Thursday, May 26, 2011

I Abdicated my Throne for a Bowl of Chili

My streak ended. It's a bittersweet moment when you break a streak regardless of the dubious achievement of having attained it. My "Queen of One Date" title has been revoked by virtue of the fact that I went on a second date. Curses! I had become royalty in my own mind, although I didn't have the appropriate clothes or jewelry. I think an Ermine collar on a red robe was necessary and a 20lb tiara. Not having been asked on a second date in six months my knee jerk reaction when suddenly and surprisingly invited was an immediate "yes." I should have deliberated far more carefully - weighed the options. Date? Queen status? It's not every girl that gets to be Royal even if it's for being a dating loser.

My "streak" ending date invited me over for turkey chili. Yes, read this and weep. I surrendered the crown for a lousy bowl of beans. I was also nervous about going over to a veritable stranger's house for a second date. I received endless warnings and advice: "don't go", "meet in a public place" and "bring mace, a gun, brass knuckles, or sharp stick." I was worried and weaponless but went. I arrived hungry and after the obligatory house tour I looked around for pre-dinner appetizers. Sweaty and a bit hypoglycemic I was desperate for a cracker. He handed me a glass of wine but zippo in the form of food. He wanted to talk about art, I wanted a vitamin B12 shot to stay conscious. Sadly and boringly I gave him the art history lecture I've heard myself say a million times being an art dealer for 24 years. I might have dozed off after Impressionism. I know I lost him during Warhol.

And speaking of Campbell soup cans I needed soup or anything as I was about to keel over. Finally I declared I wanted dinner. He took out two bowls and filled them with chili from a tiny pot on the stove- teenie tiny pot. Mr. Streak Breaker then put the pot in the sink as it was empty! Next he placed between us the smallest loaf of bread I've ever seen. I think I served bigger loaves when I played tea party with my dolls. I scarfed down the beans and two pieces of bread. There was nothing more, dinner over. Dessert was only something about which I could dream or stop and buy on my way home.

My title relinquished for a bowl of chili. I've asked my Gonepausal girls on Facebook if I could be granted an annulment of date two but the majority ruled it counted. I learned the hard way there is nothing like being a "Royal" regardless of how you get the crown.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

"Can You Hear Me Now?" or " Make My Day"

"What did you say? I can barely hear you, it's all static."

"I must be in a bad cell," I scream exasperatedly, wanting to pull my hair out or drive into a ditch.

Crap. Another conversation with someone bitching that they can't hear me. In complete frustration I rip the little black box that's supposed to keep me "hands free" off my visor, fling it on the seat, pick up my cell phone and call them back. It took me 15 tries to sync the freaking device with my phone and no one can hear me? Then who was I connected to? This scares and intrigues me. I'm trying to be"hands free" but people keep yelling "are you there?" which drives me nuts. I scream back those infamous words that have become more recognizable than "to be or not to be," - "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?" But no one can hear me now or any other time I use my Bluetooth device.

I've failed Bluetooth in a state where it's illegal to drive holding a cell phone. I had to choose between not talking or risk getting a ticket. I picked talking. My cell phone has become an extension of my head. I am always on it unless I'm showering. Don't ask the "sex" question. I try as best I can to have my hair cover the phone while driving. I constantly have my eyes peeled for police. If I spot a cop I throw the thing on the seat next to me or floor - so far so good. I made it 5 months and 12 days then I got sloppy. Damn. I was happily chit chatting with a friend when I slipped up. Totally out of character or my mind I was not on the look-out for police.

Flashing lights appeared in my side mirror and a motorcycle cop had me red handed. Geez. Too late to fling the phone, I pulled into a parking lot to take my punishment. "Ma'am," he started...."I know Officer, I politely interrupted, please understand I never talk and drive. I had to take the call because it was my Dad and he's really old and sick." "That's too bad" he replied sympathetically but it didn't fly. I should have burst into tears. I should have batted my eyes and flirtatiously promised never to do it again, but that hadn't worked in over 15 years. I should have bribed him except I wasn't in Chicago. I was doomed to $170 ticket hell. I hung my head in despair and financial ruin.

When the officer walked back to my car with the ticket he reassured me it wasn't a moving violation but an "infraction." All I knew was that I wasn't going to Saks any time soon. As he handed me the paperwork he shook his head and said, "You sure don't look the age on this license." Priceless!

Thursday, May 5, 2011

"Mom I Could Have Been a Celebrity Chef!"

"Mom, with Mother's Day coming up I have to ask you something. Why didn't you teach me to cook?!" Do you realize that dreaming of being a Mousketeer was a total waste of my time? There was no future money in wearing a hat with ears or singing about the days of the week. In the end who cared that Monday meant "we're going to have a special guest?" A big waste of my youth and visions of fame and fortune. Nope, I should have taken my little plastic blue stove FAR more seriously. Instead of making Play Dough pink cookies with sprinkles I should have been considering the alternative of brioche with fresh jam. Damn. And why didn't we put up preserves instead of buying Welch's grape jelly? Or make cupcakes from scratch and ixnay the Hostess brand. Do you realize this could have started me on the road to becoming Martha Stewart? Why did I want to be Annette, I'm flat chested, it made no sense.

Mom, I could have been a celebrity chef if only you taught me to slice, dice, mince, chop, and puree. We should have been reading recipes not "Curious George" or "Heidi." Although the way Heidi layered her clothes she probably had potential to be on "Project Runway." But a monkey? Cooking is bigger than Hollywood. I think Mario Batali makes more money than Brad Pitt and no one even cares about his weight. And how about the Naked Chef- although I've never seen him naked but would like to. I could have been the one to make Coq au Vin naked first. Although on second thought too much pressure to shave my legs. At the very least I could have had a hot affair with my fav Anthony Bourdin in a meat locker. I still wouldn't rule that out.

Every hour of every day on every channel, what's on my TV screen Mom? Cooking shows that's what. They're even taking Erica Kane and "All My Children" away from me and replacing it with a freaking Viking stove and 5 minute Beef Bourguignon. Mom, Why didn't we make pie crust from scratch, pluck our own chickens,or have hens in the laundry room laying eggs for Eggs Benedict? Sadly and alas all I can make is reservations.

Happy Mother's to all and remember the wise words of Julia Child "If you're afraid of butter, use cream."