there is no spoon

It's nearly midnight yet I've got some espresso percolating through the french press sitting on my counter while a glob of condensed milk and an entrapped spoon sits at the base of my mug waiting for its warm coffee bath to come, melt away the saccharine stickiness and turn the concoction into a fragrant cup of coffee... Except, I can't quite enjoy the coffee anymore because it reminds me too much of a tiff I had recently with my friend:

He was voicing his annoyance at how the condensed milk was dripping and smearing all over the counter. My flat response was "That's why I leave the spoon in the cup."

And with that he shoved the mugs at me and stormed off.

What I meant to say was "I usually grab a large scoop and then leave the spoon in the cup so that I don't end up trailing milk back and forth from the tub to the container..." but the truncated version was what came out of my mouth. I have a tendency to say things half way when I'm tired or lost in thought or whatever. It sounded condescending to him. It hurt his feelings and thus in return, he decided to act childish and disrespectful.

My tolerance level for this kind of shit is so incredibly low. Tis true, I did not semantically answer in a way that made any sense, but the claim that I didn't understand the situation or observe his complaint correctly (as he continually insists) is just plain wrong. Had he answered "Dude, you really didn't address my problem..." or something along those lines, I wouldn't be as pissed.

I think I'm angry because his reaction is so similar to how I would have behaved when I was in high school or maybe even the beginning of college. I still am to a degree, but when I was younger I was highly sensitive. A condescending look from a cashier or someone who would not give me the right of way on the sidewalk would upset me for hours maybe days. I'd brood over that. If someone hurt my feelings, I'd lash out, throw negativity into the atmosphere so the whole damn world would know how shitty I felt. I'd throw down a mini tantrum that did nothing but make the opposing party as miserable as I...exactly as how my friend responded.

Well, I grew out of that. Years ago. It is true that I initially came into this world more incendiary than serene. I've mellowed out so much with age and through being a wife that my ability to empathize with that sort of hurt has grown distant. At one point I would have merely felt sorry for the opposing party, let it be "their problem" and ride out the storm letting things go. However recently, I've discovered I'm actually annoyed by those spurts of irate expression.

The real conflict for me though in the above scenario is that I immediately reacted the way my x-husband used to. Chase after him, try to appease the situation, make peace, apologize...I used to hold that trait in high regard. Would emulate it often. I'd to swallow my hurt from being disrespected and appease the opposing party in order to dispel any pain. Stoic. Solid. Even keeled.

I'd normally sit back and make excuses, ascertain the cause through reflection, understand that his negative reciprocation was not unwarranted-- a culmination of past hurts, pent up frustration from me and world, his upbringing, a bad day, whatever...

Right now though, that's not me and yet that was exactly how I defaulted. And then I became immediately resentful. In fact, I am resentful which is why I'm writing this.

I don't like feeling like a door mat. I don't like being aloof and indifferent, one flavor that consists of nothing but "sweet" and "kind." There's a part of me that wishes that I didn't choose to stand on my higher ground. I wanted to smack him, hurl the french press his way and stoop to his level make him pay for the negativity he threw my way...just to be self righteous and prove some stupid little point: coddling a brat only creates more brattiness

How is that any better? Is the fact that I didn't act on how I wanted react make me any better of a person than him? Sadly, probably not.

Shrug. I give up.

Munchie Mondays: T's Birthday Banana Muffins with Peanut Butter Chocolate Icing

Yes, I know this is another early Munchie Monday post as it is Friday, however, today is my Darlin Hubby's Birthday! He turns 31 today and except for the increased man-fur, looks pretty much the same as when I first met him nearly 9 years ago. He's out with my brother watching Beowulf in 3-d at the moment. Meanwhile, I've been whipping up a batch of his favorite muffins.

I figured after the movie, T and Jbro will probably want something nice to munch on anyway.



I can't take full credit for the recipe as it is derived from a banana muffin recipe in Betty Crocker's Cookbook, which incidentally was a gift T's Mom gave him ages ago right before he was to head off to college. The intention was to give him a simple guide to cooking to encourage him to acquire good eating habits as a bachelor--ya know, to not consider Ramen, potato chips and peanut butter straight from jar as a full meal. I'm not sure how much use the book he received because by the time we got married (which was some 6 years later after he acquired the text) the spiral bound volume was still pristine. ..however, *I* got a lot of use out of it. The recipes in there work as a perfect base to add/change/tweak into your own dishes which is what I've done here.

The muffins from this book are obscenely easy to make.

T's Birthday Banana Muffins with Peanut Butter Chocolate Icing
makes 12

3 mashed ripe bananas
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla or maple extract
1/3 cup of light brown sugar
3 tbs of vegetable oil
2 cups of Bisquick
1/2 cup of pecans (plus extra for garnish)

Peanut Butter Chocolate Icing
(you will have leftovers)

2 cups of dark chocolate chips
1/2 cup of smooth peanut butter
1/3 cup of whipping cream

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Line muffin tin with muffin paper or grease lightly with shortening (I suggest muffin cups because these muffins are light and fall apart easily).

Whisk bananas, eggs, oil, vanilla extract and brown sugar in a bowl. Gently fold Bisquick flour and pecans into wet mixture until just moistened. Do not overmix. Otherwise, you'll get a heavy batter. Spoon mixture evenly amongst the 12 muffin compartments.

Bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown.

Meanwhile, prepare the icing.
Place chocolate chips and peanut butter in a sturdy bowl (glass or ceramic is best as it conducts heat). Heat whipping cream over stove while whisking to aerate the cream. When steamy got (but not boiling) pour over chocolate chips and peanut butter. Continue to beat mixture with whisk until chocolate is melted and everything is well incorporated. It'll be the consistency of a thick pudding.

When muffins are done, remove from pan and cool on a wire wrack.

Spoon icing over the tops and garnish with pecans (or sprinkles, or coconut flakes...or nothing at all). Ta da! Done!

icons and Shawn

Shawn looks like a cross between Kurt Cobain and Ville Valo here:


Hot goth or bar fight survivor? Not enough sleep or rocking guy-liner? Not sure, but it's a bad ass pic.

So is this one:


I've been wanting to switch out our user photos on the Adzuki Bean Stash Mp3 blog for some time and these were images he took with his iBook a while ago. Following his lead I then took a series of web cam stills with my own iBook:






I must say though, Shawn looks a heck of a lot better than me in headphones. Instead of looking like cool and legit recording artist, I look like a kid with a MacBook recording shit in the bathroom (which is precisely what I am). You'll have to traipse on over to the blog itself to see which pic I chose.


But enough of me. I'm devoting the rest of this post to one of my closest and oldest friends who happened to turn 31 a couple of days ago.

There he is to the left in his glorious graduate school pic. For whatever reason the Old Navy T cracks me up. It's just so not him. Unfortunately, you can't see his dark blue eyes in the photo, but look at the lovely nose of his... people pay money for a nose like that. Anyhow, I digress...

It's a misconception that I met Shawn back in grad school. We actually knew each other during undergraduate studies where both of us were math majors at the University of Texas at Austin and shared a Topology class together back 1998. What made the class special was that it was taught Moore-Method style where us hopefuls were given a handful of axioms and then with minimum guidance from the professor would be expected to solve theorems from scratch on the board each lecture. One of the best classes ever and to this day I probably retained the most from Topology I.

It functioned on the whole "learning through trauma" principle where one tends to remember things they've struggled through. Moore Methodology totally feeds on the stereotypical insecurities of die-hard mathematicians and their need to outsmart one another which in of itself creates maintainable trauma due to the competitive nature of the classroom. Hrm, I'm getting a bit philosophical here, so compare it to getting stripped naked in front of your classmates and made to do the chicken dance, but with the odd sense of euphoria injected at the end of your bought with humiliation...I suppose if you're kinky there's no difference between the two situations, but you get the point. Anyway, with the way class was structured, math talent and general intelligence levels were blatantly apparent and the very first thing that I noticed about Shawn was that he was definitely one of the sharpest students in the class. Nothing could phase him. He could prove these problems in his sleep.

From there, I can't quite remember how or why we stuck together for so long. I'm sure mix tapes had something to do with it as well as the common obsession for all things Nine Inch Nails and Trent related (Nine Inch Nails problem sets were a common theme in our math handouts when we were TAs. I also still have the Trent Reznor sack puppet Shawn made me). Maybe it was because I thought his "Bruce the Shark" videos were cool. We shared a love of music, visual arts, macabre, of course mathematics and let's not forget that both of us always seemed to be chronically depressed all the time.

I can tell you that the more I got to know him, the more I came to understand the term polymath.

Over the years we have given each other a gazillion reasons not to ever speak to each other again and managed long stretches of time where we both truly utterly hated one another, and yet our camaraderie has always managed to mend itself and become something that's much more profound and loyal than most of my other friendships with people. We're super blunt with one another. We've exchanged nights where we've cried for the other person. We divulge secrets and insecurities that no one else is privy to. However, we've never slept together, never "gone out" or dated because we both realize that we're too similar for any romantic path to ever work out. Crossing the carnal bound destroys the beauty of this unconditional devotion we share, but realistically the real reason is that we'd drive each other mad and probably murder each other or commit joint suicide.

With all that said, if you ask either one of us, "Do you love each other?" the answer is a completely effortless "yes."

So, happy birthday, Mr. Soon-to-be Dr. Shawn Westmoreland. Oh yeah, and please work on that "Fire Exit" demo because it's fucking long overdue, damnit!

what 30 looks like

I have nothing deep to say about these pictures. I just think I came out looking kinda nice.



Side point:
My mom wants me to photo shop out the moles. She's really offended by those blemishes apparently.

This morning we went shopping with her and she reached over to wipe something off of my face...thing is, that something was a mole. I have several small ones that have popped up over the years and my mother was just mortified.

"Why do you have all these dot-dot-dots?" (while poking my nose and cheeks with her nails)

Heh. Sammi has witnessed first hand how my mom pokes and prods me. The time she came down with me to Sugar Land, mom grabbed fist fulls of Cindy-chub and contemplated the size of my upper arms. "You're so chunky!" she said.

Sammi was utterly appalled. "I can't believe I'm seeing this," she said.

I sorta shrugged it off since it is sort of endearing the way my mom fusses over me. At least, that's how I feel now. However, during adolescence, her ongoing commentaries on how I looked grated on my nerves, as you can imagine. I inhereted my cylindrical body type from my dad's side of the family and I think she had a hard time understanding why I didn't have the tiny 22 inch waist, itty-bitty thighs, perky ass and tits like what she and her sisters possessed. To put things into perspective, she's my height by weighed 88lbs before she was pregnant...and ate like a horse. That too, I inhereted.

As for the pic, mom's comment was "You look pretty...but definitely not young."

It's funny, I think of "not young" as a compliment!

The party of all parties: intemperance and turning 30

I should probably start by saying my actual birthday is July 6th, so I'm technically still 29. But, I did party like it was the very end of my 20's on Saturday.



First off: I love my friends. I really do. I love what they do for me. I love what they put up with and I love the fact that I can easily love them back. My best friend Shawn drove 650 miles over 10 hrs from Kansas to be here for my party and drove back the next day so he could teach his next class. Dearest Monica and her hubby Blake put in countless hours to help me with food preparation. My husband calmly sat through with my wailing when the cake people misspelled my name all while my wonderful brother was chewing them out over the phone.


Sammi, Shawn and I (aka the Adzuki Bean Stash writers)




Don't mess with the King of the grill!


Monnie helping with pics.


With darling Hubby.

Those tokens of friendship and caring manifested itself in subtler ways all night too and not just with actual gift (although I received many amazing gifts): Troy pulling back my hair for me while I strapped on Dimitri's accordion. Sammi giving me an honest-to-god kiss for celebration's sake and singing in front of everyone with her big hearty voice. Kate hooking a necklace clasp for me so I could try on the new gift Marilyn game me. All those friends who lugged their instruments and gear only to get trapped into an accidental 45 minute homage to "Another One Bites the Dust" (or "Another one Rides the Bus" depending on where you swing). All those friends who took the time to make me something. All those friends who laughed with me no matter how stupid the situation was. All those earnest hugs, pecks and spontaneous inside jokes...yes, I definitely felt loved.






Dimitri and Cindy, accordion playing crime fighting duo.








With my baby cousin Eric


With Ritch


With Sarah


With Kate


With Mark


With Jay...aww he's blushing. Or maybe he drank too much bourbon.


With Roger and Summer

I think about my work friends, the parents with their beautiful babies, the vast number of my musician buddies with their sacrosanct weekend schedules, the over 50 crowd and the under 25-ers, people I've known for more than a decade and those I've only known for months. I think of them along with the wild party queens, the restrained goths and my super-shy introverted companions all joining together despite the disparate social circles to help create the memory of my celebration. With that, I feel so appreciated.

Matt and Lane


With Brent


With Vickie, Quinlan and Kyung (the awesome boss I speak of frequently)


With Marilyn and Eddie.


The dashing Dan, me and Sandy with the needle point gift from her and Beth.


With Beth (who I often feel is my mom away from home)


With Claudia


With Bradley


Kyung and Quinlain


With Juliet


Ross and Juliet


With Bobby and Elizabeth


Sophia serenading us.


Phil and Angie.


With Troy and Alice.

The second, and somewhat less sophisticated musing I take from all of this is that I am never getting drunk again. Ever.

If you recall, I've never been drunk before. I usually just get tired and fall asleep consequently bypassing the stupid tipsy dumb-blonde phase. This time around, however, I succeeded in getting piss-ass drunk, trashed and as a result, puking my guts up the next morning. Why would any college student want to do this on a regular basis is beyond me.

Alcohol is evil, I say! Behold the beautiful, poised, graceful me oozing with temperance prior to consumption:


After about 5 mix drinks, a couple of beers, champagne, wine and Jay's bourbon, I was reduced to this pile of babbling shit, cute shit mind you, but still babbling and I don't really know what the fuck I was talking about:

You can just see it in Jay's eyes as he pleads with my husband:
"Awkward...please get your inebriated wife off of my [manly] lap so I can finish my drink."

Again. Sober and beautiful:


Versus plastered and pathetic:


Let this be a lesson to you kiddos. Don't get drunk if ya wanna look hot all night. It just doesn't work. Besides, large amounts of alcohol leads you to do things like...

Play your harp with a goofy grin:


Think a cat book is the funnist damn thing in the world:


Contemplate why:


Continually jam to "Another One Bites the Dust" even though it isn't that great of a song:


Howl at the moon:


Forget which bearded man is your husband:


Flash your naughty bits:


Dance like there's no tomorrow:


Start ranting about the evils of the recording industry...oh wait you can do that sober:


Attempt to drink and smoke while on a swingset:


Stare off into space:


Take really bad photos:


On a different note, I should point out that Etouffee's kittens were a hit. We had groups of people come up to visit her in the master bathroom closet where she decided to set up camp.






As for food, well, I over prepared, as expected. And of course, the bulk of my friends are food people as well, so they brought stuff. I can't even begin to go into all the wastage and my heart feels for those starving kids in China right about now. However, a good portion, such as the BBQ was salvageable.



We did manage to drink all the alcohol though.

This is just a small sampling of pics taken that day. We took over 300 and then I uploaded around 180 onto Flickr. I think they capture the night really well and there are more pics of jam sessions, party goers, food details etc. I wish I took a photo with Monica, but we were both so busy making sure the party was going smoothly that we actually didn't cross paths.

Visit:
Cindy Adzuki's 30th Birthday Photo Album (Static Version)
Cindy Adzuki's 30th Birthday Photo Album (Slideshow Version)

To all my friends and family who came out to make this day special to me, I love you dearly. Thanks so much.