Making the Cannoli Cut

When I was in high school my mom would often have me run to the grocery store for her once I was old enough to drive. God knows I didn't mind having an excuse to get behind the wheel so it was pretty much a win-win situation for everyone. I'd go down to Stop'n'Go and get myself a giant cherry coke and then cruise on over to the grocery store with the parent's credit card in hand. The other win-win about this scenario was that if I saw just about anything I wanted in the grocery store I'd throw it into the cart, too. Hair products, school supplies, ice cream, sodas, Cookie Crisp Cereal.. basically whatever my 16 year old heart desired (and usually didn't need).

In roughly 1997 I got onto a kick where I decided that I loved the Italian dessert called the Cannoli. I was beyond amazed to learn that the filling was just sweetened ricotta cheese. How simple. How delicious. It was on one of the above mentioned trips to the grocery store for my mom that I came across a box of cannoli shells on one of the aisles. "Holy Cannoli!" I thought "I could make my OWN." So I threw the box of cannoli shells into the basket and made my way to the dairy section to find me some ricotta cheese. I vaguely remember experimenting with the ricotta cheese later and succeeding quite nicely in making a tasty filling. The shells, however, never got put to use and remained in the box in the pantry.

My friend, Jazmin, and I would often end up at my parent's house after school and find ourselves rummaging through the pantry for something to snack on. The joke (and frustration) was that their pantry, though enormous and probably the size of my current home's master bathroom, never seemed to have anything SNACK related in it. Tons of ingredients but nothing instant. My mom cooks a lot so there aren't usually a lot of throw-into-your-mouth or instant gratification food items in their pantry but rather tons of ingredients that one would combine together in order to facilitate an entire meal; something two 16 year olds were not about to do at 4:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. We wanted chips, cookies, ANYTHING. And there it was, that damn box of cannoli shells I had purchased. We would always come across it and laugh. I think we half thought about eating them one day out of sheer desperation.

As an aside, my mom's motto has always been "when in doubt, throw it out." We're talking about a woman who practically defines the word "clean." I used to come home from school to find that my bedroom closet had been "re-organized" for me. Privacy violated too, sure, but the point is the lady is tidy. Bookshelves and cabinets were always re-ordered, furniture was rearranged, carpets were always shampooed and, of course, the pantry was no exception either. That sucker was organized on what seemed to be a quarterly basis. If something seemed to be close to expiration? TOSS IT. Where's the olive oil?! Oh, it's over here in the "oils and dressings" section now, got it.

Fast forward with me, if you will. It's April, 2010. It's today as a matter of fact. My parent's have since (3 yrs ago) moved from my childhood home into a house they built. My mom is still as organized as she always has been and probably more so today than ever before. Theirs is a house in which she personally designed a spot for every belonging. Hardly any furniture from the old house even made the cut. Hand-picked, tediously designed and meticulously coordinated is each corner. There is not one but rather two housekeepers that work for them now and there is not one huge pantry in the new kitchen but rather two. And through it all, through the many "when in doubt, throw it outs," the estate sale at the previous house, the move to a new house, the countless cleanings and reorganizing by both my mom and the housekeepers and most impressively through the span of nearly 13 years and two different houses I still walk into the pantry every time I'm home to find that box of cannoli shells circa 1997.

I send a photo to Jazmin from my cell phone each time I'm home. How did these things make the cut for so long?! Maybe it's because the box is wrapped in plastic, is unopened and appears to be new. Or maybe because my mom didn't physically buy them and therefore she doesn't really know how hold they are. Either way, I laugh every time I see them and I now make a habit of checking to ensure that they still exist when I come home to visit. I'll never let anyone (besides Jazmin and apparently you) know how old they are because if my mom had any idea those things were 13 years old she'd throw them away so fast your head would spin. Instead, I pull them off the shelf each time, take a look at them, send a picture to Jazmin, and then slide them right back into place until my next visit.

I want to see how long these things make it. I would legitimately be upset if I came home to find they were missing and probably horrified, on so many levels, at the idea that they were possibly consumed. By the way, they've even moved locations within the pantry several times since they made the transition to the new house three years ago. Right now they're in the upper right side of the pantry near dry pastas and canned goods. That's the reorganizing at work. None the less, here they are in all their glory like a time capsule holding all the secrets of 1997; "Hand Rolled Cannoli Shells:"



May I one day inherit them so that I may display them proudly in my own pantry. May they live on forever.

¡Viva Cannoli!
M.db

YOUR FOOD IS READY

I sometimes think about the silliest of things. One of them being the fact that it is someone's job, somewhere, to dictate what the readout will say on my microwave's digital display when the cooking cycle is complete. Told ya I think about silly things. Along the same lines- labels on the inside of your clothes that list washing instructions; someone wrote that. Someone spell checked it to make sure it didn't say "machin wash" with an 'e' missing or something. It was someone's job to phrase it properly and decide how to word it. The stitching on your car's floor-mat, someone decided where it would say "BMW" on that mat and in what font and size. There's a design for everything, a process of checks and balances in place for every minor detail of every product's wording and appearance before it is released into the public. Someone typed it, someone proof-read it, someone's boss approved it. Nothing has been published or printed on anything we see in our daily lives that didn't intentionally get thought out and I find that so interesting. Somewhere in the world there is a person who was either directly or indirectly responsible for the way 'Push Here,' 'Twist to Open,' 'Remove Before Use' and a million other phrases appear on our products/belongings.

When I microwave something the digital display reads "Your Food Is Ready" after the heating cycle is complete. Secretly this irks me. Why does it assume I'm heating up FOOD?! Sometimes I'm re-heating my coffee. What if I've placed one of those heat packs for sore muscles in the microwave? But back to my original point, this had to be programmed. Someone out there had to design the digital pixels (or... whatever they are possibly called) to spell out "Your Food Is Ready" in the robot-font that is digital text. Who decided it would say that?! Assuming it's always "food" that is "ready" is funny to me. I own it, I'm bizarre. I think about it every time though. Someone had to decide they wanted it to say that particular phrase and I dare say it's quite presumptious.




And then I saw a microwave that was even more entertaining than mine. I was in another person's kitchen and happened to notice that after the heating cycle was complete, this particular microwave simply states "GOOD" across the screen. I almost laughed out loud.



"GOOD" No further explanation. Just "GOOD." As in.. "All is well here. things are good. cycle complete. good" What does it mean?!

"GOOD! Glad that's over with" ?
"GOOD! You get to eat now" ?
"I did GOOD, I heated up some stuff" ?
"I'm still working.. GOOD" ?
"Whatever is inside is gonna taste GOOD" ?

There's someone out there who decided "GOOD" needed to be displayed on that screen.

GOOD,
M.db

Don't cost a DIME

I was walking home from the grocery store and pondering finances, as it seems most people are in this age of Obamanomics. I actually was making a list in my head of things that are free. "Going to the gym is free, why am I not in amazing shape?" I thought. And "taking a hot shower is free(ish)," etc. Well the "why is everything complicated expression" must have been written all over my face because as I passed a seemingly homeless man he ironically said "aint nothin wrong with a smile, ya know."

A few seconds earlier as I was approaching him and he started to speak to me I had expected him to ask me for something (read: money). It would have been the third time on that very walk that I was asked for change by someone so don't blame me for profiling. In this city I have learned to look straight ahead and respond with either nothing or "sorry." But I was caught off guard by his words so instead of nothing or "sorry" I did smile as I passed by, because he was right. There really isn't anything wrong with a smile. And as I smiled and walked away he noticed my changed expression and yelled out for the entire block to hear "see! SEE! Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about people, that shit don't cost a DIME!" and laughed as he, himself, smiled. I smiled even bigger, but this time I made sure to turn back around so he could see it.

His words weren't eloquently spoken but they were poignant. There I was, shuffling my feet along the sidewalk with my head down with thoughts like "if it's not one thing it's another" or "mo' money, mo' problems' (ha! pop-culture-song reference) and this man who seemingly had nothing reminded me, in so few words, that nothing can't be smiled through. I had literally just been making a list of things that were free so I could save some cash and not be so down about it and had left off one of the most important things.

And see? SEE!? That's what *I'M* talking about people. That's some good and needed advice from an unexpected source. And that shit? That shit don't cost a DIME!

Smile,
M.db

Update: WiFi names

re: the post titled WiFi a couple months back, I actually recently came across a funny WiFi name that I referenced in that post and this time I took a screen-shot of it on my phone. Someone in or around the Chicago Bagel Authority restaurant on Armitage has not only a WiFi network but a sense of humor, too.



M.db

Aeronautical Germs

I cringe at the statistics you hear about household germs and those reports you see on TV showing just how dirty hotel bed comforters really are or when the reporter takes a black light to your kitchen and reveals that there is leftover bacteria from raw chicken EVERYWHERE. I suppose it's something to be aware of but I hate the idea of having to worry about one more thing. It is probably more accurate for me to say that I wish I didn't ever hear these statistics or see the reports in the first place because ignorance is bliss and, after all, these things haven't killed me. In fact they may have even made me stronger for all I know, possibly built my tolerance if you will. That's what a flu shot is, right? It IS a dose of the flu so that when the flu actually DOES come your way your body is like "been there, done that." So yeah, I just may be immune to the Holiday Inn at this point.

So this one report I heard said that you should always close the lid to your toilette before flushing because germs can fly out of the pot for up to ____ feet (I think it was like 18 or something crazy) and land anywhere from your toothbrush to your face or inside your mouth if you're a mouth breather or you yawn a lot after peeing. That last one I just assumed to be true, and why not. And herein lies the reason that I wish I could be ignorant to these facts/reports/scare-tactics: because I NEVER seem to forget them and will reference them in my mind every time I'm in the kitchen, bathroom, wallowing on the comforter at a roadside motel (no), etc.

I enjoy my morning coffee in the shower. It's what I do. I love hot showers and jacuzzi baths and anything that involves me standing or sitting still while hot water is all around me. It's relaxing. And so is coffee. So the two combine together is a blissful experience. Besides, the sheer efficiency of doing both morning routines together makes sense. We'll talk about the fact that I brush my teeth in the shower at a later date but it, too, is an efficient way to kill two birds with one stone. The point of this ramble is that I have a hard time with the coffee, toilette-to-mug proximity, and these germs that perform aerial acrobatics out of the commode every time I flush it. I mean if I pee before I shower, do I run out of the room with my coffee the second I push down on that lever like I've just lit a firecracker and I am taking shelter from the explosion?

If all of these statistics about how dirty our lives REALLY are and what ACTUALLY goes on 'behind the kitchen door' at restaurants are true, well.. so be it. I've only gotten food poisoning twice, I've never gotten crabs from a hotel (knock on wood), and I'm still doing pretty okay in the health department even though sometimes I flush the toilette with the lid open while my haz-mat suit happens to be at the cleaners and I'm therefore not wearing it. I think a good rule of thumb is "don't be disgusting." Clean up after yourself, throw some bleach on your durable surfaces here and there (maybe on your jeans, too, if it's 1985) and kind of don't worry about the rest.

I, unfortunately, can't take my own advice and will probably still clean my kitchen sink until my hands are raw after I've cut up a chicken breast, will still worry a little bit about the fact that I just peed while my coffee was sitting on the bathroom counter and if you ever go into a restroom at the movie theater and see a guy holding his soft drink as high as he can over his head while he is belly up to the urinal, well.. say hello because it's probably me. Wait 'til I'm done peeing AND done flushing though. For starters, because it would be weird otherwise and B). you don't want to be opening your mouth to say hello at the precise moment I flush and those germs get all Cique du Soleil on us.

Good day,
M.db

WiFi

Technology, Technology, everywhere..

When I connected to the wireless internet in my condo, I pick up at least 7 other signals. Mine is simply named "Mason" (so clever, right?!). Most people just name their secure connection their first name or condo number. Others are a bit more witty.

I love the idea of someone being funny while full well knowing that they'll never see the person who gets to enjoy their humor laugh. Point being- people name their wireless networks some pretty damn funny things. They're aware that it'll show up on someone's phone, someone's computer next door, or that a neighbor will see it in their list and try to jump onto their network. When I'm on the bus and try to open a web page on my iPhone it will ask if I want to connect to some of the various wireless networks that happen to be in that area, so that's always entertaining. Here's a few of the funny names of wireless networks I've seen lately either on my phone or laptop while in public:

"Where Are The Wires?!"
"XXX Live Nude Shower Cam"
"Get Off My Internet!"

I keep my eye out, now, for the funny ones, gives me a little chuckle.

G'night,
M.db

4 Stars

There is this Italian place that I really like in my area, great homemade pasta. I went the other night and had a deliciously huge meal. Too big to finish, in fact, so I brought the leftovers home and anxiously anticipated eating them for lunch the next afternoon (read: mid-morning).

When I was sitting on the couch consuming my pasta with veal meatballs I found a piece of plastic in my food. More specifically in my mouth after I put the food in there. I just removed the plastic and kept eating. That pasta was too damn good to stop eating over a little piece of plastic wrap. Besides, track record stands that the place rocks my world enough to not worry about one mistake.

It's funny; sometimes when you love something a great deal you're willing to overlook some of its shortcomings and continue on, knowing that as a whole the experience is too good to possibly be destroyed by a tiny ___(insert imperfection, piece of plastic, mistake, etc. here)______.

Something to think about and apply where necessary,
M.db

Seven Thirty Two on the Third

I woke up at 7:32 this morning. I know, because I grabbed my cell phone to see what time it was and thought to myself "ugh, I still have another hour before my alarm is going to go off, why am I awake?!" But I got up anyway because I was wide awake which, if you know me you know, is rare for me before 8am.

It was almost an hour later that I realized it was August 3rd as I was listening to the morning news in the background while I got ready for my day. I still have the voicemail from Brian's mom saved in my iPhone's 'visual voicemail' letting me know he had just passed away. When I realized that was exactly a month ago today I went back to my visual voicemail, it was received at 7:32am, July 3rd. I broke into tears when I realized that exactly a month ago, and right down to the exact minute, I was waking up to you being gone and you still are.

I haven't cried but once since your funeral, until today. Every time I talk about you dying I feel like I'm speaking in third person. When I say how hard it was, when I say how strong you were, when I talk about the immense loss I feel.. it's as if I'm reading a script or recounting someone elses words. I still haven't been able to wrap my mind around the fact that you're gone. I think my mind has taken over and whipped myself into denial the minute my heart starts to hurt. I'll see something and think "oh man, wait'll I tell Brian about THIS" and then I realize I can't, but quickly move my mind on to something else, as if on autopilot, completely out of my control. You're probably just on vacation and coming back soon.

Yesterday I was in the elevator with that one annoying guy who lives in my building that we used to always joke about. I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket, like a reflex, and pretended I was text messaging as I snapped a picture of him to send to you as a joke. It wasn't until after I had already taken the picture that I remembered there was no point in taking a picture because you're not here to send it to. I was even more sad thinking of how I couldn't call you and tell you about another one of my trademarked awkward situations I had just gotten myself into: my cell phone made that obnoxiously loud photo-lens clicking sound effect as I snapped the pic in the quiet elevator. You see I had forgotten to silence the phone before my sneaky photo taking move and it was super obvious I had taken a picture. How creepy of me. Busted!

There's been so many things I've wanted to tell you about in the past month. I walked home from a house party on Friday and had to stop myself from calling you about 20 times to tell you about all the people I ran into and have one of our late-night phone chats about how silly people are. All those silly people are still around but why aren't you?! So many people running around taking up space and yet you were amazing and you're gone and the world isn't a better place as a result. In fact it's worse. A new song came out on the radio that I like, it didn't exist while you were alive. There's a movie I want to see that I KNOW you'd go to with me, it wasn't released while you were living. Everything that happened in your life was put on pause a month ago, today. It's a panic-like feeling that shoots through me when I think about life and time continuing on yet everything in your life stopped on July 3rd, 2009.

You used to get on me all the time for not blogging enough because you liked to read it. I still see your name on my blog's main page listed as one of my blog's "followers." You'd be mad at me for not having blogged in a month and even more irritated at me for writing about you and sad topics TWICE in a row. I know people are supposed to be happy to have had a wonderful person in their life and remember the good times with a smile, but I'm just not there yet, not the smiling part anyway. I'm mad. Yes, I'm so thankful for how much you touched my life and can't even express what an amazing person you were, but I'm still not done being mad you had to go. I am, however, glad you're not hurting. I'm just selfish for now. I WANT to know what you're up to. What are you doing RIGHT now? What were YOU doing at 7:32am when I was waking up a month after you left? Is there even such a thing as 'time' where you are? Can you see what's going on down here? Does it even matter that I wasn't able to email you a photo of the annoying elevator dude as a joke because you could watch that situation unfold from where you are now? If I say something loud enough, will you hear it? If I cried this morning did you know?

I want to tell you how Aaron, Scott, Jen and I are all better friends now because of how much we've bonded over our loss. I want you to know how sweet your family is, how good they all were to us when we were in Kansas for your funeral and how much we've all been in touch. I got to see your hometown!! I want you to know that your nephew you loved so much will always remember you because we're all going to make sure of it. I want to thank you for all the kind things you apparently told your family about our friendship and how important you told them I was to you; I knew, but I had no idea all at the same time. Oh MAN you're sister has done SO good with everything. The funeral was exactly the way you wanted it. You picked the perfect songs and she had them played just like you requested. Oh, and congrats- I bawled like a baby, you turd.

I used to think it was somewhat odd that people would be sad on the anniversary of a loved one's death. I realize it's bound to be a hard day but always figured birthdays and holidays would be the hardest. I don't want to focus on you leaving but I understand now how hard the anniversary of the day someone goes away can be.

I had never heard the song "Ships of Heaven" that you picked for your funeral but its words will forever impact me and remind me of you. "No unforgiven sins and no regrets just the times of our lives that we'll never forget."

I'm going to work on that 'being mad' thing, I promise.

Brian Dec 2008:



Mason, Scott, Brian, Aimee and Aaron - July 14th, 2008:




Aaron, Brian and Mason. July 2nd, 2009:



"Don't cry for me when I'm gone
Keep the faith and be strong
'Cause through it all I've been blessed
I faced my fears
And I've passed the test
So when you look up in the sky
On a sunny day
Imagine me drifting away

I'll be sailing on the ships of heaven
When the tide rolls out for the
Last time
You'll find me sailing on the ships of heaven
Waiting for the day
I come sailing back to you

Remember all the times we had
Some were great and some were sad
But you know that in the end
Our love was stronger than when we began
No unforgiven sins and no regrets
Just the times of our lives that we'll
Never Forget

I'll be sailing on the ships of heaven
When the tide rolls out for the
Last time
You'll find me sailing on the ships of heaven
Waiting for the day
I come sailing back to you."
-"Ships of Heaven" - Blackhawk

M.db

Brian

In the past few years that I have known my friend Brian I have learned so much about friendship and life from him. One of the few people on this planet I know I could reach out to at any hour of the day or night and certainly one of the best friends I've ever had the honor of knowing. He was truly an extraordinary soul that I was privileged to have in my life. I lost that friend to his cancer battle this morning. I'm not sure where to place my emotions just yet. I've cried until I can't cry anymore, or so I think, and then it starts again. The past few weeks have been so hard as his condition worsened. I tried to visit Brian at his apartment every day if possible.

So much of me wants to SCREAM in anger. Anger that years ago when his doctors diagnosed him with this hideous disease they told him he'd never live to see 30 and he died this morning just a week short of his 30th birthday. THAT is not fair. Anger that my calendar says that on July 11th I have a birthday party to attend, Brian's birthday party, and instead his funeral is scheduled to be that day. Anger that I have to bury my friend and the only person I want to call at 3am when I can't sleep because I'm upset about doing so IS him.

I'm comforted that Brian left exactly how he expressed he wanted to in these last few weeks; surrounded by family and friends, not in a hospital. Each of his close family members and close friends were able to be in his apartment all day yesterday after we were contacted to know that things were looking worse. Popping into his room, from time to time, to say hi and visit and then spending time in the other room letting him rest. Brian never pretended that nothing was wrong and as the evening wore on he called his family in to make sure they went over his funeral arrangements one more time with him. In typical Brian style he joked about what songs he refused to have played at his funeral because they were either "too dramatic" or "been done too many times before." His good friend and oncology nurse pulled his family aside to make sure they knew that Brian was making those arrangements because he knew his time was getting shorter.

I want to run in circles because my brain can't wrap itself around what my heart is feeling.

Brian's mom put it best when she said to me last night "I have learned a lot about the process of dying from Brian but, oh, how I've learned so much more about living from him." I couldn't agree more.

After having spent most of the day at Brian's I had to come home to let the dog out and almost didn't go back. I'm so glad I went back, one last time, to see if his friends and family who were gathered there needed anything else. Besides, I knew I couldn't sleep. It was almost 2am when I left his place, but before I did, I stepped into Brian's bedroom to say goodnight because he had woken up again. He perked his eyes up and said "hey!" in a tone that seemed to so casually say "hey there buddy what's up?!", though his voice was soft and strained. I told him I didn't want to disturb him but just wanted to say goodnight before I left. I told him I would see him tomorrow, though. The last thing Brian said to me was "did you have a good time?!" Maybe he was referring to the time I spent hanging out with his friends and family in the next room, or maybe he was referring to the time I've been lucky enough to spend with him on Earth. Either way, he didn't reciprocate when I said I'd see him tomorrow, rather he just said "ok, love you" with a "we'll see about that" tone in his voice and a smile out of the corner of his mouth. He looked at me as I left as if he knew something I didn't know.

A few short hours later, Brian's last remaining close friend finally made it into town on the red-eye flight from Seattle. He got to Brian's apartment at 6am, directly from the airport. Brian passed away 30 minutes later, with his mom at his side, having said goodbye to every close person in his life. She sang him a song that she used to sing to him as he fell asleep when he was a child. As she started to sing it for a second time he stopped breathing.

Yep, Brian, to answer your question I did have a good time. I really really hope you did, too. I'll take your lessons of strength, friendship, devotion and humor with me EVERY single day of my life. I will carry with me the sound of your voice when I need to be calmed down at 3am for whatever pickle I've gotten myself into and no one is there to call. I'll remember hearing you for the last time and I'll answer your question over and over again in my head when I get sad: "Yes. I had a good time."

I can't promise that I won't dial your number still from time to time, just out of habit. No promises that I won't be sad you're gone. But I've got promises for days that I'll never forget you as long as I live.

I hope when it's my time to go I can look back at this life and say "I had a good time" and then turn towards heaven where I know I've got a buddy waiting to show me around. Save me a seat.

Happy early birthday, Brian.
I will miss you until I see you again.

Love always,
Mason.

Waiting to Inhale

Whenever someone jogs past me, and they're all sweaty, I try not to breathe in until they've passed by. You know how you feel that breeze as they run by? I hate when that breeze full of smell hits me. I'll breathe out for as long as possible, sometimes like 15 straight seconds, until they are long gone so as not to suck in any of their sweat-smell. I nearly pass out several times at the gym as a result.

Smells are so weird, they say it's the last thing you forget or the sense that you remember the longest- whichever way you want to look at it. I guess that's why I have walked into a random location and suddenly had a vivid memory of my elementary school cafeteria just because of the smell in that particular place. Speaking of, I could really go for some rectangle shaped pizza from an elementary school cafeteria right about now. You know what I also loved? School spaghetti and meat sauce. I wish it was on the menu at restaurants. If it were served at a restaurant I wouldn't want it to be all fancied up either, I want it to be watery, made in bulk, and served on a tray that has separate dividers for your milk, veggies, bread and main course. Then I want the waiter to take my tray and be able to watch it get rinsed off back in the kitchen with that giant hose that comes down from the ceiling operated by someone wearing a hair net, JUST like in school. Okay maybe not all of those things, but most. How is that for a smell memory?

I don't want to remember people's body odor though. So, moral of the story: I try to not form the memory in the first place. I see 'em coming and I just take a deep breath in and hope that mo-fo is running fast because for the next several seconds this guy is exhaling until they're gone.

M.db