The nerve!

My boss did the most horrible thing last week.
He booked a night for Justin and me, for free, at a bed & breakfast in Half Moon Bay.
Can you think of a more horrible thing for a boss to do? The nerve!

The weather was to be about 70-75 F and the bed & breakfast was said to deliver breakfast to your room. Fresh fruit, coffee, a banana orange smoothie, champagne (if you wish), a warm croissant and a “cheese delight” blintz.

It just keeps getting worse.

And they’ll bring you a cheese, cracker and fruit tray any time you want! Ugh!


The reason he booked us a room was so I could do a write up for our e-newsletter as we’re holding a contest for our customers. Whoever brings in a new customer is eligible. Bring in a new customer and that new customer will be entered to win a free one night stay for four, so two rooms total, at the bed & breakfast that they’re able to use at their leisure.

So, what I’m really saying is: you should move to California so I can introduce you to our store. That way you can win the contest and we can all go back to the B&B for free!

We had a fun little get away at the B&B. It’s right down town next to all the quirky shops, restaurants and coffee shops. We walked to Pasta Moon for dinner, it was about a 2 minute walk, where I chose the diver scallop spaghetti (five large scallops, melted green garlic, chives, grapefruit zest, fennel pollen, toasted pistachios) from the menu, while Justin enjoyed linguine manila clams (manila clams, pancetta, leeks, garlic, red pepper flakes, clam broth, Italian parsley). We later retired to the bar for a night cap where we discovered one of the crew was someone we knew.

“What? How,” you ask. “California is big and you guys stay in your apartment all the time!”

It’s true. We saw someone we knew who we didn’t know would be there. We were pretty excited about randomly choosing a place for dinner and running into someone we knew. We thought we were pretty cool at that point. Who wouldn’t want to know us?!

Justin nearly passed out in the hot tub after we got back to the B&B. He’d had a hard week and was exhausted. And the night cap didn’t help. I thought he was joking, but when he didn’t open his eyes for a good minute, I helped him out and tucked him in bed.
Breakfast was delivered, as promised, in the morning. It came complete with champagne and was free of bell peppers (I’m allergic). Then we walked through town, drove to the Half Moon Bay Brewery for lunch outside where my scalp got sunburned (but I’d do it again in a heart beat – the weather was perfect!) and then we headed home.
Once we were home we did what we always do on the weekend. Popped in Sopranos, ate dinner and sat on the couch until it was time for bed.

Now, I need to pull my head out of the weekend fog and start working on the B&B article for work. The whole reason we went in the first place. The boss…what a guy!

What I did last night...because I know you're all waiting with bated breath...

Last night I got home and parked in the area close to building so I would have a reason to go outside again…the intention was for me to change my clothes and go to the gym. I knew it’d be hard for me to do so after getting in the house.

Instead, when I went inside, I grabbed a bag of chips, stood in front of the heater, ate the chips and said out loud to myself, “Just go to the gym. But I don’t want to go to the gym. If you go to the gym you can have mac n’ cheese when you come home. Just go to the gym. I don’t want to go to the gym.”

Finally I changed and went to the gym.

When I got home I did the blasted dishes.

For dinner I reheated the last turkey patty and made another Winter White Burger…a spin at the gym always makes me feel better and less lazy so I was able to talk myself out of making and eating an entire box of mac n’ cheese.

Then I flopped on the couch, watched “Modern Family,” ate my turkey burger and then stared at the wall for a little bit. I told you that would happen.

Then I went in the kitchen to see if I could find a snack. I found the chocolate frosting and grabbed a spoon.

Then I flipped through the channels and discovered that “Steel Magnolias” was on Oxygen. It was half over, but I watched it anyway. I also cried, like I always do. It’s funny…I’ve watched this movie at least once a year since I was 14, when I first watched it at my friend Heather’s house, and every time I watch it I pick up on something new. I also feel more for M’Lynn even though I’m not a mom.

I also laughed like I always do, especially when Ouiser turned around after being presented as a punching bag for M’Lynn and yelled at Clariee, “You are a pig from hell!” I am not ashamed to admit I thought Ouiser was “Weezer” until just now when I looked it up out of curiosity. Her name is Louisa, or “Ouiser,” apparently. I didn’t grow up in the South, y’all.

When the last half of the movie was over I watched the first half because the movie aired back to back. Convenient, if I do say so myself

Then I thought about this as blog fodder, brushed & flushed (that’s for you, Lins) and got in bed to wait for my Justin to call.

Oh movies at Heather’s. It’s what filled my weekends as a tween. We watched a lot of movies at her house, on the floral couch, wrapped in blankets…when we weren’t eating turkey bagels with lots of pickles, painting our finger nails, naming the new kittens, prank calling boys or putting together different concoctions of food and herbs for in-home facials using ‘recipes’ from American Girl or Seventeen.

Heather, when come visit, make sure you bring “Little Women” and all the other movies I’m sure your mom still has in the basement. You’ll need to bring a VHS player, too :)

That was a mean trick to play, brain.

Justin is working out of town for a few days this week. I know he must have told me it would be more than one day, but in the week that passed from the time he told to the day he actually left, my mind let me believe he’d be back today. That was a mean trick to play, brain.

Justin will be gone for three days. Not one day.

Now…we’ve spent plenty of time apart before. He used to be gone all the time when we lived in Washington. He’d be gone for big chunks of time, too. However…since we moved to California he hasn’t been gone that much, and since he was the only other soul I knew in the San Jose area, I’ve come to rely on him to be everything from my best girl friend to my best guy friend, from my husband to my happy hour pal and from my errand partner to my silent couch potato buddy.

I’ve actually been the one gallivanting off to other states for surgeries, funerals and the like. Neither activity falls under the exciting trip/gallivanting category, but I wanted to use the word. It’s a word I remember my mom using a lot during talks she’d have with the three of us about not calling to let them know where we were. Not that we did that a lot, but I definitely associate the word “gallivanting” with mom lectures :)

But I digress…

I don’t like when Justin is gone for a few days because:

• My coffee doesn’t taste right (Justin puts it in my to go mug in the mornings with the right amount of creamer. Try as I might, I can’t duplicate it).
• My toothbrush looked lonely as the only one in the holder.
• I don’t have anyone to scare while they’re in the shower (I like to flicker the lights…though I’m sure he expects it now and it doesn’t startle him as much).
• I have to put an extra blanket on the bed (Justin is a heater in human form).
• I don’t get a goodbye hug/kiss in the morning or a welcome home hug/kiss at night.
• All the sudden I feel like I can’t go anywhere or do something by myself. Even something as simple as go grocery shopping. I don’t know why. I used to do things by myself all the time. I’ve come to discover that even mundane, menial tasks, like picking up dry cleaning or getting my beans ground at Starbucks, are more exciting when we’re together. And because California is full of dark, scary streets and questionable characters. Don’t believe me? This is why you won’t catch me in Oakland. Oh, and this, too.
• I start thinking about earthquakes and how, just because I’m alone, one is likely to strike any second.
• And because of that I panic and ask Justin to text me his hotel information just in case the earthquake strikes. And it probably will any second.
• I miss the smell of him getting ready in the morning, from his Truefitt & Hill 1805 shaving cream (a brand I got him while in London; it’s a bit of a splurge, but it’s worth it. The tubs last forever. And I like the smell), to his shampoo, to the smell of the steam from the iron as it works away the wrinkles on a clean dress shirt, to the scent of his cologne.
• Guitar Hero is much more exciting when two people play.
• Most of all, I don’t like the weird, lonely feeling I get in my tummy after we’ve been apart for more than 24 hours. I used to get that when we dated, too.

On the other hand…

• I can eat asparagus, artichokes, squash and Brussels sprouts to my heart’s content (yes, I like Brussels sprouts and, yes, there is an s at the end of Brussels. You should give them a second chance using this recipe. Or try them sautéed with bacon/pancetta. Bacon makes everything better.).
• I can watch "Twilight" and "New Moon" movies all night long if I want to.
• There are fewer dishes (hallelujah).
• I don’t have to listen to the stupid robot thing on Justin’s game (Borderlands??) yell out, “I’m over here!” and “Check me out, I’m dancin’, I’m dancin’!”

That’s really all the “on the other hand” things I can think of. None of which help build a good case for an argument about why it’s good to spend time apart. Maybe I’ll think of more as I sit tonight (with my artichoke) at home and stare at the wall, waiting for his phone call. I probably won't come up with any more.

Hurry home, Justin! I miss you!

Team Thompson Cooks

I subscribe to a few foodie magazines: Every Day with Rachael Ray, Martha Stewart's Everyday Food and Sunset...I've limited myself to three, well two and a half...I count Sunset as the half, because I like to keep the magazine around for ages, no matter if I've torn out all the recipes I want to try -- even if I've torn out so many that I'm left with only a front and back cover! I get the other, more hardcore, foodie publications, such as Bon Appetit, as bonuses at work. I rip those, too, to shreds.

Special thanks goes out to my MIL Karen for renewing my subscriptions for my birthday!

I tear out the recipes and then tape them in different spiral notebooks. The notebooks are then filed, according to different categories (main course, appetizer, drinks, party themes, desserts, etc.) in a fun filing box I got at Target last year while unemployed and living in an RV.

Slowly but surely we're making our way through the spirals. A few weeks ago we finally made Rachael Ray's Winter White Burger when I magically found all the necessary ingredients had made it to my kitchen. Unless you're one of my adult family members who have regular get-togethers where one of the entertaining staples is jalapeno jelly, cream cheese and crackers, jalapeno jelly isn't something you usually keep around. However, knowing it was featured in one of my spiral recipes, I picked some up at the store a few months back.

Justin and I LOVED this recipe. We loved it so much that I have "pear" written on the back of my left hand so I remember to pick one up before I head home tonight because we're having them again! I recommend you try them out, too!

Winter White Burger
From Every Day with Rachael Ray

Ingredients:

• 2 pounds ground turkey breast
• 4 scallions, white parts only, finely chopped
• 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
• Grated peel and juice of 1 lemon
• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
• 1 ripe Bartlett pear, cut lengthwise into 8 slices
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil (EVOO)
• 2 cups shredded sharp white cheddar cheese (I used an Irish cheddar from Kerrygold)
  
• 4 tablespoons hot pepper jelly or jalapeño jelly
• 4 extra-large English muffins, split and toasted

Directions:

1. In a medium bowl, combine the turkey, scallions, mustard, lemon peel and thyme; season with salt and pepper. Shape into four 3/4-inch-thick patties.

2. In a small nonstick skillet, add the pear slices, wine, lemon juice and enough water to just cover the pear. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer until the pear is softened, about 10 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the pear slices to a plate.

3. In a large nonstick skillet, heat the EVOO, 1 turn of the pan, over medium heat. Add the turkey patties and cook, turning once, for 12 minutes. Top with the cheese and pear slices, tent the pan with foil and cook until the cheese is melted, 2 minutes.

4. Spread 1 tablespoon hot pepper jelly on each English muffin bottom; top with a patty and an English muffin top.

Always a good reminder

I get daily verses texted to me from the Christian station in Seattle. They're always a nice way to start the day. Sometimes, based on the verse I receive, it seems like the radio station knew what was going on in my life and the verse was selected that very verse just for me! Here are two I received last week that I feel are always good reminders:

The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles. Psalm 34:17

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. Psalm 18:2.

We're still here!

Have no fear, we’re still here! March has been a wacky month for the both of us…meetings after work, work in the middle of the night, Wednesday night church groups and visitors in town!

We’ve finally started going to a young couple group at church. It’s called O.A.G. for short, but for the life of me I can’t remember what the O stands for…so for now, we’ll call it the OOOOmazing Adult Group.

Based on past experience, Wednesdays for Team Thompson have always been unpredictable, but after a good chat we decided going to this group would be important for our personal growth and growth as a couple in Christ so we’ve made the commitment to make sure we attend on Wednesdays.

We’ve gone for about three weeks now, tonight being our fourth time at O.A.G. We’re in the middle of a video/book study about Love & Respect by Dr. Emerson E. Eggerichs – it’s a good lesson about male/female communication, meeting each other’s needs for love and respect and overall what constitutes a generally happy & healthy marriage.

We're also making a few friends in the group and we're excited about that!

We did take a trip down the coast earlier this month. We’ve both heard great things about Carmel since moving here so decided to check it out.

With a picnic, sunscreen, flip flops and hiking shoes in hand, we arrived in Carmel around 10:30 a.m. and watched as people filed in behind us at the beach. The weather was amazing and we enjoyed a good break away from our apartment, dishes and the Xbox (right, hun?!).

More soon!

A tooth called Misery

Monday marked the end of an epic journey years in the making. It is the journey of a tooth; a tooth I have named Misery. Misery's tale is one of hope and despair, triumph and defeat, dentists and endodontists.

Misery's story starts sometime in 2008. After years (about 5) of neglecting to go to the dentist, I was convinced by my soon-to-be wife that a routine cleaning and check-up was necessary. I began making excuses, but as usual Christine won in the end. Christine had been going to a dentist in Seattle, and she set me up with an appointment. Mr. Dentist seemed like a nice enough old chap, but apparently he was also a quack. After my routine cleaning, he decided that although I did not have a cavity, I had one "coming in" and so he wanted to do a "preemptive" filling.

Turns out this is dentist talk for "you don't have anything wrong with you but I've got bills to pay kid."

So I returned to Senor Dentist, confident in his abilities as a dental professional and his foresight of my dental health. The filling seemed to go ok, but the dentist didn't give me enough anesthetic and then didn't believe I was in pain when I kept jerking around. He just kept saying "that's weird" over and over again. I should have taken this as a sign, but with my dental history I took it as par for the course.

Misery's tale should have ended there. She could have lived a long life as a happy, productive tooth; a life full of chewing things and being brushed and so on. But, like I said earlier, turns out Mr. Dentist was a quack.

Let's fast forward to late 2009.

I begin to notice that Misery is a little sensitive to cold things but I brush it off as "getting older." I seem to be doing that quite a bit these days. Within several days, the tooth is really starting to feel sore. By Saturday of that week I experience the first toothache I can ever remember having.

Now let me stop the story briefly to talk about my pain threshold. I believe that I am fairly normal in the tolerance of pain area: I don't like it, but I can deal with it to a certain extent. However, when it comes to my teeth I am a gigantic pansy. After I go to the dentist I am sore for days, because I spend the entire time in panic-mode: wild-eyed, muscles clenched, ready to leap from the chair if the dentist tries to kill me.

To anyone else, my toothache may not have been that bad, but to me it resulted in spending the entire night pacing back and forth in the kitchen going "oh crap, oh crap, oh crap."

In truth, I may have said things other than "crap."

I spent that night trying to find ways to make the pain go away and discovering that the emergency room at Palo Alto Hospital will do nothing for things dental related. Thankfully I called instead of driving there. After taking enough Advil to knock about 10 years off my liver, I spent the rest of the night looking for dentists on Yelp. I found one nearby and called them the next day.

I finally got to the dentist that Monday. She informed me that the "preemptive filling" which I had done in Seattle, "probably" shouldn't have been done. I believe that this was her way of saying "whoever did this was a quack, but I refuse to say anything more specific in case you fly back to Seattle, break the quack's hands and he tries to sue me."

The preemptive filling was apparently too close to the nerve of the tooth or something like that. At this point I was more thinking about whether or not I would have to beg for prescription pain medication than her explanations, but I did understand that the nerve had become infected and exploded and that is what was causing the pain. So I needed a root canal.

Misery was starting to earn her name.

I soon discovered that Misery is tooth #16 (way in the back on the left side). Due to it's location and it's streak of bad luck, I could not go to the dentist for the root canal, I had to go to an endodontist instead. Thankfully, the dentist gave me a prescription for the good stuff because the earliest time the endodontist could get me in was several days away.

My root canal took 2 and a half hours. Twice. The first time the endodontist quit because her hands were tired. Her hands were tired because instead of doing the root canal with a drill, she had to use what look like little pipe cleaners to bore out Misery's roots.

For two and a half hours. Twice.

Thankfully I was kept well medicated this entire time so the experience was not as bad as it could have been. My root canal was finally done and I had some sort of temporary cap on my tooth.

So last week I went back to the dentist to get fitted for a new crown. The dentist made some sort of metal bracket and attached it somehow and then the dental hygienist made another temporary cap while the real crown was being made in a lab somewhere. It took the dental hygienist 4 tries to make a good temporary cap, and I firmly believe that this was just to torture me. After the third attempt I wanted to stop her and ask "mind if I take a crack at it?" She finally got it and I was out the door.

Misery's tale has finally come full circle. I returned to the dentist on Monday with renewed hope. Hope that my stupid tooth would finally be fixed. It has cost over a thousand dollars and has probably caused at least that many curses. Alas, Misery had to dash my hopes one last time.

The new crown didn't fit.

Every time I closed my mouth, my cheek would get caught between my back teeth. So the dentist spent sometime grinding away at it with some sort of drill and then putting it back in my mouth, making me bite my cheek, and repeating the whole process again.

During the grinding process the dentist had a coughing fit and I thought to myself, "Yes, yes. Choke on my tooth dust devil woman."

There is a lesson in all of this and that lesson is this: unless your teeth hurt, don't go to the dentist.