Living with Roommates
Turn On The Lights
Well, the “throw some holiday lights in a mason jar” thing finally made it to Real Simple. Saw it while I was scanning this month’s RS in the bath and almost dropped the magazine in the water. Really, Real Simple? It took ya this long? Did one of your writers finally see it on Pinterest or something?
I decided not to be outdone by Real Simple. After my bath I marched into the kitchen, dumped all the quinoa out of the prettiest jar in the pantry, and stuffed in some blue and white LED snowflake lights that we had lying about. I’m undecided about the outcome, but glad that I got it out of my system.
A few things that came to mind after I was done (AKA five minutes later):
- You actually need a pretty big jar with a wide mouth to stuff all those lights in there. Like not “drinking a trendy cocktail out of a mason jar-sized mason jar” but “this is going to be full of beans and heavy as hell when I lug it back from the co-op -sized mason jar.” This makes sense, but I had not thought of scale when I saw the project on others’ blogs.
- White cords with white lights are key. Green cords look a bit messy to me in broad daylight. I suppose it comes down to taste.
- Lights that are battery charged make the most sense for stuffing in there, but if you use wall plug in lights, just cut a hole in the top of the lid. If you’re using a Ball mason jar, you can remove the top circular part of the lid for the same look.
- Safety is key. I’m paranoid about the heat of the lights melting the whole shebang, causing a fire or exploding the jar, leaving me permanently blinded (even though I think Mythbusters proved that was not quite possible) so I think LED lights are the way to go. Or you could just use them because they save energy.
They’re cute I guess.
My LA Thanksgiving in Food
I used to have a food blog. It was solely dedicated to me eating out and making the occasional ugly but delicious meal. Even though I shut it down about a year and a half ago (I had taken too many embarrassing photos with food. It had to be stopped), sometimes people still search for “Tracy Eats SF.” This post is for you, loyal reader, since I don’t post about food much anymore.
Breakfast in my grandma’s house in LA usually means one thing: Bun Xiao AKA her special beer batter crepes with bean sprouts, veggies, pork and shrimp. Even though I am usually stressed out every time I go see my family, which is rarely, my grandma’s crepes make it worth it.
I was totally stuffed with one crepe, but my grandma decided to make me another. When I wouldn’t eat it, she rolled up the innards into a spring roll. Maybe she thought she could trick me?
It worked. I was curious, and ate a bit more. Grandmas are sneaky like that.
In the afternoon my aunt took me to her friend’s house for a Thanksgiving lunch. Everything was delicious and TOO DAMN PERFECT. It took until about the third course that all shame fell out the window and I started taking covert photos of my food. My aunt’s friend had just gotten back from Argentina, so the theme of the meal was Argentinian. I can get behind that! Here is an empanada that I dirtied with chimichurri. Apparently you’re not supposed to use it as a dip. I doubt anybody actually follows that rule.
Hello Argentinian ribs! Hello Argentinian sausage!
Eaten with mango salsa and lotsa Malbec. Bliss.
And afterwards, an invigorating walk in the hills, followed by cappuccino, limoncello and pie. Some kinda heaven.
About an hour later I made it back to grandma’s house in time for our usual 30+ Thanksgiving dinner, complete with ham, turkey, prime rib, seafood, and all manner of Chinese food. I don’t know how, but I didn’t overdo it this year.
Strings of Fate
One badge of the weary Southeast Asian traveller is the armful of handmade bracelets. Along the way I’ve picked up a few, from friends and little girls, and monks and saleswomen. In Cambodia I received two red string bracelets. One from Angkor Wat, where part of the ceremony was a mesmerizing (hypnotizing?) chanted blessing.
The other was a flimsier bracelet which I received in the Killing Cave in Battambang (which I guess I still need to write about…), while surrounded by hundreds of skulls. It’s been four months since the monk tied the red string around my wrist. Â I was told that I had to wear it until it fell off naturally. Today at the gym it got caught on the elliptical and snapped off.
The timing could not be more perfect. Good luck is on its way…
The Way We Were
I’m hanging out in Los Angeles for the Thanksgiving holiday and while there’s a dizzying amount of clutter and chaos, I’m trying to focus on the gems. Today I stumbled across this classic photo of my parents, which was hidden amongst my pile of old comic books. LOOK AT THAT HAIR!
