The Internet is Made of Cats


As usual, when I find something horrible on the internet I feel compelled to share. Enjoy!

By the way: I hate cats.

What is poetry?

Is it what I read in a book?
Is it what I feel?
Is it life?
Is it a baby?
Is it a well made meal?
I don't know what poetry is. I don't think I ever will.
And yet, I do.

Earthquake

This morning, around 10:09am, there was an earthquake. Nothing too big, but nonetheless noteworthy. A 4.1 will definitely shake your second story apartment built more than 30 years ago.

This is a reenactment of what happened (in my brain), when the earthquake struck:

I'm sitting at the kitchen table.
Shit. Its an earthquake.
Everything is shaking. Hard.
How long will it last?
Should I duck under the table? Naw, that table is from Ikea. I built it.
Earthquake over.

I should seriously consider getting a sturdier kitchen table. But, at least Alan and I have an earthquake safety kit. You must have one if you live in California. You never know when the big one will strike!

Meaty Confession

When I realized that I was going to Venezuela, I knew that staying a vegetarian during two weeks of travel through the country would be a challenge. While there I was faced with the choice of eating an extremely unhealthy diet of fried cheese and cornmeal, or include well prepared and seasoned meat in my diet. Eventually I succumbed to the pleasures of chivo en coco. I think I made the right choice. Chivo en coco is one of my favorite Venezuelan dishes... along with hallacas, pan de jamon, carne mechada and pollo frito. Did you know that chicken in Venezuela tastes much better than in the US? I don't know what to attribute the taste difference to, but chickens in the US taste so bland in comparison.

As soon as I got back to the US I was inspired to cook more Venezuelan food. After all, it wouldn't really be Christmas or New Years in my house without hallacas or pan de jamon, so I made them. Then I ate them. They were delicious. Alan is very happy about my conversion.

La Playa

Ok, so Christmas in Venezuela was not all that bad. Things worked out well. Alan and I managed to get out of Cuidad Ojeda and escape to the beach. In fact, we went to one of the best beaches in the country: Parque Nacional Morrocoy, Cayo Boca Seca. The only way to get there is by boat. We also passed by Coro, Punto Fijo and Maracaibo.

Christmas Doom!

I will be in Venezuela for Christmas this year. I will be staying in a little town called Ciudad Ojeda. Ciudad Ojeda is the most un-touristy, boring, hot and sweaty town of the entire country. I grew up in this town and my mom still lives there. Part of me wants to visit my mom. But, a larger part of me is dreading Ciudad Ojeda. I really hate that town, and I have spent a good part of the last 8 years of my life avoiding it. Originally my plan to visit Venezuela was built around nice beach towns and historical locations. I planned to avoid Ciudad Ojeda, and Zulia state, entirely. Unfortunately, there has been a change in plans due to events that are out of my control. Now I must stay in Ciudad Ojeda for 12 days; my Venezuelan vacation does not feel like a vacation anymore.

I have this horrible feeling that a life-altering event is going to happen once I get there. I sense that a higher (universal?) (evil?) power is sending me there, to my doom, despite my better judgment and fighting it is pointless. There is nothing I can do to get out of visiting Ciudad Ojeda. I do not have high hopes for a Merry Christmas. I know this sounds a bit dramatic, but it is how I truly feel.

To make matters worse, my husband is coming with me. I don't want him to see the horrible little town and the horrible little house where I grew up and spent some of the worst years of my life. It's embarrassing. On the other hand, I don't think I could survive the trip without him... so I am sort of glad he is coming.

Thanksgiving

A time to share delicious food.
Holidays don't get much better than this.

Jessica

For the last couple of days Alan's cousin, Jessica, has visited us. Jessica is from Minnesota. Since this was her first visit to California we did A LOT of touristy activities, which included visiting the Cal Academy of Sciences, the De Young Museum, the Monterey Aquarium, San Francisco Fisherman's Wharf, and plenty of shopping. In between these activities we managed to get in a Thanksgiving meal and some pictures.

Thanksgiving Music?

I endured about an hour and a half of non-stop Christmas music earlier this week, while eating at The Cheesecake Factory. I was upset about the presence of Christmas music since Thanksgiving had not happened yet. Over the course of an incredibly large plate of pasta I pondered about the subject of holiday music, and I realized that there was no Thanksgiving music. Why is there no Thanksgiving music? You would think that presidential turkey pardons, being with family, giving thanks, obscene amounts of food, pilgrims, Indians, sharing, etc, would all be wonderful subjects of songs. However, that I know of, there is no market for Thanksgiving music. Instead there are non-stop jingles about a fat man in a red suit jumping down chimneys.

I can't help but wonder that Thanksgiving music does not exist because it is not associated with commercialism. Christmas music helps get everybody in the mood for buying gifts, which is why retail stores and commercial establishments encourage it so much. In contrast, Thanksgiving music would mostly get people in the mood for eating with family. Hum...

The Things We Laugh About

For the record, my husband is a clean man. He picks up after himself and helps with chores. He tries his best to keep up with my OCD-cleaning habits. That being said, nobody is perfect. Yesterday Alan gave me a mild panic attack.


After walking into the house yesterday evening, and being struck at the front door with an uncharacteristically pungent, cheesy odor, I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. I immediately asked Alan what that funky smell was about. He replied, from the apartment's back room, that he didn't know what I was talking about. Thus, I set out to find the culprit. My search led me to Alan's feet. Since I couldn't throw the offensive source away (which was my first impulse), I asked Alan to wash his feet. Alan declined, stating that he was in the middle of some important online game that he couldn't quit. I have seen him play this game before, and I knew it could be hours before he was finished. I couldn't imagine even 5 more minutes with the horrible stink. I insisted. "Please", I said, while laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

He finally washed his feet or, I should say, rinsed. There was no soap involved. I was laughing loudly and nervously at this point. Alan started laughing too. "Who doesn't use soap when they wash their feet?", I asked. "Go WASH your feet!" "with SOAP", I bellowed. Between laughs, this was his reply:

"You know what, I have never washed my feet the entire time we have been together."

The above quote is something you never wish to hear from your husband. Especially after being together for almost 5 years. The laughing stopped. I was so shocked I was paralyzed. Words could not explain my disgust. This, from the man I love? Apparently yes. And I still love him. And after he really washed his feet, with soap, we laughed some more.

Awesomeize

Awesomeize. verb. Describes the action of receiving or giving something awesome. Examples: "I was awesomeized by his lecture." "I awesomeized her with my present." "I awesomeized everyone at the party." "She is in the process of awesomeizing."

Over a Year!

I haven't eaten meat in over a year! October 2009 marked my one year anniversary.

Wow.

Denial

Denial doesn't make things go away
Denial doesn't make situations better
Denial is what cowards live in
Denial hurts those around you
Denial only causes more pain
Denial is for the sad and lonely and weak
Say NO to denial in your life
Responsibility is so much more dignified.