Monday, November 30, 2009
At first I just told her that I needed "a week or so off", hoping that she'd tell me to let her know when I was ready to start back up again and everyone could go on their blissfully unaware and confrontationless way. I guess one of the things I should have brought up while I was seeing her was how much I HATE confrontations. How I'd rather slowly fade away than straight-up address some situation even if the outcome doesn't necessarily call for awkwardness and is just being imagined by yours truly. I've become a bit of an avoidance ninja really - I've stealthy gotten out of a lot of situations that really didn't necessitate any getting out of in the first place. Yeah, I'm aware that I'm neurotic.
Anyway, instead of taking my hint she insisted that we at least have a quick chat on my normal session day just to check in, and then meet again the following week for our regular hour long session. The five or so minutes we spent on the phone were spent "going over my chart", something that really facilitated this break up to begin with. You see, while I was game to play the whole astrology thing in the beginning, hoping that she'd prove me wrong in my unabashed belief that it should never, ever be relied upon or taken seriously under any circumstances, most of all in the field of psychotherapy, I had started to become annoyed by it's very existence, and her insistence on using it, in the last month or so.
Sure I'm game to be read my horoscope if you so happen to have the page open. I'll even play along with a couple animated "ah!"s or disappointed "ooh"s when you tell me that today is a good day for meeting a tall Pisces man with the first initial "M" or that the stars are aligned *just so* - making it a bad day for bathing my dog or whatever. But honestly, I think it's all bullshit really.
Therapy has definitely helped me in the past, and my now-ex therapist was amazing for most of our time together. I learned a lot of interesting stuff about my childhood and how it plays into my life as an adult. She helped me with my current relationships (both friendship and romantic) and I really couldn't thank her enough for that. But our relationship got stagnant, repetitive and stale, and alas, it was time for me to move on. I guess that's why any relationship ends. Except at least with an actual, real-life relationship you're rewarded for your efforts by a bit of friendly ex-sex. I don't even get that, sadly.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
He's my buddy and my constant companion, and I can't even start to imagine my life without him. The phrase "I have a cat" would be a severe understatement. He's more than a cat, and to add another cat has always seemed like a violation of our bond.
But then last weekend came. A friend was in town and left his petite little cat with myself and Elvis. At first fur flew and warnings were sung loudly back and forth. "It's only until Sunday" I cooed at both myself and a distrait Elvis. But by Saturday afternoon, inexplicably, they were the best of friends. Perhaps they had figured out each other's boundaries. Or maybe it was that Elvis finally stopped guarding his litter box - adamant about the intruder not using it.
But I suspect it has more to do with the visiting cat's propensity for climbing up to the highest spots in the house and knocking things down, and she having the luck of flinging his bag of coveted treats from their spot on top of the kitchen cabinet, spilling them across the kitchen floor like a split pinata.
Whatever the case, Elvis bonded with her instantly. His demeanour was obviously different. He "talked" a lot less - his funny Siamese chatter reduced to a happy minimum. He was just generally more at ease and playful - less neurotic really. So when our feline visitor left, I went online in search of a suitable companion for both myself, and my beloved kitty. I've resigned myself to the fact that I'll be one cat closer to being a "crazy cat lady". I realize this post doesn't help much to deter that title. But my point is this: I'm going to meet this little lady on Friday afternoon. She currently goes by the moniker "Digit", as she has an extra toe on each paw (something I've always found charming in a cat).
Isn't she just beautiful? I dunno...she looks like a "Lily" to me.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
My special skill just happens to be cooking, so that's what I traded mine and Alie's friend, the lovely Kathryn, for when we needed her mad video editing skills. You see, aside from the McNuggetini video (filmed, directed, and edited by our awesome friend Peter Atencio in exchange for, that's right, a home cooked dinner), Alie and I have recently shot our second video, the Ham Daiquiri.
That's right: a Daiquiri with ham in it. And not just ham - liquid smoke, too! Yeah, it was pretty...ummm...interesting. Anyway, Alie and I did our very best to edit the video, shot by my big sister Leah who is always willing to lend an expert hand with a camera in it, using iMovie. But after about 20 minutes, we realized it was futile. Enter Kathryn. While she futzed and fiddled with the video, cutting out at least half of the instances of me responding to Alie with "that's right!" (oh my god someone hit me in the face next time I say that), I went to work on making a dinner yummy enough to thank her for her hard work.
Mediterranean Pizza With Homemade Feta
I've been eyeing the whole wheat pre-made pizza dough at Trader Joe's for some time, and this was the perfect occasion to use it, seeing how we had this huge jar of homemade feta cheese, gifted to Alie by an awesome coworker.
I was running late to Alie's and everyone was hungry by the time I showed up, so I didn't let the pizza dough sit the requisite 20 minutes, which was a mistake as it was really difficult to handle cold.
Wait, somethings missing...
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
To celebrate our engagement, I invited them both over for dinner on Monday night. I had originally bought the ingredients to this meal in order to further woo the man I was seeing, but as I mentioned earlier, I have failed in that aspect of my life, so as fate would have it, I got to make it for two of the most important people in my life...which is a-okay with me!
I must say that this turned out to be one of the best meals I've ever made. It was very simple, yet tasted amazing and looked very elegant. I had never cooked scallops before, but I had gotten a tutorial from my mother a couple months back, so I wasn't too worried. They turned out to be possibly one of the most simple things I've ever made. They're super hard to fuck up, the only rule being that they should be as dry as possible, and to only cook them for about two minutes on each side, so as to not end up with something akin to chewing gum.
Scallops with Brussels Sprouts & Lemon-Chive Cream
The drier the scallops, the better sear you'll get once you place them in the frying pan. To dry, place a couple paper towels on a place with the scallops on top.
Wanting a starch, but not wanting to make more work for myself. I picked up this pretty bag of mushroom risotto from the market, having no idea if it would end up tasty or just plain gross. It was very simple to prepare: just boil some water, add butter and the contents of the bag and cover with a lid, and then leave it the fuck alone for 18 minutes. Sounds good to me, although I had to resist the urge to lift the lid and stir like eighty times. I'm just that kinda cook (ask my mom, I've ruined a couple of her stews to prove it). I also added about a cup of dried mixed mushrooms, just for the hell of it.
At this point the batteries in my camera died, so while they recharged I did the above prep work. You're looking at sliced brussel sprouts, sliced shallots, chopped garlic, and sliced pancetta. The bowl of white substance is lemon chive cream sauce which is drizzled over the finished dish. It adds a really lovely freshness to the dish, which is a little heavy on the oil and butter.
Alie and Micah showed up just as my camera batteries were ready to get back in the game! What I loved about cooking for them was the low expectations of it all. I mean, I'm sure they knew that dinner was going to be good, but I didn't have to dress up (case in point: my awesomely tattered house-dress), didn't need to put on any makeup or shave my legs in a desperate attempt to seem somewhat domesticated, and didn't need to hide the fact that cooking stresses me the eff out and makes me talk to myself and sweat a little. Bonus - I didn't have to put out on top of making them a fancy dinner.
Okay, I'm done with my dissertation on the bitterness of single girls everywhere. Where were we? Oh right, scallops! So now that you're dried off the scallops, you'll want to salt and pepper both sides pretty generously. I think I may have gone a little overboard with the salt, though. Heat two tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat (don't turn it up high, or it'll burn the outside and not cook the inside at all) until it's shiny (about a minute and a half) and then lay those fuckers on the pan with a set of tongs.
Now this party is important...DON'T FUCKING TOUCH THE SCALLOPS! I mean it. Don't poke em' or prod em', or god forbid, re-adjust them. They're stuck to the pan, which is what's going to give it that perfect sear. Once they're ready to be flipped, about two minutes, they should come off the pan pretty easily. If they don't, give em another thirty seconds. Ditto on the other side.
Stop talking to yourself for a moment and have a sip of wine. You should also stop sweating as you're kinda freaking out your friends.
Yes. Look how pretty.
Once the scallops are done, transfer them to a plate and cover them with tin foil, so they stay warm while you finish the dish. Add about a tablespoon of butter to the pan that the scallops were just in, and use your tongs or a spatula to get all those yummy bits of cook scallop off the bottom of the pan. That, my friends, is called "flavor". Throw in the pancetta, and brown for just a moment before throwing in the rest of the mess.
The above shot is what I love about hanging out with Alie and Micah. Anything goes with them, and their friendship feels like the ones I used have in elem entry school, before I got self conscious and started seeing the world differently. After eating the fancy dinner I had slaved over, we all sat around and ate my leftover pancakes from breakfast with my dad the morning before. No one questioned it, or mentioned how weird it was...we just did it and laughed and talked and drank more wine.
After pancakes, we sat around my house and talked and, yes, drank more wine. I think there was a walk to the store and ice cream involved? Elvis was pleased to have company over, and showed this by sticking his tail up Micah's allergic nose on two occasions.