not wishing it away for once

Happy New Year! Happiness is not wishing away the moment. For the first year in about three, I haven't been dying for the year to end. I'm looking forward to 2011 of course -- and am very thankful for 2010. So much happened...I'm about to go make my list. Remember to open the front door at midnight and let the new year in.

Happy 33 to me =]

well, 11:49pm has come and gone...officially 33 years old. I'm thankful, happy, mischievous, tired, full, lucky, excited, slightly calculating and a bit more competitive than I was before. How's that!?

Here I go!

domestic disturbance

I am fairly convinced that my year living with no kitchen set my cookingskills-domesticmaturity back a bit. Sort of like reverting to pre-college days when I thought I could replace eggs in cookie batter with water (so it could be eaten raw, obviously) and then watched the result of my innovation liquify into one big cookie drippy mess that flowed off the pan and onto the oven floor. (This is loosely tied to my very near failure of high school chemistry. Some things just don't compute for me the first time around. Or the second, for that matter, but I'm not here solely to make myself look stupid.)

From March of 2009 until mid-April 2010 I lived with no kitchen. I thought about writing about it at the time, (hey what a cool blog idea! documenting a less-than-ideal life situation!) but those half-baked good intentions went the way of my watered down cookie dough. I spent a lot of time not thinking about it; instead functioning in a general haze of lollygagging internet activity, Law and Order episodes, perpetual laundry folding, and the ultimate time sink: playing with, speaking to, and photographing the dogs.

For the first few weeks, I had only a college-size refrigerator. I was stoked: an adventure! Like camping! I can do this! I smugly went to the grocery store, determined to make the best of my situation. I purchased as many prepackaged mini-sized preservative-filled delicacies as I could find. Mini cheeses, single serving fruit cups, anything that came in "bar" form, and with as much wrapping as possible. It was an environmentalist's nightmare, a gluttonous Ugly American snack paradise of wastefulness and Other Natural Flavors. I learned quickly that Lean Cuisines will not stay frozen in the freezer "area" of small refrigerators. (Had I only recalled me and my college roommates' pathetic attempts at early Jello shots that never came out quite right, I would have saved myself a couple of wasted dinners.)

Before I could completely lose my mind, the financial gods smiled on me (well, it may have been more of a grimace, but I take what I can get) and I was able to purchase a brand new "normal" sized refrigerator. The joy I felt buying condiments in standard-sized jars was euphoric. It almost made me forget about how I still had no kitchen, still washed my dishes in the bathroom sink, and still lived in one room with two dogs and saw no way out of the situation in the near future.

And luckily (luck? not so sure, do we make our own? more on this in the future) my circumstances and I were able to move me into a whole new living space this past spring where I now enjoy gasp four whole rooms, one of which is a kitchen.

However, I seemed to be experiencing some temporary amnesia when it came to things like operating a stove, making simple dressings and sauces, chopping vegetables, handling raw chicken...fish...how do fish work...? corn? boil?

Perhaps the confusion was because the domestic goddess within me had never really solidified prior to this. I'd only had a couple years under my belt of cooking for two or more. Plus, a great deal of time from 2005-2009 was spent spending copious amounts of money in fancy restaurants...rather than perfecting my Coq au Vin.

I think I can say I'm back on a better (albeit different) track now. For those of you who are concerned, I did manage to remove the wrapping off the chicken I soon victimized in the photo, above right. I'm thoroughly enjoying my tiny kitchen, and I'm even doing some baking lately (read: science). Maybe my cooking renaissance will launch me forward out of beginner domestic goddess to a comfortable spot in intermediate.

Whistling Rules

If you're in a hurry and don't have time to read these, swing to the safe side and just don't whistle. Ever. Especially around me. OK, you can whistle alone.

Wikipedia defines Human whistling as the production of sound by means of carefully controlling a stream of air flowing through a small hole. Whistling can be achieved by creating a small opening with one's lips and then blowing air out of the hole or sucking air into the hole.

(Thank you for specifying the "Human" part, Wiki)

In general, here are my whistling guidelines.

When to never ever whistle:
1. If I am near you
2. If you are in church
3. If you see a pretty lady (it's just too cliche, forget rude)
4. If people around you are sleeping
5. At a job interview
6. If you are on a first date (unless you want it to be your last)
7. If you are my boss
8. While you are serving food to the elderly
9. While you work (unless you are short and live in the woods with six other creatures all dressed the same as you but in varying colors)
10. If I am near you

When you pretty much shouldn't whistle, but probably could get away with it:
1. In a crowded bar where it's very hard to hear people talking next to you
2. In a storm system characterized by high pressure, heavy rain and strong winds
3. If you're really that scared, or about to be murdered
4. If the music is very loud so as to mostly drown out your whistling
5. If you're with a fellow whistler or someone characterized by a pro-whistling attitude (probably a street performer, a circus member, or someone who is socially inept or generally stupid)

When whistling is okay:
1. If you're alone in your car, and you happen to hear "Patience" by Guns n Roses in its entirety (you actually sort of have to whistle)
2. If you are Anna in The King and I (you kind of have to)
3. If you are alone watching Bridge on the River Kwai
4. If you are alone, singing "Goodbye Stranger" by Supertramp, "Golden Years" by David Bowie, "Young Folks" by Peter, Bjorn and John, or "Me and Julio Down by the School Yard" by Paul Simon.
5. If you find yourself in solitary confinement.
6. If you train wild animals
7. If you're in a large group of fellow whistlers or a marching band of POWs.

I was recently told by a guy that I have a lot of "rules." And, in fact, he was not the first guy to tell me this. I have been told it's hard to remember my rules, so I decided I will occasionally post them here. I am sure some people mean well by whistling, or they're genuinely happy. I think whistling got damaged for me by a couple of key characters in my life. One of whom I cannot name, (cuz this blog is so famous and all of two people read it and it might get back to the bad whistler person) really made me twitch with whistling anger. He would dance around, whistling something I sometimes recognized, sometimes didn't, but it wasn't that part that drove my eyes to dart around within reach for sharp objects -- no, it was the part where he would whistle AT ME. TO ME. TOWARDS MY FACE. To evoke, what kind of reaction? I think he expected me to grow for him a broad smile, tilting my head towards his, perhaps gently swaying my head back and forth at his musical wonderment coming from his face. Blinking slowly. Smiling in a different way when the music got really good. Nodding my head time to time. Instead, I'm forced to smile politely like I just smelled something rotting, and go about my business as if I do not hear the sound of his happiness. I know it will pass, but I just don't know when.

And to all you people out there who cannot whistle: It's okay. You can really stop trying.