Recipe Corner

The security guard (not Liz Taylor, a different one) brought me warm, home-cooked food tonight.  I exclaimed over it and was like, "Mmmmm" a bunch of times. 

It was genuinely good, but what made it better is that 1) it has been a long time since I ate non-restaurant food, and 2) I ate it at 3am.

HOW DID YOU MAKE THIS, I asked him. 

Here is the recipe:
1. Brown Italian sausage in olive oil
2. Chop up bok choy, throw in big stem pieces
3. Add a dash of soy sauce
4. Add the smaller leaves of bok choy, along with sliced jalepeno
5. EAT.

Variations we discussed:
Balsamic vinegar instead of soy sauce
Add chopped garlic
Add chopped ginger

Variation I vetoed:
Add pasta

What we discussed while we ate:
1. How Apple Cider Vinegar is wonderous
2. How it tastes good on salad, mixed with olive oil
3. How at Latitude 62, a restaurant/bar/lodging in town, they give you like a bucket (exaggeration) of ranch with your salad
4. How ranch ruins salad
5. How when I was studying abroad in Italy there was this girl who insisted she could not eat pizza without ranch to dip it in, and embarrassed everyone by asking for it everywhere, to the mystification of the Italian waitstaff, and her mom finally mailed her a bunch of ranch packets, which she would MIX AT THE TABLE, in Florence and all other major cities in Italy, and dip her authentic Italian pizza in.  To the disgust/dismay of the Italian waitstaff.
6. How her nickname was Ranch Packets.

Sky, 2:30am

Shelley Duvall, Chicago Chicanos, and Wisdom Teeth: A Teaser

Exciting things in the near future that fall between "Maybe" and "Probably" on the scale of probability that I will write about them:

-Driving taxi Tuesday night.

-Taking the Parks Connection bus Wednesday morning with my pal Val La Osa to Anchorage.

-Picking up a rental car in Anchorage, then picking up her brother and two male cousins from Chicago, where she is also from, at the airport.

-Hanging out in Anchorage for the afternoon/evening, then driving to Seward and staying at the Windsong.

-Taking a boat tour in Seward on Thursday.

-Driving back to Talkeetna Thursday night.

-FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH MOVIE NIGHT on Friday, showing of The Shining at 11pm, intentionally postponed to that hour because I was the one who suggested that movie, because I've wanted to re-watch it ever since working at a BIG NATIVE AMERICAN DECOR HOTEL WITH LONG HALLWAYS, and I haven't, and 11pm is when I get off work on Friday.

-Dentist appointment the following Thursday.  I haven't been to the dentist since I was either 16 or 17.  That's either 11 or 12 years ago.  I brush my teeth A LOT, barely ever floss.  I recently became aware that most adults have 32 teeth, while I have 28.  I think I'm missing a molar at each end, but I'm not sure.  I stared at a tooth chart while touching my teeth (v. attractive), trying to figure it out, but I couldn't.  I feel like once I get past the canines they are ambiguously shaped, and I can't tell the difference between a premolar and a molar.  I did a little reading online about this and apparently having only 28 teeth can indicate the (looming, menacing) presence of impacted wisdom teeth.  Which is a horrible thought.  If I have impacted widsom teeth and they want to do surgery to dig them out, what will I do?  Will I let them?  I don't know.  Probably if they are pointed sideways toward my other teeth I will get them out, but if they are pointed in the correct directions I will let them be, because I have space in between every single one of my back teeth.  This is already very long, but an interesting anecdote about wisdom teeth is that a dentist dropped one of my mom's down her throat during an extraction while she was pregnant with me.  It would be cool if I had 29 teeth, because that would suggest the tooth floated wombward and I grabbed it.

Post Office Bulletin Board

Vogue

There's a full-length mirror in the back room of the front desk, and it's right next to the doorway of the managers' office, and I checked myself out as I walked by it, and my manager saw me out of the corner of her eye and was like, "What??" all weirded out/anxious, and I was like, "Oh, what.  Nothing, I was just looking at myself in the mirror.  Haha."  And she laughed with relief and was like, "Oh my gosh, I was like, 'Why is she looking at me like that?!'"

I really don't know what expression I had on... or since she only saw me out of the corner of her eye, what my aura was, or whatever... but I guess it was alarming.

First sentence

Last night, as I donned my ceremonial Night Audit robes, I thought to myself...

Australopithigus or Something

A short list of people I have noticed think they are superior to me, because our culture supports them in this belief:

• Neat/orderly people
• People who have no problem writing small
• Morning people

I can't even imagine waking up in the morning like "LAAAA!  Ready to start my DAAAY!" and then getting dressed without throwing any article of clothing on the floor and then writing down an idea in tiny fontlike writing.  That person, as I imagine her, seems like an entirely different species of human.

Why Are

My 4 or 5 Trees

  

Here are the ([haltingly] spoken word) lyrics of Rachel's song "4 or 5 Trees" on Systems/Layers.

I was thinking about it again the other day.
I'm not sure of...

I can't remember the name.
It was down the street from my apartment.

I used to go down there pretty often...
Once a month or so.
It was set back from the street.

It had a courtyard garden...
a courtyard garden with a winding path,

a stone gazebo,

and four or five trees.
It had beautiful tall windows and red stone walls.
I never went inside.
It was clear to me that...

I should keep it as it was in my imagination.
The most peaceful place.

I haven't been inside Things and Dreams, a gift shop in Talkeetna, because it's clear to me that I should keep it as it is in my imagination.  A gypsy fortune teller's incensey lair with scarves and veils nailed loosely to the walls.  There's a shelf of sinister-looking snow globes, and a shelf of unlabeled amber-colored glass tincture bottles.  The light inside is dim.  The gypsy fortune teller has long grey wavy hair, red lips and an unreadable facial expression.  She tells my fortune with a pack of regular playing cards.  As the conversation moves she interprets my dreams and things.

Front Desk Snacks, 2:30am **UPDATE**

Janitor: Can I buy some Skittles?
Me: Yeah but we only have bullshit Tropical Skittles.

---
A week later:
Janitor: It's too bad you still only have these makeshift Skittles.
Me: Shantytown Skittles.