White Girls Can't Stir-Fry

I LOVE good Asian food.

I'm not talking about the kind that is served at a place like this:



(I don't want to bite into an egg roll and see bavarian cream ooze out, nor do I want rainbow sprinkles floating in my wonton soup.)






  I'm also not speaking of truly authentic Asian food such as these "1000 year old" eggs:










Nor this plate of duck tongue:










No thanks. Just give me a bowl of rice or noodles with some nicely seasoned meat and a fresh veggie or two.

Not being able to afford to eat out at PF Chang's and Pei Wei's several times a week, I have experimented a bit with various recipes with very little good fortune.

Available at local markets are ingredients necessary for Asian delights like these noodles:




Unfortunately, there are no instructions as to how to cook them.

Or if there are, I can't read them.








 I think that bottom line in Vietnamese says, "Ha ha ha, just go to the restaurant already!"

I've purchased and prepared many different types of Asian noodles over the years and they just don't turn out right. Some batches have been okay and others have been downright nasty.

I've found there's one product I can always count on:


Now these are instructions I can read:

Actually, I haven't read them in years, but if I ever forget how to boil noodles for three minutes and then drain them, I'll know exactly where to look.

Yes, I realize that these things are virtually void of nutrition, but so is a big bowl of white rice that I could serve instead.

Isn't the main nutritional horror about these orange packets actually the little silver packet hidden inside?


That's where all the sodium, mysterious chemicals and most of the fat is contained, right? So if I use only one silver packet for every four packets of noodles then I'm not technically poisoning my family, right?



AND...if I pile a bunch of lean meat and fresh vegetables on top...

 ...then I'm kinda, sorta nourishing my loved ones, right?

Right?!?!

Yes, I realize that I began this post with the words, "I LOVE good Asian food" and I'm ending it with a confession about how I dish out ramen to the innocents in my care.

Feeling better about yourself yet?

Abrasive Advertisements

As I was jogging through the neighborhood this morning, I kept seeing these slats of wood blighting people's driveways. Upon closer examination, I saw that they were, in fact, advertisements for a company selling shutters, blinds and shades.


Apparently, some guy was in his workshop, staring at the heap of refuse that he was about to throw in the dumpster out back when a revelation hit.

"I know!!! I'm gonna paste my phone number onto all these useless scraps and litter the neighborhood!"

Great idea, fella.

Some other genius (of a tree-trimming sort) canvases my street a couple of times a year with little baggies full of pebbles and a business card.

Honestly, do these people think that as we're leaning over, cleaning up our previously tidy front yards, we're thinking, "Oh, I'll be sure to give these guys a call." ???

Here's an idea: Keep your window treatment waste and ziplock o' rocks to yourselves.

Don't you understand that if you want to increase your patronage, you shouldn't start by annoying potential customers? I haven't got an M.B.A., but that makes sense to me.

Who among us hasn't started our car and begun to exit a parking lot before noticing a flyer stuffed under our wiper blade?


You know that you're the one who'll get a ticket for littering if it flies off, so you have to stop your car, put on the e-brake, take off your seat belt and retrieve the stupid thing.

Which of us hasn't stumbled to our front door, arms overflowing with grocery bags, mail and a set of keys only to be greeted by one of these, dangling from our doorknob:


Now, in our complete vexation, we have to figure out how to detach it while unlocking our door and not dropping the watermelon we are precariously balancing between our shoulder and chin.

It's spilling out of our mailboxes, too. I can't count how many envelopes I get each week from Citibank and Chase, pathetically begging me to get one of their credit cards. One day, we literally received four solicitations from Chase Bank alone. (Go chase someone else, would you?) I've never stepped inside a bank run by either of these institutions and every unwanted envelope that emerges from my mailbox with their name on it convinces me further that I never will.

Probably the latest development in pestering commercialism is taking place on the Internet. Sometimes I'll be minding my own business lulled into a photon-induced stupor, staring at the screen when it's suddenly commandeered by some unknown evil force. The news article I was just reading is completely obscured by an ad for a mobile phone company. I guess they figure that since I waste so much time on the Net that I won't mind if they waste some for me.

Wrong!

Traditional TV commercials are a bit of a novelty to my family since at home we watch shows exclusively on the Internet or through Netflix. Therefore, when we are in a motel, we actually do watch the commercials, familiarizing ourselves with some present day Americana.

(The following isn't so much irritating advertising as it is just plain weird.) On a recent trip, we saw an advertisement for a hybrid car. The ad was progressive in nature so throughout the TV show's commercial breaks we saw the evolution of the car owner's experience. You see, he stopped at a gas station to use the restroom, but multiple people proceeded to badger him over his car. It culminated with the gas station attendant informing him that he could not use the toilet unless he purchased some gas.

Hmmm...Did the ad execs think we were going to watch that and say, "So if I buy this car, then I'll experience harrassment and wet underpants? I'll take two!"

Whatever...

Here's my advice to businesses: If you want a loyal clientele, then offer good products at good prices and LEAVE US ALONE!

Now, Now, Don't Panic

Jeff and I took a little field trip to the ER on Monday.

For the past couple of weeks he has had a sense of pressure on his chest, as if it was being sat on by one of these:

Well, by Monday, he was feeling as if he was being sat upon by someone more like this:

Therefore, he was finally willing to call our doctor. (WHY are men so obstinate when it comes to seeing the doctor???) Jeff was told to go directly to the emergency room.

He checked in at the front desk and was called back right away. (I've always heard that if you want fast service at the ER that you ought to complain of chest pain. Well, them liars were right.)

Within the first 15 minutes of being there, Jeff had been x-rayed, EKGed, had his blood drawn for a battery of tests and was tethered to a bed by multiple apparati. He had a pulse reader on his right ring finger, his left arm was encircled by a blood pressure cuff (which inflated occasionally, seemingly at its own whim), multiple electrode leads were stuck to his chest and an oxygen tube was simultaneously wrapped around his head and stuck up his nose. (That last one was his favorite.)

Oh, and of course let's not forget the fashionable hospital gown. When he decided to go use the restroom, (no, he wasn't catheterized) we undid all of his medical bindings and I tried to tie up the back of his gown. Unfortunately, it was missing a tie on one side. :)

This was the most disclosing photograph he'd allow me to take:


Not that I blame him, really.

Within a few hours, the doctor came to tell us that all of the tests had come back normal and that the pain might be due to a viral infection. So we removed his fetters one last time and left.

Jeff took another day off of work today and is feeling much better this evening.

However, he was so put off by the entire rigmarole (you know, the whole process they put him through in order to determine if they should intervene to keep him from dying or not) that he has resolved not to say anything next time he feels a heaviness on his chest, even if he feels like this poor fellow in orange:








Ughhhh! Men...

The View from Here

I've seen a lot of this lately:

Our family will exit our car and as we're walking into wherever it is that we're going, my husband will grab my daughter's hand with Tobias and I trailing behind.

(No, I don't grasp onto Tobias's hand so that we, too, can walk in a similar manner. That would be very weird, even if he would allow it.)

So there I am, walking behind my man who is holding the hand of a younger and thinner version of myself.

Am I okay with that?

Absolutely.

I cherish them both so much and am overjoyed to witness their genuine adoration of each other.

Someday, I'll have my place back, walking hand in hand with my husband, but for now I gladly make room for my daughter. (Don't any of you other ladies get any ideas, though. ;) )

At thirteen, Delaney is only benefited by the attention of a caring, protective man who has no ulterior motives. His treatment of her is teaching her what she should expect from any man who desires her attention: respect, attentiveness, gentleness, appreciation.

I want her to compare what she has with her dad to what she has with every prince or jester who comes along and send the foolios packing.


Oh God, may she be ruined for any lesser loves.

The Volturi are After Me!

Well, they might be after this post.

Loving the idea of e-readers and how they are a complete library in the palm of one's hand, I recently checked a Kindle out at the library and happily brought it home.


While scrolling through the 45 + books stored in the nifty little device, I noticed that the Twilight Saga was included.

"Hmmm," I thought, selecting it. "Let's see what this teen literature phenomenon is all about."

I realize I am way late catching this train, but I've never been first in line for anything considered "cool" 'cause frankly, when it comes to trends...

I. Just. Don't. Care.

Up until this point, I've kept very quiet about the whole controversy of Twilight. Having looked like a complete idiot on more than one horrific occasion, I've learned to keep my mouth shut if I don't know anything about a topic.

(Side note: Hey Christians, I believe our demographic would have more credibility with the general populace if we educated ourselves about issues before we busted out our very strong opinions. Just a thought...)

But now, having finished Book 3 last night, I can tap out my take on the saga (or the first three books anyway).

The pros:

1. The vast majority of the story takes place in one of my favorite places on God's lusciously green and gorgeous earth...the Olympic Peninsula!

2. The plot was, in fact, interesting enough to keep me turning pages.

The cons:

1. Although there were some rather clever ideas, there were also some really cheesy ones like the whole skin-sparkling-in-the-sun-thing and how Jacob kept a pair of shorts handy. (I realize that the author had to explain somehow that he wasn't naked when he morphed back into human form from werewolf form, but are we expected to believe that a wolf is capable of bungee cording a pair of shorts onto his hind leg? It would have made more sense to dress the werewolf/boys in ultra stretchy shorts that would stay in place no matter what form their wearer was in. However, a pack of Spanx-clad wolves might not prove to be very intimidating. Hold on...am I actually thinking through what would be the most realistic clothing option for a werewolf? Let's move on, shall we?)

2. The sappy romance factor was way over the top. How many times can Edward's smouldering eyes bore into Bella's without the poor girl needing a double corneal transplant?

3. My biggest problem with the saga is how it could make young girls think about male/female relationships.

(To me, the fact that it involves vampires isn't particularly offensive. I mean, vampires are imaginary creatures on the level of the witch who wanted to eat Hansel and Gretel...



and Klingons...


In fact, the most vampiric thing that reality has to offer are guys like this:


Hmmm...feeling tempted to give up your humanity? Yeah, me neither.)

For example, when Bella finds out that Edward has been sneaking into her room at night to watch her sleep, her main reaction is embarrassment over what she may have said while talking in her sleep.

HELLO!

Homeboy's been sneaking into your room at night!!! How creepy and wrong is that??? It makes some voyeur hiding in the front yard's shrubbery with a pair of binoculars seem almost cute in comparison.

In chapter 20 of Book 3, Bella literally begs Edward to have sex with her. It's difficult for him, but he refuses. How grounded in reality is that?

Seriously!?!?

What's the likely outcome if a 15 year old Twi-hard tries that one on her boyfriend? A very few young men might pull a Joseph (Genesis 39:12) but what about the other 99.98%?

You might argue that Edward, although appearing as a 17 year old, is actually 108 and therefore annealed to his own desires by his maturity and life experience.

Ummm...let's take a cruise over to the nearest convalescent hospital. See Clarence over there in the corner? I think it's quite likely that (assuming his hearing aid is on) when Ethel starts pleading for physical satisfaction that he's going to make quite an effort to comply, 108 or not.

Possibly the most disturbing thing to me is how Bella entrusts her safety to this guy who admits that his strongest instincts are urging him to suck the life blood right out of her. He tells her regularly that he fears he's going to end up possibly killing her. Yet, because of her great love for him and his confessed adoration of her, she consistently sneaks off alone with him.

Sure, there aren't actually boys who want to drink the blood of our daughters (not many anyway) but the real boys surrounding them do have some other incredibly strong drives which can seriously damage girls' minds and bodies. (No, I'm not a misandrist, but I know enough males to know that even the good ones have to daily fight an arduous battle to keep their urges in check.) If girls apply Bella's reasoning to their own situation ("But he loves me!") they might be signing up for a whole truckload of sorrows.

Personally, I'm very glad that my daughter scoffs at this series and has no interest in reading it. In fact, she's probably going to be mortified if she finds out that I'm reading it.

There are a few other points I could harp on, but I think I've enraged both Teams Edward and Jacob enough for one day. Hopefully they'll be as gracious to me as Edward was when he found out that Bella made out with Jacob.

:)

A Solemn Tale

Let's talk about youth-in-asia.

No, not that kind.

The other kind. The kind that you have to think about long and hard before you make a decision and even after you decide you keep on thinking.

Euthanasia.

Yep, that's the one.

Two nights ago, Delaney and I were walking the dogs when Bruiser suddenly collapsed. His hind legs were awkwardly folded underneath him.

The maternal instincts in us both kicked in as we crooned and coddled. He just looked at us like, "Yeah, so I'm stuck in the middle of the road. So what?"

After several minutes of resting, he stood up and began to hop forward on three legs. We were far enough away from home that I knew that wasn't going to work, so I left Delaney holding his leash while Duncan and I dashed home so I could return with the car.

Getting him up into the car wasn't the easiest physical task of my day. (We're talking at least 80 pounds of dog here.)

Driving home I knew this was the end of Bruiser's walking days. His hind legs have bothered him for a long time now. (We could tell by the creaky, slow way he had of getting up from a laying down position. Yet he still got excited every time we got the leashes down from the nail where they hang in the garage.) But clearly, with his legs buckling during a leisurely stroll, things were different.

When we got home, we helped him out of the backseat and were deeply saddened to see him unable to bear weight on his left hind leg. He plunked down in the garage. I moved the water bowl within his reach and petted his big orange head.

At nearly 13 years of age, we knew his best years were far behind him and it would break our hearts to leave him behind every time we walked Duncan, so...

...yesterday we drove him to the vet for the last time. He hobbled from the car to the office door.

Without warning, he started dropping doggy bombs in front of the building while I was signing him in. (His bowels haven't had the best control in the past year or so. Good thing he was an outdoor dog.)

After awhile, they called us back to a private room and asked Jeff to put him up on the waist-high examination table. He looked so big on that thing. The four of us stood around him, talking to and petting him.

He was happy as ever, drooling all over the place and cocking his head at the sounds of other dogs going past the closed door in the hallway.

Jeff started to question if we were doing the right thing because Bruiser was still so alert and inquisitive. I reminded him that Bruiser's walking days were over, not just around the neighborhood but even to the food bowl, though I must confess that it was unsettling to know that this sweet lively creature was soon to be stilled forever.

Soon, the nurse (nurse?) came in and gave Bruiser a sedative. It took a few minutes to take effect, but once it did, we couldn't help but chuckle at the change in him. He was trippin' hard. I could almost hear him say, "Whoa, man. I'm tasting colors, man, and blue is faaaaaar out."

His head sank down to his front paws and he started slowly looking back and forth as if he was watching a very sluggish tennis match. Also, he was licking his lips, but he couldn't quite finish the job, so his tongue would hang slackly.

Soon though, they moved him completely on his side. He was so big that his head was partly over the edge. He had pretty much lost control of his mouth so his long old tongue was hanging half way to the floor, dripping a pool of drool onto the linoleum. That was hard to watch because it was so undignified that we felt genuinely badly for him. (Not that he ever had much dignity considering we caught him gobbling up turds on more than one occasion.)

The vet came in, shaved a bit of Bruiser's leg and stuck him with a needle, slowly injecting a pink liquid into him while we continued to pet him and talk to him.

He suddenly shuddered and then was still. The vet put her stethoscope to his chest and solemnly announced that he was gone. The two ladies left the room, telling us to take as much time as we wanted to say goodbye.

We stayed for a few more minutes, knowing that we'd never see him again. Tobias tried to close Bruiser's eyelids, though it didn't work. Delaney sniffled and talked about what a nice dog he had been.

And then we left.



Our Bruiser--
We will miss your floppy ear,
The white tip of your curly tail,
Your unusually orange coat,
The soulfulness of your beautiful brown eyes
And your deep resonating bark.
You were about as sharp as a marble
And your breath smelled like your insides were rotting,
But you were indeed a good boy
And we were happy to have you in our family for so many years.

Update

I suppose some of you might be wondering if we've heard anything about Jeff's interviews. Well, as it turns out, with each of the three agencies, Jeff is on eligibility lists. In other words, he did well in the interviews/tests but they are not offering him a job at this time though they are keeping him in mind.

It's all good. We are at peace about it and though I enjoy a bit of excitement, if it barges into my life unaccompanied by peace then it just gives me the runs and that's annoying...and disgusting.

In related news, a job opportunity at his present place of employment is opening up and he applied for it. Although getting this job wouldn't daily surround our family with the beauty that is the Pacific Northwest, it would be a great thing in a lot of other ways, so we will hopefully await news of that (which may not come for several months).

2,600 Miles Plus

One night while I was jogging at the park, I was pondering how best to get Jeff back up to the Pacific Northwest to have that third interview when it dawned on me, "If we drove then we could all go."

Almost immediately I dismissed the idea as ludicrous. We'd have to drive for two days up and two days back. That would only leave us two days to relax and enjoy ourselves.

When I got home, I told Jeff about the ridiculous notion I had briefly entertained, laughing while doing so.

"That's sounds kinda nice," he responded.

Huh?!?!

Later, I braced myself for vociferous protests as I told Tobias, "Don't worry, honey, because we're not planning on doing this, but I was wondering how you'd feel about all of us driving up together so that your dad can have that interview. It'd be about 12 hours a day in the car for two days up and then another 12 hours a day for two days back."

He shrugged. "That sounds alright. I'd get a lot of reading done."

What?!?!

Surely Delaney would see sense when I proposed the idea to her...

...apparently not.

With the utmost insistence, I repeated to them all how long we'd be in the car and that we'd only have two days not in the car. I emphasized that all the other vacations we've ever gone on have had the main purpose of enjoying ourselves, but that this I-hesitate-to-refer-to-it-as-a-vacation would be all about getting there and getting back so any fun they had on four of the six days would be a surprising bonus.

They all stuck to their stories.

Okay, I thought. We'll see how y'all feel about it when your butts are numb and the only view out the window is the tail end of a smog-belching semi-truck.

We left very early on Day 1. Here is the obligatory start the trip photo:



As you can imagine, this...


...is how the kids spent much of their time.

I didn't take many pictures on the first day until we sighted Mt. Shasta.

From there on out, the drive up was beautiful beyond belief.

Day 2 = driving

Day 3, we woke up at our friends' house and enjoyed the relaxing sensation of not having to climb into the car.

Instead, the guys paddle boarded...


They went all the way across the lake and out of sight.

They returned about an hour later.


No, Jeff's not flirting with the camera. Whilst paddling to his heart's content, he slipped off the board and lost his sunglasses in the great blue wet surrounding him.

We then enjoyed some bocci ball.


Shortly after this bit of idyllic lake life, it was time for Jeff to prepare himself for his interview.

I'd hire this guy. Wouldn't you?

The interview was rather intense, involving questions about fellow officers being shot and how to prevent child abuse, etc. You know, the kind of stuff that cops have to deal with all the time.

It was nice once it was over so we could just relax and enjoy the day and a half that we had left outside of our car.

We filled the time with swimming...

...jumping...


...dog adoring...

...watching Mimi-hoola-hoop-on-the-diving-board...


...savory pie eating...



foul-donut-eating (yes, that is bacon draped across that maple bar)...

...and a delightful activity involving buckets and muddy rows of lush fruit-bearing plants...






Mimi and Rylee know how to hold the box of berries without simultaneously pillaging it...


...a skill which my family seems to be lacking. See how Tobias is double-fisting it?

All too soon, Days 3 and 4 had slipped away in a pleasant blur and we had Days 5 and 6 with their promises of freeways and stretching limbs every 100 miles staring us in the face.

There were some bits of amusement along the way, such as Tobias's magnificent examples of bed-headedness (or is that backseat-headedness?):


We also caught sight of Sonic's directives to their carhops. Note the fourth bullet-point:


Jeff and Tobias did their best to encourage the workers that they were succeeding in their labors:



Soon, we saw Mt. Shasta again and knew that it signaled the final section of gloriously beautiful landscape on our trip.



*sigh*

A ginormous thank you to Jay, Diana and their girls for hosting us yet again in our quest for Pacific-Northwestern-residency. You guys are so wonderful. We loved every minute of our stay with you. :)

Oh, and the update of the job situation is: When we arrived home from our 44+ hours-in -the-car-over-a-six-day-period-trip, there was a letter waiting for Jeff from the first place where he was interviewed. It said that he had done well and had been placed on an eligibility list which would be valid for a year. At any point in the next year he could be contacted for employment or he could not. Hmm, that's pretty open-ended, huh? We're still waiting to hear from the other two places.

It's all good.