Fudgesicle Popsicles and You

The other day my throat started hurting something awful, and I decided that before this turned into a Big Sickness I had better get to the store and stock up on everything I'd need to get through it.

One of the things on my mental list was icepops of some sort. Soup was also on my list, but holy shit there is like a week's worth of sodium in every can of every brand of chicken noodle soup at Safeway, so screw that.

Anyway, when looking at the icepops a few different things were going on:

1. I was running out of steam and needed to leave close to Now to get home
2. There was a guy with a huge dolly unloading food which left very little space for people with wagons to get by him
   
3. There was a guy there with his daughter and their wagon, and neither of them had any sense of how much space they and their wagon were taking up

These three things caused me to grab the first vaguely acceptable pop from the freezer and just get out of there. Upon arriving home though, I realized the pop I'd brought home was not the pop I thought it'd be. I thought I'd gotten the skinny fudgesicle popsicles. Those are great because they're the perfect size and you don't feel like since you're eating them you should go make a macaroni necklace while sitting at a wooden picnic table at camp. You're just a respectable adult having a popsicle.

Turns out, I'd gotten the camp size fudgesicles by accident. I'm not a huge fan of these. Firstly, I'm not a huge fan of chocolate. I mean, it's okay, but like, chocolate does not make me happy. You know those women who laugh when eating salad by themselves? Those same women are the ones who close their eyes in bliss when they bite into chocolate. I'm not one of those women.

I just want a little popsicle, not one big enough that it could easily utilize two sticks. Two sticks is one stick too many, and quite frankly I am not a huge fan of those wooden sticks to begin with. The splinter factor is just too great. Plus there's the whole melting issue to keep track of, and who wants to keep an eye on melting chocolate when they're not feeling well? You might say to just eat the popsicle over a bowl, but again, who wants to have to clean up a bowl when they're not feeling well?

On Twitter, I made some comment about having bought the wrong size of fudgesicle, and at least three people expressed surprise that there are different sizes at all. So this blog post is meant to share and educate. There are different sizes. The smaller size is better. Though, not having a sore throat at all would be best.

Let's All Sit in a Circle

I love that rush I get when discovering not only a new author I love, but one who's written tons of stuff. That rushing thrill of New! Reading! Material! Then you curl up inside all that reading, and when you emerge in a daze with the way you think about things changed for life, in the back of your head all that's going through your head is What the hell will I read now? Wow. I guess I just really, really love reading.

I just need to pause to say that my apartment hallway is very echo-y, and I can always hear everyone who walks by, talks, or makes any noise. Right now a very chipper older late is talking to a man with a heavy Spanish accent who is responding to her politely but you can hear in his voice he wants to get away. Anyway, the point is, this woman has the same squeaky voice as my old cousin Clara, who was old for my entire life. She always used to confuse me with my mom, and it really made me twitch when she'd tell me, thinking I was my mom, that she remembers when my mother was alive. My mother *IS* alive, it's *HER* mother who died! Get it right, woman! Of course I could never say that - I'd just listen to her tell me stories about "my" mom and commit them to memory so I could tell my mom later, and she could collect other people's memories about the mother she didn't get enough time with.

Moving on! Back to reading! Good blogs are a great thing to discover because bloggers have archives. Archives mean days of reading material. I'm always flattered when I, my blog, represents that to someone else. People I'd never meet in real life. People who, even if I met, would agree we had nothing in common. Except people will write more than they will say (if their family isn't reading), so you can find those commonalities after all.

Charlene from -lifedramatic- recently found my blog and not only is she reading the archives, but she's commenting on things I'd forgotten about writing. She responded to an old post where I solicited questions with hers, and here's her list, along with my answers.

1. Don't keep me in suspense. Did you ever get a camera? What kind? Where are the pictures?? :)
Yes, I was given a camera. I don't know how to say what kind of camera it is properly, so I've gone meta and taken a picture of it with Photoshop for you. It says it's a Panisonic Lumix, with 5.0 megapixels and um yeah. I really, really want to be one of those people who takes their camera everywhere they go and takes cool pictures of a sewer grate or a businessman fixing his sock that make people stop and think, but I haven't reached that level. Then, before I could keep trying to reach it, my camera used up all its battery juice and buying new batteries for a camera simply is not a priority when you're scraping together money for rent each month, you know? So that's where I'm at with my camera.

A couple of years ago I went to LA, and I did take some awesome pictures if I do say so myself. I crossed a foot bridge in Santa Monica and took a picture of a Coke cup discarded carefully on a step that I really liked (yet can't find now). It doesn't help that I don't understand Flickr - why are the pictures I've taken in Photoshop on Flickr, and how did they get there? Where is my precious Coke cup picture? Where are all the old pictures I took on my camera and (thought I) uploaded to Flickr?

2. You mentioned you were in therapy for a long time. I'm in therapy now. Have been since my first husband started cheating on me, and never left her. I see a lot of things through your posts that I should be doing but haven't been able to yet. For example, doing things to help me not feel depressed. I find that I kind of wallow in the depression, like I'm in a maze and I can't really find my way out. How do you do it?
Wow. Well. Two or three things.
1. I am sorry your first husband cheated on you. It seems more common these days for people to forgive that, and although this may fall into the "you can't know until you're in that situation" I don't think I'd be able to forgive that. I believe in the "if you aren't into me enough to not cheat on me, then just break up with me honestly" religion.
2. Let's be honest here, okay? I'm not always able to snap out of it. Being out of work is very, VERY difficult. A little while before moving out of Florida my messiness reached an overwhelming head, and another person had to come in to help dig me out. I swore to myself it would never get to that point again. It hasn't, but I have been known to send in my unemployment form a week or two late because I lost it in the pile of stuff on my ottoman and haven't had the wherewith all to dig it out. So, I'm not perfect.

At least a decade ago I read an article in Newsday about how people with learning disabilities function better if their outside world is neat and organized. It took me several years to get my life in line with that, and found it was true. My brain is so busy translating what people have said into words and concepts I understand (and then I have to race to listen and process while also listening to their next thought and saving that for translation while responding to the first thing) that it creates more work when things are physically a wreck. So I try to stay neat. When I don't, I have absolutely noticed a correlation between seeing a wreck and my heart sinking and becoming overwhelmed.
3. The way I do it when I'm doing it is, I have a set schedule. So when I'm working, I know what errands I'll run on my lunch hour on which day, and which days I'll go to the library after work. When I wake up I smooth out my blanket to make my bed look neat (tucking in the blanket takes too long). On weekends I buy five breakfasts (or one cardboard tin of Quaker's Instant Oatmeal) so I'll have quick breakfasts each morning I'm at work. I feel no difference (other than hunger) between eating breakfast and not in terms of being productive, but study after study, decade after decade swears eating breakfast is good for you, so I eat a healthy one.

I keep in mind when I'm depressed all the other times I've been depressed (yes, I realize that sounds depressing) and that if I can just force myself to shower and get dressed, then I'll be able to take out the garbage, which will mean I'll be ready to go through mail that's piled up, etc. Things can spin out of control. But they can also spin into the control if you just start the spin. You have to find what will start your spin.

3. What would you do if your neighbor got a pig and you had to hear it grunting and squealing when you were trying to relax? (Seriously, this just happened to me...)
Charlene, this does not sound pleasant ... wait. Is it a baby pig? Because those things are cute! Did you see the movie with that Dawson's Creek kid who played Knox and his friend had a pig named Bacon?

To answer your question, I would ask the city/town if this was legal, and if it was not, because I'm somewhat passive-aggressive I'd consider reporting them. In the meantime though, I might ask the neighbors if they could move their pigpen to the center of their yard so the noise was traveling so well into my space, and I'd look into what kind of white noise I could employ to drown out the pig noise. Wind chimes probably wouldn't cut it, huh?

4. I've always wanted to visit California and SF in general! I love seafood. Do you like any seafood? (I know you said you are a picky eater).
Yes, I love seafood too. Every time I am at Whole Foods I check to see if the scallops are on sale. I'm not sure I've found any stellar seafood restaurants here, but I haven't specifically looked, and don't dine out much these days.

5. Have you ever been to whereever it is you can go to see the seals there? Seals are smelly, but they're cute too.
I think you're talking about Pier 39, where there are sea lions. Yes, I've been there. More than once. Maybe it does for other people, but for me, it never gets old to see the sea lions sunning themselves and pushing each other into the water, and flopping back up to dry off from a swim.

6. What's your favorite thing about SF?
People ask this a lot. I don't have a good answer. This is the first major city I've ever lived in, so I really have nothing to compare it to. I love that the weather makes it easy to spend time outdoors. I love that there's tons of free stuff to do and watch. You can make a full day out of watching the Gay Pride Parade, a full morning out of watching Bay to Breakers take off and then going to the Ferry Building for the farmer's market. You can surround yourself with tourists or escape them by going to the places tourists never know about. You can learn (if you're me) how to become comfortable being the only white person on the bus. Hell, you can learn how to use city buses, something that was foreign and scary to me at first.

This is the place where I learned how to make friends. Where I learned to cut myself a little slack. Where I got to hone the art of agreeing to disagree, of stretching my mind to see other people's viewpoints. I don't know that these things happened because I am in SF, just that they happened while I was here. But when I have entertained thoughts of leaving here and moving elsewhere, I have worried "what if I can't make friends?"

7. I grew up in North Miami, FL. It sounds like when you were in FL you were in the Pompano area. Why did you move there?
You nailed it. I moved to Florida because I wanted to move out of my parent's house. When I looked at apartments on Long Island, they were all depressing illegal basement apartments in the back of people's homes. I distinctly remember looking at one with my dad, and then quietly telling him, "This is the kind of place that's great for committing suicide." My grandpa lived in FL - he had an apartment in an old-people community, and mostly lived at his girlfriend's apartment (in the same community). When I considered the idea of moving to Florida, he allowed me to stay at his place for a few months while I got myself established. I knew of one girl around my age when I moved to Florida, and she was a real estate agent. She showed me four apartment complexes, all places she'd show her sister, and I picked the one with the most natural sunlight. The master closet was big enough for a controlled cartwheel. There was a laundry pantry in the kitchen. There was so much space in that apartment that I had multiple empty cabinets. So that's why I moved to Florida, the specific city within Florida, and the specific apartment complex.

8. Will you please post a comment or two on my blog? :)
Already done!

Get Off Your Cell Phone

Last night after work I went to buy dinner, and found myself at the fish counter of a grocery store. Since they were on sale I got bay scallops, and then decided to buy a bit of shrimp. After I'd asked the fish guy for the shrimp, I kind of mumbled to myself, "I forgot to say please..." but he heard me talking and asked what I'd said. So I repeated it, and then restated my request with the please.

He laughed and told me it happens ALL the time (emphasis his, not mine), especially with people who are on their cell phones. After I had all my seafood and had thanked the fish guy for it, I stood there for a minute trying to figure out what else I needed before going to the cash registers. While thinking, I absentmindedly watched the couple next to me ask for their fish. They were younger than I was, but not on their phones. They didn't say please. The fish guy winked at me.

Morsels

1. Recently I spent several days at my sister-in-law and brother's house. As a joke, my brother left me a type of food he found at Trader Joe's that is called the same thing he used to call me when we were younger (okay he sometimes still does). This morning when I thanked him, he was saying that when he saw it, he just had to get it, and it was only $3. As in, who can't afford $3? Well. Hi. There used to be a time in my life when I would spend $3 without blinking to make someone else smile. I look forward to getting back to that time. Our phone call moved on to other things, but in the back of my head I kept hearing, "... it was only $3."

When I went to lunch, it was raining, and as I walked down Market Street, holding the umbrella the security guards lent me, I saw a man crouching on the sidewalk, holding a cardboard sign that said HUNGRY. This morning I'd brought yogurt and crackers to eat for breakfast at work, and realized I hadn't finished all my crackers. I moved to the side and dug through my bag, my fingers searching past my makeup case, book, and tissue pack to find the ziplock baggie of crackers. Hauling it out, I walked over to the homeless guy. "Would you like some crackers?" He looked up at me, squinting through the raindrops, considering the offer. I almost added, "They're from Trader Joe's," in case he was worried about getting some crappy stale saltines or something. Just when I was wondering if I should come up with some way to "sell" the crackers to the guy, he slowly reached out and took them out of my hand. "Thank you." It was only some crackers.

2. To be blunt, I screwed up planning out meals for this last week of temping, which was why I went out to lunch. I was sitting at the Bistro Burger, eating my chicken Cesar salad without dressing, when a cute guy slid into the table next to me. He immediately started playing with his iPhone, and I went back to reading my book. All of a sudden, he stage-whispered, "No dressing!" Was he talking about me? Was he making fun of me? A lot of people seem to think it's weird that I don't like salad dressing. I looked over. He said it louder. "NO dressing!" He was talking to another guy in line, who was ordering for him. I resumed reading. A few minutes later, the No Dressing Guy's food arrives. I look over, and he has ordered the exact same thing I did! His friend began making fun of him for not wanting dressing. No Dressing Guy looked over at me. We realized at the exact same time we were having the exact same lunch, right down to the water. I almost asked him to marry me. Except you know, he was gay. And I'm shy. And he was playing with his iPhone at the table, which I find rude.

Disclaimer: I do not have an iPhone. Maybe if I did it would be so much fun that I'd play with it everywhere?

Funny thing to note: I have played with two people's iPhones. Both of those people were husbands of friends. I wonder if it's a guy/girl thing - guys offer me their cool toys to play with, and then we bond over it. Girls don't.

Fighting the Food Revolution

By now everyone has seen, read or heard about Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. Nobody can really argue with eating healthily. But certain people have to argue it. Who? Fast food companies! This food revolution thing is bad news for them. If everyone were to eat healthily, then nobody would ever go to KFC anymore.

So it seems KFC is working around the food revolution. They're running commercials with pink buckets of fried chicken. Apparently for every bucket of fried chicken you buy, KFC will donate fifty cents to the Susan G. Komen fund.

Do they think their clientele is so stupid as to not realize KFC is trying to distract from the fact that their food is unhealthy, or do they just hope that's the case?

Failed Dinners

I was reading the Slack Mistress's blog post about last night's dinner, and it reminded me of something from long ago. In the olden days, we Yogurts used to host one of the two Passover seders each spring. My mother would start cooking at least a week before Passover started, freezing cooked dishes in the basement freezer.

Back in my high school years, one night I passed through the kitchen to say good night to my mother before heading to bed. She'd been cooking all day, and would be cooking long into the evening. When I arrived in the kitchen my mother was just about to put two apple-maztah kugels in the oven before going to pee. These kugels are so good that we always had two - one to put on the table for the seder, and one for our immediate family to enjoy throughout Passover.

As my mom went to slide one tin into the oven, she somehow dropped it, and it flipped upside-down before landing all over the floor. We looked at each other in horrified shock. My poor mother burst into tears at the stress of having to clean up a huge mess so late at night while also having to desperately pee.

I decided to postpone bed and told my mom I'd start cleaning up and she should go to the bathroom. When she came back, she thanked me. As my mother handed me more wet paper towels to clean the floor she said to me, "We just won't put a kugel on the table this year."

This was so unlike my mother - to save the remaining one for us, but speaks to how much we all loved that kugel. I still usually make it at least once a year.

Please, join me by sharing your biggest dinner disaster in the comments.

Don't Tease Me, Bro!

Pretty much everyone I know from the East Coast loves Dunkin Donuts coffee better than any other chain's coffee. I don't drink coffee, but I do love hot chocolate, and have found that the hot chocolate taste test aligns quite nicely with the coffee test. There is not one Dunkin Donuts in California. (By the way, I've found that Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf & Names of Coffee Shops That Are Too Long has hot chocolate most like Dunkin Donuts, so their coffee may also be most similar.)

Anyway. There's been a grassroots effort to bring Dunkin Donuts to California. Ben Affleck even started a Facebook page all about it. It hasn't happened yet, which makes me sad. However. Dunkin Donuts is now selling their packaged coffee in West Coast supermarkets. Of course this does not help me, the hot chocolate drinker, but I'm still supportive of the overall cause.

Lately, because of this supermarket thing I suppose, when watching tv Dunkin Donuts commercials appear. Since I don't drink coffee I forget all about the coffee-in-supermarkets thing, and stupidly get all excited, thinking surely Dunkin Donuts wouldn't advertise here if they weren't here! Then I remember about the coffee-in-supermarkets thing and my heart sinks. I hate being teased. I don't even like to window shop unless I can afford to pop into the store to buy whatever catches my eye.

So Dunkin Donuts, please come to CA. You could start small - set up shop at LAX and SFO to see how it goes (it'll go great, I assure you!) before branching out to shops all around town. It would be great on multiple levels. Fabulous, inexpensive coffee and hot chocolate, but also, we'd always know where to find a cop when we needed one! You'd be providing a community service, when you think about it. Okay then, so I'll look forward to seeing you soon. Glad we had this little talk.

The Good Parts of Having Moved Here

It hasn't ALL been awful. I knew this was a nice neighborhood, but I've learned how to take new buses, which always makes me happy. Two new buses have been discovered, and I've gotten to explore the wonderful world of the J-Church.

I'd been out here before, but actually living here gives me the opportunity to wander around, ducking into interesting stores when they strike my fancy. Finding stores that are good for presents is important to me, and I've definitely found some cute shops that have now been tucked away in my brain for when I need presents for people in the future.

Another thing is that ages ago, pre-move, I'd decided that despite my status as a water-snob, I was going to break away from the bottled water and learn to embrace a Brita filter. Eventually. Like maybe when I moved.

Turns out Wooffers actually has a Brita filter, and I've used it exclusively since moving in. I used to buy those huge flats of bottled water and heft them up, to be stored on top of the fridge. To be completely honest, if I could get Poland Spring water again, I'd probably do that without a second thought. But you can't get Poland Spring water out here, and I'm pleased to finally have crossed over to the Brita world.

Speaking of water, it's the drink of choice for me nine out of ten times. Today at lunch I was in a restaurant and they had a soda machine that had a little tab for water. I put ice in my cup, pressed the tab, and filled my cup before capping it and going to sit down. It had been a long morning. I'd just walked to lunch. So I took a big gulp. It felt like my mouth had exploded! My tongue felt like it was on fire. Quickly I swallowed, and right away, I knew what had gone wrong with my water. I'd just had 7-Up or Sprite, not water.

I hate carbonated drinks. I'm like a Mormon in that I don't drink alcohol, soda, or coffee (yes, I know coffee isn't carbonated but don't like the taste). On the rare occasions when nausea has hit and I've needed to sip Coke to calm my stomach, I've poured a little back and forth between two cups - it's an easy way to get the bubbles out when you don't have access to a blender. I can't remember the last time I drank soda with the bubbles.

Once when I was around five or six, my mom was sitting in the living room, drinking clear liquid. I was thirsty, asked if it was water, and she handed me her glass, saying, "Taste it and see." So I did, and then ran into the kitchen to spit into the sink - it was seltzer or Perrier or something.

Anyway. "Water" under the bridge now, if you will.

Times Are Tough

People are making all kinds of sacrifices. From flying coach instead of first class, to driving instead of flying, to holing up at home instead of traveling.

It makes you depressed. Not at first - at first it's fun, it's a challenge, you're impressed with how much you can save when you put a little effort into it. But then reality sets in. The reality is that cutting coupons and shopping sales helped you to avoid blowing your food budget rather than saving $40 to put towards a new pair of shoes.

Then after that another feeling creeps in. The feeling that it's been a while, the challenge was fun, interesting, but now you're ready to treat yourself. Partially from depriving yourself for so long, and partially as a reward for all the work you've done. That's when the depression slams into you. This hasn't been a game, there is no reward and the end is not in sight. Well, that blows.

I mean sure, it's great to not be homeless. Those people smell. People give them dirty looks, and tourists take pictures of them. But still.

So when you stumble across a way to eat bacon on the cheap, your heart soars. And when you think about how close you live to Whole Foods, you notice a spring in your step, and that you're smiling at the homeless people. Though you won't be giving away any of your bacon!

You'll Need To Turn Up the Volume

Yogurt. What else could a woman need?

Just want to point out that while I do have a gray hoodie, I am not married, and since normally when I'm having yogurt it's at work, I am not wearing the afore-mentioned hoodie while enjoying my yogurt. Thank you.

Tuesday Farmer's Market

Have I ever mentioned that I love the Farmer's Market at this time of year? Because I do. Very much. Plums, pluots, white peaches, cherries, blueberries ... all so good. So, so very good. (Look at me! I could practically be a food snob with how much I love it all!)

This past Saturday, I went to the Farmer's Market as I almost always do (hello, Stalker), and they were having a cherry tasting for free. Normally you can taste anything at any stand for free, but last weekend they had one table that had cherries from each of the different farms that were at the Farmer's Market.

I totally tasted from each farm. The winner? K&J Orchards, hands down. Their cherries were big and plump and not damanged at all. I went over to their stall and picked up some chandler bing cherries. Asked the boy manning the stall if he'd be back on Tuesday for the weekday farmer's market. "Well, I won't, but my dad will." Good enough for me!

Totally loading up for the week (that last trip was just to get me through the weekend) on all the great fruit in season now. If I were all fancy-like I'd artfully arrange the fruit I bought and place it just so in dishes I bought specifically for plums and bowls I searched high and low for to house cherries, and take pictures of them for you, complete with perfect lighting. But I'm not.

So instead, you get pictures other people have taken. If you got my pictures, you'd see a plain silver bowl with some paper towel and the blueberries washed and plopped in there. That is, if you could see them in the darkness that is my kitchen. Oh well. The important thing is that they taste good, right? Right.

I Don't Even Like Tea

I'd had to stay late at work that night, and not just an extra 15 minutes. We're talking hours, with attorneys standing over me as we tried to get into Pacer to look up a case and then file something. When I finally got out of work it was raining and cold. I had neither an umbrella nor a hood nor a warm-enough jacket.

In high school I liked going for walks in the rain, especially when I could play November Rain on my walkman. Teenage girls like doing depressing things like that.

Now I'm an adult, don't like being depressed, and don't particularly enjoy walking through the dark and cold and rain after a long day of work. What I needed in life that night was soup, and it inspired my decision to stop at the dim sum restaurant near home.

Rain dripped down my hair and face, and my jacket and shoes were soaking. I didn't even want to walk too far into the restaurant lest I get everything wet. But even after I gestured to my wet bags the owner waived me over, so I went to place my soup order. She gave my order to a waiter and then scurried away. When she came back from the kitchen, I was still standing where she'd left me, and I watched as she pulled out a chair at a table, and placed a glass on it. She told me to sit, and pointed to the glass. I didn't want to mess up the table; I wouldn't be staying long. But I sat, and picked up the glass. It was warm tea. Not hot - it didn't burn my mouth, but warm, and as I swallowed it warmed my body.

Immediately tears were in my eyes. I don't know how people like JD Salinger do it. I don't even aim to be alone but yet I am, and it apparently affects me so much that I am moved to tears when someone sees that I am cold and wet and does something to help.

I kept sipping the tea, to drink up the feeling of being actively cared for, until my soup was ready. The owner looked over periodically to check on me, and that "being cared for" feeling overwhelmed me.

By the time my soup was brought out to me, I'd drank almost half the glass. I get all verklempt every time I think about it.

We ARE Mature Professionals In Our Early 30's

Golden Boy invited me over for dinner tonight. This afternoon we were on the phone when he brought up the subject of this evening's menu, and he asked, "I took out filet mignon; that's okay with you, right?" I confirmed, and Golden Boy continued, "Great, so I'll make up some of those, Crazy Girl will make broccoli, and I'll make potatoes Ruth's Chris-style."

I then asked, "And what should I make?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "A doody in your pants."

Of course.

It's Just Lunch

A new person named Perky Paula has taken over for Jeepers and she commutes all the way into the city from Petaluma (which is far away, for the non-CA people).

When I was in high school I was friends with a girl whose name was also Greane and the closer we got, the better I got at knowing when I'd be able to reach her at home. At the time I thought it was magic, but as I grew up, realized the more you pay attention to the things people tell you about themselves, the better idea you'll have of where they'll be.

Perky Paula has no concept of timing. She will come by my desk, see me on the phone, working on a document, with two partners standing over me - each asking about a different client naturally, and still try to bullshit with me. I don't know whether or not I'm right, but I feel like that reflects badly on me. Like the lawyers are thinking, "Geez Green, tell your little friend to run along already - why are you hanging out with someone who's got no sense of timing?"

A few times Perky Paula has asked me to lunch. I don't want to go with her. I bitched about this to a friend, and she encouraged me to suck it up and just go to lunch. She said it won't take very long (an hour, obviously) and will mean a lot to Perky Paula.

She's right. I know she's right. It just seems ... I don't like Paula. There's nothing *wrong* with her, but we don't click. I don't know why she's picked me to befriend. Why not the secretly pregnant secretary? Or the really cool associate who's super easy to talk with? Or the quiet, helpful Asian secretary who is the only person to be able to deal with Bitch on Wheels? She just has so many options! How did I get chosen?

When I look at Perky Paula I see someone who has many cats and talk with them as she watches television. I see someone who inspires neighbors to plan when they'll get their mail so they won't run into her, lest they get roped into a long conversation with Paula.

Also it seems living in San Francisco has turned me into a tiny bit of a food snob. A food snob in training, if you will. First Perky Paula suggested we go to The Cosmopolitan for lunch. I know like four people who've gotten food poisoning there. So I let Paula know that, and suggested we come up with somewhere else. She then suggested "an Italian place" that I am telling you, is *NOT* real Italian food. It's a place where you can order a sub and chips (I don't eat subs) and they also have spaghetti.

Is Petaluma considered part of the Bay Area? Since moving here I've never met anyone who's less snobby about food than I am, but Paula's changing everything.

Paula makes me feel comfortable standing up and saying, "Hi, my name is Green and I LIKE Kraft Macaroni & Cheese!" Christ.