I am still getting familiar with the rules of the game. And that game is Toronto. And those rules make no sense to me.
Today I messed up. As the train pulled up and the doors open I just stood there looking for an opening as people scrambled out. This older lady saw me looking confused and said “you have to wait on the side until people get out”
Ohhhhh. I get it now. People get out THEN others get on. You see, we don’t have a subway in Sacramento but we do have an above ground train and our entering/exit system is different. When the doors open people enter on their right side while others exit on their right side. People get on and off at the same time. And of course if no one is getting on or off then more than one person can exit at the same time.
Then again we are not as populated as Toronto, not as many people rely on the train, and we have more than enough train cars.
I recently discovered a few applications for the iPhone that are perfect for helping me avoid studying for finals. I have hundreds of pictures saved on my phone and looking for a new life. The PS Mobile (Photoshop mobile) application lets me add color and effects to a picture like dis….
Wouldn’t this be the perfect obituary picture? Shalome: known by few, loved by even fewer.
There is also a PhotoFunia application that allows you to put a picture inside a picture. I did this for The Grumpy Owl last night when I should have been in bed sleeping. If you click the link on his name you can see which picture I used. It was the best one. The rest are janky yet I can manage to enjoy a few of them in my own sad way.
I don’t know Celsius. In fact, just now I had to spell check Celsius because I tend to throw in a ‘c’ where the first ’s’ is located. Not to say I am an expert on Fahrenheit. I do know this much: anything above 90F is hot and anything below 50F is cold. The in between temperatures require a picture from the local meteorologist.
But Celsius and Canada weather is much more complicated. It always looks cold and the low numbers make me think it’s cold but on days like today it is muggy as hell. I ended up wearing a thick jacket and sweating my ass off.
On the subway ride home my classmate noticed me sweating (at least sweating more than a Mexican normally sweats) and stated “This is thin sweater weather, didn’t you watch the news?”. Yes, I did. But they were speaking mumbo jumbo to me. We came up with a plan.
The Celsius Chart
This is not the final project of course, I will add stickers and pictures of suns and clouds later. This is just to give you an idea of where I am headed with this madness.
This chart will tell me what I am in for and what to wear. I think it’s cute and shall provide me with many days of comfort.
It is silly when I say “I am cold and not ready for winter” and someone says “Technically it is Fall”. No it isn’t, not here. The seasons on the calender were created for cities with four seasons. Normal cities. Toronto has three seasons: Muggy Spring, Winter, and Winter part 2.
Muggy Spring:
This is from May until the end of August. I wear sandals, sundresses, bright colors and light sweaters. It is warm enough to sit on a patio and if you are lucky sunbathe. But it is still not hot enough to swim. I need it to be at least 99F (37.2 Celsius). The good this about “Toronto Summer” is that I never have to worry about getting a heat stroke and unless you have sensitive baby skin you won’t get a sun burn.The bad thing is if I don’t spend at least two weeks back home every year I will become an ugly pasty brown and as I like to say “I was born to be golden”.
Winter number 1:
This is from the beginning of September-end of October and End of March-End of April. This is rain and cold but not blizzard weather. You can wear regular boots and even Converse sometimes. From Sept-Nov it is cold, windy, and rainy but the snow hasn’t arrived. In March-May the snow on the ground is melting so you may slip. It is also dirty and muddy. I wear Uggs during this time cuz I think they are the most comfortable shoes ever!!! Plus my feet aren’t sweating. You will also need a jacket.
Winter part 2:
This is hell on earth. This last from November til March and it is as if snow was at war with people.Have you ever seen that movie Jack Frost? Not the wholesome family movie but the killer snowman Jack Frost. If you haven’t here is the trailer.
Last year I learned that if you want to look cute in a picture say the word “prune” as you smile.
Yesterday I learned that my photographic smile is scary. I have tried to ‘prune’ it up but I end up looking like I kissed a vacuum. It is a nice distraction from my widening waistline. Not that I worry about weight, if I did I would create a diet that didn’t involve bacon and booze. I just find it odd that every year my shirts and pants keep shrinking.
Anyways, back to my face.
I was told I have a very lovely natural face. I just have a case of the crazies once a camera is thrown in front of my face. (Once, while visiting Glasgow with some friends, a waiter at the Indian food place remembered me from a year back and Amanda said “It must be Shalome’s crazyface”. The waiter said “Yes, she DOES have a memorable face”) . Memorable = crazy!
I remember asking a girl once how she looks so cute in every picture she takes and she said “practice in a mirror”. I have. Often. I look very sane when I am alone. Then I go outside and catch a reflection of myself in a car window and here comes the crazy.
I can either look normal and bored or Carol Channing bat shit crazy excited! There is no in between. So I guess I have to decide what’s better, being subtle just in case a camera is around and I don’t want evidence of my creepy side or just letting it all hang out?
I have recently become engaged in an adult relationship and I am stoked. I am also not quite prepared. As a little Shalome I have always wanted to get married, have a family, and a cute little house somewhere quiet.
Before any of this happens I knew I needed to gain a mate, get a job, and most of all think of others.
I am currently in a very Shalome-centric world where my needs are the most important and any relationship I have I am easy to brush off if it doesn’t fit. Compromise has been difficult. I spent many years in many toxic relationships which turned me into a bitter hag. I have built up this me against the world persona (thanks Tupac).
But now that has all changed. Not only am I allowing another person into my world I also have to be open to any crazies and jerk offs he has in his life. I have to accept this isn’t another episode of the Littlest Hobo, Davy and I won’t be hopping on the next train outta here once our adventure is done.
This is a good thing right? You can’t have change unless you are willing to give it as well. I guess I am now an adult.
Now that it is freezing cold out it’s that time of year for soups and stews. I blame the 10 lbs I gained last year on my love of stew.But I don’t care anymore, I have a companion that enjoys my curves and I have been buying bigger sweaters to hide my imperfections while in public.
Anyway my first soup of the year is GUMBO!!!
This is a fun soup to make. First you make the stock
Then you make the roux…
Then you add stuff and then you let it cook.
Making gumbo makes me soooooo happy. I have had a complicated few weeks full of craziness. You see, I have this boyfriend kinda guy and he seems to think that my insane rants are not as adorable as I do. I think I am hilarious, he thinks I am scary at times. When I am feeling misunderstood I tend to eat my feelings. That’s where the gumbo comes in. Being in your pajamas at 3pm isn’t so sad when you have a delicious bowl of gumbo to keep you company.
I began tutoring last week and I learned something, I am an idiot.
Some things I just know but I don’t know how I know. For example, Mr. S, my student, wrote the line “Communicating is good advice for a every person.” I could not explain why he did not need the ‘a’ in that sentence. He added a in many non a needing places. He was also big on commas. I knew how to explain the use of commas but not a’s. I also have no clue what a preposition is.
It becomes sad when the person you tutor needs assistance and you are busy looking in a dictionary and staring at the ceiling biting your nails. This is why I can never become a teacher, politician, or anyone else that must explain things. I know what I know but don’t ask me how.
Even at parties when a simple political view is being discussed I run away. I am liberal in the way that I think taxes are good because I think most people are like me and would spent their money on purses rather than give it to the city to fund after school programs or fix streets. I can’t/won’t argue this because it is just my personal opinion.
I studied Sociology for lord knows how many years yet if you asked me to explain it I would either ramble on about nothing for an hour or stare at you like a lost child.
I am not sure why or how but some things are just in my brain, and if you are lucky they will stay in there.
So I am sitting there with my gigantic backpack on my way home from a hard day of learning when two elderly women get in the train. Like usual, I give up my seat and the older of the two take it and thank me. No problem. The young lady sitting next to me was not so generous with her seat. Of course with the peering eyes of the second older lady, myself, and a gentleman next to me she eventually gave up her seat but not without a huff and grunt. At the next stop an older lady got on with a walker. And as she held on to her walker and a pole for dear life, being rocked like a rag doll, young folks are happily seated playing with their gadgets and reading the locals news rags. Like the obnoxious American I am, I walk over to her and suggest it would be kind if one of these young people offer there seat to someone with a walker.
I am not a goody girl scout or nothin, I just think this is common courtesy. If someone is in some way disabled (blind, broken leg, etc) or carrying a child (either in arms or in belly) I offer the same courtesy. I think it is just a nice thing to do. When has something so simple become such an inconvenience?
Today in class:
We are discussing diversity and culture. Today we had to get into groups and mention one thing about any religion. One simple thing, that’s it. I suggested Catholics and confession. I think it is good for people to learn that different religions/cultures/etc have different values/morals/ethics/etc. I do think it is a bit sad that at a college level you need a class to tell you this. I learned this lesson as a kid. I once said I liked k.d. lang’s music but thought she was odd for “kissing” girls. My oldest brother smacked me on the back of my head and told me who she kissed was none of my business. Lesson learned.
Anyways my partner decided instead of talking about Catholics and such she would discuss how Judaism is the mother of all religions and how they all follow the principles of Jesus Christ as our savior. GREAT!!!! At this point I realize our group just failed it’s mission and I must distance myself from this mad man-lady. I simply state that she made a bold statement that not everyone might believe. Fair enough. But then she states that Jesus Christ IS our savior, and asks if I can at least acknowledge that. I told her I would do no such thing because my personal beliefs do not matter, the point being not everyone will believe Jesus is our savior. Again, fair play. Finally she asks me how I can argue with historical facts. HISTORICAL FACTS! (Yes, she repeated that twice emphasizing the words the second time just in case English is my second language and I do not understand the importance of the words historical and facts, both meaning ‘I am right and you can not argue with me’).
Anyway, this discussion lasted much longer than it should have and maybe I was in the wrong for spending 15 minutes arguing with a lady in her 60’s in front of 80 people. Perhaps I should have respected that she likes making bold statements, maybe that’s part of her culture. Maybe there is a lesson we both should learn.
I love pickles. A lot. Here is a little secret I rarely share. Not too long ago, while hanging out with Ryan, your dear friend Shalome ate a whole jar of pickles. To herself. In one night. A whole jar.
I love pickles so much I decided to make my own. There is never enough pickle spices in a jar for my taste.
The pickle preserving process is much easier than I imagined. There is no cooking prior to jarring. Just boil the liquids and add them to all the greatness in the jars. I used an online video instead of my handy book of preserving so I was nervous. One problem I faced was getting the jars to properly seal. After a long steaming process they closed but I am still a bit wary. Lets wait till it’s test time.
I ended up with six jars of these things, a few I will surely pawn off on Amie. So far I am proud of all my jarring/canning/preserving success.
