I miss Europe!
August 27, 2007
August 23, 2007
Thank You, Commerce Bank!
There is a Commerce Bank on the corner of 43rd St. on 3rd Ave.
I have been to this location three times this week, heavily laden with coins my mother has been collecting for years.
In quarters alone my total was $167.42. Over the following two days I racked up another $120 bringing the lump sum figure to a whopping $280!
How remarkable to carry sacks of change to the Penny Arcade and depart with feather weight bills. I am grateful for the surcharge-free Commerce Bank.
Hereforeto, I reject my prior confession of love for the CoinStar machine which charges an egregious 8cents to the $1. Boo!
I have been to this location three times this week, heavily laden with coins my mother has been collecting for years.
In quarters alone my total was $167.42. Over the following two days I racked up another $120 bringing the lump sum figure to a whopping $280!
How remarkable to carry sacks of change to the Penny Arcade and depart with feather weight bills. I am grateful for the surcharge-free Commerce Bank.
Hereforeto, I reject my prior confession of love for the CoinStar machine which charges an egregious 8cents to the $1. Boo!
August 20, 2007
The Lakehouse
Don't get excited gentle reader, this will not be a review of the eponymous Keanu Reeves--Sandra Bullock film...it will instead highlight the weekend I spent with D'Souza at my mother and her husband's lake residence in New Jersey.
Now, the thing about D'Souza is that he loves the lake. Maybe it's the Indian Navy ex-cadet within or the fisherman roots imbued in Goans, but the fact remains: the man is a water baby. He loves boats and he loves bodies of water. In fact, he is adept in commandeering vessels on bodies of water. Water falling from the sky won't keep him on dry land. He will attach the battery to the motor and row his way to open water. Removing credence from the saying, "No man is an island unto himself!" After all, when he is in that boat that's exactly what he is.
I digress.
On Saturday, my mother had a little party for her friends. About 20 folks her age showed up and I was enlisted to cook for this event. Mind you, I've spent the majority of my years living solo using my oven for storage; however, since meeting D'Souza and establishing a system of domesticity I've been cooking. Well, perhaps preparing meals is a better description of what I really do.
The menu for the party was as follows:
Okra Kathi Rolls
Chicken Satay with Peanut sauce
Paneer Tikka
Cucumber Sandwiches
Mom's handiwork:
Samosas (Fresh out of the oven, defrosted just as I recall growing up.)
Tandoori Chicken (Her single most successful dish!)
Chocolate Brownies (Made from scratch--she used to solicit Betty Crocker!)
Lamb kebabs and Chole were contributed by Indian aunties who know to cook and practice the seemingly lost culinary art.
The event was an interesting mix of casually dressed, middle-aged white folks with crude senses of humor who cracked dirty jokes and drink lite beer (my mom's husband's friends) and sedate, carefully-dressed, Indian doctors who discussed global politics in hushed tones and listened attentively to the former folks extol their jokes whilst sipping wine (my mom's friends). No riots broke out. In fact, the entire 5pm-1am event passed without so much as an argument.
The lead singer of the Rascals was in attedance with his wife--also a musician--which made for great stories of tours from yesteryear.
In typical fashion, my mom did an excellent job of attending HER event. My old roomie used to pull this scheme: invite a bunch of people over to our place, offer them a great many treats in advance, and then spend the duration of the party as a guest at said event munching on food and drink while mingling at will having not helped in the preparation or serving of above. It's one of my biggest pet peeves.
My notion of hosting involves elaborate preparation of dishes and drinks ahead of time, presenting them in an artistic manner during the event, and constant surveillance of guest plates and glasses to ensure that they are filled. Not to say I don't mingle but whilst meeting and greeting I perform the dual role of observing and serving.
My mom did clean up after the party--I craftily fell asleep before midnight--with much help from D'Souza (though he didn't mention it, I KNOW he was hugely helpful per usual).
Now, the thing about D'Souza is that he loves the lake. Maybe it's the Indian Navy ex-cadet within or the fisherman roots imbued in Goans, but the fact remains: the man is a water baby. He loves boats and he loves bodies of water. In fact, he is adept in commandeering vessels on bodies of water. Water falling from the sky won't keep him on dry land. He will attach the battery to the motor and row his way to open water. Removing credence from the saying, "No man is an island unto himself!" After all, when he is in that boat that's exactly what he is.
I digress.
On Saturday, my mother had a little party for her friends. About 20 folks her age showed up and I was enlisted to cook for this event. Mind you, I've spent the majority of my years living solo using my oven for storage; however, since meeting D'Souza and establishing a system of domesticity I've been cooking. Well, perhaps preparing meals is a better description of what I really do.
The menu for the party was as follows:
Okra Kathi Rolls
Chicken Satay with Peanut sauce
Paneer Tikka
Cucumber Sandwiches
Mom's handiwork:
Samosas (Fresh out of the oven, defrosted just as I recall growing up.)
Tandoori Chicken (Her single most successful dish!)
Chocolate Brownies (Made from scratch--she used to solicit Betty Crocker!)
Lamb kebabs and Chole were contributed by Indian aunties who know to cook and practice the seemingly lost culinary art.
The event was an interesting mix of casually dressed, middle-aged white folks with crude senses of humor who cracked dirty jokes and drink lite beer (my mom's husband's friends) and sedate, carefully-dressed, Indian doctors who discussed global politics in hushed tones and listened attentively to the former folks extol their jokes whilst sipping wine (my mom's friends). No riots broke out. In fact, the entire 5pm-1am event passed without so much as an argument.
The lead singer of the Rascals was in attedance with his wife--also a musician--which made for great stories of tours from yesteryear.
In typical fashion, my mom did an excellent job of attending HER event. My old roomie used to pull this scheme: invite a bunch of people over to our place, offer them a great many treats in advance, and then spend the duration of the party as a guest at said event munching on food and drink while mingling at will having not helped in the preparation or serving of above. It's one of my biggest pet peeves.
My notion of hosting involves elaborate preparation of dishes and drinks ahead of time, presenting them in an artistic manner during the event, and constant surveillance of guest plates and glasses to ensure that they are filled. Not to say I don't mingle but whilst meeting and greeting I perform the dual role of observing and serving.
My mom did clean up after the party--I craftily fell asleep before midnight--with much help from D'Souza (though he didn't mention it, I KNOW he was hugely helpful per usual).
August 14, 2007
August 5, 2007
D'souza's repsonse to Lars
Lars,
For what its worth I am sorry I even contemplated such an inhumane act. I underestimated your communication skills and technological prowess as is evident by your ability to send email and construct sentences.
It's a wonder what 79 cents at PETCO can get you. I always thought I was hearing the words ''r-i-c-e p-a-d-d-i-e-s" since we got you but assumed it was Sweet's stomach craving rice. This email has made it all clear.
To make it up to you, I'll throw you a party over the weekend. You can have all the rice you want. If you need variety in your rice or anything else like having a memorial service for Sukino, feel free to drop me an email.
As for your arch nemisis Shinto, rest assured that once I get him this weekend, I'll make sure Luckey & he have some quality time together.
Peace,
D'Souza
For what its worth I am sorry I even contemplated such an inhumane act. I underestimated your communication skills and technological prowess as is evident by your ability to send email and construct sentences.
It's a wonder what 79 cents at PETCO can get you. I always thought I was hearing the words ''r-i-c-e p-a-d-d-i-e-s" since we got you but assumed it was Sweet's stomach craving rice. This email has made it all clear.
To make it up to you, I'll throw you a party over the weekend. You can have all the rice you want. If you need variety in your rice or anything else like having a memorial service for Sukino, feel free to drop me an email.
As for your arch nemisis Shinto, rest assured that once I get him this weekend, I'll make sure Luckey & he have some quality time together.
Peace,
D'Souza
D'Souzas
D'souzas little sister is starting her MBA at Cornell. We dropped her off and set her up for school....here's the cutest family shot! Isn't she adorable
August 1, 2007
BABY kicked off Plane--YAY!
PLANE BABIES BOO
I found the above article highly distressing.
I am all for babies and their caregivers having their own section on planes and being asked to deplane for causing a ruckus. After all, who hasn't been stuck near a howling baby on a long flight and hated every moment of it--who can sleep through THAT. EEK! Unless it's YOUR CRYING BABY (even then I think you only put up with it because you can't abandon it without a nanny/grandparent/other parent taking it on for the journey) it is beyond me who would want to be sitting next to IT vs. an ADULT--who would never cry at an ear-splitting volume. If so, they would and SHOULD be asked to leave as well.
YIKES!
I found the above article highly distressing.
I am all for babies and their caregivers having their own section on planes and being asked to deplane for causing a ruckus. After all, who hasn't been stuck near a howling baby on a long flight and hated every moment of it--who can sleep through THAT. EEK! Unless it's YOUR CRYING BABY (even then I think you only put up with it because you can't abandon it without a nanny/grandparent/other parent taking it on for the journey) it is beyond me who would want to be sitting next to IT vs. an ADULT--who would never cry at an ear-splitting volume. If so, they would and SHOULD be asked to leave as well.
YIKES!
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