Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Not the strangest thing I've ever eaten,

but close. A week or so ago I put the tortillas in the freezer, because one of them was moldy and I thought I could save the rest of them. Lo and behold, they were ALL moldy, which meant I had to concoct something else to eat the black beans with. So: black beans (the Moosewood recipe with sweet potatos in it), some mango-passion fruit something from pastry school (a base for a souffle, maybe?), a little ginger ale mix, and, voila, a weird pasta sauce. I had a little chunk of ricotta salata to crumble over it, and there you go: dinner. I managed to get rid of or nearly get rid of three things, so, hey, I get an extra cookie for that one.

It occurs to me that I should clarify something from my last post: the friend who has joined the chorus at least part way is someone who knows me extremely well, who wants me to be happy, and who is worried about me (because she knows about the shit I've gone through as well as the shit that's coming down now). I WANT her to give me her honest opinion, and I know she will, and that's worth more to me than anything else. And, really, I think it's smart to continue considering all of my options as well as all of the aspects of my reality that are apparent or relevant at any given time. She also agrees that I can't make any of these decisions yet: I have to move, and unpack, for two things.

Work has been grueling lately. I don't say this to complain--I think it's educational, as a matter of fact. One of the things I'm figuring out is that Jefe would rather pay overtime than do the organizational things necessary to apportion work differently or have it done differently. I think part of it is that he doesn't like conflict, so, for example, he's unwilling to back up Brad and get Whistler to clean up after himself better. Another annoyance factor has been the World Cup, of all things. It's on the radio, constantly and loudly, and in Spanish; this morning we were treated to more of the Spanish music that sounds like someone's strangling a cat (it's probably the Hispanic version of Easy Listening or something). I am getting me a radio for my corner of the bakery (or, rather, the corner I use most often).

6 Comments:

Blogger kStyle said...

It's probably musica romantica! I hate that shit. I dated a Mexican who loooved it. There was one awful song that went Te amo, te aaaaamoooo over and over and over. (This very orignal lyric translates to I love you, I looooveeee youuuu).

But still, it's better than ranchero. Mexican country music, like a Spanish polka. He also liked that.

11:07 AM  
Anonymous Lisa Marie said...

I can't quite taste your black bean concoction. Or, if I do have an idea of the approximate taste -- ew! *grin* I hope it was better than I'm imagining it!

12:06 PM  
Anonymous Dave (not Craw) said...

The polka-esque could have been cumbia, which has basically the same bass and drum as a polka (through an apartment wall it would be absolutely impossible to tell them apart). I actually have some good cumbia CDs (as Emma can attest).

12:12 PM  
Blogger kStyle said...

Nope, definitely ranchero. Cumbia sounds pretty bad, too, though. ;)

1:19 PM  
Blogger That Brazen Tart said...

I saw a documentary on PBS about the polka-type music. Turns out that much of that perky, dancy stuff has really depressing lyrics. You'd never know it.

10:09 PM  
Blogger kStyle said...

Bossa nova, too. *really* depressing.

The reason ranchero sounds like polka, I believe, is that both are in 2/4 time: OOM-pah OOM-pah

7:55 AM  

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