One thing led to another

It started out with a bright idea for a little treat for breakfast this morning as we picked up the moving truck.

Which became lunch.

Which became dinner.

Which became embarrassing.

And, quite frankly, Jacob isn't even home yet, so who knows where it will stop.

Here we were, there we are, away we go

Once again, we find ourselves surrounded by our lives - all packed up.

The laundry is done, suitcases are packed and boxes stacked. As I sit here surrounded by it, I'm struck how cluttered a place can be when its entirely packed up.

So, Jacob has made us all proud with his devoted and strong finish to this semester, not to mention this tremendous offer and opportunity for work. I have made us proud by rolling (mostly - only a couple of meltdowns) with the punches to get us all organized, arranged, domiciled and scheduled, with the notable help of two fabulous moms who broke all the "in-" laws to take a road trip through five states and spend a couple of days with their kiddos doing manual labor, aka packing (joys of family!).

Tomorrow we pick up the moving truck again (frequent flier discount anyone?) and head back to Kentucky to start our new era (our eras, in case you haven't noticed, tend to be pretty short, but hey it keeps things interesting), and even though there's so much change and uncertainty and insecurity in a way, I know that we're doing it together. We've changed everything up so many times in the last two years, but Jacob has been my constant, my partner, my gift from God. And for that I'm thankful. I know no matter where we go, how many times we pack, move, change, shift or drift, he'll be there.

It also happens that as we approach this Christmas season, we approach our anniversary, so here's to my husband. A little memory of us when we didn't know what it was like to live in wedded bliss in a dorm room with the bathroom down the hall, to be sick for entire months at a time, to be uncontrollably cold at all hours of the day and night, to learn Arabic only to be stuck attempting French, to revel in the discovery of french fries, to enjoy the security of American fast food in a way never imagined, to live without a toilet seat, to live constantly with sand, in short, to live in adventure - together.

Away we go! Photo by Michelle Young, Endearing Studios (the best photographer ever)

In vagabondary and stability

Our vows didn't actually say anything about vagabondary and, as a bit of a grammarian, I have to admit that it's not a word (vagabondage is, though...), but I have packed and unpacked various amounts and contents of our belongings 10 times in our just-shy-of-two-years marriage. Tonight starts lucky number 11.  Eleven out of at least 14 by the time June rolls around

And that means that right about now, six and two half-boxes in, there's only one box I'm really thinking about: the box of wine on top of the fridge.

But, as much as this task ahead of me is making me feel a little desperate and overwhelmed - and I do - tonight I choose to be thankful: that we have a home and belongings that make our lives comfortable, that I have a wonderful, intelligent husband who excels at his studies and business ventures, that we are blessed beyond all measure in so many things.

Oh, and thankful for some hot chili (mom's recipe)

And thankful for both of our sweet moms, who are headed down to help me pack this week while Jacob works on finals.

Help on packing? Now that's love.

Peeling Carrots

I still peel carrots the way that Layla - the housekeeper and chef-in-residence in our house in Morocco - taught us. Without a sleek, swift, clean tool to strip off in even curls the outer skins of root vegetables. With just a paring knife, dragging and pressing it at angles to shear off the dermis, leaving cleaner rough edges on the carrots and a layer of orangey-sweet beta-carotine mist on my face and arms.

Layla and lentils (addis) in the villa kitchen in Morocco

Tonight I'm pre-preparing for dinner tomorrow night - a slow-cooked venison roast to serve Jacob and the roommate I displaced, Matthew; and courtesy of the Squires family, who shared of their recent take. It makes me think of our time abroad when we were so alone, but bonded with those around us because of the simple fact of our common lives and locales.

Now, as we look toward home again, I'm thinking of all those we missed and still miss, but who we hopefully will see soon, who we will re-integrate into our schedules and hopefully be marked into theirs.

Layla used to spend one or two evenings a week hosting cooking classes with us at the villa in addition to her regular work days. She shared her talents, comfort cooking and recipes with us and I always remember how she seemed to have a certain joy in the process of preparation and sharing with others. That, I think, is hospitality. Joy in such mundane things that, at their sum, are so much more than mundane because they serve and host others.

And that's why I still think of Layla while I'm peeling carrots.

Dead Air

Seeing as I've been blogging since Jacob and I married in December 2008 (nearly two years!), it seems impossible that I could have missed an entire location that we've lived, but here it is November 2010 and I've catalogued our lives through Morocco, Oman and the UAE, Kentucky and Ohio. I've noted our travels through our countries-of-residence as well as France, Italy, Egypt, Jordan...but I've somehow been silent through our stay in the South - Carolina, that is.

And now, our time here draws to a close. We found out recently that we'd be returning home to Lexington almost exactly two years from the time we left to travel the world, and about 6 months earlier than we expected to move at all! Jacob has been offered a wonderful opportunity for work that will bring us home - closer to our family, our friends, our church home, our favorite restaurants, and our respective football teams.

So, a small tribute to our time here with a few favorite photos...and stay tuned. I have a few other bits of news to share over the next couple of weeks.

 My favorite spot in our Cola, SC home

Not actually in SC - but my cousin got married this fall and we were so excited to travel to Nevada for the event

 Also not in SC, but a notable event: the first annual girls trip.

 Now we're talking. Mucho Margaritas in Five Points for Dave's birthday.

 The South Carolina State Fair. This is big time here. Big. Time. We stopped for food first...mmm fair food...

 More fair

 And more fair food.

 Foley Beach during a day in and around Charleston.

 Foley Beach.

 Mums and pumpkins for Halloween.

And the resulting Jack-O-Lanterns. From left to right: Anne, Clinton, Jacob.

Trashed, Part Different: The Bachelor Pad Review

I probably shouldn't admit this, but I've already mentioned that me and the girls watch the Bachelor and the Bachelorette - two trashy shows disguised as true love fairy tale stories. These are shows you can watch and laugh at and criticize based mostly on the fact that the end goal seems pretty reputable, admirable and, in the end, what we're all looking for: true love.

But, the Bachelor Pad. Kids, what? OMG, this is like the absolute perfect confluence of social influence that combines all the idea(l)s(?) about reality spurned by the Real World age. We think that somehow any combination of sexylookingpeople poured into one room, devoid of emotion and morals but soaked with enough alcohol is going to come up with a worthy viewing topic? Well, no. But it is darn entertaining.

So, knowing that I and the girls couldn't possibly be as alcohol-soaked or sensually manipulated and frustrated (thank goodness) as those "contestants" on the Bachelor Pad, we set out to view the latest creation of ABC and Chris Harrison.

At this point, all I can say is: Michelle and Juan, peace out. Wine, peace in.

I love my girlfriend times and goofyness. I may have to do some Bachelor Pad updates. In the mean time, here are some quotes:

"I don't want it to be over. It totally lived up to my exploitations...expectations." - Esther

"I mean, if Michelle wanted to stay she shouldn't have locked one of her friends in a bathroom." -Pam

The Palmetto State

My first trip to South Carolina was a wonderfully spontaneous trip with my mom and dad just after Christmas a few years ago. Dad and I, in typical form, were itching to get somewhere - anywhere especially away from the cold. Mom, in typical form, was sweetly grudging in her limited protest and eventual acquiescence.

We hopped in the car and drove and drove, through the beautiful routes of which I've become so fond. Those mid-South to Southern foothill treelined roads full of mist and green smells. We listened to repeats of TV shows on satellite radio and quizzed each other on the holy grail of Sabatino existence: trivia.

I don't remember what all we quizzed on, but one question he asked me that I got which totally threw him was what is the South Carolina state motto?

And now look at me...headed down there for good the next few months. Signing off for a few days while we pack up the truck and move it again...

Trashed

Moving always entails throwing things out. It's actually one of my favorite things about moving. Throwing things out that I won't have to unpack and which will then never have the chance to eventually clutter up my space (like I need help, come on).

But I was a little disturbed by the volume of condiments (refrigeration required) that had to be disposed today. Salad dressing, barbecue sauce, olives, garlic, more salad dressing (that's a Hardy thing), ketchup (another Hardy thing), lots of things that you just don't offer to other people.

The things I couldn't bear not to spare? Oh, take note because this is a character defining issue: butter, chocolate fudge sauce and Rose's lime.

The gin I will take with us. Along with the wine and bourbon. The beer will have to be consumed this weekend (can't have skunky beer) during our last days of Ohio starring P, J, KOO and two babies.


On another note:
A weekend with two babies.
Anyone want to get their questions out now about when we're having kids? I don't know if you'll want to ask after the weekend (I love the kids, but you know...).

A Parting Shot

Today is Jacob's last day in the offices of Craftsmen Ohio. This is also the last day in our little Akron apartment. I'm packing up today, a task which I put off yesterday so I could indulge in a little practical craft: thank you gifts for the guys who gave Jacob this opportunity and who have become our friends up here. 

The first time we came up here, I stayed in the main house of one of the owners with the ladies while - in a very familiar structure to our Arab times - the boys headed out to the barn in the back to talk shop and drink scotch (well, everything except the scotch). 

So, as I was tossing ideas out in my head about what would be a proper parting shot for these guys, scotch certainly came to mind. Enter the latest stay at Chez Brown. Elisabeth was doing final preps for the Bar (free at last free at last! She's done and we can go on vacation soon!) and I picked up a magazine to entertain myself. It happened to be Garden & Gun (yes, Garden & Gun) and, therein was the perfect gift: whiskey rocks. 

A great buy for entertaining or for the a throwback bud who enjoys a stiff one on the rocks for real. 

You can get them in sets to pair with your favorite glasses or with glasses. Check them out!

Apparently it's a Scandinavian tradition (pre-dating ice) to set out stones in the cold and then pour whiskey over them so they chilled the drink. It seemed like the perfect office survival kit for these guys - a couple of glasses, coasters, rocks and you have the makings of a tough afternoon. 

Well, a tough afternoon made better. 

Now That's Therapy

Remember when we bought the party time? Well, we bought it knowing that there was no AC. We got a good deal and it was fine because I'm not a total AC girl anyhow - my most beloved vehicle was the old jeep I was allowed to drive in hs (it was supposed to be my dad's fun car) which had little climate control at all and which was frequently topless and doorless - the better to blow out my poor dad's speakers. It was also ok because it was like March or April or some month generally considered to still be late winter in Cleveland.

We just figured we'd get the AC fixed sometime closer to the SC move date, which would be after a couple of months and maybe we'd have a bit more cash. Isn't that how it works? If you wait a little longer you always have more money? Haha. No, grasshopper. Well, actually, Jacob worked insanely hard last month and made a bonus and he insisted we repair the AC sometime before we move to the sticky south (it was 103 PLUS humidity and heat index when mom and I were there looking for apartments).

So I made one of my trips down to Lex, a process I think I could now effectively market as a spa treatment for traveling sales people. Want a cleanse in a sauna-like environment but never have to miss a beat on your out of state appointment? Ride with me and by the time you're to the next stop, I promise you'll have sweated out all the toxins in your body plus at least a couple of pounds and you'll only need to refuel with vitamin water because the sheer temperature of your corpus will be too high for you to even consider ingesting something that requires processing.

Between moving and all this hot driving (Hot driving! It's like hot yoga but you can sit on your butt the whole time!), I'm pretty sure I will lose whatever weight I've gained while up here away from a gym and generally doing random consulting work while sitting on my (increasingly flat) butt - can that happen? Does your butt flatten if you sit on it too much? Danger!

Anyway, so I took the car in last week because I already had a dinner scheduled with my old boss and colleagues and it was my mom's bday, so I figured knock it all out at once (actually, I'd already had it fixed and the compressor went out after two days). Two interstate spa-treatment cleanse round trips, two weeks, three compressors, about 84,000 ounces of freon, a non-leak and a lot of frustrated Spanglish conversations, still no AC. It would seem that there is a bad sensor. So, inshallah, next week, when we return (for one golden day) to pick up the moving truck and load all of our stuff, the sensor will be in and installed and...work?

This has actually become a bit more critical since we are now down to one car. Oh, I didn't mention that? That's right, Ohio has one other shining offering for those who dare venture to this midwestern mecca: a plethora of poorly-planned construction zones infested with $@!**% drivers, who I happen to believe are also just bad people. People who would refuse to let you in while you're trying to accommodate other drivers in a tight spot, people who would speed up and honk just to emphasize that fact and then after they leave you in the shit, trying to avoid causing a huge pileup on the interstate and subsequently crashing headlong into a median, they drive on, not even bothering to call the police. They leave you (or actually my husband who could have, for all they knew, been seriously injured) with a smashed car that's spun out, with airbags deployed, facing oncoming traffic and don't even bother to call the police.

I would have given away that Honda and the Party Time and my house and my dog and anything else I have for the result of that accident, which was that Jacob was completely fine, praise the Lord, so it's not like this is a true challenge in the game of life. It's just a pain in the neck, but I happen to think that there are enough pains in the neck that happen in life without the help of jackasses and can't we all just get along?

Ha. Hahahahahaha. HHhhhhHHHHaaaaAAAAAAAAAaahhhhhhaaaaaaAAAAAA!

Oh, that was nice. It's so good to have a good laugh, you know?

Now that's therapy.

A work in progress

One of the things I've been mulling is what to do in Cola once we get there and get settled. Among the possibilities are some graphic design and photography classes to augment the study that happened once so long ago in college and the fun I always have with that kind of stuff.

P&J have been so sweet to allow me to hang out and be a part of intimate moments and use them to experiment and practice. Here are a few templates I designed for baby announcements. I'm interested in putting together some more templates and maybe selling them. What do you think?

The Good Stuff

I talk a lot about my girlfriends - how thankful I am for them, what we've been through together. The epic things and the every days that make life so much more livable. Boyfriends, jobs, husbands, homes, families, food and goofy TV shows, parties, pities, sadness and laughter - help - with the little things about life that break you down and lift you up.

I'm also very thankful for my wonderful husband. He's intelligent and gorgeous and faithful (to God and me) and fun and I love everything about him (even the stuff that drives me crazy). I adore him as a husband and a friend and I love living life with him, but we both need our time to debrief and spend time with our other friends. And so I'm thankful not just for my friends, but for his.

You and Me and the Bottle (of Belgian Trappist Beer) makes three

 

Our big "money date" was dreamed up with this guy, they've terrorized the suitors-to-be of Jacob's sisters, they've driven to the borders together, adventured through Europe and rolled the hills of Rosslare. This guy presented the two most serious questions and contributions from Jacob during our wedding planning: 1-Can I have one Kingsman and the rest Best Men (I was fine with it, I just didn't anticipate it resulting in many of my friends and family asking if "Kingsman" was some kind of "Southern Thing")? 2-Does Matt have to cut his hair (I said no, although he now says maybe he should have...I'm not convinced - look at how well Spain did this year with their euromullets)?

There's just no accounting for a good friend - or hair like that.

 

Point is that, I'm not just thankful for my friends - I'm thankful for Jacob's. For what they add to his life and for the fact that I get to know them, too.

RIP Cricket

I sometimes chide my husband and sisters-in-law, and friends in general for addictions to their GPS. When my parents first got their GPS-equipped Caddy, my dad ultimately disabled the entire system playing with it and entertaining himself by making the car speak to him in different languages. It eventually became stuck on an Italian woman.

I understand the use of directional helps. I love google maps and my iphone nav systems - mostly because they don't yell at me, "RECALCULATING ROUTE!" like an unhappy spinster taking out her frustrations on an unsuspecting neighbor child (when there is no recalculation necessary). Partially because they allow me to still feel like I'm taking some kind of active part in the process of navigation. Like I'm doing it myself.

So when I started out on the road to Lexington from Akron last week, it didn't even occur to me that I should look up directions. I've driven this route a few times, now. I know where I'm going. And I do. But in order to take the right exits without a voice screaming at you from a nasty dash-mounted electric box there's a catch - you have to pay attention. Which I wasn't doing.

Because as soon as I got on the interstate, I noticed this and became immediately and completely distracted:

I don't know where he came from, but that little guy was so cute. And vulnerable. And about to die. I was sure of it. He was holding on for dear life, antennae flapping in the wind, legs gripping onto perilous holds. I seriously considered pulling over to let the little guy off, but I thought it was no use. He'd never make it past the exit. I kept watching, thinking that the next time I sped up or hit a wind or passed a semi, he'd be ripped off the sideview and thrown into certain death.

I mean, this thing was tenacious. He hung on for a good 20 miles and by that time, I was imagining his stress and cramping muscles. His wife and kids back home. I was stressed out. Then he started making some kind of Macgyver move, tucking his thorax into the space between mirror and casing and there was hope! HOPE!

Then when he made the final move - a thud on the side of the car door as he flew off. Death. RIP Cricket. Gah.

I looked up, eyes fully focused on the road again for the first time in 20 miles and noticed - I had driven completely out of my way. Maybe a screaming GPS might have been a good thing in that circumstance.

Wouldn't have done the cricket any good though.

Experimentation

Once again we are getting ready to move. We're also on a bit of a budget - as usual. We're just poor gypsies!

In order to both save money and utilize as much of what's already in the cabinet, we've embarked in a challenge to not spend money on groceries until we've used up what we already have. We are so sustainable. Yeah, that's it. Not poor, not pennypinching. Sustainable. Duh.

I get so caught up in making fun recipes (REALSimple has me there) that sometimes I think I need to take off to the store at every turn to make tasty meals. This next week should be interesting (use what you have use what you have).

We have: chicken breasts, Omaha steak burgers, bananas, oatmeal, kielbasa, bacon, edamame, tuna, waffle mix, pasta, butter, spices, salad dressing, butterscotch chips, homemade beer cheese, rice, shredded parm cheese, flour, wine, ice cream (quickly waning supply) and eggs.

We will buy: potatoes, sandwich buns, maybe some other veggies to keep us green.

On the menu:
Bacon burgers and homebaked homefries
Tuna Salad Sandwiches and veggies with dip
Breakfast for dinner - Belgian Waffles and eggs
Jambalaya
Rue's spicy pasta (with chicken)

The extras:
Oatmeal butterscotch chip cookies
Banana bread (two loaves)

It's actually pretty amazing what you can do with what you have. Oh, a lesson I'm learning every. single day.

Kiss it/Miss it

Miss it: P&J's dogs, especially Jackson, who reminds me of Kipling a lot. But, I'll be ok since I get Kipling back soon! Jacob will probably miss Sadie more, since she is a girl and favors the boys for sure, and is less complicated and basically just happy go lucky and she does tricks, and I am forcing him to take on my dog - who has lots of quirks and doesn't really do tricks unless they involve peanut butter and frequently attempts to co-op all available space around me - as our dog.

Kiss it: the laundry room in our apartment building. The communal laundry room that costs $3/load. It's far superior to an off-site laundromat, though, so I can't complain too much, but basically: B to the S. Hello hookups - washer/dryer hookups that is!

Cool as a cucumber

My ever-culinarily-enterprising sister in law started a garden this year and as I was pulling out of the driveway to return to Cleveland, she came high stepping out of the yard with a prize: one of her cucumbers.

Having just eaten a fab meal that included her homegrowns in a gorgeous cucumber salad, I was inspired and fixed one up for Jacob and me last night. What a divine summer food!

I wish I could say I brought the cucumber straight home, but to be quite honest, the days between the drive and the salad were punctuated with a couple of mary poppins-esque episodes of pulling a cucumber out of a purse. How odd. Nonetheless the salad was delicious!

The recipe I used was a mix of a couple online and it could still probably use some tweaking, but here we go (maybe if we're lucky, Monica can add two cents on her version!):

6-8 oz. of Greek plain yogurt
2 cucumbers, sliced and peeled (or not - the skin is good for you and adds some crunch, I like it)
Salt, to taste
2t white vinegar
1t garlic, crushed (a clove or so)
1 1/2 t dill (dried)
ground pepper, to taste

Prep cucumbers and put in a colander. Salt and drain for 10 minutes.

While draining, put yogurt in a bowl and whisk until smooth (just a couple of rounds), then whisk in other ingredients. Add cucumbers and fold in, chill and serve. Salt if more is desired. Enjoy!

Kiss it or miss it

I know it seems odd for me to say this in a way, but there are definitely some things I'm going to miss from up here. It won't be a total kiss off.

I will miss: The large bird. A fan favorite among readers and residents of the NE and also the source of nearly all our shopping spoils, Giant Eagle always doubles my coupons with a smile and adds fuel perks at GetGo (which I still maintain should be named the Eaglet). Is there a place like this in SC? Please!

In no particular order, obvio: P&J. They are such sweet friends and Jacob's relationship with him and them has persisted through many years and many distances. I know it will be the same for the four of us - and now with baby, the five of us!

Kiss it: the rain. THE RAIN! OMG, the rain. Kiss. It. Peace out. I'll gladly take my moisture hanging heavy in the air instead of dumping on me every single day. Heat and humidity, here I come.

Back later with the story of love, loss and lost...a dead cricket. So sad. So very very sad.

Home Sweet (Next) Home

I may have talked about this before, but there was an impertinent moment in my youth when I was incredulous at my mom's wanting to stay put - in Indiana, in her comfy home with all her friends around (sounds terrible, right?).

After our excursions abroad (and in the US, have I mentioned I live in Northeast Ohio right now?), I found myself in a strange place when mom and I traveled to South Carolina last week: I was looking for a home. Not just the next place to land, not just a shelter that covered the necessities. I found myself really desiring a place that Jacob and I can unpack, stretch out and settle down. Did I just say those words? Yes. Settle down.

So somehow, when we found a couple of places that fit the technical bill, I still found myself stressed and hesitating. Seeing as we lived in what we were told was the only available apartment in Burami, Oman after sharing a two-bedroom house with other fellow students (and they were even kind enough to give us the one working bedroom) after sharing a dorm building, I guess I was holding out hope for a little something more.

My new rockstar friend E drove me around on our last full day in town and she is the ONLY reason we found this place. I didn't want to call the numbers we found that day, and I didn't want to go see the only place from all 15 numbers I called that was: in our price range, had W/D hookups, and would allow my dog. Sitting outside, waiting for the landlord, I thought, there's no way this will be worth it. But I think I was wrong...

Front porch! Brick duplex! Yard! Cute 'hood! Bikeable to campus!!!

Built in bookshelves! Fireplace! In the (paraphrased) words of my mom and mother in law, 

this just looks like you. I'm excited for it to look like us. 

This is a place I can see our lives. I can see Jacob coming home in the evening and walking my dog in the neighborhood and having dinner parties. Al humdulallah! Now just remember, Columbia, SC is so very close to lots of fun things like Asheville, Savannah, Charleston - and it's not too bad itself. Come visit!

Home Sweet Home

Today mom and I are taking a little girls' retreat to South Carolina to scout out Jacob's and my next living arrangement. I can't believe that, since we've been married, we've lived in Morocco, the UAE, Oman and the US. In addition to those countries, we've traveled to Egypt, Jordan, France, Italy...and we've also stayed in the states of Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio (commonly known as the tristate area). Now we move down South to Cackalack. 

We're hoping for the holy grail of married housing. Affordable, bikable, dogable, launderable. 

Well, hoping and praying. 

Cafe All Lait

I know that this seems indistinguishable and sort of like one of those kids puzzles on the back of the World Wildlife Federation magazines, but I won't make you guess what it is.

I woke up yesterday morning and attended to my first priority of the day: making coffee. Jacob likes his fiber in cereal, I'm more of a java girl. Sooo...before I knew it, I looked down into my coffee maker and that is what I saw. I then looked incredulously to my pouring right hand, which was holding - a gallon of milk.

I guess this is why I usually make my coffee in the evenings before bed.

Shoulda been a reality tv show

I watch TV a lot right now, ok? Like probably way above the national average of that study they showed us at church last week. It's always on when Jacob isn't home - even if I'm doing work (house or otherwise), even if it's on mute...and Jacob works a lot. You do the math.

ANYway, I saw this True Life recently (True Life: I'm a newlywed), and one of the couples got married and then the bride immediately moved to Indianapolis with her new groom (11 hours away from her family home). It was all drama drama drama, as those shows are wont to be, and she's upset she can't bring her blue chair and he eats pizza at 1:37 am. There are tears and bouts of irritation and lots of adjustment.

But I'm like, child, you have no idea. At least Indy has pro football.

We totally should have been a reality show. True Life: I'm a newlywed overseas in the middle east wearing long sleeves in 120 degrees and PS we were engaged for three months after dating three months.

But that's not much for reality.

Bliss

This is my husband - and my dog - laying on my lap last weekend at my mom's house. Can I tell you how excited I am that I get to have them both when we move to SC? So happy!

Thanks, husband, for letting me bring my puppy even though I fawn over him sometimes and it's going to be more expensive and difficult to find a place that takes dogs. I promise I always like you much much more than him.

Oooh that smell

What I really want to know is, how...HOW is it possible even when I cook tremendously pungent foods and when a bunch of Indian families live around cooking tremendously pungent foods...that our apartment hallway always smells like a mix of potpourri and some kind of processed tuna/casserole spam concoction?

Also, I want to know why looking for a swimsuit is now something akin to looking at porn? Really Brazil? Really strings? Really thong? You call yourselves bikinis? Geez. I have lingerie less revealing than some of the stuff on Amazon.

Also, I assume you're asking since you're looking up at me from the bottom of the third page of results. No,  I do not want you, Hello Kitty bathing suit. No. No no no no.

Wedding Gift, wedding gift, where are you?

I have so many fab wedding gifts. I have no idea why people got us such cool stuff. Or why they got us presents at all. I'm thankful, though. Piles of notecards that nearly exhausted my stationary stash thankful (except for my amazing girlfriends who gave me a stationary shower to help replenish the stock of paper goods that feed my fetish). 

You can find Match at one of my fave Lexington boutiques, Mulberry+Lime on N Limestone

There are some things that I will have no trouble using - like my beautiful Match accessories (also a special shower given by other girlfriends who pitched in and got gorgeous pewter candlesticks). There are other things that I may have to push myself to incorporate. I feel like I took a step with the torch (FIRE!), and now I'm not scared of it and I know how to fill it and I know what butane looks like (you should have seen the look on my mechanically-inclined brother's face when I told him I had to carry my dainty little chef's torch into Menard's to show everyone so they would know what I wanted).

You can find this gem at Williams Sonoma. If you're in Lex, ask for my sister in law. She's the really cute one. 

Even my All-Clad Waffle Iron is a little intimidating. It seriously weighs about 50 lbs and it has a lock on it! a LOCK. Like the waffles are going to check to see if the coast is clear, then hop out and bail. Peace out, waffles. I don't know. I used to cook a lot. I love cooking - I even really enjoy breakfast food, but I didn't cook a lot of breakfast food because, let's face it. Brunch is for late-waking recovery Saturday mornings or fancy Sundays. Neither of those times do I particularly want to cook or do dishes. C'est la vie, though. Marriage changes you, they say, and I guess if that means hosting more brunches it could sure be a lot worse.

Mimosas anyone?

Mama Mia!

I took off at the end of last week and headed Indy-way to visit a bit with my family and friends here and, even though it was a pretty short time, there have been lots of good times. It's amazing how sometimes (especially when you're home or in the company of those you love) even the really basic things can be wonderful.

Mom and I spent a good bit of time rummaging through the attic in a process of sorting and un-boxing and reboxing that seems neverending and frustrating but that always yields fun stuff (wedding gifts! thought-to-be-lost kitchen accessories!). We attempted to figure out how to finish a set of Kate Spade Library Lane flatware when it's not available anywhere - or sell it (we decided on sell it - you want it? Try here), but that was after Sarah and I had a nasty adventure with an unhappy (I suppose about most everything) clerk at Macy's named Chuck. I have no problem reporting this and saying that I will furthermore avoid Macy's home department at the Greenwood Park Mall like the plague, and maybe all Macy's stores hereafter (sorry, manager James, not even your helpfulness could mediate that attitude). Mom and I cooked a heart healthy meal from the Mayo Clinic (which I will spare this site, lest you try to prepare and eat it - blech). I also got to spend lots of time with my girls (Sarah and her beautiful baby Mia), drive my Mustang (so did the husband) and cook breakfast for my mom this morning before I left.

That recipe, I will post - because if you make it, you'll enjoy it and because I can tell you about how I used my torch! I have a torch! It was a birthday gift from Sarah but I never went out to get the butane tank to fill it up and now I am a wannabe chef so I found it and got motivated. It's awesome. So is oatmeal brulee...

Oatmeal Brulee
Prepare oats (regular or quick) according to directions, but instead of all water, I like to use half water and half milk. If you want to be decadent then use some half and half in the mix.
Add to the warming liquid (before you stir in the oats):
a pinch of salt
Cinnamon to taste (I put in about 1/8 of a t for 2 servings)
Brown Sugar to taste (1-2 T)
Butter (1 T)

Cook oats until thickened (if you don't have a torch, lightly butter or spray your oven-safe bowls with cooking spray and heat your oven to broil) and then pour or spoon finished oats into bowls. Sprinkle white sugar on top (about 1 T per serving or until it's covered) and run the flame over the sugar until it bubbles and browns OR put your bowls in to broil for just a couple of minutes until the sugar bubbles and browns.

Serve with berries.

The whole visit was enhanced by the appearance of my darling husband for the middle couple of days. I love him so much for driving five hours each way to come spend time with me and my family. As much as they love me, they really love him (because he's not even related to me and he still loves me so sweetly - and knows how to handle me!) and they love having him around, too. Yay for visits! Yay for husband! Yay that I'll be back with him this evening.

That is all.

I feel the earth move...

The top state for earthquakes in the US is Alaska.

I have never been to Alaska.

The second state in the US for earthquakes is California. I go to Cali all the time. Lots of family there. Never been in an earthquake, though...in California.

Neither Kentucky nor Ohio are even in the top 20 of states for earthquake activity and yet...I was in an earthquake in Kentucky a few years ago.

And I was in an earthquake in Ohio TODAY!

It wasn't bad at all, but it was really disconcerting and I actually thought I was crazy or having a really bad attack of vertigo before Jacob called me and confirmed that it was, in fact, an earthquake.

I know I can only think this is funny because no one got hurt, but earthquakes always make me think of the movie Knocked Up when there's an earthquake and everyone freaks out and one of the guys rescues his girlfriend and supa-high Seth Rogan totally forgets about preggo Katherine Heigel and she yells at him about his huge bong. Ha. Bong.

I just thought this was a really funny pic. It came from the local news story about the earthquake. Isn't that so typical? Ah, local news.

Rue de la Pasta II

Rue, the neighbor/roommate to the constantly-boarding-me-couple of Browns is such a fun fab friend to spend time with while I'm in Lexington. He's always popping up with a glass of wine at opportune times like the end of the day when E and I get home. He's also amazing because he can always be counted on to whip up a delicious pasta.

Another great one was this past weekend and I highly recommend fart (that was a blog note from Jacob - Jacob recommends farts). I recommend Rue's pasta. It's easy! And delicious. This is an approximation.

Take a tablespoon of oil and heat it in a large skillet on med-low with two-three tablespoons of butter, then add about a tablespoon of minced garlic and a teaspoon of cayenne pepper flakes. Boil water for pasta of your choice. While the garlic and pepper are cooking a bit, you can throw in some chicken or shrimp as you like and cook until cooked through. I added a bit of white wine in mine and a couple of sliced up grape tomatoes at the end and cook until they're softened. Then when the pasta is done, toss it in the skillet until it's coated with the garlic and pepper. Plate it and top it with Parmesan cheese.

Fab! Not healthy but fab. (Rue's recipe was simple and epic - just the EVOO, butter, garlic and pepper topped with cheese. I only added meat because Jacob needs some meat and wine because trust me, it's better I cook with that wine than drink it based on the last time I did the opposite).

Cultural Observations

You may remember when I had to learn to communicate more effectively with a security guard at the Al Jimi mall in Al Ain. Well, last night, SP taught me a new lesson about knowing your audience.

When we walked up to the security checkpoint at Blossom to see Toby Keith for Phillip's birthday, we got held up with our lawn chairs, which were too tall to pass muster. We tried a couple of genuine pleas, we offered to leave them folded, and then SP (who had walked in with her husband and maneuvered her chair past the gates) walked up and like a champ communicated in a language they could understand:

"That chair is for me. Are you going to make me sit on the ground? Are you going to seriously take this chair away from a pregnant lady? C'mon man."

A bit of stalling, some exchanged glances and, eventually guilt. "Ok," they acquiesced. "But you have to name him after us. Thomas Richard."

"It's a girl," she said.

"What about Thomasina Richardina?"

It's not the only way to work...

but it's definitely the best!

Elisabeth, Rue and I hit up the poolside yesterday and while I was busy reading all kinds of laughably ridiculous propaganda about Lexington's water issues, Elisabeth was studying away for the Bar. Rue, perhaps smarter than both of us, just sat there and looked pretty. 

Flashback

Recently while working on a client project, I decided to enroll in a web-based tutorial to get up to speed on programming html emails. So I sat on my couch and logged in to the webinar.

As I listened to the muzak and calming voice telling me to remain on the line, the persistent beep beep beep beep beep of other users logging in took me right back to the days of pharma and daily, seemingly-hourly, teleconferences.

Even though I now work from home and freelance on a variable schedule, I had quite a flashback. I guess some things never change.

What I really want to know

Does anyone else love Rob&Big? I know it's not on the air anymore, but I love it, V loves it, my brother loves it...it's a great show, mostly because it's full of hijinks and wackiness - much like my beloved husband.

What does this have to do with me? Well, I was watching it today and Rob's parents come into town and the entire episode was dedicated to Rob trying to drive his mom crazy. He drives too fast, passes too much, says crap a lot, jumps off a tour bus, breaks the law by plastering city property with street team stickers, fakes an arrest and tries to make her cry by reading cheesy poetry.

So, what I really want to know is, am I destined to have a son who acts like this?

I'll answer my own question: have you ever met my husband? (or me?)

Home is where...

Just as Jacob and I got engaged nearly two years ago, his family experienced a bit of a material tragedy. I say material because no one was injured, but the family house burned in an accident. Though some of my darling's collection of mementos and a couple of Moroccan rugs were taken up in the blaze, the important things were spared, ie family members and the basic structure of the house. They moved out to a temporary apartment and then a rental house and eventually back into the reconstructed (and redesigned) home.

We have lived a parallel existence in a way. During the time that we were packed up and living abroad, they were packed up and living in temporary quarters. But now, they are unpacked and settled in and we are...still packed up.

I remember a card that someone got them posted on the fridge. It said,

Check out Curly Girl designs from The Good Life company for more designs like this!

As I paw through the next share of potential homes in our next destination town, I'm thinking about all the things that I'll be unpacking that might make our house more of a home - dishes (a set large enough for a dinner party), a waffle iron (that one's for the husband) for Saturday morning breakfasts, familiar furniture...but even more, I know I'll be taking my heart - oh, and my dog.

What I really want to know

There are so many questions out there that just pop into our heads. Questions of consequence, questions of, well...inconsequence. Lots of things about which I'm curious. This is part of the reason I know trivial facts and other things useless in daily life, but helpful in board games.

What I really want to know today is, how does Giada deLaurentiis, with all her gorgeous figure and hair and skin and eyes and lips, keep her fingernails clean while she cooks all that delicious food? She always has these gorgeously manicured chip-free fingernails that should be, in all fairness, discolored by garlic and splattered with parsley juice and full of tomato stains. How?

I can't even keep polish on for one day. Fail.

Pain in the neck

Well, we made it through a 12+ hour day of driving, riding and flying (sort of) at Cedar Point yesterday and the first thing I'll say is, HALLELUJAH, a day free of rain. I don't know if it was truly miracle weather and the clouds parted for family day or if it's just that we escaped the pocket of persistent cloudy raininess that hangs over the Fairlawn/Akron area. WHO CARES. Sun, الحمدلله!


It's a good thing we enjoyed it, though, because it's back to rainy with a neckache here. All those fantastic rides (and we did all of them - all the good ones anyway - twice) took me back to summers with the Sabatino family, our couple-day mini-vacations to theme parks and the family dares to do the next biggest ride or stunt or thrill. They took me back to being a kid in a way - and reminded me how much of an adult I am. 


Like I said, rainy with a neckache...we woke up this morning and looked at each other and said a collective, "ow." Ow for the neckache and backache, and bruised quads and cracking knees and sore feet. 


Oh, well. It was worth it. 

Time Machine

Tonight some of Jacob's siblings and cousins will arrive in (still-dreary) Northern Ohio on a trek toward fun and nostalgia. They're bedding down at our place, probably taking up just about every bit of floorspace in our tiny apartment in a squeeze reminiscent of camp time so that we can all trek further up north to glorious Sandusky in pursuit of amusement park time.

This kind of pilgrimage was yearly for me and the Sabatino clan as dad and I - and sometimes Michael - rode wild and mom waited patiently and we devoured horrible food, spun sugar and gallons of water. We haven't gone in years. There have been moves and marriages and time crunches.

But tomorrow, it's going to be time machine time. I'm putting on some shorts (rarely wear them) and chacos, slapping on the sunscreen and packing a small bag with zippers so I'm ready to ride...

ilovemywife.com

I'm so ridiculously spoiled. Spoiled by my sweet husband who is working so hard right now and still comes home and has the energy and good nature to have sweet dinners with me. Spoiled by his thoughtfulness in bringing home "Hot Lady" roses for me (they're hot pink) after driving around to four different Giant Eagles to find "good flowers," because the other ones didn't look good. Spoiled by the tiny little things like letters after we've been away from each other and naming our wireless network so that I think of him every time I get online. Thanks, love. And thanks, God.

Summertime

Cleveland's cooler weather has its perks (like the fact that there's no AC in the Party Time and it's still comfortable up in N Ohio, if not in Lexington), but being down here in Kentucky, I'm willing to trade the AC for some friend time.

We celebrated Elisabeth with a good old fashioned summertime cookout, and it was a perfect Kentucky summer evening. Just after a thunderstorm the night before, so it was a touch cooler, but still a bit of misty humidity in the warm air. There was a gorgeous sunset over the fields and hills, and best of all: friends.

I'll even take the bugs that go along with my perfect Kentucky summertime...