sucks to be allergic to gluten, or so i'm learning by browsing on the blogsite of this girl who is allergic to it gluten. she's married to some superman that is a chef and pregnant with his child. she wrote a very long blog about how amazing he is and how they got married, etc. etc. anyway, with my sarcastic bitter phase still in effect i grew more and more pissed at the stupid girls who wrote such encouraging comments. such butt kissing comments. do they have to be encouraging and positive? can't they just be benign? can't they just be questions about the recipe? or in my case, massive gloating about the fact that we live in california and there's hardly such a thing as a fruit out of season. hell i have three little baskets of strawberries in the fridge right now. i wonder what i can make with them tomorrow. i love living in california.
my comment would have been along the lines of "ha ha sucks to be you, you don't live in the best state in america." but then i would make someone cry and that ain't my style.
speaking of food. judging from lynner's skeptic remark this afternoon when i told her that i was a vegetarian now and she said, "we'll see how long that lasts" i guess it could be expected that i of all people would be flaky about something like that because well lynners has watched me eat over the past 8 years we've known each other (eight, ohmygosh, how did that happen?) and seen me say and not do. if i would have been in a different state of mind than i am now and with the eating habits i had then when i ate nothing, i would have said i couldn't and wouldn't stick with it. well since i was able to commit to one man and two cats, i figured that was a good bounce board for doing and not just saying. the transition to the new foodstyle has been really easy for me because it was almost like i'd been preparing for it for the past few months. i never ate fish, i hate any and all seafood no exceptions. after seeing too many cute lambs i swore off lamb chops. matt doesn't like pork so we cut that out. red meat was making me ill. so that left turkey and chicken. in fact, it had become an added effort to add meat to a meal. i'd look at the shopping cart and i had all the ingredients but so i'd have to head to the deli.
the one part that's been a very conscious effort has been when we eat out. and if any one of you ever become vegetarians you'll notice that it really is a wide awake look at food. i would assume it would be like if you were allergic to a food because you have to make sure that ingredient isn't there. so you have to start asking questions like, does this minestrone have meat in it? do you have tofu pad thai? you don't just grab stuff and assume you can eat it, you look at labels, you think of sides to go with it, its not just passive consumerism. and aside from various other reasons why i became a vegetarian, that was the one i was most interested in.
another reason why i love california is the fact that it is very easy to be a vegetarian in this day and age and state. and companies like amy's kitchen are even in wal-marts so even in new mexico, we were fine.
its been four weeks now. its been really easy for me. i think this thing is gonna stick.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
before you hear it elsewhere
Matt & I are going to New Mexico to see his sister and her husband and his family. We're driving there Saturday and driving back on Thursday. We hope to hang out and see Carlsbad Caverns & White Sands National Monument.
Its been now a full week since Matt and I have become vegetarians. I think I'm gonna stick with it. Can't speak for Matt though he seems determined to. It hasn't felt very different from before and it may be in my head, but I feel extra good health-wise lately. I've had to break the news to my Mexican mother who thinks its weird and my brother who thinks my listening to NPR is brainwashing me, and Matt's family because they were gonna feed us meat. I've been answering the question of "Why?" a lot.
Its been now a full week since Matt and I have become vegetarians. I think I'm gonna stick with it. Can't speak for Matt though he seems determined to. It hasn't felt very different from before and it may be in my head, but I feel extra good health-wise lately. I've had to break the news to my Mexican mother who thinks its weird and my brother who thinks my listening to NPR is brainwashing me, and Matt's family because they were gonna feed us meat. I've been answering the question of "Why?" a lot.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
show off
My self-esteem is tied up in some parts to my home. When I have guests, I want them to pay me compliments because I made a great deal of effort to hide the PJs and the garbage so when they walk in the door, the place looks so neat that they'll pay up.
Having a home to be proud of is tied into two elements. One is my desire to stay put because growing up my mom moved us around a lot. Two is well, I dunno if anyone knows this but I'm a woman and women tend to do this thing that people refer to as "nesting". Like the animal for which this behavior is named, its a little bit repetitive, cyclical you might say. Around and around we go. A little feather here, a little twig there, a little moss out, a little moss in. Pruning away with our hands and arms and heart the place we call home. My mom used to do it and it drove me crazy and then I realized that I did the same thing. She would rearrange the furniture, the frames, the beds, the covers, the towels. I couldn't understand why a person just couldn't be happy with the way things were and had to keep changing it and then I found myself in the same situation. Ambre noticed it too and called me out on it. Was my face red. Oh crap, I am my mother.
But since all or a majority of women do this, it can instead be said that well, women do this so I'm not my mother, I'm just a woman. And if you have an inkling of a creative side, this process never stops, much to the dismay of the husbands. There's this blog by a woman in Chicago who posts pictures of her projects and whose home was featured on the popular Apartment Therapy Home Tour. Perhaps the Pulitzer Prize of Nesting Achievement. The website is hugely popular with wannabe interior designers and the stuff they come up with is impressive and I visit it almost daily. Anyway, this Chicago woman, what other reason would she have to show us her home but to show off, right?
Which is also what blogs and MySpace and Facebook seem to foster. Showing off. No one posts pictures of themselves when they're half ugly or full ugly. They post pictures when they look hot, when they got married, when they had a baby, when they won an award, when they met a celebrity. I'm particularly surprised when girls I thought differently of post pictures of themselves in these outfits that are out of the norm for them. Boobies hanging out, short skirts, tight ass jeans. Guys have pictures of themselves with their cars, their bikes, their collections. And all of us have pictures of trips we took. Look at me, I went somewhere. Look at me, I have tits, bet you didn't know that.
But dammit, its what we want. I don't wanna stalk people and be lacking of information. I wanna know everything. Where you went, why you went, who you're going out with, where you live, what you do. I'm not actually going to call you and try to hang out with you, that's in the past. I want to know all the chisme, all the controversy and then compare it to my life and see how I feel after. Usually pretty good. Or sometimes very jealous (dammit Andy Barron and Andy Cervantes, why are you guys always going somewhere cool?).
Sometimes I use it as a research tool before I actually call someone. I like to stalk Ambre & Michelle's profile in case there was a key event I forgot about or missed that way when I see them I can get a full picture of what happened. And since I never see Man-D I stalk hers because she's a legitimately busy lady and I don't even want to attempt to steal time away from her doctor prep.
I maintain two blogs that spew basic verbal diahrrea. Sometimes they're insightful and hilarious. Other times they're trite, cliché, and boring. But I can't stop. I don't want to. How else can you get instant feedback on your writing and a justification of stuff you're thinking about? And though I have no qualms in letting you know just what I'm thinking and what I think of myself I'm not really trying to accomplish anything or change any minds. Its blah, its just words, just talking, just thinking. And just your basic showing off. Look at me, I can use analogies and alliteration.
I need an avalanche of aspirin. That EvY, what a show off.
Having a home to be proud of is tied into two elements. One is my desire to stay put because growing up my mom moved us around a lot. Two is well, I dunno if anyone knows this but I'm a woman and women tend to do this thing that people refer to as "nesting". Like the animal for which this behavior is named, its a little bit repetitive, cyclical you might say. Around and around we go. A little feather here, a little twig there, a little moss out, a little moss in. Pruning away with our hands and arms and heart the place we call home. My mom used to do it and it drove me crazy and then I realized that I did the same thing. She would rearrange the furniture, the frames, the beds, the covers, the towels. I couldn't understand why a person just couldn't be happy with the way things were and had to keep changing it and then I found myself in the same situation. Ambre noticed it too and called me out on it. Was my face red. Oh crap, I am my mother.
But since all or a majority of women do this, it can instead be said that well, women do this so I'm not my mother, I'm just a woman. And if you have an inkling of a creative side, this process never stops, much to the dismay of the husbands. There's this blog by a woman in Chicago who posts pictures of her projects and whose home was featured on the popular Apartment Therapy Home Tour. Perhaps the Pulitzer Prize of Nesting Achievement. The website is hugely popular with wannabe interior designers and the stuff they come up with is impressive and I visit it almost daily. Anyway, this Chicago woman, what other reason would she have to show us her home but to show off, right?
Which is also what blogs and MySpace and Facebook seem to foster. Showing off. No one posts pictures of themselves when they're half ugly or full ugly. They post pictures when they look hot, when they got married, when they had a baby, when they won an award, when they met a celebrity. I'm particularly surprised when girls I thought differently of post pictures of themselves in these outfits that are out of the norm for them. Boobies hanging out, short skirts, tight ass jeans. Guys have pictures of themselves with their cars, their bikes, their collections. And all of us have pictures of trips we took. Look at me, I went somewhere. Look at me, I have tits, bet you didn't know that.
But dammit, its what we want. I don't wanna stalk people and be lacking of information. I wanna know everything. Where you went, why you went, who you're going out with, where you live, what you do. I'm not actually going to call you and try to hang out with you, that's in the past. I want to know all the chisme, all the controversy and then compare it to my life and see how I feel after. Usually pretty good. Or sometimes very jealous (dammit Andy Barron and Andy Cervantes, why are you guys always going somewhere cool?).
Sometimes I use it as a research tool before I actually call someone. I like to stalk Ambre & Michelle's profile in case there was a key event I forgot about or missed that way when I see them I can get a full picture of what happened. And since I never see Man-D I stalk hers because she's a legitimately busy lady and I don't even want to attempt to steal time away from her doctor prep.
I maintain two blogs that spew basic verbal diahrrea. Sometimes they're insightful and hilarious. Other times they're trite, cliché, and boring. But I can't stop. I don't want to. How else can you get instant feedback on your writing and a justification of stuff you're thinking about? And though I have no qualms in letting you know just what I'm thinking and what I think of myself I'm not really trying to accomplish anything or change any minds. Its blah, its just words, just talking, just thinking. And just your basic showing off. Look at me, I can use analogies and alliteration.
I need an avalanche of aspirin. That EvY, what a show off.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
prisoner of war
It was guy night at the Fredrich household. Guy Night that will hereafter be referred to as "Game Night" because somehow I get stuck home on those nights and don't want to feel like the lame wife that sticks around making the guys feel uncomfortable. But please, not with this crowd. First of all I made brownies to bribe my presence (the way Matt brought us popsicles to bribe his presence on girl time) and secondly, its video game night so the talk in the room won't be anything I shouldn't hear, its just stuff I really don't want to hear and stuff I won't understand. Geeky nerd talk.
So I was a prisoner in my own home. Once it was in my mind that I shouldn't be here, I couldn't get out of my head this feeling that I should be invisible. Well the dang brownies took awhile to make and then I went into the room to begin an even nerdier project that I don't care to discuss I pondered my sentence and plotted my escape.
Ah who cares, I got bored. I sat in our room and I clicked around online for things I want to buy that I can't and I went into the living room to watch them play the Wario game that has those sexy descriptions of how the games are supposed to be played and oh jeebus I wish I could find a youtube video clip of that. They left a few minutes later and Matt & I watched The West Wing.
On Sunday Dad, Ab, Matt, & I watched "The Great Escape". The trio of natural family had earlier gone to have lunch and then visit Fry's for a cable Matt and I wanted to play our laptop videos onto the TV without buying an Apple TV (okay, who's a geek now that went for the sole reason of getting it, yes, me) and of course fell victim to the cheap DVDs and a movie for us to watch that day.
What a fine performance by Richard Attenborough and what a reminder that though Steve McQueen may be the only blond man I'll ever love that died before I met him, he can be (in the words of Nacho) a real douche. I mean honestly, who makes people write him a scene so he can show off motorcycling skills? (Who throws a shoe, I mean honestly?!) And THEN doesn't have the balls to do the major stunt? How could Ali McGraw have left Evans for this schmuck?
I can't believe that is based on a true story. What a story. War brings out incredible feats in people and cooperation really makes it happen. Does it only take a good leader to make a free man out of a prisoner? Or is our constant desire to escape our salvation?
The scene where the German guy says "Good Luck" freaking kills me. And the scene at the French Cafe made me shout "Vive Le France!"
I learned that Matt thinks my British accent is terrible. I can live with that. And he'll have to live with my continually doing it because I have to live with his attempting to do a Mexican one.
I'm Free.
I'm Free.
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