Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Shared Birthday Update

I wasn't so sure that sharing my birthday with SB was going to make me happy. I mean, birthdays are all about ME ME ME and we all know that I like ME ME ME. But I discovered the exciting, perfect, upside of sharing your birthday with another person that you like:

CAKE!!!!! TWO TIMES THE CAKE!!!!

This is the cake I'm going to eat tonight. Chocolate. Chocolate and More Chocolate. This is the costco 6 pound cake. I've been dreaming about this cake for years. Chocolate. I CAN'T WAIT!!!This is the austrian sachertorte that I made for SB. I took me two and half hours and is also going to be consumed tonight. Chocolate, apricots glaze, chocolate ganache, heavy whipping cream and more chocolate. That's right...TWO birthday cakes.
I couldn't be happier. Thanks, SB for being born on the same day as me and Elvis.

Monday, August 24, 2009

to: you from: SB re: the birth of first child

SmartBoy told me that if he ever gets really passionate about some event or experience in his life and wanted to capture the moment, he would not write a passionate poem. He would not write a passionate song. He would not write a passionate sonnet, speech or essay.

He would probably write, oh, i don't know.... a passionate memo?

This is why I laughed for 10 minutes straight without breathing, near tears on Sunday night.

A passionate MEMO. be still, my beating heart.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Disgusting Eater Syndrome

Have you been to dinner with me lately? Did you secretely want to throw up a little bit in your mouth as you watched me eat? THere's a joke flying around these parts that I have Disgusting Eater Syndrome. Evidently, unbeknownst to me, I have somehow failed to develop eating habits worthy of the 1st world. As SB (resident food snob and he- who- eats -everything (including pizza?) -with -a -fork- and- knife) pointed out, There is no doubt as to my ability to "clean up" when necessary ...this syndrome is obviously a CHOICE.

Here are my self-admitted evidences of DE syndrome:

I pull things apart with my fingers at most restaurants.
I dissect most food in an attempt to see what's really in that sandwich.
I think it's almost always funny to show people the chewed food in my mouth.
I sometimes can't stop talking long enough to actually chew the food.
I need 5 times the amount of napkins required by most functional adults.

Now a bit more on the idea of choice. I admit that I am motivated in my actions by a certain desire to be funny, charming, childlike and cute. That can lead to some rather silly dinners. However, I think the problem is really that I LIKE high falutin' stuff (goat cheeses, nice breads, delicious organic produce whipped into a salmon frenzy) BUT I am just as happy, if not more so when we pull up to a 7-11 and run in for a chili dog (with that orange cheese goop...oh...my!) and a big gulp. I mean, I've been on weightwatchers since birth so a redrobin which is generally off limits during low points weeks can look like disney land with their never ending baskets of rectangular fried starch deliciousness. And these foods are a little messier and a little harder to eat gracefully. Maybe?

This penchant for diners, any restaurant with a booth and keep it coming diet coke with lime does NOT make me impervious to the delights of fine dining. I ooh'd and ahh'd appropriately when I had my $100 meal at the Hyatt in downtown Seoul and I dont' think I showed the chewed food in my mouth once during that experience. But after accidently ordering my second $8 thimble of diet coke (that's right $16 worth of Diet Coke that ended up being approximately HALF of a 20 oz bottle) the magic of the fine food experience wore off and I started wishing I was tucked in a booth, asking the waitress for more napkins so I could wipe the dripping grease from my palms as I pulled a Whiskey River Burger apart to evenly spread out the onion rings.

So I'm a DE. Maybe it's because I'm red blooded American? Maybe it's because of WW deprivation? Maybe it's a result of a childhood in which every meal started and ended with some form of hamburger, tomato sauce, potato casserole? I don't know where it came from and I'm sorry if you have to eat with me. But just know that I'm enjoying it. (I guess you'll know when I open my mouth mid bite to tell you how much "I love this spinach dip!!!")