Tanaka Farms Strawberry Tour - Irvine, CA

Happy Flag Day Eve! Or would it be Merry Flay Day Eve? Regardless, I hope you have yourself a great Flag Day tomorrow. Personally it’s one of my favorite holidays as the Post Office still has to work just like me.

Anyhow, this week’s entry is going to be short and sweet, no pun intended. Since I gave you two (yes, two!) entries last week I figured you’d forgive me. This past weekend I went to Tanaka Farms in Irvine, CA. I found Tanaka Farms on Local Harvest.org from a link from Neat-o-rama. Let it never be said that I don’t link my sources (when I have them available).

Since it’s a week and a day from officially being summer (… oh hey, since our lovely president felt the need to change daylight savings on us (which honestly, I don’t mind a bit save for all the asinine calls I had to field at work, “is your software compatible with Daylight Savings?”) I say we petition summer to officially start on June 1st every year. Summer Solstice be damned!) it kind of felt appropriate to go to a farm to get some fresh fruit.

Tanaka Farms is currently holding their Strawberry Tours right now, which according to the website is:

• A guided Wagon Ride around the farm
  


• See how different fruits and vegetables grow
  


• Taste different fruits and vegetables
  


• Pick and eat your very own STRAWBERRIES

I got there just in time for their 11 AM tour Saturday morning. It cost $13. I debated whether or not to spend $13.00 on a strawberry tour that obviously would be containing a bunch of young crying kids but decided that purchasing a couple strawberries from their store would not a good blog entry make. I plunked my $13 dollars down and waited patiently on the hay bails for the tour to start.

At 11:05, they rounded us up like cattle (it is a farm after all) onto two wagons pulled by a mean looking tractor. I immediately knew that I would be uncomfortable for the next hour as the bench seats in the wagon are only about 7 inches deep and give you 2 feet of leg room that must be shared with the person sitting across from you. They also shove you in like those chickens I see on semi trucks. Did I mention that there were a lot of children? Young children? Like the oldest child was maybe 7? Yeah, I know. It was a farm, I should have expected it. I dropped a comment card with, “Adults Only tours please” on the way out.

The tour started and we learned about how a fruit is classified as anything that begins as a flower and has seeds on the inside or outside. This of course means that cucumbers and green beans are fruits, which I refuse to believe. I’m still trying to wrap my head around tomatoes being a fruit. I personally believe that anything that I put on my salad is a vegetable (except the eggs, cheese, and sunflower seeds of course). Keep in mind that I’m not into putting not-suppose-to-be-covered-in-Ranch-dressing items in my salad like mandarin oranges or pineapple. That’s just nasty.

After the whole ‘everything you thought about vegetables is wrong wrong wrong’, the tour stopped at a patch of green beans and passed them around for us all to taste. Still a bit freaked out about where all those little children hands have been that were passing me beans, I didn’t try one. The tour guide explained that since the farm was 100% organic, the beans were very safe to eat. She obviously did not see small child with jam face pick his nose earlier.

Banana trees with scarecrow.

The next stop was the onion patch. My favorite! I was actually looking forward to the onion patch as I wanted to see the screwed up faces of little children biting into a big smelly onion for the first time. HAHA! I ended up saving a couple onions for Kevin because I wanted to see the same face on him.

mmmmm....onions. (ick! yuck! gross!)

We then rolled over to the carrot patch. I couldn’t resist a yummy fresh from the ground carrot. I made sure to grab one straight from the guide before the little booger hands got to it. The carrot was very good, and I’m pleased to announce no one made the ‘What’s Up Doc?” joke.

Finally we got to the Strawberry field where we were released from wagon hell. We were allowed to eat as many strawberries as we wanted, but we couldn’t take any with us. This was really the best part of the whole tour, picking off the strawberries straight from the vine, warmed from the sun, and popping it in your mouth. I really don’t know how many strawberries I ate in those 15 minutes, but it was enough to give me a bit of a stomach ache. When we did get loaded back in the wagon, it was pretty cute to see all those kids with red stained hands and smeared strawberries across their cheeks.

At the end of the tour, they gave us each a pint of fresh strawberries to take home. Kevin and I polished those off in about 10 minutes the next day.

We did not taste the port-o-pots on this particular tour. They are all organic though.

All in all, the tour was OK. I would say it was a $10 tour, rather than $13, and their produce for sale is a bit on the pricey side, but it’s really tasty. I guess I wouldn’t mind doing it again for their July Watermelon tour. I just hope by then they have reviewed and implemented my comment card suggestion.

The Duffy - Newport Beach, CA

Hello again! As promised, here is the 2nd entry of the week or as I would like to call it, “Why I think my California friends are awesome.”

Before I start singing CA praises, I would like to say that I love and I miss my friends in Wisconsin dearly. If I could convince each and every one of them to come out here to live I would. Of course, I would make them open a Champion’s Pub, Alterra Coffee, Apollo Greek restaurant, and a Conejitos if they did. Man, do I miss Conejitos…and this coming from the girl who lives close to some of the best Mexican restaurants around.

My Wisconsin friends are awesome and so are my California friends. One of the many reasons why I love my California friends is their enthusiasm to things, especially new ideas. A problematic trait of Wisconsinites (myself included) is the general wariness to things that sound sort of lame when first mentioned. My personal example is when Beth’s sister took me line dancing. I should have relaxed a bit, laughed and had a good time regardless if it wasn't something I was actually into. But no…instead I sulked in the corner hating every cowboy hat that passed me. My California friends are naturals at relaxing, laughing, and having a good time. As lame as this blog can be either at first mention or in detail, they’re enthusiastic about it. They promote my blog to more strangers than I do. Patrick called me up once to pretty much tell me, “We’re currently sitting around laughing at your blog.” Patrick was also the one who decided to surprise me with this new this weekend idea. All I had to do was be ready at 1 PM on Sunday. How awesome is that?

Kevin and I were indeed ready at 1 PM on Sunday when Patrick picked us up for my surprise new thing this weekend. When I got to the car, I realized that either the surprise was going to be a party thing, most likely on the water, or they were going to kidnap us, cut off our arms and legs, and dump us in the desert with nary a dibble of water between us. Thankfully it was a party thing on the water because I was already really dehydrated that day.

The first couple years I lived in California, I never once was on a boat on the ocean. I used to dream of having a friend who owned a boat, or at least knew someone else who had a boat. I now DO have a friend who has a boat and little did I realize that people who own boats typically know other people who own boats. This is the roundabout way of saying that we went on my friends’ friend’s Duffy, which is a little electric boat with a canopy on top. It was perfect for cruising around Newport Harbor if I do say so myself.

Yeah yeah, another boat entry. I like the ocean. I like boats. I can’t help it. You’ll have to blame Patrick this time though.



So Patrick, Michele, Linda, Dave, Jill, Kevin and I all boarded the Duffy on a sunshine-y Sunday afternoon. The first thing to know about a Duffy is that because it’s a small vessel, you have to evenly distribute the passenger weight to both sides. I think this very fact affected my vertigo just a wee bit. I certainly didn’t want to ask anyone’s weight (or have anyone ask mine for that matter) to do a calculation of body weight to beer and snack ratio thus to allow the Duffy to maintain an even keel. I think most of the time we were all leaning a bit port side. Look at me! I’ve been on enough boats this past year to know which is which!


Patrick would like to show the heathen vs. gentlemen why of tying up a boat.

I think one of the best things about a Duffy is it’s ‘I don’t give a crap, I’m just a floating party boat, wanna a beer?’ attitude. You can just motor around, wave to the big ships passing you by, talk sausage (Kevin’s term), and enjoy the day. You can pretty much stop anywhere in the harbor that has a dock (which most do) without too much hassle. Duffy’s aren’t made for anything but that purpose. So now I have golf cart and Duffy on the list of silly things I would buy if I had a whole bunch of money that I didn’t feel like donating to poor people.



Anyhow, the first stop we made was to get gas. Yeah, it was pretty cool. I’ve always realized that you need to have floating gas stations to fill up your boat but I still am pretty fascinated with a 7-11 on the water. I had to buy a t-shirt. No seriously, I bought a t-shirt.


Ok, it's not a 7-11, but it's damn close.

The next stop was the Balboa Yacht club where Michele was sweet enough to buy us all really really yummy Bloody Marys. This is also where we learned that Patrick ironed Michele’s shirt for her that day. While I personally don’t think that in itself was a big deal, the group ran with it and called poor Patrick ‘nancy’ and ‘whipped’ all day long. ‘Nancy’ and ‘whipped’ are my phrases, I don’t dare report the sausage that Dave was hitting Patrick with. (Did that sound dirty?)


Linda, Patrick, Michele, Dave, Jill, Me, and Kevin (with hat)

After the yacht club and floating around for a couple more hours we headed back. We had planned an evening gathering at my place but I turned into the nancy when I cancelled due to tiredness. I know, I know.

Just because he did this it deserves to be posted.

I want to give a quick thanks to Patrick and Michele for the idea and Dave, Jill and Linda for the laughs. You guys are truly awesome.

Catalina Island on Golf Carts, Padre's Game - Catalina Island\San Diego, CA

SO! As you may have remembered-many many moons ago before my computer up and got itself sick- that my best friend, Bethhead, came out to visit me over Memorial Day weekend. I have known Beth since I was 5 years old and have been best friends with Beth since 8th grade, after both our reported best friends at the time up and decided to ditch us for each other so that they could go off and discuss the G.I. Joe cartoon for hours on end. No, we didn’t get it either, neither then or now (though I do happen to know that knowing is half the battle*) (*G.I. Joe reference. G.I. Joe strongly urges you not to play in construction sites. **) (**OK, so you would have really had to have watched the cartoon to get that obscure reference. And I’m really going off topic here.) I have known Beth since she was known as Beth Ann. I have known Beth long enough to give her the Bethhead sigma that she carries to this day (sophomore year Powder Puff game, saw her head poke out above of a bunch of cars in the lot and yelled, “BETHHEAD!”). We have discussed more boyfriends than I care to remember and we have only had one major fight that comes to mind. And I think it was about office supplies. The very best thing about Beth is that we haven’t lived in the same state for the majority of our friendship yet when we see each other again it’s like she’s been living next door all this time.

Bethhead Rocks.

Beth was really excited to join me on the new this weekend event. I think it may be because every time she does come out I usually take her to the same places – the beach, the Harp, the mall, Mother India. A couple of weeks before she got here she already had an idea.

“How about seeing the Padres play down in San Diego?”

“Like baseball?”

“Yeah, the Brewers are playing.”

“Well, San Diego is pretty cool.”

Little did she know that I also had another idea for the weekend, which was to go out to Catalina Island and ride in a golf cart. You may think it’s pretty stupid to pay $60 for a round trip ticket out to a tiny island to ride in a golf cart, but then you probably have never been to Catalina. Catalina in itself is awesome. Catalina in a golf cart (what a great band name) will knock your socks off.

Feeling ambitious with the three day weekend ahead of us, we decided to do both. This will be known hence forth as Why Moe Didn’t Get Any Sleep Memorial Day Weekend.

After a night of cocktails at the Harp (old habits die hard) we woke up early as to go to the bank, get gas, get snacks, and return her rental car all before catching the 11:55 AM Dana Point Catalina Express out to Catalina. We figured we were doing OK on time, that is, before we hit Saturday traffic on I-5 and got a bit lost finding the right dock. By the time it was all said and done, I found myself running like I was being chased by a big surly monster with 4 heads to catch the boat as we had approximately 18 seconds before it left. But we did indeed make it. The Catalina Express is great and will get you to the island in an hour and 15 minutes. We saw a pod of dolphins along the way and even a quick sighting of a whale.

Landing in Avalon

Once we got to Catalina, we went straight to the golf cart rental place. We were immediately saddened by the fact that it cost $70 for three hours of golf cart joy. Not wanted to fork out so much money for a golf cart, we walked away and headed downtown. We weren’t a block in before Beth turned to me,

“How much are you willing to spend for the golf cart?”

“I don’t know, maybe $20?”

“I’ll cover the rest, let’s get a golf cart.”

I think I might have skipped back to the golf cart rental place. Bethhead Rocks.

That's right. Tell Bethhead how much she rocks.

Catalina in a golf cart is AWESOME. I really can’t believe the first time I was there I didn’t get a golf cart. Renting the golf cart made me want to BUY a golf cart even if the only place I could use it back home was to cart to my driveway and back. We drove that cart everywhere. We saw the horse ranch, the old Casino, the burned out areas (Catalina had a major forest fire last month), the big ole bell, and some incredible views. Beth, I’m sure, is telling stories at home about me attempting to parallel park the golf cart; think Austin Powers style when he’s stuck between the two walls.

View from the top

Burnt areas of Catalina

I was really bummed when we had to return the golf cart. Three hours went way too fast. I drowned my sorrows in a Lava Flow at the cantina to feel better. We caught the 7:00 PM boat back to Dana Point with both of us a bit sad to leave. This nerdy kid and the group of drunken Texans trying to smoke on a non-smoking boat eased the pain a bit.

Beth has a better picture of this kid. Freakin' hysterical.

The next day we woke up early to head down to San Diego to see the Padres\Brewers game at 1 PM. While there wasn’t much traffic getting down there, we got completely lost trying to find the stadium. Hey San Diego! Good job putting your gigantic stadium right in the frickin’ middle of downtown! Yeah, we probably could of seen it if it wasn’t for all the tall frickin’ buildings you put in the way. And parking? At the convention center? Are non-San Diegians suppose to know this? And your signs San Diego! Don’t have a sign for Petco Park with an error pointing left when Petco Park is straight ahead. That’s the up arrow just so you know. Pointing UP. Not LEFT. Dumb asses.

I am sorry to say that I did not bring my camera to the game. San Diego won, Brewers lost, beer too expensive, Beth bummed. Also San Diego? That monk looking mascot of yours? Totally creepy. Just saying.

The rest of the weekend was a lot of fun, but not new, so I will leave it at that. I want to thank Bethhead for gracing us with her presence and for being as Bethhead as always. Come back soon!

Dangnumbit!

Well folks, I'm sorry to say that last weekend's post is going to be put off even longer. I have a virus on my PC that Norton doesn't even recognize but states that it's bad. Like awful awful bad. Like any person who is comfortable enough with computers is wont to do (when shit like this happens) I'm going to rebuild my machine. This means backups and reinstall of God only knows how much software thats pretty much going to eat up my entire Saturday, or Sunday, or both. Hell biscuits. I could write the entry on Kevin's machine but I wouldn't have access to my pictures. And what's an entry without pictures?

What I think I'm going to do once the whole thing is fixed and running is give you two posts next week. Hope you all can hang tight until then. In the meantime, have yourself a great weekend and I'll write at you next week.

Delayed!

I am still recovering from the long weekend so I apologize that the next entry will be a bit delayed. Tomorrow maybe? Regardless, here's a photo to tide you over until then:






Just so you don't get all smart about it, nooooooo, I did NOT go horseback riding. Seriously.

Pineapple Upside Down Cake - *Home Entry*

Yeah, so…I had all these big plans to go to the Duck-A-Thon in Huntington Beach but neither Kevin or myself was feeling active enough to get out of our pajamas on Sunday, so I’m afraid you are left with a home entry. And it’s going to be a short entry at that as it was so damn easy. I will make it up to next week as Bethhead is coming to town and we have a lot of things planned.

SO YES! Pineapple Upside-down Cake! As you have probably noticed, there are a lot of normal everyday things that I have never tried. Pineapple upside-down cake is definitely on that list. I often wonder why over the course of my 32 years that I never happened to run across these everyday things. Have most of you tasted a pineapple upside-down cake, or a soufflé for that matter? Growing up, my family certainly was into trying new recipes. Ask my sister about hamburger pie. Go on, I dare you. Maybe it was the fact that pineapple upside-down cake and soufflé in their minds was so ordinary that doing odd recipes was exciting. They never took into account that odd recipes are now what I consider normal. Did anyone else grow up with cheesecake cupcakes or salisbury bougniogn (that’s so French I’m not even going to apologize for misspelling it)?

Don’t ask me how I decided on pineapple upside-down cake. I think it might have to do with the fact that pineapple upside-down cake is fun to say, like spatula and platypus are. Maybe it’s because it’s a really pretty looking cake. I don’t know about the reason but I do know that I’m going to make it again. It’s really good, especially if you aren’t usually that into sweets. Like Kevin. I’m going to side step for a quick second to tell you about an ongoing repeated conversation Kevin and I have. If I bring up donuts, either in the fact that I’m in the mood for one or that they were brought into work that day, Kevin will always always say, “I don’t like donuts.” And I will always always respond, “You don’t like donuts or you don’t like EATING donuts?” (-in reference to ones waist line) Kevin will usually shut up for a couple seconds, get a bit annoyed, and repeat that he doesn’t like donuts. But I can testify in front of a high court that I have seen him eating a donut on more than one occasion without a gun pointed to his head.

SO YES! Onto the cake!

I got this recipe from AllRecipes.com. Most of the recipes for pineapple upside-down cake involved using a skillet. Because I’m lazy modern in my cooking style, I decided that not only would I forego the skillet, I was also going to use a cake mix instead of hauling out the cake flour and such.

Just to show you how easy this was, I’m going to write out the recipe.

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Make sure all live animals are out of the oven at this time.
   
2. Butter both cake pans and put a ¼ cup of brown sugar sprinkled over each one. Try not to sing Echo and the Bunnymen’s ‘Lips like Sugar’ when this is done or else you’ll have it in your head all night.





3. Add pineapple slices and cherries to one pan, and crushed pineapple to the other. Oh! And save the juice from the pineapple can. I guess I should have mentioned that sooner before you drained the juice down the sink, huh?
   
   
   
   
4. Make the cake mix as directed on the box. Substitute some of the water with the pineapple juice. Marvel at the Spanish directions on the other side and convince yourself that you could totally read it. Then look at the other side and realize one of the only words you got right was huevos.
   
5. Pour batter evenly into each pan. It’s ok if some of the batter makes it to your mouth.
   
   
   
   
6. Bake for 40-50 minutes, or until a toothpick (non-used preferably) comes out clean.
   
   
   
   
7. Cool for 20 minutes (the cake, not you).
   
8. Dump out cake…nicely…on top of each other so that the pineapple is looking up.
   
   
   
9. Eat. Yum.

OC Aids Walk - Anaheim, CA

Oi! I’m a day late with this entry and a dollar short. Or $15 short more like it but more on that later.

A couple of weeks ago Kevin and I were on our way to work when I made us stop at Starbucks. We didn’t have any clean travel mugs at home for my morning decaf and I was too tired to clean one out. You would think a person who has since switched to decaf wouldn’t exactly need their morning coffee, but I do. Maybe it’s the idea of coffee that gets me going, but regardless, I had to stop. The guy behind the counter was going painfully slow though I give him props as it appeared that he was the only one who showed up for work that morning. I had plenty of time to look at the most recently overpriced pounds of Columbian and $16 travel mugs that aren’t dishwasher safe. I also noticed a pamphlet for the OC Aids Walk. Normally I avoid pamphlets like the plague, but this one caught my attention as a benefit\volunteer thing is something that I’ve been meaning to do for awhile.

When I got to work I immediately signed up for the walk online. Please don’t tell my boss I was online looking for something non-work related. I also used the company email to ask co-workers to sponsor my walk by donating some funds (probably gotten from said job) to the site as well. Quite a few of my co-workers did indeed sponsor me so not only did said co-workers go online for non-work related material but also responded back to me using company email to tell me that they did. Please don’t fire me or my good hearted co-workers Boss. It was for a good cause. You should fire Tom in Accounting for looking at porn. Just kidding, we don’t have a Tom in Accounting.

Anyhow, through my co-workers, family and friends, I managed to raise $185 dollars of my $200 goal. Thank you friends, family and co-workers, you are awesome!

All I had to do was actually DO the walk, which was 5 miles. When I signed up it didn’t cross my mind that walking 5 miles would be a challenge. It’s walking after all. I figured a day at Sea World would equate to more mileage on my sneakers than a 5 mile walk would. Then I started telling people about the walk and they started looking at me like it might be hard.

“Have you been training?”

“Um, not really. I mean, I walk every day. Didn’t you just see me walk from my desk to the printer? ….and then back again?”

“You better start training.”

“Honestly? You really think so?”

“5 miles is longer than you think.”

“Well, I guess…”

When the day of the walk approached, I was a little bit nervous. 5 miles. In my head, 5 miles started seeming like 500 miles, and wouldn’t I be more comfortable if I brought a sleeping bag just in case I only make it half way?

I got to Angel’s stadium an hour before the walk was supposed to start. Since I was by myself, I just wandered around looking awkward for hour or so, checking out booths, having some lemonade and listening to the announcers announce how much more money everyone else there made than me. I finally stood right by the start line watching the marching band set up and the Army march on by.

Church or Lube? Hard choice if you ask me.

At 9:20 AM, we were off. I walked for awhile with the band and watched as the Army ran by. Show-offs.

There isn’t really much to say about the walk itself. I did it under an hour, it wasn’t bad, and I felt good for doing it. Truthfully the worst part was that I kept tearing up. Somewhere about the time I turned 25, the hormones that control my tear ducts went out of control. I seriously cry at the stupidest things, like at every ending of Little House on the Prairie (before Albert got there, before it turned to crap), like seeing an elderly woman walk across the street with a little girl, or like seeing that commercial for the Humane Society with those stupid dogs with their stupid big sad eyes looking at me saying, “take me home, I swear we won’t eat your shoes…or your cat.” Needless to say that the reason why we were all there kept my lip quivering and my eyes welling over most of the time. I’m a dork. It might also explain why I normally didn’t have anyone nearer than 10 feet around me while I was walking. Either that or I smelled funny, which is entirely possible as well.

The best part of the walk was that we got to walk on the field at Angel’s stadium. I had never been on a professional baseball field and although I’m not a big baseball fan, it was really cool. I touched the grass (it’s real!) and tried to determine if the dirt around the diamond was made from crushed lava rock (doubt it). I have told a lot of people about getting to walk on the field but no one is really impressed by this. Hmm.

After the walk we were given a bunch of free things. Coupons for free sandwiches and burritos, water bottles, Frisbees, t-shirts, energy drinks, etc. They had a band playing but I decided to head on home to beat the traffic.



All in all, it was a great experience that I am sure that I will do again. Now if you’ll excuse me, the episode where Mary goes blind is on. Send tissues.

Driving Range - Costa Mesa, CA

Before I even begin this, I’d like to mention that it’s hot. I don’t want to swear but when it’s this FUCKING hot one can’t help but do so. I apologize to all the mothers out there (Happy Mother’s Day!). We’ve been in the 90’s and 100’s for the last couple of days, which is absolutely miserable to sleep in if you don’t have an air conditioner…which we didn’t, up until Saturday that is. Kevin is currently putting it in. Since we got the cheap-o (my mother’s word by the way) air conditioner that fits normal up and down windows and we actually have the slide-y windows that California is so famous for (they’re called casement windows, I actually had to inform the gentleman at Home Depot of this. Idiots) Kevin has to do a MacGyver on it to get it to stay in the window without falling to the patio below and crushing me to death, as that’s where I normally am. Please put your hands together and wish him luck. I know I am.

SO! Yes! About the new thing this weekend…

A lot of our friends out here are golfers. I’d even go as far to say that they are avid golfers. Every time I see one of them they usually have golf shoes on, spare golf balls in their pockets, crumpled up golf card sitting on the table, and a wicked tan…even in the middle of January. For a while now, I’ve been requesting (which quickly formed to pitiful begging) to have one of them take me out golfing as my new thing of the week. A lot of the times they ignore my requests by glancing away and changing the subject to something else. Sometimes they offer me a “Maybe”. Most of the time they say, “Go to the driving range a couple times first, then we’ll talk.”


Why won't anyone take me here?

I didn’t want to go to the driving range first though. I just figured that I would be a natural. They would take me golfing the first time and I would amaze them with my hidden skill, lying silent in the little cabinet of “If only I would have tried this sooner, I would have made a million dollars by now.”

On Saturday I ran into my golfer friends again. Without a stream of conscious deeper than “heylookatthemgolfshoesIshouldgotothedrivingrangetomorrow” I boldly looked at them and said with confidence, “I think I’m going to the driving range tomorrow!” I got a few shocked looks with this statement but even more surprising to me an offer from Mari and Gunter to come with. Awesome. Gunter even volunteered to let us use his clubs.

Kevin and I met up at Mari and Gunter house at 1PM on Sunday and they took us to the Costa Mesa Golf Club. We paid $9 for a large bucket of golf balls and set up camp at one of the driving range…um, stations I guess. As this is my first time ever at a golf course (mini golf not included) I really don’t know the terminology. I’m sorry. I can’t say this experience changed that.



Gunter was the sole avid golfer in our group. He was fantastic at giving tips. Keep you feet planted. Keep your arm straight. Keep your eye on the ball even after you hit it. Head down. Legs Spread. Spin twice and kiss your grandma. I tried to remember all the rules when I took my first swing.


Gunter shows us how it's properly done. He is German after all.

Swing! And a miss.

Swing! And a miss.

Swing! And the ball hobbles 6 feet away and I run to get it.

Swing! And the ball heads in a horizontal arc directly left and almost knocks out a neighboring golfer.

Swing! And a miss.

Swing! And the ball makes it 10 feet away where I run and get it.

Swing! And the ball goes 15 yards!

Swing! And a miss. Dammit!

Obviously my hidden talent doesn’t lie in the area of golfing. But I will say that at the very end I managed to get the ball almost 100 yards a couple of times. Kevin has more of a knack for it than I do and Mari is a practically a natural. I think it helps that Gunter whispers golf tips in her ear at night.



After our bucket of balls was gone, I had a new appreciation for the game. I completely understand how frustrating it could be and at the same time I realize how fun it could be too. Kevin and I both expressed an interest in doing it again, agreeing that a bunch of times at the driving range is in order before we step foot on the actual golf course.


It will be awhile before I get to ride in one of these.

Kevin and I want to do a quick shout of thanks to Gunter for having the patience to teach us and to both Mari and Gunter for the celebratory beers afterwards. You guys rock.

***********************************************

UPDATE! The air conditioner is in! Sweet dreams for us tonight. Hell, SLEEP for us tonight!

Corona Del Mar Eating Tour - Corona Del Mar, CA

As I mentioned in a previous post, Kevin’s college buddy had been staying with us for a couple of weeks. Knowing that he was going to leave this week, I declared to both Kevin and Jeff that this past Friday night was Guy’s Night. At this announcement, they both looked at me as if my hair had caught on fire. I had to explain that two guys hanging out without the presence of one of the guys girlfriend was what they obviously needed and I was a gracious enough of a girlfriend to provide such an evening. Again, looks from both of them like lava was flowing from my nose. After more insistence and swearing that I do indeed enjoy hanging out with both of them, I finally got them to shrug and say, “Yeah, OK, sure.” I blissfully went out to the pub without them ensured that I had done the right thing.

Little did I know that they would actually go out and have a goodtime…WITHOUT ME. As the story goes, or should I say, what they divulged about the evening, they went to every restaurant on PCH in the Newport area and had an appetizer at each one. Oh the food they described! Steak skewers and sushi rolls! Happy Hour specials galore! (I’d list more food items but I can’t remember them all and I don’t want Kevin to say I gave you incorrect information). I was jealous! Oh sure, I had a good time on Friday but not an eating tour good time!

Later on Saturday afternoon, I mentioned my sadness that they had such a good time WITHOUT ME and maybe wouldn’t they want to go on another eating tour that evening WITH me? I read Dave’s Hungry Cabbie site all the time and his Five Borough Eating Tour On The Wheels Of Steel looks awesome. I wanted to do that. Jeff instantly agreed, as long as we could hit new restaurants. Kevin, still full from the night before, bulked a little bit but eventually caved to our whims.

We decided to hit the restaurants in Corona del Mar as I have never been to a single restaurant there even though it’s only 3 miles south of Costa Mesa. I never even notice that they had restaurants in Corona del Mar. The only thing I ever seem to see there are the Coffee Bean and the endless line of traffic I always see to be in. Is there ever not traffic in Corona del Mar? I’d really like to know.

We set out for our eating tour at about 3 o’ clock Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately all the restaurants down there didn’t open until 5. We headed first to The Place which is more a bar than a restaurant, but they did have food. I was in charge of ordering so I got chicken fingers and a hot dog sandwich that had a side of onion rings. When the food came the boys gave me a dirty look.

“You broke the rules!”

“What rules?”

“You ordered a meal! You can’t order a meal! That’s breaking the rules!”

“I didn’t know there were rules. I wanted a hot dog.”
“You’re never going to make it.”

“But I wanted a hot dog! It’s just a hot dog! I don’t even like onion rings, those are for you.”

“Seriously, you’re never going to make it.”

“We’ll see. I do have a Wisconsin stomach you know…”

I ate my hot dog and it was good. I also had a bite or two of the chicken fingers. I felt good. I was ready for more. It’s just a hot dog after all.


Picture before the rule breaking hot dog sandwich

At 5 we headed over to the Landmark, which is a bit of a swanky joint. Though, looking at the places we went to, I would classify them all as swanky joints. The Landmark has a really great patio area, including a futon like bench up against the wall. I tried laying on it but was told I was breaking another rule so stopped. We ordered the spinach artichoke dips that came with chips and a couple fancy martinis. The dip was good but got cold too quickly. We also noticed that they had a three course dinner for $30 most nights. While tempting, I understood the rules and knew it would be something to try some other time.


Don't break yet ANOTHER rule and lay on the bench

Afterwards we headed to the Quiet Woman. The Quiet Woman is quiet (as pictured on the sign out front) as a headless woman. Ha ha, very funny. The Quiet Woman was PACKED but we managed to score a few seats at the bar. At this point I was getting full but I dared not say anything because I didn’t want to incur the wrath of the rule mongers. We got the garlic appetizer, which was a head of roasted garlic, pita bread, and some cheese. I had a bite of cheese on pita then excused myself to have a cigarette. I purposely dawdled and by the time I returned, most of the food was gone. I didn’t care for the dish very much so it was a good thing.

We took an hour intermission at Bandera across the street from the Quiet Woman. Jeff was going into a food coma so we pumped him up with a couple espressos. Bandera was also packed so we had to resort to sitting in the waiting room rather than getting a table or sitting at the bar. The food here looks excellent by the way. I wish we had room in our bellies at this point.

Resting our bellies at Bandera

Needed intermission over, we headed up the way a bit to Oysters. I will immediately tell you that we stayed way too long at Oysters in regards to the eating tour, but my God, was it worth it. We sat right in front of the oyster shucking station and I watched in wonder as the shucker shucked oysters. After questioning him a bit at the poor state of his hands, he let me know that it’s not uncommon for him to shuck 3,000 on a busy Saturday night. That’s a whole lot of time that your hands are running under water using a little knife to cut open an oyster and gingerly place the slimly insides in position where they will look edible. Seeing as I don’t eat fish, Kevin and Jeff had to try the oysters while I went all vegetarian on their ass and ordered the edamame. It was so delicious. As were the specialty cocktails. The Pompass cocktail (Pomegranate and passion fruit vodkas mixed with citrus and pomegranate juice) can not be missed if you go. Jeff (a.k.a. Mr. Moneybags) ordered Kevin a $50.00 Hennessy Paradis but proceeded to drink most of it. I myself (Ms. Feeling like Moneybags but totally didn’t have the wallet cash to support it) spent $10 to request the restaurant band to play Dave Brubeck’s ‘Take Five’. Man, I love that song. I love Pompass cocktails. I love Oysters. Go spend money here, please. I don’t want them to ever go away.

Mr. Shucking Oysters Guy

Pompass Cocktail...yum.

Oysters...yum..if you're into oysters. Which I'm not.

Play that funky music white boys. That comment was too easy.

After a couple of hours we realized that we really did to be moving on. Jeff and Kevin debated for awhile about the likelihood that we would be allowed into Rothchild’s due to our very casual attire. We thankfully didn’t have any problems but the fact that the kitchen was closing down did put a wrench in the food tour. I managed to flirt with the bartender enough that he had the cook make me a small Caesar salad (Read: “Hey, do-ya think I can sneak in a salad?” “Yeah, I guess that should be ok”). Jeff got a kick out of the downstairs wine cellar and Kevin and I had a nice chat with the couple sitting next to us. After my salad, we left.

Kevin at this point was very anxious to go home. He was full, he was tired, and he was broke. Jeff (hyped up still from the espressos) and I didn’t want to quit yet. We dragged him to 3-Thirty-3 for a nightcap. Boy, we should have listened to Kevin. What an awful place and a bummer that it was the last place that we went to. When we got in, Jeff went off to talk to girls and Kevin and I hung out in the foyer talking with a couple of older gentlemen, one which was celebrating his birthday and whose wife is from West Bend, WI. We weren’t having a bad time until the bouncers kicked the gentlemen out for being rowdy. They weren’t being rowdy, they were talking to us. If talking about fishing in WI is rowdy then…well, I don’t know. I’m telling you this pretty lame story so that no one ever ever ever goes to 3-Thirty-3. Don’t give them money. I want them to go away.

Please don't ever go here.

Need I say more?

We finally found Jeff and headed back home. We walked in the door and looked at each other.

“Anyone hungry?”

“Yeah, yeah we are.”

“Pizza?”

“That would be AWESOME.”