relieved that 30 isn’t the new blind

So, apparently nothing has happened to the size of the text after all. From what I can tell, the headache-inducing teensy font I see is a result of the way my browser likes to display the page, now that I’ve gone and switched to a Linux operating system. And I won’t bore you with that jargon, mostly because I’d have no idea what I was talking about. I am relieved, however, to find out that my aging eyesight isn’t, in fact, completely shot.

Anyhoo, I realize that there are now two different font sizes for the posts; if I get really ambitious, I will find a way to bulk edit everything to the same readable size. Sometime…soonish. That’s the best I can offer for now.

 

vaughan’s married???

What happened? I don’t update for almost a year and I come back and can’t tell up from down, black from white. Trying to figure out this new editing interface is somewhat perplexing…I’m all but waving the mouse in the air and wondering why it won’t draw a circle on the screen. And that’s only because my laptop doesn’t have a mouse.

Also, when did the type get so, well, minuscule?? I’m going to have to look into this, because even I cannot decipher the tiny text on the screen, and, hell, I wrote the stuff.

At any rate, I’m thinking about resurrecting this blog (as soon as I figure out this whole new dance routine, that is). Why’d I stop? Let’s just say I was going through a “blogs are pointless” blue period, but that now my mind and my fingers are itching to start writing again. In addition, I find that blogging entertains me. And I love nothing if not to be entertained.

 

trip update

And…I’m back. The short, short version? German beer kicks ass, the Augustiner beer hall is the one thing I recommend most to visit in Salzburg (see pics for more detail), Vienna had the best pastries (get thee to an Anker for some delicious jelly doughnuts) and blutenwurst (blood sausage with sauerkraut, roasted potatoes, and spices), and Prague was stunning and magnificent, though not necessarily cheap. Also, beer is cheaper than Coca Cola, pornography and naked women are much more accepted in public society (if the topless women advertised on our tourist map were any indication), and nobody, and I mean nobody, jaywalks in Dusseldorf. Nary a car would be in sight at a crosswalk and still nobody would cross the street until after the sign indicated “walk,” waiting patiently in complete stillness and silence.

What else (I guess it’s not so short after all)? The Mozart museums were odd, odd spectacles, replicated buildings filled with replicated “artifacts,” a creepy young/old Mozart baby swaddled in a crib and bathed in an eerie neon blue light, and a mechanical wooden barking dog perched atop a playing piano, relentlessly yapping until a mechanical wooden Mozart pulled out a gun and shot it dead. The gay-friendly hotel we stayed at in Vienna had a men-only sauna on the premises (strangers welcome; women, not so much) and a bowlful of prunes at the breakfast buffet every morning. When you walk into a bar, beer is not a suggestion, it’s an assumption; bartenders and servers keep bringing you more until you actively tell them to stop. Nobody cards anyone, anywhere; at the Prague airport, whiskey samples were given out freely in the duty-free shop.

Also? I now have an irrational obsession with the bottomless tostada chips and salsa served at none other than Chili’s. This came about due to Mr. Dangerous and I arriving obscenely early at the airport for our departing flight out of Minneapolis, which resulted in the two of us parking ourselves at the Chili’s Too bar for the next several hours over ridiculously priced beers and the lightest, thinnest, saltiest, hottest tostada chips ever to be eaten. It was like tortilla chip nirvana. I became so enamored, that I actually dragged Mr. Dangerous to a Mexican restaurant in Prague just so I could get my fix off of bagged tortilla chips straight from the nearest Tesco (Prague’s version of Walmart). It wasn’t worth it, and since I’ve been back, I’ve realized that nothing offered anywhere else compares to the crispy, salty goodness that Chili’s offers in bottomless abundance.

Now? Just getting ready to turn the corner on the decade and hoping to find myself a cushy Craftmatic bed and a year’s subscription to Reader’s Digest on the other side. We’re having a larger-than-originally-thought festa to mark the occasion, and I’m looking forward to kicking down the door to my 30s with the best of them.

 

i came home for this?

Mr. Dangerous and I got back to Minneapolis last night after 17 days in Germany, Austria, and the Czech Republic only to be greeted with the biggest snowstorm to hit the Twin Cities in 20 years? Lovely. I thought March was supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb, am I wrong? At any rate, I’ve been busy uploading pictures, but as my body is still on European time, I’m about ready to pass out (we both went back to work this morning, too, where I nearly overdosed on caffeine). I’ll have to upload the remaining pictures later this week, as well as post about the trip. From gay saunas to $2 opera tickets to 1400-person beer halls, it was quite the European vacation.

 

you know what’s not so fun?

Two words: bacon hangover.

Oh, sure, it sounds like fun, savoring piece after piece of glistening-with-fat-drippings thick-slab bacon that you haven’t had in over three years, but are now fully enjoying upon your discovery of free-range bacon from farm-raised, humanely treated, antibiotic- and growth hormone-free pigs, courtesy of Beeler Farms. So you eat a few pieces with your farm-fresh fried eggs (which have been fried in the bacon drippings, of course), and then you think, “Oh, one more piece surely couldn’t hurt,” and, soon after, “You know, I might as well finish off the package, since there’s only a few pieces left, right?” And oh, that bacon tastes so good going down, so salty and fatty, so crispy and chewy, all at the same time.

And then, a few hours later, the bacon sweats begin. Followed by the bacon nausea and maybe even the slightest bacon headache. Had I indulged in a few more pieces, I may have even contracted the bacon shakes. I’ll never know how close to the edge I came during my bacon binge. All I can say is, the hangover wasn’t all that fun . . . but it was deliciously worth it.

 

all i want for christmas is my dog toy back

“Mmmm, what is this?? Whatever it is, it sure is delicious!”

“Seriously, we’ve gotta get some of these for home!”

“I. Am. NOT. Amused.”

 

in the words of lou sedaris, “man, what you don’t know could fill a book”

Mr. Dangerous: “Did you hear that stores are selling bags of all-green M&Ms this year?”

Me: “Oh, for St. Patrick’s Day?”

 

while settling in to watch das boot

“When was this movie made?”

“1981.”

“1981? Oh my god, you weren’t even born yet.”

“I know, and you were, like, fifteen.”

Mr. Dangerous and I love to point out to each other the fact that I am several years older than he is. He keeps joking that I should get a Craftmatic bed. I keep hoping that he’ll buy me one for my birthday so that I can read my People magazine and eat my ribbon candy while reclined at the most precise of angles. I mean, who doesn’t want a bed that goes up and down at the push of a button? It just makes sense, people.

Oh yes, by the way, we are slowly but surely on our way to a full recovery. I feel 275% better than I did this time last week. I finally ventured back to the office yesterday, and it was actually relieving to get out of the house into a different environment, even if I was greeted with stacks and stacks of work. I’m still a bit tired and worn down, and I still sound like Demi Moore with a bout of throat cancer, but I’m getting there. As for Mr. Dangerous, he wasn’t hit quite so hard, but seems to be recovering slightly slower than me. With any luck, we’ll both be out and about by the weekend before we go batty with cabin fever. Here’s hoping, anyway.

 

ringing in the new year

How I Had Planned to Spend New Year’s Eve:

Enjoying a special New Year’s Eve tasting menu at La Belle Vie with Mr. Dangerous

How I Actually Spent New Year’s Eve:

Crying on Mr. Dangerou’s shoulder as he called the emergency room to ask if he should bring me in with a violent cough that left me with no voice, more mucus production than I ever thought possible, shallow breaths, chest and back pains, a week of sleeplessness, and the inability to turn magazine pages without overextending myself. As it turns out, Mr. Dangerous ended up taking me to urgent care this morning–my second visit to the doctor in four days–so that I could finally be diagnosed with viral bronchitis after more than a week of feeling like I was on the verge of death. Unfortunately, the doctor concluded that there was nothing he could do for me, and that I would just have to let the bronchitis run its course, which could take another week or so. As an added bonus, I also pulled a muscle in my back this morning while coughing, so now whenever I cough or blow my nose it feels like someone is stabbing me in the back. Awesome!

It’s been a long week; I can’t even think about the last several months that I’ve been absent from this blog. All I can say is, I’ve been unrelentingly busy, and it looks like it’s finally caught up with me. I hope to be back soon.

 

it’s that time of year again

How ’bout them Gators?

I caught the second half of Saturday’s game against Tennessee, during which Florida amassed a total 59 points to the Vols’ 20. It was impressive, to say the least, watching Tebow throw perfect, yet seemingly impossible spirals directly into Percy Harvin’s arms. If all goes well over the next few weeks, you know the biggest game of the entire regular season is going to be on October 6, when the Gators meet the Tigers in Baton Rouge. Everyone is waiting for it, practically licking their lips in anticipation. Unfortunately for me, I won’t be seeing a lick of the action, as I will be out of town for a prior, weekend-long engagement. Curses! Foiled again! Of course, I’d rather be with Mr. Dangerous celebrating his brother’s wedding that day, and I fully plan to have a great time. However, I can’t say that I won’t be thinking about the game during at least one point during the day. But, I am going to try, try, try to be on my best behavior and refrain from saying, “Oops! I left my purse/gift/dancing shoes/hip flask/leather chaps back at the hotel, guess I’ll have to go back and get it! By the way, do you know offhand what channel ESPN is?” Because it’s all about decorum and restraint…just ask the UF student who was recently tasered by campus police during John Kerry’s appearance at the UMA. Which, by the way, was totally crazy.

In other news, I have recently been in a seafood-eating binge, and I have to tell you, it’s been incredibly tasty and delicious. On Friday night Mr. Dangerous and I headed to The Oceanaire to celebrate our anniversary. It was quite the gustatory experience. Before we even glanced at the menu, we were presented with an enormous slab of artisanal bread, a ramekin of whipped, sweet cream butter, and a platter of crudites, including an array of raw vegetables, olives, and the best pickled herring I have ever eaten. In my experience, herring has always been slimy and limp, with a fishy, pickled flavor. But the herring at The Oceanaire was served on ice; it was firm, with a solid bite and a sweet, meaty taste. And those were just the starters.

We ordered three different types of raw oysters as an appetizer, and one of them (whose name I can’t recall offhand) was about three times as large as the other two, and briny and delicious. The best of the trio, for me, was definitely the Winter Point. Never has a raw oyster tasted so smooth and elegant, like edible silk. I think they now replace Beausoleils as my favorite type of oyster.

For the main course, I ordered the jumbo sea scallops. About five of them arrived swimming in a sea of buttery, garlicky goodness. The scallops were practically reminiscent of chicken in texture–not that they were rubbery, but that they were so meaty that the flesh pulled away from itself in layers when I separated it with the tines of my fork.

Mr. Dangerous had the lump crab cakes, which our waiter assured us were “ninety percent crab.” He wasn’t kidding. What arrived were less like crab cakes and more like gigantic piles of succulent crabmeat lightly dusted with mayonnaise and bread crumbs. They were absolutely incredible.

In addition to our seafood, we shared an order of hash browns, an entire plateful of heaping, buttery, salty shredded potatoes, uniformly golden and crunchy on the outside, and steaming white and moist inside.

Even more incredible were the king crab legs that the couple at the table next to us ordered. I had encouraged Mr. Dangerous to order them, since both of us adore crab legs, but the $65 price tag (for the crab legs only) gave us both pause. However, I think we will be going back to share them in the future now that we’ve seen exactly what they entail. Each leg was the length of my arm, quite possibly longer. The clusters were delivered on a tray set up next to the couple’s table. Then, not one, not two, not even three, but four white-jacketed waiters appeared to simultaneously crack, pick, and pull the crab legs apart and transfer all of the sweet meat to a clean plate for the couple to enjoy. Now that’s service!

The funniest moment of the night, however, came when we ordered a bottle of Luna Pinot Grigio. Our waiter took our order, then apologetically requested to see our IDs, explaining that it was just a formality and that we should take it as a compliment. Mr. Dangerous presented his, upon which our waiter took one look at it and immediately exclaimed, “Oh, you’re so young! To be such an age again!” Then he took mine, stared at it, and silently handed it back to me. He began to walk away, and then, as an afterthought, turned his head slightly and said offhandedly, “Oh, yeah, you’re young, too.” Priceless.

All in all, it was a fabulous dinner. If you’re thinking about trying it, definitely go. It’s certainly spendy, but worth it if you love seafood. Some general observations: the restaurant is larger and louder than I expected, it’s definitely not a romantic little bistro. The decor and music reminded me of something straight of out L. A. Confidential. Our reservations were for 9 p.m., and when we got there, every table was filled, so reservations (the earlier you make them, the better, I’m sure) are a must. As far as attire goes, it’s a moderately fancy place. Think business casual or holiday party dress. Many, if not most, of the men were wearing suits with ties and jackets. However, at the very end of the night a patron came in wearing jeans and a baseball cap, so I suppose anything goes, although I would recommend wearing something a little fancier.

Also, the table is filled with more things than you could ever have thought possible, not counting the actual food. Mr. Dangerous and I sat at a table for four, and I really don’t know how four people would actually be able to fit at the table, since half of it was covered with a stack of approximately ten appetizer plates, a pail with metal shell crackers and picks, a gigantic container of sea salt (think the Morton’s salt container at the grocery store), pepper, hot sauce, various other condiments, and even an Oceanaire post-it pad. I’m not quite sure what it was for (maybe to write advice to our waiter about how not to insult the age of his female patrons?), but it was an interesting touch.

Oh, but the seafood extravaganza doesn’t end there. We pan-fried Coho salmon marinated in maple syrup and honey the next night and bought king crab and snow crab legs from the grocery store the night after that (delicious, but certainly not up to Oceanaire snuff). And last night we split a whole, fried Red Snapper at Pancho Villa that was amazingly delicious. We broke through the hard, brittle, salty skin with our forks to reveal flaky, moist flesh, salty, yet sweet at the same time. It was a considerably sized fish, but between the two of us, we managed to eat everything but the tail and the eyes (neither of us could bring ourselves to pop the squishy, gelatinous red eyes into our mouths, despite the fact that the eyes are supposed to be amazing).

Anyway, I’m sure I have at least a mild case of mercury poisoning at this point (as well as a river of butter coursing through my veins), so I am going to try and lay off the seafood for at least a few days. We did head to the apple orchard on Saturday afternoon, so at least I’ve also been eating more apples than I know what to do with. We picked a bag of Haralsons (and ate a handful out in the field), but ended up buying Cortlands and Honeycrisps, instead.

You’d think I couldn’t possibly have anything else to say about food at this point, but I do. From veggie burgers and tofu hot dogs (tasty, really!) to pho (what the pho?), more dim sum, and the Holy Land Deli, there is never a shortage of good food in my life lately. Now if only I could get my hands on a schwarma and some pastels….

In other news, I got into a car accident a few weeks ago. It was sudden and scary and it happened in the blink of an eye, but luckily I was not hurt and there was no truly major damage, which is a relief, given the circumstances. Still, I did have to take in my car for repairs, so instead of driving a sedan, I am now at the helm of a giant rental SUV. Don’t ask me who thought, “You know, I really think an SUV is perfectly comparable to what she currently drives.” It feels more than a bit conspicuous to drive down Lyndale in a gigantic metal box, but I suppose at least it’s not a Hummer, right? I do have to say that it does handle nicely, and the added height is a definite driving advantage. And also, those rear windshield wipers? Ingenious!

And I think that’s about it. I move in just a few weeks, so I’m packing up again. Claudia arrived in town last month, so we caught up over lunch at Ecopolitan. Jende arrives in the Twin Cities the first week of October, to hang out and take us to his favorite dim sum restaurants. We’re also planning to head to Robert and Sarah’s while he’s here, so that, along with the two out-of-state weddings I have scheduled in October, on top of a very busy fall schedule at the office, means that it’s going to be one hectic month. Looks like the lazy days of summer are over.

 

so here’s the dealio

I honestly have no idea what to say. It’s not that I couldn’t tell you about biting into the juicy, buttery roasted sweet corn dripping in charred, papery husks at the state fair this year, or about the sizzling, golden cheese curds oozing in the sun, or about my quest for deep-fried pickles that my stomach regretfully vetoed when I capped off the day with a 1919 root-beer float, a Sweet Martha’s chocolate-chip cookie, and a fistful of sinfully greasy French fries.

And it’s not like I couldn’t tell you about what the site of the collapsed 35W bridge remains looked like as the sun was setting on Labor Day, the mangled green steel strewn motionless in the river below, while crumpled overhead freeway signs lay dead on the cracked and abandoned asphalt, the crushed railroad cars still pinned silent and motionless underneath.

And I probably could also tell you about the new apartment I just rented after what seemed like months of searching, and how I will finally be living exactly where I’ve always wanted to live, in an amazing studio loft on the top floor of an old Victorian house in an area that finally feels like home.

And I guess I could also fill you in on how work is busier than I’ve ever seen it at this time of year, or how all of my Peace Corps friends are starting to come home, or how Mr. Dangerous and I have developed a new interest in home cooking and have learned to make a mean scallop linguine to boot.

It’s not like I couldn’t tell you any of this, I suppose, not to mention all the birthdays, celebrations, and family gatherings that have filled up the summer. But somehow, with everything going on all at once, every time I sit down to write, there’s so much happening inside my head that I suddenly feel like I have absolutely nothing to say. I’m rarely home nowadays, and when I am, it’s almost as if my brain short-circuits from the pressure of thinking about just how much is really going on. And then all I can really do is turn on the Food Network and vegetate accordingly. I’m having a good, no, a great time, don’t get me wrong, but all of this fun sure can be tiring.

So I’m hoping that I will eventually sort things out in this life and head of mine and start writing again, seeing as though the reason I created this blog in the first place was to have a (somewhat) disciplined outlet for my writing. I’m sure things will calm down once I move and get settled, not only in my new apartment, but also with the routine of a full-time job again. Why is it so hard to balance life and work and everything in between sometimes? Maybe someday I’ll finally get the hang of it.

 

for once i’m not procrastinating

I’ve actually been busy. Very, very, very busy. Life is good, it’s just extremely full at the moment. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to get it all done. Work, play, family, friends–there’s something going on every minute, it seems. Maybe I’ll have some downtime this weekend to take a breather and process everything, but somehow I think this weekend will be just as busy as the rest of them have been. Mostly I’m just never home to get online anymore. And now that I am, I think I’m ready for bed. It’s been a long two weeks and then some. So long, in fact, that I just don’t have the energy to even think about all that’s gone on. But soon. I promise. Seriously. Until then, I leave you with this, my vote for the funniest song on HBO’s “Flight of the Conchords.” Especially when you consider the original version was about climbing the highest mountains and swimming across the deepest oceans for love. If you’re not already watching the show, you should be. That is, if that’s what you’re into.

 

I-35W bridge collapses into the mississippi

At about 6 p.m. During bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. At this point nobody still really knows what’s going on.

All of my other updates will have to wait for another day.

 

exceeding expectations

Twice in one week, can you stand it?

The big news today is that I was offered the editing position. You know what this means. Renewed weekly dates with Heaven in a Styrofoam cup! Aside from the fact that this is exciting news, it also couldn’t have come at a better time, what with my (largely ineffective) Peace Corps insurance about to run out and my finances getting a tad on the meager side. I’m ready to head back to the office for good, and this editing position is exactly what I need. My official start date is July 30, and I’ll be continuing my contract writing position until then, as well as dividing my job duties between the two positions until September, due to short staffing and workload demands. So my goal for the next few weeks is to enjoy working part-time from home while I can, as well as luxuriate in the remaining free time I now have, as the editing position requires me to be in the office on a full-time basis. Which means that then I’ll actually have a legitimate reason for not updating this blog as frequently as I should.

And that’s my job news. I haven’t gone out to celebrate yet, although I did indulge in a smidge too much alcohol last night. I had a Tom Collins that was so cherry red that it could’ve been mistaken for a Shirley Temple, were it not for the lethal amount of gin emanating from my pores for the rest of the night. I thought I’d wash that down with a refreshing tap beer, only to be presented with the tallest beer receptacle I have ever seen in the sort of establishment that calls itself “Moe’s.” I’d call it a pint glass, but it was more like a pint and a half. Ah, but it was good. At the time, anyway. Not so much this morning.

In other news, my CV compadres are starting to flow back as I type this, and it’s hard to believe that their time is officially over. Claudia is already stateside and will be landing in Minneapolis in just a few weeks. Anna will be here within a month, and Jende won’t be far behind. I can’t wait to see them all again. As for everyone else who is or will be scattered across the country? Well, it looks like a Vegas reunion is currently in the works. And what a reunion that would be. I know the craziness that happens when PCVs get together in developing countries to do things like go to the gas station to buy a candy bar or attempt to board public transportation. What happens when you add the neon insanity of Sin City? I can’t even begin to imagine. All I know is, I’ll be there.

 

m.i.a.

Yes, I’m still here.

I’d say I can hardly believe it’s been over a month since I last posted, but since I’m a champion procrastinator, why, yes, I surely can.

I’ve meant to update things. Really, I have. Partly I haven’t because I feel like I’m reading or writing all the damn time, whether it’s for work, email and other correspondence, journaling, or otherwise. I’m burned out on writing, truth be told.

Also, it seems like I just have no time whatsoever, lately. The days may be long, but they are whizzing by at lightning speed. I am still working as a contract writer, but I also recently interviewed for an editing position, about which I should hear back sometime this week. Socially, things have also been busy. Something seems to be going on every weekend. Weddings and babies abound. Birthdays and anniversaries, as well. Luckily, I manage to do most of my relaxing with Mr. Dangerous. When we’re not making the rounds on the various museums and ethnic restaurants around town (Mirror of Korea–try it, you’ll like it!), we’re usually lounging around watching TV, which almost always makes for a relaxing time. We did head to Stillwater for a beautiful Fourth of July afternoon before heading to the Taste of Minnesota for an amazing panoramic view of fireworks displays across the entire metro area. I can’t remember the last time I’ve celebrated the Fourth of July in Minnesota (usually I’m in Chicago), so it was really nice to celebrate it at home this year.

I’ve also been spending some time investing in a new wardrobe, since I don’t fit into any of my old clothes anymore. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve lost so much weight over the past four months that I’m swimming in everything I own. It’s not like I’m really exercising anything other than the buttons on the remote control. It’s not like I’m not eating, either, since I’ve managed to hit up more restaurants in the past few months than I have in the past year. I’d credit it all to a cute little tapeworm I’m hosting named Timmy, but I’ve got a clean bill of health (and the $600 bill to prove it–really, is Peace Corps insurance that hard to figure out, people??). So I suppose I’ll just credit it to my newly developed lactose intolerance (damn you, lactose!), smaller portions, and the occasional pushups and handweights I sometimes entertain myself with (I’d say I was exercising, but the other day a seven year old picked up my weights so he could scoff at how not heavy they were to everyone–and he’s right).

And, of course, I’m gearing up for Harry Potter. I was going to get ambitious and reread all six books before the last one comes out in a few weeks, but then I thought “Why do that?” and spent some time on the MuggleNet site, instead. Take it from me, if you want an entirely unspoiled Book 7 experience, stay far away from Mugglenet and its theories. The editorial writers are simply too smart for their own good, and now all I can think is “How could I have missed the signs? It all makes so much sense now!” I’d rather be broadsided by Rowling herself. The way she ties the little things together always blows me away.

So I guess that’s what I’ve been up to over the past month, more or less, anyway. What else can I tell you of importance? Knocked Up was entertaining. Ocean’s Thirteen was not (save for the few bits with the Mexican factory and Oprah). Trader Joe’s has amazing products, but their banana chips are not one of them. Broder’s Southside Pasta Bar is delicious and inexpensive (homemade pasta for less than ten dollars!), and I can’t understand how I haven’t discovered it before now (find it 50th and Penn, but expect a serious wait, as it’s small and extremely popular). I drove Mr. Dangerous’s car, a stick shift, the other week, back from Broder’s, in fact, and it reminded me of just how fun a manual transmission is to drive. It makes my current automatic transmission seem positively boring. I may have to reinvest in a stick shift in the future, after all.

Am I forgetting anything? Most likely. Oh, well. I’m sure I’ll get to it next time. Whenever that may be….