Self-portrait 

I'm Just a Stomach with Legs...

I'm completely stuffed. I hate this feeling, yet I don't seem to ever be able to make the judgment to stop eating in time for this to not happen. Tonight my sister and brother-in-law came to town, so my cousin and I met up with them and went to dinner at Charanga. My friend Gaby is the chef and she kept sending things out...we had:  snap peas, fried plantain, fried yuca, butter lettuce salad, wild salmon with purple mashed potatoes, Niman Ranch steak, ceviche ahi tuna, and mushrooms with shallots in a sherry sauce. My friend Tacy was there and she just sat there and watched us eat. She had already eaten--the arroz con pollo, which is one of my favorite dishes at Charanga. Then of course we had dessert--bread pudding with a caramel sauce, Mexican chocolate cake, and a flan. Oy. Oh, and let's not forget the pitcher of sangria. Now you know why I'm stuffed. But don't feel sorry for me. It's my own damn fault.

My Cousin -- the Sooner Geek

So tonight I spent the evening with Doug Carson, my cousin, from Norman, OK. I haven't seen him in over ten years and now here we are, adults and all grown up. Doug has been married for ten years and has two daughters. Holy shit. Little Douglas is a dad...I have memories of kicking him out of my room in the middle of the night when I was about nine and he was six. I made him sleep in the hallway. And now, he's in San Fransisco on business and drinkng a beer with dinner. We chatted and caught up as much as we could and then I took him on a tour of San Francisco--down Lombard Street, over to the Palace of Fine Arts, through the Presideo to my favorite spot under the Golden Gate Bridge. Then over to chinatown where we ate at House of Nanking...not a diet dinner. We had the onion cakes with peanut sauce, lettuce chicken (that was filled with thai basil, yum!), and nanking sesame shrimp (lil' doughnut battered shrimp with yam potatoes on the side). Then we walked around North Beach--past the bookstores and strip joints. The Hungry I has a new sign, with a woman kicking up her leg. It was wonderful to spend the evening with my cousin, and interesting to me that although we don't really know each other--the fact that we are blood related and look a bit alike--that in some small way I miss him. I miss all the years we could have been closer. Family is funny that way...no matter how long you go between visits, there is a certain comfort level there. And that's just kind of nice.

Thoughts on Paragraph 175

So in Paragraph 175, one of the older gay men that had been in the camps for over eight years said that when he returned home he didn't talk about his experience with anyone. His family didn't bring it up, and he didn't mention it. Why? Shame. And then he said "It's all about patiently carrying one's burden." So here he was, fifty years later, talking about his experience as a German homosexual in the concentration camps. Patience. Burdens. I often feel like I am heavy carrying burdens, but when you put everything in perspective, I have nothing the lift, schlep, drag, or wheel along behind me. I am lucky. When he said this though, I immediately felt like I too often carry burdens around with me. I have a tough time of letting go of things--I tend to play things out over and over in my head. Why does one do this? I often envy people who can simply move on and detach themselves from experierences. I think that is how one survives...moves on in life...by letting go of one's past, one is able to open up and let new experiences in. I need to do this more...let go and make room for the new (whether it be emotions, people, tschotskes, etc.).

Watershed in Atlanta, GA: Me with my absolute favorite dish, Shrimp Grits with a Plowman Plank. 

This is the special at Lush in Atlanta--Thai Noodles with cactus and seaweed in a spicy sauce. 

Gaby, chef from Charanga, prepared this seared ahi tuna with ponzu sauce for our meal on July 4th. 

Saturday Night Blues

So it's Saturday night and I've cancelled my plans with Erica in order to stay home and lay low. The idea is that if I do so, the pain I am experiencing in my lower right ovary will go away. Of course, I'm guessing it's my ovary. That's where the pain was last time--and I ended up having surgery on the poor thing. So I'm now just going to pretend that the pain is nothing. Normal, in fact. Something as simple as cramps or gas. The worst part in all of this--I keep bursting into tears. I don't think gas would do that to you. Ah, hormones. I watched The Believer this morning, and Paragraph 175 this afternoon. Has me thinking a lot about being Jewish and a lesbian. I would have been killed during WWII for sure. On that note...I'm off to make tea and work on a scrapbook for my nephew Jake. He's been asking me for a year now, "Aunt Lisa, where's my book?" The guilt is overwhelming.