Enigmatic Female

Lola's Sausage and Spinach Black Bean Soup

Last Thanksgiving, knowing how important my family is to me, and to demonstrate his commitment to me, Dallas volunteered to meet me in Maryland to spend the holiday at my parents' house. I took the train from New York on Tuesday night, and he flew in on Wednesday evening, in time for supper. As my parents were working on Wednesday and busy putting things together for our Thanksgiving meal, I decided I would cook dinner for everyone, especially for Dallas, who loves my cooking. One of the meals we enjoyed together several times in law school was my homemade chili, so I decided to make that. My parents were a few ingredients short, so I went to the store for some beans and other assorted goods. While I was browsing through the varieties of black beans, a tall, think black lady with short curly hair told me how much she loved black beans, and that if I loved them too, that I should try her recipe for black bean soup. She was making it to take to her Thanskgiving celebration, because people always requested it. I, not intending to be diverted from my chili, listened politely, but wasn't really interested until she told me the ingredients. The soup called for black beans, lentils, Italian style tomatos, sausage, and fresh spinach. It sounded good to me, so I thanked her and she left the aisle. A few seconds later, she popped back up, as I was looking for the lentils and Italian style tomatos. She was so excited that I was going to make her soup (I still purchased all the chili ingredients, in case it was a bust), that she led me around the store picking out the rest of the things I would need. I decided to add three different colors of green peppers to the mix for some color, and to use real Italian pork sausage instead of turkey kielbasa, as she recommended. I thanked her for the tip, and asked her for her name. She said it was Leola, I thanked her again, and went home.

When I arrived home, I cleaned up the kitchen and immediately started making the soup, just in case it sucked and I needed to quickly throw together the chili. It didn't suck. I could tell almost immediately that it was going to be excellent and very very easy, probably becoming a particular favorite of mine, as I adore black beans. My mom tasted it when she arrived home, and thought it was as good as I did. I left it on the stove while I went to collect Dallas from the airport. By the time we arrived home, everyone was there, including my Aunt P**. We all sat down to eat and everyone was raving about the soup, so I told the story of meeting Leola at the grocery store, and how she had led me around picking out various items and instructing me how to make the soup just so. My Aunt asked whether I was sure her name was Leola and what she looked like. She said that the woman sounded exactly like her friend Lola, whom my sisters, mother, and brother had all met. My aunt reminded me that I had even given the woman, along with another friend and my Aunt a ride home a few summers ago when my Aunt's car had broken down. I told her to call Lola right away and find out whether it was her. My Aunt started laughing hard on the phone, and told Lola the story. It was her at the store! She asked to speak with me and I told her how much everyone was enjoying the soup, and how happy I was that we met at the store. She said that she thought there was something about me that looked friendly or familiar and now she knew why. I told her that I was going to name the soup after her and tell the story each time I serve it. As the air here in Texas has turned slightly chilly (highs only in the upper 80s, low 90s!), I've been thinking of autumn and all the delicious autumn foods that I'm looking forward to. Lola's Sausage and Spinach Black Bean Soup is at the top of the list.

Ingredients:
one can lentil soup (Progresso works well)
two cans black beans
two cans Italian style tomatos
green, red, yellow peppers to taste
one pound of good italian sausage, removed from casings and crumbled (remove from casing and crumble before cooking the sauage -- you want something about the consistency of ground beef)
one bag of fresh spinach leaves (use 1/2 bag of frozen, if necessary)

Procedure:
Sautee the sausage and the peppers together in the bottom of a Dutch oven. When the sausage is completely cooked, dump all the ingredients into the pan and stir, except the spinach. Simmer together for an hour or so until the peppers are tender. Just before serving, wilt the spinach leaves into the soup and let cook about 2-3 minutes. Serve hot with a salad and warm corn bread.

Home For A Holiday, A Reprise

The new (old) boyfriend will be known as "Dallas" hereafter, as this is where he lives and there is a strong precedent in country music of substituting the name of the place for the person who lives there. Now that we've taken care of this small bit of housekeeping, onward to our Thanksgiving adventure with my parents in Maryland:

The first time Dallas visited my family in Maryland, it was Easter 2003. We were not yet dating, just thinking about it and getting comfortable, really comfortable, with each other. As he was presented to my family as a "friend," there wasn't much pressure for them to interrogate him or to weigh each thing he did and discuss amongst themselves whether he measured up to all their hopes and dreams for me. That notwithstanding, each person, as they do, formed their own opinion and reported back to me, by which time we had DTRed and were dating, of which I informed them, to their (only slight) surprise. This time was 180 degrees from that experience, as much has transpired in the past few weeks that I've been keeping strictly private, but will now divulge, in part.

First, we're firmly together this time and my family has been informed thereof.  Second, my family knows I love him. When we traveled together to Pittsburgh two weekends ago for a wedding reception, we stopped and had lunch with my mother and older sister. During this lunch, while Dallas was in the men's room, I told my mother and sister that he had said he was in love with me the prior night and that I had been mute in response until he made a joke to break the tension. Prior to his arrival for Thanksgiving, they were informed that I reciprocated and had told him as much. Third, we are both older than we were last time and fully independent, making any serious relationship a potential marriage and in need of close monitoring (while fully respecting my independence, of course). Needless to say, curiosity abounded.

When I arrived home on Tuesday night, my mom eagerly led me to the bedroom Dallas and I would be sharing to show me the new matching quilts she'd purchased for our benefit. I think she was feeling badly that she didn't have a bed larger than a twin for us to share. Little did she know, we shared a twin bed the whole time just fine. Well, not the whole time. The first night, desperately tired, I slept in my own bed and slipped back into the shared twin bed first thing in the morning. This is the reverse of what I'd always imagined I'd be doing with a non-spouse in my parents' house -- by which I mean that I imagined pretending to sleep in my own bed, sneaking in with a boyfriend in the middle of the night, then returning to my own room in the morning and emerging therefrom for family breakfast or the like.

Wednesday I was busy running errands and making soup until it was time to retrieve Dallas from the airport. I was so happy to see him and not just because he brought me a present:

That's right, envy me. My boyfriend crocheted me a soft lamby pink scarf that I didn't take off much over the next few days. I felt woefully inadequate in the textile arts department after receiving such a gift, but am endeavoring to make it up to him. Mums the word, but I have a most excellent Christmas present planned.

My sister and aunt came over for dinner to get a good look at him, then Dallas and I watched Napoleon Dynamite and laughed and laughed. The next day was Thanksgiving, when the real interrogation occurred. My aunt and uncle, their two daughters, one of my sisters, my brother, and another aunt were in attendance, in addition to my parents, myself, and of course, Dallas. I encouraged a three drink minimum for the men -- it just helps things go more smoothly. My dad and Dallas were into the scotch, my brother was drinking beer and (I think) bourbon or something, my aunt and uncle were drinking Mountain Dew with Canadian Mist, and I had vodka and Fresca, my new "it sips so good" drink of the diet variety. My aunt was asking pointed questions (which were not felt as such by Dallas, so thank goodness for small wonders) about Dallas's occupation (attorney), where he lives (um, duh), and the like. This irritated me, so I stayed away from it.

After being interrogated by my aunt, overseeing a game of Scrabble between my mom, aunts, and sister, watching football and drinking with my dad, hanging out and talking with my brother and sister, and then playing a game with all the women, Dallas made a more than favorable impression. After Dallas left on Saturday afternoon, I spent a good deal of time with my sister and mother debriefing the weekend. Many positive things were expressed, not the least of which is one of my absolute favorite things about him: his ability to have fun under almost any circumstances and to contribute positively to the experience of others. My sister felt that he had done a fantastic job of not rubbing in everyone's face how smart he is (something I sometimes struggle with, as I can be rather a snob), which I also appreciate, along with his complete lack of pretension. Moreover, my dad likes him. I almost fell over when speaking with my dad after returning to New York, when he said, "Tell Dallas that I really enjoyed having him here for Thanksgiving." This is like the golden snitch of parental approval. My dad *never* comments to us about who we're dating whether good, bad or otherwise. A lasting impression must have been made. While it is not something I would have allowed to influence me had my dad not liked him, it certainly speaks volumes about Dallas that my dad expressed verbally that he liked having him around. Up next: meeting Dallas's mother (for the first time; I've met the rest of his immediate family), exchanging Christmas presents the day after Christmas, and making merry with the Enigmatic family for New Year's. After surviving this holiday so successfully, I'm looking forward to all of it.

Jet Set

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday of this week on a short, tiring trip to D.C. Nothing compares with D.C. in the spring, when all the trees and flowers are in full, colorful bloom, there's not much humidity yet in the air, and the sun is bright and warm. D.C. is meant for spring. As I was there such a short time and had quite a bit to do, I didn't get to spend any time hanging out until I was in a cab on the way back to National Airport. One thing I never love about D.C. at any time is the traffic and that super crazy zone system the cabs have where you can go 3 blocks, but if you cross a zone, your fare doubles. The drive was slow enough that I was able to enjoy some of the sites, like the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, and lots of trees and flowers. I felt quite cosmopolitan flying in the morning I had to be there, and flying out the next evening when the work was over. This is not something I would want to do all the time, but it was tres sophisticated for a couple minutes. I even managed to make it back in time to head way the freak down the lower east side to catch a show of my friend, K, who is an aspiring musician and quite good. More on that later. It was a little less weird this time to be so close to R without seeing him. The last time I went all I could think about was how he had invited me to stay with him while I worked in D.C. I didn't tell him I would be in town this time, as I didn't want to be tempted to call him or try to see him. He probably wouldn't have gone along with that, but I didn't want to find out.

I Smell Like a Beer

There was no kissing. There was a good night hug. There were no regrets. A very good time was had by both parties. Such an electricity exists between us, the kind that makes every sound more clear, everything more funny, and everything that's going on around you unimportant. We laughed, caught up on mutual acquaintances, and laughed some more. He told me, "there's a woman waiting for me when I go back to Seattle." I didn't know what to do with that, so I ignored it until we said goodbye. An older, weirder dude and his young sidekick stopped by our table and tried to hustle a few bucks by guessing our age based on our handshake and was flatly wrong, but not off by much. But he wouldn't leave. I had to get all nasty-lawyer on him and tell him to step-off, but more elegantly. He started hitting on me by reciting Shakespeare...but S was RIGHT THERE. How much of a jackhole do you have to be to intrude on two people sitting there, trying to catch up? A LOT. Too much, even. At one point I told him to leave or I would get the bartender. He repeatedly apologized, but thinking I wasn't taking the apology sincerely enough, hung aroung and apologized some more...IN ITALIAN. Luckily, I do understand "mi dispiace" and told him it was fine, but that I would believe his apology more sincere if he would leave. He left. Then he came back and apologized again. I told him all was forgiven and wished him a good night, and prayed that he'd stay away this time. To say I was disappointed that the evening ended after a few hours is an understatement. S and I used to talk all night; one time we talked until I lost my voice. This could have been one of those nights, but for the fact that we're both working tomorrow and he has a "woman waiting for [him]." There is just something about S that makes the toes curl right up in my shoes and makes me forget ever being mad at him.

Oh, Now I Remember...

S is in town. I txt messaged him last night, he replied asking whether I wanted to do something, I replied that I did and that he should call. I later left a message. At 9:21pm I tried calling again. Now I remember why it was so hard to be with him. I would repeatedly forego plans, or not make plans, or delay doing things I needed to get done under the assumption that he and I would have plans. Then he wouldn't call, would show up an hour or so late (even when he would call to say he was on his way), and by the time we talked again, I would be furious. I believe I had a broken record phrase I used when we were together...something about not valuing my time or something. I'm sure it got annoying. Most of the time I wasn't even upset with him -- I was upset at myself for not just making other plans when he wouldn't call in time and just telling him to get bent. Here I am again, sitting home, all dolled up, having no idea whether he will call and want to hang out. I have to go back to D.C. in the morning (parents live about 40 minutes away), and had planned to return to NYC tomorrow evening. Now I may choose to forego that for him and go back later, probably fucking up my whole week. Why, why, why do I do this?

I last saw him in November. I was with R at that time, although I was alone when I saw S. S asked me whether I was happy with R, and I replied that the situation wasn't great. R was very upset when I reported this to him, thinking it meant I wasn't really happy if I couldn't express this to S. Now I think he may be right...that seeing S made me feel like something was missing with R, but that I didn't choose to acknowledge that at the time. Ever since S and I broke up I have been looking for a relationship that provides the things he couldn't: extreme stability, a plan for the future, a positive reception by the "in-laws," but maybe, just maybe I have foregone being crazy and foolish in love and awed by the person himself and have traded that for the promise of a lasting relationship with no real obstacles. I need to find both, but am very doubtful about my ability to do so.

Week's Worth of Rambling

I'm still in D.C. enjoying my stay at the fine establishment that is the Courtyard Convention Center. My traveling companions have been less than impressed with our accomodations, but they suit me just fine. I have a king-size bed with five (5!) pillows...enough for me to snuggle one on each side of my body, one under my head, and still have two to spare if one should fall off the bed. Plus, the hotel restaurant is a brewery with its own beer that's not half-bad. The breakfast buffet isn't tops, but it's cheap and has fresh pineapple, so it's for me. I have been reading some trashy-ass romance novels predictable enough to make me feel like I've already read them and loving every minute.

The one major hitch in the fabric of my carefree  lovely days here is the recent onset illness of my iBook. (I am typing this from an ugly, bulky Compaq Presario on loan to me from my firm. Now that I've insulted it, it will probably die too.) The other day the iBook froze. For the first time EVER. I've had it for about 18 months without a single problem and it froze. I wasn't concerned; I simply turned it off and rebooted, which went well until the screen froze halfway in. The next time I rebooted, I noticed that the screen was making weird little lines before freezing. I squeezed the bottom left part of the iBook when I next rebooted, and it was fine. This was the pattern for a few days until I arrived here. I haven't been able to get any signal to the monitor the entire week. A total bummer. Looking for solutions (and being beyond the coverage of my Apple Care warranty), I investigated the Geek Squad, only to find that they sounded rather wary of disemboweling a Mac. I investigated CompUSA's tech department and found them to be an Apple Approved Service Center. Lastly, I checked out Apple's website and lo and behold, something there caught my attention:

The Expanded iBook Logic Board Repair Extension Program covers iBooks that have a specific component failure on the logic board, resulting in the computer starting up but the built-in and attached external displays exhibiting one or more of the following symptoms:

• Scrambled or distorted video
• Appearance of unexpected lines on the screen
• Intermittent video image
• Video freeze
• Computer starts up to blank screen

Could it be? The exact symptoms my precious iBook was exhibiting? Why yes, yes it could! I called and found out how to get my serial number. And then guess what...they told me I'm eligible, that it was lucky I called, as the program ended within the next two weeks, and got it all set up for me to send in the iBook and get it all fixed. The only downside is they have to wipe my hard drive and I have about 30 gigs of stuff on there I want to keep. I need to figure that all out.

Strangely, each night this week involved copious drinking. It was fun, but damn, I'm not as young as I used to be. It was exhausting! But, ultimately much fun, and have developed a small, hopefully harmless, crush on a co-worker that can amount to nothing, but gives me hope that dating might be fun again at some point--not to have a relationship, necessarily, but maybe to have fun, go out, discuss books and movies and music and just get a different perspective once in awhile.

Premature Wed-jaculation

I talked to my mom this morning and told her that I'm feeling financially healthy for the first time in a very long while. I've been paying off debts, but also saving money, as I anticipate that this is going to be an expensive time with moving from my apartment (maybe) and taking the Maryland bar, and moving to Maryland. And she said... Do you want to know what she said? She said, "Well, I don't know if you're thinking that this would be what makes this time expensive, but my officemate had this wedding cake that was made by a small baker in Baltimore. It was shaped like a present. It had a hard outer shell with mouse layers. It wasn't layered like a normal cake." Touched that she was thinking R and I will be getting married soon, and of course loving the thought of this myself, I added, "that's cool--you could have a couple presents instead of a tiered cake." At the same time, though, there's a world of difference between knowing I want to marry R and talking with him about it, and actually thinking in terms of cold hard logistics that involve other people. I asked her whether she knew something I didn't, like had R talked to her and my dad? And told her to give me the stealth report. She said he hadn't, but that I shouldn't expect the stealth report in any event, as she wouldn't give to me. She speculated that my dad might be another matter, but said hopefully asking my dad would be shortly followed by asking me. I agreed, but felt extremely extremely premature even talking about this. R anchored me back in reality when I told him about this conversation by saying, "well, I haven't made any plans in that direction." This was just the expectation-management that needed to happen this afternoon.

DC Fashion Disasters #3 and #4

Sometimes a fashion disaster is not made by what is worn, but by what is not worn. Case in point: while walking to class, I noticed two incredibly long female legs walking hurriedly in front of me. Being short, I looked up and my gaze was about at ass-level of a woman wearing a mint green (and very brief) suit. She wore no pantyhose, and in fact, wore no panties. How, you might be wondering, could I tell that she was not in fact wearing panties? Well, I'll tell you. The skirt was so tight and the material was so transparent that I could actually see the crack of her ass through the skirt. I'm not making this up. Furthermore, because the skirt was so tight, it smushed the cheeks of her ass flat on the outside. I think I heard the strained protest of the fabric as I walked past. Needless to say, this was not a good look for her and she was going to WORK!

The second disaster by omission actually involves a repeat offender. Due to my hunch that she couldn't care less about anything clothing-related, I found it unproductive and unfulfilling to mention some of her outfits on this site, despite seeing many pairs of pants that are too short to be regular pants, too long to be cropped pants, and wearing every single shirt that Yale Law School produced the entire 3 years she was there, etc. I cannot ignore the constant disaster situation any longer, as I was forced to come face to face with two braless breasts in a way way too baggy tank top yesterday. If your boob is slipping out the armpit hole of your shirt, even a little, might you want to consider wearing something a little more, shall we say, supportive?

Back on the Up and Up

The problem of lying to the date about staying in DC is now moot. Two dates later and an email saying he feels that "we're better suited as just friends" and my lying days are over. The problem is, I actually enjoyed dating this guy--he did get an unprecedented second date. He was, perhaps, a bit old for me, and most certainly too much of a player, but a good diversion from studying from the bar for sure.

DC Fashion Disaster #2

There was a woman in my bar review class today with an ankle-length blue and white plaid jumper worn with K-Swiss tennis shoes and socks. And she wasn't Amish or pregnant.