It's All About Control

I have never felt so not in control as I have since telling Bill how I feel about him.

Cyclist convinced me that it would be liberating. That if I would just put it out there, get it out of my system, release it into the ether, then I would be free of the weight, free of the concerns, and free of the uncertainty.

Sure, those all hold. But, I'm also no longer in control over it. I no longer control how much he knows. Now that I've put it out there—put it all out there—I can't control anything about it.

The kicker, he knows what I like, and he does those things even more now. And, he likes the attention, so he flirts with me even worse than he did before. These things I cannot control.

For someone who lives life in an apparently haphazard way, to be so concerned with control might seem a contradiction. But, I assure you, the haphazard and the control go very much hand-in-hand.

I am in control of my chaos.

Eye For an Eye--Literally

According to this report, the Court has ordered an Iranian man blinded after he initially blinded a woman who rejected his marriage proposal.

While it initially makes one uncomfortable to think that the courts can sentence a man to blindness, what an amazingly progressive move for Iran. The notion that a woman's vision is on par with that of a man's seems obvious to pretty much anyone outside of the Middle East. Now, apparently, the Court agrees.

I wish the lest of luck to the victim, Ameneh Bahrami, and applaud the Court's ruling.

Lastly, I'd like to just add: "Wow."

Let's Talk Turkey-Or Not

There's something about Thanksgiving that still conjures up images of stuffed turkey, rich gravy, and weeks (ok, days, who am I kidding?) of left over cold turkey sandwiches. I say "still" because turkey hasn't been on my Thanksgiving menu for years.

If you're like me, the holidays bring with them a mixture of joy at spending more time with family and friends, and friends who are family; but also the dread of having to explain, yet again, to Aunt Helga that, "No, I don't eat meat. Not even on special occasions." Fortunately, years ago my mother introduced a recipe that immediately became a family tradition—Stuffed Pumpkin. Totally vegan, and sweetly unexpected, this delightfully Autumn-inspired recipe makes for a center piece eye catching enough to rival Aunt Helga's uber-tender turkey.

While you can stuff your pumpkin with pretty much any stuffing recipe you have, I go back to this one time and time again. Probably the most important step in this whole process is choosing your pumpkin. While looks are very important, you want a scrumptious main course, as well. I recommend either a green/cream pumpkin, or a sugar (pie) pumpkin. Really, your best option is to pay a visit to your local farmers' market and get a recommendation, especially for your first time out the gate. Do your absolute best to avoid a Jack-o-Lantern pumpkin.

1 Medium sized pumpkin

Stuffing:
2 cups wild rice
1 T olive oil
1 lbs mushrooms, chopped
1 med red onion, chopped
2 cups "cream" of mushroom soup
2 T vegan butter substitute
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup craisins
1/2 cup nuts of your choice, chopped (optional)

1. Prep the pumpkin by cutting of the top, and removing the seeds
2. Cook the rice according to the package
3. Plump the crasins by soaking in warm water for 30 minutes
4. Lightly sauté onions and mushrooms in the olive oil.
5. After the rice is finished cooking combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl.
6. Fill pumpkin with stuffing
7. Rub some butter on the outside to give the pumpkin a nice crispy sheen
8. Place in a 2 or 3" deep glass casserole dish
9. Bake for 3-4 hours in a 350 degree oven Your pumpkin is done baking when you insert a fork near the base, and the juices run clear.

10. remove from oven, and serve.

To enjoy your stuffed pumpkin be sure to serve up not only the stuffing, but also the meat of the squash.

So, this Thanksgiving, skip the standby meat substitutes, pass on the bagged iceberg lettuce salad (uh, thanks, Cousin Connie?), and show up bearing a curiosity that will delight the young'uns. I can't promise Aunt Helga won't be confused by yet another year of declined turkey, but, I can promise they'll all talk about the pumpkin (probably well into the next holiday).

This Just In

A friend who works at amazon.com recommended me as a blogger for their food blog. Yes, apparently, Amazon has blogs. Who knew? I was contacted by a member of the blog team and asked to submit a sample post. Since it was Thanksgiving week, I gave them a sample Thanksgiving post. I found out late last night that I have been accepted! Yay! While this might not sound all that thrilling to some of you, I'm gonna hafta say: I just went up in the blog world.

Naturally, I'll continue to post here and on my kitchen blog. We'll see what they get out of me.

In the meantime, I'll post my sample next (since I didn't get accepted as a blogger in time to post it there for the Big Day).

Visual Symphony

There are two men that make my symphony going experience what it is.

The first is Rip Van Winkle. Ok, that's not really his name. I don't know what his name is, but he has the most amazing beard! I was explaining him to my date tonight when he walked on the stage. The guys behind us rapidly whipped themselves into a frenzy, "There he is!" I turned around and struck up a conversation with them. We chatted briefly about the magnanimous beard that draws us to the symphony.

The second I keep just to myself. He's one of the upright bass players, and he's delightfully good looking. From my vantage point on row V, stage left, he looks like a cross between Bradley Cooper and Carmine Giovinazzo. Yes, it's an unhealthy obsession, but he is quite tasty looking.

Boring Thursday

A few weeks ago I was at the store and saw underwear on sale for 5/$25. They were fun panties. I thought about it briefly, and couldn't resists—I wanted new gym underwear, and what better way to spice up your work out than fun chonies.

I selected 5 pairs of different colors and cuts. And went home happy.

As the weeks have worn on, I have worked my way into a routine. I have to take my gym clothes home every Thursday, so I never have to wear one pair, which works out well, because they are particularly boring.

However, it turns out that the pair I end up wearing on Thursdays are also particularly boring.

I briefly complained to one of my coworkers, Spazz, and explained that I don't like my Thursday underwear. She laughed and teased me, and then we let it drop. Later, she told our other coworker, who thoroughly enjoyed making fun of my Thursday gym panties over lunch.

Ah, good times.

They're still boring.

Fashion Forward

It turns out that Seattle is just as chill as you might believe. To demonstrate this, let me tell you a story.

You might recall the turtle Bill bought for me. Monday he made an appearance at FHE and was met with roaring enthusiasm. Tuesday I decided to bring him to work. I got in before Bill, so I plopped the turtle on his desk with a post-it on its chest. "Good morning, Bill!" it read. Then I went to the gym.

When I returned I noticed that the favor had been reciprocated. This time the post-it read, "Good morning Granola!!" and was affixed to his adorable snout.

My friends teased me at lunch, but that was about it.

Today, however, was an entirely different matter. After returning from lunch I took of my purse and accidentally grabbed its head where the dinosaur roaring sound box is. The roar was enough to spark quite the conversation. I would say it culminated in one of my coworkers looking up the build-a-bear web site, but that would be inaccurate. It included a visit, but certainly didn't end there. Someone asked "why?" and I gave them the most logical answer possible: because it's funny.

Yes, I have just proven that it's possible to work in a professional environment and still be a whole lot silly. I love that.

1001

This is my 1,001st blogpost. I feel as if it should be something deep and meaningful and moving.

And yet, I have no clue what to say.

So, here's to you 1,001. May you have learned a lot, grown and bunch, and had a lot of fun on the way.

And looking forward to another 1,001 new adventures, lessons, heartbreak, love, success, and so much more.

Silly Things

Bill and I went shopping today. We wandered around the mall in the undoubtedly fruitless search for a wallet for me and popped into various stores. As we passed Build a Bear I asked Bill if he had ever built one. He said, once for a girl friend. Then he suggested that I just get one of the bears and leave it unstuffed and use it as a purse. Jokingly we went in and started looking at the bears. As I picked up the volume-less turtle Bill said (in his customary way), "You know what, you need a turtle. It has a zipper in it's shell. You can use that as a purse."

"No, no I don't need a turtle."

"Yes you do. We're getting you a turtle."

I succumbed.

We went thorough the whole process of building the turtle, including picking a sound box—we went with the one that roars. I think the woman filling the turtle determined that we're just a little bit touched. When the kid in front of us was getting her bear stuffed the woman asked her what she was going to name it, Bill turned to me and said, "I get to name him." Ironically, he picked the name he wants to give his dog—when he gets one.

When all was said and done, I think Bill had more fun than I.

When we got to the cash register I was fully prepared to pay for our silly little venture, but when he reached for his walled, I let Bill pay.

Bill, in case you haven't figured it out, shows he cares by spending money on people.

And, yeah, we're totally not dysfunctional.

Some Victories

Some victories call for celebration.

Some, oddly, call for sobriety.

Some, well, some are bittersweet.

Bill has been chatting with Miss Nose Bleed for the past two weeks. And, he's been really enjoying it. Last Saturday, during our long conversation I told him that I didn't want him dating her. He asked why, and I couldn't give him a solid reason. I eventually gave him a really lame reason, but it wasn't the truth.

The fact of the matter is: I had told her 20 minutes before she stuck her tongue in his mouth that I like Bill. In fact, the words were pretty clear, "MY BILL!" I announced in a playful manner. "Don't worry," she assured me, "I don't want any of that!" And yet, she kissed him anyway. I'm sorry, but (a) do you really want to date a girl who would make out with you, knowing that an acquaintance likes him? and (b) knowing that you have to get the approval of the best friend, what kind of stupid girl makes out with the guy that the best friend in question likes? Additionally, she told our mutual friend that she knows I like him, but she doesn't really know me all that well, so she didn't feel like she needed to worry about this one. Classy. Yeah, we don't know each other all that well, but, honestly, I thought better of her.

When he walked me to the car Saturday evening I said, "Really, I don't want you dating her."

"You don't want me dating anyone," he accused.

"No, Bill. Ultimately, I want you happy. But, I don't want you dating her."

He decided to pursue her anyway. And, even ask me for advice. Advice, which, I'll have you know, I gave honestly, objectively, and in an effort to actually help him. Though, I certainly wasn't going to invite him to hang out with all of us (Miss Nose Bleed included) on Saturday afternoon.

All indications, and his own admission, said that they were chatting online most evenings this week. Today over dinner he told me that he decided to just tell her that he wanted to take her to dinner this weekend, and when is she free. I didn't really see that going poorly, since my inside source said that she was very interested. Oh, and she frequently initiated their conversations.

Which is why we were both surprised when she told him no.

And that she has a lot going on right now.

So, that's that.

I know I should be happy, after all, I did get what I wanted. He's no longer going after her. But, I can't be. She hurt him. Why would you do that? My best guess is that she probably does have a lot going on, and Cyclist (her closest friend in this whole mess) says she doesn't stick with guys that long, and (one can hope) she re-evaluated and decided to not go after him because I like him. Are any of the above the case? I suppose she's the only one who really knows for sure.

I am happy.

But a bit sad.

I hope he'll be ok. He takes these things so deep.

Communication

If anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise, kick them: Communication is key in lasting relationships.

After a week of being royally irritated with one another, Bill posted something about Prop 8 on his Facebook account that really offended and hurt me Friday evening. (This isn't the time or the place to get into it, but suffice it to say, neither of us supported Prop 8, but his extremely vocal criticism of the groups involved started a little close to home.) Upset, I sent him a message asking if we could talk about it sometime Saturday afternoon. He agreed.

I was in Belltown working on a project when he called asking if I wanted to grab late lunch/early dinner. I agreed, so he picked me up.

As soon as I got in the car he asked me about it. I am a bit ashamed to admit it, but I yelled. Not as in, "I got mad and let him know" but as in "I totally lost my cool, raised my voice, and yelled." As soon as I started it, I knew I had to stop. I said two sentences, got very silent, and after a brief pause, said quietly, "I'm sorry."

We drove around for an hour talking about it. He didn't think his actions were wrong. I can see his perspective, but I disagree. Honestly, the last week and half has made it really hard to be a Mormon, I would have liked a little reprieve from my best friend. And, I told him that. Eventually, he came to see my point. He still didn't think his actions were in the wrong—in fact, he told me, he had censored himself a bit—but he did apologize that my feelings were hurt. I can't hold that against him. There have been a number of times where I didn't think I was in the wrong, but I did feel bad that my actions hurt someone. That was exactly what happened there. He recognized that, and apologized where he felt the most responsible.

We eventually parked and found a place for dinner.

After waiting for our food for 45 minutes our parking expired, so I asked for it 'to go'. The server brought our food and, in the interest of time, I threw down cash and we ran out the door. We took the food back to his place and ate and hung out.

When dinner was finished we hung out a bit more and finally I said, "Let's talk," but not in that creepy, "we.have.to.talk." sort of way. We started talking about the past week and how we had been mad at each other off and on.

I was telling him how his actions at the Halloween party (and thereafter) upset me. He didn't really see why I was so upset for so long. Finally I told him that he nearly kissed me. Incredulous, he said, "No, I seem to recall something being said..."

"Yes, that was said. Before you tried to kiss me."

He demanded details.

I gave them to him. He argued that he didn't nearly kiss me. I said, "fine, you didn't. But you did." Eventually I modified that to, "it sure seemed that way to me." He insisted that he didn't.

When I told him that I told someone else about this (I really needed some advice from someone who was there) he was mortified. He said over and over again how he wouldn't just go after his best friend because the girl he had been making out with earlier had passed out. After I realized he was done trying to convince me and there must be something more to it, I asked him if it was because I had told this other girl. As it turns out, that's exactly the case. He was a little worried that it had gotten back to Miss Nose Bleed, but, more so, I think, that people in our circle of friends now think that he's the type of guy who would go after his best friend because he wasn't getting any from his earlier attempt.

Mid-pout and irritation he said, "You know you can always talk to me!"

"I'm sorry," I replied, similarly irritated, "I was too busy freaking out that you had tried to kiss me! I needed to talk to someone who wasn't you!"

We hung out for just a little bit longer, then I had to leave. I'm glad we talked. Really, I am.

The amazing thing is—last week was an amazing strain on our friendship, and this week, the status quo seems to have not changed at all.

Paddling Class

The paddling class was fun. Unfortunately, my boat was thismuch too small, so getting out when I flipped myself over (occasionally on purpose) was not easy nor terribly comfortable.

The next two Fridays are rolling classes. I get to spend the entire time flipping myself over, attempting to flip myself back over, and when that fails, climbing out of the boat and going at it again.

Oddly, I'm really exited.

Bus Benches

The looming mass approached me and I sat there unmoving—convinced this large man would soon awaken to the problem before us which I shall call: your fat ass, my fat ass, and the bus seat.

His girth was not minimal, and mine certainly isn't negligible in its own right. The bench I occupied professed to seat two, and, indeed, I can verify that I have seen it do just that on a number of occasions. Some even featuring my ass. Just never two of my ass. This gentleman, I'm sad to report, was two of me. Save the metal arm rests on either side of the bench, I could see making this work.

Just as I decided that he had sized up the situation and opted to seek other accommodations, he decided quite the opposite. Before I could find the brave words to suggest another alternative, he squeezed himself between me and the metal barrier. It was not comfortable for me. It could not have possibly been comfortable for him. But, there we rode, him overflowing onto me and around the metal bar, me pressed uncomfortable under him and into the armrest.

As I sat there I couldn't help but wonder what went through his mind when he made that choice. I didn't come to a conclusion, but I did decide that I should be flattered that he determined that the amount of bench I was subtracting from the whole wasn't too great to impede his comfort.

White Water Kayaking

Well, it sounds fun. Heck, it even looks fun. I'm going to find out if it is fun. I've decided to learn how to white water kayak. This Friday night I shall be learning to paddle. Ok, I already know, sort of. I'll be learning the right way.

Next Friday night I might even be learning how to roll. Like on purpose.

Why I Love Seattle

There exists a local alt paper called "The Stranger". The Stranger is more alternative than pretty much any City Weekly you've ever seen. I love it.

This morning's headline (on their Web site) declared simply: "F**K YEAH!". Sans asterisks and plus a couple extra letters. They didn't even attempt to pretend to be non-partisan.

Oh, there was also dancing in the streets. No, literally.

The weather may be miserable in the winter, but this, how can I leave this?

Thoughts

Saturday morning we were walking into the store, and Bill was jabbering. I was deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, "last night?"

"What should I be thinking about last night?"

"Nothing," he said, "nothing at all."

That sounded a bit like there was something he was nervous about. Tonight I learned that he apparently remembers a bit more than I thought he would. He mentioned something I told him about Miss Nose Bleed. So, perhaps there's a conversation that has already been started, and now it's just a matter of finishing it.

Flake

She flaked. Oh, darn.

That's right, folks. Bill's date for tonight (the chick he kissed Friday night) canceled on him—for the second time, apparently. She's going out of town tomorrow, and apparently has to pack. She's been packing for two days. Who does that? I don't know, but I'm not sorry she is.

The good news: this gives me a bit more time to figure out how to verbally vomit all over him.

Playing the Fool

Halloween! My favorite holiday. Bill and I we're going to a party together and I was doing his special effects make-up, so we got ready at his place. Rather than drag it all down to my car and leave my work laptop there, I left everything in his apartment. Car keys included.

Then there was the party. With lots of alcohol. Bill was drinking pretty heavily. So was a friend of the host's who is not only stunningly beautiful, but freshly single. Mid-way through the evening I noticed them holding hands in the kitchen. (This on the heels of having observed a few people warn her of my feelings, and, even having told her myself. To that she had answered, "Don't worry, I don't want any of that.") Minutes later they were kissing. I declared that I needed some fresh air and headed outside for a much needed cry.

When I returned, Bill was standing very near the entrance such that I had to walk right past him to return to the festivities. "Are you ok?" he inquired, noting my red eyes.

"Yeah," I lied, "it's just my contacts."

"Do you want to leave?" he offered. Not wanting to be that girl I told him no, we could stay. Minutes later I learned she was throwing up and was done for the night. I would be lying if I said I wasn't glad to hear it.

A few times throughout the remainder of the evening he asked if I was ready to go. Finally, I had my fill and felt as if I wouldn't be creating more of a scene by us leaving.

As soon as we stepped out the door the explanations started. He was drunk. She was very drunk. She kissed him. The kitchen wasn't his ideal make out spot. She got a bloody nose and started puking, so they didn't kiss that much. I was obviously pissed, because when those ran out he asked me what was wrong. For the next two blocks he asked me what was wrong.

I told him, "nothing." I told him it was something I had to work out on my own. And when he continued to press I told him that there is this guy that I have a crush on. He asked if I hadn't gotten hit on. No, I said, I had—plenty. But, that was all he got. "Well," he reassured me, "You didn't make an ass of yourself in front of everyone by making out in the kitchen!" After I picked up my stuff Bill offered to walk me to my car, per usual. I declined, reassuring him that I'd be ok. Next, he offered me a hug, which I did take.

As we were hugging I said, "one shouldn't develop feelings for their best friend." His useless response was, "I can't say that I disagree." Then he walked me to my car, anyway.

At the car I tossed my stuff inside and turned for the good night hug. We embraced, then pulling back, but not breaking the hug, we looked intensely at each other. In that instant we nearly kissed.

I couldn't do it.

Never mind that he had just made out with some other chick, but more importantly, he was drunk. So, so very drunk. And I have a rule, which I never break: I don't kiss boys who have been drinking. It's treated me well this far.

"I'll call you in the morning," he said, the alcohol on his breath hitting my nose unwelcomely.

"Sure," I replied, finally breaking contact, "sleep well." and I was off.

The next morning brought a shopping trip with him where he reiterated the previous evening's excuses. It also brought brunch with a number of girls from the party—including Miss Nose Bleed herself. She came up to me before anyone else arrived and told me that she had no idea that she had done that. What she didn't tell me was that she was sorry. Needless to say, brunch was awkward.

I still haven't told (sober) Bill how I feel, and he still hasn't told me that they're going out tonight (mutual friends are simultaneously a blessing and a curse). I tried to tell him last night, but it's something I need to say face to face, not over im.

Still, he knows he screwed up, but he's not sure how much.

I decided this morning why I'm so upset and hurt. Sure, I might not have made an ass of myself, but I was made a fool of. And that hurts almost as much as my breaking heart.

Shaken, Not Stirred

It was those minutes between dusk and night. The sunlight was gone, but night had not quite fallen. Bill and I weren't lost, but we were wandering around seemingly aimlessly. We were a little tired, but mostly hungry; and the restaurant I wanted to go to was eluding us. Finally I said, "Let's pause in this well lighted alcove and I'll check the phone for directions."

We paused long enough to check and had just decided to go someplace else when two grizzled men walked uncomfortably close to us and stopped directly between us and the side walk. I slipped my iPhone into my pocket as I stooped to retrieve my backpack. "Hey." one of them said to us—to me.

"Hey," Bill replied, the tension in his voice amplifying my alertness. The man shifted, nervous and anxious, and desperately craving that next hit.

Casually, I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and turned back towards the way we had come. "Have a good night!" I managed with what I hoped sounded like genuine pleasantness. "Yes, have a good evening," Bill echoed quickly following my lead down the populated street.

We didn't look back and we didn't stop until the traffic light forced us. Angling himself so it appeared he was looking at me, Bill verified that they hadn't followed us. Still, more than a little nervous, we ducked into the first place that looked halfway decent.

Sitting there in the safety of the restaurant we discussed the recent events. "Wow! I thought we were in trouble there!" I said, voicing our collective fear.

"Me too," he agreed, then reassured me, "I would have done my best to protect us."

"I know," I said smiling, "me too."

We dug into our fries, each thinking our own thoughts. Certainly each silently thanking the Universe that we remained shaken, but unscathed.