cindy's world

Mr. W and I went to Northern California to visit friends over the long weekend. It was a nice 5.5 hr drive during most of which Mr. W listened to an audiobook with headphones attached to his iPhone, and I texted friends for entertainment. Time passed swiftly. We stopped at our usual Marie Callender’s at Magic Mountain for lunch, which meal was nothing compared to the sake-marinated Chilean seabass college roommie prepared for dinner that night! The four of us (including Diana’s boyfriend Eric) had a leisurely dinner with lots of wine and a specialty cupcake dessert. Good thing we were staying there! I really like Sunnyvale.

Saturday, Diana had planned for us a visit to San Francisco to see the King Tut exhibit at the De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park. I bought us audiotours and Diana treated us to the admission, which tickets are sold and scheduled in half-hour increments, and we got a late enough entry time so that we could have lunch at a nearby pho restaurant. Mr. W and I had seen the exhibit before, but can’t remember where. We’re thinking it was probably in Fort Lauderdale in ’05, during the same vacation where I met Jordan. (Speaking of Jordan, she decided yesterday to come visit the same weekend Bat is coming to visit, so YAY, par-TAY! Did I mention it’s also her birthday weekend? I’m so excited!) Despite the museum’s best efforts to stagger visitors, it was very crowded and as usual because of my lack of vertical prowess, I saw lots of lower backs and asses. Live ones, not even exciting wrapped mummified ones. After the museum, we took a stroll in Golden Gate Park and visited various gardens on the grounds.

This garden had a few rules.

After leaving Golden Gate Park, we were off to the second activity Diana had planned for the day. She had suggested we bike ride across Golden Gate Bridge, but given all the rain predicted for the weekend, we didn’t set it in stone. Since Saturday turned out to be a beautiful day, we decided to just walk it. Eric would drive the car across and meet us at the other side.

Diana was a little pensive and Eric reassured her he won’t drive off without hearing from her first, but I didn’t think anything of it. Here we are about to start.

The Bridge was a wide paved 6+ lane highway with a separately fenced off pedestrian walkway along the outskirt. We started walking, and just as we were ALMOST over water, a large truck drove by and its weight vibrated along the bridge where we stood. Diana had already been slowing down, and now she froze. “I’m sweating,” she announced. And then, “I can’t do it.” She whipped out her cell phone and called Eric, who luckily had not left to drive over to the other side yet. She instructed us where to meet them on the other side and practically ran off back to the parking lot where Eric was with the car. I had no idea she was THAT serious about her acrophobia until then. I mean, the girl climbed the pyramid at Chichen Itza with me! She voluntarily leaps off tall mountains on her snowboard! I did learn later on in the weekend from Mike that Diana had attempted that same pedestrian crossing before, and also aborted that mission before making it very far.

Mr. W and I made the walk across, taking photos along the way — he with his camera which yielded the weekend’s photos that you see here, and I with my cameraphone since I forgot my camera. Halfway across, Diana and Eric overtook us on the bridge, honking and waving at us. They joined us on the other side as light sprinkling started. Perfect timing!

One of the cool things about hanging with locals is they know the best spots for photos.

Eric drove us up a mountain road to this great spot overlooking everything, and up there, Eric smacked Diana’s arm, Diana punched him in the face, it rained on Mr. W’s camera, and we got thrown out by a cop. Good times.
Next, we drove deeper into the City (San Francisco) to meet up with people for dinner. We had some time before our reservations, so we stopped for drinks and appetizers at Yoshi’s Jazz Bar a few doors down from the restaurant. We had to park a ways, and got rained on walking there, but it went with the atmosphere of San Francisco.

Soon, we were joined by Dardy, Jimmy and Sabrina.

And then Andrae, Dwaine’s twin brother, showed up. I was happy he put all his crazy plans on hold so that he could come spend some time at dinner with us. I hadn’t seen him since the wedding!

We walked down the street for dinner at 1300 at Fillmore (the address AND the name of the restaurant! What a koinkidink!), which served Southern food done up fancy. There, we met up with Jen and Caroline. Yes, I’m texting. Mr. W thought it would be funny to take a picture of me with Andrae on my cell and send it to Dwaine with the message, “Remember when we met up in San Francisco?” I don’t think Dwaine found it that amusing, cuz I never got a response. =P

One of the most noticeable differences in hanging with these people now, is that after dinner, we all hugged and waved our goodbyes, and went home to bed. If we were in our 20s, this meeting would’ve no doubt moved on to bar/club hopping as it had before. Aww, we’re all grown up now.

It’s been raining off and on since last weekend. The weather forecasted several consecutive El Nino storm patterns to hit the entirety of California. Luckily it wasn’t too bad on our drive to NorCal (photos forthcoming) and it didn’t rain out much of our activity while we were there, and although rain fell off and on during our drive back home on Monday, it wasn’t debilitating rain. This week, however, California had decided it’d reached full capacity on all the rain it wants to endure and things got a little freaky. There were flash flood warnings over areas that had been burned earlier last year, and on Tuesday, while Claudio and I were enjoying a nice long workout at the gym followed by all-you-can-eat sushi at Minato Sushi (the sushi chef/restaurant owner James remembered me and gave us total special treatment with lots of expensive freebies), he got notice that nearby Santa Ana was issued a tornado watch warning with orders to stay indoors, and when we were driving out of the restaurant, we saw that a part of the street was closed off as it was severely flooded and a car was trapped in water nearly halfway up its windshield.

The next day, Wednesday, as the skies remained open for buckets of water to fall on us, I drove to Pasadena for my dental appointment with Andy. I gave myself about 2 hours to make the hour drive, and due to zero traffic, was there an hour early. After I parked, I pulled back the internal covering of the sunroof to admire the water hitting the glass moonroof. I was first inspired to take a photo, and then inspired to write a poem. So I sent this out via MMS to a few friends:

playful percussion
of rain dance on my moonroof
in pasadena
(impromptu haiku)

So typically Californian…you can still see palm trees behind the wintery leafless tree. Dentist Andy was among the people I sent the above picture message to, and I’d expected him to text me back with “Stop goofing off and get in here,” but he didn’t. When I saw him he only chuckled about it. It was beautiful out there and I enjoyed the drive. Mr. W is working 11-hour shifts this week, so I didn’t carpool with him. On the drive in to work this morning, I heard on the radio that the cold front following the most recent storm coming from the coast this afternoon will create hail. I’m a little concerned about hail denting my car on the drive home… =/

Last weekend was a long weekend, so Mr. W and I drove up to Northern California to visit some friends. I finally met Mike & Christi’s little 3.5 month old boy, Kyden! I’d always thought the photos of Kyden’s little face looked uniquely intelligent. I felt like I ought to ask him for advice or something. So I was surprised the first time I saw him, gurgling happily to himself laying on his back swatting at his colorful dangly toys, how tiny he really is. Soon, I was again surprised at how ADVANCED his development is. When he’s sitting up (of course he needs to be assisted), he holds his own head up. He likes to stand and make walking motions with his kicky little (but strong!) legs. AND…his bottom front teeth broke through his gums already! Whoa. I know my niece Lydia has just started teething, but she’s 8 months. What’s Kyden’s big hurry to grow up?

I told Mike and Christi that if anyone would have a super-advanced baby, it’d be the two of them. I’m always one for introducing and welcome new bloggers, but this has GOT to be the youngest one of ’em all… Say hello to Kyden’s Korner!

Here’s what I did to ring in the new year:

I changed my first two diapers! My niece (Mr. W’s Gamer Bro’s daughter) Jenni drove to SoCal from Vegas to visit us for the long New Years weekend, and brought the newest member of the family with her! Don’t they grow up so fast? Here’s Lydia only last summer.
Oh, speaking of babies, here’s the newest one in my half of the family.
This is little Elizabeth Lynn (“Elle”) wearing the Anne Geddes ladybug jacket we got her.

…and here is the back of li’l lady Elle in her new ladybug jacket.

So coming up next month, Bat is going to swing by from Tennessee on his way to New York (I know it’s not on the way, but he scored some amazing flight fares!) for a weekend visit since he’s never been to SoCal, and I’m getting some activities together. So far I’ve booked Claudio and Dwaine for kayaking and sushi that weekend for some male bonding. I’d been craving ikari sushi and finally got some at Minato Sushi tonight. I raved so much about the $25 all-you-can-eat sushi that Claudio wants to go there when they come for kayaking. Here was our online conversation:
Claudio: Can’t wait!
Me: me, neither! do you eat uni?
Claudio: Never tried it. I generally will try anything but this is sea urchin gonads. Um… should I try it?
Me: I usually will try something I dislike every few years just to make sure I still dislike it. Taste changes, and this is how I rediscovered Indian food, bittermelon, brussels sprouts, eggplant. I love that stuff now! But uni…I just hit my 4th try last spring, and after getting that in my mouth I thought, for the 4th time, “WHY am I doing this to myself?!” I have a lot of friends who love it, and my dad loves it. “It’s like a mouthful of ocean,” he says blissfully. And you know what? I totally agree with his description. =6
Claudio: Unless someone I trust tells me I need to eat sea urchin gonads… I ain’t eating sea urchin gonads.
Me: it’s not so much gonads as just the entire innards, isn’t it?
Claudio: I read this on sushifaq.com
While colloquially referred to as the roe (eggs), uni is actually the animal’s gonads (which produce the milt or roe).
Me: omg, “gonads” is an actual non-slang term?
Claudio: Gonad definition according to wiki:
The gonad is the organ that makes gametes. The gonads in males are the testes and the gonads in females are the ovaries.
Me: sea urchin reproductive organs according to wiki:
Sea urchins are dioecious, having separate male and female sexes, although there is generally no easy way to distinguish the two. Regular sea urchins have five gonads, lying underneath the interambulacral regions of the test, while the irregular forms have only four, with the hindmost gonad being absent. Each gonad has a single duct, rising from the upper pole to open at a gonopore lying in one of the genital plates surrounding the anus. The gonads are lined with muscles underneath the peritoneum, and these allow the animal to squeeze its gametes through the duct and into the surrounding sea water, where fertilisation takes place.
Claudio: This makes me want to eat Uni even less… a lot less.
Me: ditto…DIT-TOE.
Claudio: 🙂
Me: maybe we can convince Dwaine to eat it as his first sushi experience.
Claudio: I think we’d have to bribe him with a bionic knee or something. ***
Me: maybe we ought to first wiki what a bionic knee costs these days before making promises like that.
Claudio: It’s Dwaine. He’ll forget all about it in 3 days…
2 if he’s been drinking
Me: THEN LET’S SEE WHAT ELSE WE CAN MAKE HIM EAT!!
Claudio: *blush*
Me: nice.

*** This has reference to another conversation that actually involved Dwaine, which went a little something like this:
Dwaine: Heart pounding, lungs burning, just puked a little. On the plus side, I ran for the first time in over a month and my time was much better than I tought it would be. 😀 …pardon me, I gotta puk…
Claudio: It looks like Ima haf to bust ur kneecap. Any preference?
Dwaine: The left one. It’s been acting up anyway. Plus I wanna replace it with something bionic. I’ll be faster than EVER!!!! …on that side at least. …better make it both.
Claudio: Good luck with all that. Do u know why they also called the “Bionic Man” the “Six Million Dollar Man”? Becuz that shit costs money!
Me: I say Claudio goes with Dwaine’s 1st inclination and just bust the left kneecap. I’d love to see Dwaine spinning in clockwise circles after his bionic knee replacement surgery every time he tries to run.
Dwaine: I’d STILL win!
…it would just take me a little longer…

Those two are so competitive. But now I get to sit back and see how long it takes Dwaine to discover this post. Lord knows Jordan hasn’t discovered HERS yet.

It was supposed to be a light week at work with my judge on vacation as with most judges, so that there were more of us than were needed around the County. So I was surprised when my supervisor called me and floated me to Compton Court. I wasn’t happy about it, so on the drive I called Mr. W (who was at home waiting for installation guys to switch over our cable/internet/phone carrier and for his friend Chris to show up so they can hang out all day) for some soothing and sympathy. I got the exact opposite where he rushed off the phone and since I didn’t know what was going on, I was basically hung up on and when I texted him to ask why he hung up, I didn’t get a response and after some time I called him back and he was really irrate that I was calling again because he was working with the cable installer guy and I was interfering. AND it rained unexpectedly through the morning, so I drove to the city that rap artists earn their gang war wounds in, in the rain, found this unfamiliar courthouse, parked in the separate juror lot, walked a block through the rain with no umbrella or coat to the courthouse carrying my manual and file stamps since the handle of the bag I’d brought my materials in ripped off as I got out of the car, and walked into the middle of a murder and assault preliminary hearing. I emailed some coworkers during the hearing to ask if there’s anything special I need to do or note or code for a Prelim since I’d never done one before, and mid-email, sat through an earthquake. The 11th floor I was on swayed for a long time, and I looked around and briefly considered ducking under the desk, but no one else was budging except for a man in the audience who kept looking up and around at the creaking walls in confusion, and I didn’t want to create panic when I had one female bailiff who was watching a very fidgety inmate being held to answer on charges of beating up and trying to kill another inmate in a jail cell in order to help his criminal street gang. So I just sat there and dealt with the swaying. The judge never looked up at me through the entire hearing, and I thought he was upset it took me until 10:20 to get there. Things got better after that.

After the hearing, the judge introduced himself as he got off the bench and I handed him a Christmas card that someone had walked in for him. He looked at the attached document and said that this is from a family friend whom he gets UCLA game tickets from, and I said I’m a Bruin, and he said he was too, and the DA said she was too, and then it was all big happy family from that point on. Turned out the judge was very nice and was just very focused on the Prelim; he’d missed the fact that I’d come in, he’d missed another judge who stood in the courtroom next to the bench for a long time waiting to say hello to him, he’d missed the earthquake. When we tried to identify which judge had come by to visit him, all I could tell him was a physical description and that the visitor said this judge, Judge Herman, is his former boss. I learned Judge Herman is a retired judge just sitting in Compton for now on assignment to help out during the holidays, he was borrowing someone else’s dark courtroom to call these cases, and as we looked through a list of all the judges in the building so he could figure out who’d been by, I learned that half the bench officers in Compton were either his former employees when he was the head district attorney, or his former students when he was a professor at law school. As he got off the bench we got engaged in an hour-long conversation about the current UCLA football team and analysis on their development, coaching strategies, recruitment deficiencies, etc. I learned that the players with the highest IQs are the big boys in the front of the offensive line, contrary to what one might think, because of their need to remember all plays, change and recoordinate their positions and plays as defense changes, AND take a physical hit all at the same time. I learned he used to play college football until an injury took out his left knee and snapped apart every ligament there and that every 5 years, he goes back to an orthopedic surgeon hoping modern medicine has figured out a way to fix his knee, only to be told there is still nothing they can do except a full knee replacement when pain got intolerable. He still went to work out during lunch and came back in time to be on the bench at 1:30p waiting for three misdemeanor cases to come in. During that waiting time, he told me about the distribution of power in relationships (business or personal) being equated to a pie; power over various components are sliced up and designated to one or the other person, and conflicts arise when one person acts on something that’s considered within the other person’s slice of pie, because what’s on the slice is solely the other person’s turf. He said it was important to know to reslice the pie as things change and to allow dynamics to shift, such as when a baby is born, it needs the mother more so the father will do what he needs to assist the mother, keep her happy, but basically stay out of her hair on baby things if she’s got it covered, and as the child grows, it will eventually outgrow the immediate nurturing the mom had provided, and more power would have to shift to the father for leadership, discipline as the stronger hand, helping play sports or something, maybe. The mother would have to let go of that portion of her slice and allow the father to pick it up and that would then be his turf and she’d resign her control over those things (such as coaching the kid in a sport). I liked when he said that his wife told him, “I married you for life, not for lunch,” and they’re careful not to step on each others’ toes when they have their separated interests or activities. And after the hearings were done, he told me about a book he’d just finished reading called “Parallel Worlds,” and we got into quantum physics, religion, the current experiment under Switzerland, the theories of Creation and prophecies vs. mathematical astrophysicists’ projections of the End. As we left, he keyed me in the employee elevator to each floor I had to get off on to distribute orders and files and waited for me so that he could key me to the next floor (I didn’t have internal access to the building), and then was concerned that I had to walk in the rain back to the parking structure. I told him I didn’t think I could shrink any more than my current short size, and he laughed, and said he hopes I’d be back the next day. (I’m not, since I carpooled to work today so I can’t leave on my own.) I really liked him.

After work, I drove to childhood friend Sandy’s house a few neighborhoods over. I arrived starving, since I skipped breakfast as usual (except for my hot mug o’ chia seeds) and skipped lunch knowing that if I left the secured courtroom, I wouldn’t have keys to go back into it after lunch. She made me a big batch of potstickers and we chatted around her dining table while I ate and she watched me, and we drank hot oolong tea with honey. Her cats came by one by one to greet me, and soon I was surrounded by five furry faces. We then retired upstairs to her TV room/loft so I could look for Molly, Mr. W’s favorite cat. I soon sent him this picture by text message to make him jealous:

He wanted me to steal Molly but of course Sandy wouldn’t allow it. Soon her boyfriend Steve came home and we chatted for a long time about Asian parents, psychotic ex-wives, and the little mischievous ghost that’s haunting their house. We ordered pizzas and laughed a lot. I made two white cats (“this one and that one!” I’d say, pointing to each white cat in turn with the laser dot they were chasing. “They have NAMES, ya know!” Steve said in mock offended tone, knowing I can’t tell them apart, so all night it was This One and That One for Lacey and Daisy) chase a red laser light dot in circles, at each other, up a wall, and then made the dot chase the cats as they freaked out and walked backwards and sideways on their toes with their hairs standing up on their spines, which Sandy said she and Steve had never thought to do as they laughed at the cats’ reactions to the role reversal. They may have SEEMED freaked out, but they liked it, because when my arm would get tired and I’d turn off the dot, both white cats would whip around and stare at me with their alien almond eyes until I started with the laser pointer again. Sandy said if I ignored them after the stares, they’d start knocking things off the table to get you to play with them, and they’d go so far as to bat the actual laser pointer at you to force you to pick it up so they can chase the dot. Around the time I was planning to go home, around 10 p.m., her pizza delivery guy showed up and said he had trouble getting to her house because the streets were blockaded by police. We looked out and sure enough, police helicopters were flying overhead shining floodlights around her neighborhood. Great. So I had this text exchange with Mr. W:
me: i cant leave cuz the streets are closed & quarantined & police copters are flying overhead.
Mr. W: What the…..
me: i dunno. we’re watching the news to see what’s going on. all the copter searchlights are on & they’re going around her roof & neighborhood.
Mr. W: That sucks. How often does that happen there? Twice a day or more?
me: sandy says she’s hurt & offended.
Mr. W: What are you gonna do?
me: sit here. steve’s here so we feel safe-ish.
Mr. W: That might be the safest time to leave. When the cops are watching.
me: & get carjacked by a desperate refugee? no thanks!
Mr. W: Are you coming home tonight?
me: there are FIVE cats here!
Eventually the helicopters went away around midnight, which was when I left cuz I figured, they must’ve caught the guy, right? When I went home Mr. W was staying up waiting for me, which is unusual cuz it was so far past his bedtime. He said he wanted to make sure I got home from that area okay. I told him about the helicopters going away. He said that doesn’t mean they caught the guy, it just means they gave up. Great. But I still had a great evening.

I forgot to post photos from a couple of weekends ago when we met up with my dad’s military buddy’s visiting daughter, Jenny, and her Trojan boyfriend Kevin. So here ya go.

We had Chinese hot pot at my parents’. Let’s see how long Cindy can refrain from drinking the champagne.

Apparently, not long.

How many people can you fit on one sofa?

Hmm. If we’re all on the sofa, who took the picture?

The lengths some people go to, to set up the perfect shot!

My parents and grandma are coming to our house for Christmas dinner tomorrow. My parents and I are not traditionalists where these holidays are concerned, so I’m just making what people like to eat. My dad’s a huge seafood fan, so I’m gonna do the Cajun shrimp bowl that was such a hit last time. My grandmother, however, is a very picky eater, and I was stuck. She has a major sweet tooth and constantly complains that various pastries and desserts aren’t sweet enough, so I’m gonna go pick her up a gourmet chocolate cupcake, which I know is plenty sweet. But I don’t think she eats spicy or shrimp, for that matter, so I was stuck as to a main dish for her. I emailed my mom for help. What does grandma like? My mother emailed back that she likes pizza. So our Christmas dinner tomorrow will be shrimp and pizza. Haha!

My mom’s been trying to unload my childhood baby grand piano on me since I moved out, years ago, but there was never room for it. Now that I’m on house #2, there still isn’t room for it because Mr. W and I merged our separate furniture together in a not-particularly spacious residence. We’re talking about getting rid of most the downstairs furniture (2 leather couches, 1 fabric couch, 3 coffee tables/credenzas, possibly a bookshelf or two, wooden dining table and 4 dining chairs) and starting over with coordinated sets, simplifying our spaces. Ideally, we’d be able to Craigslist off our stuff and put that money toward new furniture. This will clear room not for the baby grand, but for an electronic piano. Mr. W went shopping with his ex-neighbor buddy a couple of months ago and they were impressed by some very technology-forward keyboards that felt and sounded like real pianos, but with advanced options that Mr. W really liked, such as being able to plug into his computer so he could do sound recordings and edits with computer programs. (Yes, it’d be another one of his toys.) We then went to Thanksgiving in Vegas and saw that his Gamer Bro, who’s always at the front line of new technology and techie toys, has purchased an advanced Kawai keyboard that not only emulates the piano feel and sound impressively, but also does hundreds of other voices and sound effect combinations, connects to his computer to play downloadable midi files, will play and “teach” sheet music downloadable from a particular site on the internet through video and keyboard demo, and the sheet music will display on the screen and highlight as the notes are played so the player can follow along. It also records multiple scores so that a song can by played with one voice, then layered over with other instruments and voices and compositions, for an end result that sounds orchestral. Mr. W was salivating at the possibilities. When we returned from Vegas, he went to multiple music stores and hunted for the ideal electronic piano. He nows thinks he’s found it in a Yamaha electronic piano thousands of dollars OVER that which his brother spent (which price tag Mr. W had shaken his head at when he saw his brother’s new toy), and the sucker displays its own screen set into the piano, AND all the tons of voices are so convincingly real that on a guitar mode, for example, you can hear the metallic squeal of the strings between notes when a guitarist would run his fingers quickly over the frets on a key change. And it does karaoke. And of course, it plugs into the computer. I should note here that Mr. W wants this electronic piano really, really BADLY…and that he doesn’t play the piano. But he’s got it set in his head that the presence of a keyboard is the only thing standing between him and beautiful music on-demand, maybe even newly composed music, brought into existence by me. That’s a lot of pressure for a rusty pianist like myself. Thankfully, though, after playing with Gamer Bro’s piano for a bit, and then going to visit my parents this weekend and playing on the old baby grand, piano playing came back to me. I was able to sight-read faster and hit the notes more accurately. Mr. W said, when we were leaving, “I’m DEFINITELY getting you a piano.”

Odd little tidbit: while at the piano shop where Mr. W first played with the Yamahas, I looked at the baby grands and were surprised how much smaller they were than the one I remembered at my parents’ house. I asked the salesguy, “Did baby grands get smaller in the last, oh, 2 decades?” He said not really, but then sizes have always varied between brands and styles anyway. I hadn’t known that, I’d always thought there were regulation sizes for “baby grand,” “standard grand,” and “concert grand.” He said they have given parameters, but can vary up to quite a few inches. Hmm. This weekend at my parents’ house, I stared at the profile of the baby grand. Mr. W asked my parents something about it, and my dad said, “No! This isn’t a baby grand, this is a regular grand!” REALLY?! No wonder it wouldn’t fit in either of my two houses! I’m really surprised my parents bought their 6-year-old just learning to play the piano a standard grand! I guess I was more spoiled than I knew.

Driving to work this morning, I heard Ryan Seacrest (on his radio show on KIIS FM) talking about how Killer Shrimp used to be his spot, and how the one in the Valley closed down. He asked if anyone knew if the one in Marina was still around. A caller phoned in and said that no, that one had shut down a couple of years ago, too, which is something I was fully aware of and lamented sorely about on here. As Ryan and the caller mourned the disappearance of the great Cajun shrimp restaurant, the caller said she’d heard that they’re about to open one in Chicago. Now I have two restaurants I would go back to Chicago for, Sanfratello’s Pizza and Killer Shrimp!
The coincidence about Ryan Seacrest’s topic is that I had, only last night, downloaded my RIP Killer Shrimp Dinner photos so that I could blog about it.

Diana and Eric came down for their first visit to our house a few weekends ago. I’d found a recipe that was supposed to be Killer Shrimp’s recipe for the bowl of shrimp in Cajun broth, unofficially. Since Diana had also known and loved Killer Shrimp, we decided to try out this recipe in honor of the late restaurant chain.
This is the French baguette bread (we got ours from Lee’s Sandwiches) that is sliced up and served in abundance with the shrimp, for use in scooping shrimp out of the broth and for dunking in broth.

These are the dried herbs that I crushed by hand with mortar and pestle.

Here’s me crushing away in a UCLA shirt, because three Bruins are eating this dinner that night.

This is the table all set for the Killer Shrimp dinner, with two roses from our garden.

Here’s a super-lame picture of me looking pleased as I stirred the broth in a cauldron almost taller than I am. The separate pot next to the big pot is some separated-out broth, Eric’s portion, cuz he doesn’t like his food as spicy as the rest of us like it. Eric’s portion is less “Cajun.”

College roommie Diana sitting down and getting ready to chow down!

Everyone agreed the dinner was a success and the flavor was very authentic. We just have to remember to double the amount of crushed red pepper next time.

RIP, Killer Shrimp! I hope the rumors of your resurrection in Chicago are true, and if so, I’ll see you there! If not, we’ll eat on like this in your memory.

Ann had always intended to bake and decorate Christmas cookies one year, so she decided this year was the year. By the time I got there after work, she’d already had the sugar cookie dough done and in the oven, and was working on the gingerbread dough.

[Here’s a side story about how dependent I am on cell phones now. My cell died shortly after I arrived at work this morning, so I had to IM Ann to make plans this evening instead of doing our usual texting, then I had to leave messages on two friends’ social networking sites to let them know that my phone had died after they’d texted me, I wasn’t ignoring them. I’d planned to call the roofer to inquire as to what ceiling damage they’re willing to cover on some leaks that occurred at my rented-out home after they’d repaired the roof, but I couldn’t because their number is solely stored in my cell phone. And before I left work, I IMed Ann again to let her know I was on my way, and that I would have to arrive at her doorstep unannounced except for the doorbell (like in the old days!), whereas I’d normally text to say I was walking up to her building and she’d be at the door. At Ann’s, I had to borrow her cell phone to call Mr. W to let him know where I was and how to reach me if need be. As we were waiting for the cookies to cool, I volunteered to drive out to El Pollo Loco to pick up dinner. In the car, I attempted to put the address of the restaurant in the navigation system, but the nav wouldn’t pick it up. Instead of calling Ann, I had to walk back to her apartment, up the two flights of stairs, and ask her for directions. Then I walked back down to the car and was off. As soon as I walked into El Pollo Loco, I realized I’d forgotten to ask Ann what two sides she wanted with her meal, so I had to guess. When I returned, Ann said she’d realized it after I left, too, but of course she couldn’t call me to tell me that. Sheesh!]

During the cookie-decorating part of our evening, we struggled with getting the meringue icing to cooperate with what we wanted it to do. The sprinkles weren’t behaving in the way we thought they would, either. In a moment of silence as we worked in intense concentration, Ann noted that this is the quietest we’ve ever been while hanging out with each other. I don’t think it was quiet again after that, especially as I started sharing my creations’ backgrounds with her. She laughed at me for having a story around each of my cookies. It’s an only-child thing, I always had stories about everything, giving inanimate objects identities, when I was little and had no one else to play with. So here they are…

GINGERBREAD PEOPLE

Top left: This cookie came out of the cutter bigger than the other gingerbread people, so I explained the extra girth by giving him an open mouth (cuz he likes to eat) and a beer belly.
Top middle: This is angry evil gingerbread man. He’s carrying a long sword cuz he wants to kill somebody. And probably eat him. I have a picture of my friend Josh that looks like this mean gingerbread man.

Can you spot Josh? Hint: He looks like Evil Mr. Gingerbread Man.
Back to the Gingerbread Peeps. Top right: Miss Pageant Lady. She has a French manicure and French pedicure.
Bottom left: Art deco Gingerbread Person of Nondescript Gender.
Bottom leftish-middleish: Gingerbread Slut. She’s wearing too much makeup, had a collagen lip injection, is wearing a dress, high heels, AND a pearl necklace. *sideglance*
Bottom rightish-middleish: Wifebeater-clad Gingerbread Man. I could say he’s a caroler holding a songbook, but I’d be lying. The truth is he is one of my first cookies, before I knew what I was doing. Mr. W ate Wifebeater Gingerbread Man first.
Bottom right: Mr. Uncooperative Gingerbread Man. This is my 2nd attempt and he’s sympathizing with me about how difficult it is to work with this gooey frosting. He and I simultaneously went “Nyah.”

SUGAR COOKIE FOREST

Self-explanatory. They’re Christmas trees — or for those of you who resent Christian symbolism infused into our holidays, these are pine tree air fresheners that harken back to those stinky cardboard cutouts dangling from the rearview mirrors of various cigarette-sucking taxicab drivers.

Here’s the forest from a slightly different angle. All right, there are SOME stories.
Top left: It snowed on this tree, landed on the edges of the branches, and then a holiday fairy came by and made the snow all sparkly and pretty.
Top middle: This tree was decorated by paintball splatters.
Top right: Daisy-like flowers grew on this tree! It’s a miracle!
Bottom left: This is a Christmas tree trimmed with Christmas ornaments. Some gingerbread peeps did it.
Bottom middle: This is the “after” of the first cookie, after some more snow.
Bottom right: Hannukah meets Christmas in plaid!

SUGAR COOKIE SNOWMEN

It’s not that I’m being politically incorrect or sexist by calling them snowmen instead of snowpeeps; it’s that I did not make any snowchicks. I mean, they’re all wearing top hats! I don’t think women should be in top hats unless they’re tapdancing or pulling bunnies out of them. I couldn’t think of much to do with these little guys so they’re uncreative, but look how happy they are to be that way! Mr. W wanted to know why the top right snowman (the one in galoshes) is pigeon-toed, and the answer is, because he’s shy.

MISCELLANEOUS, i.e. STOCKINGS, A MITTEN, AND A DREIDEL

These stockings need to be hung on the chimneys with care, or they’d crumple or melt and wouldn’t be able to double as Santa treats.
Top left: This stocking is where I learned that the round candy sprinkles ruin the most carefully-made designs. This sock holds both an asterisk AND a pound sign. But can you tell after I added the sprinkles? Sadly, no.
Top right: A tribute to the Boston Red Sox. It was easier to do the patches red instead of the entire cookie. That’s WAY too much frosting to eat.
Bottom left: A Christmas-colored sock!
Bottom right: This mitten doubles as a dog’s pawprint! For those mutts who like to wear mits.
Right: Dreidel dreidel dreidel, I made you out of dough…

Now you can appreciate what I attempted to do with Sock #1.

COOKIE VILLAGE CHAOS!!

Mr. W’s daughter just came home as I was typing this, and walked into the kitchen cooing, “How cuuuute!” Mr. W made me go over and tell her the stories for all these little cookies. The problem with having stories about your creations is that now your creations have life and character, and eating them feels like murdering my children. I guess I’ll have to leave it up to Mr. W and Daughter to let these cookies fulfill their purpose in their tummies.