You Look Marvelous

This morning, as I was taking my son to daycare, a woman got on the subway, sat across from us, pulled a large Ziplock bag out of her briefcase and proceeded to fix her face.

And I don't mean a little lipstick touch-up. I mean full-on morning makeup routine: concealer for the bags under her eyes, foundation, bronzer, and on and on and on. The worst part? In the six years I've been living in Toronto, this isn't the first time I've seen someone conduct their personal hygiene ritual in public. I've seen a woman clipping her nails on the subway and another putting her contact lenses on while ridding the bus. Never mind that she's in public - she's putting something in her EYE while on the BUS. Hello?!? Do people not understand how infectious diseases work? By getting people to put their dirty fingers in their mouths and noses and EYES! (shudder)

It never ceases to amaze me that people think it's acceptable to groom themselves in public. It isn't. Unfortunately, the fact that my son sat staring at her, mouth agape, the whole ride didn't cause her to clue in. I mean, he's just over a year old and even he knew it wasn't cool.

Playing Hostess

We had friends over for dinner this weekend and I (once again) broke the cardinal rule of entertaining: never try out a new recipe for the first time on guests.

For dinner we kept it casual and did make-your-own pizzas, but for dessert I made my first ever meringue topped with whip cream and berries. It's a Jamie Oliver recipe that should look like this:



Since I didn't take a picture of the one I made, we'll just say mine turned out exactly the same.

It was really easy to make and since I have one friend who doesn't like chocolate (I know, I know, I've tried to have him committed) and one who is gluten intolerant I think it's a great addition to my dessert repertoire. But next time I'd shorten the cooking time because I think it was a little overcooked. Mine had a slight golden tone vs Jamie's pristine whiteness and was a little dry at the edges. But it tasted really good, so that's all that matters, isn't it?

The recipe says it feeds eight to 10 people and when I plopped it down in front of our (two) guests we all laughed at how huge it was and how much we would have leftover. Four drinks later, and somehow the meringue had managed to disappear without anyone really being sure how it happened.

Rock On

Why is it that reality in the music world differs from reality in the real world? I was wondering this this afternoon as was washing dishes and listening to "Girl Watcher" by Big Sugar. Guys who talk like that in real life irritate me. I find them juvenile, sexist, etc. (i.e. "She's fine, at least from behind . . . ") And yet, here I am bopping away, singing every word.

Different side of the same coin: I often find myself attracted to men in music that I most definitely would not be attracted to in real life. A prime example is Trent Reznor.



He's physically attractive (I go for the skinny rocker look - though, he's not so skinny in this picture) and his music has tons of base so I'm immediately sold. But in real life? A somewhat gothy, angsty, recovering heroin addict? No thanks. In real life I go for serious, dependable working guys in suits. But still skinny.

What gives? I think it goes back to Chris Rock's theory about women and music: women will forgive anything, no matter how sexist or unappealing, if the music makes them move. Or as Chris more succinctly puts it: "if the beat's all right, she'll dance all night."

Food for thought.

Twit

I'm becoming an old lady. Maybe not in terms of chronological age, but in terms of attitude I'm right there. And I'm OK with that.

I only joined Facebook because an out-of-town friend taunted me relentlessly and after more than a year I still only have 34 friends. My younger brother, on the other hand, has 282 friends. In the Facebook world he is the rule, I am the exception. I guess I just don't get the appeal of being connected with people I haven't spoken to in 19 years or that I only knew for four minutes.

For the longest time I didn't really get Twitter either. Then I found this:

http://www.cbc.ca/arts/media/story/2009/04/06/f-twitter-great-moments-in-history.html

Not only is it funny, but (old lady confession) it’s the thing that finally helped me understand how Twitter works. I still don't GET it, but at least I now know what those crazy kids are talking about.

Gastronomical Experimentation

I'm cheap. Financially, that is. And if you're anything like me, the first thing you think when you get the axe is, SCREW YOU! But then the second thing you think is - what can we cut, where can we save?

The good thing about this whole situation is that we live a very modest lifestyle so we haven't been crippled by the loss of my salary. The bad thing is it means there isn't a whole lot to cut from the budget in an effort to save some cash.

Many moons ago - before the kid, the marriage and saving for a house - we lived a little differently. We were still in the same modest apartment and sans car, but we ate out more. Much, MUCH more. At the time, my husband was traveling for work and was away four days a week and I wanted to spend our few days together catching up and socializing instead of slaving away in the kitchen.

Then, a few years ago, the husband went back to school and we decided to nix our single biggest variable expense. The switch from mostly eating out to mostly eating in wasn't so bad and wasn't that hard - I love to cook and it means I get to stretch my cooking muscle. But pre-kid meal planning looks a little different than post-kid meal planning. Before the babe we would always make an effort to try one new recipe a week and our meal plan included Thai, Indian and Mexican dishes. Post-babe meal planning = frozen pizza.

But I'm starting to get back into the swing of good cooking. This weekend I tried to recreate my favourite dish from the nearby and insanely popular restaurant Grazie. A friend gave me the restaurant's cookbook for Christmas and I've been dying to test it out.

The first thing I noticed was that the recipe in the book neglected to mention chili pepper and I've eaten this dish often enough to know it has chili pepper in it. That was the first clue that the meal might not turn out exactly like it does at the restaurant. The second: I'm some shlump at home and not a professional cook.

Despite the chili oversight (which wasn't really a bad thing because it let the babe eat it with us) the dish turned out pretty well. I mean, nothing with bacon (or pancetta, in this case) can be bad, right? Bacon with everything, I say!

The cookbook's version

My attempt

The only adjustment I made this time around was to add some sugar to the tomato sauce to cut the acidity. Next time I might add the chilies to see how close I can get it to the restaurant version. That and to see how many diaper changes it causes in the babe. Watch out!

Karma

Ever feel the universe has it out for you?

In an effort to feel productive, I was going to tackle laundry today. Earlier this week, our apartment building switched things up and replaced the coin-operated machines with card-operated machines. Wouldn't you know it, the machine won't read my debit card.

There's nothing like having trouble with your bank cards while unemployed to make you feel like you're being kicked while you're down.

Welcome

So here I am, another casualty of the 2008/09 economy, back at home playing housewife again. A role, if I can be honest, I was SO happy to leave behind after playing it for a year while on mat leave. I am constantly hearing from other women how hard the transition was going back to work, how sad they were to not be the ones to take care of their babes all day long, etc. Not I. No, in the 1,000th application I’ve already filled out for the worst-mother-of-the-year award, I boldly stated that while I desperately love my son and enjoyed our time together, I was ready to go back to work. Ready to have something for myself. Ready to be able to go to the bathroom on my own schedule.

And it all went so well. He loved daycare, I loved being back at work and my biggest fears prior to returning proved groundless . . . leading up to the big day, I was filled with anxiety over how the timing of any given day would go. I mean, over my mat leave the apartment was in a constant state of mess and I was in a constant state of stress over the fact that it was so disorganized. So, if I could barely get the housework done while I was at home all day, how would I do it when I was at work for eight hours? The secret that no one tells you: when no one is home all day, no one is home to make a mess. Turns out the kid was causing all my housekeeping headaches and having him out was a big dose of Aspirin. Or maybe that’s only the case for worst-mother-of-the-year-award winners?

Things had gone so well being back to work – I was so happy, the apartment was mostly organized, food was cooked – that I now feel a bit purposeless being unemployed. So I thought maybe I’d give a personal blog a try. A release, if you will. A place to vent. An outlet for my writing – though I doubt it’ll be that creative.

I feel a bit silly not having a focus – I feel like there should be some theme to the blog like that woman who used her slowcooker every day for one year, or that Julie and Julia woman who’s now got a movie coming out. If only I had a focus then Nora Ephron would be knocking down my door, right? Maybe not. Who knows, maybe a theme will present itself later. Though it will come up a lot at first, I don’t really want unemployment to be the sole focus because I hope the blog will continue on after I find work and I hope to find work, um . . . yesterday! Feel free to suggest a theme. Running candidates: my hypochondria, my lack of understanding teenagers, my love of cooking, my love of vodka or my overall bitterness toward most other human beings, especially those who lack common sense.