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Saturday, January 8, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
O, what a morning I've had, and it's not even 8 AM.
An acquaintance volunteered to drive me to the airport this morning. I wanted to leave at 0400; my flight was at 0600. 0400 came and went with no call or text from the individual. I waited as long as I could, threw my luggage in my car, and hauled ass to the airport.
I was running short on time, so I was forced to park in the closest (and priciest) longterm parking lot. I made it to check-in with ten minutes to spare. It was seven minutes, though, before I realized I was at the wrong airline. So I dashed over fo the right one...
...and was told that because my company had failed to ticket my reservation over two weeks ago, the reservation had been cancelled.
I have been to Puerto Rico twice in the past ten years. When I was requested, by name, for this work trip, I was ecstatic. I booked my flight to leave two days early so that I could spend the weekend with family.
Naturally, I am disappointed to the point of tears. It's not been an easy week for me. I was really looking forward to this trip, hoping a little time under the sun eating delicious Puerto Rican food and seeing my grandmother and cousins would lift my spirits a little.
Whatever.
I was running short on time, so I was forced to park in the closest (and priciest) longterm parking lot. I made it to check-in with ten minutes to spare. It was seven minutes, though, before I realized I was at the wrong airline. So I dashed over fo the right one...
...and was told that because my company had failed to ticket my reservation over two weeks ago, the reservation had been cancelled.
I have been to Puerto Rico twice in the past ten years. When I was requested, by name, for this work trip, I was ecstatic. I booked my flight to leave two days early so that I could spend the weekend with family.
Naturally, I am disappointed to the point of tears. It's not been an easy week for me. I was really looking forward to this trip, hoping a little time under the sun eating delicious Puerto Rican food and seeing my grandmother and cousins would lift my spirits a little.
Whatever.
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Monday, January 3, 2011
My escape from reality, and the...benefits?
Me: I don't want to work.
Brother: You just want to bang on the drum all day?
Me: Nah. Ask me how I spent my weekend.
Brother: I know how you spent your weekend.
Me: O?
Brother: I thought you just hung out at the house for New Year's Eve and then hung out some more.
Me: I laid in bed reading all weekend. That's all I want to do. Just lay around reading. I never wanna stop reading. I want to read until the world crashes down on me. Then read some more.
Brother: You could be a book critic. Leave this life of [security discipline] behind you and just absorb books until your brain can't fit in your head anymore. Then your brain would live in a glass jar, for all the world to see.
Me: Hm. And what would the world gain from viewing my brain?
Brother: They could touch the glass and hear you yelling at them telepathically to leave you alone because you are reading.
Me: *laughs* Or perhaps a custodian might be appointed, one to watch over my brain until one worthy enough of the knowledge held therein could be found. And once they are found, they would consume my brain, and absorb all the knowledge I had collected through my lifetime. As was done once, in more primitive times.
Brother: About books.
Me: Yes. I suppose I should start reading the classics, in preparation. I'd hate for some youth to go through all the troublenof choking down my brain, only to gain nothing more than cheesy romance novels and Harry Potter.
Brother: Or worse. Fanfic.
Brother: You just want to bang on the drum all day?
Me: Nah. Ask me how I spent my weekend.
Brother: I know how you spent your weekend.
Me: O?
Brother: I thought you just hung out at the house for New Year's Eve and then hung out some more.
Me: I laid in bed reading all weekend. That's all I want to do. Just lay around reading. I never wanna stop reading. I want to read until the world crashes down on me. Then read some more.
Brother: You could be a book critic. Leave this life of [security discipline] behind you and just absorb books until your brain can't fit in your head anymore. Then your brain would live in a glass jar, for all the world to see.
Me: Hm. And what would the world gain from viewing my brain?
Brother: They could touch the glass and hear you yelling at them telepathically to leave you alone because you are reading.
Me: *laughs* Or perhaps a custodian might be appointed, one to watch over my brain until one worthy enough of the knowledge held therein could be found. And once they are found, they would consume my brain, and absorb all the knowledge I had collected through my lifetime. As was done once, in more primitive times.
Brother: About books.
Me: Yes. I suppose I should start reading the classics, in preparation. I'd hate for some youth to go through all the troublenof choking down my brain, only to gain nothing more than cheesy romance novels and Harry Potter.
Brother: Or worse. Fanfic.
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Friday, December 31, 2010
The end of a year...and the death of hope.
I always knew, in the back of my mind, that my first pregnancy would not be a bright thing. That it would end in misery, not in joy.
As we speak, my body reabsorbs that which is not viable, that fading spark of life that had been my one hope, my one chance at motherhood. I will never know what it is to bear a child in my womb. I will never hold it in my arms, never feel a mother's love.
No, that last part is wrong, for I knew it briefly. From the moment I saw that plus sign, I loved that tiny spark of life with every fiber of my being. Unplanned as it was, I was so grateful for the chance...a chance that will never be.
I only write this to get it all out at once. I do not seek sympathy or pity. I do not relish explaining this over and over. I'm ripping off the scab all at once. I do not wish to discuss this. I do not crave consolation. I just want to get on with my life...and forget as quickly as possible.
That is all.
As we speak, my body reabsorbs that which is not viable, that fading spark of life that had been my one hope, my one chance at motherhood. I will never know what it is to bear a child in my womb. I will never hold it in my arms, never feel a mother's love.
No, that last part is wrong, for I knew it briefly. From the moment I saw that plus sign, I loved that tiny spark of life with every fiber of my being. Unplanned as it was, I was so grateful for the chance...a chance that will never be.
I only write this to get it all out at once. I do not seek sympathy or pity. I do not relish explaining this over and over. I'm ripping off the scab all at once. I do not wish to discuss this. I do not crave consolation. I just want to get on with my life...and forget as quickly as possible.
That is all.
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Saturday, December 25, 2010
Pirate Spawn at six weeks.
I am six weeks pregnant today by my calculations (or should I say, by the calculations of the apps I'm using on my phone).
I still have 34 weeks to go...ugh! Which is 238 days...double ugh!
I'm starting my seventh week of pregnancy, and the embryo that will henceforth be dubbed "Pirate Spawn" looks like an alien with a tail and a large head with nostrils and lips and eyes. It has a beating heart (!) and is developing it's liver, kidneys, etc. It has developed it's placenta and amniotic sac, and the placenta is burrowing into my uterine wall to leech the oxygen and nutrients from my bloodstream.
So basically it's my very own sweet pea-sized parasite.
Oh, and did you know that up to 50% of pregnant women get hemorrhoids? Yep, that's right. If you thought pregnancy was all glowing skin and and content mama, you thought wrong. We all thought wrong. We were lied to. Damn you, society!!
So far, the worst of my symptoms is lethargy and occasional cramping in my leg due to a lot of the blood in my body making a beeline for my womb. Also, ever since my mom told me to drink lots of milk, that's all I want.
Watched a fascinating documentary the other night called "The Business of Being Born". It takes harder look quality of maternal care in this great nation of ours, and gives it a poor score. Here are a couple of things states in the documentary:
The United States has the second worst newborn death rate in the developed world.
The U.S. has one of the highest maternal mortality rates among all industrialized countries.
Since 1996 the Cesarean section rate has risen 46%.
The documentary also explores the benefits of natural births assisted by midwives. After watching that, I am seriously considering it. I am fortunate that my health insurance will cover that...the trouble is trying to find a birthing center or a midwife via the website. I guess I'll just have to talk to the doctor when I see him on Monday.
Merry Christmas, all!
I still have 34 weeks to go...ugh! Which is 238 days...double ugh!
I'm starting my seventh week of pregnancy, and the embryo that will henceforth be dubbed "Pirate Spawn" looks like an alien with a tail and a large head with nostrils and lips and eyes. It has a beating heart (!) and is developing it's liver, kidneys, etc. It has developed it's placenta and amniotic sac, and the placenta is burrowing into my uterine wall to leech the oxygen and nutrients from my bloodstream.
So basically it's my very own sweet pea-sized parasite.
Oh, and did you know that up to 50% of pregnant women get hemorrhoids? Yep, that's right. If you thought pregnancy was all glowing skin and and content mama, you thought wrong. We all thought wrong. We were lied to. Damn you, society!!
So far, the worst of my symptoms is lethargy and occasional cramping in my leg due to a lot of the blood in my body making a beeline for my womb. Also, ever since my mom told me to drink lots of milk, that's all I want.
Watched a fascinating documentary the other night called "The Business of Being Born". It takes harder look quality of maternal care in this great nation of ours, and gives it a poor score. Here are a couple of things states in the documentary:
The United States has the second worst newborn death rate in the developed world.
The U.S. has one of the highest maternal mortality rates among all industrialized countries.
Since 1996 the Cesarean section rate has risen 46%.
The documentary also explores the benefits of natural births assisted by midwives. After watching that, I am seriously considering it. I am fortunate that my health insurance will cover that...the trouble is trying to find a birthing center or a midwife via the website. I guess I'll just have to talk to the doctor when I see him on Monday.
Merry Christmas, all!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
The beginning of a new chapter in the adventures of this pirate.
I am pregnant.
A little over five weeks.
The embryo is the size of on orange seed.
Estimated due date: sometime in August, by my math.
I have 8 months to do what has not been accomplished in 25 years of life: grow the fuck up.
A little over five weeks.
The embryo is the size of on orange seed.
Estimated due date: sometime in August, by my math.
I have 8 months to do what has not been accomplished in 25 years of life: grow the fuck up.
Friday, December 3, 2010
In-flight private jokes.
There I was at gate A4, waiting to board my flight go Detroit, when what to my wo/andering* eyes should appear...but the same Delta employee who was so "helpful" in getting myself, Deer Hunter, and Canuck "re-routed" for our Korea trip.** Naturally I texted them.
Deer Hunter: Tell him not to lose your bags this time!
Canuck: Make sure he doesn't fuck with your bag!
To which I responded, "I'd make a special trip back here just to cut off his face. [...] He would not live to see 2011."
Upon my arrival at Detroit, I texted them again.
"I finally made it to Detroit to catch my connecting flight...only took me four months!"
*I can't remember if it was "wondering eyes" or "wandering eyes" in "The Night Before Christmas". I'm 90% sure it's the first one, tho...
**Reference late-July 2010 blog post entitled "May Delta Airlines burn..."
Deer Hunter: Tell him not to lose your bags this time!
Canuck: Make sure he doesn't fuck with your bag!
To which I responded, "I'd make a special trip back here just to cut off his face. [...] He would not live to see 2011."
Upon my arrival at Detroit, I texted them again.
"I finally made it to Detroit to catch my connecting flight...only took me four months!"
*I can't remember if it was "wondering eyes" or "wandering eyes" in "The Night Before Christmas". I'm 90% sure it's the first one, tho...
**Reference late-July 2010 blog post entitled "May Delta Airlines burn..."
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Monday, November 29, 2010
Pollo guisado, arroz blanco, y habichuelas.
Oh, sorry. That's stewed chicken, white rice, and beans.
Pollo guisado (stewed chicken):
Pack of chicken drumsticks.
8 oz can of tomato sauce.
1 tbsp of Sofrito. (A Goya product that can be found in the "ethnic" section of your grocery store.)
Adobo. (Another Goya product.)
One packet of Sazon. (Goya.)
1 tbsp of olive oil.
3 or 4 medium potatoes.
Bay leaf.
Chicken flavored bouillon cube, one.
Chicken broth.
Two cloves of garlic, minced.
Water.
In a bowl, season the drumsticks with the adobo. Peel and cut up the potatoes.
In a large pot over high heat, combine all of the ingredients. Make sure you put enough water/chicken broth to cover the chicken. Boil covered until the potatoes are tender and the internal temp of the chicken is 165 degrees.
Arroz blanco (white rice):
3 cups of rice.
3.5 cups of water.
1 tbsp of vegetable or canola oil.
1 tsp of salt.
Combine in a rice cooker. Let the cooker do it's thing. If you're using crazy rice, like jasmine rice, I suggest 1.5 c water for each cup of rice.
Habichuelas (beans):
One can of pinto beans.
The other half-can of tomato sauce.
1 tbsp of sofrito.
1 tbsp of olive oil.
Two minced garlic cloves.
1 tsp of adobo.
One packet of sazon.
16 green olives.
1 tbsp of the juice from the olives.
Combine all of the above in a medium sauce pan over high heat. Once the skin of the beans splits, you can remove from heat.
None of this is copyrighted, trademarked, registered, what have you. I grew up on this stuff, my mom taught me how to make it all, I don't follow any of those measurements to a T. I've made it all so many times that I just throw stuff in and manage to get it all right. Good luck, and good eating.
OMNOMNOM.
Pollo guisado (stewed chicken):
Pack of chicken drumsticks.
8 oz can of tomato sauce.
1 tbsp of Sofrito. (A Goya product that can be found in the "ethnic" section of your grocery store.)
Adobo. (Another Goya product.)
One packet of Sazon. (Goya.)
1 tbsp of olive oil.
3 or 4 medium potatoes.
Bay leaf.
Chicken flavored bouillon cube, one.
Chicken broth.
Two cloves of garlic, minced.
Water.
In a bowl, season the drumsticks with the adobo. Peel and cut up the potatoes.
In a large pot over high heat, combine all of the ingredients. Make sure you put enough water/chicken broth to cover the chicken. Boil covered until the potatoes are tender and the internal temp of the chicken is 165 degrees.
Arroz blanco (white rice):
3 cups of rice.
3.5 cups of water.
1 tbsp of vegetable or canola oil.
1 tsp of salt.
Combine in a rice cooker. Let the cooker do it's thing. If you're using crazy rice, like jasmine rice, I suggest 1.5 c water for each cup of rice.
Habichuelas (beans):
One can of pinto beans.
The other half-can of tomato sauce.
1 tbsp of sofrito.
1 tbsp of olive oil.
Two minced garlic cloves.
1 tsp of adobo.
One packet of sazon.
16 green olives.
1 tbsp of the juice from the olives.
Combine all of the above in a medium sauce pan over high heat. Once the skin of the beans splits, you can remove from heat.
None of this is copyrighted, trademarked, registered, what have you. I grew up on this stuff, my mom taught me how to make it all, I don't follow any of those measurements to a T. I've made it all so many times that I just throw stuff in and manage to get it all right. Good luck, and good eating.
OMNOMNOM.
Cream cheese stuffed chicken.
Prep time: 15 minutes.
Cook time: 45 minutes.
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 8-oz container soft cream cheese spread
4 green onions, thinly sliced
4 bacon slices
Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Coat a rectangular 2-qt baking dish with nonstick spray; set aside. (I used my Pampered Chef (r) Deep Covered Baker.) Place each chicken breast between two pieces of plastic wrap. Using the flat side of a meat mallet, pound chicken lightly to 1/4-inch thick. Remove plastic wrap.
In a small bowl combine cream cheese and green onions. Spread on each chicken breast, leaving a 1/2-inch border at the edges. Roll up from one short side, and wrap with 1 bacon slice; secure with wooden toothpicks, if needed. Repeat with remaining breasts.
Place chicken rolls, seam side down, in baking dish. Bake 45 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink. (165 degrees Fahrenheit internal temperature.)
Serves 4. (c) Try-Food International.
I served this with rigatoni noodles in a scampi garlic sauce.
Box of rigatoni noodles.
Packet of scampi seasoning; can be found in the seafood section at the grocery store.
Stick of butter/margarine.
Olive oil.
Two garlic gloves, minced or diced.
Boil noodles per box directions.
In a small saucepan, melt butter and olive oil together. Add the garlic. Stir together over medium heat for a few minutes, then add 2 tbsp of the scampi seasoning. Stir well.
Drain the noodles, and place them in a bowl. Pour the sauce over the noodles and mix it well. If you're feeling frisky, throw some grated Parmesan on top.
Omnomnom.
Cook time: 45 minutes.
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 8-oz container soft cream cheese spread
4 green onions, thinly sliced
4 bacon slices
Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Coat a rectangular 2-qt baking dish with nonstick spray; set aside. (I used my Pampered Chef (r) Deep Covered Baker.) Place each chicken breast between two pieces of plastic wrap. Using the flat side of a meat mallet, pound chicken lightly to 1/4-inch thick. Remove plastic wrap.
In a small bowl combine cream cheese and green onions. Spread on each chicken breast, leaving a 1/2-inch border at the edges. Roll up from one short side, and wrap with 1 bacon slice; secure with wooden toothpicks, if needed. Repeat with remaining breasts.
Place chicken rolls, seam side down, in baking dish. Bake 45 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink. (165 degrees Fahrenheit internal temperature.)
Serves 4. (c) Try-Food International.
I served this with rigatoni noodles in a scampi garlic sauce.
Box of rigatoni noodles.
Packet of scampi seasoning; can be found in the seafood section at the grocery store.
Stick of butter/margarine.
Olive oil.
Two garlic gloves, minced or diced.
Boil noodles per box directions.
In a small saucepan, melt butter and olive oil together. Add the garlic. Stir together over medium heat for a few minutes, then add 2 tbsp of the scampi seasoning. Stir well.
Drain the noodles, and place them in a bowl. Pour the sauce over the noodles and mix it well. If you're feeling frisky, throw some grated Parmesan on top.
Omnomnom.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Blogging from my Samsung Captivate.
I've waited my whole life for this phone. Srsly. I can use it as a nook or a Kindle!! Do you understand what this means to me as a bibliophile?!?!
Is this what heaven feels like??
Is this what heaven feels like??
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Thursday, November 25, 2010
Happeh Thanksgiving, mates.
Always am I thankful to the Goddess for my loving family, my few but wonderful friends, my good health, three great jobs, fun co-workers, and the opportunity to serve my country and see the world. Blessed be, and a lovely weekend to you all.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
And as for those bloody body scanners...
If there's a long line of people waiting to be patted down to protest the body scanner and hold up the lines for security to send a message to TSA, I plan on cutting in front of all of them to waltz through a scanner. I'm sorry, but I have a flight to catch, and if that means baring it all for TSA to prove that I do not have nefarious plans to bring down the plane, then somehow I'll find the will to press on.
Assholes.
Assholes.
'Cause you're hot, then you're cold...
San Antonio, Texas
80 degrees and sunny.
Rural lair of the Dread Pirate
59 degrees and rainy.
I'm ready to go home, I'm just not ready to leave this weather. Sad panda am I.
80 degrees and sunny.
Rural lair of the Dread Pirate
59 degrees and rainy.
I'm ready to go home, I'm just not ready to leave this weather. Sad panda am I.
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