Laundromat Memoirs

Cowboy boots are meant to be worn by those that wrangle, ride, rope and herd.  If you participate in any, or all of the mentioned, you own two pairs. One pair for work, the other for mating. Those possessing only the mating pair, have not earned the right to refer to themselves as a cow-anything. Riding an electronic bull at the local watering hole, is nothing more than that.

If you wear your jeans tucked into your boots, you’re a wuss.

I am not a cowgirl. I can ride a horse, really well (many years of escaping, via horseback). I can rope (pathetically) and herd (fabulously). I’m squeeze chute savvy, and biological functions, don’t phase me. But, I’m still a semi urban yuppie granola.

I am not old enough to attend my twenty year high school reunion. I went to the ten year, it was deja vu. During my high school years, I wasn’t popular. I had a few friends and class acquaintances, that’s about it. I was a foster kid. My clothing came from the thrift store or was ascertained by a network of trading that goes on amongst foster “sisters”. I graduated, but didn’t attend my graduation ceremony. I didn’t see any point in it, no one would be there.

I ‘m not bitter or sad. I knew my life would get better, when I had control of it. It did! Junior college was a long arduous process. When I finally transferred to a university, a world of possibility emerged. The playing field leveled. I was on my way to becoming a yuppie granola.

My closest friends, I am still in regular contact with. There a few people, I would enjoy conversing with, but really, there is only one person, I miss dearly. A boy. He was never a romantic figure in my life, nor have I ever felt romantically inclined toward him. He was a joyous disaster; an optimist, intelligent, funny and always headed for trouble. My friendship with him was neither ordinary, nor mundane. He glowed when he entered a room. His stories were fabulous and outrageous. His tall, thin stature and plain features gave the impression of innocence. His street wise knowledge, made him a liability. I hope he’s happy, I hope life is good to him.

I have decided to use the money it would cost for the reunion, towards a family holiday. We will be exploring the states of Yucatan and Quintana Roo, Mexico. We are departing August 15, via United Airlines (buddy passes) and returning via Continental Airlines, August 26. The majority of our arrangements are through Expedia.com. I am using a new travel guide this adventure. Typically, I rely on “Frommers”, I’m going to test “Moon”. We are excited. Uxmal, Coba, Merida, Piste, Cancun, Cozumel (etc., etc.) watch out, we’re coming!

The turon my in-laws make is good, but needed to be improved. So I have.

Filipino Plantain Fritters

1 jar (good quality, spend the extra 50¢) jack fruit

3 yellow plantains

1 package Chinese spring roll wrappers (really, buy the Chinese ones – the others get soggy)

1 C. sugar

1/3 C. water

peanut oil for frying

Slice jack fruit and plantains in moderately thin (1/2″ wide), 3 to 4″ long strips. Place 2 strips of each fruit on a wrapper. Roll, eggroll style (if you don’t understand how to do this, read the instructions on the back of the wrapper package). Freeze the turon (this prevents the jack fruit from becoming too hot and rupturing the wrapper). Heat oil, fry the turon until golden brown. Set aside on a towel. To prepare the sugar coating, mix the water and sugar, bring to boil. Gently boil until a caramel color is achieved. This can take awhile (hard ball stage with a candy thermometer). Once the sugar mixture is ready, pour over turon (you have of course, spaced them out on a cooling rack, with a cookie sheet underneath). Enjoy

*jalapenos could be a fabulous addition to the fruity goodness!

Almost 20 years ago, I spent an evening every week at the local laundromat. The flickering 21 Min. Wash sign was a neon beacon amidst a sea of neglected asphalt. It was the place my best friend and I washed, dried and folded a weeks worth of tears, laughter, ideas, hopes and dreams. We solved our problems and the worlds’. The ugly was washed away and replaced with possibility.

We now live several states apart, are married and have children. We once believed owning a washer and dryer was a marker of success and happiness… It’s too bad, success and happiness can’t be purchased and installed.

We were young and fabulously naive.

So, Laundromat Memoirs is born. My own meandering adventures, thoughts, opinions and recipes. A collection of anecdotes, for an anonymous audience.