girl at large

la famille

the love, the love, the love

vicious instrument

I have a roommate. Not just the dog, my companion Ruby, but another entity that is always here in the apartment with us.

Dog hair. Lots of it. Tufts, balls, floating wisps, clumps in the corner, stray sticklers in the upholstery, shadows on the sheets. No vacuum cleaner can keep up the battle, the shedding is unstoppable.

Until today. My new Bamboo Shedding Blade arrived. It's a wicked looking thing, styled to match its name; "Blade". The package recommended using outdoors because it removes copious amounts of dead hair, claiming to "reduce indoor shedding'. Ok, Blade, let's see what you can do.

Oh my god! I love this thing! Ruby, not so much, but she can suffer twenty minutes of grooming on the balcony once in awhile. A few minutes of trembling and mild discomfort (mostly mental)=oodles of peanut butter.

It is deeply satisfying to see volumes of fur removed quickly and contained on the balcony, rather than accumulating on my sofa. The "Blade" produced HALF A GROCERY BAG of dead fur! Four full dustpan loads that won't make their way into my pillowcase. Yippee!

Congratulations!

Dan and Angel had their baby girl on Friday, yippee!

nosy checkers

When I have a bad day, I have a feel-better routine. First step? Stop into the grocery store on the way home from work for the supplies. The supplies? Frozen pizza (the horror!), one gourmet chocolate brownie, a bottle of Framboise and the latest copy of People magazine. It's a recipe for recovery from exhaustion, work stress, even a break up. It helps me anyway.

What doesn't help? The check out clerk commenting on my purchase. Commenting on every single item. Beep, comment. Beep, comment. Beep, comment. Sharing these comments with other customer in line. Both people chuckling. Bagger joining the hilarity. "Oh, somebody's single!" "Oh, someone's addicted to this (waving bottle of booze around)!" "Oh, look at that, looks like a great night in" "Isn't it Friday night?"

Just give me my f***ing groceries and leave me alone already!

storm of the century?

The South will always have a part of my heart---I have found memories of New Orleans, I hope that Hurricane Katrina spares that great old town.

sick puppy

A few nights ago I heard a rustling sound in my sleep. As it is summer (technically), the windows are open and various sounds make their way in through the night, so, I turned over and went back to sleep. That was my mistake.

In the morning, in my stumble to the kitchen towards the coffee pot, I stepped on something slimy. Click, lights on. Garbage-bag remnants everywhere. And yet, not enough remnants to account for the contents of what had been a full kitchen garbage can. Ruby? Ruby!!

She had eaten everything. Egg shells, cheese rinds, coffee grounds. Two days of puking and constant water-drinking (and a few accidents, alarming because that's so rare for her) and I think she's learned her lesson. Well, probably not, she's hard-wired for garbage-eating, but we can hope.

meanings

I dreamt last night that I had a second, previously undiscovered bathroom.

Interpretation #1 (inspired by star-gazing, horoscope-reading friend): I have an unknown, previously undiscovered opportunity coming up.

Interpretation #2 (inspired by blessing-notebook keeping, fuzzy-light friend): I already have more than I am appreciative of.

Interpretation #3 (my own more cynical first thought): I had to pee.

knee high by the fourth of July

Happy time summer salad, my new favorite treat warm or cold:

2-3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup chopped red onion
3 cups fresh sweet corn kernals (cut off of cob)
3 cups cherry tomatoes, cut in half (or uncut grape tomatoes)
fresh basil
1 1/2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
goat's cheese, sliced or crumbled
salad greens of your choice
salt and pepper to taste

Saute onions in olive oil over medium heat until translucent. Add corn, cook over medium until kernals are bright in color and cooked through (but not mushy, still with bite). Add cherry tomatoes, cook until just softened, 3 to 4 minutes.

Remove from heat. Add basil, vinegar and salt and pepper.
Serve over salad greens, topped with slices or crumbles of goat's cheese.

vroom vroom

My brothers new baby.

I came back to America for what again?

it'sjustwork.it'sjustwork.it'sjustwork.it'sjustfurniture.it'sjustfurniture.it'sjustfurniture.

more wine, please.

companions

Miss Ruby and her snake / Kisses from Rubes

Ruby's latest game: In the middle of the night, she ventures out from the warmth of the bed and locates her favorite toy--'Blue', the three-foot-long stuffed snake, dragging it back into the bed with her (with us I should say). The snake is sans-head and some stuffing, always slightly damp with drool. In other words, beloved.

It's one thing to wake each morning with a warm ball of pup at your hip, quite another to find a partly-chewed snake on your chest.

dropping in on friends

Mom and Bert update, including a pic, from fantastic Charlotte in Antibes!

Are we what we eat? Or are we where we shop?

I just spent an hour in the grocery store (could you guess?) and I am in the depths of depression. I usually single-girl shop at the local "gourmet" grocery store and the deli across the street. Portions are reasonable (where else can you buy one pork chop?), the fresh produce is respectable and they have some familiar foods from frenchieland that I would otherwise miss. What little cooking I know, I learned there, with those ingredients, so I enjoy having them. And they have cheese. Real cheese.

However, in a recent drive to save pennies (for a car, oh the pun!), I've decided to cut back my somewhat luxurious food budget. Into the Fred Meyer I go.

What a mistake. You know what I really noticed? Not one single human being anywhere near the food. Oh shoppers and cell-chatters sure, but service people? No. No butcher. No deli person. No cheese man. Even the humans at check out have been eliminated: U-Scan.

I looked hard, but didn't see much food either. Only plastic. Everywhere I looked, everything packaged, boxed and wrapped in plastic. Vacuum-sealed, sealed for my protection, economy-packed, you name it.

Call me crazy, but I want an aproned man touching my chops before he wraps them. In paper. The car can wait.

Overheard:

in Starbucks: "You gotta put your finger way up in there."

corner of Burnside and 21st: "I didn't call no goddamn Middle East!"

in Fred Meyer grocery store: "Damn, they got Gatorade still for 99 cents. Tight."
in Fred Meyer grocery store: "The cat peed all over the damn place."
in Fred Meyer grocery store: "I don't care if you ARE late."

Cell phones (and their loud, obnoxious public over-use) have made overhearing more interesting.

cutie pie

Latest pictures of little Stella. My favorite? Her in a new dress and sunhat made by Auntie Kate, of course.