simply perfect

I’d heard mixed reviews about Bakesale Betty’s signature fried chicken sandwich. Someone told me it wasn’t worth standing in a line that wrapped around Telegraph Avenue; others chided me for not having tried it yet. I must admit that after living in Oakland for nearly four years, I was slightly embarrassed at not having made the effort to try the sandwich.

The key to avoiding the massive lunchtime line is not arriving for the noon rush. There was still a cue when I arrived, but it moved quickly as the attentive staff seemed to almost guess what I needed. Fried chicken sandwich: Check. Add to that a freshly made pecan shortbread cookie and lemonade slushy. Seven bucks and change; I was good to go.

Heeding the warning of a colleague who made the mistake of taking his sandwich back to the office, I decided to stay put to enjoy the meal at its freshest. The restaurant doesn’t have any indoor seating. Heading outdoors to the colorful wooden ironing boards that line Telegraph Avenue sidewalk, it suddenly dawned on me that this was a perfect fall afternoon in Oakland. The sunlight was intensely bright in my eyes, but nothing could distract me from this sandwich. Even the street performer playing Neil Diamond’s greatest hits on his guitar could not distract me from enjoying this simple pleasure.

Some of the best foods are the simple ones that provide three component ingredients: sustenance, flavor and comfort. This seemingly simplistic sandwich, reminiscent of the New Orleans Po’ Boy because of the French roll it’s served in, is possibly one of the best chicken sandwiches I had ever devoured. (Yes, devoured. As in “Finger Lickin’ Good”.) Its “Southern” charm is definitely evident in the crispy and tender chicken. The subtlety of the spice hits you only when combined with the tangy cold slaw. Forget the poultry, the slaw is the main attraction. Crisp and full of flavor, it hits all the right notes with the help of cilantro, vinegar and pickled red onions – because everything tastes better with pickled red onions.

The only thing that could possibly distract me from enjoying my sandwich was a brain freeze from the lemonade slushy. Note to self: Enjoy with a PBR next time. The sandwich is huge, so I suggest bringing a friend to share it with if you’re going for lunch. I made the mistake of eating the entire thing myself. This sandwich is not something you want to eat a few hours later either. This meal was simply the best thing for this perfect fall day in Oakland.

i am in good hands

There are some things you can control in life like ending toxic relationships, avoiding eating seconds, and doing something completely unethical to elevate your status.

Then there are those things you cannot control in life like ants invading your desk, the vending machine going crazy and being rear-ended on a Friday morning on your way to work.

Great. I just wrote copy for an auto insurance advertisement. That's what I get for having thought those commercials were cheesy. But I have to say that I'm seriously glad it's law to have insurance , especially when you're at a stop light and someone hits you from behind at 40 miles per hour because they lost control of their breaks.

The first thing I screamed in my car as I sat up from my fully reclined driver's seat was, "Omigod! Omigod! I've been hit. I hope they pull over to the side." I've had issues with people hitting me and running. (The old bitch in Burlingame with the red Cadillac, you know who you are!) Not to be ageist, but I flinch every time I see someone with gray hair behind the wheel. My grandmother is eighty-four and still driving. She probably shouldn't drive, but I understand the independence thing. The difference is that she doesn't drive around areas she doesn't know.

I also remember watching this thing on Dateline a while back about how people involved in collisions where the seats reclined were more likely to be paralyzed because of the strain on the neck and vertibrae. I was in shock, but was able to drive my car to the side of the road and get out of my car mumbling and freaking out because I couldn't find my left flip flop.

It seems the only parties that suffered any major injuries in this accident were our cars. Mine got the brunt of the damage losing part of the bumper in the middle of the road and the other part was kicked off by the CHP at the scene.

But not being hurt doesn't mean that I'm not traumatized or that I didn't have that life-can-be-gone-in-a-blink-of-an-eye moment. But it does make you realize how short life is. I don't believe in coincidences, but I do believe that things happen for a reason. Maybe this was a wake up call. And just like escaping the pink slip these days, there's something surreal about coming close to ending up on the other side and escaping it. The whole thing just makes you want to start living life to the fullest - whatever that might mean. I'm sure I have a purpose in life and I'll figure it out some day. In the mean time, I'm just going to take deep breaths, cut out the bad and let in the good. Kudos to my guardian angel.

For someone who functions on crisis mode this was not my idea of a rush. I'm not a fan of waiting in an ER room next to someone getting a catheter inserted who knows where. Too much reality for one morning.

Now I have to sit tight and see what happens to my Honda. I was able to drive it to work and the body shop two blocks away from my office. All my coworkers were in agreement that it was totalled. You know it's bad when it sounds like your car is going to fall apart if it goes faster than 35 miles per hour and the seat doesn't want to go up all the way.

None of this surprises me, I guess. There was a full moon out this week and I did find a cracked mirror in my purse. Not being superstitious I tossed it in the garbage can. But now I know why my desk was the only one invaded by ants, and it would also explain why the vending machine went mad. Maybe the insurance companies should mention those variables when helping people choose their policies.