Pursuit of (Greener) Grass

Colin Firth is one sexy man. So is Hugh Grant. I obsess (drool) over them every time I watch Bridget Jones I and II (which I do watch quite often, in a somewhat OCD manner). There is something about them in conjunction with the pathetic-ness that is Bridget Jones that makes them even more desirable -- Hugh, because he is that devilish fuckwit type we all love to hate (and beat ourselves up over trying to tame) and Colin because he is the nice guy you hope to grow old with in the end (I am aware that I am blurring fiction with non-fiction here, but, Colin and Hugh may as well be as fictional as Daniel Clever and Mark Darcy to me). But, I digress...

The reason I find my interest in sorts like Colin/Mark, Hugh/Daniel, the man running on the track with great legs or my OB-GYN (scary, I know) is because it illustrates quite clearly to me that I am always wanting for what I don't have regardless of how good what I have is. Don't get me wrong. I would never act on my daydreams. I love Vince. He is great. He is sexy. I just seem to suffer from the "grass is greener" phenomenon as it relates to pretty much everything. And, the "grass is greener" phenomenon is one hell of a slippery slope where a healthy appreciation of the lucky-good-looking-types eventually rear-ends a green-eyed monster chasing jobs, money, homes and white-picket-fence-dreams (complete with the perfect husband that you never argue with, 2.2 children, a pool boy, a gardener, a state-of-the-art kitchen, a cool car and some really, really good shoes).

I have always had a sense that I have particularly itchy feet (metaphorically speaking). But, recently while sitting in church (and actually paying attention rather than making invisible lists of things I needed to accomplish on that particular day), the minister talked about the transgression of coveting thy neighbor's wife (and in my non-sexist head, I furthered the interpretation to include neighbor's husband). Apparently, having even the teensy weensiest of impure thoughts of another person's "anythings" is a sin in God's eyes.

Oh shit! (Sin. Language).

Who knew my fanciful daydreams and a little bit of the Greedyjealous bug were a non-transferable, non-refundable, one-way ticket south (and by that, I mean way, way south)?

The reality is I am always in lust of what others "have"; or more specifically, what I "don't have". To that end, it seems like I am always trying to obtain something else. I am always in a seemingly transitional phase with a new "want" in sight. But, when I reach that new "want", I quickly set my sights on the next "want" while never stopping to actually enjoy the new "have".

And, whatever that next "want" is, I "want" it badly. I really, really "want" it and I "want" it yesterday.

I become very impatient. I start to feel all consumed. I start to feel like I am treading water. I start to feel like I am just existing while waiting, waiting, waiting to reach my next, new "want".

This pattern is not a new one for me. As a little kid I was excited to be able to start school. Once I started school I couldn't wait to be done with school (with short-term obsessions like being able to go R-rate movies, getting a driver's license and the ability to vote preoccupying me for short stints here and there). Once I started college I couldn't wait for graduation and then, graduate school. Once I began graduate school I couldn't wait to graduate and have a "real job" in the "real world" and earn "real money" (Yeah. Hindsight on delusions of the real world were/are a bitch. I failed to realize at the time that real jobs came without summer vacation and real money went to pay real bills and left you with really empty pockets). Real world reality led to silver-lined dreams of husbands, homes and babies. Once achieved, husbands, homes and babies led to an insanely strong desire to exodus the USA and flee to the promised land of Oz.

And, well, that is where I currently am -- done with Wisconsin, sick of my job, tired of not being able to get pregnant again and distancing myself from my current life all in an effort to achieve the next new "want" where I can (finally) really live and settle down and be happy and content and stop wanting something new and stop wanting more than what I have and, and, and....

The good news is that I am one step closer to my new "want". Alas, I now have my visa. I am now a bona fide permanent resident of Australia (enter: trumpets blaring from stage left).

I am now frantic about wanting to leave. I want out of here. I want it now. But, I am not entirely sure why because I have a great job. I have a great family. I have the circle of fabulousness and other great friends. I have an understanding of my life and my routine that one builds only after an investment of time. I have things pretty good.

And, I am glued to some of my "haves", especially the people parts. People parts are irreplaceable. You have to work long and hard to be woven in to the fabric of other people's lives because the people parts of one's life are a testament to time. Sadly, It will be a fair amount of time before I am invited to a Dolly and Rubyesque soiree, swap emails with a Brad-type about his gall bladder surgery or offer moral support to an Anne through a significant medical drama. It will be a while before a Patricia-type calls me first when her grandmother is dying, a likeness of Kate shares frustrations over her mum's cancer or a Taylor-ish calls me in a panic after ending a long term relationship with her significant other. It will be some time before I am that close friend who throws a baby shower for a Lola or a bachelorette party for a Haley. And, sadly, it will feel interminable before the people parts of our newly achieved "have" on the other side of the world will be there for us in return.

Perhaps that is the funny part of chasing the "wants" in life. After awhile, you start to realize that the chase may be what excites you and the victory is often anti-climactic to a certain degree. I hope that the new "have" of Australia is enough to outweigh the "have losts" and the "have left behinds". I know it won't be easy. I know I will be lonely without my people parts.

But, sinful as it may be, Colin/Mark and Hugh/Daniel have already been packed safely away in to the depths of the "going to Australia" pile to accompany me to the next phase of my life's conquests and to fill in the missing people parts for some time.

Posting Recipe
This posting calls for something quintessentially Australian, such as Damper. Damper is a Australian Outback soda bread traditionally prepared by cowboys in the coals of the campfire (no worries though, I am not that dedicated...I use the oven. Call me impure...). Damper is an iconic Australian dish often eaten with dried or cooked meat or golden syrup, also known as "cocky's joy" (gotta love the Aussie lingo!). It was traditionally served with a cup of tea or even a swig of Bundaberg Rum (or what I think of as the equiavalent of moonshine that they try to pawn off as rum. Bundy is not for the weak-hearted or weak-alcohol-toleranced.).

Ingredients
4 cups self-rising flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon butter, softened
1 cup milk
1/2 cup water

Preheat oven to 425 degrees . Grease a baking sheet. In a large bowl, stir together the flour and the salt. With pastry blender or your hands, cut in butter. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in the milk and water. Stir until the dough comes together. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and form into a round loaf 8 inches across. Place the loaf onto the prepared pan and using a sharp knife, cut a cross in the top. Bake for 25 minutes in the preheated oven, then lower the temperature to 350 degrees and continue to bake for an additional 5 to 10 minutes. The loaf should be golden brown and the bottom should sound hollow when tapped. You can experiment with adding in dried fruits, herbs or cheese. The bread is also great served warm with various dipping oils, compound butters and/or dukkah.

An Unsolicited Plug:

I recently celebrated my birthday and was delighted to be spoiled with great gifts like address books, shoes and pamper-producing gift certificates. I also received great foodie gifts (of course)like wine, the new Top Chef Cookbook (I can now stare at Tom Colicchio all day, every day. Yummmmm!) and Saveur. BUT, one super cool and totally unexpected gift was a set of compound butters from Head Start Gourmet (http://www.headstartgourmet.com/) to support my newfound butter addiction. Needless to say, the butters are amazing. They jazz up any meal instantly for both the great home chef as well as the challenged. Give them a try. I promise you won't regret it... especially if you use them as a spread on your warm damper.

Mixed Nuts

Men, by nature, seem to have a very logical and systematic approach to the world. There is a reason, I suppose, why they were the traditional hunters and gatherers in life while us she-beings were left home to make the cave pretty (and talk with other she-beings about which herb is best to eat while in labor). I imagine there is a biological reason why the boys were out fixing the flinstonemobile and milking the wild-prehistoric-milk-bearing-creature-thingy while the girls stayed home sniffling over monthly hormone imbalances, the rude comments that Oonga-Noonga made about our crappy basket-weaving skills and how the river water made our hair frizz in a very unattractive way (thus convincing us that our man-providers would leave us for that non-frizzed Oonga-Noonga she-bitch).

Men, in my experience, also tend to be quite literal realists. It is why they can explain to you why you no longer fit in a size 2 (because honey, you have had children and never gotten your body back), why you can't get away without wearing a bra (there is this thing called gravity...), why you are crabby (it must be that time of month, hey?), how annoying you (really) were wnen you were pregnant (with all that being sick all the time business) and why a can of mixed nuts is nothing more than nuts.

Mixed nuts? Yep. Our literal, rational, penis-sporting side of the species see a can of mixed nuts as, well, mixed nuts. I, however, (being more prosaic, intuitive and non-penis sporting side), see a can of mixed nuts as a metaphor for emotional camouflage (if you are lost by this point, no worries, I will get to it!). Don't get me wrong, I am not seeing the virgin Mary in my tea leaves or the winning lottery numbers in my toothpaste spittle (if only!). I mean that I (and I do think this applies to woman in general) tend to be a feeler rather than logic based on science kind of being. And, unlike men, I can find life applications in many things, including a can of mixed nuts.


How the mixed nut metaphor came to be is a quite simple really. I have a healthy liking for nuts of a mixed variety. I love well salted pecans, almonds, macadamias and hazelnuts (hell, I like 'em all I guess), but, I extra-specially love Brazil nuts. There is some kind of bigger is better psychology that comes with finding a Brazil nut in an assorted can. Team Brazil, complete with great tans, are the B.M.O.C.'s of the Planter's plantations and rulers of the aluminum abodes (and, yes, I am aware that this whole discussion can have very, very different connotations, thanks). They taste great and, thanks to their power-packed antioxidant punch of selenium, they are responsible for keeping one looking young and vibrant (score another goal fooooor Team Brazil!) like Oonga-Noonga.

At any rate, upon completion of a 5.5 mile run recently, Vince and I were ravenous. We broke out the can of mixed nuts (as well as other healthy options like Cheetos and cold-meat-sodium-bomb slices of ham) and I noticed Vince gently shaking the can of unlidded nuts. When I asked him why he was doing that, he told me that he was getting the Brazil nuts to the top of the can. Upon noticing my facial expression which non-verbally exclaimed "I am not a scientist and I don't get the principals of physics what-so-ever", Vince further explained that through gently shaking the the can of nuts, the smaller nuts shifted to the bottom of the can and filled gaps which displaced the bigger nuts (because they don't fit) and forced them up to the top. Ah-haa!

To Vince this was just a matter of nuts and some fancy theory of displacement. To him it was clear and simple and literal and rational. I, on the other hand, skipped straight past Nutopoly "Go" and went directly to the Nutopoly jail for the socially sensitive. I transcended the literal (obvious) usage of mixed nuts. Insteand, I drew an immediate connection to my own precarious mental state and how I am able to meander through my days completely covered in the small issues like bills, schedules, work, and a friend drama here or there, but, when something shakes me up and really rattles my cage, the gigantic Brazil-nut-sized-problems, which had been present, but buried, come roaring to the surface resulting in cataclysmic breakdowns (and copious amounts of wine consumption).

The whole mixed nut theory makes good sense to me. It helps explain moments of emotional insanity where the world seems to spin. It also makes it clear why most of the time I can ignore Brazil by dealing with peanuts. Perhaps most handily it gave me new reasons (excuses) for my recent meltdown activities ranging from issues of immigration and infertility to my parent's health issues and my own fear of Huntington's Disease.

One can sense, I think, the unearthing of a personal Brazil nut. Kind of like when a volcano is about to explode and all the animals start acting weird (at least that is the way it was in that Mt. St. Helens movie!), I think we all know we are operating on our last shreds of sanity from time to time. The clues tend to be the obvious mounting of stresses where peanuts become pecans and hazelnuts morph in to cashews. Suddenly the smaller concerns start to be swallowed by the bigger concerns and boom, a Brazil nut surfaces like a submarine torpedo and we find ourselves locked in a bathroom stall at work sobbing and wondering why the world so completely sucks.

Of course I have an immigration example for this.

Immigration is a lot of busy work. Busy work for me is peanuts; annoying but handle-able. In the last few weeks while my paperwork has been processing in someone's office in Washington DC, I have focused my attention on Airlie's paperwork. I filled out all the forms (peanuts), identified someone who would cross-their-heart and sign her paperwork as an official third party (pecan), and had her passport photos taken for issuance of an Australian passport (peanut).

Well, those Aussies are really quite high-strung about their passport photos (cashew). And, they are really quite specific (cashew). They are nothing like US passport photos and therefore anyone who takes them in the US does not quite know how to do it (almond). So, our photos were denied (pecan). So, we took them again (peanut) and again (hazelnut) and again for a total of seven attempts (almond, pecan, almond, cashew) before having photos that fit in the guidelines.

Now, as an aside, you try to get a two year old to take a photo with the appropriate head measurements while not smiling, having no shadows, looking directly at the camera, not moving, not getting red eye, not flopping her hair in her face, not squirming and squaring her shoulders directly center to the camera while at the same time not getting your parental hand or mommy-sized shadow in the photo. Good fucking luck.

Add to it that we were also informed that we had to drive to Chicago, during the week, to do an interview to prove that we really were her parents and that I really wanted her, as an American, to have an Australian passport. And, where we were also informed that the photo was still wrong and that we owed more money (in addition to the passport processing fee, the migration agent fee, the gas to drive to Chicago, the vacation day required to go there and parking) for the interview that we were requested and required to do.

(BRAZIL).

As with all major Brazil moments, I was able to refocus and put the whole situation in to perspective after a little time, a little space and a few perspective-inducing martinis. But, it doesn't take away from the fact that Brazil nuts remain buried most of the time for a reason. Call it evolution, if you will. We have emerged from caves and similarly the bathroom stalls of our employers through ignoring big stuff most of the time.

Interestingly, Vince didn't understand my somewhat over-the-top response to the whole recent situation. It could be that he hadn't been handling the precursor peanuts. It could be that he is a man and significantly less emotional than I am. Personally, I think it is because he is a black-and-white, logic-oriented, mixed nut eater (non-nut-theorist) who does not have to worry about labor, basket-weaving, PMS, frizzy hair or that Oonga-Noonga bitch in addition to immigration-passport-photo-compliance for two year olds.

Posting Recipe
So, it goes without saying that this posting recipe should contain nuts (even though I just said it).
I love this recipe and it has always been adored by both man-providers and she-beings alike at summer parties we have had. Although there is a seemingly small amount of nuts in the recipe, they add a crucial taste component.

Fruit Salad with Cannoli Cream
1/3 c. whole milk ricotta cheese
2 tbsp. plus 1/3 c. whipping cream
3 tbsp. powdered sugar
Pinch ground cinnamon
12 oz. fresh strawberries, hulled, quartered (about 2 1/2 c.)
1/2 dry pint fresh raspberries (about 1 1/4 c.)
1 tbsp. sugar
1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
2 kiwi peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3 tbsp. sliced almonds, toasted

Stir the ricotta and 2 tablespoons of cream in a medium bowl to blend. Using a mixer, beat the remaining 1/3 cup of cream, powdered sugar and cinnamon in a large bowl until semi-firm peaks form. Fold the ricotta in to the whipped cream. Place in the refridgerator 30 minutes to stiffen and yeild a creamier filling (can be prepared 4 hours ahead. Cover and refridgerate).

Toss the strawberries, raspberries, sugar and lemon juice in a medium bowl to combine. Let stand until juices form, tossing occasionally, about 15 minutes. Add the kiwi.

Spoon the fruit into a bowl. Spread the ricotta mixture atop the fruit and sprinkle with almonds.

-- courtesy of Giada De Laurentiis

Astrobabble

I am a bit astrology buff. I don't go out of my way to read them (them being horoscopes in upstanding publications like Star) every day or anything, but, I find the whole concept interesting and compelling. I imagine it is because horoscopes offer hope for future good luck windfalls while at the same time providing a scapegoat for bad luck, bad decisions and bad stuff in general (yes, it must be that my chi was suffering from the full moon's tidal influence and that is what is preventing me from losing 20 pounds!).

I feel particularly lucky with western-based astrology. I am an Aries-Taurus cusp. Depending on what horoscope you read, I am sometimes an Aries (mostly in Australia) and sometimes a Taurus (most often in the US) . This blissful combination has ensured that I am an aggressive, stubborn, control-freakish individual who "rams" my way in to my goals and who, although has a tendency to overindulge in all things, is experience-oriented, creative and artistic with a sheer will to succeed. I like to think it means that I am a Scarlett O'Hara-esque (although, hopefully less spiteful) individual donning Birkenstocks (or maybe running shoes...) that are firmly-planted to my soap-box-of-current-choice.

It also means that I get to read both horoscopes and pick which one I like best on any given day.

And, when I don't like either my Arien or Taurean choices of the day, I turn eastward to the land of rats, pigs and the other animal representatives found on the local Chinese restaurant placemats (usually red). Recently, a friend sent me a link to an online version of the placemat (which was notably grease-free to boot), and I had some good time to become aquainted with my inner fire dragon. Raaarh (I imagine that to be the sound of a fire dragon anyway).

Enter the Dragon

Dragons are witty, enthusiastic, popular, intelligent and gifted yet are also perfectionists. (Well, gee, thank you. Thank you very much.)

Positive Traits
vibrant (yes! prior to alcohol anyways...), magnanimous (sure), charismatic (yep), principled (sometimes), self-sufficient (most times), discriminating (to a degree), compelling (I'd like to think so), sentimental (tooooo much so), accomplished (well, trying), noble-hearted (to a fault!), healthy (working on it...) and prodigiously shrewd (well, I have beat my husband at trivia the last two times. Interpret as you will.)

Negative Traits
bombastic (well, who came up with that word anyhow? Maybe they could have just called it "being an arrogant ass" to be less "bombastic" about it!), dissatisfied (or, shall we say, searching to improve?), demanding (what is demanding about having expectations?), opinionated (intelligent assertion), mawkish (hormones people, hormones!), egocentric (okay...read the last post. Mr. Ego is under control. Get off my ass already.), defensive (whatever), power-mad (how about "control under pressure"?), foolhardy (although it may appear that way, I actually do think things through), willful (given) and pompous (now, that is just rude).

General Description of All Dragons (Not to be confused with stereotyping)
The key to the Dragon personality is that Dragons are the free spirits of the Zodiac (perfect for moving half-way around the world!). Rules and regulations are made for other people (clearly) and restrictions blow out the creative spark that is ready to flame into life (I am still waiting for my "spark" to "flame". Flame little spark, FLAME!). The Dragon is a beautiful creature, colorful and flamboyant (Aww. Well, shucks. Thanks). An extroverted bundle of energy, gifted and utterly irrepressible, everything Dragons do is on a grand scale - big ideas, ornate gestures, extreme ambitions (why else would I bother?). However, this behavior is natural and isn't meant for show (oh...). Because they are confident and fearless in the face of challenge, they are almost inevitably successful (hopefully this does not relate to things such as financial management, diets or public speaking). Dragons usually make it to the top (I think I will leave this one alone...). However, Dragon people need to be aware of their natures (okay). Too much enthusiasm can leave them tired and unfulfilled (ambition can be a bitch, my friends.). Even though they are willing to aid when necessary, their pride can often impede them from accepting the same kind of help from others (I am getting over this one. Help as you see fit!). Dragons' generous personalities give them the ability to attract friends, but they can be rather solitary people at heart (well, la dee dah! Myers-Briggs totally makes sense now).

The Fire Dragon is a powerful force to be reckoned with (damn straight!). This is a Dragon doubled! The Fire Dragon can move from calm and collected to combustible in a matter of seconds (okay. I might have a bit of temper that I blame on genetics). In some ways the Fire Dragon is his or her own worst enemy (true). These Dragons cannot help feeling they are valuable and all-knowing (well, you can't hide the truth!). When they are right their vehemence and vigor is an asset to the cause, and though they value objectivity, they do not always employ the best decision-making measures, and sometimes jump to the wrong conclusion (Yes. Alright. I am a little bit of a conclusion-jumper. It saves time!). They also suffer from recklessness and quick tempers (didn't we cover this already?). Yet, when they do keep their temper, emotions, and rivaling spirit under control, they emanate a commanding influence on other people (See? Not bad at all. Commanding influencer sounds bombastically magnanimous to me!).

As a side note, I find it interesting that dragons happen to be the only make believe character of the Chinese zodiac (no non-Harry-Potter-related dragon sightings the last I knew anyway). What is up with that? My whole persona is apparently based on a fictional (and destructive, I might add) character. Hmmmmm.

To be honest, I was not sure how to end this post. I was not sure how to tie it back to immigration and make it all relevant (because after all, it is immigration famousness that I am supposedly striving for!) to other posts. But, life has a funny way of defining itself for you in the mere act of experiencing it. And, I couldn't think of a better ending today than to tell you what my astrological references didn't tell me.

Astrology did not tell me that because I am impatient and because I was very, very, very hungry, that Kate and I would have lunch at Rocky Rococo's instead of a little downtown cafe.

Astrology did not tell me why on earth I felt the need to tell Kate that we should leave lunch now (literally mid-sentence) for no apparent reason.

Astrology did not tell me that Kate and I would narrowly miss (within a two minute window) of being directly behind a church that was about to explode, on the street my friend Patricia lives (which bears my surname), near the cafe we were going to eat at had I not be so so hungry, a mile away from my house.

Astrology did not tell me that Dolly would be running late meeting me at my house because her child overslept her afternoon nap which also saved her from being near the exploding church at that same time.

True Story.

And, that is what I consider a good luck windfall called timing.

Posting Recipe

I am a huge fan of rubs and marinades. I love them. I use them all the time. And, given the somewhat eastern influence of this post, I thought I would share some of my Asian-inspired favorites I have collected over the past few years.

Asian Dry Rub

4 tsp. dried basil

4 tsp. dried mint

2 tsp. salt

2 tsp. ground ginger

2 tsp. paprika

1 and 1/2 tsp. ground red pepper

1 tsp. ground black pepper

1/2 tsp. garlic powder

Combine all ingredients and rub on dark meat chicken, strong flavored fish or tomatoes before grilling.

Miso Wet Rub

1/3 c. miso

1 tbsp. minced peeled fresh ginger

2 tbsp. rice vinegar

2 tbsp. honey

1/4 tsp. ground red pepper

Combine all ingredients with a whisk. Good on salmon, dark meat chicken, pork, tofu, or eggplant.

Asian Orange Marinade

1/4 jar orange marmalade (microwave in jar w/o lid for 30 seconds to soften up)

a few shakes of soy sauce to taste

few shakes powdered ginger

a clove minced garlic

Combine all ingredients. Pour over chicken, pork or salmon. Marinate a few hours(chicken and pork) and up to an hour (fish). Great on the grill or on a cedar plank in the oven. The orange zest caramelizes with heat and adds very nice flavor.

Vietnamese Marinade

5 tbsp. fresh lime juice

1/4 c. vegetable oil

4 garlic cloves crushed

1 jalapeno, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced

2 tbsp. fish sauce

2 tbsp. sugar

1 shallot, thinly sliced

salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

I have only tried this on chicken. It has some decent warmth. I really love this one. Serve it with shredded carrot, onion, mint, cilantro, lettuce leaves etc...

Above recipes are adapted, modified, borrowed or downright stolen from Food&Wine, Rachael Ray and Cooking Light.