I wish I had as much horsepower as a garbage-disposal

Last night I made soup… the really hearty comforting kind that is perfect for this time of year when I am longing for spring, and yet it’s still threatening snow outside. The kind of soup without a recipe, with a handful of carrots, fingerling potatoes, or other tasty root vegetables you might have stashed in your fridge or pantry, a handful of herbs, crushed pepper, a splash of wine. It’s especially helpful if you have time to let the flavor profile develop as the vegetables simmer away… it’s the perfect type of soup for a day running errands, and working around the house, because it takes minimal effort and yet is so satisfying. I always throw in a cup of whole-grain and wild rice, and perhaps at the end a can of garbanzo beans and some chopped kale… I had every intention of blogging about this last night when the flavors were fresh in my mind, but I made the mistake of trying to do the dishes before sitting down to write.

 The Soup

What happened over the next two hours was an epic battle with the drain, and it involved some cursing, perhaps a few tears, and an overall feeling of failure.  I will be the first to admit that I am not particularly handy around the house, but I am a problem solver, and I can wield a plunger with the best of them. And plunge I did… for two hours, until I felt utterly defeated and frustrated and alone. I am house sitting, so I had no landlord to call, no maintenance request to submit, and at 9:30 at night I couldn’t think of a single person in Yamhill County who would come to my rescue. I poked and prodded the sink a bit more. I got out a step ladder, I stood on the counter, I rolled up my sleeves until I was elbow deep in kitchen sink swill. I cursed some more, and finally I called my brother. I know I just said that I couldn’t think of anyone to call, and I say this because I knew that under no circumstances would he actually come and help me, but when you are feeling desperate, sometimes you just hope for the best, and hope that the desperation in your voice comes through.

I hate asking my brother for help… mainly because regardless of the situation, he always insists on giving me a “life lesson” lecture rather than assistance. Considering the fact that he is only two years older than I am, I find this to be ridiculous and patronizing. I hate asking for help in the first place, and usually only ask for help as a last resort, when I have exhausted most of my other options, and at that point I’m usually not in the mood for a lecture. It ALWAYS starts out very after-school special like, and at some point the phrase “well what would you do if I wasn’t here? How would you handle the situation” at which point I always think “that is beside the point, because you are here, and I’m asking for help!”… It’s not like I was asking for a loan, or a kidney, I was asking for some upper body strength, and five minutes… which naturally I wasn’t going to get because I apparently needed to learn to “problem solve”. I’ve gotten this same lecture on multiple occasions… when I had a flat tire in the snow, whenever I move… and yet whenever he needs someone to let his dog out in the middle of the day, or if he is really backed up on grading papers he expects me to drop everything and help him out. Why are siblings such a pain in the ass?

I am fairly good at assessing situations. I knew how to fix the problem with the sink, I just lacked the physical strength, height, and overall coordination to pull it off. And that in itself was frustrating. No matter how hard I tried, the stagnant sink water wasn’t going anywhere, and I was pretty pissed about it. I was mad that I couldn’t fix the problem. I was mad that when I asked for help, instead my brother gave me the life lessons lecture, and then later called back to suggest that the only option I had left was to find some tools and take apart the sink piece by piece and clean out the drain from the bottom. But of course he wouldn’t listen to me, since I couldn’t seem to fix the problem, so naturally I must be wrong about what needed to be done… At that point, I was feeling pathetic, and was wishing that I had a boyfriend I could call, or a token male friend nearby who would be willing to save the day. I am not the type of woman who wants to be rescued, but last night all I wanted was for someone to plunge the sink… I didn’t want lectures, or advice, or suggestions (I knew what was wrong, I just couldn’t fix it!)… At this point I was angry, and covered in kitchen water, so I opted to leave it for the morning… and threw myself a tiny pity party. In the grand scheme of things, I understand that a sink clog is not the end of the world.  But why is it that when you feel like you need a win, even the slightest thing like a malfunctioning garbage disposal can push you to the brink? I felt like a failure… and mentally and emotionally it was a downward spiral. There were fleeting thoughts of “what if I’m alone for the rest of my life, and never have anyone to help me fix the garbage disposal” and “If I can’t even figure out how to fix this, then how will I ever be independent” All of the self-doubt, the frustrations, and the self-loathing for being too uncoordinated to handle this on my own took over… and I was out of wine!

At one point I sent a text message to my ex-boyfriend, explaining my frustration about not having access to a y chromosome…(as a woman I probably shouldn’t say this, but I have no doubt in my mind that a man could have fixed the problem in 5-10 minutes. It took me 17 hours… I’m not saying a woman couldn’t have fixed the problem… but I was having some issues. ) He was sympathetic at least, but he also suggested that I would be a happier person if I moved to Portland… which frustrated me for entirely different reasons… One of my biggest pet peeves is when people try to problem solve my life. It’s one thing if I’m asking “oh what do you think of this?” or “what do you suggest?” but when I’m specifically having a garbage disposal crisis, and  unsolicited advice about my personal life/ happiness is brought to the table, I get a little irritated… and not just in this specific instance. My mother is notorious for doing this sort of thing (which is probably why it irritates me so much)… I’m getting off topic. Anyway, there I was, feeling inadequate about my skills as a person, feeling frustrated, and mere hours before I’m supposed to sign a lease on what is, in my opinion,the perfect apartment, I had someone telling me that he thought all of my personal unhappiness was wrapped up in living where I live. I don’t think he was trying to irritate me… so I won’t hold a grudge, but the timing was not ideal. Did I mention that I was out of wine?

Thankfully, there was a gourmet chocolate bar in the mix, and thankfully after 17 hours, some liquid plumber, a lot of yoga, and pure stubbornness I was able to successfully plunge the kitchen sink.  I also signed the lease, paid the deposit, and negotiated some built in bookshelves to be installed before I move in.  I’m still peeved that whenever I ask my brother for help, he dances around it with ease, and I’m saddened by the fact that I have no one to call at 9:30 at night when Kale remnants wreak havoc on the drain. And I’m frustrated that I do not have as much horsepower as a garbage disposal…. But on the bright side, I have a kick ass soup in the fridge that has been developing flavor for 24 hours,  and I stocked up on wine when I bought the liquid plumber. AKA, I win. 

 The Tortilla, Lime & Salt Chocolate Bar that helped me keep a grasp on my sanity.

ebb and flow

When it comes right down to it, I feel like my life is a constant ebb and flow of decisive and indecisive moments. Though I am a professional procrastinator, and can waste time, putz around and put things off with the greatest of ease, I am also a very straight to the point person. I’m not good at being coy, prolonged flirtations, and playing hard to get, because to me it feels like a waste of time. Sure I understand that some of the fun is in the pursuit, but at the end of the day I’d rather just put it all out there up front, catch people off guard, and hope that it works in my favor. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. I think that is one of the things that I really enjoy about blogging. It allows me to put things out there without over-thinking and over-editing. Sure, having a filter can be good, and heaven knows that I need one sometimes, but I think it is also good to be a little fearless. I take this approach often when it comes to writing, relationships, and new experiences.

Direct, upfront, decisive.  That is, until I’m not. And it’s not that I don’t “know what I want” there are just certain instances in which I don’t care. Sure I have opinions about food, and movies, and what type of beer I want to drink, but I also am not the type of person who likes to put people out, so if the group would rather get a pitcher of something else, I’m not going to assert my preferences. Provided there is no mustard involved, I’m a really go with the flow type of gal.

And I’m finding that this juxtaposition of being both assertive and flexible is somewhat of a conundrum for some people, including myself.  I am speaking in generalizations here, and have no specific instances in mind, but it seems like a lot of people would prefer it to be the opposite way. They would prefer the coyness, and indirectness when I would prefer to be frank. And when I could really care less about restaurant selection, “they” (the proverbial they) want you to be opinionated to the tenth degree. I find this rather frustrating. When it comes to the quote on quote important things, I am opinionated and one-hundred percent secure in my answers and likes and dislikes. But just because I know what my favorite food is, doesn’t mean that I’m going to care if we eat it for dinner on Tuesday night, or if we opt for something else.  And why is that somehow less attractive to some people?

This is mostly me thinking out loud, but I used to be under the impression that I was the type of woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to go after it. And I do, in a lot of cases. But the other night I was stopped in my tracks when a friend of mine asked me if I ever thought about the kind of writer that I wanted to be. And the answer was no… and that kind of freaked me out a little bit.

I’ve always been really good at setting goals, but have been pretty much just living off a six-month plan for the past four years. Sure I know that someday I want to go to graduate school, and would like to own a house with some land where I can grow all my own vegetables, and let mint run wild. And I know that I want a bulldog named Toby, and that someday I would like to go to Cuba, and yes that I would like to be a writer. And yet, I am not actively laying any of the groundwork to achieve most of these goals (besides building a savings account). The future is still this far-off distant place, and I have been admittedly trying to focus more on living in the present. But that question really made me realize how wrapped up my life is in the day-to-day… and how am I supposed to get to that future house/dog/career/ vacation if I don’t start thinking about it now? Or at least start thinking about starting to think about it. I know I need to be writing more regularly, specifically writing more poetry. I know I need to be submitting places, and researching graduate schools. I know I need to be reading more… But it is so easy to get wrapped up and distracted by other things. For example: my current job. I’m totally in love with it, and though I don’t want to make it my life career, I can see myself staying there for quite some time. So it is exceptionally easy to start thinking in terms like “Wedding Season” and “Harvest Time” and really narrow in my view to revolve around a work time-line. It’s easy to justify things in terms of“oh I’ll get to it after wedding season” or “I’ll have time for that after Olive Harvest”.  Sure it is fun to think about applying to schools in the winter, but these days it also feels like my head is going to explode if I start thinking past April… and so I take it one day at a time rather than one goal at a time.

Maybe I’m going about it all wrong? It seems a little hypocritical to be able to be assertive and up front in some aspects of my life, but to be completely freaked out and practically avoid other aspects. I sort of take the goal of “writer” and dance around it, without really trying to make it a reality… It goes on the “Someday” shelf, along with cleaning out my closet and learning how to make Kombucha. Then again, I’m throwing my energy and my time into a job that pays the bills, and is rewarding in a lot of ways, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. I have an interesting job that puts food on the table, and yes it enables me to keep writing as more of a hobby, but it also allows me to have a life.  And I’m also teaching yoga, which really has nothing to do with my writing aspirations, but I do think it keeps me grounded (and sane), and it also lets me be optimistic. If I can make time for one passion, and incorporate it into my life on such a regular basis, make time for it, and actually make a little money at the same time, I’m hopeful that someday I will be able to do the same with writing.

  

This was really more of a tangent than anything else… the ramblings of my juxtaposed mind. Perhaps I’m scared of failure… I tend to go after a lot of things that I want in life, and though I succeed occasionally, I also miss the mark a lot of the time. I really believe that we have to be active participants in our own lives, but there needs to be a balance between making things happen, and allowing things to happen… Because trying to make things happen when the timing is off can be a recipe for disaster… ok still rambling here. In the meantime I’m going to read more poetry. I’m going to be decisive about paint colors (and maybe some restaurant choices).I’m going to be more flirtatious, and I’m going to drink more wine.  I’m going to continue to put myself out there like I have nothing to lose, and see if life takes me a few steps closer to knowing what kind of writer I want to be.

Happy Monday/ V-Day.

Happy Valentine’s Day! And more importantly, happy Baseball Season!  In general, I am in all support of any holidays with color themes, flowers, chocolate and wine and greeting cards. That being said, I do find the day to still be a cliché Hallmark Holiday. I have nothing against love and greeting cards (and certainly nothing against chocolate) but more the idea that we need an excuse to celebrate love.  Isn’t it more meaningful to get a card simply because? This could just be my cynical single self talking, but in general I think celebrating on the off days is so much more personal and significant than one giant national love-fest of a holiday. Not that I would turn down any flowers, cards, or candy that came my way today… it just seems a little impersonal.

Sure today is Valentine’s Day, but it is also Monday… Sure I am drinking wine & eating chocolate while writing this (and yes it is 2:30 in the afternoon) but frankly, this isn’t out of the ordinary, in fact it is pretty on-par with my normal Monday activities… Some might argue that indulging on a regular basis makes the activity (or the cards, flowers, whatever) seem like less of a luxury/surprise… & I can see that in some cases, but I like getting cards in the mail no matter what month or week it is, and as I mentioned, I need no excuse to eat a few chocolates and have a glass of wine. (It’s my day off people!). And really the only thing that has made today stand out more than any other Monday was the Bulldog cupid e-card that was sent to me by my dad, and the fact that I’ve seen more flower delivery trucks out and about. I haven’t seen anyone wearing red, there haven’t been an overwhelming amount of love songs on the radio, and I haven’t even heard/seen and mushy commercials. It’s been a pretty normal Monday. I’m doing laundry, running errands, blogging, planning class for tomorrow, balancing my checkbook etc. Sure, I drove twenty-minutes out of my way to spend 5 minutes flirting with the cute coffee guy who may or may not be seeing someone else (seriously, I’ve been trying to figure that out for  like a month, I still have no idea, but I figure I shouldn’t stop flirting until I know for sure, right? Regardless the coffee is good…)but that has nothing to do with the fact that it is V day, and everything to do with the fact that it’s what I do every Monday (and sometimes Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday… it’s ok, I drive a hybrid).

Gone are the days of making valentines for every single person in your class (ok but I did make a few) stocking up on heart stickers, and making sure at the very least you were wearing valentines themed sox (ok I might have on red underwear, but that is a coincidence having more to do with the fact that it is laundry day than the fact that it is Valentine’s Day). Though I cannot really speak for my married friends/ friends in relationship, I’m pretty sure that to most of the people in my inner circle today is first and fore mostly Monday, and Valentine’s day second. That isn’t to say that we are all dead on the in-side, but we are all pretty practical. It’s a day that is not about the huge romantic gestures, but a day about getting work done, starting the week, finishing up projects, and if there is time, perhaps a romantic dinner or something. Maybe we are all cynical? Maybe we are all realistic? Maybe I am way off base, and all my romantically involved friends really do have spectacular plans, but I like to think that most of us are spending the day/evening pretty much the same way we spend every Monday. And if that involves wine and chocolate and snuggling in, so be it.

 A few of my home-made Valentine's

Still looking for Balance

About six months ago I wrote a blog about trying to attain a feeling of balance in my life between work and exercise and everything in between. And here I am still struggling with it… though admittedly not as much as I was. It is interesting to look back on things, and see how priorities have switched, projects have shifted, and yet I’m still finding myself in a precarious balancing act between my personal and professional lives and furthermore between my personal wants and needs.

Last time I was struggling with this, a friend told me that I just needed to set a schedule, and make time… and I’m really good at that. Maybe too good, actually. I’m finding time to enjoy life, but I’m slacking on some of the basics, like putting my clean laundry away, and doing the dishes that have been sitting in my sink longer than I would ever admit to anyone.  Perhaps my priorities are still a little askew? I’m still functioning under the “work hard, play hard” mentality. So here I am, instead of cleaning out my car, I’m sitting in a coffee shop, writing a blog, hoping that the cute guy behind the counter comes over to talk to me. I’m ignoring work e-mails for another hour, and I’m choosing to forget about the dishes that will be in my sink when I get home, and I’m totally ok with that.

The funny thing is that when I was in a relationship the balance just sort of worked itself out. My house was always clean, I always quit work at a decent time, and I wasn’t answering e-mails and tweaking advertising late at night. I was able to leave my work at work, maintain personal priorities, and have a life. Sure I wasn’t writing as much, and I probably ran late for almost everything, but I never dropped the ball, never felt overly stressed, over-committed, or completely out of balance. I’m not saying that relationships are the answer to maintaining balance, but it is interesting how just a minor change can throw things back to the brink of over-working, over-thinking, over-committing.

This is partially my own fault, as I am a procrastinator, and yet I often find myself in situations (be they, work, volunteer, or personal) where I know in my gut “well if I don’t do it, it won’t get done”, and this often leads me to push and pull things out of balance. And finally, at the very end of the day, when I am commitment free, the last thing I want to do is put away laundry and take out the recycling.

I was so proud of myself yesterday on my “day-off” for not answering any sort of work e-mails (though I may have looked at a few). But rather than tackling my laundry, or dishes, or the countless other things that I should have been getting accomplished in my free time, I spend a good portion of the afternoon & evening working on building a website for a volunteer committee that I’m on. It looks great, and I’m not complaining, since I did “volunteer” for it, but I cannot help but feel a little twinge of something when I realize that the dishes are still in my sink, the clothes still in front of my dresser, yoga classes unplanned, checkbook un-balanced, e-mails unanswered, and responsibilities untended. True, I made a choice, and yes none of these things are life and death, or even that fun… (This is why they have been left un-done) but the real truth of the matter is that there really is no one else to do the dishes, or put away the clothes… and even though I feel like at work there is no one to answer the e-mails, do the advertising, and cover the hours that need covered, there is still a little bit of wiggle room. Yes, the longer I put off the e-mails, the less professional we look, but the longer I put off the dishes, the more off-putting my personal space becomes…

At this point I know its all about discipline. I need to just do the dishes, and vacuum, and take a box of stuff to Goodwill. I need to schedule in the chores, and the errands, and in turn balance out my over-productive work/volunteer life. All work and no play makes me cranky… then again so does my messy kitchen.  It’s funny, because my mother is the absolute opposite of me. She cannot even think about relaxing before messes are cleaned up, everything is in it’s place, and order has been restored to the house-hold. I am all about dropping everything, forgetting about the mess, closing doors, living out of suitcases, and actively stepping over piles of things rather than putting them away. How did I get this way? Clearly it wasn’t a result of my upbringing (although maybe the compulsive organizing of My Little Ponies as a child lead me to a less than organized adult-hood?)

Maybe I’m just born to procrastinate? Or Multi-task, as I’m writing this, I’ve answered a few volunteer e-mails and I gave it an answered at least 6 work e-mails… Maybe this feeling of going all the time, working, writing, always on is really my balance?Or maybe I just need to set better boundaries...

Oven-Fried Chicken

I have been wanting to make oven fried chicken for the last three months. Why? I have no idea… it just sounded delicious, and seemed like something that would be fairly easy to whip together… and yet, I’d been putting it off and putting it off. So today, I had a few hours of free time in the afternoon, quickly brainstormed a menu, went to the store, and put something together.

The recipe I decided on was not a traditional fried chicken recipe, but it was amazingly delicious. Coconut-oven fried chicken. Marinated in coconut milk, lime juice and a bit of Siracha sauce, then rolled in coconut flakes & panko, these little chicken thighs were succulent and tasty. The rich dark meat was incredibly moist, and the coconut flavor was subtle. Easy, delicious, exactly what I needed for my first attempt at cooking meat in a good long while.

My fall back side dish is usually coconut rice with cilantro, but I was a little worried about over-doing the coconut aspect, so instead I cooked the rice with miso paste. The result was everything I was hoping for. Interesting flavor, good seasoning, and the perfect pair with the with the chicken and salad/relish.

I couldn’t find a recipe that I liked for Papaya salad, so I ended up morphing about three recipes and doing some improvising and substitutions. I sliced papaya, avocado, and jicama, and then added some peanuts for texture, and cilantro for color. Topped with a lot of lime juice, and an additional dressing made of rice vinegar, honey, siracha, smoked salt, and more lime juice, this tangy salad married beautifully with the miso rice.

Ok, I know its not incredibly exciting for me to just write about my dinner…I was inspired by it, but now, hours after consumption I am getting ready for bed, thinking about the next few early mornings, and making an attempt to not be married to my job. I'm multi-tasking, which is never good when writing, but in case you didn't know this, Bridal clients are incredibly needy. Honestly, how many different ways can I tell the same client that Liability Insurance is required, and no it cannot be purchased through us... (Literally, we've had six e-mails going back and forth about this... what kills me is that she acts like I'm just being difficult, and like if she begs me long enough I'm going to change my mind/ the situation... I'm not being difficult, you just need your own insurance! It actually cannot be purchased through us, and in the time that we have written these six e-mails, she could have been insured like twelve times...) Sorry, I'm digressing quickly. Anyway, the writing isn't as magical as it could be, but hopefully you'll trust me and try the chicken. In the meantime, I might not be writing anything of quality, but at least I'm keeping my resolution of blogging more regularly... and cooking more at home.  Anyway, try the chicken, and I highly recommend experimenting with papaya (in a strictly culinary sort of way).