Touch Me (I Wanna Be Dirty)

There are many things one might miss when not in a relationship - when you're a single girl such as myself. Sure I miss having someone to talk to who has a vested interest in my life and my daily happiness, but I have close friends who fill that role pretty well. I'd love someone to cook for, and to have inside jokes with and rituals with including shunning the outside world to spend a Friday night watching our favorite movies, snuggled on the couch...but going out to a bar and having hilarious or heart-felt conversation with friends works for me, too.

I miss having sex, of course. I think about it a lot, despite what some people say about ladies thinking about it less than men...I don't think that's true. But I have an active imagination and the means to take care of that need by myself (ahem), so I can live without that for a while longer.

No, what I really miss is being touched. You don't think about how rarely that happens when you aren't single, do you? Just the basic physical act of touching, hugging, caressing, hands clasped together during a movie or over the table during dinner...these are things you can't find a good substitute for when you're single. It's something you take for granted a couple years into a relationship, but which, in the beginning, can send your heart rate through the roof and make your body feel electric.

It's something you notice, sometimes with great disdain, when you secretly peek at other couples while you're out and about. How does she wrap her arm around his waist? Are their fingers interlaced, or grasped like they're wearing mittens? Does he touch her face when he gives her an absent minded kiss while they wait for the light to change? You can't help it. You notice these things two times in your life: when you've just fallen madly in love with someone and the world around you is nearly brimming with happiness, and also when you've forgotten what it feels like to be in love, and you can't help but roll your eyes at these couples you stare at.

I've been on quite a few dates in the past couple months, thanks to an online venture that I'll possibly write about in the future, but aside from the two that lasted enough dates to finally end in a passionate kiss, my skin has lacked that magnificently strong caress from a guy who got as much of a thrill from touching me as I have from his touch.

This isn't meant to be a sad post. I'm an optimistic person and I know that someday, I too will be taking for granted the touch of that special someone once I finally open my cold, black heart enough to love. It's just, ya know, something that's been on my mind.

Randoms - My Weekend

Saturday night found me at a music/art/comedy show put on by the lovely folks at 826LA (a non-profit writing and tutoring program), whom I plan on volunteering with next month. I was so excited to be there. So much thought had been put into the show, which was put on in a huge warehouse Downtown. The night was just beginning when the first symptoms of a migraine hit me. I took an aspirin and laid down in my car for a bit, hoping I'd feel better, but I only got worse, and had to go home to rest for the rest of the night. I was really disappointed.

Jonah contemplates a tee-pee...

while I do my best "innocent" impression (fat chance)

I accompanied Jonah while he got his first tattoo. It turned out pretty fucking well.

Tattoo by Craig at American Electric Tattoo in Silver Lake

My friend Kathy and I accidentally stumbled upon one of the coolest estate sales I'd ever been to, where we both got a couple awesome things for very little money:

Vintage maps do it for me

This bag does it for me, too

So we celebrated by having a couple drinks at a sidewalk cafe.

Surgery drinks may have led to my eventual migraine, now that I think about it

Sunday was destined to be a lazy one. I donned short-shorts and my trusty cowboy boots to watch a paddle boat race at Echo Park Lake, put on by the aforementioned 826LA:

I worked on mine and Becky's exciting new project at my favorite cafe, and sipped peach iced tea while I worked. It was a lovely, relaxing afternoon.

I'm taking care of a friend's cat while she's out of town, so I went home early to spend the evening with the kitties.

He and Elvis are very good company.

Domestic Tuesdays - My Mom's Corn Meal Pancakes

After writing my last post about the ups and downs of our childhood meals (thanks for the comments, they made me giggle), I called my mom and asked if she wouldn't mind being this week's guest domestic and whipping up a batch of the corn meal pancakes I spoke so highly of.

She was more than happy to oblige, but unfortunately her go-to recipe was lost since the last time she made them, maybe ten years ago. One thing that all great cooks, like my mother, know is how to improvise, though. Where I would have thrown in the towel and just made something else (after some excessive pouting, of course), my mom confidently strode forward, and we ended up with a recipe very much like the one I remembered so fondly from my childhood.

Although our relationship is far from perfect and she drives me perfectly batty sometimes, being in the kitchen with my mom is one of my favorite things to do. With a bottle of white wine and me expertly steering the conversation away from politics the few times she brought it up (she's wrong about everything, you see), we had a really lovely night and I felt like we connected for the first time in quite a while. I hope you love these pancakes as much as I do!

My Mom's Corn Meal Pancakes

My mom posing happily with the older-than-I-am skillet...

and dramatically with the butter.

Love this kitchen. My mom lives with my grandmother in the house she grew up in. I used to sit up on this counter and watch my grandmother bake mandle bread.

Separating the eggs.

My mom and I took turns whipping the egg whites into a fluffy mass (you should probably use a hand held electric mixer for this, but if you don't have one, forcing your daughter to do it works just as well, according to my mom).

Next I sifted in the flour/corn meal mixture, which makes the pancakes so much more light and fluffy.

Adding the fluffy egg whites to the batter.

Check out how buff my arms are!...and how flat my chest is. Pancakes, indeed.

It's always been our tradition to make small pancakes. I like 'em thin and crispy, and also it makes you feel like you're eating less, because even when you've eaten 14 of the little fuckers, they're mini and cute so it's okay!

Right around this time my mom started spouting off about why she's right about everything because she's a Republican..."blah blah blah...Fox news....blah blah blah...I'm in love with Bill O'Reilly...blah." So instead of yelling at her to shut it which always ends in us fighting, I just tuned her out and took photos. This went on for like five minutes.

Moving on!

Leave the pancakes on the buttered skillet until they start to bubble on top, as above.

Flip!

This photo is funny to me because she looks so...so normal! Not to say she isn't...but, uh, well you don't raise a kid as weird as myself by being normal, and that's all I'll say about that.

Oh fuck yes.

REAL maple syrup. Don't go pouring on that shit you get in a plastic bottle, betches. I guess you could throw some fruit on top or whatever, but I like these simple. They really are so delicious. Oooh, I bet some bacon cooked into the batter would be SICK.*

*"sick" meaning awesome, in this case.

Sending me home with flowers from her garden and enough pancakes to last me a week. Fuck yeah!

Simple Corn Meal Pancakes

adapted from The Vegetarian Epicure

1 cup corn meal, sifted

1/2 cup flour, sifted

1 Tbs. sugar

1/4 tsp. salt

1 Tbs. baking powder

3 eggs, separated

1 1/2 cups milk or buttermilk

1/4 cup melted butter (plus more for skillet)

Sift the dry ingredients into a mixing bowl. Beat the egg yolks with the milk and melted butter, and stir into the flour. Beat the egg whites until they are fluffy, but not dry, and fold them into the batter.

Heat a large skillet or griddle and oil it lightly. Drop the pancake batter on by large spoonfuls and brown nicely on both sides.

Update: Last night I got home from a movie and was STARVING. I had a huge, beautiful avocado that was about to go bad, so I started to throw together my favorite late-night snack: refried beans, shredded cheese, salsa, hot sauce...but I realized I hadn't any tortillas. I eyed the tupperware full of corn meal pancakes, gave them a tentative sniff to make sure they wouldn't be too sweet, and then did this:

Dudes, this was THE BEST late-night snack I've ever made. Fuck fast food. The pancakes will keep in a tight container in the fridge for about two weeks, so make a batch to have on hand. Trust me, this is effing good.

Thanks Mommy!

You Are What You Ate As a Child

Diary of Why posted an entry today about what an awful cook her mother is. This is a subject that I really love. I feel like the food that one grew up eating says so much about a person, and just as I love hearing stories of their family history (where they came from, how they got here, what happened once they got here, etc) I also love hearing about what their family dinners consisted of.

As I commented on in Miss Diary's post, my mom did a great disservice to my reserve of traumatic childhood stories by actually being a very good cook. The only thing I remember refusing to eat was curry, but that's just because I hated the taste of curry until I was older and my palate matured a bit. But really, just as it is today, I'd pretty much eat anything as a child. Chicken hearts and liver, cow tongue sandwiches, hell, the local sushi joint would provide me with a booster seat and specially fashioned easy-to-use chopsticks so I could eat raw fish and fish eggs along with the rest of my family.

It wasn't until I was a little older, maybe 9 or 10, that dinner went from the family (mom, sister, brother, myself) sitting around our little kitchen table, talking and laughing about the day's events, to my mother having to work late and us being instructed to "fend for yourself", that dinner turned into PB&J's in front of the television. I still miss that time we spent together. If I had known how hard it would be to capture that feeling again, that special sensation of belonging to this ultra exclusive group of people - people who totally got your humor and who made you laugh so hard you'd snort milk out of your nose - I don't think I would have been in such a hurry to grow up.

Since I sadly don't have any horror stories from my mother's repertoire of recipes, I'll tell you my very favorite. My mom makes The. Best. pancakes I've ever had. She has this huge skillet that she must have gotten as a wedding present (it's that old) and on it she makes these tiny cornmeal pancakes. "Breakfast for dinner" is one of the best concepts ever, in my opinion, and we'd never have these pancakes for actual breakfast. No, these miniature pancakes would always be the perfect cozy dinner, piled high on our plates and consumed rapidly with a huge pour of maple syrup. We'd compete to see who could eat more, which usually ended in a tie between myself and my equally thin older brother - our slender figures always masked our bottomless appetites.

Now tell me, what were your family dinners like? And don't hold back on the horrid details.

Wordless

Sometimes it's easy for me to write. Weeks will go by when I'll have written a couple posts here a week that I'm really happy with. I'll have worked on a story or a post for another website. Written some detailed emails to friends that further solidifies our relationship. Etc. I'll get lovely comments here that encourage me to write more, and I'll remember of a topic I've been meaning to write about, and the words will just flow.

I truly adore writing. It's one of the things in life, along with my cat, my friends, and reading a great book, that fills me with a level of happiness I never thought possible. Lately though, it's been beyond difficult for me to get out all the thoughts in my head. Even emails have been a lesson in patience and focus. I don't know what's come over me, although my therapist/astrologer insists that it's the location of my moon...or the planets, I can't remember which, nor do I really understand honestly. She says by Sunday I should be fine. I really hope so, because along with opening a Word document, hitting "reply" on an email, and opening the "new post" page here, the feeling of utter blankness that comes over me when it's time to make with the words and just fucking write something is utterly and overwhelming frustrating.

I want to write about the beautiful quilt I bought from a garage sale a couple weeks back, and where my imagination has taken me via this old blanket. I want to write about my memories of my dad trying to me fall asleep when I was a child, and that even though his techniques were no match for my insomnia, how much I enjoyed spending that time with him. About the songs my mother used to sing to me. About dating and how that's been going lately. About being lonely vs. being happily alone. It just isn't happening, and I hate it.

My good friend Becky, who made this amazing art piece for me, is really into the idea of she and I collaborating on a children's book, based off that piece. I have the ideas, I see the words and art in my head and I love how they look. I just need to get it all down. I just need to do my part. It's harder than it sounds, but it's also the easiest thing in the world.

So that's why it's been a week since I posted here, in case you were wondering. I'm hoping things go back to normal on Sunday, as my therapist insists is the case. I'm hoping I'll open the "new post" page on Monday morning and the words will just flow. I'll tell you about how I rub my feet on my quilt every night before bed, and make up stories about each bit of fabric. About how my dad's voice used to relax me so much, but never made me fall asleep. About how I can't hear the song Summertime without thinking fondly but sadly of my mother. I hope the words flow again, because they bring me so much happiness, and make my life feel like it has a point.

The photos for the quilt post are ready, I just need the effing words to go with em.

Armchair Psychology

This morning, while I was walking through the parking garage on my way to work, a young girl of about 20 years old stopped me after I strode in front of her idling car. "Excuse me??” she begged in a panicked voice. I leaned towards her open driver’s side window with a polite smile. She frantically gestured her right hand towards me, in which she clutched her credit card and the ticket she had received when she entered the garage and asked me in a panicked voice how to get out of the garage. She had been trying to pay at the kiosk located at the exit, so I gently directed her to the pre-pay kiosks located at the pedestrian entrance to the parking structure, and told her that you pay before you got back to your car. She thanked me enthusiastically and I could hear the relief in her voice...she had probably been trying to exit for a long time.

For a minute I kinda wanted to laugh at her, as I made my way along the sidewalk that led me to my office. "Duh," I thought to myself. "Who doesn't know that you have to pre-pay in most modern parking garages??" But then I started thinking back to what it felt like to be helpless - to be clueless about so many of the ins and outs of life. I'm not talking about being an adolescence - a ditsy teenager with nothing but optimism and wonder about the world - I'm talking about those formative years that school pretends to prepare you for, and that bewilderment when you finally enter the real world to find that the armor of self importance and conquer-the-worldness you were taught to have was just a facade.

Turning 18 and moving from the only home I had ever known in a sheltered - albeit hated - suburban town to Los Angeles was a kick in the pants, no matter how ready to be "on my own" I was. I thought back to that time and relief flooded me. Being self sufficient is a state that money can't by. Not having to rely on anyone, knowing the who, what, why and how's of life leaves one with a confidence that no amount of conscience effort can mirror.

Looking back, I know that I got a lot of that experience and knowledge from my long relationship with an older dude. It must have been slightly maddening for him during those first couple years, to be with someone so dependent and inexperienced. In the end, I think the fact that I wasn't that person anymore, that I had gleaned all that knowledge from him yet he still kinda saw me as and treated me like that naive 22 year old led to our demise. I was ready to prove myself to...well, to myself. And I have.

In the meantime, though, I haven't yet learned how to let down my guard and not be that independent person that I went through so much to liberate. I think I'm terrified of losing it, as I've only been in a relationship as a less-than, not as an equal. I've yet to have a relationship that had a healthy level of symmetry, if that makes any sense. When I think back to the one longish/serious relationship I've had in the last two years, I realize that a lot of the shitty things that happened (jealousy, arguments, etc) was based on me reverting back to the needy girl I had always been in past relationships. So not healthy.

I guess the secret is to find that perfect balance of receptiveness and self reliance, with a person who complements us yet still has something new to offer us. Right? I dunno. I think I need to keep in mind, when it comes down to it, that sometimes we all need a little help getting out of the parking structure, and sometimes I'll be the one behind the wheel with a credit card clutched in one hand, pleading to be shown how to exit. Yeah, I need to work on that analogy a little.

P.S. Remember that 20 Something Bloggers assignment where we were to post a blog entry from our first two months blogging? Well my post was one of the seven chosen to receive a ton of free Ben & Jerry's ice cream coupons, which I'll pass out to all you lovelies just as soon as I get em! In the mean time, go here and read all the winning entries - Blogger Carnival: Looking Back

P.P.S. I'm getting my wisdom teeth yanked from my fucking face tomorrow morning! I'm scared!!!

Domestic Tuesday - Swap

Remember Guest Blogger Meghan from a few weeks back? She made the kick ass jerk chicken recipe that I loved so very much. Well she also makes these amazing salads that she brings to pot lucks that always blow everyone elses food out of the water. That last sentence was hard for me to write because, salads?, not really my thing. I mean, I get that they're good for you and everything, and I'll pick at one if placed in front of me (especially if it's peppered with bacon and avocado), but I'd be very hesitant to order one at a restaurant, let alone take the time to make one at home. Which is why I forced Meghan to make me one herself last night.

I promised I'd make her something in exchange that would be worth the time and effort it took for her to throw one of her salads together for me, and after a lot of hemming and hawing (and threats from her NOT to BAKE her anything, as she's generally a very healthy person but like all of us has little control when a cupcake is placed in front of her), she and I came up with the grand idea that I'd make her blueberry waffles.

You see, Meghan was sweet enough to gift me with a fancy little waffle maker for my birthday a few weeks back. Gifts like this are awesome because, while I've always wanted a waffle maker, I'd never buy one for myself (also see: George Foreman Grill (thanks Dan!) and hand-held mixer (thanks Mom!). I also recently learned that waffles can be made fresh, and then frozen to be reheated in the toaster oven one morning when you're not in the mood to mess with batter and dirty dishes.

So I rushed home yesterday after work to throw together the waffles for her, using the yummy Trader Joe's Multigrain Baking & Pancake Mix Meg and I had tried a couple weekends back. It's such an easy thing to throw together, that I wouldn't bother making them from scratch if I wasn't planning something special (see: pumpkin pancakes that I plan on making someday soon).

Lets start with the pancakes.

One cup of the mix is added to vegetable oil, water, and two egg whites. Do you know how to separate the whites from the yolks? It's incredibly easy and makes you look like you know your way around the kitchen, so learn it here: egg whites!!!

Mix it (but not too much or the waffles will end up tough).

Rinse the blueberries in the cute little strainer you got for a buck and gently fold them in.

I made the waffles a little too large. I'd say a couple spoonfuls is all each waffle really needs. I dunno, eyeball it.

Not ready yet.

Maaaybe I bit the side off one...I'll never tell.

Oh hell yes.

You can't tell but I used my heart-shaped cookie cutters on a waffle for this shot. You also can't tell that I threw all this into a tupperware and ate it for breakfast at work.

Care package.

Onto the salad!

Meghan basically made a BLAT salad with some things added for good measure. The "bacon" she used was that of the tempeh variety, which even this carnivore is a fan of.

Beautiful green onions bought for a buck from the farmer's market that morning. Sliced and thrown in.

Slicing the avocado.

Tossing with her hands, which she swore were clean.

Meghan's "secret ingredient" (they're actually vegetarian!)

Meghan makes the dressing with equal parts vegan mayonnaise and soy milk, which sounds kinda gross, right? But it's actually very good when mixed with a handful of fresh dill and some dried dill for good measure. I'll probably end up making it with both regular mayo and plain old milk.

So basically you just saute bacon, be it regular or faux, along with a can of drained chickpeas. Add to that tomatoes, greens, avocado, bacon bits, and a quick homemade buttermilk-type dressing, and you've got a really yummy, filling salad. I'll be eating it for lunch all week!

What's your favorite thing to bring to a pot luck? Mine is deviled eggs and/or cupcakes.