She's At The Mall

This is a great photo of my daughter Sheila and her 17 year old son, Cyrus, my best friend and the most perfect person now living.

I love Sheila and her husband and their daughter Arianna too of course, but they are a bit strange. All of them are a bit strange. They are charming, they are pretty, but they are strange. I'm not sure how to explain this conclusion, but I'm going to try.

My son in law is from the middle east. He grew up here in the US from the time he was a child and lived with his mother and grandmother after his dad passed away. The rest of his family are still in the middle east.

When his grandmother passed several years ago, the family would still call Sheila and her husband about once a week to see how grandma was doing. It seems Sheila and her husband decided that it would be best to break the news of grandma's passing at just the right time.

The right time turned out to be about a year after her death. Until then, when family members called from overseas, they were told that grandma went to the mall to shop.

About two years later, my son-in-law's mother also died. She was a lovely woman and we were all heartbroken to lose her. Again, when family members called, they were told that mom was at the mall. I think six months passed before the family was told of his mom's passing.

When I call to speak with my daugher, and my son-in-law says "Oh hi Linda! Sheila went to the mall", he's never understood why I insist on speaking to Cyrus RIGHT THEN.

I'm just sayin...

Confession - Good For the Soul

Confessional Friday

Terry, the HFMB Queen, sent me to Glamazon Mormon Mom so that I could unburden myself for this weeks sins. I'm not really sure how this works, (but when did that ever stop me?).

I'm sure that confession will be good for me, after all, I was raised Catholic so it's not a new concept.

I wrote a post today talking about being a good cook. I am a good cook, but I suffer from the sin of pride because I am showing off. I don't feel really bad about it, but I do know it's a sin.

I ate all the biscotti and didn't even save one for my husband even though I know he loves it.

I took two baths because I was really cold and because I just really like bubble baths. This is during a draught in California so it really is a sin.

I blew off physical therapy yesterday and went to lunch with a friend.

I gave the dogs the left over steak my husband was saving for his breakfast tomorrow.

I lied about how much I weigh on a BMI form.

I didn't put my clothes on until after 2 PM today.

I threw away underwear that I just didn't feel like dealing with. (No, I will not go into more detail than that.)

Now, don't I feel better? Uh, no, not really. So why did I do this again? I'm so easily led astray! Because Terry said to do it, I just did it. Well, she is the HFMB Queen, so I figure she must know something!

Beef Bourguignon

It's what's for dinner!

I grew up in the new era of tv dinners, fish sticks, and Kraft macaroni and cheese. My mother really didn't cook, and it took me until I was in my 30's to finally figure that out.

Mom was not the only one. The advent of the wonderful tv dinners and other frozen offerings just made it much easier for housewives to feed their families without much effort.

I remember having boyfriends over for dinner when I was in my 20's, and serving them hot dogs, canned green beans, and a sliced apple for dinner. I just didn't know any better.

In my mid-30's, I had a boyfriend who actually cooked. He taught me and I've never looked back. There is something absolutely magical about preparing delicious food! I love the preparation of it, the serving and presentation of it.

I find it fun to set a table with a linen and lace tablecloth, linen napkins, tall white taper candles, fine china, sterling silver and crystal wine glasses. I'll work for hours on just the perfect menu.

There are so many options that are not really difficult but healthy and tasty and beautiful too. I am forever trying to convince my friend Nelson to try some of the easy recipes I have but to no avail. He settles for a microwaved entree. Sad really.

There are so many things that take so little effort and turn out so wonderful. Vietnamese pork chops marinated in soy, honey, ginger and lemongrass, jasmine rice, carrot and cucumber salad can take no more than 20 minutes from start to finish. And so much better than anything prepared, frozen and stuck in a cardboard box to be microwaved.

Mock abalone! Dang! Just soak think chicken breasts in clam juice for 3 days, dip in egg, flour, and 5 minutes on each side in a hot pan. Looks great, tastes great, and takes so little effort.

Homemade French Onion Soup! About the easies, tastiest, and and best things you can eat. Add bread and a leafy green salad. So simple and wonderful on a rainy night.

I'm lucky to have a great organic produce mart very close to my house. I buy my produce fresh every day on my way home. The meat, poultry and fish are the same, close and fresh! And we have a fabulous bakery where I can get a bagette that rivals what I've had in Paris.

It actually costs us less to eat better than it does to compromise on taste and quality. All I needed was a little basic motivation!

Talking Dirty

I have always loved me some raunchy language. I taught my kids to love raunchy language too. (No, no, I don't expect an award for that, so let's move on.)

When my kids were very young, we started to use the word "shamunga" for poop. Shamunga sounds so much dirtier than poop. When John was about 3, he would call me and say "Sheila needs her diapers changed! I smell shamunga!" When we saw dog poop on the sidewalk, it would throw is into fits of laughter as we pointed and cried out "Shamunga!".

Really disgusting things, like scrambled eggs dropped on the floor were "Hairy Muffins". Anything we could not identify but looked nasty was a "Hairy Muffin".

Although I do slip an occasional "shit", I actually prefer shamunga! It just sounds worse!

I never use the words "bitch" or "ho" because they are pedestrian and used by really unimaginative people. The word I kind of like is "c*nt". Yup, rhymes with runt. That word is one to describe a very important person who deserves a powerful word. You don't use that casually, but it's a good word, particularly if you call someone a "C*** of Death"! How great is that! It's a compliment as well as a power statement! (I never use that particular phrase in the supermarket though.)

My husband uses PMF to describe handsome men. The first word is Pretty. I'll let you guess at the other two words. I never fail to laugh when he says "I saw the PMF this morning."

I thought I was kind of a bad word queen until yesterday when I encountered the most powerful and amazing bad words ever! Terry over at "Oh For Pete's Sake" used this phrase in her post yesterday:
"Holy Fucking Monkey Balls". We have a new Queen. I bow to her!

Awards From A BFF

Scott Free is an astounding young dude with more talent than should be legal at his age. He also has amazingly good taste! (Plus, he's so cute that all 6 of my granddaughters are now his groupies. Oops! I only have 4 granddaughters, but I get confused because of my age!)

If you haven't made Scotty's acquaintance yet, I strongly suggest that you do so. View some of his stimulating and engrossing films! Read what he has to say! You won't be sorry!

Scott has passed on a couple of just wonderful awards to me! (God! I love it when that happens!) I'm getting an award called the "Humane Award" as well as one called the "Sunshine Award". I just couldn't be more pleased. Scott, himself, has been the recipient of these awards so I know they are good ones since he is about as humane and sunshiny as it gets!

Thank you Scott! You the man! (er, young man!)

My Date With A Boxer

This photo is a little misleading. I did date a boxer (a real one, the man kind) once in the early 1980's.

Miguel had been a Golden Gloves middle-weight champion about 5 years earlier. I met him when he was working for a moving company. He passed me several times in the hall of the apartment house I lived in, and I thought he was kind of cute.

The other guy who was working with him kept calling him "Champ" and I asked if that was his name. That's when he told me he had been a boxer. We chatted a bit and it was pretty clear that he was interested in me.

He came to my apartment door after finishing moving a neighbor in to an apartment on my floor and asked me if I'd have dinner with him. I had a few reservations, (no, more than a few) but I said sure! Pick me up at 7. I've always like boldness and Miguel had that going for him. Plus, I mean, hey! The guy had a job! That's always a good sign. (Uh, yes. I was hard up.)

Anyway, I didn't take it as a good sign when 7:30 rolled around before Miguel arrived at my door. I said something about not being sure he was going to show up, and he replied that he needed to have a few drinks first to calm his nerves. Well, he was only weaving slightly when he came in.

He got into a boxer stance and started throwing play punches toward me, telling me to unwind! Loosen up! Let's have fun! By this time, I was in a full-fledged panic attack. Dear God!

Miguel had looked great in working man's clothes, with the big shoulders and biceps, etc. It had not translated that well into a suit that was way too tight across the shoulders with pants that can only be called "floods". His slicked hair looked greasy and he was pretty sweaty in the face. Uh huh. Loosen up, Linda!

I suggested that we go to my favorite Chinese restaurant around the corner. I was smart enough not to get in the car with this man. He said, why don't we have a drink first and I said fine. I think I had a bottle of cheap white wine in the fridge.

We went to the Chinese place and ordered. Miguel spent half of the time in the bathroom. My fortune cookie said to watch out for surprises which I considered to be ominous.

Miguel walked me home. At the door to my apartment house, he came in for a kiss, shoved his tongue down my throat while grabbing a boob with one hand and my crotch with the other. I gently pushed him away and told him I had a great time. Miguel assured me he would call me soon so we could do this again. Oh joy!

Personal Protection Units

I'm a cop's daughter. I learned how to handle a gun when I was about 12. Dad took me to the range and we practiced with his service revolver until I could hit the target, load and unload a gun, and clean the revolver.

I'm not afraid of guns. I don't really have much use for them either unless it's for target practice at the range. When used for home defense, guns take thought and that thought can be your undoing. Would I honestly point a weapon at a person and pull the trigger? Maybe, maybe not. But I wouldn't do it without thinking about it no matter what the situation is.

I very seldom feel nervous about security. My back door is frequently unlocked and even open. I live in a relatively safe area, but crime can happen anywhere.

If I need protection, I have the kind that doesn't require any thought at all. My dogs are protective. They don't analyze. They don't hesitate. Walk in at your own risk. A cable guy did just that one day. It took me and my husband to get Harry off of him. He was pinned in the corner of the room with the dog at his throat. The cable guy had thought for some reason our house was an apartment building and just walked in the front door. Not a smart move on his part.

He wasn't injured, but he was badly frightened.

The dogs are not friendly unless someone comes in with me or my husband. They are playful and polite then. Just don't walk in without one of us. Ever.

Here's Your Sign

Greg, my dear friend over at livingmylifewhatever just gave me a sign saying to watch out for me because I'm stupid. And since I messed up his link, (not on purpose), he may be right!

He explained that this was to keep me from hurting myself. With friends like these... Well, how can I go wrong?

Low Rise Jeans

I am really not a prude!

In fact, I think I'm a very open minded woman. I am not opposed to porn (maybe bored by it, but not opposed to it); I loved Amsterdam's Red Light District; I use bad words even when I don't really have to.

My husband and I were shopping a couple of weeks ago at Macy's in Union Square San Francisco. There was a shoe sale going on and about 30 women were crowding around the shoe racks, some stooped over, and some squatting to get a look at the lowest racks of shoes.

About 4 of these women were wearing very low rise jeans and they were oblivious to the fact that their butt cracks were showing. I have nothing against butt cracks. Like opinions, we all have one. But it's the public airing that I find somewhat appalling. My husband and I tried hard not to stare, but when faced with a quad of butt cracks in the middle of the Macy's Shoe Department, it was hard not to.

If I ever have something sticking out that should not be, please tell me. I can pretty much assure you that I didn't do it on purpose.

Welcome To The Wild Wild West

In the bad old days following the tragic events of 9/11, Alex got called up for Air National Guard active duty at the Oakland Airport.

He had to take leave from his regular job as a software developer, put on his uniform, and grab an M-16.

To say his hours were erratic is an understatement. Alex would report for duty at 4 AM, or 9 PM, or 3 AM, or 11 PM and it changed almost every day. Since his airport deployment began over the Thanksgiving Holiday, a lot of our regular holiday plans were either canceled or dramatically altered.

Alex was still trying to get into his office at his regular job a few times a week so he wouldn't get too far behind there. This was fine, but it left him drastically sleep deprived for the most part.

One night we got into bed at the early hour of 8 PM. He was not due to report for duty until 2 AM and so I assumed he set the alarm for 1AM. I opened one eye and looked at the clock and the time was 2:25 AM. I realized Alex was snoring softly beside me and I shook him awake.

What followed was like a glimpse of "Keystone Cops"! Our fat little cocker spaniel, Mitch, our cat, Smokey, and I were all racing around more or less in circles to help Alex get out the door. Every light in the house was on and Alex was in a cold stone panic. At the time, we had a 60 gallon aquarium and every fish in it was jumping around like they had been electrified.

Alex was cursing, I was cursing, the cat was yowling, the dog was barking all at the same time. Only 5 minutes had elapsed between Alex opening his eyes and him pulling the car out of the drive way on his way to the Oakland Airport.

Fortunately, Alex did not get a court martial for his offense, but in fact, served until June of 2008. He was never again late for a duty call.

I've Been Wrong So Much It Feels Like Right To Me

We had a contractor put an economy size built-in dishwasher in our kitchen about 7 years ago.

After it was installed and I went to use it for the first time, I realized that there was no way you could put a full sized dish in the thing. I seethed, felt cheated by the manufacturer, and above all, I felt stupid for having selected such a weird-assed dishwasher.

For the next five years, I used the dishwasher for glasses, silverware, and little plates and cups. People asked me all the time, why I handwashed my Cost Plus $1.49 white dinner plates. (Now, don't feel sorry for me, I have the good china but only pull it out for "special". I'm so lower middle class.)

I explained to one and all, that the dishwasher was the strangest design ever and everyone concurred that I had a very peculiar dishwasher.

One day, a person came over and saw me doing my dishwashing plates routine and said, "why don't you just throw them in the dishwasher?". I explained again and the person replied "Bullshit. Let me see." The person pulled out the top rack and put it back on a higher track. I will not name this person because that would be admitting that the person is smarter than me.

This solution was so simple and elegant. I was struck dumb (as in stupid not speechless) seeing how two minutes of logic could change my world.

Barry Bonds Gave Me Such Joy

I followed MLB when Willie Mays was playing for my SF Giants. I adored Willie. When the Giants traded Willie, I lost my connection to the game. My trust was betrayed.

In 1986, the Giants acquired a player by the name of Barry Bonds. In my eyes, this guy was a "god". I still consider him to be the most awesome player of my lifetime (okay, at least right after Willie Mays).

Barry did not pander to the press corps. He was not apparently popular with his team mates. This mattered very little to me. I adored him! I still adore him.

My love for the game returned with Barry. The thrill I got when he was in the batter's box is one of the greatest I've ever felt. I am heartbroken that Barry no longer plays.

Don't bore me with "he cheated". I do not believe he did. He never cheated me out of a wonderful experience! I screamed my voice away and felt dizzy with pride for this man when he broke record after record.

If he took steroids to recover from injuries, why should I care. I am not convinced he did or that it would matter one way or another. He was the best. I loved watching him play and until someone else of that caliber takes the field, baseball is over for me.

Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong. You can't take away my love for the greatest hitter who ever played the game.

BAD RAP Event

We attended an event in Alameda last night called "Bullylicious" put on by Bad Rap. (Bay Area Doglovers Responsible About Pitbulls.)

Since we have two pitbull mixes, we felt it was important to support this organization that does a lot of work to improve the dreadful reputation these dogs have.

The party was wonderful! Much more eclectic crowd than one usually sees in this sleepy little island community!

The entertainment included two live bands, a silent auction, food, beverages, and a "kiss a bull" dog kissing booth! They also had 3 burlesque acts that were not the "norm" for this area either! The strippers danced and disrobed down to pasties and panties, and I've never seen such amazing tassle twirling in my life! Now, don't get me wrong, I would sometimes feel acts like this were inappropriate for the venue. In this case, I would have been so wrong.

There was something cute, wholesome, and lovely about these pretty gals who donated their talents, time and (dare I say it?) tits to help Bad Rap! The crowd (about half women) went wild for the dancers! Oooh la la! Such a fun and charming event!