artykins

Hello blog fans near and far!  I'd disperse with pleasantries, but given that it's been so long between posts, I really think just getting to it would be better.

The post is going to start with the title.  About a week ago, Matt and I were roused around 6:30 in the morning with the unmistakable sound of movers moving things in and out of an nearby apartment.  Matt got out of bed and went to shower.  My habit is to stay in bed until he's done (most of the time I stay in bed until long after he's done), but last week he finished showering, came in to me and told me that there was a door outside our flat.

In my sleepy state, I really didn't understand what he meant until I got up, showered and came out into the living room.  Sure enough, Matt had opened the blinds on the front window (which also happens to be a working French door) and there was a door propped up against our Japanese maple tree.

It was our neighbor's door.  The moving men had taken it completely off its hinges to move some of the furniture out.  By the time I was ready to go to work, the apartment across the way was almost completely empty.

Well, time wasn't wasted.  All this week there have been workers fixing up the apartment.  Lots of drilling and vaccuming and sneezes later, I think they're finally wrapping things up.  Last night the smell of fresh paint was wafting over to our flat, which admittedly gave me a headache.  I don't like the smell of fresh paint.  I'm okay so long as I'm painting and therefore occupied, but once I'm done, I have to leave the room all together until it's dry.  Even then it still smells like paint.

Of course, the smell was probably intensified by the heat we had yesterday.  Yesterday and today were/are going to be scorchers.  Tomorrow it's supposed to cool down.  That's according to my weather widget, which probably isn't accurate at all, but it's fortcasting cooler (albeit only slightly) weather tomorrow.  And we all know I live in constant hope of cold weather.  Just call me the Ice Queen.  Able to melt the hearts of millions with my inner warmth and caring.  Or something like that.

My brothers were over for dinner last night.  I made won ton, teryaki chicken, garlic soy broccoli, rice and sweet and sour sauce.  I was able to escape too much heat.  The only thing that required me to park myself in front of any heat was the won ton.  Jeff and Jeremy brought the wok and a couple spiders with them, so I plugged the wok in, added oil and fired the bad boy up.  The wonderful thing about won ton is that they crisp up in next to no time at all.

So apart from those crunchy delights, everything else was pretty much made and cold.  I cheated and bought an already cooked chicken at the market just to save myself the anguish of having to cook any meat myself.  The teryaki sauce didn't require cooking.  In fact, the only other cooking I did was blanching the broccoli and heating the sweet and sour sauce.  Both short-lived times on the stove.

After dinner, I cleaned up and joined everyone for a game of Sorry, which Jeremy won and Jeff lost.  I was second and Matt was third.  So to make Jeff feel better, I got dessert ready, which was angel food cake and red berries (strawberries and raspberries in this case).  The downside of this was that in opening the angel food cake, I managed to slice three of my fingers on my left hand right open, so now they're all bandaged up.  They feel clunky.

The rest of the evening was spent watching Children of Men, which I found deeply disturbing on several levels.  On the other hand, they DID show a live birth which totally freaked all the boys out.  It didn't phase me in the slightest.  Jeff had to run to the kitchen to escape the shock-horror of it all and I just sat there laughing at them all. 

When the movie was done, the boys left, I took a cold shower because it was hot and then I sat up for a while until I got sleepy.  I then crawled into bed, kicking the duvet off because I knew I wouldn't want or need it last night, and curled up underneath one of my mother's quilts.  Matt joined me shortly thereafter, we talked for a bit and then I fell asleep.

So since today is turning out to be another hot one, I came into work early so I could escape the small brick oven known as my office before it gets too unbearable this afternoon.  The sun hits the wall right next to my desk all afternoon, so it doesn't make for comfy surroundings in hot weather.

My boss came in and said good morning and said it would be another hot one, to which I replied, 'I know, I came in early so I can leave before it gets too unbearable in here.'  Much to my surprise (said in a very sarcastic tone) my boss then replied, 'well, we'll see about that.'  My first thought after hearing that was 'wow' but it was immediately replaced by 'I'm leaving at 1 o'clock whether you like it or not.  That's the point of me coming in early.'

Perhaps I'm being too hard on my boss.  You see, one of her sisters just died a few weeks ago and she's having a hard time with that.  Add to that the problem of another sister who is brain damaged from a car accident earlier in life needing care and you've got yourself a grueling uphill battle. 

So when all is said and done, my boss is being really hard on me because she's hurting. I know and understand that, but it just doesn't make it easier. I'm looking forward to everyone coming back next week. At least there will be noise again on campus and friendly people to deal with. All that said, I'm still looking for a new job. I don't know exactly when I want to leave, but I won't stay more than another school year. Right now, the only thing keeping me where I am are the benefits I get with work. Matt and I need them and until he has his green card, he can't be given benefits by his employers.

Of course, I could get another job with equal, if not better, benefits, but the fact remains that most positions have a probationary period of three months before they start covering you. I suppose it's their way of making sure someone will stick around.

Anyway, that's all on my immediate horizon. In other news, Jeff started college and Jeremy started high school. Two thoroughly confusing things to accept when you're a big sister and you remember scooping them up out of their cribs in the mornings. Add to that the fact that my mother has gone back to college to finish a degree that marriage and the need for a full-time job put on hold and my family is quite busy.

I'm proud of all three of them.

Jeremy's birthday is next week and we're all going out to celebrate somewhere. Of course, Jeremy's girlfriend, Kathryn, will be coming with us. I quite like Kathryn. She's a level-headed Christian girl that seems very smart. The only problem is that Jeremy won't shut up about her. Every other sentence is 'Kathryn this,' 'Kathryn that' and it's starting to get a little grating for me. Jeff and my mom have it much worse than I do, though. They have to live with the chatterbox whereas I only have to see him once in a while.

Still, I do miss living with my family. There was always laughter and always someone to talk to. That isn't to say Matt isn't either of those things. I talk to him all the time about things and he's a funny guy who's willing to indulge my tendencies to want to have fun. It's just an adjustment for me. And for everyone else. I think the boys really miss me more than they let on.

I really miss my grandmother too. And her puttering around the house doing different things.

Anyway, Jeremy's birthday should be fun. Jeff and I are trying to get together some kind of surprise for him, but have yet to settle on something. I think I'll talk to Matt about it and see what he thinks.

Anyway, there's a slight chance that my little bro will read this, so I won't divulge any secrets until after it happens. That way the surprise will stay one.

Well, other news puts our fridge on the fritz. Nothing is cold, so we've got a call in to our property manager. I expect someone will call us tomorrow, which is handy because someone is coming to look at our toilet tomorrow as well.

Anyway, this post has gone on and as Matt and I sit here in a completely dark living room, I find myself getting rather sleepy. Plus, he's reading over my shoulder, so I can't really sass him the way I otherwise would in my blog. But why not include you in the fun? What I'd normally say about Matt is:

a) A fusspot
b) A ponce
c) A git
d) Both a & b
e) Both b & c
f) The uncompromising love of my life
g) A snob

Comment away!

And with that, I'll leave you to it!

Later Days,
Arty

Good morning! I decided to so some morning blogging this morning because there's really nothing else to be done. Admittedly it's not early morning anymore, but I spent the better part of an hour buried beneath my pillow trying to block all forms of sound.

The reason?

Our upstairs neighbor thought it would be good to get an early start this morning by hoovering her entire apartment at 6:30am. Of course, it wasn't just the sound of the hoover. It was also the sound of the cord being dragged along everywhere, the machine itself running into furniture and walls in a futile attempt to trap all those nasty dust mites before the break of dawn when they really start going mad and wreaking havoc on the legs of all the chairs in sight.

Of course, it hasn't been silent since then. At the moment it sounds as though someone is ramming metal pipes into all the drains in the house upstairs. It also sounds as though furniture is being moved...sorry...flung from one end of the room to the other.

I've taken refuge in my breakfast: toast with Nutella and strawberries. I decided to indulge this morning after the auditory assault was waged. I'd plan some kind of retaliation, but I'm getting ready to head over to the house. Maybe I'll let Matt listen to Mahler's 5th as loudly as he likes tomorrow morning...

Well, I have some stuff to pack up before I head over to the house. A couple errands are needed before that, but I look forward to those!

Here's hoping you have an annoyance-free day!

Later Days,
Arty

Does it bother you that I'm better?
Does it bother you that I'm stronger?

Does it bother you if I'm not like you?
Does it bother you that I know?

What is it that bothers you more?

Is it that he 'preferred' me?

Is it that I said 'no' to something you would have given everything for to be offered the chance instead? 

Perhaps it's that, even now, I still say 'no' to it?

But then again perhaps it's that I didn't do anything to merit the circumstances I got
I simply was
Such as you will never be

I don't understand the point of 'being someone else'
Especially for other people
In the end you're bound to be yourself anyway

And that's when you lose most
Alienate others

Still...
You keep some

And those that you keep are yours
They're yours for the long-run
They're yours through thick and thin

Does it bother you that I was kept?
Does it bother you that I stayed?

I had no reason to go
Reality did not scare me

It didn't scare me because I know who I am
I know solidly who I am

So with that said, does it bother you that I gave you what you've wanted all along?

Is it that I'm, in your mind, a 'bigger' person for it?

But then again perhaps it's because I have wounded that which you have loved

I don't deny that, if that's the case
I have wounded that which you love
I have seriously wounded him

But it's important to remember that it wasn't done out of malice
No indeed
That seems to be your own territory, doesn't it?

I have hurt that which you love
And in your mind must therefore be punished

And yet I don't suffer

I have a clear conscious  

I gave him to you so that he wouldn't have to choose
Because that's where this was headed

I think he knew that deep down

So to spare him more anguish, I gave him to you
That which you have wanted all along, is now yours
And you spit like a cobra at this gift

This gesture

Which has spared you more pain as well

I did read it
I thought it was beautiful

But the fact remains that it is his last effort for me

And this is my last effort for him

He knows I am a woman of my word
He knows my mind is set
He knows of my decision

And yes, it wounds him

Yes, like Icarus, he has fallen back to the sea

But unlike before, I see in him the capability to swim
He will not drown and die without me

So now I charge you with his care
You have always been his caretaker
His first resort when life initiates questions

Take care of him
Take care of him because I cannot
Because I will not

So take on your task with some degree of joy
Because it's a joyous task to bear
To be depended on and to come through for someone else

When circumstance keeps the rest of us from doing so

So, does it bother you that he's yours?

That you're his?

That I have removed myself from the picture that was never taken?

Does it? 

So I came across this idea from a foodie blog that I frequent and thought I'd play along.  You kids could do it too.  I'm interested to see what you've eaten!

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison

2. Nettle tea

3. Huevos rancheros

4. Steak Tartare

5. Crocodile (does Alligator count?)

6. Black Pudding

7. Cheese fondue

8. Carp

9. Borsch

10. Baba ghanous

11. Calamari

12. Pho

13. PB&J sandwich

14. Aloo Goobi

15. Hot dog from a street cart

16. Epoisses

17. Black truffle

18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes. 

19. Steamed pork buns

20. Pistachio ice cream

21. Heirloom tomatoes

22. Fresh wild berries

23. Foie Gras 

24. Rice and beans

25. Brawn, or head-cheese 

26. Raw Scotch Bonnet Pepper 

27. Dulce de leche

28. Oysters 

29. Baklava

30. Bagna cauda

31. Wasabi peas

32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl

33. Salted lassi

34. Sauerkraut

35. Root beer float

36. Cognac with a fat cigar (Certainly not because I'm a lady!) 

37. Clotted cream tea

38. Vodka jelly

39. Gumbo

40. Oxtail

41. Curried goat 

42. Whole insects (I've eaten a cricket)

43. Phaal

44. Goat’s milk

45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth $120 or more 

46. Fugu

47. Chicken tikka masala

48. Eel

49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut

50. Sea Urchin 

51. Prickly pear

52. Umeboshi 

53. Abalone

54. Paneer 

55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal

56. Spaetzle

57. Dirty Gin martini 

58. Beer above 8% ABV 

59. Poutine 

60. Carob Chips 

61. S’mores

62. Sweetbreads 

63/ Kaolin 

64. Currywurst

65. Durian

66. Frog's legs 

67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake

68. Haggis

69. Fried plantain

70. Chitterlings, or andouillette

71. Gazpacho

72. Caviar and blini

73. Louche absinthe 

74. Gjetost, or brunost

75. Roadkill (although I'm sure that in some parts of the south they'd serve it to me without me knowing it)

76. Baijiu

77. Hostess Fruit Pie

78. Snail

79. Lapsang souchong 

80. Bellini

81. Tom Yum 

82. Eggs Benedict

83. Pocky 

84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.

85. Kobe beef

86. Hare

87. Goulash

88. Flowers

89. Horse

90. Criollo chocolate

91. Spam

92. Soft shell crab

93. Rose harissa

94. Catfish

95. Mole poblano

96. Bagel and lox

97. Lobster Thermidor

98. Polenta

99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee

100. Snake (I had rattlesnake on honeymoon...real romantic, eh?)

Wow.  I've eaten a lot more than I thought going into this little excercise.  Enjoy reading and perhaps even filling it out on your own!

Later Days
Arty

So the following link is one I happened upon while trying to avoid Olympic news online. This guy isn't arrogant or full of himself at all!

http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/news?slug=afp-oly2008swimusaspitz&prov=afp&type=lgns

I think I hate him.

Later Days,
Arty

Hello! Yes, scolding may now begin for being away for so long without blogging. Truth of the matter is, I've been scolding myself the last couple of days. I've felt kind of guilty for leaving you all so long without an update and my last post wasn't really much of a post. It was intended for one person only, but got the limelight of being featured and held up for everyone to see.

Things are moving right along here. The Beijing Olympics are in full swing and it's the first year ever I've been without a TV of my own (so to speak) to watch them. Matt and I have a flat screen LCD television, but we don't have any kind of cable or satellite coverage, nor do we have a tuner to get local channels free. That said, I've been hanging around the house more than usual trying to watch as much as I can of Olympic coverage.

Now, Olympic whore that I am, I love nothing more than to sit and watch anything happening. Admittedly I have my favorite events, like most people.

For summer Olympics, I tend to favor swimming (go Phelps!), diving (go Guo Jingjing!) and rowing (go team USA!). I'm also amused by the track and field events, but those tend to hold my attention less fully. I'm also a great fan of cycling, water polo and men's gymnastics. I dunno, maybe it's the fact that on the pommel horse, men tend to flirt with danger to the future generations of their loins. To be honest, I don't know how anyone normal can do what's done on a pommel horse (or on the rings for that matter!).

For winter Olympics, it's speed skating and anything involving skis (slalom, jumps, downhill, etc.). I'm also a huge fan of bobsledding and snowball fights, which isn't exactly an Olympic sport, but it should be!  Imagine it, teams from across the world have two days to build a snow/ice fortress and then two teams spend a day trying to conquer the other.  It would be great fun!

Now, this Olympics has been hotly contested, especially here in San Francisco.  Protesters scaled the Golden Gate Bridge to hang a banner that had to do with China's treatment of Tibet.  Granted, I'm all for the freedom to assemble peacefully in order to protest, but I'm not sure how I feel about politics being mixed with sport.

On one hand, the Olympic games are never free from politics.  The USA boycotted the games Moscow in 1980 which in turn led Russia to boycott the games in Los Angeles in 1984.  Russia told us that 100 other countries would joint hem in boycotting the games (which didn't happen).

This year, Georgia attacked Russia during the games and it's been a headline for the games ever since.  We're hearing about gold medal counts and death counts all in the same sentence.  What escapes me, however, is why anyone would attack Russia.  It's Russia.  The odds are in their favor if it comes to a skirmish on the border.  We're talking about a people who have historically had so much national pride in who they are that they burned down their own homes and barns...all sources of their livelihood...so that Napoleon and his troops couldn't use anything to their advantage.

Of course, you can imagine my surprise and shock when the president of Georgia called for a ceasefire two days after the initial attack.

But I digress.

I know the Olympics are fraught with politics, but at the end of the day I just don't think it should be that way.  Sport, at least Olympic sport, should be kept just that...sport.  It should be a gathering of the finest athletes in the world who spend two weeks competing against one another for what are essentially bragging rights that they hold for four years.  There's absolutely nothing wrong with a bit of competition.

China has the superior diving team.  I say, that's fantastic!

France has a swimming team that's giving the USA a run for their money.  Again, I say that's fantastic!

England saw it's first gold medal of the games from a cyclist who dreamt about gold from the time she was 17 years old.  How wonderful it was to see her succeed and fulfill a dream of hers!

We, as people, have a tendancy to root for the underdog.  Sure, we all have our loyalties to our own teams, but when someone falls and more extraordinarily, when someone gets back up to finish the race, to finish the lap, to finish the routine, our loyalty takes a back seat to our compassion and admiration for the one that fell, but had the courage to stand back up.

The world is full of extraordinary people and it's hard to remember that when all we see are those that are nothing more than cowards or power hungry maniacs.  Still, the world is home to that little boy who walked in with Yao Ming at the opening ceremonies.  The little boy who survived the earthqauke in China and went back to his destroyed school to rescue classmates.  When asked why he did it, he answered that he held certain positions within the school, like hall monitor, and as such he had a duty and responsibility to his classmates.

Nine years old.  This kid is nine years old and he is one of the most extraordinary little boys in the world.  China should be proud to have such a citizen amongst them.  I'm American and I'm proud to have such a boy in the world.

But you're sounding just like an idealist, I hear you say.  True, perhaps, but it's who I am and the world has seen any number of great idealists.  It's a rare breed of people, but we're still out there.  A renaissance will come.

As for the rest of the games, I intend on enjoying as much of them as I can.  I'll happily sit and watch Norway battle it out with Cuba for volleyball.  I don't have to watch just the American team to be happy.

On another note, I read an article today that said the division between people who like cilantro and those who don't may be based on a genetic trait.  It was fascinating since my uncles don't like it, but my mother and I love it.  It might turn out that my mother and I have a predisposed gene in us that makes us like the flavor of cilantro and my uncles just aren't 'evolved' enough to enjoy the delicacy. :p

But we live in hope.

Just dream
But not of me

I have eleven diamonds
None of them from you

Does she know?
Does she know you still dream of me?

One diamond a promise
The promise I refused to break

Stop dreaming of me
I really am not worth dreaming of

Ten diamonds, the promise to forsake all others
Something I whole-heartedly intend to do

So I'm removing myself from the situation
Taking my daddy's advice

Removing myself from the reach of temptation
Extracting myself from all reach of evil's mechanisms

Eleven diamonds for my own dream
Eleven reasons and reminders that Matt is my one, true and only love

Eleven times over I would say yes if he asked again
Eleven times the wait I had to wait for him, I would repeat

So dream of something else
Not me

Dream of light and hope
Dream of summer and green

Dream of things you think you'll ever have
Dream, perhaps, of a gold band of your own and smile to come home to

Just don't dream of me
Not anymore

Eleven diamonds are mine
And I, I am wholly his