From the Blog

Rules to Live By

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Bear with me, as I wrote this post, I was feeling the lingering irritation from a rather shitty commute home, and the soothing effect of vodka and cherry cider. I may add a category for “Drunk Blogging.”

I was realizing I have a number of um, idiosyncrasies, and thought I’d write them down as I mentally collected them. Here’s a few to start with, off the top of my head. I’m sure that reading these will make you happy not to have met me in person.

First. For me, I don’t eat “regular food” for breakfast. Like “chicken soup,” or the proverbial freshman dorm favorite, “cold pizza.” I’d rather go hungry than have “regular” food for breakfast. Exceptions: Cake or cookies. Those are practically breakfast food already, and more than appropriate at any time of day.

Also, it takes me approximately two hours upon waking up before I am ready for any solid or liquid consumption. Sometimes, I wake up hungry, even famished! (especially after a big meal the night before) and still, the thought of food nauseates me that early. This may be from the years of conditioning, because I usually only eat once I have gotten to work. In my 20s, for the five years I waited on tables, I had a bag of Double Chocolate Milanos for breakfast. Everyday. See cookies for breakfast, above.

If you are over 20, you should not be skateboarding. I used to be neutral about skateboards. But from our experience in our current apartment, at ground level, on a busy commercial street, with a nice, wide sidewalk, and the loud clack clack clacks of hundreds of skateboards outside our window, I have become decidedly anti 20+ skateboarding. I realize it’s all hip and counterculture and grandpa doesn’t like it, so therefore skateboards are “cool.” But by the time you are 20, you should be over it. And you should get a job. And you should get off my lawn.

When cooking, I don’t mind experimenting and altering recipes, but mexican style stewed tomatoes (with chilies) don’t go in spaghetti sauce. Snap peas are not a substitute for regular peas, and I don’t care how nutritious collard greens are, they don’t don’t go in fried rice. I don’t care if you are trying to bulk up on veggies like the Okinowan diet. Stop it with the collard greens.

I’ve wondered why do all the rock stars sing about Saturday night? Friday night is clearly so much better. You still have two mornings to recuperate. Rock stars have really not thought this through. Sorry, Elton.

Sneeze, sneeze, sneeze, yawn. It’s the way I roll. The sun may rise and set upon my need to yawn after sneezing.

Okay, a lot of food neuroses in my rules: I don’t eat left overs. Especially if the leftovers are less than a full meal. I can’t do half leftovers and half something else. Most of the time, I won’t even take home leftovers from a restaurant. Unless it is pasta. Pasta is always fantastic for leftovers and especially good for the next day’s lunch. Chinese food (greasy, New York style American Chinese food) is also okay for leftovers. If I do eat leftovers, I can have them only one more time, and then I’m done. As in, a big vat of homemade chili. Once, twice, then I’m done. I will eat lasagna until the the pan is gone, because, you know why? It’s pasta. Aren’t you paying attention?

An aside: I remember walking down State Street in Santa Barbara in the quick year that I lived there. I had a to-go box of leftovers in my hand from dinner, from whatever restaurant I had just eaten. And there was a troop of homeless dudes hanging out on State Street, (there were a lot of homeless people in Santa Barbara, because, why not? Where’s a better place than Santa Barbara to be homeless?) and one guy saw me, and my to-go box of leftovers, and said, “Hey, little lady, you gonna eat that?” I wordlessly handed it off to him. Because truthfully, I probably wouldn’t have eaten it. It was still warm, and probably a nice meal for that guy. So in that case, leftovers were virtuous. I remember it, to this day, that moment on State Street, almost ten years ago. I haven’t had leftovers since.

The spelling in this post, like many other instances of my recent technological communications, has morphed into a sort of “throw it at the wall, see if it sticks” approach. I have vaguely typed letters, in somewhat appropriate order, and waited for spell check to tell me the correct spelling. I’ve never been that great at spelling, which you may find surprising, considering how articulate I am. But I seriously had spell check tell me that there is no “z” in the word “surprise.” Also, there is no chance that I spelled “idiosyncrasies” earlier without help.

What can I say? Shitty commute. Two vodkas with cherry cider.


  1. Oh the days of endless cookies, great spelling from recent years of college and comparing leftovers to gold that weren’t consisting of ramen. But the discovery of Trader Joe’s Cherry Cider, maturing our young palates from Kool-Aid and vodka. Very nice! I was thinking this morning about the Amaretto Sours I recently discovered: drinking sour, yummy candy, you wouldn’t think, but super tasty!! I had to spell check this…

  2. This is kind of scary. Except for the spelling thing, we may have been separated at birth. Or been sharing the same brain. Or something. How are you the issue of people who leave cupboard doors open after they have gotten something out? I’m always going around closing them — it’s a concussion waiting to happen, people!

  3. Another: Black licorice is fricking disgusting. DIS-gusting.

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