Years ago my GBF gave me the simply, funniest book I’ve ever read.  Since then, I have often recommended this book and finally Tiffany suggested that we read it as a part of our book club.  I’ll say right off the bat; this book is for a select few of twisted and witty folk.  It turns a lot of people off.  I get it.  Really I do.  And just because you don’t like this book doesn’t mean that you are not twisted or witty.  However, this author (Christopher Moore) and particularly this book, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal is most undeniably off the charts twisted and witty.

So outside of the impious topic, Moore has a particular brand of humor that doesn’t suit everybody.  It’s boy humor.  Farts and guts, boobies and bugs.  Frankly, sometimes I can’t hang with that kind of humor (I have enough boydom in my house), but sometimes it’s just right.  Especially when the humor comes with a side of Monty Python sauciness.  Moore’s writing hits this sweet spot that really leaves me wanting more.

So yes, Lamb is the story about the original JC.  We all know he was born in a manger.  Most of us know Jesus is the reason for the season (or the story there about).  But what happened between birth and the conclusive thirty-third year?  Well Christ had a best friend like Biff, the originator of sarcasm, who can sin freely and tell Jesus all about it.  The story is really a buddy tale about two boys learning to become men.  One man just happens to be the Son of God.  How does a kid come to terms with that kind of gravity?  It’s through levity and Moore’s kind of smarts and satirical wit. Yes, the story is irreverent, but Christians with a sense of humor are the very best kind.  I don’t think that I’ve ever laughed out loud reading before Lamb.

Recently GBF sent me a package with a book and note that said, “Read it.”  So I did.  It’s Christopher Moore’s again.  This time it was Fool.  This book is another familiar story with an alternative tale.  This is not Shakespeare’s King Lear.  Quite frankly, I don’t really remember English Lit’s Cliff Notes on that particular one, but I wish this were the notes (however, Moore throws in the witches from MacBeth, which would really mess a student up!).  There’s a ghost (“always a bloody ghost”), an old crazy king, three naughty daughters, many viers for the throne and the Black Fool.

The story is full of sex and scandal (who’s screwing who is a major theme), bawdy laughter and British boy humor. It’s funny, offensive, naughty, bawdy and a damn smart tale.  I love the dialogue and would be over the moon to see this performed on stage.  It’s that good.

If you’re up for a good laugh, a light-hearted romp and a walk on the wild side, I’d highly recommend these two books.  Christopher Moore will give it to you good.  I hope you enjoy.  Cheers friends!

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Thanks to Angry Julie for Wordless Wednesdays.

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Baby was easy to figure out.  He’s been calling Lola his “girlfriend” for months now.  That kid also has loved the boobies since the day he was born.  But wait, that’s not a determining factor.  GBF loves the titties too.  So scratch that idea.  Anyway, we were on our way to the grocery store and at the street corner were a few pretty, college-aged girls.  Let me remind you that we live in the San Diego area.  Pretty young things abound here.  We were at a stop light and I happened to look over my shoulder at him and saw what he was looking at out the window.  I chuckled and he looks at me, points out the window and say “Girlfriends!”  Yeah, he’s 2 people.  I think we can check the straight box now.  check.

As for BigBoy, the tell was after a recent “adult” party we went to for a dear friend.  There were a few of us there with little ones under five and we were encouraging the kids to go play together (so we could socialize without the clingons).  There were only three of them: our BigBoy, Preppy Sweater Boy and Pink Cowgirl.  The kids did a great job playing for about an hour until a wine glass was broken and that pretty much killed my low-grade buzz.  It was time to put the kiddos to bed and get us outta there.  On the way to the van (yes, I drive a van) BigBoy said, “Mom, you’ve got to call Pink Cowgirl’s mom!”  “Why’s that?” I replied.  “Because I want her to come to our Happy Hour parties.  She’s BEAUTIFUL!”  Really? Because I found her kinda freaky. Husband and I just smiled and whispered the whole way home.  That was the first time he’s ever exclaimed his attraction to something other than Speed Racer.  And it was a girl!  Pink Cowgirl. Giddy up, cowboy.

I’d say over the years that I’ve had pretty accurate gaydar.  I’d give me a B+ for sure.  So if my boys surprise me 20 years from now, I wonder what I’d miss.  Cheers, friends!

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Husband & I have decided that if his parents are here for more than a week then we should make the most of it and plan a get away.  Then we looked at our finances and saw how Christmas is so quickly approaching, and decided to make it for only one night.  At this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.

I did some preliminary research for hotels and in the process got dicked over by naming our own price at Priceline (so not cool!).  We “won” a hotel that was under construction.  No restaurant and pool access in Palm Springs!  Hell yeah that constitutes a refund!  Now what about all the time I wasted on your site?  And they didn’t even take the hotel off the list so we could have “won” it again.  No I’m not using Priceline again, thankyouverymuch.  Eventually I got a great deal on Travelocity (I’m a sucker for gnomes) for $159 at The Riviera.  I was excited.  I wanted a little glamour and pizzazz, and boy, did I get it in spades!

So we left Friday after Turkey Day later than I had hoped (yes, I did a great job on my 2^nd ever turkey, I know you were curious), however we got an awesome deal on some Christmas gifts (Thank you Husband & MIL for getting up at 4 am and braving the SoCal cold).  We took the scenic route along 371, which was nice, and arrived around 3:00.  The way we came in made Palm Springs look like a shit hole and Palm Desert like the jewel.  However, when we rounded the corner and saw the hot pink neon of The Riviera, my heart sang.

We checked into our glamorous, but small room over looking some garbage bins.  I closed the drapes, but Husband wouldn’t have that for our special get away.  He grabbed my hand and we approached the lobby.  On our way there, I wanted to stare at all the tinkling lights and touch all the decadent upholstery.  The Riviera certainly reminded me of Las Vegas, but with more old Hollywood glamor, flair, and character.  Glen, at the front desk, understood the necessity of parents getting away from their kids and gladly upgraded us to a king suite overlooking a beautiful court yard.

The room was fantastic – a king bed, sitting area, patio, gorgeous tank tub and separate shower and toilet.  The one ding I’ll give the room is that the windows REALLY needed to be washed.  It looked like a season of grime and calciumed desert water sprinklers had been on it and needed some attention.  You could still see, don’t get me wrong.  I mean really, when was the last time we washed our windows inside and out (that would be once in the last 3 years).  I had packed us a beautiful snack tray and a bottle of chilled champagne.  I won’t go further into the details; let’s just leave it as bow-chica-wow-wow.

Much later we went to dinner at Circa 59 in the hotel.  GORGEOUS. We sat on the covered patio with ceiling heaters over looking the twinkling lights and dazzling pool.  Service was attentive and not overbearing.  The food was fantastically delicious and great proportions for the tall price tag.  We were greeted by the restaurant manager and as he moved along to the next table, I couldn’t help but to over hear (like I often do) their conversation.  We ended up chatting the couple afterwards and sharing tips on Palm Springs.  Turns out they own Swirl, a wine bar near our old neighborhood in San Francisco.

The next day we started off at Pinocchio’s for a great breakfast.  If you need a hair of the dog that bit you the night before, their $3.95 bottomless champagne would be just what the doctor ordered.  We toodled around Palm Canyon Drive mostly popping in vintage and modern furniture stores which reminded me so much of my beloved Valencia street in SF.  There is a fantastic couch-ottoman set at Asylum that we’re still considering.  Love the space-age vintage art and modern clothing in Wil Stiles.  RetroSpect, you have some key finds too.  Lunch was divine at Jake’s and that beet salad was to die for.  Then we headed over to an art show and I was so very moved by Richard Curtner’s mind-blowing work that I’m posting it here and encouraging you to check it out.  What a romantic and creative genius!

We ended our superb 24 hour love affair with Palm Springs by getting our first egg nog latte of the season and heading home along the 10.  I will be back Palm Springs.  You are my kind of girl…gorgeous, campy, vintage, hot, and love the gay boys.  I wonder if I can convince my GBF to join me at the Palm Springs Modernism Week in February.  I’m thinking poolside mojitos at The Riviera by day and modern architecture tours and parties at night.  Won’t you join me?  It’s the perfect place for us!  Cheers!

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Rosemary-Fig Chicken with Port

From my favorite recent cookbook purchase, Cooking Light’s Fresh Food Fast (2009)

My comments are in [brackets]

½ tsp salt

½ tsp garlic powder

½ tsp pepper

4 (6 oz) skinless, boneless chicken breast halves

Butter-flavored cooking spray [Pam works]

2/3 cup fig preserves [only 1 jar in all the massive jelly selection at my grocery store, but SO worth it…find it!]

1 Tbs minced fresh rosemary

6 Tbs port or other sweet red wine

1. Sprinkle first 3 ingredients evenly over chicken.  Coat chicken with cooking spray.
2. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.  Add chicken; cook 3 minutes on each side or until browned.  [While that’s cooking] Combine fig preserves, rosemary, and wine in a bowl; add to chicken, stirring gently.  Cover, reduce heat to medium, and cook 6 minutes [it ended up being about 15 minutes for my fat breasts…lol].  Uncover and cook 1 minute over medium-high heat or until sauce is slightly thick.  Serve sauce over chicken.  Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 1 chicken breast and 3 Tbs sauce).

I served this with a spinach salad topped with goat cheese (OMG I can’t get enough of it) and cranberries and a cous cous/harvest grain blend in a bag from Trader Joes.  If you’re not that fancy then Rice-A-Roni works well too (god knows we use it a lot too!).  So good!  Add to repertoire, especially for guests.

Enjoy and cheers!

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So I went to my 20 year high school reunion this past weekend.  Really there was no reason not to go.  It was within driving distance and I was going to share the hotel room with a friend.  After all, I was reminded over and over from my GBF (who did not attend, btw) that I had missed our 10 year reunion and made him go.  (No, I am not bitter)  Back to the point at hand, I had such a spectacular time and honestly, I am a bit surprised.

My GBF was bound and determined not to go because he felt strongly that the people from high school that were meaningful were already involved in his life.  I think a part of it was that he didn’t want to explain to dozens of people that in fact, he is gay.  That was the question most asked of me when I explained that my GBF and I lived together for years and remained very close.  My answer was always, “Yes he is, but we all already knew that, didn’t we?”  C’mon people.

I saw the reunion as an opportunity to reconnect, share some stories, and hopefully have my mind changed about who I thought people were.  We all had our high school drama growing up, didn’t we?  In high school, we make presumptions about people.  We were friends with some, but not others for stupid reasons.  We categorized people and I’m sure people did the same with me.  I arrived at GHS as a new girl from Texas whose skirt was regulation height, however at my new school there were no teachers measuring skirts.  I will never forget seeing a girl with a bathing suit top covered by a Corona tank top sitting in front of me on my first day of school.  I was both appalled and delighted by the new fashion (or lack thereof) opportunities.  Please know the anxiety of fitting in was always present for this new girl.

The reunion was no exception.  Of course my first thoughts were, “what am I going to wear?!?!”  After charging up a storm to find just the right dress and shoes, I settled on a dress I thought was relaxed and pretty, more fun and less vavavoom.  (Thanks Lola and boys for your input and yes, I returned –reluctantly- the other dresses and shoes.)  Once that was settled, I wanted to give some thought about how to answer the cursory questions one would ask after not seeing you over the last 20 years.  How do you briefly sum up your life so that it’s a bit more funny and refreshing than reporting your status (married w/two children, living in San Diego).  And what questions would I ask?  I only went to GHS for two years, so I was particularly concerned if I was even going to recognize people there, let alone remember their names.  And you should know, that when I moved I landed in a particularly great group of people – friendly, fun, good students in a sheltered suburb of L.A.

I have to say some of the most awkward moments of the reunion were in the beginning.  I felt like a Seinfield episode was playing out in a moment and I was caught between the discomfort and wanting to bust out laughing not knowing what to do.  Let me explain…My friend Kerri, reunion organizer and childhood resident of our town (read: she should know everyone!), hosted a champagne pre-party in her room.  Our group of girlfriends showed up first, but shortly thereafter another group of girls joined the party.  I somewhat recognized them, but should have brushed up on my yearbook to have remembered their names.  They were the more studious girls and had their own clique.  I don’t think I ever really talked to them in school as we were just in different circles.  As they arrived, hugs were going all around, but I was riddled with questions and anxiety!  Look, I’m friendly and love meeting new people, but I froze in etiquette confusion.  To hug or not to hug…that was the question.

What was the appropriate level of greeting enthusiasm for people that I barely knew 20 years ago?  Of course, I automatically leaned in for a mild hug because she’s hugging toward me and I didn’t want it to be weird.  But really, do you hug someone whose name you don’t know in any other circumstance?  Does the shared experience of going the same school or knowing each others’ faces because you were alphabetically arranged near each other for a year (lockers, class rooms, graduation, etc.) grant hug status?  I wasn’t sure and honestly a little freaked out about how to progress through the night.  I decided a friendly hello would be my greeting to those faces that looked somewhat familiar.  I wasn’t going in for the hug unless I really knew them and meant it.  Kerri, during our post-reunion re-hash, laughed about the discomfort of having her picture taken with someone she doesn’t think she said more than a dozen words to in the past 30 years.

I got to say thanks to the guy who asked me on my first date.  I got to offer condolences to a friend whose twin brother had passed away.  I laughed so hard with my prom date and we shared some true confessions over a drink (nothing sexy you dirty minds!).  I was surprised by how incredible the women looked and how some people’s sense of humor never left.  I got to dance with my girls and rehash some great stories.  I let go of some stupid high school grudges and things that were said many years ago.  I gave myself and others an opportunity for a fresh start.  And I learned a new way to chase tequila shots (with tomato juice…kills the burn!).

Looking back over the night, I wish I didn’t hesitate with the hug and I wished I would have figured out the stunning mystery blonde sooner so that I could have talked with her.  Certainly I will always have uncertainty about some things, but I’m okay with it because the night was a great celebration of community and shared experience.  The friends that decided not to go (or couldn’t) were sorely missed.  And yes, my hair was blonde in high school, but hasn’t been for a very long time (the odd and second most asked question of the night).  Cheers GHS and thanks for a great night to remember!

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