He is the eternal helper of little old ladies crossing the street, defender of those unable to defend themselves, righter of wrongs, doer of good.
Picture this. Sunny day, posh neighborhood (obviously, not ours), coffee shop. Skirmish between Old Man, quick math during subsequent conversation puts him at 90 or thereabouts, and Guy about appropriateness of loud, long phone conversations in a public place. Not thrilled with the direction of the back and forth, but not our concern. Until.
Old man says Guy should get an office to conduct business. Guy calls Old Man "crazy." I jump in, telling Guy he's out of line. Husband "sees the red mist" as my friend describes her rage, and tells Guy to have some respect. Guy mistakenly says, "what are you going to do about it?" Husband suggests he and Guy step outside. Guy goes very quiet and won't make eye contact.
We have nice conversation with Old Man. Jewish, German, immigrated to the U.S. in 1939 and fought in the Pacific during WWII. We wait for Old Man to leave, on our way out Husband tells Guy to have a nice day, and that he's an A-hole.
I really like my husband.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Saturday, November 21, 2009
GO DUCKS
I can hardly contain my joy at being in the U.S. for a college football season for the first time in eight years. It's a little irritating to be on the East Coast as the Pac-10 games start as late as 10pm if they are aired at all, but I'm not going to complain. Not too loudly.
The Hubs, on the other hand, is gutted. Rugby, specifically internationals and Six Nations, is not on TV at all and it's blocked online; we're assuming because of licensing fees. We're hoping that might change now that rugby is in the 2016 Olympics and the U.S. will have to improve their team as god forbid there's an event we don't compete in.
Alas, it's not a perfect world. Though it will be a little more perfect when UO are at the Rose Bowl this year.
GO DUCKS!
The Hubs, on the other hand, is gutted. Rugby, specifically internationals and Six Nations, is not on TV at all and it's blocked online; we're assuming because of licensing fees. We're hoping that might change now that rugby is in the 2016 Olympics and the U.S. will have to improve their team as god forbid there's an event we don't compete in.
Alas, it's not a perfect world. Though it will be a little more perfect when UO are at the Rose Bowl this year.
GO DUCKS!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Yes, Virginia
There is a Santa Claus. And he and all his jolly lookalikes are worried about H1N1 in NYC, where they are petitioning to be added to the vaccine priority list.
Was Clement Clarke Moore a prophet of doom? Read the excerpt below, and tell me if you don't think Mr. Moore knew a worldwide pandemic was nigh!
His eyes, how they twinkled (glossy and red).
His dimples, how merry (obviously delirious).
His cheeks were like roses (fever gone to his head).
His nose like a cherry (full up with mucus).
Happy Still November But The Media Already Grasping At Holiday Straws.
Was Clement Clarke Moore a prophet of doom? Read the excerpt below, and tell me if you don't think Mr. Moore knew a worldwide pandemic was nigh!
His eyes, how they twinkled (glossy and red).
His dimples, how merry (obviously delirious).
His cheeks were like roses (fever gone to his head).
His nose like a cherry (full up with mucus).
Happy Still November But The Media Already Grasping At Holiday Straws.
Get Lost
No one has ever wondered what I miss about my single life, but I'm-a-gonna tell you anyway. Don't get too excited, it's so the opposite of racy it'll only prove what a bore I am these days. What I miss the most is being totally lost. Off the grid, no phone, no one knows where you are, and you can spend as much time doing whatever it is you want to do as you'd like.
There are two examples that bring fond memories.
1) The University of Oregon library. Far side, desk at the window overlooking the garden. I didn't do it often, but often enough. And one of those times did afford me the chance to have a long chat with Library Lady, the 50-year-old gal who lives on the front steps. She was freshening up in the ladies' room and swore she knew me -- from someplace other than the library. Eventually, her family arranged for her to shower and workout at the UO gym. Good ol' UO. They sure do take care of their Campus Characters, as I like to call them.
And not that she doesn't count, but she doesn't count as someone knowing where I was, as she quickly was carrying on both sides of the conversation and didn't notice me leaving.
2) My first day in Madrid. No one, and I mean no one knew where I was. Sure, people knew I was in the greater Iberian peninsula area, but that could have included Portugal or Andorra. It was a beautiful day and I roamed the streets for hours. Several days' worth of hours, actually, but the first was the best. I couldn't quite figure out how a girl who was raised in a barn in Turner, Oregon wound up working in Spain and searching for Goya in the Prado.
That was at least ten and eight years ago. Now, I get a little giddy when I go to the grocery store by myself. When The Hubs says, "take your time, The Kid is still napping."
There are two examples that bring fond memories.
1) The University of Oregon library. Far side, desk at the window overlooking the garden. I didn't do it often, but often enough. And one of those times did afford me the chance to have a long chat with Library Lady, the 50-year-old gal who lives on the front steps. She was freshening up in the ladies' room and swore she knew me -- from someplace other than the library. Eventually, her family arranged for her to shower and workout at the UO gym. Good ol' UO. They sure do take care of their Campus Characters, as I like to call them.
And not that she doesn't count, but she doesn't count as someone knowing where I was, as she quickly was carrying on both sides of the conversation and didn't notice me leaving.
2) My first day in Madrid. No one, and I mean no one knew where I was. Sure, people knew I was in the greater Iberian peninsula area, but that could have included Portugal or Andorra. It was a beautiful day and I roamed the streets for hours. Several days' worth of hours, actually, but the first was the best. I couldn't quite figure out how a girl who was raised in a barn in Turner, Oregon wound up working in Spain and searching for Goya in the Prado.
That was at least ten and eight years ago. Now, I get a little giddy when I go to the grocery store by myself. When The Hubs says, "take your time, The Kid is still napping."
Friday, October 23, 2009
MSG
Monosodium glutamate, why do you taste so good?
In college, a friend's grandfather died and several of this friend's group moved into the grandfather's house. The only thing stranger than finding a shaker jar of MSG among the spices, was that the grandfather was buried about a half a block away and made frequent visits home.
In college, a friend's grandfather died and several of this friend's group moved into the grandfather's house. The only thing stranger than finding a shaker jar of MSG among the spices, was that the grandfather was buried about a half a block away and made frequent visits home.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Where am I?
I was a little worried after two weeks in Oregon that Cam and I would wake up when we got home and not be sure where we were. However, the abundance of alarms and sirens throughout the night was evidently Jersey City's way of saying, "welcome home, we've missed you."
On the up side, yet another false alarm in our building meant Cam got to see his favorite firemen from Ladder 9 this morning. They're ever so nice about letting him walk around the truck, and switching on the lights and sirens for him.
On the up side, yet another false alarm in our building meant Cam got to see his favorite firemen from Ladder 9 this morning. They're ever so nice about letting him walk around the truck, and switching on the lights and sirens for him.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Junk
Once upon a time, in a barn far, far away, two small children longed for sugar. One child dug deep, deep into the cupboards and thought he'd hit pay dirt. In his euphoria he read "chocolate" on the label and took a big bite of the bar. Even if he had read the word "baker's" before it, he would not have known what it meant in time to stop him from a mouthful of horror. The second child climbed atop the fridge every day to get to her stash: a gigantic jar of quarter-sized chewable vitamin C. She grew healthy and tall -- after a brief period of portliness prior to excessive growth.
When you live 30 minutes from civilization and your parents are on a freak-'70s, nuts-and-twigs diet, you don't get a lot of normal childhood treats lying around. Apparently, in this phase of deprivation, even my parents became desperate.
If necessity is the mother of all inventions, my mother was the inventor of all things necessary. Rummaging around, she found the heretofore secret ingredients for Junk. Asking for measurements would be insulting. And futile, as there aren't any.
In this order melt together in small frying pan: butter, marshmallows, some form of chocolate (chips, powder, Nestle Quik in dire cases), peanut butter and a crunchy item (cereal, chow mein noodles). In true tradition, Junk must be eaten from the pan, on the couch, kitchen towel used to keep lap from burning. Junk must be eaten so hot that you burn your mouth on the first bite and can't really taste anything after that, with a glass of milk. Top tip: don't use metal or wood utensils as Junk sticks to them.
As you can guess, I just made some.
Let me know how it goes!
When you live 30 minutes from civilization and your parents are on a freak-'70s, nuts-and-twigs diet, you don't get a lot of normal childhood treats lying around. Apparently, in this phase of deprivation, even my parents became desperate.
If necessity is the mother of all inventions, my mother was the inventor of all things necessary. Rummaging around, she found the heretofore secret ingredients for Junk. Asking for measurements would be insulting. And futile, as there aren't any.
In this order melt together in small frying pan: butter, marshmallows, some form of chocolate (chips, powder, Nestle Quik in dire cases), peanut butter and a crunchy item (cereal, chow mein noodles). In true tradition, Junk must be eaten from the pan, on the couch, kitchen towel used to keep lap from burning. Junk must be eaten so hot that you burn your mouth on the first bite and can't really taste anything after that, with a glass of milk. Top tip: don't use metal or wood utensils as Junk sticks to them.
As you can guess, I just made some.
Let me know how it goes!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
