Monday, August 30, 2004


Outlook Not So Good

Ruth told me last Christmas that pretty soon all of my friends would start getting married, and she was right.

Chris and I have a lot of mastering to do today. Then I need to get some licensing done. Also, pay the bills.

I asked the Magic Eight Ball at Eugenio's if Shauna and Mary Cheney would ever do it. "You can rely on it."

My next album is going to be all Magic Eight Balls sayings.

Sunday, August 29, 2004


Punk ass kids don't deserve nothing

So some shit ass teenagers in a pick-up threw some shit at me as I was walking the block and a half home from work tonight. I started sobbing about a minute later. I was in shock. It made me think of all the other things that I haven't and then I felt weird. Now I'm just tired. When I cry I don't like to see people, but Greg was really nice.

Friday, August 27, 2004


This blog thing . . . medium

How come infidelity is so hard to take, especially when it happens to someone you care about? If someone cheats on me, there's a mix of feelings; but it someone cheats on one of my friends, it's all indignation and righteous anger.

I saw the Metallica movie last night. Some guy held an umbrella over Lindsay in a downpour downtown. Today I make bread and mac and cheese.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

What do you do when you have a mutual dislike for someone new in your circle? I've forgotten.

Well, just got off of work (and a couple of beers at the HH) and and feeling alright. Had to mediate again tonight. That's not part of my job description.

Chris and I went to the Grand Lodge out in Forest Grove for two nights. They had a soaking pool. One of the truffles had been overtaken by mold. It was lovely.

Sigh and grar. I'll write more later and stuff.

Monday, August 23, 2004



Hello, Blog. It's been a while.

Chris is here, with most of his stuff, and he's been anxious to get it all unpacked, whereas I've been anxious to sit on the couch and read. I'm of the tough love camp, where you don't help people do things so that they become tough. Otherwise, it's been going well. I'm in a generally better mood. Although I got angry with Chris this morning when he suggested that I'd been more bitchy than usually yesterday. Nobody can call me bitchy to my face but me. I don't take well to criticisms, and I told him as much.

We were thinking about getting away for the weekend but it's hard to figure out where to go.

And it's gray.

I'll write more L8R, SK8R.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004


Indian Grocer!

I just got this new cookbook, From Curries to Kebabs, and it's far superior to the other Indian-type Cuisine cookbook I have. At least, it's a lot more user friendly. Indian cooking can be pretty intimidating, mainly because there's a lot of different--or should I say "exotic"?--spices involved. I'm both intrigued and scared of these spices, although I already use a lot of them (cumin, clove, nutmeg) in my everyday baking.

There are a number of places in Portland to buy spices. There's the old standby, Limbo, which has pretty much everything you could ever want in bulk. But I wanted to see if there were any Indian Grocers in Portland. I know that there are tons of Oriental/Korean/Thai/Japanese grocery stores around, and chances are that they would have anything I wanted. But, I wanted adventure the most.

I did a Google search: Indian Grocer Portland. I got to this site, and discovered that there are two Indian grocers up on Interstate Ave. I went to Pooja International, which is half convienence stote, half Indian grocer, in a space about the size of my living room.

When I walked in there was an older Indian gentleman, around 65, and a younger one, in his thirties. They both kind of jumped when I walked in, heading towards the cigarette counter. I said, "I'm here to buy some spices." They seemed excited by that. The older guy came over and helped me find the things I was looking for. Amchoor, which is a dried mango powder, whole cloves, paprika (now I have a giant jar of paprika, if you ever run out), garam masala, dried hot chilis. They didn't have any powdered cayenne, but they did have (and this is the exciting part) New Zealand Lamb shoulders, in a big freezer. They also had goat, which I was excited about. One day I'll make some goat.

The younger guy asked me all these questions: Had I made lamb before? (Oh, yes!) Had I made lamb shoulder before? (Oh, no!) Did I have good recipes? (I think so!) What was I going to marinate the lamb in? (Garlic, ginger, yogurt,etc.) For how long? (Around twenty hours.) How was I going to cook it? (On the grill!) I asked him if he had any tips, and he said, marinate for a long, long time. I told him that I was excited to find his store (on the internet, I said), and that I'd definitely be back soon. He told me to call the store if I had any problems while cooking. Awesome!

Amidst all of the excitement, I forgot to get cumin and cayenne. So, after dropping stuff of at home, I went on over to Limbo, and bought the rest of my spices, and a few nice spice jars to keep them in. I came home and made my own Garam Masala and Chaat Masala (both for tomorrow's lamb kebabs), and started draining the yogurt.

I spent a lot of money on spices today, but I know that I probably won't have to buy any again for about another year, or even more. I still need a couple more spices to complete my collection, including corriander and saffron. When I start to get the hang of this Indian cooking thing, I'm going to throw a giant dinner party with all sorts of yummy foods, and I'll be sure to invite you!

Monday, August 16, 2004

I slept hardcore today. I slept so hardcore that I needed to sleep in two different beds to get all of my sleeping done. Sometime this morning I stumbled downstairs, fed the dog, let her out, and went back to sleep in Lindsay's bed. Sedna kept doing cute things to wake me up, like putting her snout on the bed and sighing and blowing snot on my face. It didn't work, I persevered, and I stayed in bed until three p.m. I feel better now, but I also don't want to leave the house until I've cleaned it up, or until it gets cold enough to leave. Poor Sedna is bored. Well, I'm bored, too. Get used to it, dog.

Sunday, August 15, 2004


I went to a Speak-Easy! Sort of.

Last night was almost too eventful to write about, but I'll try.

After a day of floor scrubbing, house cleaning, painting, and DVD watching (13 Going on Thirty starring Jennifer Garner: a gem), work was pleasingly slow but still moderately profitable. I convinced Simon to take me to the underground, after-hours bar that he goes to after work. The bar is in the South East Industrial District, and is, as far as I can tell, an apartment in a warehouse that is going to be renovated after its short stint as Service Industry Slum. You have to knock on the door to be let in, and it was a challenge to find the place. Simon and I drove there after work, after calling Lana to make sure she'd be there. We sat in his car and drank our shift drinks, smoked cigarettes, and waited for the bartender to show up. Without him, D, there is no bar. His "lawyer" drove by, and pulled his car up next to ours and talked about something, I don't know what. I played the sweet and silent girl, mysteriously tough with nothing to say. D pulled up about ten minutes later, and Simon and I walked into the bar, the first customers of the night.

We still had to knock, which was fun (there's a guy who's job it is to screen people--what a job!). It was dark, but I could make out a make-shift bar, a few low couches in the back of the room, and a black-lit pool table in the second room. Also, a bathroom, the floor covered in toilet paper and cigarette butts, but with surprisingly nice soap, like Aloe and Chamomille nice. I was introduced to D, something that I think everyone has to do. Because, well, it feels more like you're at someone's party than at a bar, so it makes sense to get to know the host and to thank him for his hospitality. Simon and I sat down on one of the couches and waited a bit to buy the cards.

You don't pay drink by drink, you pay fifteen dollars and get a card. When I heard "card," I thought, "You mean, like a Stumptown Card, with slots for your hole-punches?" Not exactly. I got a Two of Diamonds Snoopy playing card. A card gets you four drinks. Four stiff drinks. I watched D pour my second drink (perhaps I should've been paying attention from the start), and he did a five or six count pour. That's twice what normal bars do. That's an I'm-spending-Christmas-with-my Family-and-I-don't-want-them-to-think-I-drink-to-cope pour.

Lana and her friend Jersey showed up, and we just sat on the couches and watched as the patrons straggled in. We talked about work, about new relationships and breaking up and moving in, about sex and not-sex. Typical getting to know the co-workers stuff, as far as I can tell. When we got to the bar around two thirty, it was empty; at four thirty, when I convinced Lana to take me home, it was packed.

I'd only had three drinks, plus one and a half beers before, but I was completely wasted. Wasted enough that I had to have my head in the breeze and concentrate really hard on not throwing up in Lana's car. I made it home safely, walked into the bathroom, and commenced a nice and neat session of vomitting in the sink. I love throwing up in the sink. It's the only civilized way to go. I learned that at Alexia's house in Santa Cruz. Unfortunately, I threw up in her Kitchen sink, which was essentially open to her living room where all of her housemates were watching TV. Oh, well. Live and Learn.

I let Sedna out, got a glass of water, and passed out in Lindsay's bed. Then I woke up at ten, feeling fine, and went and had brunch at work. Now I'm going to watch the original Manchurian Candidate and maybe, if I feel up to it, clean my room. I should probably take a shower, since I'm on-call right now. Nobody wants disaster relief from a stink-pot.

Friday, August 13, 2004

Do you think that this whole hurricane in Florida thing is the universe's way of saying "Vote for anyone but Bush"? It makes you think.



I just wanted to do a quick little post about how AWESOME MarchFourth was last night. AWESOME!


Snowball from Hell

Ben Kessler wrote this play in highschool called "A Snowball in Hell," and it was my introduction to underground genius. It got me involved in a series of other plays and performances, and inspired me, because if a kid a year older than me could pull off this kind of spectacle (I remember Kate Hutchinson riding Jeremy Robbins while spewing Baby Powder all over the set), then certainly I could do as much.

In most things in life, creative endeavors, social interactions, I'm usually just riffing off of what I've seen other people do, what other people have acomplished. That's why it's nice to have friends who are a few years down the track, friends who get by doing what they love to do. It's nice to have friends who push the limits of social interactions. It's nice to have friends who make amazing things and friends who work together. It's nice to have friends who got to school and work towards their goals and get good jobs. So when I come up for air from a creative streak, I can look around and see my friends successes and struggles, and that's good.

Not making music lately (partially burn-out, partially increased interest in: cooking, painting; reading) has left me with some intellectual space to consider what it is, exactly, that I'm going to do with my life. I'm thinking that it's time to go back into Social Work, to get an MSW, and to help people. I'm afraid of getting ghettoized in Social Work, because it's a typically female field, and it's underpaid and undervalued. Mom even told me not to go into it, but then again, she really wants me to get a Masters. Hey, imagine if your record producer was also a licesned therapist and addictions counselor? Wouldn't that rock?

Hmm . . . I'm a fox, for sure, and not a hedgehog. I know many things.

Thursday, August 12, 2004



I can't sleep, and thoughts of Lee Krasner and fears about arpeggios race through my little mind.

I made a lovely chicken and cilantro curry for dinner tonight, along with a peach/basil/cucumber/thyme salad that I ripped off from Navarre. Shauna dined with us, and then she walked me to work. Work was OK, and it was nice to have enough people to serve everyone. Sabrina and I went to the Vern and drank some PBR and played doubles against this cute couple. They won both times.

Someone left a note on my windshield today outside Fred Meyer. I don't know who it could've been, but I'm guessing it must've been a friend, although there was no signature. "I saw you walk into the store. You're so beautiful. Tried to find you inside to talk to you. P.S. Love your banana peel." A mystery. Dot dot dot.

I've had a number of insights recently. Insights that I'll share latter, I'm certain.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004


It's Back!

I got my cookbook back from Amanda (but really back from Joe) last night. I am relieved to have it back in my house. Almost every time I went to cook something, I'd think, "If only I had my cookbook--just as a reference, not as a crutch, not that I need my cookbook." I would end up searching the internet for questionable recipes, comparing them to each other, trying to figure out based on the names attached to the posts whether or not I could trust a recipe. Even the network sites can't be trusted, not entirely.

Played over two hours of four square last night. I love the game, but it was an overall medium experience. Afterwards Amac and I went to karaoke at the Alibi, and I sang "One More Try" and "Right Here Waiting (for You)." I had an attack of holiday tummy at the beginning of the evening, but I pulled through.

Amanda and I spent a lot of time yesterday ennumerating the many ways in which our lives will be better once Marian comes back home. I'm going to make her my lead singer.

Sunday, August 08, 2004


A Day at the Beach

The giant grumpster that I've been, I decided this morning to go to the coast. I woke up, got stuff together, made myself a meatloaf sandwich with mustard, and took Sedna on a long drive. I'd never been to Astoria, and the voices in my head said "Go North." I saw this bridge there, which crosses the Columbia to Washington, and went to the visitors' area to pee and to let Sedna pee and poo. Then, I went north again, found a state park with a beach and parked where I wouldn't have to pay. Sedna and I went exploring, and found this little alcove, right on the river, with sheer cliffs on either side, and four people, one older couple reading, and one younger couple with a Jack Russell and a bottle of Monarch Rum. Sedna played with the dog, Trixie, and we went into the warm water, swimming and playing ball, running up and sliding down the cliffs. It was perfect, and I eventually relaxed. The drive home was slow, but I talked to mom for a while (she was dog-sitting for my sister Ruth and her husband). I also stopped at a fruit stand and bought three boxes of blackberries, blueberries, a box of yellow cherry tomatoes, two white nectarine, a cucumber, and a head of garlic. I also drank a Doubleshot and ate a Baby Ruth.

Chris called on the last leg of the trip, the part right after it turns from beautiful nature into Portland. We talked about commitment and daydreams, credit and mortgages. I decided that I had to to something with the berries, so Sedna and I went for a walk to buy unsalted butter and sour cream to make the foolproof tart shell from Splendid Table. I came home and made the pastry I doubled the recipe (why not?). To jazz things up a bit I made a brandy, lavender, and thyme syrup and poured it over the berries before baking the tart. I mixed the remainder of the brandy syrup with the remaining sour cream, to make a nice topping for the tart. Oh, yeah, I don't have a rolling pin, and that makes things real fun, pastry-wise.

With the leftover pastry I thought, let's make a quiche. I've never made a quiche before, although I've seen Amanda make a million delicious ones. I found another recipe, for Carrot Quiche, and made that. It's still in the oven, and it smells really nice.

I cut the yellow cherry tomatoes in half and mixed them with a bunch of basil I picked off of my little basil bush, and poured a tablespoon of the garlic oil I have from the meatloaf. That was a nice refreshing snack.

Now the kitchen is all clean, and it smells super yummy in here, and I have a tart, and a quiche-to-be, and I'm going to the airport to pick Lindsay up in an hour. I feel so much better. Oh! And, I'm having a late lunch with Amac and her boyf at the Bonfire tomorrow. Life is good. Finally.

Saturday, August 07, 2004


Now, That's a Good Meatloaf!

I found this recipe in the NYT Food section, at work on Thursday, for this turkey and spinach meatloaf. It's not your momma's meatloaf. It took a good two hours to make, but it was worth it, and I'll have lots of leftovers. Plus, delicious garlic-oil. I ate it with some cold mashed yams I made a couple of days ago, and a Red Stripe, while watching Deliverance.

I need a job that doesn't take up my evenings all the time. It's nice to come home from work, unwind, do the grocery shopping, make dinner. I'm sick of working until the wee hours. You know, I wouldn't mind working if I got to take a break and go home for half an hour and eat or something.

I need a new industry.

Friday, August 06, 2004


Baby did a bad, bad thing

Um, totally vag. A customer called in to complain about me. I didn't get in trouble, but I can see why she would've been upset. It was the biggest, drunkest table of a really long night filled with lots of people all the time, and Steve and I wanting to cry for most of the night. If all the servers are stressing out at work, does that mean that we're overworked? Yes.

I'm just a big stress case all around. It will pass, though.

Thursday, August 05, 2004



Sabrina and I went to the Vern after work tonight and drank our fair share of Pabst, mingled with the common folk, and played foos ball. I am, it turns out, a very skilled foos ball player. It's always amazing to find out how people get here, and why.

I came up with a shirt idea. "My boyfriend thinks you're cute." It could work, but then again, I'm kinda tipsy.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004


Crack and egg on your head and let the yolk drip down

I've cracked it! I discovered how to make yummy, fluffy scrambled eggs a week ago when I came home drunk. But I remembered how, and I made some this afternoon, along with cleaning the fridge out and doing dishes and running the various errands that one needs to run. I also made some coffee, and it is good. I'm drinking it out of a coffee mug Alexia gave me for my Birthday a long time ago. The weird thing is, I can appreciate that these eggs are good, but I still don't really like eggs. It's become more of a point of honor for me.

My weekend is officially over, and I have three hours until I have to go into work again. Lindsay is going out of town on Thursday and I'm going to take care of the dog. I'm a bit scared, but I'm compensating for it by buying Sedna all these little doggie treats and toys. Being an Aunt is a lot of fun.

I'm going to mail some letters!

Monday, August 02, 2004


Eyebrow Maintenance

I've been a busy girl lately, what with slicing my finger open at work, drinking until delirium at the Yacht and Ratatat show, grocery shopping, and The Kids in the Hall marathon. Since I don't have to work until Wednesday, I feel obligated to go somewhere scenic, maybe the coast. Although you probably know by now that I'm all talk, no action, when it comes to get-aways.

I've been sleeping strangely in my bed, sort of half-way down the middle, feet hanging off the end, curled up on my side. I'm due for a nap pretty soon.

Ooh, listen to this: I got my eyebrows and eyelashes tinted yesterday, and my eyebrows waxed. It looks like I'm wearing really high-quality, really well-applied mascara all the time! I haven't done anything that spa-oriented in a long time. I feel kind of like a princess. It works, though, because my hair is all big and wild in the humidity (it helps that I usually take a nap after I shower). Eyebrow maintenance. How many men are concerned with it? Considering that almost every woman I've known, not matter what her style involves otherwise, maintains her eyebrows in some way. Well, I guess there are exceptions. I did nothing to mine for a good six months this year, and then the Macindoe sisters have these awesome eyebrows.

Aren't you glad that I don't write a political blog? Could you imagine? "John Kerry has the best, strongest eyebrows ever. W's are weak and indecisive, definitely not fit for the leader of the Free World."


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