Time Well Spent?

Today is the first day back to work from Christmas and a mammoth blizzard handicap. This season - complete with feral blood moons - is now in full force, which just makes it so hard to get into 'the zone' during work. It's also no help at all when it's mind-numbingly slow.
So instead of doodling my notes to death (again), daydreaming about where'd I'd fly to first if I could [to Neverland, of course] (again), or draining the butler's bar (again), I surfed the internets.


And found things...
...like this...
...and this...
and that.


These little segways in my day amused me; hopefully they will do the same for others on another dismal day.

An Adventurous Tail

Once upon  a time, in a faaar away land called Prospect Heights, there lived two maidens. Snowed in and driven to dementia from too much No Reservations marathon and cabin fever, they devised (what seemed like at the time) a marvelous plan: an epic journey to the Trader Joe's in Cobble Hill...a good 3 miles away, to gather the components needed for roasted eggplant pizza.
They set out, equipped for the trek, their own canvas bag and all
(yay we're green!)
...or so they thought...
The puffy coats and non-gloved hands were no match for the giant snowdrifts, unplowed streets and sidewalks, 25F temperature, or the turbulent winds blowing tiny snow needles in their faces and up their noses. They were mad, adrenalin-fueled - giddily and stubbornly trudging forth.
They reach their journey's end with flushed cheeks and running noses, laughing histerically.
The damsels climbed the icy steps into Utopia and scoured the isles up and down for the desired  ingredients:
Eggplant [purple CHECK], basil [herbal CHECK], shredded mozzarella [molto CHECK], and
pizza dough [covenient CHECK]
All other fixin's were already home, so they had room for chips and salsa, a huge bag o' clementines, and  bananas.
All for 22 bucks. [savvy CHECK]
And after gathering their wits and sufficient warmth, back into the blustery landscape they went, but this time, to the train.


Tra la la la, homeward bound they went to cook up some soul warming 'za.

There's the convenient TJ's dough with crushed tomatoes (mixed with salt, pepper, oregano), fresh basil, and the first sprinkling of mutz.

On goes the eggplant just sliced up and grilled on a cast iron stovetop grill pan...

...and why not some grilled chicken?...

And this is before.

And AFTER!!

So, I guess I'm eating again.


From the journey:

This is me hopelessly stuck in almost 3 feet of snow attempting to blaze a new trail. It took a while to get my enormous, sasquatch feet free.

This road is a bit more navigable.

A Belated "Merry Christmas"...

Oh, and a belated merry Christmas from my overstuffed, sleepy belly to yours. I am still recovering from two days of an Italian Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. 

Eve: (after working for good ol' Shmom Shmord). I climb up my great Aunt Adele's Bensonhurst stoop, flanked by the same white stone lions since I can remember; barely after my scarf is unwound from my neck, my hand is appropriately fitted with a gin and tonic. A"spotless beverage" as my cousin Billy says.

On to the food: antipasti (in Sicilian, BK/Itlian: "andiBAHST" consisted of the usual:

MutzaDELL with tomatoes, basil and olive oil; roasted peppers and mushrooms; stuffed peppers; gabaGOOL; soupraSAHD; bruh-zshoot bread; olive bread; braided sesame bread; baked clams; and the ever present, ever sacred - insalata di frutti di mare. Too much wine (red, of course).*

SECOND: linguini di frutti di mare - loaded with mussels, shrimp, stuffed galaMAHD**, lobster tails and conch,  and too much red wine.

We're all uncomfortably full by now (note: we reached this state before the antiBAHST was cleared), but it doesn't stop coming: the eggplant parmigiana, the fried shrimp (you know, for snacking in between), the roast pork, the marinated cauliflower and broccoli, the baked asparagus - Lord Jesus - and too much red wine. 

The table clears and the 9 tiniest of the cousins (6 of them belonging to one uncle) gather 'round on the living room floor to open some presents. The wrapping paper turns to confetti in seconds as the youngens parade their new dolls, games, gloves, sweaters, candy, stuffed animals, books, movies, remote cars, and the like. It's nauseatingly cute in the best, most endearingly heart-melting way.

Then the table is set with a mountainous fruit basket, nuts, these little chocolate covered fruit jelly ring things, and two types of fudge. 

This is the appetizer before the real dessert and coffee is put out.

Then in comes the coffee, pecan pie, the pistachio cake, Italian cookie assortment, brownies and ice cream (just in case).

It was a quaint crowd of 25 this year. We had a good handful missing. Yes, really.

Christmas day was with my uncle Paulie and Cheryl, cousins Zach, Josh, Naomi, Liz, Eddie, and Malachi, and my Aunt Cheryl's parents and brother. Antipasti - mutzaDELL in cahROTZ***, fresh mutz, parmigiano hunks and roasted peppers, and bread.

Then lasagna with meatballs and sausage.

Then dessert spread: apple pie, banana cream pie, cookies, cookies, cookies, cupakes (both vanilla and chocolate), bishGOHTT****, and brownies. 

I never want to eat again.

*Translation: mozzarella with tomatoes, basil and olive oil; roasted peppers and mushrooms; stuffed peppers; capricola; sopressata; proscuitto bread; olive bread; braided sesame bread; bakes clams; and the ever present, ever sacred, Italian fish salad. Too much wine (red, of course).

**Translation: calamari 

***Translation: mozzarella in carrozza (grilled cheese but with mutz)

****Translation: biscotti

The First Snow

Reasons I love this city:

My landlord is completely incapable of keeping the heat at a reasonable temperature; either it's torrid or gelid. No happy medium. Ever.

No that is not a reason why I heart NY, but I'm getting there. It just needs some back-story...

Anyway, tonight is an especially stifling evening and it's thundersnowing. Yes, there is such a thing, and it is perfectly majestic. Thundersnowing since about noon today. Thundering and snowing. And lightning. Thundersnow lightning. 

So to help alleviate this oppressive heat, my roommate and I simply walk to the kitchen, open the window and proceed to make snowballs off our fire escape. We then flounce back to our Lord of the Rings marathon and give the backs of our necks and wrists a nice snowy cool-down.

How does it go Betty? "Snooow, I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snooow..."

And so it goes...

So it goes again. I've frozen solid as my wannabe mentor walks in (only this time it's quite literal, being 32F today, and having to work in a drafty matchbox at a solid bronze desk, perched on a solid bronze chair. - Don't believe me?..). Oh my nerves, the agony, the nausea, the sheer fright and excitement!
...let us call it exfrightment.
Now, I'm just mad at myself. I cannot even buck up the courage to create SOME kind of small talk. Nothing comes out. My face, trying to blush and my glands straining to break a sweat, to no avail. Too cold. 
And I'm fine with that. I may be a nervous wreck as usual, but at least this time, I'm able to pull off looking "cool and profesh" (in theory).
Well, small talk may be swell, but what I really would like to do (and I've daydreamed countless scenarios of how to execute this) is to just hand over my resume and tell him exactly what I'd like to do as a part of his team. I am well aware of the risk I would be taking in doing so, since said scenario would transpire at my current place of occupation; for me, this only makes it more thrilling - just the Russian spy/Bond chick part of me peeking out. 
And yet, I continue to remain petrified - to make myself clear - NOT over the sake of my job, but because again, Shmanthony Shmordain is Tarzan to my baby giraffe.


New Subject? Radical. Keep watching until 2 minutes in, just past the FBI agents, if you didn't catch the reference there...


On to thoughts and happenings I have experienced within the past two months. 


It has been quite a while since posting, but many goings on have occurred recently, from huge and lengthy (not to mention stressful) work investigations, resulting in my exploring other "opportunities", an attempt to relax while home, nights arrested (happily and consensually) on the phone, to nine blissful October days, Oh yes, and a gnarly super virus my doc thought was mono, just to name a few of the events and reasons why every inch of my brain and emotions have been completely devoted to "thinking" or being involved in the moment. Lately, different issues and - I don't want to say stresses - but many instances have taken place to leave me feeling a touch too overwhelmed to focus any attention towards writing; I wanted to, but felt totally incapable, if that makes any sense at all. 
When feeling overwhelmed or stressed, a huge habit of mine is to recluse, even from Fairy Pudding. 
Mr. Future is such a brute, as he dauntingly approaches; he can also be a helluva tease. 
But no matter; it's in God's hands. So yes, I may be exfrighted, but I'm also a bit more at ease these days.
Bittersweet things. I sigh.