So Yum!

A friend invited us over for dinner last week and made us this super yummy risotto. The combination of sausage, tomatoes, and spinach make it a tasty complete meal - simple enough for every day, but fancy enough for company.

I did make a change to the recipe to make it even easier. I did steps one through three just like the recipe suggested, but instead of doing step four, I threw everything into the crockpot for about an hour and fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes before it was done, I removed about a cup of liquid. At the end I added the cheese and spinach according to the recipe.

Despite my changes, it still came out creamy and delicious. The texture wasn't exactly like my friend's version who did it the traditional way, but close enough that I'd do it again.

This woman made a crockpot risotto and just threw all the ingredients in together. I may try that next time with this recipe, but still cook the sausage ahead of time.

Bon Appetite!

The Fannie Mae & Freddie Mac SNAFU

Are you as confused about the FM & FM business as I am? Thanks to this interview on C-Span with Peter Wallison of AIE I'm a lot less confused, but a whole lot angrier. He does a great job explaining in layman terms how the companies were managed, how the markets viewed them, and why congress (both parties) had an interest in keeping the status quo. In 2001, Peter Wallison wrote a book about these two companies predicting the meltdown we've all just witnessed.

(HT: Jonah Goldberg on NRO)

UPDATE: Read this great City Journal article from 2000 that gives background and context to the mess.

Barbarian!

Q: What do The Power of Now, Ulysses, The Elements of Style Illustrated, and Interpreter of Maladies all have in common?

A: They were all discovered in the recycling trash bin outside our apartment complex. Tossed in like a used cereal box or grocery advertising as if trash and literature (using that term loosely) were equally bits of garbage. Is this the act of a civilized person? I think not! Rather, it suggests the act of a barbarian, one so uncivilized he (or she) cannot make proper distinctions between what should be destroyed and what should be preserved.

Really, why not give the books away or donate to charity? We have several thrift stores within two miles of us. The copy of Ulysses is an Everyman's Library edition bound in red cloth, which doesn't seem to be available anymore. I'm shocked! shocked! someone would throw away such a lovely edition. Although I will never read Ulysses, perhaps one of you would. Thus, I'd be happy to pass on this beautiful book to the first person who requests it in comments.

And the Moral Is...

On our "babymoon" (pardon me while I hurl on that word) mentioned in the post below, Steve picked up a little friend we call poison oak and then passed it on to me via some inanimate object. You would intuitively think that the greater the exposure over time the greater the immunity. Not so with poison oak. In fact the exact opposite is true - so that the more you are exposed the worse the rash will be each time. We were quite fortunate that our friend was rather mild. The itch lasted about a week or so, but the spots are still visible after a month.

What is the moral of this story?
a. Don't take a leak by the side of the road unless it's covered with cement. (Yep, Steve's bladder was the cause of this calamity. Less than five minutes from a legit latrine too.)

b. Don't try to save money on accommodations by camping instead. If romance is wanted get a hotel.

c. Take the vacation to Hawaii as requested despite the extra cash. At least they don't have poison oak.

d. All the above.

Here's what could've been and my personal favorite.

UPDATES

Yes, yes, it's been far too long since I last posted especially since I no longer work a 9-5 job. Or any job for that matter. Is it the procrastinator in me? Is it the latent lethargy in me? Is is the lack of direction in this blog? All of the above is the correct answer.

ANYWAY - now that you know my lame excuses for ignoring this blog for five months, let me proceed with the updates.

1. After quitting my well paying yet undesirable job, I found out I was pregnant - yeah!. Thank you GOD that I didn't know prior to quitting otherwise I just may have stayed for the insurance. And that would have been a mistake of monstrous proportions and no, I don't think that is hyperbole. I LOVED that I could sleep as long as I wanted in the morning and still have the option of taking three hour naps in the afternoon or after breakfast - since pouring out a bowl of cereal with milk, showering, and dressing would drain all the morning energy from me especially in the first trimester. If I was working, I probably would have napped in the handicap stall of the bathroom every chance I got. Why didn't I quit sooner? Oh, yeah. I thought we needed the money more. Stupid me.

2. Before learning I was pregnant I applied for the MA in Philosophy at Talbot Seminary. After getting pregnant I found out I was accepted for this fall. I decided to start this semester despite my baby being due at the beginning of December before the semester is over. I'm only taking one class so it shouldn't be a problem. I'm sure those will be my famous last words.

3. I thought I would be all over the pregnancy books reading everything I could about what to expect and how to take care of the baby post delivery - but no. I find that I don't want to read those books or know too much ahead of time. I'm on a need to know basis right now with everything that is happing to my body and could potentially happen. If I know too much, I get overwhelmed and start thinking of what is happening as an alien invasion rather than something perfectly natural. However, I have informed myself of warning signs for various conditions so I'm not totally in the dark.

4. We're having a baby GIRL! Prior to getting pregnant, I thought I wanted a boy. But sometime in the first trimester I believed I was having a girl and that made me very happy. The hardest part now is thinking of an appropriate name. We had many boys names picked out already, but very few girl names. We're keeping mum on whatever we do decide. We may not know till we see her face to face. My parents almost named me Tricia until they saw me and changed their decision to Danica. Who would I be if named Tricia?

5. We went on our "Babymoon" get away to the Central Coast and were blessed with poison oak (more posts /pictures on that later). FYI: Poison oak and romance don't go together. Fun was still had in between Steve shouting "WHY?!" every few hours and me having to pee every other minute.

6. School started with a Philosophy Bootcamp coordinated and taught by current philosophy students. Spent three hours each of the two days working through symbolic logic. Fun! No really, it was fun - strangely so. I should be working through practice problems right now instead of typing this post. But I'll resist the lure of logic until I complete this task. Out of thirty new students, only two of us are women. Out of a total of 120 philosophy students maybe fifteen are women. Nice odds if you're not married! I'm also one of the oldest students by about ten years. It's weird to feel a teeny bit matronly in the face of all these youngins who are straight out of undergrad studies. They're the sprinters getting through the program in three years and I'm the distance runner most likely taking six or more to get through. I'm looking forward to the challenge!

7. Preached two sermons this summer and am in the line up for one more before lil' b pops. I'll be ENORMOUS by the time I speak again, which may be a bit odd for those unused to fecund female preachers. Our lead pastor thinks it's wonderful as do all the other male pastors. Their support of me to preach and to have babies is awesome (and rare I'm realizing)!

Pictures will be posted (eventually - I'm hopeful it won't take me another five months).

Define Procrastinator?

Definition pro·cras·ti·nat·or (n) : Someone who waits until their last day of work to complete staff reviews due a month prior.

Oh! Why that's me! I, of course, left the hardest reviews until the end. Nothing awkward about that: "You have piss poor communication, your team hates you, and you need to shape up or you'll be fired. By the way, did I happen to mention we're having drinks after work to celebrate my last day? Do come by."

It's true. Today is the last day of my job at this company, in this industry.

A Good Friday indeed.

I QUIT!

In 1998, I started as the receptionist and through the years worked my way up through client services until I became the Director of the department. I've hired, fired, and laid off more people than I can remember. I've encouraged, cajoled, cheered, and chastised people for the last nine years on the job. My days of managing people is over--hip, hip hooray! After living through the hell of three mergers/acquisitions in the last three years I just couldn't stomach going through a fourth one this year. I wanted to quit since six months into this business, but I'm a slow decision maker. But now, I'm free at last!

Timewaster

For the slightly nerdy, wish-I-took-physics folks. Enjoy!

I Love the Smell of Espionage in the Morning.

If you're an espionage fiend like me, you'll be licking your chops in anticipation of this man's memoirs getting published. Here's a snippet of his life to whet the appetite:

...he was the person who obtained the advance text of Khrushchev’s Secret
Speech, the one delivered in February, 1956, the one that laid out the crimes of
Stalin for the leaders of the Soviet Communist Party. That text was a turning
point in the Cold War. Grayevsky gave it to the Israeli Embassy, where it was
copied and sent to Israel. The Shin Bet intelligence service delivered it by
courier to James Jesus Angleton, the head of CIA counterintelligence (and the
CIA’s liaison with the Israelis), who gave it to CIA chief Allen Dulles, who
gave it to President Eisenhower.

In keeping with the general rule that the
most important information about the Soviet Union invariably came from
“walk-ins,” and not from “agents” recruited by CIA, Grayevsky performed his
world-changing act solely out of personal conviction.

It was only after his move to Israel shortly thereafter that Victor Grayevsky become involved in the world of espionage. The KGB recruited him, and for decades thereafter he pretended to be their man in Tel Aviv, while actually working as an Israeli double agent. He did his work so effectively that the Soviets awarded him the Lenin Medal.

What's the Proper Etiquette?

What do you do when you get a Thank You note for a gift you never sent? Do you send the gift to fulfill your social obligation and subsequently expose their insincerity? Or do you not give the gift and let them save face?

I'm opting for number two, mostly because I'm lazy, but also because they're happy with what they didn't get.

Those Santa Ana Winds

Southern California is burning with a lot of help from the Santa Ana winds. The first line in Raymond Chandler's story "Red Wind" gets the quality of them perfectly: Those hot dry winds that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen.

Two Gallants - Steady Rollin'

Just sharing the magic...

For Shaun - It was magic!

More Chinatown

After watching some monkish madness in Chinatown, this adorable man couldn't contain his excitement and since we were the only ones around shared his enthusiasm for this particular display of Shaulin martial arts with us. It was also my first attempt at videoing surreptitiously.

Chinatown Part Three

The above picture is my first attempt at using photoshop. When I asked Steve what he thought of my final result he said, “Are you happy with it?” Which means, “It looks like crap and I really hope you’re not done.” I know this because he's normally very encouraging of my creative endeavors. But I’m fine with crap in this instance because the photo highlights one of my favorite places: grocery stores-especially ethnic ones. I love wandering up and down grocery aisles looking for that perfect something I didn’t know I wanted. In ethnic grocery stores I love the foreign packaging and the exotic tastes and smells of unfamiliar food. It’s like going on a mini cross-cultural adventure. And yes, that is a whole fried pig hanging there.

Chinatown Part Two

Saturday, 9:00am
Overheard in Wonder Bakery between two 60’ish Chinese women:
“Size Matters! I don’t care what anyone else says, size does matter!”
That’s all I heard initially so you can guess what I thought they were talking about. After a little more eavesdropping, I found out they were talking about the size of kids. Which is equally strange.

Chinatown Part One

Last Saturday I went to Chinatown to check out the Super Home Mart. Aisles of cookware, rice cookers, bamboo steamers, pots and pans for exotic Chinese dishes that I don't know how to make. I kept checking the labels to see if something from Bangladesh or Turkey slipped by the goods inspector. But no, every item was made in China. At least they're consistent. After walking up and down every single aisle, I left without purchasing anything to the dismay of the middleaged Chinese man who trailed me through the store. Next time I do want to buy a plastic bento box. I've been wanting to buy one ever since I saw a Taiwanese girl eating a piece of cheese and a boiled egg from one on the steps of the British Museum.

My goal was to take photos of all the Chinese men sitting in front of Wonder Bakery. Being the little chicken I am, I didn't get any pictures of the jabbering, gap toothed, and gold crowned old men. But I did get a "You're a beautiful woman. God bless you." from a kind elderly black gentleman with a deep soulful voice.

Pairings

You know when two things link themselves in your head, but there's no discernible reason why? For me, there's a visceral connection between The Kills and Jean-Luc Goddard's movie My Life to Live. One of my favorite scenes is when Nana is dancing by herself to juke box tunes. She twirls and circles the room without self-consciousness creating a moment of nostalgic innocence and honesty. I highly recommend both the band and the movie. Tell me if you see the connection.

The Kills - Fried My Little Brains

I rarely get super excited about bands, but The Kills are the exception. Their guitar sound makes me want to dance all crazy like...

Jury Duty

This serendipitous moment brought to you by the Los Angeles Superior Court Jury Duty system. I'm a fan of jury duty. Here in LA the motto is One Day-One Trial. Either you're called in to wait to be picked for a jury pool (One Day of waiting max), or your picked for a pool and thus assigned to One Trial. I, unfortunately, never get picked for a jury pool. But I don't waste my time crying because I've just been given seven hours of free time that I'm required by law to take. The key is to come prepared. That means water, snacks, reading and writing material. I camp out in the hallway right outside the Jury Assembly Room. Inside the JAR is too crowded. I need to narrow my focus so I don't get overwhelmed by the people watching possibilities. Most people think they have to stay within the room, which makes the hallway the perfect funnel for trickling people out to take cell phone calls or to use the facilities. Once in the hallway I can observe them from every angle as they pace back and forth. So many characters and so little time to capture them all! Under intensive scrutiny even the most lacklustre individual becomes a person of interest.

• The generic young Asian guy: Classic asian guy hairstyle. Shaved sides, left long on top to slick back, but still poofs up. Wearing black t-shirt that says We Fly High!; light denim jeans of a generic brand; white nikes. blood shot eyes and minor acne. He came with a cell phone and pen and draws tiny patterns on the jury hand out. He sat across from me in the hallway. When lunch was called he didn't move. When I came back from our hour and a half lunch, he was laying in the exact same spot. He's the kind of guy you'd expect to come alive among his own ethnic group guy friends especially on the basketball court or playing video games. You're surprised he would remember to call in each day let alone actually show up for jury duty. If he's still in college, he would attend UCLA or some other UC school for business. If he's not in college, he helps attend the family business, but he's not happy about it.
• The guy wearing a Vietnam Vet baseball cap; Lee blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a blue sweat shirt. He's reading a Louis L'Amour novel and appears to be half way through it. Asks me when I think we'll be getting out of there. He's agitated waiting for his name to be called and then agitated when it doesn't get called. Tells me he's too biased to serve on a jury 'cause he could never send anyone to jail or to prison. He has too many friends and family in the prison system. He doesn't believe in it. He keeps talking to me like I'm the one who can give him a jury duty reprieve. I keep telling him only the judge can let him off if he doesn't have any other excuse not to serve. He has bad breath-the sickly sweet kind. I stop talking to him so he'll stop breathing on me.
• The young Italian /Spanish guy with a pageboy of glossy black curls. wearing black jeans, black Italian leather loafers, and a black silk polo shirt he nervously plucks away from his stomach like he's self-conscious of his soft body. He carries a beetle green cell phone as if his whole clothing ensemble is merely a backdrop for his irridescent phone.

I was tempted to cut out without answering to my name so I'd be put back into the system before another year was up. I really, really like jury duty.

Women did not linger in the hallway leaving me little time to observe them. Only two women (me and a middleaged professional) hung out in the hallway and the rest were men. I wonder why men disproportionately favored the hallway to the JAR.