But. On Sunday evening after a 2.5 hour train ride from JFK we got home and then I found a bug in our bed. And then I found another. And quickly the sheets were stripped and in the garbage, the internets were blazing full force for pictures and information, and we shed our clothes and screamed like children. Well, I screamed like a child. I'm not proud of it...it's a hideous sound that maybe a hysterical chimpanzee would make, were she in grave danger, and is usually accompanied by a none-too-graceful hop from foot to foot. But I did it, and I'm telling all of you, because I think that you deserve to know.
We're infested, and thank you very much, New York. These creatures have taken over our bedroom (or, please please please, just our bed). And I'm really slightly beside myself.
Several of the articles that I read about bed bugs claim that, while they're a minor physical irritant (their bites usually cause small, red, itchy bumps very similar to mosquito bites), the real damage is psychological. This is slightly horrifying. We have new sheets and pillows, and the bed and boxspring are both safe with protective covers. Our laundry's done, our room is practically saturated with rubbing alcohol and spray, we're taking all of the necessary precautions. But it's still disturbing and rather terrible, how these bugs can reduce the most even-keeled (I usually fancy myself even-keeled) adult into a shivering, blubbering mess who screams at a piece of fuzz on the floor that slightly resembles an insect and suddenly develops phantom itches all over when there's no bite to speak of.
Paranoia and how. It's I suppose an inevitable something that happens in this city, like termites or roaches or car alarms at 2 am...but it's the latest in a string of, which include: my camera's up and quit, the internet connection is fuzzy, my roommates have recently acquired a Yappy Dog whose sole purpose, it seems, is to guarantee sleepless nights...and it's hot here, so hot that I get out of the shower and I can't dry off, no matter how hard I try. Enough to drive me crazy? Yes. I have a very low tolerance for most things. And this is a day off. Spent cleaning and freaking out. When all I really want is a burger.
But. This weekend I went to a wedding in Florida. My cousin Rachel married her longtime love, a superb woman named Tiffany. I'd never seen the two of them dressed up like this before -- long white gowns, hair done up, glitter and glitz. The ceremony was lovely and touching, and although matrimony and its customs generally elude me, this particular union is one that I endorse and celebrate. The actual day was all a flurry of catch-up and sunburns and Gatorade and Fritos' Honey Barbecue Flavor Twists (divine, ok?). And then the gussy up, where I found out that my dress was far too short but it's all ok in Florida, and then the wedding. Ah, the wedding. The first without my Uncle Steve, who had acted as officiant for his other two children. His brother Danny bravely and beautifully conducted the ceremony, and "bittersweet" seems too trite a term, but it's the only one that readily comes to mind. We cried, we laughed, and then we danced for long hours and spent the remainder of the evening in the Hospitality Suite (a, well, suite at the hotel, fortified with snacks and booze, that spurs such creations as the "Zombie Killer," a pungent and vile mixture of every single alcohol and mixer on the bar. Thank you, cousin Gunnison, for introducing us. And thank you for the subsequent hangover.)...and then the pool, and then the balcony, and then maybe, for a few minutes, the bed.
And then home: train rides longer than necessary and ruby red sunburns. Homemade pizza at 1:30 am when everywhere else is closed, a short rest on the couch after the dreaded bugs rendered our room uninhabitable, and a day of work. A totally rad movie...some cheese and bread, a gin and soda, and tapenade that I made because cutting food with a sharp knife helps to bring the world into focus and always puts an only mildly irritating day into perspective...Not unlike this weekend, the culmination of so very much joy and trauma, that helped remind us what it's all about. Tonight as I try and sleep on my brand new clean sheets, I choose to ignore the visions of tiny beasts playing behind my closed eyelids, and instead pay my respects to the extraordinary women who committed themselves to each other and to an Uncle who I'm lucky to have known. Thank you, Rach and Tiff, for hanging in there and throwing this grand party. Thank you, Steve, for lending us your spirit. And thank you, New York, for reminding me that I'm tough enough to put up with your shit.
Tapenade
I actually taught myself to like olives when I entered culinary school. I'm glad I did, because this stuff jazzes up my life in a very big way. This is briny, edgy, salty, musty, funky. I like to keep it relatively simple so the good olive and garlic dominate. I also don't care for anchovies (and yes, I could be shot for saying this), so I leave them out...but you can put them in. Some versions call for a very smooth paste and you could certainly do this in the food processor, but I love to leave it slightly chunky and, again, the knife through the olives with their little bit of give is really quite satisfactory. It's also a pleasure to chop up all of the solid ingredients on the cutting board, so when you're done, you've only got to scoop the gorgeous mess into a serving bowl, douse it with olive oil and balsamic, and eat. It's also very good kept for a few days in the refrigerator, so olive and garlic and shallot are barely distinguishable and it lovingly stays with you for hours.
1/2 cup olives, pitted (use what's on hand, but picholine or kalamata, or a combination of the two, work best)
1 large clove garlic
2 medium sized shallots
1/4 cup parsley
1/4 cup capers
1/2 cup olive oil, maybe more
splash of balsamic
pinch of red pepper flakes
pinch of black pepper (fresh ground is best)
Easy peasy: On a cutting board, making sure that pits are removed, finely dice olives, garlic, shallots, parsley, and capers, so all ingredients are quite combined but there's still some good texture, like this:
Put mixture into a bowl and mix with olive oil, balsamic, red pepper flakes and black pepper. Taste for seasoning (probably won't need salt, but add as much pepper as you'd like!), cover, let stand for a few minutes and serve.
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