Day 4 of Sharing People of Color

 

People are offended when you bring up white privilege, it is not about the privilege of money but privilege of skin color.  My most lovely niece was adopted from Korea as a baby and is now approaching 30. She feels compelled to travel with her adoption and citizen papers.  I know hard-working farm hands, here legally for decades but from another land.  Their accents make them targets and they feel unsafe.  How can I help them, I’m a white older lady and I’m scared. I’m a coward.

Day 3 of Sharing-Insults

 

Day 3 of Sharing-Insults

F**king b*tch. He said it. I do not need to explain who “he” is. My whole life has been spent proving I’m as good as men.  It is not the same as being called a f**king as-shole. B*tch, is a dog, you are less than man’s best friend.   You have no worth.  Don’t push back or you are considered difficult, you need to be put in your place and you’re going to show me who is in charge.  Well look at me, I’m strong and brave and will live to fight another day.

The Rabbit Hole

 

Such hard times we are living in.  How far apart we are in our opinions, disbelieving of the views of people we have known for weeks, years, our whole lives. Rather than continuing to rail against opposition of the administration, I have decided that I will share how I feel personally.

How I despair. How I hope.

In a scroll-by world, it can be too much to digest in one reading. In hopes of sharing my feelings more openly, I will post them one by one—each reflecting how the current political climate directly impacts my life and my dreams.

When this project is finished, I will share the complete composition. Please, rather than defend the opposing view, just move on. I am too fragile to fight with you anymore.

Day 1 of Sharing-Science and Research Funding

My sweet granddaughter is almost two but has a rare genetic diagnose where only 1 in 160 thousand babies are impacted. Before the 1980s, children like her didn’t make it past five known as “failure to thrive”.

Delilah is one of the youngest children ever to receive treatment developed through research programs as part of the National Institute Health. And I am crushed. Crushed that further research funding is held hostage. Crushed that the permanent solution she will need might never come.

What up?

What the hey Tuna Nation, getting a flurry of likes this month. Did I say vagina, vagina, vagina or something?

Focus Grasshopper

As much as I love Super Boss, he has the attention span of a gnat.  He is the first to confess that he is easily distracted by side conversations, email……….donuts. Just about anything.   And he retains only about half of what I say since he brain drifts off, the female voice must operate at too high an octave or like a dog whistle.  

I had a meeting with him and New Engineer, super shiny and smart, to discuss a particularly challenging design issue in his paper crammed office for which we didn’t have the project background.

“Let’s call Joe, he has all the info”. Picks up his phone, gives a little laugh as he reads a text from his wife, and commences to tell a cute follow up story about his daughter.  Puts the phone back down.

New Engineer:  “Now I know what you’re talking about.”

Super Boss: “What?” Call Joe, like ET phone home.

During my annual review as we were ticking through my previous development goals, it dawns on him that 99.9% of my action items were preceded by something HE was supposed to do first.  During this same group hug, I pointed out he had never sent me the job requirements for the fancy job promotion.

“I didn’t? Let me do it right now.” And embarks on looking through his email and then starts reading client emails to me.  2 months later, I’m still waiting to receive.  He compensated by giving me a nice raise and a little bonus.  Scared I’ll leave and he’ll have to depend on himself again for all his organizational shortcomings.

Coconut Lime Chicken

4 skinless chicken breasts

3 tablespoons olive oil

Zest of 1 large lime

1 teaspoon cumin

2 tablespoons soy sauce

1 ½ teaspoon kosher salt

3 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons curry powder

¾ cup canned coconut milk

Juice of 1 lime

¼ cup chopped cilantro.

Put chicken breasts in a ziplock. In a bowl, combine oil, lime zest, cumin, soy sauce, salt, sugar, curry, coconut milk and lime juice and pour over chicken. Marinade for at least 2 hours or better overnight.  Grill chicken until done. If you save the marinade and cook in a small sauce pan boiling for 4 or 5 minutes to kill the bacteria it is worth the effort.  You can either serve over rice or better in tortillas with lettuce and tomatoes.  Garnish with cilantro.

The big galute is also like having a teen boy who speaks before thinking the whole thing through.  One of our goals in 2016 is to work more on the marketing efforts. I am trying to not channel the spirt of Beer Girl, I certainly don’t have her giggle or boobs.  I’d set up a meet and greet with a particularly short architect we’d like to do a little business with.    They were hitting off famously, talking about San Diego and golf games. I zone out at this point since golf is a ridiculous game, the same response when it comes on TV and I fall asleep to their droning stiff upper lip voices.  

And then Super Boss launches into to a funny golf story involving a side bet that his buddy could drive a ball from he’s knees further that the MIDGET that was doing  a golf promotion. Snapped me right back into it.  He knew it was wrong as soon as he said it but couldn’t help himself, he didn’t know how to stop, he said midget 5 more times.  Stop. Talking. Now.   As we stood up and said goodbye, I couldn’t help but notice said architect only came up to my armpit. No hard feelings I’m sure.   I’ve got three more potential client meetings scheduled with Super Boss this week. Focus Grasshopper, snatch the pebble from my hand. Wish me luck Team Tuna.

Hello. It's me.

Hello. It’s me.

I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to hear me. (Adele)

Okay, maybe it hasn’t been years. But it certainly has been more than 45 minutes.  Long enough for a beer run certainly. But truth be told Team Tuna, misery is what sparks the snarky part of me.  Since leaving Endless Engineering, it has been coasting along. I did hear that Beer Girl with her long blond hair extensions and fake boobs left, no doubt once I bailed she was over faced with having to do her own freaking job.  

But my Facebook page has been suddenly getting a little action including a few new followers in the last week, thanks Kathy and Marion.  We’ve never met but I am a bit of a follower whore. The daily views could be by someone who recently defriended me, I wonder if they think I might write a post about them. It could happen. Blocking me from you Facebook is the equivalent to an electronic restraining order.  And very tempting.

Things however been a bit jammed packed with buying a house, selling a house, packing and lugging our shit across town.  The same faithful friends showed up on moving day but it only served to show that not only are we 15 years older, so are our friends.  The Big Tuna and I had a Thirty Three and a third wedding anniversary party to celebrate the new digs. A third of a century, that’s in real time, not dog years.

New House View

Additionally, I did a cross country trip with Sheldon to move her from the icy east coast since the Brit got a fab job in Seattle. Word to the wise, never, ever, ever, get off the Texas interstate during an icy storm to drive on the frontage road because it might appear it would be faster.  Never. Ever.  Mommy’s imaginary brake pedal was in overdrive. At least now we’re on the same time zone to talk on the phone. 

Better Engineering is still pretty entertaining. I mean it still has its challenges with the 12-year olds, Grumpy Guy and Super Boss but meh, its fine.   The other Project Manager stole one of my 12-year olds and replaced him with an Autistic Engineer, Augie.  The sole reason they assigned said engineer to me was to document him to be fired with my amazing way with writing words. Something all of you already know if you’re reading this blog. It didn’t bode well for him when he tried to awkwardly flirt with me.  

“Umm… Augie, I’m old enough to be your mom.”

“Not possible, how old are you” as he fidgeted and wrapped his arms around his own waist to give himself a little self-hug love.

“52” I shared.

“That’s WAAAAAY older than my mom! I mean WAY older.”

This is going on your permanent record for sure. Fortunately I made him go through enough flaming hoops to make him quit rather than having to fire him. Sigh, everything I learned about managing staff I learned by being the parent to a teenager.

Since I am still working a zillion hours a week, I did stumble upon an easy crockpot meatloaf.  This is after all a recipe blog.

Slow Cooker Meatloaf

2-pounds ground beef

½ pound ground Italian sausage

1 onion finely chopped

3 large carrots halved

2 eggs

1 ½ cups ketchup divided

¾ cup seasoned breadcrumbs

¼ cup light brown sugar

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon garlic powder divided

1 teaspoon pepper

½ teaspoon yellow mustard

Place carrots in the bottom of your crockpot. Combine beef, sausage, onion, ¾ cup ketchup, breadcrumbs, eggs, ½ teaspoon garlic powder, Worcestershire, salt, pepper, mx well with your hands. You won’t die from touching it, do it.  Form meat into a loaf and place gently on top of carrots.  In same bowl, mix remaining ingredients and spread over the top of the loaf. Cover and cook on low of 8 hours.  If you felt inclined, you could serve over some mashed potatoes.

Maybe this little post will inspire me to crank out more posts. I could write about the drunk employee I just fired, Super Boss’ major ADD, world domination of the volunteer organizations or my brand new horse I just bought for a dollar.  Dealer’s choice. So show me a little love by commenting so I know I’m not in the dead zone. Good week Team Tuna.

Tuna in the House?

Hmmm....Mrs. Tuna had two new Facebook looks this week, is this a sign she should write something new?

Mommy Dearest

Better Engineering is well, better, way better.  I can’t believe I’ve been there for almost nine months, almost enough time to birth a baby. No more Endless Engineering, no longer being made to feel dumber than a rock, and best of all no fantastically fake Beer Girl. My new manager, Super Boss, tells me that I’m freaking amazing and allows me to run with scissors through the halls.   They even hired me a couple of 12-year old engineers to do a lot of the heavy lifting who are practically peeing their pants in their giddy excitement of being on a grownup team. 

But recently I have noticed a shift in how the professional world perceives me now.   I had a field meeting for a roadway design project that is located on tribal land with official state transportation oversight.  A major requirement for the visit where you play in traffic is to wear an attractive safety vest and hardhat. Stunning visual, me and helmet hair.   One of our sub consultants, Little Kenny, was far from that. Not only did he have to borrow a vest, we practically had to zip two of them together to straddle his massive girth.  The tribe gracious invited us to lunch at their casino where Little Kenny visited the buffet, three times to the point where the waitress offered him a bib.  Burp, I was afraid he was going to swallow me whole like a boa constrictor.

As we were saying our solemn goodbyes with steady handclasps, Kenny leapt upon me with a sweaty embrace declaring he just “gotta hug all the ladies”.  Awwwkkkkk, stop it, I am 15 years older than your target demographic.  I know I’m the only female here but hug Joe, my co-worker, if you need to feel the love.

The following week, on the way to another meeting, I recount the tale to Super Boss explaining that I work hard at radiating my super personal space bubble and my firm man handshake.    Then as I provide the introduction to an old client, I stick out my hand, only to get, “we’ve known each other a long time” hug. What the hell is going on? Am I in an alternate universe? I usual nip this shit in the bud. I once told a guy to stop calling me girl since hadn’t been a girl since I got my period at twelve in front of six coworkers.

Been feeling the need for less bread and more veggies in my diet so here is a little salad gig recipe my Sistah gave me.

Cashew Broccoli Salad

2 bunches raw broccoli cut into bite size pieces

1 pound cooked and crumbled bacon

¼ cup raisins

½ cup cashews

1 cup mayo

½ sugar

½ teaspoon white vinegar

Mix broccoli, bacon, raisins and cashews in a bowl. In separate bowl whisk together mayo, sugar and vinegar and pour over other. Chill several hours before serving.

At my husband’s holiday soiree I had an epiphany about all this free love as a young sale rep moved in for a little squeeze.  My thirties and forties flashed before my eyes. I have transitioned from being the Hot Chick to the comfortable Mom Hug. Ughh. Come here you widdle baby, didum have a no good horrible day?  There, there, come a little closer, so I can whip you with some wire hangers like Joan Crawford.    I am now going to go gargle with a little Botox and rest my weary head.  I’d sign this with XOXOXO but I don’t want to give any of you any ideas.  Good week Team Tuna.

Party Pooper

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want to. Shit, now that little ditty is stuck in my head, yours too now I suppose. You’re welcome.  

Sheldon is turning, gasp, 25 years old! This is simply not possible, I cannot be the mother of a grown ass woman.  Like really grown up, not the young adult that tries to insist you can’t tell them what to do because they are over 18. As you make their cell phone, tuition, and car insurance payment.  

In my head I am still that thin, happening, young mom of thirty five. So essentially, I had Sheldon when I was 10, no problem, I can accept that.  Until I walk by a mirror and see the wrinkled neck line and cellulite that has now turned doughy.  Maybe I’ll just dim the lights and take off my glasses so I look a bit softer and more fuzzy. 

Sheldon and the Brit are still living away from the mother ship of Arizona in far, far away Pennsylvania/Maryland but I’m jetting in for her big day.  I’ll get to see their new adventures on the east coast including spending the day at her new job as a shiny new middle school math teacher. I am Show & Tell.  Since everyone should have their favorite meal on their birthday below is hers.

Beef Stroganoff     

1 pound beef cubed

½ cup flour

Salt and pepper to taste

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 cans beef consume

½ cup sour cream

Combine flour, salt and pepper in a bowl. Dredge meat in flour mixture. Heat oil in a large skillet and brown meat on all sides. Remove with slotted spoon and place in a saucepan. Add consume and cook on medium heat for 20 minutes covered. Add sour cream and cook until heated throughout. Do not boil. Serve over hot egg noodles.

As a big surprise, I’ve created a Prezi presentation that shows our little flower 25-year evolution. Shhhh….I’m not telling her until her actually birthday. It’s like fancy Microsoft PowerPoint, a little exposure tip from Beer Girl. 

https://prezi.com/n_vft481qxy2/kimberlys-birthday-no-music/

https://prezi.com/gpazf2jd_g4n/kimberlys-birthday-musical/

Above are two links, one with and one without music played by our baby girl while she was in Russia. I did two because the musical one might make your computer choke and die since it’s so big. In the lower right corner of the presentation, there is  button that allows you to run it on a loop, pick 4 second interval. Do It. Now. Please, no snarky remarks about Mrs. Tuna’s polygamist hair or said scrunchies.   Heart you Team Tuna!

The Simple Days

Ah, the simple days....

Fantastic!

It suffices to say that Endless Engineering was sucking the life out of me.  For the first time in my career, I felt like I could not engineer my way out of a paper bag.  What was there to blog about, Beer Girl using boobs and hair setting women’s rights back about 50 years?  And when she giggled and used her pageant pose when shit didn’t get done they giggled too and thought she was adorable?  It was more like Toddlers and Tampons then Tiaras. I.Was.Over.It.  

I began to realize that the favorite marketing word was “Fantastic”. The blond bimbo sat right outside my office, every other sentence included this gem. “You got the message I left you, fantastic!” “I have a fantastic marketing idea that includes Vegas showgirls on the sponsored golf hole!” “You had the admin person pick up my dry-cleaning? Fantastic!”  I made it a little mental drinking game. Every time she uttered her favorite word I took a mental tequila shot. The only problem was that I was punch drunk by 9 AM.  

But……I have escaped and we will never speak of it again. Except in snarky and amusing ways. Boss 1 couldn’t be bothered to set up time for an exit interview. He wants to know if we can have lunch in a few weeks and do it then. Ummm…..Pass.

My new project manager job starts tomorrow. Company name to be decided upon suitable reflection time and personalities are developed. Since I don’t want to be sued for slander by Endless Engineering, I will move on….for now.

Instead I will share the joys of home improvements in the form of bathroom remodeling.   The Big Tuna and I only have about a 90 minute shopping tolerance.  Making it very difficult to compare color swatches and textures when so overwhelmed but the choices. But the Man has a fatal shopping flaw. HE CAN’T STAY WITH THE CART!!!!  A prime example was once when I had my gallbladder out, I invited him to come help me with the heavy lifting.  He would drift off to miscellaneous aisles to return with armloads of snacks and treats. I could hardly push those $268 in groceries to the checkout stand.

In the tile store I was trying to work with their in store consultant only to spot the Big Tuna wandering in the wood floor aisle.  “This is why after 30 years, I shop alone, come here, come here, come here”, I shriek across the warehouse of wholesale tile using the front office megaphone.  Price check on marital sanity.  This week I tried a new casserole. Yum.

Sausage-Green Bean Casserole

2 Tablespoons olive oil

12 ounces frozen green beans defrosted in microwave

1 small onion chopped

1 pound ground Italian sausage

½ cup roasted red peppers chopped

2 cloves garlic minced

1-16 ounce tube cooked polenta (found at Trader Joe’s) cut in ¼ inch rounds

½ cup chicken broth

½ cup shredded parmesan cheese

Heat olive oil and brown onion and garlic until translucent. Add ground sausage and brown. Stir in red peppers and green beans and cook 2 minutes. Layer polenta, sausage mixture, polenta, sausage mixture. Top with chicken broth and parm cheese. Bake at 425 degrees for 20 minutes.

But I figured out what many women before have used to tether their escaped convicts/husbands.  Hey baby, will you hold my purse, I’ll only be a minute.  Have Fantastic Week! Now drink up. 

My Big Fat Secret Blog

Soooooo........someone had potentially ratted me out to Endless Engineering about not being as kind as I could on evil Facebook. It scared the bejesus out of me so I made all my rantings secret and private here and there.

But yesterday I gave my notice to Boss 1 and Boss 2 that next Friday will be my last day. I feel like I need to keep it on the down low until after next week. At that time, I will regale you tales of hilarity, including how the Big Tuna can't STAY WITH THE CART, even after 30 years.  Stay tuned, same time, same place, same Tuna Channel.

Snow-mageddon

In looking back, I can’t believe it’s been 3 months since I last posted.  What a lazy bitch I am. Perhaps this is a guilt post since Meg from Member’s Lounge dropped me a plea.  Well while the rest of you are enjoying day 57 off from work due to inclement snow, some of us are curled up on the couch with the flu.  Oh you might say I deserve it living in 75 degree weather every day, but I am currently stuck watching Teen Mom 2 since it seems like too much effort to get the remote.  Okay, maybe I like it.  A little bit.  

But I can tell you whose fault it is for the Polar Vortex, Sheldon and the Brit. Oh they were so hoity toitey about their perfect weather in southern California.  Because………the day after Thanksgiving they moved to FREAKING PENNSYLVANIA for some amazing job offer.  They poo poo’d the change in climate saying the most snow they ever got in York was a mere 20-inches a year. Except they got all of that in the first 20 minutes they were there.  By angering the weather channel gods, they have brought the wrath of an Armageddon winter to the I-95 corridor. 

Christmas via Skype 

But it is sooooooooooooooooooooooooo far. Waaahhhh,  our first Christmas apart.  My baby girl’s distant from the bosom of Tunaville.  But at least she is near to our extended family, frankly closer than she was to us living in the land of milk and honey. Sniff, sniff, I’m sure she’s fine, learning to drive on black ice, and chip ice off of her windshield with the edge of her credit card. In her first snow call home she shrilly announced that snow wasn’t soft and delicate, it positively melted when it landed on her. The major reason I fled New Jersey 30 years ago was because I knew I’d melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.

This week is a deep fried something, something to take away my pain.

Crunchy Honey Garlic Pork Chops

1 pound pork chops

2 eggs

4 tablespoons water

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon each salt, pepper, garlic powder

Oil for frying

Glaze:

2 tablespoons butter

1 ½ cups honey

1 tablespoon minced garlic

½ cup brown sugar

½ teaspoon grated fresh ginger

½ cup soy sauce

Whisk eggs and water together in shallow dish, mix flour, salt, pepper, garlic powder in separate bowl.  Dip chops in flour first, then egg mixture and again in flour mixture.  Heat oil on medium high heat and cook chops for 6 minutes each side. Don’t turn or it will lose its coating.  Next melt butter in small sauce pan and add minced garlic for a minute or so. Add honey, soy sauce, brown sugar and fresh ginger.  Heat glaze ingredients for about 5 minutes.  Pour half of glaze into a 9” x 13” glass baking dish. Place pork chops on top and coat with remaining glaze. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Frankly, I couldn’t get over how moist the chops were, I was convinced they’d get all dried out and nasty from frying. 

The newlyweds were all hot to purchase a house before they even arrived on the scene.  Not the most practical approach to Sheldon’s overly practical parents.  Why not wait until you are actually on the scene since you have no idea where anything is relative to anything else. They were falling in love with pictures of adorable cottages, ignoring homes in the floodplain or missing roof tiles.  Fortunately, they finally opted to rent for a year and didn’t end up in a bad neighborhood of Amish Crypts and Bloods.  Ouch, I just felt a snot bubble pop in my brain, must rest my weary head. Good week Team Tuna.

Girl Interrupted

I remember when I use to have a blog, you remember when I had it too don’t cha? Oh the casual rants of a middle aged woman seeking to show the world that she was the biggest, baddest, smarty pants of them all. Balancing job layoffs, full time work, full time school, marrying off her beloved daughter, what the shit happened?

After birthing my graduation and Sheldon’s royal wedding, I somehow ran out of words, hard to believe.  I see dead people, okay not really you fraidy cats. Stop it. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs. See, all the letters of the alphabet at least are at my fingertips.   But I’m going to just throw up on paper what swirls in my head.  

I had the opportunity to revisit ASU last week under the guise of promoting the Engineering Career Fair. Sweaty palmed males wearing suits purchased for their sister's wedding clumped together like geeky future colleagues.  The wafts of Axe Body Spray alternated with overwhelming body odor that could kill a pyramid of cheerleaders.   Every moist and limp handshake made me feel compelled to gargle with hand sanitizer.

Apparently I am not considered booth babe enough for the raging male hormones and Beer Girl was assigned to “help”.  Her long flowing tresses and fake boobs certainly enticed the shy awkward boys in but instead of asking questions about their career goals and GPA, she quizzed them about the best spots for 2 for 1 shot night.  They gobbled her up like trick or treat candy.  This week's (or frankly this season’s) recipe is a simple avocado salsa that Sheldon fed me on one of my trips to see my beloved baby girl.

Avocado Salsa

1-Jalepeno seeded and chopped

3 tablespoons cilantro chopped

4 tablespoons red onion minced

3 to 4 avocados cubed

Juice from 2 limes

Throw it all in a bowl and stir. Done. Easy as pie people.  We ate it on top of grilled fish and then the leftovers with a spoon.  That way we could convince ourselves we were all noble and diet like because we didn’t use tortilla chips to scoop it up.  

How I’ve missed the campus life. It seems like a hundred years ago since I graduated but in truth, just a mere 10 months ago that I had fodder for this pathetic blog.  Seeing girls wearing shorts with their lady parts hanging down and Ugg boots have invigorated me.  Let’s hope the inspiration continues, next week maybe I’ll tell how I didn’t key that guy’s BMW and instead resisting the daily urge not to swing my car door into his for a well-deserved door ding.  Go Team Tuna.

King of His Castle

Bah, Endless Engineering and Beer Girl have been using up all my fictitious spare time. You would have thought once I completed college I’d been rolling in time. Basking by the pool and the swim up bar. But no, that would have been simply way too silly to consider. Instead I am resisting the urge to mainline No-Doze at 9 PM when trapped at the office working. Yes working after getting in at 6 AM. I am reading some of Beer Girl’s best work.  A recent write up she is submitting for a potential award.

"Placement of the channel was also critical. In order to preserve the natural beauty of the area, the channel was placed behind the trees along Rabbit Road, so no trees were harmed during this process. The squirrels were very pleased to have their trees." 

I.Am.Not.Kidding. Needless to say it hasn’t left me anytime to post fabulous updates on my life. Because basically, I no longer have one.  

Instead I will go back to my lovely vacation a month ago to California. The last time I had any fun at all. We stayed at our time share in Avila Beach, right on the ocean and simply fab.  We had a neat ocean view if we carefully leaned out over the balcony and looked to the right.  But they waited on us hand and foot. Our fridge was crapping out, no worries, they just wheeled in another.  Heaven forbid I couldn’t chill my wine and freeze ice cubes. Everything else is incidental.  Sheldon used her new job sales skills and scored us lots of extra free wine tasting tickets. Sniff, so proud I raised her with her priorities in the right place.

We decided one day to make a field trip up to Hearst Castle. In retrospect, taking the Brit with us emphasized the how uncouth and uncool Americans really are.  Earlier in the year we did the Birthday Cake Castle in Phoenix.  He was a bit horrified that he had to wear shoe booties inside so as not to mar the floors. He pointed out that he’d spent his youth climbing all over the strongholds of Europe without so much as a guide. Yeah, well, we have only a teeny tiny history here Bucko so we have to add hoopla.

Hearst Castle was pretty darn cool but a bit of a racket. After reserving your tickets, you are limited to see only certain rooms and for the love of God,  STAY ON THE CARPET PATHWAYS! Practically armed guards to make sure you don’t wander off willy nilly.   But they had cool wild zebras on the property. We practically crashed the rental car in our attempt to stop and take pictures.

Now my baby girl has started her own blog, the New Mrs. G, to discuss all things Pinterest. The same as crack for crafters. I sneeze at glitter and glue sticks make me dizzy. Please go over and leave her a little comment love and encouragement.  In her honor I’m posting one of her favorite recipes.

Popovers

1 cup four

½ teaspoon salt

3 large eggs

1 cup milk

1 tablespoon melted butter

Shortening

Sift flour and salt into bowl. Beat eggs and add milk and butter.  Pour into flour mixture. Beat until smooth for 2 minutes with electric mixer. Important that it is smooth and not lumpy. Pour batter into shortening greased muffin tins. (Cast iron, THE BEST!) Bake at 375 degrees for 50 to 55 minutes. No peeking or it will cause them to fall. Serve with butter and jam.

My Sistah, husband and the Girl met us there as well. An interesting twist was the Girl changed her Facebook status to “In a Relationship” while there.  But I am obviously blocked since only Sheldon could verify. Not to worry, we tortured her appropriately.  That’s my job right?

The Girl, Day 5 of Captivity

As you put yourselves to bed, please think of those of us chained to our desks at midnight. Good week (or month at this rate) Team Tuna.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

This past week I spent with my Sistah’s family and the newlyweds. As always when I go to San Luis Obispo, I have pangs of nostalgia. It was my mom’s favorite place, where we scattered her ashes overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

When you are young, your parents document your life’s achievements and moments to create your personal history. Given all of the technology available, they snap digital cameras and movie clips which they assemble in impressive scrapbooks and Facebook posts. It reminds them of your accomplishments and how proud they are of you.  Their children are, in fact, their shining star, illuminated, and center stage in their lives.  I confess that I am somewhat guilty of recording much of my daughter’s life in a similar manner.  My own mother, with whom my daughter and were very close, passed away after a long battle with cancer three years ago.   I know we were the shining light of her life as she was of ours.

In going through her things, we were surprised at what she kept as mementos. It was difficult to decide what to save and what to donate as my daughter didn’t want to depart with a single thing. Many of the items had no real dollar value and were only for my mom’s sense of wanting to mark a distinctive moment in time.   There was a beautiful aquamarine ring that her father had brought back from India. He told her the blue green color reminded him of her eyes. My grandfather was a single parent for most of her life who passed away when I was in kindergarten. She wore it only on special occasions and always told us funny stories about him when she did. 

There was also a colored pencil sketch that someone did of her in her early thirties on lined notebook paper. It was stuck in a folder to keep the edges from curling yet never framed. It was lovely, but we don’t know why she didn’t display it. Buried amongst the scraps of paper were letters that my sister and I had written to the Tooth Fairy. They carefully outlined that our mother could vouch for a lost tooth and could we please have an increase in pay as well. I’m not sure why she picked these communications over notes or love letters from her youth. There are still notes stuffed in a drawer I can't bring myself to read.  I think it was another demonstration of how she chose us over herself.  

Every Christmas Eve, my mother organized a Jack Corner prize where each child pulled an early gift with a string to occupy them for the evening. It was highly anticipated that we would receive a much coveted book or game to keep us upstairs while my parents helped Santa wrap and assemble. It is a lasting memory and tradition we continue even today as adults.  Christmas remains our closest family tie to her and each other.

My mom was, and still remains, the guiding light on what it means to be a family.  Her life is our framework on remembering what is important to reminisce over. But our lives remain an open book, which we continue to add to the back pages as an ever expanding story.  A photo can capture the inner soul of a person and above is a picture of her on my christening day. I didn’t notice until months after her death, the necklace she wearing is one of my favorite things I kept rather than give away. While we miss her every day, we can find the love and humor in our lives because she made us who we are now.

A Few Short Hours

A few short hours until I am in this place with these people  XOXO

Sheldon in the House

We have been lucky to have back to back weekends with our little baby girl.  Sheldon and the Brit made the long trek to Phoenix this weekend for Mommy’s Day.  Hooray!!!! It’s about Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I mean, so wonderful to see the kids.  The added bonus was it was the Big Tuna and my anniversary.   Yup, that’s right, I shoot the whole wad of celebration in a 8 day period time. Nada for me until Christmas.  Feel free to send bottles of wine in order to drown my sorrows.

Last weekend, the Big Tuna and I trekked our way to Palm Springs to meet Sheldon and the Brit at the sort of halfway mark between Phoenix and Orange County for my birthday. The real center meet up is a little more like Blythe, trust me, you don’t want to get to know Blythe.  Picture a truck weigh station, police barracks and a sad Burger King, Facebook check-in marks it as “at Middle of Nowhere AZ”. Believe me there isn’t diddly squat between here and there. 

It had been over a month since we’d last saw the newlyweds, naturally I wanted to have a girls sleepover with me, leaving the men to share a king size bed.  Those meanies weren’t having any of that.  Sniff, likely because they both snore and didn’t want to keep each other awake. I’m sure that’s it. But that’s not to say they didn’t have bromance time. While Sheldon and I went shopping, they caught the 10 AM Ironman 3 movie.  They made a little confession at lunch, they’d eaten Burger King Whopper’s rather than traditional popcorn when watching the movie with all the other 12 year olds.  Here is a special salad my Sistah made for us today.

Spinach-Basil Salad

6 cup spinach leaves washed

1 cup fresh basil washed in ripped in ½ inch pieces

½ cup olive oil

3 cloves garlic minced

½ cup pine nuts

4 ounces prosciutto

Black pepper to taste

¾ cup parmesan cheese

Toss spinach and basil in large bowl. Heat oil in sauté pan, add garlic and nuts until nuts brown. Stir in prosciutto and sauté one minute, add pepper. Add warm dressing to spinach and basil. Sprinkle with cheese and serve immediately.

The four hour drive certainly brings interesting conversations…..and interesting personal hygiene observations. As I sat with my feet propped on the dash with the sun beating down on the windshield I notice a few golden hair patches missed on my legs. Ah well, I scoffed, they’re very blond, I’m sure just easily missed since I can’t wear my reading glasses in the shower. No biggie right? Until I notice that apparently, I haven’t been doing such a swell job on the back of my legs for who knows how long.  Frick, you could braid that shit. I got a god damn mullet on the back of my legs.  Ughhhhhhh.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to....

The Big Tuna and I are meeting up this weekend in Palm Springs with Sheldon and the Brit. Waaaahhh....never want to leave.

We Got Game

Every spring blossoms the Annual Transportation Conference, where geeky engineers break free of their HP calculators and kiddie soccer coaching duties. They shove their fancy mechanical pencils and titanium pocket scales into their book bags, distanced from their hen pecking wives to drink free flowing booze and stay up past their bedtime. But they are out of shape for wine, women, and song instead, awkwardly palling around with other social misfits, exchanging business cards and snazzy conference apps.

You might even remember I was the Hot Chick last year. Endless Engineering was oozing with jealously when they saw me making out with other attending consultants. It finally brought them to the table with an actual job offer instead of vague promises of permanent employment.   Six months ago it was decided we needed to GET SERIOUS and hire a person to drive the marketing train. It came down to two candidates, in theory so I could get back to doing actual billable work. I would like to point out that this goal has not reached fruition. The first was a shy, soft spoken girl with experience in the industry; the second……was Beer Girl.  Tiny and petite with long blond hair, permanent white tipped nails and big, big, boobs.  Even though her previous background was medical sales and Budweiser advertisements, they were smitten.  Even on my best day I can’t even convince myself I am a measly B cup.  Welcome to the itty bitty titty club. 

Beer Girl came up with a scavenger game for those of us that had to babysit the exhibitor space and entice peeps to our booth.  The theme started off as the “Hunger Games”, great, let’s kill and eat other consultants so we can get ahead. I was supposed to say, “may the odds forever be in your favor”, but I kept fucking it up and saying “may the force be with you.” Thus showing my age and uncoolness. Naturally she couldn’t join us because she was too busy doing origami birds or something.  Boss 1 and 2 think she is amazing, so clever and smart. I Googled the exact same marketing ploy, not exactly unique.  Well played Beer Girl, well played. 

Since we’re focused on beer, here is a recipe to match our theme.

Crock Pot Beer Chicken

2 pounds chicken breasts

1 can or bottle beer

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon garlic powder

½ teaspoon pepper

I have one of those fancy ass grill racks but I’m not coordinated enough to figure out how to balance on the grill top.  I’m much more of a throw stuff together and hope for the best. Combine all ingredients in crook pot and cook on high for 4-5 hours or low for 6-8 hours.

While at the conference I began receiving frantic text messages from the cleaning woman.  She requires cold hard cash for services rendered.  I’d left it smack in the middle of dining room table, with a paperclip the same as every time.  The Big Tuna bounced to the dunes five minutes after I bolted to the conference, so no emergency backup.  Please, please, please clean my house, I’m good for the dough, I’ve faithfully paid for almost twenty years. I’ve got 12 people coming for dinner this weekend and I can’t let them see the tumbleweeds of blond dog hair.  On my drive home I called the man expressing dismay on the missing money.  In the brief moments left alone in the house, he thoughtfully put the money in a drawer “because he didn’t think we should leave cash lying around”. He’s lucky Kathy the Wonderful came through or there would have been Labrador Retriever hair in the potatoes.  Here’s wishing you a good week Team Tuna.