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.

Progress

It was 11:04pm, Vanessa and I stood at the foot of the bed. Concerto classical music eased the room as Aussie gently asked the male nurse for one moon boot. How boots from the 70s are beneficial to ventilation and sores, quizzed my head. The male nurse quickly returned with a device that was an exact replica of snowboard binding. She placed the boot on his right leg and reminded him to keep his right leg straight. As her days and nights are spent at his bed side, she was strong and driven. She was his root.

I, on the other hand, was a dam ready to break. I was a clutter of rusty pans. Now that he has opened his eyes, the last thing he needs is to see my blubbering ass. As I held his hand, my attempt to keep myself cool is as likely as digging a hole and making my way to China. His suffering was piercing. My sadness, hopes, and prayers were eroding my barricade. His eyes, those dark brown eyes filled with excruciating sadness. Why was he here? I questioned god and his purpose. “One” Metallica’s lyrics kept playing in my head.

“I can’t remember anything, cant tell if this is true or dream, deep down inside I feel to scream, this terrible silence stops me…fed through the tube that sticks in me, just like a wartime novelty, tied to machines that make me be…”

He stared into Aussie’s eyes, his hands caressed her arm. My walls gave into to tears. His eyes burned determination, strength and passion. They spoke in a deep gaze. Flame, a fire. She touched his cheek, he caressed her arm. It was all too much for my heart, sweet gestures heightened my sobbing. They were communicating unsound. The climactic violin solo did not help the situation much. I felt slightly out of place, it would be safe to say that I was uncomfortable. They were having a moment. A connection.

Here I was, just a friend, crumpled tissue in hand, weeping like an infant in damp diapers, as Aussie was firm and whole handed. Each visit my heart breaks. My soul is heavy. Each day he looks ten times better, but still the light at the end of the tunnel is far.

Shellie’s Proverb: Positive can be a dark and weary road

Aussie is unyielding, pushing Jonny to fight. She is the definition of perseverance, coaching Jonny to keep his right leg straight, to breath through his mouth, to cough. What can I say, she’s just effing amazing. Truly dazzling. Love can conquer many obstacles and I am a witness to this miracle. True love can prevail. It must. She is his guardian angel. She is his true love.

Lesson: Young grasshopper must allow absolute love to enter the heart.

Go Team Coldcuts!

It was the Spring of 84, I sat on the couch enjoying my usual 5:30am Looney Tunes session, munching on a bowl of apple jacks. It was a Wednesday. In a family of ten, it was the only time I could call the shots on the television. My Aunt Evangelina, fifteen years mom's elder, occasionally joined me on the couch trying to comprehend the color coated fiesta of pictures on the television.

This specific day, she collapsed to the floor and began to heave. I was flabbergasted. Mom and dad had already left to the flea market. Laurie, my middle sister, had abruptly moved out. My brothers were snoozing down stairs. Except for Neil and I, the rest of the family were Asthma prone. I fumbled around and handed her the spray, that usually does the trick, but this time it was different. She began to foam at the mouth and her sense of breathing was a struggle. Her hands began to tighten and stiffen.

I began to weep as I placed her head in my lap, the seconds ticked as I struggled to compromise time. I couldn't leave her like this, it could be the last time. I was frightened and hysterical. Her eyes full of water, and that sparkle in her eyes was fading. I quickly ran downstairs and woke Dave and Neil. Raving in complete idiotic mumbling gibberish, I couldn't get the words to escape my lips! Tears overflowed, but did not beckon the situation. They quickly ran to her side as I watched from the sidelines her chances of life seem dire. Neil dialed 911, but by the time the ambulance arrived Aunt Evangelina was gone. She lay in the middle of the living room where thirty minutes ago she sat next to me with her arm around me trying to understand why I found that rascally rabbit whose usual response was, "what's up doc?" so funny.

Shellie's Proverb: Friend and foe, never trust the hands of time.
During my Hawaii vacation, a very dear friend was rushed to the hospital and went under for two brain surgeries within 48 hours. As Shane shared the news, my entire body and soul became feeble. The gloom of severity was splashed across my sparkling canvas. Suddenly, the concept of a higher power God, Jesus and his posse of Saints, Allah, Spiritual Guides please, can I get your attention? Detour. Make haste. How quickly I have gone from atheist to religious fanatic. Bargaining with the gods, promising I'll go to mass, light a candle, stand on my head anything. Frankly, I could care less, it was more important for Jonny to fight through this; to heal.

As I meditatively floated in the warm ocean for endless hours, my thoughts and prayers were focused towards his recovery. Everynight before bed, Shane and I prayed together that the free spirit, moreover big jokester would recover. It is in difficult times like these where the tiniest gestures of goodness are transcendent. No matter how many times I've experienced other's suffering, I never get used to it.
**********
I had the pleasure of witnessing the miracle last night. As with the others that were present, his eyes were open and he waved when he saw both Shane and me. I was overwhelmed and honestly, I felt special that he was coherent and strong.

Life is fragile. You never know when it gives and takes. Mostly, I take a lot for granted like breathing and having the normal movements of my voluntary and involuntary body parts. The next time you see a friend or family member, give them a hug and well wishes for there might not be a next time. In my hearts of hearts, she knows that I love her, yet I regret never expressing it to Aunt Evangelina during her time with me.

Shane and I send all of our wishes, prayers, hopes, thoughts to Jonny for a positively strong recovery. Always know that you are well loved by many who have traveled near and far.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must repeatedly give of oneself to achieve enlightenment.

Aloha

Young Master is recharging
on a beautiful beach
daily postings will be sparse
Do not fret little grasshoppers,
I shall return
with new teachings
on the 22nd

Professional Procrastinator

Hark, the countdown to paradise is at hand. Heed, I suspect a good thirty hours until our vacation. Tick. Tock. Estimated time of departure 6:45pm. Estimated time of arrival 9:04pm. I can't wait!

Roundtrip flight SFO to Honolulu w/car rental: $503
30 SPF Sunblock: $8
Sipping cocktails with Shane as the ocean washes over our feet: Priceless

Last week, I diligently arranged my weekend. Friday, I would get a good nights rest. Saturday, a healthy workout, laundry and packing. Voila! Sunday, mani pedi and the World Cup.

Shellie's Proverb: A business man without a watch is never on time.

R E A L I T Y:__________________________

Friday was a last minute girls night guffaw with a pleasant concoction of dinner and Devil Wears Prada. Saturday, I trifled with the thought of my chores, but the burst of sunshine was too delectable to ignore. Just when I thought I could get my affairs in gear, I was graced with an evening of jazz in Potrero Park and spent the remaining time with the Grundmans. Sunday, my mani pedi became secondary as the World Cup and sleep deprivation took precedence.

I, the magnificent procrastinator, now yield to the despair of the aftermath. The sunblock rests atop the hoard of clothes waiting to be crammed into the luggage. The gaggle of sundries that need gathering. Crucial and of utmost care, do not forget mom's party dress. In my attempts to crush my bad habit of packing 3 hours prior to departure, despite boxing, last minute dinner plans, and getting to bed early, my chances to progress are nil.

Lesson: To achieve harmony Grasshopper must wade in the tranquil streams of feng shui.

Kitchen Tango

About sevenish as I walked through the door from boxing. My senses alerted me that Shane had something cooking in the oven. It was beets! My favorite. As promised, he was supposed to get groceries while I was gone exerting my irritants. Rather, he did the dishes. As any normal wife would begin sassing, I've learned to curb my low blood sugar episodes.

Guys, one important advice from a former low blood sugar victim. If your just schlepping on the couch watching your usual sport and suddenly the head on your lady friend starts to spin and spastically spurt into a hogwash tirade about how the sky being gray is your fault. Suddenly, your the patsy and they're foaming at the mouth. It's not PMS, it's low blood sugar! They're hungry, but careful these creatures are persnickety. Very feisty those low blood sugar animals. So before the LBS starts to lacerate on the jugular of your kindness, retaliate and carry the right ammunition: healthy snack and quickly cram it into their mouths.

As Shane loathes Whole Foods we made way to Safeway. Safeway known for it's stale fish, I swiftly made haste to the meat section grabbed a tray of pork chops and beef rib eye. I was content with a beet salad, but my dear husband was out for blood. Lately, the sight of raw meat churns my guts, but enough about me. So we shoot back home and start the dinner ritual. Shane turns on the baseball game and takes a gander in the kitchen. Sir Inspector Kitchen traipses into my world of gastric, prying on the status of reductions and ingredients and how it will be incorporated in the meal.

Shellie's Proverb: One lobster's death can keep one family alive.

By eight, we've started on a lightly tossed micro greens and arugula salad topped with balsamic beets, hazelnuts and trifle of gorgonzola. In exchange for the meal, Shane hands me a simple chilled glass of lemon water. A mouthful of salad, Shane praises the glory of the salad. I head back into the kitchen to begin the final course and Shane joins me by rinsing the plates. We weave in unrehearsed synchronized movements. It's beautiful. He gives me the heads up on his golf schedule or the likes, and I update him on the upcoming dinners and events. He assists in the plating of the pork chop and swiss chard as I finish by drizzling apple brandy reduction. Like a broken record, he questions as to his portion is larger. Most days, I gently ignore him. Today, I remind him that his occupation is labor intensive. He chuckles. We sit and enjoy the meal together.

Besides waking up in his arms in the morning, preparing dinner is the second best part of my day. It is great to be Mrs. Kitchen.

Lesson: An accomplished grasshopper shall not fear the art of passion.

AdVenture

As I have a few tricks up my sleeve, it's been a long time coming. Meagan and I have been trying to see the project off the ground. We're collaborating on a venture, so all you capitalists please feel free to send your funds our direction. As I was born a superstitious freak, it's tip top secret. But when it premieres, it will be explosive. I've been adding my expertise to the matter and she has too, get ready world 'cause here we come! I left specific instructions with the receptionist to please hold all calls when Oprah decides to enter the building.

Shellie's Proverb: An opportunity requires wit.

I just spoke to Meaghan on the phone today. It's difficult considering the long distance element. Now, that I've landed the resources, the sky's the limit. Besides dealing with the novel project, which is almost complete, the pieces to our empire are coming together. It feels good to be an independent business woman. Shane is so proud, perhaps he will be hanging his tool belt to rest.

Lesson: A young grasshopper must be eager and catch the largest fish from pond with splintered chopstick.

Thank you!

As I am always contacted by brides to be and wives, my insignficant ramblings have tickled many of you women and men alike. My feature on the Knot, Wedding Channel and Modern Bride, has caused a bit of a stir. In fact, some of you have been following my premature foot steps, prior to my marriage. As I am thoroughly thrilled that my nagging have captured attention from all of you. As captivating as it is to write in cyberspace, I am clueless as to who my readers are. It's like stapling my daily's on every telephone posts for all the world to see. Certainly, that's alot of paper.

Shellie's Proverb: It's usually the master that needs a muzzle, not the dog.

I would like to thank the academy for allowing me the opportunity to voice and speak my mind. I would like to thank my family, my friends and especially the almighty god for allowing me the talent to articulate. To the readers who have left comments, positive and negative, all the same I appreciate your interest in my ramblings. Please keep them coming!

Lesson: A grasshopper must be thankful for all the grains of rice in his bowl.

Hawaii Five O

We are six days away from leaving for Hawaii to partake in the celebration of my parent's 50th wedding anniversary. I'm so excited! I can't wait to see my family! I haven't seen them since the wedding. They can't stop talking about the wonderful time they had in Kauai!

It is dé·jà vu all over again, planning another destination wedding. A lot of moving pieces, but not as hectic as last year. The primary factor was gathering funds for the reception. Considering last years debacle, I was well prepared to head the planning. As much as budget is key, yay our budget is very lean.

Shellie's Proverb: A wedding is brief a marriage is forever.

The family's pitching in to make ends meet. Chris, eldest, is doing the center pieces. The Albins, the fifth sibling, is burning the music on the CD(s); our favors. Nolan, youngest, is doing the decorating. Alvin, third eldest, is handling the food and vendor. Everyone else is filling in where they can. I designed and distributed the invitations, and created the artwork for the CD inserts and cover. As I am big saavy sop on Photoshop. Furthermore, mom will be so thrilled to see the dress I got for her. Whoopee!

It's all coming together. I'm looking foward to the once in a lifetime event. Mom and Dad are so excited for the family's homecoming. Most of all, they should be more excited for the big five oh.

Lesson: A humble Grasshopper in order to advance foward you must remember where you came from.

Happy Birthday, America!

July 4th 1776, democracy was thrown into the birth canal of our independence. Come one, come all immigrants and live the american dream.

The 4th of July softball game and barbecue started without me. As normal, it was a huge event of six teams competing for the title of 2006 best. My highlights are minimum, as I sat in the bar waiting for Italy or Germany to make a flippin' move for two hours. Sadly, I missed Shane's phenomenal hit and accidental slip into third base. Hands down MVP, the talented and dedicated Hope. Last year, she injured her knee from a super power slide and boasted crutches at my bachelorette party in Vegas. This year, she continued to stupefy her competitors. Playing the part of a fair umpire, the one and only Tim! Stylishly sporting a white sport coat, plaid pants, blue sneakers complimenting his blue button down cowboy shirt. As dogs and a good hundred people sat in the cool shade, the teams kicked up dust and played a great game!

Shellie's Proverb: A team that plays without rules has no game.

Besides stuffing my face with Angela's yummy turkey burgers and chicken satay, it was delightful to see faces I haven't seen in years especially from Fasties cronies! Plus, everyone's kids are sprouting like weeds. Randy, of Toni and Randy, is pregnant so it was a real treat to get her insight to the world of preggers! I enjoyed catching up with everyone. Although the absence of close friends were sorely missed, it's still a great 4th.

Lesson: An independent Grasshopper must learn to live insecticide free.

Viva va va va voom! It's the World Cup!

Alright Baby talk aside, lets talk business. It's the flippin' World Cup! The World Cup! Not the NBA finals. Not the Super bowl. Not the Olympics. The flippin' World Cup! It's a sport that is just chock full of action packed athleticism. Besides, the fact that the majority of soccer players are ha ha ha hot!

Shellie's Curiosity:
Why do most sports entail a ball and, most of the time, a hole or a goal that resembles a hole?
Sure, it's tragic that USA lost. Definitely, not a surprise. I'm all about routing for my country, but watching USA was painful on my eyes. Our players has as much finesse as a lobster on it's back on dry land. Now Brazil or Portugal, there's a razzle dazzle of a team! Wow! Great country to watch and easy on the eyes as well!

Like the Olympics, it's comes once in four years. Unlike the Olympics, it is hardly recognized by my own countrymen or countrywoman. It's sad, when the majority of the country is unable to appreciate the art of soccer. On the other hand, it is celebrated in other countries, and sometimes all a country has to look forward to.

I'm just relieved to know that Jaissa, niece in the sixth grade in Hawaii, avid player -position sweeper- is following the World Cup. That makes me a happy Aunt.

Lesson: A discipline grasshopper must open his mind in order to flourish in the art of kung fu.

Time Bomb

I know I've been moaning the same lyric repetitively. Jesus, Joseph and Mary, get over it already! What is my deal? Millions of women do it everyday around the world, without the resistance I bring to the table. I should just take the blow of the bullet, but I can't. I am honestly taking this starting a family gig to another altitude. Why shouldn't I? My eternal clock is ticking. Oh god, sigh, I never thought that I would ever hear myself say that until that foul mouthed OBGYN planted it in my head. Oh lord, put this old horse down. Shoot me now before I do further harm to my body.

How my lifestyle will perish. In my attempts to self content, I am anxious to visit Europe with Shane. We've both been to Europe, but not together. I feel that we would really have a scream of a time, in a sense, a last hurrah for the time being. Ideally Turkey and Greece sounds fabulous, but I'll settle for Italy and France instead. All I can see on the horizon is Europe and it's outstanding food and wine. I'm in constant angst as I've exceeded my vacation time at work and time off with no pay is not acceptable at my office. So what do I do? Beg and squeal like a pig in hopes that they would give in to my pathetic existence? Decisions, decisions.

Shellie's proverb: A tortoise that rests in the same spot is adventurously stubborn.

I'm completely flipping out! Shane is convinced that one of our family members or friend would be happy to watch the kid (when it's appropriate, kid here's your bottle and get on that potty pronto kimosabe!) for a month while we travel the world together. I don't think the opportunity is out there. Maybe. May I see a show of hands? I could always fly the kid out to Hawaii for the summer. Definitely, not child abandonment. That's how it was done when we were kids, but does that sort of sinful leisure exist today?

For the sake of stalling, I'm just squeezing this lemon until it's out of juice. There's so many countries I have yet to explore, but should motherhood cease to end my adventures? Is it over? Will the selfish person that I am suddenly become selfless? I think not! This is probably just my way of stalling this process like a stubborn jackass, I just need a hard kick in the kaboose.

Mom's Lifelong Teaching:"In order to make a family strong, the marraige must always come first and the children are secondary. It is the strong bond between husband and wife that will keep the family grounded."
There was nothing dad wouldn't do for mom and visa versa. Fifty years and ten children later, they're love still burns strong. I take from them the power of devotion. Shane and I are bound through happiness, laughter and good intentions. As I swat inquiries of pregnancy from family and friends, I am deeply mourning my independence as a person. It is who I am. As other women embrace the joy of starting a family, I'm frightful to lose who I am and what I have with Shane.

Honestly, here's the lowdown on my shindig. I don't want to be one of those unbearable mothers. I am true witness to these common monsters. You know the ones that turn into Mr. Hyde after birth. The mother's that are so finnicky and particular about the child. Preaching about philosophy and theories knowing damn well that, a child in organic clothing does not guarantee a future as a world scholar. The ones that shove they're husbands in dark closet. I do not want to be that person. It's disgusting! That, to me, is selfish. I am deeply in love and I adore every aspect of my husband. If I have to fight to keep this grandeur, so let it be known.

Lesson: Grasshopper must learn to slowly walk over path of steaming coals in order to master the way of Shaolin.

Natal Attraction

My stubborn head is feeling a lot better. I still get a little hazy in the dome, but what can I do. I started taking my herbal prenatal pills. Apparently, prenatal pills are vital to get the right amount of certain important nutrients during pregnancy such as folic acid, iron and calcium referred to henceforth as the HOLY TRINITY. There's so much to consider prior to the big bang also considered a scientific blunder.

Shellie's Proverb: The finest armor in the world will never protect you from your offspring.
Anyway, FIDS, or friends with kids, are all for the idea of starting a family. Hark! But, I see through them, they want us to join them in their fiery eternal fires of parenthood hell. How dare they! On the otherhand, some male FIDS, behind the backs of their lovely wives, send secret smoke signals to enter the parent world with caution. I was even sworn in by Tim Carr, Shane's golf buddy and long time pal, to remain true to my word and my word is, "to allow him out the house to golf and other social events." I promised. This is witnessed by video camera. Does it count, if I was coerced by a few glasses of white wine? I am committed by promise to remain my true self. That is, it is inexcusable to ever cage my husband from his friends.

I am uncertain as to what wrath the future will bestow, but I am not one of those wretched women who guise and guilt they're husbands into submission. That's not who I am now, and I am hoping that the future will hold me in true countenance. This is the word according to Shellie. Amen.

Lesson: A young male grasshopper will only gain respect from female grasshopper when he learns the power of "no".

Homeful

We're in the process of renovating our house into a home. We're not talking tiling the tub and replacing porcelain for stainless steel sinks. It is never that simple. Sometimes, I wish it were. Each house is a royal upheaval of sorts and this one is the mutha of all muthas. Since this will be our permanent home, I am finally excited to partake in the process.

In San Francisco, we are required to go through the planning department before proceeding with the work. Sometimes the planning department rejects the proposed plans and revisions occur and so on and so forth. Fabian, our architect and designer, has just given us the thumbs up from the planning department. So far, so good. I have never been one for the so called dream home with white picket fence, garden, patio and all that jazz. Realistically, I always saw myself as a renter for life. Nothing more and nothing less.

Shellie's Proverb: A hammer is useless without nails.

In any case, the renovation is so horrendous such as gutting the inside and converting the current bathroom into an office, a new kitchen where the fireplace is, dining room where the kitchen is, dropped floors into a new living room, boxed out roof, twelve to fifteen foot extension of the home, walk in closets, relocate the fireplace, possibly add an outdoor fireplace, three additional bathrooms, additional master bedroom, guest bedroom, reading room, widen the garage door and driveway. Phew.

What is invigorating, and it blows me away, is Shane's a genius when it comes to tackling this project. It is miraculous to witness the birth of a home. There's a crack in my brain just thinking about it. The fact that he is passionate and it is reflected in his craftmanship and efficiency. I've witnessed his talents of gutting and rebuilding and it is truly a sight to see. My boy got skills! He is so bad ass! I love it! The true love is when this home is done, we will not flip it. I am relieved, because it is a bag of dirt to have to sell a beautiful home. In the past, I've learned to not become attached to these top notch homes. That alone is very difficult.

So as soon as the plans are approved, we will have to move two more times. Crossing my fingers and than it is nirvana! I absolutely can't wait till this is over, because it's been a long time coming.

Lesson: A young grasshopper must always succumb to traveling, and he will learn that home is the journey and not the destination.

Get this circus on the road

If you must inquire, we have successfully moved the baby date up to next month. This body is not getting any younger. I need to push them babies out or I can go totally Hollywood and conveniently have a c section. It's go time. Tick tock.

In this day and age, having a healthy womb is all the rage! What the phhh? No kidding. Gone are the heyday of second hand smoke intake. Women are ridding their system clean of all toxins, preservatives, poison that may effect the baby and the pregnancy. It's a whacky world out there. Women are popping pre-natal pills like popcorn. Let's not omit the panic for organic products. Hiss pesticides beware. An acupuncturists is vital alongwith rasberry leaf tea for a clean and healthy uterus. Women are mastering their fertility domain. Never mind a healthy body...giving birth naturally or in water is another trend! My blood pressure is soaring and I'm having heart palpatations. Where do I begin!

Shellie's Proverb: Judge the food not by it's flavor, but by the schmeck on the chopstick.
I believe in being prepared and knowledgable, but good lord what next? Contacting the aliens from mars hoping to get an interplanetary birth? That's been done too! Hello Tom "scificrazyologist" Cruise. Here's the deal. Why are we, as women, trying so hard to be ridiculous? I am a product of freestyle conception (short for catholic parents). What happened to a healthy accident? Spontaneity anyone? A tear in a condom. Forgetting to take your birth control pill. Tequila and cigarettes. The best thing about having a child should be making it? Am I right? Why all the ballyhoo?

By the way, I am looking foward to my hot date with my chinese herbalist next week.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must gauge the potency of his enemy's poison by the film on his teeth.

All better

So you think that I would take instructions, but I can't even do that. I was instructed to take Ativan, same family as valume, to fizzle my spins. The doctor did specify that it didn't alleviate my disorder, it just knocks you into the wind so hard that the spins is just a dream away. Great! Thanks for the bandage. These roofies had me so incoherent, I couldn't keep my eyes open for more than five minutes. It was ridiculous. It definitely wasn't helping my nausea.

Shellie's Proverb: Never trust a dog that has nothing to dig for.

I am not a firm believer in pharmaceuticals. I never was. I don't believe in instant gratification. Well, it depends on the situation...cough...ahem....tee hee...I, on the other hand, believe in eastern medicine. Meditate, herbs, teas, tinctures, acupuncture, yoga and all that hoodoo voodoo stuff. It's been practiced for millions of years and it works. Western medicine, on the other hand, is like the McDonald's of medicine. It's a quick fix. So, I stopped taking Ativan, just for the fact that it does nothing for my illness except dilute my mental state into complete blob. Instead, I steeped a wad of ginger, and drank it all day. Like wildfire, the difference in my body, mind and nausea was stupendous. The benefits of ginger's natural medicinal resilience is why I am feeling like my old self again.

Goodbye Vertigo. Goodbye Ativan. Hello World!

Lesson: A weak grasshopper shall have mind that can bench press any obstacle to become mighty master kung fu warrior.

Swoosh

Wondering about my whereabouts? Me too. I've ventured into the topsy turvy world of vertigo. Where the world of spinning and barfing meet. Can you believe it? Verti-flippin'go! It's not just a classic movie, it's my misery! There's nothing whimsical about this trip. There's been a few whispers about how it resulted. Some say concussion, but the doctors have concluded that it's all inner ear. In any case, it's been real. Really nauseating! It struck me this past Sunday morning, as my vision spun 360 degrees at 85 mph without the brakes. Shane cradled a thrash can as I purged myself of nausea. I must admit, I cried like a baby, as constantly spinning rooms have that effect on me.

It could be worse, so lets move on to current events. Under the advice of the doctor, I must lay off all strenuous activities for the next few weeks. Besides the medication prescribed which is in the same value as valume, I am a total slur lord. A napster. Two weeks? I can't wait two weeks without exercising. I will go absolutely crazy and probably take it out on my husband. Poor Shane, the wrath he will have to pay for my mental illness.

Shellie's Proverb: A branch with no leaves has nothing to lose.

Besides the obvious, we keep passing sickness to and fro like our own self serve petri dish. Virus anyone? We've been under the weather for the past two weeks. Besides sickness, there's allergies. The devil's spawn spore. It never ends. Between the kissing, hugging and all that love, when is it okay to cut off any physical contact with my husband? Because this sick sponge is ready for a cleansing.

Lesson: A mindful grasshopper must always remember no matter how many cups of green tea you drink, the bathroom awaits harmful germs and bacteria.

Top Ten!

If you have to ask, my WeiWat program is progressing. I am at the ten pound loss mark! Yes, siree bob, that's me. Woo hoo! The whopping ten. Ten more to go. This height vs. weight thing is trite, but somebody's gotta do it. Friends claim that I don't need to lose weight, but these are friends with stomachs of steel. They can not fathom the world of bulge. The prison of back fat. They have no idea what gaining weight around the stomach does to your fashion sense. It could get ugly.

Shellie's Proverb: Patience means progress.

Shane purchased a digital scale to avoid my embarassment at the gym. It has a body fat and hydration percentage mechanism. How it's indicated through my bare foot, only digital can fabricate. I've been observing strange behavior, since this purchase. Shane jumps on the scale every chance he gets, morning, after work, subsequent to dumping off the kids. When is weighing yourself too much?

Lesson: When grasshopper can remember to flush than he shall be considered master of his domain.

Ouch

Well, my boxing workout have come to a head. Literally! I paired off with a female yesterday, who is experienced, to practice our usual combinations. Well, what can I say except that she came in with solid hooks to my dome about half a dozen times. I was furnished with no head gear and no warning. Just hard hooks to jiggle my cerebrum.

Today, I'm a bit fuzzy in the head and my vision is a bit funny. The last time I had a concussion was when Nolan, my brother, put me in a sleeper hold in highschool, by accident. As he had his left arm around my neck and his right behind my head, he walked me through the concept. As he released my arms, my body flopped to the floor and my head with it. I could hear the raucous as mom screamed and scolded him. I could hear everything even as mom ran to get the phone to dial the ambulance, but my body was useless. The ambulance arrived and awoke me with smelling salt.

Anywho, that familiar feeling is presently on me. The dazed and dream like state is up and about deafening any stamina.

Shellie's Proverb: To avoid any surprises brain cells should only be damaged gradually.
I was fine last night. It was this morning that it caught up with me. At first, I was hoping that I was dreaming. Nope. My mom would whap me right now for being so negligent. She's been dissuading me from boxing, since I told her about it. She's right I am too old, but it's so fun and such a better workout than yoga. I just need to rethink things, like not get hit in the head the next time. Ugh. What a dork. Anyway, hopefully my brain will recover from this stupidity and I can get back to normal. I'm not ready to retire to my rocking chair just yet. Smile.

Lesson: A forgetful Grasshopper should remember that you have many opportunities to play, but only one brain.

jack ass

This has worn heavy on my mind. Not that heavy, but mildly enough that it roams in the hallways of my mind. I have been inconsiderate to my single friends. Some of them, I shun, because their personality needs a little tweaking. Others, I aggressively shove on to any man.

Shellie's Proverb: Hyprocrites make a good ottoman.

Considering that there's a few friends that are in the single department, they sit high on my priority list. In comes Erin, hairstylist extrardanaire, very single, very successful and very pretty. For some reason or another, I am compelled to throw her onto any man. Are you single? Hey, have you met my friend Erin? As I shove her to the sharks of scum wads. The all time scuzz was the guy I brought over to a barbecue wearing a kilt. He wasn't hot, but he wasn't cute either. I don't know what my flippin deal is? I could pretend to blame it on the tequila --as I did pick him up at bar during Carnival celebration-- but I was coherent. I thought he was decent, but Shane was simply baffled. Like a bait to a bass, I dragged this stranger to the party for Erin.

Shane, for the most part, is disappointed by my male palette. In fact, he is disgusted. He scolds me constantly for not having high standards, much less any, for my friends. I must admit, my screening process is non-discriminatory, you just need to be single to qualify for the Shellie Kitchen matchmaker program. Sure, I suck, but in a world of atrocities, I mean only good.

What is my deal? I ask myself that everyday. I don't miss being single. Actually, I take that back. Giggle. I miss it a little. I had a lot of fun maybe too much! Chuckle. I just wanted to apologize to Erin for trying to miserably set you up with a bunch of yucks. On the other hand, my potential single male's -will henceforth go unmentioned- personality need a few more dimensions in order to make the cut. That means stop buying those damn expensive helicopter models and buy a damn car already, because we're tired of giving you a ride home damnit.

Lesson: A wary Grasshopper should know the way to shaolin is not on the back of donkey.

Stop!

If you think you've got it bad, imagine being one in ten siblings. To push the blade deeper, try being the ninth sibling of seven brothers and two sisters. Yes, it finally makes sense! That explains my thick skin. My cynicism. My comedy act. My selective hearing. My no tolerance act. This is why I am utterly crazy out of my gourd.

In my great attempt to coordinate my parents 50th Wedding Anniversary along with the crazy nine, it's a flippin' nightmare! Like a bunch of vultures pecking at my brain, everything from invitations, invite list, favors, to paying for the event is complete warfare. Apparently, as it is normal with any family, drama has unveiled it's turdish features. My youngest brother, Nolan, has a newborn along with two other cuties and his wife is finishing her nursing program. Totally excusable. The others, not worth mentioning, are making everyone else's situation difficult than need be.

Shellie's Proverb: An ox is as stubborn as his tail.


Exhale. Take a deep breath. It's just frustrating when we're flippin' trekking our way back home. Siblings forget how expensive it is to fly home, rent a car, rent a place at the same time maintain our monthly bills. I could've invested the cost for this trip to go to Italy or Costa Rica, but I just zip it. Do they forget that this is our parents 50th Wedding Anniversary? Do they give a shit? Seriously, why can't people put aside they're gripes? Our parents busted their asses to raise us and we can't even be cohesive to make this work.

I'm just really sad. Sad is the word. Mom and dad have worked so damn hard to raise us. So what, they weren't the perfect parents. Whose are? I feel as adults that we should put aside our differences and progress. It just sucks. I surrender. My white flag is up for the taking.

Lesson: A grasshopper must learn to play with others before he can play with himself.

Nonsense.

Yesterday, I experienced the disturbing, yet reoccurring discussion of children. The no brain cell moderator -Hope- wishes to introduce the redundant parenting discussions that range from names, schools and philosophies. Yes, backrow you are permitted to propel rotten cabbage at moderator immediately. I insist. Hope, I love her, but her existence is the complete antonym of her name. Despair is more fitting. She is fixated on children, and dreams desperately to one day have them. Until than, she's in a ten year relationship that been plummeting in a downward spiral for the past six years. She's always on some tangent about relationships or parenting. Toss alcohol in the mix and it's a full wreck of a circus.

It's a gorgeous day in San Francisco. I'm at the ramp enjoying the company of wonderful friends. As I sip from my margarita, I hear an annoying jabber of sorts. Ugh. It was her. The jabberwocky had enough alcohol in her blood to fuel her tirade. I deliberately sat on the opposite end of the table of fifteen people to avoid such menacing contact. The fact remains that I was not far enough to avoid the pang. As Maxine, an Asian woman who is a fantastic mother to two children, explains to Hope that it's difficult to raise her children in other parts of the country, due to their ethnicity. Hope, of Caucasian decent, begs to differ and dribbles alcohol on her pink seersucker dress. This went on for a while as Hope insisted to insist that the countryside was more appropriate. Jesus, Christ and Mary, is the sunny weather not suffice? Is the company of friends that dull? Piss in my drink and charge me seven bucks already?

Shellie's Proverb: Sometimes loneliness and selfishness come in the same Ziploc.

Alright, this is my pain. My pain stains from her self-righteous perspective of life. We all have or know of these parasites. She's as irritating as a tick on a dog! She just won't stop sucking. She's obnoxious and obtrusively pushy. She is not open to debate. A very narrow-minded preacher who preaches hypocrisy. Hope means well, but all conversations hem boyfriends or children related. It's truly annoying. Besides that, she's generous and means well. When she's sober. There's nothing more insulting than a person is so mentally damaged to serve advice like deep fried Prozac poppers on a plastic tray. Who the bleep are you? Who does that? It's quite annoying and for as much as I try to sweep it under the rug, the rug is not large enough.

I had come to my wits end a couple months ago. After an all out shout fest, I have decided to give up on this lost soul. I can't help someone who is unable to invest in herself. That was it. The last straw. My life is too valuable to sit there and listen to her pine over her relationship that is utterly vacuous. Life is too short. I can not and I will not. Some friends are not just toxic, they're ridiculous. Yesterday, I invited her into my home, but I did not welcome her advice. This is the word according to Shellie.

Lesson: A veracious grasshopper must snip the rope when the bundle begins to drag in the mud.

Friday Fun!

Besides my hemoglobin buddies surprise visit, Friday night was a jumble of sorts. It started very gradually with KJ, Angela, and Tim for dinner at NOPA. The food was the bomb! The rarity of a restaurant's dishes being consistently off the hinges, is like a nun and a priest getting it on. A normal dining experience, usually involves a few dishes that crash. You can see my enthusiasm with this restaurant. It is was a treat!

After dinner, we walked over to Madrone, for one last cocktail. One drink is usually code for let's get wasted, yet that was not my intention. My attempts in being responsible was delusional, but worth the thought. I was looking foward to spending time with my two neices on Saturday. Nine o'clock am was another story.

Shellie's Proverb: An artist can paint a beautiful canvas, but an artist can never design fate.

To add fuel to fun, Kurt, Sofia, Zachilla and Toni showed up at the bar. That, in itself, means danger. The menacing salsa music was disrupting my stalwart ways. Each time I looked down, my hand cozied a fresh cocktail. No conflicts here. As Shane, tried to poop on my party, I would not have it. Well, we were the first to leave, but I can't say that I did not enjoy myself.

I appreciate Shane for pulling me out when he did. Nine o'clock am bantered on my brain, but I was glad that my nieces did not have to experience a hungover aunt.

Lesson: No matter Grasshopper have strong will sometimes you must give in to the force of nature.

De-Bloating Device

As I welcome June with open arms, I welcome bloating with the middle finger. Bloating of the PMS kind. Argh. The absolute worse.

Shellie's Proverb: A woman with stiff forehead will never be happy with herself.

In the past day or two, my stomach has taken a turn for the worse, it's bulged. It's a bit discouraging with all the progress. I was afraid to weigh in on Wednesday as the restriction in my waist was very telling. Instead, at the gym, Kurt and Shane bullied and insisted that I jump on the scale. Peer pressure anyone? I jumped on the scale and quick-like made haste and jumped off. Not bad, but no progress.

Break it down for a sistah, scientifically:
When blood breaks down progesterone, the identical chemical structure to the substance made in a woman's body by the ovarian corpus luteum (some gland), --as it does a week before your period-- kidneys are prompted to retain both water and sodium. At the same time, a powerful water-retaining substance called anti-diuretic hormone may also be released, further influencing your body to hold onto fluids.

Leroy's term:
Yo beeotch! Lay off the crack. Dat stuff is like whack diggity double stack.

Double gulp. Sodium the unfriendly drug. The habit that I can't kick. I'm hooked on the junk. Chef Quinn Hatfield (the disciple of Wolf Gang, Rocco Dispirito, Jean Georges, David Bouley) has strictly trained me that salt resuscitates life into dishes. Salt is the fuse in fusion. Without it, food is dead. Boring. Bla·sé. I take from my culinary career, the power to salt. As I drown my dishes with mad salt, my taste buds scream in delight, but my body moans, frets, and plans vindiction. I curse you salt for betraying me. Sob. Sodium, I can't seem to quit you!

Lesson: A young Grasshopper must learn to not lick a salt stick when the sound of running creek is absent.

*The content of this entry should only be taken with a grain of salt*

Pap Swear

My annual pap was a super thrill! My female doctor had a moustache that gave Magnum P.I. a run for his money. I booked a P2, a pap and a physical. Instead, I was swiftly jabbed with a cold and unfriendly instrument, swabbed, and tossed out to dry. Talk about physical. Further mortified, Dr. She-mister Moustache was not thorough. Her medical assessment was pedestrian. Over the years, I know a sprint from a marathon, and she overlooked the polyp sector of my galaxy. What doctor does that? Talk about half ass.

Shellie's Proverb: A donkey who doesn't mind being called an ass is a genuine ass.

Foremost, I advised that I was planning on pregnancy this year. I wanted to hear about eggs. Cervix. Uterus. Healthy. Percentage. Fertility. Cycles. Sperminating. Irrational behavior. Something? Instead, she came at me with the sharpest dagger, "...with your age, I shouldn't put it off any longer." Gee, tact much? My most private of parts has been probed, I'm not talking the good probe either, and this flunky wanted to give hard advice? Smirk. Ehck! I felt jipped. Duped. Double crossed. Tew, I wish I could spit on her now!

On the other hand, my physical was thoroughly comedy. No check for ear mites. No testing my reflex. No pulse check. It happened so fast that I was out of there in ten minutes. I said P2 not drive thru?

In need for a good female OBGYN, instead of LESBIAN. Know of any? Please call 415.PAP.NICE.

Lesson: A healthy grasshopper must never take spinach for granted.

The Shoe Fits

As I waited for the elevator, some nosy woman rambles, "How many shoes did you buy?" Soon followed by another snoop, "Geeze is there like ten pairs of shoes in there?"

If blushing was evident on my dark skin, my cheeks would be on fire. I rebutted that the sale was outlandish. Personally, I was pleased of my thrifty sense! Two hundred fifty for five pairs of boots. Are you kidding? One pair of beautifully hand crafted boots usually go for that price. Why was I embarrassed? Was it because I could feed twenty towns in India with the amount spent? Was it one boot too many? Was it because the box was the size of Oprah's salary?

Meanwhile, the elevator was a roller coaster ride. A business man blurted in astonishment, "Now, that's a big box of shoes! I thought my wife had a problem." A remark of Imelda Marcos came from the back corner. All of a sudden, I was the size of an ant and shrinking. I was curious, "How do you guys know it's shoes?"

In unison they said, "Zappos? Everyone knows Zappos."

Than conversations began to mingle about past purchases, wives addiction to fashion, and bargains. I couldn't wait for the elevator to touch down to the first floor so I could inobtrusively slither out.

Shellie's Proverb: Judge a shoe not by it's designer, but it's sole.

"Wow that is the largest Zappos box I've ever seen!" The UPS lady exclaimed as she scanned my box.
"Yep, boot sale." I handed her my box full of shame.

As I endured everyone's bewildered remarks, I had two beautiful pairs of italian boots waiting for me at home. This is the word according to Shellie. Amen.

Lesson: A nimble grasshopper must listen to silence before he can speak.

My pignic is Over!

After mounds of alcohol intake and gorging my face with meaningless calories and countless points, Tuesday greets me with strict discipline. Memorial day weekend was astounding! I enjoyed every second from the drunken stupor of Shane and friends in Sonoma to my tequila spectacle, befriended a San Francisco newbian in a kilt to a friend's gathering gone awry, to a sober picnic in Golden Gate park.

Shellie's Proverb: Cat with no whiskers has no balance in life.
As I wanted to incorporate some exercise to my holiday, vacation mode was in full press. My sloth like behavior was paramount. At the picnic yesterday, my picnic blanket was my best friend. I occasionally nibbled on food, but it's heavy magnetism lured me into the narcoleptic kingdom. Get out the smelling salt, because this sloth was in hibernation.

This morning my heart raced with excitement as the alarm clock blared 6:00am. The sunshine blatantly warmed my cheeks, triggering a pulse. Alive. I jumped out of bed and headed straight for the shower. I couldn't wait to start the day on the right foot! Should I bike to work? Should I catch the Fillmore bus? Should I take Third Street bus? Should I walk? All of these options, skipped around my head. For as much as I wanted to bike to work, the bike station (free parking for bicycle dorks) did not open till 7:30am. I wanted to be punctual to the office. Instead, I treaded the waters of the Third Street bus in my brown power suit and flip flops. Gulp. The flip flops did generate a few awkward stares, and I wasn't sure if it was the flip flops or the ward of warts on my toe.

I am relieved that my world is back in full axis. This lazy bag of bones, needs order in her life.

Lesson: An amiable grasshopper does not require the sparkling luxuries of the likes of champagne, but rather partake in the bubbling company of friends.

Oinker!

The three day weekend is chomping at my heels! A fiesta of tequila, wine and cocktails are doing the irish jig in my head. I am privy to falling off the WeiWat wagon over the weekend, going above and beyond the point system. I will attempt the way of the Master WeiWat, but I am afraid that I will steer off the clear path into the weeds of dispair. Light up that barbecue folks, cause here I come!

The weather forecasts wind whipping this weekend, so there goes my biking. God only knows, that I am in no shape to be coarsing my way through the wind. Now, riding with the wind, that's another story! I might as well not pedal! We both know that that is few and far between opportunities. Where will I find my inner strength? Where will I find the urge to be fit? The tip of my tongue is screaming paaartaaay!!! Woo hoo! I must refrain from such behavior for that is not the way of Master Weiwat.

Lesson: Grasshopper must always remember to feed the clowns at the circus.

Boxing Rules

If you need a reason to celebrate, well I'm still boxing like a fiend. I can't get enough of it. As you all know, I am infamous for not sticking to things. Such as my bitch n' stitch knitting spree, or my hip hop dance fest, cooking in the top restaurants phase. All of this is a blurry line towards my commitment.

Third Street Gym

Shellie's Proverb: Donkey with no carrot has no direction.

Boxing has given me something to look towards to. Even when skipping rope has become as mundane as the mullet, it's mind over matter. Even when my knees are shot and my calves are stiff and tight, I take a deep breath and continue. Everyday differs and being able to exert the days frustrations is exulting.

Occasionally, I'll giggle in class, because I just want to bust out in some hip hop freak boombahlah moves. The boxing shuffle bob in, bob out, left hook, uppercut, straight, hook, triple jab, switch. It's a riot! Laughing is not condoned. It's a rough environment. It's a man's world. Laughter is frowned upon. Believe me, I've gotten in trouble for my usual chuckles. Unfortunately, I come with a million laughing gadgets so you see where my problems lie.

I'm content! Sure, I could step it up incorporate medicine balls and weights, but it's all good! Yoga, pilates, bar method, or personal trainer could never fulfill the satisfaction that I get from the theory of boxing.

Lesson: Young grasshopper must learn the way of the wind in order to find his way through grass.

I like to ride my bicycle

Gone are the days of clothes that dangled from my waistline. Gone are the days of tight racy mid riffs. Gone are the days of tight spandex hoochie mama dresses. Gone are the days when apparel swayed on my body. I bid you adieu my fair weather friend. It has been pleasant, so I'll see you in my dreams. Yeh right! Put up your dukes fat cells! Shellie Kitchen is coming at you with a one two combo sprinkled with some plain and simple crazy!

For the past three days, I've been biking to work. I was not trying to be green and be considerate of the environment. I didn't take up the bike, because of the price gouging on gas. Perhaps, a little had to do with catching the Third Street bus and all the germ infested public transportation snuff. I thought why not?

I thought I was a guru in the cardio department. Smirk. Not until the grand Potrero Hills put a tight hold on my hamstrings and lungs. To make it worse, I look like a total geek, parading in my suit pants with my make shift Prada backpack and my white helmet. Nerd alert! Moreover, I have a white hair tie that cuffs my left leg to prevent myself from getting caught in the crank. Super fashion to the rescue. Honestly, I am happy as a clam being a dork when friends are not evident, it's fun. If a culinary dish symbolized my mental state, I would be spawn of spam.

Shellie's Proverb: Man with rotten teeth always has a dazzling smile.


On the other hand, my biking skills are horrid. I am the the flat route seeker. I would rather ride ten extra blocks to avoid a smidge of a hill. Since we live on this hellcat hill, my ride home is a beast. Not only is the wind my foe, but I have to push the darn bike up two steep hills. I'm sweaty. It's awkward. My thighs are a quivering mess as I hyperventilate. Push you say? Yes, push, ear dome! As I fumble around trying to establish the appropriate gear, I'm just out of effort. Yes, I'm on the most wanted list with the retard patrol. The sirens are blaring!

Lesson: A celebrated Grasshopper teaches himself how to swim.

Golden Egg

It's dilemma after disaster after dilemma. So to add to my true spirit of weddings, my parents are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in July. Each sibling is handling one task. I have the simple task of the invitations. What a dream come true. It’s easy, simple and once it’s done, my deed is complete.
The theme is gold. Do I dare venture to insert attire: Come with your best gold attire. Gold shoes. I mean I'm talking Filipino, so naturally, there is no need to take it to the next level, because we are loud and colorful. I will address the invitation to read Come in your best gold intentions: gold shoes, gold lame blouse, gold belt, gold bow in your hair. Come covered in golden poop!

Shellie's Proverb: A mind that is spacious just needs a good interior decorator.

In celebration of the theme, mom and dad are requesting that each child and grandchild perform their special talent at the reception. Can I laugh a little harder? Good Lord and his magic wand! I do not come equipped with talent. I could read and deconstruct a haiku poem that I wrote. I can display an array of shoes I purchased in this year alone and explain why they're vital to my survival? I could do a cooking demo for dummies? I am talentlessly talented.

Lesson: A starving Grasshopper must always have an appetite to plead for mercy.

Oops, I did it again...

Pertaining to Shane's golf hoopla last Wednesday, I was advised by Shane's cohort and dear friend, who is a big fan of Kitchenville, to apologize and retract my terse tangent. Shane passed the exam, henceforth, I was counseled that playtime contributed as a remedy to the problem.

Shellie's Proverb: Apologies are admired exquisite only upon it's rarity.

Here goes nothing. Gulp. Sweat. I, Shellie Kitchen, would like to express my deepest apology for my authoritative, immature, and irrational demeanor. In fact, golf may have, perhaps, wheeled Shane's mind to ease. I was only looking out for Shane's best interest. So I flip out once in a while. I am human. A female, at that. I can't help it. I have to allow estrogen to run it's course before the humdrum of normal sets in.

Props out to my homey Kurt Grundman a.k.a. Sensei Gunman for holding up a mirror to the situation.

Lesson: A humble grasshopper is one that can eat his bowl of mistakes free of pride and judgement.

T is for Tequila!

At work, I frantically waited, wondering, talking to myself. Pacing back and forth, like a mental patient in a ward. The scenarios in my head were horrific and terrifying. I kept hoping for the best, but the negative dark lord kept appearing unwelcomed.

Excuse me nurse? I'll have my litheum now? Like a stalker pining for a former lover, I dialed his cell every five seconds. My jaw was tight and my eyes were stern. I couldn't work like this! I had my bosses itinerary to produce minus any errors, and I couldn't see straight. Besides, my stomach kept yelling, "cereal, please. Excuse me? Can I have my cereal now?" I kept silencing that noise with caffeine, but my damn hunger had a two gauge to my stomach, holding it hostage. I just needed to know, has my sweetie passed this darn exam? I required certainty so I can move on. I mean so -we- can move on. Can I get a sign? A flying donkey past my office window will suffice.

Shellie's Proverb: A bird with no sleep can not perch on high branch.


Subsequent to pulling off a perfect vertical 180 stalker air off the top of my brain dome, he finally answered. He calmly replied, "I passed." Phew. Hallelujah, praise Jesus and all his gaggle of winged pals. Be gone you shadows and ghouls from my cell pad of a mind! I bid you begone! Please beam me up! Now. I foresee a happy hour full of beautiful top shelf tequila. They're calling to me.

Congratulations Shane Kitchen! You are the final high bidder to my sane heart! I knew you could do it. Smile. Pitter. Patter.

Lesson: A grounded Grasshopper must learn to jump hurdles and dodge rice bowls as they come.

Good Luck!

Today is the darn day. The day Shane's worked so hard towards. Let's cross our fingers folks and hope for the best.

Yesterday, he hit the books like a fiend does rock. He has scored higher on his practice quizzes yesterday. Hip Hip Hooray for progress! In the meantime, he's been whining about his head hurting. It's called utilizing your brain. Thinking. I'm not privy to whining. I wasn't allowed that luxury as a child.

Since he's been anxious about his exam, he gave birth to a 2 ounce healthy baby crick in his neck. I told him to take it easy and chill. Drink a nice cup of tea or go take a warm bath. Wash away this negative roadblock. All this tension was the core to his headaches and tight spots. He laughed at my absurd suggestion. The number one underlying culprit behind sickness, tumors, constipation, lazy eye, weight gain or loss, blindness, warts, frowns. You name it, stress is behind the curtain pulling all the strings.

Shellie's Proverb: A stooge can never be saved, because his pockets and shoes are full of cement.

The hawaiian culture you must "go wid da flow brah. Whatevah. Anykine. No mattah." Translation: A handful of nails, make a nail gun. Smirk. It is what it is, so just deal. Shane is a chill cat, but at the same time, he has some problemos. For example, leftovers in the fridge makes his brain bubble toil and trouble. The dishes in our kitchen cabinet are stored properly by color, shape, and style. I live in a pottery barn catalog. Eww. For kicks, I'll switch the dishes, wine and champagne glasses, the fork in the spoon section just to see my husband go stir crazy. So he's got a hint of obssessive compulsive disorder, it could be worse. Smile.

So my point is, is that he needs to stop stressing the minute things. Sheesh. I mean these aren't life threatening issues. Until his eyeballs spasm and pop out of it's sockets and his neck slits open and spews maggots than I think his dandy. I mean, if he fails than, take it again. Boo Hoo. On the upside, if he passes than it was just unnecessary torture. This is why we work. We are cohesive, because I am cactus and he is coyote. I am his yin.

Lesson: A versatile grasshopper does not rule and control his destiny.

Brain Juice

The countdown has started. This Friday is Shane's GC Exam day. Holy Moly! He has been studying silently upstairs in the bedroom behind closed doors for weeks now. His reading style is out loud. I think it's so he can remember the material better. I offered hints and tricks to tickle his memory, but he refuses my help. So here I am. Driven wild by his stale study style.

Shellie's Proverb: Fingerprints do not lie.

He has been studying so hard that he thinks his brain is going to explode. Literally. He's been complaining of headaches. I’ve caught him popping Advil like it was popcorn. It's probably from grinding his jaw, due to stress. Note to self: must admit Shane into HA (Hypocondriac's Anonymous).

Clarification, Shane is not the studios type. My man does not read. This is why foreign films are so foreign. Subtitles are crossing the international threshold. So here he is, plunging into the bottomless literary pit. He loathes reading. Reading is his kryptonite. To make matters worse, he has to remember the information. Ugh. Ever force feed an anorexic? No skip in the park.

Now that time is limited, he decides to alleviate his brain burn on golf. Yes, golf should do the trick. Oi vay! Are you joking? I don't take the day off, because the kids of menstrual cramp camp are having chainsaw practice in my stomach. I may have used it as a cop out, but not for a day off. Well, maybe in my late teens. But, come on people! This is life, so deal with it!

Let's cut the fat and get to the red meat, I'm just irritated, because he is playing hooky when the exam is in two days. Errr. That's like whacky crazy! But, besides being my husband, he's an adult. Adults are open to make their own decisions and who am I to dissuade? I'm just his wife. Nagging Shellie. As a wife, I should support his decisions and be the nucleus of his decisions. I mean isn’t that what wives are for? Hiss. The dowry days are over sister!

I'm not a control freak. I swear! Pinky swear! Believe me, I've seen some psycho control females and thank the lord almighty. Sorry folks, the control outfit is sold separately from the Shellie action figure. I, on the otherhand, like to meet in the middle. I believe that a fair compromise makes for a healthy relationship. Otherwise, resentment sets in and we don't need any of that resin.

From the bottom of my heart, I don’t think I could bear his failure. He has invested so much time and effort. Sniffle. Tear. I wish him all the best and to pass with aces. I have only pleasant intentions for my sweetest of the sweets. God knows, I can't go through this again. Kidding. Smile.

Lesson: A versatile grasshopper must walk, run, fly, slither, skip, and wiggle and decide which route home is most fun.

My Mentor. My Hero! My Love.

Flashback: 5:30am mom prepared dad’s lunch and filled his canteen with coffee. She kissed dad and wished him a good day and handed him his lunch. She took out a loaf of white bread, put some raw egg in a bowl and threw a pat of margarine in the pan. She went into the den and started a load of laundry. She returned and battered the bread and threw it into the pan. She continued this process until the loaf of bread was done and a pile of French toast sat on a platter. After school, the same platter sat on the dining table with rice krispie treats. Mom was outside hanging a load of wet clothes on the line quickly and proceeded to pluck vegetables from the garden preparing for dinner. Her hands calloused, her clothes stained with soil.

Shellie’s Proverb: A stark cow always finds a way to bear milk.

As a child, I hungered for a relationship with mom. Unfortunately, there was not enough time in the day for her. Instead, I mimmicked her movements in the kitchen, at the clothesline, in the garden, at the flea market. I followed her everywhere, I was her shadow. I was the one at the sidelines always watching and cheering. Next to dad, I am her biggest fan.

Chrispina is a woman that did her best to raise ten children. A loyal wife of 49 years. An honorable woman that scrambled to make our house a home. A mother, a wife, a home maker. Mom is beautiful. She has taught me to fight, to sustain, to believe. I take from her the insight that opportunity camps out on your doorstep, but it is my job to welcome and invite it in. Also, always look on the upside of the situation. Most of all, be content with what you have.

I thought long and hard about getting something special for mom. Considering that I am infamously the forgetful of the family, I sent her a card. I poured my words and slathered it with emotion. There’s not a luxurious box of chocolates, or a bunch of exotic flowers, or a fancy gift that could translate the love that lives rich in my heart. Her soul is bounteous. Happy Mother’s Day momma!

Lesson: A considerate Grasshopper gives bowl of rice to others and grasshopper's soul will be full.

Happy Mother's Day - Colleen!!!!!

Now that I am recently married, I am responsible for two moms. Oh the pain and the pressure is heavy. Lord, oh Lordie, Lord, Lord. The weight bears heavy on my back. Chiropractor por favor? The procastinator has to stop procrastinating and become a non procrastinator.

Shellie's Proverb: A baby that is breast fed never goes hungry.

I searched high and low for an appropriate and special gift for my new mommy. Well, I did find the perfect gift, although I'm not sure it will get there in time. Does it matter? This gift is from the heart and very, very, very special.

Lesson: A gregarious grasshopper is a hugger not a cusser.

Slim Fast

I have crossed the threshold, free from scrapes and damage. It wasn't as difficult, since Shane did not attend boxing with me today. I didn't have to sneak around to get to the scale. Besides, I do not look forward to him jabbing me with questions on whether or not I loss or gained. It's very irksome. I'm a fragile person...sometimes. Smile. All pity aside, make haste and break open the bottle of Voss, because this here baby lost five pounds! Water weight or fat weight, heck I'll take it! Woo hoo!

Shellie's Proverb: Two chopsticks is better than one.
The weight loss is good and all, but I wish I could just gorge crazy whacktastic on 10 pounds of Pierre Robert triple dazzle cream and swamp a medium rare rib eye with black truffle oil and Frescobaldi Laudemio olive oil. WeiWat allows an extra thirty five points a week just in case I decide to freefall of the disciplinary building. Moreover, extra points are accumulated, according to the level of exercise. It just reeks rabbit turd to measure your food.

Off the subject, why is organic so darn expensive? Why does healthy equal highway robbery? Who can afford $99/oz of fresh pressed organic air! Why? Pollution is free! Just give me one logical reason for the heist and I will drop the subject. Everyone wants to be fit, but at what expense?

Lesson: A young Grasshopper must learn that it doesn't matter what you eat, it all comes out the same portal.

Scale Fright!

It's been almost three weeks, since I signed up with Weight Watchers. I have not become accustomed to the scale. I'm actually freaked. My menstrual friend decided to sublet for a week; therefore, monthly bloating would contribute to weight gain. I discreetly jumped on the scale at the gym and my weight was stagnant. Well, I weighed the same as last week alongwith a few extra. I blamed the weight gain on a scale that was improperly calibrated. There should be a law. All gyms should have their scales calibrated so as to avoid clients' dissapointment. I'm writing my fellow congressman. Shane gently inquired on my weight, I growled and said, "I didn't jump on the scale." He accused me of lying.

Shellie's proverb: Never trust a hungry mule to pull your wagon.
I am so proud that Shane and I are doing this together. Shane will never admit it, but he too is on the point system. He actually bellowed when he noticed that his dinner portion out massed mine. Our meals are very well pointed based. He'll ask me smart questions like, "what did I eat today?" As if I am his shadow. Sometimes I wonder about his brain power, but this is why I absolutely adore him!

Meanwhile, I am livid to learn that my favorite foods are under lock and key. Moderation they say, I say torture! I have failed my culinary world. The final pieces are closing in as to why my pudge is fudge. For instance, cheese of all sorts -more dangerously- triple cream is now my enemy. Foie gras, my favorite mortal sin, is also infernal. How am I to just have a shaving of cheese? No foreplay and no orgasm? Moreover, a tablespoon of olive oil is four points! Four whole points for one tablespoon? I plunge everything in olive oil like my food was on fire! All those years of chef training dwindles slowly. What is the meaning of life? The hissing from mentor chefs are deafening. First, I cut out butter, than salt, now cheese and olive oil? For shame!

In the meantime, I am in the kitchen with my electronic scale measuring and weighing my food intake like some science geek. Who measures food? I purchased that electronic scale to portion items for dinner parties. That's it! Instead, I'm weighing protein to the exact ounce! My family would slap me silly, if they witnessed my retarded habit. They would hold me down and I would be force fed ten bowls of rice, slap me around a couple times and call me stupid.

I put my hands in prayer, St. Peter guide me to find courage in my heart to jump on that scale. One more wish, please help me find the encouragement and motivation, if I have failed.

Lesson: Always offer a grumpy grasshopper a bowl of rice for usually it is suffering from low blood sugar.

The Warrior and The Hero

A dear friend is departing San Francisco leaving for the great coast of Costa Rica, another one bites the dust. I applaud McMurtrie & Minniti (will be known henceforth as M&M) for taking that step foward to venture instead of sinking in this quicksand of a town. I must admit that I am envious of their effort to make way for change. If only I had cajones, I too would make a run for the border!

Shellie's proverb: A bird that flys in a circle goes nowhere in life.
What can I say, except that JMinniti will sorely be missed. From her hour lecture on the history of jeans to the synopsis on this seasons fashion and the team of designers that spine the operation. I adore her intelligence on Iyengar and what to tuck and when to tuck. I admire her boisterous New Jersey Italian demeanor and her power of integrity. My favorite is her repetitive eloquent usage of the literal word mother effer. I can't believe that she was the Dean of the Fashion department at CCAC, but then again I understand why she was the Dean. The girl has balls the size of Jupiter and an attitude to match. My absolute head rush, is her delusional fixation on being a flippin' blimp. Jen, a six pack is not considered a belly so bite me beeotch! Despite her tussle with her monthly cycle, I have to say that I will miss her.

Well, what can I say about Darren except that he is one very cool cat! He is always in the background cold hard chillin' with that pleasant smile on his face like there's a carnival taking place in his head. I mean the man is designing and building a house with water running through it for Pete's sake, he's a man's man. Architect nerd! I'm proud that he too has fallen into the deep pit for boxing.

If I could pick one pose to define Jen it would be Virabhadrasana, fierce warrior and Darren would be Virasana, the hero (Vira: man, hero, chief).

Conclusively, I would like to thank you both for making our lives so vivid. I wish all the love and luck! Alright that's all the crap I can muster for a farewell to friends. This is not goodbye, because Costa Rica New Years 2007 is around the corner. I look foward to mingling with the italians and yoga nerds that inherit Tamarindo. Until than, the baby race is on between Jen and I. I can't wait to see who will cross the finish line first. Namaste. I'm out!

Lesson: A well traveled grasshopper is one that treks the galaxy for friendly aliens.

Home Design

The final house plans were submitted. Hallelujah! Thank the Lord! Praise Jesus and all his dudes! I am truly amazed with the talented individuals that have a keen eye for floor plans such as Uncle John and Fabian. Wow! One walk through the property and "pop" ideas begin to bubble as fast as I lose brain cells. Our version of renovation is not replacing a shower head, changing the tiles in the shower, adding a granite backsplash behind the stove. On the contrary, it is a facelift. A close encounters of the Joan River kind such as boxed out roof, extending out, dropped floors, relocating the fireplace, additional bathrooms and bedrooms, walk in closets, transplant the kitchen. That is just plain phrenetic! I mean I know autocad, but you don't see me whizzing through plans like Mr. T does gold chains.

I have come to embrace the oddities of the house. Our peptobismol bathroom or as I like to call it the New York studio. This bathroom is the mothership when it comes to ridiculous. The coral toilet coupled with coral tub faces three large bay windows. The room measures 14 x 16 so you can imagine the awkward spaciousness while sitting on the can. I feel like I'm floundering in the bathroom. It feels like a crime! I am accustomed to a cozy bathroom. Something you can simply slip into, like a silk nightgown. The kitchen is dressed with retro vintage wallpaper. Yes, and the word grandparents always comes to mind. The living room and kitchen ceiling is spined with a reinforcement beam that runs from the front of the house to the back of the house. Although the view from the living room and bed room is in truth, dazzling.

Shane and I are adapters. We have shifted to different shelters and environments in the past five years. From Lucky Street, the crack and fecal lane that homed the individuals that could use some luck, to the peak of Cole Valley on 17th Street. Having to exist in a rhythm from a single family home to a one bedroom back to a single family home is pretty much a deranged experiment. It takes a lot of adjusting to harmonize to this chaos. There's been many times where the thought of rampage have crossed my mind, but even tempered Shane was always there grounded as a tick on a dog.

Shellie's Proverb: A dog's bite happens quicker than his bark.
So once again, I relive the hard work of Shane's back and hands. As he composes our house into a home. So once again, I look foward to the wrath of the future. Picture a whopper of a woman struggling into a size zero prom dress and that is our mortgage. Gulp and double gulp. Yikes. Stay tuned.

Lesson: A humble grasshopper is one that forfeits his house to strangers to fulfill a palatial home in his heart.

The road is wide open!

We're at an amazing peak of our lives as we prepare ourselves for change. Shane is studying hard for his GC license. I am venturing out into the world of chick literature, fiction of course. Alongwith a friend, I am working on a business idea that will hopefully flint success. Plus, looking into starting a family at the end of the year. Since mom instilled the chi of modesty, humbleness, and humility into my existence, discretion would be wise.

Shellie's proverb: Rot is best enjoyed by scavengers.

Flashback: It was the spring of seventy six, I snuck into the storage room adjacent to the patio and dusted off a box that read chemistry set. I unlatched the black velvet box that sheltered a microscope, glass tubes, glass rectangles, magnifying glass, circle plastic containers. I needed a specimen, a cockroach, a spider, a potato bug. Something to smudge and analyze! Mom stood there pinning clothes to the clothes line. I screamed with urgency, "Momma, I'll be a scientist when I grow up!" My exclamation followed a healthy whap to the butt. Mom grabbed my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye, "Anako, you never speak of the future. You don't know what will happen in the future!"

Hence, the closest study to science I practiced was shilly-shally. There is a great deal of goodness to achieve this year and not much to lose. Life has a lot to offer, if your not afraid to go toe to toe with it. We've got nothing to lose, so it's time to shoot for the stars.

Lesson: A solid grasshopper is one that has endured injury to his thorax, yet is not afraid to dismount from a triple McAxel.

Just Weight and See!

My weight watcher stint continues as I failed miserably this past weekend. I'm beginning to be educated on the consumption of food. Just when I thought it was safe to be moderate, oh no sister it's a point warfare out there and it's getting crazy hectic! I've been walking the foodful valley blind and dumb.

Shellie's Proverb: Better to flush the toilet than to clog it.
I've already received gaffled responses by friends and family on my weight watcher membership as they too suffer from prejudice. As the discrimination towards hefty people grow, I become deaf to their noise. I must admit, I do appreciate all the support that it has stirred up amongst friends and family. Frankly, I am appauled! My sister Laurie exclaimed that it was all a scam to purchase their food. Whuh?

Anywho, I am not attending any of those group support meetings. What would I have to complain about? The pudge I have for a stomach? Hi, my name's Shellie and my goal is to exterminate this lard puddle that is obstructing my six pack. Instead of applause, I'd get a rash of rotten tomatoes thrown at me by a vat of people that's dropped 100 plus pounds. No siree, I prefer to enter my daily food intake and exercise in my private world of the internet! My own confession booth, deposit your sins and repent.

Lesson: A confident grasshopper is one who prides to be different.