bad plan. This tends to be a frustrating orientation. Sure, there are times when my tasks are minimal and offer no enjoyment, so I can speed through them to something I enjoy more. Most of the time, though, I need to either be able to enjoy the tasks at hand, or be willing to let them go undone if doing them will prevent me from participating in the more substantive moments of life. So, yes, I will make efforts to enjoy doing dishes and take pleasure in restoring order to our apartment. But if it has been a long day and the priority is to "wind down," then the house does not have to be in perfect order for me to sit with a cup of tea and a book for thirty minutes. And it is better to leave my bed unmade and my blow-drier on the counter so I can spend a few minutes in quiet each morning. Lingering over dinner-table conversation verses headed off to accomplish the next "to-do" - also worthwhile. Moral of the story? Slow down. Enjoy.


2. Life's too short to eat boring desserts. Desserts, in my opinion, should be creative in their flavor combinations, have quality ingredients and (on special occasions) have quirky presentation. Not that I won't go for a simple piece of chocolate or a scoop of vanilla ice cream occasionally, but really, how much more do I love pear and salted caramel ice cream or lavender dark chocolate. [One point of no compromise is hot chocolate - it really must be made with fresh, steaming milk and melted chocolate (plus a dash of vanilla and  sprinkle of nutmeg). Boiling water and cocoa powder? No. Never. Why would I replace this creamy, delicious beverage with a thin, watery cup of chocolate flavored sugar? Do you see my point?)


3. Life's too short to blow-dry my hair (Note: I do do this because I am a working woman. But if it were up to me, I would not waste 15 precious minutes of my day getting my hair to a place that it would eventually reach ALL ON ITS OWN).


I know there are many factors that contribute to a life well-lived and enjoyed, but these are three that I think valuable. What about you? What life rules would you establish to make each day (or at least moments of each day) spectacular?

Memphis, Tennessee

Alex and I just returned from a lovely trip to the charming city of Memphis, Tennessee. While I have visited there frequently to see family, this was his first time in the "Volunteer" state (nick-named so because of the number of volunteer soldiers from Tennessee in the War of 1812).  Alex's dad grew up in Nashville, did his undergrad in south-central Tennessee and went to med school at University of Tennessee, so we were glad Alex was able to see one of the places that his Dad had spent some significant time (University of Tennessee is in downtown Memphis).


The last time I had been to Tennessee for an extended visit it was the middle of January.  It was cold-ish then. However, Tennessee has a reputation for being hot and humid - and boy did it live up to this reputation  in these early weeks of June.  I had been asked by my physical therapist to go on two short walks a day (which I did with joy), but boy was it HOT.  I think though, that the beautiful botanicals made possible by the humidity make it worth it.  I loved the hydrangeas, the crepe myrtles, and the lushness of the trees and bushes and grass that never have a chance to get so green in the desert of Southern California.


I also loved the architecture. I am not sure what inspired the designers to plan for red brick and white pillars in fifty percent of their work, but it sure does show-off some beautiful churches and homes.  Tall white steeples, large front lawns, symmetrical building fronts framed by towering trees. While I am coming to enjoy the Spanish architecture that characterizes the West,  symmetry is beautiful, easy on the eye and somewhat refreshing.


Southern food - ALSO delicious. We had the chance to be among the eaters at a delicious southern style buffet brunch, and feasted on grits, a southern style eggs benedict, Cajun seasoned fish with okra, and chocolate bourbon pecan pie. We also were treated to a wonderful dinner at possibly the most brilliant restaurant I have ever eaten at - FLIGHT. It is a restaurant based entirely off the idea that some people can't make decisions to save their lives. Or so I like to think. For each part of your meal (salad, entree, wine, dessert), rather than choosing one item, you can order a "flight" of three items for about the same price. That means you can have a trio of watermelon/feta, blue cheese wedge, and caprese salads, and a trio of different white wines to accompany them. For dinner I had 1. lobster with roasted potatoes, corn, and asparagus, 2. Buffalo with mushroom risotto and cabernet syrup, and 3. Jumbo shrimp with tropical salsa and sriracha butter sauce. Yes, I had lobster, shrimp and buffalo all in one sitting. Yes, it was delicious. YES, you should go to Memphis just so you can go to this restaurant. Alas, when it came time for dessert, I was a bit too full to sample one of their chocolate or cheesecake flights (could it get any better than this?) I did try a small plate of white chocolate fudge, complete with a few chopped pecans and sweet dipping sauce. Definitely satisfactory.


We ended our feasting by going to Rendezvous - a rib restaurant Alex's Dad had recommended. It was delicious. One has no idea how many ribs one can eat until the bones are piled on the plate in front of them. Also, one has no idea how messy one can get eating ribs until no matter how they try to get the barbecue sauce off their nose, there is no clean finger or square inch of unsoiled napkin to do the job...


During all my visits to Memphis I have never toured Graceland -- this visit was no exception.  We did have a chance to see and hear an Elvis impersonation when we went to  "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,"  put on by Theatre Memphis. You know Pharaoh? The Pharaoh who tells Joseph his dreams about cows and hay and asks for an interpretation? Elvis plays Pharaoh. Or Pharaoh plays Elvis. I don't know. I just know that he sang his dreams while doing Elvis-like dance moves and the Memphis crowd went wild for it! (The rest of the musical was well performed - one can't go wrong with Andrew Lloyd Webber as the composer. Alex and I still catch ourselves humming tunes from the different songs).


Alex certainly got a feel for the town, and I became reacquainted with some of my favorite spots as well as learning a few new places. And, of course, we thoroughly enjoyed our stay at my grandmother's house, meeting her friends, helping my aunt redecorate and rearrange her room, and having several good conversations. Thanks, Memphis, for showing us a good time. And thanks Ga (and Boo) for showing us Memphis!

Ten reasons I should never enter the kitchen again: Chronicles of a Spastic Housewife, Chapter 3

Last week was an especially trying week for me in terms of uncoordinated moments. I had to wait for a week to post about it so I could recover.  I still am not at the point of thinking these things are funny. I still think they are very, very sad, and I only laugh because they are ironic.  Laughing at the ironic is not the same as a good belly laugh.  Ironic laughter hurts, especially when the joke is on you.


The following happened (in a particular order. An order which placed these events so close to each other in their happening that I could not help but feel that the gods of grace and finesse are against me):


1. In trying to slice a bagel, I sliced my thumb instead.
2. In trying to toast a bagel, I burned my hand instead.
3. I got cream cheese on my ankle.
4. I dropped the cream cheese knife on the couch.
5. I broke my watch.
6. In trying to serve dinner onto our plates, I dumped half the scrambled eggs on to the floor (I ate them anyways. I'm sorry. I was hungry).
7. I dropped a carton of icecream from the freezer onto the floor. It splattered everywhere.
8. I spilled crumbled Kit-kats all over the floor.
9. I spilled more icecream. On the cupboards and floor. (I was just trying to put the lid back on the icecream carton. Unfortunately, all the icecream sitting on the lid had melted).
10. I knocked over a bag of trail mix. Onto the floor.


See what I mean?  After the last five incidents, I spent twenty minutes on my hands and knees with a soapy sponge scrubbing the stickiness off our kitchen floor. Fortunately, being on my hands and knees is the one comfortable place for me right now.


I do not ask for pity. I only ask for love.


And maybe a new carton of ice cream -- mint chocolate chip, please.

summer colors

Image Credit (clockwise from top left): Flickr users Robbie Howell, Cinocino, billionstrang, papalars, Susan NYC, etringita, computerjoe, Jagger, Photocapy

Here, my friends, are some of the colors I associate with summer this year.  These colors speak freedom, coolness, relaxed fun and adventure to me (not to mention iced coffee).  Also, some of these colors are around in our new place. The walls are the grey color in the top right photo. Our candles on the dining room table are the vibrant green.  The art hanging on our dining room wall has cool blues, and some of our wood furniture has the muted oranges in it.  Just a bit of beauty on a slow (warm) Sunday morning...

One miracle at a time

Tonight I went to the Brea Mall.  Alex and I were meeting up with some friends for a casual gathering at a nearby restaurant, and I decided I needed to take advantage of the 45 minutes the mall was open to get in my girly portion of late Spring/early summer clothing shopping.  Alex dropped me off and went to meet our friends at the restaurant.


I already had a plan - to find the information booth, rent a wheelchair, and do as much as I could around H & M in those 45 minutes.  Unfortunately, both times I called customer service to ask about the location of the information booth/wheelchairs, they gave me very general directions, assuming I could wander around to find it.  The second time I spoke to the woman I even said, "No, really. I can't walk. That is why I need a wheelchair.  Please give me specific directions to the wheelchairs." She still sent me in the wrong direction, telling me to "turn right" when I was at a cross-section with five possible hallways to walk down. Funny.


I rented the wheelchair, and after hearing that I had "15 minutes" until it had to be returned, I jetted off as fast as my little arms could take me to H & M. Navigating a clothing store in a wheelchair is tricky, especially when the store is of the type that tries to cram in as much clothing with as little aisle space as possible, and especially when you are rushing to meet the deadline of the management company who has rented you the wheelchair and is currently in position of your debit card.


I think it went fairly well.  Aside from a few bumps into railings, a few jostlings of hangers, the difficulty of balancing clothing and my purse on my lap, and the near run-ins with other shoppers, it went well. I did not hit anyone.  I did not knock anything over. I did receive kind looks and help from strangers (which I am sure would have quickly turned to confused and slightly angry looks when they saw me walk out of the mall unassisted on my own two feet).


The best part of the night happened when I returned the wheelchair to the kiosk.  As I stepped out of the wheelchair onto the mall floor, I heard a young man exclaim in an Italian accent,

"It's a miracle!"

(Come on, people.  An Italian accent. In Los Angeles. Who are we kidding here?)


So I think I will continue to repeat this phrase ("It's a miracle!") to myself every time I need a little laugh. How silly that my act of standing up from a wheelchair inspired a stranger to declare, "It's a miracle!"

On a side note, I was 40 minutes late returning the wheelchair. The kiosk was abandoned, forcing me to explore abandoned, concrete, creepy hallways to knock on the management door and retrieve my debit card.  Life is an adventure indeed.

Just so you know...

...Alex and I are moving. We are moving 15 miles across town to a cozy community called Fullerton, and so all my extra thought time and creativity has been spent trying to figure out how to make this happen with two bummed feet, full-time work and the desire to do it on a small budget.  We have been lugging as many boxes we can fit in as many trips as it will take in our two-door car, and have been grateful to receive help from our friends in wrapping china and kitchen things.  We have purchased a few items and placed some furniture for sale on Craig's List. Currently the living room floor is comprised of boxes, boxes, boxes.


And so this is the reason for the lack of posting.


In the meantime, however,  I have been dreaming a little bit about summer and hope to have the spare time that will allow me to --


-read books
-make food and take pictures of it in our new place, which has better light (Once the camera gets fixed).
-lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling. or out a window. or at the wall. I'm not too particular.
-drink lots of coffee, made via our french press since our coffee maker is too big to fit in the kitchen. (Yes, this can be a reality).
-spend time with friends. Preferably at the beach, coffee shops, and eating frozen yogurt.


This is all. Doesn't it sound delightful?