For the past week my coworkers have been dropping like flies. Some sort of bug has nested in our little building. I started feeling funky last week – and still feel funky today. Even so, I wasn’t about to cancel on my dinner date with Beverly. I had promised her a home cooked meal – and she was going to get one.

Saturday started with a search for a singular item (plain white t-shirt) that couldn’t be found at any of the consumer friendly clothiers on 3rd street in Santa Monica. Disappointed we headed over to Westwood only to be disappointed again. This was to be the curtain call for Jay and Silent Bob’s Stash West. I’d been there once before (last summer) with Aaron and Mike. The store had much more (life-size Xenomorph statue and Predator bust looming over the cashier stand). On Saturday almost everything had been picked over even before the 50% off closing sale even started. We were mostly alone in the store as most of the patrons stood outside waiting to get their copy of My Boring-Ass Life signed. Kevin would make them wait having not showed up 45 minutes past his scheduled time – and they were still waiting when we left.

I wanted to get a green lantern statue – a desk caddy… maybe some Alien action – anything cool at half off. Sadly, the only thing either of us found of interest were Office Space bobble heads that spoke. Except we didn’t buy them because they were all outfitted with the wrong quote. Sorry, I don’t remember Milton ever saying “mmmyyyyeah… you’re going to have to work on remembering the covers for your TPS reports, Michael.” …and I certainly don’t remember Michael saying that to himself – but there they were – every character saying the same (wrong) thing and nothing else. We left dejected by Kevin Smith’s apparent non-commitment to quality and headed over to Half Price Sushi for lunch.

We were similarly dejected when Beverly discovered that they were out of her favorite White Salmon Sushi – and the half price numbers were still a little high.

We left Westwood and headed into traffic on the 10 and 60 freeways to visit Hsi Lai Temple in Rosemead. I’d been there with my parents last Christmas – but this time I had a Mandarin speaking guide.

Beverly’s favorite temple lion

A long drive through traffic later we were back in my neighborhood and after picking up the required ingredients we began cooking. I made my mom’s famous (or infamous) Buttermilk Chicken. I had become a master at this dish in college – but apparently (even with mom’s emailed recipe) learning to cook again isn’t like riding a bike. Things got even better when I couldn’t find my corkscrew anywhere to open our wine bottle.

Scooting green peppers into the dish.

The final product was too heavy on the buttermilk and lacking in flavor. Beverly was as polite as possible and stomached a serving. She remarked that it was better that I not drink wine either since I was not feeling well already.

Beverly praying for strength to keep my food down. (her prayers were answered, or it wasn’t really as bad as I thought…one of the two…)

(oh – and yes, I was elated at the scores around college football – although I would have rather seen Notre Dame go 0-6)