Behold the ubiquitous Rotisserie Chicken, fixture of many a supermarket deli section, its savory aroma tempting shoppers to the little tanning-bed-like heat table where it huddles with its peers in its plastic pod. When the weather gets as wretchedly hot as this week, and one just can't bring oneself to even turn on a burner on the stove, let alone the oven, but your wallet and your stomach lining whimper at the prospect of most types of fast-food take-out, Rotisserie Chicken is there to save the day. You can find them on sale as cheap as $5.99 (Vons right now, with savings card; and frequently at Food-4-Less, no card required). And once you take them home, you've got fodder for salad or sandwiches or quesadillas or tacos or whatever strikes your heat-addled tastebuds' fancy. Me, I like to remove all the skin and bones (save and freeze them for the stockpot once the weather cools off), chop the meat, and make some variety of chicken salad. Chopped onion, celery, and red bell pepper are my go-to veg add-ins; then enough good-quality mayo to make the mixture hold together without swimming in the dressing; oh, and my secret ingredient: a little nutmeg. Really puts a snap in the flavor. Put some on a bed of lettuce or stuff some in a pita, and there you go. Plus you're set for a few days' worth of take-to-work lunches -- provided you have an insulated lunch container and a fridge in which to stow it till it's time to dine. If not, in this weather I'd nix the mayonnaise in favor of a mix of good extra-virgin olive oil and good flavored or balsamic vinegar -- and drop the nutmeg in favor of an Italian herb blend.
Thank God, the sun has moved sufficiently across the sky that there is no longer oven-hot air blowing into my bedroom/office. Not that I haven't been working steadily all day through the oven-bake-cycle portion of the day, but it's been a kind of endurance thing, a deliberate ignoring of the sensations of sticky skin and sweat-dampened hair, a hunkering down and getting on with it while physically moving around as little as possible.
And now, glory be, there is actually a refreshingly cool breeze blowing in my window, and even though it's also making the film of sweat on my skin feel even oilier, I'm greeting it like a long-lost friend.
Meanwhile I have the radio on in the background, tuned to the Los Angeles AM news station because its frequent time checks keep me on-pace while I work ... and today the station's also been reminding me of folks who are having a lot nastier time than me right now. It's the fires again. The soundbites from emergency personnel and on-the-scene reporters and displaced residents crowd one upon another, flogged by the studio news anchors in between the usual round of commercials -- augmented by an announcement from one of the big insurance companies that they have agents standing by in case of loss. Somewhere behind that slightly surreal barrage of reportage are some very hot and sweaty--and also frightened--homeowners, and some even more hot and sweaty -- and fiercely determined --- firefighters.
Was it only a few years ago that I got to experience this fire emergency thing a good bit more up close and personal, during the Cedar fires? And I was still a good five miles away from the actual fireline. But that unnervingly hellish sullen red sky, the choking ash-laden air, really put the fear of God in me. What we've done to the ecosystem to make these fires into the disaster-movie beasts they have become ...
But enough of that. I'm not going to fix global warming and natural habitat destruction and water supply depletion all on my own by fretting at it. And the pile o' work isn't getting any shorter. So: motivate, motivate. Detach from fretting about the past and future, focus on the now, and get on with things.
Like the next item on the agenda: finishing packing to move across town. Yet again. Sigh ... I hate packing to move even more than I hate super-hot weather ... but no, don't even go there. Just get on with it and get it done. And be grateful you're only packing for a move, and not flinging your valuables into a car and taking off like a bat outta hell for a Red Cross shelter. This too shall pass.
As those who have been following my blog know, I have been furiously working on strategies to deal with the job situation and associated financial insecurities. Especially as the standard procedure of simply sending out resumes and networking like crazy has not turned up anything long-term, my strategies have needed to get more creative -- like going back to school to update my computer skills yet again, and buff up the ol' resume.
Or starting to write for Examiner.com to build my portfolio of online writing samples and gain experience with SEO and viral marketing; the actual pay on this gambit is symbolic at best, but it does allow me to claim that I had a paid online writing gig. Plus, God/ess help me, I do love writing about food...
Y'know, a couple of decades ago there was this totally-hot New Age-y type affirmation book called Do What You Love, The Money Will Follow. I always had my share of doubts concerning that philosophy, knowing that several of the things I loved to do more than anything else in the world (writing, acting, scholarship) had long-established track records of not making money for more than a very lucky few. I wish I could track down the wag who re-coined that slogan as "Do what you love, even if the money doesn't follow" ... I want to say it was someone associated with the Artist's Way movement, but my copy of the book is in a box somewhere and I can't verify it through a Google search.
But in any case, over the past several years I have been trying to come up with various ways to do what I love, either combined or not combined with something I do for money. Let's just say it's not succeeding as planned, which finds me in this situation. So ... back to the drawing board once again.
But in the meantime, I figure there's no harm in putting out to the world at large that, hey, if you like what you see in this blog, and are interested in having me come write or edit for you, or run your blogs and other online viral marketing stuff, I'm available.
Still way too hot, and with way too much on my life-plate, to deal with
cooking today. But I looked up and realized I hadn't eaten all day -
yikes! So I went to another of my go-to places when I need cheap
healthy take-out alternatives: Marukai Market. This nori bento cost
$4.58 and packs a lot of food. Itadakimasu.
Once again caught one of the last parking spaces on the roof of the new
parking structure. For the time being, if you're not rolling up by
8:18am, you're SOL.
I was so encouraged yesterday that I was feeling so great after hiking
all over campus Tuesday, but since I also spent a good 5 hours or more
yesterday sitting in front of a computer working, plus other assorted
paid gig stuff, now my bod's cranky. Fortunately, the upside of getting
on campus so early is I can take my time walking, and walk the
stiffness out. In the long run I think this will be the best thing to
happen to my bod in some time. Work off some of the weight I put back
on stressing over life stuff.
Looking forward to my claases. I especially like my Japanese teacher -
Sensei is a charming woman, but also very much in the Japanese rather
than the American mold of instructor. I'm gonna have to really bust ass
to memorize that hiragana table ASAP.
The campus is a little spartan, but has pretty spots like this.
You know I really love and appreciate you all, however you make your way here to The Duck's Nest.
You might also notice that little badge in the right column of my blog, that says Sitemeter. Now Sitemeter is a very handy hit-counter tool, in that it not only counts how many people visit my page, but it frequently also captures what site they came from, or what phrase they were churning through a search engine to get here.
So I know from Sitemeter's data that a number of folks have come visiting recently to check out that wonderfully ripe -- and apparently authentic -- quote from Julia Child about some very hot cannelloni, that I reproduced in my recent review of Julie & Julia.
Now don't get all embarrassed at me. Or paranoid. Sitemeter can't actually tell me who you are, or even where you are, beyond an occasional vague city/country notation. But I do know from the fact that you're hitting my site in search of that phrase that, like me, you're probably even a little more in love with Julia Child for the knowledge that she was capable of letting fly with language like that. And that, also like me, you're probably a little wacko.
And you know what? I love you for that. Don't change a hair. Just set right down, pour yourself a virtual martini, and let's all toast to Julia and other wild inspirational women of her ilk. Like the old blues song goes, wild women don't get the blues. Oh, and bon appetit, and all that.
I'm told this newcomer is owned by a British supermarket chain, whose critics cite it for Walmart-ish biz practices. I think it'll get even more criticism here for reliance on those automated checkout stations, whose backfirings make me feel like I'm in an SFnal "I Love Lucy" ep. The food savings can be pretty good, though they follow Trader Joe's practice of packaging most of their produce in larger units than I, a single householder, find useful. This outpost is on Navaho Rd off the 125; they're building another at University and 32nd.
My first day of class at Mesa, and trust me to memorialize it with a food photo. This California burrito from the hard-working folks in the school cafeteria was actually not bad, except for the tough poor-flavored carne asada. I will be packing a lunch from here on in - and breakfast too no doubt; I got on-campus at 8:20 and just managed to snag one of the last dozen parking spaces. Maybe as the semester progresses, the parking situation will thin out.
One class down so far (Intro to Multimedia), one to go (Intro. Japanese).
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