Wasabi Funyun Update!

The wretched Wasabi Funyun selling Walgreen's has been out of the tantalizing chip since I bought them. I've haunted them day and night---they're a 24 hour joint---to no avail. Pushers!! This morning I broke down and spoke with the assistant manager who, after enduring my pleading, begging and ultimately explaining that I'd come in to pick up my Xanax prescription, he divulged a smidge of very important information. The Frito Lay man stocks the place on Tuesdays & Fridays. Of course he didn't leave any this morning but the Ass Mgr swore he'd let the vendor know that the rings o'spicy goodness are in high demand. I smiled sweetly and said "see you Tuesday".

Summertime and the Livin' is Easy

Austin is so very austin. Yes, it should be an adjective meaning eclectic, vivacious, surprising and mysterious, among other things. Look at our weather situation. We go from coat wearing cold weather to a one day monsoon to summer. Tomorrow it may be springtime again, but today at 80º definitely qualifies as summer. Or at least early summer, since real summer is usually a temperature somewhere between OMG and your hands melting on the steering wheel of your car.

The weather today sparks an urge in me to be outside. It makes me want to take a blanket and a book to Zilker Park and lose myself for an hour or two. I'd end up a little sunburned since I take after my Anglo parent instead of the Hispanic one, but I'd have a happier heart. All it takes is a little sunshine and blue skies sometimes. I'm almost on the verge of digging through my clothes and dragging out my bathing suit but I think Barton Springs may still be too shockingly cold this early in the season. (Please no hate mail from you year 'rounders!).

At least we're fortunate enough in Austin to have the Town Lake trail, Lake Travis, the Veloway and the Greenbelt. Last week's trek around Town Lake was great, even though I only ran twice, and for shamefully short distances each time. I'm horribly out of shape after being completely lazy this winter along with that nasty respiratory virus last month. Luckily, I only had a few minor instances of tightness in the chest and no real asthma attacks during my leisurely 5k jaunt. I'll push myself more on Saturday just to see what happens. I have a triathlon relay to get ready for, so there's no more time to be a slug.

But the flowers are blooming (saw some Bluebonnets along Mopac yesterday) and the trees are greening up and it's stirring me to venture out and enjoy what our city has to offer. It makes me feel hopeful, like the Gershwin song. "Summertime and the livin' is easy...one of these mornings you're gonna rise up singin', then you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky".

Kay Needs...

I googled "Kay needs" just to see what would come up. Some of these were surprisingly accurate, others just surprising. Kind of like cyber tarot card reading. Here's the first ten of my "needs":

1. Kay needs a home (actually this was Kitty Kay, a special needs cat at Town Lake animal shelter).
2. Kay needs your vote.
3. Kay needs new man on keyboard.
4. Kay needs a break.
5. Kay needs help.
6. Kay needs to rely on specific instruments for downing certain adversaries. (Don't piss me off this week).
7. Kay needs to run against Hillary.
8. Kay needs to wake up!
9. Kay needs no introduction.
10. Kay needs a red hot kiss like you really mean it.

Google your name/needs and let me know what came up.

Wasabi Funyuns...my newest addiction

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And he better be bringing me Wasabi Funyuns for Christmas this year. I plan on being a very, very good girl. My epicurean delights run the gamut from tastes-like-the-sea oysters on the half shell to perfectly chargrilled steaks, cilantro jalapeño hummus, avocado gelato, to decadent and salty caviar on blinis with a dollop of rich crème fraîche and a flute of champagne. Now I've fallen from the heights into a sordid love affair with an onion and wasabi flavored corn ring.

Funyuns have always been a guilty pleasure. I love strong flavors and was instantly attracted to the crunchy oniony snack as a child. When I found that Frito-Lay added wasabi, I had to try them. They aren't quite wasabi enough for me, but then again, it's never enough wasabi unless my eyes are watering and my airways threatening to close. For those CenTexers unfamiliar with the spice, wasabi is a condiment made from Japanese horseradish and traditionally served with sushi. That green paste on your plate is not guacamole, Tex. Wasabi, like dry ground mustard has a heat that inflames the sinus cavity but doesn't burn your mouth. Mixing it with onion flavor and making a chip is pure genius.

Don't let the idea scare you off. Try a bag today. And if the Wasabi Funyuns aren't your thing, put a chip clip on that bag and bring it to me! Oh, and if anyone wants my hummus recipe, just e me. I'll share.

Double Chocolate Beer Love

My normal beer of choice isn't anything unusual. I enjoy Bud Light, Dos Equis and of course Lone Star. I am a good Texan girl, ya know. But when I want to savor a beer, to revel in the flavor of a very good beer, I choose one that is not only a non-Texas brand but *gasp* not from the states at all. I prefer a beer from Wandsworth, Britain. There, I've said it. I am officially out of the closet. Established in 1831, Young's Brewery has a full line of beers with outlandish sounding names such as Kew Brew, Ram Rod, Waggle Dance and more. The one that I luxuriate in is Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Chocolate malt and dark chocolate are combined with a rich, robust beer and the end result is delightful. The liquid even feels smoother, creamier and a single glass more satisfying than a regular beer. An acquaintance of mine once remarked that sipping a Double Chocolate Stout was like drinking a beer milkshake. Won't you relish one with me sometime?

I've been trying to catch some SXSW shows this week, although I have no wristband. There are tons of free shows or unofficial SXSW shows with a small cover charge. I must admit, I've had an interesting few days of music. We kicked it off with the Ferry Corsten show on Wednesday, which was a bust for me. The venue played almost 100% trance leading up to Ferry's time at the turntable. I dislike trance no matter how hard I try to enjoy it. I'll be listening gamely, trying to get into it and ten minutes will go by and I'll wonder if the song had changed or if I'm hearing the world's longest composition. It all sounds the same to me. After mind numbing trance, Ferry finally got started--just as we were calling it a night and leaving. Oh well, said Frank, that's what satellite radio is for.

Last night I started off at the Mean Eyed Cat with Jake, Ray and Jeff. We met up with Chelle and Todd to hear Steamroller. We arrived too late to catch the big surprise of the day. Apparently Janes Addiction is in town for SXSW and decided they wanted to play a few songs. The Cat was happy to oblige their request, much to the thrill of those lucky ones who were swilling cheap brew in the afternoon. How cool is that?

My ego was stroked when, minutes after we rolled in, an extremely intoxicated man made a beeline for us and began a lengthy campaign to hit on me. Now I love attention, but I was out with the guys and wanted to relax, enjoy myself and not even think about anything more challenging than if we were buying one more pitcher of beer. So after the really cute & really drunk man who was talking a mile a minute finally got around to asking if he had a chance, I let him down easy.

I told him I was a member of a sect of the Mormon church that had a matriarchal society and the three men I was with were my husbands. His response was a step back and an "ohhhh". I continued that my plate was full and I hadn't really thought about adding a fourth to our family, but what do you think, guys? Ray cheered an enthusiastic yes but Jake and Jeff decided that the 3:1 ratio was standing in our happy home. Drunk man, who had introduced himself as Brett, wandered off and would wave and smile at me whenever he caught my eye during the rest of our time spent Catting. Imagine my shock when I visited the Janes Addiction website and looked at the gallery photos, one of which is a drummer who looks just like, uh huh, Brett. Either he was Stephen Perkins or he is Stephen Perkins brother. At any rate, I have a nifty SXSW story.

After watching part of Steamroller's set, the boys and I wandered off to Red River. We were equally treated and mistreated by some really good rock and some really awful rock at Headhunters. One San Antonio band had a tight sound, fairly metal but when the singer stepped up to the mic, their kickin' music was ruined. He was a guttural screamer, the kind where you don't understand any words and are unsure if they're singing in English, Spanish or perhaps German. Another memorable group sang about stalking, torturing and murdering a girl. Niiice. I really liked the music from a band called Las Cruces. It was danceable and you could understand the lyrics just fine.

I hope to have a few more SXSW adventures before it's all wrapped up. Let me know if you saw any shows that rocked it hard.

Rarr!

My favorite vixen is making an appearance at the Continental Club on April 1st. No foolin’, Maulie Keebler, performing with Red Light Burlesque, will be showing off her attributes in her own special way. A retro sex kitten, Maulie will deliver what is sure to be a crowd pleasing show. I’m looking forward to her vamping and dancing and oozing sultry sex appeal all over my April Fool’s day. Why don’t you join me that night?

Thought For the Day

If you can't set a good example, at least be a very bad warning.

The Hourglass Always Runs Out

All around me I see signs of new life. It's one of those funny periods of time when babies are popping up everywhere. My new beautiful grrniece who's only a few days old, a friend at work who had her first ultrasound last week and got to see the heartbeat oh so fast, another work friend who is radiantly pregnant and yet another who is due at the beginning of May. My boyfriend's niece will turn one in less than two months. Her mother is pregnant again, this time with the first grandson in the family. I'm surrounded by creation at its finest shining moment, when you realize that life is continually moving forward, evolving and growing.

I'm thrilled to be going through my workmate's pregnancy with her. Like her, I'm fascinated by all the little changes as well as the big ones that a fetus goes through in it's quest to become a baby. I see the other work friends in the hallways and the breakroom and ask them how they're doing, commiserate on the not so pretty parts of pregnancy and smile over the intrinsically beautiful aspects of motherhood. I have spent the past week celebrating the arrival of a grrniece that I love even though I haven't seen her.

And I try not to be sad. I strive to think of everything I have in my life that is fulfilling and incredible and good. I ignore the thought that keeps hammering away inside my brain: It's probably too late. It's more than likely too late for me to be a mother. I'm turning thirty-nine this summer. My boyfriend may not be ready to be a father. I may have gone too far in being responsible and lost the opportunity. I have wanted to be a mother since I was nineteen years old. But my teens, much less my twenties and part of my thirties were not the stable years that most young women own. I wasn't fit to be a good mother until, well, until now. And now means that it feasibly won't happen.

I'm past my prime for childbearing. For a forty year old woman, you drop your chance of getting pregnant to 5% per month. I'm knocking on forty's door, so I'm guessing my chances right now are somewhere around 5-10% per month. And the chance for conceiving a child with chromosomal defects is close to 1 in 100 births. The outlook isn't good. Of course, there are women who have no difficulty conceiving and giving birth to a healthy baby at my age. You never know how the body's going to handle it.

I'm struggling with the thought that I may never be a mother. Sure, there are other options. I could adopt. I don't think I could become a foster mother because I wouldn't want to return the child when their expiration date was up and the CPS worker comes knocking at the door. But I always believed that one day I'd have my own little piece of heaven to nurture and teach about the wonders of this world. I was accountable and made certain I did not bring a child into this world when I wouldn't be able to be the very best mother I could be. It's ironic that now, after my sensible caution, I may never experience the bond between a mother and the child she has carried, nurtured and cherished. It's bittersweet that now when I have met the man that I would bring a baby into this world with, who would be the most loving and marvelous father possible, it may be that I have run out of the one thing I thought I still had...time.

So I am writing this post as a little free therapy, a bit of introspection to help me achieve some clarity and balance with the realization that I may not ever experience the joy of being a parent. I may not be able to hold a warm, soft, sweet baby in my arms and experience the rush of unconditional love. I may not whisper to a sleeping child how much I love him and believe in him and will show him every amazing inch of the world that I can. I may never sit a second grader down and tell her that yes, when she grows up she can be an archeologist even though last week she wanted to be an astronaut. I may not stand next to a crib watching my baby sleep, awestruck that he came from my body. I may never be able to watch a beautiful child at play and marvel that her father and I created such a passionate, imaginative being. That she's a little part of me and a little part of her father and yet totally her own self.

These aren't easy words, and it isn't my usual entertaining fluff. But I needed to put my emotions into words and at least become aware that the sand in my hourglass is rapidly sifting to the bottom. I need to recognize that my dream may remain only a wish. I may have to live with regret and allow myself time to grieve the loss of a family I never knew. In baring my soul I hope to ease my already aching heart just a fraction. But even with this knowledge I still embrace the one small hope that it isn't too late for us.

Isabella is a very stubborn girl

The arrival of my grrniece is imminent. Her mother is hanging out in the hospital room, trying to dilate and ignoring hunger pangs. Her father is playing the waiting game as well, and probably wondering if it's okay for him to eat lunch if Lisa can't. I would suggest that John sneak out under the guise of some small errand such as getting a newspaper or fetching a magazine for Lisa and hit the hospital cafeteria. If he's smart he won't let on that he's downed a barely digestible tray of food that normally wouldn't appeal to my niece except on this one day that she's been denied sustenance. Surely the man who landed Lisa, the younger version of me, has enough brain cells to deduce that making an announcement that he's going to grab a cheeseburger would lead to serious trouble. And bringing food back to the room would be worse. You simply don't flaunt your food when a Marley Girl is hungry but can't eat.

My mid-morning phone call to Lisa provided the following information:

• The drugs they've been giving her since midnight last night have yet to kickstart the dilation process.
• There have been no real labor pains.
• Isabella's heartbeat, which is being broadcast into the room via a heart rate monitor, is the same rhythm as the beat for AC/DC's "Problem Child" song.
• The latest measurements show that Isabella is a bellyfull. She's topping 9lbs.
• Everyone, probably including housekeeping, has had a peek at Lisa's hoohah.
• If she doesn't start labor soon, Isabella gets to arrive in this world without a conehead...a c-section will be performed.

I'll be a grrtía soon.