danger: profanity ahead

I had a whole gosh darn post written up about how I’m wracked with anxiety and don’t want to go home and I’m not sleeping and I didn’t run this morning because I was scared to run in the dark and I’m spending an inordinate amount of time at my desk so I don’t have to see them and then I decided to delete it.  Fuck those guys.  They can intimidate me all they want.  I am the one who holds their fate in my hands.  All I have to do is call 911 and at least one of them will most likely go back to jail. 

I have a splendid weekend planned.  Tomorrow I’m picking Christina up at 9am for breakfast in Saugatuck at Pumpernickel’s.  Around lunch I’m heading to Michael and Jennifer’s to help dig some garden beds.  The two of them are going to keep me in produce all summer long and as they won’t accept payment in the form of money and they have an enormous amount of work to do I thought this would be a good way to start paying them back.  Plus Jennifer is making Thai food-a most excellent incentive to get over there!  Tomorrow afternoon the Kapteyn-Dekkinga’s will be in town and we are all hitting up Salt of the Earth in Fennville followed by something to be determined.  Either the now smoke-free Sandbar before the Shirey Brothers play (though I just noticed it’s “Sounds of Saugatuck” weekend which means Saugatuck sounds like it would be hell) or there may be a fire we can go sit around or perhaps we will just stay in our apartment and listen to records.  Like the new Fleet Foxes record.  Ahem.  Sunday (weather permitting) we are going to the first month of the antique fair in Allegan as the most excellent Rebel.Reclaimed will be there.  I love the Allegan Antique Fair if only for the deep fried pickles.

If my weekend sounds awesome, wait until you hear my plans for May:  Black Joe Lewis and The Honeybears and Ms Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings at the Crofoot, a camping trip up to Shorts Brewing Company with the current plan being to fill as many growlers as we all have to bring back to the beautiful campsite on Lake Michigan so no one has to drive, and maybe possibly hopefully at least one night up in Mesick for Memorial Day weekend. 

Dang.  My life sounds so sweet I might feel a twinge of guilt over kicking them off the porch and taking away what I’d bet was the highlight of their day.  Wait…wait…nope.  Oh wait.  Yeah…that’s right…

Fuck those guys. 

or maybe reagan was right....?

Those of you who are long-time readers of this little blog may remember an incident last summer involving a young gentleman who had taken up residence on our front porch.  Last we heard he had "gone to Allegan to live with family" (read:  jail).  He recently returned to our fair city and for the past 3 days has been spotted with another regular patron sitting.on.our.porch.  I decided we needed to nip this in the bud and notified our downstairs neighbor (who is ultimately responsible for this young gentleman even being in my life) that I would prefer them to not be out there unless he was there with them.  Like for a party.  Or whathaveyou.  I said I felt comfortable talking to them and asked if it was okay to do so.  My neighbor got back to me and agreed that perhaps that kind of behavior should not be encouraged. 

Not 10 mniutes later I am walking home for lunch and lo and behold those boys are on my mofo porch.  Words were exchanged.  I was given a bit of lip.  I went upstairs and called my neighbor and explained what had occured and he told me I should feel free to call the cops.  They then knocked on his window and he talked to them.  About what?  I know not.  Was I painted as a racist bitch?  I know not.  All I know is that after I calmed down (My voice was shaking, my eyes were shaking, my entire body was shaking.  I was OUTRAGED.  I'd like to thank my lovely parents for talking to me for an hour and a half so I could calm down!) and returned to work the gentlemen were gone. 

The neverending question since this issue arose last summer is "Am I being unreasonable?"  On the one hand, these guys are sitting on a porch talking.  A porch I rarely sit on myself these days.  The only interaction I have to have with them is saying hello when I walk by.  On the other hand, the only time I have ever had the cops knocking on my door (EVER!  I mean, EVER!  This includes when I lived in Chicago!  NYC!  Other nefarious locations about the greater Holland area!) was when they were looking for him as he had given our house number as his residence.  On the one hand, these guys have got nothing going on.  Nothing.  They spend an obscene amount of time in the library and are most likely homeless.  Seriously?  You're not going to let them sit on your porch?  Get a little compassion!  On the other hand, this is my home.  MY HOME.  I don't know who these guys are.  I know that they are trouble.  I know I don't like them.  I know that if I let them sit there during the day there is a very good chance they'll feel comfortable sleeping there at night.

And ultimately?  That's what makes me angry.  They have this "We're sitting here and we're entitled to sit here and there ain't shit you can do to move us because we're not doing shit" attitude that makes me so angry.  I want to tell them pull up their pants and get jobs.  Try working 40+ hours a week.  Try being somewhat responsible and find a place to live and if you can't afford a place to live than go to the mission and follow the rules and just make an attempt to turn your lives around.  No one owes you anything.  If you want help finding a job?  I will help you find a job.  If you want help filling out applications?  I will help you fill out applications.  If you want to get your GED or go back to school?  I will help you educate yourself.  But don't sit on my gd porch all effing day while I schlep myself back and forth to and from my job which pays me so I can afford to live in this house with this lovely porch.

omg.

I might be turning into a Republican.

this sauce is magnificent

Last night we had mustard glazed pork tenderloin with garlic whipped potatoes and just steamed asparagus.  This was all Nancy and all delicious.  Enough so that I have decided pork tenderloin is my next big Crane Dance meat purchase.  And today a patron said he'd bring me in a recipe that involves smothering the tenderloin in fresh herbs.  Hell's yes.  This is the second time I've had asparagus before Michigan asparagus comes in and I've got to say just tasting that greenness made me so excited for spring, summer and fall eating.

The market begins on May 18th.

Not that I'm counting down the days or anything.

Post-supper inevitably led to sitting around the table and talking-which is probably the best part of family meals, but maybe that's just because it reminds me of my family and I miss my family-and drinking coffee (7pm and I unknowingly drank caffeinated coffee.  This is why I will never be a Berghoef.  Those three drank it like it was chamomile tea.  I was up until 11:30 trying to turn off my brain) and somewhere between the "remember when" stories and the inevitable library shop talk, the conversation turned to tomato sauce.  I am certain Peter was mocking my insistence on making my own sauce for everything from spaghetti to lasagna and I found myself getting oddly defensive.  "Whaa--?  Did you not just...are we not both wildly disappointed every time we end up buying a jar of sauce?  It's too sweet and too salty and doesn't taste like tomatoes?  Let alone how much jarred sauce costs compared to buying cans of tomatoes (or hopefully next winter having canned my own tomatoes!) and tomato paste?"

Tomorrow night we're having spinach and ricotta stuffed shells.  I made my own sauce.  I sauteed a fair amount of garlic and 1/2 an onion in olive oil,  added 1 large can of tomato puree and 1 small can of diced tomatoes, tossed in a glug of red wine vinegar, some black pepper, oregano, and thyme, a teeny bit of cayenne pepper and, just as it started to simmer, I tossed in the end of the rind of some really good parmigiano-reggiano.

Jarred sauce, indeed.

why erin deserves to get a martini

1.  It's Wednesday.

That's all I got. 

There is absolutely positively no reason for me to walk down to Butch's on this cold and rainy/snowy night to get a drink.  Though I had a moment of "oh-fuck-it-all-I-just-want-to-quit-my-job-and-become-a-shepherd" today it wasn't an especially BAD day.  No one spit at me.  No one hung up on me.  No one swore at me.  Quite honestly, that makes today kind of stellar day.  And yet between the news that Suzanne Geha will no longer be delivering the 11pm news on Wood TV 8 (That woman has done nothing to me, but for some reason I have loathed her for years.  Every single time I see her I say out loud "Good GOD someone should bitchslap that woman.  Right in the mouth"-sorry, Mom.  Not nice, I know) and the realization I have not had a Butch's martini since...since....I cannot remember the last time I had a Butch's martini!...I figure I deserve it.  Plus, Melissa just informed me via facebook that she needs someone to have a drink for her as it's been that sort of day. 

I'm doing it for Melissa.  Taking one for the team.  Always there for a sister.

I finished reading "Slow Fade" by Rudolph Wurlitzer.  That's a link to Drag City's website which happens to be the reason I even heard about this book. Will Oldham is reading the audiobook and I love Will Oldham and Peter is still reading his #$%^ing "wizard" book so I was looking for something good.  It delivered.  It was originally published in 1984, but it is really timeless.  Plus there's an old spaghetti western director on the decline, a spiritual quest in India, and a brief scene in the Russian Tea Room.  Read it.  It's quick and good.

Next up is Swamplandia!  by Karen Russell.  I bought it.  I just...bought it.  Hardcover and all.  I'm fairly confident it's going to be good and I think it's going to be a pass-it-along kind of book. 

After that I have this friend who wrote a mofo novel and for some reason is letting me read it before it's published.  Which it will be.  I have very little doubt.  She has doubt but she's a writer so what does she know?  And despite not having a technological device with which to read said novel, I've decided I'm going to print the whole thing off. 

And now? 

Off to get that martini.

i am a slut for fish sauce

One of my personal culinary heroes, Mr.Anthony Bourdain, uttered those words on an episode of Top Chef. It happened to be the episode that finally sparked a hint of an appetite which resulted in an udon noodle soup with celery, carrots, tamari and the aforementioned fish sauce.  Because I was feeling sassy I tossed the udon with some toasted sesame oil before adding it to the broth and finished the whole thing with some liberal dashes of srirracha.  Foolhardy?  Only time will tell.  All I know is for the first time since Tuesday night I thought "Gosh, that sounds delicious!  I bet I can make something like that out of real food I have in my house!  Instead of opening a can!  Or a sleeve of saltines! While swigging gatorade!" and I did it.  And it was delicious.  I also ate a small serving of vanilla yogurt with a banana, sprinkled with some amazingly good homemade granola.  The granola is Malkowski-made and probably the best granola I have ever had.  Ever.  Ever ever ever.  It's seedy and oaty and not clustery and toasty and just the perfect amount of sweet.

I've been waiting for this moment for days.  This afternoon Peter made me say out loud "I'm afraid I'll never get my appetite back" just so he could say "See?  Doesn't that sound ridiculous?!"  It didn't this afternoon.  This afternoon, post-bath with Richard Brautigan, I forced myself to eat a poached egg on one piece of dry toast.  I love poached eggs.  A perfectly poached egg might be a close second to perfectly seared duck as my all-time favorite food.  And yet after 2 1/2 days of saltines and canned chicken noodle soup, a poached egg sounded...oh my goodness...I cannot even conceive of an ill-tasting food!

It's a miracle!  My appetite is back!

And I am on my way to becoming an excellent egg poacher.

i'd rather be at work than have a long weekend

I'm officially the victim of a stomach bug.  It hit yesterday morning, gave me a brief respite in the afternoon, came back with a vengeance last night, and might possibly hopefully maybe be easing up today though it may be more likely that it's easing up because I've just given up trying to eat anything.  Saltines and soup were not welcomed.  Neither was a poached egg.  I'm back to gatorade and water and maybe some flat gingerale when the gatorade runs out.

I don't think I've had a honest to God stomach flu in years.  Hangovers resulting in stomach distress?  Yes.  But a flu that makes you cry like a little girl?  No.  It's wretched.  You know you should be eating something.  You know you should be drinking something.  But when nothing stays put it seems like all of the eating and drinking results in more torment.  Peter seems to have caught a touch of it today so I've been wiping down surfaces and have yielded the bedroom to him.  A nap will definitely be order this afternoon, however.

I'm just hoping I'm 100% better by Sunday as we have tickets to the Shorts beer dinner at Butch's.  Shorts has become one of our most favorite Michigan breweries and I've heard nothing but excellent things about the pairing menus coming out of Butch's.  If I eat nothing between now and then?  Fine.  I just want to be able to enjoy the heck out of some tasty beer and food.

Because of the beer dinner, I had already taken Monday off which will result in 5 days of me not being at work.  Having just accused someone of taking advantage of such a weekend by calling in sick, may I just say I'd rather be at work.  Because we're both sick we're not able to go to Melissa's birthday party tonight which is a HUGE bummer.  Though I got to have lunch with her last weekend, I haven't seen Neal or Reuben in awhile and I was really looking forward to a Berghoef Family Dinner.  I'm hoping we'll be able to cobble together some plans for next weekend so we can celebrate her birthday up proper.

I finished reading The Imperfectionists-the only benefit to being sick is being able to read-and I really did like it.  Well-constructed, interesting topic, tasty meaty prose.  I have no idea what I'm reading next, though I hear Peter is almost done with his wizard book so I suspect Saguaro by Carson Mell will be up shortly.  I've been looking longingly at my copy of Swann's Way lately and wonder if spring might not be the perfect time to dive into some Proust.  And I've been contemplating reading the unfinished-but-published recent David Foster Wallace novel.

Or I'll just skip reading all together and focus on Mad Men season 4 which so far has left me feeling sorry for Don Draper who seems to have to pay for sex.

Poor Don Draper.

C'MON!

Imagine Will Arnett saying it.  As G.O.B. 

I woke up this morning after a night of, oh, 9ish hours of sleep and I felt....off.  My calves have been killing me (too much, too soon anyone?) so I persuaded Peter to walk downtown with me instead of a run.  By the time I got out of the shower and had a bowl of cereal and a banana I was feeling like death.  Like I was freezing but it was 60 degrees outside.  Like I had hurty skin.  And like I wanted to crawl right back into bed where I was sure I would sleep a great sleep. 

I went to work where I spent the first 2 hours on a service desk thinking I might die.  By the time I got off desk I wasn't sure if I would make it through the day.  A vitamin water and an hour of staring at my computer brought me to my supper break which I promptly used to go home and crawl into bed (in a puddle of sun!).
I decided I was feeling better enough to make it to 9pm.  My skin is still a little hurty.  I'm not really cold anymore but do have a general overall achy feeling.  The most alarming thing?

I am not hungry.

I am always hungry.  No.  Seriously.  Always hungry.  I can eat a full meal-complete with an app-and still have room for dessert.  I can finish eating a meal of a lifetime and be hungry within an hour.  This might be the first time ever I will go with eating so little in a day. 

Regardless, I'm angry.  I'm angry because the weather is beautiful and I am motivated to be out in it biking and running and I feel terrible.  Maybe it's not going to turn into anything.  Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and feel like a million dollars.  Maybe this whole thing is just my body saying "Whoa there, big fella, you don't run like you used to!  Slow down!  Take your time!  Remember how this works!  One foot in front of the other.  One run at a time.  Be cool, baby.  Be cool."

I'm going to listen but I'm not very happy about it.

Hmpf.

i am feeling ridiculously smug

I have gotten up at 6 am to go for a run two whole days in a row.  Now, this may not be much of feat for many, but anyone who knows me knows I'm more likely to be awake at 6 am because I haven't gone to sleep yet.  But, come to find out, if you get out of bed at 6 am and run for 35-45 minutes and then bike a few miles after work getting to sleep by 9:30 or 10 pm is no trouble at all. 

Last week sucked.  Thankfully, Saturday managed to be not only salvageable, but awesome.  Breakfast at Marie Catrib's (did you know you can get line caught salmon?!) and lunch at The Green Well (the Green Well salad was a plate full of spring greenery deliciousness) followed by sitting outside in our backyard with some peeps discussing this little gem, Erin's dislike of infants, and a viewing of Chonto. 

Chonto every day. 

Sunday it was 80 effing degrees in Holland.  I say "effing" because, unlike some people, I find 80 degrees in west Michigan to be horrifying.  Don't get me wrong.  I enjoyed the sunshine.  But 80 degrees in April in west Michigan?  Ick.  It also somehow managed to be humid which made it double ick.  We spent the majority of the day inside obsessively watching season 1 of Treme.  I think I like it.  I know I love the music.  I know I love the looks of even post-Katrina NOLA.  And I think I like how character-driven it feels.  Ultimately, though, I was left feeling a bit...like...what's...going...on...here.  I'm typically someone who enjoys things that aren't so plotty.  Cookie cutter stamped characters inserted into a plot leave me feeling like I just watched a network television show.  But there are so many amazingly unique characters (and so many cameos!) that just seem to be existing without purpose.  Without direction.

I'm watching Top Chef on my lunch break.  Dang.

I want me some lobster so bad I could shiv a man.

it's like i haven't really been paying attention since obama got elected and now i can't stop paying attention

Alright, alright, alright.  This is ridiculous.  I know it's the NYT, but this editorial today just puts this whole government shutdown mess into such perspective. 

Abortion
The EPA
Health Care

Really, Republican Party?  Seriously? 

First of all, last time I checked, abortion was a legal medical procedure.  Ending financial support for facilities that perform abortions is completely inSANE to me.  in.SANE.  This is a MEDICAL procedure.  I understand this issue is emotional and personal.  But it's also LEGAL.  And a MEDICAL procedure.  If you don't want an abortion, don't get one.  If you don't want other people to have abortions, go crazy with your bad self and protest and counsel women on all of their other options and, I don't know, consider adopting a few unwanted children because if the rightwingnuts get their way and abortion is not legal any longer (they also aren't terribly fond of discussing pregnancy prevention options like birth control so I'm not really sure what their plan is...) we're going to have a few kids who need parents. Plus, with dropping the whole EPA monitoring greenhouse gas emissions the kids won't be able to breathe.  Nor will they be able to get health care as the Republicans don't want to fund that either.

Okay, okay, okay. 

This isn't really about whether or not someone agrees with abortion or thinks the wacky science of greenhouse gas emissions is real or not.  What infuriates me is that the government is going to shut down because for some reason the Republican party believes THESE are absolutely ESSENTIAL issues that need to be addressed RIGHT NOW.  (They don't.  They just think they can manipulate a whole mess of people who think killing babies is wrong and national health care is socialism and Democrats want to take away your ridiculously large vehicle.)

Seriously, Boehner?  Really? 

You're playing chicken, Republicans.  You're playing chicken because you don't think anyone is going to pay attention to the details and the Democrats will get blamed when wives whose husbands are serving in Afghanistan go on The Today Show and cry about how they aren't getting paid. 

Excellent example of the awesomeness of democracy, by the way.  I'm sure Egypt and Libya and Bahrain and Yemen and Morocco are looking at how amazingly well this is being handled and are superimpressed. 

Well played. 

you think I'M insane?

Because I was told to delete a post, I deleted a post.  Fine.  I'll leave it with this:

I am a 36 year old woman.  I am sick and tired of trying to be one of the "cool" kids. I am the coolest of the kids.  And I am finished not standing up for myself and what I know is right. 

In other news, I am unapologetic for my political ranting yesterday.  I know I am extreme.  My brain does not have a shut off so I have a tendency to spend a lot of time thinking about everything from the effects of growth hormones in our milk and early onset puberty to the slow death march of the printed word to how much money we spend supporting Israel to what "buying local" really means to what it means for the planet when people choose to have children.  I also care a lot about, well, just about everything.  And my way of working it out and trying to untangle it all is writing about it. 

Man.  No wonder people think I'm a judgemental bitch. 

I'm really not.  I don't think my opinions are better or more right than anyone else's.  And I really really love listening and talking with other people who have completely different views than mine.  I learn so much and constantly find my opinions changing and expanding. 

Except when it comes to the new Panda Bear album.  If you don't like it, you're just wrong.

america? you are the biggest loser.

Thanks, Peter, for the title.

We should congratulate the Koch brothers.  They somehow managed to mobilize a bunch of poor, undereducated white people-most of whom probably benefit from Medicaid-to do their bidding.  Add in some good old fashioned Christian Right anti-abortion, anti-gay talk and you've got yourself a Republican Party that should be ashamed of itself.  Not that I'm terribly fond of the Democrats right now either.  There's an awful lot of hand wringing and gnashing of teeth.  A ton of finger pointing and politicking.  From both sides. 

Ultimately, though, there is something bigger going on than a possible government shutdown this week.  How in the name of all that is holy can anyone stand by and watch government funding for basic services to it's citizens be cut and think it's a good thing?  This whole "more money in your pocket" bullshit is insane to me.  More money in THEIR pockets.  It's THEIR pockets.  And by THEIR pockets I mean corporations. I know I'm being wildly influenced by my current reading material, but c'mon.  Don't be a moron.  The corporate takeover of America is done.  It was done when NAFTA was signed.  It was done when Americans continued to demand more toys for less money.  This crazy notion that anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps is just no longer true.  The more concentrated the wealth has gotten, the harder it has become to get a piece of the action.  We are supposed to be led to the trough to shovel in our fast food and our flat screen tvs and the hot new tech gadgets.  We're supposed to buy our factory farm meats chock full of hormones and our asparagus from god knows where completely out of season.  And yet we're shocked when spinach is tainted with E.coli.  And we're pissed the "Mexicans" are taking our jobs.  Do you know where anything you purchase is actually made?  Do you know who grew your food?  Or sewed your clothes?  Or pumped the crude oil that ended up in your gas tank?  Or made your fancy phone that will inevitably need to be replaced in 2 years? 

It's insane to me.  Truly. Honestly. Insane. 

I know.  I know.  I'm ranty and disjointed and all over the place. 

I believe this is all connected is the thing.  I believe the choices we make every single day of our lives-from the coffee we drink to deciding to walk instead of drive-is ultimately connected to the mess we're in.  Quite honestly, I think it's too late for capital A America.  We've allowed ourselves to think everything is progress.  I can buy "fresh" vegetables year round.  Progress!  I can buy a phone that not only calls people but takes pictures and video and lets me check facebook.  Progress!  I want steak and look it's cheap because I have no idea who raised it or what it was raised on or how it was processed.  Progress!  Progress is good!  Progress is good!  Progress is good! 

I think it's possible progress is just a big myth to convince us we "need" more.  I'm not saying I want to go live in a cabin with no electricity and raise my own chickens and make my own soap and have a huge garden and work work work (though really, I actually sort of kind of do, but that's another post).  I'm saying that maybe it's time we stop and look at what we buy before we buy it.  Democracy isn't going to be the downfall of America.  Our rampant consumerism will be.

Our next lesson:  capitalism is to socialism as democracy is to communism (or why Erin is a proud supporter of democratic socialism and how that doesn't make her a Communist or anti-American)

come to find out this new england gal really does think the south was wrong

It's 42 degrees and raining.  When I went to bed last night, at the relatively early time of 12am, I had grand plans of a run.  After my third night in a row of interrupted bad sleep the temperature and rain were the perfect excuse for me to skip.  I remember when neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night would keep me from a run.  I remember how energetic and healthy I felt.  I'm the only person who is able to get myself back there.  I'm determined to do it.

I'm fairly certain this is the 9,786th time I've said that on this blog.  

My week of flying solo at my job turned into my week of flying solo at my job with my boss unexpectedly not there either which resulted in people calling in sick.  (Why is it that when the boss is away people call in sick?  I mean, it's not like the boss isn't going to know you weren't there.  And when you do it every.single.time it starts to feel like maybe you aren't really sick, but rather too stupid to realize you aren't really getting away with anything.  Especially when you call in two days in a row.  Thereby giving yourself a 4 day weekend.  Not that I'm talking about anyone specific...)  I, for the most part, told myself and everyone else that I was fine.  I could not possibly do all of the extra work that was now heaped upon the department.  I am but one person.  Unfortunately, I wasn't able to really convince myself of that hence the lack of sleep.  Thankfully, my right hand is back today. The relief I feel is palpable.  

It's also been a week of being insanely social:  dinner with Travistina on Friday followed by drinks for a birthday Friday night followed by a Barnes and Noble party Saturday night followed by an unexpected 1 1/2 hours in a car with a coworker Monday night for a viewing followed by a home cooked supper with Erika last night. Just about every single one of those things was a last minute addition to my life.  I used to be a crazy social planner.  Come to find out life is a little more fun when you don't obsessively plan every single detail.

Sunday night we stumbled upon Ken Burns' The Civil War on PBS.  In a choice between Fox Sunday and a history lesson, the history lesson won out in our house.  We've attempted to watch this series 3 times.  Each time it has felt like a chore.  This time I got hooked.  It helps that I'm also reading Native Son.  As Frederick Douglass waxes poetic about the glorious future of the freed slave in America, I'm reading about a 1930s black man whose life has been shaped by the color of his skin.  Wright does an amazing job of really talking about race relations in this country.  Sadly, I think a lot of it is still relevant.  Plus, I can't help but love all of the Communists-are-evil-but-come-to-find-out-they're-the-only-one's-who-can-help-and-relate-to-the-oddly-sympathetic-murderer.

Next up to read:  Either The Sociopath Next Door-I suspect it will help me in my work.  Seriously.  I cannot tell you how many people I encounter in a work day who are most likely sociopaths.  Maybe I can learn to be more sympathetic or just not take things so personally-or The Imperfectionists-A recommendation from the Nook guy from B&N I met Saturday night.  An "alternately hilarious and heart-wrenching" novel about the death of print journalism sounds right up my alley.