Culinary Concoctions Week Two: Starting From Scratch

So...I couldn't find black radishes at the farmer's market on Sunday.

I know, I know. SUCH a disappointment.

In all reality, I do think they were there; I just arrived too late. The vendor, from Ayers Creek Farm, who was supposed to have it really had sold most of his products by the time we arrived. Luckily, we managed to gather kohlrabi as well as one of the gnarliest vegetables I've ever seen: celeriac.

Celeriac, which has been dubbed as the vegetable octopus though is also known as celery root, turnip-rooted celery and knob celery is native to the Mediterranean region. The first evidence of its cultivation has been linked to Egyptian graves circa 1100 BC. The Greeks called it selinon and it's mentioned in Homer's Odyssey. 


Speaking of The Odyssey, I recently submitted a poem dubbed Odysseus to a literary journal called Line Zero. It was chosen for publication. That's right. I'm being published! As a poet.

Okay, self plugging promotion and unbelievable random tangent aside...

Celeriac can be eaten raw or cooked. It's tough, furrowed outer surface usually needs to be sliced off, as opposed to peeled (I can only assume by how gnarly and nobby this thing is that my $2 peeler from IKEA won't last), though, I have a hunch that celeriac could be roasted, just like bell pepper, with it's skin on to produce a creamy, rich delicious starch.

After all, celeriac acts very similar to potatoes and can be served in the same fashion; mashed, pureed, fried, baked or roasted. I imagine it'll make killer soup too.

I think I'll be using the celeriac tomorrow night in a roasted vegetable medley. I've yet to decide. After all, I did arm myself with two purple and two green kohlrabi. Also known as the German turnip, kohlrabi can be eaten raw or cooked. When cooked, the texture is similar to broccoli stalks or cabbage heart and a young kohlrabi stem can be as crisp and juicy as an apple.

While I couldn't find black radishes, I did pick up a fresh bunch of red radishes which will find their way into this week's dinner menu too. For now, I'm going to keep noshing on the fresh lox and cured meat while staring longingly at the goat milk cheese we picked.

Recipes to follow tomorrow!

PS: Read this sweet article from NPR if you want to geek out more on celeriac.

Bacon Caramel

I'll admit -- and if you know me and are familiar with most of the cooking I do these days -- using bacon grease in my sweet culinary concoctions isn't unfamiliar territory.

It's far, far from.

What started with smoky molasses cookies quickly morphed into bacon cornbread, bacon pumpkin muffins, bacony no-bake cookies and, as of recently, bacon caramel.

Yes, that's caramel made with bacon grease in lieu of butter.

I know, I know; it's not what one would call healthy.

Blame Christmas. Or rather, blame Jason and Clara for shoving Christmas spirit so far down my throat that I went on a baking and holiday cooking frenzy, whipping up my regular batch of cookies plus recipes for hot cocoa, chai tea and caramel.

Now, the caramel didn't begin as bacon caramel. Considering the popular coffee-caramel duo (Not a personal favorite of mine, but I get how the flavor profile works, not to mention the fact that having caramel, thanks to the hefty amount of whipping cream it requires, would make my stomach flip flop like my dad's on a ferris wheel.), I first thought up of coffee flavored caramel, using instant coffee (Real espresso would have been so much better but a girl without an espresso machine has to compromise).

That first batch didn't work out...not so much because of the flavors, but because, when it comes to making caramel (Actually when it comes to making most things), I was too impatient with the sugar (1 1/3 cup sugar and 6 TSBPs water). When making caramel, you've got to really let the sugar (derrrr) caramelize; it takes about 8 or 9 minutes of constant boiling, while occasionally brushing the sides with a wet pastry brush to really get the sugar where you want it.


Not only will its golden color be indicative of its readiness, but when you pour in the cream (2/3 cup) and fat (1/3 cup), it'll bubble up and release lots of steam (My poor right hand is currently ailing from a hefty bout of bacony-caramel steam).

Unfortunately, with that first batch of coffee caramel, I didn't get that bubbling steam. All I got was a little bit of melting...which meant that the caramel didn't thicken up, leaving me with a syrupy coffee-flavored syrup.

Hands on my hips, I realized my mistake and began again...

Yes, that's a 2 cup pyrex of bacon grease

...and that's when I saw it, sitting so complacently and innocently on my counter. Beckoning with its halo of smoky, saturated fat deliciousness...one of three coffee cup containers of bacon grease that Jason had been saving for me.

Cue light bulb in my mind.

Thus bacon caramel was born. Unfortunately, nobody got to actually enjoy that batch, save for a mere finger lick, thanks to a gang of TSA bullies who used their jerk-headed might and big muscles and weapons and super scary threats to confiscate the jar of bacon caramel I made for Jason's parents, wrapped in a nice Christmas ribbon and all, from Jason's death grip vice (He offered to eat it to prove that his girlfriend's Christmas gift to his parents wasn't actually a homemade bomb). All 16 ounces of bacony sweetness into the trash.

Bastards.

The batch that didn't work out. 

But today friends, today was a glooooorious day. As anyone might expect after reading the above prologue, today was bacon caramel-making day. Much like the coffee caramel, I lacked patience with my sugar and ended up with more of a bacon caramel simple syrup that didn't thicken up. Rest assured, it won't go to waste; Jason's taking it to the coffee shop tomorrow with him to experiment with lattes and macchiatos...so for any Portlanders who read my blog and are curious in this concoction, maybe juuuuuuuust maybe you can con him into whipping up a bacon caramel latte.

Okay sidebar: Speaking of new latte flavors, we went to Baker and Spice today after the farmer's market and had a maple latte. They make their own maple, in barrels and everything. Oh man aliiiiiiiive it was delicious. End sidebar.

The batch that did. 

Luckily, rounds two and three of bacon caramel worked out perfectly. Thick, luscious, golden brown caramel. Two batches with a little honey and two batches with a little dark molasses; the latter which is the apex, thus far, of bacony caramel goodness.

My mind's already racking up tweaked recipes....paprika and chili pepper for a smoky spice, the oh-so-loved sea salt, maple sugar, bourbon...

The possibilities are endless. Unfortunately my bacon grease supply is not. And that only means one thing.

Bring on the bacon!

My Resources

Let's face it, I'm not just a swimming pool of culinary knowledge. I have resources. I figured, so at least you all know (Whoever you all are, aside from my mother, friend Meghann and occasional UP alumus) I'm not just making stuff up and, if you're curious in conducting further solitary research on something I write or cook about that (Good god hopefully!) strikes your fancy, you'll know where to go.

First, and easiest, my go-to web resources:

Oregon Environmental Council: Sure I geek out on figuring out what's in season in Oregon on this site but it's also a super helpful resource for what we can do now, easily, from our teeny tiny Northwest Portland apartments to make and keep our awesome state...errr...awesome!

Oregon Fresh: It's a  better resource than the OEC for finding local fruits and vegetables that are in season, year round. I wish it gave me information about meat and seafood.

Sustainable Table: This is a sweet site because it provides information on seasonal ingredients for each state. What's more, it goes more in-depth, dividing each month in early and late season. It also helps you locate farmers markets nearby your abode. (For my Butte-dwelling family, did you know there was one on Park and Main!?)

New Seasons: The website offers a lot of great information about what's in store now -- which you know, as it's part of New Seasons' mantra, that it's fresh, local and in season.

Epicurious: Because...well, you know...sometimes I need a little bit of inspiration.

For my in-house, non-web references:

The New Food Lover's Companion: I love love love love love LOVE this book. It's a mini encyclopedia of every ingredient you can think of (Okay, the deluxe version really is every ingredient but whatever), giving the history, use, cultivation, etc. about it. Thank you ex boyfriend for first introducing me to this lovely masterpiece of a reference.

The Joy of Cooking: Of course, my stickiest most used pages are either in the dessert section or in the pork section. I don't care how Julie and Julia portrayed Irma Rombauer, I still love the book.

(Speaking of pork) Pig: King of the Southern Table: A new edition to my cookbook library, thanks to Jason, this book offers everything I could ever want to know about pig, pork and everything in between. I'm still waiting for the perfect time to try out the bacon peanut butter muffins.

Stack upon stacks of FOODday recipes and articles. What can I say, I'm a nerd who saves newspaper clippings (Yes I've got choice comic strips and squares hung up on my fridge), and the Oregonian typically does a sweet job of offering up tidbits of local food knowledge and cooking suggestions.

Alas, my library is incomplete. I'm sorely jonesing for Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, Larousse Gastronomique: The World's Greatest Food Encyclopedia, Mushrooms of the Pacific Northwest, Mastering the Art Of French Cooking and The Food Substitutions Bible -- because, let's face it, sometimes my non-dairy substitution ratios still come out a little funky.

Sadly, that's just the beginning the list. Looks like I better start saving, eh?

Let me know (If anyone's out there?) of any other really great resources, web or physical, out there!

Culinary Concoctions Week Two: The Ingredient

Since I want to write more than just once or twice a week, I'm going to begin blogging three times a week during  this year-long cooking project of mine:

1. To introduce next week's ingredient (You know, for educational purposes)
2. To share the recipe (Also for educational and sharing purposes)
3. To lay out the play-by-play of cooking, with photos taken by Jason (For sharing and narrative purposes)

So next week's ingredient, as long as I'm able to find it at the farmer's market this weekend, is going to be black radishes.

Allow me to geek out:

Part of the brassicaceae or cruciferae family -- which takes its name from the New Latin word Cruciferae which, as my UP alumnus might have guessed, means cross-bearing for their criss-crossing leaves -- black radishes typically come in two varieties; the Black Spanish Long and the Noir Gros de Paris. Go figure I'm using a root plant native to Spain and France.  They grow best in winter, after sowing during June through September, because their white, firm and compact flesh will keep fresh most of the winter without entering a state of vegetation (Ha -- vegetables vegetating; seems like some kind of Buddhist practice, huh?) or becoming hollow.

I mean, who really likes a hollow radish, right?

Exactly.

The black radish is rich in vitamin c, which is why they're fantastic for winter time consumption, especially when you're living in the Pacific Northwest where the common head cold is just lurking around the corner of your favorite non-Starbucks coffee shop, waiting to latch onto you. They're also high in vitamin B and sulfur, which is the culprit for it's strong flavor. Furthermore, black radishes carry a serious punch of fiber and water which aids in digestion (Which, after three weeks of Vicodin and OTC cold head meds, could be of use).

To eat them,  you have to peel the skin because that's the most pungent part of it all; I'm assuming the strength of the sulfur would be akin to eating the skin of ginger root...not the same flavor profile but packing the same, "WOAH MAN!" reaction.

Not that I've eaten ginger root peel out of sheer curiosity or anything.

Okay fine. I'll give you a full Amie-palate review of black radish skin (By the way if that doesn't sound like a solid emo band name, I don't know what does.)

That said, let's hope Sunday's venture finds me buying black radish from the farmer's market.

Wish me luck in the Portland January rain! (Caveat: Even if my black radish pursuit IS a total wash, at least I get to A) Drag the boyfriend along with me after a two day hiatus and B) Savor my favorite treat at my favorite Portland bakery: The garden bread at Baker and Spice. As my mother would say, yum-a-dum-dum.)

PS -- On a side note, I never really thought I'd get to tag a blog with 'Vicodin' more than once. Shows how much I know.

New Year's (Non) Resolution

Back in mid November I came across a contest in The Oregonian's FOODday section that hooked my eye. Basically, you write down a cooking resolution for 2011 with the chance to win tickets to see Michael Pollan speak at my alma mater, the University of Portland.

Shoot yeah I was game.

So I entered a quick blurb:

"As a cook stretching my culinary prowess and local-food knowledge, I pledge to make a new meal each week using a local, seasonal ingredient that I've never used before."

I forgot all about it until Grant Butler, an editor at FOODday emailed me asking my location within the city.

I forgot all about it yet again until a friend sent me a photo of my resolution in the newspaper (So much for being an avid newspaper reader, eh?)

And so now, here I am, on the second of January, and I feel, well...a bit more than obligated to follow through on this resolution.

Obligated...yet excited.

So, with each new meal, expect a new blog post.

Today's was just...the primer; the appetizer if you will to inform you that January's ingredients will be:

Rutabaga
Black Radish
Fenugreek
Mushrooms (Lion's mane, oyster or enoki; depends what I can find at the Hillsdale Farmer's Market next Sunday).

I'm not sure what'll be first; I'm thinking that, since I've got a 1 1/2 pound fillet of fresh halibut resting nicely in my fridge, that it'll be something that'll accompany the subtle, meaty flavor of the fish.

Week one recipe, photos and review to follow...

The Fart Impact Movie

Today I wrote a script about farts.

Well, sorta.

Today at work I wrote a script about a pair of panties that stifles the stench of those smelly SBDs.

Okay, fine. It wasn't for a real client. Rather, it was for our monthly lunch time competitions that commences amongst the sales, production and operations teams (As a scriptwriter/soon-to-be-messaging-director, I'm part of the production team). I guess you could call it a company-building exercise, not to mention a reason to begin Friday drinking two hours earlier.

Here's the e-mail we got from our president:

"Hey All,

Ok...Here we go. Today's department competition will require agility, speed, focus and luck. Here are your instructions:

1. Please take a quick look at this website. http://www.gasbgon.com
2. Pay attention ONLY to the "Undergarments" product. Imagine that this is all the company sells.

Your group assignment is as follows:

1. You will need to come up with a new name for the "undergarments product/company"
2. You will need to come up with a quick "tag line" or "slogan"
3. You will need to come up with a 30 second RADIO commercial
4. You can have a solo narrator for the commercial or have several narrators.

12:00 pm -- Lunch starts
1:15 pm -- You will be presenting your new name, slogan and 30 second radio commercial to the rest of the groups.

Points will be award for making us laugh and for coming up with a name, slogan and commercial that sells.

The trophy will be award to the winning department.

Good luck, work as a team and...may the right department win!

And don't forget this fact...the average person passes gas 14 times per day. That stinks!"

Well, here's what the production team came up with:

Under-Wraps 30 Second Spot


[Male Narrator] Excuses. They're like farts. Everyone has them...and they all STINK. But when you're around others, there's NO EXCUSE for making a stink.

[Whoopee Cushion Noise]
[Female] Ewwwwwww!
[Male] It must have been the ferret!

[Whoopee Cushion Noise]
[Male] Duuuuuuuude.
[Male] Barking spider, man.

[Whooppee Cushion Noise]
[Female] Honey! Not under the sheets!
[Male] You wanted Mexican food!

[Male Narrator] Introducing Under-Wraps: Made with carbon-filtered, odor-masking technology that filters AND eliminates that UNSAVORY STENCH.

Stop making excuses. Keep [Whoopee Cushion Noise] under wraps.

To avoid those boomers in your bloomers look for Under-Wraps at fine retail stores everywhere.

Obviously, my team won. And rightfully so; I mean, we ARE the sensitive artists after all.

Perfect Playlist

For a bit of shameless self promotion...

Wait...isn't that what a blog is anyway? Whatever.

How about...for a bit of extended shameless self promotion.

I have YET to share that I was on the radio last week with my friend Tony who I work with at AngelVision for 94.7's Widmer's Perfect Playlist.

For those of you NOT from Portland, let me explain: Every weekday at 5 p.m. -- quitting time if you work anywhere else OTHER than AngelVision (Okay I can't complain too much, I typically do leave at 5 every day...but I've always got my laptop bag draping over my shoulder next to my hippie bag which, might I add, I am soooo in the need for a new one) -- Gustav from 94.7 hosts a five song playlist made up by, well, anyone. All you have to do is submit a playlist along with an explanation for your songs and, of course, information about yourself to Gustav via email and hope and pray that your list is awesome enough to get chosen.

Here's what Tony and I submitted earlier this month:

Tony and Amie's Widmer's Perfect Playlist

Theme: A Day at AngelVision

Tony and I work together at a marketing company in Tigard called AngelVision Technologies.  AT AV we make impact movies -- 3 to 3 1/2 minute movies that serve as marketing tools for companies to use in 20 different way (We've got to put the company plug in somewhere, right?). My role at AV is as a scriptwriter while Tony is a flash developer. Basically, I write the script for the movie while Tony puts my words and cues and directions into action (But making them way cooler than I could ever imagine). In essence, it's a relationship built to last; I tell Tony what to do and he complies, ten-fold (Isn't that what any girl wants?). I kid, of course...though our two minds have been known to create some of the craftiest, though easily most twisted plots and ideas.

It's a good thing they rarely ever come to fruition (Though our band 80s Montage Limbo would, by far, be the best obscure band...maybe ever).

What really brought Tony and I together, aside from our shared love for sushi, zombies and creating obscure band names, is indeed, music. While Tony's more hardcore than I am on his Pandora (The guy eats through his free 40 hours before the fifth of the month) and despite our shared differences in favorite artists (His = Radiohead, Mine = Jack Johnson), we share enough common bonds to interrupt each other enough during the day over instant messenger to gush about whatever song is streaming through our ear buds (Or, if you're like Tony, giant headphones).

Our perfect playlist is a recreation of our typical day at AngelVision -- starting out dead tired in the morning after a long day AND night of writing and flash development, only to trudge on with more work so we can feel totally gangsta after FINALLY finishing a project...before being stuck in traffic after day's end to finally  make it home.

Here's our list of glory:
1. Sleepyhead, Passion Pit (Need we say more? Love the band and the song is perfect to kick the day off with...heck, it's my ringtone and alarm)

2. Work, Hockey (This song hits a couple of points: During our first conversation, Tony asked if I liked hockey, based off a Windows Live status I had up that said, "Wake up with Hockey." Of course, I responded, gushing about the Portland band Hockey...only to find out that he was, in fact, talking ice and pads and sticks and pucks. We also have a special place in our hearts for Canada.)

3. Paper Planes, MIA (There's nothing like celebrating the completion of a project, especially ones for difficult clients, than playing Paper Planes and letting our suburban white kid exterior disappear as we thug around like...well, you know..thugs)

4. No Cars Go, Arcade Fire (Tony's REAL favorite band is Arcade Fire which I, too, am totally down with. They're just...so...good)

5. Home, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (Every time one of use hears this song on Pandora we ping each other with new lyrics...sort of like a bragging right. Of course, sometimes I cheat and pull it up on YouTube just so I can hear it. It's funky and folky and Jade's voice and the whistling are simply to die for).

And our alternative: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, The Flaming Lips (This song, of course, is a great alternate to Paper Planes because something, throughout the workday, we have to battle crazy clients who well, try to eat us...and stuff).

At any rate, we received an email back a little over a week after submitting our Perfect Playlist and, within five days were ON THE RADIO.

I don't think I had ever been so nervous in my whole entire life. Okay, that's obviously hyperbolic but I was surprised by how awkward sweaty I got over being on the radio. It was like the feeling you get when going on a first date...multiplied by 10, and on crack. Like really good freak out crack (Of course, not that I would actually know).

The experience actually turned out to be a blast...not that I had an any inkling that my radio debut would turn out otherwise. But still, I'm a nervous wreck prior to any kind of recording where I know SOMEONE is going to be hearing my voice. Nevertheless, despite some shakiness at the beginning (I stuttered a bit when explaining how I got into Hockey) on my part, Tony and I managed to pull off a smooth and seamless radio show. We even had a guy call in half way through Edward Sharpe and demand...okay fine, suggest...that Tony and I get an hour to run music every day because we were, indeed, "Just that awesome."

While we were hoping for some birthday luck on pocketing Arcade Fire concert tickets (It was Tony's birthday the day we went on the air), we ended up with, like everyone else that week, tickets to see Sublime in November. On a Tuesday. Without their real lead singer. We've already vowed to make complete asses of ourselves, demanding old school, REAL Sublime songs.

Go big or go home, right?

More creativity

I've got a lot of extra time these days...okay...that's a lie; my 70-hour work weeks are not giving me a lot of free time these days (A little distraction goes a long ways)...but nevertheless, I'm finding that I'm gravitating toward more creative writing. I'm not sure where it's coming from or why, now, all of a sudden I think that I might, maybe, perchance be a creative but for some reason, my mind is thinking more lyrically these days.

That said, here's something I wrote over the weekend.

Yes. Judge away.

Berry                              Kiss

A taste like                    Once...
Never...before.                I came across a
Perfectly                         Sweet kiss.
Ripe with life.               I popped it in my mouth --
Beautiful,                      Juicy,
And then --                     Tart and
Almost                             Puckery --
With a pop,                     Like a berry,
It stained my                 Ripe
Red lips.                          With passion.


So yes. There it is. Gah.

Creativity

Remember last week when I was all...hey...look I'm way too much of a pansy to really prove how creative I am?

Well I'm taking a leap today. I'm going to share part of my real work. The writing I keep totally hidden from outside eyes, away from the world that can criticize, rip apart and comment on how totally sucky and utterly worthless of a writer I am.

Fuck all that. Here it goes:

The Beat

And now for my solo.

Left right, left right.
I march to that beat of the different drum.
Left right or right left?
I don't even know anymore.

For here I walk in measured steps
One foot in front of another foot.
A measure in time, a measure of mine
That I cannot take back.

Tick tock, a tocking tick--
The clock on the wall commands my life
Recalls the days of the duet
That shook this home alive.

Silence.

Cue spotlight.

Our measured steps are stopped.

But my solo still walks on.

Please take me with
Don't leave me behind
In rhyme without reason
All cast aside.

I need you, need me
To still be alive.
Not us. But me. No longer we.
For we's but a wisp
Of a measure in time.

Short. Staccato. Bravado. Encore.
Rinse and repeat
I've done it before.

Once more here I go
This time alone
Left right, Right left
I think that I know.

I can do this --
Can live
In a world all alone,
In a measured out world
With mermaids and muses who will sing to me.

The coffee, it's measured.
Just like my life
In spoons with reflections
Of upside down strife.

Right left? No it isn't.
Left right?

Yes I am.


Go ahead. Judge away. [Cringes].

PS...that Go ahead, Judge away thing...not part of "The Beat." Just wanted to clear that up. I mean, who in their right mind (Ha, I first wrote write mind...witty? perhaps...error in typing...for sure) actually puts brackets in their creative pieces?

Fin.

(Non) Creativity?

In the office I share with the other writer at my job I face a haphazardly hung white board. We use the white board for...well...whatever writers and other creatives use white boards for: jokes, drawings and quotations. In the upper right corner is one of a dozen or so condoms that were left in my desk drawer when we moved offices four weeks ago. The wrapper is a girly bubble gum pink and, with enough tape, stuck nicely to the board. Underneath, in matching girly bubble gum pink white board marker, I've written (in girly bubble gum-ish) cursive, "For inspiration."

But this post isn't about the condom or the whiteboard.

I brought it up in the first place because it holds another quotation from last week. During an initial interview, one of our clients told our messaging director that he's counting on him for creativity because -- and I directly-ish quote the client -- "You could say that [he's] mentally handicapped when it comes to creativity."

We couldn't help but laugh because the man was just so frank about it and, by our profession we're labeled as creatives, the other writer and I posted in on our board, lapping up its irony.

I'm not lapping anymore because apparently, according to a survey we got back from a client today, I totally and completely lack creativity.  That's a paraphrase of course. The real comments included winning phrases like, "not very creative," "not slick or cool," "lacking uniqueness," and -- my personal favorite -- "clearly not what we wanted."

You see, after a client gives us the "Heck ya! Okay!" on a script, we -- the writers and messaging director -- don't have to deal with it anymore (Which is usually worth celebrating), enabling the client to fill out a survey about the writing/scripting process. Pretty much we ask how they felt their initial interview went (Which...sidebar...I get to host my first one tomorrow!!!), how we can improve our process and what, if any, concerns they might have going into the development process.

This client wrote a fucking novel. Perhaps it's because I wrote them a novel...giving them 14 different drafts. Fourteen different messages, all selling the same blase product. And apparently, it wasn't until we gave them a final ultimatum that they actual decided to choose to accept the final script which, unfortunately for them, wasn't anywhere near my best work.

Creative? Sure. But only to the extent of "I guess this will have to do and I've been working on this for four months and lose the ability to care just a little bit everyday."

I shouldn't complain, really.

But come on...I KNOW I'm creative. I don't flaunt it necessarily (Come on, like any sensitive artist I'm far too much of a pansy to let everyone read everything. This blog works well enough for now...it's an outlet where I don't really have to put my REAL work in front of whoever you all reading this may be), but I know I've got it: Whenever I hear music I'm either directing its music video or choreographing a dance to it in my head. Whenever I watch a thrilling, suspenseful or scary movie I'm always expecting THAT MOMENT (You know...the one that makes you pee your pants just a little...not too much...just enough that you can blame it on the condensation of your $4.25 soda) to be WAAAAY WORSE than it ever turns out to be (One exception is The Departed. Sure I thought that Leo might get shot point blank but come on Scorcese...could he have AT LEAST stepped out of the elevator first? Damn. So good. [Which makes Shutter Island such a shame...]. But I digress...). I imagine different scenarios in my life which I know everyone does...that's just called hope and futuristic wishful thinking but do you think about leaving everything to start an 80's tribute band called 80s Limbo Montage?

Save for Tony, I didn't think so.

I'm trying not to take the survey remarks seriously or to heart but it's a bit of a struggle. I want to do a good job. Fuck, I want to do a DAMN GOOD SUPER AWESOME job.

Shoo (Hey Kurtis...that one was for you)...I KNOW I do.

Damn Canucks. They should know that too.

Writing Fitness

I already know I’m not in running shape. The 20 and 30 minute walk jogs of huffing and puff lace my Nikes up for every other day for are pretty substantial evidential proof of that.

I’m surprised to find out that I’m out of writing shape…mainly because I didn’t think that was possible.

Yet, here I am, sitting at home with a bag of Trader Joe’s frozen petite peas nestled on my right wrist and forearm (I have to save the ice for cocktails with the world’s worst vodka, after all), nursing what I’m certain is developing tendonitis.

A quick medical lesson for those of you aren’t familiar with tendonitis: As my oh-so-scientific-looking picture shows (And no, I didn’t draw it), tendonitis occurs when a tendon is inflamed from overuse. For the wrist, that means the thin, little muscles and tendons that move these texting, typing, dishwashing hands of mine up, down, left and right are probably throwing little temper tantrums from repetitive keyboard typing and mouse usage.

At first I was a bit afraid I was developing carpal tunnel syndrome after just eight days at my new job but realized, after a bit of Google searching, that since I’m not experiencing any numbness or tingling in my palm, thumb or index finger, that I can luckily rule that secretarial injury out the window.

But then I realized I could be developing tendonitis since my wrist and outer forearm are aching like a beeeeeeeyotch. I first noticed the pain during the final hour of my day at the office (Goodness, how American and adult and suburbanly mature do I sound saying that?!) on Monday but it subsided by the time I was drinking a beer and watching ‘Secretary.’ On Tuesday I noticed that the pain began a little bit earlier in the day and didn’t subside; it was so annoying that I couldn’t bring myself even to Facebook after getting home and carrying the basket at the grocery store was a wee bit more than my tiny wrist and skeletor forearm preferred to carry. Then yesterday the pain began around noon and didn’t go away – probably because my ‘office’ is actually a room equipped with a 24/7 cooling vent that won’t shut off which means it’s freeeeeeeeezing (Yes Mom, I’m imitating you), making me cold to the bones – and working at PB, even for the short time I did, made it worse. Cooking dinner? A nightmare. Changing the radio station while driving my car? Yowch. And don’t get me started on the anguish I had while texting.

It throbbed as I went to bed, even after washing down ibuprofen with the last dregs of my Bridgeport Hop Czar.

It throbbed as I woke up this morning, still zombified. It hurt in the shower while washing my hair, in the car while banging my steering wheel with curses at traffic.

And it hurts now, after sitting for the Channel 13’s hour of The Office with frozen peas on arm.

Hmm. Maybe I should go to the doctor (Or suck it up and stop being a wimp?).

And, from the looks of my condensation-laden bag sweating on my arm, to the grocery store to pick up some non-mushy pods.

The Next David Sedaris?

I did a really, really, really bad thing yesterday.

Well, perhaps bad isn't the correct word. Shameful or pitiful might be more accurate describers of the act that I pulled off after walking home after a seven hour shift at Pottery Barn last night. You see, during my lunch break, I checked my email at my favorite local coffee shop, Fat Straw, only to find out that the great personal assistant job that I landed just three weeks ago had been taken away from me, thanks to an MBA-wielding smarty pants who can apparently do his and my job with ease. Needless to say, I wasn't feeling all that great about myself after my break and spent the final three hours of my shift indulging in major self-loathing and moping (Not even my manager's attempts at playing cupid were helping lift my spirits). The self-loathing continued as I passed by the Plaid Pantry, picked up a six pack of Full Sail IPA ($5.98 for a six pack = the city's cheapest prices), a box of Mike and Ikes and headed home to peruse Craigslist, yet again.

And this is when the really, really, really bad/shameful thing happened. Even though I have a degree and have a lot to offer the world outside of retail, I still found myself scrolling down the pages of open retail positions. One caught my eye in an almost ironically sardonic fashion:

Macy's Santaland in Downtown Portland is hiring!

Full and Part Time Seasonal positions available immediately!

Greeter, Photographer, Cashier and PC Computer Operator positions for seasonal Christmas employment. Santaland work hours begin during the week of Nov 16 thru Dec 24. Must have a neat appearance, pleasant personality and enjoy working with the public. No prior experience necessary...we will train all staff. However, being handy on a PC computer is extremely handy!

We offer flexible scheduling, full and part time hours and a wage/bonus of $9.50 DOE. Must be able to pass a background test and drug test prior to employment.

Please reply with the email above or at MacysSantaland.com Please list the position of interest, resume/prior experience, and availability during the season.

We have lots of fun!

While downing the last ounces of my IPA, the nasally voice of David Sedaris, one of my favorite authors, entered my head. The author became famous after writing and reading on This American Life, Santaland Diaries, essays about his experience as a Macy's Christmas elf. Maybe I could do the same?

Cracking open my second beer and washing away almost all self-respect, I totally applied. For nearly 500 words I gushed about how much I adore little kids, how much I love the holiday season and how I am more than capable -- excellent, actually -- at keeping my cool during crazy and hectic situations (Can you figure out the one truth in that list?). I've been promised to be contacted in two business days. Expect an update soon.

First Entry

So here it is. A blog; a real, live, virtual record of my life after I graduated college some six months ago in an economy that houses, as the newspapers report, an unemployment rate higher than the recession of the 1980s. Born in 1986, I obviously was oblivious to the stress and gloomy world in which my parents were raising three kids. Twenty-three years later, here I am, living in a somewhat spacious studio in Northwest Portland where my certificate of graduation with an English degree hangs proudly on the wall, fully aware of the consequences of decisions made and promises lost by higher ups who, for the sake of my knowledge, know me only as a statistic.

Fortunately, I am not one of the city's 11.5 percent unemployed inhabitants. A month after graduating from the University of Portland, I was lucky enough to land a part time retail job at Pottery Barn in my neighborhood while keeping three freelance writing gigs that I held through college. While my hours at Pottery Barn have indeed increased, my writing gigs have come and gone: Two companies have folded and my short stint at two of Portland metro area's local community newspapers have passed as well. Thus, with a part-time, barely-above-minimum-wage paying job coupled with the ever pending cycle of bills and rent (as well as an attempt to have a social life...a single girl living in the city has to get herself out there every now and then), I am forced to put my creative skills into profitable endeavors.

This blog, which I will use as record for the ups and downs that are sure to continue to crop up, is just for fun.