Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce...

I hate lunch. Well, not so much lunch itself, but trying to figure out what to eat for lunch. As you know, I'm not much of a cook. If it comes in a box or from the freezer, I am good to go. So, if leftovers are an option, then I can go that route. I can always take a can of soup and nuke it, but that gets real old, real fast. If no leftovers are to be had, then the dreaded decision must be made. Where do I eat today?

There definitely are a lot of restaurant choices in San Diego, but not so much in the area where I work. It's pretty much all industrial buildings so the nearest fast food joints are a bit of a jaunt. And keep in mind, I only get 30 minutes for lunch so I've got to choose wisely.

My usual choice is crappy ass McDonald's. I call it that because every other time I go there, it is crappy. It's the closest place so I go there more than I would like. Its only redeeming quality is the super nice drive thru workers. Not once have they messed up my order and they are always friendly. It's the cooks I've got a problem with. Dry burgers, over done filet-o-fish, under cooked fries. Yuk.

One time the boss and I thought that the KFC/Taco Bell combo sounded good. Huge mistake. The first nightmare is their parking lot, which is always bottlenecked. Even if I wanted to go in to order, there's no where to park and the drive thru line has the only available parking spaces blocked. So, drive thru it is. I order, pay, drive back to work. Only then do I discover that my boss' food is not in the bag! $%&$%&!!
I shovel my food, call them to complain and drive back to get her order. When I explain about the missing burrito, they tell me to pull ahead. As I'm driving up, I see a bag hanging out the window. What? It's my food. Not an apology, nothing. Just a burrito. Chick didn't even have the decency to say she was sorry. That's it! I'm never going there again.

Why I went to KFC in the first place is beyond me. CeCe and I went there, a long ass time ago. We wanted some chicken (duh) special they had going on and they were out of what we wanted, offered to substitute with something else. Sure, no problem. Figured that they would adjust the cost accordingly. Nope. Well, what's a couple bucks, right? So, to make everything all better, I order, for dessert, one of those yummy chocolate parfaits. You know, heaven in a cup. That smooth whip creamy sort of topping, the to die for chocolate and the crunchy graham cracker crust. My mouth was watering all the way home. As we unpacked the to go bags, I realized. THEY FORGOT MY HEAVEN!

And KFC isn't just right around the corner. It involves freeways, major roads and another 45 minutes of my time. The parfait is just not worth that much effort. I know, I should have at least called and complained. Why? So they could tell me to come back through the drive up and they would give me one. Or maybe, if I was lucky, they would send me a friggin coupon? The chicken just didn't taste the same that night. For dessert, I had to settle for stale cookies. What am I saying? There are never stale cookies in our house. Gone in two days, tops.

Back home, and this time I am for sure referring to good ol' WC, there are no chain restaurants. None, not a one. I do remember, though, at one time, there was a Taco Johns, tucked into the Kum N Go. It didn't last long. I don't know why but I sure do miss the potato oles with extra sour cream. My point is this. No chain restaurants, no drive thrus to muck up your order back home. When you get a to go order from the Twist, you can almost bet the farm that your order is correct, exactly how you want it, plus loads of extra napkins and condiments. I shouldn't have mentioned the Twist. Now I am dying, no joke, dying, for a Twistburger. Hey, Carolyn! I need an order to go. All the way to San Diego!

Yesterday, my coworker offered to make a Burger King run for us. Worked for me, since all I had was that dreaded can of chicken noodle soup to nuke. And the commercials for their new nuggets! Well, it took very little convincing. Bonus was he had a coupon and offered to pay. Yeah for me! I made sure to stress the sauce choices. Honey mustard AND sweet and sour. I'm sorry, but nuggets suck without sauce, don't you think?

I should have known. My luck with fast food restaurants totally sucks. Sure, the nuggets were there. All 20 of them. But the sauce. Oh my heck, where was the sauce? Suddenly those golden brown, bite sized nuggets had lost all of their appeal. I asked the coworker. He showed me the receipt. Right there, in black and white, were the sauces. On the order, people! Working the drive thru is not rocket science! I know. I've been there. AAGGHH!!

Moral of the story. Take the extra 15 seconds, hold the line up a bit and check the contents of your bag. Now why don't I take my own dang advice? From now on, from this day forward, that is exactly what I am going to do.

I think I'm gonna go to Wienerschnitzel tomorrow. They specialize in hot dogs. I just hope it doesn't look like this...

It's not mine!

The other day I mentioned some of the cool features of this blogging website. If you've forgotten what they are or haven't read that post yet, you will find it under "Writer's block already?" Basically, I'm a fanatic about the stats of my blog. How many page views I have by day, week, month and all time. Plus, who's reading it. I don't just mean the country, which is an awesome feature, but I also know how many of you are using Internet Explorer or Safari or any of the other web browsers. I've always been an IE fan myself although I recently upgraded to the newest version and hated it, so went back to the old one. Sometimes I'm not big on changes.

There is one feature on this site that I am not so crazy about and it reared its ugly head today. Only good thing about it is that it gave me a topic. Lame, I know but I'll take what I can get.

For those of you who have commented on my blogs, via this website, thank you thank you thank you. I love getting responses to what I've written. BUT, the set up for comments here is quite ridiculous. If you have a gmail/google account, you're good to go. If you have an ID with any of the following you are also ready to give me a pat on the back...LiveJournal, WordPress,TypePad, AIM, or OpenID. What the heck? I have no idea what any of those are. I'm going to use my power of intuition and assume, I know, I know, you know what happens when you assume, but I'm thinking they are some type of blogging ID. I suppose I could Google it. Or Bing it. Or Yahoo it. But I can't Ask Jeeves because he's retired.

So, what do you do if you want to leave a comment and you don't have a clue what any of those options are? You can sign in with your name and URL. Does that mean you have to have a boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, husband, partner, or dog with the name URL? That's what it says. Name/URL. Maybe it means your last name has to be URL. I'm just messing. I sort of know what URL stands for. Crap, now I am gonna have to Google something.

If you don't have an ID and your name isn't URL, you have to leave an annoymous comment. Now, don't get me wrong, I love getting comments, no matter what. But annonymous ones kinda freak me out. For one, they are annonymous. They could be from anybody. Duh. I am pretty sure that most of the people who read my blog (may I call you my readers?) are facebook peeps, friends and family who really only read it because they feel obligated or they are bored or they've read everybody else's crap. But, on the off chance that somebody reads this that is not one of my friends, a faceless person out there on the internet, from maybe Indonesia or Singapore (yes, Singapore made an appearance!), or even closer to home, then I have no idea who wrote the annonymous comment and it kinda drives me crazy!

Is there a point to this? Yes, there is. I got a comment today, annonymously of course, or what would be the point of writing this drivel? I was congratulated on the baby that I blogged about yesterday. Written in all caps. Immediately made me think of my dad, who types everything in caps. I know, it's easier, but I still feel, at my age, that he's shouting at me. Now, I know it wasn't my dad and I've figured out which comments are my boss' and CeCe's, so I'm puzzled. And the more I thought about it...

Holy crap! Maybe the reader was congratulating me thinking I had had a baby!! I knew I had to set the record straight. The baby from yesterday, that beautiful little boy, is not mine, although I would take him in a heartbeat. He is the son of my neice, so yeah, he's my great-nephew. I'm his great auntie. There! Don't we all feel better now? I know I do.

When I wrote that blog yesterday, can you even call it writing? All I did was copy and paste a poem I found on the internet, stole some pics of Easton from various family member's facebook pages and threw it together. I considered posting all the expected data. Name. Date. Weight. Length. Proud parents. Etc. But I liked the simplicity of the post, so after all was said and done, I left it at that. Not knowing I might be feeding the rumor mill back home. OMG! I hadn't thought of that until just now.

Hey, WC! It's not mine!

Welcome to the World!

This past weekend, on Saturday, in the wee hours of the morning, a baby gave his first cry. And with that cry, our family welcomed its newest member into the world. Easton David is here!

Precious one,

So small,

So sweet

Dancing in

on angel feet

Straight from Heaven's

 

brightest star

What a miracle you are!

Author Unknown
 

Writer's block already???

Every morning when I get up I start thinking about what I should blog about. I have three pieces of paper full of ideas and haven't had to resort to looking at them...until today. My other posts have just come to me, while I'm getting ready for work or during my morning drive. I usually have something posted by lunch time. Today I got nothin. Nada. Zip.

I don't want to write about random crap. That's what Facebook and Twitter are for, although I am not a Twitter person. What's the diff between that and your Facebook status, other than the length? Besides, as all of you know who read this, there is no way I can say anything in 140 characters or less! My sister, Mary, says that I am long winded. I like to think of it as being able to spew mass quantities of ideas in a single post. I'm not sure if that makes it sound better or not, but since I'm struggling with what to blog about today, I'm going to leave it. It takes up space and is somewhat humorous.

I knew at some point it would come to this. I just didn't think it would happen after only seven posts. I can always write about the weather or traffic, I guess. Or maybe our quest to find a new place to live. Or the loser neighbor. Maybe the dogs. See, those are some of the ideas I have written on those glaring in my face, c'mon use one of us, pieces of paper. None of them just seem right today.

I do know that I am slightly obsessed with blogging. I am constantly thinking of things to write about, putting sentences together in my head, questioning how they sound and wondering if they are funny. I like my posts to be funny although I realize that I am not much of comedian and sometimes may have to resort to serious topics. Nah, I really don't want to do serious topics. Not gonna do politics or world peace or the end of the world. No controversial subjects like illegal immigration or the legalization of marijuana. I want my blog to be a "place" where a person can kick back, relax, take a load off. Hey, maybe even enjoy a drink.

There's a cool feature on this blogging website, one that allows you to check your stats. Once I post a new blog, I am right there, hitting refresh. And refresh. And refresh. You can see how many page views you have, which I take to mean how many people are reading or have read a particular post. For instance, I have 105 page view for my first post "Do you think anyone will read it?" Awesome, right? I thought so, too, until I look at the rest of the posts and the numbers go down, dwindle, all the way to 23 for "What the fuh?" To me that means that possibly 105 people read my first post but only 23 deam my blog interesting enough to follow. What the heck? C'mon people! It gives you a little laugh, makes you smile. Keep reading already!

Another stat I like to look at is the timeline. It shows page views based on time. Right now, nobody, not one soul is reading my blog. The last time it was read was 10:00 am. You should see the spikes on the graph after I post! For about an hour, it's like looking at an EKG readout. You can also see who your audience is. I have an audience? It shows a map of the world. Countries that have visited your page are colored in green and also listed. And guess what? I've gone global! Somebody in Indonesia has read or is reading my blog. Hello to whomever you are!!

I have to give a special shout out to some peeps on the east coast. CeCe talked to her brother last night and he said that him and his girlfriend have been reading my blog. He's been a bit confused as to who the heck CeCe is. I'm guessing that there may be a few people who are. Man, I hope you have all figured it out by now. Thanks for reading, Skipper and Nancy!

So, I guess I managed to come up with something to write about after all. Take that writer's block! And stick it where the sun don't shine!

What the fuh?!

My jeans don't fit today. And I can't seem to find the 'I'm not going to get rid of these yet just in case I gain some weight" pair. Oh, I have a few of the 'Just a couple more pounds to lose and I'll be able to get back into these'. But those aren't going to help me today.

Our foodie weekend started on Thursday evening. Sitting around the house, waiting and waiting for Alex to get here, CeCe and I decided to treat ourselves to supper. Not the kind that I usually make, which comes from a box or the freezer. An actual restaurant, with servers and drinks with exotic names and a multitude of food choices.

As you know, San Diego has many, many places to dine, which means that it usually takes the two of us quite awhile to decide where to eat. We both let the other suggest someplace, inwardly cringing when the choice is voiced, but politely agreeing that that would be okay. We do this dance for awhile until CeCe throws up her hands in disgust and tells me to just pick something! I suggest TGIFridays because they have had some awesome commercials for their seafood specials. Based on my last experience choosing a restaurant based on the commercials, I'm not too hopeful but am willing to give it a shot.

Have you been to a TGIFriday's during the NCAA tournament? Holy, it was so loud in there! We are sitting across from each other, in a booth, and practically have to shout our way through the meal. Again, deciding what to order becomes an issue because they have a bazillion items on the menu. I know that quantity does not necessarily mean quality and eventually narrow it down to a couple of appetizers.

I'm not going to drag this out as there were far better meals this weekend than this one. My chocolate martini was the best part. The stuffed potato skins were pretty good, the slider was dry and the deep fried green beans were interesting. Thank goodness for left overs as I knew I would have a hungry boy to feed later that night.

Alex arrived safely and was happy with the leftovers. He said he's over In & Out so we did not have to eat there at all this past weekend. That didn't hurt my feelings any as I am also over it.

Lunch on Friday was an experience, let me tell ya. We were talking Thursday night about options for lunch, because that's what we do, talk about food, and he mentioned fuh. I mean, pho. It's like the f-word without the c-k on the end. I mean, it's pronounced like that although after I saw the real deal pho, I could use that word to describe it as well, but I won't. This is a PG blog.

Pho is a Vietnamese speciality and since I was willing to expand my culinary horizons this weekend and try something new, we went in search of a place that serves fuh, I mean, pho. CeCe knew of an area around Kearney Mesa that had a lot of Asian restaurants and remembered seeing a sign for pho so that's where we headed. I already had lunch #2 planned out just in case this was a disaster.

I had a general idea what pho actually was. Broth, meat and noodles. Doesn't sound so bad, does it? But when the words fat and cartilage are used to describe the meat, I had already counted myself out. Broth and noodles, yes. Fatty meat, nope. I opted out of the pho, while Alex ordered a large bowl for himself. CeCe and I shared some noodle type dish with what was supposed to be chicken in it. I don't think it was really chicken but the water chestnuts were excellent!

Breakfast Saturday morning turned out to be a nice surprise. We didn't have any firm plans. I take that back. I had plans to sleep in, savor my coffee while I read the paper, relax a bit and then go to lunch. Alex had other ideas. A friend of his from back home (Derek) was in town visiting another friend of ours (Chase) and he wanted to get together with them sometime over the weekend. After a lot of back and forth text messages, we decided to meet in Encinitas at the Potato Shack, home of the man-hole cover sized pancakes.

No joke. If you think you've seen large pancakes, you really haven't seen large pancakes. They say a picture is worth a thousand words and since I didn't take a picture, I'll have to write a thousand words about the pancakes. These pancakes are a good 12 inches across and at least an inch and a half thick. I went for the good ole fashioned plain while Alex chose chocolate chip. Neither one of us came even close to finishing those buggers. As a matter of fact, none of the five us completed our meal. The portions are huge, the service was great but meeting up with people from back home was, you got it, priceless.

Lunch was the famous Taco El Gordos. Six for Alex, three each for me and CeCe. "Our regular guy", as CeCe put it, wasn't the one running the pork spit that day, so the tacos had a little extra zing to them this time. Again, they were amazing, and I'm telling you people, worth the trip to San Diego.

Sunday was a quick breakfast with my college friend and her family. It was great catching up on our lives. The meal sucked but what can ya say about Denny's. Hey, it was convenient, okay?

So, no Thai, no Greek, no amazing meal made by my Alex this weekend but I can cross Vietnamese off of my list. Not that it was ever on there in the first place. Since he won't be back until the fall, I won't have to explore the cuisine of other countries until then. Just good American food. Oh, and the crap I cook from a box or the freezer.

Now where the pho are my fat jeans?

It's All About the Food

Almost seven months ago, my youngest child, my baby boy, packed up his car and drove west. For about fifteen hundred miles. See, like most kids his age, high school was behind him and he was making that journey to college, which for him, really was the land of the unknown. Unlike most college freshman, he didn't do the campus tour, visit with prospective teachers, get a glimpse of the dorm nor any of the other things that routinely go with that outing.

When choosing a school, there really was only one choice for him. It was the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone or nothing. Located in the beautiful Napa Valley in St. Helena, California, it was a bit too far to do the typical look-see. He didn't have a backup plan should he not be accepted, nor did he feel he needed one. I asked him what he would do if he didn't get in. His reply? "I'll get in, Mom." Alrighty, then! I loved his confidence but was maybe more nervous than he was to find out if he would be moving to CA or not. I didn't want to hear the hurt and disappointment in his voice. I guess I should have been as big a believer as he was, because as most of you know, that's exactly where he is going to school.

The CIA at Greystone

The first few days weren't easy, for me or for him. I spent a lot of time on the phone, convincing him that he had made the right decision, that things were going to get better and that every college freshman was feeling the exact same things that he was. Thank goodness those conversations only lasted about three days. He met some people, went to class, ventured outside of the dorm and lo and behold, he loves it there! See, sometimes Momma is right!

Alex is coming to San Diego today. We love, love, love it when he comes to visit. And a small part of us dreads it. Really? Yes, really. An aspiring chef, my amazing son, is coming to visit and we have feelings of dread? I know, it's hard to believe. But there's a really good reason for it.

All we do is eat! Most of our time together is spent planning where we are going to eat, when we're going to eat, and what we're going to eat next. CeCe and I both gain about five pounds while he is here. For some reason, neither one of us has had the idea to go on a really good diet for a week or so before he gets here. Dang it! Too late now.

His plane doesn't get in until 10:00 pm but I'd be willing to bet a good chunk of change that one of the first things he says when he gets in the car has to do with food. As in right now. As in In & Out. Now I love me a good In & Out burger but only around supper time, sitting in the restaurant, enjoying it slowly, one bite at a time. If it's after 10:00 at night, there won't be any sitting down for us. Drive thru it will be and those burgers just aren't the same once you get home. I'm going to do everything I can to persuade him to save that particular restaurant for another time.

One of our lunches is already planned and that idea is one that I love. CeCe introduced me to Tacos El Gordo one beautiful Saturday morning. It's a bit of drive, south of us, almost to Mexico. And if you aren't looking for it, you'll go right by it as it's not the fanciest place. But man, can those people make some mean street tacos. The first time Alex was here, of course, we had to take him to El Gordos. He, too, has fallen in love with their carnitas. The tacos aren't very big, half the size of what you would get back home at Toxic Juans, I mean, Taco Johns. The tortillas are made fresh, right in front of your eyes. The pork is pulled right from a big chunk and the sauce is to die for. Us girls usually order three at a time, Alex starts with four, and he usually goes back for one or two more. They're cheap, about $1.89 each and must be eaten on site. Taking these in the car would totally kill this culinary delight. Maybe this weekend we can get the recipe and Alex can make them for us at home. Better brush up on my Spanish.

Makes your mouth water, doesn't it?

Supper, I mean, dinner. NO, I mean supper. Out here it's dinner and I just can't get used to saying that. I've been converted from saying 'pop' to the more common 'soda' used out here, though. Now I'm off topic. Friday night, Alex is supposed to cook for us. All CeCe asked is that he not cook duck. Huh? I have no idea why she thinks he would cook duck but I passed along the message. We've narrowed our proteins down to beef or chicken as I'm not much of a fish fan, unless it's my dad's famous deep fried walleye. Whatever Alex cooks, I will like it (hopefully) and eat it (hopefully). I'm not one to try new foods, even living here with a million different places and cuisines. In that respect, I am still a small town girl.

Saturday is open so far but he mentioned either Greek or Thai food. He's been doing some research on the Internet and said he found some places on Adams (that's the main drag a few blocks from our house). Close by will be nice but I admit, I'm scared to death to try either type of food. I mentioned my concerns to him and he said he's got my back. I sure hope that means he will order something he knows I might be willing to try. If not, I'm sure he'll eat it for me.

As if that wasn't enough food for one weekend, I also get to see a dear friend that I've known for almost 30 years. She and her family are taking a vacation from their cold, snowy Colorado home for some California sunshine. Of course, our get together will take place over more food. A destination has not yet been determined but the food will take a back seat to the reminiscing, laughing and sharing of our lives, catching up since the last time we saw each other.

Now, where are those fat jeans I wore the last time Alex was here? 

March Madness

I know March Madness refers to the NCAA Men's basketball tournament. I admit, I myself am a little caught up in it this year. Our local boys, the Aztecs from San Diego State University, are making headlines as they won their first NCAA game last week, then their second game and are now, for the first time in school history, in the Sweet 16. Most of you know that I am not known as a basketball fan. Wrestling is where my heart is but I've watched SDSU's last two NCAA games, okay not the WHOLE game, but some of them and getting excited when they win reminds me of back home.

March in North Dakota is tourney time. Boys and girls basketball teams are in the heat of district and regional tournaments, playing their hearts out, hoping to make it the Big Dance, the state tournament. It is a big deal as only eight teams get the opportunity to showcase their talent on live TV, in front of sometimes thousands, yes thousands, of excited, rabid, crazy fans. There's nothing like a Class B State tournament. School calendars are built around the state tournament. Little towns across the state virtually shut down for three days, leaving a few people to mind the store, so to speak, while everyone else goes to the big city, Bismarck, Minot or Fargo, for three fun filled days of shopping, swimming in the hotel pool, junk food eating, and of course, basketball.

My first March spent in San Diego, the WC boy's BB team earned the right to play at state. I followed their trip through districts and regionals via phone calls, text messages and Facebook. I couldn't wait to be able to watch them, YES, watch them play their first game at state. Through the wonderful awesomeness that is the Internet, I was able to do just that.

Huddled in front of my laptop, snacks nearby, I wait, somewhat impatiently for the game to start. And soon, there it was, in all its glory. Okay, maybe not glory, because the screen shot was only about a 4" x 4" square and zooming it to full screen made it all grainy and blurry but I was glued to it anyway. I cheered as they scored, yelled at the refs along with everybody else and wished I was there in person, amongst all of the fans, losing my voice, waving my sign, and being proud to be from Watford City.

Honestly, I don't remember the outcome of the game or the tournament. I know we weren't crowned the champions that year. That honor went to another small town, one who probably had a big celebration that Sunday in their high school gym, complete with the pep band, speeches from the coaches and players and maybe even some good food afterwards.

This year, the WC girl's team got to make the trip to Bismarck. I printed the brackets early in the week, glad to find out that the game would be at 6:15 my time on Thursday so I could watch it at home, in my comfy clothes and if any yelling needed to be done, it could involve swearing and I wouldn't be risking my job. I fired up the laptop, cursed the 4x4 screen and watched, and cheered, and yelled and swore. I so wanted them to win, not only for them, but for me.

Watching hometown teams takes me back, back to the simpler days of high school, attending every game, not only because there was nothing else to do but because those players were your friends, your buddies and you cheered them on and supported them, no matter what. As an adult, living in WC, I still went to those games. Those players weren't my friends, but their parents were. Some of them were my students and I was there for them.

Out here, I don't know any students in high school. I don't read the local sports, although if I see an article about wrestling, that will get my attention. San Diego is full of the Chargers, Padres and for the past couple of weeks, the Aztecs. I miss the small town pride that comes with following your favorite sport, attending games and pep rallies, buying every new Wolves tshirt, readying your car for the out of town games.

I guess I'll have to be content with watching the Aztecs tomorrow at 4:15 via the Internet. Once home, changing into those comfy clothes and watching the remainder of the game on TV. And I'm pretty sure there will be swearing because the Aztecs play UConn. CeCe has been a fan of theirs for years. She's originally from Connecticut, so it's her right. I told her that whomever wins, she can be happy but I know better.

It could get ugly at our house tomorrow.