Eating, Oh

Foods Eaten Lately

I have eaten some weird things lately.  Not weird to some, I’m sure…but, to me, a bit off the beaten path of the usual items I shove in my food-hole.

Not more than five minutes ago, I ate an Epic Beef/Habañero/Cherry protein bar.  Now, I was sitting at a desk but, I had this primal feeling that I had killed and eaten an animal…made from meat…and I was then eating the meat.  And, apparently, I’d grown cherries and habañeros in a field that I’d plowed with a mule that I’d raised from birth.  It’s a hard life on the frontier some days.  At least I got me some protein.

So, I like food.  I like trying new foods.  I grew up in a fairly meat/potatoes kind of family.  While there was an excellent variety of home-cooked meals, and I loved my mom’s cooking, we didn’t eat out much, so I didn’t have the opportunity to try much cuisine outside the ol’ fashion home-cookin’ spectrum.  My family isn’t all that adventurous food-wise, but I must have gotten a recessive trait in my genes that made me long for the culinary open sea.  Or, something.  I tried sushi for the first time as a senior in high school, and never looked back.  Okay, I looked back plenty, but you never know these days who might be sneaking up on you.  I like spicy ethnic foods, and I like raw fish, love oysters…anyway…I don’t consider myself a food-bore.  I don’t have a food-borin’ illness–har har.  Please don’t think of me as some Anthony Bourdain or Rick-Steves-with-a-fork, but I’m not averse to trying “weird” foods.  There are lots of folks who are.  No big whoop.

Last night I ate a can of sardines.  My wife thought that was weird (and gross).  To me, it was like salty tuna.  My son–he’s four–thinks I’m weird already, so I’ll leave his opinion out of it.  I was at the grocery store the other day looking for King Oscar Fish Balls.  Sadly, I don’t think they make them any longer.  My Grandpa used to fry those up in a pan, and occasionally share them with me.  Gross?  Absolutely.  Do I still get an occasional craving for them?  Absolutely.  Not finding the KOFB, I decided to go for a can of sardines (in olive oil).  Still not sure why.  I hadn’t had sardines before that…maybe ever, at least in the last 30 years.  So I had some, with toast.  Not bad.  Not sure I need to get them again, but I ate the whole can with no regrets.

For the record, I don’t search out “weird” foods as a rule.  I just try things as they (usually not literally) cross my path.  If you are a duck, do not cross my path; I will eat you.  Food dares?  Not really for me.  Things like live octopus or balut or stink flipper don’t really interest me.  What I’m saying is there may be “gross” things I’ll try or eat on purpose, but I don’t seek those things out because they’re gross…I eat things I find interesting or that I believe will taste good to me, I try not to dwell to hard on the ingredients.  I think you get the idea.

In thinking about it, I’m probably not that much different than anyone else.  Most folks (probably) like to try new things.  Don’t they?  I don’t know everyone in the world, or even all the people in a society like the U.S. with our access to everything under the sun, but I feel like I’m pretty normal.  Not everyone has to be “vs. Food”, and neither am I.  I guess I’m rambling at this point.  I don’t want to beat a dead horse.  Or eat one.  Well, maybe with some onion, salt, pepper, and garlic.

 

 

Advertisements
Standard
Uncategorized

I don’t know…something about being a weird, awkward kid.

Blog Eat Blog

I was a weird kid.  (I was going to write “I think I was a weird kid,” but I’ll just own it.  That is one of those things that if you have to ask, the answer is always yes.)

Anyway, as I was saying, I was weird.  During recess, I would run around pretending to be an alien.  In class, I would do weird things to get attention…which usually resulted in some sort of attention from the principal (i.e. “What is wrong with you?”).  I’m still not quite sure what was wrong with me.  Way too creative for the box into which they were trying to cram me, maybe?  Well, generally speaking, my weirdness didn’t seem to help me much, other than to be occasionally humiliated in front of my entire class; by “occasionally,” I mean “all the time.”

Once in Mrs. Kirby’s third-grade class (that’s Grade Three for any Canucks…

View original post 320 more words

Standard
The Memories..., Uncategorized

I don’t know…something about being a weird, awkward kid.

I was a weird kid.  (I was going to write “I think I was a weird kid,” but I’ll just own it.  That is one of those things that if you have to ask, the answer is always yes.)

Anyway, as I was saying, I was weird.  During recess, I would run around pretending to be an alien.  In class, I would do weird things to get attention…which usually resulted in some sort of attention from the principal (i.e. “What is wrong with you?”).  I’m still not quite sure what was wrong with me.  Way too creative for the box into which they were trying to cram me, maybe?  Well, generally speaking, my weirdness didn’t seem to help me much, other than to be occasionally humiliated in front of my entire class; by “occasionally,” I mean “all the time.”

Once in Mrs. Kirby’s third-grade class (that’s Grade Three for any Canucks reading this), I had a rather embarrassing and weird episode(s) involving the preparation for, and execution of, an in-class Christmas play.  I thought I’d be receiving some assistance in designing the reindeer costume I was expected to don (gaily, I suppose), but they only helped the blind kid.  The nerve.  So, the reindeer I tried to throw together in 15 minutes looked as if it had been run over by Santa’s sleigh…repeatedly.  To top it all off, when it came time for me to deliver my (single) line, I yelled something incoherent (i.e. Hurrrkkkkkaalllaaaaaaaabeeeeeee), and bolted for the door.  Uh…I don’t know.  That still makes me blush, to this day.  I will fill in the other details in a future post.

In fourth-grade (Canadians: that’s Grade—oh forget it) one wintry day, our teacher Mr. Bowns asked us if we knew what “coping” was.  I raised my hand enthusiastically and told everyone about a gray powder that was, apparently, highly addictive and a really bad idea.  The slack jaws and the stares should have clued me into the fact that the teacher had not asked about “cocaine” after all.  Chalk up another point for my shame.  Later, my friend Jason was kind enough to inform me that cocaine was white, not gray, and only made me feel like a more complete idiot.  Oh, the hot tears etching arroyos into my reddened cheeks…  Probably more on that in a later post, too.

The point is: Just between you and me…I think I have always felt awkward in many social situations involving crowds or classrooms or meetings or jobs or other people, or alone with my thoughts.  Did all my adolescent weirdness cause me to tend toward being an introvert, or vice versa?  Again…I don’t know.  Maybe telling the world will be some cathartic exercise, resulting in my hard candy shell breaking off for all humanity to see the real me.

Huh.  On second thought, that seems weird.

Standard
Shots, The Memories..., Uncategorized

Flotsam and Fotos (April, 2011)

In celebration of making it to year 4 of our marriage, the enchanting Mrs. Anthonderek and I spent a few days on the Long Beach peninsula, as is our custom.  One day, we visited tiny Waikiki Beach in Cape Disappointment State Park.  I found some random items stuffed into/onto the rocks, and the iPhone was handy.

pallet

Pallet

sea't

Sea't

not going anywhere

Tired

shoe

Only a shoe--no foot--I checked

tetherball?

Tetherball?

No, I didn’t only take pictures of junk washed ashore.  As proof, I submit more random photos from our little holiday.

Lagoon

On the hike up to a lighthouse

south end of Long Beach

South end of Long Beach

walked from the rock

Footprints followed me

waikiki beach

Waikiki Beach (HDR)

Old dock in Astoria, OR

sunset

Sunset on Long Beach, Wa (HDR)

Standard
Uncategorized

Flannel is just alright with me.

Growing up in Alaska, some of my earliest fashion (if you can call it that when you’re 6 years old) memories are of flannel shirts.  The Western-style button-ups with the snaps were a particular favorite, being as I wasn’t as prone to ruin the garment when I tore it from my body forcefully, à la The Incredible Hulk.  Of course, that practice was rather frowned upon by my mother–she preferred the normal Bruce Banner over the Hulk-y version.

Now living in the Seattle area, I still love a good, soft, flannel shirt, properly styled, with good jeans or khakis.  It’s Autumn out there, after all.  Why not be warm and well-dressed?

That is all.  Be good to each other out there.

Standard
Traffic

Be Aggressive…B-E Aggressive.

It’s not much of a secret that when it comes to being passive-aggressive, Pacific Northwesterners, specifically Seattleites, really take the cake.  They take it and smear it all over their bodies and shoot it into their veins and gargle with it, too.  Seattle loves cake.  Know what else, apparently, Seattle loves?  Driving badly.  Now, I love Seattle.  I live in Seattle.  I was born in Seattle.  But, I moved away to learn how to drive.  And, so many drivers in Seattle really, really, really suck at driving.

http://nerdnirvana.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/Passive-Aggressive-Door-Holding-Game.jpg

It finally dawned on me the other day that Seattle drivers are passive-aggressive drivers.  I was sitting at a four-way stop waiting for the driver with the right-of-way to go so the rest of us could then proceed in the proper order.  The driver on the right, instead of engaging her transmission and throttle,  engaged in a staredown with the driver on the left.  According to the rules of the road, the driver on the right should, and does, have the right-of-way.  After a thirty-second standoff, the driver on the right finally rolled down the window and irritatedly waved the other driver through.  It was like she was saying to other driver, “I prefer to be polite and nice rather than a good driver, and now I’m pissed at you since you refuse to read my mind and recognize that and proceed through the intersection at your peril…now I might just T-bone you out of spite.”  When someone is polite to you, you’d better appreciate it.  Or, else!  Gotta love the Jet City.

About a million years ago I wrote about how people in this town don’t know how to merge onto the freeway, or let others merge.  I touched upon how if someone is trying to merge, they really should use the on-ramp as it is meant to be used and SPEED UP TO MATCH THE FLOW OF TRAFFIC.  They should not expect the 60mph tide of traffic to stop and let them on.  Conversely, it doesn’t help when those already on the freeway speed up to beat the driver getting ready to merge.  That 1/10 of a second that you’ll be saving by being ahead of that one car out of thousands, isn’t going to factor into your day…other than making traffic worse for other folks–folks, by the way, who’ll be cursing you from the passive-aggressive safety of their locked Hondas.

So, I say to all of you overly cautious, clueless, polite-but-angry drivers: Be aggressive!  You want to anyway…just do it.  Aggressively follow the rules of the road.  It can be done both safely and politely.  But don’t sacrifice right-of-way, etc., just so that people you will never see again will like you.  Aggressively set your cruise-control at 63mph and aggressively take a chill pill.  Let us all put the AGGRESSIVE back in passive-aggressive!  Don’t make me say that California drivers are better than Seattle drivers.

Anyway, I have to drive to work now.  If you see me waving at you, just get out of my way…I’m only being polite, not friendly.

Standard