Need vs. Want

I’ve put my 2001 Honda with 32,800 miles in good, not to be mistaken with mint, condition up for sale. Wink. Wink. Knudge. Any takers? I even gave my car some love and took it for a carwash. It’s not that I neglect my car; it’s just that I’m simply a lethargic slug, lazy for short. Hell, I’m not sure a homeless person would make my car his home, because on top of lazy I’m also a slob.

We’re on the mission for a car before the snow season begins, trying to steer away from SUVs, but boy they sure are shmoove. A requirement more than a must is a 4-wheel drive; Shane’s a board jock, a true sucker for snow. We were shooting for an Audi, but after speaking to too many unsatisfied customers, we’re leaning towards the BMW, 3 series sports package. Shane’s taken the 3 series out for a test drive as I sat in the backseat hung over, but from where I sat the ride was smooth, even if this car would be my ride. Irony, I’m a few months from paying off my car only to take on a new one.

Flashback: 1993, lower Haight flat two floors above Toronado, throwing my old boyfriend down two flights of stairs for stealing my hard earned savings for a Dodge Dart or Welding equipment. I kicked him in the gut first when I found out he pawned my bass guitar and my amp.

Meanwhile, I need to post my car on Craig list, because I’m not trading my car with a dealer. I might as well sell my reproduction organs, if I’m pursuing that route.

Lesson: Silly Grasshopper it is only destiny that can determine your fate, not your legs.

Fab is on the rise

Yes, I am a retard. Even after my wedding I pursue the happiness of a flat stomach. I have been working really hard towards it. I know I will wake up on the morning of Christmas and lift my t-shirt and find a nice red bow from santa on my flat abs. Three cheers for Santa and his army of elves. Sorry I am very coerced by my daydreams.

I’ve continued to see my personal trainer twice a week and I may just bump him up to thrice a week. It has not been a walk in the park for me. I’m not fat, but I want flat abs aka fabs godamnit! I’m not the lucky few who are born with fab. I’m the percentage that was born with that evil DNA of flab.

So in my pursuit to self confidence, I am seeking the help of my personal trainer. I know I should be seeing a psychiatrist instead, but they just sit and scribble. I have increased my cardio and I’ve decreased my food portions. Maybe I should see a therapist…but, I’m already crazy as a hawk.

It’s not like I want breast implants, lipo, or calf implants? I just want my firm body of eighteen again. No, let’s make that 21 (legal age of drinking). Plus, I can’t just forfeit my body to fat. It’s just too easy to scarf on a bucket of fried chicken, snort a pile of buttered mash potatoes, wolf a gallon of apple pie crumble ice cream! Society gets down on drug abuse. Honestly, food abuse is on the rise. According to the SSFSG (Shellie San Francisco Statistic Group), in the 25-40 age group, 10 to 1 people suffer from heart disease pertaining to the epidemic of trans and saturated fat food than drug overdoses nationwide. So Ronald McDonald, I plead on the life of my future childen, stop frying and salting your foods!

Anyway, back to me, myself and my flab. Dear Santa, I promise to make my bed every morning, not tease Dolomite (my dust ball under the bed), run and not walk up the hills, chew my food, not spill canned corn off the roof of my building on the heads of jogging yuppies. Thank you in advance for the fab.

Lesson: Young spry grasshopper cannot cross river on broken branch.

The Daily Woman

"You make me feel like dancing, dance the night away, you make me feel like dancen! Whew! Dancin' whew..." The alarm dazzles me with disco. I spring out of bed at 5:55am. The warm water runs down my head, my energy level jolts into a motorcycle wheelie! I’m so thrilled to go to work, yet I’m not embarrassed to admit it, to myself that is. The series of tasks begin to grease the tiny wheels in my tiny brain, but not in a, "ouch there's a shard of glass in my eyeball!" Outside the sun has yet to greet the sky and those filthy flying rat rodents we call pidgeons remain unseen.


Make haste and make way you peasants for the former queen of slackers has shed her scales!

I was not a morning person. In fact, m’aam I’ll have the early bird special please? As a matter of truth, I was that person that snoozed until bats became warm fuzzy house pets. My friends and family’s eyes would burst out of their sockets, if they got hold of this news. They'd probably place odds and bets on how long I would be able to sustain this routine.

There’s something about being one step ahead of people that energizes this tortoise. I mean think about it no lines at the coffee shop, the train is empty. As soon as I get to work, I hit the ground running. Smile. Best of all, I get off work earlier than all the other losers. That leaves the gym, which right across the street from my building, to be empty as well!

Immediately from the shower, I make way to give Shane the shakedown. Get your filthy minds out of the gutter! I grab his shoulders and give him a gentle baby syndrome shake. He's like one of thos plastic baby dalls when you yank the chord they speak and crawl. Shane muddles on about where in the hell do I get this energy from.

In plastic crawling baby robot fashion, he proceeds to the kitchen to make his sandwich. I take that back, 2 sandwiches. He packs both of us a low fat cottage cheese with berries toasted slivered almonds with a swirl of honey in a tight air tupperware. Onto the coffee shop for his monstrous bottled water and a short double nonfat latte with a tiny squirt of vanilla.

Than as we drive down the crest of Dolores and 25th Street the sun begins to peel the darkness from the sky. As most of San Francisco is pressing their snooze button, we witness the birth of a beautiful day.

Lesson: Grasshopper should always pack a lunch that way body no go hungry and mind no go crazy.

Make my home a sweet one, please

We’ve been shopping around for a house for a couple weeks. A fixer upper that will possibly be our permanent. Thank the lord, because this nomadic life was wearing on me something dismal. Shane's what you call a "flipper" a person that buys a fixer (a rundown house with lucrative potential), remodel and sell. There's something about living so many different places that it helps you in defining exactly where you want to call home.

I’ve always wanted to live in Potrero Hill. Oh, stop your groaning! What’s wrong with that? I know for all you hipsters, I might as well buy a Jaguar (no offense pimp’en Kurt), but who cares? I’ve spent most of my time in San Francisco in lower haight and the Mission, and frankly I would love to leave the house without any fecal matter on my doorstep. It’s the greatest treasure! Don’t worry I’m not turning into a yuppie or anything. On the otherhand, I refuse to live in the Richmond or Sunset district, because who wants to live among zombies.

Please don’t misunderstand my preferences. If you can afford to buy a house in the city, more collateral to you! In fact, congratulations! I, myself, am slightly ignorant and narrow minded and would love to live in an area of San Francisco that wasn’t infested with bums, fecal, urine and boredom.

Lesson: Dishonorable Grasshopper never reaches nirvana sitting on one blade of grass.

This is dedicated to Uncle John and Aunt Nyra and his keen eye and business sense for without them, we would not be so privileged.

Barfday

Today is my birthday!!!! La-La-La-Tra-La-La-La!!!! The year of my birth is concealed in a vault thick as thieves. Just kidding, I don’t care…your still not going to find out how old I am. I'm so excited that I wish I could jump on a trampoline and "snap" fly straight to the moon!!!

Shane and I are going to Boulette Larder in the ferry building for breakfast. I can’t wait!!! There’s something about that place that makes you feel like your having breakfast in France. The fireplace and the long wooden dining table filled with strangers. From there, we’re heading to Yank Sing for some dim sum yum yum with friends.




I’ve found good reason to celebrate my birthday for the past three days. At least, I’m not like other people where the whole month is reserved for such self absorption. I’d love to, but I don’t have the audacity.

Shane, as usual, has always made my birthdays special. As you know, he proposed to me on my birthday last year. But don’t let him fool you. The most stressful times for him is, my birthday and Christmas. It’s not like I’m chasing him around with a sharp axe reminding him that the BCBG military coat on macys.com for $685.00 is way too generous, but is available for overnight shipping?

He just wants to make sure that everything is surprisingly perfect. For instance, he suffers from anxiety attacks just thinking about what accentuates he my wardrobe. He is restless with worry. It’s not like I make him that way, he somehow puts it on himself. I have no expectations whatsoever about anything, but because he is my sweetie sweets he just wants things to be perfect.

Case in point, he wanted to surprise me for my birthday by taking me out to dinner. So I blurted out a few restaurants and he got so upset, because he wasn’t aware of them. Hello? If you your going to take me out to dinner, at least fish around and find out where I want to go? Anyway, that just spiraled into complete disgust with himself.

Lesson learned: Honorable grasshopper should always keep mouth shut and be content with sunshine and grass.

Savory

Upon return from Hawaii it was back to reality, but the disco ball never ceased to turn. See there were too many Virgos in the circle of friends, including yours truly. Of course, we have to celebrate the birth of our doom of happiness. Therefore, I luv, love, luv dinner! It doesn’t matter if it’s eating “in” or “dining out,” well…ahem…next to brunch and shopping of course! It all starts with an aperitif of a glass of champagne. It is a sheer must!

Since we’re stuck to purgatory in this one bedroom cozy apartment, my dinner parties has ceased to desist. I didn’t realize it till now, but our friends do not host dinner parties. But, whatever it doesn't matter. We’ve succumbed to eating out, which is fine with me, if only nine tenths of the restaurants in San Francisco were decent. I mean just 'cause it's some sort of fusion and served as a small plate theme where the plates are swirled with some typical reduction squirted from some squeeze bottle, does not make it bling bling yum?

Sure, I try not to be a food snob, but I can’t help it. I’ve been mind f@cked by my last chef (aka Chef Q) to notice many things in a dish down to a bite full. From thereonin, I was doomed a snob, if you will. Indeed, my friends are happy at a plateful of some braised meat plopped on a pile of slobbering starchy buttered whipped mashed potatoes. For instance, they have no concept of the art of perfect mashed potatoes. They didn’t have to make fifteen pounds of it everyday, five days a week, for months on end. It takes a certain type of potato, to a certain density, to incorporating fluff and air, to the mounds of salt included and other gunk. I, too, wish I was a simpleton of sorts and in that way I would be easily content with food.

With all that, I’ve learned to swallow my art, but not forget it. In addition, I have learned that with the perfect company and with the ideal amount of alcohol, who cares what the food taste like? The most important thing is to step off the soap box and savor the good times with friends.

Thank you for your Patience

Now that the weddings over and done with, what now? I’ve got so much time on my hands. I guess I should begin with the thank you cards, but I don’t know where to start. I know it sounds mindless, but how do I briefly and concisely say thank you alongwith a personalized thank you to each person?

I prefer to handwrite each note, but Shane is not happy with his fourth grade scribble. Personally, I think I flunked out of cursive too. My intentions were good, but I think we’ll go the printer route. For as much as I want to distribute this immediately, I know that this won’t be done to middle of October.

Lesson: Disgraceful Grasshopper needs to learn to see straight before he can jump.

Once in a lifetime

I would just like to preface that having everyone in Kauai was like Christmas to the power of a million. Talk about peace on earth! It was so heavenly. I mean to see Ryan with a bronze tan rock’en the shorts, flip flops and swimming in the water was like Haley’s comet. Another instance, is to Dance Machine Dave shake his butt off nights in a row; a joyous holiday.




Even more spine tingling, everyone sitting on the beach watching the sunset and later sitting around the bonfire, drinking, and listening to the waves crash. A tear comes to my eyes, when everyone that hold close to our hearts (with a few stragglers that couldn't make it)together on the island that has been described as Heaven on Earth.

A memory that will never be erased from my mind.

Lesson: Baby Grasshopper if you can walk across this rice paper without making a tear you shall be the next kung fu master.

Going back to Cali

After the wedding, we hung out on Kauai for a couple more days. We than popped over to Oahu to see my family before we left.

The general consensus was that everyone had the time of they’re life. I expected our friends to get down at the reception, but I mean even family members were shakin’ their romper! I’m really pleased that everyone had a blast! That’s all I wanted to hear. Sure there were a few snags along the way, but whady’a gonna do? You can’t hang everyone for breathing.

So it’s back to reality. New job. New place. New start. It’s strange to introduce myself as Shellie Kitchen. It’s cool. Life is cozy.

Mañana

The day after the wedding, Shane went golfing with friends(his favorite favorite next to me), and I went to the beach (my favorite favorite next to Shane) to snorkel and sponge up the natural beauty. That sort of flurried a few issues with my girlfriends considering the immediate. Honestly, I didn't mind him golfing, because we have the rest of our lives to celebrate our unity. I mean, this is one time that all of our friends are in the same spot, that was a rarity.

In fact, next year we're planning to go to Santorini, Mykonos, Spain and Italy. I don't ever, ever, ever want to be that chivy henpecking nag of a wife. I want to be that wife that savors what he enjoys in life.

In the meantime, as a dutiful wife, I will try my damndest to inject him with minimal doses of bossing around, and whining like, "I know you would love me even if I get fat, but do you think I'm getting fat, honey?" It just wouldn't be fun being Mrs. Kitchen otherwise.

This is Mrs. Kitchen yelling from the top of her lungs, back to you Bob at the studio!!!! Damnit, my souffle deflated! We're eating out tonight.