We were all supposed to venture downtown to see the Christmas tree in Pioneer Square, but everyone bailed on me! At first I said I wasn't going either, but then I thought Eff this, it's almost Christmas and I may not get another chance to do this, so I slapped some makeup on my face, pulled on my coat and gloves, zipped up my boots, and headed out! Who cares if I go out alone? I'm a seasoned veteran patron of public transportation, damn it!
This was my second trip ever.
My bus came at 5:25 pm, and we arrived at 6th & Yamhill at 5:38 pm. The driver hauled ass! He didn't give any of us a chance to get to a seat, he just floored it as soon as the doors closed. One guy didn't even get a chance to pay his fare before the momentum of the bus threw him back into a seat. He had to drag himself back up to the farebox. I did my best not to laugh. So we got there, thanked the driver (we do that here) and I had my Starbucks coffee in my hand by 5:45 pm. Hells yeah! I sat on a bench and snapped a few photos, then got restless and started walking.
Eventually I found myself in Pioneer Place. It was so festive in there, I had to take some pics.
Can you see the snow in that last picture? There's a machine on the 3rd level that shoots out foam snow at 6:00 pm. I just happened to be there at the right moment.
Then I went back outside and wandered some more. I got a shot of Pioneer Courthouse from 5th Ave.
I made my way back to Pioneer Square, had a seat, and got a great shot of the tree. Behold!
So pretty! This is the first year they've used multi-colored LED lights, and it looks fantastic. Great atmosphere, too. People were just hanging out. It was nice.
Even the little fountain bears were dressed up.
When I'd had enough, I walked to the closest bus stop and waited with a group of people. When the bus came for us it was already packed, but we managed to squeeze in. I ended up sitting next to a really cute guy, but I didn't think it would be appropriate to take his picture. Oh well. This bus driver was really nice, and a believer in speed limits, so it was an enjoyable ride home.
It would've been nice if everyone else could've come along, but I'm glad I went anyway. Good times!
I love burritos. Who doesn't love burritos? No one, that's who. It slightly pains me, though, when I see/hear/read someone say something along the lines of I decided to make a burrito at home to save money, so I opened a can of beans, microwaved them, added some salsa, cheese, lettuce, and sour cream, and it was cheap, but it didn't taste like the ones I get from a restaurant. Of course it didn't, you didn't do anything to it. Seasonings, people, seasonings!
Last night, in the throes of starvation, I decided that I would make a big batch of burrito filling today. Once done, I just have to portion out the amount I want, heat it, then eat it!
First I soaked some pinto beans.
Then I cooked them. Tough stuff, I know.
Once they were done, I drained them, reserving a little of the cooking liquid. I smashed the beans with a large spoon, too. Heated some oil in the saucepan, added the beans back in, along with the bean water (yum, lol), cumin, and salsa. Simmer a bit, and ta da! Refried beans.
Then I chopped half of a green bell pepper and half of a white onion.
This went into the saucepan to cook with brown rice.
There really is rice in there, I swear to you. See?
Then I made a batch of "queso."
Mmmmmm. Then I boiled some lentils.
While those were cooking, I sauteed the other halves of the bell pepper and onion.
The lentils serve as the "meat" in all this. Soy crumbles would work, too, but lentils are cheap and healthy. I'd like to tell you I make my own taco seasoning mix, but I don't.
Casa Fiesta! When the lentils were done, I added them to the veggies, added the taco mix and water, and about a tablespoon of salsa.
I mixed everything together in a huge bowl, then stood back to admire the beautiful... err...
Well, it tastes good anyway. Finally, it was time to assemble a burrito.
After all the work I'd done I couldn't be bothered to shred some lettuce. A whole leaf worked just fine. And I topped it with some taco sauce. Vegan sour cream would've been a nice addition, but it's kind of expensive. Maybe next time.
I was so hungry, I decided to make two.
Yeah, my burrito rolling skills leave something to be desired. Whatever, I devoured those two in record time. Five minutes later, I realized that eating two burritos was a horrible idea. Delicious, but my god, I thought I was going to explode.
So with all that filling, I'll be making burritos (one at a time) and living off of them for days. Burritos for days!
Well, I guess you can disregard that last whiny, emo post I wrote. This morning I received a call from the place I'd interviewed for and was offered the job, which I quickly and gratefully accepted. It'll take a few days to get me in the system and get an employee number, so I'll probably start on Tuesday. That's good because I need to do laundry and get a book of all-zone Trimet passes. So... yay!
Now I can stop being depressed and wash my hair.
On a sad note, to cut costs we're dropping our home phone line (we never use it anyway) and our awesome cable package and DVR. No TCM, no Ovation, etc. I see a lot of PBS in my future. I made a point to get through all of the Charles Boyer movies I'd saved, but didn't get to Errol Flynn or Cary Grant. Sigh. Around 2:00 am I just couldn't stay up any longer, so I lovingly stroked the DVR, told it I loved it dearly, and dragged myself to bed. It's now a goal of mine to restore self-indulgent cable service, including getting HBO again. I'll have the means soon, since, ya know, I HAVE A JOB. Ha!
Not only is this good for me, it's good for you, too! Now I'll have actual things to write about. You won't be forced to suffer through what I had for dinner or a detailed account of something cute my dogs did. Okay, okay, I'll still post that stuff, but I very much look forward to griping about idiot customers and relaying my various adventures on my public transit commute. It's a win-win, really.
I was hoping to have some news for everyone today. I had a job interview this past Friday with a store in Clackamas Town Center mall. I had a follow-up interview two days ago, which was Monday. I know these things can take time, but from what I've read of other people's experiences with this company, job offers usually come on the day of the second interview or on the next day. I haven't gotten a call yet, and I'm feeling an odd combination of emotions about it. Actually, I've had mixed feelings about this entire process.
When I applied online for this position, it was for either a location in Tigard or one in downtown Portland. When the call came in from Clackamas, I hesitated. This is going to sound stupid, but for me, Portland doesn't exist beyond SE 60th Ave. It just doesn't. Clackamas mall is actually in Happy Valley, OR. I was all, "OMG, that's sooo far!" but my mom said, "Call them anyway!" She was right, of course. I was amazed that, despite my homemaker status, I was granted an interview. The first interview I've been given in years.
I had convoluted directions when I went for my first interview. I hate it when the internet fails me. I had allowed myself an hour to get there, and what should have been a 30-minute trip ended up taking 55 minutes to complete. But I made it! I don't know if many know about this, but Glassdoor is a great resource. I knew everything that was going to happen in the interview ahead of time, there were no surprises. Other than being slightly nervous, I felt that I'd done pretty well, and within 2 hours I got the call for the second interview. Score!
For round 2, I had much better directions, and ended up being about 40 minutes early. I just stayed in the car and went over what I was going to be asked. Went in, had what I felt was a great conversation, and was told they'd let me know.
And that's it.
From the moment of the first call, and especially after the first interview, I've felt relief, excitement, dread, and guilt. Relief because my chances are good, excitement because this is my field of expertise and I'm perfectly qualified for this position. Dread because I actually hate retail sales. Guilt because I hadn't even applied for 10 jobs and there are people out there who apply at hundreds of places without getting any calls at all.
Then there's the commute. I'd be using public transportation to get to and from work, and my commute would (will?) be about an hour and a half. Not only that, I would (will?) be going through the worst (highest crime) transit stations to get there. People get stabbed, beaten, robbed, etc. I understand that this happens when there is a high number of people, and public transit just carries risks with it, but... damn! I'd be going way past SE 60th Ave., into the area that just doesn't exist to me, where most of the problems are. Plus it's a 3 zone trip, which costs more. Am I whining? Maybe. Do I have money for a hospital bill, or savings in case I'm robbed, or an alternative mode of transportation if necessary? No, I don't.
I need work, though, so if that call does come in, I will gladly and gratefully take it. I like this store as a customer, and I think I would like it as an employee, too.
While I wait, I need to think of other places to apply. It also occurred to me that I might be able to use this opportunity to get into another line of work. I have no idea what that might be, but it's a thought. I doubt anyone would be willing to hand me a welding torch (seriously, would I not be the coolest metal worker ever?!), but maybe I could get on with a bakery or something.
Also toying with the idea of making something to sell, but of course there are no guarantees with that either.
So, I don't actually have any news to share. At least I know now that there are places willing to give me an interview. I'll just keep at it. I'm feeling depressed and hopeful at the same time, if that makes any sense. If you're in the same boat as I am, hang in there.
I was planning on posting a slew of photos, but the truth is, I'm just too tired to edit them all, put them in order, write up the descriptions, etc. Luckily, my wonderful mother made a video with pictures of the whole process, so I'm going to be lazy and post it. I give you... An Old-Fashioned Vegan Thanksgiving!
Those rolls almost did me in. Everything had been going so well up until that point. I'd prepared the stock, apple relish, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie the previous day, and I was ahead of schedule. Feeling way too good about myself, I turned some music up obscenely loud (through headphones, I didn't make anyone else suffer) and semi-danced, semi-headbanged along while mixing the dough. Yeah, well, pride goeth before a fall, and all that. I left out the milk and by the time I realized it, it was too late. I had to start over, but ran out of flour. I was 1/2 cup short, give or take. I tore through the cabinets in desperation, found some oatmeal, and threw some of it into the blender. Instant oat flour! So they're actually oat dinner rolls, and they turned out fantastic. Still, dinner was half an hour late because of my mistake. I hate that.
Mmmmmmmmmmm. Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday. You know, I've been so stressed out about finding a job (no luck yet), and I've been feeling pretty discouraged about everything. Several people we know, or know of, who all seemed to have perfect lives, have had some truly awful things happen to them recently. I mean, horrible stuff. All I have to do is find a measly job, that's all. Things could certainly be worse. So... I'm thankful that things aren't so bad, that we had a wonderful meal, and... I'm extremely thankful that my wonderful aunt and uncle are lending me money so I can buy a ticket for...
I wanted the dogs to have a Thanksgiving meal, too. I served them their everyday food with pumpkin brown rice, roasted potatoes with nutritional yeast, peas, mashed sweet potatoes, green beans, and a cranberry.
Basil knows what's up.
So everyone here is stuffed. Somehow we managed to find room for pumpkin pie and chocolate cake...
And that's it!
You know, for all the effort that went into this post, I could have just stuck with my original idea of posting pics. Hmmm.
Through a series of unfortunate circumstances and undesirable events, I have basically been a "homemaker" for a little over 4 years now. Oddly enough, I never seem to have any free time, as there is always some sort of crisis happening that requires my attention. I've been a busy girl! Wrinkles are being ironed out, though, and it's time for me to regain some independence. In other words, I need a job.
What a miserable time to re-enter the workforce, eh?
I realize that the longer a person has been out of work, the less desirable he or she is to a potential employer. I've read that if you've been out of circulation for more than 6 months, many places won't even consider you. Apparently we get stale like old loaves of bread. In an attempt to sidestep this, I decided to aim really low. I've applied at a thrift shop, a pet supply store, and a convenience store.
Nothing.
I really don't want to have to apply at a fast food chain. I don't think I'd be able to stand the stench of cooked meat sinking into my pores. I may not have a choice, though. And even then, they may not want me either. Maybe I could clean motel rooms? How did my life trickle down to this sludge of an existence?
This much rejection can make a person feel absolutely worthless. I have to remember that this isn't personal. I know that there are people who had to submit hundreds of applications before they found something. I am by no means unique in this struggle. Empathy doesn't pay bills, though.
So I'm pressing on. I'm a drop in the sea of desperation, surging toward a solid shore, but always sliding back with the tide.
On a drive with my mom recently I made a joke that it's a shame that I don't have a nice enough body to be a stripper. Not 5 seconds later we passed a gentlemen's club with a sign that said "Now hiring dancers." Argh!
Something has to work out eventually, right? I mean, it has to. Doesn't it?
Just smile and nod. It'll make me feel a little better, at least.
I've made no secret that my Spanish half was a source of frustration when I was younger (see here). Living in Florida didn't help. I cannot tell you how many times a random person would approach me and just start speaking to me in Spanish, only to be met with a blank stare and a mumbled, "No hablo español." This resulted in anything from mild disappointment to complete outrage. "But you should! Is good language!" someone once yelled at me. Evidently, I am a disgrace to every single one of my ancestors in Latin America. Oops.
No one has ever looked at me, taken in my 5'6" build and my dark features, and exclaimed, "Guten tag! Wie geht es ihnen/dir?" This never bothered me, as I was convinced that the world should converse only in French. Lately, though, I've taken a bit of an interest in my German heritage. As far as I know, my family is from Großkarlbach in Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany.
Ta da!
Actually, my journey into this is silly. We had company from out of town, and everyone wanted hamburgers (gag), so I was dragged to Buffalo Wild Wings with the promise of beer and a football game being shown. I made a meal of their soft pretzels with mustard and a side salad (and beer, of course). This was almost a month ago and I've been hooked on pretzels ever since. That got me thinking of other German foods. Also, I was spending a lot of time alone during much of October, so I started using a free online German course. And, separately, I've recently become a huge Rammstein fan. So if someone were to ask me, "So, what got you interested in Germany?" I'd say, "Well, pretzels and Rammstein." Then whoever was speaking to me would roll his or her eyes and walk away. But there it is.
I connect to cultures through food, as many do, so of course I had to get in the kitchen. First off, I made a cake!
Versunkener Apfelkuchen - from The Joy of Vegan Baking
I bought a package of Tofurky Beer Brats, did the typical sauerkraut, onion, and mustard on a brat in a bun. Meh. I was more interested in veganizing...
Currywurst mit pommes!
O...m...g... That's a Tofurky Beer Brat cut up, browned in a pan, with curry ketchup and more curry sprinkled on top, with french fries topped with Vegenaise. Oh, curry ketchup, where have you been all my life? Seriously, this is love. Anyway, the meat version of this is apparently really popular in Berlin. The vegan version? Yum!
Kartoffelpuffer - potato pancakes
Those were a big hit with everyone. I'll be making more things over time. I checked out "The German Cookbook" by Mimi Sheraton from the library, which is a more horrifying read than a Stephen King novel for a vegan like me, but I'm getting ideas for some dishes that I want to adapt.
My language course is okay. It just teaches you things you'd need to know for a vacation, like asking for directions and ordering food. Red wine in German is really hot, by the way. I may or may not have fantasies of a hot waiter growling "rrrrrrotWEIN" in my ear now. Once I finish this, I want to go back to basics in grammar and all that.
The majority of German I'm learning is from Rammstein's music, though. Yeah, sure, I remember when "Du Hast" came out. I thought it was good, but didn't notice much else. Sometimes it takes a while to really connect with a band. "Ich Tu Dir Weh" is what did it. I have 3 albums so far, "Liebe ist für alle da," "Rosenrot," and "Reise, Reise" (my favorite). I've also joined the thousands of women who lust over Till Lindemann. Sigh. I mean, how can you not?
Ahem.
I recently caught a cold, and I don't even feel like speaking English, much less German. I'm content to just glare at people and grunt responses to yes or no questions. I got tired of having a runny nose, so I packed some cotton in there so I wouldn't have to worry about it. I have no idea if "du riechst so gut" or not, as my nose is packed up tighter than a porcelain vase being shipped through the mail. But I'll keep at it. I want to take a trip to Berlin someday, preferably in December. It's surprisingly easy to find veg options there, thanks to Happy Cow. Plus...
"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace." - Milan Kundera
Today the weather is pretty much perfect. It's in the upper 60's, it's sunny, and it's windy. It's going to get cloudy tomorrow, and then the rain will come back and it'll be Portlandy all over the place. Life has been hectic these last few weeks, hence my lack of posting, so I couldn't resist the urge to leash up the dogs and take them to the nearby dog park.
Bailey, Dexter, and Basil.
We had the whole place to ourselves, so I dropped their leashes and let them go wherever they wanted, while I stood back to take pictures with my phone.
I've always hoped that if we were ever somehow separated, and they ended up in some kind of Incredible Journey situation, they'd have the sense to stay together. I feel pretty confident that Basil could lead them somewhere safe.
Now I just hope he keeps them within sight! Actually, they all moved in the same general direction. Surprisingly, it was Dexter who took the lead most often.
There wasn't a specific destination, they just worked their way around the area, sniffing smells and rolling in the grass. Every once in a while they'd look back to make sure I was nearby. "Are you happy?" I'd ask them, and in reply they'd each gift me with one of those big dog smiles. Then they'd turn around and press on.
I love how whatever they're doing at the time is the most important thing in the universe, whether it's eating, sleeping, playing, barking at a noise, or chasing the cats. Truly living in the moment, nothing else matters. And everything is done full tilt, no half-assing at all. I would do well to adopt that way of living myself.
We made our way back home and all three are passed out as I put this post together. Soft snores mix with the sound of the wind outside. I may take them again later, I'm not sure yet. No matter what we do for the rest of the day, I know they'll have a great time.
I like to complain about how I don’t like people, but, as it turns out, I may care more than I realized. Who woulda thunk it? Ha!
My awareness of Occupy Wall Street has been comprised of tweets from my friend Avi, and that’s pretty much it. I have been focused on my own problems lately, one of which is how on earth I’m going to find a job in the next few weeks. Quite fitting, now that I think about it. I pretty much live in my head anyway, occasionally stretching my neck to see what’s up in the “real world” when I remember it’s there.
Today was a free day for me. Nothing needed to be done, and I had a stack of library books, DVDs, and a full DVR to keep myself entertained. I got online to check email and tweets, and that’s how I got swept up in the movement. The Oregonian posted a link to the Livestream broadcast, and when I started watching there were already about 2,000 people gathered. I watched as they organized, grew, and started to move. Estimates placed the numbers around 5,000-6,000 people. Is that incredible or what?
Photo by Ross William Hamilton, the Oregonian. For more pics, go here.
Everyone was represented, from babies to seniors. Even though there were so many people, and even though they were loud as hell, it was a peaceful protest. And the Portland police dept. handled the situation really well. Seriously, the rest of the country should have been taking notes. As my heart swelled with pride, I thought, “Goddamn it, I absolutely love the people here.”
Me? Loving people? Yeah!
I love Portlanders. I love the easygoing lady I buy dog food from. I love the peppy chick working the produce department at the grocery store. I love the scruffy guy who nods at me as we cross paths on the sidewalk. I love the dude who gave me a thumbs up when I let him go ahead of me in traffic. People here are awesome, they really are. And they matter. We all matter. Not just here, but all over the country. Hell, all over the world. It is not fair that the richest 1% of the American population holds the wealth, while the remaining 99% shoulders the debt. Things need to change in a big way. I'm not much of an inspirational speaker, so thankfully many people are more eloquent than I am. Check out Occupy Wall Street and Occupy Portland for updates.
Today’s event added fuel to the fire behind my determination to stay in this area. It isn’t just the weather, the scenery, the vegan scene, the pet-friendliness. It’s the people here, too. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. I want to stay here and be a part of this community, and I will do anything, within reason, to make that happen.
Sorry, having my Kumbaya moment here. Will return to my usual crankiness soon, promise! Until then… I love you!
In light of what took place in Georgia tonight, I find myself forced to reevaluate my stance on capital punishment. Up until now I have been a supporter of the death penalty, feeling that someone such as Ted Bundy, or anyone who commits heinous murders, absolutely deserves this sentencing. I formed my opinion on the matter, then went on with my life, convinced I was right. I think most people do this with any issue. They look at the information before them, make a personal judgment, and move on, comfortably convinced of their rightness. We cut out the gray and see everyone in black and white. It’s easier that way.
Deep in my gut I feel that the execution of Troy Davis was wrong. Beyond wrong. That’s when the gray started leaking back in. What did I really believe in? Okay, a person only deserves the death penalty if there is no doubt as to his/her guilt, no ifs, ands, or buts. There, I thought, there’s my absolute truth. But at the end of the day, isn’t “absolute truth” just a matter of opinion? Another of my absolute truths is that it is wrong to eat animals, while your absolute truth may be that it’s okay to consume flesh. Who is right on that one? I am, DUH, but still.
Also executed today was Lawrence Russell Brewer, a white supremacist who chained James Byrd Jr. to the back of his truck and dragged him behind it until Byrd was dead. Do I feel that Brewer’s execution was justified? Absolutely. But by supporting that verdict, am I saying that executing Troy Davis was okay? How much of a hypocrite am I now?
Can I support capital punishment if it means that innocent lives may be taken as a result? Can anyone? I have some soul searching to do now. Nothing is black or white, it’s all shades of gray now. I need to decide, once again, who I am and what I stand for.
Despite my habitual eye raping of the oblivious males in my general vicinity, I was shocked to learn that someone has been doing the same to me! Someone who lives in my building. Someone who lives right next door! Gah!!! A few weeks ago he told MrMissT, of all people, that he sees me when I take the dogs out and he thinks I'm sooo pretty and he likes my tattoos, and he wants to talk to me, but is afraid to. I have no idea what MrMissT said to this. I'm sure it was either, "Oh, she's great. So smart and nice, and she's an amazing cook!" -or- "Man, she is a vindictive psycho and I'm pretty sure she's plotting my demise as we speak. Steer clear of that one, before you wake up with your balls missing." Either way... *shrug*
I was flattered for about 8 minutes, but now I feel like I'm always being watched. I know he isn't waiting by the window for a glimpse of me, but I get paranoid. Thankfully, Romeo has yet to approach me, but I get super agitated when we're outside at the same time. I don't feel any vibe with this guy, and I'm not receptive to ANYONE right now, so I'm desperately hoping he never musters up the courage to say, "Hey there, sugar pants." Rejection is awful and I don't want to be the meanie here. Hopefully my mad dash scrambles back to the door aren't too obvious, but you never know. On the positive side, my sprint times are topnotch now!
A while back I wrote about how MrMissT is all up in my ish, and that's still the case. It's downright bizarre. I'm like some rare, exotic beetle trudging through the Amazon, and he's the obnoxious film crew that won't leave me alone. All that's missing is David Attenborough narrating everything. I swear, if he goes all Steve Irwin on me, I'm totally going to crush his windpipe. I'm really not all that interesting, I don't understand his fascination with every aspect of my life, and I wish it would come to an end.
Since Kittle's passing, our other male cat, Ti, has stepped (oozed) into his role as Top Cat. Only... he's a huge asshole now! He's really throwing his weight around with the other cats, and I don't like it. Squee is getting the brunt of it, and I'm about to invest in a water pistol because he starts drama with her ALL THE TIME. I've tried to get the dogs to interfere, but they just bark and chase Squee, which doesn't help. It's aggravating. Just today they were going at it and rolled into the knob for the base heater, turning it on and filling the apartment with that godawful stench of burning dust since we haven't used it in months. Argh! I don't know what to do with him. What a jerk!
And here I thought I was safe hiding in my apartment. Sheesh, if things are going to be this ridiculous on the homefront, I may as well go out!
Today I took our oldest cat, Kittle, to the vet to be euthanized. I'm not feeling particularly eloquent at the moment, but my mom wrote a lovely post about him on her blog, so if you'd like to check it out, here's the link.
Pray to whatever you believe in that your cat never gets oral cancer. It's a fucking nightmare, and no animal deserves to go through that. Ever. Kittle was the best cat in the world and will be missed for the rest of our days.
I mean, why not, right? There's a day for everything else under the sun. So! I must confess to you that I don't usually appreciate my blender. It's an Oster 14 speed model. It is not, sadly, a Vitamix, and therein lies my displeasure.
"The blades are willing, but the motor is weak." Matthew 26:41
Now, I'm a woman who loves her smoothies. In the old days, when I worked at a mall *shudder*, I would sometimes hop in my car on my lunch break and drive across the street to Smoothie King. Yes, I DROVE there. I wasn't about to run across 8 lanes of busy traffic. Anyway, I'd buy a PB & grape smoothie and just have that for lunch. Yum! I wanted to indulge in frozen goodness at home as well. So much cheaper!
Everyone who is a cruel taskmaster of small appliances, raise your hand. I drove my old blender into a deep depression, then left it for dead when I moved away from Florida. I also KO'd the toaster oven because I broiled bell peppers in it ALL THE TIME, but if the broil feature is there, it should work! I don't think I really ask too much of machinery. Do I?
So we bought the Oster soon after we got here in 2010. When I use the "smoothie" setting, it sounds like it's on the losing side of a life or death battle. Last month I made a smoothie and it was hideous looking. Pouring it into a glass didn't do it any favors. "That looks like shark chum," I thought. Then I decided it would be fun to do an ugly smoothie series. With pictures! :D
Shark Chum!
Shark Chum consists of 1/2 a frozen banana, 1/2 a mango, 7 raspberries, a small handful of blueberries, 1 tbsp flaxseed meal, 2 purple kale leaves, 1/2 cup unfiltered apple juice, and a splash of water.
Linoleum!
That smoothie reminds me of the floors in supermarkets in the 80s, hence the name. It's 1 banana, 1 handful of golden raspberries, 1 handful blueberries, 1 handful fresh spinach leaves, 1 tsp flaxseed meal, 1 large spoonful natural peanut butter, 1/2 cup apple juice, and ice. I was dismayed when I realized that I kinda like this smoothie's appearance. I made the same thing a few days later with more spinach, intending to call it Pond Scum, but it was rather pretty, and I didn't bother with taking a picture.
Itchy Rash!
Yeah... this was a stretch. It's not really ugly, I know. *sigh* 1 frozen banana, 1/2 mango, 1 nectarine, 3-4 strawberries, 1 handful raspberries, 1/2 cup non-dairy milk, 1/2 cup water, ice (this made two servings). Itchy Rash really took the wind out of my sails. The ugly smoothie project was then placed on the back burner.
Until today. I was hungry, but I didn't want to have to make the effort to chew my food. I'm sure you can all relate. So into the blender went 1 frozen banana, 7 blackberries, 1 large spoonful of natural peanut butter, 2 green kale leaves, 1/2 cup of vanilla soy yogurt, 1/2 cup apple juice, 1/4 cup almond milk, and ice. Right before I turned the blender on, I started to get excited by the mess it was sure to make. And then...
Redemption
The blender's redemption. Or revenge, depending on how you look at it. There were no large chunks of ice, the whole thing was uniform in texture, and the color was nice. I give up.
If I were wearing a hat, I'd throw it on the ground and stomp on it.
So my blender isn't all that inadequate after all. Maybe yours isn't either. I may drool over Vitamix blenders when I'm out at a store, but I come home to my Oster every night. Still... there's no harm in just looking...
*squirms in seat*
Oh, baby.
*ahem* Anyway, my blender is just fine and I shouldn't be so hard on it. I feel like I should present it with some jewelry or something. Maybe I'll just give the washable parts a bubble bath in the sink tonight. A thank you for all the hard work it does.
Long story short: I used to be REALLY fat, then I lost about a hundred pounds (in the process I went vegetarian, then vegan, which helped), became a militant fitness cyborg, moved across the country, became a lazy slob. If you don't want to know the details, skip the next unnecessarily long paragraph. Otherwise, enjoy!
Long story long: Early on in the 2007 NFL season I was watching a game and the announcers were talking about the star quarterback on the screen and they mentioned his height and weight. This man was a full foot taller than me and our weight was identical. And I didn't even care. A few months later I fell into a deep depression and had no appetite at all. I carried a small bag of trail mix around with me in case I had to nibble a bit to keep me from passing out. My appetite eventually came back, and I felt guilty about eating meat, since I'd been a vegetarian before, so I went veg again on January 1, 2008. I cut out eggs in October of that year. I walked a lot too, which helped. In May of 2009 we decided to move to Portland, which motivated me to really get in shape. I gradually increased both physical activity and attention to nutrition, until all traces of my humanity had vanished. I did yoga, weight training, kickboxing, and walking. As a side benefit, my kickboxing freaked out my step dad. One day I threw a punch as he walked by (UNINTENTIONALLY) and he jumped like five feet away, and after that always gave me a really wide berth. As for food, every day I made a chart. I wrote down every item that passed my lips (every drop of oil, every grain of salt), the calories they contained, calories from fat, total fat, saturated fat, sodium, total carbs, sugar, and protein. I looked up nutrition facts for fresh produce and anything that didn't have a label. I never added sugar to anything. At the end of each day I added up the numbers and studied the data to see what had worked well and what could be improved or eliminated. Yes, really. And I went vegan on December 4th of that year. By the time we left Florida on May 1, 2010, I was one hundred pounds lighter than I had been in 2007, and I was a MACHINE! Then we got here I didn't have a goal to work toward and everything went to shit and I gained like 20 pounds, and now I'm only about 10-12 pounds heavier than I was upon arriving. Not too bad, but I need to fix this.
Over the last year I've coyly flirted with fitness. The I-love-you-I-hate-you routine hasn't done me any favors. I am a lazy person unless I have a goal I'm determined to achieve. Then I found out about Krav Maga, and now I have a goal. I have to get in shape so that I can learn this! Why? Uh, because I want to break someone's jaw! I feel it's important for women to know how to defend themselves and be able to escape quickly should the unthinkable ever happen. ;) Oh, and I'm thinking I want to get a bike soon, too. I do live in one of the most bike-friendly cities in the country, after all. There. Goal is set, so let's do this!
But I'm tired. I don't wanna. I'm busy looking at stuff online. :/
Then I found a CrossFit video on Youtube. I wanna preface this by saying I'm not really interested in CrossFit, but there are some really motivating videos out there. As I lounged around, watching this, I felt a small stirring of desire to get up, but not enough to actually do so. That is, until the middle of the video, around 1:54 or so, and then I felt immensely guilty for my inactivity...
*blinks back tears* If a man with no hands and tiny little stumps for legs and a 65 year old woman can get their workouts in, then I have absolutely no excuse. At all. That does it.
I spent a few days agonizing over what protein powder I wanted to buy. I'm a believer in protein powders when you're training. Back when I was still doing dairy, I used Biochem's 100% whey protein powder, and not that I'd endorse animal-derived products now, but if you're looking for a good whey protein powder, that's it. I really liked it. But what about now? Biochem makes a vegan protein powder, and I hemmed and hawed between that and Life's Basics plant protein, but ended up purchasing...
...in double chocolate. It was the best deal for a soy-free mix, which is what I wanted. (Website!)
So I'm using Jamie Eason's Workout plan for three days a week, which I started today. Did my workout, had my shake, and I feel great! Actually, my arms feel liked cooked noodles and I know tomorrow I'm going to curse every move I have to make, but it's worth it. I'll rotate workouts every month to keep things fresh. I'll do cardio on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and take Saturdays off. I started a food log, but it's not as insane as the previous one I kept. Yet. So that's the scheme. And it'll work! I'm gonna be all hot AND deadly. >:)
In semi-related news, you know how they always tell you that shopping the bulk bins at the grocery store saves you money? IT'S TRUE. I made a killing at the store today and only spent about $40. This day is just full of win.
"Have I told you, lasagna, that I love you," *woman in audience squeals* "Have I told you there's no pasta dish above you, You take so long to prepare, A real time-consuming nightmare, But, please my tastebuds, that's what you do."
*standing ovation*
When I went grocery shopping on Friday it was with the intention of buying the ingredients for stuffed shells. However, there was only one brand of pasta shells available and they were over $3, so plans quickly changed over to lasagna. It doesn't really make that much of a difference, as I am passionately in love with any and all Italian baked pasta dishes. Sure, you can prepare light, healthy Italian meals, but... why????? Honestly.
I didn't actually get around to making it until yesterday. First I made the tofu ricotta. If you haven't made it before, I'd recommend using the recipe from Veganomicon. Otherwise, you know what to do. I tend to think making it with extra firm tofu makes it too dry, so I used firm tofu and then added a little unsweetened soy milk to make it creamy. And lots of fresh basil. It makes all the difference.
Then I made the veggies. I sauteed half a sweet onion, garlic, one huge carrot, 8 oz. sliced mushrooms, and one bunch of red chard in EVOO. I happen to feel that red chard is highly superior to spinach, but to each her own. Looking back now, I wish I'd added more garlic and also some broccoli. Next time!
I'd like to tell you that I made my own marinara sauce, I really would. I used to make it all the time, but I no longer knowingly consume anything that comes out of a can, so crushed tomatoes are out. I have yet to find myself in possession of a truckload of roma tomatoes so I can make it from scratch, so jarred sauce it is. I know their ingredients probably met up with a can somewhere along the way, but I do the best I can, alright?! So, I used... oh, god... a jar of Heart Smart Prego sauce and a small jar of Ragu pizza sauce mixed together.
Oh, the shame. X(
I think they taste good together. Please don't tell anyone, though. I'm so embarrassed.
Let me tell you something, whole wheat lasagna noodles are a pain in the ass. They seem to take longer to cook, which is unforgivable. It didn't help that I had to use a shallow pot to cook them in, thereby forcing me to boil just four at a time. By this stage in the game I was asking myself if it was really worth all this trouble. I didn't have an answer. This happens every time I make lasagna, though, so I should know better by now.
So here's how it went down: a little sauce on the bottle of my most beloved Emile Henry lasagna dish (MONEY. WELL. SPENT.), then a layer of hated wheat noodles, tofu ricotta, Daiya mozzarella shreds, veggies, sauce, noodles, ricotta, cheese, veg, sauce, noodles, cheese, torn basil leaves, sauce. *whew* Covered it with foil and shoved it into the oven. 375 F for 30 minutes, then uncovered it and sent it back in for another 10 minutes at 400 F.
And then the wait.
And then...
Hello, lover.
YUM!!!! It turned out really well. Next time I'd like to double the fillings so I can add more layers. I won't forget the broccoli either. Some Gimme Lean sausage too, perhaps.
I'm gonna have to have some more when I'm done posting this. Like... right now.
I feel it necessary to state from the outset that this isn’t going to be one of my usual posts. It isn’t about humor, food, veganism, movies, hippie beauty treatments, music, or one of my silly rants. It’s about fear, aggression, violence, and dominance. It’s relevant because of what I’m currently reading, because of what’s going on these days, and because of what has happened in the past to make me the way I am.
I’ve borrowed “Fight Like a Girl… and Win” by Lori Hartman Gervasi from the library. As you’ve probably assumed, it’s about self-defense for women.
I openly make fun of my step dad, glossing over the ugliness that used to be commonplace in my family, and choosing instead to focus on the hilariously aggravating parts. My mom married him when I was 7 years old, and things immediately began to go… wrong. He wasn’t physically abusive, although he did strike me once, it was more emotional and mental. He slowly chiseled away at the light within my mom, and he alternated between being nice, buying us things, and being cruel. Violence was a concept that silently hung in the air like stale cigarette smoke. He was the man, he made the money (which wasn’t true, both of them worked), and that’s just the way the world worked. I was raised not to talk back to adults, so I didn’t. Neither of us spoke up. It was easier to live that way. I don’t want you to think we were constantly in fear, though. This only applied when he got really angry. The only problem was, we never knew what would set him off. Like Russian roulette.
After I graduated from high school, I wanted a dog. I found Basil, who instantly became, and remains, the love of my life. One day he relieved himself on some newspaper that we’d laid out for him in the living room (the joys of housebreaking), but a little of it dribbled off onto the carpet. I was cleaning it up, but my step dad had unfortunately witnessed the offense and began ranting and raving about it. I made the mistake of muttering, “Jesus Christ,” under my breath, which sent him over the edge. He yelled that he was going to take Basil to the pound and I would never see him again. This was the last straw. I shot to my feet and started screaming from the top of my lungs at him, telling him exactly what I thought of him. I didn’t have any control over the situation, I had just become pure rage. I grabbed the dog, hopped in the car, and left, returning a couple of hours later when my mom had finally calmed me down over the phone. Fury still seethed from every one of my pores, and I adopted a sinister silence toward him. For the next 3 nights my step dad locked the bedroom door at night because he was completely convinced that I would murder him in his sleep.
To this day, almost 10 years later, that man still cannot look me in the eye. He uses a submissive tone when he speaks to me. If he wants something from me, he has my mom ask me at a later time when he isn’t around. He knows that if he pushes me I'll erupt again. That’s not to say things got better, though. You might wonder where the “And Worse” title originated from. Well, I’ll finally tell you.
The angry outbursts worsened over the years. He frequently threatened to harm our pets, and was sometimes too harsh with them, the cats in particular. He said horrible things about my grandmother to my mom, truly awful things I don’t even want to repeat. Shit really hit the fan in 2008. I was in the living room, they were in the kitchen at the table. I don’t even know what they were fighting about, I just remember the volume rising as he detailed all the horrible things he wanted to see happen to my mom and to me. My personal favorite was when he said he was going to mutilate us both in our beds. When he eventually ran out of steam, my mom, amazingly calm, simply asked, “Do you really think I deserve any of that?” “Yes!” he replied, “And worse!”
We, being the sickos we are, adopted “and worse” and began tacking it onto the ends of random sentences. For fun. Sometimes you have to make a joke of something horrible in order to hang on to your sanity.
I began adding kickboxing into my workouts. I studied hand to hand combat videos. I sometimes slept with a knife next to my bed. We told our neighbors what was going on so that someone would know what happened if we ended up dead. The best news I’d ever heard was when my mom said she was leaving him, eclipsed only by my joy when she later told me she'd decided that she wanted to move to Portland.
Due to financial reasons, we all still live together. We’re separate people, though. We aren’t a family. I’ve gotten soft and lazy. He’s been diagnosed as a transgender male-to-female. He’s on hormones, which helps a lot. Supposedly his outbursts were caused by the internal struggle he dealt with because of his gender confusion, or whatever. I don’t care, that doesn’t make it okay. But we coexist, for the most part. It’s only temporary anyway.
Last week he yelled at my mom when I wasn’t around. This kind of thing never happens in my presence, and she was concerned that he was going to flip out again. Nothing has happened since then, but I still felt it wise to learn more about self-defense. Just in case.
My biggest fear in life is being raped. I hate being vulnerable, and to me intimacy is the ultimate in vulnerability. I can't fathom sharing that much of myself with someone whom I don't trust completely. To have it stolen from me? I'd rather die. I’ve never been in a dangerous situation like that with a man, but the number of violent crimes against women (not just rape) is staggering. We're easy targets. No one ever taught us how to defend ourselves. It’s not like I think we should all go out and started walloping on random dudes, but we don’t want to be victims.
There’s a consistency in the book I’m reading and the teachings of Dr. Ruthless…
It’s that instant when you just go crazy. You become the monster. That happened the day I exploded, so I know that I’m capable of it. Looking back now, I’m amazed that I didn’t physically attack my step dad. Now I’m working out again. I’m making more of an effort to be aware of my surroundings. I’m willing to be all scary psycho woman if the need arises, though I truly hope it never comes to that. I want to learn Krav Maga, too.
I totally have a crush on this guy now.
But it changes you. I’m an angry person. Not all the time, but it simmers deep within me. I feel like a dormant volcano. I sometimes wonder what kind of person I would be if I hadn’t had that one particular person in my life. Maybe it’s just as well. The world is a violent place.
If someone takes me down, though, I’m bringing him with me.
I also may need to work on coming up with shorter post titles.
People often sing the praises of Portland's scenery. The trees, the flowers, the river, Mount Hood, etc. It's all lovely, this place is truly beautiful. But there's another aspect to the landscape that I wasn't really aware of before moving here.
The men. Of all ages.
I probably fall head over heels in lust with someone new every time I leave the apartment. Sure, that sounds great, but it's not! Even though I'm fully aware that they're out there, I am still caught off guard by attractive men. It's like wandering through a cheap carnival haunted house and jumping out of your skin when a cardboard ghoul pops up. It's the Haunted House o' Hunks!
I love how my butchering of this photo doesn't take away from Jason Lewis AT ALL.
It's my fault, really. I tend to run errands without putting on more than the absolute minimal makeup required of me to keep from being confused with a zombie. My bad! You'd think your safe just running to the bank, the grocery store, sitting in traffic, random places. Wrong! You know what the worst place is, though? Co-ops!!! Must be all the local, organic, healthy food or something. Co-op guys tend to be really nice, too, or at least that's been my experience.
There's another sure bet. I shop at Fred Meyer on Friday mornings, and if I go early enough I get to catch... the firemen. Yes, plural. I see them in the produce area and around the bulk bins.
So what's the problem? Well, I feel inadequate. In my early 20s I used to prance around like a show pony, but these days? I'm a little more utilitarian. Read that as: I feel like a frumpy lump. The obvious solution is to don an evening gown every time I step out. Or, maybe, you know, try not to worry about it so much. Ha.
In unrelated, yet wholly relevant, news... I'm working on myself these days. I started doing yoga again (two days in a row so far! WOO!). I'm growing my hair out. I'm considering cutting out refined sugars from my sugary diet. Trying to pull myself out of the slump I've been in. This isn't about dating, it's just about me. Dating doesn't figure into any of my plans right now. But it's good to know that there are indeed plenty of fish in the sea.
In the meantime, I guess I should just enjoy the view.
Wait! What about the ladies? Aside from my longstanding lady crush on Gina Gershon (honestly, was there any other reason to suffer through Showgirls?), I may not spend quite as much time ogling the lovely women of Portland, but they're totally out there. A quick browse through the personals will tell you that. ;)
I tend to feel that I am somewhat lacking in the intelligence department, not to be confused with the Department of Intelligence, in which case I am severely lacking (ba-dum ching!). The truth is, I haven't gone to college. I was set to, but things kind of fell apart and I haven't found my way back. Yet. I realize there are plenty of people who go back to school in their 30s. Hell, there are people who get to class in their 70s! And I'm fully aware that there are individuals walking around out there with doctorates who are complete morons. My not having a degree doesn't usually bother me, but sometimes I feel slitely stoopid, you know?
Yesterday I was catching up with a close friend. I told him about my new fascination with glasses and how I secretly long to be a sexy librarian, that I feel like I need to step up my game in the kitchen now that people on Google+ can see my food pics (especially since my favorite vegan blogger is aware of my existence), and about my mission to create the ultimate Christmas music collection (I'm almost finished, yay!). He was pleasantly supportive of these things, but I suddenly felt shallow and selfish. I tried to steer the conversation to even ground, bringing up video games, which he loves. We're both looking forward to the new Assassin's Creed game, Revelations:
I don't actually play video games, I just get a figurative hard-on for Ezio Auditore. *rawr* Still, the conversation felt like a mountain of fluff. For some reason, I felt compelled to mention this.
"My hobbies are stupid," I said. "Not to you they aren't," he said. This didn't make me feel any better. When I went to bed last night I was still bothered. I decided to read the New York Times on my phone. I read about Obama being a centrist when it comes to the economy (or whatever), which made me angry, and I went to sleep feeling both stupid AND pissed off.
Today I began reading "The Second Sex" by Simone de Beauvoir. This is a nice change from my usual romance novels. I need to branch out more. A few years ago, on a whim, I borrowed Michio Kaku's "Einstein's Cosmos: How Albert Einstein's Vision Transformed Our Understanding of Space and Time (Great Discoveries)" from the library and I really enjoyed it. I love theoretical physics. And I love nature documentaries. So maybe I'm not so dumb after all.
And even if I were, would that make me less of a person?
We have a female cat named Squee. Before I continue, I'd like to point out that I named her this BEFORE the word "squee" became an exclamation for all things cute and exciting. I actually named her after the comic book character who lived next to Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (proof). Anyway, Squee is quite possibly the dumbest feline I've ever met, but she is also the sweetest. She has a lovely personality, and while I occasionally chuckle at her reasoning skills, I don't think any less of her for them. Much. Ha!
Who? Me?
I think a little extra learnin' would make me feel better. Not to keep others from judging me, but just for myself. And maybe I'm not so bad off. It's not like I sit around eating potting soil or anything.
In yet another step on the path to my unintentional nouveau-hippie glory, I have done the unthinkable. I've given up shampoo. It's weird to hear a woman say that, isn't it? I'm going with the baking soda and apple cider vinegar routine.
And I'm surprisingly happy with it!
Is she seriously doing a blog post on her hair?
Dude, I totally am.
I have four reasons for this: it's cheap, it's easy, I don't have to worry about harsh chemicals on my head, and it has saved my poor hair!
Quick history lesson. When I was little I had fantastic hair. It was smooth and silky. I have photographic evidence:
D'awwww.
That's me at two. I'll have you know I was VERY sick that day, and still worked it like a pro.
Me at four. A little curl was creeping in by then, but it was all good. When I hit puberty, though, something horrible happened...
Mm-hmm. That's not an exaggeration. I spent the better part of my tween years with my hair pulled up/back/down/all around in a ponytail. By 14 I'd developed an addiction to styling mousse. It wasn't until my early twenties that my hair calmed down enough to even be considered curly, not just poofy, and it still needed mousse.
That was my favorite piercing, btw.
I had a hard time keeping my hair healthy. It wasn't shiny, it felt awful, but I didn't know what else to do. It was either crunchy and dry, or dull from the times I took a flat iron to it and scorched it into submission. Last summer I'd finally had enough and cut it all off. Freedom eventually turned into horror over what I'd done, and I've been growing it out ever since.
I went "poo free" about two weeks ago. I've read many times that it takes your scalp weeks to stop producing too much natural oil to protect your hair, as commercial shampoos strip it all away and the scalp tries to compensate, and you just have to tough it out. I haven't had this problem. It's been perfect since Day 1. My hair is soft and it's not oily at all.
Once a week I wash it with 1 tablespoon of baking soda mixed with 1 cup of water, rinse it, then use 1 tablespoon of the vinegar with 1 cup of water as a conditioner (I got the bottles in the 1st pic at the Dollar Store). And it doesn't make my hair smell gross, in case you were wondering. It doesn't smell like anything, actually. After it dries I rub a tiny bit of Giovanni Frizz Be Gone over it and that's it. The rest of the week I wash it with just water, and I don't need to reapply the serum. Perfect every time.
Here's a video of someone else talking about poo free hair:
I haven't tried any oil treatments yet, but I probably will eventually. The funny thing is, my hair is more wavy than curly now. If it stays like this, it'll be really pretty when it's longer. I could actually end up liking my hair. Finally!
I was going to be all, "And I don't have to worry about animal testing!" but I checked right before I started writing this, and evidently Arm & Hammer does conduct animal testing. Next time I will buy Bob's Red Mill baking soda instead. I'm also going to invest in a large bottle of organic apple cider vinegar. Apparently it also makes a great skin toner.
I'm increasingly interested in DIY beauty stuff like this. I'd like to learn more about skincare. I'm going to be 28 later this year, I need to start paying attention to my skin. Or is it already too late? I hope not. :/ Whatever, at least I'll have great hair.
