Monthly Archives: February 2010

Raise your hands.  How many knew Dick Cheney had another heart attack this past week, bringing his total now to five?  Well, maybe if he stopped scaring everyone and started being nicer.  Maybe if he learned to sit up straight, scowled less and ceased channeling Mr. Potter from “It’s a Wonderful Life”.  I’m just suggesting.

“American Idol” bores me this season.  I like the woman with the dread locks and the harmonica/guitar thing going on, but the rest?  Feh.  And the idea that America voted to keep that alternate guy afloat and send Joe Munoz packing?  Joe was never going to win it all, but he certainly deserved more time than cute alternate guy.  I never thought I’d be writing about this kind of stuff, but it’s the only show besides the Olympics that the girls and I watch together.  They don’t like “Dexter”.

Toyota, Toyota, Toyota, Toyota.  I just…I don’t…I’m speechless.  What a mess.  My Sienna and I don’t really talk about it.  The minivan is embarrassed, but continues to schlep me and the girls around because it has a job to do.  I can’t ask for more right now.

Guns, both concealed and out in the open, are now allowed in National Parks.  While I don’t fear being gunned down while visiting Yosemite, I have to ask – why?  Did you know it was passed on an amendment to the credit card legislation?  Because, you know, when I look at my Visa bill every month, I think about shooting a bear.

Scott Brown, former Cosmo centerfold, darling of the right after winning Ted Kennedy’s senate seat in Massachusetts, is not Big Man on Campus anymore.  He had the nerve, the nerve, to vote with the Dems in passing the $15 billion jobs bill this past week.  It involves, among other things, Social Security tax breaks for businesses to encourage hiring and expansion of Build America Bonds to jumpstart infrastructure projects.  Scott, what were you thinking?!

An orca whale named Tilikum killed one of its trainers this past week at SeaWorld in Orlando, Florida.  Tilikum has been involved in two previous deaths – one in British Columbia and one in San Diego.  Dawn Brancheau knew the risks of her job.  This knowledge didn’t matter in the end.  Roy Horn of Siegfried and Roy would say the same.

If you live in Los Angeles, you may be following the messy divorce of Dodgers’ owner, Frank McCourt, and his wife, Jamie.  Get this.  They didn’t pay taxes on millions of dollars in income.  Apparently, their business manager knew ways to get around paying the taxman and they didn’t stop him.  Honestly, introduce me to a wealthy individual who pays all the taxes they’re supposed to pay.  Every penny.  I mean, honestly, this is news?

The Olympics: this just in.  The US men’s hockey team, like the women (who won the silver to Canada’s gold), will be playing in the gold medal round after winning handily over Finland this afternoon.  They’ll play the winner of the Canada vs. Slovakia game happening tonight.

Joannie Rochette stole our hearts with her brave performances on Tuesday and Thursday in the women’s figure skating, capturing the bronze medal for Canada.  I stayed up late again last night to watch the medal ceremony and cried once again.  South Korea’s Kim Yu-Na won the gold with a record scoring long program.

Two American guys named Johnny Spillane and Bill Demong were tearing up the cross-country skiing events.  That’s right.  Americans.  Remember back when it was only the Scandinavian countries that won those events?

Bode Miller finally won gold.  Ski-cross is insane.  Curling is the new bowling.  Look for curling venues to start popping up everywhere.  What did we watch for two weeks before snowboarding and freestyle skiing became Olympic sports?  Who designed that “living room” where Bob Costas conducts interviews?  Did you know Evan Lysacek has a girlfriend?  I loved listening to Scott Hamilton try to speak while crying.  I can’t wait for the Olympics to be over so I can get some sleep.

And, yes.  The Health Care Summit.  There’s too much to say, but let me try and get a few points across.  I think it’s disingenuous when Lamar Alexander (R – Tenn.) repeats that polls, town hall meetings, elections and surveys overwhelmingly show that the American people don’t want the Democrats’ health care reform.  I’d be willing to guarantee that 95% of those same Americans would not be able to tell you what Obama’s health care overhaul proposals are.  I’m not saying they’re stupid.  I’m saying that the Republicans are masters of inducing fear.  Once hysteria sets in, the hoards agree that it must surely be Obama’s fault and whatever green meanie ideas the Democrats have come up with.

Insurance only works if enough people are paying into the system.  Republicans don’t want a mandate for citizens to buy health insurance.  If we don’t have such a mandate, healthy youngsters won’t sign up.  In theory, that would mean seniors and those with pre-existing conditions (who would now be allowed to obtain coverage), or those with young children who seem to always be spiking fevers of some sort, would continue to watch their premiums go up since the risk would be spread among fewer people.  A mandate would insure this risk is spread among everyone.  One of the arguments: Wouldn’t a young, healthy person or a small business pay the fine, rather than the actual premium, if the fine were less?  Quite possibly.  But if the government gives you a window – say you’re twenty-three and healthy, and if you sign-up within this window (six months??), your premium will only be $300 a month.  (The amounts are simply hypothetical.  Seniors and sick people would, in fact, pay higher premiums.)  You don’t sign up and take your chances.  The six months have passed.  You’ve paid your measly fines.  Now, you get hit while riding your bike and you’re signing the insurance forms on your way to the hospital.  Guess what?  Your premium is now going to be $2000 a month.  A perfect system?  Hardly.  But here in California, it is a crime to drive a car without insurance.  This is a protection device for all drivers on the road.  This same theory is just one of the proposals of Obama’s plan.  “But I don’t have money for insurance,” you say.  Subsidies will be available.  In the big picture, the more individuals who are covered, the better off we all are.  Don’t agree?  Do your homework and come to your own conclusions.  An informed opinion is the one that needs to be heard.

I don’t mean to lecture.  I swear, I don’t.  I don’t even care so much whether or not someone agrees with me.  I know that the healthcare situation in this country is awful for so many families and individuals and there are many in Washington (even plenty of Republicans have worked on this bill) who are genuinely trying to fix that.  Sure, there will be some backroom deals and some favoritism, but honestly, if it means that healthcare is available for more people, it’s shortsighted to let these issues ultimately stand in the way of passage.  Damn, I’m still lecturing.  Forgive me.

I’m going to do some stretching in anticipation of more Olympic viewing this evening.

I really need a food stylist. It tastes better than it looks.

It’s still Thursday in Los Angeles, which means this is still Thursday in the kitchen with me.  Let’s go ahead and talk about side dishes, shall we?  Let’s say you’re cooking your best pork loin or a chicken saltimbocca.  If you serve it with the perfect crusty bread, a garlicky Caesar salad and just the right wine, your friends will be so glad they said “yes” when you asked them for dinner.  But it needs a starchy side to feel complete and you’re tired of rice and potatoes, yes?  Let me remind you about orzo.  It’s almost like serving a rice dish except it’s pasta.  You can do just about anything you want with it, and I do.  Here’s one of the first recipes I found and then played with to make it my own.

Orzo with almost everything (this recipe is good for 6 servings)

1 ½ cups uncooked orzo

3 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 Tablespoon white balsamic vinegar

¼ cup chopped Kalamata olives

¼ cup capers

1/3  cup chopped sun-dried tomatoes (preferably NOT in olive oil, just blanched)

1/3 cup chopped basil

1/3 cup toasted pine nuts

1/3 cup shredded parmesan

2 garlic cloves, minced

Salt and pepper to taste (you know I add more than I should)

Cook the orzo in heavily salted water.  (I don’t have to tell you how to cook pasta, do I?)  Drain.  Let cool before mixing in the next nine ingredients.  Add salt and pepper.  Serve at room temperature.

That’s it.  More prep than anything else.  Great flavors all in one dish.  Orzo is my friend.

Don’t miss tomorrow’s Friday Fodder.

morethanthegames.co.uk

I love alliteration.  It’s just one of the reasons why Wednesdays with Wendy is special to me.  It’s why I hold onto it, even though there will continue to be times when Wendy won’t be available.  Like this morning.  Truth be told, I didn’t get out until AFTER the 100^th day chapel celebration at school this morning, so I’m as much to blame.  I never remember celebrating the 100^th day of school when I was young.  These kids are sooooo lucky.  Did you know that a sneeze travels out of your mouth at over 100 miles an hour?  Do you wonder how someone figured that out?

I cried twice last night.  The first was when I read the email from my cousin, eloquently informing her friends and family that her dear dog, Guinness, had finally taken his last breath.  I could focus this entire site on my love of dogs.  I might call it something like Jo’s Daily Dog because, can you guess?  I like alliteration.  (Isn’t it fun getting to know me?)  Guinness was the kind of man dog who always had a smile on his face and, honestly, even on his final day, was wagging his tail.  I fondly remember walking him in the rain in his sporty, yellow rain slicker and hat.  He was one of the very first mutts whom my formerly freaky dog-fearing daughters came to know and love.  Guinness was a mix of who knows what – but certainly there appeared to be some Portuguese water dog in him.  I can recall the day the Obamas got Bo and how proud he was to have some representation in the White House.  He visited our home every Halloween wearing his signature costume: a small Stetson.  Guinness preferred Skittles to M&Ms and dark chocolate over milk.  As a senior dog, he’d had his bumps and lumps over the past several years but none deterred him.  Finally, a tumor on the roof of his mouth prevented him from eating and, at thirteen, my cousin knew it was time.  My daughters cried when I told them the news.  Guinness was our friend.  We’ll miss him dearly.

The second time I cried was closer to midnight, trying to keep my eyes open to witness Canadian Joannie Rochette take the ice in Vancouver for the women’s figure skating short program.  Rochette lost her mother to a heart attack just two days earlier, after her mother had arrived at the Olympics to support her daughter.  I remember an old acting teacher explain how it was more powerful to witness a person trying not to cry, rather than watching the floodgates open.  It’s what most of us do when overcome with emotion in a public forum.  Nowhere was this more evident than in last night’s performance by Rochette.  Before she began her routine, she struggled to compose herself and did – through toe loops, salchows and sit spins.  She looked flawless and finished with the crowd seemingly wrapping her in a group hug.  Then the tears did flow, on the shoulder of her coach, and anyone watching who wasn’t moved has a heart made of stone.  She lost her mom.  It broke my heart.

Ski-cross on the other hand, makes me wince.  Poles are flailing.  The crashes are spectacular.  The newest Winter Olympic event may need some tweaking.

I hope I don’t cry again tonight.  It’s exhausting.  But I hope it’s all right that I allow my girls to see me sob.  Miss T came down last night to ask why I was sad, after I had read the email about Guinness, and I told her.  Goldie and Bun Bun joined us and we wept together.  I never cried with my mom or dad.  They were a different generation with different ideas about those sorts of things.

If you have children, do you let them see you cry?

I cleaned the other window after I took the picture, okay?

I remember listening to Johnny Nash’s song while running back in the 1970s.  There were no iPod Shuffles or Nanos then, so I had these huge headphones on with a radio antenna sticking up and I looked like Princess Leia WITH huge headphones on, which is a pretty ridiculous image when you think about it.  Also, it was the 1970s and I was young, and you didn’t see a lot of girls running around the neighborhood trying to melt away adolescent pounds that came out of nowhere.  Nowhere.  How sad that I’m STILL RUNNING, still trying to melt those adolescent pounds away.  Maybe I should eat less.  Where would bacon fit into that scenario?  What does any of this have to do with Tuesday Tidbits?  Stay with me.

I decided to write today in our den.  No good reason.  It’s just where my butt landed and sometimes I like the intimacy of the laptop in front of me, instead of the desktop in the office surrounded by bills and serious documents I don’t want to pay or look at.  Scary.  What I found in the den around lunchtime was almost as scary.  I could not see to the outside.  It was like I was on a movie set and the lighting crew had covered the windows for a certain effect they needed inside the room.  Except I wasn’t in a movie, there was no catering truck, no director’s chairs to sit in, no cameras, no perks.  Just me realizing that my housecleaning skills are lacking.  I would very much like to have a house so clean that when you’re standing in ANY room, you can see my great, little neighborhood outside.  I would also very much like to have enough money to buy lettuce in a bag, pre-washed, whenever I desired.  I would also be pleased with a new car without coffee stains on the carpet, grass that grows in the shadiest of spots, perfect teeth, comfortable thong underwear (is there such a thing?), the gift of operating best on four hours sleep, a great public school system so that I didn’t have to contemplate bank robbery as a new career in order to continue sending the girls to private school, Nacho Cheese Doritos that make you lose weight and not retain water, and oh, world peace.  I’m a wisher.  I’m a hoper.  Also, picker, grinner, lover, sinner.  I’ve often been accused of being a joker and a midnight toker.

Okay, so here’s the tidbit and, as always, I feel as if this is one you already know.  Again, I was a late bloomer and learned of cleaning glass with newspaper later in life.  That’s it.  If you use newspaper instead of say, paper towels, you won’t see streaks.  Instead of glass cleaner, use 5 parts warm water to 1 part white vinegar.  I can now see through to the backyard and it’s pleasant.  For the picture up in the right hand corner, I only cleaned one side so you could tell the difference.  But you got that already, didn’t you?  Because you’re smart.

The Johnny Nash song came into my head for obvious reasons.  Then, I remembered running to that song as a youth and recalling how it put a spring in my step.  (So did “Drift Away”.)  For reasons I won’t go into now, I needed some springiness today.  I needed to see some things clearly, rather than through the Vaseline-infused cheesecloth that appeared to envelop my thoughts.  Washing that window, hearing that song, inspired me.  There was clarity, even if it wasn’t complete.

You just never know how one thing is going to lead to another.  Life is mysterious.

I cannot wait.

The media: It was interesting to see the media climbing over each other to critique Tiger’s press conference on Friday, and then realize that among friends, family and strangers this weekend, no one seemed to be talking about it at all.  This is the same media (the Los Angeles Times, specifically) who put the Kardashian sisters on the front page of their newspaper last week.  I remember my mother many years ago advising me to read the stories from said front page, if I read nothing else.  She knew (I believe correctly back then) that the most important national, international or local news would be included.  Okay, Tiger Woods is a brand and twenty years from now, likely no one will argue that he is the best golfer who ever lived.  But the Kardashians?  On the front page?  (Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.)

The Olympics: Bode Miller won the gold medal in the Super Combined Men’s Alpine event and if I hear one more question asked him about his daughter, I’m going to scream.  Of course, having children changes us all, but I hardly think the experience has turned Mr. Miller into St. Bode.  Eventually, Tiger Woods showed new life in his golf game after becoming a father to two children, but we now know what was going on concurrently.  NBC is too quick to get away from the athletic aspect of the Olympics and get into the intimate details of the athletes’ lives that they believe are more important to their ratings.  And, oh heck, maybe they are.  Maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  At least I wasn’t wearing one of the costumes from the ice dancing competition.  Three letters: OMG.

I didn’t see the whole game, but the U.S. beat Canada in a hockey shocker yesterday, 5-3.  What I did watch, however, were highlights from the USSR vs. US game from 1980 and damn, if I don’t get choked up every time I hear Al Michaels ask “…do you believe in miracles?”

Motherhood: Saturday afternoon, I wanted to take the girls via subway to Chinatown where there was a day-long celebration taking place in honor of the Chinese New Year.  Crafts, food, exhibits, the Golden Dragon Parade, the Year of the Tiger, firecrackers.  You would have thought I suggested sticking sharp needles in their eyes while forcing them to eat chicken liver.  They hated the idea.  Rather than being mature, I sulked and when the husband got home an hour later from his business trip, he took them to the mall to redeem some gift cards they’d received at Christmas.  I went for an afternoon jog, feeling a little sorry for my three daughters who ended up with a mother who hates to shop.

Movies: other than a lot of You Tube videos the girls have watched (monitored, of course, mostly “Charlie Bit My Finger” stuff), the Apple TV had yet to make its movie debut.  Saturday night, we watched “District 9” as part of our pursuit to see all the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars on March 7^th.  This was a well-reviewed movie and I can understand why but – wow – really gross.  I’m sure the fan boys ate this one up.  Thematically, it’s very similar to “Avatar” but instead of attractive, tall blue people, “District 9” gives us really disgusting, ugly, tall prawn-like creatures.  It also offers, in my not-so-humble opinion, a far, far superior script than James Cameron’s.  Another added bonus: in telling the story, the filmmakers attempt a documentary-like approach and succeed on the efforts of actors you’ve never seen before.  If you can handle gross, I recommend.

Running: I spoke of my long run in yesterday’s post and I’m happy to report that I will not be cutting off my left foot and feeding it to the dogs after all.  Apparently, the appendage thought we were only doing fifteen miles and so, revolted somewhere around sixteen, pulling a tantrum like a spoiled child.  We’ve had a heart-to-heart and I apologized for the misunderstanding.  I’ll be taping up both feet from now on in anticipation for the big race on March 21^st, a mere 28 days away.

Healthcare: take a look at some of the proposals Obama made public today in anticipation of Thursday’s summit.  House Republican Leader John Boehner of Ohio dismissed the proposal, saying, “the president has crippled the credibility of this week’s summit by proposing the same massive government takeover of health care based on a partisan bill the American people have already rejected.” (Associated Press) Apparently, Boehner did not get my email.  I have not rejected Obama’s proposal.  Have you?

Tonight, the ice dancing competition concludes and I can’t wait to see what stunningly ridiculous outfits they come up with.  I’m also looking forward to the boxes of Girl Scout cookies I will have picked up this afternoon for immediate consumption.  They’re the number one reason I don’t give up sweets for Lent.  Frozen Thin Mints?  Hello?