Floss Daily

i'm moving

2006-02-26T11:40:00.000-08:00

over here

Becuase I am just never satisfied. And the grass is always a lovelier shade of green.

Dancing, skating, mansions, shopping... THIS is the post you've been waiting for!

2006-02-25T14:36:00.000-08:00

My last post was a pretty good arbiter of how my week was going. I've had better days than the last few, but to spare you a whiny, on-the-verge-of-tears post, I'm going to make this about all the things that haven't caused my nose to snot up this week.

1) I am finally all caught up on Grey's Anatomy. 9 weeks is a long time to be without Tivo, but I survived. I've avoided web sites that rehash my favorite shows; I've fled the room with my hands over my ears whenever GA, (and a bunch of other shows) came up, and I am finally out of the darkness. And oh is it good! (And ok, the thing about the old woman dying and her daughter flying in from wherever she lived with her lady-lover totally had me all asnot, but good snot). I love that Meredith is hooking up with George (at last), and that Izzie and Alex are finally getting naked in the bunk-bed room. Even Addison is starting to warm the cockles of my heart. I am totally starting to respect her as a neonatal surgeon, or whatever the hell she is. If I am ever in a complicated labor delivering a litter (as a result of the IVF I'll have to resort to as a result of my advanced maternal age), I want my surgeon to be Dr. Montgomery Shepherd.

2) Olympic skating. Yes, I like the skating. I love Sasha Cohen. I was very bummed when her long program didn't live up to the short one. She is so cute, and nobody skates like she does. She's like a graceful Gumby. And I just found out that her mother is Ukranian, she's fluent in Russian, and once acted as an impromptu translator for another winning skater at some competition they were both in. AND.... I'm pretty sure she was listening to something cool on her iPod in the workout room.

3) I got to hear these words come out of my boyfriend's mouth: "I'd like to eat some breakfast before we go dancing... "
Breakfast? Dancing? What could that mean? It means, people, that we are now ballroom dancing on Saturday mornings. We had our first lesson this morning, and I am pleased to say that we are not so bad. We only had one flaw highlighted in front of the whole class by the instructor, and it really wasn't that embarrassing. We now know the basics of Swing, Salsa and the Cha Cha. Next week I am definitely wearing heels and a skirt.

4) Skype is saving me a huge amount of money in international phone calls. David got it while I was gone so we could talk daily, and it rocks, that's all I can say. If you have DSL, and make international calls, go get it. Sitting talking to my parents with headphones on and a microphone in front of my face does unleash the overwhelming urge to pretend I am a radio announcer, but I think even my parents (who have high tolerance for my humor) are sick of my "stay tuned" and "more after these messages" quips.

5) We did lots of fun stuff with my sister over the weekend. Indian food at someplace on La Brea I can't remember the name of, Farmer's Market, shopping, plant shopping for our "deck", Venice Beach, Joan's on Third for one breakfast, Le Pain Quoidien for another. But the best, the best thing ever, was our grand tour of open houses in the Hollywood Hills, listed at 2 million or higher. My niece is obsessed with fine homes and if it still exists, is probably the only person who still watches Robin Leach's Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, and my sister loves to play the game of: "if we sold our large flat in San Francisco, what could we buy down here..." ) And believe me that number is far from 2 mill, but we thought it would be fun to go big. And it was. We saw beautiful 1930s mansions, some with their original kitchen and bathroom fixtures, super-modern "Dwell" magazine style houses with swirling 360 degree views of the city, cute Spanish "bungalows" with terracotta tiles and lots of dark wood. There was one monstrosity, a HUGE Italianate-style mansion with new construction that looked like something you'd see in Vegas. Don't even ask me about the humiliation my niece and I suffered when my sister decided to bust a move on one of the very top floor bathrooms to pee. She said she just couldn't hold it, and there was no one else up there so... Were we proud when we heard the flush from TWO FLOORS DOWN? No.

Ok, five good things is good, right? Well that's all you're getting. I'm off to the bookstore to find a new book or two, now that I am getting a pay check on Monday, and the library is just taking too damn long to procure my requests from other branches.

I know, I suck.

2006-02-21T19:18:00.000-08:00

I seem to have forgotten I have a blog. Apparently I have lost interest in prattling away about TV, cooking, and the fact that I can't afford to get my haircut. And really, I know how much the three, four or five of you miss it too. But the very fact that I am sitting here typing this instead of lying on the couch with the remote in one hand and a glass of wine in the other is true testament to my recommitment to the blogging life. Because honestly, today was a ghastly day, starting with a whiplash-inducing snap judgment about how much I hated someone I'm working with (sorry, working for) and ending with my not being able to find a basket at Whole Foods. Where the hell do they keep the baskets at the WF on 3rd and Fairfax? I circled between the two store entrances like a restless dog, and all I could see were carts. Big carts. I know, I'm not 2, and I could have, should have, just sucked it up and gone for the cart, but dammit, today I was back in diapers, almost throwing myself down on the tiles and turning purple with rage about the fact that I couldn't find a damn basket. And I think anyone who's navigated a Whole Foods at rush hour understands my inner tantrum. .

But let me back up. Yes, I have a job. A freelance, contract position at a newspaper I get. Every day. Yes, that one. I'm writing marketing bits and pieces for the ad sales department. After my last job, I never again thought I would hear a magazine sales rep say to me, "Denise, I need a piece that says....." But here I am, hearing it again. I guess I must have "publishing bitch" tattooed somewhere very visible. I shouldn't complain. The money is good, I will soon be able to justify expensive beauty treatments, new boots, and a wardrobe from THIS season, (I am well aware that I've taken the "Gaucho" yoga-pant look just a little further than the good trend-setters intended). But my god, the woman who hired me? She comes directly from Hell's Colon. Today I was on the tippy toes of having to explain the meaning of the word "complement" to her (she clearly never learned the difference between that one and the other one, but honestly, I sort of see why) and then I just found myself picking another word. "Oh Never Mind!" is my new motto. Soon I will be writing things that say "Please advertise in this nice paper. You will like it. You will sell more of whatever it is that you sell". Seriously, that is what it will come to, I can feel it now. The worst of it is that last week (when the colon dweller was on vacation) I was actually having a good time. I liked the person I was working with in her absence, and actually found myself thinking, "Huh, I could do this for a bit".

Oh never mind...

In happier news, I had the most fun weekend with my niece and sister who came down from San Francisco. It was my niece's second time, and my sister's first (not in LA, just visiting me here). My sides are still aching from all the pee-in-your-pants laughing that went on. I'll save some of that for another post, in case this is a little too much from me too soon. You knew I'd come back with a vengeance, didn't you?

The day I went to the mall without brushing my teeth...

2006-02-07T19:02:00.000-08:00

So when I'm in South Africa I always go on and on about how weird it is that I NEVER bump into anyone I know. No-one from high school, college. EVER. It's bizarre. As if my entire generation was sucked into a black hole. This has made it relatively safe to venture out and run an errand unshowered, without a lick of hair product or make up, perhaps wearing clothes you took out of the laundry basket on a whim. On my last day there I took this a step futher and actually decided it wasn't even worth the trouble to brush my teeth. (I'm actually embarrassed writing this, really I am.) Anyway, there I was, innocently dashing into the Constantia Village shopping center to get some last minute things and who do I run into? Not just any one of my high school classmates, but the one who happened to be a successful model once upon a time. As luck would have it, she still looks like a model. She had on the cutest outfit, an adorable haircut and that perfect daytime make-up look that I never seem to get right. Anyway, for just a wee moment, I flattered myself by thinking, "She couldn't possibly recognize me after all this time. And looking like this?" But she did. Oh the shame.

I'm baaaaack

2006-02-06T18:02:00.000-08:00

Wow. Two months and one week, and I'm home again. I feel as though I was gone forever, but then today walking to Gelson's and the dry cleaners and checking email and catching up it felt as though I had never left. I really wanted to blog more while I was gone, but internet by the minute and an aging computer was a tad prohibitive. But now it's a new year, and it's February already and my god, I need to update my blog. So while I have much to say, I'm going to limit it to the following:

1) I will never fly South African Airways again. Have YOU ever stopped somewhere for refueling, (say in a forsaken place like Accra, Ghana), only to be informed by the pilot that there is NOT ENOUGH FUEL available to go on to your destination? Have you? When the announcement was made, I was in the throes of recovering from an Ativan-fueled sleep and I honestly thought I was having some crazy sleeping pill dream. No such luck. The solution was a quick jaunt up the West African coast to Dakar, where it seemed they had just what we needed -- the remaining two thirds of the tank. When a 17 hour journey gets spontaneously extended by another 4, it's not a happy thing. Not to mention the panic that follows for the typical neurotic freak. Why is there no fuel here? Are they SURE there's fuel in Dakar? Will it be enough to get us there? What if there's an emergency landing in the Atlantic? Oh my god, I KNEW I should have paid more attention to those airline safety videos, instead of reading In Touch Weekly while taxi-ing to the runway.... And so it goes. But I''m home now, so obviously everything's ok.

2) If the flight attendant on my United flight from Washington DC to LA referred to the movie as "Pride and Prejudiced" ONE more time after the first 3 times he did it, I was going to smack him. Fortunately once "Pride and Prejudiced" started, he didn't need to say anything more about it, so that was that.

3) I am VERY good at crying during airport goodbyes. I'm getting weepy just writing this.

4) LA doesn't look as pretty from the air as San Francisco did. And after two months in pristine Cape Town, I could smell the pollution on Santa Monica Blvd today. Sigh.

5) My wonderful boyfriend had removed the ceiling fan in our bedroom and replaced it with an attractive light fixture. This might not seem like a big deal, but believe me, if you'd SEEN the ceiling fan, you'd understand. It's the kind HGTV moments are made of.

(he also got rid of the ugly chandelier light fixture in the "eat-in" part of our kitchen and installed some under the cabinet lights. Do you hear the sound of my jig-dancing?)

6) I need to get a job.

7) I don't really want one yet. But I need some LA friends, so that might help. But then I think I might like to try freelancing if it can pay the bills. Was I supposed to come back with some sort of career clarity? I didn't.

8) Old news, I know, but H&M is opening up at the Beverly Center. Oh happy day!

9) I didn't read nearly enough as I planned to on my trip. Not enough alone time.

10) I have found Sudoku. Seriously, that and the NYT crossword compilations were my best friends on the plane. A number grid puzzle is the LAST thing I thought I would have been into, but there you have it. 'Cause once the Ativan wears off...

Ok. 10 is a nice number. I'll write more about my trip tomorrow.

oh one more thing. My niece and sister are coming for a visit in two weeks! That makes me dance my jig a little longer.

broken patellas and more

2005-12-09T13:46:00.000-08:00

Hola kids,

I am in the other hemisphere. I can't believe I have already been here a week.

Some highlights so far: (this will be brief, it's late and my dad's computer is from the stone age)

* You know you're in trouble when, on your 17 hour flight, you find yourself seated in close proximity to the man wearing the t-shirt that reads, "Beer. Sponsoring safe sex since 1802."

* I must be a bad penny or something. On my second day here, my parents and I went for Fish and Chips at a lovely seaside spot. On the way to the car, my mom tripped in the parking lot and broke her patella. She had surgery that night and spent some time in the hospital. She's fine now, but on crutches, not able to drive for 6 weeks and somewhat immobile. While this was a bit stressful the first few days, I am now quite used to my being in charge. My very active mother on the other hand, is going stir crazy. This is a woman who never sits still. Now she has to listen to everything I say, and eat my cooking. I say bad penny because last year when I was here, my sister-in-law twisted her ankle, and my niece fell and hit her head on the piano. Never a dull moment.

* Took my nieces and nephew to see Chicken Little yesterday (not good!). Luc, my nephew wanted to see Harry Potter. He's only 6, and in South Africa the age restriction for this one was 2-10. When I told him this, he looked up at me with his big brown eyes, and said, "Yes, I know that, but sometimes they lie!" I fell asleep during the movie, and at one point my niece Chloe woke me up and promptly told me to go back to sleep, because it was a scary part. I love my brother's kids.

Argh. There's more, but I'm tired and allergy ridden tonight. Also sporting a scratchy throat thanks to my long spell in the giant germ carrier in the sky.

The days of the 540 - this one's specially for Kera

2005-11-22T20:45:00.000-08:00

So while waiting for my garbanzo beans to soften (so I can make Falafel, from SCRATCH), I was watching an old episode of Rachael Ray's Tasty Travels (does she own the Food Network now, by the way?). This episode was in San Francisco. I watched with tears in my eyes as she got coffee at the Ferry Building, lunch at the Pacific Cafe, sushi somewhere I didn't recognize on Union Square, dinner at Chow, pasta at The Steps of Rome and drinks at the Boom Boom Room. While I would have picked hundreds of places over the ones she chose, I still got a kick out of it. And then suddenly she was at the 540 Club — her recommendation for cheap drinks at a local neighborhood hang out. I began to sob! You see, the 540 was Kera's bar. During my dark days of her not having a cell phone, and me going on a date with every loser within a 10 mile radius, I thought of putting the 540 on my speed dial becuase I knew that if I needed to call her from the bathroom during one of my many awful dates, I might find her there. So Kera, darlink, your bar is famous.

The giving of the Thanks

2005-11-22T12:58:00.000-08:00

It is time for a post about Thanksgiving, no?

So, my family (sister, bil, niece) used to celebrate this day in San Francisco with friends who were Thanksgiving bullies. In a good way. Our host liked to take control of the entire menu, and the only thing she ever wanted you to bring, was yourself, and perhaps a nice bottle of something tasty. She would sometimes ask for dessert contributions, but it was never too stressful if she did, knowing full well that she would be making at least 5 different pies herself. If yours sucked, it would go more or less unnoticed by the guests polishing off the good stuff. I would usually go to her house a few hours early to help—there was something calming about being barked instructions about a better way to cut the russets for mashed potatoes, a more efficient way to trim the string beans or a good walnut to gorgonzola to lettuce ratio for the salad.

After at least 10 turkeys together, our tried-and-trues moved away to the more realistic real-estate pastures of Raleigh, North Carolina. We feared that Thanksgiving as we knew it would never be the same. As it turned out, my sister threw together a perfectly acceptable feast at the eleventh hour. We were saved! We would not be the family at Denny's on bird-day.

This year we are going to the home of some of our LA friends, where the two of us will be far outnumbered by black gay men. Lamar (one of our hosts) called me a few days ago to discuss the menu. We decided that my contribution would be the green beans, and the cranberry sauce. He muttered something about yams, and I offered to make them, thinking that perhaps there was a hint in his mention, and that he had enough on his pot-luck plate. He seemed reluctant and non-committal, so I said, "What, you don't want some white woman making your Thanksgiving yams?". To which he replied, "Well, I didn't want to say it, but since you did, yes. Trust me honey, I'll be making the yams."

Thank god. The tradition of Thanksgiving bullying continues!

From the co-habitation annals

2005-11-22T12:28:00.000-08:00

In addition to the Brita jug inertia, and my inability to effectively seal the olive oil, I have another maddening habit. This one is not new to my co-habitee, but now that he experiences it every time we watch tv together, I'm pretty sure he's added it to his list of annoying things about me.

I am a notorious multi-tasker. It is hard for me to do one thing at a time, and when I'm doing anything I feel guilty about, or anything that makes me think I could be spending my time doing something more meaningful, I try and do something else at the same time. This means that I am the worst TiVo date ever. I rarely spend an evening watching TV without either balancing my checkbook, planning menus, or catching up on the news or celebrity gossip at the same time. Now, there are some shows that don't get this kind of half-assed attention, because I am just too obsessed with them, such as The OC, Grey's Anatomy, Everwood, and sometimes the Gilmore Girls (shut up, I warned you about my WB thing). But other things, like certain reality TV shows, or Desperate Housewives, or even Lost, are definite multi-tasking affairs. Lost also happens to be one of the few shows that both David and I both watch (ok, he's also started watching the Gilmore Girls, but you did not hear that from me), and we try and watch it together. This is a typical Lost night at our house:

Dramatic music from TV....
David: "Oh my god!", or "Please!" or "What the hell?!"
Me: glancing up from the recipe book, "What happened?"
David: "Sayeed just shot Shannon!" or "Charlie pocketed the drugs", or "He's totally going to kill him"
Me: "Okay, rewind that, I have to see!"
David: Patiently rewinds so that he can watch it again, this time with the benefit of my reaction.
Me: "Wait, I don't get it?" "How did Charlie find drugs?", or "What was Shannon doing roaming in the jungle by herself?"
David: "Would you like me to rewind some more?"
Me: "No no, you can just tell me!"
David: "Why do you even care, you obviously aren't that into this show?"
Me: "What are you talking about? I LOVE LOST!"

This continues several times through the course of a typical episode. It's amazing we are still together.

My apologies

2005-11-21T17:09:00.000-08:00

For the sloppy typos in the previous post. I was in a rush to get out of the house to get a new cell phone plan. Buh-bye Cingular. Hello Sprint!

Also, I can't believe I forgot to post that my sister passed the California Bar Exam! Yay!

My weekly date with my favorite tear jerker

2005-11-21T13:58:00.000-08:00

So last night's crying moment was coma guy. But did anyone else think he looked in mighty good shape for someone who's been in in a coma for so long? You'd think it would take a bit more of a toll. I would expect some droopiness, some sagging, some grey hues, maybe some puffiness? Oh, what do I know. Moving on...

Miraculously, Addison was more likeable in this episode. Okay, part of me wanted McDreamy to barf in the Puget Sound when she suggested a sex date while wearing that jaunty newsboy hat, but somehow, at the end of the episode, I was rooting for her just a little bit. I mean he's made his decision. Since he picked her, he could start being a little less of an ass to her. I know she cheated and all, but he's decided to stay, so get on with it. And it looks like they did. In the Airstream. Just not too many more kissing scenes between those two, please? McDreamy is less dreamy when he's about to kiss her, for some reason.

I don't like Burke & Christina together. That scene a few episodes ago when he comforted her in her hospital bed after she lost the baby got me snuffling, but now I'm getting a little tired of her self-centered, hair-tossiness. And could she stop barking at everyone all the time? I mean I also enjoy a martini to ease me into the Thanksgiving festivities, but does she have to be such a Doberman on her day off with her hot boyfriend? Who can cook? (Ok, I did think her line about liquor being like oxygen to WASPs was kind of funny, I'll give her that). And by the way, I know it's from LAST week's episode, but I thought her purple sateen frock for her date with Burke was just heinous.

One more thing? What is on Dr. Shepherd's surgical hat? Do all surgical hats look like that? Little patterns and prints? Anyone?

One more thing from the weekend

2005-11-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

I had never heard anything about this book,"Ask Me Anything" or its author, Francesca Delbanco, before picking it up at the Beverly Hills Library last week. I grabbed it off the "New Books" shelf in the mood for something fluffy. Yes, it's chick-lit covering the usual friend and relationship woes, but it worked, and I found myself not wanting it to end. And I guess I saw a little piece of me in alot of Rosalie Preston's actions, reactions and logic.

And next, (for Kera and Kristin), I AM FINALLY going to read "The Line of Beauty".

Some weekend discoveries

2005-11-21T12:45:00.000-08:00

This place, just a few blocks away, that took us almost 3 months to try is wonderful. I am a big fan of little bistros with things like steak frites, and moules frites, and it was hard to top this place, a staple everytime I went to NYC for work, even I was dining alone (in fact it was perfect for that).

Le Petit Bistro was unbelievably cheap. My roast chicken entree was only $11.50. Unbelievable. David's filet mignon was $24.00. Other delicious choices at our table were the chicken in a piccata style sauce, and some tender, buttery halibut. Oh, and the French Onion Soup I ordered as an appetizer was perfect. So, the food was amazing, but the service just so-so. Our waiter that night is obviously destined for other things, and a job that requires taking dinner orders is not for him. Seriously, he came back 5 TIMES to confirm the details of our order. Dude, just write it down if you've killed a few brain cells with the bong. (Contrary to one of the Citysearch reviews, the waiters are not all French...)

After dinner, since we live so close, we talked the party into coming over to our place for some nightcaps. I learned that Baileys and Coffee is one of the best things ever. I don't know how this discovery took me as long as it did, but I am a blissful, glassy-eyed, recently deflowered Baileys virgin.

Earlier in the day I finally walked over to Cook's Library. A bookstore with nothing but cookbooks, and brower friendly, with a big, comfy couch in the window. And Saturday "open-house" treats! Pumpkin fudge is most definitely not my bag, but the gesture is lovely, I think. Anyway, this store has every cook book you could possibly imagine, and half the fun is casually eavesdropping on the conversations between the foodies and the people working in the store. One guy was telling a tale of a horrific encounter with pre-prison Martha when he worked as a stylist for a photo shoot for Martha Stewart Living. She HATED the way he did something, and apparently she let him know. So I soaked it all up for an hour or so, chatted with someone working there originally from the Bay Area, and then set off to the Coffee Bean, thinking, "I love LA!". Of course it didn't last long. At the Coffee Bean, I had to dodge a flying chair being flung by a drug-addled Mr. Crazy, clearly in need of a fix. "I HATE LA!", I thought to myself, and then remembered some of my bus rides on the 31 Balboa back in San Francisco. Okay, hate no more.

Toxic novelist

2005-11-17T15:48:00.000-08:00

So I was simply guessing that "Toxic Bachelors" was a self-help guide. When I saw the invoice attached to the box, and saw the title, I just assumed. Snap judgment queen, remember? Well I was wrong. When I opened up the package before returning it today (so that I could enclose written notice of the request to cancel my account) I discovered with horror that it's not a self-help guide at all, but the latest offering from Danielle Steele. Well now I'm definitely keeping it!

Just kidding. I couldn't get to the post office fast enough.

And after the scathing email I sent before leaving the house, I think I may be rid of them once and for all. I'm actually glad they screwed up on this mailing, because I think it finally got someone to respond to yet another of my requests to cancel. When I got back from the post office, I had a "Won't you reconsider?" email from them. Hah!

So it looks like I'm free and clear of this mistake in my life. Unless the Literary Guild takes the same approach to cancellations as Crunch, spawn of the evil Bally's Total Fitness empire. Here's how that works: You cancel your membership for the legitimate reason of relocation, they accept your cancellation (cashing your cancellation check) and then a month later start sending you friendly notices that there is a Crunch within 20 miles of your new location (in LA 20 miles could take 2 hours) and that you are past due on your account. Oh well, that's tomorrow's battle.

There's soap in my soup

2005-11-17T10:17:00.000-08:00

I devote a fair amount of real estate on this blog to yapping about my culinary successes. The perfect roast chicken, the glorious pancakes, the festive enchiladas, the scrumptious 30 minute spaghetti. But it's not always that way. While I've alluded to the fact that I am a lifetime supply of flour away from any blue ribbon awards for baking, I only talk about my cooking joy and not so much the pain.

Well last night there was pain. Last night there was frothy soup, and frothy soup is never a reason to party. I guess washing the risotto pot from the night before while enjoying a good red wine buzz is a bad idea. Unlike my talented dishwasher in residence, I did a lousy half-assed job (maybe I should learn to leave a dish or two overnight) and must not have rinsed properly. Or maybe it's because our building's solar powered water takes forever to reach a temperature suitable for proper washing and rinsing. (Seriously, we could have refilled the Ganges a million times over with our constantly running water). So I ruined the curried lentil soup. It was so obviously soapy in flavor that I couldn't even convince myself that it was just me, and that David would never notice. It was that bad. And I had a million clues from start to finish, never once stopping to think, "If I stop now, and start over, I could salvage this". The canola oil heating had strange little bubbles in it (it's just water). The onions, garlic and garam masala didn't smell like it usually does (I'm tired, and I'm imagining it). The simmering tomatoes had a ominous sheen to them (I will never buy this Trader Joes's brand again). And even after the last of the red lentils (that you can only get at Whole Foods apparently, no-one else has them) had been tipped into the pot along with a gallon of stock (at least it wasn't homemade) and a definite layer of orange foam had started to appear, I was still in denial. I let it simmer for 45 minutes, hoping that it would go away. And then I tipped the whole lot down the garbage disposal. I was so looking forward to that soup. The toast dinner I ended up having was unacceptable. Even one of the most tear-jerking episodes of Everwood ever, couldn't lift me out of my lentil funk.

But my soup pot has never been more blingy than it is today.

(And by the way, I have never made my own stock.)

Let the countdown begin

2005-11-16T14:39:00.000-08:00

Today was going to my first entirely free day since the freelance job started. By the time I had submitted the last edits last night, I thought I was really and truly done. I was going to sleep in, read until 2, go for a walk, make lentil soup. And then my cell phone rang at 8:45 with the request for one more day. Hey, it's money. I should not complain, but shit, now I'm going away for 5 weeks. I have things to do: packing, shopping, gift-buying, bill paying, library book returning, banking, finally figuring out whether I want to do COBRA vision and dental since it's not so expensive, holiday carding. aarrgggh!

And you know what else I have to do? I have to trot off to the post office to return my books from the cursed book club. The very same ones I was emailed about with the news that my "chosen selections" were not in stock. The very same ones I sent a polite note back to the customer service department about (the one staffed with trout), telling them NOT to send the books as I had not ordered them. The very same ones they emailed me back about, saying that they had received my request and would not send them. And they still showed up. In this month's selection was "Toxic Bachelors", a self-help guide for women partial to dating men who are not the marrying kind. Is the Literary Guild (literary, my ass) trying to tell me something?

Nah. But see how things have changed? If that book had shown up on my doorstep unsolicited at any other time of my life, during any one of the inappropriate relationships I have nurtured, I probably would have kept it. But it's going back, along with the other book, the title of which I have already forgotten.

And that reminds me, I need to start preparing for 5 weeks of my mom being within breathing distance of reminding me that I am not getting any younger, and that it's almost time for grandchild number 6, since my siblings have all declared themselves done (I think, but stranger things have happened).

Taming the Beasts

2005-11-15T10:20:00.000-08:00

It is done. I have departure dates, arrival dates x2, and the Visa has been surrendered. Ouch. Actually by the time I had called several "cheap travel to Africa" experts yesterday while continuing to wrestle with the $1400 cobra, I felt pretty good about only spending that much. One place I called yesterday quoted me $3000. Um, I don't think so. Anyway, considering I've made this journey almost every year for the past decade, I should be thankful that I can still get out for under $1500, right?

The other beast I've been wrestling is an ant colony. Ever since that big crazy rain a few weeks ago, they have plagued me. I've caught clusters of them in various places, but for every successful cluster eradication, another one would show up a few days later. So I turned to the faithful, trusty Internet, where the general home remedy consensus seemed to be bay leaves. Works like a charm. Ants do not like the scent of the bay. I put (an expensive, Whole Foods) bay leaf in every one of our kitchen cupboards and just like that, no more ants.

I also learned that once you've successfully located their point of entry, shaving foam does the trick. Just squirt some in the area where they're coming in, and they will be stopped dead in their purposeful little tracks. Tah-dah! I found a bunch of them breaking and entering through the top corner of the bathroom window and with one blast of Edge they were done for. Problem is that once you've dealt with the first batch you eliminate that way, you have to keep reapplying the shaving foam until they get the hint. Now the clean freak in me would rather not have to look at a big turquoise clump of frothy, disintegrating shaving foam while I'm in the shower but so be it.

So that's my Heloise hint for the day. And oh my god, this was the most boring post ever.

This was supposed to be about books

2005-11-10T22:56:00.000-08:00

But lets talk about The OC shall we? I just watched tonight's episode, and while there is much to comment on, I have to comment on Marissa's outfits. They have been going from bad to worse and tonight's rust-colored tunic that she borrowed from the Knights of the Round Table was just awful. The girl is 19, no? 20 at the most. Those boobs should not be at her waist. She's not even the chestiest girl in the world, but could someone in wardrobe get that girl some sort of uplifting undergarment? Please.

And could Casey's teeth be any whiter? My eyes! The girl needs to lay off the bleaching trays for a few nights. Maybe it was just my TV, but it actually hurt to look at those chompers.

V-racks, job interviews, procrastination

2005-11-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday and it's time for an update so read on.

Last night I reached Roast Chicken nirvana. Last time I used Mark Bittman's recipe and while it was delicious, I thought I'd try the Cooks Illustrated Simple Roast Chicken. Better! There was more bird-rotation involved, and a higher heat but sweat be damned! It was worth it. And i f I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: Those little v-racks are essential to any roasting endeavor. Now if I could figure out how to make gravy in my expensive non-stick roasting pan, that would be swell. Should a roasting pan be non-stick? It seems counter-intuitive to me. And it's something I should have thought about prior to purchase, but I recall my roasting pan being one of those after-work, bad day Union Sqaure impulse buys.

The 450 oven did set off the smoke alarm. And believe me, fanning the ceiling with a rolled up newspaper at regular intervals during dinner prep really takes the "forget" out of the "fix-it-and-forget-it" concept, but I am learning, slowly, that I can't have it all.

Accompaniments were Martha Stewart's Paprika Oven Fries and Tyler Florence's Smashed Broccoli with Garlic. I did everything but smash it. I was into the flavors in this recipe, but not the baby-food texture, so I got a little reckless.

So I had a job interview a few days ago. A grueling 4-hour extravaganza. The morning of I was in positive spirits about it. Even with a 6am wake-up call (building in enough time for getting lost, which is frequent). The fact that Copywriter would be my title was appealing. While there's alot about where I'm going that I don't know, I do know that I want writing to be the main focus. I wrote all the copy in my last job, but there was a lot of other stuff to do as well. Some of which I liked, but I always felt that the writing didn't get enough time and attention. Scarcity of resources didn't help.

Anyway, for reasons I can't put my finger on, I just didn't feel it about this job, or this company. Maybe it was because two out of the five people I met with were ones I instantly disliked. Yes, she of the snap judgments, I know, but they work in my favor sometimes. Or maybe because everyone I met with was a man. If I was living in San Francisco with all my friends at hand, this wouldn't be an issue, but I would like to meet some new girlfriends, and a job is always a good way to do that. I know, it's just one interview, but I'm being picky, people. I don't want to get myself into another job I can tolerate but where I'm constantly questioning whether it's where I want to be every day. But I'm getting far ahead of myself. Maybe they didn't even like me. They were meeting a ton of people.

I'm just not feeling very driven to look for my dream job right now, and it's a bit of a concern. I thought I would be (more driven). And right now I'm just not. Maybe it's because I finally baked something that turned out to be edible and attractive. Maybe it's because I'm not done with what has been a very relaxing, calming time for me (for the most part). Maybe it's because I got a freelance job that's still paying. It's boring, but it's money. But really I think it's because I need to just go back and see my family in South Africa already. I won't want to take any job until I've done that. Which brings me to the procrastination part of this post. How long have I been talking about this? Forever, right? Yes. Do I have a ticket with departure dates? No. It is the curse of the gene that meanders through my dad's side of the family. A pervasive indecision and inability to commit to travel plans. It's awful. Collectively, my extended family has terrorized travel agents around the globe, with constant call backs, plan changes and cancellations. My dad alone has probably driven a few out of their careers. (Dad I love you more than all the world, but I hate that I inherited this from you!). So today I will call Trekkers Travel for the 3rd time this week for available dates and fares and hopefully be at least 4 calls closer to a ticket.

Next up: Some things I've been reading. The streak is back, and I just flew through two more!

And in other exciting news from the weekend

2005-11-07T10:46:00.000-08:00

Saturday was a good day. David had to work, but he biked there to get some exercise and I had the car. I mani'd, pedi'd, coffee'd, bookstore'd and satisfied my Mexican food craving. Ok, I went to Chipotle, which doesn't count, but it does when you've gone weeks without it.

And then I went home to get ready for a date. One with reservations. At this place, which was wonderful. We shared the grilled calamari for an appetizer, and then I had the scallops and David the lamb. I normally make a "Wah" face when David gets lamb as I don't eat it and therefore don't get to pick at his plate, but since it was a romantic date (I was even wearing a dress (my DVF knockoff from H&M) and boots!), I kept my mouth shut. To make it up for it we also got a side of Poutine, which we probably didn't need, but it was worth it. Poutine is a Quebecois delicacy, and if you've never had it, it sounds just awful. I remember reading an article about it in the NYT a few weeks after I had met David (who is from Montreal) and holding up the page in horror: "French Fries with cheese curds? And brown gravy! What is wrong with your people?" Fast forward 6 months and my first meeting of the parents in Montreal. I was a ball of nerves after the endless customs line at Mirabel airport, so he decided to make a stop on the way to Rue St. Louis at a little bistro of sorts, where we split a beer and a bowl of poutine. And it was so good. I couldn't get enough of those soggy, cheesy french fries. Not to mention the perfect thing to ease me into meeting Mama (don't worry, there was much consumption of breath-mints in the car). Dusty's was opened by a mother-son team from Montreal, hence the appearance of Poutine on the menu. We couldn't NOT get it. I mean the stuff is practially a national dish. They even have it at McDonald's.

In which I come within a foot of a Desperate Housewife

2005-11-07T10:16:00.000-08:00

Friends and co-workers from my previous home ask me from time to time if I've had any celebrity sightings yet.

Now I'm not sure what gave them the idea that I *cared* about such things... I mean I know that if they found a copy of US Weekly or Star on their chairs when they got back from lunch, it was usually from me, and I know I was the girl who would emerge from the Newstand at the airport during business travel with a 10 pound bag of magazines, but really!

Anyway, I digress. Last night at the Arclight (we went to see Ripley Under Ground--part of the AFI film festival) I entered the restroom just as Marcia Cross was leaving it. While I thought that my first real sighting would be riddled with doubt: "Was that really Celebrity X?" Was it? Was it? Could it have been?", I was 100% sure about this one. With the willowy-ness, and the hair, she's very striking, and hard to miss.

Then, after the movie (which was very entertaining) on leaving the theater, I realized that we had been sitting two rows in front of one of its main actors--Alan Cumming. In the car on the way home David and I were playing the "What else was he in? Wait don't tell me!" game but he never did get it. I had to remind him about The Anniversary Party. He was also in Spy Kids, but I'll save that one for my 12 year old niece, when I tell her about the sighting. "Alan who?"

Oh, and I need to call my mom and tell her I may have peed where a desperate housewife did. I bet I can catch her right now--she and my dad have just had dinner!

But really, I don't care about these things. Not one bit.

One good thing about my night of abbreviated sleep...

2005-11-01T15:38:00.000-08:00

Amazon.com: Books: A Million Little Pieces (Oprah's Book Club)

...was getting deeper into this book. For a few years I've picked this one up in the bookstore, but always ended up going for something else. Then my friend Heidi sent it to me for my birthday. Oprah went nuts about this book, and while I don't always get excited about her picks, she was right about this one. It's one of the most real, haunting, beautiful, touching memoirs I've read.

So it's back on. The manic reading streak of 4 books a week that I went through for the past year had started to subside a bit. Nothing was calling to me, and I picked up a few things that didn't keep my interest. Usually all it takes is one jaw-droppingly good book, and this is it. I'm going to have to activate my hold queue at the LA Public Library.

Things that have my bitch up

2005-11-01T10:21:00.000-08:00

And it's only 10:40 am.

• The Girls Gone Wild came in at 4am this morning, and got their Laguna Beach on right in their driveway, about 3 feet from where I rest my head. "Like OMG! I am like, rilly drunk!" They were loud and obnoxious, and I never did get back to sleep. I know, it was Halloween, and I sound like a cranky old hag, but still.

• I burnt my bagel.

• The annoying emails I get from the "BMG for books" that I joined one fateful day earlier this year. Today's installment warned that the "books you recently ordered, are not in stock". Thanks, but I certainly did not order the box set of which you speak. And how could such books be out of stock? Who is ordering them?

How did I get involved in this silliness? Well, once upon a time on the old cube farm with a view of the San Francisco bay, there sat a girl who, while intelligent and capable of playing well with the other animals, would feel so devoid of excitement about the farm's activities that she would let the Internet Explorer take her away for a bit. On her travels she would think crazy thoughts such as: Ooohh books for less! I like books. And here's this Jennifer Weiner book I want to read. It's a bargain at $3.00. And I am #285 in the SF Public Library queue to receive it... Done! One week later it was on my doorstep. Yay!

Well "Little Earthquakes" wasn't even worth the $3.00, (Green Apple didn't even take it when I tried to sell it to them) and now I'm in a relationship with a discount book club that I can't get out of, no matter how hard I try. Fine print says I have to order a certain number of books per year. And somehow I don't think "Your selection is mostly made up of crappy one-page-away-from-being-Harlequin-romance-novels that I could get for less at my local Walgreens!" is grounds for terminating the relationship. And the fact that I moved recently is really wreaking havoc on our rather tenuous affair. My monthly "Featured Selections" newsletter got to me too late for me to put a "DON'T SEND" checkbox next to my selected titles before the deadline and yesterday I got a nice package of cheap mystery-romance-detective-whatever stories that I will have to pay to send back. And how do they even make the selections? For the love of God, I ordered ONE BOOK!

I know. I have only myself to blame. Just when I was patting myself on the back for never having ordered anything off the TV (although Daisy Fuentes, Elizabeth Berkley and Marie Winsor herself almost had me with their Pilates DVD package), I go and get involved in this. I don't expect sympathy (god knows I'm not getting any from the other person who lives here), I just want to whine about it. So I'm doing just that.

And finally....

• Recruiters who, while kind enough to set up an interview for a copywriting job that I'm mildly interested in, feel the need to remind me to dress nice, turn my cell phone off, not chew gum, or (this one's good) wear too much perfume becuase it might remind the interviewer of someone they disliked. Whoa! Thanks for the warning! I was planning on showing up with a big ball of bazooka in my maw, wearing a slutty suit, doused in Charlie Girl. And what's even nuttier is that this woman met me! I am very confident that I gave her no reason at all to think I would commit any of the crimes she felt the need to warn me about. I know, she's just doing her job, but it was mildly annoying.

Ah, I feel better now!

10 things I learned this weekend

2005-10-31T17:24:00.000-08:00

1 Bossa Nova isn't going to be a staple. In spite of high hopes for this place, it didn't really live up to the excitement we felt about Brazilian food in walking distance. Maybe only idiots order the Stroganoff in a Brazilian restaurant but even the more traditional dish we had wasn't great.

2) My neighbor (not one of the Girls Gone Wild) is a genius with the brows. While bonding over our flooded bathrooms at 1am last week, I discovered that she works at Melrose Place Aesthetics. Okay, the place is expensive, but I was frantic and now I think I'm hooked. Not only was she a whiz with the color ( I needed tinting too), but she shaped them perfectly. (I'm still walking around with hair that's about 2 inches past its prime, but I'm going to wait until I feel like heading out to The Valley to try Superjux's salon suggestion.)

3) Our apartment looks about 10 x better now that the tree-beast is tamed! At long last, our landlord sent the trimmers to contain our jungle. I was expecting them to bring machetes, but it wasn't necessary. Now we get the best lazy afternoon sun. There are some good naps coming up once I am done with this freelance project.

4) The Target parking lot has got to be the worst in Los Angeles. The store itself is actually a far more positive toiletry and cleaning supply re-stocking experience than the one offered by my former Target in Colma, but the parking situation is going to make me avoid future trips like the plague.

5) There really is such a thing as a 30 minute meal (that doesn't come from Trader Joe's). I love Rachael Ray and all, but her 30 minute meals are not things I've ever been able to make in 30 minutes. And I'm not suggesting the problem lies with her. It lies entirely with me. I tend to move a little slower than she does when I'm cooking. It could be the wine. Anyway, my "30 minute meals" are always 45-50 minute meals. No matter what. But tonight I made Tyler Florence's spaghetti with peas, onions, goat cheese, parmesan and basil. And it really did take less than 30 minutes. It was also good later than night when I pulled a Nigella and ate out of the fridge.

6) The unbridled wave of homesickness for San Franciso that hadn't hit yet was inevitable. It was just a matter of time. And it happened when I least expected it. On Saturday night we went to a birthday party of a work acquaintance of David's, and this turned out to be the catalyst . Maybe it was the crowd, or the fact that we didn't really know anyone in it, but we felt like fish out of water. Both of us. Now I can be shy at times, but David? When you look up "shy" or "retiring" in the dictionary, you won't find his name. So the fact that he thought it was a weird night too was validating. Anyway, there's really no reason to dwell on it. Not every crowd is going to be like this one. But San Francisco friends, know that I miss you so!

7) If you hit the Hollywood Farmer's Market at around lunchtime, you will not be able to decide what to eat because the choices are all so good. You will wander up and down, gaping with wide-eyed wonderment at all the stalls, annoying all the decisive people who know what they want. Yesterday I went for Caribbean. Next time it's a toss up between Korean and Thai.

8) Kettle Corn is Farmer's Market crack. I probably didn't need the bag that is the same size as a small child, but I couldn't help myself. I'm still working on it.

9) Rachel Bilson shops at my Gelsons. I didn't see her. But as I perused the latest copy of either In Touch Weekly, or Life and Style (both jostling for the bottom-feeder position in the gossip rag food chain) while waiting to be rung up Sunday evening, there was a photo of her, and there was no mistaking that it was taken at my Gelsons, and "near her West Hollywood home" . Yes, I'm embarrassed to admit that I still get mildly excited by this kind of thing. But she is in the OC, after all.

10) Pot roast is a pain in the ass. Really. That hunk of beef needed so much basting, turning, checking, prodding and temperature-taking, by the time I got to hold a carving knife over the damn thing, I felt a twinge of remorse. It would have been worth it if it was the tasty thing I imagined while my head was in the oven babysitting it, but it was just kind of blah. I'm not sure what the secret is to a good pot-roast but I wasn't around when it was circulating. Next time I want to cook a slab of meat, I'm making Jamie's brisket with the bottle of beer, once and for all.

Anyway, it's Halloween, and it looks like I might be a Hallo-weenie after all. Both me and the other DoubleD are swamped with deadlines. He is working late, and I have something to finish by tomorrow morning first thing. Maybe we'll wander up to the party later on. Or if I'm lucky, I'll get some trick-or-treaters for the first time in 10 years!

The Dr. Shepherds

2005-10-31T12:17:00.000-08:00

Grey's Anatomy last night? Come on Dr. McDreamy! Your wife cheats on you, you move to Seattle to start over and live in an Airstream, begin a relationship with someone you really seem to like (and who loves you in the listen to your bad music sort of way), your wife shows up out of nowhere, disrupts your thing, serves you with divorce papers you can't sign and then I have to see you and Creepy leaving the hospital arm in arm after a trying day!

No no no!! That's not how it's supposed to go!

Oh well, I guess they're going to drag this one out. Last night's episode was kind of annoying, The medical stories had their usual touching, teary-eyed effect on me, but the rundown in the OR last night was a tad incongruous. The whole severed limb thing irritated me, and the way they wrapped it up was weak. And would they really have let Meredith assist with surgery given her tequila overdose? But I loved Izzie's comment about the salmon scrubs. I had been thinking the exact same thing.

Some weekend highlights. But they'll have to wait, since I am still busy writing the company profiles that just keep on coming.