Grillin' Machine

We just moved into a new apartment with two very, very important features: a large outdoor deck (score one bajillion points for obtaining our own private slice of the outdoors in the city) and a spanking-new grill (score one point per use and we've racked up about 10 in the last two weeks). Pants said it best - having a grill and a deck changes your whole outlook on summer. I personally can't think of a better place to be than sitting in the sunshiney outdoors, smelling meat sizzling on the grill, with a freshly opened Oberon (or Sangria...I'm not picky) in hand. That's my definition of paradise, within the city limits anyways...

Having a whole new appliance gives this amateur cook a whole new set of ideas and experiments, the latest of which was pizza. Yes, grilled pizza - by no means my own idea, but my own first attempt at it. We have a gas grill (we have a wooden deck, and though I love the flavor of charcoal, I'm lazy, and don't like deck fires). What did I learn? First, high is too high - medium still achieves a nice char without turning too much dough black (I happen to like all the burnt, charred bits, whether pizza dough, cheese, true bbq burnt ends...anyplace where that magical carmelization happens). My standard pizza dough is stout enough to handle the heat (1.5 C flour, 1 t salt, 2 t yeast, 1/2 C warm water, 1 T honey, 2 T olive oil - proof yeast in water and honey, stir in oil, stir into flour/salt; let rise one hour, punch down, roll) - but next time I'll roll the dough thicker than i do when using oven/pizza stone - the dough's gotta have some body to withstand the direct flames. Throw small rounds on grill for few minutes, flip, top, close lid to heat through, move to warming rack and repeat with new rounds. Have all your ingredients ready to go - did somebody say mise en place? Be sparing with toppings - the grill is not the venue for overstuffed pizza. Pesto, tomatoes and fresh mozz are particularly delicious. I had roasted some cherry tomatoes with garlic, shallots, and panko, and used these and some smoked gouda for another delicious combination (inspired by a Food & Wine recipe).

And one day I'll have the foresight to take some food porn photos for the blog - that really is my goal here, I suppose. But I still have my blog training wheels on. Plus, when you approach food like I do, sometimes you don't have time to grab your camera.

Everything I Say is Boring....

So you can tell that I at first tried to be all serious, trying to imply that I'm concerned with all these timely, relevant issues and have numerous thought provoking, insightful comments about them. But I'm not, and I don't. I'm a goofball, a joker, silly, immature (in a good way, like I'm eternally 11 years old. well, it's a good way for me). I like to tell offensive jokes, assign off-color meanings to everyday phrases, and i can't help but giggle hysterically at puns. So maybe I want to come off as more serious and intelligent and BLAH sometimes, but I'm not really serious. I'd rather laugh, be a goof, and have fun. Besides, when you really start to look at things it's harder to laugh at the little stuff, and we've all got enough to be concerned with right now. Choose your pet issue, be it global warming, the war on terror, economic hardships, our pitiful educational system, or the categoric destruction of arts and music programs throughout the country. They're all vital, pressing, important issues that must be addressed. But man do I get bummed when I start to think about them, because then they all start spiraling around and become suddenly overwhelming. I'm not advocating ignoring the problems, but I think we can all make conscious efforts to do our part to address them. Besides, a bill in congress isn't going to fix depleted fish populations or deforested rainforest, but maybe thinking twice about what you're having for dinner will, especially if you can convince your neighbor to do the same. Getting mad everytime I see somebody driving a hummer, especially alone, isn't lowering gas prices, but maybe walking home from work a few days a week will - again, especially if you can get your friends to walk with you. Small motions in the ocean (i also love rhymes) start big currents, and huge movements begin with a single step. So start stepping. And laugh along the way.

I'm still getting the hang of this - writing, posting, trying to figure out what to say, what I want to say. It's funny, because I write for a living - yes, I am a writer, but a ghostwriter for the top dog in a nonprofit. So my writing is rarely in my own voice, but rather filtered through the voice of Mr. Dog. (Doggy he is, too, but those are stories for another day.) And it's contagious! My voice is altered, hidden, or more likely not yet discovered. Or maybe I'm just getting to know it. Let me tell you, it's a slow process.

The most agonizing this is reading over what I've read. Editing my writing at work is easy - I read it back as if it were not my own, and in many cases it isn't. Sure, I generated the product, but there isn't feeling in it. It's meditated upon, stewed over, but really not from the heart. No, that's not cheating or selling out - maybe I went to far with that last statement. It comes from an honest part of me, honest to my own style (rambling, nonlinear, comma-happy). The subject matter is policy-oriented, which is what I suppose I take umbrage with. Not that I have any real problems with that as such, but after writing so long for somebody else, I don't know the process for writing for myself. My fingers are on the same spot on the keyboard, but it feels different. The blank document is still intimidating, but I retreat further. I need to develop a process, which I suppose is what this blog is. I really hope that nobody reads it, because it's this vapid, narcissistic, sophomoric rambling collection of un-thought-out, pretentious crap. But, having not really written in my voice in a while (ever), I probably have a lot of crap gumming up the works that it wouldn't hurt to spew out.

I'm not rereading this post. BLAH!

I get down on myself a lot. I should take more photos - I should learn how to take better photos - I should learn how to use photoshop to make my photos even better - I shouldn't use photoshop because it's cheating. It's all a matter of "I shoulds." I should:
-work out more
-eat less
-make more friends
-stay in better contact with my friends
-stay in better contact with my family
-try harder at work
-take up a new hobby
-save more money
-spend less money
-go out with friends less
-and it goes on and on

And, yes, these are very common concerns that most people have. I just wish I could give myself a break about them. Sometimes I get these flashes of brilliance, moments of clarity, where I think, life is too short to worry about whether I get on the elliptical. Then I think life will be to short if I don't get on the elliptical. Even those in the list above sort of contradict each other. Can I simply not give myself a break about anything? Right now, I'm getting down on myself for whining.

So what's the point? There isn't one. Welcome to my world of over-analysis, over-thinking, endless ramblings, sometimes criticism, but, hopefully, the ability to laugh about it. That's the good side to be on.

Sissy's In Town

My Sissy is moving into the city this weekend! Many of us smaller town Midwestern kids end up or pass through this city on our way to grownupville. She's finished with college and, like most post-undergraduates, is a little unsure of what she wants to do next. It's a tough time, maybe in a slightly privileged way, when you go from being a pseudo-adult college kid to what is supposed to be a real adult state. There's pressure to define what you're going to do with your life and then take a meaningful step in that direction with a first job in that field. As if taking four years of classes with a bunch of other young, privileged, mostly sponsored kids is in any way an accurate preparation for "the real world." But you finish college, and everybody's next question is, so what next? When I was going through it, all I wanted to say was - I have no friggin' idea.

That feeling of unknowing, combined with the expectations that you turn into this driven, confident career-minded "adult" was enough to send me into a tailspin. It made me want to do nothing, as opposed to actually confront that question. And do nothing, essentially, I did, working two part-time jobs, delaying a planned move with my friend, and ignoring the whole resume/job application routine that was expected of me. I was afraid. Eventually, though, my friend got sick of waiting for me to get over my fear, and forced an ultimatum on me - move now, or find somebody else to live with. So move I did. Without a job, without a resume, and with a paltry sum saved up, I signed a lease on our new apartment, crossed my fingers, cried a little, and moved.

Once I was set up in the place where the next phase of my life was to begin, however, that fear disappeared - and excitement took over. I temped for a while, swallowed my collegiate pride, and took a job as an administrative assistant, which led to a great promotion and an excellent job in a field I never would have chosen nor given a chance, really. I do think to some extent you have to leave yourself open to possibility, and, though drive is admirable in its own right, sometimes being un-driven towards a specific field allows you to look at all of them as potentials. You aren't blinded by naive determination and letting opportunities pass you by; rather, by force of necessity, you allow them the chance to become your future. And you'd be surprised how well this can work out, if you only allow yourself to give everything a fair chance.