different sort of commitment

Just got a phone call from my wonderful boyfriend – he checked with University of New Orleans and it looks like her should be able to transfer there with no problem.  He’s thinking that he’ll go down in spring of 2012 and then I can move down after I finish my dissertation in June of 2012.  And then I freaked out.

See I’m not so accustomed to the boyfriend taking that kind of initiative.  Thus far, most of the initiative has consisted of buying elaborate board games, wanting to grill meat for dinner, and going on a bike ride or two.  It’s to the point that just about anytime he suggests we do something, I react with shock and confusion.  ”You want to do what?  Buy shorts?  Really? (pause) Well – I guess we could do that.”  Like that.

So when he decided that he was going to move to New Orleans and get our grown-up life together started about 8 months before the previously agreed-upon schedule, I did not react with the sort of warmth and support that I perhaps should have.

Just a week and a half ago I was pissed at him.  PISSED.  I have been asking him every couple of weeks when he was going to work out his transfer to the local State U and he kept  shrugging like he had lots of time – and then I went ahead and did what I had been afraid to do – I looked at the State U’s website and learned pretty quickly that he’d already missed the transfer application deadline by about 6 months.  So for not the first time his lack of initiative was setting back our plans to start our grown up life.  When we had a slightly teary dinner about it at PF Chang’s, he said lots of things that I had suspected but never heard him say – that he doesn’t always take care of himself like he should, that he only started to get his shit together when we started dating, and that he was nervous about the responsibility that our long-term commitment implied.  I started giving all sorts of options for him – that he could start subbing at schools to get some teaching experience under his belt, that he could go to the far away State U, that he could transfer to UNO.  Somehow that last one stuck and I didn’t even know it.

And now, how do I feel?  Well, I threw down the gauntlet at a meeting with my advisor, telling her that all I wanted to do was move back to New Orleans, whatever that meant for my career.  And I’ve been talking a big game about that – that I’ll take any job in New Orleans just to be back there – but this move by my dude makes all that much more real.  It’s a different sort of commitment.  If he makes this move and I encourage him, then I really really really am going to get a job in New Orleans.  Then I really really really am not going to worry too much about the academic career track.  That’s some crazy shit, yo.  And i don’t know if it makes sense to make that sort of commitment all because he wants New Orleans to help him get out of his rut.  But that’s not really the only reason – I already made the commitment to some degree – but – I – and – argh!

Hair still smells like smoke

This weekend brisket brought my father and I closer together.  I had a 28 minute phone call with him!  28 minutes – and the whole time, I do believe that we were engaged and actually conversing.  And all because of brisket.

My old housemates were throwing a barbecue, and I’d volunteered to help out by being on the smoking team. I and the super-chef roommate (SCR) were smoking a 6 pound brisket, a 5 pound pork shoulder, and two trout.  We had spent the whole week sending each other over-excited emails (well, really, SCR was sending me all sorts of emails while I half-assedly looked for recipes) and intense phone conversations about the smoking.  At one point, I stood in Smart & Final talking to the woman about meat while my boyfriend ran around grabbing ridiculous quantities of snackfood (there are pounds of coby jack cheese cubes in my fridge.  pounds).   At one point, this woman with an Eastern European accent and friendly eyes started asking me (an obviously harried woman yelling into a phone) what I was going to do with my big piece of meat (the ten pound brisket) that I was preparing to wrestle into my basket.  I found myself trying to answer her, while still talking to SCR and explaining that pork shoulders and pork butts are the same thing, and yelling at the boy friend to stop throwing salami into the cart.  We walked out of there $120 bucks poorer.  But at least now I have the remaining 4 pounds of brisket in my freezer.

Saturday we got started early – I was there at 8:30 am with a marinated brisket, two trout, and a baggie of ice in my garbage can.  I also had mimosa supplies, a six pack of shiner bock, and a bunch of other stuff in preparation for a looong day.  And long it was – I was there until past 11PM.

But back to the conversation.  Once the grill was going and SCR was inside working on other matters, I found myself outside minding the very finicky coals.  We’d struggled to get the grill to maintain the 230 degree temperature, and I was periodically lighting small quantities of coals and dumping them into the grill.  I was also drinking my fourth mimosa and/or beer.  So I called my dad.

And it was great!  He was also grilling, getting ready to make some kebabs, which he’d never done before.  When I explained about the trouble with the coals, he commiserated with us, expressing shock that we were trying to pull this off in a grill and not a smoker.  Then we talked about all kinds of stuff – his garden, the trees he’s having cut out of the back yard, the family’s plans for the summer, and his surprisingly strong feelings about weddings.  I had no idea!  Apparently he’s only been to a few – like 4 – his whole life and feels like they are just drama-rama-bombs.  He pointed out that of his six brothers (of which he’s actually one, so five brothers, but whatever), those who went before the justice of the peace stayed married 20 years while those who had weddings didn’t last ten.  He knows that can only mean so much, but it was still neat to hear.  And he said that he didn’t even know whether his older sisters had had weddings (he’s the baby of the family).  It was just lovely.  My dad’s an awesome dude.

But then I told him that he’d have to get used to weddings what with the four of us, and he agreed.  So that’s good.

gotta be starting something

Wanting the Next Thing

As much as I love sunshine and warm weather, and as unprepared as I am for the fall, I’m finding myself very eager for the NEXT THING. I’m starting data collection this year (the good Lord willing and the crick don’t rise), and I’m impatient to get everyone to just say yes already so I can start scheduling and planning and driving my little self all 1200 miles to my study site. It’s gonna be nuts.
But, I have to be patient, and tomorrow I’ll hopefully take another teensy step forward by getting permission from another principal.

In the mean time, I want to start all sorts of new projects – like getting more invested in the mysterious and nerve-wracking worlds of baking and gardening. Since moving into our new place, I haven’t done a lick of either. Baking is tough since we kinda really like our kitchen table and I don’t imagine that using it as a kneading or rolling surface would be so good for it. But I just read No Reservations, and as often happens, now I want to cook. Everything. All the time.  And I’ve discovered that the summer’s bounty doesn’t get my heart pattering like everyone else.  All I want is butternut squash, sweet potatoes, and chili.  And bread.  And maybe even desserts.  After dinner one night, my friend hops up and just kind of “whips up” an olive oil, rosemary, and dark chocolate cake.  This mess was ridiculous.  And as there was no frosting and not that many ingredients, and savory elements, I’ve been thinking about making my own ever since.  Who knew that I didn’t have to deal with butter cream frosting or rolling pins if I wanted a little sweet in my life?

Then today I finished reading The $64 Tomato, and I find myself sizing up our balcony, wondering whether there is enough sun and space to get my greens going again. Then I found this, and if this sucker was 17 inches deep instead of 7, I might have it in my house right now:

Happily, I think I’ll be satisfied with just doing a little container herb garden – thyme, sage, and rosemary should do me. I find myself buying those more often and for more money than makes sense. And they are all flavors that I want in breads and on roasted veggies – my go-to dish in the fall.

The Way Summer Should Be

This summer was, for the most part, a ridiculous shlog. Lots and lots of work, and nowhere near as much sunning, road trips, and all the other stuff that I want out of the summertime. There have been pockets of loveliness though and the last few weeks I had a rocking vacay.

One of the crazy-beautiful views from the trail.

Wonderful points:
Took my baby to Santa Cruz for his birthday.  We went to Wilder Ranch State Park (absolutely gorgeous – quiet, great views, easy trails) and then the boardwalk.  I discovered that Q is absolutely bonkers for carnival rides.  I had no idea!  And corndogs – but I could have guessed that.

Q’s little cousin (20!) got hitched.  We went, danced and acted silly, and ended the evening by chilling with Q’s very awesome grandparents and aunts and uncles until midnight.  They plied us with incredible martinis and all sorts of fun stories.  The grandma complimented me for being open-minded enough to date a Caucasion.  I thanked her and asked for another drink.

K, my best friend from college came for a one-day visit before she and her dude went driving up the coast.  Only one day, but a great time – we went to Alembic for cocktails and Zadin for dinner.  Thank-you, Yelp and Chowhound.  K has celiacs, so Zadin was perfect.  And Alembic has crazy tasty cocktails, so, you know.  But it was pretty lovely, even if there was some stress around iPhones and educational philosophies (happily, Q is so charming and I’m low-key enough that this stress was mostly contained).

Big sis and her girl came a few weeks later.  The sis was in for a job fair and turned it into a four day weekend.  Super fab time – took them to a friend’s housewarming, went to Santa Cruz with Q, did a day at Ashby flea market (can we talk about the food at the Ashby flea market?  I won’t even get started on the great deals available to cute black girls with big smiles), and even took them by Alembic and Zadin.  My future sister-in-law is also off gluten, so these Vietnamese masters saved me again.  Fab.  And exhausting – as having visitors can be – but they even sent us a thank-you car and gift!  All very civilized.

Big Sis and Her Girl on the Ferris Wheel

And in the last three weeks I attended a wedding, spent two weeks with my family, saw friends from high school, went to Las Vegas with Q, Big Sis, and her girl, and read about 4 fun books.  And last night we even had another couple over, supposedly in order to play a game, but we just boozed and ate and chatted.  Just wonderful.

Okay, now I feel pretty ridiculous for claiming that this summer wasn’t so great.  I didn’t grow tomatoes or drive to Portland, but it was really magnificent.  And there are so many more stories to tell about it.

What I’m Eating Now

While at my parent’s house, I took to making open-faced egg sandwiches.  They had these ridiculous things called “Bagel Thins”, which mostly resembled very thin wheat bread with a hole cut in the middle.  Though not a bagel, they were a great size to pile a slice of tomato, a fried egg, and some cheese on top of.  Run it in the oven, sprinkle dill, salt, and pepper, and you’ve got breakfast.

Now that I’m home, I don’t have bagel thins, but I do have some hearty Italian bread from Trader Joe’s and I don’t have tomatoes (the texture disagrees with Q), but I do have onions and mushrooms.  So here was today’s lunch:

My Lunch

Open Faced Egg Sandwich:

Handful of crimini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced

1/4 of a small onion, chopped

1 tbs oil

2 eggs

1 tbs butter

Enough cheese to sprinkle and enough garlic powder, cilantro, pepper, and salt to season.

First I sautee the onions and mushrooms in oil until they are tender.   These go on top of the bread and are sprinkled liberally with garlic powder.  I fry the eggs per the Cooks Illustrated method – melt butter until foam subsides, gently drop in eggs, cover pan with a lid and wait 90 seconds.  I like to put the eggs a bit undercooked on the sandwich since they are going to be going under the broiler.  Then I sprinkle it all with cheese and slide it under the broiler.  After about 2 minutes (checking frequently – a neglected loaf of bread once caught fire under that damn broiler), I pull it out, sprinkle cilantro, salt and pepper on top.  If not for cooking the veggies, this would be a five minute affair.  As it is, it’s more like 15.  For a pretty, tasty, and hearty meal, that ain’t nothin.

giving thanks

Today I finally submitted my bio for a chapter I co-authored (let’s not discuss how tardy it is). My email was very brief – just this:

Hello,
Here is my bio for the volume.
[BIO]

Thanks,
[Me]

I find that most of my correspondence ends this way. Just “Thanks,” and my name. It’s migrating into the realm of “hey, how you feeling?” as a friendly filler in communication. As much as some people hate the “how are you” that doesn’t expect an answer, I have a little affection for it. After all, there is nothing but habit and social pressure that keeps it from turning into a conversation about how a person is doing. The very structure of the comment leaves things just a wee-bit more open than they would be if we just said, “Hey”.

So – what about “thanks”? At first it was me thanking someone, anyone, for answering my emailed cries for help. “Do you know how I can . . .? Thanks!” “Do you have time to talk about . . .? Thanks!” Now, here where I’m (tardily) satisfying someone else’s request, I still say it. Why not expand the notion – perhaps it means I’m saying “thanks” to the divine will of the universe for letting me take care of business by email. I like this idea – that I’m saying “thanks” in a non-specific, broad, expression of gratitude.

garden porn

20 days in - from above

20 days in

First Harvest - Mizuna Mustard Greens

swolva (n.)

swolva (n.) a swollen vulva, an indication of attraction and arousal e.g. I have a total swolva for the new Jean Grae album.

I had the unfortunate experience of briefly dating a young man who wasn’t interested in me (but who didn’t have the courage or good sense to say so). We would make out and mess around and then, as it grew late, he’d roll over and fall asleep, leaving me in a . . . state. I had a hard time determining what to call that, and for awhile I went with “blue vulva.” But that makes reference to the notion of blue balls which is loaded with all kinds of bogus ridiculousness, and it’s two words, which seems linguistically inefficient.

While laying around with my boy, who loves talking about having a bonner (he pronounces it with the short o) for things, I thought again about this problem. And then? A moment of revelation! Swolva!

Bourbon and Sprouts Are So Pretty

My pride

Sprouts Eye View 1

Sprouts Eye View 2

and joy

Earl Grey Infused Bourbon

Orange and Spice Infused Bourbon

My sprouts were sowed one week ago today, and now about forty plants are poking through and doing their thing. The mustard seeds came up super fast and the turnips (I think) followed them.

The bourbon is another adventure. I already had success with the earl grey-infused bourbon, so today I’m making another batch of that while I’m also trying out one of my favorite herbal teas, orange spice. I’ll be sure to update in a few days with news of that tastiness.

Grey Julep – A PoundofSass Original!

The other day I was pouring myself a drink – bourbon with simple syrup, soda, and ice – when I remembered my invention from the beginning of the summer: The Menlo Julep. It was a very easy mixture just like the drink I was enjoying that day, except that I had infused the bourbon with basil, rosemary, and thyme. This was after trying a friend’s homemade limoncello, which totally knocked my socks off. (By the way, that’s not my friend’s blog, but I think that guy is kinda neat).

So, ever so many months ago I had stuck bourbon, rosemary, thyme, and basil in a glass jar and then stuck that in a dark cabinet for a few weeks. Then I made the tasty Menlo Julep. And why do I bring all this up?

Well, going back to a few days ago, I thought to myself that I’d like to do some more infusing, but I wasn’t sure which herbs to try next (I’m not the zesting type, seems too much like skill). I opened a drawer and noticed my many earl grey tea bags. I love the stuff. Made ice cream with it the other week. So I poured some bourbon in a jar (maybe three shots worth) and dropped in a tea bag. This was Tuesday or Wednesday.

Today I pulled out the jar and took a sniff. Shit was strong. But I was boldly optimistic and went ahead and mixed up a Grey Julep. De-lish! Here’s the official recipe:

1 part Earl Grey-infused bourbon (I used Beam Black – cuz I’m a woman of the people)
1 part soda water
1 part simple syrup
Ice

Sipping it now and trying to decide on an appropriate garnish – a lemon wedge?

31!

Woo! Since yesterday at noon, my garden has gone from 4 to 31 little mustard green sprouts. I also appear to have either a turnip or a carrot making it’s first push through the soil.

Today I went by Common Ground and picked up some fertilizer for the little guys. I went with the Earth Juice Grow because that’s what the guy told me to do. One kind of fun thing about embarking on something so unfamiliar is that I can be blindly trustful of salespeople without feeling dumb. After all, they do know more than me, right?

That and if my plants all die, I can blame Common Ground, Earth Juice Grow, and the dude.

miracles!

2 hours later, I went to water my pots of dirt, and hello-hello-what do you know? Four lovely little sprouts peeking out.

Aren’t they adorable?