Seven Pound Burrito Smothers #3 Son

Jobhunting is boring. Let's talk family events and summer activities. Okay?

Ever seen Man vs Food on the Travel channel? Big guy Adam travels the country taking on food challenges - 4 pound steaks in Amarillo, eight breakfast tacos in Austin, 15 dozen oysters in New Orleans. Watching someone pack their guts may not be your cup of tea, but alas, in my house of men, we watch faithfully. True to the act of stuffing one's face, my husband, brother and myself found ourselves on a pleasant patio at Jack-n-Grill on Federal Blvd in Denver the other morning. Number three son, Ian, the baseball player, wanted to take on Jack's seven pound breakfast burrito. No time limit - well, maybe sometime that day.

Before placing the sled of food in front of him, he had instructions to go to the bathroom right then and there, or forever hold his guts. He abstained from the bathroom visit and before him arrived the signature dish. And a dish to behold it was.


The battle face left no hint that this was chump change in the pursuit of the mere poloroid picture left on the wall for eternity. The picture that would provide the notoriety for this accomplishment so important in life not to mention terminal free food at Jack's. So it began, spoon in hand. (Check out the lady behind him.)

Seemed a happy start - going at the steamy tortilla covering seven potatoes, and a dozen or more eggs, plus onions, and cheese smothered in green chili. No big deal.

Chipping away at the edges. (I take my time eating my breakfast of scrambled eggs and beans to not make Ian feel rushed.)

Ian fiddles with the food. Says it is steamy hot in the middle. I believe him. I finish my breakfast, file my nails, and eye the bar. I suggest to my husband that we get margaritas. He scowls and points at his watch. 11am. I sigh. I know he wants one just as much as I do.
Taking a breather - with a smile, the pursuit of the Seven Pound Burrito continues. Two sides demolished a little more than a third remaining. Ian sits back in his seat to see if his stomach will stretch out and offer up more space.


A few more bites, and then, surrender with a smile. We package that baby up and five of us eat it for breakfast the next morning. A gallant try, my Ian. You didn't even spill on your shirt or yak out the car window on the ride through the windy roads in the mountains. Good sport. Although you were quite quiet during the long ride - and you did have your window down. Anyway.

You tried it. You rock, Ian. What's next? Eight Jalapeno Stuffed Habanaros in El Paso?

Summer in a Hammock - Reading List

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

T. S. Eliot

'Tis time to post the summer reading list thanks to all your suggestions. I also included several from my shelf-to-be-read, plus my book club selections for the next few months. If you should come across a good read during the summer, pass it on. Meanwhile, read on, sip iced tea (sweet tea), and read on.

A book is like a garden carried in the pocket.
Chinese Proverb

2009 Summer Suggestions from my blogging friends:

Shanghai Girls -- Lisa See
Coraline, American Gods and Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman (series of three books)
Supreme Being - Christopher Buckley
Tender Graces - Kat Magendie
Twenty Chickens For a Saddle - Robyn Scott
White Heat - Brenda Wineapple
The Bad Mother - Ayelet Walman
The Gate House - Nelson DeMille
The Wind Blows Away Our Words - Doris Lessing
Strangers - Anita Brookner
John Henry Days - Colson Whitehead
Jessie's Girl - Gary Morganstein
Gargoyle - Andrew Davidson
Divsadero - Michael Ondaatje

Books from My Unread Shelf
Traveling Mercies - Anne Lamott
Shakespeare's Kitchen - Lore Segal
The Joy Diet - Martha Beck
Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse
Beloved - Toni Morrison
The Big Rock Candy Mountain - Wallace Stegner
So Brave, Young, and Handsome - Leif Enger
Home - Marilynne Robinson
Word - On Being a (Woman) Writer - edited by Jocelyn Burrell
Escape - Carolyn Jessop
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Ashffer and Annie Barrows
Ella Minnow Pea - Mark Dunn
The Maytrees - Annie Dillard
The Crimson Petal and the White - Michael Faber
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Quite the list. Best get started. Happy summer reading.

Vacating the Heat

I meant to write a complete post last Monday. Alas, I ended up at a Mexican restaurant drinking margaritas rather than doing all the items on my list. Did make the plane, however, to begin our vacation.

Have escaped the Texas heat to attend the wedding of a niece in the mountains. Much cooler here. And the roses are truly incredible.

Everybody have a good one, and again, thank you for following and commenting. I will catch up next week.

Current Day Eyesore A Lovely Memory

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

Leonardo DaVinci

My very dear friend from Amarillo was shocked to discover that growing up my family hung our sheets on the line. That I cherished the clean scent and crisp texture of the sheets after a day in the fresh air and sun.

"Didn't you have a dryer," she asked in horror.

I returned the look of horror. Of course we had a dryer, but no one put their sheets in it. Dryers were for underwear, socks, and soft towels. Jeans. Had she never known the joy of sleeping in cotton sheets that had hung in the sun and absorbed the fresh scent of the day? Had she no idea how much fun it was to linger and hide among the sheets lined up on the clothesline? Perfect kick-the-can hiding place. Had she never experienced the sound of a back door opening and a mother yelling at the top of her lungs - Get out of my wash!

Perhaps if I'd grown up in West Texas, where the wind and dust can blow for days, I might share her dismay. But where I grew up, everybody's mother, grandmother, and aunt hung their sheets on the line. Even hung them in the basement in the winter.

In the warmer months, a homemaker could show off her skills with the art of a well hung wash, sheets neatly pinned in taut lines. With no fences to keep them from knowing who lived next door, many a woman gathered in their yards to converse with their neighbors, discuss their lives, and, of course, notice any dingy or poorly hung washes. Hanging outside also offered a cure beyond the Clorox bottle - the sun bleached the wash and made the whites whiter while they waved in the daylight.

A recent article from the Green, Inc. blog on the New York Times website asked if clotheslines might come back in style to save energy costs or would opposition to them as an eyesore quell that idea. What? Eyesore? I felt the writer hadn't done her homework. (A reading of the article suggests she is looking for us to provide the homework.) No discussion of the fact that clothes last longer when they are hung as opposed to dried in a dryer. That they keep their shape better, that slipping in between the crisp sheets that have been air dried is a sign of clean freshness. That detergents promise on the front of the boxes that they can satisfy the Clothesline Fresh concept.

And an eyesore? Did you know there are neighborhoods that actually ban clothes line poles in their deed restrictions as they are considered - what? I don't even want to think what they might be considered. Sort of like people who think vegetable gardens are a tacky advertisement of not being able to afford food. Or that pink flamingos in the front yard are somehow a big zit in the neighborhood.

I have a clothes line that is strung between two large trees in my backyard. I'd like to say I use it regularly, but I don't. When I do, I wonder why I don't take more time for this easy delight. I gain a gentle, methodical pleasure while hanging a wash. The matching of the corners of the sheet, reaching for the clothespin, shaking the wrinkles out to tautly connect to the lines. And then, at day's end, to fold them into my basket and bring the sweet smell of summer into the house.

Easier, faster to throw them in the dryer? Absolutely. But just as washing dishes by hand can provide therapy when the waters from the faucet pour soothingly over my hands, the time taken to hang a wash can bring a similarly simple joy. Not to mention a visual reminder of work well done as the hanging wash sways in the breeze, free of the dryer's buzz.

Economic aid? Certainly. Eyesore? Not in my mind's eye. Both too simple an explanation for a complex joy and healing touch so easily attained.

Taking a Breather - Ian Feeds the Goslings

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.



You make me happy, when skies are gray.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

Yes, Ian, your mother is strange, but you know that. Jacob and Jordan, she loves you, too. This is just what happens when the old lady can't sleep at 3am and her creativitiy has escaped her.

Nice looking family

For the Love of Reading

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away.

Emily Dickinson

Wrote half my new post this morning with a promise I'd finish it this afternoon. Got caught up in a book and I couldn't stop. I'm very excited.

Pleasure reading, my favorite past time, has escaped me for the past few months. When looking for a job, I couldn't concentrate. When working, my eyes ached at night and I couldn't bear the thought of opening a book. Went back to the days with young kids when I only managed three paragraphs at a time. Seemed each page weighed a ton as I turned it. You may have noticed, in my reading list I've been as far as EIGHT New Yorkers behind. Even the newspaper has eluded my daily repertoire.

Today, I became ensconced reading my first book by Doris Lessing, the Nobel Prize winner from last year. Hooked. What a lovely feeling.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday - I'll get back to that post about hanging sheets on the line. Much more interesting than job hunting, yet doesn't compare to a good read.

Please comment, and if you want, let me know what you are reading.

The Passing of Generous Motors

The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.

David Russell

In 1980, my husband and I lived near Detroit in Ypsilanti, Michigan. He worked on the line at a General Motors plant. Twelve hour night shifts. Sometimes seven days a week. Newly married, I taught school and whenever we had time off or a few dollars saved, we'd load up our Chevette for an adventure up north, to Chicago, Lake Michigan, Lake Huron, Ontario, where ever the road took us.

My husband is a pretty smart guy (don't tell him I said that.) Doing the same task, over and over, sixty times an hour, twelve hours a day, wasn't working for him. After two years, we decided to chuck that job and have him return to school full-time for an engineering degree. I would support us.

Shock waves wafted through my husband's family. Generations had made their living through the plants and offices of the motor car maker. Landing a job at General Motors assured 40 or 45 years of a steady paycheck, generous pension, and a second home -- up north. Once a GM job had been secured, never, ever did giving it up laud consideration.

An engineering degree earned at General Motors Institute or the universities of Michigan or Michigan State, and then a return to the car industry, might have redeemed us. But, no, we headed west to Colorado - and a degree in chemical rather than mechanical engineering.

How we chose that path, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps we didn't want the same life as those in past generations. Perhaps we saw into the future and knew that opportunity may not garner the same results generation upon generation. Or perhaps it was simply dumb luck. A young couple choosing a different route.

At present, we worry for our family members and friends who depend on the pensions they earned so diligently. Also for the thousands of current GM and Chrysler employees who join the ranks of the unemployed, not to mention the trickle down effect that will have on many industries. I will not be lonely in the Midlife Jobhunter quest.

Although I do believe GM squandered their chances to remain competitive in this world and that the years they made gobs of money and gave everyone, union and non-union alike, healthy packages and salaries, and made poor car choices, I do hope for their rebound. Any trip to the Midwest does not find a BMW, Toyota, or Nissan in front of one on the freeway. The true believers in the Rust Belt drive their Pontiacs, Buicks, Chevys, Dodge, Ford, and Chrysler vehicles, and of course the ultimate sign of success in the GM automotive industry, the Cadillac. They are a people who support the American life in a way they know best.

Long ago, my husband and I burned the bridge to the GM legacy. Instead of the car business, we chose the precarious semiconductor industry. True to the form of their parents, our children have chosen their own bridges. The journeys continue.



Queen For A Day? Can I Do It Alone?

I have a great deal of company in the house, especially in the morning when nobody calls.

Henry David Thoreau

The last few months have been a tad rocky and emotionally draining. My husband's company teetered on the brink of disaster. I took on a crap job with a steady paycheck to help out with the missed income from shutdowns at his work. Oldest son graduated college and moved to his own place. Middle son came home from college and completed his search for an internship. Youngest son tore his hip bone playing baseball and my 84 year-old mom arrived for a three week visit the day after my sweat shop job ended. Not to mention a flurry of other activities. Everyone has those and their own drains, too. But, this is my blog, so I'm bitching about mine.

Last Wednesday, my mom flew home to Green Bay. She had arrived ill and I sent her home in much better shape. I enjoyed my time with her. She's my mom.

I got up at 5am that day of her departure to make her breakfast and my husband took her to the airport. My further plans for the day? To lie in bed -- all day long.

So how did that day in bed play out?

6am -Read the paper when my mom and husband left.

6:45 - Drifted off to sleep

7am - Garbage truck goes by. I get up to notice our can is not out there. Rush can to street.

7:45 - Drift off to sleep

8am - Mowers come to super trim my neighbors lawn

8:30 - Wish youngest son a good day at school

8:45 - Drift off to sleep

9:00 Phone rings - dentist appointment reminder.

9:15 Check email and see that Pam at Pam's Perspective has left me a Queen for A Day Award. How perfect is that? A license to relax. I sink back into my sheets.

10:00 Say goodbye to middle son as he heads out to work.

10:15 Husband calls to say he is coming home for lunch. Second time in 21 years. Wants to know if the house will be void of kids. (Now that means only one thing.)

10:16 - Curse

10:17-11:30 Doze while fielding telephone calls. Letting the cat in--and out. Answering the door bell from yet another roofer who wants to alleviate our hail damage.

11:31 Husband arrives - day shot to hell.

Okay, it was fun to be alone with him for an hour, but more than that brief pleasure, I so wanted solitude all day.

One of the things I missed most while working was time alone. I would sit in my car during my 1/2 hour lunch to take a breath and not have anyone around me taking one, too. Not so sure if it is the writer and reader in me that craves that, or just me. Actually, I do understand it. A good friend of mine often pined when her husband was in between jobs how she just wanted to be alone in her house, to come home from work and sit in the silence. Walk around naked, unmolested, if you know what she means.

I know complete solitude is not good for the soul, but a little bit right now sounds good. At this moment, everyone in my home is off on a morning venture. The house is silent. I think I'll run around naked for a few minutes, just because I can.

Check out Pam's site at Pam's Perspective . She has great book, travel, and TV reviews, plus a beautiful blog. Thank you, Pam. I'm taking my Queen day right now. At least for a few minutes.

Resting, Not Rusting

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.

Sir John Lubbock

Please enjoy the view of this picture taken at the LBJ Ranch when my mom and I visited a few days ago. After a long haul of work and visitors, I'm taking a day or two off from life to regroup, read, rest, restart my engine so to speak.

But in the words of Helen Hayes, I won't rest too long, as I don't want to rust. And considering the lists of items requiring my attention, developing rust is not an option. Tomorrow, I'll start it all tomorrow. I promise, Scarlett.

Not In My Wildest Dreams

Your children are not your children. / They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

Kahlil Gibran

When our children are born, we conjure hopes for their futures. Some might imagine doctor, lawyer, teacher, or Peace Corps volunteer. I hoped that by exposing my three boys to different environments, ideas, and arts, they could discover their own passions. I did plan to raise independent, honest, responsible, kind, generous, contributing members of society. I’m certain they are headed in that direction, but now I’m rethinking. Perhaps I should have been more specific—like get a desk job. Especially that middle son of mine.

As can be expected when the job front comes into play, the almighty resume moves to the forefront of the computer screen. My desktop carries my own, my husband’s, and my two oldest sons. My husband hasn’t needed his yet. You know the status of mine. The oldest son is graduated, employed, and now in his own place. But that middle one has been seeking an internship. With one year left in his college career in Arizona, Jordan was praying to fore go a seventh summer of life guarding and land something in his field of Wildlife Management. He found it.

This summer he’ll live in the middle of Bumf--- south Texas where he’ll bottle feed baby white tail deer – and kill rattlesnakes. Is he excited? On top of the world. As for me? Did I walk the floors, mend his hurts and heart, teach him to cook, garden, mow his neighbor’s lawn AND hold his head when he threw up so he could put his life in peril in rattle snake country?

Where’s the corkscrew?

I’m not sure when my aversion to those disgusting creatures began. I caught garter snakes with my oldest brother growing up in Minnesota. We dared each other to touch them. Maybe it was in college when, as a biology major, a South American climbing snake decided to slither along the lights in our lab and hang down right beside my head, surprising my ear with his forked tongue. I switched to English the next day.

Years later, my friend, Rebekah, born and bred in East Texas, and I would hike with our kids to find mudslides and swimming holes in the Texas river beds. Once while walking through a creek, I carried that new rattlesnake hunter as he was so small. I asked that friend leading the trail if we needed to watch for snakes in the water. She said no, that the current was swift enough. As I went under a tree branch, she said, “Watch out for them hanging in the trees, though.”

EEEWWW! Why was she my friend? One trip we altered our route due to a lounging cottonmouth on a rock up ahead and once after hiking two miles into the woods, startled one who swam into the pool of water we’d planned on splashing in for hours. We sat, sweat pouring from our brows. We were not going in there.

With a grounded fear in slithering beings and nightmares to prove it, I’m sending my son off to keep them from the Bambi’s he will nurture.

Jordan has informed me his hiking boots won’t suffice, that he needs snake boots. He researched them at the local sporting goods store. I asked how high they rise on his leg. He pointed to mid-calf.

“Don’t they have any taller?” I asked. “Like up to your neck?”

Jordan, in his kind honesty, only smiled.

I will shut my mouth, send him on his way, rejoice in his happiness, and set one more resume in our pile aside for a while. And I wonder why I drink.

Flattered, Honored and Begging Forgiveness

There is nothing better than the encouragement of a good friend.

Jean Jacques Rousseau

Lost in the last two months was a post to four very special blogger friends. I'm ashamed I haven't acknowledged receipt in a proper time frame. Please forgive my neglect and note the lovely additions on the right side of this site.

The Lemonade Award. It is given for blogs that show great Gratitude and/or Attitude. With great gratitude I thank Margaret of Margaret's Ramblings. I adore her blog as it takes me across the ocean to view the world of the British. I would love to have lunch with Margaret -- in her garden.

From the great state of Florida, I have the Smart Mouth Broad to thank for two awards. First, the Bella Award for new bloggers. I find this is a most lovely award. Looks good on my site, also.


Second .... a Sushi Grade Award for a blog a cut above other blogs that are canned and turned into salad or casseroles. A Sushi Grade Blog is fresh, lively and of superior quality. It is rare, has character and is of good taste.

Oh, and it’s packed full of heart healthy Omega 3 oils.

And, last, but certainly not least, Pseudonymous High School Teacher tagged me for an 8 Muse. Seems PHST and I share a few of the same thoughts so glad it has been a while since anyone has read hers (I used some of her answers.) Here goes:

8 Things I’m Looking Forward To

1. The school year ending
2. Summer reading
3. My niece's wedding in Grand Lake, CO

4. My mom being here for the next week and a half
5. Summer writing
6. Floating on the lake
7. Finding a new normal
8. Being alone with my husband for a few days so we can remember why we like each other.

8 Things I Did Yesterday
1. Lifted weights and ran on the treadmill at the YMCA (my foot and knee are now swollen - why do I try to pretend I can still run?)
2. Planted green beans, squash, yellow bells, plumbago, watermelon and cucumbers
3. Cleaned the cat box
4. Went to the store to buy my oldest son new sheets and a few kitchen items for his first apartment
5. Packed the car and drove my mom to the lake.
6. Unpacked the car, made a vodka tonic and watched my mom swim. I laid on the dock.
7. Cooked a Midwestern salt/pepper meat, potatoes, green bean dinner for my mom
8. Played three hours worth of Two Handed Hand and Foot with my mom (because my two sons who were supposed to do that didn't drive out.) Wasn't so bad. Had fun.

8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1. Travel everywhere
2. Eat food from all over the world and never gain weight
3. Play the piano, guitar, and sing my ass off -- in front of people
4. Win the Pulitzer Prize
5. Soar like a bird
6. Save my dad from Alzheimer's Disease
7. Swim like a dolphin
8.Paint like Renoir

8 Shows I Watch - I'm not a TV watcher, but...
1. Lost
2. Jeopardy
3. McNeil/Leher Report
4. Weeds
5. The Daily Show
6. Food Network
7. Reruns of Law and Order
8. Six Feet Under (on dvd)

Okay, now you know how boring I am.

The Exit Ramp

The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.

John Powell

Bad Habits and New Knowledge Acquired While Scoring Essays

1. Twenty-four years ago when I was pregnant with first son, I gave up caffeine. I’m now an addict. One cup when I get up, one on the way to work, a big mug of black tea at 10. Another after lunch. A large diet soda to sip on from 2-5pm. All without my hands shaking.

2. I can close my eyes and fall asleep while sitting up. I just use my hand to cover the side of my face that has a supervisor glaring us all down to make sure we’re reading and rest my eyes for just a few minutes. I only had to catch my chin crashing into my chest about 50 times.

3. As those around me were let go from the project due to their inability to master the scoring rubric, I gained an ottoman and an armrest. Sort of like making a chaise lounge out of whatever is available. Management didn't approve of my comfort zone, but since I cranked 200 essays a day for them they didn't say anything.

4. You can take Advil five times a day, really. (Note to self: Always carry Tagamet in purse.)

5. Although hopeful that getting up at 6am every day would turn my nighthawk habits, I learned I can still go to bed at 12 or 1am and get up at 6am. Oh, how I wanted to be a 10pm sleepy person.

6. My family really sucks at giving massages. At night, the knot in my upper back is so big and just out of my reach. My husband’s attempts last about 31 seconds. My oldest son much better at 2 minutes (can tell he’s got a girlfriend). Finally learned if you lie face up on the floor and place one your weights in the center of the knot, you can roll back and forth like a writhing idiot to handle your own massage, and hope no one sees you through the window and thinks you are having sex by yourself.

7. I discovered the cure for hot flashes: Sit in a room where the temperature looms around 40 below. Wear long sleeved shirt with hooded sweatshirt and cover yourself with a not too thick blanket. Can’t be too thick, as you still have to maneuver the mouse while hands are covered with said blanket. (Side note: Some people have those gloves with the fingertips cut off and mufflers wrapped around their heads.)

8. There is an entire community of temporary workers. They float around the city throughout the year, passing information to each other as to the whereabouts of the available jobs. Many others in my job are retired folks getting in a few months pay to supplement the fixed income. Have to be pretty sharp old folks to keep this job.

9. While focused on a computer, I can be completely unaware of my surroundings. Can start out with 100 people in a room and after a few hours or days, notice there are only 24 left—the rest lost in the abyss of not surviving the rubric scoring process. Sometimes if those leaving are noticed, a pang of jealously fills my heart as I watch them take the walk to freedom.

10. I'm very good at this job. Was in the bonus each week. Breaks my heart to discover that. Just what I’ve always wanted to be good at. When asked to continue on more projects, I merely laughed, shook my head, and raced for the door. I’d honored my contract; we're not starving. I am so out of there.

Whatever lessons I’ve learned from this experience are still floating in my head. Hope to report on them later. Meanwhile, putting life back together, and I’m thankful that the part of this road trip for scoring State required essays finally found an exit. A most tedious, eye-sight costing and long stretch of road it was. I'll rest for a while while examining the next turn with a much closer eye. I’m anxious to discover another, although not quite sure what that is at this time. But I do believe this is only part of the process. Now I just have to remember the goal.