So What? I’m Still a Rock Star

Amy and I got a hall pass for the night.

We haven’t been out together without Monkeybutt in months.  It sucks to ask someone to babysit in the evenings.  Jane goes to bed at 6:30.  So, basically, we are asking someone to come over and sit in our house while the baby sleeps.  And we don’t even have cable.

But tonight, a friend launched his magazine The Local Dirt.  We decided to go out and support his endeavors to raise awareness about local and sustainable foods in the Tampa area.  Amy’s folks came over to sit in our house, not play with Jane and not watch cable.  And Amy and I headed out to party it up in Ybor City.

Okay, okay.  Partying it up for me means seeing a few old friends, drinking some icy ice water and taste testing the salsa from our friend’s new salsa company.  By the way, the Mango Habanero had a lovely smoky and spicy taste.  Definitely my favorite of his offerings.

Anyway, after the par-tay, I was starving.  Just like old times leaving Ybor, except I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t climbing into a cab, and I still remembered my home address.  But I was hungry, so we headed for the Taco Bus.  I am embarrassed to say that, after 8 years of living in Tampa, this was my first trip to the Taco Bus.  How could I have waited so long?!  It is a BUS, out of which they serve TACOS!  Brilliant!  And so very delicious.  They offer multiple vegetarian options… and they had vegan steak strips!  I ordered the tacos (flour) with vegan steak strips and all the taco veggies.  I got two.  I would happily have put back four; they were that good.  And the green salsa on the table, go for it!  It is hot, but so very tasty.

Thank goodness Amy and I got out tonight.  Turns out we both remember how to socialize a bit.  And we both still know how to scarf down food at the end of the night.  We are rock stars!   (Not really at all)

 

Thank Goodness for the Ham…

Until Sunday, I was a dinner party virgin.  I had never cooked for more than 3-4 people without assistance from someone with more culinary skills than I possess.  But, on Sunday, we invited some of our dearest friends (plus their 3 kids) and Amy’s parents over for dinner.  Was I nervous?  No.  Well, okay… a little.  But mainly because 1) kids can be finicky eaters, 2) I have never cooked for Amy’s mom, who happens to cook for friends and extended family all the time, and 3) I am the only vegan in the group, but I was determined to only cook vegan food–I wanted to be able to eat everything on the table for a change.

Saturday night, I scrolled through endless recipes online.  I had decided to go with a vegan meatloaf as the main dish (which, in retrospect, seems really crazy to serve to omnivores).  I was going to do mac & cheeze, but decided against it; mac & cheese is like a religious experience to a kid.  There is no faster way to get them to turn on you than to tell them that they are having one of their favorite foods, then serve them something they barely recognize because  OOPS! YOU DON’T EAT CHEESE.  So, I opted for mashed potatoes, instead.  I make a mean mashed potato.  The potatoes were also the only thing on the menu (besides the salad) that I had made before.  And, finally, I decided on Polenta with Balsamic Kale & White Beans as my green side.  Whew!

How did it go?  You are so kind to ask.

In total, I spent 3 hours in the kitchen.  When I look back on the experience, I really have no idea why it took so long.  But I got everything on the table at the same time, all of it was still warm, and most of it had all the ingredients… most.

The meatloaf should have been called something else.  Maybe a harvest loaf?  There was nothing meaty about it.  There were pieces of carrots in it, for Pete’s sake.  The main ingredients were tempeh, brown rice and bread crumbs.  Mmmm…. grainy.  Look, I know where I went wrong:  meatloaf was my favorite food as a kid.  I just wanted to try to replicate that.  And the recipe came from a reputable chef.  Apparently, a chef that has a mad love affair with carrots.  And grains.  I should have bought Boca crumbles (vegan!) and used an approximation of my mom’s recipe for meatloaf.  It has ketchup, a piece of bread… and a conspicuous lack of carrots.  Plenty of vegetarians & vegans would have loved the meatloaf that I made on Sunday.  But it wasn’t for me.  What did the omnivores think?  They ate it.  But they are nice like that.  I think some  of them may have pushed it under their mashed potatoes.  I wouldn’t blame them.  And they ate the ham that my mother-in-law mercifully brought over.  I have never been so delighted to see a ham in my life.  For real.

The biggest hit was the polenta and kale dish.  None of my guests had ever even tried kale.  In fact, they looked at it as if it were highly exotic and kept repeating “kale” (yes, like aliens).  And every person at the table asked me at least once what polenta was.  But they loved it.  Loved.  They even asked for the recipe.  Win!  The polenta makes it a really kid friendly dish.  And, since the balsamic is drizzled on at the end, you can control how much goes on each serving.  I did leave out the white beans, completely on accident.  The recipe works fine without them, but I will add them in next time.  In fact, next time I make this, it will serve as the main dish.  It really is that good.

What nuggets of wisdom did I take away from this experience?  1) Try out recipes before serving them to unsuspecting people.  2) Mashed potatoes are a crowd pleaser.  3) Kale is apparently very fun to say.  4) Sometimes it is okay to let your mother-in-law go ahead and bring that ham over.  Just saying.

 

Entitling this post “One is the Loneliest Number” would seem a bit heavy-handed…

All 3 of us are sick.  On any given day, that would suck.  But today was supposed to have been our Christmas party.  And we had to cancel.  We couldn’t very well entertain folks in The House of Sick.

But I really needed this party.  I am feeling kind of friendless right now.  Actually, I just feel disconnected from the friends I do have.  I just don’t know how to get into a groove where it is just easy and natural to meet someone out for a cup of coffee.  Right now, even with my friends, a cup of coffee feels more like a date (an awkward first one at that).  And that is if we ever even make it out for that cup of coffee–and, let’s be honest, we don’t.

When I quit drinking three years ago, I lost the core group of people I hung out with.  I do have two very good friends who have remained close… but we never hang out.  I just know they are there, if I need them.  I had hoped I would meet some friends once I had Jane.  I figured other moms might want to be friends, right?  And it isn’t that I am not making friends.  It just seems like such a slow process.

I just want some to take the kids to the park with.  Someone to share the joys, trials and mishaps of married life and parenthood with.  I want to have a cup of coffee.  I want someone to tell me if the jeans look okay on me or not.  I just want a friend.   Or two.

Defects of Character? Who Me?

I slept in this morning.  Blessed sleep.  Until 9:00 a.m. even.  Decadent.

I met with my sponsor to finish my Fifth Step (you know, the one where you review all of your resentments, fears, sexual misconduct and harm done to others… Fun!).  My sponsor and I lounged around on my bedroom floor (like we were twelve), and I commenced to tell her all of the things that really get to me, the ones that keep me up at night, that keep tugging at me when I would rather ignore them.  I have been through a Fifth Step before.  It is cleansing to take such a close look at myself, eye-opening to see the patterns of thought and behavior that emerge.  But the whole process is a bit draining.  It is always hard to look directly at myself, in an effort to see where I can become better, where I can grow.  Truth be told, I am not always great at admitting that I am not perfect.  Ahem.

After my sponsor left, I spent some quiet time alone with some apple cinnamon tea in my papasan chair.  I won’t bore you with the particulars, but there may have been some praying going on (Step 6: Became entirely ready for God to remove these defects of character & Step 7: Humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings).

I had been debating about a run on and off all day.  Usually any intense emotional experience dictates that I must run, to clear my head.  But it is cold here in Tampa.  And I hate cold.  But I also hate cranky… and cranky was about to rear its ugly head.  So I tied on my shoes and headed out.

I swear, I felt like I was running through molasses.  Everything was off about this run.  My shoulders and my hips felt like they were out of sync.  I got a cramp in my side.  And did I mention the molasses?  Slow going.  Very slow.  But I guess sometimes the success of a run is measured by whether I make it from Point A to Point B.  And I did, molasses be damned.

Now, it is on to karaoke with some friends…. I hope someone sings Sweet Caroline.  Or maybe some Bon Jovi….

*sniff*

I started feeling sniffly last night.  And my tonsils feel like they are contemplating mutiny.  This falls into the category of VERY BAD NEWS, since I wanted to do another long run today (my long run on Monday didn’t go exactly as I wanted–and I am nothing if not neurotic.  I wanted a do-over).

So, since sickness seemed to be descending, I slept in a bit this morning.  After my oatmeal and coffee, I drug myself to school for a meeting, alternating between feeling hyper-energetic and feverish and achy.  When I got to school and tried to park on campus, the parking machine declined my card… so Monkito had to come get me and drop me off at the English Dept (oh, and the parking machine that declined my card charged my account anyway.  BASTARDS!).

Now I am trying to keep my chin up; really, I am.  But the combination of swollen tonsils, achy back and Parking Fiasco 2010 has left me a bit frazzled.  Then, I walk into my office…. and I see an entire plate of cupcakes baked especially for me by my friend JD.  Vanilla cake with chocolate icing.  And SPRINKLES!

Friends make things suck a lot less.  Just sayin’.  Oh, and cupcakes don’t hurt, either.

Waiting It Out

I took the drugs to prompt my body to begin the miscarriage process about 4 hours ago.  Actually taking the drugs felt like a monumental decision.  I am not sure quite why.  The pregnancy is over.  I guess the administration of the drugs was the final acknowledgement that Blat is gone.

Aside from my laying on the couch while the cramps come and go, Monkito and I have spent the evening enthralled in Battlestar Gallactica.  Brilliant diversion. Fraking brilliant.

And in other news, I almost lost my mind when I realized that our mop is nowhere to be found.  A dog peed on the floor, and I HAVE NO MOP.  (can you see how close we came to a meltdown there?)  Fortunately, Monkito saved the day once again by picking  up a mop on her way to fetch the pizza.  Thank God for Monkito.

While I am being thankful, I want to send a shout out (do the kids even say that any more?) to my baby sister, who visited last night, and to my best friend and her partner, who are flying in tomorrow.  Monkito and I feel loved and supported during this otherwise rather shitty time.  And for that we are most grateful.

Celebrate

This weekend, my best friend and her girl fly in to celebrate my birthday.  Their plane arrives in approximately 4.5 hours.  About this, I am very excited.  Frolicking on the beach is the main event this weekend.  And spending time with them… real time, where we aren’t rushing about constantly, where we talk about whatever comes to mind and laugh frequently over nothing at all.

I spent the majority of my life fixating on my birthdays.  They had to be just so.  I favored big parties and lots of hullabaloo.  I needed to be the center of attention.  I desired validation, confirmation that the world would not go on turning if I were not a part of it.

Now I know that those expectations are too much, too unrealistic, too grossly self-centered.

This weekend, I will relish the friendship that the four of us share, reminded of the fact that each of us offers something special to the world.  And I will feel very grateful to be with three people who appreciate me for exactly who I am.

I probably will require a cupcake, though.  You know, to celebrate properly and all.

I’m Only Happy When It Rains…

I always associated writers’ block with wanting to write about something and finding the words stuck.  What is this white noise filling my brain called?  In theory, I want to write.  I just don’t seem to have anything interesting to say.  Summer has whittled down the cast of characters in my life dramatically.  So much easier to come up with fodder for a blog when 88 college freshmen are clamoring about constantly.

Despite the radio (blog) silence, summer is every bit as glorious as I assumed it would be.  Slowly (so slowly that sometimes the progress is almost unnoticable), the house is becoming cleaner.  On a daily basis at work, I am asked how our freshman writing program could be better… and my input is valued!  The projects and the reader for fall classes are coming together… with my stellar (and sometimes really lackluster) contributions.  And I spend the majority of my days with my two closest work friends.  We find each other riotously amusing, and sometimes there is even gratuitous talk of boobs.  Sweet.

The constant, unrelenting rain has been a downer.  I haven’t run or biked as much as I would have liked.  I did manage a 8 mile trek out to Westchase, where I stopped and had a Chocolate/Banana Vivanno at Starbucks.  Definitely kept me from starving to death… but kind of tasted like someone dropped a chocolate candy with whipped fruit filling (think Whitman’s Sampler) into a blender.  Huh.  I was thankful for the nourishment on the 8 mile ride back, though.  I swear, the wind was gusting directly in my face at 10 mph, which meant I was then maintaining a net speed of 5 mph.  At one point I thought, “Shit, I could walk faster than this.”  But, refusing to admit defeat, I pressed on.  Finally made it back to the ‘hood, where I began playing with my gears and immediately knocked the chain off.  I am awesome.  But I did manage to get the chain back on by myself (this would usually fall squarely into Monkito’s list of duties, but since she wasn’t there, I fended for myself).  I cruised back home singing “I Will Survive” in my head.  Seemed somehow appropriate.

Looking forward to a groovy holiday weekend.  More from sunny rainy South(west) Florida soon…

Love… True Love

For 15 years, BTC has been my best friend.  We were impetuous college freshmen when we met.  I adored her immediately.  Still do.  She has this remarkable way of understanding me completely.  I rarely have to explain anything to her.  And one of her gifts is her obvious love for those close to her.  It is impossible to be near her and not feel some measure of peace, some sense of truly being embraced faults and all.  My soul has been inextricably tied to hers since I met her.  She has put up with and forgiven more than most people would have… and she loves me all the same.  Amazing.  She is truly amazing.

On April 4, my best friend got married to someone that beautifully complements her, someone who appreciates all that she offers and all that she is.  There was such joy in standing by her side, in honoring the commitment she made to a woman that loves her boundlessly.  The two of them, together, radiate the kind of love that will last, the kind of love that can be trusted, leaned on … cherished.

I held back tears through the entire ceremony.  After all, I had a job to do… I had to read the Apache Blessing, hold her bouquet and hand her the ring, all without losing my proverbial shit.  I struggled during my toast, too… Very few times in my life have I been so happy that I couldn’t speak without tearing up.  She, more than anyone I know, deserves the kind of love and devotion reflected in the promises they made to each other.

When I look at the two of them together, this is what I believe:

She will continuously look at Sarah and be in awe of the person she is and the person she is becoming.  And she will be amazed at the person that Sarah has inspired her to become.  They will be better people because they are together.  Each of them will be strengthened by their love for the other.  The more they grow together, and the deeper their love  becomes, the more they will shine as individuals.

Congratulations to my best friend and her love.  May they find exquisite happiness in their journey together.

Your Kiss is on My List

We wandered around outside, in the dark, around what would have been called the recess area, if middle schoolers weren’t way too old for recess. I could feel him slide closer to me as we walked, and I knew he was going to kiss me. My first real kiss. I was twelve. He was a tall band geek. But I totally dug him… until he kissed me.

Something was off. I had been obsessing about this boy, agonizing over whether or not he would call me (I wasn’t allowed to call boys—too forward). I giggled when I heard his name, blushed when he talked to me. I had passed countless notes about him to my BFF. So, now that I had him… what? Why did I feel so let down?

This is not an easy scene to reconstruct 21 years later. I don’t even remember why we were hanging around the school at night. There must have been some sort of event going on, because, after the ill-fated kiss, I ran inside to find my best friend to tell her all about me, and him, and the kiss, and….

As soon as I told her, it began: the firestorm of emotions that can only be elicited from a 13 year old. Somehow, with this kiss, I had betrayed her. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how. But her wrath indicated that it was undoubtedly a betrayal of the highest degree.

That night began what would escalate into my first friend break-up. The progression was slow and torturous. It took several months of fighting in the hallways at school; sobbing, late night phone calls; and her haughtily returning of her half of our best friend charm to me (she was ST END; I was BE FRI) to dissolve our relationship.

The boy? The boy was lost in the shuffle. I was too busy fretting and obsessing over what was happening with my best friend to be concerned about a boy. But now, reflecting on this first tumultuous break-up with another girl, it seems amazing that I am a lesbian at all.