Regular readers have already been subjected to a couple of diatribes about the micromanaging RS pres. Of course, that won't stop me from waxing cranky about last night's presidency meeting.
We did the usual review of ward members, what direction we're going with various programs and what we'll do for our next Enrichment meeting. Then the RS pres handed us an 8-page packet of things she'd written on various Important Topics that she wanted to put into the RS Newsletter (AKA the bane of my secretarial existence).
Even though it's only been in existence for 2 issues, the RS pres says she "doesn't get much out of the newsletter" and wants to make it more Spirchul. She also wants to start up a Pursuit of Excellence program--essentially Personal Progress for grownups. Maybe it's my California Mormon upbringing, but I can't say I've had spiritual epiphanies from reading a RS newsletter or setting goals.
Anyway, RS pres laid this 8-page Manifesta on us and then started packing things up to leave without clarifying what was supposed to happen with the April newsletter.
I raised my hand grade school style to ask a few questions--what part(s) will go into our TWO PAGE newsletter? "I know you're not going to like this" she says, but she wanted to put ALL of it in there--money management, getting out of debt, food storage, preparedness. Eight pages worth.
It can't ALL fit, I say; how about using one topic each month? Nope. This is important, you can use the money information, everyone can. (Raise hand again). That's true, I say, but we have limited space in the newsletter. Her answer: move everything else to the calendar. (Raise hand) The calendar gets crowded when there are 2 activities on the same day. Again, there's only so much I can fit there.
She natters on about maybe doing a booklet (?) and I still don't understand what she wants to do about April's fetching newsletter, so I raise my hand again. We're talking about a major overhaul--and one that I'm still not clear on. What if we do April's newsletter as usual, discuss these changes in more depth and shoot for an overhauled newsletter for May?
At that point, we were interrupted by the Ed. counselor's husband and in-laws. So RS pres said we'd talk and we quickly wrapped up.
I'm sure my questions came across as combative, despite my attempts at humor. I'm not that attached to the Newsletter, but if we're going to make significant changes, I'd like to understand 1) why and 2) what "we" hope to achieve by making them.
Is it to better serve the women in the ward? Or is it to better serve the RS pres' vision? And if she can't communicate her vision clearly to me so I know what to DO, then maybe she should just do it herself.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Grapefruit Upside-Down Cake
Compliments to Martha Stewart for this delicious way to use a treeful of grapefruit.
Ingredients:
10 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 small pink grapefruit (I used 2 1/2)
1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup milk
whipped cream (optional)
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Put 4 tablespoons butter in a 9-inch round baking pan. Place the pan in the oven long enough to melt the butter. Remove pan and scatter 1/2 cup brown sugar evenly over the melted butter.
2. With a sharp knife (serrated works best), peel the grapefruit, removing all pith and slice into sections. Arrange slices on the bottom of the pan.
3. Stir together flour, baking powder and baking soda, and all dry spices. In a separate bowl using an electric mixer (I used the KitchenAid), beat remaining 6 tablespoons of butter until creamy. Add granulated sugar and remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar and beat until well combined. Beat in eggs one at a time, then the vanilla. Alternately add dry ingredients and milk to butter mixture.
4. Pour batter over grapefruit in the pan. Bake 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes, then turn cake onto a serving plate. Serve warm or at room temperature with whipped cream if desired.
Enjoy!
Ingredients:
10 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 small pink grapefruit (I used 2 1/2)
1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup milk
whipped cream (optional)
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Put 4 tablespoons butter in a 9-inch round baking pan. Place the pan in the oven long enough to melt the butter. Remove pan and scatter 1/2 cup brown sugar evenly over the melted butter.
2. With a sharp knife (serrated works best), peel the grapefruit, removing all pith and slice into sections. Arrange slices on the bottom of the pan.
3. Stir together flour, baking powder and baking soda, and all dry spices. In a separate bowl using an electric mixer (I used the KitchenAid), beat remaining 6 tablespoons of butter until creamy. Add granulated sugar and remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar and beat until well combined. Beat in eggs one at a time, then the vanilla. Alternately add dry ingredients and milk to butter mixture.
4. Pour batter over grapefruit in the pan. Bake 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes, then turn cake onto a serving plate. Serve warm or at room temperature with whipped cream if desired.
Enjoy!
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Is the Front Door Red for a Reason?
Lizards hang out in our front entryway/patio. I imagine they are lured by the swarms of insects that our porch light attracts like a cheap whore.
Sometimes the lizards venture indoors. One eluded PK and scurried into the front hall closet. I figured it would find our coats and papers uninteresting and scurry back outdoors where the living is easier.
A few months ago, I saw that a lizard had met an unfortunate end on our doorstep. Its head was flattened between the bottom of the door and the door jamb. I guess it picked the wrong moment to rush the door.
The missionaries dropped by a couple of weeks ago. As they were leaving, the door didn't seem to close as easily as usual. The next morning when I went to get the mail, I left the door open a crack. When I came back from the mailbox, I saw a splotch of something where the inside edge of the door met the frame.
Closer investigation revealed another dead lizard, completely smashed by the closed door. I scraped the victim off the door frame with a copy of a Spanish newspaper the previous owners never cancelled. Poor sap. That's not a nice way to go.
Mike says he'll plaster up the cracks in the brick from whence lizards emerge. I don't begrudge them wanting to be someplace nicer, someplace cooler, but I hate that so many of them die in their attempts to cross the border.
Sometimes the lizards venture indoors. One eluded PK and scurried into the front hall closet. I figured it would find our coats and papers uninteresting and scurry back outdoors where the living is easier.
A few months ago, I saw that a lizard had met an unfortunate end on our doorstep. Its head was flattened between the bottom of the door and the door jamb. I guess it picked the wrong moment to rush the door.
The missionaries dropped by a couple of weeks ago. As they were leaving, the door didn't seem to close as easily as usual. The next morning when I went to get the mail, I left the door open a crack. When I came back from the mailbox, I saw a splotch of something where the inside edge of the door met the frame.
Closer investigation revealed another dead lizard, completely smashed by the closed door. I scraped the victim off the door frame with a copy of a Spanish newspaper the previous owners never cancelled. Poor sap. That's not a nice way to go.
Mike says he'll plaster up the cracks in the brick from whence lizards emerge. I don't begrudge them wanting to be someplace nicer, someplace cooler, but I hate that so many of them die in their attempts to cross the border.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Bearing Fruit?
Spent a couple of hours working for the physical therapist today. Earlier this week, she moved out of her dining room and into a warehouse-space-turned-treatment-facility. Half the stuff we need is still at her house, so I get to run hither to do filing and yon to enter girth measurements in the computer and assemble a chronology of before/after wound photos for a patient's doctor.
When I got home, there was a message from UTPA. Research Administration wants to talk to me about the job I applied for--Project Effort Reporting Specialist, keeping track of how the University's grant recipients and sponsored project researchers account for their time while they're on someone else's dime.
It was my second choice. Since this is the only real attention my skills have received in the flurry of applications, I suppose I should feel more excited, flattered, grateful. I'd be more excited if I knew what the job paid. Guess I'll have a chat and find out if they can afford me. ;)
When I got home, there was a message from UTPA. Research Administration wants to talk to me about the job I applied for--Project Effort Reporting Specialist, keeping track of how the University's grant recipients and sponsored project researchers account for their time while they're on someone else's dime.
It was my second choice. Since this is the only real attention my skills have received in the flurry of applications, I suppose I should feel more excited, flattered, grateful. I'd be more excited if I knew what the job paid. Guess I'll have a chat and find out if they can afford me. ;)
Thursday In Review
I had a mixed bag kind of day, but the nice parts are outglowing the annoying parts.
The folks at the newspaper want to send a photographer to the storytelling group I plan to write about. They want to do more publicity for Valley Girl--and I'm not about to object. I'm even getting comments from readers! I have to come up with an idea for next week's column. Maybe attend a Winter Texan jam session, whatever that is.
My friend, Minerva, brought her three girls over for some backyard recreation. (They also brought ice cream bars from the local Paleteria--mine was yummy coconut). Stephanie and Natalie chased the cats and fought over the swing while Minerva and I tried to have a conversation over the baby's head. I showed them our citrus grove; they liked the trees and ended up with seven grapefruit to take home.
I did some tidying around the house. While I was remaking the bed, both kitties hopped on the clean sheets before I could wrestle the duvet cover onto the comforter. Are cats genetically programmed to obstruct bedmaking?
Had 3 people show up for tonight's book group discussion of Barbara Kingsolver's Animal Dreams. Not everyone finished it, but we had a good time talking about it and future reads. I made a grapefruit upside-down cake and grapefruit juice spritzers for refreshments--trying to use up our bumper crop.
Those were the day's pleasant moments. And here are a few of the other kind.
I accidentally pulled Mike's bedside stool down on my foot while making the bed. It still hurts.
Got an email from the micromanaging RS pres, proposing onerous changes to the RS newsletter.
My new visiting teacher came 30 minutes early to book group, so we chatted while I finished the refreshments. She noticed my Housewives Tarot deck so I showed her some of the cards. She didn't find them as amusing as I do.
Will she fear for my salvation? Did she also notice the Fridge of Irreverence, displaying Sunstone memorabilia, a "Jesus Shaves" postcard and magnets saying "What would cheeses do?" and "Guess where I'm tattooed"?
The folks at the newspaper want to send a photographer to the storytelling group I plan to write about. They want to do more publicity for Valley Girl--and I'm not about to object. I'm even getting comments from readers! I have to come up with an idea for next week's column. Maybe attend a Winter Texan jam session, whatever that is.
My friend, Minerva, brought her three girls over for some backyard recreation. (They also brought ice cream bars from the local Paleteria--mine was yummy coconut). Stephanie and Natalie chased the cats and fought over the swing while Minerva and I tried to have a conversation over the baby's head. I showed them our citrus grove; they liked the trees and ended up with seven grapefruit to take home.
I did some tidying around the house. While I was remaking the bed, both kitties hopped on the clean sheets before I could wrestle the duvet cover onto the comforter. Are cats genetically programmed to obstruct bedmaking?
Had 3 people show up for tonight's book group discussion of Barbara Kingsolver's Animal Dreams. Not everyone finished it, but we had a good time talking about it and future reads. I made a grapefruit upside-down cake and grapefruit juice spritzers for refreshments--trying to use up our bumper crop.
Those were the day's pleasant moments. And here are a few of the other kind.
I accidentally pulled Mike's bedside stool down on my foot while making the bed. It still hurts.
Got an email from the micromanaging RS pres, proposing onerous changes to the RS newsletter.
My new visiting teacher came 30 minutes early to book group, so we chatted while I finished the refreshments. She noticed my Housewives Tarot deck so I showed her some of the cards. She didn't find them as amusing as I do.
Will she fear for my salvation? Did she also notice the Fridge of Irreverence, displaying Sunstone memorabilia, a "Jesus Shaves" postcard and magnets saying "What would cheeses do?" and "Guess where I'm tattooed"?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Stop Licking Me!
I say this a lot when I'm typing up a new blog entry and PK feels he HAS to be on my lap at the exact same time. It doesn't matter what I apply--body oil, lotion, sunscreen, insect repellent: PK is all about licking it off. That is, until he gets spooked by the sound of a falling pen and scratches me bloody in an effort to get OFF my lap.
I just finished and sent this week's column about the McAllen Nature Center to The Monitor. Not 20 minutes later, I get a call from the director of Parks and Recreation who told me all sorts of interesting info on the Nature Center and its origins. Must toodle off to revise article.
Before I go, I'll post some pictures from the San Antonio trip. And nudge PK away, now that he's eyeing my lap again.
ME at the Disneyesque Riverwalk. (I've gone native, in that I've started to dress up to travel. Shoppers from Mexico make the rest of us look like slobs).
Yellow wildflowers.
Blurry purple wildflowers.
ME and Mike in front of the Alamo.
I just finished and sent this week's column about the McAllen Nature Center to The Monitor. Not 20 minutes later, I get a call from the director of Parks and Recreation who told me all sorts of interesting info on the Nature Center and its origins. Must toodle off to revise article.
Before I go, I'll post some pictures from the San Antonio trip. And nudge PK away, now that he's eyeing my lap again.
ME at the Disneyesque Riverwalk. (I've gone native, in that I've started to dress up to travel. Shoppers from Mexico make the rest of us look like slobs).
Yellow wildflowers.
Blurry purple wildflowers.
ME and Mike in front of the Alamo.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Destination: San Antonio
Mike and I hit the road Friday for San Antonio, armed with enough trip snacks for a family of eight. Alas, I forgot to tell Mike to pick up a copy of The Weekly World News--a college road trip staple. Instead, I did a dramatic reading of San Antonio history that Mike had downloaded.
We got into town around 4:00 pm, found a parking garage and headed to the Riverwalk. We took the stairs down to river level. It has a Disneyland feel--unsurprising, since the same architectural firm did a study in the 1960s for the Chamber of Commerce on the commercial development potential of the downtown river area.
We skipped the riverboat tour and squeezed through the riverside crowds for as long as we could stand it (made me claustrophobic) and cut to the stairs. Headed over to the Alamo. The entrance line was long, but moved quickly. We didn't know we could have just gone in the side door. We walked around a bit and hit the gift shop before the site closed and the park rangers started kicking everyone out.
After that, we walked around trying to find a Thai restaurant that was supposed to be close to a downtown hotel. (I scoped out some restaurant options on Chowhound, but the details were slim on this particular posting). After befuddling a couple hotel concierges, we decided opted for one of the Mexican restaurants on my list.
We strolled down St. Mary's to El Mirador. The goodness started with fresh chips and carafe of salsa--smoky and spicy and the only real rival in my affections to Tito's in L.A. Our server described the special: salmon in a white wine cream sauce with shrimp, artichoke hearts, capers and squash blossoms served on a bed of cilantro rice and roasted vegetables. Sold!
Mike ordered one of the house specials--enchiladas with green chiles, crispy taco, beans and rice and homemade tortillas. We exchanged bites. His was good; mine kicked ass.
Why have I never eaten squash blossoms before? They were amazing! While I didn't quite lick my plate it was, hands down, the best food I've had since leaving California. I wonder if there are any Zagat rated restaurants in the Rio Grande Valley? Must research...
We strolled back downtown but decided to skip the St. Patrick's Day festivities in favor of getting home at a somewhat decent hour. Over the din of Riverwalk crowds, we heard the strains of "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes. It made me think it would be an act of amazing grace if no celebrants ended up IN the river, given the lack of barriers between the drinkers and the drink.
We got into town around 4:00 pm, found a parking garage and headed to the Riverwalk. We took the stairs down to river level. It has a Disneyland feel--unsurprising, since the same architectural firm did a study in the 1960s for the Chamber of Commerce on the commercial development potential of the downtown river area.
We skipped the riverboat tour and squeezed through the riverside crowds for as long as we could stand it (made me claustrophobic) and cut to the stairs. Headed over to the Alamo. The entrance line was long, but moved quickly. We didn't know we could have just gone in the side door. We walked around a bit and hit the gift shop before the site closed and the park rangers started kicking everyone out.
After that, we walked around trying to find a Thai restaurant that was supposed to be close to a downtown hotel. (I scoped out some restaurant options on Chowhound, but the details were slim on this particular posting). After befuddling a couple hotel concierges, we decided opted for one of the Mexican restaurants on my list.
We strolled down St. Mary's to El Mirador. The goodness started with fresh chips and carafe of salsa--smoky and spicy and the only real rival in my affections to Tito's in L.A. Our server described the special: salmon in a white wine cream sauce with shrimp, artichoke hearts, capers and squash blossoms served on a bed of cilantro rice and roasted vegetables. Sold!
Mike ordered one of the house specials--enchiladas with green chiles, crispy taco, beans and rice and homemade tortillas. We exchanged bites. His was good; mine kicked ass.
Why have I never eaten squash blossoms before? They were amazing! While I didn't quite lick my plate it was, hands down, the best food I've had since leaving California. I wonder if there are any Zagat rated restaurants in the Rio Grande Valley? Must research...
We strolled back downtown but decided to skip the St. Patrick's Day festivities in favor of getting home at a somewhat decent hour. Over the din of Riverwalk crowds, we heard the strains of "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes. It made me think it would be an act of amazing grace if no celebrants ended up IN the river, given the lack of barriers between the drinkers and the drink.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Spring Break for Grownups
If I was 20 years younger and if the weather wasn't foul, I'd be at a South Padre Island beach right now.
BYU didn't have spring break or a fall break either; being done with classes mid-April was somehow supposed to compensate. When friends invited me to join them on their spring break trips to Mexico or Hawaii, I could never justify a vacation that close to finals.
I felt gypped as an undergrad. I didn't have a real fall or spring break until grad school. Fall break was earmarked for the American Academy of Religion's annual conference. That left spring break. And for the life of me, I can't recall a single memorable Spring Break event, trip or party. Not due to overindulgence, but because I don't think I went anywhere or did anything memorable.
Now we're halfway through UTPA's spring break. I went to campus to turn in a job application, chatted with Mike's colleagues, proofread another version of the Global Competencies Inventory and had a dinner break at La Casa del Taco, a notable Mexican eatery near campus. Last night, Mike worked on our taxes and we entertained the missionaries for a couple of hours.
In short, not much different than any other week. We've talked about taking a day trip Friday but haven't decided where. Monterey? San Antonio? A pilgrimage to the closest IKEA (in Houston)?
In the meantime, I have to return some overdue library books, write this week's column and head out earlier in the morning if I'm going to snag one of the famous grapefruit pies at Klement's Grove.
BYU didn't have spring break or a fall break either; being done with classes mid-April was somehow supposed to compensate. When friends invited me to join them on their spring break trips to Mexico or Hawaii, I could never justify a vacation that close to finals.
I felt gypped as an undergrad. I didn't have a real fall or spring break until grad school. Fall break was earmarked for the American Academy of Religion's annual conference. That left spring break. And for the life of me, I can't recall a single memorable Spring Break event, trip or party. Not due to overindulgence, but because I don't think I went anywhere or did anything memorable.
Now we're halfway through UTPA's spring break. I went to campus to turn in a job application, chatted with Mike's colleagues, proofread another version of the Global Competencies Inventory and had a dinner break at La Casa del Taco, a notable Mexican eatery near campus. Last night, Mike worked on our taxes and we entertained the missionaries for a couple of hours.
In short, not much different than any other week. We've talked about taking a day trip Friday but haven't decided where. Monterey? San Antonio? A pilgrimage to the closest IKEA (in Houston)?
In the meantime, I have to return some overdue library books, write this week's column and head out earlier in the morning if I'm going to snag one of the famous grapefruit pies at Klement's Grove.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The Last Dog Tale
As Mike and I were heading out this afternoon, I saw the neighbor's dog running loose along Upas. She stopped on the front porch of her house. I walked over calling to her, but she wasn't interested in getting close.
I went inside and called Animal Control. Apparently, the magic words are "loose dog."
I called India to let her know what was happening in case the officer showed up after Mike and I left (but we ended up hanging around for a bit). I returned her container of dog food and she used it to lure the dog back into its yard just as the AC truck pulled up.
The officer was the same one I'd spoken with on AC's first visit. We confirmed that the dog had been running around the neighborhood until a few minutes before he arrived. That allowed him to seize the dog and leave a note for the neighbors instructing them to call AC to claim their pet.
India asked what happened next. The officer said they keep the dog until they hear from the owners, who can either reclaim the animal if they plan to care for it or relinquish it to AC. He assured us if the owners didn't want it or didn't respond, the dog would likely be a candidate for adoption through the Humane Society--and was not in imminent danger of being put down. I hope that's true.
It's unclear whether the dog got out by herself (both gates were closed) or if she was let loose on purpose. If it was the latter, that tees me off. But that also made it possible for AC to take action. Finally. (Sheesh!)
We're hoping this works out in the best possible way for the dog. At very least, she will be getting regular food, water and care for the immediate future.
I went inside and called Animal Control. Apparently, the magic words are "loose dog."
I called India to let her know what was happening in case the officer showed up after Mike and I left (but we ended up hanging around for a bit). I returned her container of dog food and she used it to lure the dog back into its yard just as the AC truck pulled up.
The officer was the same one I'd spoken with on AC's first visit. We confirmed that the dog had been running around the neighborhood until a few minutes before he arrived. That allowed him to seize the dog and leave a note for the neighbors instructing them to call AC to claim their pet.
India asked what happened next. The officer said they keep the dog until they hear from the owners, who can either reclaim the animal if they plan to care for it or relinquish it to AC. He assured us if the owners didn't want it or didn't respond, the dog would likely be a candidate for adoption through the Humane Society--and was not in imminent danger of being put down. I hope that's true.
It's unclear whether the dog got out by herself (both gates were closed) or if she was let loose on purpose. If it was the latter, that tees me off. But that also made it possible for AC to take action. Finally. (Sheesh!)
We're hoping this works out in the best possible way for the dog. At very least, she will be getting regular food, water and care for the immediate future.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Nothing Gussies Up the Neighborhood
Quite like a trailer parked on the front lawn.
Thanks, across-the-street house of perpetual construction. We were getting bored.
Thanks, across-the-street house of perpetual construction. We were getting bored.
What About Bob?
I went back to the salon this morning for a recut, armed with my bridal shower photo album to show David's handiwork with my long, layered pre-wedding haircut and some photos downloaded from the Internet.
I explained that the cut had proved hard to work with. The stylist got a little defensive, saying the different bang lengths were so that one part could grow out (oh, is that what we're doing?) and that the layers along the bottom were meant to go all catywampus.
I showed her the bridal shower 'do and she insisted she'd given me the same exact cut, only shorter. Sorry, I'm not buying it.
I figured a bob would be a graceful exit for everyone. Hair as straight as mine shows every mis-snip, so it was still something of a gamble. More so, since the stylist didn't wash, cut and style it--just spritzed on some water and started cutting. (That saved me $20 for a blow dry/style). I wasn't in the chair more than 20 minutes. On either visit. Doesn't artistry take longer?
Perhaps I should just plan on twice yearly visits to Pasadena for some real style and attentive, reliable service a la Bontempo.
I explained that the cut had proved hard to work with. The stylist got a little defensive, saying the different bang lengths were so that one part could grow out (oh, is that what we're doing?) and that the layers along the bottom were meant to go all catywampus.
I showed her the bridal shower 'do and she insisted she'd given me the same exact cut, only shorter. Sorry, I'm not buying it.
I figured a bob would be a graceful exit for everyone. Hair as straight as mine shows every mis-snip, so it was still something of a gamble. More so, since the stylist didn't wash, cut and style it--just spritzed on some water and started cutting. (That saved me $20 for a blow dry/style). I wasn't in the chair more than 20 minutes. On either visit. Doesn't artistry take longer?
Perhaps I should just plan on twice yearly visits to Pasadena for some real style and attentive, reliable service a la Bontempo.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Hair Splitting
I'm unimpressed with the new haircut.
The length hits at an awkward spot below my chin and above my shoulder. It's the length you hope will quickly grow out.
The stylist said, "You have a lot of bangs," and proceeded to trim the bangs closest to the front/hairline shorter and left the bangs farther back longer.
This makes them hard to style. The longer bangs don't know they're supposed to magically blend in with my longer hair, not fall forward over top of the shorter bangs like a valance.
I'm beginning to think my stylist was not the salon's expert straight hair cutter, but rather the one who had an opening in her schedule yesterday. (Alas, so trusting was I). Thus my search for a competent, trustworthy stylist in the Valley continues.
I miss David the Hair God, my Pasadena stylist for 10+ years whom I could direct to cut my hair a certain way or let him have his way with my mane and I'd always leave with a fabulous 'do. Sigh.
The length hits at an awkward spot below my chin and above my shoulder. It's the length you hope will quickly grow out.
The stylist said, "You have a lot of bangs," and proceeded to trim the bangs closest to the front/hairline shorter and left the bangs farther back longer.
This makes them hard to style. The longer bangs don't know they're supposed to magically blend in with my longer hair, not fall forward over top of the shorter bangs like a valance.
I'm beginning to think my stylist was not the salon's expert straight hair cutter, but rather the one who had an opening in her schedule yesterday. (Alas, so trusting was I). Thus my search for a competent, trustworthy stylist in the Valley continues.
I miss David the Hair God, my Pasadena stylist for 10+ years whom I could direct to cut my hair a certain way or let him have his way with my mane and I'd always leave with a fabulous 'do. Sigh.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Six Degrees
My Tuesday went like this:
Trip to the vet with Belita The assistant said the doctor was busy next door with a litter of nine puppies. Curious, I asked if I could take a look. What I saw was a Tub of Puppies: the owner had brought the whole wriggling litter in a 30-gallon Rubbermaid container. The tub of puppies cracked me up. Was not laughing so hard when Belita peed on the yoga pants I'd tossed into her carrier and I had to rinse them out in the tub.
Play Group I don't have small children, but this is my chance to hang out/chat with the young moms from church. This week, they introduced me to a woman they'd met at the library (they all go to storytime on Mondays, too) and invited to play group. She said they'd lived in Japan most recently (Mike just got back from a business trip there) and they'd lived in Los Angeles before that!! At last, someone who really knows what a head trip it is to go from LA to the Rio Grande Valley! I'm totally inviting her over for dinner!
Valley Haircut #2 My hair was way shaggy, so I used the gift certificate from the Scary Feminists to get a haircut. My stylist was also a transplant to the Valley and confirmed that 1) it's like moving to a different country and 2) it takes at least a year or more to get used to it. We had a good laugh about Valley customs while she gave me a bland slightly layered bob. At least it's not a Rachel.
Columnizing For this week's Valley Girl column, I visited the labyrinth and peace garden at St. Matthew's Episcopal Church in Edinburg. Father Bob showed me around the grounds, then introduced me to the rector. After we finished talking about the labyrinth he wanted to know how I'd gotten the blogging gig. He's a volunteer at the Humane Society (I applied to be volunteer coordinator there) and wanted to see if he could give their efforts some good press. I told him who to contact and we chatted a bit more about the spiritual/theological dimensions to caring for animals. An interesting cross-pollination of shared personal and professional interests.
Pack Rats at Work Then I raced back to McAllen to work at Mary's for a couple of hours. The woman who spearheaded the labyrinth/mural/peace garden project was one of her clients. Mary had saved a post card for several years advertising the labyrinth and we ran across it while cleaning out some boxes. Checking it out this afternoon made me late for work--but it was for a good cause all around. I'll take Mary with me the next time I go. So glad she hung onto that post card!
Peppercorny Since my day did not include a trip to the grocery store, I talked Mike into dining out. He was itching for a Red Robin peppercorn burger, but when we got there, it wasn't listed on the menu. Our server asked the kitchen if they could whip one up and they agreed. I went for the bleu cheese burger with chipotle mayo. Mmmm. For all my foodie tendencies, I do love the occasional chain restaurant slumming. That reminds me: one of the jobs I saw advertised was doing cooking demonstrations at HEB. I may give it a shot. Look out, Rachael Ray!
Trip to the vet with Belita The assistant said the doctor was busy next door with a litter of nine puppies. Curious, I asked if I could take a look. What I saw was a Tub of Puppies: the owner had brought the whole wriggling litter in a 30-gallon Rubbermaid container. The tub of puppies cracked me up. Was not laughing so hard when Belita peed on the yoga pants I'd tossed into her carrier and I had to rinse them out in the tub.
Play Group I don't have small children, but this is my chance to hang out/chat with the young moms from church. This week, they introduced me to a woman they'd met at the library (they all go to storytime on Mondays, too) and invited to play group. She said they'd lived in Japan most recently (Mike just got back from a business trip there) and they'd lived in Los Angeles before that!! At last, someone who really knows what a head trip it is to go from LA to the Rio Grande Valley! I'm totally inviting her over for dinner!
Valley Haircut #2 My hair was way shaggy, so I used the gift certificate from the Scary Feminists to get a haircut. My stylist was also a transplant to the Valley and confirmed that 1) it's like moving to a different country and 2) it takes at least a year or more to get used to it. We had a good laugh about Valley customs while she gave me a bland slightly layered bob. At least it's not a Rachel.
Columnizing For this week's Valley Girl column, I visited the labyrinth and peace garden at St. Matthew's Episcopal Church in Edinburg. Father Bob showed me around the grounds, then introduced me to the rector. After we finished talking about the labyrinth he wanted to know how I'd gotten the blogging gig. He's a volunteer at the Humane Society (I applied to be volunteer coordinator there) and wanted to see if he could give their efforts some good press. I told him who to contact and we chatted a bit more about the spiritual/theological dimensions to caring for animals. An interesting cross-pollination of shared personal and professional interests.
Pack Rats at Work Then I raced back to McAllen to work at Mary's for a couple of hours. The woman who spearheaded the labyrinth/mural/peace garden project was one of her clients. Mary had saved a post card for several years advertising the labyrinth and we ran across it while cleaning out some boxes. Checking it out this afternoon made me late for work--but it was for a good cause all around. I'll take Mary with me the next time I go. So glad she hung onto that post card!
Peppercorny Since my day did not include a trip to the grocery store, I talked Mike into dining out. He was itching for a Red Robin peppercorn burger, but when we got there, it wasn't listed on the menu. Our server asked the kitchen if they could whip one up and they agreed. I went for the bleu cheese burger with chipotle mayo. Mmmm. For all my foodie tendencies, I do love the occasional chain restaurant slumming. That reminds me: one of the jobs I saw advertised was doing cooking demonstrations at HEB. I may give it a shot. Look out, Rachael Ray!
Sunday, March 04, 2007
IT Girl
Janet tagged me ever so flatteringly with a Thinking Blogger award. I would wear it proudly if I could get the damn icon to load without messing up my entire sidebar. I'm open to technical suggestions, but will someone answer me this: will it clash with my tiara?
Normally I don't venture too far beyond my friends' blogs and Go Fug Yourself, but when I do, I tend to read these:
1. Exponent II
2. Mind on Fire
3. Pilgrimgirl
4. SunstoneBlog
5. MormonStories
You may notice a certain trend in the selections, evidence of my penchant for religious studies, religious questions and good reading material exploring the same.
If I've tagged you, you're IT! Here's what to do next:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).
And as a tribute to Janet for choosing little old me, I'll add a gratuitous cat photo. My cat P.K. looks like Pogeaux because they have the same parents. Belita pounced on P.K. immediately after I took this picture.
Normally I don't venture too far beyond my friends' blogs and Go Fug Yourself, but when I do, I tend to read these:
1. Exponent II
2. Mind on Fire
3. Pilgrimgirl
4. SunstoneBlog
5. MormonStories
You may notice a certain trend in the selections, evidence of my penchant for religious studies, religious questions and good reading material exploring the same.
If I've tagged you, you're IT! Here's what to do next:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).
And as a tribute to Janet for choosing little old me, I'll add a gratuitous cat photo. My cat P.K. looks like Pogeaux because they have the same parents. Belita pounced on P.K. immediately after I took this picture.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Dogged Pursuit
Bumped into India today, who lives in the house west of us, and described the plight of the neighbors' dog to the east.
She'd also noticed the dog's ribs and deteriorating health, but didn't know the neighbors were gone (tomorrow will be 2 weeks). Since I checked Tuesday, someone untied the dog so it's able to roam around the back yard. Thank heavens.
India called Animal Control and they said they'd send someone by. I stayed outside for a couple of hours pulling weeds in hopes of talking to the officer, but I didn't see anyone.
India got a call later, saying AC had gone by and the dog had food in its bowl. The officer described the dog's condition as "borderline" and said to call again if the dog becomes unresponsive. Otherwise, they can't/won't do anything. And after four calls, they may be getting tired of hearing about it.
I put out more water which the dog lapped up. India donated some dog food to the cause and we commiserated over the fence about how to keep the dog fed and watered until its owners come back.
India came up with this:
Duct tape, dog dish, two coat hangers and some ingenuity equals a retractable bowl, suitable for clandestine feedings.
She'd also noticed the dog's ribs and deteriorating health, but didn't know the neighbors were gone (tomorrow will be 2 weeks). Since I checked Tuesday, someone untied the dog so it's able to roam around the back yard. Thank heavens.
India called Animal Control and they said they'd send someone by. I stayed outside for a couple of hours pulling weeds in hopes of talking to the officer, but I didn't see anyone.
India got a call later, saying AC had gone by and the dog had food in its bowl. The officer described the dog's condition as "borderline" and said to call again if the dog becomes unresponsive. Otherwise, they can't/won't do anything. And after four calls, they may be getting tired of hearing about it.
I put out more water which the dog lapped up. India donated some dog food to the cause and we commiserated over the fence about how to keep the dog fed and watered until its owners come back.
India came up with this:
Duct tape, dog dish, two coat hangers and some ingenuity equals a retractable bowl, suitable for clandestine feedings.
Road Tripping
Yesterday I kept my friend Mary company on the long drive to Houston for a doctor's appointment.
I'd never been out of the Valley going northeast so it was an interesting ride--from the one lane construction luge in Edinburg to the two-lane roads on the way to Corpus Christi and Victoria to the interstate into Houston proper. The retail and the restaurants on the outskirts of Houston made me drool. (Which makes me think, Seriously, ME, you're getting all excited about driving by good retail? The answer: Yes, yes, OMG, yes!)
Mary mentioned there's a Border Patrol checkpoint in Falfurias, which is easily a 90-minute drive from the border itself. This checkpoint throws a wrench in the YW leaving the Valley for Girl's Camp. Apparently, some YW, parents or advisors aren't in the U.S. legally and can't get through the checkpoint coming or going.
This led to an interesting discussion about "We believe in being subject to the laws of the land" vs If God is no respecter of persons, does that include immigration status? And can we be united as a body of believers if some folks get bent out of shape about illegal immigrants in the ward/stake?
We got into Houston early, so we stopped for Chinese food before the Dr. appointment. After a 45-minute wait (a phenomenon not confined to the RGV), Mary was called back to wait another 45 minutes before being seen by a doctor other than the one she'd made an appointment with. The pinch-hitter was unsympathetic, unhelpful, prescribed meds Mary already tried and told her to come back in 6 months. That's all.
The palpable disappointment and frustration made the drive home seem twice as long. After we got out of the city, I offered to take the wheel. Mary was spent emotionally and physically, so it was the least I could do. We were less chatty on the way back, both from fatigue and the let-down. Once home, I posted my column and went to bed.
This morning, I got an email from Mary thanking me for going with her and apologizing for crying and being weak. I wrote back and said there was nothing to apologize for--she was just being human. Like the Kleenex commercial says, tears don't compromise strength.
I'd never been out of the Valley going northeast so it was an interesting ride--from the one lane construction luge in Edinburg to the two-lane roads on the way to Corpus Christi and Victoria to the interstate into Houston proper. The retail and the restaurants on the outskirts of Houston made me drool. (Which makes me think, Seriously, ME, you're getting all excited about driving by good retail? The answer: Yes, yes, OMG, yes!)
Mary mentioned there's a Border Patrol checkpoint in Falfurias, which is easily a 90-minute drive from the border itself. This checkpoint throws a wrench in the YW leaving the Valley for Girl's Camp. Apparently, some YW, parents or advisors aren't in the U.S. legally and can't get through the checkpoint coming or going.
This led to an interesting discussion about "We believe in being subject to the laws of the land" vs If God is no respecter of persons, does that include immigration status? And can we be united as a body of believers if some folks get bent out of shape about illegal immigrants in the ward/stake?
We got into Houston early, so we stopped for Chinese food before the Dr. appointment. After a 45-minute wait (a phenomenon not confined to the RGV), Mary was called back to wait another 45 minutes before being seen by a doctor other than the one she'd made an appointment with. The pinch-hitter was unsympathetic, unhelpful, prescribed meds Mary already tried and told her to come back in 6 months. That's all.
The palpable disappointment and frustration made the drive home seem twice as long. After we got out of the city, I offered to take the wheel. Mary was spent emotionally and physically, so it was the least I could do. We were less chatty on the way back, both from fatigue and the let-down. Once home, I posted my column and went to bed.
This morning, I got an email from Mary thanking me for going with her and apologizing for crying and being weak. I wrote back and said there was nothing to apologize for--she was just being human. Like the Kleenex commercial says, tears don't compromise strength.
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