I've missed you...

It's been a while.  And by a while I mean five months.  Literally, my blog tells me that my last post was in August.  But much has happened since we last spoke.

If you haven't heard lately, I wrote a book.  And if you haven't heard lately, then you don't log on to Facebook much or you nixed me as a friend because I've been haunting you all with announcements of its debut on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Google Books.  Don't worry, I'll send more :)

It all started about six years ago in an English class at CSUN.  Oh the days of English class...in an actual classroom.  These days I'm relegated to the online "classroom" where you miss out on all of the face to face debate and pounding of chests, oh and the nodding off of your classmates.  I just loved watching others struggle to stay awake, head dropping an inch or two before they awakened quite startled, looked around and slowly but surely closed their eyes again.  But don't feel too badly for me.  One of my students was actually snoring in class this morning.  But I digress...

So the assignment was to write a short story in which you develop a character and some other fancy and insightful direction, but I don't remember the rest of the details.  I just know that a scene had been replaying again and again in my mind.  A woman is driving in the night and it's raining, the kind of rain you only experience outside of L.A.  She has a young daughter of course, but her daughter is asleep in the backseat.  This woman is crying because her marriage is over.  She's crying because she has nowhere to go.  Crying because she doesn't know who she is anymore.  She's reached that moment of crisis when you realize just how small and powerless you really are.  I wasn't sure how her story would unfold, but I knew one thing.  I knew where it would begin.  I too had met with that moment of crisis.  I too was once lost.  I too had felt the significance of my insignificance.  I knew that my character would have to fall to her knees and look in the only direction we can in that moment.  She would experience the freedom of powerlessness, the unfathomable peace of spiritual awakening, the fulfillment of agape and the hope of new life.  She would trudge that promising road, filled with fear and uncertainty, but I would give her what I was given, a new kind of family to carry me through it all.

It's still fun to watch the reaction of people when they come to terms with the fact that really, I'm not kidding, yes, I really did live in a mortuary.  And if you know me at all, you know that I love irony.  I speak its language.  I tease that it's God's way of reminding me I'm not in control.  So to have my character find new life while surrounded by death just seemed natural.  And I get to share a few of the fascinating and gruesome details of my experiences along the way.      

Visit my website for a peek at the first chapter.  rebeccafisherbooks.com

Do I Look Like My Dog?

Research by UCSD suggests that I do.  Resemblance appears to be greatest between owners and purebred dogs.  Maybe if I was squinting...or 1/4 my size or...

http://www.universityofcalifornia.edu/news/article/6241

Below is a link to some pretty funny pet/owner look-alikeness.

Please share your pictures!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=642qxehEcGg

Self-Circumcision

Is not the topic of this, my latest blog. I simply wanted to see how many men I could get to my blog using this word. Why do men grab themselves and cross their legs trembling in fear when they hear this word? Maybe they’ve heard the story of Abraham, who was commanded by God, at the age of 99, to circumcise himself…in public. He did try to negotiate his way out of this one by the way, unsuccessfully. Who could blame him for trying?


But again, this is not the topic of this blog. Stick around fellas. There’s an article I’d like you to read before you continue.

http://twilightsingapore.com/2010/07/10/twilight-news-real-estate-tycoon-tom-barrack-colony-capital-llc-deconstructs-twilight/

So we woke up around 7am, an unspeakable hour when on vacation; ate the egg whites, sourdough toast, bacon and o.j. provided by room service and headed over to Budget rent-a-car (I don’t know if this is their official name). We got quite a deal through our concierge and after a few calls to Amex and Travelers confirming insurance coverage, we were ready to cruise…in the PT Cruiser.

We had all the maps we needed to get halfway around Washington state and a date with a Ferry in an hour. I’ve never before driven a car onto a boat, but let me just say, it was rad (as my generation would say) or stupid (as I’ve heard this generation say). Either way, it was friggin cool. I felt like singing “A Whole New World” from Aladin as I looked out into the Puget Sound, but figured I’d save that for the Olympic National Park…or Forks. The Ferry food, again, not to be confused with Fairy food (which is briefly described in Fool Moon by Jim Butcher) was surprisingly palatable. If you’ve read my previous blog about our Ferry to Victoria, you remember that I assumed all Ferry food to be created equal, and I was very, very sadly mistaken.

We drove off of the Ferry in Bainbridge Island and began our two hour drive to Port Angeles. It took this long because in that there neck of the woods, the highway lines are maintained. And boy were they maintained. We waited with everyone else for that line to be re-painted.

Why were we driving to Port Angeles, a small and less-than-impressive port town? Well, because Bella bought a book, was harassed by drunk, crazy men and saved by a stunning, young vampire there, that’s why! And boy does Port Angeles do all they can to profit from their debut in Twilight. If you've done any research on the topic, you know that NONE of the movies were filmed in the real Port Angeles, nor was any of it filmed in the real Forks. Various locations in Oregon and Vancouver served as replicas of these towns.

As you walk the handful of streets in Port Angeles, you follow a map, provided by the town, to all the different locations Bella stumbled upon.  There’s actually a store (Dazzled by Twilight) dedicated to the book, selling everything you could possibly put Edward and Jacob’s face on.  Don't leave your children unattended.

I ran into Carlisle and Jacob there and the rest just stood in the windows looking pale and concerned. The department store where the girls went for dresses, actually went out of business before the book could save them. There were some really creepy alleyways and a couple of bookstores, but more importantly, there was the Italian restaurant (Bella Italia) where Bella and Edward had their first date. Also, just down the road is the movie theater frequented by the teens of Forks. We had a seriously delicious mocha from The Veela Café, unfortunately not mentioned in any of the Twilight series. Well, after taking a handful of photos and feeling a little disappointed by the blahness of the town, we got back in the cruiser and started on our way to Forks.  

 

Having made the drive from Port Angeles to Forks, I couldn’t imagine wanting to see a movie badly enough, or needing a dress I couldn’t knit myself or craving Italian food desperately enough to make that kind of a drive more than once. But then…we drove into Forks. There is really nothing there. I used to think Bella’s mom was a real piece of work, leaving Charlie and all, and then I walked around that town for an hour and thought, I feel ya, sister! Sorry Charlie. I’m outta here! The people and businesses of Forks have undoubtedly benefitted from the whirlwind of traffic created by the books, but I have to say, the people living and working there seem a bit indignant about the presence of Twi-Hards (or as my neighbor calls us, Twi-Tards). Sure they make $40 a head on disappointing tours (which we opted NOT to do) and sell who knows how many burgers a day at Sully’s drive-in, but really, they seem somewhat insulted. And to be honest, it is quite a disappointing little town. Good thing vampires and shape-shifters are around to spice things up. Oh wait, that’s not real. Well, they always have Port Angeles. The good news is, the profit brought in by us loony outsiders has allowed for the remodeling of the school!

On our way home, we stopped in Sequim, a sweet, small town between Port Angeles and Bainbridge Island. They have lavender farms all over. I wanted to run through them with my arms stretched out like Julie Andrews. I settled for some pictures. We also drove up to Port Townsend to stroll around. I would highly recommend this port town over Port Angeles. It reminds me of Carmel with it’s quaint little shops and the sounds of cranky seagulls overhead.

I must say that the best part of that day trip were the views of the Olympic mountains and the unbelievably blue waters at their base. I could drive for days with those views outside of my windows.

For the fellas, I hope you enjoyed the article provided earlier. I know some of you have secretly enjoyed the Twilight Saga. For the rest of you more-than-macho men, though you might imagine it to be, I doubt it’s worse than self-circumcision. Give it a try…the books I mean.

Utter Contentment

Kitty Meow Bartholomew Fisher saves his hunt and catch craft for the wee hours, saving his days for sun-bathing on every available surface.  I love this cat.   

13

I don't know how it happened, thirteen years passing by.  One night, thirteen years ago, at 11:47 pm, I held her for the first time.  Now she slips through my fingers, finding her own way.  She's pretty amazing.

This was taken at 11:47 pm on August 7th...13 years to the day.  I fell asleep five minutes later :)

Food

So it would seem that a good portion of my life these days revolves around the pursuit of good food. Funny considering the overabundance of issues I've had with food in the past. I remember one terrible time in history when I made sure my diet didn't exceed 500 calories. Ridiculous. These days, my palate has been spoiled. I don’t count calories, just taste, and not any old filet mignon will do. It had better melt in my mouth and be adorned with some decadent gorgonzola crust. Not to say that a warm Cinnabon won’t do the trick. I have dreams about Cinnabon.

I didn’t realize how food-centered our lives were until we took on the challenge of a 21 day cleanse, for the sole purpose of feeling better. Believe me, there would be no other reason to eat only fruits and vegetables, a protein shake and 95 supplements a day. I was diagnosed with lupus, in tremendous pain and desperate. It was a start. But I digress. There we were, looking at a bowl of steamed veggies and I snapped. I was enraged and on the verge of tears…utterly depressed. It seemed absurd to have such emotions over food, but for the last five years, in a daze of romantic ecstasy, we’ve indulged in every possible bite of heaven encountered (Cinnabon not excluded). Mind you, we share everything…portion control. Believe me, most portions these days are more than enough for two. Jeff protested at first, but both of our waistlines have thanked me since. Back to the picture. Having partaken of the likes of butternut squash ravioli, soaked with butter, sweet in the middle; chocolate bread pudding, soft and rich and partnered with French press decaf; medium-rare, buttery filet mignon topped with the aforementioned gorgonzola crust; and fresh tuna carpaccio, drizzled with innumerable flavor-infused sauces and spread out around a stack of crab meat…that pathetic bowl of vegetables threatened to destroy me. And as delicious as food has been, it wasn’t the taste alone I’d grown accustomed to, but the experience, the excitement, the pleasure. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, there is nothing exciting or pleasurable about a bowl of steamed vegetables, I don’t care what concoction you drizzle over them.


So we survived nearly 21 days, cheating only with hummus. When I told a friend I had cheated she thought cheeseburger, steak, milk shake. No, hummus. I was in a lot of pain and wanted to do this right. On day 18 we were sitting at Club 33 in Disneyland and there was no way on God’s green earth that we were ordering vegetables. And so, we were back. And it was delicious!


By the way, so that you don’t salivate in vain, I will list the restaurants that house the beautiful creations mentioned above. The butternut squash ravioli is from Sisley Italian Kitchen, the chocolate bread pudding is served at Maru Sushi and one of the best steaks I’ve had is found at Salt Creek, all three located in Valencia.

Needless to say, our Seattle itinerary heavily included finding the best food the city has to offer. We asked around, we read reviews, we sat on the hotel bed for a while trying to decide where to go. When we landed I was starving, like I’m going to hurt someone if food isn’t in my mouth in the next 10 minutes starving, and the closest place to us was The Cheesecake Factory. You don’t fly to Seattle to eat at The Cheesecake Factory, but there we were, and ashamed for wasting a meal on what another Seattle chef later promised us was more than likely frozen salmon. Oh well, the frozen salmon did the job and didn’t taste half bad either. We later ate at a place called Tilikum Place Café, a small café rated in Seattle’s top 10. The most enjoyable part of that experience was the squash blossoms stuffed with some ridiculously tasty cheese. The rest was, eh, okay. The view was oddly charming and made me feel unbelievably happy. Though I had the epiphany, once more, that wherever I go, there I am, and daily life in Seattle would eventually have me traveling elsewhere for a vacation from reality.

We had a surprisingly satisfying mocha in Port Angeles (more on this trip later), but the food in Forks, well, never mind. But the almond butter, Nuttela crepe in Port Townsend, now that was unnecessary. The almond butter I mean…and maybe even the crepe. I could be content with life holding a large spoon of Nuttela everywhere I go.

We were starving aboard the ferry to Victoria, BC and ventured ordering one of their “meals”. I ate the packaged saltines, that’s it, the rest was inedible, insulting, prison food, cafeteria food, no, much worse. Want coffee? Don’t do it! And their public pitcher of water was ominous as it’s fill line swayed with the rocking Puget Sound. When we docked, we were on the hunt for something amazing. The Empress offered $55 tea, uh, no thanks (I considered it, to be honest). So we walked, and walked, and walked. We saw a beautiful cathedral and their funny walk signs and found a little French Bistro called Bon Rouge Lounge. Okay, so maybe it was the Dramamine. It brought on familiar feelings of starvation and the desperate need for a nap. Anyway, hands down, the most delicious food of the trip thus far. I ate all of the bread they put in that little basket and drank at least five cups of black tea with cream and honey. Our lunch was some kind of crazy ham sandwich on their house bread, smothered in some ridiculous cream sauce with a bowl of French onion soup on the side. Oh my goodness. We wanted to kick our feet up right there and snooze to the Frank Sinatra classics playing in the background. But we only had five hours to see EVERYTHING, so we dragged our bodies back outside. An hour later, another note-worthy mocha at a little place run by college students, who spent most of their life bantering at one of the tables, interrupted on occasion only by tourists like us. Jealous.

When we docked back in America, we headed to the renowned Metropolitan Grill. I was expecting to be blown away given the prices on the menu and the demeanor of our waiter. I was beginning to feel like a popper when he began telling us, ostentatiously, about our “fresh young asparagus” as he served them. Um, ok. So, maybe I’ve had too much steak in my life, but having finished our paycheck-priced meal, I felt myself longing for Salt Creek and their mouth-watering food at a reasonable price. I don’t even think they have fresh young asparagus, per se.

The Steelhead Diner in Pike Place Market was one of my favorite moments of Seattle life. I remember the company more than the food, but the crab cakes were amazing! The poutine (fries with gravy and cheese) everyone raves about was, um, bland. But the atmosphere was awesome. Where else do you get to eat while a man a floor below plays a saw? I’ve neglected to mention the breakfast in bed we had everyday. It wasn’t spectacular food, but hello? It’s breakfast in bed!

 

On our last day, just hours before our plane would take off, we stumbled into Ruth’s Chris for a farewell lunch. HOLY MOLY (I’m trying to avoid expletives). We ordered their hamburger and all I could say to the waiter when he asked was “this was ridiculously delicious”. What an awesome way to finish. The sad news is I couldn’t finish my half of the burger. Don’t fret, Jeff took care it.

Poetry Corner

Those Blue Pants


By: Rebecca Fisher

2002



He wears blue pants.

He wears them all of the time.

The same blue pants all of the time.

They are not the same blue as when he first bought them, as he has worn them so much.

Worn more than washed.


I can see where he keeps his few belongings in the back.

There is a line, worn and white around the edge.

The hems are worn too, frayed along the edge,

Lightly scraping the ground with each step.

At least two years old.


Is it more than just the pants?

He’s the same every day.

Washed more than I wear him,

A faded but similar color as when I found him.

A bit worn on some days.

Lightly dragging his feet with each step.


I think I’d be fine if he would just buy a new pair of pants.

Grey or black would be good.

Then he could change on the third day of each week and wash on the sixth.

That might help.


Use less soap and hang dry, I say.

Let’s go shop, I say.

Please, I say.

I’ll buy, I say.

I think I say too much.


I think he has a plan for the pants.

I think he does not want me to know the plan.

He likes that I don’t know the plan.

He won’t hear me nag or rag on his pants.

He likes them.

He says they fit well and make him calm.


I think of the pants on fire.

I think of them lost for good.

I think of him without those pants.


Fine, I say.

Keep the damn things, I say.

Wear them all you want, I say.

I won’t rag or nag.

But I will buy new pants,

And make you feel bad when you don’t wear them.