Starbutts

Sometime in June 2006, I walked out on coffee like a bad musical. Subsequent to my first appointment with the Chinese acupuncture, I was advised that the enzyme in the coffee bean irritated the female fertility machine. Nonetheless, any other form of caffeine was okay. I'm no saint, I have stumbled off the wagon once or twice, but what's the harm in one cup of coffee?

Since my coffee free debut, I have noticed a dark phenomena. On the way to work, during my lunch, in the office, on my way home, driving on the weekends, in the hands of celebrities, in the movies. Starbucks! It's taken over! It's everywhere I turn. It's in my face like a passive aggressive bum. In the financial district, there's a Starbucks parked on practically every block, if not every other. It's a Starbucks cesspool. It's disgusting. Talk about pusher. Walking from the N Judah to my office building, these Starbuckers with their glassy dazed walk of a zombie. There's more Starbuckers than smokers. I think that Starbucks is giving Phillip Morris a run for their money. I don't mean to dishonor the throne of Starbucks, but when do you say, "enough is enough?"

Shellie's Proverb: Nothing uplifting about a facelift.

Kudos to the Marketing and PR departments, they are filthy geniuses. They took the McDonald's Super Size strategy and went to the circus. As appalled Italians sit and watch the Americans in amazement: macchiato is a cappuccino; cappuccino is a latte; latte is a bowl of soup. Didn't we insult them enough with our version of the pizza? The cup sizes are another subconscious ploy: small a 'tall', medium a 'grande', a large a 'venti' and must be ordered as such. If ordered differently, the robots behind the counter will correct you on your ordering etiquette. Next time, just throw some water on them and see if they fizz out.

I'm not a political person at all, although I should be. I'm not a hater rater either. I would just like to see less of Starbutts. Give the cozy neighborhood coffe houses a chance to stretch and breath. I would love to see some sort of regulation requiring a maximum of 2 Starbucks allowed in one square mile. Regulate. How lazy are we? Give us a reason to walk a few blocks to get a nice cup of coffee? The next time you leave your house count how many zombies are cozying to a nice cardboard cup of Starbucks. You'd be surprised.

Lesson: A strong Grasshopper must remember when enemy does not look you in the eye he is plotting a conspiracy.

One Small Step for Marriage One Giant Step for the Kitchens

Marriage is not for everybody, hence the flighty. Marriage is not for the spontaneous at heart. It’s not a flower arrangement. It’s a commitment. A lifetime. It’s a roller coaster ticket to ride so buckle up. Today is our one year mark. One whole glop of a year. I still have a hard time saying, "my husband," without stuttering. It'll take a while for it to stick. The other day I slipped and called him my boyfriend and he abruptly corrected me. Oops. Darn you Freudian!

As marriage is a new culture, so room for improvements are, most of the time, welcome. I remain true to my art of cooking, although portion control has been established. Thus, our passion for hosting dinner parties still lives. My clothing spree is down to an all time low. A nice pat on the back. Frown. As a recovering bulimic takes it slow, hence I have slightly curbed my shoe collection. Heck, I even make the bed! Folks, seriously, please hold your applause until after the speech. Boxing, what can I say? Boxing has positively contributed to every aspect of our lifestyle. Huge fan! As for my cable television and couch intake, that's as sparse as the brain cells jouncing around in my head. On a high note, my complaining is null, but my whining are all kicks and giggles.

In addition, I suffered a blow to my name change from Cadelinia to Kitchen. The origin of that name is still outstanding. My guess is that it used to be Kuchen or Kiechen or some Dutch derivative. As soon as Grandpa landed on American soil they immigrantized it to Kitchen. Anyway, I constantly suffer the constant inquiries, "Is that real? What kinda last name is Kitchen? What is the origin?" If I was Caucasian, I wouldn't be hit with that question. Although a Filipino with a last name after a room where meals are prepared, suspicious! This here Filipino is an imposter! Arrest her, she might be carrying a pipe bomb!

2005 to 2006 Benchmarks:
August 27, 2005 – Consummation Proclamation
September 2005 – First birthday as Mrs. Kitchen
October 2005 – Kitchens first Halloween
November 2005 – Kitchens first Gobble
December 2005 – Purchased and moved into Potrero Hill Home. Kitchens first Christmas.
January 2006 - Boxing work out infatuation begins. First new year as Mrs. Kitchen. Shane’s 34th birthday married.
February 2006 – Urgency to slim waistline, discreetly signed up for Weight Watchers...ssshhh
March 2006 – Sloshed down first black diamond as Mrs. Kitchen
April 2006 – The birth of the idea of Kitchen’s as parents was born. Gulp.
May 2006 - Shane is a General Contractor
June 2006 – First and last hike up Yosemite’s Top of the Falls
July 16, 2006 – First conception attempt
August 27, 2006 – One year

I, Mrs. Kitchen, had a reservation at Charlie Palmer's Dry Creek Kitchen at the Healdsburg Hotel. Idea was quickly axed subsequent to current husband reviewing the menu. Apparently, it was not breakfast friendly. It was all fluff. I was reeled by the foie beef burger. I couldn't see past it.Foie! Nothing like a nice goose liver.

Instead, we opted for The Fig and the Girl or is it the Girl and the Fig? Prelude to breakfast began with a refreshing glass of fig mimosa and bellini. A split order of the brioche french toast stuffed with whipped cream cheese. The best!!! I had the sausage with the potato pancake red pepper coulis. Blah. My husband, as usual, topped my dish with a breakfast pizza. We wobbled home as thoughts of a nap slowly weaved its way in my thoughts. Napster on my first year anniversary? How appauling! Maybe on year seven!

A flock of friends (the newly engaged Carrs, Colleen and beau hunk, The Bleskaceks, Grundmans, Randall and company) joined us on such a beautiful day. We noshed on barbecue sausages, array of antipasti, and we managed to hydrate on our favorite serum. A game of horseshoe ensued as the women clucked poolside. My chick clucking was followed by a two hour swim in the pool. Did I mention that I was half fish?

Shellie's Proverb: Each laughter is original authentic and can not be fabricated.

We had a dinner reservation which was rescheduled twice to 8pm due to traffic congestion from Glen Ellen back to the city. Ame was simply unpretentious, the food was superb and the service was genuine. Shane finished a cucumber martini in five seconds flat, because it was -in his own words- off the hook! I sipped on an Urban Cougar, a ginger pomegranate cosmopolitan, not really listed as such. Roar. We ordered two items from the sashimi bar along with crispy sweetbread, FOIE terrine, miso black cod, and kurobota pork chop with crispy pork belly. Every bite was followed by a hymn of mouthwatering praise.

Shane. He comes packaged with a wad of idiosyncracies that are like finger nails running down a chalkboard. Such as his constant rebuttle in rap or hip hop lyrics. Or his constant zeal in detail about a grilled peanut butter sandwich he had for breakfast. Finally, his light obsessive compulsive disorder tendencies such as silverware being individually stacked on top of each other and must face due South. Consider that against the weight of any other male overlord and you've got cotton candy!

Top 10 Qualies to Win Any Woman's Heart
1. Loyal, definitely no more than a dog.
2. Spineful quality, but not too much that it get's you into a women's shelter.
3. Fancies your quirks.
4. Finds you attractive despite how fit or fat.
5. Greets you in the morning with an, “I love you,” and closes the day with an, “I love you.”
6. Best friend: shares his daily dallies without your prodding.
7. Honest, will brave the unchartered waters i.e., "that outfit is atrocious."
8. Charming, opens the car door for you.
9. Cleanliness: daily showers, dabbles in you expensive facial wash, but not too much that he's a metrosexual.
10. Compromise, will allow you to scan channels during the commercial break of the Giants game.

Marriage is still fresh and new. We have yet to be sucked into this vacuous great abyss that veterans label the black hole. We have remained true to ourselves. God forbid, we are joined at the hips. On the contrary, he has his rooster time aka golf trips and poker nights. I have my PMS support group it's called Netflix and a glass of Pinot Griggio and the latter the group of cackling inebriated girls night out. It's the only route to go. We are independently cohesive.

It's not the date, the friends, or the meals that made today precious. It's been an outstanding year! It's been action packed full of sweetness. There is not one day that passes that I’m not happier than the day prior. Certainly, we have the occasional bicker which never last more than fifteen minutes, because our disagreements are no more than ludicrous and it always results in laughter. To put in a tiny cute plastic box, we are in love. This has been the word according to Mrs. Kitchen.

Lesson: A loving Grasshopper must learn to hug himself before hugging others.

Hot Date

Not much to report from Kitchenville except what do you get your husband for a first year anniversary present? A plastic coffee stirrer? A tidily wink? How about a package of M&M peanuts? Kidding. Our first year anniversary is at hand, but what's making it through your first year? We don't deserve as much as an applause. Well compared to celebrities' marriages, we deserve a gold medal. They always say that the first year is the most difficult, on the contrary, it's been a wonderful year!

Shellie's Proverb: The blade of a pre-nuptial agreement is sharper than a marriage certificate.

A few days shy of making a year, I am just sending off our order for the wedding pictures. Yep, a true procrastinator at its best. Dilly Dally Do Heart, that's me. While the Grundmans have just outright shamed us in the post marriage propers. I keep coughing up dust balls, I'm so ill. We can't seem to get it right. So since making it through a year isn't celebratory, I told Shane that I was fine just staying at home cozying up in the living room. He would not hear of it. Romantic dinner it is!

Lesson: Young Grasshopper must comprehend that one can never conquer love.

Away with Fat

I'm unable to get into the rythm of my daily routine. My diet regiment is so far fetched, like an unseductive siren. My brain sends out signals that I'm not on vacation, but my stomach is unable to comprehend my S.O.S. Have I gone soft? Literally. Life is too short to be strict. I just need a little push in the direction of discipline.

As soon as Friday night rolls around, under the bus my diet goes. The weekends are my comfort away from my work week. A reason to drink and be merry should never be an excuse. Well, it should, if it didn't effect your fat count. Last Friday, I gorged on a gob of St. Andre cheese and chased it down with two pieces of fried chicken. To make matters worse, I woke up the next morning and stuffed my face with a cold piece of fried chicken. Later, I snacked on a crunch wrap supreme from Taco Bell at 10:00pm. If I keep this madness up, I will be schlepping a belly soon.


Such hostile times for my stomach and arteries. My body is like what the hell! It has become a battlefield, bombarded by saturated fat, sodium, high calories, bad carbohydrates, preservatives. A grease trap. The only weapon to fight this obese battle is liposuction. Kidding. Healthy food and exercise. Did I hear a crack of a whip?

Shellie's Proverb: Waistline does not lie.


Normally, our meals are set for the entire work week. Since we've been back from our trip, our cupboards and refrigerator have been bare as a baby's bottom. That is our problem. It's time to beat this fat race. The farmers market is held every Tuesday at the Ferry Building so I brought my country basket, to be filled with wonderful and seasonal organic produce. Onward, to my local butcher on 22nd and Mission. The shopping is not complete until I have hit Rainbow Groceries and Trader Joe's. Why I can't find time in my weekend to tackle this adventure? There is no ending to this madness that is my laziness.

I can see the roll of eyes and the chirping of yuppie's smirking. Shane and I are at the stage in our lives where we are unable to afford exclusively organic and local farm raised protein. We would love to, but our budget doesn't allow such absurd frills. Whole Foods a.k.a. Whole Paycheck, is just out of our league. I can't justify paying for organic free range chicken at $15.99/pound. I had our own livestock growing up, and it didn't cost $15.99 to raise our chicken which inevitably landed on our dinner plate. Nothing will be as delicious as the live stock we raised growing up. Until the prices come down, I'll have my chicken in a cage and imprisoned please. Until organic prices plummet to reasonable, the organic evangelists will have to shush it.

Finally, a fully stocked fridge will get this here grease trap back on track. "Baby steps," I tell myself, "crawl, flunky, crawl." It shouldn't be difficult for ridiculous sake, it's food! It's just food! This is Shellie coming from her vein of vanity, back to you world!

Lesson: A grasshopper must learn to balance on chopstick.

Game Face

We were back home, and enjoying every minute of it. The average weather in San Francisco has been amazingly in the 80s. Sitting on the couch enjoying the sailboats on the bay. It is nice to be home. We are gradually returning to our daily routine which includes work, boxing, and Davies Hospital to see Jonny.

Jonny is looking and doing remarkably well. It was just in July that he suffered a stroke and 2 brain surgeries. A true miracle. He is in a vigorous rehab program and is speaking, eating, even moving his right leg. In his attempt to articulate his thoughts, he laughs when he is not getting through to us. His sense of humor and patience are evidence that he is progressing. I honestly believe that the volt of positivism generated by friends and family was a big factor in his recovery. We were optimistic. The hospital has not seen anything like it. I mean the outpour of support was extremely and positively overwhelming. It is tidal.

Shellie’s Proverb: Kindness is greatness.

Vacation took its toll the day I returned to workout at the boxing gym. I could barely jump rope for a few minutes much less 15. I was in a complete mess. As my chest tightened, I felt my Achilles tendon was going to snap. I barely got through the cardio section which was a breeze before I left for vacation. I went from working out 4 days a week to scraping the bottom of the barrel. All my months of hard work, straight down the drain.

Vacation is like the video game Frogger. One second I’m lackadaisically daydreaming downstream on a log. The next, that leisurely log ride turns into a frenzy of dodging cars, otters, snakes and the occasional crocodile. Life keeps you on your toes. A constant flux. Ebb and flow. “Keep up,” I tell myself, "Pick up the pace." Zap. Just like that, my vacation was over.

Lesson: A wise Grasshopper must be pliable like the branches on a bamboo tree.

Perfect Day!

The pool was filled with floating devices of all shapes and sizes. There was even a floating shamu.

"Do you know my friend Vanessa? She's eight years old, but she's moving to Canada." Tattiana tilted her head as she tried to see through her swimming goggles.
"Where does your friend live?" I asked, "next door?"
"No, she used to live next door, now she doesn't." She swam the width of the pool, "Vanessa comes over all the time. I wonder why she's not here right now?" She dipped her head into the water.

As I am Aunt to 15 nieces and nephews, I hold no bias. Although, Tattiana is the coolest six year old ever! Besides the fact that she could have been modeled from a pixar film, she was -in one word- absolutely delectable. She's not whiny, clingy, bratty. On the contrary, gregarious, brave, friendly and independent. I haven't seen her, since she was one years old. Here she was five years later,
jumping into the pool.

"Let's race to the other end of the pool?" I tricked her into practicing her into swimming.
"Alright!" She smiled.
"Ready, set, go!" I gave her a head start. I let her beat me couple times.

Toni, their 3 year old, with no shirt and pot belly strolled past us. "Hi Toni!" I waved excitedly as he had just woken from his nap. He smiled and waved and smiled again. "Hi Toni! Hi Toni! Hi Toni!" Tattiana got out of the pool. He waved and showed us all of his teeth. Toni was another morsel treasure. "Hi Vanessa!" Tattiana greeted her friend. Vanessa was a large plump girl with a head of curly dark hair. An important issue had developed. Apparently without adult supervision, Vanessa took it upon herself to swim in their pool. To add fuel to fire, she dared Tattiana to jump in the water first.

"Vanessa you did a very, very bad thing." Olga in all seriousness looked Vanessa in the eye, "Do you know what you did? I think you do?" Vanessa nodded silently. Tattiana whispered evidence in her mom's ear. "Vanessa I think you know what you did?" Olga was very strict in her candor, "What you did was very, very bad. Very bad." She gave Vanessa the Russian stare down that gave my bones a chill. She was quite for a moment which was meant to give Vanessa some time to think about her actions. Than she continued in fairness and without patronism, "Do you promise not to do that again?" She was stern, but very disciplinary. Vanessa nodded. "Alright, you can play now." Olga had said her peace. both girls jumped into the water.

Steve, the kid's dad, is Shane's childhood friend since they were 2. He was a legend in Shane's eyes. Steve was the no guts, no glory extreme sports master from snowboarding to mountain biking. As they rode through trees, Steve pulled flawless back flips and continued on as usual. He met Olga as he studied abroad in Russia. They later married and are now parents of two stunning children. When I first met Olga, her English was very limited. Today, she was one credit away from a bachelors degree. Amazing!

Shellie's Proverb: Catch a dream and set it free.
Kyle and Mom joined us for the barbecue. The boys laughed as they caught up with their childhood. We started the barbecue as the yard filled with neighborhood children. It was refreshing to know that kids in the Upstate area were not coddled and unspoiled. They weren't treated like a Faberge egg. Here, they were filthy, scabbed, but they laughed and played with the other children in the neighborhood. They weren't plopped in front of a television playing video games, it was exactly as how I remember my childhood. I was a bit nostalgic, but the Leggirious gave us hope. I'm not sure as to what fate will thrust in our direction, but my wish is that Shane and I could raise children like the old days, free and strong. Just like the Leggerios did with theirs.

Lesson: Grasshopper must open mind so as to not lose hope.

Hug your mom today!

Sunday morning was a bit rough. I sat in the backseat of Kyle's auto, chewing on a croissant breakfast sandwich. I was horrified as to the damage I was putting my body through, but it was either local gas station food versus standards. Gas station food of course! Kyle, a marketing victim, sipped on revival vitamin water, hoping to be clear of his hungover haze. While Shane, not a breakfasteer, jonesed for a banana so he could take his vitamins. We were all on high maintenance mode, and we were off to the Saratoga Racetrack. It was "t-shirt" day. Oh boy! A free t-shirt! It was the thing to do.

I was fresh to placing bets. Between trifecta, trifecta box, exacta, exacta box, to show, to place, to win, it's all trigonometry to me. My favorite thing is to watch the horses parade by, prior to their race. My bets are solely based on the feistiness of a horse, the color of the jockey's outfit, and, of course, odds. I love the races and I'm not talking NASCAR.

It was elevenish as we dragged a hefty cooler full of beers and sausages from yesterdays barbecue. The sun had already began it's ruthlessness. We joined the mass of locals that funneled their way to the shady spots. There Jill sat amongst a circle of empty lawn chairs. "Do you mind?" My butt halfway in the blue cloth chair. "Sure! Why not." Jill was absolute. Suddenly, I'm swatted, "Get off my chair. This is my chair." Char stood there persistently hitting me with her free t-shirt. We we were circled by empty seats, and Char made a pouting display for her blue lawn chair. Jill and I, made silent eye contact, which pierced, "freak!"

I had no reason to dislike Char until today. Apparently, she disliked horse races, this she did by repeating herself like a senile old lady. That's eleven races which consist of 3 hours? This co-dependent woman is 3 years shy of 60. If she had any manners, she should have allowed father and children to catchup. Instead, she chose to anchor his attention with her infantile demands.

For the first five races, I was on a roll. Sadly, the sixth race broke my winning series. I overheard her smugly say to the Duke, "it's about time Shellie lost." Again, this is a 57 year old going on 6. Creepsterville. We were enjoying our time with dad, winning and losing. The fun came to a halt when wanna be mommy dearest threw a tantrum, "We're going home." "Why? There's two more races?" Kyle adamantly responded. Nevertheless, we wanted to take them out for dinner and drinks. "We never stay for the whole thing," Char huffed incessantly. "So we need those chairs," she pointed to all the chairs, "I need to return those to our neighbors."

The slab of discourtesy was as obscure as Mount Rushmore. The Duke was speechless, he was caught between his children and a nagging nobody. Even the cat caught my tongue. If she hated the races so much, why was she here? Insecure in your relationship perhaps? She suffered from the cling on effect. That's one level up from co-dependency.

I'm no stranger to this obsessively tyrant guilt bearing behavior. I've seen it before. In fact, I know of one unmentionable particular that would make an ideal poster child; an authentic trophy nut case. Snicker. Men, I insist, stop dragging your balls on the ground. Sheesh. What is wrong with you? No one should be treated like a dog. It is pathetically unattractive. No one, men or women, should be ruled by another. Furthermore, they shouldn't tell you who your friends are, where you can go, when to go, what to eat. Get a spine, people, they're free.

Shellie's Proverb: Never make a compromise with a snake.

Sadly, that was our Sunday. It started off being a fantastically fun filled day. The day quickly dwindled into Duke dragging the cooler and chairs behind Queen Bee. We made our way back to mom's condo. It was a pleasant feeling to know that we would be welcome in her home, although an uneasiness loomed in the silence of our car ride home.

Lesson: Young Grasshopper must always root himself into the soil by speaking his worth.

Surprise!

Today was the day. The day of surprises. The day of hurrah! It was Dad's a.k.a. the Duke's 60th birthday. We packed into Kyle's auto and made way to the Catskills. We couldn't wait to see the look on his face. Char (pronounced Cher), his woman friend, called two months out trying to slay us with the guilt card, "you know it would really be nice, if you kids could make it for your father's 60th birthday." Who are you? How dare you? Eck, she's not even pleasant. Besides, who calls two months out? The nerve. Anyway, we were ten steps ahead of her.

Kyle dropped us off at the corner. Jill and I, giggled as we crept through the neighbors yard and plopped on the lawn chairs. Kyle was in the house persuading the Duke to check out the back deck. "I can't get'em to come out. He's friggin' naked!" Kyle's plot was flawed. We chuckled, "Nah, that's okay, don't worry about it, we'll just wait till he comes out. There's no hurry." A few minutes later Kyle returned, "I told Char you guys were out here. She's the only one that can hurry his ass up." A slew of reaction came from the siblings. "Why in the hell did you do that Kyle?" Shane was pissed. "Kyle! Why? She's going to blow it." Sweet Jill finally not so sweet. Kyle, like all young siblings, meant well. I should know, I'm the ninth child of ten. Secrets, they're like tic tacs, why not share them?

The next door neighbors kept nosing their way into our business. Peeking and waving and making a visible fuss. "Don't look at them, they're whack." Jill conspired to overthrow the neighbors. The neighbor's filthy chocolate lab lapped our faces and scurried from yard to yard. Screams of "Happy birthday!" came from the front yard. "What the," Jill ducked wandering who blew the whistle. It was just a troupe of brownies that vacated a float and was now making way to the swing set. They just returned from the Catskill's Bicentennial Parade.

Our conversation wheeled towards whether or not Char was going to blow it. We didn't fly all the way here to have our surprise deflated. Finally, the door opened and Duke slowly made his way to the end of the deck, "Hey you made it." He was as surprised as my pet rock. "Did you know we were here?" I was surprised at his initial reaction. "No." He smiled. How did this man father my husband? Shane wore his emotions on his sleeve, he must've got it from Colleen; mom.

"Happy Birthday!" Shane hugged the Duke. We all had a hug out. "Why didn't you kids tell me?" Char was surprised and a bit dissapointed to have been ostracized. "We knew you couldn't keep a secret." Shane responded. I agreed and shrugged. Sure, I felt fake as we weren't huge Char fans. We were here for one reason, and it was to make sure that Dad was surrounded by his children on his day.

The barbecue was a different epic. Firstly, an assortment of beers were in three coolers, but the barbecue sloped pathetic. "So what are we eating? I'm hungry. Do you have anything to munch on?" Shane always excited about food. This was a big day, and all we had to celebrate were potatoes salad, sausages, corn, and a few bag of chips. Come on people! Let's get with the program. Probe a little, what was his favorite foods? At least start with that? Please don't tell me that it was sausages.

Yikes! There was a stifling silence in the kitchen. We were bewildered. One year olds have a more elaborate spread than this and they haven't mastered the way of the toilet yet. Where's the love? We never arrive one's house without food, thankfully we brought over 3 slabs of slowly roasted ribs and our german chocolate cupcakes. Kyle and I shot up to Price Choppers to get this party started.

Shellie's Proverb: A bed never gets made by complaining.

Once again, our bellies were at it's peak, and all that mattered was that we were all together. Childhood friends gathered, horseshoes kept the men at bay, and we women clucked and sipped on our cocktails. We did it. We made a father's wish come true.

Lesson: A wise Grasshopper must contribute to make a difference in this world.

Momma Mia

Mom and Jill, sister in law, met us at the Albany train station. Mom was ecstatic as any normal mom would be. She recently moved into a condo development. There was something different about her. A sense of blooming and flourishing perhaps? She was easy and relaxed. I might even go as far to say, a free spirit. She did her first Jell-O shot a couple weeks ago, and called us to tell the tale. In fact, I think she is looking into getting the recipe for future celebrations. It was refreshing.

Shellie's Proverb: There is no expiration date on enjoying life.

Upon arrival to mom's home, she popped open a beer. We were in awe. Invasion of the body snatchers come to mind? Where's that pod goshdarnit. It's not like she was awful. Have you seen How Stella Got Her Groove Back? It's the same thing except different. She told us tales of her neighborhood block party. It was nice to hear that she was enjoying life at her own accord.

Her digital camera was her new appendage. She clicked and flashed with every movement of our bodies. We later went to Casey's for dinner where the dishes were of gargantuan proportions. "Smile guys!" Mom on her hundredth request, Jill rolling her eyes. By the time our entrees arrived, my belly had increased in mass! Stomach why have you forsaken me?

We weebled and wobbled our way into the Price Chopper. We thought it would be nice to bring a dozen of german chocolate cupcakes over to Dad's birthday party. As Shane and Jill, took homage to the toilet, mom and I shopped for ingredients. I posed with a bag of shredded coconuts as mom insisted. I quickly striked a pose with the shopping cart. Jill and Shane were quickly coerced to take pictures. It was Friday night at the Price Chopper and we were all smiles.

My first experience with a self-check out counter was like two virgins having sex, it went no where. We fumbled with the items and tried to scan the barcode to complete frustration. Mom coached from the sideline, "scan it, put it in the bag. It's easy." After we were all thumbs, we got the hang of it. Shane mastered the self-check in system. "Isn't that easy?" Mom exclaimed. I'm not sure if it was easy, but it sure was entertaining for the employees.

Before baking we whipped up a fresh batch of pina colada. Kyle
brother in law, was absent as he is graded "poor" on the priority scale when it came to family. We were offended, but not surprised, as it is his common behavior. You gotta love him for being himself. We poked fun as he made excuses of being stuck at the Saratoga horse races. Uh huh, and the world is flat. Another round of pina coladas?

"Smile kids get together." Mom continued her marathon of photos. "Mom, you need to stop it." Jill bothered by the excessive paparazzi nuisance. "I see you kids once a year." She found a loophole. Shane took the role of meticulous baker and began to measure, mix and pour as we continued to polish our cocktails. It was a very delightful evening as we gabbed, laughed and celebrated.

Lesson: A Grasshopper must cross bamboo bridge with plum wine in one hand and tea in the other. Only without spilling will Grasshopper find perfect balance in life.

On the Go

We had a purpose to our visit. We were on our way to surprise Shane's dad, now my dad, for a surprise 60th birthday party. In the meantime, we were to spend time with his mom, now my mom too. The product of divorce does become somewhat hectic, but what can you do? It's a no win situation, so we make the best of it.

It was 100pm and all the taxis refused to gives us a ride to Penn Station. We were shunned like lepers at a mysophobia convention. It was the strangest thing. The sun beat down -fiercely-, lashing our bodies with hotness. I was attractively special when the back of my legs dripped sweat. Ehck. We had succumbed to the fact that the taxis were not going to stop. Was it the luggage? Could it be the location? Was it because we weren't dressed in this seasons' uber urban chic attire? Did we look like a couple of stiffers? Either way Shane's anxiety attack erupted, like chicken little when he thought the sky was falling. We had 45 minutes to get to Penn. As we quickly made our way to the subway direction uptown, Shane enlightened me with his negative perspective, "We're going to miss the train. I can't believe it. We won't make the train. Shit!" His incessant moaning was as refreshing as needles in my pupils, "Stop being so negative, there's no need, we're on vacation, chill the -bleep- out!" We needed to be positive and focus.

Shellie's Proverb: Mirrors always tell the truth.


First, we got off on 42nd, because Shane overheard a pair of bubblehead's conversation, something about Penn and 42nd. As my eyes quickly browsed the map, we had gone one station to far. We quickly made the switch and got off on 34th, not free of my criticism on his etiquette on eavesdropping. Where the hell was Penn Station? Our train departs in 10 minutes and we had no sense of direction. We were ants at a picnic, scrambling around for the cherry pie. A street hood gave us the best pointer, "It's at the end of the block you'll see a big black woman." We jetted down the street in search for that big black woman, pushing and shoving against a strong current of people. There she stood the big black woman, but the "no walk" sign prevented us further. We were down to a mere five minutes! I understood why the taxis refused our fare, because midtown was a growling jungle of vehicles against a force of pedestrians.

The pedestrian sign lit and we sprinted our way down the stairs shoving and pushing anyone in our way. Our eyes scrambling for the Amtrak sign. Finally, we get to the electronic ticket machine which spits out our tickets. It is down to the minutes as a woman, probably lonely and bored, inquired with customer service, "hi my train doesn't leave till 3, but is there any way..." They were having a gentle conversation while our urgency dripped from our foreheads. I wanted to push this flimsy woman to the side and tell her she had two hours to decide so step the flip back, but we stood there fidgeting like our bladders were about to explode.

It was our turn. Ugh. We tried to be patient, but our hearts were in it. I didn't shove the smoker that stood in the middle of the sidewalk for nothing. "Yes, what gate do we go to for the 145?"
"Gate 5 right there, you'd better run before you miss it honey." She pointed to the gate. We jumped over benches and made way down the escalator only to see our train depart without us. "Bye," a smiling Amtrak attendant waved from the train.

Our hearts pounded so hard that I swear people could hear our struggle. Our clothing clung to us like paper mache. As my travel bag began to wear on my shoulders, there was no use being upset over a missed train, "Wanna get a slice?"
"Sure why not, it's not the end of the world anyway, right?" He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"Right, the next train comes in an hour." I agreed full heartedly.

Lesson: Grasshopper, to go against the grain of the bamboo is to master the way of patience.

Friendster

I am an absent minded person...sometimes. I am definitely not a flake, but I was certainly a former flake, than I sprouted into adulthood. It just so happens I had made tentative plans with Meaghan to meet up in Manhattan a month ago. So Shane attempts to surprise me with, "bet you can't guess whose in town too?" As I poked around in my brain for a few minutes, no one came to mind. As soon as he told me, my long term memory clunked in. Of course! We had a conversation on the phone. Duh. We met up at Union Square Park and caught a taxi to Jane restaurant for lunch. The torrential hot weather and humidity were stagnant, ac ASAP. After three healthy cocktails, and an arugula salad, we were ready to explore the city.

Shellie's Proverb: Person with no laugh lines can not take a joke.

Much to our surprise we were in for foul play, the Guggenheim was closed. Blasphemy. Our focus to stay out of the sun was short. We decided to stroll through Central Park and ended up at Tavern on the Green. We were out of sorts. As the heat was harsh, our bodies yearned alcohol and sparkling water. We entered the stuffy joint, three cocktails later and $60 dollars shorter, we couldn't figure out why the bill included us to tip the captain separate from the server. Who the hell is the Captain? Who does he think he is charging an additional tip? We were disgusted and made haste to the Prada store as Shane cussed out the Captain.

The Prada store was just as pretentious as Tavern on the Pee. It was hysterical to witness Shane as he browsed the price tags. He was definitely not discreet exclaiming in complete horror, "Thirty two hundred for this piece of shit?" The sales people were aware the only reason we were in there was to enjoy the luxury of their cold air. We decided to go home to rest and meet up after dinner.

There's nothing like spontaneity. We met up with Tim, Meaghan, Laura and her fiancée at an outdoor bar. As the evening grew later, Tim brought us to a more intimate bar where long time friends could catch up. We closed the evening at around 4:00pm stuffing our faces with gyros the size of a super burrito.

Lesson: Young Grasshopper must never leave home without toilet paper.

Flavor-Flav

As the Ozarks is infamous for its incest, Manhattan is well known for it's restaurants. You can imagine I was an epileptic suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder. The only certainty was to avoid the famous restaurants backed by world famous chef cartels so Cru, Gramercy, Per Se, Jean Georges, Mercer Kitchen and of the likes were banned from my list. I was not burnt on the mastery of culinaire, I wasn't feeling the hype. This time, we sniffed out the reputably obscure.

Shellie's Proverb: Never create a hoopla around a lion that is feeding.

It was 1030pm and we had just recharged from a two hour nap from an arduous day. A friend and long time local sent a text message that read, "must go to Inoteca will not disappoint." So we made haste to the the lower east side on Rivington to be exact. We were promptly seated and tended to. I quickly jumped the gun as I browsed the menu thinking that we had been steered wrong. The menu dishes seemed elementary, and usually I could decipher the dishes, but this time the server had to break down the abstruse.

Every dish was honestly fresh and simple. We started off with the grilled calamari, borlotti beans & fennel salad! Followed by a truffle egg bruschetta, and a mozzarella in carroza. Third course prawns wrapped in pancetta. Finally, the best pork chops and an eggplant lasagnetta that knocked me out of this world. We were floored by the service, the dishes, the wine, the ambience, the cost. The bill came to $101, for the both of us! This is six dishes and four glasses of bangin' wine. Inoteca is incredible! A16, Delfina has nothing on this one. Wow! Even when my stomach is about to explode, I usually save some space for dessert, not today. My waistline sternly ordered me to halt! My only regret is not trying the desserts and the array of exotic cheeses. I will sleep sound tonight.

Lesson: It is vital for Grasshopper to enjoy each flavor of rice porridge to master way of appreciation.

Cool it...off!

Hawaii is hot, but the luxury of the ocean breeze and the beaches makes a mad mood of a difference. This condition is aggressively torrid and is certainly to test temper and patience. As the news buzzed of record high temperature, we landed in New York at 97 degrees at 7:45am. Firstly, suckered by a backdoor town car driver that charged $15 more than a taxi from JFK. We weren't coerced, just dumb. Secondly, my monthly visitor arrived, bloating my body to record proportions. Nevertheless, we made it safe into Greenwich in timely fashion, two hours. We were on vacation so what was the purpose in fussing. Despite the dupe, we were thrilled to be in the city. A slice of pizza, hot dog with the snap, gyro, array of restaurants, Guggenheim, Central Park, and discount shopping square danced in my head. If you didn't know it yet, I live for food and I die for shopping.

Shellie's Proverb: To test fate is to travel with a loved one.
We tried to defeat the insufferable swelter by any means possible. Most important, we were to avoid the subway as the stench and people were both unfriendly. We chose the way of the sidewalk, because taxi's were conducive to laziness. In two hours my flip flops were doing wonders, aching feet and all, I drank two bottled waters, lapped a french vanilla ice cream cone, hastily shoved shave ice into my mouth (before it went liquid), quenched my thirst with a cherry italian ice. I shouldn't have to mention all the boutiques and shops that housed the refreshing air conditioner. Why doesn't america celebrate Willis Haviland Carrier with a holiday? Without him, I'd be a psychotic sweaty hunchback of a human.

Soon to follow -and very mandatory- a bar with a front patio on Allen. We sat on a picnic bench, as the locals hovered indoor under the cool crisp air conditioner like cave men. As steam came off my greasy head, I fought the affliction of my sweaty skin draped in scantly damp clothing, I quickly ordered a nice refreshing Cuban drink which the heat quickly transformed into mint rum tea. Nonetheless, Shane downed Corona's like a frat. I longed for an ice cold shower, but alcohol seemed to be my only option to enjoy this tyrant heat.

Lesson: Young grasshopper must gain perception by following the way of the sun.

On the go!

As my mind set is still in Hawaii, my vacation came and went along with my parent’s 50th Wedding Anniversary. Time is a real tomfoolery. Spending time with the family is epic. My nieces and nephews are sprouting like weeds as Shane tries to acclimate to the term “Uncle”. He took a great liking to it. Beautiful beaches, lava flow cocktails, postcard sunsets, barbecues, and family; a lifestyle that is paradise.

Shellie's Proverb: Pineapples do not grow on trees.
No time to settle in at home. It’s been a week and a few days, and we’re off to the east coast for a week. I can't wait to hit the lower east side to taste the array of culinary genius. My heart skips a beat when images of dresses, skirts, slacks, blouses, heels, jewelry, accessories twirl in my head! The day we arrive is supposed to be the hottest day in New York City's history in thirty years. Humidity here I come!

Lesson: Grasshopper must learn to endure ever changing climates thus to master versatility.