Odds & Ends

Don't complain to me about how you have no money. I mean, can you be any more tacky? I just spent my evening in your lovely 2-bedroom apartment with a sunken living room feeding, bathing, and putting your kids to bed so you can throw me some cash so I can put food on the table. And you sit there complaining you're broke while you take off your designer coat, sit in your designer dress, remove you fancy high heels that you bought earlier that week, and say thanks for working until midnight while me and my husband attend our annual soiree that we throw every year at a lovely Manhattan location. Oh, by the way, my husband will drive you home in our luxury car. Good Night!
*Fantasize about stabbing in the throat here*

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My parrot sucks. He's yelling at epic volume even though he got more quiche this morning for breakfast than I did. Sometimes I just want to let him fly out the window. It's just so hard to keep my already fragile state of mind set to calm when he's going ballistic.

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I was finally accepted as a transfer to a community college so that I can begin my studies in radiologic technology. As you can imagine it's my dream come true to get ready to spend years of my life in scrubs lifting smelly old ladies and men onto tables to photograph their broken hips. So considering I'm filled with joy to go and begin this journey it would only be right that the universe has to make it as difficult as possible. Congratulations, you're finally accepted- except you have to get a physical with no health insurance, and you have only two classes you really need to start the actual program but they're already full because everyone needs to take them and registration was over weeks ago. Enjoy!

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Mark is going to get me a couch for Christmas which I actually find very inspired of him even if it is over his budget. I'm so excited to be done with this futon. Don't get me wrong, the futon has been good to us. The pad was Mark's for many years and even acted as our bed for awhile, the frame was found by my mother and so the futon cost us nothing and has been useful. But it's extremely uncomfortable. It has zero padding and quite frankly I've run out of large blankets to fold and stuff underneath the pad to mask the feeling of sitting on wood planks. Here's to couch shopping!

Mission: Turkey

Happy Day After Thanksgiving!

I hosted for the first time ever. I've been hoarding these recipes from Real Simple magazine for years. The article is dated November 2003 and I'm not sure where I was when I found it. Maybe AmeriCorps. Maybe somewhere in California. But either way when I saw this spread I thought "One day I might host Thanksgiving I might as well be ready".

Well, it happened.

It started off pretty rough. A dad I babysit for asked me "Are you going to brine your turkey?" I started to panic because I had been prepping for this day, reading recipe after recipe and nowhere was brine mentioned. So I emailed my uncle who is the cooking person in the family and who has hosted Thanksgiving for years and asked him what he thought. And he essentially said "Hell yes. Brine away!"

So I googled and emotionally prepared and I began to brine. I created the salt water mixture in my tray and even though I remember Bill Nye the Science Guy teaching me about displacement I still managed to put too much water in the tray so when I plopped that turkey down briney, raw-meaty water spilled all over my counter. And since my counters are crooked that water quickly spilled all over my kitchen. Yay.

The next day I prepped the turkey. It was a roasted orange and sage turkey. Mark ventured to Trader Joe's just to buy the sage as the Inwood supermarkets have heard of no such thing (what? herbs existing that don't go in sofrito?)

I stuffed that turkey good full of garlic and oranges. Later that night, a full ten hours later as soon as my head hit the pillow I realized that I totally spaced and forgot to put the sage in the turkey. Genius! So Thanksgiving morning I woke up early, cut the twine off the legs, unstuffed the turkey, shoved it full of sage, and replaced the oranges and garlic.

Well, eventually my meal was ready:

Roasted orange and sage Turkey with roasted orange gravy
Apple and Sausage stuffing
Rosemary Cornbread
Homemade Cranberry Sauce
Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Vanilla Sauce
Pumpkin Pie
Chocolate Orange Mousse

my mom brought over potato salad and arroz con gandules....you know the Puerto Rican parts that I just can't do. It was soooo good.

That truly was the best turkey I've ever had. It was so moist, no one even used the gravy!

After a massive dish washing event (dishes were washed in three separate parts. A trifecta of dirty dishes, if you will) Mark and I went for a walk. I hadn't been outside all day and my belly was way too full to fall asleep without a little walk. It was about 10pm and yet Inwood would not let us down. Walking down Broadway we managed to see a heavy-set "butch" woman meandering across the street completely topless and then as we approached the very brightly lit Bank of America we were blessed to catch a homeless bag lady run right under a spotlight and squat to take a very urgent leak. So loud it still haunts me now.

Needless to say we hurried home.

Not Even a Ghoul

I was totally ready this year. A whole month ago I wandered into Rite Aid to get my drug store fix, you know, stare at the lotions, ponder the need for more mascara, try to convince myself that I do indeed need some more shampoo when I came across the candy aisle. It was still hot out, fall hadn't entered anyone's radar and Halloween candy was already experiencing sale prices. I thought I'd grab a few bags of it and be fully prepared for perhaps ungrateful yet possibly excited children to ring my partially functioning door bell.
Two weeks after that, Mark bought me 3 mini pumpkins and when Halloween arrived I sat them outside my door in a very 'come hither' manner. I was announcing to the children in the building "Processed sugar available here!".

And yet here it is, 9:40pm and not one single knock. I'm surprised at how sad I am. And I can't even eat the candy myself because then I will never speak to me again. Though I won't deny that I tried only to be spoken to in an unkind manner by Mark who warned me of all the evil things that will happen to me if I dared keep all these snack-sized Snickers to myself.

Bah Humbug!
Oh wait...wrong holiday.

Adventures in Babysitting

Almost everyday I write a list and every time on this list I put 'write blog post'. And yet, I never do. So here I am. I'm excited to be writing a post again I just don't have the discipline. Which is exactly why my degree never worked out for me. I'm just not strict enough with myself. But anyway moving on...

I'm almost a full time babysitter now. I watch three sets of siblings that's six kids total. I'm exhausted. I know you're chewing your nails dying to know what my schedule is so I'll cut the suspense and just share:

Monday

7:30-9:00 AM

Go to The Girls (2 sisters) home. Help get breakfast and last minute morning things ready. Take them to school. One in kindergarten at 8:30 and then another gets dropped off at 9 at nursery.

2:45-5:30 PM

Pick up Girls at school. One at 2:45 the other at 3:30. Take them to the Big Girl's soccer class where she has an anxiety breakdown because she doesn't like being the only girl in the class. That ends about 5:10. We walk home where mom is just arriving and dad's probably been there for hours. I'm done and I let myself out.

Tuesday

7:30-9:00 AM

2:45-5:15 PM

A lot of the same without the soccer. Instead of soccer we go to the park if the weather is good which, luckily for me and babysitters across Washington Heights, it has been. I get them home by 5/5:15 and I'm done.

Wednesday

7:30-9:00 AM

The mornings are the same. I'm with the Girls and get them to school. But I'm done with them after drop off.

The Dread Begins.

5-9:45 PM

I pick up Big Chubby. She's an older sister. I get her from her after school program and try my hardest to convince her to walk the 5ish blocks to Lil' Chubby's (her brother) daycare so we can get him. As you can imagine by her name she's not a fan of walking and demands either bus or taxi but if I'm firm and quick-witted I can usually get her to walk. Since her mom never pays me for transportation I'm not about to spend money on a practically 10 second bus ride. (Though, in mom's defense, if I work really late for them they will call for a cab and pay for it)

We pick up Lil' Chubby and head to the park (again, weather permitting) or home. They play pretty well together while I microwave their heavily processed, always from the freezer dinners. I'm pretty sure they keep the chicken nugget market in the black.

Dinner, bath, naked running around, one pre-school themed show On Demand, book, teeth, and then a battle for them to sleep. Lil' Chubby NEVER sleeps. He has to be kept out of the bedroom just so Big Chubby can fall asleep, which she doesn't want to so she never complains if he's keeping her up. It takes her about 40 minutes to crash and then I'm trying the rest of the night to trick Lil' Chub to fall asleep. Either on the couch or mom's bed. He won't have any of it. He's holding out until a parent comes home. They totally know this but mom still seems bugged when she's the first one home and he's still awake. Dad never seems surprised.

I will be brutally honest (me, no!) These are not my favorite kids to watch. They are the kids that started my 'babysitting career' but they are not my favorites. And don't get me wrong: the other kids are difficult but I'd take them any day over The Chubs.

Big Chubby is a bi-polar, smart-mouth, grown-up ignoring, diva, tantrum-throwing QUEEN. If you waiver IN ANY WAY from the standard routine she freaks THE FUCK OUT. I mean...it's ridiculously scary. Now, I know kids need routine. I'm all for it. But the rest of the kids I sit for if I'm doing something “wrong” or not like mommy, they tell me. For the most part they tell me in a pretty level-headed, reasonable way and they explain how mommy does it so I can fix it and they can be happy. They understand that I'm not mommy so sometimes they give me some leeway and are pretty forgiving. BUT NOT BIG CHUBBY.

The other night I started making the personal pizzas with Lil' Chubby at the kitchen counter and not at the dining table and she turned bright red, screamed bloody fucking murder, threw her body on the floor, got up, ran to her room, slammed the door (so hard that she was actually stuck inside when she tried to come out which triggered another tantrum) and yelled 5-year-old obscenities about how much she hated having me as a babysitter. And this shit went on ALL NIGHT. You couldn't blink without her freaking out.

Again, kids have tantrums, but she takes the fucking cake. And I think that what really gets to me about it all is that she's THE OLDEST kid I babysit but she's the most difficult, unhelpful one.

FUCKING WEDNESDAY.

Moving on.

Thursday

8:30am-3:30pm

I arrive at The Boys apartment. I hang with Little Boy who is THE BOMB. He still shits in his pants but he's my absolute favorite. We chill, play, go for walks, eat snacks and lunch, he takes a nap but it sometimes takes me an hour to try and get him to fall asleep. But it doesn't matter. He's awesome.

3:30-9:45 PM

We go and pick up Big Boy from school. Depending on the day Big Boy can be charming or stressful. But I feel we've found a good rhythm and I just have to keep the peace. He's pretty independent and it's just a matter of making sure he doesn't physically hurt another kid as he doesn't quite understand that not everyone loves being punched in the face.

We chill, I avoid the playground as much as possible because he'll get into it with another kid. If I'm convincing enough we'll walk in the park and go look at the woodchucks who live by the flower garden and are out finding dinner at that time. We'll go home. I cook them dinner (ugh), give them baths, and put them to bed. It's not easy, they don't love bedtime but some days are easier than others. I just have to remain calm because Big Boy loves knowing that he's annoying you. But still-he can be pretty cool.

Friday

Back to The Girls. 7:30-9 AM and 2:45-5 PM. If I survive (Friday's are hard simply because I'm exhausted from two late nights in a row and Thursday's epic hours) I get paid and try and enjoy the weekend.

High Class Hoarding

Frittata: The Next Step

I finally grabbed the bull by the horns and made this:


I got the recipe from the Williams Sonoma catalog that I am now on the mailing list for after using a gift card given to me by awesome parents at my former job which wasn't so awesome but seems awesome because it was during a time when I received paychecks-ya dig?
Anyway, it was tasty and it looks really pretty and I'm sure if you leave the sausage out it's a nice vegetarian option. I had become really comfortable making a simple spinach frittata and so I thought I was ready to try something a tad more elaborate. Mark's stomach approves. (and it actually did look like this when I was all done)

I DON'T LIKE
Did you see the Mad Men like two weeks ago? The one with the Don Draper voice over? I'm so not into it. He's 'journaling' or something. Maybe...I don't know. All I know is I don't want to hear it ever again. It really bothered me.

ARE YOU SERIOUS!?
So Hoarders on A&E is sometimes awesome. Awesomely horrible. There was this one new episode about this family of four: Mom and Dad, ages 70 and 71. Daughter and Son, ages 38 and 39. They all live together in the home which just tells you something is off with the clan. I mean...you have kids living at home almost 40 years old and it's not like they were married then divorced or have fallen on tough economic times....they just never left.
So anyway, they live in absolute filth and they are a creepy, angry family who is very much not liking participating in Hoarders because their home is private! Dammit! Basically mom fell in the home and was pinned under stuff, firefighters were called in and when they saw the monstrosity of the home they were reported to city officials who said "Clean up or lose the home".
So basically the episode ends with a cleaned out home that is in such horrible disrepair the city condemns the house and they are forced to leave. BUT the point of the story is that during the show there are lots of camera shots that sweep through the home to give you an idea of the cluster f*ck of garbage that is heaped into these rooms.
So at one point angry, creepy dad is watching tv in his hideous recliner and he's watching....a flat screen tv. A FLAT SCREEN TV! I'm sorry. You live in a garbage heap. You have no running water (none, not even in the bathroom, just imagine), you have zero access to your kitchen, your ceiling has partially collapsed in numerous rooms but you have a flat screen. I don't have a flat screen. As a matter of fact it's offensive how large and boxy my tv is! What is wrong with this world.....

Where Was I?

I've read nine books this summer. I turned through them so quickly I never even updated my Reading Right Now section. I'm not bragging. I'm more like "wow, look at that" mixed in with "wow, I'd really like to have a job". Because while having all this free time is great having money is great too.

I am trying to get my job applying go get'em attitude back. Once I went out to California I went on "I'm gonna enjoy this summer if it's the last thing I do" mode. Which I did. I might have done it too well. I've gained six pounds this summer. And that's just the pounds I'm aware of/will admit to. So imagine the possibilities. Or more like horrendous truth.

But Mark is helping me and I'm trying to buy a lot more fresh produce and I haven't purchased a sour cream in a long time. And I'm trying to get to the gym again like I was doing before California/My Great Depression hit. I've even managed to jog/shuffle on the treadmill - juffle. It's a challenge because it puts more pressure on the ankle which doesn't like it but if I juffle on the edge of my foot and I put up the U2 on my ipod a little louder then I can ignore the burning pain shooting up to my knee and juffle along imagining more calories are being burned. So it's a work in progress.

So that's that: Reading. Eating baby heirloom tomatoes. Juffling. I went to go see Eat, Pray, Love. I read the book awhile ago while travelling through Colombia. I hated the book. I was annoyed with Elizabeth Gilbert and her whiny, entitled, fully funded, find-myself story. But watching Julia Roberts acting all entitled about her self-discovery was actually more enjoyable because once it's a movie it's all make-believe! That and I really wanted to see Inception but the next showing wasn't for another two hours and it was Imax and girlfriend is on a strict budget and can't afford it.

HaHa?

Well now we're even and I don't want to be teased anymore.

A few years ago, while living in Tahoe, Mark and I flew to New York for Christmas. It was a standard visit. Then it came time to leave. I remember being stressed (shock!) because I knew it would be crowded at the airport and we hit the road way later than I had wanted to because my parents, who never fly anywhere, started getting ready to take us at the time that we should have been getting on the highway. They don't really get that during the holidays if your flight is at 8am you don't get there at 7:45am (or anytime you fly, but you get the idea). So I was worried.

So we're standing on this line at United Airlines and it's loooooong. And I'm sad to leave because it was my first time back visiting after my time in Tahoe became more 'permanent' therefore the mood is grim already. So as the line crawls forward they keep calling people forward who may be on the back of the line but whose flights are really soon. "If anyone is on the 8am flight to San Francisco please step to the front of the line" and so on, like that. Only after awhile Mark and I start to wonder why our flight is not getting called since we're eeking closer and closer to departure time. But we don't do much about it.

FINALLY, we get to the front, to the self-check-in kiosk, which is all most airlines have now, and it won't find our flight info, and it won't find our info, again and again. So we call for help and tell the woman it's not coming up, she asks for our paperwork and I hand it to her. And in very-loud-not-so-nice-customer-service-because-this-is-NYC form she goes "Your paperwork says your flight is on American Airlines. Welcome to United!" and she waves her arms all Vanna White style along the big letters on the wall.

Jaws drop and so does my stomach and the tears are immediate. I couldn't believe it but there it was. So basically after realizing that my father would be mean and tease me about it for the rest of my life I announced that I didn't think it was fair that I be the only one to handle all the travel arrangements as it was very stressful. So I retired from it.

So here we are in Tahoe. Mark has done all the arranging. We had epic layovers on the way out here. I couldn't believe it and I wondered if that would have been the case if maybe "someone else" had taken care of the trip. But whatever- we got here and had fun and we were preparing to have a great, laid-back last day at Fallen Leaf Lake when Mark's cell phone rings and it's his dad asking where the heck we were? What'd'ya mean? He was at the airport in San Diego waiting for us to come out of the terminal because we should've been on a plane the whole morning we were lounging at a breakfast place and planning our outing.

Basically Mark got the days mixed up and we missed our flight. And in true Tahoe form we only had one last shuttle to Reno to catch before it shut down and we were stranded with no way to get to the airport even though it was early afternoon. So we had to scramble to pack, call our host to let him know what had happened and luckily he let us use his truck (which by some miracle we actually had available to us today) to drive ourselves to the other side of town. So now we're sitting in the Reno airport...for hours...before we can fly to LAX where we wait...for hours...before we can fly into San Diego at 11 at night when we should have been there at like 11 in the morning.

Even though I'm glad we were able to get here and all will work out, the 2 hours where our travel world was thrown upside down really frazzled me and now I'm an anxiety mess. Which is a total bummer because Tahoe had me in a total zen. So...San Diego, your challenge is to return me to that vacation mode. GOOD LUCK.