Straight vs. Gay Food?

Every Wednesday I visit one of the least likely thought of people in my building, our company librarian, and take the New York Times Dining Section home to read. I may not read it until a leisurely Saturday (such as this morning) or Sunday. I love it. I love the NYTimes just because and though I can read the print version for free, I find it extremely difficult to give up curling in the corner of the couch and turning the giant pages then refolding into reader friendly quarters.

I read of ingredients I will likely never eat (some by choice, others due to unavailability or location), restaurant reviews, gadget reviews and introductions, new chefs, redesigns and this week ideas to turn holiday leftovers into meatballs. Yes, ham balls. Hmmmm. Don't think I could quite pull that off with this traditional family and a husband who is generally squeamish with change. (He also thinks all dishes should have a name so my latest clean-out-the-refrigerator-soup was jokingly referred to as "Wet Soup" - but this could be a blog of it's own...)

In this week's Dining Section, Simon Doonan, who some may recognize from his snarky quips in various VH1 shows or as the "creative ambassador at large for Barney's New York," has written a book and it seems I somehow fit the target demographic. "Gay Men Don't Get Fat." I know, the last you heard, I am not a gay man and while some days a bit bloated (and ok, I put on a few pounds since high school) am not fat, but I love the thought process behind the book.

If boats or cars or other inanimate objects can be feminine and in other languages nouns are masculine or feminine, how far of a leap is to think of food as straight or gay? This is not to bash either side, simply make one aware of the differences and to hear Simon explain it (which is really a better idea then my interpretation) it is witty, entertaining and laughably stereotypically. So, far the sheer light read and a bit of fun, I will likely buy the book and enjoy it as a fabulous moment while curled up, knees to chest, in the corner of the couch with a cup of tea nearby.

http://dinersjournal.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/01/04/straight-and-gay-talk-from-simon-doonan

Sincerely Yours,

New year + the ideas of personal improvement = trying harder.

With eye contact and sincerity, I looked my friend in the eye and simply told her I admire her ability to start interesting and non-controversial conversations among those she does not necessarily know extremely well.

While it seems easy to compliment a friend about how they look or notice their new haircut or latest purchase, it truly is a different experience entirely to verbalize a trait or quality they possess.

Yes, it was just a moment and maybe it will be forgotten as quickly as the words turned back into silence, but for me, it felt pretty fabulous. Maybe I'll do it again tomorrow...

OMG Lunch Hour Confessions...

During lunch at my desk, one of life's guilty pleasures for me is checking Facebook and scrolling through celebrity gossip and nonsense headlines. Oh yeah! Katy Perry's divorce, Clay Aiken's new face, Sinead O'Connor's on again off again marriage not even a month in, Justin and Jessica are engaged, Rosie couldn't get in to Diddy's New Year's Eve party - all over it! I do avoid the Kardashian's, Jersey Shore and Housewives though. Surprised? Nah. I grew up when the Star and Enquirer were the print version and I couldn't wait to look through it on grocery shopping day.


While I never believed Elvis was still alive and had an alien love child, I loved the pictures, the clothes and what seemed like an entirely different life than mine. To be clear, I do not agree with stalking maniacal members of the paparazzi and I do think celebrity children should be 100% off limits. Celebs at movie premieres and awards shows though, fair game, part of the job.

So, yes, I could be expanding my mind or at least taking a walk, but instead I am peeking at the latest meaningless trash on Yahoo's OMG. Everyone needs a little junk food for the brain, a break from our real worlds and for me, it's just 15 - 20 minutes. I wonder what Aretha Franklin will wear to her wedding?

Does she or doesn't she...

My younger son (age 19) currently works in my former workplace with a number of my friends and previous co-workers. For him it offers a sense of comfort and familiarity and for me, well, it is a double edged sword.

Today he came home and shared, "Do you know someone you used to work with asked me today if you ever get mad?" My other son recalled when he was asked the same thing by one of his teacher assistants who also happened to be a relative.

I smiled.

He laughed.

We all laughed.

"You have to have a work persona," I laughed.

We all have days when we would love nothing more than to a have a full blown, melt down tantrum but really, is that how you want to be remembered? I've had my moments on the job, just like anyone else and no one can get through with Spock-like behavior, but I think it's nice to not be thought of as the crank pot, lunatic or some other negative adjective. Especially when dealing with the public, as a manager, I was pushed to the limits by people (one who felt it would be best to express her ire to me by giving me not one, but 2 firmly erect middle fingers) but would anger have been the answer?

At home, we tend to just let it all out, right? So do I or don't I? Well, I'm entitled to a little mystery as a part of being fabulous.

Acquired Taste

The average family watches XX hours of television per week and among those hours a high percentage are reality shows, followed by sitcoms, mixed with a few crime/murder/forensic thmes and maybe a music or sports special.

In this house, we specialize.

I have a strong draw to Food Network and the Cooking Channel. Ken enjoys Top Gear on BBC, tonight we also watched an episode of Pass Time on Speed and now Dirty Jobs on Discovery. When/if Bruce is lucky enough to make a selection on the big screen, it's a toss between the Outdoor Network (even though I tell him the deer always dies at the end) or Versus. Colin may be found watching CSI, but he is addicted to Boardwalk Empire. We love to laugh at nonsense ranging from America's Funniest Home Videos to most anything with Rob Dyrdek or classic comedy movies like Animal House or The Blues Brothers.

Does our unique viewing style meaning anything? Probably not.

Does reminding our sons about the fact we mostly grew up with 3 clear channels on a rotating dial with only one set so Dad had a dictatorship like control over our viewing habits have any relevance? Not for a second. Though they find our stories of Sunday's ABC Wide World of Sports amusing.

The funny thing is, when we are all home after dinner, we naturally fall into the family room and somehow work it all out. The sectional couch has room for all to spread out with ease and a different level of tolerance has been built up by each of us. Well, almost. I can't remember the last time I watched a full episode of Uncle Ted's hunting rant, but I'm fairly confident that Bruce has watched a show or two about cooking venison.

We are an acquired taste, just as much as our viewing choices and it is another simple everyday aspect of the day that ends up being a fabulous moment in time.

Solitary Morning Contemplation

Like a swipe of fairy dust, a few delicate patches of frost have formed overnight on the back deck and is the only visual reminder of winter's presence. No piles of snow as the golden sun blasts at the front windows, tunneling into the house, forcing bits of dust to dance.

The rest of the house sleeps, men and the dog quietly and deeply inhale, perhaps exhaling causes a faint and low rumble (mostly from the dog) and I am left to review my dreams.

It is the long, movie-like dreams with many seemingly unconnected acts that cause me the most concern. I try to look back on as much detail as I can remember and see where the pieces fit and I always wonder why some people or names are included in some and others are very much just about me and my own journey. Last night, fragments of high school people, trespassers at my childhood home, unwrapped presents for my deceased father, boxes of personal belongings, one son with a full sleeve tattoo which included a blackened middle finger with a claw, being left behind, walking in pain and becoming turned around in a maze like building for quite awhile before finding my way out all blended together and I try to pick it all apart like a giant knotted ball of yarn. Maybe the message is just on the surface. Maybe the meanings are obvious. Maybe I should try to harness the creativity into putting words together and telling stories. Maybe it is all meaningless and simply snapshots stuck in my subconscious that force their way out in my sleep. And so, I am at the keyboard.

My routine of writing has built in procrastination as I boot up the computer, I know I will first check Facebook and the Yahoo headlines. I often find what I want to see - good news or bad will be noticed first though both certainly exist. Today, I feel motivated by the passion of others. Athletes will practice, foodies will cook, crafters will craft, without a desire to "turn it off." It is a part of them. Far too often I put aside what I want to do in exchange for the tasks I feel I have to complete. Marathon runners do not skip training to ensure the laundry is done. Competition cooks are not likely found cleaning the bathroom on the day of a contest.

And so within a few short minutes (ok, half an hour) the house begins to wake up. Conversation, the telling of my crazy dream, breakfast cereal and the clicking of dog nails on the floor, my concentration has been broken. Or has it? I look out the window at the swipes of frost, still in the shade and know today has begun with a series of fabulous moments and I will look forward to more.

Maddy's Big Adventure

I have worked with people from a variety of cultures who celebrate the start of a new calendar in a number of ways, but for some reason like the concept of starting out fresh and clean. New Year's Eve is frequently spent cleaning up from Christmas and giving the house a bit of a once over. This year, our almost 5 year old Lab, Maddy, seemed like she could use a bit of sprucing up as well and though we've never brought our big dogs in for professional grooming, the time had come.

We stayed local and visited Tracy at The Dog House. Although we love Maddy and her extremely expressive personality, she has never had this experience and typically is not a fan of strange dogs so our concerns were her meeting up with the previous or next appointment. We were happily greeted by just Tracy and loved the wide open space that allowed us to chat and see if our canine family member was going to behave. All was fine.


Maddy's spa experience included washing, pedicure, combing, a bit of stray hair cutting and for us, we were able to chat a bit with Tracy. Most people may feel this is all fairly routine and perhaps a dull part of pet ownership, but for us this was somehow more. Our first yellow Lab, Sandy, developed terminal breast cancer at just five years old. Can you guess who will turn five in just a few short weeks?

Dried, fluffed and buffed, sprayed with a bit of fresh scent and tied with a complimentary rock star bandana, Maddy began to let us know that while she enjoyed everything had had enough.

The fabulous moments were plentiful in this one seemingly ordinary experience. Our emotional and ok, a little spoiled Maddy now looks and smells spectacular, we truly enjoyed spending some time with Tracy and the new year can all begin on the right foot or paw. If only I could be this enthusiastic about cleaning out the refrigerator...