Get over it

For lunch today I decided to go to Green Tango, a salad lover’s heaven. I drove my usual 5-minute route to the lovely Green Tango and pulled into the parking lot, which was unusually full. I saw a car begin pulling out of a space (See diagram below), the space marked blue to be exact.

I was pleased. The space was right in front of Green Tango (See Yellow star marked Green Tango). I immediately turned on my blinker and patiently awaited the coveted space.
As I waited, I saw a white truck pulling out of the green space much further down the row (and much farther away from Green Tango). As soon as the space I was waiting on opened up and I prepared to pull in, the white truck approached and I expected it to pass on by and exit the parking lot. Instead, the male driver STOLE my space!!!
I honked my horn to notify him of his rudeness and moved along. The only available space was the green one that he had previously pulled out of. I sighed and parked my car.
I heaved my 7-months pregnant self out of the car and begin walking the long trek to Green Tango. On my journey there who do I pass but the driver of the white truck who stole my space. He reaches for the door to the Real Estate Office (See Yellow Star marked Real Estate Office).
“Thank you for taking my space,” I said to the man. I realize I should have said nothing at all if I was a quiet human being, but the hormones have been raging today. He grunted in response. That’s it. Just a simple grunt.
I grunted back in the form of a question, as if to say, “Oh, is that all you have to say for yourself?!”
Perhaps I gave him too much credit. You see, I expected a small sliver of an apology. Would you like to know his response?
“Oh, you’ll get over it,” he said.
I was raised to believe that we should treat others as we wish to be treated. I was raised to love all human beings despite their faults. But this was too much.
“Well aren’t you the biggest as$hole,” I said to him.
And despite what he may think, I still haven’t gotten over it.

Photo of the Day

Beautiful kitty cat Pinto. He begs to go outside into the sunroom. Once permission has been granted, we find him hiding like a scaredy cat behind hubby's bike.

Making pickles

Hubby has been saying for some time that our plethora of homegrown cucumbers would be perfect to experiment with making pickles. I suggested Cuban sandwiches for dinner tonight, and I'm pretty sure he agreed solely based on the fact that it gave him a reason to make the pickles right then and there. I had no clue that pickling was such a speedy process. But nonetheless, here I sit eating a Cuban sandwich for dinner with fresh homemade pickles atop.

Step one: Grab a fresh cucumber and slice it as thick or thin as you'd like your pickle.

Step two: Season the cucumber slices with salt, onions and dill.

Step three: Bring cider vinegar, distilled vinegar, water (in equal parts), red pepper flakes, sugar, and dill to a boil in a saucepan.

Step four: Pour the hot mixture over the cucumber slices. Allow to sit for 10-20 minutes. (I have no clue how long – I only know that we didn't wait long. We allowed them to marinate while the sandwiches cooked.)

Step five: Strain the pickles and pop them into your mouth! Enjoy.

Dinner at 411 West

Hubby and I went out for Father's Day dinner at 411 West last night. It was one of the best meals I've had there.

We each got a salad to start. Frisee lettuce, fresh local blackberries, thinly shaved cucumber, toasted almonds slivers, lardons, cherry tomatoes, and a blackberry vinaigrette. It was topped with a crostini and goat cheese spread.

My meal, which was ginormous (but they also serve a smaller portion if desired), was one of the weekly specials. A mushroom ravioli served with pea greens, sauteed shrimp, and a roasted poblano cream sauce, topped with two pieces of crispy pancetta.

Hubby ordered the sea bass served with squash casserole, sweet corn, green beans, and a black bean sauce.

For dessert the kitchen surprised hubby with a Father's Day treat. Blueberries and blackberries over puff pastry, whipped cream, and fresh creme anglaise. The plate was dusted with cinnamon.

The Ancient Art of Albums

One of the problems of the digital age is that people have a tendency to either be slow to print out photos from their digital cameras or, even worse, never print out the photos from their cameras. I think plenty of us are guilty of neglecting our photos, assuming we’ll one day get to them.
It feels almost cathartic to finally print out a tangible set of photos and delete the files from my camera card. I’ll wait so long to do it that I’ve already forgotten what photos I’ve taken. Sometimes I don’t even recognize the subjects.
When I finally do get around to printing them out, I seek the cheapest means of doing so – Sam’s club, 13 cents a print. To print out all of my photos dating back to December 2008 cost me only $20.

The next dilemma is that the photos tend to sit in silent stacks around the house, beckoning me to display them in frames and albums. I’m a scrapbooker which means that before I ever display them they must first be catalogued by subject and date in color coordinated shoe boxes. Then I must head to the craft store and spend oodles of money on colored paper, ribbon, stickers, stamps, and accessories that will correlate with the categories of photos.

A recent trip to Michael’s craft store cost me $45. I drove away from the store in disbelief.

I wondered, “Did I really just spend double the amount on scrapbooking supplies than I did simply printing out the photos?”
The answer was absolutely yes.
Now looking at the towering pile of scrapbooks I wonder, “Is this hobby worth it?
Will I even be able to haul these heavy albums out of the house in case of a fire?”

For the time being, I’m going to convince myself that this is a worthwhile venture. The memories one day will be priceless. And once I have children running around, the time I spent (past tense) working on these scrapbooks will be even more priceless.

What is that?

This photo that I took in Greece is currently hanging above my desk. I catch myself staring at it all the time, but for different reasons now than I did in the past. At first I was captivated by the gemstone color of the water and the crazy red door in the side of the cliff. Now my eye wanders to the right hand corner of the brown shoreline. If you look closely there is something blue and white and red resting on the sand. I think it looks like a giant crab, though crabs that large don't exist. It is driving me crazy that I'll never know just what that little blob of color on the Red Beaches of Santorini is.

A year wiser

I'm officially a year older and wiser! Thank you to all those who helped me celebrate another wonderful birthday yesterday. I was surprised with dinner at my favorite gourmet restaurant, Torero's, and was showered with loving gifts of clothes, CDs, jewelry, books, gift cards and oodles of sugar-free candy (now that I have gestational diabetes my friends refuse to let me suffer without sugar!). But the gift that brought the biggest smile to my face was the birthday card from hubby. He must have loved this card so much that he gave it to me for both my birthday this year and last year.

What a sugar plum he is! The front of the card says, "To the woman I'm so glad I married." I think maybe he's trying to tell me he loves me. I love you too hubby!

Fruits of labor

A fresh batch of summer squash, cucumber, and a lovely green tomato from hubby's vegetable garden this year. We are convinced that squash is the easiest plant to grow in our part of the state. I am even more convinced that this green tomato will soon become a fried green tomato. Yum.

Church representation

Because hubby knows quite a few folks in the food service industry, we are occasionally asked to work as servers at local catering events. It is fun, easy work and we get paid good money, so we usually say yes.
This past weekend we worked a wedding reception held at a church in Chapel Hill. It was a beautiful affair, dressed with white linens, crimson table runners, wood and bamboo centerpieces, and Chinese lanterns. The event was catered by a local organic and earth-friendly catering company, which served enormous trays of fresh blueberries, strawberries and watermelon, trays of organic sauteed veggies, chicken pot-stickers with various sauces, and both coconut/ginger and black bean veggie lo mein. The dessert table was an excessive feast of chocolate decadence.
In attendance were about 80-90 guests, 3 photographers, us 5 caterers, the lovely bride and groom, and 2 church representatives. The church representatives were on site to keep watch over their beautiful facility.
I suspect the 2 ladies on the church staff weren’t required to do anything but stand guard, as the only thing they ever laid their hands on were stolen glasses of wine. Now let me start by saying that the one church representative left a sour taste in my mouth after only moments of meeting her. She wore decent linen pants and a very thin, almost translucent black shirt with absolutely no bra. It was not a pretty sight. This wedding reception was a nice affair. Even if you don’t wear bras at home you should always make sure that your saggy chest is not showing through your shirt at such a function, ESPECIALLY if you were the chosen person to represent your place of worship.
The braless church lady wandered around the reception in a professional capacity throughout the 4-hour event. After about 2 hours I noticed her filling up a large plastic cup with wine – this was wine that the wedding party personally paid for. Braless church lady wasn’t necessarily invited as a guest to the event so much as required to be there by the facility. The catering staff behind the bar saw her filling up her cup multiple times.
Now when I think about how best to represent my church, I certainly don’t think going braless, stealing alcoholic beverages, and drinking on the job are my top three priorities. Of course I’ll let you know whenever I’m asked to represent my church.

Don't try this at home

For the past few weeks, and for reasons beyond me, I have desperately wanted to go paddle-boating. Paddle boats are like two-person bicycles on water.

The last time I’d seen a paddle boat was at the camp I attended when I was 8. There, in the dead of the North Carolina mountains, we young campers sang campfire songs, we paddle-boated to our hearts content, and I personally vomited up macaroni and cheese because I was so home sick. It is lovely memory.
So why now after all these years would I want to get back on the paddle boat? I have no clue.
Hubby and I were happy to discover Lake Michael in Mebane, a very small but clean lake that rents paddle boats by the hour ($1 per person!). We arrived ambitiously on Saturday morning at 10:30. We were disappointed that rentals had a time limit of an hour, but we were told we could keep it out longer – no problem. We paid our ginormous $2 rental fee, got our life jackets and headed toward the paddle boats. Hubby selected a sparkly red one.
We began slowly paddling/peddling around the lake, taking note of the quiet fishermen, the tadpoles swarming the boat, and the gorgeous day ahead of us. The sky was blue with fluffy white clouds, there was an insignificant breeze in the air, and the lake water was just slightly cool and fairly clear. According to the guy at the rental office, Lake Michael doesn’t allow swimming or motorized sports because it is used for Mebane’s drinking water.

It took about 30 seconds for my thighs to hurt ever so slightly and for me to become out of breath. We managed to make it one lap around the lake all in one piece. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it throughout my body – I thought the boat might actually tip over. Sweat was pouring off of me. I looked over at hubby who appeared cool, calm and relaxed. But by the time we made two more laps around the lake, we were both ready to park the boat and head home. We were only on the water for a total time of 30 minutes.
These things are much easier to operate when you only weigh 70 pounds. Let it be known that hubby and I do not weigh only 70 pounds. We haven’t given up on paddle boats completely and plan on returning some day. We plan on having two kids at that point and “granting them the honor” of paddling/peddling up front while we adults ride on the back. Kids enjoy that sort of thing, don’t they?

Reading, Writing, Arithmetic

Let me preface the following rant with first saying that I am not a fan of cutting funding to schools. I believe our teachers are already not paid enough for the important job they do. Furthermore, it is disheartening to hear of anyone, let alone teachers, losing their job in this economy. But...
When I recently read in the news a story with the headline “Schools ending Reading Recovery program” and the subhead “Literacy support will be left up to classroom teachers” I was confused (which manifested itself in the form of laughter). The article highlighted the fact that Durham public elementary schools will be losing a reading instruction model that has employed 46 literacy instructors since 1994. In the program’s place, stimulus money will provide funds to temporarily employ 44 elementary coaches for one year to train our administrators to teach kids how to read.
Hmmmm...now wait just a minute. I thought that teachers were already supposed to know how to teach our children how to read. I was under the impression that teachers went to school and got degrees and teaching certificates that proved their expertise in providing instruction in reading, among other subjects.
The soon-to-be-banished Reading Recovery program offered daily personal instruction for struggling first-grade readers – those falling into the lowest 20 percent of the class. I understand this sounds good. But I’ve always believed that schools should only be accountable for so much. If a child is struggling, should it not be the parents’ responsibility to provide additional support. I grew up hearing commercials for Hooked on Phonics. I assume that is one route still available for a parent to go.
The other question this brings up is why is the stimulus money going to pay for a year’s worth of jobs, but taking away just as many permanent positions? Ultimately the stimulus money (our tax dollars) is paying money to get rid of these jobs. But hey, that’s a whole other topic for a whole other day.

Photos of the Day

Shirley Poppies (Another amazing creation from seed in this year's garden)

Red lights

This evening as I was rushing home to a scrumptious dinner of BBQ ribs, mini squash casserole, and corn on the cob, I came upon the traffic light at the intersection of Cornwallis and Fayetteville Street. Ever since the construction began on the new Lowe’s Home Improvement being built at that location, that intersection has been very taxing on my patience. It takes a long time to finally get through a green light.
As I was rapidly approaching a yellow light there (and whenever I am rapidly approaching any yellow light), I thought back to what my dear friend Kristin once told me.
“It is much more worth your time to run a yellow/red light than it is to actually speed,” she confidently told me over Easter break my freshman year in college. Kristin is what I’d call an expert. She is probably the only person I know who has gotten more speeding tickets than myself. Kristin is also very good at math. She has done written calculations of what saves more time on the road – speeding or running red lights. And folks, the verdict is in. Running yellow/red lights always wins.
I have attended one or two or three traffic classes (as punishment for speeding violations) in my day. They confirmed that speeding really doesn’t get you to your location much earlier. You might as well just accept your tardiness.
But yellow lights – run ‘em all you want.
Just thought I’d share my tiny bit of knowledge.

Three more months!

Only three more months to go! Baby Caleb weighs in at a whole 2 pounds now and is somewhere around 15 inches long. These are all estimates, of course. Pregnancy books tell us so much these days. I am discovering new highs and lows of pregnancy each and every day. Feeling Caleb kick in my tummy is by far the best feeling in the world. I don't even mind when he kicks on my bladder and my ribs; I just enjoy the fact that he's in there moving around and becoming more accustomed to his temporary home. His two favorite foods are tomatoes and chocolate. He likes to listen to his daddy's voice right before we go to bed. And his newest trick is waking me up at 4 AM. What a sweet little boy!

Photo of the Day

The giant bumblebees love congregating around the purple blooms of our lamb's ear. I'm surprised that I haven't been more frightened of them considering my irrational fear of bees.

Pizza Party - Adult Style

This past weekend hubby and I were invited to a pizza party for adults. This was a first for us. The party was hosted by our friends Seth and Jessica and involved an appetizer of olives and salami, an arugula, strawberry, pine nut and duck confit salad made by hubby, about 6 styles of grilled pizza, strawberry shortcake for dessert, and multiple courses of wine (sparkling lemon water for me!).
The pizzas were made using Seth’s secret dough recipe, one that results in a wafer-thin crispy crust, just the way I like it. Cheeses and other toppings varied, and most were locally grown ingredients. Everything was delicious. We are now hoping that one day Seth will provide Durham with a pizza shop in addition to his already successful wine shop.

Hubby's salad: Fresh arugula, strawberries, pine nuts, and duck confit

First course pizza. Local mozzarella, tomatoes, basil

Onions, Picquillo peppers, prosciutto

An all veggie pizza

Mozzarella, onions, peppered bacon

Another after dinner surprise was an assortment of locally handmade chocolates, the creations of Dolly Mama Chocolates. Her masterpieces are sold at Wine Authorities and the Durham Farmers’ Market. We tasted three truffles: Vietnamese coffee, Love Potion (a blend of vanilla and ginger), and Lavender. I might be butchering the ingredients of these delicacies, but they were wonderful.

Strawberry shortcake (the reason I failed a glucose test the next morning)