This Midwestern Life just Wants a Real Tortilla

So let's just get one thing straight before we continue with today's blog: I am not offended or outraged about those tortillas being called "wraps". I am sad and angry because I JUST WANT A GOOD TORTILLA. FOR ONCE I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO THE GROCERY STORE, I DON'T CARE WHICH ONE, AND SEE AN AISLE DEDICATED TO NOTHING BUT TORTILLAS!

Why the people who made those tortillas decided to call them "wraps" instead of tortillas is a mystery. A wrap is a shawl not a food. Making them with olive oil must have drastically altered the make-up of the food they were selling so they could not call them tortillas anymore. I guess without manteca you don't have an authentic tortilla. And why do the tortilla companies always say, "Great for snacks and meals". You don't see Roman Meal or Wonderbread putting, "Great for toast and sandwiches" on their packaging. Anyone with a Taco Bell in their town can figure out how to use a tortilla.

I like to call things as I see them. Is decaf coffee still coffee? Yes, it is even without the caffeine. Those discs of flour in that bag are tortillas. Really bad ones but tortillas none the less. Now excuse me while I fill my "wrap" with rice and beans and magically transform it into a tortilla. Then the tortilla enters its final stage: the burrito. Then I will get my lazy ass to the nearest carniceria in Cleveland. There is one and when we get there, angels will sing and tortillas will fall from the heavens.

This Midwestern Life

In the wonderful land that is California there are no toll roads. Just blissful, uninterrupted (barring traffic) miles of freeway. Except for the toll roads I never saw because I don't drive and they weren't between me and Disneyland. That must mean they are up north in California or something. Unfortunately, here in Ohio and most of the Midwest there exists this toll road thing. I don't understand toll roads. We pay taxes to keep the roads maintained, right? So why do we need to pay extra money to use the road?

David and I do an extremely small amount of long-distance driving which means we don't use the toll roads often. The one time we did travel I made sure we were prepared with a plastic baggie of coins. I didn't want to be one of those motorists holding up the line while they struggle to extract 45¢ from a sticky cup holder.

Ohio has the granddaddy of toll road luxury: The Ohio Turnpike. I don't know if I have ever officially been on the turnpike. The Wikipedia article says it costs $10 dollars to use the turnpike. I think I would have remembered paying $10 to drive down a stretch of flat highway. But it doesn't matter if I have been on the turnpike or not because I have this nifty little piece of kitsch a friend in California found. She gifted it to me when I was in California.



Is that not the most awesome piece of souvenir crap you have ever seen? It's a tiny, spiral-bound book published by our friend's at the Howard Johnson Company describing the wonder and modernity that is The Ohio Turnpike "The World's most modern super highway".

Let's take a look inside:

"Interior of one of the Howard Johnson dining rooms. Here one may dine and relax in air-conditioned comfort."


Look at all the fancy white people eating in air-conditioned comfort! Jealous that you don't live in the Midwest in the 1950's or 60's or whatever by-gone era far better than the one we live in now?

Look at how flat and green Ohio is when it's not covered in snow! Marvel at the wonder that is the Strongsville-Cleveland Interchange. (If nothing has changed since the Complacent Era this might be the stretch of turnpike David and I traveled to get to NYC. No wait we went by Youngstown not Strongsville. Strong, young. Same difference.)

This concludes our short jaunt over the Turnpike. Obviously, I didn't show you all of the book. Mostly because my camera phone doesn't take the highest quality of pictures and let's face facts: If you have seen one turnpike you have seen them all.

If this journey has whetted your appetite for The Ohio Turnpike I invite you to to pack the kids into the station wagon and go for a long, boring ride into the Midwest. If you manage to make it all the way I'll greet you at the end with some pop and a sloppy joe.

This is Why We Can't have Nice Things

David splurged on a new vacuum cleaner the weekend before we left for California. I was super-excited for this new appliance to come home with us. I could vacuum the entire house before our vacation! I had been bitching about our old vacuum for over a year but was reluctant to drop a few hundred dollars on something we didn't really need.

Prior to the new bag-less Hoover vacuum we had been using a thrift store find (David bought it without consulting me) left over from the 1970's. It weighed a ton and had a "deep shag" setting. This thing was the Austin Powers of vacuums. I hated it. The attachments were difficult to use and it was so unwieldy it almost broke my foot a few times. The only thing I liked about it was the cord. The long cord allowed me to use one outlet and vacuum the whole house without ever having to change outlets. I know our house isn't very big but still!

We get the new vacuum home and David sets it up. I pull the old one out of the closet telling him to dispose of it at once. The new Hoover was like heaven! It was so light and easy to use. I was merrily vacuuming our bedroom when I smelled something burning. I turn the Hoover off, unplug it and scream, "DAVID! SOMETHING IS WRONG!" He walks in all mellow and methodical as I realize that I have sucked up something the Hoover was never meant to handle.

"It ate one of my socks!", I lament. David flips the vacuum over to assess the damage and he pulls out a broken vacuum belt. "Damn it all! I haven't even had the thing for 4 hours and I've already broken it." The happy vision of me and my new vacuum conquering dust and the world vanished in a puff of rubbery-smelling smoke. David takes the broken belt to the computer and searches the Internet for a replacement. He finds that he can get replacement belts for cheap from Hoover but they would take weeks to arrive. "But I wanted to vacuum everything before we leave next weekend," I whined. David pokes at discount store sites and home improvement store sites with no luck. We debate going out that night to a brick-and-mortar to search for a belt versus waiting until the next day.

I get on the Internet and use Google Maps to find out where the nearest vacuum repair store is located. I see there is a vacuum repair shop right down the main road. Gleefully, I inform David, "There is a local place! It's across from the car wash. You know, there's a big field right next to it. But it's 7:30 on a Saturday night I doubt they are open. They don't have a website but I'll call maybe they will have their hours on a recording." When I call a human being answers the phone! I am in shock, I can barely speak. I manage to ask when they close and the man says, "Eight o' clock." I hand the phone to David he tells the man what we need, they have the part and we tell him we will be there in less than ten minutes.

David eyes me, warily, and says, "You're sure you know where this place is?"

"Yes, I know where this place is. I may not know how to drive but I do have eyes that observe the world I am begin driven around. It's on the main road. We only have one main road. We can't get lost," I reply indignantly pulling on a sweatshirt. When we get to the little shop they have a beautiful, un-broken belt waiting for us at the counter. I pay for the belt with the last bit of cash I have - $3. Clutching it to my chest I skip out of the store and into the car. Me and my new vacuum belt; we are going to vacuum the hell out of our little cottage! I never thought I'd be the kind of girl who gets excited about vacuuming. Normally, that kind of energy is best spent at Beverly Hills Sample Sale not at a local vacuum store.


The vacuum's retractable cord in action!

California girls, this song is forgettable

Katy Perry - New Album Coming 2010

As a California Girl it is only fitting that I comment on the song,"California Gurls", linked above from Katy Perry. I will borrow a quote from my beloved Daria (Season One, Episode Eleven at about 2:55), "It has a beat and you can dance to it, if you have no shame."

As a summer anthem that Katy Perry song is about as boring as they come. I know what you guys are saying, trying to defend your precious Perry in her ill-fitting, gimmicky clothes, "But, Samina the song is soooo fun!" Yes, that may be true but it's also a terrible mess of California stereotypes. Perry is a California Girl (Santa Barbara) herself and I would expect her to know better. Not even an appearance from Snoop Dogg can save the song from mediocrity.

This isn't a post about how much I can't stand Perry. "Waking up in Vegas" was a solid track with a visually stunning video. Did any of her teeny-bopper fans even note the Penn & Teller cameo? However, "Hot N Cold" was a cookie-cutter track that I mistook for a Kelly Clarkson song until very recently. Plus, the ultimate California Girl, Gwen Stefani, already did the running in a wedding dress bit in a video. Baseball bats and weddings were also more artfully used in No Doubt's "Simple Kind of Life" video than in Perry's "Hot N Cold".

Fear not my friends. I don't always criticize without offering solutions. David and I picked through our iTunes and selected the songs we love about California. These songs are steps above Perry's "California Gurls". They may not all be summer jams that make you want to hit the beach but they speak volumes about the diversity, beauty and irony that is our home state.

Into the Great Wide Open- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
California- Tom Petty
Free Fallin'- Tom Petty
Diamonds On My Windshield- Tom Waits
Blue Jay Way- The Beatles
California- Phantom Planet
Freeway Time in L.A. County Jail- Sublime
Tragic Kingdom - No Doubt
I'm from L.A- Go Betty Go
California - Joni Mitchell
Van Nuys (es very nice)- Los Abandoned
I love you, California (official state song)
California, here I come (unofficial state song)
Do-re-Mi- Woody Guthrie
Going back to Cali- The Notorious B.I.G.*
Ventura Highway- America
California Dreamin'- The Mamas and the Papas
Californication- Red Hot Chili Peppers
Hotel California- The Eagles
California Love- 2pac

There are songs we missed so here is a list on Wikipedia where some of these songs and more are listed.

*Biggie can say "Cali" because he is from the East Coast. Natives are bound by law to call it So-Cal.

California Edit

Soon after posting my ramble-y "back from So-Cal" update it occurred to me that there were some anecdotes that needed recording for posterity. So here is another oddly written break-down.

Over the winter, let's be honest entire year I've been sitting on my ass doing nothing, I put on a little weight. I knew some family members were going to comment on the gain. I thought for sure that would be the first thing out of my mom's mouth when she saw me but it wasn't. However it was one of the first things out of my godfather's mouth and grandmother's. I just put on a big smile and said, "Thanks for noticing. I am working very hard to lose some of it." Most people assured me I looked the same. Bless them!

I mentioned that we spent the week in two different houses. David at his parents' and me at mine. This confused several people. It prompted my godfather to ask, "Wait, aren't you guys married?" This was after he told me I'd gained weight. David replied, "I'm on vacation from work and Samina." Fair enough.

I know my in-laws were disappointed that I didn't spend more time at their house. I totally meant to spend at least one night at their house but that just didn't happen. Yet another slight I will have to correct when I visit again. It's probably a good thing I didn't spend much time at my in-laws because my two-year-old niece was there and for some reason I couldn't get it through my thick head that my sister-in-law didn't want her daughter going home with the vocabulary of a Quentin Tarantino film. I did my best to stop swearing but yeah... something to work on for next time. Well, if I'm not putting my foot in my mouth or offending people with my actions it wouldn't be a genuine Samina encounter now would it?

My mother had a few of my things. So I walked into the house grabbed a cardboard box, shook it at her and said, "This box I want all the stuff you have of mine in this box before I leave. You have a whole week. This includes but is not limited to: my black dress from Target, the Virgin Mary belt bought on clearance from Hot Topic when they were remodeling that goes with the dress, the Hello Kitty necklace I wanted to wear at my wedding party but couldn't because you had it, the gold chandelier earrings that look Indian, the white Lucky Brand Mexican jacket repro and my CD's."

A whole year went by without those items and I don't forget shit like that. I still didn't get my CD's back. I also bought stuff, added it to the box and shipped that box to myself. When the box got to Ohio yesterday two winter hats were not in the box. "Damm it all where the fuck did I put those hats?", I muttered and immediately called my mom. Blamed her and screamed, "Now it will be another year before I get my hats!". Everyone at home in So-Cal was on red alert for these hats. I spent all day kicking myself and retracing my steps. It took me eight hours or so but at midnight I got out of bed, shook out the extra sweatshirt I shipped and the hats fell out of the folds. I woke David and he said, "Lol. That's great. Now can you turn off the light so I can sleep?" I also texted my family so they would stop looking for my hats.

Let's see what else. Oh yes, when I went shopping with my mom and cousin I had to stop into the Hello Kitty store and say hello to the owner. Mom is an old-school HK addict and the owner knows I live in Ohio because they talk like old pals. So I'm probably the only girl who goes on vacation and has to add "Visit with HK owner" to the to-do list. Don't you visit shop owners on your vacation? You know it's right after, "See grandma so she can tell you that your ass ain't got nothing on Kim Kardashian's".

"California's been good to me..."

Is it really May? Really? Damn. Looks like I better fill all five of you who read this in on the last few weeks.

David and I just got back from spending a hectic (for me at least) week in Southern California visiting family and friends and SHOPPING (again just me). We only had one minor mishap: David forgot his boarding pass so he had to reprint it at Cleveland-Hopkins. But that is a major improvement considering the debacle the last time we flew.

David had it easy his family hung out at one house all week. I had to run across town and county visiting everyone and still didn't manage to squeeze in everyone. I broke some promises so the next time I visit those abandoned souls are a priority. I tried to spend as much time with my immediate family as possible. Especially my two godsons. Of course, that meant whenever we went to a store I took my two year-old godson to the toys or DVDs or books and told him to pick something out for "Auntie Samina" to buy. Godmother guilt: expensive for the godmother yet lucrative for the child.

We did take a family outing to the Aquarium of the Pacific. I didn't manage to get to Disneyland, the beach, In N Out, Jack in the Box or to the mall in Beverly Hills. Sigh, high class problems, right? I did get to my hairstylist for a cut and color! I really need to find someone in Ohio. Waiting a year between haircuts, then taking a four hour plane ride to my stylist isn't ideal for someone whose name isn't J.lo. But if I was a celebrity the stylists would come to me, right? Note to self: get rich and famous.

David is glad to be home in Ohio. I'm okay with it. Tomorrow I have to get back into my little bit of routine. I feel like I lost a week in a time warp being in So-Cal. If I could go back home every three months or so that would be awesome but the cost and the flying is too much for me. I don't know how David manages being away from his family for such long stretches of time. He must turn off a part of his brain and resign to the facts and fate. Something I have never been good at doing.