Okay, so it’s been a while since I’ve updated my already belated progress here, but I have a few chunks of achievements.
First, I did actually try 30 new beers (and then some) before my birthday, but I didn’t ever “review the last one. I splurged on a bottle of Brewmaster Signature Ale, a collaboration between Port Brewing in the US and De Proef Brewing in Belgium. This hybrid of Belgium and American Ale was not as good as I had expected. To be honest, it was pretty damn boring, and very bitter considering the low amount of hops. Oh well, it counts as number 30.
As for ethnic foods, I am over halfway there. By my count, I’m at 16, and while I am not going to take time to write about everything, I will say that a good chunk of that is Indian cuisine. For produce, I am only up to 12, but again, I have had so much already in my life that it’s hard to find new things to try. I’ve still got a week and some change before the new year, though, and I’ll squeeze in what I can.
My most exciting recent exploit is the fact that I ran, without stopping or walking, the entire three-mile trail around Green Lake in Seattle. If you live in the area, running, jogging, walking, cycling, and skating the path that encircles Green Lake is a big deal. I’ve been wanting to join this Seattle society since I first arrived in the area, and I am very excited that I finally did.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Giving Myself a Mulligan
Well, as far as completing my 30 Before 30 list has gone, I didn’t meet my goals. I completed 17 items completely, have some that are in the works, and several that haven’t even been touched.
But wait…I HAVE EXCUSES!!! In order, they read:
2. Try 30 new ethnic foods – I am about halfway there, but I find it difficult since Federal Way is sorely lacking in ethnic restaurants and since so many things have rice in them, which I don’t eat.
4. Lose 30 pounds – Technically – technically – I did this one. I lost 30 pounds since I started this list. The problem is, I put a large chunk of it back on. Flip-flopping work schedules, medical issues, and Little Rae’s Picture Cookies are largely to blame.
7. Inventory my DVDs – This is a work in progress. I have more DVDs than most people (and some stores) and I am not the world’s fastest typist. I’m on my way, though!
9. Read a classic novel, cover to cover, in one sitting – Ok, this one is just a result of chores and laziness. I tend to spend my free time running errands and working on the house, as well as watching movies and trading gripes about jobs with the missus.
10. Do 100 push-ups – This was harder than I thought it would be. It meant that I had to work hard and train. As if.
13. Run around Green Lake – I could have done this one, I just never made the time.
22. Try 30 new kinds of produce – This one proved a lot more challenging than I ever would have guessed, simply because I’ve had so many different kinds throughout my life. Finding new items isn’t always easy.
23. Write something and get it published – This is actually done. An article I wrote for the Inter Urban Runners Club was written and submitted before my birthday, but didn’t get published until after. Counts, though…
26. Have a picnic in a park – I just never managed to squeeze this one in. When we’re out of town, we like to try new restaurants. When we’re in town, we tend to sit on our butts and eat at home.
27. Beat Super Mario Bros. on the original NES – I never found time to get to this one either…
29. Find a town I’ve never heard of on a map, drive there, eat somewhere locally, see the sights, and leave – Again, I just never found the time for this one. Complicating matters is that a lot of the towns I’ve never heard of have nothing worth going to see.
30. Learn to juggle – Workin’ on it. Our lovely and gracious culinary artist Surtida taught me how, and I can kinda juggle, but not enough to count it.
If modern American society and video games have taught me anything, it’s that you can redo anything you want and still count it. So I’m gonna.
My reasoning is as follows: I started my list in January, so I didn’t even give myself a full year. That’s just not even fair.
That being said, I am extending my deadline to January 1. My pledge is to have completed this effin list by the start of the new year, which won’t exactly count, but dammit man, I can’t let it drop, and if I don’t set a new deadline, I’ll never finish.
While I’m off for a few days on my mini Halloween vacation, I plan on cranking through as many more things as I can. Once this is list is finished, I will also start work on my 40 Before 40, which will be tougher, but this time I’ve got a whole decade. *sigh*
But wait…I HAVE EXCUSES!!! In order, they read:
2. Try 30 new ethnic foods – I am about halfway there, but I find it difficult since Federal Way is sorely lacking in ethnic restaurants and since so many things have rice in them, which I don’t eat.
4. Lose 30 pounds – Technically – technically – I did this one. I lost 30 pounds since I started this list. The problem is, I put a large chunk of it back on. Flip-flopping work schedules, medical issues, and Little Rae’s Picture Cookies are largely to blame.
7. Inventory my DVDs – This is a work in progress. I have more DVDs than most people (and some stores) and I am not the world’s fastest typist. I’m on my way, though!
9. Read a classic novel, cover to cover, in one sitting – Ok, this one is just a result of chores and laziness. I tend to spend my free time running errands and working on the house, as well as watching movies and trading gripes about jobs with the missus.
10. Do 100 push-ups – This was harder than I thought it would be. It meant that I had to work hard and train. As if.
13. Run around Green Lake – I could have done this one, I just never made the time.
22. Try 30 new kinds of produce – This one proved a lot more challenging than I ever would have guessed, simply because I’ve had so many different kinds throughout my life. Finding new items isn’t always easy.
23. Write something and get it published – This is actually done. An article I wrote for the Inter Urban Runners Club was written and submitted before my birthday, but didn’t get published until after. Counts, though…
26. Have a picnic in a park – I just never managed to squeeze this one in. When we’re out of town, we like to try new restaurants. When we’re in town, we tend to sit on our butts and eat at home.
27. Beat Super Mario Bros. on the original NES – I never found time to get to this one either…
29. Find a town I’ve never heard of on a map, drive there, eat somewhere locally, see the sights, and leave – Again, I just never found the time for this one. Complicating matters is that a lot of the towns I’ve never heard of have nothing worth going to see.
30. Learn to juggle – Workin’ on it. Our lovely and gracious culinary artist Surtida taught me how, and I can kinda juggle, but not enough to count it.
If modern American society and video games have taught me anything, it’s that you can redo anything you want and still count it. So I’m gonna.
My reasoning is as follows: I started my list in January, so I didn’t even give myself a full year. That’s just not even fair.
That being said, I am extending my deadline to January 1. My pledge is to have completed this effin list by the start of the new year, which won’t exactly count, but dammit man, I can’t let it drop, and if I don’t set a new deadline, I’ll never finish.
While I’m off for a few days on my mini Halloween vacation, I plan on cranking through as many more things as I can. Once this is list is finished, I will also start work on my 40 Before 40, which will be tougher, but this time I’ve got a whole decade. *sigh*
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Almost there...
Wow. In 9 days I will be halfway to 60. This came up on me much faster than I thought it would. With regards to my list, there will be items left undone. This is really disappointing to me, but oh well, I wouldn't have done many of the things I did unless I had made this list.
I've got a few items to add today in the ethnic food arena:
Halvah, which is essentially a sesame seed bar from the Middle East, tasted exactly like you might think it would. A texture like marzipan and a flavor of toasted sesame seeds. Not bad, but I wouldn't go out of my way to eat one again.
Menudo, a popular Mexican soup of hominy and tripe, was one of the most revolting things I have ever tried. Well, the soup itself wasn't all that bad, but I learned through tasting it that tripe - the inner lining of a cow's stomach - has neither a flavor nor a texture that I find even the least bit appetizing.
I've got a few items to add today in the ethnic food arena:
Halvah, which is essentially a sesame seed bar from the Middle East, tasted exactly like you might think it would. A texture like marzipan and a flavor of toasted sesame seeds. Not bad, but I wouldn't go out of my way to eat one again.
Menudo, a popular Mexican soup of hominy and tripe, was one of the most revolting things I have ever tried. Well, the soup itself wasn't all that bad, but I learned through tasting it that tripe - the inner lining of a cow's stomach - has neither a flavor nor a texture that I find even the least bit appetizing.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Play it again, Bogie.
Humphrey Bogart, one of my favorite actors, appeared in 75 films before his three pack-a-day habit killed him. I cranked through a handful of Bogart films today, which completes my movie marathon portion of my list.
And no, I didn’t watch Casablanca. I’ve seen it too many times and it’s too famous to count, I decided.
Beat the Devil
A band of con men set out to steal parcels of African land rich with uranium. Bogart is more or less their stooge, until he falls in love with a compulsively dishonest English woman, whose husband in turn is seduced by Bogart's wife. They all wind up running from authorities of many nations in this humorous spoof of noir films.
The Maltese Falcon A classic and one of the films that launched Bogey into stardom. Detective Sam Spade is asked to help track down a solid gold statue that is encrusted with jewels. He does. Hmm. Not as heavy as you'd think...but check out the original version of this film that predated the Hollywood censors. Or the comedic version Satan Met a Lady. Yes, Bogart's is the third incarnation of this classic noir epic.
Action in the North Atlantic
Merchant Marines on a Liberty Ship get separated from their convoy to Europe by a German wolfpack in this WWII naval action-adventure. They survive two sub attacks, Luftwaffe strafing and bombing runs, fog, and storms during their time at sea. Like Das Boot, Run Silent, Run Deep, or U-571? You'll like Action in the North Atlantic. Oh, and if you liked U-571, you're an idiot.
Across the Pacific 
Passage to Marseille 
All Through the Night
And no, I didn’t watch Casablanca. I’ve seen it too many times and it’s too famous to count, I decided.
Beat the DevilA band of con men set out to steal parcels of African land rich with uranium. Bogart is more or less their stooge, until he falls in love with a compulsively dishonest English woman, whose husband in turn is seduced by Bogart's wife. They all wind up running from authorities of many nations in this humorous spoof of noir films.
The Maltese Falcon
Action in the North AtlanticMerchant Marines on a Liberty Ship get separated from their convoy to Europe by a German wolfpack in this WWII naval action-adventure. They survive two sub attacks, Luftwaffe strafing and bombing runs, fog, and storms during their time at sea. Like Das Boot, Run Silent, Run Deep, or U-571? You'll like Action in the North Atlantic. Oh, and if you liked U-571, you're an idiot.
Across the PacificA disgraced and dishonorably discharged Army officer decided to offer his artillery skills to the highest bidder overseas right before the outbreak of WWII. On a boat travelling to Japan, he is seduced into selling American armament secrets to Japanese agents. Or does he? Is he actually an American secret agent? Is he spreading disinformation?
Passage to MarseilleEscapees from Devil's Island are picked up by a tramp steamer as their hand made canoe bobs around the Atlantic. A complex story unfolds of French patriots who risk their lives to escape prison and try to get to Allied lands to take the fight to the Germans. An interesting study in patriotism and the rights of wrong-doers to make amends to their country.
All Through the NightWhen a sports handicapper's favorite cheesecake baker is murdered, his investigation leads he and his cronies to a ring of German spies and saboteurs. A light-hearted, action-packed bit of WWII US propaganda.
Everything in its place...
I have finally gotten every last stray audio track and digital photo on my hard drive into order. Every single one. Thousands of hours of radio shows, hundreds of musical albums, thousands of photos, and what have you. What had been scattered wildly about my computer for years is now all neatly placed into appropriate folders based on categories and titles. Yay! Organization rules!
Monday, September 21, 2009
5k(ilt) & high in Seattle
The 2009 Fremont Oktoberfest Brew-Ha-Ha was this Sunday the 20th. It was my second race ever, and I ran it in my new Utilikilt. This might sound odd in some places, but in Seattle in general, and Fremont in particular, the only people who took notice complimented me.I was "honored" to be running in the elite "Beer-Belly Division," a group for men over 200lbs. and women over 160. My time was recorded as 39:35, which didn’t make sense to me. When I crossed the finish line, the huge timer I passed by said 38:01 since the gun fired (I was one of the first people out of the gate), and I also felt that I had kept a better pace throughout than in my last run, and the weather was cooler and not as draining, and I didn’t feel like I was going to die when I finished, which also differed from the Torchlight Run.
My iPod didn’t help, since it seems to think 5 kilometers go by much faster than they do; like the last race, it informed me that I was finished when I still had another kilometer or so to go. I don’t know why it does that.
After the race we skipped the Oktoberfest festivities and dropped into Gordito’s Healthy Mexican restaurant in Phinney for lunch. I think whatever health benefits their menu claims are counteracted by the massive portions they present you with. I got the Burrito Supreme, and even without rice, the thing was bigger than my forearm. Katherine’s regular burrito was about one and a half burritos from Chipotle worth of food. We ate as much as we could - which was an embarrassing amount - but had to throw away a good portion since we weren’t going home anytime soon. Sit on it, starving third world countries!
After lunch we headed to the Seattle City Center to take advantage of the uber clear day and play tourist by going to the top of the Space Needle. We were both much more impressed than we thought we’d be. The platform, which is 520’ in the air, is basically a museum of the Needle itself and the Seattle area. The views were better than we could have thought, and short of strong winds blowing my kilt willy-nilly (welcome to Seattle, folks!), the visit was a good one. Well worth seeing once in your life.
And since I know the only thing anyone reading this cares about is seeing pictures of me in a skirt, enjoy:
"Please, Lord, don't let me run over any steam grates."
That's right, I'm wearing a kilt. Say something. Yeah, that's what I thought.
And I wonder why I was in the Beer-Belly Division.
Why pay for a souvenir when you can take a picture of one?
My iPod didn’t help, since it seems to think 5 kilometers go by much faster than they do; like the last race, it informed me that I was finished when I still had another kilometer or so to go. I don’t know why it does that.
After the race we skipped the Oktoberfest festivities and dropped into Gordito’s Healthy Mexican restaurant in Phinney for lunch. I think whatever health benefits their menu claims are counteracted by the massive portions they present you with. I got the Burrito Supreme, and even without rice, the thing was bigger than my forearm. Katherine’s regular burrito was about one and a half burritos from Chipotle worth of food. We ate as much as we could - which was an embarrassing amount - but had to throw away a good portion since we weren’t going home anytime soon. Sit on it, starving third world countries!
After lunch we headed to the Seattle City Center to take advantage of the uber clear day and play tourist by going to the top of the Space Needle. We were both much more impressed than we thought we’d be. The platform, which is 520’ in the air, is basically a museum of the Needle itself and the Seattle area. The views were better than we could have thought, and short of strong winds blowing my kilt willy-nilly (welcome to Seattle, folks!), the visit was a good one. Well worth seeing once in your life.
And since I know the only thing anyone reading this cares about is seeing pictures of me in a skirt, enjoy:
"Please, Lord, don't let me run over any steam grates."
That's right, I'm wearing a kilt. Say something. Yeah, that's what I thought.
And I wonder why I was in the Beer-Belly Division.
Why pay for a souvenir when you can take a picture of one?Friday, September 18, 2009
Crap-a-Thon
One of my vices - one of my many, many vices - is my tendency to judge films sight unseen based on cast, posters, trailers, and premise.
For the most part, I am vindicated by my presumptions. Sometimes, though, I am pleasantly surprised by a film that had the bad misfortune of a poor marketing campaign, and likewise, some films that I take for granted as being good are complete letdowns.
With this in mind, I decided to pick a few movies that I assumed I would dislike and watch them anyway.
Live Free or Die Hard
The fourth in the Die Hard franchise sees NYPD detective John McClane sent by the FBI to collect a computer hacker wanted for questioning in a massive scheme to undermine the U.S. cyber infrastructure. Assassins try to kill them, things heat up, they wind up in DC, and action ensues as they realize the plot is much more far-reaching and deadly than first realized. Again, though, as in the first, um, three movies, the villain is nothing but a common thief. To sum up, as Michael Scott put it in The Office: "Here's the thing about Die Hard 4: In Die Hard 1, the original, John McClane was just this normal guy, you know? He was just this New York City cop who gets his feet cut and gets beat up, but he's an everyday guy. In Die Hard 4, he is jumping a motorcycle into a helicopter, in the air." Ok, in all fairness, he jumps a car into a helicopter, but I think you get the idea.
Rating: Action ok. The plot died hard. Still better than Die Hard 2: Die Harder.
Intolerable Cruelty The only Coen Bros. movie I haven't cared to see. In all fairness, though, only Joel is listed as the director, although in behind-the-scenes features, both brothers seem to be involved. Even Joel says that he thought the film was "too commercial" for them. It is. I will give it credit, though: not as bad as I thought it would be, and I could totally see it as a Carey Grant movie from the Sixties. Clooney plays a divorce lawyer, and Zeta-Jones plays a gold-digging temptress. Will there be a plot twist where she takes all his money, or will they fall in love and be together forever? Like I said earlier, too commercial.
Rating: Somewhat tolerable.
Anger Management
Adam Sandler is a passive-aggressive guy who is forced into an anger management course after he is wrongfully accused of assaulting a flight attendant. Jack Nicholson is the doctor who teaches the course. Nicholson keeps pushing and pushing the innocent man until he cracks and becomes a healthy, hostile New Yorker. Or did he? Is it all a plot by Sandler's girlfriend? The Game meets Newheart.
Rating: It made me angry.
For the most part, I am vindicated by my presumptions. Sometimes, though, I am pleasantly surprised by a film that had the bad misfortune of a poor marketing campaign, and likewise, some films that I take for granted as being good are complete letdowns.
With this in mind, I decided to pick a few movies that I assumed I would dislike and watch them anyway.
Live Free or Die HardThe fourth in the Die Hard franchise sees NYPD detective John McClane sent by the FBI to collect a computer hacker wanted for questioning in a massive scheme to undermine the U.S. cyber infrastructure. Assassins try to kill them, things heat up, they wind up in DC, and action ensues as they realize the plot is much more far-reaching and deadly than first realized. Again, though, as in the first, um, three movies, the villain is nothing but a common thief. To sum up, as Michael Scott put it in The Office: "Here's the thing about Die Hard 4: In Die Hard 1, the original, John McClane was just this normal guy, you know? He was just this New York City cop who gets his feet cut and gets beat up, but he's an everyday guy. In Die Hard 4, he is jumping a motorcycle into a helicopter, in the air." Ok, in all fairness, he jumps a car into a helicopter, but I think you get the idea.
Rating: Action ok. The plot died hard. Still better than Die Hard 2: Die Harder.
Intolerable Cruelty Rating: Somewhat tolerable.
Anger Management Adam Sandler is a passive-aggressive guy who is forced into an anger management course after he is wrongfully accused of assaulting a flight attendant. Jack Nicholson is the doctor who teaches the course. Nicholson keeps pushing and pushing the innocent man until he cracks and becomes a healthy, hostile New Yorker. Or did he? Is it all a plot by Sandler's girlfriend? The Game meets Newheart.
Rating: It made me angry.
In Good Company
This cinematic abortion features Topher Grace as the new young boss of Dennis Quaid after the former's company takes over that of the latter. Oh, and by the way, Topher hooks up, briefly, with Quaid's daughter. The previews imply more of a romantic comedy. It was neither.
Rating: The company wasn't good. Neither was this movie.
Bewitched
Bewitched Did you grow up watching Bewitched on TV? Damn, you're old. Did you grow up watching the reruns? That's better. Well, Hollywood tried to make a movie out of the magical sit-com, but with a twist: the show is being remade (as a show), but the woman they find to play Samantha is, by pure coincidence, a real witch. Yep. That's pretty much it.
Rating: My nose wiggled. But just from the stink.
Rating: My nose wiggled. But just from the stink.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Some new foods!
Produce:
I ate a ginger apple for lunch today. Delicious? OMG, YES! For sweetness, my go-to apple is the honeycrisp, but this is the new winner. Golden as the sun, sweet as candy, and slightly tart. Bam.
In the stir-fry I made for dinner tonight, I included bunashimeji mushrooms, a "new" breed from Japan. I'm not a mushroom lover, but these had a delicate flavor and crisp, crunchy flavor.
The other night, we tried jicama, also known as the Mexican potato. This tuber is best served raw, and I tossed it with some chili powder, scallions, and lime juice. Crunchy with a light flavor, a nice alternative to taters for a summer picnic salad.
While seaweed is included in many things we eat daily (look for "agar" on your ingredient list), I finally tried seaweed straight up in salad form. Delicious. Crisp and crunchy, salty, and filling. A winner.
Ethnic:
Finally tried Vegemite. Now I know why the man smiled when he handed it to the singer in the song. It was one of the most rancid things I have ever put in my mouth. Yeast extract??? On toast??? I gave it a fair test. The result was nausea.
I ate a ginger apple for lunch today. Delicious? OMG, YES! For sweetness, my go-to apple is the honeycrisp, but this is the new winner. Golden as the sun, sweet as candy, and slightly tart. Bam.
In the stir-fry I made for dinner tonight, I included bunashimeji mushrooms, a "new" breed from Japan. I'm not a mushroom lover, but these had a delicate flavor and crisp, crunchy flavor.
The other night, we tried jicama, also known as the Mexican potato. This tuber is best served raw, and I tossed it with some chili powder, scallions, and lime juice. Crunchy with a light flavor, a nice alternative to taters for a summer picnic salad.
While seaweed is included in many things we eat daily (look for "agar" on your ingredient list), I finally tried seaweed straight up in salad form. Delicious. Crisp and crunchy, salty, and filling. A winner.
Ethnic:
Finally tried Vegemite. Now I know why the man smiled when he handed it to the singer in the song. It was one of the most rancid things I have ever put in my mouth. Yeast extract??? On toast??? I gave it a fair test. The result was nausea.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Liststravaganza - Day 3
Today was a little more passive than the last two, but I accomplished quite a bit anyway.
Our original plan was to find a city on the map I'd never heard of and visit it, but I panicked about (possibly) small town businesses being closed for Labor Day, so we hung out in F-Way.
I continued my marathon of "Movies I Assume I'll Hate," which will actually have to be completed another day. While I generally consider a marathon a solid, back-to-back viewing fest, I had other stuff to do today. Look for reviews in an upcoming post. I will say that "In Good Company" with Topher Grace was and is one of the worst cinematic abortions I have to date witnessed. That's all I'll say about the movies for today.
After lunch we headed to Christian Craft (a.k.a. Michael's) to look into getting two Johnny Cash concert posters I have framed. These poor posters have been moved around since our early days in Florida, and have miraculously been spared any visible damage. They are, of course, of a random size that will fit no pre-existing frames, and therefore custom framing is required. While I would love to support one of the local framers, the savings of going to a chain is significant, and brother, can you spare a dime?
The disheveled, morbidly obese bitch that "assisted" us in the custom framing shop - after a manager went to get her - managed to take a painful process and make it excruciating. She was either not working on commission, or possibly working on commission and just one of those salespeople whose snobbery regarding their trade intimidates customers into buying more than they need. A hint to framers for the future: a slovenly man with rockabilly posters could give a shit about triple matting and portrait glass. I like this frame. Your matting suggestions are obviously slowing down my decision making. Oh, what? You CAN just frame it, without $146 worth of matting per poster? Well, hell, why didn't you say so? So shut the eff up and reeeeeeead me, woman! "Sir, I can see you don't give a shit. You obviously don't want to spend a lot of money, and you clearly don't care about the viewer's eyeballs becoming exhausted by traveling the excessive distance from frame to picture. You came in excited, and are now withdrawn and uncomfortable. Tell me, sir, what do you like? Just a frame, and no matting? Yes sir! We can certainly do that. It's your frame, you know your tastes, and this is an investment that you will be looking at for many, many years to come. I would be happy to help provide you with something that will bring you joy now, and someday, your children, and your children's children. Also, have a free bag of Baked Ruffles. And did I mention you look sexy in your kilt?" That is how I expect to be treated in a frame shop. Deal.
After a trip to and from Michael's and a brief stop at the Met, we continued watching movies which I anticipated to be complete crap, while I worked on sorting audio files, pictures, and videos on my hard drive into something resembling an organized collection. To give you some perspective, I tend to overshoot pictures in order to insure that at least one will be good (a tactic I will abandon once I take the time to really learn my new camera.) This habit, combined with my other habit of merely dumping new pics into a folder named "pics to sort," and about once a month, dumping its contents into a folder on my external hard drive called "misc." Now, imagine the same thing for pretty much every audio file and video I've acquired in the last two years or so - including finally putting every CD we own into MP3 format - and you've got yourself a bit of a mess. While I certainly don't have as much stuff accumulated as lots of other people, the stuff I have is collected in bins of nonsense. I have dozens - and dozens - of "Track 1s" to play, remember, rename, and sort, not to mention the other "Track xx" that fill seemingly every nook and cranny of my computer and XHD. Shwoosh. I should have started this a while ago.
In all fairness, I have been making huge leaps. By the end of this week, I anticipate being done, or at least close.
I also wore my kilt out in public for the first time today. I would have worn it all day, but it was still wet from its wash last night, and "lay flat to dry" translates to "in the PNW, it would be best if you forget about wearing that garment for a few days." Our walk to and from Starbucks for morning coffee saw me in my new man-skirt, but the discomfort of moist, cold fabric caused me to change into jeans (read: slave coverings) for the rest of the day.
Geographical proximity of Federal Way to Seattle not withstanding, my dearest Rose worries about a deep, deep fissure in cultural, um, norms.
In other words:
Seattle: "Hey, that guy's got a Utilikilt. Tight. He's supporting local artisans while expressing his self confidence, and damn he looks comfy and sexy."
Federal Way: "Lookit that faggot in a dress! Jump in my pick-um-up truck, and let's stomp that piece of shit!" Or, possibly: "Doesn't that guy in the dress live on our block? Well, if their house is ever on fire, remember, our faucets don't work."
I say: screw it. First: I wore a t-shirt with a stripper dancing to a wedding rehearsal dinner. Second: I have a bumper sticker with the "f" word on it on my car. Third: I haven't blushed since 1992. Fourth: When you look this good, you don't have to sweat anything.
And for any woman who DARES think that a man in a kilt is weird, I can throw down. Mary Tyler Moore negotiated to be allowed ONE scene per "Dick van Dyke Show" episode where she was "allowed" to wear pants. You have all gone from girdles, garters, bodices, petticoats, and slips, to an era where you can where whatever you want and no one thinks anything about it. Men have been wearing trousers and ties for hundreds of years. We still are. What's wrong with wanting something nonrestrictive and ventilated? Nothing. Nothing at all.
OK, my soap box is collapsing, and it's time for bed.
Our original plan was to find a city on the map I'd never heard of and visit it, but I panicked about (possibly) small town businesses being closed for Labor Day, so we hung out in F-Way.
I continued my marathon of "Movies I Assume I'll Hate," which will actually have to be completed another day. While I generally consider a marathon a solid, back-to-back viewing fest, I had other stuff to do today. Look for reviews in an upcoming post. I will say that "In Good Company" with Topher Grace was and is one of the worst cinematic abortions I have to date witnessed. That's all I'll say about the movies for today.
After lunch we headed to Christian Craft (a.k.a. Michael's) to look into getting two Johnny Cash concert posters I have framed. These poor posters have been moved around since our early days in Florida, and have miraculously been spared any visible damage. They are, of course, of a random size that will fit no pre-existing frames, and therefore custom framing is required. While I would love to support one of the local framers, the savings of going to a chain is significant, and brother, can you spare a dime?
The disheveled, morbidly obese bitch that "assisted" us in the custom framing shop - after a manager went to get her - managed to take a painful process and make it excruciating. She was either not working on commission, or possibly working on commission and just one of those salespeople whose snobbery regarding their trade intimidates customers into buying more than they need. A hint to framers for the future: a slovenly man with rockabilly posters could give a shit about triple matting and portrait glass. I like this frame. Your matting suggestions are obviously slowing down my decision making. Oh, what? You CAN just frame it, without $146 worth of matting per poster? Well, hell, why didn't you say so? So shut the eff up and reeeeeeead me, woman! "Sir, I can see you don't give a shit. You obviously don't want to spend a lot of money, and you clearly don't care about the viewer's eyeballs becoming exhausted by traveling the excessive distance from frame to picture. You came in excited, and are now withdrawn and uncomfortable. Tell me, sir, what do you like? Just a frame, and no matting? Yes sir! We can certainly do that. It's your frame, you know your tastes, and this is an investment that you will be looking at for many, many years to come. I would be happy to help provide you with something that will bring you joy now, and someday, your children, and your children's children. Also, have a free bag of Baked Ruffles. And did I mention you look sexy in your kilt?" That is how I expect to be treated in a frame shop. Deal.
After a trip to and from Michael's and a brief stop at the Met, we continued watching movies which I anticipated to be complete crap, while I worked on sorting audio files, pictures, and videos on my hard drive into something resembling an organized collection. To give you some perspective, I tend to overshoot pictures in order to insure that at least one will be good (a tactic I will abandon once I take the time to really learn my new camera.) This habit, combined with my other habit of merely dumping new pics into a folder named "pics to sort," and about once a month, dumping its contents into a folder on my external hard drive called "misc." Now, imagine the same thing for pretty much every audio file and video I've acquired in the last two years or so - including finally putting every CD we own into MP3 format - and you've got yourself a bit of a mess. While I certainly don't have as much stuff accumulated as lots of other people, the stuff I have is collected in bins of nonsense. I have dozens - and dozens - of "Track 1s" to play, remember, rename, and sort, not to mention the other "Track xx" that fill seemingly every nook and cranny of my computer and XHD. Shwoosh. I should have started this a while ago.
In all fairness, I have been making huge leaps. By the end of this week, I anticipate being done, or at least close.
I also wore my kilt out in public for the first time today. I would have worn it all day, but it was still wet from its wash last night, and "lay flat to dry" translates to "in the PNW, it would be best if you forget about wearing that garment for a few days." Our walk to and from Starbucks for morning coffee saw me in my new man-skirt, but the discomfort of moist, cold fabric caused me to change into jeans (read: slave coverings) for the rest of the day.
Geographical proximity of Federal Way to Seattle not withstanding, my dearest Rose worries about a deep, deep fissure in cultural, um, norms.
In other words:
Seattle: "Hey, that guy's got a Utilikilt. Tight. He's supporting local artisans while expressing his self confidence, and damn he looks comfy and sexy."
Federal Way: "Lookit that faggot in a dress! Jump in my pick-um-up truck, and let's stomp that piece of shit!" Or, possibly: "Doesn't that guy in the dress live on our block? Well, if their house is ever on fire, remember, our faucets don't work."
I say: screw it. First: I wore a t-shirt with a stripper dancing to a wedding rehearsal dinner. Second: I have a bumper sticker with the "f" word on it on my car. Third: I haven't blushed since 1992. Fourth: When you look this good, you don't have to sweat anything.
And for any woman who DARES think that a man in a kilt is weird, I can throw down. Mary Tyler Moore negotiated to be allowed ONE scene per "Dick van Dyke Show" episode where she was "allowed" to wear pants. You have all gone from girdles, garters, bodices, petticoats, and slips, to an era where you can where whatever you want and no one thinks anything about it. Men have been wearing trousers and ties for hundreds of years. We still are. What's wrong with wanting something nonrestrictive and ventilated? Nothing. Nothing at all.
OK, my soap box is collapsing, and it's time for bed.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Liststravaganza - Day 2
Day two of list completion was fairly successful. For lunch, we tried out a new Mexican place in town, Los Amigos Taqueria. I tried a torta, which is basically a Mexican sandwich, that was pretty damn good. Kat even enjoyed her burrito, which means we'll be able to go back. It's always good to add another local eatery to our repertoire.
After lunch, our museum tour continued with the Seattle Art Museum. Neither one of us is much of an art museum person, but I figure you should hit up the museum in your city at least once, right? Get all cultured up?
The museum was ok as museums go. Most art doesn't evoke anything in me, so I tend to feel bored, stupid, or unimaginative. I did really enjoy the exhibit of photographic works by Imogen Cunningham, as well as the collection of paintings by Andrew Wyeth. I especially enjoy looking at antiquities of ancient civilizations at art museums, and I am also always glad to see works by masters, from Monet to Warhol.
I was not impressed with the main exhibit, "Target Practice." This show examined art as it evolved from classical paintings and sculptures into everything from performance art to a written description of what you should be picturing to a reproduction of Warhol paintings that were themselves reproductions of other images. So, yeah, not really my cup of tea. Am I an idiot, or is a video of a guy dragging himself through puddle of paint on a floor not artistic? I mean, I get it - the world is your canvas, the brush is what you make of it, think outside the frame - but dammit man, I like me purtty pitchurs.
I did appreciate the "interactive" work by Yoko Ono, where viewers are invited to hammer in nails wherever they want and leave behind their own scraps of whatever.
Not a bad trip, really. The only bummer with going to any art museum is that you have to plan on not caring about or for a good chunk of whatever they have on display.
When the museum closed, we walked down to Pioneer Square so that I could visit Utilikilts' flagship store and try on and ultimately purchase) a kilt.
Now, to clear up any confusion, Utilikilts are not traditional, old-fashioned, tartan kilts. They are modern kilts, made from modern materials, and are meant for casual, everyday wear.
It might sound odd to think of men just wearing kilts out to the store, down the street, or at work without there being a Renaissance Fair in town, but around here, it's quite common. The kilts are comfy, durable, and functional, and they certainly do make a statement. (Insert cross-dressing joke here.)
For my Seattle, Portland, and Lawrence peeps, this might not be very surprising. Virginia, Florida, and the rest of the Kansans, you need to get used to the fact that from now on, Robb comes with a kilt.
For dinner, I thought it appropriate to try Pike Place Ale's Kilt Lifter, a ruby ale with loads of flavor and a smooth finish. (I also had a Landshark Lager that was rolling around in the fridge. Meh.) I set myself up with a can of "Buddha Jumps Over the Wall," a seafood soup of unknown Asian origin. The soup consisted of shark, sea cucumber, scallops, mushrooms, bamboo, and various spices, herbs, and sauces. I cannot write a very detailed review, however, as my eyes, nose, and tongue pooled their collective powers to keep me from having more than two spoonfuls of this horrific dish. I don't remember the last time I tried something and couldn't at least choke down enough to form a truly informed opinion. That time has come. I think, in particular, that there was some spice that triggered all of this. Considering the ingredients listed only "spices" in English, for all I know it was powdered panda dong. Or, perhaps it was the translucent chunks of gelatinous echinoderm, or the bits that were not only unidentifiable, but whose very edibility to humans was in question. Campbell's, it wasn't. A grilled cheese sandwich was my dinner.
I did, however, enjoy shrimp crackers, which I want to try every time I see them in Asian stores. They seem to be a thing. They tasted like Cajun peel-and-eat shrimp, but crunchy and with carbs.
SAM.
Yep, that's me. Holding a purse. With my skirt in it.
Local, delicious, and apropos.
Do you like Chicken in a Biscuit crackers? How about pork rinds? Ok. Americans eat weird crunchy stuff by the truckload. So shut up.
After lunch, our museum tour continued with the Seattle Art Museum. Neither one of us is much of an art museum person, but I figure you should hit up the museum in your city at least once, right? Get all cultured up?
The museum was ok as museums go. Most art doesn't evoke anything in me, so I tend to feel bored, stupid, or unimaginative. I did really enjoy the exhibit of photographic works by Imogen Cunningham, as well as the collection of paintings by Andrew Wyeth. I especially enjoy looking at antiquities of ancient civilizations at art museums, and I am also always glad to see works by masters, from Monet to Warhol.
I was not impressed with the main exhibit, "Target Practice." This show examined art as it evolved from classical paintings and sculptures into everything from performance art to a written description of what you should be picturing to a reproduction of Warhol paintings that were themselves reproductions of other images. So, yeah, not really my cup of tea. Am I an idiot, or is a video of a guy dragging himself through puddle of paint on a floor not artistic? I mean, I get it - the world is your canvas, the brush is what you make of it, think outside the frame - but dammit man, I like me purtty pitchurs.
I did appreciate the "interactive" work by Yoko Ono, where viewers are invited to hammer in nails wherever they want and leave behind their own scraps of whatever.
Not a bad trip, really. The only bummer with going to any art museum is that you have to plan on not caring about or for a good chunk of whatever they have on display.
When the museum closed, we walked down to Pioneer Square so that I could visit Utilikilts' flagship store and try on and ultimately purchase) a kilt.
Now, to clear up any confusion, Utilikilts are not traditional, old-fashioned, tartan kilts. They are modern kilts, made from modern materials, and are meant for casual, everyday wear.
It might sound odd to think of men just wearing kilts out to the store, down the street, or at work without there being a Renaissance Fair in town, but around here, it's quite common. The kilts are comfy, durable, and functional, and they certainly do make a statement. (Insert cross-dressing joke here.)
For my Seattle, Portland, and Lawrence peeps, this might not be very surprising. Virginia, Florida, and the rest of the Kansans, you need to get used to the fact that from now on, Robb comes with a kilt.
For dinner, I thought it appropriate to try Pike Place Ale's Kilt Lifter, a ruby ale with loads of flavor and a smooth finish. (I also had a Landshark Lager that was rolling around in the fridge. Meh.) I set myself up with a can of "Buddha Jumps Over the Wall," a seafood soup of unknown Asian origin. The soup consisted of shark, sea cucumber, scallops, mushrooms, bamboo, and various spices, herbs, and sauces. I cannot write a very detailed review, however, as my eyes, nose, and tongue pooled their collective powers to keep me from having more than two spoonfuls of this horrific dish. I don't remember the last time I tried something and couldn't at least choke down enough to form a truly informed opinion. That time has come. I think, in particular, that there was some spice that triggered all of this. Considering the ingredients listed only "spices" in English, for all I know it was powdered panda dong. Or, perhaps it was the translucent chunks of gelatinous echinoderm, or the bits that were not only unidentifiable, but whose very edibility to humans was in question. Campbell's, it wasn't. A grilled cheese sandwich was my dinner.
I did, however, enjoy shrimp crackers, which I want to try every time I see them in Asian stores. They seem to be a thing. They tasted like Cajun peel-and-eat shrimp, but crunchy and with carbs.
SAM.
Yep, that's me. Holding a purse. With my skirt in it.
Local, delicious, and apropos.
Do you like Chicken in a Biscuit crackers? How about pork rinds? Ok. Americans eat weird crunchy stuff by the truckload. So shut up.Sunday, September 6, 2009
Liststravaganza - Day 1
Got a lot done on the first of three days dedicated to crossing "To-Dos" off of my list, thanks to a smidge of planning and the help of my lovely wife.
First up, for lunch we picked me up a Whopper (check out this link, seriously - great video of a guerrilla marketing thing called the "Whopper Freakout." Seriously. It's worth it.) at Burger King, and crossed the street to Mickey-D's to grab a Big Mac so that I could try them side by side. I've never had either of America's top two burgers, and thought it was high time I tried.
While I'm not a fan of "secret" sauce nor pickles on my sandwiches, I tried both of these sandwiches as they came in order to better preserve the sanctity of these two icons of American cuisine.
On wrapping, the Big Mac, in its recyclable cardboard clamshell barely edged out the Whopper, whose wrapper was tight and pristine. Out of the packages, the Whopper had more eye appeal, from the generous amount of sesame seeds on the bun to the even and linear construction. The Mac looked thrown together and cheap, and vaguely like a sandwich that had been dropped in transit.
For taste, the Whopper won hands down, pickles and all. In all fairness, the Mac had the disadvantage of secret sauce, which had no redeeming qualities, and the Whopper had the edge with its flame-broiled smokiness.
I'm glad I tried them both, but I can promise that I will never eat them again. The winner, though - as Katherine put it, the one I would pick after nearly starving to death and having a gun to my head - was the Whopper. Who'd a thunk it? I've always liked McD more than BK. Oh well, my horizons have been expanded.
After lunch we headed to the Museum of Glass in Tacoma, which far exceeded expectations. Despite its excellent reputation locally, we both envisioned a collection of vases, Depression Glass, and wall to wall piles of Dale Chihuly works.
While there were certainly ample works by Chihuly (mostly on the Chihuly bridge), we were treated to an astounding array of works in every vein. The first gallery featured works by Preston Singletary, whose roots are in the Tlingit Indians of the PNW, and who learned glass artistry from Seattle and European artisans. Within a minute of entering his exhibit, our breath was taken away by what a true artist could do with glass.
Some of the works looked like they were carved out of wood or stone. Others seemed to be metal or even plastic. But with the exception of guitar which he had painted, every work in the collection was made from blown, molded, carved, and spun glass. It was truly outstanding, and I would highly recommend a viewing to anyone who can make it.
After half an hour or so in this exhibit, we headed to the glass blowing demonstration in the "hot room," a huge arena-style glass blowing studio, where artists were making goblets for an upcoming fundraising auction. While we had both witnessed glass-blowing before, for me, it was really interesting to see a team of two or three individuals working on a single piece.
After the demonstration, we moved back to the galleries, finished the Singletary show, and moved into the next gallery for a show called "Contrasts," which paired various works in perfect juxtapositions to each other. For example, a blue glass cinder block sat next to a spun glass moth (possibly the most impressive piece in the whole museum) to demonstrate the ability of glass art to be heavy, dense, and "ugly," as opposed to light, airy, and beautiful.
We left this exhibit shaking our heads; we had no idea that glass, as an art medium, could be so versatile, so expressive, and so detailed. There was even a collection of glass recreations of various invertebrate animals which were so exact that they are owned by biological museums for study since the animals they portray are too hard to preserve.
A shot of the ceiling on the Chihuly Bridge.
Funky glass sculptures on same bridge, plus former Union Station, current US Courthouse.
This guy's turning molten glass into something pretty. Much better than my "dark" period, when I turned many pretty things molten. We don't talk about my dark period.
This arsty tower isn't just a pretty roof; it serves as a functional exhaust system for the "hot room," the studio in the MoG where artists use 2400 degree furnaces to make art.
A devil's food and pb & chocolate cupcake from Hello Cupcake! Meh.
I love supporting local breweries. Actually, any breweries. Or wineries. Or distilleries. This local brewery? Meh.
Kona makes a mean beer. It called me names and inferred that my wife was a prostitute.
First up, for lunch we picked me up a Whopper (check out this link, seriously - great video of a guerrilla marketing thing called the "Whopper Freakout." Seriously. It's worth it.) at Burger King, and crossed the street to Mickey-D's to grab a Big Mac so that I could try them side by side. I've never had either of America's top two burgers, and thought it was high time I tried.
While I'm not a fan of "secret" sauce nor pickles on my sandwiches, I tried both of these sandwiches as they came in order to better preserve the sanctity of these two icons of American cuisine.
On wrapping, the Big Mac, in its recyclable cardboard clamshell barely edged out the Whopper, whose wrapper was tight and pristine. Out of the packages, the Whopper had more eye appeal, from the generous amount of sesame seeds on the bun to the even and linear construction. The Mac looked thrown together and cheap, and vaguely like a sandwich that had been dropped in transit. For taste, the Whopper won hands down, pickles and all. In all fairness, the Mac had the disadvantage of secret sauce, which had no redeeming qualities, and the Whopper had the edge with its flame-broiled smokiness.
I'm glad I tried them both, but I can promise that I will never eat them again. The winner, though - as Katherine put it, the one I would pick after nearly starving to death and having a gun to my head - was the Whopper. Who'd a thunk it? I've always liked McD more than BK. Oh well, my horizons have been expanded.
After lunch we headed to the Museum of Glass in Tacoma, which far exceeded expectations. Despite its excellent reputation locally, we both envisioned a collection of vases, Depression Glass, and wall to wall piles of Dale Chihuly works.
While there were certainly ample works by Chihuly (mostly on the Chihuly bridge), we were treated to an astounding array of works in every vein. The first gallery featured works by Preston Singletary, whose roots are in the Tlingit Indians of the PNW, and who learned glass artistry from Seattle and European artisans. Within a minute of entering his exhibit, our breath was taken away by what a true artist could do with glass.
Some of the works looked like they were carved out of wood or stone. Others seemed to be metal or even plastic. But with the exception of guitar which he had painted, every work in the collection was made from blown, molded, carved, and spun glass. It was truly outstanding, and I would highly recommend a viewing to anyone who can make it.
After half an hour or so in this exhibit, we headed to the glass blowing demonstration in the "hot room," a huge arena-style glass blowing studio, where artists were making goblets for an upcoming fundraising auction. While we had both witnessed glass-blowing before, for me, it was really interesting to see a team of two or three individuals working on a single piece.
After the demonstration, we moved back to the galleries, finished the Singletary show, and moved into the next gallery for a show called "Contrasts," which paired various works in perfect juxtapositions to each other. For example, a blue glass cinder block sat next to a spun glass moth (possibly the most impressive piece in the whole museum) to demonstrate the ability of glass art to be heavy, dense, and "ugly," as opposed to light, airy, and beautiful.
We left this exhibit shaking our heads; we had no idea that glass, as an art medium, could be so versatile, so expressive, and so detailed. There was even a collection of glass recreations of various invertebrate animals which were so exact that they are owned by biological museums for study since the animals they portray are too hard to preserve.
On the way in to and out of the museum, we crossed the Chihuly Bridge, which means walking under a display of works meant to simulate sea life, as well as a few dozen vases and other works that are actually visible from the highway that runs under the bridge.
Outside the museum is a reflecting pool featuring metal and glass works, which were impressive during the day, could only truly be done justice at night when illuminated. Look for pictures of this as soon as I can make it to Tacoma after dark.
After the museum and a coffee recharge, we sampled cupcakes at Hello Cupcake!, which were mediocre compared to some of the other local cupcake boutiques. Next was a local brew, Puget Sound Porter, at Harmon Brewery. A very smooth, but rather boring porter
After heading back to F-Way, we grabbed a stack of Asian chow at H-Mart to better help me get through my 30 new ethnic foods, and then got dinner at Pac Island Grill.
I tried lumpia - a Filipino version of the egg roll - for the first time, as well as Loli BBQ chicken, miso soup, and Saimin, a pork and SPAM noodle dish. All was good, not great. I think we agreed we wouldn't go back, but are glad we went this time.
For dessert, I had a "green tea doughnut" from H-Mart, a fried pastry loaded with green tea and toasted sesame seeds. Is it a real "ethnic" food? I dunno, but I'm counting it. Times a-flyin'.
To wash down my Pacific Island food, I had some Pacific Island beers. Kona Brewing in Hawaii provided three damn fine bottles of suds: Fire Rock Pale Ale, Longboard Lager, and Wailau, a wheat ale brewed with passion fruit. All three were exquisite, but the hands-down winner was Wailau. Normally I'm not a fan of "fruit-brewed" beers, but this one is certainly an exception.
I also managed to squeeze in some time getting my gazillions of loose photos, videos, and audio files organized, and registering for the Brew-Ha-Ha 5k in Fremont on September 20. Hopefully I'll be back up to running that distance by then - the training starts tomorrow, seriously - but screw it, even if I walk all or most of it, it's some physical activity, and I'll be doing it in my man-skirt.
So that's Day 1. Day 2 starts all too soon, and will see us visiting the Seattle Art Museum, trying more regional cuisine, and should see me wearing a kilt. Even if I don't accomplish any goals, a crappy day with the missus still pretty much beats a good day without her.
A shot of the ceiling on the Chihuly Bridge.
Funky glass sculptures on same bridge, plus former Union Station, current US Courthouse.
This guy's turning molten glass into something pretty. Much better than my "dark" period, when I turned many pretty things molten. We don't talk about my dark period.
This arsty tower isn't just a pretty roof; it serves as a functional exhaust system for the "hot room," the studio in the MoG where artists use 2400 degree furnaces to make art.
A devil's food and pb & chocolate cupcake from Hello Cupcake! Meh.
I love supporting local breweries. Actually, any breweries. Or wineries. Or distilleries. This local brewery? Meh.
Kona makes a mean beer. It called me names and inferred that my wife was a prostitute.Saturday, September 5, 2009
The List
Takin’ Labor Day weekend off from work to shave as much of my “30 Before 30” list as possible. The plan? Dunno. We’re definitely hitting up the Glass Museum in Tacoma and the Seattle Art Museum.
Also in the cards: trying some new ethnic foods, beer, and produce, buying a kilt, probably organizing my digital media files, probably organizing my storage closet, possibly going to the top of the Space Needle, and possibly a movie marathonand trip to a mystery town.
All in all, it should be a full weekend.
Also in the cards: trying some new ethnic foods, beer, and produce, buying a kilt, probably organizing my digital media files, probably organizing my storage closet, possibly going to the top of the Space Needle, and possibly a movie marathonand trip to a mystery town.
All in all, it should be a full weekend.
Eat Local (Is My Backyard Local Enough?)
We've continued harvesting the fruits (and veggies!) of our labor in the back yard. The cherry tomatoes continue to astound, the zucchini continue to overwhelm, and the herbs and eggplants are on call.
The full-sized tomatoes yielded their first fruit recently, which was a bit blander than expected. We'll see if the rest are the same. Either way, they're better than store bought! The cucumbers are perfect, and also growing faster than expected.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Rat City Rollerfan
One of my goals before I turn 29+1 was to attend a roller derby. Here in the Seattle area, the hometown Rat City Rollergirls are all the rage, as this is an alternative area that supports alternative sports. I can see why.
With no knowledge of the sport other than it somehow involved women on skates bashing into each other, I decided right after moving here that I needed to check out this indy phenomenon.
I wasn't disappointed.
After some brief research on Wikipedia - we're cool like that - K and I headed to the last home game of the season for our local team. We both enjoyed it more than either of us thought we would.
If you want more details of the sport itself, you need to Google it, 'cause I am lazy and a slow typist. Know this much: offense and defense are played at the same time. Scoring is done by a certain person (jammer) passing the group (jam) of others a certain number of times.
Even after reviewing the rules, we started out this match scratching our heads. By the end, we were a little hoarse from cheering, and pretty sure we had figured out the whole thing, or at least a close enough understanding to keep us entertained, which is good enough for now.
The skill of these women on eight wheels is outstanding. We saw effortless leaps, wicked speed, and spectacular crashes that would have sent you or I to the ER, but merely shaved half a lap off of these starlets on skates.By the end, I was officially hooked. I'm bummed that this was the last match this year. Next year, I'll be attending as many matches as time, money, and spouse will allow.
Only took the small, "cheap" digital cam this time; next time, expect more, better, cleaner, closer pics. Also, expect pics of me wearing team gear and possibly face paint.
A candid shot. I was apparently enjoying the game.
This pic doesn't do justice, but trust me; they kick ass!
With no knowledge of the sport other than it somehow involved women on skates bashing into each other, I decided right after moving here that I needed to check out this indy phenomenon.
I wasn't disappointed.
After some brief research on Wikipedia - we're cool like that - K and I headed to the last home game of the season for our local team. We both enjoyed it more than either of us thought we would.
If you want more details of the sport itself, you need to Google it, 'cause I am lazy and a slow typist. Know this much: offense and defense are played at the same time. Scoring is done by a certain person (jammer) passing the group (jam) of others a certain number of times.
Even after reviewing the rules, we started out this match scratching our heads. By the end, we were a little hoarse from cheering, and pretty sure we had figured out the whole thing, or at least a close enough understanding to keep us entertained, which is good enough for now.
The skill of these women on eight wheels is outstanding. We saw effortless leaps, wicked speed, and spectacular crashes that would have sent you or I to the ER, but merely shaved half a lap off of these starlets on skates.By the end, I was officially hooked. I'm bummed that this was the last match this year. Next year, I'll be attending as many matches as time, money, and spouse will allow.
Only took the small, "cheap" digital cam this time; next time, expect more, better, cleaner, closer pics. Also, expect pics of me wearing team gear and possibly face paint.
A candid shot. I was apparently enjoying the game.
This pic doesn't do justice, but trust me; they kick ass!Of course, when I got close to shoot some video, nothing exciting happened. Still, look how fast!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Because I know you can't get enough, MORE GARDENING PICS!
Bell peppers. They seem to be ok, minus a few bug holes.
Eggplants, which can be taken more or less as early as we want. Small for Asian cooking, big for Italian cooking.
We've already been eating our cucumbers, and they're sweet as melons and burpless. Yum!
The cherry tomatoes seem to have survived a rain, wind, and gravity induced toppling, and are already blushing.
We are drooling in anticipation of the impending flood of tomatoes.
A wee spaghetti squash. The plant has basically taken over the garden, and has now spilled out into the yard.
A more mature spaghetti squash. By mature I mean bigger, firmer, and into Shakespeare.Monday, August 10, 2009
Blarney & Friends
Chalk up the Irish movie marathon; we managed to cram six Irish movies into a day off and one more the following evening. I also prepared a few untried Irish dishes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and enjoyed some as yet unenjoyed Irish brews. A good time no matter how you slice it.
First, the flicks:
Angela's Ashes is based on the memoir of Frank McCourt which details his poverty stricken life in 1930s and 40s Dublin. Not poverty like "Applebee's is high livin'" poverty, but poverty like "mmmm, rat meat" poverty. Ran a bit long, but a great piece of cinema and a brilliant insight into what was then basically a Western third-world country. 
The Commitments is a musical dramedy in which American soul - as played by a thrown together band of losers and misfits - is as much a character as any of the people involved. It's not about money, fame, or sex; it's about soul.
Darby O'Gill and the Little People is a classic early Disney live action film featuring a young Sean Connery and some special effects that are good even by today's standards. An eccentric old villager entertains the locals with his tales of encounters with leprechauns until he is laid off from his job as a groundskeeper. Brian, King of the Leprechauns, "saves" him from a life of loneliness by abducting him into the realm of the Little People. As a game of magical cat-and-mouse takes place between Darby and Brian, Darby's daughter and his young replacement fall in love. Good movie, even by live Disney standards.
John Wayne in Ireland? Yup. But don't worry, he rides a horse, smokes, and beats the crap out of a bad guy. A man returns from America to his native land to buy back the family land. He also takes a wife. By "take a wife," I mean by the arm, kicking and screaming, and under threat of violence. What can I say? It was the 1950s, it was John Wayne, and it was Ireland. It's like when your grandparents call black people "colored." The old days were wrong in so many ways.
Remember that girl in high school that lorded her beauty over everyone? The teases, the flirts? The pregnant girls? The real or imagined "sluts?" Well, up until 1996, such girls in Ireland were sent to Magdalene Asylums, church run laundries that imprisoned girls and women of "loose" character or virtues. Unwed mothers, prostitutes, the feeble-minded, and even women seen as "too pretty" were sent away, sometimes by state order, to live their lives under the watch of cruel clergy and staff until they took vows, were signed out by family, died, or escaped. Heavy, heavy film. The acting was phenomenal and the cinematography was brilliant. The winner of the mar o'thon. 
My Left Foot, based on the play of the same name, which was based on the book of the same name, is the biographic tale of Christy Brown, an Irish child born with severe cerebral palsy and only able to control his left foot. Unable to speak, walk, or build ships in bottles, the young Christy used his left foot to write, paint, and model for "tough actin'" Tenactin commercials. He finally grew up to be an eloquent and celebrated poet, writer, painter, and drunkard, giving hope to those of us drunkards who posses all of our faculties.
The Jews call them latkes. The Americans call them hashbrowns. The Germans call them Kartoffelpuffer, 'cause the Germans have to complicate everything. The Irish call this dish boxty, yet another take on potato pancakes. We also enjoyed Dublin Coddle, a dish of sausage, bacon, carrots, potatoes, onions, and herbs, all slow cooked in hard cider. A winner to be sure, and something to become a regular feature in our house. Colcannon was another dish we tried, which is more or less mashed potatoes, but with onions and cooked cabbage blended in. I liked it, K didn't.
Reading left to right: O'Haras Irish red (perfect), O'Hara's Stout (good), Beamish (ok), Smithwick's (too sweet), Guinness' 250th Anniversary Stout (INCREDIBLE), and Wexford's Irish Style Cream Ale, made by the feckin' English, but tasty nonetheless.
First, the flicks:
Angela's Ashes is based on the memoir of Frank McCourt which details his poverty stricken life in 1930s and 40s Dublin. Not poverty like "Applebee's is high livin'" poverty, but poverty like "mmmm, rat meat" poverty. Ran a bit long, but a great piece of cinema and a brilliant insight into what was then basically a Western third-world country. 
The Commitments is a musical dramedy in which American soul - as played by a thrown together band of losers and misfits - is as much a character as any of the people involved. It's not about money, fame, or sex; it's about soul.
Darby O'Gill and the Little People is a classic early Disney live action film featuring a young Sean Connery and some special effects that are good even by today's standards. An eccentric old villager entertains the locals with his tales of encounters with leprechauns until he is laid off from his job as a groundskeeper. Brian, King of the Leprechauns, "saves" him from a life of loneliness by abducting him into the realm of the Little People. As a game of magical cat-and-mouse takes place between Darby and Brian, Darby's daughter and his young replacement fall in love. Good movie, even by live Disney standards.
The Secret of Roan Inish is a lovely bringing to life of the Irish tales of the selkies, a race that can take the form of seals or people. A young girl goes on a quest to bring back her brother who was long ago taken away to sea by seals and learns a fascinating legend about her own family's heritage.
John Wayne in Ireland? Yup. But don't worry, he rides a horse, smokes, and beats the crap out of a bad guy. A man returns from America to his native land to buy back the family land. He also takes a wife. By "take a wife," I mean by the arm, kicking and screaming, and under threat of violence. What can I say? It was the 1950s, it was John Wayne, and it was Ireland. It's like when your grandparents call black people "colored." The old days were wrong in so many ways.
Remember that girl in high school that lorded her beauty over everyone? The teases, the flirts? The pregnant girls? The real or imagined "sluts?" Well, up until 1996, such girls in Ireland were sent to Magdalene Asylums, church run laundries that imprisoned girls and women of "loose" character or virtues. Unwed mothers, prostitutes, the feeble-minded, and even women seen as "too pretty" were sent away, sometimes by state order, to live their lives under the watch of cruel clergy and staff until they took vows, were signed out by family, died, or escaped. Heavy, heavy film. The acting was phenomenal and the cinematography was brilliant. The winner of the mar o'thon. 
My Left Foot, based on the play of the same name, which was based on the book of the same name, is the biographic tale of Christy Brown, an Irish child born with severe cerebral palsy and only able to control his left foot. Unable to speak, walk, or build ships in bottles, the young Christy used his left foot to write, paint, and model for "tough actin'" Tenactin commercials. He finally grew up to be an eloquent and celebrated poet, writer, painter, and drunkard, giving hope to those of us drunkards who posses all of our faculties.
The Jews call them latkes. The Americans call them hashbrowns. The Germans call them Kartoffelpuffer, 'cause the Germans have to complicate everything. The Irish call this dish boxty, yet another take on potato pancakes. We also enjoyed Dublin Coddle, a dish of sausage, bacon, carrots, potatoes, onions, and herbs, all slow cooked in hard cider. A winner to be sure, and something to become a regular feature in our house. Colcannon was another dish we tried, which is more or less mashed potatoes, but with onions and cooked cabbage blended in. I liked it, K didn't.
Reading left to right: O'Haras Irish red (perfect), O'Hara's Stout (good), Beamish (ok), Smithwick's (too sweet), Guinness' 250th Anniversary Stout (INCREDIBLE), and Wexford's Irish Style Cream Ale, made by the feckin' English, but tasty nonetheless.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
