Mushroom Steak and Veggies (damn diet)

Hi Everybody,
There is nothing more divine than travelling! After hitchhiking all over Honduras, and facing near death in a swollen river, and a million other stories, I am home. My computer, my bed, and food, real food, is mine again. I ate at the Greenhouse, the one with with waiter that has a crush on me. He gives me sideways glances and always brings me wine...depending on what I am eating, he knows what to bring. Tonight, along with my reflections on the Honduran diet- tortillas, beans, rice, bananas, and coffee, sans cream and sugar; and of course, thoughts of Stefano, I thought about a very special Thanksgiving dinner. Certainly the most memorable in this lifetime, thus far...
I was in college. I was broke. It was Thansgiving. I had nowhere to go. A dear friend called to wish me an ill-received "Happy Thanksgiving." "What are you doing today?" she asked. "Uhmmmm... well was thinking about going to this restaurant today, but I'm broke. " She asks the name of the restaurant, hangs up and calls me back. "You're all set, go eat!" she says." She had called the restaurant and provided her credit card number and paid for my dinner. There is nothing better in this world than filling a person's stomach...it is the most basic of human necessities. Which is why I bought my friend, a Peace Corps volunteer, and my dearest college friend, every meal during my trip. She gave me so much more. The experience of Honduras...and hitchhiking all over the country...and realizing how difficult it is to live on $30 a month that the Peace Corps allots her.
In all, it was an unfair trade, with me being the beneficiary.
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff

Chow Mein, Rice and Beer

Hi Everybody,
That's right...pasta and rice and beer together! As far as I am concerned, I checked out for vacation yesterday...See you on the 24th!
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff

Pork and Potatoes

Hi Everybody,
Is it possible that people eat more when they are happy? I thought people were supposed to eat when they were depressed. In any case, any intention to diet went out the window with a few little words. You see, after dragging myself through yesterday with a pessimistic cloud over my head, I awoke to the sweet nothings a particular hot Italiano had instant messaged. Now I don't know if you know this, but the sweet nothings of an Italian hunk are much more sexier than any other sweet nothings. What he said isn't as important as the butterflies that have taken up a seemingly permanent residence in my belly.
So, today, I marvel at the power of words. Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence" put it very well..."words like violence." Words can be violent. They can also be seductive, or enchanting, or frightening. I guess that is why I like words so much...they are capable of inciting every human emotion possible. They are the ultimate acrobats, chameleons, and shape shifters. Words can hurt, and words can heal. Words can say so much, as can their absence. They can blind and enlighten. I guess that what I am saying, is that I have a deep reverence for words.
A couple of weeks ago, I drank and e-mailed. My words didn't come out right...or perhaps, I should say, the wine gave me the courage to say words I otherwise would not have. Since then, I swore to stop drinking and e-mailing. I've made good on my promise, but I feel a bit like Bukowski...his best writing was done drunk. I feel stupid even as I sit here in my flourescent-lit office writing this...It lacks passion...it it pointless...and I hate this blog...And what the hell does this have to do with butterflies?
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff

Sushi, Wine, and Deceptions

Hi Everybody,
Every piece melted in my mouth, every sip made my mouth water. Every little, buttery soybean was cherished by my tongue, demolished by my teeth...I ordered one last piece of sushi, Unagi, my favorite! I savored every bite, all three! As I swallowed the last one, a tiny bone lodged in my throat. And I realized at that moment that life is full of deceptions. As I like to say, "Life is not always puppies, rainbows, and cotton candy." There will always exist those deceptions in life that are inevitable...the unexpected death of a close friend, the inability to conceive, in spite of your best intentions, getting fired, finding out your boyfriend gave you gonorrhea or worse still, finding out the love of your life rolled around in the hay with your best friend...no siree, life is not always puppies, rainbows, and cotton candy.
Always the eternally struggling optimist, I start to wonder about the future...In particular, my new fascination, my Italian Stallion. Is he hung like a horse? Doubt it. Does he chew with his mouth open, probably. Does he stare at beautiful women in front of his significant other? Most likely. Am I just infatuated? Absolutely...There is no harsher deception than an infatuation gone bad...besides, of course, the image of your best friend and your boyfriend macking down. I try not to expect too much from a perfect stranger, but it's hard when you're convinced he's the one. And yet, I realized today how little I know about him. For example, right or left-handed?...does he like his steak well-done or medium-rare?...what size shoe?...near or far sighted?...prefers rain or shine?...hot or cold?...lake or ocean?...chicken or veal?...favorite song in the whole world?...what fixation, peculiarity, or idiosyncracy don't I know about?...favorite place in the whole world?...drama or comedy?...poems or sagas?...Ginger or Mary Ann?...mountains or deserts?...phobias? Does it even matter? No, because in the end, I know I am setting myself up for another exercise in deception, anyway.
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff

BBQ Chicken

Hi Everybody,
Day two of this sobriety project. I wavered today...oh, I came damn close, but I prevailed. There is a stipulation which states that if I eat sushi I am allowed a glass of wine. I almost had sushi, just for the wine. But I decided against it, I mean, what? Am I going to eat sushi every night because I want wine every night? Impossible, too expensive. So I forewent the wine for a new dining experience...a brand new place I'd never been to. I pass it everyday, but I've never been in, partially because it has no windows...I am always suspicious of restaurants without windows. But I was feeling adventurous and wanted to do something different. I walked in and did something which I'd never done in my life. I saw five waiters standing around (I hate overstaffed restaurants) in their nice uniforms; white linens draped the tables; wine glasses sparkled at every setting...I knew I was not dressed for this place. I knew it would be exorbitant...I did some quick thinking and asked to see a menu before sitting down. I studied it as If I were to be tested on it later, only looking at the prices out of my peripheral vision; I asked for recommendations; I praised them on their fine extensive menu. And then I told a big fat lie..."This menu looks wonderful, I am scoping out restaurants for someone whom I would like to impress. I'll be back,"I fibbed.
Now, I've worked fine dining, I have no problem going into a an expensive restaurant, so why did I walk out?
I had plenty of time to ponder this while my BBQ chicken baked at 375 degrees in my oven at home. It was because I was alone. Plain and simply, because I was alone and people don't go out alone and drop $65.00 for dinner... alone. The 21st century gal who prides herself on her brazen independence, what the hell happened to her? Since when do I care about going into a restaurant alone, even a nice one? And now, as the ants race toward my chicken bones, quickly-hardening bbq sauce, and random pieces of freezer-burned veggies, I wonder if I have changed. With my very last 2o-something birthday looming, I realize that I am not who I used to be...but we all change, right? Or do we?
My good friend began a blog today. She is married with a gorgeous child. She lives by the ocean and has a husband who washes the dishes. Before her on-the-surface perfect life, she was a nymphomaniac. Now that she's married, she is bored to tears with the inevitably monotonous and predictably routine state of her life. As a way to vent , she created a blog as a tribute to her olden, crazy and wild nymphomanic ways. It is quite good, so far...I anticipate she will revisit her past and long for the way she was...at times; after all, no one arrives at his or her thirties without regrets of past misadventures. Has she changed? No, not really. She just got smarter. Will I return to the nice restaurant and have lobster alone? You bet your sweet ass. I guess what it all comes down to is that people don't change, they just get haircuts.
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff

Orange Juice and Comtrex

Hi Everybody,
As Murphy's Law would dictate, I am coming down with a cold...four days before my well-deserved vacation. For all it's worth, dinner is a huge glass of orange juice...and Comtrex, the blue one, not the yellow. And while it's not a cure, it sure helps. My self-imposed sobriety has been easy; it has only been 24 hours, but that's about as long I usually go. I guess that's one good thing about being sick. It's not hard to maintain sobriety.
Today marked five years since the day the US changed. I have a theory. Like Rome, the American Empire will also fall. But unlike the fall of Rome, the US has one single event that we can point to in order to explain a thousand years hence why the American Empire fell. We are a strong country, and we could have survived the attacks. But our reaction to the attacks, our outright blind and misdirected rage, led to a premature desire to strike anything with a turban. The resulting policies of the attack, not the attack itself, are leading us to the fall of our great nation. We have picked a fight with the wrong bully and we are destined to pay for that. The Muslim world is a strong one, with deepseated values that are stronger than our capitalistic petty ones. I'm not saying that what happened on 9/11 was deserved; but neither was our reaction to it. We have isolated ourselves and a country is only as strong as its relationships with other countries.
God I miss the days when the worst thing that happened was an illicit blowjob...no one died for that.
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff

Supermarket Rotisserie Chicken

Hi Everybody,
Today, I fell in love...to the extent one can do so over the internet. He is just wonderful. Says the most beautiful things...uses the word 'lovely,' respects his momma. And I am a big fat fake. Why do we lie? Why do we make ourselves out to be better than we are? More specifially, why do women always lie about how many sexual partners we've had? Why? If it's 15, we say four...If it's 25, we say six...If we've lost count, we say three. It is easy to do when the person is across the Atlantic and knows nothing of your past...a bit harder when the person grew up on your block. Is it wrong? Does it really matter what you did in the past? So I ask myself, what if he can't remember all the women he's slept with? I don't care, but then again, he is a man...a good-looking, single, Gemini. But what if the tables were turned? What if I couldn't remember all my partners? How would he feel? I doubt he would say the things he says while under the impression that I've been with three men. And how do I convince him? He is due to visit in two months...I will have to get back to you on that one.
But for now, the meatless remains of half an oversalted rotisserie chicken stare back at me. The customary wine has been omitted due to a sobriety pledge with an alcoholic cohort friend of mine; a good thing since I'm trying to get rid of the my booze belly. My Italian soon-to-be lover will be here in two months, I need to lose weight...enough to at least be able to pass off the last picture I sent him as a recent one. Never mind it was a picture from college. At last count...it was something unattainable, like 30 pounds or so. A big fat liar. At best, I could lose 20...but even then, I'm no size 7. Sigh...lies, all lies...At least my profile warned: "A few extra pounds" ...sure, if you consider 30 pounds "a few." I am leaving for Honduras this week for 10 days...perhaps I can pick up an intestinal parasite...
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff