PlazaJen: The Blog

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      Month: August 2008 (Page 1 of 3)

      Tomato Surpise & Habanero Eyelids

      August 31, 2008 /

      I did some garden harvesting yesterday; we’re on the backside of the bounty, with much smaller loads of produce. I did get a small bucket of tomatoes, though picking them has become what I like to call, “Tomato Surprise”.  Because we’re now in the stage where some tomatoes are rotten (but still on the vine), and some have been gnawed upon (and still on the vine) – so the firm grip I had several weeks ago has been replaced with a more gingerly touch.  When you can see the blemish, or rotting part, or bug hole, well, you know, and it influences how you pick it, if you pick it at all. But then you have the duplicitous tomatoes, the ones that look firm and ripe and wonderful, and as your hand closes around it, your nerve endings in your fingers immediately alert you to the fact it is NOT that way on the backside. That’s a Tomato Surprise. Bleah.

      So after picking the good tomatoes, I moved on to the pepper bed. I got some absolutely gorgeous peppers – I’ll take pictures tomorrow – we have banana, jalapeno, bell (some have gone red), serrano, purple (stunning!) and habanero.  I pick most of the peppers with shears, snipping the stalk that tethers them to the plant. Peppers are curious, strong where you think they’d be weak, but it’s also easy to pull chunks of living plant away with the pepper. Snipping them is easiest, and doesn’t risk destroying the plant. For whatever reason, I also picked some of the habaneros with my hands (the stems are so tiny!) and a couple popped off at the stem cap, and my brain even thought, “Best be careful, getting that capsaicin on your hands” …and then, par for my life, promptly forgot.

      It was warm yesterday, and I was sweating in the midday sun. I came in, took a shower, and proceeded to hang out, surfing on the computer. Wondering why I was SO CRANKY. Turns out, I used my capsaicin-laced fingers to wipe some sweat from my brow, rubbing just under my eyebrows and causing a very uncomfortable rash on my eyelids. Yep. Habanero juice. Lovely.  The red finally had faded by this morning, but the skin is still sensitive. I’m not even sure what we’re going to do with these habaneros, but I can attest to one thing – they’re spicy!

      Keep enjoyin’ the weekend – I am!

      Can You Hear the Drums, Fernando?

      August 28, 2008 /

      I’ve had what we like to call “A Day.”
      Holy ABBA, Batman, bust out the shot glasses, swing on over to the liquor cabinet and keep ’em comin’.

      I ping-ponged between a breakfast meeting to a client meeting, then off to the Studio to finalize the classes I’d be teaching, plus a lunchtime private lesson I’d scheduled. After waiting 15 minutes, I thought, hrm, maybe I should check my email, and sure enough, the student had canceled. (I found out tonight she had a very, very good reason. Poor thing.)

      I high-tailed it back to the office, where I plowed through emails & a remnant handful of Doritos, and took off for another client/vendor meeting. All the while keeping my eyes peeled for a mailbox, which, have you noticed, no longer exist? Maybe they do, in small clusters or at drive-through post offices, none of which are near me, so I finally gave up on my way back to the office & just stopped at the Plaza branch. Again. No box out front. Must be the internet’s fault. Or terrorists. In fact, I’ve had such a long, machine-gun sorta day, I think it’s both. I should start a website. Wait. That might be …. confusing. Anyway, I went back to the office and stumbled into my iTunes, settling on some old-school Phil Collins to soothe my spirit. Now I’m thinking great, that was Christian Bale’s music choice in American Psycho. It’s been top of mind because I listened to the first part of this “This American Life” podcast when I was in New York last week. Just listen to Starlee Kine’s segment if you don’t have the time for the whole thing. It’s priceless. And will renew your teenage love of Phil Collins if you happen to be around 40 years old.

      Oh, and through all of this, it was eleventy-billion degrees with the humidity.

      But I’m home, the house is clean, we got Thai food for dinner, and it’s starting to rain. I’m going to knit and hang with the D-O-GGs and be so grateful that tomorrow is Friday, I have a half day (hopefully) and it’s a three-day weekend. Sleep. Crafting. Friends. It will be good.

      If I had to do the same again
      I would, my friend, Fernando. Or do you go by Sussudio?

      Oh, I forgot a c-word (which is odd to type, seeing how it’s everyone’s favorite euphemism for uh, that “c-word”) that’s pretty crucial to my list…. Competitive.

      Musing…

      August 27, 2008 /

      …I really hope I don’t end up following a vehicle today that’s hauling an enormous round bale of hay. Because in my dreams last night, I came up over a hill, and there was the hay bale, and the driver was going 25 mph. I was not. I did everything in my power, but I still ended up hitting her trailer corner (the bar holding up the brake light) and the woman driving the truck turned out to be this beatific, sweet 60-year old lady – who morphed into a gigantic bitch in front of my eyes. And she tried to come back and tell me it was $6,000 worth of damage. For a scratch on a post.

      I threatened to set her hay bale on fire. James was horrified through ALL of this, as he would be if it happened in real life.

      Good to know I don’t lie down and take it, though – even when I’m lying down.

      Random ORTS!

      August 26, 2008 /

      Boy, it’s been a long time since I’ve done some Random Orts. I have so many blog posts in my head, including the fact I completely ignored my Alphabet Soup Project immediately after starting it, but I think I’m going to shake off the smaller ones into a nice compact post and then maybe there will be enough space and room to let the other notions become full-fledged, viable posts.

      1. Redonkulous travel observation, which was already made by someone else, somewhere, but when I read it, I was all, YEE-HAW and can I get an A-MEN?!  Women’s restroom stall doors opening inward …at the freakin’ airport.  I can see it being a-ok if it’s just you and your purse, but really? I have a fantastic piece of luggage (lemme give it it’s own Ort) and even the ease of travel with it is precluded by inward-opening doors. You have to somehow get all of you and your stuff into the stall – with extra clearance, unless you’re comfortable like that, not shutting the door. Speaking of which, my apologies again to the nameless, yet very surprised woman at O’Hare who had not locked her door on the handicapped stall, leading me to believe it was the only one available, and I swear, I was as surprised as you.

      I’ve often thought it would be hilarious to just keep on going in. There’s room for two in those stalls. Don’t mind if I wait, do you? I’ll just park my luggage by yours, it’s so much easier to navigate in these, don’t you think?

      2. My luggage. I put a lot of consideration into buying this item, because I knew I would be traveling a little bit, and I was replacing my previous small carry-on rolling suitcase, as this is a favorite item for burglars to steal. Because they load all your shit into suitcases & trot them out to their panel van. Burglars rarely seem to go around with Envirosaks, but maybe with the new efforts to Green Up, they, too, care about the earth.  In any event, both times I’ve been burgled, there went my suitcases, as well. So I didn’t want to muck around this time, and now that I have a very good alarm system, I was also prepared to spend a little more money, and get a Spinner-style suitcase. What this means is, no matter what direction you pull your suitcase, it will go. Unlike in-line wheels, which only go forwards and backwards.  I ultimately got this Heys carry-on, in bright turquoise, and I bought it at Overstock.com.  People on Overstock seemed to be mixed on their reviews, but I really like it. So I just wrote my review to offset the haters. It’s the perfect size for 1-2 days and it’s lightweight, rolls anywhere you want it to go, and -let’s face it – the bright color is fun.  The key though, is spinner wheels. And Costco sells the completer set, should we ever leave home on vacation ever again, ever. (Can you tell I kinda need a vacation?)  I think bright orange would suit the NuWos just fine!

      3. Cooking with Suba. God love her, but my former co-worker Suba is Hindu, so I should probably find out the proper deity to whom I should sing her praises.  They have a lot. I don’t have that kind of dedication. So I’ll just sing her praises in general, to the almighty Internet, because she is fab-u-lous. And so enthusiastic about food and cooking. A designer by trade, Suba also designed her home, which is airy, open, clean, and as uncluttered as it could possibly get. Needless to say, I felt very, very bad about myself the entire time I stood in her kitchen.  But I worked through my shame, and still enjoyed myself immensely. We learned how to make Yogurt-Curry Chicken with Mango-Mint Chutney and Basil-Chocolate ice cream for dessert. Dayum. It was delicious, and it was good for me to stretch my wings beyond my tried-and-true Thai cooking. (Even though I’d kill, keel, keel and jump up and down shouting, “Keel! KEEL!” if I could learn how to properly make some of the salad dressings and sauces served by my favorite Thai restaurants.) I’m taking her class next month as well, just to keep the branching-out going. You can actually see photos of what we did over at her blog – check it out! And try not to drool. I’ve got a little puddle of saliva in my mouth, just remembering it all.

      4. Alphabet Soup. Remember? I said I’d list five words a week that described me, and all I got through was …the letter “A”. Story of my life.  Let’s cram some in so I’m not quite so far behind. I’ve been traveling! (Can you hear the whine that just crept in there? I can.)  Bombastic, Bullish, Brainy, Big, Brave. Crabby, Condescending, Crafty (both ways), Crazy, Caring. Dramatic, Diva, Devoted, Driven, Difficult.  Entertaining, Exuberant, Ehhhh, that’s all I’ve got in me today. I owe ya three more “E’s”.

      5. Knitting. I have to do more knitting. I have so many projects swirling around me, with more ideas coming each day, that I must give up some of the Packratting and Plurking and surfing and stick to my knitting! And tomato harvesting. That needs to happen, too.

      6. OH Tomato Harvesting! Let me tell you, the fruit & vegetable strainer attachment for the KitchenAid mixer is heaven-sent. In previous years, we’ve used this little red jobber I bought for $20 at Williams-Sonoma, and you crank it and it suctions to the counter, until it decides to not suction and you flail wildly while tomato chunks threaten to fall all around you to the floor.  However, you cannot find this attachment anywhere in town, unless your town is called “New York City” or “Los Angeles” or maybe “Chicago.” I called all over the place, and finally gave up and bought it from Amazon. It arrived quickly and we churned out a lot of sauce. With probably another batch on the horizon.  I love my KitchenAid mixer, and yes, I’m in the Facebook group which is aptly titled, “I Love My KitchenAid Mixer!”. We are 261 strong, and one of the moderators IS a stand mixer. I’m sure it’s code for their PR person or something, but I appreciate the humor in that.

      7. I am also a fan of Consumer Reports on Facebook. When we won the account, I immediately checked, and they didn’t have a FB page yet. I thought it would be a little presumptuous of me to create a page for them. Hi! I’m your #1 SuperFAN and I’m a little enthusiastic.  Do you mind if I sleep on your floor? Actually, that’s what I associate with the ultimate in self-loathing – a friend of a friend had hooked up with this guy (this all the way back in Minneapolis) and he “had to go to work the next day” so she couldn’t actually SLEEP in the bed with him (after he’d gotten what he needed.) So rather than leave, go home, and reconsider one’s choices in life, she asked him if she could at least sleep on the floor BY his bed.  Gah. Still gives me the creepy-crawlies to imagine feeling that desolate inside.

      OK, that was not a particularly uplifting note to end on. Suffice it to say, I am brand-happy, slappy-pappy, and things are good-busy, but sometimes a little too busy. I need more sleep, I need less clutter, I need more knitting, and I’m doing ok with laughter.  I was thinking today, after seeing someone Plurk about how her new boyfriend has already told her “I love you”, but she’s not there yet, what that moment was like for me. And I still remember it, vividly, the first time JWo told me he loved me. But what I really see, as I look back and reflect, is how ten years ago (and it’s been just over ten years), I had no idea what love was when I hold it up to what our love IS. Fresh chipper new love is grand, it’s an Asti Spumante high, frothing with potential and the moment. But enduring love is…. so multifaceted. Sweet, with some tang and full and strong. It’s the reason I don’t want to polish my wedding band. I like the small lines all over it. I’ve worn this band five years, and a lot has happened in that time. A seriously shitton of happenings. Some of the hardest life experiences, ever.  And I got through those things with him.  I see my existence and endurance in those lines.

      Now I just need to have the same approach with my face. I actually bought my first “anti-aging” product last week, mostly by accident, actually. I was at the CVS, chatting on my phone while shopping, and I needed some facial wipes. What can I say. The packaging was pink. I’m never really going to grow up, and that, I firmly believe, is the Serum of Youth.

      Crazy Cat Lady UPDATE!

      August 25, 2008 /

      It seems only fitting that with my deep abiding love of COPS, that I now live across the street from a never-ending episode, COPS: SOUTH SIDE KC! But you need to say it, “KayCEEE!” take it up at the end.
      So.
      The Crazy Cat Lady disappeared last week. The po-lice were out and about, and they even knocked on our door, but we hadn’t seen her in a few days. Usually there’s an ambulance there mmmm, once a week, and if not an ambulance, then a cop car. There have been “disturbances”. And now her daughter (whoa, I had no idea CCL had a child) was looking for her mom, and was quite concerned.
      It seemed to have settled down a couple days later – car in the drive, lights on, etc. I figured we were back to the usual.
      NOT TONIGHT!
      As I drove down the street, I espied not one, but TWO police cars, and as I got closer, I saw CCL stomping across a neighbor’s yard, and the po-po had a DUDE in HANDCUFFS. I did what any concerned citizen would do: parked in the driveway and called James.
      “James! Crazy Cat Lady has a dude getting arrested! They have him in handcuffs and everything!”
      James came to the door, phone to his ear, and looked down the street. He observed, ‘Yeah, they’re frisking him right now.”
      “YES. And I’ve never seen him before. He looks quite nefarious.”

      I’m never going to be a narrator for COPS. Sigh. However, I do hope to learn more about the “incident”, whether CCL lurches over here herself (and yes, I am that nosy, I’ll even take that doorbell) or if I have to deduce it from my favorite website, CrimeReports.com, where I have set up my account to email me weekly all nefarious activity in a 3/4 mile radius of our home. Because I can.

      Home again, home again.

      August 23, 2008 /

      I’m pretty sure the term “Jet Lag” was invented for people traveling much further, beyone one time zone. Nonetheless, I’m home, I feel laggy, and I’ve been on four jets in two days, so excuse me for sounding dramatic (in my head, anyway) when I jump to that term to describe how I feel.

      It was a good trip, the meeting was great, and at least this time, there were no planes hit by lightning, flights canceled, 8-mile walks through airports, etc. And on our last leg back, as we were sitting in O’Hare, I told my boss I think I’ve switched my entire position on little planes to preferring them over the jumbo jets. He asked me if I’d fallen and hit my head.

      Because a month ago, i was pretty wonked out of my gourd that small planes were a Death Sentence. And I’m still going to maintain I don’t like itty-bitty planes, with prop engines. But the Embraer jets? That have 12-20-some rows, two seats on each side? Those suckers are nice. They are easy to embark/disembark, and you aren’t waiting for 100 people to gather their luggage and make their way down the football-field-long plane while you, late-booking passenger, are in the back of said jumbo jet.  The seats tend to be bigger on the smaller planes, too. But it still doesn’t change the single biggest fact – traveling in this day and age is lengthy, hassled, and not terribly consumer-focused.  You, the passenger, are freight, and the goal is to get said freight from point A to point B as efficiently and profitably as quickly as possible.

      Flying out of White Plains (omg, I just typo’d that as “Whitie”, which is pretty funny, given the demographic makeup of Westchester NY), we spent a ten minute time frame watching our flight go from on-time to delayed (an hour) to on-time, to delayed again, then back to on-time. Thinking the aiport bar might not be the best vantage point to ascertain what was going on, we headed down to go through security. Apparently both Chicago-bound flights (United & American) had ping-ponged between being on-time and delayed by an hour, due to weather. People were PISSED. We were standing in a line of maybe 50 people, and all of us were on flights that were flashing “now boarding” and we still had to navigate the “take-your-shoes-off, place everything in tubs” blah blah part of the adventure.  People were squawking. The American flight people got to jump in front of us, as barked by the oh-so-non-enigmatic TSA personnel. Then word drifted back to us that the despite the fact our flight WAS delayed by an  hour, the pilot wanted everyone on the plane NOW and we would do our waiting on the tarmac.

      Everyone instantly hated their respective pilots. Playing god, making me drink my gin and tonic at record pace, keeping me from a bathroom visit, creating panic as I waited behind an obviously inexperienced traveler who had not thought through the fact that all his piercings and jewelry might set off the metal detector. And by the way, putting your oversize silver bracelet IN YOUR POCKET isn’t going to keep the machine from detecting it, unless you’re taking your PANTS OFF and running them through with your shoes. I’m just sayin’.  It took him three attempts to finally clear the machine and the wand lady. OY.

      On our delightful jet, anticipating an hour of waiting, we were informed by our pilot what his strategy was, that there was a chance, some hope, that we might actually be released earlier than the hour delay – and it paid off. We took off only about 20 minutes behind schedule, and we instantly forgave his god-like behavior that had caused such turmoil earlier.

      I got home around 11:30 p.m., and after heading to bed, we had storms that knocked out power for about an hour – plus the dogs were out of control, whining and wanting to go out repeatedly. I foresee a weekend of many naps.

      Completely unrelated: I have no idea how to fully appreciate synchronized swimming, because I just keep seeing the vision of Martin Short saying, “I’m not that strong a swimmer.” Enjoy the weekend.

      Widgets & Countdowns & Crazy

      August 20, 2008 /

      I’m a little nutters right now. Each day has been jam-packed, and it definitely feels like it’s Whack-A-Mole time here at PlazaJen Enterprises. (The PJE covers all aspects of my life, btw. Laundry to Work to Dogs.)

      I did finally flip the switch on a bunch of WordPress Widgets. They should all be working fairly adequately, though I will say, I thought importing my Bloglines feeds would be a snap – and it was – but then re-categorizing them all? That blew chunks. Big beefy ones. Bleah. And it’s not one of those things I can  just leave hanging out there, either. OCD! Must! Finish! Or! Gouge! Out! Eyes! So who knows if I mastered that properly but right now, I am done with it and let’s leave it at that.

      If you look over there to the right, you’ll see my Plurk feed, which may get entertaining over the next couple of days, as long as Plurk Mobile stays intact and doesn’t self-destruct. (Reports from the field are that it’s not working, which puts me in a TIZZY.) I’m off to NYC tomorrow, with a whip-back-home the next day, getting in late Friday night. Again with the little planes and the connecting flights, but at least coming back we’ll have time to eat/drink in Chicago. She says, even though last time we were stuck on the White Plains tarmac for an hour. LA LA LALALALALALA. And I forgot to buy my airline-approved liquor as a cost-saving measure. Maybe tomorrow. I miss the good old days, when you could take an entire bottle on board.

      OH, and because I haven’t had enough time, I squeezed a pedicure in over lunch, went across the street with a co-worker, and while they were fairly fast, they were NOT my Nancy at Nailcessity, and they also charged more. Bleah. But I was happy, at least, to have gotten a good polish and buff….for fifteen minutes, until I dashed off to another meeting and put my very nice leather handbag on my foot as I got into my boss’ car. I noticed the bright pink polish on my bag, first, then the large gap down the center of my big toe. Nice. I will say this: what did we do before the internet? I found a site that instructed me on every way possible to remove nail polish from every surface imaginable.  And? It worked! With very little effort. So now to just get the toe fixed and be done with that … lordy!

      Now, I’m heading home to finish laundry & pack. And pick up OPI’s “Kinky in Helsinki” from Beauty Express on my way there. Or not. A quick search (I was going to link you to the color!) shows it’s discontinued. I might have it at home….. or I might be that girl with one big toe that just doesn’t match the others. Hell, at the rate I’m going, I could start a trend.

      Faux Mailbag

      August 19, 2008 /

      Dear PlazaJen!

      I think you are so great. You always have awesome perspective and advice, so I’m writing to ask you this question, one that has been troubling me for a while. I really like to share my life story with people, and sometimes, it seems, I get odd looks from OTHER people when I’m doing it. When is it appropriate to talk in excruciating detail about my personal life?

      One Vital Reader,

      Cher

      Dear O.V.R. Cher:

      Let’s start with the ball-peen hammer. NOT IN THE FUCKING POST OFFICE.  To the LONE CLERK who is working. Maybe this flies when there isn’t a line of three people behind you, but when even the clerk is sending you numerous non-verbal clues to wrap it up, move along, git outta here, STFU, then you need to just grab your shit and go. Call up a girlfriend, go get a pedicure together, go out to lunch, pour out your stories to them. Trust me. The stink eyes will cease. And you won’t feel like you’re in the starring role of a Greek tragedy, with the chorus behind you chanting, “Make! Her! Leave!”

      Best of luck, and try to park your giant SUV a little better next time,

      PlazaJen

      Oh, and I have no idea

      August 18, 2008 /

      why my template is suddenly jacked up. Even though I’ve done nothing (no-theeeng) to it. Magic! I tell you, it’s everywhere.

      WAIT I do, that last post? Too long. So I apologize, but to get all the PlazaJen goodness (with photos!), you’ll need to click for “more”….

      Oh, and P.S.! I’m back in the Loopy Ewe Sneak Up! w00t!

      Whoah Nelly.

      August 18, 2008 /

      Today has begun at a full-on gallop, and I don’t expect it to subside any time soon.

      I would be remiss if I didn’t start at the beginning, though – JWo’s birthday was on Saturday. We made plans to go down to Truman Lake, and do some fishing. We planned to find a motel or cabin, spend the night, fish Sunday morning, and then get home mid-afternoon. Didn’t quite work out that way, but we still had an enjoyable day. It was more…boating. And trolling, and attempting to catch fish, and bait, but really, all we ended up catching was a drum and two channel catfish. Over 8 hours. Lemme tell you, my butt was SORE. We did go ashore around lunch, and just anchored the boat while we fixed sandwiches & ate Twizzlers – in the water, mind you. Swimming was lovely, the day was bright & there was a breeze. I have the faintest of pink on me, because I slathered myself in 50 SPF sunscreen and wore a hat (hey! Check out the big brain on Jen!). But we just could not succeed in the fishing department. (Many fisherman blame the full moon, fwiw.)

      We did, however, see some really awesome wildlife, since there’s a state park on the water; we saw oodles of deer, and lots of wild turkeys, and loads of buzzards. (I was not enamored with the buzzards, as I associate buzzards with death, they’re hideous, and in general, they just kinda freak me out.) At one point, I looked at the bank and squinted, asking James, “What IS that over there?” He looked (in a different direction) and said “Buzzards.” I said, “With a WHITE HEAD?” Nope! Turned out to be a bald eagle with an immature bald eagle, most likely a momma guiding her baby around the coves and teaching the finer points of fishing. So that was really nifty, and I must say, bald eagles walking are about the same height as small children. They’re huge!  I definitely would not want one diving in at me every day & ripping out my liver.

      I like to work in my highly under-utilized knowledge of Greek Mythology whenever I can. It’s really a service we provide here at PlazaJen Enterprises.

      In other news, I’m jetting back to NYC to meet with the folks at CR, and I am finally, really, truly, bona-fide excited about it. I realized last week that I was caught in the undertow of grief, all of which can be intellectually understood, but, unfortunately, not reasoned out of by logic. Because winning the Consumer Reports account is a huge, huge personal and professional accomplishment – and the one person whose approval I worked for all my life, the one person who would have been really impressed, would finally have something awesome to tell people about his kid who works in advertising – well, that person is gone. Broke my fucking heart. Brings tears to my eyes now just to acknowledge it so openly. But hey. I imagine parents who have kids and watch the milestones pass after their parents are gone have a similar row to hoe.  I’m not special or alone in this quagmire, and the mantra of time always comes back around to haunt. At least enough time has passed already.

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