Monday, December 29, 2008
I used to eat at Mr. Taco in high school, and I don't think any of us really examined the logo until later. Seems like the most crass eating establishments withstand economic crisis here. Except for Denny's, which was shut down for running a meth lab in the basement. Also, now you can walk into a shop that only sells old hotel decor. I haven't been in yet. It used to be a Goodwill. Before that, a pool hall. Before that, a Video-To-Rent.
posted by anne on 12/29/2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
To cope with yesterday's blizzard, it became necessary to hole up with David and Jeff for legendary snowday festivities. By noon, we were at the grocery store picking out items for the day's various meals: cheese quesadillas, scallops wrapped in bacon, lemon chicken with capers and rice pilaf. Over the next 24 hours, some things happened: hot toddies, wine, lots of eating, a mildly disgruntled scrabble game, Fishing with John (the Willem Dafoe and Jim Jarmusch episodes), collaborative poems, several snowy laps around the house in intervals, snow angels in the middle of Route 9, passing out to Scrooged, waking up severely hungover but pretty blissful. I can't imagine a blizzard better spent.
Tomorrow, I head off for an epic 2.5 weeks in Michigan. After that, 5 days in Portland (the Oregon one) visiting B. Slagle. I am excited and anxious for all prospects. Fingers crossed that the forecasted big snow dump tomorrow doesn't result in an airport slumber party.
posted by anne on 12/20/2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
It's getting to that point in my life when I'm really starting to notice my stunted, childlike habits. This is mostly because I've realized how many of my friends have grown-up apartments and grown-up cooking skills, and how much time I spend marveling at both.
I'm bad at these things. I live in an elderly woman's wood-paneled basement with nothing on the walls. Every mismatched piece of furniture I own came free from the side of a road somewhere, except for my couch, table lamp, and bed, which were free from other sources. I don't have a dresser. I like the idea of cooking, but am riddled with anxiety about it enough to not actually attempt much of anything. I cook pasta and canned sauce or pierogies when I'm feeling adventurous. The other day I had a mini-crisis in the supermarket when I had to convince myself not to buy frozen burritos. Granted, my eating habits have steadily improved over the years, but still. These are not "grown-up" things.
And then I think about my grandma, whose apartment was a complete disaster zone and whose culinary pinnacle was making chrusciki (a very simple polish pastry) maybe once a year. Everything else she ate came in the form of a Schwan's frozen dinner that "the Schwan's man" would deliver to her doorstep in bulk every couple weeks. I suppose everything evens out somehow, and I love you grandma, but this is not what I want for myself.
In closing, I will maybe try harder. Though it doesn't help that I share a kitchen with two women who have far superior cooking skills and who, whenever i enter the kitchen, call me "Sandwich Queen" or not-so-cleverly quip, "well, I'm glad someone is using the toaster oven."
posted by anne on 12/17/2008