Thursday, 9 May 2013

Why Australia sucks (except not really)


After more than three years, we are leaving Australia. It is tragic and heartbreaking, even though we are going back to California, a place I also love deeply. To make myself feel better about this transition, I’ve decided to blog about the things that bother me about this far-flung continent. Why does Australia suck?

1. The driving
These people are insane. The roads are narrow, and what was once a lane often suddenly stops when someone decides to park. Everyone drives as fast as possible, as close to the car in front as possible, even in otherwise quiet neighborhood streets. Pedestrians do not have the right of way – no, they will run you and your baby stroller down if you step out in the street too soon.

Cars are expensive to buy and incredibly expensive to maintain and drive, but are worth almost nothing when you then decide to sell them. Also, they seem to attract large spiders.

Filling up the gas tank is also annoying. You can’t pay at the pump, and you can’t click the thingy on the nozzle, so you have to stand there and smell the fossil fuel fumes while the guilt piles up. Then you have to walk inside and pay an actual human being. Ugh!
The scenery: just so boring and ugly, you know?
2. The climate
What the hell is that water coming out of the sky all the time, people? And why is it so abrupt, and always sneaking up on me when the laundry is out?

Also, seriously why don’t you insulate your buildings, and have heating? I guess it’s slightly warmer than England here in Wollongong, but right now I’m wearing a long-sleeve shirt, jeans, fuzzy socks, a sweater, and a wool blanket and just barely surviving. Of course, the ocean is still almost warm enough to surf in a springsuit, but you’ll freeze before you get to the sand. Uncool.

3. The paper
Does it really have to be that long?

4. The creepy things
Ok, it’s true that the US has some large things that can kill you – bears and shit. But they don’t sneak into your linen cabinet to startle you to death while you are blithely going about your daily routine.

And, I really don’t care that the only things here that most terrify me are not the venomous ones…gigantic hairy spiders and leeches are creatures that I prefer not to have lurking in my general 5-mile radius.
The other animals: just so rude. That's my porch, cockatoo!
5. The language
Ostensibly English, but they make everything sound adorable. “Daggy tracky-dacks”? “Bikey gangs”? How are we supposed to take you seriously? You aren’t allowed to have that much fun with communication.

6. The lack of surfers
It’s really annoying when I want to go surfing but no one else it out. I’m too scared of being the only shark bait in the vicinity to go by myself, regardless of the fact that I haven’t seen or heard of any shark sightings here, while they are apparently invading California lineups. 
The people: Always crowding up the outdoors, and being friendly. What the hell?

7. The coffee
It’s so good, and so expensive. And super decadent cakes are usually also on offer. Totally unfair.

8. The waitservice
Since people like bartenders and waitresses actually get paid a living wage, they don’t depend on being nice to customers to get tips and pay rent. If they bring you the wrong food and don’t particularly feel like fixing things, they just blame the menu for being wrong and walk away. I guess you can’t blame them, though. I wouldn’t want to deal with me either, whining about wanting arugula instead of romaine lettuce.

9. The children
They are just so damn happy, running around and playing and not shooting each other. Geez.

Damn, that didn’t really help at all. Well, the only thing to do is embrace the Aussie attitude: “she’ll be right, mate.” Yeah, I guess it’ll be all right, in the end. As long as we get to come back soon.

Wednesday, 24 April 2013

Flying with a mini toddler

Do you sense a theme here on this blog? Yes, we fly a lot. We have horrible carbon footprints for that reason, which I hope is somehow offset by our other lifestyle choices. In any case, I’d like to share my advice for flying with walking babies who still can’t really talk and don’t understand the seatbelt sign.

1. Fly with a partner, if possible. It is awesome to be able to take a break from baby wrangling before you meltdown, yourself.

2. If flying alone with your 18 month old, try to rumple your clothing and hair more than normal, so you look as haggard and frazzled as possible. This will help convince nearby passengers, and possibly flight attendants, to give you a small break (perhaps entertaining the child while you pee, for instance).

3. Request a bassinet ahead of time (even if your kid is far too large to fit into one). At the check-in counter, remind the checker-inner that you have requested said bassinet. Also offer to give up your bassinet seat if they can supply you a spare empty seat next to yours (the bassinet seats are in the bulkhead, so the airlines like to offer them to other people for an extra fee). If they say that the flight is full and there are no bassinet seats, remain calm but convey silently your extreme fear of the prospect spending several hours with an energetic, wiggling child in your lap. If you are lucky, the checker-inner will feel bad for you and make extra efforts to rearrange things so you have a good seat. 
Miniature adult-like items, such as a little roller bag, are a massive hit. (Thank you, Granny!)
4. Spend a lot of time packing interesting, new, small toys for your child in the hopes that they will play quietly in the seat. Don’t spend a lot of money, though, because invariably your time and effort will be completely wasted, and the child will just throw everything into the aisle and whine that he wants something else entirely.

5. Order more wine.

6. Roam the aisles, batting the child’s hands away from exploring sleeping strangers’ limbs and underseat luggage.

7. Go in the bathroom and let him unravel an entire roll of toilet paper, then roll it back up in a giant lump, and furtively exit when no one is looking.

8. When the seatbelt sign comes on mid-flight and the child kicks and screams and refuses to be held or sit buckled into his extra seat (if you’ve got one), let him play on the floor between your feet, holding him with your legs to prevent him from becoming airborne during turbulence.

Oh yeah, there are also cartoons.
9. As long as he doesn’t weigh too much, older babies seem to be perfectly fine sleeping with their feet hanging over the edge of the bassinet. You will, of course, be much too worried about them leaping out of the bassinet the moment you shut your eyes to sleep, so instead watch some awesome in-flight movies or read a mindless novel. And maybe have some more wine.

10. When all else fails and your darling child has a tantrum in the aisle because he isn’t allowed to open the infant life vest the flight attendants have so thoughtfully given you, practice your Zen breathing, smile calmly at people giving you terrible “control your child!” looks, and tell them to go to take a long walk off a short pier in your head.

11. And lastly, flights, like childbirth, don’t go on forever.

Have a great time!

Monday, 15 April 2013

How to be a memorable surf student

Sometimes the world sucks, so I take a bit of my own advice, and think about something funny to prevent descent into a black hole of sadness. And I remembered that I owe you some advice on being a good surf student. This advice can also be applied to other types of instruction, such as ballroom dancing or sailing, increasing its value exponentially!

I mostly loved being an instructor for Surf Diva. It was inspiring watching women challenge themselves to learn a very difficult new skill, forming new friendships and strengthening bonds in old friendships through shared embarrassment, and laughing through the exhaustion of being repeatedly pounded into the sand by the Pacific Ocean. My hair became fantastically blond and I got extremely fit carrying boards, wetsuits, and tents to and from the van and the beach every day. But I didn’t love having to pretend not to be cold, repeating myself ad infinium, or narrowly avoiding stingrays every few minutes. And every now and then, I had a gem of a student who almost broke my veneer of enthusiasm. Here are some suggestions for being unforgettable.

1. Arrive with a squadron of people who will sit on the beach—or even stand ankle-deep in the water—and yell suggestions at you, disguised as encouragement. Preferably, they will shout such helpful phrases as “next time, don’t fall!” or “stand up longer so we can get a video” or “come on, just pop up!” so that your confidence is completely deflated. Also, the instructor won’t have to do anything if your boyfriend just barks orders at you from his chair.
Be sure that your instructor is sufficiently cool before accepting any directions from her.
2. Decline to listen to your instructor whatsoever. Did they tell you to use your arms to push your chest off the board? Screw that; use your head instead! Did they suggest lying on the board and getting situated before the next wave arrives? Nah, best to just leap onto the board as the wave hits you so you just roll off the other side immediately. Then you don’t have to expend the energy of getting back out into deeper water.

3. Demand to paddle out beyond where the waves are breaking. Then, demand that your instructor dive down and touch the bottom. Threaten to cry if she refuses.

4. Arrive at the beach in full makeup, with carefully coiffed hair. This way, when your mascara runs down your face and your cheeks look like they are dripping off, you will scare everyone but your instructor away and thus score a large area of the surf to yourself!

5. Wear a very tiny bikini that will adjust itself such that it becomes useless for body coverage once the first wave hits you. Don’t bother checking on it. Instead, continue to flash everyone at the beach too shy to point out that you are basically naked.

6. To get out of giving your instructor a tip, tell them you’ll leave their tip at the office. Then go shopping at Gucci instead.

This is a picture I took of a postcard. I encourage you to do the same after your surf class, instead of bothering with actual photos of yourself flailing about.

7. If you step on something slimy that wriggles and then you feel a sharp pain in your foot, remain calm and quietly tell your instructor you may have a small injury. Then show them your gigantic, gaping stingray wound, but suggest you keep surfing. This will cause the instructor to think you need the gravity of the situation explained, to entice you in to the beach. Upon learning that you have been stabbed by the venomous barb attached to a sea creature, totally lose it and collapse in a bleeding heap on the sand while your instructor frantically summons help. 

8. Get sucked out to sea in a rip current, with the hope of being rescued by cute lifeguards. Act disappointed when your instructor almost drowns herself rescuing you instead.

Once you have mastered these tips, you can move on to becoming a kook using advice from my previous post! See you in the water...

Sunday, 31 March 2013

Baby head injuries for dummies

Well, it finally happened. After about 9 months of Ryder sleeping in our bed (somewhere around 10 months old he started refusing to go back into his cot at night, and I was too tired to care...), he fell off.

It wasn't the way I expected it to happen: accidentally rolling off the bottom of the bed in the middle of the night. Instead, he threw a little tantrum when he woke up from a nap in Sri Lanka and I wouldn't let him proceed to rip the mosquito net to shreds. His favored type of tantrum involves flinging himself with much gusto onto his back and kicking wildly. In this instance, he started out too close to the edge and flung himself off the bed and onto the tile floor.

Almost immediately, a big bump swelled up on his scalp. I knew three things:
(1) I should put an ice pack on his head.
(2) There was no way in hell he would let me put an ice pack on his head.
(3) I was supposed to do something involving looking at his eyes to check for serious problems.

Instead, because we were all hungry and I didn't really know what to do, we went out to lunch. There was another little toddler at the restaurant to play with, but instead of his normal behavior, Ryder became clingy, possessive, and mean to the little girl. When she took his toy car, he pulled her hair. When her mom picked him up for a cuddle, he cried and kicked and reached for me like the world was ending. But then he was fine for a while, introducing himself to everyone at the restaurant as usual.
Making new friends, even while super grumpy

Still, his extra-grumpy behavior and my lack of knowing what I was supposed to keep an eye on made me worried. After giving him a dose of Panadol (not sure why I didn't do that first), I walked a few blocks to the local doctor.

I was happy that he spoke excellent English, gave me a fantastic explanation about head injuries, and a drawing to take home. Here is what I learned (for less than $2):

(a) There is a network of thin blood vessels between the brain and the skull
(b) If the head is hit hard enough, the brain sloshes around and can pop these blood vessels
(c) If blood starts to collect, it doesn't have anywhere to go, since the skull is rigid, so it presses into the brain
(d) That is not good
Cross-section of the head. The hashed bit is the brain, and the scribbly bit is blood pushing on the brain.
So, what to do?

Apparently, look for these signs:

(a) Vomiting = not good, go to hospital
(b) Other extreme problems (difficulty walking, etc.) = not good, go to hospital
(c) If the kid seems otherwise relatively normal (aside from likely headache [Panadol is useful for that, duh]), check that both pupils respond to light by getting smaller, approximately every 30 minutes for 24 hours. If they stop behaving properly = not good, go to hospital

Happily, Ryder didn't have (a) or (b), so I only had to do (c)...but it was kind of a lot of work, and I have to admit I didn't do it every 30 minutes. But I did manage a check every hour or so during the day and even several times at night (you can pull open his eyelid and shine a light in my baby's eyes in the dead of night without waking him up! creepy!).

I hope that is helpful next time your child slams his own head with the door (yes, he did that this morning), or otherwise injures his head to the point where you are worried about concussion. Just remember that I am not an actual medical doctor, so the best thing to do if you are really worried is to go see your local GP or hospital.



Sunday, 24 March 2013

How to be a kook

This is a joint blog post from me, Vanessa Janss, and Brett Menke, inspired by our recent surf trip to Sri Lanka (oh my goodness, so amazing!), and our combined years of teaching surfing at La Jolla Shores.

A kook is a special term used for irritating surfers; usually it is reserved for people who can’t surf very well (but often think they can), but it is totally possible to be a beginning surfer and not a kook, and to be a good surfer, yet still a kook. If you’ve been trying to improve your kook-skills, these tips are for you!

Style
One of the most important aspects of being a kook is looking the part. It really doesn’t do to just blend in with the everyday crowd.
In the water
  •  Wear your leash (legrope) on your front foot
  •  Even better, wear your leash on your wrist (especially if you surf at La Jolla Shores)
  • Wear boardshorts over the top of your wetsuit
  • Wear too much rubber: full suit in summer is the sign of someone who aims to be out there all day long, shredding the gnar
  • Conversely, wear cold-water booties with your boardshorts to stay warm in winter
  • Wear lots of bright, attention-getting colors. All the better for the photogs to catch your sick moves on film
  • The 80s are totally back: rock that neon zinc pasted all over your face
  • The more stickers on your board, the more sponsors people will think you have. Also best to mix and match rival brands, like Quiksilver and Billabong, to cover your basses
  • The smaller and newer the board, the more awesome a surfer you are: so go out a buy a 5’10” Channel Islands pin-tail immediately after you learn how to ride white-water on a soft-top
  • Attach your fins backwards to show that you aren’t constrained by tradition
  • You must attach a Go-Pro camera to the front of your board. Just in case all of the swarming photogs miss your sweet air, you’ll have a back-up copy to show your friends
  • Two words: surf leggings 

    Definitely.
Out of the water
  • All articles of clothing must have a large surf-brand logo displayed prominently
  • You must wear flip-flops (thongs) at all times of the year, unless you live somewhere with cold water; then Uggs are Ok (except if you live in Australia)
  • If you have dark hair, you should peroxide the ends to get that sun-bleached look without all the effort of being out in the sun all the time
  • Carry around some sort of surfing paraphernalia at all times: Surfer magazine, the most recent surf videos, your board
  • One must never remove ones sunnies. Ever
  • Strap your board to your brand-new roof racks…wax side up
  • To give the impression that you just got out of the water and didn’t have time to shower, use some of the awesome “surf hair” products now available
  •  Give yourself an authentic surf nickname, like “shredder”

Language
You can’t really pass for a kook unless you sound like one, too.
  • In general, it’s best to aim for a totally awesome California accent. Second best is Hawaiian and third is Australian. Study up by renting classic videos like North Shore
  • Talk up your surfing skills to anyone who will listen. It’s best to mention the length of your sessions as well (longer is obviously better)
Example:
“Dude, I'm super tired from my 4-hour surf sesh. I was totally throwing so much spray, it was sick!”

This is probably my worst nightmare
  • Use awesome surfer terminology so that other surfers can tell you are one of the insiders, and people who don’t surf can’t understand you, and feel lame. 
 Examples:
“I totally… 
    shredded the gnar” 
    did a filthy lip smack” 
     got shacked” 
    was in the green room” 
     did a sick floater, bro” 
     ripped it up out there” 
     pulled into a super sucking pit, man”
etc.
  • Don’t talk about anything but surfing. Other topics are super lame
  • Blame all bad surfing on either the wave conditions, the wind, the tide, or your equipment (“I’m so not used to this brand of wax, dude”)
Behavior in the water
Once you look like a kook and talk like a kook, it’s time to act like a kook.
  • Paddle for every single wave 
  • When paddling out, be sure at least half of the board is out of the water in front of you, blocking your forward view
  • When paddling to catch a wave, scoot forward so that the nose of the board is fully submerged
 
  • Call people off your waves (“I got it!”), and then miss them, or fall instantly
  • Try to fall or miss catching a wave far enough inside (close enough to the beach) that no one else can catch that one
  • When wiping out, aim and shoot your board towards the closest person. This shows them that you mean business, and they should give you a wide berth*
  • When paddling out to the lineup, forget duck-diving or turtle-rolling; that shit is hard. Instead, just ditch your board and swim with it trailing behind you by your legrope. No need to check whether other people are behind you that will be killed by your flailing board**
  • Paddle around (“snake”) people who are patiently waiting for a wave to come to the location they have chosen to sit. When you see one coming to them, quickly get between them and the peak of the wave so that you have priority. See above for what to do next
  • Even when you are not closest to the peak, go on any wave you catch, anyways. This provides more excitement for the surfer you have dropped in on, because they now have an obstacle to avoid
  • If the 5’10” you bought just sinks most of the time, instead ride the largest board possible. This will allow you to sit farthest from the beach and catch the waves earliest, before anyone else gets a chance
  • Some options for stylish pop-ups:
          -    The Jessica-esque Extreme Butt-Bob – jump up with both feet on board and butt touching the deck before slowly standing up
          -     The Proposal – get your back knee and your front foot on the deck, then helicopter your arms as you try to get up onto your back foot
          -     The Wrap-Around – instead of bringing your legs up between your hands, wrap the front leg around the outside of your arm
          -     The No-Hands – use your forehead instead of your hands. There is no actual way to stand up from here but it looks impressively awkward
  •  No sense in learning to surf at a safe, sandy beach with long lines of white-water on which to practice. Those places are full of other beginners. It’s best to go directly to the best waves: preferably those breaking over a shallow, sharp reef, where you can jostle for priority with people who know what they are doing (the better not to get yourself run over)
  • No smiling or joviality allowed. Surfing is serious business!

We hope you've enjoyed today’s tips, and look forward to being maimed by you during our next surf session! Stay tuned for a future blog post about how to be a good surf instructee…

*In case you are taking this literally, please, please, please do not do this.
**Please, please, please do not do this, unless you are me and you are really scared because you concussed yourself duck-diving under a wave that broke on your head, smashing it into your board, at Blacks and so you are forever terrified of waves breaking on your head. In this case, you should probably just go get a coffee instead of surfing, if you are tempted to ditch your board.

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

Some confusing facts about corals

I love coral reefs. I also love news articles about coral reefs, especially when they mention the problems corals face today that challenge their survival: mostly pollution, overfishing, and climate change. But I hate when somewhat minor inaccuracies undermine the strength of the articles. Today I came across just such an article, on one of National Geographic TV's blogs. First, I griped about it on Twitter. A few hours later, DNLee tweeted and suggested writing up corrections to news articles and sending them to the author. So, here goes my #scisplain.

The quotes below come from the National Geographic blog post, and my gripes about them follow.

"Coral Is Smaller than a Tea Cup"

Well, yes, some coral colonies can be smaller than a tea cup. But many coral colonies are huge, the size of cars and tables. The author, Rebecca O'Connor, clarifies in the next paragraph that she means individual coral polyps are smaller than a tea cup. Well, that is often true, but some coral polyps (especially those of solitary corals, which are only composed of a single polyp), are larger. To be more accurate then, this sub-headline above should say something like Individual coral animals are often smaller than a tea cup. 


Ok, my red lines are really faint...but this is a picture of a bunch of skeletons of solitary corals (and some Tridacna clams). Some of these corals, which are comprised of single polyps, are 15 cm in diameter. Maybe your tea cups are really big?

O'Connor goes on: "The animals that make up a coral reef are called polyps and they can actually live on their own, but are primarily associated with the spectacularly diverse limestone communities or reefs, they construct."

Ack! Ok, first, many different types of animals make up a coral reef, not just corals--sponges, algae, soft corals, bivalves...etc. So, no. The animals that make up a coral reef are not called polyps. Instead, this sentence could read something like: Corals are typically colonial animals; each colony is made up of many individuals called polyps, which are usually smaller than a tea cup. I'm not sure what she means by the rest of that sentence. Does she mean that some corals are not colonial, and are just single polyps? Or does she mean that sometimes corals live relatively far away from other corals, for instance in places like São Tomé where individual corals grow on rocks?

I kind of like the "spectacularly diverse" part but why are the communities limestone? Fish, sponges, and many types of algae are not limestone, yet are part of the diversity of reefs. If nothing else, a comma is desperately needed after the word "communities."

(Also, for the record, polyp is a rather general term, and can refer to an individual anemone, hydroid, or jellyfish; saying "polyp" does not specify coral.)

The other four sub-sections are also frustrating.

"Coral Reefs Are Colorless"
Each of the other sections start with "Coral Reefs" and then say something only (mostly) about coral animals. Here, "reefs" should be removed, and the headings should read Corals blah blah blah...

The article continues: "When you think of coral reefs, you imagine their vibrant colors, but coral polyps are actually translucent animals." Yes, mostly. But some corals have their own pigments as well - for instance the coral Siderastrea siderea appears blue, not white, when bleached.

Belize, October 2005: bleached Siderastrea siderea appeared bright blue on our transects

"Reefs get their wild hues from the billions of colorful zooxanthellae (ZOH-oh-ZAN-thell-ee) algae they host." No. Reefs get their wild hues partially from the zooxanthellae hosted by corals and other organisms (for instance, Tridacna clams and anemones also host "zoox"), but other colors on the reef are thanks to other organisms: sponges, algae, etc. To be accurate, this could read Corals get their wild hues... or Reefs get their wild hues partially...

"These algae use photosynthesis to survive and then this process adds nutrients to the environment which benefits the coral..." Sort of, but photosynthesis does not create nutrients, it uses them up (nitrogen, phosphorus, etc.), and produces organic carbon (sugars). The coral benefits from organic carbon translocated from the algae to the coral fully inside the tissues, not leaked to the environment and then recaptured.

"Coral Reefs Are Carnivores"
Yes, corals are carnivores.

"The stomach cavities corals in a reef system are interconnected. Food obtained by one polyp can be passed to other polyps in the colony." That first sentence is weird...maybe it should have an "of" before "corals"? Even still, it's not accurate: the stomach cavities of corals in a particular colony are not connected, and different colonies in a reef system are definitely not connected at all. Instead, corals have connective tissue called coenosarc between each polyp. Sugars and nutrients can move between coral polyps in a colony through this interconnected tissue.

"Coral Reefs Are a Map to Climate Change"
Ok...I'm not sure what this actually means but it's not hugely weird right off the bat.

"Corals are so sensitive to changes in the world climate that scientists study coral reef fossils to construct highly detailed chronologies of prehistoric climate patterns." Well, yes, that's pretty much true. One way that we do this is by analyzing the chemistry of coral skeletons to reconstruct past environmental conditions. Another way is to actually map the locations of fossil reefs, then date them (using other geochemical techniques) and figure out where that bit of Earth's crust used to be (like by using paleomagnetism of nearby rocks). This can give hints as to what the climate was like in that location during the time those fossil reefs flourished.

"When corals experience increased water temperatures, mass coral bleaching can occur.  When coral polyps, stressed by temperature or a variety of other environment factors, they expel the symbiotic algae that live within their tissues. When the algae are expelled, the coral appears white or “bleached.”" Yes, if you can skip over the grammar issues with the middle sentence, this is on track...but it doesn't really build on that first sentence about fossil corals above. What does coral bleaching have to do with fossil corals? Well, we could use old corals to estimate the occurrence of bleaching in the past...but that would require much more explaining than the article seems to want to provide.

Some non-coral reef inhabitants: sponges (orange) and algae are also colorful and important parts of the reef.

"Coral Reefs Have Showy Sex Lives
Some species of coral reproduce by coral spawning. This means that in unison and in some cases on one particular night a year, the coral eject large quantities of eggs and sperm into the surrounding water. This always happens at night and just after the full moon. Trillions of eggs and sperm are released all at once. When this occurs, the eggs and sperm fertilize in the water and then if the larvae that grow survive, they settle back to the ocean floor, attach themselves to a hard surface and grow."


I actually like this last mini-section. Coral spawning does sound pretty amazing, from my colleague's accounts (do read that article, it is gorgeous). Of course, the article doesn't want to end on a depressing note, since it is geared towards increasing viewership of a particular Nat Geo TV program (which looks amazing). But that last sentence holds a lot of importance - if the larvae that grow survive. That critical stage is one of the most delicate, where environmental impacts that might not kill adult corals can be the most problematic. Then the baby corals have to attach--where they choose to do so can also be critical.

  






Tuesday, 5 March 2013

Cooking with a toddler

Jamie Oliver is sort of my hero, throwing together gorgeous meals in half an hour. The husband gifted me with one of his cookbooks for Christmas, and I’ve been enjoying making some of the recipes (though invariably missing an ingredient or three). In his organized kitchen filled with useful gadgets and without tiny people underfoot, J.O. can whip up a main dish, three sides and a dessert in 30 minutes. Here is how it works for me:

Meal: Trapani-style rigatoni, griddled endive salad, arugula & parmesan salad, ciabatta, limoncello kinda trifle. (I didn’t even bother with the endive salad or the dessert; maybe if we had company over, but I’m not normally that ambitious)

Ingredients, in case you’d like to try this out:

Pasta
1 lb dry rigatoni
2 oz parmesan cheese (how the hell much is that, anyway?)
¾ cup whole skinned almonds
2 cloves garlic
1-2 fresh red chiles
2 large bunches of fresh basil
4 anchovy fillets in oil
3 cups grape or cherry tomatoes
Arugula salad
5 oz arugula (J.O. calls for prewashed, but I think that stuff is a rip-off)
2 oz parmesan cheese
½ lemon
Bread
1 ciabatta load
1 heaping teaspoon dried thyme
Also need
olive oil
salt & pepper
Try not to break your neck while cooking
This is what you are supposed to do (and what actually happened):

Begin: Prepare all of the ingredients (dump out shopping bags on counter. Give toddler keys because he’s been clamoring for them since you returned from the store). Boil a pot of water. Put the oven on 350F (or somewhere in the middle of the dial if it’s in C and you are like me and too lazy to convert this properly). Get out your food processor (or, in my case, the blender. Then search entire kitchen and living room for top to blender, which child has hidden under the couch).

Ciabatta: Pour some olive oil over the top, then rub in the dried thyme, sprinkle on some salt and place in the oven. (Make sure toddler is engrossed in activity far from oven while opening the door).

Pasta: Put in the boiling water and cook. You can read the directions on the pasta package if you need to. (Then retrieve keys from toddler, who is trying to use them to remove screws from the furniture, and redirect him to draw on the balcony tiles with chalk instead).

Arugula salad: Put the lettuce in a bowl, shave over the parmesan, then whisk up 3 tablespoons olive oil with juice from the ½ lemon, plus salt and pepper for dressing. (This also would have gone faster if I could find the citrus reamer. This one was eventually located in the toy box).
To be extra amazing, first harvest all of your ingredients yourself
Pasta: Put the parmesan, almonds, garlic and chiles into the food processor (then retrieve the chalk from child’s mouth, and offer instead some pots and a wooden spoon for drumming practice) and blend into tiny bits. (Stop to comfort the child, who has started crying in the corner because he is scared of the blender). While the machine is running, add the basil, anchovies, 2/3 of the tomatoes, and some olive oil. (Turn on the blender in short bursts while singing and attempting to reassure the child that the blender is not scary). It should all blend up to a thick paste. (This might work in a food processor, but is very difficult in a blender, necessitating lots of blender-shaking reminiscent of working at Jamba Juice, and prolonging the unhappiness of the child). Drain the pasta (which you have forgotten about and is now very well cooked) and return it to the pot, chop the rest of the tomatoes in half, and then throw the paste and the tomatoes (those that the child has not demanded, then chewed and spit on the floor) and a little of the reserved pasta water into the pasta and stir it all up.

You’re then supposed to put the pasta into a nice bowl with some lovely remaining basil and a few tomatoes for attractiveness, before bringing it to the table. But that means more dishes, so I think you can skip that part. So just throw the pot of pasta, the salad, and the bread on the table (which hopefully has not burned to a crisp. Remember it will be hot so don’t just grab it out of the oven). At this point you’re supposed to have enough time remaining that you can whip up another salad featuring cooked endive and a fancy dessert and still be done in 30 minutes (but in reality, it’s already been 37 minutes, and you are busy redirecting the child, who is intent on getting into the oven to see what other treasures await).

Eat up! It’s delicious.