Sunday, December 24, 2006

Holiday on the road

We've been driving for a couple of days now headed north, and finally arrived in Seattle yesterday. Drove past Mammoth and around Lake Tahoe after a big snowfall, so everything was covered in white and we saw a few cars that spun out. The Jeep Laredo we rented in LA has snow tires and did very well on slick roads. (I think I'm in love with that car, by the way). Saw lots of little American towns, most of which at least had a bar if nothing else, and if they were any bigger, a taqueria as well. Stayed in small hotels and two nights ago cooked up some noodles, because my parents can't eat too many days of non-Chinese food. But they did like the DQ that I took them to yesterday.

Other travel observations: The pine trees in Oregon grow especially tall and dense - you can't see very far into the forests at all. The Columbia River is so wide, almost like a lake. (The picture on the left is just a small river, not the Columbia.) Mountains are easier to photograph than lakes and rivers, especially if it's not sunny out.

My uncle has a condo in Chinatown and is putting us up here. When we arrived last evening, he broke out the scotch and some black Taiwanese peanuts. It was a nice welcome.

Friday, December 15, 2006

Dream

2 shots of 1800 Silver tequila last night to celebrate the quarter's end + a tired brain = the following dream, which I'll call Armaggedon

There's a strange feeling in the air
It's the holiday season
But I feel that going shopping this evening would be disastrous
So I tell my friend, Don't go
Of course, the very shopping mall where she goes
Is the one where people get massacred
I drive over there later that night
And walk up to the front door
The security girl tells me, You can't come in
An older woman walks by and picks up a magazine from a stack near the door
She says, I just wanted to see, and sobs
I flee back toward home
It's a long path across the desert
And I'm riding a small flying motorcycle, with a lot of other people doing the same
At some point, I flip and take a fall
When I get up, I can't figure out which side of the bike should face forward
I stop and retrace my route
Kohan has gotten off his bike and is holding little pieces of mine in his hands
That he has picked up
Basically, I don't have a useable bike anymore
So I get on the back of Casey's bike for a ride
Joann appears out of nowhere and also hitches a ride with some guy
Later...
The massacre stopped at the door of our school
And it appears to be thanks to all the ghosts that live right between our front gate and the school
The evil (whatever it is) might be afraid of ghosts
So we think we'll use that to our advantage
I hear a little tinny voice coming from where I can't tell
But apparently the Mayor of Evil is specifically coming after me
For something I did to thwart him

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Francophile no more

When I was younger, I used to annoy my friends (I imagine) by talking about the few years when I lived in France as a kid. I stayed in love with Paris for a long time, remembering rotisserie chickens and good bread and cheese, gray buildings and cobblestones, and women who dressed themselves simply but with great care. I also loved the precise and sonorous quality of the French language.

As I've gotten older and my French has become rusty and outdated, I've gradually let go of my infatuation with the French tongue. Maybe it's because I majored in English and was a writer for 5 years. But it's finally sunk in. English rocks! It's such a colorful, flexible, always-changing language, and it belongs to the people. Here are some turns of phrase that make me happy to be part of an English-speaking world, in no particular order.

He stole my thunder.
We're not out of the woods yet.
She's a riot.
This is going to knock your socks off.
I need a _____ like I need a hole in the head.
Time to hit the hay.
It's a mile from here as the crow flies.
My eyes were bigger than my stomach.
You're dead to me.

Okay, this is a pretty weak list, and doesn't do justice to my sentiments at all. You know when you set out to do something, and suddenly it becomes really hard? But I'll keep adding to it, so please check back!

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Months-old fresh milk

I like the idea of buying food that's grown locally. There's a theory that it's healthiest to eat food that is local and in season, even if it means not being able to put blueberries in your cereal in February. That's one of the reasons I love avocados. When I eat an avocado, the odds are high that it was picked less than 2 hours away, probably somewhere in San Diego County*.

With that in mind, I generally have lots of tomatoes in my diet in the summer and foods like squashes and root vegetables in the winter. (I stuck to this practice the best when I lived in Baltimore and tended a little plot in a community garden. In the summer, I would come home with bags stuffed with soybeans and string beans, tomatoes, giant zucchini, eggplants, and herbs that knocked you out they smelled so good.)

My one exception to this great way of eating is when it comes to milk. I use milk only occasionally: a splash in my tea, or the odd bowl of cereal. But I hate being without it, like I would hate not having olive oil or salt in my cupboard. So I buy milk that is ultra-pasteurized and stays "fresh" in the fridge for months -- and it turns out this kind of milk was probably farmed far away.

A friend whom I recently converted to organic milk asked me whether ultra-pasteurization had any damaging effects on milk. I had no idea, so I did a bit of Internet research and found this: Ultra-pasteurization is a process that sterilizes milk to a temperature way higher than regular pasteurization, then cools it again very rapidly. As a result, you get milk that lasts for 2-3 months in the fridge, instead of the normal 2-3 weeks. Authorities are split on whether this process strips any flavor or nutrients from the milk in a significant way. Personally, I can't tell if there is a difference in taste.

What surprised me was the distance issue, which I had not thought about. I read that ultra-pasteurization has enabled farmers in remote places to reach bigger markets, so some small organic dairy farmer in Wisconsin can now sell milk to me in Santa Monica.

Most of the milk I buy is probably not local, and I guess I'll have to live with the fact that I'm trading off natural eating in favor of convenience. When I do occasionally get regular pasteurized milk, it probably is from some dairy farm here in California. But knowing that it has such a short shelf life kind of stresses me out. My current carton of milk, I bought more than a week ago and only opened today to eat half a bowl of cereal. It expires December 15, which to me seems like a very short time away.

*Fun fact: California produces 90% of the nation's avocado crop, and SD County produces 60% of the state's avocados. I live in avocado land, and I like it.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Anatomy of a long run

Start time: 6:10 am on Saturday
Distance traveled: 18 miles
Length: 3 hours 17 minutes
Bathroom breaks: 2
Water/food stations: 5

Mile 2 - My body feels great. I can't believe I've been running for more than 20 minutes and I am not at all out of breath. And no knee or foot pain to speak of.
Mile 3 - Mentor reminds us to drink water. It's a cold day, so we're not going to feel as thirsty as usual, she says.
Mile 5 - Blisters are starting to form on the insides of my feet. This is despite the athletic tape I carefully wrapped around those areas. Ouch.
Mile 8 or 9 - Blisters have numbed and there is no pain anymore. Parts of my skin that are exposed start to feel chafed from the wind. My ponytail is damp with sweat, so that little beads of moisture occasionally fly off the end.
Mile 11 - Getting hungry. Munch on gummy bears, Oreos, and other goodies at the water stations. I shake out my hands, which are puffy from blood pressure.
Mile 12 - Still hungry! Start eating gummy energy candies (Clif Bloks) that I brought along. During walk breaks, I lift my knees up tin soldier-style to relieve the pressure on them a bit. I notice that others are doing the same.
Mile 14 - Starting to drag a little, as my energy level drops. I start focusing on the ground in front of me. Hips and quads are starting to feel tight and stiff. Feet are kind of burning where the blisters are, but it's not a bad feeling compared to the earlier rubbing pain.
Mile 15 - Woohoo! Only 3 miles left to go. Knowing we're in the final stretch gives me a new burst of energy.
Mile 16 - Eat my very last Clif Blok.
Mile 17.8 - Charge up the final hill (as much as I can "charge" at this point), chugging along slowly but surely. Jog a few extra steps than necessary and come to a glorious stop.
End of the run - As I sit on the grass stretching with the rest of the group, my eyes suddenly start to sting so terribly that I have to squeeze them shut. It dawns on me that they're stinging because of the saltiness of my sweat.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

T-Day and total exhaustion

Food and drink consumed:
Peanuts
Avocado-crab cucumber canapes
Scotch on the rocks

14-pound turkey barbecued over peach tree twigs
Mashed potatoes with giblet gravy
Dried-fruit-and-nut couscous
Herb-roasted squash
Stir-fried bitter collard greens
Candied yams
Sauteed mushrooms
Corn and bell peppers
Baby vegetable salad
Merlot

Fruits (papaya, kiwi, honeydew, pineapple, oranges)
Organic pumpkin pie
Green tea

Games played by the young people:
Halo 2
Star Wars
Five in a row (checkers)
Scrabble

Miscellaneous highlights:
Went for a trail run for the first time ever this morning. 50 minutes of pure am-I-going-to-survive-this.

Finished making most of the side dishes and dozed in my brother's room for 20 minutes while waiting for Dad to finish barbecuing the turkey.

Melody, on her way to the fruit platter after dinner, was sidetracked by some leftover cranberry jelly. She took a slice and added a small mound of mashed potatoes on top, for good measure. My kind of girl.

Went to surf the Web for a bit after dinner, and returned to find everything cleaned up and leftovers put away in plastic containers. After chaos, cleanliness.

Made turkey stock, blogged, and am heading off to bed now. A good day.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Changes at the Griffith Observatory

The Griffith Observatory was always one of my favorite spots in LA, growing up. It was kind of a rag-tag landmark, with a cheesy planetarium show and spectacular views (on a clear day) of all around the city, from downtown to the Hollywood sign to the giant-mound-by-the-ocean that is Palos Verdes. My father used to drive the family there, on a whim, to see the city lights. I remember being driven up a dark, winding road through Griffith park, walking along the covered walkway that wraps around the exterior of the Observatory, brushing past strangers and searching for a good spot to lean over and admire.

The Observatory closed about 4 years ago for major renovations, and reopened this month. Jen and Jason got us some reservations to go visit, so this morning we parked at the bottom of the hill beneath the Observatory and hiked a short way up to it. For now, they're only allowing people up on a reservation basis, because they're expecting a crush of visitors in the first few months and want to do crowd control. My review of the renovated building:

What's bad - The place has lost some of its old charm. The exhibits are more sophisticated and polished than before, with a Smithsonian feel, but I couldn't find this one exhibit I used to like where you had to push little buttons and try to match groupings of stars to the right constellations. That was fun as a kid. Other small changes that make me long for the old days: the coin-operated telescopes on the outside of the building are gone. Gone also is the raggedy little gift shop that used to sell silly things like glow-in-the-dark sticker kits of the planets and stars for your bedroom ceiling.

What's good - The changes don't hit you at once, because most of them occurred underground or are simply replacements of old things. Everything's clean and spiffy. The museum is twice the size it used to be, thanks to the underground expansion. I hear the seats in the planetarium are super cushy and much better than the old ones with wooden head rests. There's a big cafe with Wolfgang Puck food and outdoor seating with nice views. The giant pendulum that greets you at the entrance is still there, ready to puzzle a new crop of kids with how it proves the earth is spinning.

Another addition I really liked: They have added a long, curved hallway with a glass display all along one side that contained thousands of pieces of inexpensive jewelry fashioned into stars, suns, and moons, arranged in a milky-way type of pattern. It strikes you as kind of kitschy, all these metal and plastic trinkets that you might find in a dusty case at an antique shop. Until you step back and realize how touching it is, really, that humans are so fascinated by the heavenly bodies that we so often incorporate these symbols into our daily lives, without even being conscious of it nowadays. Think of the gold stars that your teacher gave you.

Overall, the Observatory's suffered a little from the changes, which makes me sad. But it's still a grand old landmark. It still inspires. Which is what Griffith J. Griffith always wanted for the citizens of LA. Even if he did shoot his wife in the face.


Saturday, November 18, 2006

61 percent of a marathon

Today I ran 16 miles, a personal record. I was fine for most of the run, getting used to my gigantic new running shoes. The only part that nearly killed me was the very last 10th of a mile, which includes an uphill stretch that connects the Santa Monica pier back to the rest of the city.

The day was nice, or at least I think it was. I've kind of stopped admiring the scenery because it is about the same every week. And there's too much at stake to be looking around googly-eyed at the pretty sunrise and flocks of seagulls. Look away for a second and you could smack into a fire hydrant or fall into a sand pit or lose your footing on a wet sidewalk and wipe out.

A funny thing about organized marathon training is that your running group behaves almost like a single living organism, with all the parts taking care of one another. When someone comes upon an obstacle, like a fire hydrant, he or she will usually yell out "hydrant" and point to it as a warning to the runners behind. The warning gets passed down the line, so what you hear is "hydrant!" "hydrant!" "hydrant!" At first it seemed kind of silly to me, but lately I've come to appreciate how people look out for their fellow runners. It's easy to zone out when you're mainly concerned about putting one foot in front of the other.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Fragmented self

I haven't been able to settle down since school started in October. Part of it is because I'm single again, and there's nothing quite like that for making you feel like a boat adrift. Another reason is that I'm involved in too many school activities that keep pulling at me in about 10 different directions. I field e-mails and attend meetings for a business conference I'm helping to plan, do inanely time-consuming things like design a T-shirt and police a Yahoo Group for a very active school club of which I'm an officer, and generally juggle too many little tasks related to all these activities. Plus I'm trying to start a business (www.mrfob.com) with some classmates, find a few hours a week to devote to my part-time job, and do just enough freelance writing assignments to keep that door open. And I have about 3 friends I've promised to have dinner with and a handful of others to whom I owe an e-mail or phone call big time.

But there's a more pernicious reason why I'm feeling like I have been splintered into a thousand little pieces: The information age. It's causing me to adapt in ways that apparently include losing some key mental faculties. While my typing speed is faster than ever (when I really get going, my fingers practically all hit the keys at the same time), my attention span is about 2 seconds because there's always an IM or text message to attend to or one of my four e-mail accounts to check or something that I just remembered I have to look up on Wikipedia.

My ability to recall information has become very weak (I suspect that my brain knows it can just Google almost anything, so it's packed up and gone on an extended vacation or something). My ability to focus is completely shot. I've become the ultimate multi-tasker, in that I do everything okay but nothing very well. Needless to say, I've been spending precious little time engaged in quiet study and my grades are suffering. But you'll find me in a bar on a Wednesday night, with my cell phone on "vibrate" in my back pocket!

It's a really unsettling frame of mind to be in. It reminds me of how I feel when I have coffee that's a little strong, and my brain kind of starts to itch. But unlike with a cup of coffee, which I have no problem throwing away once I've had enough, somehow I don't learn my lesson with the things that help me achieve this indispensable feeling of connectivity. I almost never leave my cell phone behind, and the first thing I do when I get home is plug in my laptop. If I don't do it right away, I'm really conscious of the fact the entire time until I do plug in.

I have in mind some advice that my father often gives me. There's no good translation for it in English, but it's literally something like "Don't get flustered," and what it really means is "Chill out." Brent's mom has a similar take on things, in that she always told him not do do more than one thing at a time, like don't cook while talking on the phone. They would both be very disappointed in me.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Birthday eggs

Today is my mom's birthday, and I am at home in Hacienda Heights spending some Q time with the family. We have this tradition of eating eggs for breakfast on a person's birthday, so this morning my dad prepared some soft-boiled ones. Six of them. My mom got two, and so did I because I am a girl. My dad and brother each got one. If it had been my father or my brother's birthday, the boys would each have gotten two eggs and the girls just one.

I've never heard of this practice outside of my family.* I asked my dad about it (he grew up in a household where birthdays and birthday eggs were always made much of) and he said it's from back in the day in China when eggs were hard to come by, and getting two would have been considered a really big deal. Now everyone's richer, and there are more eggs to go around. But you still have to limit who gets two eggs so that it's a special treat for the birthday person.

*If anyone else has heard of eating birthday eggs, let me know. Or if your families have any interesting traditions related to food on birthdays. You know I love this kind of stuff.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Bigfoot and friendship

It turns out I am a bigfoot when it comes to running shoes. After months of not feeling quite right in my $120 Brooks running shoes, which I bought over the summer when I started the marathon training, I finally caved in after this morning's 14 mile run and admitted that "expensive" does not necessarily equal the right running shoe.

Went to my running store and learned that my blister- and toe-smooshing problems are due to the fact that my shoes are size 8.5 and that no amount of expert craftsmanship on the part of Brooks is going to make them feel any better on me. So I got upped to a 10. Which for an Asian girl of any height is pretty embarrassing. But I ran around a bit with the shoes, and decided that they felt great. So now I am properly shod. Lots of training and one half-marathon later.

On another note, my friend Erin did something the other day that really touched me. We went to the gym together, and I hadn't been to the gym for so long that I forgot to bring a towel. I didn't have cash to buy a towel and the helpful staff at 24-Hour Fitness wouldn't loan me one. So Erin went to the front desk, borrowed a pair of scissors and cut her towel in half for me. If that's not a good friend, I don't know what is.


Thursday, November 02, 2006

Intoxication

At the moment, the kind that you get from drinking a couple of beers and a smidge of tequila.

But a lot of other things qualify as intoxication, at least in the sense that they give you a temporary high and make you forget your immediate surroundings, or enhance your enjoyment of them:

A good song. Sends chills up your spine, and makes you forgetful of yourself and happy to just be alive and listening to this song.

Waiting for an e-mail to pop up when you're having good back-and-forth correspondence with someone who's funny and witty. When the e-mail pops up, your brain is like, "Yay!"

A good night's sleep, after several days of sleep deprivation. The next day you're floating around, thinking, "How come I feel this good?"

The prospect of a fun outing. Creates a little knot of anticipation in your belly when you think about it. Who knows if it will live up to your expectations, but in the meantime, who cares?

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Drool

- Weird quote of the day -

My dentist, to me: "You have more saliva than anyone I've ever met."

Saturday, October 21, 2006

A belly full of uni

I am a lucky girl: Two wonderful dinners in one weekend. Yesterday, it was an Italian restaurant in Brentwood called Osteria Latini. Great thanks to Erin's boyfriend, Naveen, for treating us to the meal and choosing a delicious wine - a 2001 Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon. My entree was linguine prepared with "tuna eggs," garlic, and olive oil.

I'd never had tuna eggs before (though I would advise the chef to call it "roe" on the menu instead). But I think I have the dish figured out. The linguine was a rich, yellow homemade pasta cooked al dente and tossed with the olive oil, garlic, and what appeared to be shavings of tuna roe. I think the roe was cooked and smoked so that it was hard, and then grated to make flavorful shavings for this distinctive pasta.

[Aha! My friend Google has just solved the mystery. And reminded me of the name of my dish: Linguine alla Bottarga. Bottarga = dried and salted roe.]

The second wonderful meal was tonight with Jason and Jen at Kanpachi, a sushi bar tucked in a strip mall in Gardena. The chef has known Jen's family for years, and treated us like guests in his own home. Leaving the meal to his good judgment, we sat at the bar with happy hearts as he feasted us with a long succession of nigiri sushi. With his own hands, he placed them in couplets on a big ti leaf we each had in front of us.

My only regret was eating a bit too quickly, before I learned that the pairings were done with a purpose. The best sushi I had was of saba, a mackerel that had been salted and vinegared then molded into a small square with rice. I also had a very fresh and melty uni * (sea urchin), the memory of which stayed on my tongue the whole drive home. And a very rich toro (fatty tuna) and soft chunks of purple octopus served with a flavored dipping salt. Another interesting dish, served just in the autumn season, was a delicate mushroom broth in a tiny clay teapot. We squeezed a small lime-like fruit into the broth, then drank little cupfuls until it was gone.

As for the title of this entry, it's because the chef at Osteria Latini sent to our table a free appetizer of uni-and-sea-scallop carpaccio. We had gotten the shaft in terms of seating, so this was his way of apologizing. Like the soft uni on our tongue, the resentment melted away.

* For those who haven't experienced uni, it's a soft, yellowish mass that has both a faint sweetness and the salty taste of the sea. I enjoy it for the same reason that I am in love with fresh raw oysters. Both are so simple and natural that they turn out to be, kind of paradoxically, more of a luxury than the most elaborate soufflé.

Should laws be respected?

I'm not going to go in order in answering these 7 questions for people who are new to the discipline of philosophy, because that would just be too structured even for me.

The first one that I've felt like tackling is: Should laws be respected? For whatever reason, this question popped into my mind as I was lying in bed last night waiting to fall asleep. My answer is yes. But not because it's the right thing to do or because society demands it, although those are pretty persuasive reasons too.

Laws are the only way we can achieve the peace and quiet we need to pursue the things that make us happy, like - depending on the person - power or material things or self-improvement or a loving relationship. If there were no laws, we'd just be fighting all the time (as is the case, unfortunately, in parts of the world). Imagine living in a state of chaos and attempting to do "normal" things like get an education, take your kid to the zoo for the first time, stroll down the street looking for a restaurant with just the right menu to tempt you inside.

Without a set of rules that we collectively agree to follow, we'd be crashing into each other's cars at intersections, getting our purses snatched or snatching other people's purses, living in hostile racial and social factions. We'd be fearful all the time. Our minds would be consumed by the desire for survival, and there would be no room for the pursuit of happiness.

On a relevant note, here was the Oct. 8 NYT Quotation of the Day:

''I can't go outside, I can't go to college. If I'm killed, it doesn't even matter because I'm dead right now.''

NOOR, a 19-year-old Baghdad resident.

Friday, October 20, 2006

How to go from good to sublime

This morning, I made myself a ham-and-egg croissant sandwich. Then I added a really thin slice of red onion, and that turned my modest little sandwich - the likes of which you could find somewhere as mundane as Jack in the Box - into something really special.

This works for other foods as well:

fish & chips = good
fish & chips + malt vinegar = sublime

breakfast cereal = good
breakfast cereal + a handful of fresh blueberries = sublime

Buffalo wings = good
Buffalo wings + blue cheese dressing = sublime

pizza = good
pizza + a sprinkling of hot pepper flakes = sublime

pho noodles = good
pho noodles + fresh basil leaves & bean sprouts = sublime

ceviche = good
ceviche on a fried plantain crisp = sublime

potato & leek soup = good
potato & leek soup + a dollop of sour cream = sublime

Sunday, October 15, 2006

2 h 20 m 52 s

Random thoughts from my first half-marathon, in which I finished 246th out of 522 in my category, women aged 25 to 29. (Ah, the sweet taste of being ever-so-slightly above average)

  • Why do people bring fleeces to an early morning run? And why do they think it's a good idea to shed them in a pile at the starting line for people to trip over?
  • Good thing Maneesha (running mentor) is carrying those white-and-blue balloons, or our group would definitely get swallowed up by the crowd.
  • Those three statuesque blonde girls, I want to beat them to the finish.
  • When the seconds are ticking away, somehow it doesn't matter that there's no toilet paper in the portable toilet. Unless you need to poo (like the girl next to me), in which case even a discarded Solo cup starts to look like an acceptable substitute for TP.
  • It's the last mile, and all I can think of is how much I would like to eat a banana.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Momma & philo

My mom is great. Earlier this summer, it occurred to me that it would be nice to learn more about Western philosophy. If I had finished my schooling in France, I would've certainly had a better foundation in it. As it is, I really have none. In French high schools, kids have to take"philo" (fee-lo) and pass an exit exam to receive their diploma. It makes for more a well-rounded education, definitely. Just listen to a "man on the street" interview in France versus, well, the US.

My mom knew of my interest, and recently forwarded me a little tool to help me on my quest. It's from a book called Une Semaine de Philosophie: 7 questions pour entrer en philosophie. (A Week of Philosophy: 7 questions to get into philosophy, by Charles Pépin)

This approach of taking on some simple questions and turning them over in your mind, one by one, appeals to me. Maybe others will find it useful too. I'm hoping to revisit these topics in future entries.

Lundi: Réfléchir peut-il nous rendre heureux?
Monday: Can thinking make us happy?

Mardi: Faut-il respecter les lois?
Tuesday: Should laws be respected?

Mercredi: Pourquoi la beauté nous fascine-t-elle?
Wednesday: What is so fascinating about beauty?

Jeudi: Qu'apprend-on vraiment a l'école?
Thursday: What do we really learn in school?

Vendredi: Faut-il croire en Dieu?
Friday: Should we believe in God?

Samedi: La démocratie est-elle le meilleur régime politique?
Saturday: Is democracy the best form of government?

Dimanche: Comment se préparer a mourir?
Sunday: How do we prepare ourselves to die?

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Evelyn: A story

Evelyn is a 26-year-old Mexican American woman who works behind the counter at a grab-and-go cafe and is popular with customers. She has a youthful glow (even if she sometimes looks a bit worn), a sweet nature, and long brown hair with blond highlights.

She's been working there for a few years, the latest in a series of jobs since she dropped out of high school at age 15. That was when she became pregnant by her boyfriend, Joe, an 18-year-old friend of her brother. They had been seeing each other for about a year.

Evelyn's daughter, Carla, is a spunky girl of 10 who gets into some degree of trouble at school. They live with Evelyn's parents, and Joe does not contribute to the child's rearing.

But to back up. Evelyn was 14 when her relationship with Joe began. When they found out she was pregnant, he told her he would stick with her. By the time she was pretty far along, though, he discovered he had fallen out of love. Evelyn had been hiding her swelling belly from her parents, who were busy planning her quinceanera, and she begged Joe to come clean to them. She recalls him saying: "Don't call me no more, Evelyn. I don't love you."

Eventually, she could not wait any longer and told them herself. Her mother, she recalls, went to speak to the boy. But Evelyn's father could not bring himself to do it. He said he did not want to hear Joe throw in his face the fact that Evelyn had wanted it too.

So Evelyn left school, gave birth to her baby, and entered the hourly workforce. She worked hard, but was fired from a few places, one of them a clothing factory, due to tardiness. A few minutes here and there, nothing outrageous. But at some workplaces, there is little tolerance for that kind of thing.

These days, in between handling the lunch rush and giving the cafe a wipe-down before closing up, Evelyn thinks about going to cosmetology school. She turns down offers to become an assistant manager at the cafe - even though it would pay more - because she still sees this job as temporary, something to tide her over.

But cosmetology, now, that would lead to a better living and enable her to move into her own place. To make it work, she would need to find a program that would allow her to carry a full-time job and take Carla, whom she calls her "baby," to an after-school activity once a week. And before she could even apply to school, she would need to get her GED.

There's bitterness, of course. But it's mixed in with other feelings. "He was young, too," Evelyn says of her child's father. Still, she can't help but criticize her brother for being disloyal and hanging out with Joe still, even after everything.

Sometimes her brother gets mad at Joe too. But the two young men usually fall back into their easy friendship. They just get along well, Evelyn says.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

George W. makes me irrational

I can blame no one but myself for volunteering to drop off food for a UCLA event this evening after work. But I can and do blame our fair president for causing the road closures that made me behave like a complete loon on the drive home. By way of background, here is the traffic warning we received via e-mail:

UPDATE: Closure of Sunset and Sepulveda Boulevards. Transportation Services request notification to campus users that a very important dignitary will be visiting the West LA area. This visit is expected to result in significant traffic congestion throughout the area. Expect considerable delays and plan accordingly.

The distance I needed to cover to get out of Westwood and on my merry way home was no more than a quarter-mile as the crow flies. It took me nearly an hour. Here is a depiction of the rather disastrous journey:


The blue Ws represent the roads shut down for our dignified visitor, and the straight black arrow the route I probably should have taken. Now imagine all of the major arteries in the area (including the straight-shot down Westwood Blvd.) viciously clogged with red tailights going nowhere. At 8 pm, when we all should have been at home with dinner in our bellies.

The absurdly convoluted path (marked in red) was the route that made sense to me at the time, if you factor in things like feeling quite certain that this or that side street will lead you to the promised land, or in any case being unwilling to just sit in a barely-moving line of cars and breathe in the next car's emissions.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Deconstructing a chicken

Lest anyone think that all I do is think about food: Today was the first day of school and instead of fleeing as soon as I was sprung from my last class, I went to the library (!) and checked out (!!) an accounting textbook that I haven't yet bought and sat down to read a chapter.

But back to the subject of this entry. After school, I stopped by the market and picked up a rotisserie chicken, which is a great secret of the home cook. There are so many uses for it, down to the bones. Here's what I usually do:

1) Upon getting the chicken home, tear off a drumstick and eat it.

2) For dinner, eat a thigh, a wing, and maybe one of the little nuggets behind each of the shoulderblades (the most tender part of a chicken). Potatoes or rice on the side, and some veggies. Store the rest of the chicken in the fridge.

3) For lunch the next day, cut slices from one of the chicken breasts and make a sandwich. Cucumbers and mayo are what I usually have on hand for toppings.

4) For dinner, have another drumstick, thigh and wing. Strip off remaining breast and dark meat and set aside in the fridge. The stripping-down is the most fun part (you should see me after Thanksgiving dinner), because I get to eat yummy bits in the process.

5) Make broth out of the carcass, by placing the bones in cold water and bringing to a simmer. For an Asian broth, I add a couple of ginger slices and rough-chopped scallions. For Western flavor, I add some cut-up onion, celery, a little bit of carrot, and some herbs if I have them. I don't bother salting until I'm going to use the broth.

6) Take the broth and make soup, such as noodle soup - or if I'm feeling creative - tortilla soup!

7) As for the remaining meat, I may freeze it if I'm getting tired of chicken by this time. Or I use it over the next day or two in various ways: Make more sandwiches. Toss pieces in a salad. Tear into smaller strips and combine with cooked noodles, shredded cucumbers and sprouts, seasoned with a sesame sauce.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Baltimore eating, summer reading, and Derrick the driver

I have to be back on campus starting this afternoon. But the last couple of weeks have been great. I took a wonderful trip to Baltimore and New York. Loved being back on the East Coast and seeing so many good friends. I also met up with my old boss, who is now the head of news at NPR, and got a cool tour of the studio. Watched as Lakshmi Singh (in a very casual flowy button-down blouse) gave the 4 p.m. news roundup.

The trip made me consider expanding my job search outside LA. New York would be great, in part because it would allow me to see my hairdresser Sunny in Chinatown on a regular basis. He is from Hong Kong and his English is atrocious, but he has flair. Actually, he is Liz's hairdresser since college days but I have adopted him as well. Here we are:



The other highlight of my trip was a dinner with Brent at the Charleston Restaurant in Baltimore. For all my foodie-ness, this was my first fine dining experience. The Charleston's chef, Cindy Wolf, offers a flexible tasting menu, in that you choose the number of courses you want and then you choose your courses from a seasonal list.

My most delicious course was the grilled sea scallop on a bed of pureed sweet potato. It was a really smart combination of flavors and textures: A sprinkling of toasted pine nuts and bacon for salt and crunch, and a smooth lemon-butter sauce for a bit of tartness.

Even though this was a world-class restaurant, there were lots of small homey touches to make you feel very pampered: Small glasses of champagne (3 oz) for people who want to celebrate just a little bit; a complimentary dessert course; free valet parking; and a staff that treats guests like gold. It was the best dining-out experience I've had in my life.

Sadly, I didn't finish much of my summer reading list. This is how far I got:

- I finished about two-thirds of Pour Your Heart Into It: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup at a Time, which was as much as I could take. See my previous critique.

- I read all of Horse Sense: The Key to Success is Finding a Horse to Ride, which is a bit dated (1991) but still contains some useful tips. The biggest lesson I took away is that you shouldn't bet just on yourself and your innate talents or ambition, but rather on other people and on good ideas when you're lucky enough to come across them. Planning to Xerox one of the chapters for my little bro, who has a tendency to want to do it all himself.

- I am a few pages into The World is Flat, but it's not as interesting as I thought it would be - perhaps because I am a year or two late in getting to it. A lot of what Friedman talks about regarding the information age and outsourcing has already become commonplace thinking (in part thanks to him, I'm sure), so it's very much like reading a recap.

In other news, Derrick the delivery driver-rapper disappeared a few weeks ago and I have been meaning to write an update on him. He didn't pick up his last paycheck, so we were concerned that something may have happened to him. But then it appeared that he sold his Nextel phone (a pricey one), so that was slightly reassuring as it was at least a sign of life.

I even searched for his name in the Times to see if he turned up in any unfortunate news reports - but I forgot that this isn't Baltimore. We don't have a crime blotter here, and the city's so big that it would be a 1 in 10 million shot that he would turn up in the paper. I thought about suggesting that we report him as a missing person or something, but then again he doesn't seem like the type who would appreciate that.

Friday, September 22, 2006

R.I.P. good Szechuan restaurants

My family has a handful of Chinese restaurants that we always go to. They are

1) Dumpling House, Temple City
Operators: A Northern Chinese family who lived in Korea
Actual Chinese name: The Home Village

2) Szechuan Express, Monterey Park
Operators: A Szechuanese couple and their sons
Actual Chinese name: Little Szechuan

3) Lu's Garden, San Gabriel
Operators: Taiwanese
Actual Chinese name: Little Lu

4) Oriental Pearl, San Gabriel
Operators: Mainlanders
Actual Chinese name: House of Szechuan Flavors

The Oriental Pearl and Szechuan Express tragically closed their doors recently. A little tribute follows:

The Loh family à table

Mom, Dad, Scott and I sit down at the Oriental Pearl.

Dad [opens menu, pretends to read]: Okay, what do we want to eat?

Scott and me
[rolling our eyes]: C'mon, Dad.

Dad
: Everybody pick one dish.

Me
: Okay, how about salt-and-pepper pork chops?

Dad
[snorts]: Don't be a fool.

Mama chuckles, shaking her head at us. Dad waves a waitress over and proceeds to order our habitual menu, refined over time and now as good as set in stone:
  • A combination cold plate: Fu qi fei pian (thin slices of beef and tendon, spiced with smuggled Szechuan peppercorns and cilantro), marinated slices of pork tongue, and blanched celery salad
  • Twice-cooked pork (the true test of a Szechuan restaurant)
  • Mapo tofu (the other true test of a Szechuan restaurant)
  • Water-boiled beef (water is a misnomer here, unless water is something that is a deep red color and turns your tongue into a mass of numbness)
  • Soup of white fish, pickled greens, and hot peppers
  • Stir-fried bitter melon (the only non-spicy dish on the table).

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Braindeadedness

I'm almost afraid to put this out there because of what people might think. But I think I should, if only to have a formal record of when I began to lose my mind:

I've always been very forgetful, as a lot of people can attest. However, today I reached a new low. I was checking out my credit card statement online and noticed a weird charge dated earlier this month that I didn't for the life of me remember placing: Days Inn, $65.69. Had a minor freakout --not just because I've never stayed at a Days Inn, but also because I didn't recall traveling anywhere recently.

Considered calling my credit card company and asking for an explanation. Instead, I sat myself down and concentrated. Eventually, I noticed that this hotel charge was made on the same day that I charged my membership for the Leggers running group, and -- sleuth that I am! -- suddenly remembered that I had booked the Days Inn because I needed someplace to crash in Long Beach the night before next month's half-marathon.

The next sad development to this story is that I started looking in my Inbox to find a confirmation of this reservation, and couldn't find it. Mildly freaked out again because I didn't remember where this hotel was located, and thought that might be useful information to have. So I googled Days Inn and Long Beach and called the number to the hotel that came up.

Did they have a reservation under my name? Yes, of course. And as the man read my confirmation number to me, it suddenly occurred to me that I might have cut and pasted the details of this reservation into a note in Outlook, where I sometimes keep important little tidbits of info.

Guess what? I had.

This was a small event in the great scheme of things, but still unsettling. I suddenly had a feeling of being dropped into someone else's life and trying to piece together what she does and where she's supposed to be.

Maybe I should check into a place of rest, somewhere.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Sleeping late and books that suck

Finally settling into vacation mode. This morning, I woke up after 10 am. Yesterday, too. That's very unusual. I am usually up and at 'em around 8 am at the latest, because I can't relax.

Besides sleeping in late, I have been chipping away at the old summer reading list. I think that Starbucks book will be my undoing because it's the first on my list and I can't finish it. I keep looking for nuggets of business insight but I am having a hard time getting past the CEO Howard Schultz's self-congratulatory tone. It's really kind of repulsive.

The ends of chapters are especially bad:

"In daily life, you get so much pressure from friends and family and colleagues, urging you to take the easy way, to follow the prevailing wisdom, that it can be difficult not to simply accept the status quo and do what's expected of you. But when you really believe -- in yourself, in your dream -- you just have to do everything you possibly can to take control and make your vision a reality. No great achievement happens by luck."
....

"At thirty-four, I was at the beginning of a great adventure. What would keep me on track was not the size of my holdings but my heartfelt values and my commitment to building long-term value for our shareholders. Every step of the way, I made it a point to underpromise and overdeliver. In the long run, that's the only way to ensure security in any job."

Oh, and the title is Pour Your Heart Into It.

This is the type of book someone writes when they get on top of the world too young too fast, and no one is giving them honest advice anymore. Not even Dori Jones Yang, who helped the big man write the book. It gave me a pang of regret to note that she is one of my countrywomen, yet couldn't do something to salvage things.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Blessed by cloud cover

I've just returned from an 11-mile run along the beach that was wonderfully free of sunshine. I don't much like the sun. I do realize it gives us food and life, and that most Westerners soak it up every chance they get. But for me, as prone to freckling as I am, the sun is an environmental hazard. I tan in about 5 minutes, and these freckles that people deem so cute are PERMANENT.

To combat the freckling and the unwanted tanning, I wear sunblock every day, SPF 45, even in the winter. The only time I relax that rule is when I leave LA, because the sun doesn't seem to shine quite as harshly elsewhere. My three years in Baltimore were an excellent hiatus for my skin. Even in Taiwan, which is closer to the equator, I can spend a summer and come back paler. Over there, people have the right idea. The women carry umbrellas around to shade themselves from the sun.

Sometimes I'll see a picture of myself as a child, and I'll marvel at the freckle-less face and get sad. I've even gone so far as to get some freckles burned off, years ago. Pretty unpleasant, and it didn't do much good.

Wish that more people in the Western world were anti-sun like me, because then there would be a bigger market for sunblocking technologies. Scientists would design these little clouds that could follow you around and provide a nice spot of shade wherever you go. Or they would invent some kind of permanent sunblock that you could tattoo on or something.

Epilogue: Despite the nice cloud cover and cool temps this morning, I still got a freakin' tan. And probably helped along a couple of as-yet unborn freckles.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Can't relax

It's my first week of vacation now that the internship is over. I should be lolling around the house and doing nothing useful. But here is how my morning went:

1. My landlady's bulldog woke me up with its barking. Bad Bella.

2. I turned on the computer and took stock of the crapload of things I have to do from now through Sunday:

  • Go to Kinko's and figure out how to print a giant poster I made for a school club.
  • Drive home before Friday afternoon traffic to make it to family dinner with grandma, who is returning to Taiwan tomorrow.
  • Do research on Chinese businesspeople I can invite to sit on a conference panel about cultural differences.
  • Meet a classmate for dinner to discuss this panel.
  • Mail out registration for Long Beach Half Marathon.
  • Write a letter of thanks for a school fellowship.
  • Accept school loans and e-sign promissory note.
  • Drive to Koreatown for a bridesmaid dress fitting.
  • Have dinner with the soon-to-be bride and groom.
  • Run 11 miles with my running group.
  • Figure out where to get brochures printed for the school club.
  • Go to school to hang up the poster.
  • Possibly get together with high school friends.
  • Pay a parking ticket.
  • Buy groceries.

3. I took 15 minutes to blog about this, wasting valuable time. Tick tock tick tock

Monday, September 04, 2006

Pumpkins no more

From: Laura Loh
Sent: Fri 9/1/2006 10:20 PM
To: [Company higher-ups]
Subject: No more Smashing Pumpkins

Hi all,

Unfortunately, the band has decided not to continue with our customized meals after this week. Please see the note below. I’ve asked them to give us some honest feedback, so that we can understand what went wrong. Thank you to everyone for a big effort – I know that the kitchen did the best it could on short notice with this unusual request and I am really grateful.

Have a great weekend everyone.

Laura
..........................................

From: Krista [Accountant for the band]
Sent: Friday, September 01, 2006 12:14 PM
To: Laura Loh; Jared

Subject: RE: Smashing Pumpkins menu for Week of Sept. 4

Hi, Laura.

The band has decided not to continue the meal service with [your company]. We thank you for your services/meals thus far and appreciate all that you have done.

Thank you,
Krista
...........................................

From: Laura Loh
Sent: Friday, September 01, 2006 10:36 AM
To: Jared; Krista
Subject: Smashing Pumpkins menu for Week of Sept. 4

Hi Jared and Krista,

Attached please find next week’s menu for the band. I do hope they’ve been enjoying the food. If there is any feedback we should be aware of, please don’t hesitate to let me know. We’d like to do everything possible to make them happy customers!

Please note our new delivery schedule. We will now be delivering a lunch/dinner package every day instead of twice a week.

There were two reasons for this change:

1) We realized the band’s refrigerator is a bit small to accommodate 3 days’ worth of food at a time
2) It is easier for our kitchen to produce a fresh meal each day, rather than several days’ worth of food that must be kept fresh for more than one day.

As the invoices you’ve received show, the pricing we came up with is $35/day per person, or about $15/person for lunch and $20/person for dinner. The delivery charge is $7.95 and is expected to increase companywide to $9.95 sometime soon. If you have an issue with paying for a daily delivery, please let me know and I can try to arrange something with our billing department.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Best regards,

Laura Loh

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

The high and the low

Today's high:
I went to the Smashing Pumpkins' studio this morning to deliver their meals for the day and bumped into Jimmy Chamberlain in the kitchen as I was making my way to stock the band's refrigerator. He was very nice and said, "Hi. I'm Jimmy," and shook my hand. It was a warm, firm handshake. But that probably goes without saying, since he is the drummer and all. I saw this picture of him on the Internet and his arms are cut (See below.... What! I had to do my research before going out there.)

Today's low:
I ate a bag of Kettle chips that were past their expiration date. The good thing about working at a food company is that there is a lot of food around. The bad thing is that some of it is expired, and that is why it is sitting in boxes around the office. There's also a huge tub of abandoned Honest Teas out back, which don't taste that bad.



Saturday, August 26, 2006

The parking ticket gods have it in for me

I've gotten $135 worth of parking tickets in the last three months. The latest incident was today, when I was playing fast and loose with a 1-hour meter in Hollywood. Being a cheapskate, I parked at a meter in front of a Famima store instead of using a pay lot. Made a mental note to add more money at 12:15, sat down to lunch with a friend, and then forgot and blew deadline by 9 minutes. Ran the 25 feet to my car only to be greeted by the familiar sight of a pink slip on my windshield. I love the City of Los Angeles. Or rather, the City of Los Angeles loves me. Who wouldn't love someone who regularly makes out checks to you?

I am pretty sure someone up there doesn't approve of my skirting of parking regulations and is trying to teach me a lesson. Other dumb things I have done in the past few weeks, for which I have mostly been punished:
  1. Parked in a UCLA parking lot twice with a parking permit that expired last quarter, to attend a free yoga class (Yes, I am that cheap.)
  2. Failed to see a meter that was concealed behind a telephone pole -- at least from my vantage point -- and just assumed I'd found a cool, meter-less parking spot (Earned a ticket for that one.)
  3. Misread a sign and thought that I could park without feeding a meter on Wilshire Blvd. after 4 pm (In fact, it was no stopping after 4 pm. That was a $65 ticket. Ouch.)
  4. Violated my company parking lot's rule that employees must park on the roof and leave covered spots for visitors, by swiping my key card as though I was going to go on the roof and then backing up and taking a covered spot (The key card got deprogrammed or something as a result of that little maneuver, and I had to go 'fess up at the parking office.)

I think my problem stems from the fact that I think parking should be treated like a public good, like oxygen or sidewalk space. Or at least not be so restrictive and expensive. Like parking signs should be worded in a more friendly and understandable way (Example: Try not to stop here between the hours of 4 and 6 pm, as many commuters are trying to get home) and meters should give you at least a half-hour for every 25 cents, not just 7 and 1/2 freakin' minutes.

But I am resigned. Today, to appease the gods, I put a quarter in someone else's expired meter. Hopefully, that will improve my parking karma or at least buy me some extra time before my inevitable next violation.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

There is a cloud inside my head

I went out last night and got hammered. Which hasn't happened in a very, very long time. What started out as a nice, innocent dinner with people from work -- a treat from two very fun VPs who are in town this week -- somehow evolved into a 6-hour food- and drinkfest. My first taste of a kamikaze was also my last in a long line of drinks (These food people and their wine pairings! Plus cocktails before the meal and an aperitif after, and shots downed first thing after entering a bar). It was at that point that my boss tried to put me in a cab. Even though I knew I was pretty far gone, I valiantly resisted. He finally let me leave when a coworker invited me to crash at her place, which was nearby. But I told her thanks and goodbye, and headed to my car. I shut my eyes for 10 dizzy minutes, then pushed off slowly and carefully.

The idea of leaving my car behind, even though my boss offered to park it at his hotel, was really unappealing. I am so car-dependent. A new adjective: cardependent.

Definitely not promoting this kind of behavior. In the future, I promise to switch to water well before the end of the evening, like a responsible adult. In any case, I'm being punished for overindulging because I woke up at 4:30 this morning and was unable to fall back asleep. So I made myself a bowl of noodles, which did not turn out that well. (Sorry, noodles.) I'm gonna be a zombie today. This is not good, because I have a meeting to negotiate a pay raise in a couple of hours.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Food for Pumpkins

The personal assistant of the Smashing Pumpkins called me today to say the band wanted to try our food. So I drove over to a discreet old building in Santa Monica that currently serves as their recording studio with some food samples -- sandwiches, wraps, salads, and soup. Also a bunch of snacks and some organic teas and sodas in non-plastic bottles. They don't like to drink out of plastic.

Dave Matthews was recording in another studio upstairs, the assistant told me. I didn't get to meet the band members, Billy Corgan and Jimmy Chamberlain, but I think saw them in session through an open doorway. I'm not really sure. I set up the food real nice in their lounge and took off. The assistant was very sweet and grateful, because we were promo'ing the food. How funny that I got to pick what they ate today. And if they like it, we may be feeding them all the time! They are into healthy food these days.

Recipe of the Day

Slightly Dirty Vodka Martini

Take chilled vodka out of the freezer and pour into a shaker over ice. Add a small splash of olive brine and a smaller splash of dry vermouth. Shake it up until your hands hurt from the cold metal. Pour into martini glass garnished with 3 olives.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Smoking is bad, but good

This is the third place I've worked at now where there are other smokers. And here, as before, I find that I am way more plugged into office gossip once people know I smoke.

It seems like the majority of restaurant-industry types, in particular, have this habit. They emerge from the kitchen or whatever, all stressed and angry from some mishap, and light up in a corner or against a wall. Huddled together, they find relief in a soothing circle of smoke and friends. They exchange news -- who's getting fired, who got promoted, what the health inspector said -- commiserate about a bad boss or an incompetent co-worker. Then they go back to work, lungs a bit heavier but with lighter hearts.

So, yes. Smoking is bad. But it's good for some things.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

I shoulda been a copy editor

So today, my company asked me to go over our new menu with a "fine-toothed comb." I think they are going to live to regret it. I'm sorry, but regular people -- civilians -- people who have not worked inside a newspaper -- just don't have the same eye for "clean copy."

OMG. This menu that has supposedly been worked-over for months is riddled with errors. Mind you, it is meant to go to the printers tomorrow and my boss just asked me off-hand this afternoon if I would take a look. This thing has missing hyphens and willy-nilly capitalization. Little phrases that pop out of nowhere into the food descriptions and are supposed to sound spontaneous and fun, but really just sound dumb. Wrong spellings like "arrugula." Argh! If my anal self didn't get so much warped satisfaction out of correcting this disaster of a menu, I might actually be angry.

Here is a pdf of my report back to my boss listing the mistakes I found in the 6 pages of this menu, just so one can appreciate the magnitude of the problems without actually having to read the gory details.


Monday, August 14, 2006

Summer resolution

I hereby resolve to do something useful with September, since I won't be working anymore or going back to school yet. Now that I'm putting myself out there, hopefully I'll be more likely to actually do it.

Read some books:
That Starbucks book
The World is Flat
The Great Game
Horse Sense
and also my advertising textbook which I never even cracked open last year.

I'd also like to find some good introductory text on Western philosophy, and I want to go through a couple of Chinese/English books that my mom brought me back from Taiwan, to brush up on my miserable Chinese.

That's about it, at least for summer reading. I'll report back on my progress at the end of next month.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Auto interactions

These car-related incidents took place in the last two days, and are so typical of Los Angeles. Out here, people don't really chat each other up on the street because nobody walks anywhere. So these types of things are about all the interaction I have with strangers, now that I am back in this car-crazed town.

Rush hour, yesterday: I'm waiting to turn left at a busy intersection, and this guy in a Mercedes drives up behind me, honks and starts waving his arms in a forward motion, mouthing "Go!" He means that I should pull forward further into the intersection, like I'm some little old lady who doesn't know better. In reality, I know plenty, and I sometimes even pull out further than I'd like, just so the next car can get his nose out also. But in this case, I don't budge. It's a small and crowded intersection, and I don't want to intimidate the car opposite me that is also waiting to turn left. So I give the guy a crazy wave in the rear view mirror, one of these overly enthusiastic waves you might give an old friend you haven't seen in a while. And the guy starts cracking up.

On the way to work, this morning: I'm waiting at a red light at the freeway off-ramp. An Acura * turns onto the ramp and the driver's eyes connect with mine. He gives me a nod. One of those cool-guy nods.

After work, today: I'm at the coin-operated self-serve car wash, and a short, older guy with a wrinkled, sun-baked face is hustling me for change. For food for his boy, he says. I tell him I can buy him some food, if he can wait until I'm done wiping my car dry. He says fine and goes to sit down. Then I accidentally pluck off one of my windshield wipers and he comes back over to try to help me. He's really trying, but is even less effective than I am. After a couple of awkward minutes, an Australian guy who's been polishing his Porsche nearby walks over and tells my guy to cut it out, to stop bothering me. I can see my guy feels slightly threatened, but is also genuinely kind of offended. He looks at me for help, but all I say is it's all right, it's all right, to both of them. I take the wiper back and manage to reattach it. Before I leave, I give my guy two organic power bars that I swiped from work and a slight smile to the Porsche man as I pull out of the lot.

* Don't ask my why I notice the make of every car all of a sudden. Oh wait, I live in LA.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Soft-boiled eggs

Today's topic: Soft-boiled eggs! The best way, in my opinion, to enjoy one of nature's most delicious foods. I have one of these for breakfast a couple of times a week, and it always makes me happy.



To prepare:

  • Take a nice, fresh egg and cover it with cold water in a small pot.
  • Turn the heat on high, until the water boils.
  • Turn off the burner, leaving the lid on. Wait 3 minutes and rinse the egg in cold water.
  • Place your soft-boiled egg in an egg cup (or if you don't have one, a shot glass also works).
  • Using a small spoon, crack the top of the eggshell and peel off a large enough section for your spoon to enter.
  • Sprinkle with a bit of salt and scoop out small spoonfuls of egg, taking care not to make the yolk overflow. (Hint: Scoop from the inside out, not along the inside of the shell)

Bonus tip: Dips small strips of buttered bread in the yolk.

You can adjust the cooking time to your taste. Some people wait 5 minutes to remove the egg from its hot bath, for a slightly firmer egg. As for me, I sometimes like to undercut the 3 minutes so that part of the egg white is still a little runny, but warm and delicious.

For a close runner-up, I love an egg that has been gently coddled in soup noodles such as ramen. Just before the noodles are done, I crack a raw egg into them and continue cooking on medium heat for 3-4 minutes. The great thing about softly cooked eggs is that they don't become rubbery, and so you can really savor them.

Update

Derrick hasn't been fired yet, which is good. I really hope it doesn't happen. If I was his employer, I don't know what I would do in his case.

I've been thinking lately -- and this is by no means an original thought -- about how owning a business really means having stewardship over a lot of people's well-being. And that's a responsibility of some consequence. It doesn't make me shrink wanting to run my own company. In fact, it makes me want to even more.

I just hope it's not vanity that is motivating me. There's a blurry line between doing good for the sake of doing good, and doing it for vanity's sake.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Raw words

I'm listening to a rap CD created by a delivery driver at the catering company where I'm interning. His name is Derrick, he's 32, and he grew up in Inglewood and dealt drugs and eventually ended up in prison. A few times. His last felony conviction was 8 years ago, though, and that's how he was able to get this job. The company only looks back 5 years into a person's history.

So the music is about messing up in life, being in prison, getting out, the girl who didn't wait, turning things around, "polishing vowels," searching for salvation through flow. It's called Influents.

This is real life
This is not rap
This ain't rap
This is just a lesson of real life
Peaceful days turned into stressed-out nights


Derrick lives in an apartment on Skid Row. He's started a record label, incorporated it and everything, and is saving up to buy a computer so he can produce music. He spent $700 recently to buy a keyboard worth $3,000, put up for sale on Craigslist by a pastor who didn't need it anymore. Derrick converted to Islam in 2000 and has thought a lot about religion, society and politics.

He doesn't know it yet, but he is about to be fired. Today, according to his furious supervisor, he was late to a couple of deliveries in Santa Monica and unreachable by cell phone. Apparently his last day will be Friday.

Monday, July 31, 2006

Things I suck at

1. Keeping houseplants healthy
Witness this drooping orchid, a gift from a friend. I discovered it in this sorry state after returning today from a weekend in Phoenix, where it is monsoon season. This orchid looks like it's been through a monsoon.

2. Computer-related things
Why my new $20 HP inkjet printer won't work is beyond me. Maybe it's because it was $20 and I bought it off Walmart.com. But I still think it should work more than just the one time.

3. Thinking on my feet
When I was at the airport trying to leave Phoenix, a lovely overzealous TSA agent stopped my carry-on luggage and extracted a small red, Swiss Army knife that I have had since I was 16. I bought it at the end of a summer in Paris in remembrance of a brief romance with a 30-year-old (gasp!) German guy who had used his own, larger Swiss Army knife to prepare us a picnic during a forest hike. This TSA agent sent me back to the Southwest ticket counter, where I surrendered the item after learning that it was too late for my bag, if checked, to make it on the plane.

Later, of course, I realized I could have either (a) Kept the knife and attempted to make it through another, less nitpicky, security line (hey, my knife and I made it from LAX to Phoenix without being hassled), or (b) Given the Southwest ticket lady 10 bucks to mail it to me (Americans are good about stuff like that; consider the cold, hard cash the Nielsen people mail out to households across the country, trusting that everyone will fill out and return those little TV diaries).

Unfortunately for me, I can't think very fast on my feet. I am a brilliant strategist, however, after the fact.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Line dancing and two-stepping

I witnessed a lot of this kind of dancing last night. It was at a country bar in Thousand Oaks that Joey wanted to go to for her 30th birthday, with a mostly white crowd and a sprinkling of cowboy hats among that crowd. I hadn't heard of most of the songs, but everyone was singing along like they were old favorites. It reminded me of the many parts of this country-- and even LA -- I've just never been exposed to.

Was most impressed by a tall, skinny guy in a plaid shirt (pictured here with Joey) who was two-stepping up a storm with every partner he could get his hands on. He was a very good leader, twirling those girls around and moving them real smoothly around an imaginary circle on the dance floor. We called him Opie. There were also these two very hardcore cowgirls who knew a line dance for any song that the DJ could throw at them. Joey (an Oklahoma native and fan of all things country) was very brave and out on the floor for every line dance, trying to mimic their moves -- but the cowgirls were not very helpful. Hardcore, as I said, and too cool for this crowd.

I found myself tapping my toes a lot, but too intimidated to get out there. I would totally consider taking a class. The nice thing about line dancing is you don't have to depend on a partner and yet there's quite an art to it, unlike the solo butt-shaking I usually see in clubs.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Running around Santa Monica

I think I ran about 9 miles today. I'm not entirely sure how far it was because my running group could not make our weekly run, and I usually just follow them. I especially needed Yen, who is our timer and navigator. Without her guidance, I ended up emerging out of a loopy, cliffside residential street onto San Vicente Blvd. and was nearly back to the beach before I realized I had turned in the wrong direction.

We run 7 minutes and walk 1. That's the method of the LA Leggers. I have not joined yet but plan to so I can train for the LA marathon in March. So far, I've been running with Yen and two other people who have trained with the Leggers in the past. Without Yen's interval-timer watch, and with my oxygen-deprived brain unable to do math, my pace was more like 9- or 11-minute bursts of running followed by minute breaks.

I need me one of those watches.

Friday, July 21, 2006

My next-door neighbor is a celebrity

I love LA. I was chatting with my next-door neighbor (also named Brent) today and we got to discussing what his college-age son is doing this summer.

Brent: He's interning at the agency that represents me.
Me: Huh?
Brent: It's a literary agency.
Me: Oh, cool. Um, so what kind of stuff do you write?
Brent: Well, movies.
Me: Anything that I'd know?
Brent: Ever heard of Short Circuit?
Me: I think so. Was that in the 80's?
Brent: And Tremors. Also Wild, Wild West.
Me: Oh, yeah. Definitely. That's so cool. I didn't know I lived next-door to a celebrity.

For those who don't know, Tremors was this pulpy thriller about bone-sucking giant desert worms that terrorize a group of people. With Kevin Bacon and Michael Gross (the dad from Family Ties). Excellent stuff, really. I am so honored to be living next door to the man who helped dream up those bone-sucking giant desert worms. Also, I wonder if he knows Will Smith. :)



Thursday, July 20, 2006

My ear for song lyrics

Today I discovered that the catchy "Mystery's Girl, Mystery's Boy" by Nelly Furtado & Timbaland is really a song called "Prosmicuous."

My ability to get lyrics wrong always cracks Brent up, because I'm pretty convinced that I've got the right words until proven otherwise. They may not make much sense, but I hear what I hear.

One of my more memorable misinterpretations: "Do You Recollect" by Prince (AKA "Little Red Corvette")

On another note, I am so sad to find out that this song I've been enjoying on the radio (Stars are Blind) is by Paris Hilton. Seriously?

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Curses to Bed Bath & Beyond

Bed Bath & Beyond has very cute stuff, but otherwise I dislike them intensely. They send me tons of those 20% off coupons when I don't need anything. And then, when I do need a coupon, I can't get my hands on one to save my life. A few months ago, I even SIGNED UP to be on the mailing list, like an old lady who wants to receive circulars. And still nothing.

Today, I broke down and bought a quilt for my bed for the summer because I couldn't wait anymore. Left the store with a bad taste in my mouth, all fuming and calculating how much I could've saved if I just had a coupon.

If they're going to give those things to everybody anyway, then they really should just apply a 20% discount at the cash register. Kinda like how at 99 Ranch Supermarket, the checkout ladies just scan their own card for you when you tell them you don't have a club card. Sometimes, Chinese people are just nicer.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Santa Monica street signs

Ever notice the design of the street signs around Santa Monica? I think they're supposed to evoke the beach. blue stripe = ocean. yellow stripe = sand.

Funny how there are things all around us that we never see, until the day we do.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Phew!

It turns out my summer internship company isn't going to the dogs just yet. Not only that, but they have actually started implementing some of the things I suggested. Hooray, beer!

On another note, why is it that I end up taking other people's sayings and expressions? Such as "Hooray, beer!"

It's because I'm easily led, like a puppy.

This is also the reason I was convinced the company was doomed one day and the next day believed it was all going to be peachy. Wonder what strong opinions I will have tomorrow.

Hooray, beer!

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Blogs circa 1895

From The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

ALGERNON: I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection.

CECILY: I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. If you will allow me I will copy your remarks into my diary. (Goes over to table and begins writing in diary.)

ALGERNON: Do you really keep a diary? I'd give anything to look at it.
May I?

CECILY: Oh, no. (Puts her hand over it) You see, it is simply a very young girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy.


Friday, July 07, 2006

A surreal day at the office

The startup company I am working for this summer began imploding today. Three of the four salespeople in the LA office took me aside to let me know their last day will be Monday. It was pretty sad news because I liked them. At least they made me part of the in-group before they hit the road.

The afternoon was spent huddled in a darkened office, drinking vodka mixed with organic juice. People exchanged stories about our disaster of a CEO and generally got high off of the act of complaining with abandon. They recounted the time sheriff's deputies put a lien on the company's assets and commandeered the cash register, taking money out to pay off our creditors. The time the CEO tried to kiss the sales manager over one of the many dinners he pressured her into sharing with him. (This was on a day, by the way, when the plumbing in the cafe backed up and the poor cafe manager had to go at it with Drano and a plunger -- unable to call the building for help because we are two months late on rent.) Other people in the office stopped by to listen and contribute their own memories.

Afterward, I went with one girl (who is not quitting yet) to work an evening event. Monday should be very interesting.

I learned a few lessons:

1. Trust your gut. If a potential boss seems kind of untrustworthy and someone you wouldn't really want to be around, chances are that this will turn out to be true.

2. Employees can be good, hardworking and fun people despite being managed by execrable management. (I've been looking for someplace to say execrable.)

3. Don't ignore warning signs. When the first employee you meet on your first day at work answers your question of "How do you like working here?" by shrugging his shoulders and replying,"Eh," this is not a good sign.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Sunset yoga

I'm home now after a session of outdoor yoga. It's every Thursday this month at the Fowler Museum at UCLA, part of a series related to this Dalai Lama exhibit they've got going. Sounds hokey, but it was SO wonderful. The ground on the terrace was warm from being beaten by the sun all day, and the air was cool. An ant occasionally wandered onto my mat, but it didn't matter too much. I wish I could always do yoga outdoors on a cool summer evening. It's much nicer to stretch up toward the sky than toward some ceiling lights. But as with all good things, this outdoor yoga class will soon come to an end.

Going to take up yoga again. I think it'll add a nice balance to my marathon training, which is really beating up my legs and feet. Yoga helps you breathe better, sit up straighter, love your body more. Everyone should do it. I think there would be more peace in this world.

The only thing I have liked about our president so far

"By contrast, Mr. Bush's birthday gala was a low-key affair: a buffet dinner of fried chicken, Cajun shrimp, potato salad and roasted corn, and a large chocolate cake." -- NYT July 6, 2006

I don't agree with Mr. Bush's politics, but I do agree with his menu.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Inaugural

This is my first blog. I'm always a little behind with the technology, but I eventually get there. For example, I was using a really old brick Nokia from 2000 until a few months ago. Okay, so I was using it because my slightly newer brick Nokia (2002) got fried when I visited China and plugged it into an outlet. Now, I have a cool slide Samsung that gets a lot of admiration. My point is that I do eventually get with the times.

So I decided to start this blog because I was inspired by Saujin's. I have to give it a plug, because that girl is a natural funny writer. She'll be mad at me when she reads this because she won't admit that she can write. I don't know when I'll tell anyone that I've started a blog. That's another technological advancement that will take me a while. For now, this'll be the journal that I always mean to keep.