I find everything of my own unbearably nauseating and cringed today while reading over old blog posts. Like full body quiver. Too saccharine, silly girl. Maybe I should start looking up starchy art history programs instead of loosey-goosey MFAs to sober up a bit. All this creative nonfiction is getting a bit dreamy.
Put off making the bed, folding laundry, and making important appointments. In an effort to become a better doggy mommy I did, however, finally set a date with the country vet to get George neutered on May 12th, a task I've been putting off for five and a half years but all of a sudden started having panic attacks about George suddenly falling ill with testicular cancer, so I am considering today a slightly productive win.
Raced out of work at 5:05 intent on going to yoga at an actual yoga studio instead of pretend yoga where I sit in my bedroom on the blue, tree-decaled yoga mat simultaneously drinking red wine and scanning vegan recipes on Pinterest.
[Necessary aside: There is no way I am ever becoming vegan. I just ate an entire package of Port Salut. Orange crinkly paper and all. Followed by pâté de campagne. I had a large chocolate milkshake for lunch. But there are no rules in pinning.]
Typically when I flap out my yoga mat George comes running over excitedly and clacks his bone against a prominent body part, like an ankle or kneecap. Not to worry, just need those for walking. No big. Please, toss your rawhide with full force against my shin now! Just to cover the whole leg. Then he starts stretching it out.
Turns out my dog does more yoga than I do.
Went to Trader Joe's instead of real yoga, on the hunt for large artichokes. TJ's artichokes seem a better quality than Harris Teeter's and Kroger's (read: they are actually green and not wilting), but after ogling the produce section four to five times with no luck I decided to segue over to the poultry section and call it a night.
But that damn sample counter always gets me. You know the one, with a million little dentist-rinse cups of whatever sultry beverage is being featured that day. Today, pomegranate lemonade. I might have partook of more than one complimentary sample. (Apparently so did the checkout guy, who went into great detail regarding how much he loves the juice samples and how he may have had 9 or 10, to which I responded, "Or eleven...or twelve, but who's counting," in an honest effort to get out of there faster, but alas, I must be chatty only when starving and in a mad dash to get home and the conversation went on and on. Why do I have to engage? I just want my chicken-thanks-bye!)
Also, don't you just love how you're holding one item, like a packet of chicken, say, and the guy in front of you with spilling-over cart who gets to counter at the exact same time as you, ok, maybe one millisecond faster, turns and smiles
BUT DOESN'T LET YOU GO IN FRONT OF HIM?! Really?
I am a 30 year old single woman here to prove by my mere existence that chivalry is, in fact, dead.
Not just dead. Chivalry got taken out back and had the shit kicked out of Her.
Wow. I digress. I'm sorry. This is why I will need therapy and charcuterie for the rest of my life.
Took a roundabout way home reminiscing about Monday night's glorious sunset whereby I had to stop in the church parking lot before bells practice with my hand deep into a canvas bag searching for my camera just to grab as many shots as possible. Of course two turned out. Yep, I'm the girl who has 476 sunset photos on her laptop and won't organize or delete any.
And then yesterday's Spring day was inspiration enough to plan a picnic for the weekend. The key is to stay busy. Keep occupied. Don't let your hands idle.
Blah blah blah blah BLAH. I'm so over people telling me to stay busy. Ya know what? I'm not good at life sometimes, and that is OKAY. It's ok to NOT stay busy. It's OK to binge-watch 12 episodes of House of Cards on a Saturday morning/afternoon/evening/ all day Saturday, all day LONG, while stuffing your face with GMO popcorn and non-organic butter. (Hashtag Season two, hashtag ermagerd) It's OK to be going on the 8th consecutive month of reading the same food memoir that you already read last year and the year before. It's ok to just BE. You don't have to have ALL your ducks in a row. Ducks flying in V shapes are more interesting. It's OK to eat an entire raw/vegan/non-GMO/all natural/cacao nib/organic/fair trade six dollar boutique chocolate bar and tell yourself you are doing it for the Belizean rainforests. It is ok to listen to Katy Perry's "Roar" on repeat and then switch to Cat Power's Ramblin Woman and then back to Katy. It's all OK. To figure out who you are, one recipe at a time, one criminally overplayed pop song at a time, one continuously savored book at a time, giving up one vice at a time (FB and alcohol for Lent, more on that little topic later), one new outfit at a time. You can wear stilettos one day and Toms the next. You can look like a hippie with long, unbrushed, scraggly hair, glasses, no makeup, flowy skirts and purple feather drop down earrings one day and pearls and cashmere and nude pumps and too much mascara (that melts down your face in the rain) the next. IT IS ALL OK. Have some flavor. The world needs more spice. We're all human here.
I want everything now, have little patience and even smaller self-control, am moody and self-deprecating, which comes off as charming in some people's writing, like Anne Lamott's, but in mine it's just vomit-inducing. There is no other word for it. But that is OKAY. I just read some stuff I'd written in the late fall. Gag me. I sound like a princess whose crown was just knocked off and now she's demanding the peasants summon it for her. Let them eat cake. Obnoxious nine year old regressions are still obnoxious. And that is OKAY, too. When I started therapy I was regressing to age 5. That was one year ago this month. Progress. Or as my therapist says, "You are catching up with yourself."
There might be one good sentence in two entire notebooks full of blah blah blah blah BLAH. Which is, what again?
OKAY. It is ok not to be perfect, to still be a dreamer making slow and steady positive changes. I have held down a part-time job for seven months now. If you know me, you know that that is the definition of slow but steady progress. I started Googling eco-friendly cars, a necessary evil in this great town. I've located my birth certificate to change my name but still hunger for the courage to actually walk into the clerk's office downtown. It will feel so final. I have had many anxiety attacks on this. Baby steps. Looked at two apartments this week and changed George's dog food back to California Naturals lamb meal. Had to write that on a sticky note and keep it tacked to the rear view mirror to not forget, but guess who's eating natural dog food now instead of his own feces?
The universe is shifting and we shift with it. Don't resist!
Elena may or may not have caught me drinking wine, dancing in the kitchen, making lumpia one night last month. In the kitchen there will be dancing. In the kitchen you locate your sanity.
Which is why I made fajitas at midnight. I'd promised my brother fajitas tonight if he did the dishes. To my shock he did them. If only I'd learned the art of the bribe sooner. Last month would have been less of a disaster with two kids to try not to boss around but at the same time gain the respect of while their father was suffering a heart attack. In the Philippines. And their mother had to get an expedited passport and fly over. To Manila. By way of South Korea. My little blonde mom flying solo across the globe to get to her husband as he's just opening his eyes from an emergency double bypass. Their cinematic love story continues.
These fajitas are either a labor of love or a quick fix for a hankering for Mexican food.
You can make them as simple or as complex as you prefer.
Turns out I like complexity.
Feel free to doctor the list of ingredients to your liking. I like it spicy so I use jalapenos sometimes. Not for my brother's fajitas.
You must use fresh cilantro. That's a rule. Homemade guacamole is another must. After that you're on your own. Be creative.
Keep in mind after making these that you have to walk into your brother's room dramatically turning "The fajitas are ready" to "The VUH-JIE-TAHZ are ready" while he is gaming, so that all gaming teens on the network laugh and then ask if he is a pimp. True story.
#goodinfluence
Chicken VUH-JIE-TAHZ For Zach, Upon Doing The Dishes
Ingredients:
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts (Thighs will not work; I tried), cut into thin strips
4 T oil (I use coconut and olive, but canola, grapeseed or safflower works. Something with a high smoke point.)
1 large onion, sliced into thin strips
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced into thin strips
1 orange bell pepper, sliced into thin strips
salt and pepper, to taste
chili powder, to taste (I like Hatch green chile pepper from New Mexico.)
1 whole lime
1 bunch fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
1 small tomato, seeded and chopped
1/2 cup cheddar cheese, finely grated
1 cup homemade guacamole, OR the flesh of 1 avocado, thinly sliced
12 corn tortillas (although this is not authentic; flour tortillas are)
In a cast iron pan melt 2 T coconut oil on med-high heat until slightly sizzling. Generously season chicken with salt, pepper and chili powder. Sear chicken on both sides, turning until nicely browned. Remove chicken to platter. Sear onion and peppers on both sides until nicely charred; add chicken back to sizzle. Squeeze juice of 1/2 lime into sizzling pan, turning chicken and vegetables with wooden spoon. I find that microwaving 1/2 lime for 20 seconds draws out the juice. Yum. Turn heat down to low, cover. Let flavors meld together perfectly.
In a small skillet heat 2 T oil (I use olive oil for this part.) Using tongs, carefully place corn tortillas one by one into hot oil, browning on both sides. Tortillas should bend and not crunch. Liberally salt both sides of tortilla; place on paper towels/linens on plate to cool. Stack tortillas then get ready to serve.
I always let each person make their own fajita to their individual tastes. My brother hates onions and peppers, so he built his fajita with chicken, cilantro and extra cheddar. I layer mine with guacamole on the bottom, then one or two pieces of chicken with extra peppers and onions, then tomatoes, cheddar, and sprinkles of fresh cilantro, and lastly a fresh squeeze of lime.
The only complaint is our mouths are too small. Ideally one would fit an entire fajita inside and just lapse into a food coma.
Enjoy. xx
