What's on your menu Tehachapi? - sushisoo's Blog - Tehachapi News

What's on your menu Tehachapi? - sushisoo's Blog - Tehachapi News http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo I like the meat and potatoes stuff, but what really whets my appetite is variety. The more exotic the more palatable. I like the meat and potatoes stuff, but what really whets my appetite is variety. The more exotic the more palatable. en-us It's 1976 in Swingtown http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/31636 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/31636 <p>In 1976, I marched with the rest of my 6<sup>th</sup> grade class dressed as Martha Washington. Donning bonnet and apron embellished with a modicum of embarrassment, stitched together with a strange new feeling of anticipation, I stepped proudly at the forefront of one of what must have resembled thousands of similar, small suburban American bicentennial parades.I had been encouraged to publicly depict the first First Lady, mainly because my mother thought Betsy Ross might be too mature and complicated of an historical character for me to properly research. Even at the age of 10, I was pretty sure the revolutionary seamstress had “done it” with the nation’s father, which for some reason seemed a bit kinky, even to a youth coming of age during this strange era of heightened patriotism and lusty self-indulgence.</p> <p>Just a year before, I had worn that same bonnet on Halloween, emulating Becky Thatcher at the 5<sup>th</sup> grade’s Tom Sawyer Days Dance. It was there that I first got “hitched,” to a quietly smart boy named Bryan. He had straight, longish brown hair and wore black framed glasses that could have inspired Elvis Costelloe a decade or so, and dozens of fads later. In fact, “fad” probably became an official dictionary entry in the 70s. Mood rings, pet rocks, fringed leather jackets, granny glasses, tye-dye shirts, embroidered jeans and peasant shirts and skirts, love beads, peace signs, and smiley faces all foreshadowed the consumer ignited, mass-market explosion now known as the 1980s - and <i>Reaganomics.</i> Yes, it was clear to all who wished they could be a California girl like me that Hollywood had infiltrated politics and the bedroom, in a Battle of the Sexes that would now and forever be televised. Every 30 second choreographed commercial bombarded us Young Americans, reminding us that we were entitled to “Have it Your Way.” And we did.                       </p> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">For most of that bicentennial year I favored <i>Levis</i>, jeans or colored cords and matching jackets, with coordinated <i>Hang Ten </i>tee shirts and faux suede footwear known as “wallabies.” That particular Aussie inspired fad had managed to make “Earth shoes” look feminine by comparison. But my 6<sup>th</sup> grade school picture hints at a “young lady” who was just beginning to understand that life is all about ch-ch-ch-changes. Each one usually stranger than the next. Although the camera wasn’t focused below the puka shell necklace and the feebly feathered surfer bangs, four feet further down, I proudly wore my first pair of nylons and platform leather sandals with a slinky little permanent press, above-the-knee floral print number. Although the lightly shirred bodice still remained cleavageless, that little dress would have made Holly Hobby want to skip off to the nearest ashram in hairy shin-length ruffles and lacy shame. Somehow, I understand that I would no longer be mistaken for a “little girl.”</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">I’ve started watching this new show called <i>Swingtown</i>, and I can’t help but wonder what those in their 20s, 30s, or even the yet-to-be-taxed generations must think about this unique portrayal of other 70s survivors, who like myself, were overexposed to <i>Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll</i>, in various combinations and also served a la cart. Of course this was all heavily laced with an innocent belief that we really should just give <i>Peace</i> - and <i>Love</i> – a chance. The main characters of this latest period soundtrack drama are newly indoctrinated suburban swingers who are so convincingly <i>normal</i>, that I feel like a voyeur watching them explore the intimacies and intricacies of a variety of one-on-one – or too racy for <i>Three’s Company-</i>style relationships. </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Ironically, I remember watching <i>Happy Days</i> with my parents just a year or two before I would self-consciously squeeze into that first fateful pair of nylons (please don’t call them <i>pantyhose</i> mother!). I remember wondering if, and why, everyone in the 50s really were so “cool.” And happy. I also wondered why they would bother to cheerfully tell someone to, “Sit on it!” when U<i>p Yours</i> usually gets the point across much faster, especially if you gesticulate appropriately. Will <i>Swingtown’s</i> High Def peeping tomfoolery, filmed without the false modesty of even a Vaseline coated camera lens, convince Generations X-Y-Z that this spicy snapshot of 70s sex culture is really what, um, went down? Just like my generation believed in the complete wholesomeness of <i>The Fonze</i>, poodle skirts and Mr. and Mrs. C’s twin beds?</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Imagine describing for the <i>iPod </i>and <i>Xbox </i>generation what it was like to anticipate the mid-song interruption of one of your most fave, Top 40 tunes, as your <i>bitchin’</i> 8-track tape player ever-so-slowly and loudly switches tracks, before fading back into your "jam" and graciously replaying the last two bars of the song, even if there were only 30 seconds left in the five minute long rock musical tribute to a blind pinball player. Whether you were a <i>Dancing Queen </i>or defiantly wore <i>Disco Sucks!</i> emblazoned upon your tight tee -sans foundation garment, thank you very much Farrah Faucett - the 70s was all about Grooving to the Music, subverting authority in order to Let it Be, Let it all Hang Out and Keep on Truckin’ Baby. Hippy-dippy or not-yet-a-yuppie, if you were a child of the 70s like me, then you know, know, know what I mean. </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">One week before my 12<sup>th</sup> birthday and one more long year before I would ascend on high to become the most complicated of Earth’s biological creatures - an American teenager - a peanut farmer from Georgia assumed America’s highest office. Meanwhile, most voting democrats were busy getting high, and probably eating peanut butter sandwiches. Sure, some suburban parents were sweating up the sheets at not-so-secret “key parties” where they swapped more than just their special pot brownie recipes. Meanwhile, “Tricky Dick” Nixon was sweating up the airwaves, declaring, “I am not a crook!” More than 20 <i>Wonder Years </i>later, our politicians are still perpetually making similar televised declarations before, during and after holding office.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">I’m certainly not an expert, but today the concept of an “open marriage” would likely be one that the Kern County Recorder would refuse to perform, while Dr. Phil and Jerry Springer would both stage an Emmy-winning smackdown for the rights to license the newest hit reality TV show. Who would have ever thought that watching one hour of prime time television in this PC weary New Millennium could bring me back to 1976. That celebrated bicentennial year, when I was still a little girl, eager and willing to parade down Main Street USA dressed like a bonneted, patriotic dork. I can vividly remember waving unsuspectingly at all the bored, jogging suited and future <i>Desperate Housewives </i>who were secretly and anxiously awaiting the chance to get back to their own basement playrooms in <i>Swingtown, </i>where they undoubtedly donned their not-so-innocent pre-Brittney era naughty little schoolgirl costumes. I give <i>Swingtown </i>an A for effort and a "PGP" rating, for this <i>parent’s guilty pleasure</i>.               </div> Living beyond your means http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/30135 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/30135 <p>Few average folk set out to purposely “live beyond their means.” Last week a small group of bloggers were quick to jump to the conclusion that a young woman was “living beyond her means” and thus, shouldn’t ask for help, or be freely blessed with the charity of those who chose to trust and help someone without explanation or expectation. But let’s face it, most Americans “live beyond their means” whether they mean to or not.</p> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Over the past couple of generations, it’s almost as if the “American Dream” has overslept. Now the alarms are going off, and we’re all waking up to the fact that “getting ahead” means that your 40 hour work week requires 55 or more hours...But please don’t expect any overtime, as the majority of businesses that have downsized three jobs into your one can’t possibly be expected to afford compensation for your inability to multi-task efficiently. Of course jobs are scarce and maybe your degree is in the wrong field, out of date, or non-existent, so you’re willing to accept a just-scrape-by salary, double digit percentiles below industry standards. Maybe going back to school will help, so you better find another 30+ hours a week in your schedule, and hey, you can worry about those student loans in a couple of years. Rising mortgage and rent costs, insurance coverage for medical, auto, property, life, even burial, will easily eat up 2/3 of your income. Those who have young children must also find quality childcare that doesn’t exceed their monthly income. And still you need to have money left for gasoline, groceries and maintenance of that home, car and even the body you pay so dearly to insure against everything from disease, to disaster, to death. Still, somehow most folks find the means, or stretch their credit limits, to pay for basic utilities, cell phones, internet service, cable, and various other forms of frivolous American-style excesso-tainment.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Still, occasionally there is enough left over from our collective memory of the elusive American Dream that our humanity makes some of us want to give when and what we can, to those we see as less fortunate or in greater need. Fortunate enough to able to gripe about the price of gas, politics, religion, or sex and drugs and rock and roll, if we so chose.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">So next time you’re quick to judge another for living beyond their means, just maybe you could forego one latte or value meal, and be just a little charitable towards another. It might just be humanity you’re helping. Your humanity.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">So, now that I'm done venting, do you really “live within your means?” Do you perform acts of charity or humanity without explanation or expectation? Let’s see your humanity, bloggers. (<i>Except for Gube. We’ve all seen enough of your “humanity!”)            </i></div> Killer Bees! http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/29920 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/29920 <p>Help! Okay, they may only be "killer bees" to those like me who are allergic...but I have a huge swarm of bees around the inflatable pool (not a small one) and they're not leaving in spite of my polite requests. How can I get them to leave without testing out the theory that the second sting will be less life threatening than the first? The first put me in the hospital with anaphalactic shock and on a respirator for 3 days. How can I get them to buzz off - quickly?!<img alt="" src="http://www.oparch.net/little_deaths/large_images/killer_bees_big.jpg" />   </p> The Bucket List http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/29753 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/29753 <p><span style="font-size: small">Go home and dance in the sand under the stars with those I love </span></p> <p><span style="font-size: small">Write a novel</span></p> <p><span style="font-size: small">See my children graduate...</span></p> <p><span style="font-size: small">---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></p> <p>A couple of nights ago I watched<i> The Bucket List</i>, with Jack NIcholson and Morgan Freeman, and although it wouldn't make my list for ooochild's top flicks blog, it has resonated within me these past few days. </p> <p>It seem's there's been lots of death and drama lately, surrounding and bombarding just about everyone I care about. I'm really not the morbid type, but I find myself contemplating my own mortality more and more lately. Probably because I have young children and I 'aint no spring chicky anymore. Recently, my health has thrown me a bit of a curve ball, requiring some major lifestyle changes, and quite possibly redefining my perception of what it means to be a  "disabled person."  Even so, I can't help but think how lucky, how blessed I truly am.   </p> <p>Anyhow, I found myself wondering if it's truly possible to make a meaningful "Bucket List" without the urgency of a terminal illness coloring your perception. On the other hand, why wait? In the movie, when Freeman tells Nicholson it was meant to be a metaphorical list, I thought, 'Yeah you cocky, rich ba$tard, it's personal, it's not about what your money can buy!' I won't spoil the ending, but I'm sure you can guess that "priceless" is not just a Mastercard slogan. </p> <p>After my mom passed on, my dad told me about this great song he'd heard, called <i>Live Like You Were Dying.</i> He was a man of few words who chose music to express most of life's deeper emotions, and my Bucket List starts off with his highest hopes for my happiness when he told me in a song, <i>I Hope You Dance</i>.    </p> <p>So how many of you TN bloggers will want to ride a bull named Fu Manchu? Go skydiving? What things in life are just too important to put off?  </p> <p>  </p> A NEW DAY http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/29095 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/29095 <p><img alt="" src="http://creoleindc.typepad.com/rantings_of_a_creole_prin/images/2007/08/31/no_hate.jpg" /></p> Every Picture Tells a Story... http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/28852 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/28852 <p>You've probably heard the saying that a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, a thousand might be a bit much, but last week I had fun telling the story of the "Vegas looking guy" for Joty and Olivia which somehow ended up with Gube wearing a thong...you can catch up on that saga here: <a href="http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/lauraj/28643/sort_A/Offset15">www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/lauraj/28643/sort_A/Offset15</a></p> <p>I thought it would be fun to post up some pictures and tell a little story. Don't have any stories to go with your interesting and unusual pics? We can work on the story together if you like! </p> <p>Here's one to get things rolling...</p> <p><img alt="" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn312/sushisoo111/DSC00566.jpg" /></p> <p>A festival is held in a small Sicilian hamlet after it is learned that Uncle Louie now sleeps wit da fishes...Or has possibly gone into witness protection to avoid prosectuion for tax evasion after his late partner, Rocco the Rat, turned him in to the Feds while on a freebasing binge that seriously depleted some product from the family spray on chest hair business.  </p> <p>The Vengetti Family was disgraced many years ago when young Louie ran away to America with the oldest daughter Paloma. Struggling to make ends meet in the new world, an enterprising young Louie put the equine beauty to work in a Bronx salon waxing men's chest hair while Louie sold gold chains and leisure suits out of his trunk. But alas, Louie was devastated  when his beautiful Paloma developed a rare allergic reaction to the ingredients in the salon's imported wax and died suddenly of anaphalactic shock. Her head swelled up so much they had to have a special coffin made for her eternally long face.  </p> <p>At Paloma's gravesite, Louie vowed to change his ways. After months of trying to regrow his own chest hair in honor of Paloma's memory, he became despondent and considered returning to his Sicilian village in total disgrace and most likely, assasination. But in an effort to help Louie forget his sorrow, Rocco the Rat mistakenly cooked up the spray on chest hair formula that ultimately "made" them both Family Men, until their untimely deaths...or in Louie's case, possible disappearance with the aid of the Federal government. </p> <p>Only the The Godfather of the Vengetti Family knows that no proof of Louie's watery demise has surfaced on either side of the big pond. If Louie should surface, it could mean big trouble for the Vengetti Godfather and His Familia.</p> <p><span style="color: #339966">Now, let's see what you've got!     </span> </p> <p> </p> Happy Memorial Day http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/27238 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/27238 <p>My son-in-law returned from his first two tours of duty in Iraq as the sole survivor of his original platoon. He was not quite 20 years old at the time.</p> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Now nearly 25, he’s completed a third tour, has re-enlisted and works as a recruiter in the Northwest. He’s married to his high school sweetheart and has two beautiful kids.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">His wife, an only child raised with little or no exposure to child care, was pregnant with their first child when he enlisted. She gave birth and raised both of her infants mostly alone for nearly three years. (Obviously they made good use of the time they did spend together!) The oldest has been diagnosed as autistic and requires special care that is surprisingly difficult to obtain through military channels. She is a dedicated and loving mother and wife with a smile that could power cities, and the courageous heart of at least one young man. </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">They are happy, if young and a bit overwhelmed by the gritty reality of the economics, the responsibilities of adulthood and parenthood…The American Dream.   </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Neither of these young heroes had held full-time jobs or received any special training before they admirably and quite competently took on the world’s two oldest professions: Soldier, and mother, not necessarily in that order. </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">On this Memorial Day, please take a moment to pray for our troops overseas. Pray for those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for your American Freedoms. Pray for their families’ peace. But also pray for those heroes who are now thankfully home, but not necessarily safe.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Post Traumatic Stress Disorder affects 2 out of 3 soldiers returning from the front lines. They come home heroes, but must quickly adapt to the workplace and a home life that is in stark contrast to the survivalist experience of War.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">Since 911, Americans have advocated for Homeland Security and stealthily fought to keep the fighting on foreign soil. Now, The War is coming home. Don’t just welcome our returning heroes home: Protect them and help them, educate them, hire them, admire them, guide them and stand beside them. And heal them.</div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">God Bless all our service men and women and their families on this Memorial Day – and every day.      </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </div> <p><img alt="" src="http://members.cox.net/jayc1832/Patriotic%20Stuff/Memorial%20Day.jpg" /></p> Feminism in the 21st Century http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/22503 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/22503 <p>I was surprised that in the 21st Century, something as basic as Women's History Month could still elicit a negative response.  </p> <p><a href="http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/jimr/22391/#c_205186">http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/jimr/22391/#c_205186</a></p> <p>Although I believe in equality, I'm not what I think of as an "activist."  </p> <p>I'm just interested in what the term feminist or feminism means to you, whether you're male, female, some variation of the theme, young or old. </p> <p>Why do you suppose some still find the concept of equality among the sexes threatening?</p> <p>What barriers, gaps, or double standards, if any, do you think still exist?</p> <p>I can't wait to hear your thoughts!   </p> <p>YOU GO GIRLS - AND GUYS!</p> <p>   </p> The body human http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/20688 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/20688 <div class="blkDetailContent"> <p><b>The human body is a machine that is full of wonder. This collection of human body facts will leave you wondering why in the heck we were designed the way we were.</b></p> <p>Scientists say the higher your I.Q., the more you dream.</p> <p>The largest cell in the human body is the female egg.</p> <p>The Smallest is the male sperm.</p> <p>You use 200 muscles to take one step.</p> <p>The average woman is 5 inches shorter than the average man.</p> <p>Your big toes have two bones each while the rest have three .</p> <p>A pair of human feet contains 250,000 sweat glands.</p> <p>A full bladder is roughly the size of a soft ball.</p> <p>The acid in your stomach is strong enough to dissolve razor blades.</p> <p>The human brain cell can hold 5 times as much information as the Encyclopedia Britannica.</p> <p>It takes the food seven seconds to get from your mouth to your stomach.</p> <p>The average human dream lasts 2-3 seconds.</p> <p>Men without hair on their chests are more likely to get cirrhosis of the liver than men with hair.</p> <p>At the moment of conception, you spent about half an hour as a single cell.</p> <p>There are about one trillion bacteria on each of your feet.</p> <p>Your body gives off enough heat in 30 minutes to bring half a gallon of water to a boil.</p> <p>The enamel in your teeth is the hardest substance in your body.</p> <p>Your teeth start growing 6 months before you are born.</p> <p>When you are looking at someone you love, your pupils dilate, and they do the same when you are looking at someone you hate.</p> <p>Your thumb is the same length as your nose.</p> <p>And now I bet that if you read this you put your thumb to you nose - just to check</p> </div>

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Ever have one of those days? http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/20238 http://www.tehachapinews.com/home/Blog/sushisoo/20238 <p>Mama said there'd be days like this! <img src="http://img47.imageshack.us/img47/4795/imagepf3.jpg" alt="" /> </p>