Tuesday, August 26, 2014
This Is The Only Title Still Available Blog: People Are Strange
This Is The Only Title Still Available Blog: People Are Strange: DISCLAIMER: This is not an educational blog. The blogger bears no responsibility for any consequences should the reader be stupid enough ...
People Are Strange
DISCLAIMER: This is not an educational blog. The blogger bears no
responsibility for any consequences should the reader be stupid enough
to take seriously or actually attempt anything suggested herein. The
opinions expressed in this blog reflect no one's, least of all the
blogger's. If you must comment, please do it under your breath where all
the best opinions are expressed. This blog is intended for personal use
only (mine, not yours you idiot).
You may remember the song lyrics that go "People are strange, when you're a stranger." Nothing brings that home more than travel. Let me preface by saying I am not a good traveler. Perhaps "not good" is not strong enough: something like "sucks monkey dick" would be more apt. Traveling makes me cranky, whiny, irrational and demanding. Imagine a brunette Gweneth Paltrow- without the great hair and stellar bod. I get motion sickness in the blink of an eye (an inherited family trait). Flying can cause at worst, searing agony in my ears that have me begging any terrorist that actually made it on the plane to shoot me first; and at best, temporary quasi-deafness that causes my conversational tone to be exclusively in my outdoor voice for the rest of my vacation. In my experience, exotic locales rarely live up to expectations and accommodations often disappoint. The miserable spitting shower head, the heater that won't turn on or won't shut off. The whingeing air conditioner.
And the weather rarely cooperates. Once on a long anticipated beach vacation, a hurricane landed the same day as my family. Instead of admitting defeat and packing it in, my parents dug in planning to wait out the storm. My tragic nuclear family huddled under horse hair blankets from the cheap motel and braved the gale force winds on the boardwalk in search of food. We subsisted on corn dogs and fries until the final day of the trip when the rain stopped, the sun shone, and we departed for home.
Another beach vacation we enjoyed glorious sunshine- on the first day. My family decided to rent bikes to ride down the boardwalk when some teenaged thugs on their bikes careened toward us causing us to veer out of their path. I hit a bench with my bike, flew over the handlebars and broke my two front teeth. That little jaunt caused years of pain and subsequent dental surgeries and even a second mortgage on my first house.
On a vacation to Mexico with my first husband he had the brilliant idea to avoid the predictable group tour in the air conditioned comfort of a tour bus and instead, he rented a Volkswagon Beetle circa 1970 with no air conditioning. We drove through the jungle slums (yes, there are slums even in the jungle, slums are equal opportunity) in unimaginable heat to the famous ruins and by the time we returned we were both ruined by heat stroke. That same trip, chastened by our first outing, we opted for the short group cruise on a sailboat to a neighboring island, La Isla de Las Tortugas. I got seasick while they were still passing out the first round of magaritas and when we reached the beach, I promptly vomited on the Tortugas and passed out until it was time to sail back.
Then there was the trip to Shanghai to visit my brother-in-law and his new Chinese wife. Forget snakes on a plane; Hell is 18 hours on a jam-packed plane. When we arrived my husband had to restrain me from running to the Consulate to defect so I would never have to make the return trip. What I didn't know that it would be mere days before I would be counting the minutes until our flight back. Oh Shanghai, Land of a Thousand Toilets! Toilets that in only one respect resemble the familiar porcelain commode in that they are intended for elimination. The sanitary system cannot accommodate waste paper so after you wipe you place the tissue in a wastebasket. Take a moment to imagine the smell that assails you as you enter a restroom stall. Oh and you quickly learn to carry your own toilet paper since that is a luxury that will not be provided. Some toilets resembled a saddle that you mounted. Others were mere porcelain lined holes. In a park, I went to the public restroom and entered the stall to a sea of white tile with a trough in the center. Opening the stall door had triggered a stream of water to rush through the trough. It took me several moments to imagine how to use this facility. It dawned on me that you squatted over the stream with your legs straddling the trough. The Chinese believe toilets are exclusively for the young and limber. The Chinese also believe peeing is a public past time. You will encounter men and young boys peeing in the gutter. The smell of Shanghai is urine combined with kerosene, which is what they fuel their motorbikes with; a good early warning system as their are no traffic laws for motorbikes. Pedestrians risk life and limb crossing thoroughfares with kamikaze drivers playing a real world version of Tron. I could go on but suffice to say take my advice and cross Shanghai off your bucket list.
So you will understand that it was with some trepidation that I planned a short jaunt to visit family during a brief work hiatus. My husband, wise soul, took care to book a decent airline so we flew Virgin. Things started well with my boarding pass getting a special designation that allowed me to skip the long security line and instead join a short queue where we did not have to remove our shoes or open our carry-ons. There is nothing quite like the feeling of privilege and superiority to convince you that yes, all is right with the world.
We enjoyed our short time with my family. The weather was fine. We met a director we had recently worked with in Los Angeles in the middle of the American Art Museum thousands of miles away. She suggested we visit a private museum we had never heard of that turned out to be a small gem.
In the shuttle back to return the rental car a couple sat across from us where the man talked on and on and the woman only replied with different inflections of"Hmmm". She was a genius at conveying her response without using any actual words. I considered the possibilities:
On the plane heading back home a young and lovely flight attendant was wearing, I kid you not, stripper heels; those 5 inch high stilettos with giant platforms. When the music video that Virgin plays for the flight instructions came on she sang along. She was the only attendant to do so. Afterwards, she changed into sensible flats. Again, strange. I may be tempted to dip my toe again in travel's dangerous waters again if only to be reminded that the world and its people are wonderful strange.
You may remember the song lyrics that go "People are strange, when you're a stranger." Nothing brings that home more than travel. Let me preface by saying I am not a good traveler. Perhaps "not good" is not strong enough: something like "sucks monkey dick" would be more apt. Traveling makes me cranky, whiny, irrational and demanding. Imagine a brunette Gweneth Paltrow- without the great hair and stellar bod. I get motion sickness in the blink of an eye (an inherited family trait). Flying can cause at worst, searing agony in my ears that have me begging any terrorist that actually made it on the plane to shoot me first; and at best, temporary quasi-deafness that causes my conversational tone to be exclusively in my outdoor voice for the rest of my vacation. In my experience, exotic locales rarely live up to expectations and accommodations often disappoint. The miserable spitting shower head, the heater that won't turn on or won't shut off. The whingeing air conditioner.
And the weather rarely cooperates. Once on a long anticipated beach vacation, a hurricane landed the same day as my family. Instead of admitting defeat and packing it in, my parents dug in planning to wait out the storm. My tragic nuclear family huddled under horse hair blankets from the cheap motel and braved the gale force winds on the boardwalk in search of food. We subsisted on corn dogs and fries until the final day of the trip when the rain stopped, the sun shone, and we departed for home.
Another beach vacation we enjoyed glorious sunshine- on the first day. My family decided to rent bikes to ride down the boardwalk when some teenaged thugs on their bikes careened toward us causing us to veer out of their path. I hit a bench with my bike, flew over the handlebars and broke my two front teeth. That little jaunt caused years of pain and subsequent dental surgeries and even a second mortgage on my first house.
On a vacation to Mexico with my first husband he had the brilliant idea to avoid the predictable group tour in the air conditioned comfort of a tour bus and instead, he rented a Volkswagon Beetle circa 1970 with no air conditioning. We drove through the jungle slums (yes, there are slums even in the jungle, slums are equal opportunity) in unimaginable heat to the famous ruins and by the time we returned we were both ruined by heat stroke. That same trip, chastened by our first outing, we opted for the short group cruise on a sailboat to a neighboring island, La Isla de Las Tortugas. I got seasick while they were still passing out the first round of magaritas and when we reached the beach, I promptly vomited on the Tortugas and passed out until it was time to sail back.
Then there was the trip to Shanghai to visit my brother-in-law and his new Chinese wife. Forget snakes on a plane; Hell is 18 hours on a jam-packed plane. When we arrived my husband had to restrain me from running to the Consulate to defect so I would never have to make the return trip. What I didn't know that it would be mere days before I would be counting the minutes until our flight back. Oh Shanghai, Land of a Thousand Toilets! Toilets that in only one respect resemble the familiar porcelain commode in that they are intended for elimination. The sanitary system cannot accommodate waste paper so after you wipe you place the tissue in a wastebasket. Take a moment to imagine the smell that assails you as you enter a restroom stall. Oh and you quickly learn to carry your own toilet paper since that is a luxury that will not be provided. Some toilets resembled a saddle that you mounted. Others were mere porcelain lined holes. In a park, I went to the public restroom and entered the stall to a sea of white tile with a trough in the center. Opening the stall door had triggered a stream of water to rush through the trough. It took me several moments to imagine how to use this facility. It dawned on me that you squatted over the stream with your legs straddling the trough. The Chinese believe toilets are exclusively for the young and limber. The Chinese also believe peeing is a public past time. You will encounter men and young boys peeing in the gutter. The smell of Shanghai is urine combined with kerosene, which is what they fuel their motorbikes with; a good early warning system as their are no traffic laws for motorbikes. Pedestrians risk life and limb crossing thoroughfares with kamikaze drivers playing a real world version of Tron. I could go on but suffice to say take my advice and cross Shanghai off your bucket list.
So you will understand that it was with some trepidation that I planned a short jaunt to visit family during a brief work hiatus. My husband, wise soul, took care to book a decent airline so we flew Virgin. Things started well with my boarding pass getting a special designation that allowed me to skip the long security line and instead join a short queue where we did not have to remove our shoes or open our carry-ons. There is nothing quite like the feeling of privilege and superiority to convince you that yes, all is right with the world.
We enjoyed our short time with my family. The weather was fine. We met a director we had recently worked with in Los Angeles in the middle of the American Art Museum thousands of miles away. She suggested we visit a private museum we had never heard of that turned out to be a small gem.
In the shuttle back to return the rental car a couple sat across from us where the man talked on and on and the woman only replied with different inflections of"Hmmm". She was a genius at conveying her response without using any actual words. I considered the possibilities:
- Recent tongue piercing
- Member of some monastic order which forbids speech but unspecified sounds allowed
- Some weird type of aphasia
On the plane heading back home a young and lovely flight attendant was wearing, I kid you not, stripper heels; those 5 inch high stilettos with giant platforms. When the music video that Virgin plays for the flight instructions came on she sang along. She was the only attendant to do so. Afterwards, she changed into sensible flats. Again, strange. I may be tempted to dip my toe again in travel's dangerous waters again if only to be reminded that the world and its people are wonderful strange.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Nature is A Bitch. And She Wants to Kill You.
DISCLAIMER: This is not an educational blog. The blogger bears no
responsibility for any consequences should the reader be stupid enough
to take seriously or actually attempt anything suggested herein. The
opinions expressed in this blog reflect no one's, least of all the
blogger's. If you must comment, please do it under your breath where all
the best opinions are expressed. This blog is intended for personal use
only (mine, not yours you idiot).
Can I interest you in some zucchini? I happen to have extra on hand. Oh you already have some? Well, do you know anybody who would be willing to take some off my hands? I stuffed all I can in the freezer and we simply can't eat the stuff fast enough. Why did I plant it? Excellent question. It's not like I wasn't fully aware of the consequences but it was one measly plant. I figured, what's the harm in that? Zucchini is so nice in the winter when you buy it at the store. They import the stuff from somewhere that's having summer, right? Even the name, summer squash, entices you with thoughts of summer's abundance of delicious veggies and fruits. You've got to get creative with this unexpected bounty. Besides ratatouille or roasted and stuffed, slices are delicious sauteed with garlic and basil or lemon and parsley. Sweet zucchini bread makes a lovely snack. Most delicious of all are zucchini fritters. You can cut them into fries and dredge them in seasoned flour or bread them in dry crumbs with Parmesan and bake them. Or shred them, salt them, squeeze out the liquid and add egg and flour and fry into little cakes you can top with all kinds of things. A great Asian dipping sauce for zucchini pancakes (or just about anything else) is made by combining one tablespoon of soy sauce, three tablespoons of rice vinegar, one teaspoon of sesame oil, one and half teaspoons of sugar, a quarter teaspoon of red pepper, and one chopped scallion.
Once you're sick of eating it, try giving it away. The UPS man shows up with a package? Thank him with zucchini! Homeless man at the traffic light? Instead of a greenback, give him zucchini! Sneak around the neighborhood after dark and leave little zucchini bombs on your neighbor's doorsteps. And of course just looking at this phallic fruit will conjure some interesting ideas. Just wash thoroughly to remove any prickly hairs or errant insects and dispose of after each use.
Last winter we bought a house in the hills near South Pasadena with a property much larger than we had intended to buy. Sure, I wanted a garden. I just didn't want to have my own private mountain. It just happened to be attached to the perfect house. It was December and it was warm. The property had been untouched for at least fifteen years and there was a colossal amount of work to do, inside and out. While the contractor began tearing up the inside, I took advantage of the spring-like weather and worked feverishly on the outside. You see, my husband had always dreamed of having a Japanese garden. All the windows we were planning on enlarging and adding to the house faced the mountain that is our backyard. I wanted to put the Japanese garden on the slope so that the garden would be the view framed from each of the windows. Just at the top of the slope there was a flat area with a raised garden bed that was perfect for an herb and vegetable garden. Conveniently, it would be hidden by the formal garden. I began by installing a labyrinth of drip irrigation. I amended the clay soil with compost. I lay down landscape fabric and mulch. I created a dry river bed with rocks and planted my pines, bamboos and decorative grasses. I placed my rocks and my lantern.
I have always had a green thumb. It has not always
served
me well. Have you noticed that nature can be slightly unpredictable?
Water and nutrients began to attract wildlife. Beside bunnies and
hummingbirds, a coyote made an appearance; and a giant poisonous
centipede, and an enormous spider called a false tarantula that is
related to true tarantulas just without all the hair. I had experienced
this before. "If you build it they will come." Here's another cliche
that is also true: Fail to plan and plan to fail. I had never done any
vegetable gardening in California before and being used to the
Northeastern climate I thought there would be ample time to prepare my
vegetable garden before spring. Almost too late I discovered that you
plant your vegetables in California in January!
I had herbs in pots that I had been dragging around from loft to loft before we bought the house. I stuffed those in the raised bed and then ran to Home Depot and got some tomato plants, some kale, chard, peppers, and one damn zucchini. The soil was a heavy clay that would take a few seasons to improve so I didn't expect much. The result was an explosion of growth unlike anything I had ever experienced. Because I had not mapped out my vegetable garden with the same thought and care I had taken with my formal garden, chaos ensued. And the reigning King of Chaos is King Zucchini. This was a tidy little plot when I first planted it. There is a gravel path with a small statue of Buddha placed in the center. Very Zen. You can see from the photo that King Zucchini swallowed Buddha whole. I don't think he plays well with others. Or perhaps he doesn't suffer false idols? He's like the vegetable equivalent of Cthulhu. His power is mighty. He can grow a zucchini the size of a baseball bat in a single day. Under that mass of vegetation are prickles that can raise a skin rash in seconds. My husband keeps telling me to cut the nasty thing back but I keep giving him excuses like it might kill the whole plant or it's going to die soon anyway. The truth is I'm afraid. The bunnies have disappeared. I think the King may require blood sacrifice. It may be silly but I'm keeping the cat inside at least until Autumn.
Once you're sick of eating it, try giving it away. The UPS man shows up with a package? Thank him with zucchini! Homeless man at the traffic light? Instead of a greenback, give him zucchini! Sneak around the neighborhood after dark and leave little zucchini bombs on your neighbor's doorsteps. And of course just looking at this phallic fruit will conjure some interesting ideas. Just wash thoroughly to remove any prickly hairs or errant insects and dispose of after each use.
I have always had a green thumb. It has not always
served
me well. Have you noticed that nature can be slightly unpredictable?
Water and nutrients began to attract wildlife. Beside bunnies and
hummingbirds, a coyote made an appearance; and a giant poisonous
centipede, and an enormous spider called a false tarantula that is
related to true tarantulas just without all the hair. I had experienced
this before. "If you build it they will come." Here's another cliche
that is also true: Fail to plan and plan to fail. I had never done any
vegetable gardening in California before and being used to the
Northeastern climate I thought there would be ample time to prepare my
vegetable garden before spring. Almost too late I discovered that you
plant your vegetables in California in January!
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