Cleanse Thyself

Whilst enjoying the tail end of the holiday seasoning by shoving Michael Symon's chili-cheese fries in my mouth as quickly as I possibly could I coerced my buddy into going to Trader Joe's after our cotton-top early dinner. I've never been and their devotees are akin to Juggalos in both style and loyalty so I thought we should probably check out the hype.

However, despite being finished with dinner by 6:30 Trader Joe's was closed, it was, in it's defense, New Year's Eve, but I was not happy, and as a result will never, ever give them my business. (probably not true) Blessedly we were in an affluent suburb and there was a Whole Foods 3 blocks away, which was still open!!!

As we stood in line waiting to buy chicken and Jeni's Splendid ice cream (if your WF doesn't carry it you need to lobby to have it added to the shelves IMMEDIATELY) I got sucked into a Martha publication called Whole Living. I'm trying to gradually move myself to being a better human being, which includes taking care of my body and stuff. Living wholly, wholly living. Hippie crap.

On our couch hours later, basking in the diabetic coma brought on by my meat covered fries and multiple trips to BSpot's pickle bar I began to read my new mag. About midway through is the outline for a 21 day cleanse, which I obviously need and want to do.

This isn't a starve yourself and drink only honey and cucumber water for 5 days jobbie. This is a roast some beets and juice some carrots and julliene a sweet potato to toss with tahini dressing outfit. It's hard work getting prepped and it is a lot of things I don't eat. Things I think most people don't eat. I mean, let's be serious here, who actually eats beets? Great-Aunt Nevis doesn't count.

Anyway, I'm one smoothie (mango and coconut water- thumbs down) and one soup (butternut squash and apple- two thumbs up) into this thing and I'm super amped about it. I'm hungry, to be sure, but that's my fault because I didn't print any of the snack recipes off, but excited to excise my body of all of the delightfully tasty but horrifically terrible things I have shoved down my gullet. Do you know how they make foie gras these days? They take a beer bong and fill it full of grain and shove it down a goose's neck and force feed it until it dies with a basketball sized liver. I tell you this for two reasons:

1) you should not eat foie gras, it's mean

2) that's how full and gross and terrible I am right now

This cleanse is vital. It needs to happen. I am hopeful that I will make it, I've already told my buddy to not try to distract me, and that I'll come out the other end feeling like a 101 million dollars.

Tonight I get to roast some broccoli and toss it with some lettuce, red cabbage and tahini dressing. That sounds nice right? I might have to put a portobella (portabella, I can't find a definitive spelling on the googs) in it too. I'm pretty hungles right now.

So, here's to a new year, it's going to be a big one for me, going to start it off right.

if you want to play along too go here:

http://www.wholeliving.com/152235/week-1-recipes/@center/152870/2012-whole-living-action-plan

Makin' Lemonade

Before you begin: Something I noted as I was typing, I use a lot of forward slashes in this. I'm owning it, I just wanted you to know this was intentional, or at the very least I recognize that it's a few too many.

So my buddy is a hyper-obsessed audiophile, a condition/trait/sickness which has led to many a road trip to feed his addiction.

Notably, spending the weekend of MLKjr Day driving from Oklahoma to Indiana to pick up some speakers, the first of our sound adventures. It was that trip that set the precedent of always always doing something other than just buying speakers. We took a minor-ish detour on our way to Memphis for some BBQ at Corky's, one of two uber-famous joints that are must stops.

Well this weekend was to prove no exception. We were driving to Sayre, PA to check out some La Scalas, which are my favorite speakers ever. Google 'em. We buy vintage, not new, so it is always fun to meet their former owners, see where they(speakers not the owners) live and learn about the their provenance.

Our route took us through Corning, NY, never heard of it? I hadn't either. However, while driving through it we saw signs for their glass museum. This led to much debate about what Corningware was/is made of. Thank the dear sweet baby Jesus for iPhones and Google. Turns out it is made of glass, which makes the whole Corning/glass museum thing come full circle. I feel like my buddy would probably want it noted that he made that Grand Canyon sized leap of logic and I did not. I thought Corningware was ceramic. Turns out we are both right.

We drove through, but not before deciding that Corning would be our side bar, the event that made this drive an adventure and not just a shopping trip. A glass museum, how could I not?! It was only about 40 miles outside of Sayre so we were going to do business first and then attend to our fun.

The speakers were terrible.* Their owner was kind of creeptastic and borderline hostile. The cute toy fox terrier that belonged to the speaker's owner urinated all over me. It wasn't fun. *they looked terrible and had sub-par parts and finish, they sounded fine (but we have a much nicer pair already)

We decided to take a lap in Lois and discuss. The discussion ended with us leaving Sayre sans speakers. It was a good choice. We were using our noggins for real that day. But, one of us was a little dejected to have an empty cargo area and we really needed something to turn that frown upside down.

Once again reaping the blessings bestowed on us by the technology gods we searched Yelp for good pizza in Corning. Turns out they have two legendary pizzerias. We picked Aniello's, which had the best/most reviews and headed that way (thanks google maps!). Aniello's, it turns out, is in the heart of Corning on their fabulously historic/restored/thriving main street, which is right up my alley. Boon! (it's like boom, but funnier because a boon is a timely benefit!)

We ordered our pizza, 1/2 cheese 1/2 chicken wing (weird right? that's what all the reviews said to do) and sat down to wait. There was a super silly Leather and Lace store across the street so while my buddy stewed on his semi-loss I went to check it out. Bizarrely, and yet not, it was just what the name implied. Bondage, super ornate dildos (did i just type that in a blog my mother reads?), and low quality lingerie. They did have a fabulous skirt made of feathers. It was lovely.

As soon as I wrapped up my experience at Leather and Lace my buddy called to let me know our pie was ready. It was massive. It was fantastic. It was all but gone within about 15 minutes. I fully recommend this joint and the chicken wing pizza. Now, some of the reviews claim the chicken is dry, and I will admit it looks it, but come on guys, it was in a billion degree pizza oven for 20 minutes, it's gonna crisp. It didn't taste dry at all. It tasted like wings, without the mess and the bone. The cheese pizza was outstanding as well.

After we ate (and ate and ate and ate) we decided we should probably walk it off for a while. Fortunately the weather was divine so we set off to see what Corning had for us.

Sigh. I already want to go back.

They have a jewelry store which makes its own jewelry. I found, with the quickness, something we could spend that speaker money on... but we didn't. Sad face. I made my buddy go into the cutest little fabric and notions shop. They had a billion vintage handkerchiefs in a bucket by the door, would that I had a project for them, and tons of fabric, and trim and lampshades and all sorts of wonder and glory. The fabulously hep and cool-kid girl running the store was listening to Adele, who was singing To Make You Feel my Love, I tell you this because that was the tone and mood of the store encapsulated in the clerk and song. Deep contented sigh. We spent a good deal of time there. Next time I go I will be spending a good deal of money there. Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

There was a super fab/modern/high end baby store, a theatre, a little hotdog/milkshake/diner joint, a billion restaurants, a million bars, a thousand different glass galleries and so many fun stores. We didn't get to go to them all; had to get home to our errant children that had broken out while we were gone. And by children I mean child, and by child I mean our basset with a penchant for chewing through wood and a wanderlust that knows no match.

We didn't go to the glass museum. We didn't go to the Rockwell either, Corning's art museum which is currently featuring a Warhol exhibit entitled Cowboys and Indians. We did however find an inn above one of the billion restaurants and made firm plans to come back this summer, have a romantical weekend (probably just a night) see both museums, visit all the shops, eat yummy foods and drink heavily. Don't judge me, or do, it's not going to change my plans.

It started off like a super long drive for nothing, but it turns out it was one of our best adventures and Saturdays to date.

Total Devastation

I finally, finally, finally got some film for my new toy and much anticipated Christmas present (thanks buddy!), just in time for a sunny day in Ohio. I didn't know this before I got here, so I shall assume that you don't either, sun is about as elusive as a decent radio station in Ohio, that is to say pretty hard to find.

I was amped, we were headed to Hudson for the day, the most beautiful and fabulous small-ish town in the world (little to no research has been done to back up that statement, but it is really epic, you'll just have to trust me).

Now, Holgas are "toy" cameras, they aren't fancy, they are cheap and plastic and faulty by nature. That's the charm of it, the imperfection and inconsistency in production allow light leaks, which in turn make for unique and unexpected photos. Knowing that, my first roll of film was just to see what my Holga did, how it reacted, what it made.

Would that I had pictures to show you. But, I don't. Not one. Total devastation.

When I showed up at Walgreens (don't judge me, I've been here for less than six months, I have yet to look for/find an independent and local photography store) there was a crowd (3) of employees surrounding the photo processing machine, one of whom was on the phone with tech support. Well, needless to say that wasn't a good sign.

My negatives were all but white.

Nothing could be done with them. Total devastation.

Several forum pages later I now know that I have joined the ranks of amateur photographers that have enjoyed the heartbreak and letdown that the Holga offers. I am armed with information and comfort that many/most people have useless rolls of film compliments of that temperamental master called Holga.

There isn't much sun in my immediate future, but when it returns I shall try again.

Week O' Concerts!

This photo really sums it up.

Let's start at the beginning, a very good place to start:

Sunday: fun.

Grog Spot- Cleveland Heights

This tiny little venue couldn't hold much more than 300 people which made for a lovely intimate little show.

The opening acts were wonderful. Jarrod Gorbel (weird huh?) sang with little fanfare than his female companion, a guitar, and violin. His lyrics were intense and gut wrenching and I really liked it.

Steel Train followed. They had a much different vibe, sound and presence. Lots of band members, lots of instruments, lots of over the top, borderline try-hard, crowd interaction. They weren't bad, not even a little, just kind of hyper intense.

And then it was time for fun. And they were. The crowd, average age 21, were fully into the band, though not so much their former incarnation The Format. Nevertheless, for a Sunday night everyone was super amped for them.

They sounded really good, record good.

I may or may not have cried during The Gambler. Don't judge me until you've heard it. And then once you've listened to it, if you didn't cry you are clearly either a) a bad person b) have never loved someone enough. That is all.

Monday: Band of Horses

House of Blues, Cleveland

Opening acts made me want to leave, stab out my ear drums, claw out my eyes, and cry. SO BAD. What were you thinking BoH?

Josh Roberts needs Prozac, he sat on the stage with his guitar and droned on and on and on. The only relief we got was when Ben (lead singer of BoH) came onstage and sang a duet. During one of Roberts' songs he repeated a lyric 16 times in the row. 16. It wasn't a good lyric.

Also, something to note, if you have to apologize to the audience for how slow and awful your songs are, then maybe just don't sing them... I'm just saying.

It was bad. We used that opportunity to leave our super deluxe close seats in the pit to go up to the balcony. Someone was feeling a little crowded and didn't want to stand for the next few hours.

We got upstairs just in time for Brad to take the stage. I want you to try to picture in your head the sidekick from My Name is Earl, put a long long long black stringy wig on him, and a black fedora. Then picture him dancing like the lead singer from Mighty Mighty Bosstones. And then sitting at a piano and singing a desperate attempt at mimicking the great Meatloaf.

Blegh.

This is what he really looks like: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shawn_Smith

It was actually worse than the first act, I really didn't realize that was possible, and yet, it was.

After a lengthy pause for all of the audience to wrap up their facebooking, texting, reading, vomming, anything to distract them from the unpalatable opening bands the Horses took the stage.

As bad as the first acts were they were twice as amazing and wonderful in every way.

It's a like Cinderella, she is pretty and nice and great on her own, but when you compare her to her harridan step sisters she ends up angelic in nature and beauty. This was kind of like the effect the craptastic Josh and Brad did for the Horses.

We had managed to secure a stool against the railing of the House of Blues' balcony so one of us was sitting and the other stood behind with an unobstructed view of the glory and wonder that was before us.

They sounded so sick. This is why I don't listen to the crap on the radio, real bands have musicians. People with real talent that sound great in their living room, the studio and the stage. It was such a great show.

They were super funny, bringing out a local competitive yo-yo artist (?) to do his thing during two of their songs, and again, sounded so so so good. I finally got to listen to them as loud as I always want to.

Thursday: The Temper Trap

Newport Music Hall, Columbus

The opening acts were odd... not really the music we listen to.

The Hundred in Hands reminded me of Jarrod Gorbel, only in that it was a male female duo on stage. HiH featured a female vocalist that was beautiful and had a ridiculous voice, but the most affected dancing and stage presence, it made me want to kick her in the shins. The guitarist was sick though, and they did sound great, it was just tough to watch her to convulse.

Then was Delphic. Oh, they are good. Again, nothing I'd typically listen to, but man, they were really good. I got a little confused when I asked the merch guy what their name was and was fully convinced for a hour or so they were called Delphonic and almost bought their cd because Delphonic doesn't have their album on iTunes (because they were a band from the 60s that didn't do too much), but fortunately my buddy fixed that one for me in my head.

We had a bit of an issue with being really tired from work and thinking that sitting in one of the six chairs ringing the pit was a good idea. It wasn't. There was a minorly negative interaction with a terribly annoying pair of humans, but that didn't affect the awesomeness that was The Temper Trap.

They are very polished, very professional. They aren't much one for interacting with the audience, they just play and play and play, but they sounded really good.

We ended up behind the sound guy with a very unobstructed view of the stage for the super deluxe highlight of the show when the lead singer poured water on his drum and then just tore into it during the big musical crescendo with strobe lights flashing. It sound small and cheesy. It wasn't, they were so non-flashy, non-interactive, this was a really big change and really cool. Jaw dropping even.

Friday: Guster

Newport Music Hall, Columbus

The opening act was okay, I was super exhausted from walking all over Columbus and might have fallen asleep while they were playing, not because they were bad or particularly sleep inducing, I was just really tired. It was all guys, they were in plaid flannel, they played rock or something.

Now, before we go any further I need to talk to you about the first time I saw Guster. It was April of last year, in Austin, we were 2 people away from the stage. It was warm out, and we were fully surrounded by Gusteroids that were having a fantastic time. It was easily one of the best nights and trips of my life.

So, I was a little nervous. How could they possibly compare to that?

I'm a silly little rabbit though. They came out and played and we sang from our perches in the balcony along the railing and had a super tremendous time.

They may be my favorite, I'm not going to say anything definitively, but they play such an excellent show. Really amazing songs, that sound good no matter if you are listening to them at home or at a show. I love them so much.

It was a long and tiring week, but I am thrilled to death that we had this opportunity and took it.

Now get thyself to iTunes and get some of this super hot music I just told you about!

Lazy Lion

I have been terribly busy. And terribly lazy.

For those of you that are bombarded by my FB status updates and Gowalla check-ins you'll know that I have been working. A lot.

6 and 7 day work weeks for the two months that I have been here. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. We came up here to make and save money, so this is all helping to that end, but it leaves little time for much else.

That said, we took our first weekend off together!

OU was playing the Cincinnati Binturongs in Cincinnati so we drove down to watch the game. We had planned on hitting the road bright and early at 8 am. That didn't happen. Not even close. Between getting dog food and taking the kids to overnight camp and packing, showering and taking early morning bubble baths we didn't get on the highway until very close to 10.

We wanted to make some southward progress before stopping for break-feast so we hopped on the highway and put the pedal to the metal. (proverbially speaking mother, no speed limits were broken) We exited a short while later, after all, breakfast is only served until 10:30 at McDonald's, to an epic road block of fire engines and fire trucks and whatnot. It looked as if there were a chemical spill in Nowhere, Ohio.

Nope, just a parade. Come on guys, we just want a burrito here.

Back on the highway and we were really starting to push the far side of 10:30 at that point...within a couple of miles the golden arches beckoned again, and none too soon, because there was a serious build up of traffic all of a sudden.

Burritos ordered, but not eaten (somebody had ants in his sweatpants), we loaded back up. Then came decision time, do we patiently sit through the cleanup and rubbernecking of the rollover accident or do we employ our iphone's map skills and take rural routes... And the winner is, better to go 50 mph through tiny little towns than sit for any length of time on the interstate. Which shouldn't that be intra-state?

But I digress.

Ohio is interesting in that their towns don't bleed into each other like they do in Oklahoma. OKC basically engulfs Moore, even stretches all the way down to Norman. You can't not be in a city for a long, long time in the metro. Here, there are medium to big cities/towns and then nothing in between. Very strange.

That said, it sets the stage for lots and lots of rural routes and state highways and well maintained two-lane roads.

I can't begin to express how much fun that was for me. We were off the interstate for 45 minutes-ish, meandering through the countryside. We saw apple orchards, in fact the apple orchard that was featured at our fancy Cleveland restaurant The Flying Fig, corn fields, soy bean fields, legion of vertical gas wells, old barns, farmhouses, hills, plains, trees, and trees, and trees.

Views that made me want to get out and walk that entire route with a camera in hand.

No traffic, no road rage, no frustration for other drivers, the 14 year old driving the tractor notwithstanding, no jockeying for position on the road. Just laughs, smiles and wide eyes.

The highlight had to have been cresting a little hill/curve to be greeted with the only oncoming traffic we encountered- ye olde horse and buggy! A lovely little Amish mother with her under five Amish-ette. Obviously I have seen loads of Amish in NE Ohio, and at the Ag Fair there were some buggies hither and yon, but to see one on a road as we zoomed by in a Passat was somehow a little bit more magical for me.

We finally got back on the disgustingly grey, concrete and anti-magical highway and made it to Cinci, which a lovely little city, like New York, but smaller, cleaner and with fewer pedestrians, and had a super deluxe, fabulous time at the game.

Can't wait for our next adventure.

Best life ever.

1 Week Deep in Ohio

Warning: this isn't going to read well. i'm too tired for that. i'm also typing this at Buzzi's laundromat because we don't have internet, or a washer and dryer. it isn't pretty but it has all the pertinent details.

House- Jarrod did an absolutely amazing job picking a house for us. The house itself is really super cute. Little bitty rooms and the steepest staircase ever to the finished attic and semi-finished basement. The neighborhood is amazing, so many beautiful and tall trees. Our neighbors (Mary and Ron, Sue, Lois and Tom, Tammy and Nala [mastiff]) are so nice. The look out for each other, and now us and our four-leggeds. We are 2 blocks away on the North from an Italian restaurant that is so tiny and yummy and cute. It reminds me of Joe's Taverna but with fried calamari and pizza. 2 blocks away on the South we have a 70 year old art deco inspired bar that has an eclectic menu and terrific bloody marys.

Job- I work at Kenyon Energy, Jarrod's company, as a secretary. It is a big change from teaching. I talk to only adults and they are all in full control of their actions, minds, and bodily fluids. It is a lot of fun.

Ohio- This place is amazing. First of all, the climate is fantastic. Humid, even more so than Oklahoma, but cool. Our hottest day was 94. That said, the winters are supposed to be horrific. Ever the optimist I choose to believe that I can bundle up sufficiently to avoid turning into a popsicle. Fingers crossed. The scenery is breathtaking. We live next to a river that has a hiking trail and river tour, both of which are in our future.

This little adventure is fun and exciting and I am thrilled beyond measure to get this opportunity to do something fully different than our real lives for a bit.

Ohio?

Today was my first (full) day in our home without my buddy. Blessedly I have had things to do to keep me occupied. Unlike yesterday, when he left at 10 and I retired to the bed until 7. No, it's fine. Today's adventures included working out (thanks Jill and Barbara!), riding my bike to Cheever's to celebrate my mother's birthday- is it terrible I don't know how old she is? yes?- and then a girl's (again with my mother) trip to the OCMA to see the Sketch to Screen exhibit. My buddy and I had plans to date night it to that, but he decided that instead he would get a job and move to Ohio!

That wasn't bitter, truly, just funny. In a million years I would have never imagined this to be part of my life.

So, starting this week I am packing up the contents of the manse, after some intense photo sessions, and waiting none too patiently for the phone call to let me know he found a house.

I feel terrible, my buddy has to work a full day, at a new job no less, and then dedicate what few daylight hours he has remaining to finding us a house. But, the minute he does I can move all of our worldly possessions and our four-footeds up there and we can start this next grand adventure!

We have looked at several houses online via craigslist (which is full of jerks trying to rip off your identity and steal all of your money- all the while posting pictures of really cute houses to lure you in) and of course one, none jerky listing, has fully captured my heart. To the point that I would pay more rent than they are asking just so we could guarantee that we get it. It is in Akron in the Highland Square area. Quarter sawn oak floors, leaded glass windows, surrounding a brick fireplace? Be still my heart.

Despite my visceral reaction to this house and longing to live in Highland Square, I am more than content to let my buddy have carte blanche when picking our semi-temporary home. He, of course, is drawn to the finished basements/attics, a term which here reads, home theatre room, with an eye to hardwood floors. I however can be swayed by something as simple as a built in hutch in the beamed ceiling dining room.

Regardless of where we end up physically, it will be the most amazing home in Ohio because our furry family will be there together. While obviously I don't want to leave my family, friends, manse or OKC, if I am being fully honest, I am really excited to have this time to do something totally out of character, for both of us, while we have the ability to do so. Once it is done, we will come home and settle in to real life, but for now, we will embark on some version of Eat, Pray, Love- with an obvious concentration of eating and loving!

Viva Las Vegas!

We leave soon for Las Vegas (I've been instructed by my buddy that no one under 60 calls it Sin City... except, obviously, me)! I'm both excited and anxious.

Excited because so many of our amazing friends are going to be there to celebrate the Lambley union, and because as it is my first time to go their I am super amped to explore a new city. Though it should be noted that my exploration is going to be limited to the Wynn.

Anxious because I've never been there and I really don't know what to expect. It is a bit overwhelming.

I'm trying to focus on the brunch we are having at the Wynn, and leaving all the other details (flights, layovers, cabs, bags, etc) to someone else to sort out!

Family

I'm kind of overwhelmed with love and appreciation for my family. Those hiccups in life that make you pause and reflect on you and yours...

A father that champions for you despite the fact that your actions warrant an old-fashioned lecture rather than him fighting like Mike Tyson for you (save the ear biting).

A mother that was always, is and remains the most beautiful person in my life- inside and out. The paradigm of all that is balanced and good.

The moments spent with my created family- my buddy and our four-footeds- that are still and quiet and cozy where everyone has a bit of them touching someone else and the moments where the rabies epidemic manifests and a manic joy and frivolity fill our space.

A family to which I don't actually belong to, but have the opportunity to accompany and commune that is so different than mine, yet so fantastic and full and fun.

In the words of one of the greatest singer songwriters ever (after John and Gordon- Denver and Lightfoot; obviously), Dave Matthews, "Yes Indeed!"

Yes indeed- best life ever.

Hurricane Thyself!

This weekend we co-hosted a wedding shower for some of our dear friends with the rest of our dear friends. It was a crawfish boil replete with authentic Pat O'Brien's Hurricanes!

One of our co-hostesses offered, with their blessing, her parent's house as the location for our festivities. Never was there a better party spot than that house! Pool, hot tub, covered seating, fantastic kitchen, game room upstairs, and more. It was perfect.

The weather cooperated in a most un-Oklahoma like fashion as we began the party outside. The groom, who hosts a crawfish boil each year at his house, was in charge of the cooking. I stayed very far away from that process. I'm not into purging crawfish, or dropping their living bodies into the boiling vat of water and spices. That said. they were yum!

If you've never been to a crawfish boil, which I hadn't, you are really missing out. It is so much fun! Everyone gathers around the table and dives in to the too hot to be touching and too spicy to be eating food. It is a free for all of head sucking, corn eating and sweat dripping. Fabulous in every way.

For 10 hours we drank, ate, laughed, slept (okay, I was the only one to take a nap on the diving board-or at all) and had an amazing time prepping for the Lambley wedding.

This group of people that were gathered together to celebrate the upcoming nuptials are friends of my buddy. Over the past year and some months though, through countless games days, trips to the lake and Louie's Too I have fully fallen for this group of people. Some of the funniest, fun and most faithful friends I have ever witnessed.

Fish and Chips!

So my buddy fully made dinner tonight. Okay, I did the grocery shopping and the recipe part of it, but he definitely manned the fryer while the fish was cooking...

For a couple of weeks now he has been saving an episode of Tyler Florence on our DVR. It was the episode where Tyler made English style fish 'n chips and a shrimp bisque. The shrimp bisque looked sick. I can't wait to make it, but me thinks it does not belong on the same newspaper as my fried cod!

We sat down and watched it together and of course I was sold immediately. First of all let it be known that i am fully obsessed with fried fish. The Filet o' Fish (extra tartar sauce) from McDonald's is one of my favorites. I try to make it to LJS, Long John Silver's, at least once but no more than two times a year. Chances are if you take me to a restaurant and they offer fish and chips on their menu, I'm ordering it. Meal 1 in Hawaii, fish and chips, every time I go to BJ's, fish and chips. I'm fully obsessed.

So seeing Tyler's crispy, golden brown fish was a no brainer. Then he really started speaking to my soul. Of course he made his own tarter sauce. I'm a condiment person. I'd be willing to bet that a solid 1/3 of the contents of our refrigerator is various condiments of one flavor or another. This sauce was so simple, and looked fantastic. Double sold.

So after leaving work early today to take that paddle-footed one to the vet for her shots, I left her in my buddy's oh, so capable hands to make a trip to the seafood market. I always get it confused, location wise, with my meat market. Without fail I drive 30 blocks north on Western before it dawns on me, okay until I saw Kamp's (meat), Avalon is on May. Unbelievable. I dash (as quickly as one can on Britton at rush hour) over to May, skirt death turning left into the fish market and approach the counter for some cod.

Holy lord in heaven. Cod is not tilapia. Cod is apparently the K.C. strip of the sea. 1 lb. of flesh later (literally and figuratively) this cod, which I affectionately named Bindi, and I head to that semi-mythical place of wonder and glory that is known to some as the Belle Isle Wal-mart. Capers, lemon juice (not a single lemon to be found in the store) and other sundries secured I make my way to the manse.

So, dovetailing is not my strength, nor is picking the appropriate sized vessel for my cooking/serving endeavors and this recipe called for a touch of finesse in both departments. I did my best. Oil on, tartar sauce made and marrying, potatoes sliced and par-fried. That isn't a word, but these were double fried, the first round was a lower temp to cook the insides, the second go around is hotter to put a nice crisp on them. Par-fried, like parboiled-but not. Then came the batter preparation, which included soda water.

Enter buddy. I opted to fry outside on our grill as we have a burner on our super hot new grill and I didn't really want to smell like fried oil for the next 8 weeks, but that means also There is no counter space to speak of. He started as the official batter bowl holder but by the end of it he was fully frying fish and transferring it to the hottish oven to hold while we fried the rest up.

15 minutes and some beauty shots later we were settled at the table, Paddlefoot and the Mexican enjoying the Spring evening, ready to dig in. It was pretty delightful.

Kudos to my buddy for dinner tonight. It was super fab.

Best Life Ever

It is my mantra. I say it to myself, as if to will it to be true. And yet, it is a wanton task.

It already is.

Maybe then it is a celebration of what is and what surely is to come.

The inspiration for this fully self-indulgent mess of words: my dining room table.

-Addendum-

"My" dining room table, by all rights our, is actually my parent's. It is the table at which I grew up, and once again it resides at the Manse of Glory. Upon our entry to my once, and once again, home my parents gave(?) it to us as we lacked a table and entertained a very formidable and blatantly apparent dining space.

It is not the provenance of said table that incites this monologue, rather the contents, or goods it supports. My buddy's computer, and he at the helm, our address book with the people we love the most and who in turn love us, an unsolicited, though somewhat exciting, magazine entitled "get married," the receipt from my buddy's nephew's b-day shirt, my phone, the watch my father gifted me, the glue I use when I stamp, the last set of cards my mother and I made, today's mail, my keys, a hot robin's egg blue dietsinreview.com shirt, his phone, and his convocation RSVP.

These are the contents of my life. These are the minutiae that make up our day to day.

This-this is the best life ever.

Augustine Spots LIke a Cow

I started this entry, by start I mean I uploaded the picture, several days ago. But, upon that very moment that pictured sad/sweet-eyed creature relieved herself on our floors for the 6,529th time and I had to set down my trusty Mac to clean up after her. When I had finally retired back to my once refuge, the couch, I had nothing but vitriolic feelings for that hound, and as such have left this until this moment.

Now that she has mastered the art of ringing a bell to be let outside, though not yet the connection between needing to do so before she attends to her bodily functions, and is safely (?) running amok betwixt the far too tall shade grass and fallen pecans, I have a free moment to address all that is Augustine Spots Like a Cow Rowe.

Once the imminency of Two Socks' all too soon end was made horrifically and sorrowfully apparent we finalized the installation of our newest four-legged. Being the impulsive creature that I am, any number or type of canine could have found sanctuary at the Manse at the close of that nasty business if it had not been for our plans.

My buddy had decided that he wanted a Basset Hound and had found a breeder in Webber's Falls, a small town in Northeastern Oklahoma. All that was left was to wait for a new litter to be born as we needed, apparently, first choice. My compulsive checking of the website resulted in us being the first to respond to the, at that time, latest posting of a litter, born February 14th. We originally picked the cutest of the two boys, but as the weeks passed we opted for a little lady to fill the proverbial shoes of our Red Dog.

Enter Augustine. The breeder (Okie Dokie Bassets) was really great at putting up pictures every couple of weeks of the litter, and as they grew so too did our giddy anticipation. After 7 weeks of waiting, one of the world's most horrendous drives (Steak n' Shake you are no friend of mine) and nearly meeting our end ala Deliverance via our misguided turns into random eastern Oklahoman private drives we arrived at our destination. Greeted roundly by the baying, barking, whining and general commotion that is assuredly to be assigned to packs of Bassets, Linda, heretofore known as "the breeder," brought out a sack of potatoes. That is to say she brought out our little, lumpy, dead weight rectangular prism of fur.

The rabbit soft fur and soulful eyes disarmed me immediately. The puppy breath was like a Mike Tyson hit. I was done.

She was the picture of perfection night one. Sleeping soundly, giving skunky kisses, and liberating her bladder on grass or dirt only.

Little liar.

That was not to be the case in subsequent days and all too short nights. Our veterinarian (Classen View= amazing) summed it up prophetically: "there's a reason they are so cute..." You could set footage of this little one to a two-note symphony, think Roy Scheider 1975, and feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise as your immediate misfortune was suddenly realized.

She is a monster.

At her unveiling to my very disapproving and more that a little judgmental father, she did the most unholy thing on his hardwood floors. Terrible in every way.

That said, she has learned to ring the bell, climb up and down the stairs to the couch, plays with our little Mexican, and is still soft like a rabbit.

I love her. I'm mildly obsessed with her. At 4:40 when she wakes me up I am glad to pull her from crate to bed; and am instantly soothed by the sound of her breath, the rise and fall of her chest and luxuriously soft coat that rests on me as I quickly fall back into a deep and restful sleep.

I'm still not to sure about this corn-chip scented breed in general, but this little paddle-footed lady is just about the cutest thing I've met.

Oh, Gilad!

So I am portly; akin to Anna Nicole, before she started taking TrimSpa, and Al Roker, pre-gastric bypass.

I'm not bragging, far from it. I'm as grossed out at myself as I am of the 1,000 lb man mowing through a 2-liter.

I want to go to the gym, but sleep is oh, so seductive. As of this week I haven't been able to bring myself to get up early enough to get to the gym, or even to work on time. It's fine.

So in order to stave of the self-loathing I have turned to the fitness channel. Yep, I am doing tv aerobics. It is as glorious as it sounds.

I dabble in a variety of shows, thank you DVR, but my mainstay is Total Body Sculpt with Gilad. If you have ever seen the Dana Carvey/Kevin Nealon sketches with Hans and Franz; "I want to pump.... you up!" you have witnessed the glory of Gilad. I swear I think he was the inspiration for those sketches. In yesterday's episode (which included 24 squat jumps that made me cry) he said, and I swear it is true, "I'm here to work...you out!" It was amazing.

Obviously I feel like a complete idiot doing this. I'm in socks in my bedroom doing these semi-ridiculous biometric (his word) exercises that actual take effort on my part with my buddy popping his head in to mock me in facial and verbal expression. Awful in every way.

The only thing more embarrassing than me "working out" with Gilad is my burgeoning girth. So I shall embarrass myself, to myself, for a while longer until my jeans button and I don't fear blowing the ass out when I sit, or walk or even just take a deep breath.

Oh, another horrific-ness that accompanies this situation is the fact that Gilad does his show on Waikiki Beach. The entire time his abs and Diamond Head are just laughing at me from the 80 degree, trade wind cooled, oceanside wonder that is Hawai'i.

Best/worst part of my day.