Dream Dinners

My friend Meredith and I tried Dream Dinners today. After eating the food for dinner tonight I thought a little feedback was merited. The whole experience was well organized. You set up an appointment time and order and prepay for all your meals ahead of time, and are given the option of ordering 3 or 6 serving portions. I would prefer that they did a four or five serving option, because three servings was not enough, even for my family of four pretty small eaters, and six would be too much. Also, you really only get your meat course and maybe a rice side. Not a whole lot of vegetarian choices.

Preparation is easy. You walk in and they give you a print out of all the stuff you ordered. All the ingredients are laid out with a station for each different dish they offer that month. Everything is pre-chopped and measuring is easy. Each meal takes five to ten minutes to prepare, and they provide you with Ziploc bags to hold and separate ingredients and preprinted labels to tell you what the meal is and how to cook it. The place was a little crowded and chaotic, and despite stern warnings to NOT brings your kids, some guy had his two rowdy toddlers running around with the staff pretty much forced to babysit them. Not cool in my opinion. After you are finished all your prep, they load everything up on a cart and wheel it out to your car for you. The staff was friendly and helpful. Oh, and very perky.

They provide you with a little checklist of all the stuff you ordered. They also provide you with side order suggestions and the general cooking method and prep time needed to cook the stuff. Don't be like me and forget to leave time for the thawing step. The food was very tasty. We had southwestern grilled chicken, which I served with my own Mexican rice and salad. We also had peach cobbler which was TASTY!

Overall, I was impressed. I won't make a weekly or even monthly ritual of this because a) I like to cook, b) I already have most of these ingredients on hand, c) it didn't really save me ALL that much time, d) it was a little on the spendy side. I do think it would be really fun to go back and do a private party there with a bunch of friends and a bottle of wine.

Lyrics to Indian Thriller English Translation

Credit for these lyrics goes to Buffalax.

Link to the video here.

Because you know you want to be able to sing along while you're practicing all those hot Bollywood pelvic thrusts and head twitches:

I think I’m the evil of the people…

(Praise the glory of the evil!)

GIRLY MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

Girly Man!

Girly man, man, man, man, man!

Gosh, my old calculator ain’t got no bow!

Nipply man I met, he ate my motorboat!

Calm down and park that comfy shin guard armor!

Welcome the dude who ain’t the buyer of mugs.

Girly Man!

Girly man, man, man, man, man!

RRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPYOURMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Woot, I’m Coming!

Mutton goes YAY!

Cook the chicano’s day!

Mucho Caliente!

I’ll eat wasabe on my dude!

All my body just got ruled!

Kinda like a fish on road!

One more body for your car!

OOO! OOO! Papa’s Restaurant.

OOOOOOOOOOO You’ll be pumping Ovaltine

or Salty Shanty’s One Shot Tea!

Roll, jam, belching, raving son!

Mork, and bull, and mumued star!

Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Killer! Killer! Killer!

Girly Man!

Girly man, man, man, man, man!

Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Killer! Killer! Killer!

(please don’t buy the bald seal!)

Move then Connie!

Let me go yay!

Cause it’s a yardless day!

Conga line too, Good Day!

Salad is a cargo you could do!

Chet’s my buddy, Chester Rowe!

Called him at the coaster room!

Smashing all the people up!

It’s the child no parka rule!

OOOOOOO laddie, ready, bite your knee!

OOOOOOO conk a Collie, Conquer he!

Deal them. Peel them. People look shocked!

Move, too, then you got private shower!

Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Killer! Killer! Killer!

Girly Man!

Girly man, man, man, man, man!

Gosh, my old calculator ain’t got no bow!

Nipply man I met, he ate my motorboat!

Calm down and park that comfy shin guard armor!

Welcome the dude who ain’t the buyer of mugs.

Girly Man!

Girly man, man, man, man, man!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Beyonce

Me, looking at People Magazine and Weston looking over my shoulder.

Weston: I think Beyonce is ugly.

Me: Do you, really?

Weston: ..... (laughs) no.

Update to Round Table Debacle

When complaining about a business, I feel it's only fair to also acknowlege when they have fixed the problem. We received an apologetic letter in the mail from the manager of Round Table with a coupon for $20. We ordered pizza from them tonight and the customer service was much improved. Thanks Round Table, we are no longer mad!

Round Table: How'd You Like to Hold 'Til HELL FREEZES OVER!!

What better forum than my blog to pass on to the world how Round Table Pizza on Branham Avenue in San Jose treats their customers? Tonight I was stuck on hold with Christmas music blaring in my ear for 13 solid minutes. Finally I hung up and called back. Here's what happend:
Phone:Ring, ring
Round Table Employee: Welcometoroundtablepizzacanyouhold(Click)
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Phone: Slam!
Me: Crap. I'm never ordering from that place again.

Will you?

The Old Grovel and Shiver Trick

We have a sweet dog. He's very nice, but as I have mentioned before, he's not the sharpest tack in the bulletin board. He can't be trusted in the house for long periods of time because he has never learned to scratch at the door when he has to pee. When I work at home, he normally stays in all day, and I have to periodically remember to remind him to go out and pee. He is, on occasion, very brilliant.

Today, for example. I left the house at 6:30 am, and Steve got the boys off to school, putting the dog out for the day as he was leaving. Strangly enough, however, when I got home, the dog was in. I immediately put him out, thinking his bladder must be stretched to bursting point, then headed off to empty out my own. I intended to call Steve once I had a chance to gather a few items from my car, so I could ask him how the dog happened to be in. We're having a cold snap, but Bo has a dog house outside. Besides, we JUST had the carpets cleaned. Walking past the sliding glass door, I happed to catch site of this miserable, shivering creature:

Then it all became clear. Bertha, my cleaning lady, had been at the house earlier, and seeing the pathetic display above, let the poor worthless creature in. Sucker! I'd think he was seriously freezing, if I hadn't seen him do the same shiver in 95 degree weather. As I said, moments of brilliance!

On a more serious note......

I’ve been thinking about the two miscarriages I suffered quite a bit lately after reading this post, and because three of my friends are early on in their pregnancies right now. After Weston was born I suffered two miscarriages. In both cases, I was about 8 weeks along.

For me, coping with the loss of a pregnancy amounted to a fairly brief period of intense sadness. Once I got past the first trimester of pregnancy with Garrett, I felt like I was finished with the process of grief, but certain things will still bring those feelings back. For instance I found myself in tears on the phone with a friend one day who was considering terminating a healthy pregnancy because she had just begun her relationship with the baby’s father. The idea of choosing to end a pregnancy is abhorrent to me after having that choice taken from me on two occasions. Apparently my tears made an impression on her, because her beautiful baby girl will be a year old in October.

After reading the follow-up to the post, I considered my own approach to coping with the loss of two “potential children”. That is what a lost pregnancy is; the loss of who that child could have potentially been. When I look at the child I did end up with I can’t be sad about the two I didn’t have. There is some sort of magic about Garrett that is impossible to miss. If two miscarriages are what I had to suffer to have him in my life every day, the price was worth paying.

Skate Camp

This week Weston and Garrett are at skateboarding camp at the Campbell Community Center. They have taken a six week skating class there before and had an absolute blast, but three intensive hours for five straight days sounded like a great idea. When they only went once a week they didn't get enough of a chance to get really comfortable with whatever trick they were working on before it was time to leave. Garrett could almost drop in on the elbow with lots and lots of help, but once class was over and his favorite instructor was not able to work with him, he wouldn't even try it.

The first two days of camp they both pretty much stayed in their comfort zone, practicing tricks that they already knew how to do. Yesterday however, I went to one of the instructors and told him that Garrett is capable of much more than he lets on and that without a little pushing he would spend the entire week rolling down one little ramp and practicing ollies. I felt like one of those pushy show biz or athete moms thats constantly pushing their kids into more spectacular feats of daring, but darnit, they need a little nudge every now and then!

Well, the pushiness paid off! When I picked them up today Weston came tearing up to the fence of the park with this ear-to-ear grin as I got out of my car. "Watch this, mom!" Up he went to the top of the start ramp, where he proceeded to drop in on the second-hardest ramp. Prior to starting the camp his response to that ramp was "maybe later". Then Garrett hopped up onto the elbow and dropped in all by himself!!! Woooo hoooo! I'll be rich rich rich when they go pro!!! Oh! Did I just say that?

Ban The Fluffernutter

This my friends is the noble Fluffernutter. It must be an east coast thing, because while I've HEARD of a Fluffernutter, until recently, I couldn't have told you what it was. It goes without saying that I've never eaten one either. Now come to find out, the Fluffernutter (which, for those NOT in the know is a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich) is under attack from Senator Jarrett T. Barrios of Cambridge, Mass. He is offering up an amendment to a junk-food bill that would limit serving the sandwich in school lunches in that state. Now another group is fighting to make the Fluffernutter (it's just fun to say!) the official state sandwich (!!). I can just see it now. Huge billboards proclaiming "NOW ENTERING CAMBRIDGE MASSASCHUSETTS, HOME OF THE FLUFFERNUTTER SANDWICH!!!" Which begs the question, if California had an official state sandwich, what would it be?

Poor Duck!

On the way into the mall last night (to purchase more Legos (sigh)), Garrett spotted a pigeon hanging around near the mall entrance. Being a normal six year old, he roared and began chasing it so it would fly away in that satisfying, panicked pigeon sort of way. Instead, the bird ran a few steps, tried to flap one wing, and fell over. Garrett pulled up short, and clearly feeling badly for having harassed the hurt bird, said "Oh, sorry little ducky." Later, on they way out, (after Steve had explained that it was not actually a duck) Garrett said, "Wasn't that pigeon so poor?" Now if only we could get him to develop that much empathy for the cat and dog!

Birth Control

Oh my gosh. How do you go from this:
To this:in what, maybe 2 years? This is Britney Spears folks. Admired and imitated by pre-pubescent girls the world around. If this is not effective birth control, then I don't know what is.

But, don't you feel kindof sorry for her right about now? Before she married K-fed, she was held up as THE hottest female on the face of the planet. Now here she is in some skeevie diner with ratty, greasy hair, and her bra and thong hanging out. I feel bad when I look a pictures of myself that were taken TWELVE years ago before I had babies. I feel grumpy about the extra rolls around my midriff, the crows feat around my eyes, and the cellulite on my thighs. But at least I can say to myself, "Self. You are forty now (almost forty-one). Twelve years and two babies all considered, a few wrinkles, rolls, and cellulite are to be expected." Brit, on the other hand, is only twenty-four, has only had one kid, and took a meer two to three years to plummet to this level. The world is a good place when you can compare yourself to Britney Freakin' Spears and feel skinny, cute, and well-preserved.

Literary Meme

This is cool. I just discovered it on the That Rabbit Girl blog Here's what you are supposed to do: Copy the list below and bold the titles you've read, italicize the ones you might read, cross out the ones you won't, underline the ones on your book shelf, and (place parentheses) around the ones you've never heard of.


The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy - Douglas Adams
The Great Gatsby - Scott F. Fitzgerald
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J. K. Rowling
The Life of Pi - Yann Martel
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story - George Orwell
Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
1984 - George Orwell
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - J. K. Rowling
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
(Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut)
(The Secret History - Donna Tartt)
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis
Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
(Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell)
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
Atonement - Ian McEwan
(The Shadow of The Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon)
The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway
The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Dune - Frank Herbert

I really hesitated to put any of the titles in italics, but in the end, there are a few books that have no appeal for me. I also realize how few of the classics I have in my bookshelf, and that I read many of them only because I had to in college. I guess I should go to the bookstore and buya few so I can at least say they are in my library and look like a bit more of an intellectual.

I Exercize to Stay Fit , I mean, Fat

So we exercise to stay fit, right? Well apparently, our best intentions can backfire on us. Back in December I started training really hard in preparation for my test for my green belt in kung fu. By the time I tested in February I was in good shape. I didn't really feel like I had lost a whole lot of weight or anything, but I could tell that I was stronger, and that my cardiovascular conditioning was better. Being human and all, once I had earned my new belt, I let up on the accelerator, and quit training so hard. I still try to work out for an hour four times a week, so it’s not as though I’m sitting around on my fat lazy can, stuffing down bon bons or anything. Now it seems, I have put on a few pounds as a reward for my hard work. Weight, which I might add, I never lost whilst training! Damn it!!

After whining talking about this (as I am wont to do) to my friend Lori, who tested for her belt at the same time I did, and my sister, who trains in frantic bursts for triathlons, apparently this weight gain thing is not abnormal. Apparently Lori has put on weight as well, and my sister’s friend who does marathons, actually quit running said marathons because she put on so much dang weight. Obviously, the take-home message here is: keep your training at a consistent level. I'm hoping that my body, realizing that I am going to be much lazier for the time being, will decide to cooperate and give up some of those extra inches around my belt line!

My Version of the Birthing Statue

Lucky Britney Spears was recently depicted in the throes of childbirth in this oh-so-flattering statue by pro-life artist Capla Kresting. I understand artistic liberty as much as the next gal, but I don't mind telling you that, had I been immortalized whilst bringing my children into the world, the statue would have looked quite different.

Let us first examine Brit's pose and be thankfull, as one, that none of the images show the statue from a vantage point that includes her nether regions. After 9 months of pregnancy, let's face it, hemmorrhoids have probabaly become a big problem. Looking at a woman's piles does not seem like the best advertisement for carrying your child to full term, instead of aborting. And, what about the bear skin rug? My home doesn't have any of these (my style runs more toward broken down computers, Razor scooters, and large bins of LEGO), but if it did, cavorting naked upon it, ass in air, hemmorrhoids a-flap would not figure high on my list of things to do in my last month of pregnancy.

My version of the statue would depict me clothed in those comfy jeans that have the cotton insert in the front to allow for the comfortable expansion of my womb. My boobs, in all their purple veiny glory, would be encased in one of those industrial strength maternity bras. My pose would not be unlike Britney's, but instead of bearskin rug, I would be crouched in the back seat of my car, brow creased and sweaty, attempting to install the %#@&* babycarrier/carseat.

Guess what? I'm "nice"!!!

The weather has once again turned nasty, but unlike last week, I was able to schedule a bit of field work while sun was still shining today. Julia and I headed out to south San Jose to look for the host plants of the rare bay checkerspot butterfly. Our site was just east of U.S. Highway 101 and consisted of rolling foothills colonized by annual grasslands and lots of beautiful little wild flowers. The landowner had obligingly removed the cows that he normally grazes on the site. I’m not fond of hiking around with cows as I feel compelled to examine their underpinning for evidence of testicles. My greatest fear is that one day I will be charged by an angry bull and be forced, like the Biologist of Steel, to clear 5 feet of barbwire fence in a single bound. Considering that it usually requires the assistance of another person and prolonged entanglements under the very best of circumstances, I think my chances of succeeding with a 3000 lb bull in hot pursuit is not good. But I digress. Julia brought her 19 month old son, Wyatt, along and schlepped him around in the backpack the whole time. He had a great time, and at the end of the outing pronounced me “nice”. Strange how a small child can make you feel more validated with a single word than all the cute guys you dated throughout your single years.

Duh!

The following is an actual conversation that took place in the Dakin household whilst Weston and I were each poking around on our respective computers for songs on iTunes:

Weston: Mom, I can't find any songs by AC/DC......

Me: Are you sure you are spelling it right?

Me: Oh my God. I am an idiot. Did you hear what I just said? "Are you sure you spelled AC/DC right?"

Sometimes I forget to listen to people as they are talking. Sometimes, I forget to listen to myself!!

I Love This

This is a humorous but disgusting look at Weight Watchers food from the 1970s.

Whew!

Yesterday was a day of good news. First came the call from my neighbor, who is the mother of twin boys who are Weston's two best friends. The twins had gotten into Castillero, the middle school we were hoping all three would be able to attend. Next was the letter in the mail that confirmed that Weston had also been accepted to Castillero. Third was the call from Dr. Sheu's office informing me that they got all of The Mole. There was much rejoicing in the Dakin household last night. Prosecco was consumed, toasts were made, and many hugs were exchanged. Whew!

Mole Part II

So yesterday the mole, or former mole, began to freak me out. After having a surgical procedure to remove a severely atypical nevus these are some things you should NEVER do! Do not ever:

1: Google the words, severely atypical nevus, or:

2: Google the word, melanoma.

These things are a bad idea and may cause one or more of the following:

1. Hysterical crying in the lap (rather than the shagging) of your husband.
2. Excessive drinking.
3. Ulcers, canker sores, and pimples.
4. Memory loss.
5. Irritation with your children.
6. Distraction
7. Loss of sleep
8. Paranoia about the cough you have had for two weeks.

So don’t do them. Please. Ever.

The Mole

So today was the day that I finally headed off to the dermatologist (Dr. Mary Sheu) to have my mole removed. In medical parlance they called it "a severely atypical nevus", which in common speak means, "Oh, shit, we really don't like how that mole on your arm looks!" It wasn’t, thank goodness, melanoma, but it was atypical enough that they decided to treat it as though it actually was melanoma. This meant excising a 5 mm margin around the chunk they already removed when they did the original biopsy back in January.

I didn’t look while they had the wound open. I’m way too skittish about my own blood, but I couldn’t resist peeking while she was stitching it up. Dr. Sheu used what is called a purse string suture to make the scar as small as possible. I appreciate what she said about the scar being smaller, but have you ever seen one of those little velvet pouches that jewelers use put your expensive earrings in? You know, the ones with the little drawstring top. Let me just say this. What looks elegant in velvet looks a little alarming when interpreted in human arm skin. Supposedly it will all start to look a bit more normal in a month, or so. Meanwhile, my forearm now has what resembles an anal sphincter, complete with little arse hairs in the form of black stitches. I’m just grateful it’s not t-shirt season.

They sent me away with a very large bandage on my forearm which, when covered by my sleeve makes me look like I am smuggling hamsters. I was also given strict instructions to not put any pressure on the stitches. I wonder if typing counts as pressure on my stitches? Surely I won’t be able to do dishes, or laundry, and grocery shopping counts as heavy lifting, right? Otherwise I might develop a hemorrhoid on my arm!