Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Baby steps toward…
I got a call today. It was Orpheus, sounding rather excited. He and Basso, our effulgent (read: pale-skinned and auburn-haired,) friend from Sunday night, made plans to meet for happy hour this evening. I, of course, am encouraged to attend. Normally, Tuesday would be our night off. As interested as I am, I’d have never made plans to hang out yet without O. present. I get the idea they’d have met whether I’d been able to go or not. While Basso is certainly more than worthy to be one of our first joint friends, and quite possibly a sometimes-spice in our sex lives, I’m a little unhappy about these plans. I trust Orpheus, but I don’t know B. well enough to do so. I admit to being quite clingy, sometimes very possessive, and a little hurt by O’s boldness in this matter. I’ll go with bells on, though, because I love him, his spontaneity, and the tingly possibility that hangs in the air with Basso. We’ll have fun, and this won’t bother me. But it will come up in conversation with Orpheus, later.
Monday, March 17, 2008
A thousand little difficulties…
Orpheus and I had a neat little weekend, though penetration-free. There was flirtation with the idea of a three-way with a very good friend (and ex-f-buddy,) of mine who came to town, but his incessant, nervous conversation at dinner on Friday kinda ended that idea. On Saturday, I played Dungeons and Dragons, and it was the first session where my character, by herself, saved the party from near-certain Total Party Kill (TPK). We did lose one player, but he was given a true resurrection, which made it a pretty nice day for him, overall. Let’s just say this… Cunegonde Deepaxe dominated the battlefield but good.
On Sunday, we started off saying goodbye to my nervous friend from out of town by taking him to breakfast. We made a lovely dinner, one O. had wanted to make for awhile (home-made pizza), and had a great side-salad with some leftover ginger dressing I’d made for Friday. Also, we had a speculative date with a new prospective sex friend. It was a meet and greet session, so there were no pants removed, but it was pretty clear to everyone at the table that there is at least room for a good friendship. Given the amount of strained fabric in the front panel of our collective pants, naked friendship is a distinct possibility. However, after our first abortive attempt at occasional playing together, Orpheus and I both agreed that we’d really have to get to know the person before clothes came off in the future, so… In the meantime, we’re both kind of amazed at how much we enjoyed ourselves last night.
Tonight, it’s pork loin roast and the bars for a single drink. Hooray for St. Patrick, the man who purportedly drove the snakes from Eire and all, but really. How dumb do you think I am? It’s Tuesday tomorrow, and that spells “beginning of the week.” Wish me well!
On Sunday, we started off saying goodbye to my nervous friend from out of town by taking him to breakfast. We made a lovely dinner, one O. had wanted to make for awhile (home-made pizza), and had a great side-salad with some leftover ginger dressing I’d made for Friday. Also, we had a speculative date with a new prospective sex friend. It was a meet and greet session, so there were no pants removed, but it was pretty clear to everyone at the table that there is at least room for a good friendship. Given the amount of strained fabric in the front panel of our collective pants, naked friendship is a distinct possibility. However, after our first abortive attempt at occasional playing together, Orpheus and I both agreed that we’d really have to get to know the person before clothes came off in the future, so… In the meantime, we’re both kind of amazed at how much we enjoyed ourselves last night.
Tonight, it’s pork loin roast and the bars for a single drink. Hooray for St. Patrick, the man who purportedly drove the snakes from Eire and all, but really. How dumb do you think I am? It’s Tuesday tomorrow, and that spells “beginning of the week.” Wish me well!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Yesterday TOTALLY sucked. Today's not far behind.
Pall over day. Horrible depression about working in general, especially here. A bit of a nasty night last night with Orpheus, and a touch of sadness about that, insecurity. Feeling like the wind has been whipped out from under me. Can’t make calls. Can’t go home. Can’t quit this place, no matter how much I want to. Heh. So few “can’s” to brag about, so many cannots it doesn’t even make sense to mention them all. Being an adult sucks. If I’d have known it was going to be this bad ten years ago, I really would’ve tried something with the 500-count bottle of ibuprophen I kept under my bed through those angst-ridden teenage years. These days, there are too many people who rely on me for something. Even the thought of trying a thing like that is sickening, and terribly stupid. Here’s a “can’t” for you… Can’t do it, ‘cause what if it didn’t work properly? Besides which, I’m far too sparkling a personality to succumb to the planet. Please.
Today, though, is enough to make me want to crawl under the covers and not come out until a proper stench has developed. At least last night I made a fair approximation of a mojito sauce that O. and I really liked but has been discontinued at Trader Joe’s. I made chicken soft tacos with the sauce (just two limes skinned, de-rinded, and sliced into small chunks, 1 cup of sliced tomatoes, a whole sweet onion chopped coarsely, about a quarter-cup of lemon juice, 3 Tbsps. of olive oil, cayenne pepper, salt, pepper, a sprinkling of “Italian seasoning”, 2 cloves garlic minced fine, 2 small hot peppers, all cooked down a bit), and a can of Cuban-style black beans. With chicken, it was a touch runny, like Qdoba’s marinated meat, but the effect was quite similar to (though less salty than) the Trader Joe’s sauce. It was my only pleasing triumph in the last 24 hours. There was some decent live jazz thrown in before dinner, too, so maybe I should try harder not to malign yesterday so much. I had half the day off to see my new doctor for the first time, and got a nasty surprise on the scale when I weighed 10 pounds more than I should. It’s only 10 pounds less than I weighed when I got married. Nevermind. Yesterday TOTALLY sucked.
Today, though, is enough to make me want to crawl under the covers and not come out until a proper stench has developed. At least last night I made a fair approximation of a mojito sauce that O. and I really liked but has been discontinued at Trader Joe’s. I made chicken soft tacos with the sauce (just two limes skinned, de-rinded, and sliced into small chunks, 1 cup of sliced tomatoes, a whole sweet onion chopped coarsely, about a quarter-cup of lemon juice, 3 Tbsps. of olive oil, cayenne pepper, salt, pepper, a sprinkling of “Italian seasoning”, 2 cloves garlic minced fine, 2 small hot peppers, all cooked down a bit), and a can of Cuban-style black beans. With chicken, it was a touch runny, like Qdoba’s marinated meat, but the effect was quite similar to (though less salty than) the Trader Joe’s sauce. It was my only pleasing triumph in the last 24 hours. There was some decent live jazz thrown in before dinner, too, so maybe I should try harder not to malign yesterday so much. I had half the day off to see my new doctor for the first time, and got a nasty surprise on the scale when I weighed 10 pounds more than I should. It’s only 10 pounds less than I weighed when I got married. Nevermind. Yesterday TOTALLY sucked.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Roast Lamb... Don't say I've never given you any recipes
Roast Lamb with a red wine and roasted red pepper eggplant sauce
Serves 8-10 (small portions)
This recipe is fairly intense, and needs prep in stages, over two to three days. I will begin with the recipe for the baba-ganousch-like sauce, move on to the min. 24-hour marinade for the lamb, and finish with the final stages of prep. Each section will have its’ own ingredients listing and directions.
Step I: Roasted red pepper “baba ganousch”
Ingredients:
• 1 large eggplant
• 1 small red sweet pepper
• 2 large cloves garlic, peeled and minced very finely
• ¼ c. extra virgin olive oil
• “Splash” lemon juice (1 tsp?)
• Salt, pepper and paprika to taste
Directions:
Preheat oven to 400F. Poke holes all over eggplant’s skin with fork… If you don’t do this, it might explode in the oven. Place on baking sheet with the red pepper, whole. You may wish to cover your baking sheet in foil, as it’ll make cleanup easier. Roast for 45 min. to an hour, at which point the pepper’s skin should be mostly blackened, and the eggplant should be browned and collapsing slightly. Remove from oven, and let cool for 10-15 min. Remove stem, and peel eggplant, keeping as much flesh as possible intact. Throw into food processor with garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper and paprika. Remove stem from roasted pepper. You may peel off skin if you find it unappetizing, but I find that the dip is better with the blackened skin. Throw it in, too. Process, stirring occasionally, until you have a fine, creamy-textured glop. Store, covered, in refrigerator for at least 24 hours. This dip is better if it sits for one or two days before use.
Step II: Red-wine marinade for lamb
Ingredients:
• 2-2½ lb. lamb roast, boned, tied (either leg or shoulder will do fine)
• 1-1½ c. bold red wine (Grenache, Cotes-du-Rhone, Bordeaux)
• 2-3 oz. extra virgin olive oil
• 2 large cloves garlic
• Salt and pepper to taste
Directions:
Remove the lamb from packaging, pat dry. Salt and pepper the roast to taste, and tie if not already strung up. Put in strong freezer bag with wine and garlic, chopped into thick slices. Refrigerate, turning every 6-12 hours, for 24 to 48 hours. (Alt. method: pound lamb out flat with and thin with meat hammer before marinating. Do not tie up. Marinade as described above.)
Step III: To cook or not to cook?
Ingredients:
• Marinated Lamb, described above
• Roasted red pepper “baba ganousch”
• 1 lg. sweet onion, sliced thin
• ¼ c. pine nuts
• ¼ c. crumbled feta cheese
• 1-1½ c. red wine, same as that used for marinade (Grenache, Cotes-du-Rhone, Bordeaux)
• Approx. 1 “portion” plain couscous per four diners, prepared as listed on package
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350F, pat roast dry with paper towel, and pan-sear in a hot pan, preferably iron, steel or copper (not non-stick, though enameled iron is fine,) on all sides. Remove from heat, and rub with a small amount of the baba ganousch. Place in a large, tight-lidded casserole, and cover with sliced onion and pine nuts. Place in oven for about 25-30 min/lb, checking meat’s internal temperature after about 30-40 minutes, and every 10 or so thereafter. Cook to an internal temperature of 150-155F for medium-rare meat and maximum flavor sans-gaminess. Once meat is done, remove from oven and casserole, and let sit for about 15 minutes to give juices a chance to redistribute on cutting board. Reserve cooked Add wine to roasting casserole, and deglaze pan at no higher than med-high heat, scraping all meat drippings from bottom with rubber spatula. Transfer remaining baba ganousch into saucepan, and slowly incorporate deglazing wine into it, stirring constantly, over medium heat. Reduce for about fifteen minutes until good sauce consistency. Slice lamb thin, and arrange a few slices on each guest’s plate on a bed of couscous. Sprinkle with reserved feta, ladle red wine pan sauce over top, and put a small stack of reserved onions and pine nuts on top of the whole mess. Serve immediately. (Alt. method: If you chose to pound out the roast and do a roulade, congrats! Get ready for some work. Pat dry, spread a thin layer of baba ganousch over the internal surface of the roulade, sprinkle with feta and pine nuts, roll, and tie. Skip pan searing, and place directly into casserole, following directions above for rest of recipe. Watch temperature very carefully! Also, you needn’t necessarily deglaze the roasting pan, as it should be full of liquids to start. Just pour the wine directly into the dip, and reduce. One may add a few spoonfuls of jus from the roasting pot to the sauce if one wishes, however.)
Serves 8-10 (small portions)
This recipe is fairly intense, and needs prep in stages, over two to three days. I will begin with the recipe for the baba-ganousch-like sauce, move on to the min. 24-hour marinade for the lamb, and finish with the final stages of prep. Each section will have its’ own ingredients listing and directions.
Step I: Roasted red pepper “baba ganousch”
Ingredients:
• 1 large eggplant
• 1 small red sweet pepper
• 2 large cloves garlic, peeled and minced very finely
• ¼ c. extra virgin olive oil
• “Splash” lemon juice (1 tsp?)
• Salt, pepper and paprika to taste
Directions:
Preheat oven to 400F. Poke holes all over eggplant’s skin with fork… If you don’t do this, it might explode in the oven. Place on baking sheet with the red pepper, whole. You may wish to cover your baking sheet in foil, as it’ll make cleanup easier. Roast for 45 min. to an hour, at which point the pepper’s skin should be mostly blackened, and the eggplant should be browned and collapsing slightly. Remove from oven, and let cool for 10-15 min. Remove stem, and peel eggplant, keeping as much flesh as possible intact. Throw into food processor with garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper and paprika. Remove stem from roasted pepper. You may peel off skin if you find it unappetizing, but I find that the dip is better with the blackened skin. Throw it in, too. Process, stirring occasionally, until you have a fine, creamy-textured glop. Store, covered, in refrigerator for at least 24 hours. This dip is better if it sits for one or two days before use.
Step II: Red-wine marinade for lamb
Ingredients:
• 2-2½ lb. lamb roast, boned, tied (either leg or shoulder will do fine)
• 1-1½ c. bold red wine (Grenache, Cotes-du-Rhone, Bordeaux)
• 2-3 oz. extra virgin olive oil
• 2 large cloves garlic
• Salt and pepper to taste
Directions:
Remove the lamb from packaging, pat dry. Salt and pepper the roast to taste, and tie if not already strung up. Put in strong freezer bag with wine and garlic, chopped into thick slices. Refrigerate, turning every 6-12 hours, for 24 to 48 hours. (Alt. method: pound lamb out flat with and thin with meat hammer before marinating. Do not tie up. Marinade as described above.)
Step III: To cook or not to cook?
Ingredients:
• Marinated Lamb, described above
• Roasted red pepper “baba ganousch”
• 1 lg. sweet onion, sliced thin
• ¼ c. pine nuts
• ¼ c. crumbled feta cheese
• 1-1½ c. red wine, same as that used for marinade (Grenache, Cotes-du-Rhone, Bordeaux)
• Approx. 1 “portion” plain couscous per four diners, prepared as listed on package
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350F, pat roast dry with paper towel, and pan-sear in a hot pan, preferably iron, steel or copper (not non-stick, though enameled iron is fine,) on all sides. Remove from heat, and rub with a small amount of the baba ganousch. Place in a large, tight-lidded casserole, and cover with sliced onion and pine nuts. Place in oven for about 25-30 min/lb, checking meat’s internal temperature after about 30-40 minutes, and every 10 or so thereafter. Cook to an internal temperature of 150-155F for medium-rare meat and maximum flavor sans-gaminess. Once meat is done, remove from oven and casserole, and let sit for about 15 minutes to give juices a chance to redistribute on cutting board. Reserve cooked Add wine to roasting casserole, and deglaze pan at no higher than med-high heat, scraping all meat drippings from bottom with rubber spatula. Transfer remaining baba ganousch into saucepan, and slowly incorporate deglazing wine into it, stirring constantly, over medium heat. Reduce for about fifteen minutes until good sauce consistency. Slice lamb thin, and arrange a few slices on each guest’s plate on a bed of couscous. Sprinkle with reserved feta, ladle red wine pan sauce over top, and put a small stack of reserved onions and pine nuts on top of the whole mess. Serve immediately. (Alt. method: If you chose to pound out the roast and do a roulade, congrats! Get ready for some work. Pat dry, spread a thin layer of baba ganousch over the internal surface of the roulade, sprinkle with feta and pine nuts, roll, and tie. Skip pan searing, and place directly into casserole, following directions above for rest of recipe. Watch temperature very carefully! Also, you needn’t necessarily deglaze the roasting pan, as it should be full of liquids to start. Just pour the wine directly into the dip, and reduce. One may add a few spoonfuls of jus from the roasting pot to the sauce if one wishes, however.)
Monday, March 10, 2008
The Rite of Spring (kind of...)
So, minus any and all ritual doinking or riotous outbursts based upon musical excesses committed upon morally repressed peoples, dinner last night was a smashing success. Sister missed out, as she had a volunteer shift in New Glarus at the EMS, though Terra Firma did make it for part of dinner. Bulgaria and Mr. Hockey brought dessert in the form of baklava, made from an original Turkish recipe, courtesy of a Bulgarian cookbook. They also brought a bottle of wine, which bumped the total number consumed in the evening up to 4. This was rather a feat, as poor Mr. Hockey had a liver flare-up, and couldn’t drink any at all.
We started with cored mission figs, wrapped in procciutto and stuffed with a mixture of crushed pine nut and pistachio, crumbled feta, finely minced shallot, pepper and paprika, then sprinkled with fresh-squeezed orange juice and run under the broiler. They were fantastic. Next was an invigorating garlic soup. I know it sounds dicey, but #1, it didn’t taste like garlic, and #2, was drop-dead delicious. I served this with a Spanish Albarino, a stout, dry, fruity white wine which also paired well with the next course, a couscous salad with minced onion, a touch of shallot, and chopped green bell pepper, tomato, fig and fresh mozzarella, seasoned with paprika, pepper, sea-salt, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and a splash of the Albarino for good measure. Next was the lamb. It didn’t work out as a roulade, but rather as more of a roast. It was marinated for a full day in red wine and garlic, then spread with roasted red-pepper, eggplant and garlic spread (baba ganoush), couscous, pine nuts and crumbled feta, and a whole mess of thin-sliced onions and roasted. It was sliced thin and served on a bed of couscous, with a red wine/baba ganoush reduction as a sauce, and onion from the roasting pan piled on top. The pairing for this was a bold Spanish Grenache, the same wine used for the reduction sauce and marinade. Damn, was that fine lamb.
Finally, we had the baklava paired with a Mondoro Asti… Not the finest of dessert wines or anything, but the demi-sec was a great match for what can be a cloyingly sweet dish. Most of us had second helpings. The best part was that, though this was about a five-hour kitchen job, I got to do it over three days, and cleanup was a snap. Loaded the dish washer, did about five dishes by hand, and was done. Easy-peasy one-two-threesy. Also, even though she’s a vegan and HATES the smell of cooking meat, Terra’s GF came in and complimented me on the way the apartment looked during the dinner. She was wincing a little at the time, but did make google-eyes at the couscous salad, at least. ;-)
All in all, GREAT dinner. And because it went off with nary a hitch, I’m expecting tender green shoots any time, now. I mean, I didn’t sacrifice a lamb for nothing… J/K, I left that to the good people at Artemos Meats! Hope there were good readings in the entrails. Incidentally, I also had a very convoluted dream about being arcanely related to Julia Child last night, and getting to talk to her father almost as an ancestor spirit. I think it was the interaction between all the wine, the touch of coffee before dessert, and the camomile tea I had just before bed. Any way you look at it, I'm taking it as a smashing omen. Spring, HO!!!
We started with cored mission figs, wrapped in procciutto and stuffed with a mixture of crushed pine nut and pistachio, crumbled feta, finely minced shallot, pepper and paprika, then sprinkled with fresh-squeezed orange juice and run under the broiler. They were fantastic. Next was an invigorating garlic soup. I know it sounds dicey, but #1, it didn’t taste like garlic, and #2, was drop-dead delicious. I served this with a Spanish Albarino, a stout, dry, fruity white wine which also paired well with the next course, a couscous salad with minced onion, a touch of shallot, and chopped green bell pepper, tomato, fig and fresh mozzarella, seasoned with paprika, pepper, sea-salt, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and a splash of the Albarino for good measure. Next was the lamb. It didn’t work out as a roulade, but rather as more of a roast. It was marinated for a full day in red wine and garlic, then spread with roasted red-pepper, eggplant and garlic spread (baba ganoush), couscous, pine nuts and crumbled feta, and a whole mess of thin-sliced onions and roasted. It was sliced thin and served on a bed of couscous, with a red wine/baba ganoush reduction as a sauce, and onion from the roasting pan piled on top. The pairing for this was a bold Spanish Grenache, the same wine used for the reduction sauce and marinade. Damn, was that fine lamb.
Finally, we had the baklava paired with a Mondoro Asti… Not the finest of dessert wines or anything, but the demi-sec was a great match for what can be a cloyingly sweet dish. Most of us had second helpings. The best part was that, though this was about a five-hour kitchen job, I got to do it over three days, and cleanup was a snap. Loaded the dish washer, did about five dishes by hand, and was done. Easy-peasy one-two-threesy. Also, even though she’s a vegan and HATES the smell of cooking meat, Terra’s GF came in and complimented me on the way the apartment looked during the dinner. She was wincing a little at the time, but did make google-eyes at the couscous salad, at least. ;-)
All in all, GREAT dinner. And because it went off with nary a hitch, I’m expecting tender green shoots any time, now. I mean, I didn’t sacrifice a lamb for nothing… J/K, I left that to the good people at Artemos Meats! Hope there were good readings in the entrails. Incidentally, I also had a very convoluted dream about being arcanely related to Julia Child last night, and getting to talk to her father almost as an ancestor spirit. I think it was the interaction between all the wine, the touch of coffee before dessert, and the camomile tea I had just before bed. Any way you look at it, I'm taking it as a smashing omen. Spring, HO!!!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Buck up, little camper...
Please disregard yesterday’s post. I think I’m suffering from male PMS… This morning, one of my two big bosses actually ducked into a meeting I was having with my direct superior and told me how well management thinks I’m doing, how much smarter than anybody else on the floor I am, etcetera. This naturally gave me a little boost, though it didn’t decrease my desire to walk home with the lotto jackpot anytime soon, or change jobs. And the stupid fluff I keep airing about O. is just that… Stupid fluff. I can’t help but think that there is a transition coming, but it should be pointed out that I don’t believe it will amount to anything more than an internal change to the relationship. So, in all, I’ve learned two big lessons today. #1, keep smiling. It’s a lot more effective than frowning. #2, shut up until a smile is fixed on your face, rictus-like. Even if it makes your face hurt, it’ll turn the ol’ attitude up a couple notches.
I’m also SUPER excited, because I’m to cook my first really complex, uncompromisingly sexy gourmet dinner this weekend, and did my wine shopping during lunch. I ended up with a couple real steals, and a good idea of what I just may buy for dessert, depending on what the guests are bringing. Additionally, there’s finally a clear idea for the amusee bouche (sp? – no hablo frog,) forming in my mind. Mission fig, stuffed with crushed pistachio, feta and onion, wrapped in prosciutto tied up like a bag with a long string of candied orange peel. After spritzing with just a touch of juice sqeezed from a fresh-cut orange, putting under the broiler for about a minute so the prosciutto gets crisp and the feta molten. I think I want it to eat me.
I’m also SUPER excited, because I’m to cook my first really complex, uncompromisingly sexy gourmet dinner this weekend, and did my wine shopping during lunch. I ended up with a couple real steals, and a good idea of what I just may buy for dessert, depending on what the guests are bringing. Additionally, there’s finally a clear idea for the amusee bouche (sp? – no hablo frog,) forming in my mind. Mission fig, stuffed with crushed pistachio, feta and onion, wrapped in prosciutto tied up like a bag with a long string of candied orange peel. After spritzing with just a touch of juice sqeezed from a fresh-cut orange, putting under the broiler for about a minute so the prosciutto gets crisp and the feta molten. I think I want it to eat me.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Seppuku or bust
I. Am. Mind-numbingly. Tired.
No, I’m not really gonna try to commit ritual suicide. That would take too much energy. Though, I may just end up boring myself to death. Call, call, voicemail, call, call, conversation, call… It never ends, here. And the conversations are all about how nobody has money, and budgets are being slashed, and people being let go. If I can’t make budget this month, I’m pretty sure some harsh words are going to come my way from management, too. The only mitigating factor is that nobody is really making budget, but that’s not exactly a good excuse these days.
O. and I are doing well, but seem to be in kind of a weird floating place, waiting for something to happen. We went out to a very nice dinner on Friday, but were patronized by the waiter, who I in turn patronized with a frightfully average tip. The bastard didn’t even bother asking when he had to find a substitute for the wine I ordered with dinner, he just brought it out. Now, I can’t say it wasn’t good. Rather the opposite. But it certainly wasn’t as good as the one I asked for in the first place. And the coffee! Blech. I find it funny that decent restaurants here are far more snobbish than better places in Chicago. At least there, they’d stop looking down their noses as soon as I ordered well. And poor Orpheus was a bit intimidated. Overall, I’d call it kind of a good metaphor for the place we are right now. Neither of us able to force something out that we probably need to say or do, but nothing is bad or boring. Just slightly too comfortable, and yet not.
Anyway, tonight is a night off for us, and I’m going to put a tiny meatloaf in a rammikin into my broke-ass oven (to be fixed on Thursday, thank you rental company), cook it up (or burn it, the outcome is not yet clear), and fall the h-e-double-hockey-sticks to sleep early tonight. Wish my mental health well.
No, I’m not really gonna try to commit ritual suicide. That would take too much energy. Though, I may just end up boring myself to death. Call, call, voicemail, call, call, conversation, call… It never ends, here. And the conversations are all about how nobody has money, and budgets are being slashed, and people being let go. If I can’t make budget this month, I’m pretty sure some harsh words are going to come my way from management, too. The only mitigating factor is that nobody is really making budget, but that’s not exactly a good excuse these days.
O. and I are doing well, but seem to be in kind of a weird floating place, waiting for something to happen. We went out to a very nice dinner on Friday, but were patronized by the waiter, who I in turn patronized with a frightfully average tip. The bastard didn’t even bother asking when he had to find a substitute for the wine I ordered with dinner, he just brought it out. Now, I can’t say it wasn’t good. Rather the opposite. But it certainly wasn’t as good as the one I asked for in the first place. And the coffee! Blech. I find it funny that decent restaurants here are far more snobbish than better places in Chicago. At least there, they’d stop looking down their noses as soon as I ordered well. And poor Orpheus was a bit intimidated. Overall, I’d call it kind of a good metaphor for the place we are right now. Neither of us able to force something out that we probably need to say or do, but nothing is bad or boring. Just slightly too comfortable, and yet not.
Anyway, tonight is a night off for us, and I’m going to put a tiny meatloaf in a rammikin into my broke-ass oven (to be fixed on Thursday, thank you rental company), cook it up (or burn it, the outcome is not yet clear), and fall the h-e-double-hockey-sticks to sleep early tonight. Wish my mental health well.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Despondent day
Today is a despondent day. I don’t really understand why, but feel myself to be teetering on some sort of edge. I tried eating it away with bad Chinese buffet at lunch, which only made things worse. It’s funny, though… I’m bringing home the bacon with two huge orders, and still can’t muster the energy to feel better than a shit-house rat. I just want to crawl under the covers, stop bathing, and give up. Too bad about that entire debt thing, and a pestilential need for physical/emotional contact with other human beings. Also, my niggling need to eat more than twice a day. Whatever.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Did you happen to see where I left my head?
Have you ever just had one of those days where you can’t seem to keep your head on straight? I mean, that would have to be about every day for the President, and possibly every other work day or so for most other people in government (let alone the average executive: golf or luncheon?), but for me? To be frank, I’m not exactly Mr. Precision himself, but one could consider me rather more on than off, most of the time… Which is why today is such a flubbing flop of a flummox.
I’ve called several contacts by the wrong name, done things any right-minded salesperson would cringe at, asked inappropriate questions at inopportune times. In short, I appear a total boob, and would be doing myself less damage were I elsewhere (A.K.A., not servicing my customers). The one upside to all this bru-ha-ha is that I’m supposed to be going to see Persepolis tonight with Terra Firma as kind of a roomie-night thing. Orpheus is getting his well-deserved night off, and I think I’ll be laying off the damned booze. Lately, there’s always alcohol in my hand and in my gullet post-workday, which is a pattern all too familiar to me through long experience at home with my parents the band directors. Last night, I just drank with dinner, and it was only white wine. Sweet white wine. Hooray for pork, which doesn’t go with anything else!!!
Interestingly, Sister visited last night, and was helping Terra Firma with dinner while I was attempting to finish up my effort at the same. She finally has a job, which is just tops. She’ll be working part-time as a unit coordinator in a cardiac intermediary unit, with its’ own small attached ICU. She can do this in addition to school and volunteering as an EMS once a month. I admire her work ethic. Also, she’ll soon be able to afford to take Terra’s old car off her hands (Ms. Firma got a brand new Ford Focus, leaving her poor little old Volkswagen orphaned – the perfect vehichle for Sister). This means she’ll be able to drive out under her own power to join us for roommate nights in the future, and not have to worry so much about making ends meet while going to school.
Anyway, I’m about out of steam. At least the post fairly well reflects my scatter-brained-ness, if nothing else. Have a lovely day.
I’ve called several contacts by the wrong name, done things any right-minded salesperson would cringe at, asked inappropriate questions at inopportune times. In short, I appear a total boob, and would be doing myself less damage were I elsewhere (A.K.A., not servicing my customers). The one upside to all this bru-ha-ha is that I’m supposed to be going to see Persepolis tonight with Terra Firma as kind of a roomie-night thing. Orpheus is getting his well-deserved night off, and I think I’ll be laying off the damned booze. Lately, there’s always alcohol in my hand and in my gullet post-workday, which is a pattern all too familiar to me through long experience at home with my parents the band directors. Last night, I just drank with dinner, and it was only white wine. Sweet white wine. Hooray for pork, which doesn’t go with anything else!!!
Interestingly, Sister visited last night, and was helping Terra Firma with dinner while I was attempting to finish up my effort at the same. She finally has a job, which is just tops. She’ll be working part-time as a unit coordinator in a cardiac intermediary unit, with its’ own small attached ICU. She can do this in addition to school and volunteering as an EMS once a month. I admire her work ethic. Also, she’ll soon be able to afford to take Terra’s old car off her hands (Ms. Firma got a brand new Ford Focus, leaving her poor little old Volkswagen orphaned – the perfect vehichle for Sister). This means she’ll be able to drive out under her own power to join us for roommate nights in the future, and not have to worry so much about making ends meet while going to school.
Anyway, I’m about out of steam. At least the post fairly well reflects my scatter-brained-ness, if nothing else. Have a lovely day.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
OK, so I owe Orpheus an apology...
So, literally minutes after I posted, O. made it totally ok, got me a drink, and paid attention. Consider this my mea culpa. I'm stupid, and also slightly drunk.
The Gay Super Bowl sucks almost as much as the real Super Bowl.
You know, I realize that this makes me a bad fag, but I fucking hate the Oscars. I hate Orpheus just a little, because he's live-blogging about them, and therefore is paying no attention to me whatsoever, while I make him entirely homemade ratatouille (yes, even the tomato base I use is just a blanched/peeled/cored puree). Next year, I'm totally going to deposit his ass at home, and he can watch the damned thing by himself. This sucks royally. It's luck we fucked before-hand, 'cause he has zero chance of sex right now.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Wallowing in my own Crapulence...
I can’t wait for the weekend to start. I’m tired, dispirited, and hungry for something… Different. I want a vacation and some excellent food. I want something exhausting to make me sleep all the way through the night, something that didn’t ever really used to be a problem for me. I want not to be sick. I want limitless amounts of sex and attention from Orpheus. I want permission to be unremittingly selfish, just once. I want heaps of money, adoration, the best of the best of the best of enameled cookware, and a kitchen that would make Epicurious blush. I want, I want, I want, now, now, now. Most of all, I want not to be here, working, tired and cranky.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Sexual HEALING!!!
We have a new note system at work, and I’m here to tell you that it sucks rocks. Since this travesty is a product that is currently being tailored for us, it doesn’t yet actually interface with our old background system… Rather, it simply has our customer records loaded up to a certain point, and thus any changes happening in the now need to be made in both systems, until such time as updates are real-time. It’s like pulling my own teeth if anything needs to be updated! Furthermore, this new contact management system, as it’s called, is web-based, so sometimes looking up a new record, or at least a different aspect of one, is as slow as weather.com loading in the era of 28-baud modems. Overall? FAILURE!!! The worst part about it is that the folks who are responsible for implementation on our end have been down here all day the last two days, and are being SO kind and receptive! It’s hard not to cry.
Last night, while ferrying my love back downtown to his subterranean abode, I blew out one of my near-bald tires in a pothole as deep as my undercarriage. Even though we only had one bloody wrench and very little experience, Orpheus stayed with me outside in the rapidly dropping temperatures as moral support while I changed my tire. He even called around and got an extra jack for me when the cheap piece of @#$% that came in my car broke, and walked with me to get it. Plus, he was really kind last night. He rubbed my back, and snuggled his butt off. Tonight, I’m picking up my car from the shop down the street from work, picking him up, and going home to brood. Then I’m going to doink O. into my mattress. Well, probably not. But it’s nice to pretend. $400.00 for new tires on a finicky car is bad enough for one day. Sexual healing ueber alles!!!
Last night, while ferrying my love back downtown to his subterranean abode, I blew out one of my near-bald tires in a pothole as deep as my undercarriage. Even though we only had one bloody wrench and very little experience, Orpheus stayed with me outside in the rapidly dropping temperatures as moral support while I changed my tire. He even called around and got an extra jack for me when the cheap piece of @#$% that came in my car broke, and walked with me to get it. Plus, he was really kind last night. He rubbed my back, and snuggled his butt off. Tonight, I’m picking up my car from the shop down the street from work, picking him up, and going home to brood. Then I’m going to doink O. into my mattress. Well, probably not. But it’s nice to pretend. $400.00 for new tires on a finicky car is bad enough for one day. Sexual healing ueber alles!!!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Retard-love
Valentines’ Day was sweeter this year than last. Orpheus wasn’t disappointed with dinner, and we did have a nice time… And despite the fact that he’s rather sick right now, I wasn’t disappointed when we ended up not having sex. God knows I love making the two-backed beast rather a lot, and I’ve definitely thrown tantrums if I didn’t get enough of “it” in the past. Part of that is my history with the ex, LaGrippe (so called due to her stormy temperament, ability to make one pay for attempting to live normally, and how tired she made me feel all the time), who more or less stopped sleeping with me as soon as we were married. I can’t stomach a lack of physical intimacy, and associate such a state with a general lack of ardor. Fortunately, neither can O stomach physical isolation. Even though he’s been sick, we’ve been sleeping together and snuggling quite a bit. It seems to help him sleep, even if the extra heat generated by his brick-oven-like feverish form is driving me slowly back toward sleep deprivation. And it helps me feel like I’m helping, getting him better, while allaying my natural fears because he can’t perform up to standard (nor, honestly, do I want his snot slowly dribbling down onto me while we fuck half-heartedly).
I remember, once, a friend of mine at Summer Camp used his rather pathetic tarot skills to predict that I’d have an average love. At the time, in the blush of youth, nothing sounded more horrifying to me than such a thing. How could something so banal make me happy? My marriage and subsequent divorce taught me that passionate love alone couldn’t drive a relationship. Rather, it tends to fray the bonds between individuals quite easily with the slightest stress. And the slow stops and starts and halts and gos with Orpheus seem to be teaching me that abiding friendship and love can grow out of something weird, sometimes frustrating, and even a little shy like the connection we have shared this past year. Even passion, that delicate, toothsome, flickering nastiness in the night, can sprout… And how! Furthermore, the more I love, the more things I realize I can love at once. It’s hackneyed-sounding, but it’s just the way things have turned out for me. I’m content. I hope that O. and I last, but we’ll take it slowly, and both learn to be patient with one another in fits and starts. It’s the most beautifully frustrating process I’ve been involved in, ever.
I remember, once, a friend of mine at Summer Camp used his rather pathetic tarot skills to predict that I’d have an average love. At the time, in the blush of youth, nothing sounded more horrifying to me than such a thing. How could something so banal make me happy? My marriage and subsequent divorce taught me that passionate love alone couldn’t drive a relationship. Rather, it tends to fray the bonds between individuals quite easily with the slightest stress. And the slow stops and starts and halts and gos with Orpheus seem to be teaching me that abiding friendship and love can grow out of something weird, sometimes frustrating, and even a little shy like the connection we have shared this past year. Even passion, that delicate, toothsome, flickering nastiness in the night, can sprout… And how! Furthermore, the more I love, the more things I realize I can love at once. It’s hackneyed-sounding, but it’s just the way things have turned out for me. I’m content. I hope that O. and I last, but we’ll take it slowly, and both learn to be patient with one another in fits and starts. It’s the most beautifully frustrating process I’ve been involved in, ever.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
While Away the Hours…
It has become increasingly apparent to me that my work environment is not just hostile to non-executive workforce, but also actively stressful in the extreme. I’ve worked my fingers to the bone today, and have nothing to show for it except a lingering sense of dread that I. Am. Next. To. Go. Ah, well. I’ll enjoy it while I can. Tomorrow, Orpheus and I are going to a place with “local flavor” for V-Day. Literally. Their menu items are named after famous Wisconsinites, and despite this rather gimmick-y menu, I have it on excellent authority that the food is tops. Plus, dinner probably won’t cost $200.00 at minimum. Therefore am I happy? We’ll see. I promise to be more sure about shit some other time.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Really, really, really good things...
This weekend was lovely. Aside from a bit of much-needed sex and Dungeons and Dragons (thankfully unconcurrent activities), I finally ended up having Orpheus’ sister over for dinner on Saturday to thank her for buying me Mac OS 10.5 at the student price. It was pretty damned good, if rather disjointed. We started with a beautiful salad composed of green pepper, tomato, fig, fresh mozzarella, pistachios, fresh-cracked pepper, salt, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and a splash of white wine. The second course was my special, Ratatouille (the Movie) inspired take on Ratatouille (pronounced delicious by all), which involves mandolin-thickness slices of a couple extra veggies (potato amongst them), and fennel bulb minced fine in the base tomato/garlic/wine/olive oil sauce right along with the Herbs de Provence (please excuse for the lack of appropriate accents… My computer doesn’t speak any more Frog than I). The last course that I contributed was a lazy-man’s marinated tuna, sautéed in butter and white wine. O. made lovely cranberry scones for dessert, as I lack the baking gene.
People continue to, against all odds, get worse at driving as the winter stretches on. Orpheus will, no doubt, want me dead by the time the trees are budding, if only due to his lack of imagination or any sense of fun where vehicular homicide is concerned. Sadly, that’s about it for interest points for this weekend. Just so you know, though, the sex was really, really, really good. More later!
People continue to, against all odds, get worse at driving as the winter stretches on. Orpheus will, no doubt, want me dead by the time the trees are budding, if only due to his lack of imagination or any sense of fun where vehicular homicide is concerned. Sadly, that’s about it for interest points for this weekend. Just so you know, though, the sex was really, really, really good. More later!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Meh.
The drive home last night was oddly pleasant. There were few people on the road, so it didn’t really matter that conditions scared the living crud out of me, as there was no one to hit if I screwed up (I didn’t, though). I even stopped at the store to pick up some food, just in case the snow ended up burying me in. Fortunately, I had a hankering for beer, and caved to my baser impulses. This would prove vital later. Also, due to road conditions, Orpheus and I decided together that it would be better if we didn’t see one another last night. This decision was made (as he informed me,) because he loves me, and didn’t want my possible death by traffic on his conscience. Sadly, I agreed.
So, as covered before, everything went swimmingly up through the supermarket. The cashier in the booze section even offered to check out my big order of sku-intensive veggies, something that almost never happens. It was like the sky was smiling at me, through the copious amounts of god-dandruff piling up in the roads. Then, I tried driving home from the store… The road had not been plowed. Cars were stuck here and there, and on a two-way street, there was at most one lane of travel space, with a few duck-holes here and there in the form of side-streets. The first time I tried to go up the hill, I couldn’t do it because of a guy who pulled out in front of me, forcing me to brake. I lost traction, backed up to a turn-off, and tried again in a lower gear. This time, some freak in a minivan, hell-bent for election, sent me sliding backwards into a snowbank to avoid a collision. I had to lug my groceries up to the apartment, then spend the next hour digging out the car, which I couldn’t put in the parking lot behind the building, because the driveway was full of snow to the depth of a good foot and a half. Basically, I carved a parking spot out of the pile of white stuff into which I had regressed.
I dragged my sorry, aching, mucous-y, asthmatic ass back to the apartment, stripped down to my underwear, and parboiled some Italian sausages in beer and spices, transferring to the grill. I drank a good few beers. I watched some Avatar: The Last Airbender (because, despite the alcohol, I’m still less serious than I tended to be at age five). I tried to relax, and think thoughts not in the vein of ritualistic murder of executives, followed by gourmet prep-work, and finally consumption of that too-tainted flesh… Then, I gave Terra Firma a ride to her car, which she’d parked about a 20 minute walk away, as her rainbow-besotted VW has even less ground clearance than my somber champagne Grandpa sled. Since the plows had just been through, this involved another 15-minute session of digging, again a one-man show, as there was only one shovel. Thank god I’m stronger than I look.
I helped another poor sap get his van un-stuck from a plow-drift, incidentally the same asshole who’d gotten me stuck in the first place, so I totally feel morally superior today. I then found my way to the video rental place, where I nabbed a copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’ in widescreen, and fell asleep to the soothing strains of the death of Sirrius Black… Only to be woken by Maggie (the cat… Ha!) having the worst spate of the pukes ever. Anyway, despite my overtiredness, I’m actually having a pretty good day. Wish me luck with that. Please.
So, as covered before, everything went swimmingly up through the supermarket. The cashier in the booze section even offered to check out my big order of sku-intensive veggies, something that almost never happens. It was like the sky was smiling at me, through the copious amounts of god-dandruff piling up in the roads. Then, I tried driving home from the store… The road had not been plowed. Cars were stuck here and there, and on a two-way street, there was at most one lane of travel space, with a few duck-holes here and there in the form of side-streets. The first time I tried to go up the hill, I couldn’t do it because of a guy who pulled out in front of me, forcing me to brake. I lost traction, backed up to a turn-off, and tried again in a lower gear. This time, some freak in a minivan, hell-bent for election, sent me sliding backwards into a snowbank to avoid a collision. I had to lug my groceries up to the apartment, then spend the next hour digging out the car, which I couldn’t put in the parking lot behind the building, because the driveway was full of snow to the depth of a good foot and a half. Basically, I carved a parking spot out of the pile of white stuff into which I had regressed.
I dragged my sorry, aching, mucous-y, asthmatic ass back to the apartment, stripped down to my underwear, and parboiled some Italian sausages in beer and spices, transferring to the grill. I drank a good few beers. I watched some Avatar: The Last Airbender (because, despite the alcohol, I’m still less serious than I tended to be at age five). I tried to relax, and think thoughts not in the vein of ritualistic murder of executives, followed by gourmet prep-work, and finally consumption of that too-tainted flesh… Then, I gave Terra Firma a ride to her car, which she’d parked about a 20 minute walk away, as her rainbow-besotted VW has even less ground clearance than my somber champagne Grandpa sled. Since the plows had just been through, this involved another 15-minute session of digging, again a one-man show, as there was only one shovel. Thank god I’m stronger than I look.
I helped another poor sap get his van un-stuck from a plow-drift, incidentally the same asshole who’d gotten me stuck in the first place, so I totally feel morally superior today. I then found my way to the video rental place, where I nabbed a copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’ in widescreen, and fell asleep to the soothing strains of the death of Sirrius Black… Only to be woken by Maggie (the cat… Ha!) having the worst spate of the pukes ever. Anyway, despite my overtiredness, I’m actually having a pretty good day. Wish me luck with that. Please.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Executive Kibbeh
Corporate cruelty, stupidity, and downright obstinacy today have reached a new peak (at least, here at work). The deal is, we are having the winter blizzard to beat all blizzards. At first, we were supposed to get about nine inches of snow. When the deluge had started, around nine, they downgraded to six inches. By noon, the weather service was saying 11, and now it’s 14-15 inches. The latest posting by the County Mounties reads that roads in Madison, WI are completely impassable. And management won’t let us go early. Basically, we’re f@#$ed. If I have to stay here tonight, I’m going to kill at least one executive to eat. It’ll be very Lord of the Flies, only I won’t call the bastard anything quite so nice as pig, even though it’s harder to rhyme appropriate epithets with “bash it in”.
Last night, I made the rest of my sexy kibbeh substitute into a meatloaf after frying about a burger’s portion-worth and serving with homemade potato wedges. We’ll see how the sexy shit holds up as ‘loaf tomorrow for lunch, if I’m eating anything other than microwaved exec by that time. Hmm… Makes me think. I wish to god I had my Vietnamese Cassia cinnamon with me. It might help make middle-aged, gamey, stringy, over-marbled meat more palatable. The stuff certainly works with hamburger!
Last night, I made the rest of my sexy kibbeh substitute into a meatloaf after frying about a burger’s portion-worth and serving with homemade potato wedges. We’ll see how the sexy shit holds up as ‘loaf tomorrow for lunch, if I’m eating anything other than microwaved exec by that time. Hmm… Makes me think. I wish to god I had my Vietnamese Cassia cinnamon with me. It might help make middle-aged, gamey, stringy, over-marbled meat more palatable. The stuff certainly works with hamburger!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
I don't have pneumonia, but I'm overdosing on Jesus...
OK, here's the deal. Last weekend, I started feeling a little down in the dumps. My true one-year anniversary (measured from the time that Orpheus and I started dating officially), was spent partially apart, and partially at a friend's house over a bad dinner. I was sick yesterday, and went to the doctor, as I had started to feel like my lungs were clouding, just like the time I came down with walking pneumonia. Turns out, it's just a horrible, horrible cold. O. was kind of sick of me by the time I dropped him off yesterday, which made me a little testy today. Now I'm watching 'Jesus Camp', which is just the most horribly depressing movie ever. I want to go to bed, wake up rich, jobless, yet still insured, and never have to worry about anything fiscal ever again. Also, I want to shut every single evangelical wrong-head up in the center of the country, walled off, and let them eat each other instead of me. I'm so sick with other people's mental illness right now I could vomit, and I can barely breathe because of my own more real afflictions. And there's a red-faced freak on my TV screen talking about how all the answers are in the bible. Fine. Go shit outside the city walls, assholes. I'm going to the bathroom INSIDE my apartment, and flushing my bile on the internet.
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