I'm not quite ready to post the monstrous entry which is 'my mother was in town and I took her places'. To make up for the lag, I present:
Kevin and Fish in Go Elf Yourself
Friday, November 30, 2007
Go Elf Yourself
I'm not quite ready to post the monstrous entry which is 'my mother was in town and I took her places'. To make up for the lag, I present:
Kevin and Fish in Go Elf Yourself
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Turkey Day!
…there’s going to be a few changes around here…
Unless you are blind, which I’m assuming that you’re not since you are reading this without Braille, I’m in the process of changing the look of the blog. Heather at GoofyGirl Designs has been helping me (and when I say ‘helping’ I mean ‘completely doing it herself’) with the header and the new layout. It’s currently a work in progress so although the header will stay the same, other things are prone to change. The background may be gray now, but in two days time it might be blue or have crazy stripes that make you dizzy. I just don’t know yet. I guess this is the long way of saying “Pardon the mess”.
In other news, Happy Thanksgiving! My mom is flying in from WI this morning and I’m going to make my traditional turkey dinner fit for the Mongolian army. I’ve actually only ever spent a single Thanksgiving with my mom as I was always with my dad and step mom in Mayville (and you have to know that if a town is called Mayville, it’s a small ass town) for dinner. I hope she enjoys the food, as there will be enough of it to feed the entire town of Costa Mesa. The Packer game is also on this morning (9:30 AM!) so you have to know that Kevin is tickled pink….or will be when he actually wakes up.
So there you have it. Blog changes. Turkey. Mom.
Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!
Unless you are blind, which I’m assuming that you’re not since you are reading this without Braille, I’m in the process of changing the look of the blog. Heather at GoofyGirl Designs has been helping me (and when I say ‘helping’ I mean ‘completely doing it herself’) with the header and the new layout. It’s currently a work in progress so although the header will stay the same, other things are prone to change. The background may be gray now, but in two days time it might be blue or have crazy stripes that make you dizzy. I just don’t know yet. I guess this is the long way of saying “Pardon the mess”.
In other news, Happy Thanksgiving! My mom is flying in from WI this morning and I’m going to make my traditional turkey dinner fit for the Mongolian army. I’ve actually only ever spent a single Thanksgiving with my mom as I was always with my dad and step mom in Mayville (and you have to know that if a town is called Mayville, it’s a small ass town) for dinner. I hope she enjoys the food, as there will be enough of it to feed the entire town of Costa Mesa. The Packer game is also on this morning (9:30 AM!) so you have to know that Kevin is tickled pink….or will be when he actually wakes up.
So there you have it. Blog changes. Turkey. Mom.
Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Indian Reception - Anaheim, CA
Once upon a time there was a young Indian man (Indian as in India, not Native American) who began working at the same company as the author of this here blog did. By per chance, this young Indian man shared a cubicle wall with the author of this here blog and they became friends in a general acquaintance who works with you and shares a cubicle wall sort of way. His name is not something this author of this here blog can reveal, so this author of this here blog will call him Fish, as that was his sometimes nickname name.
Fish is a great co-worker and cubicle wall sharer. He taught the author of this here blog a few Indian words and phrases that may or may not become useful in the years to come. One of these phrases is ‘shukriya’ which means thank you and has impressed a couple waiters at Mother India. An even more useful phrase - mainly during work hours - is ‘Monet coontalow ave-che; muje maar dalo abhi’ which means “I’m bored; kill me now.” Fish was also gracious enough to share with the author of this here blog tastes of his incredibly yummy smelling lunch from time to time, most of which was very spicy and made the author of this here blog drink lots and lots of water and squeak to Fish that no, in fact, it wasn’t that spicy. Fish knew this author of this here blog was lying.
When the author of this here blog met Fish 3 years ago, he was a young lad of 25. Fish would on occasion mention how old he was (not in the “oh yes, I’m 25” way, but in the “I can’t believe how OLD I am, I’m going to be 30 soon!”) and that his mother thought it was high time that Fish got married. The author of this here blog would laugh at Fish, but also secretly cursed Fish for calling the author of this here blog old as the author of this here blog was already in her thirties. But the author of this here blog digresses. Anyhow, while the author of this here blog thought the pressure of getting married at 25 a bit unusual, the author of this here blog understood that there are different cultures and traditions so didn’t argue. In fact, the author of this here blog suggested to Fish that he date one of the waitresses at Mother India....that didn’t work out.
A couple years later Fish mentioned that his mother had put an ad in a newspaper in India looking for prospects for Fish to marry. After calling and emailing one of these ladies, Fish went to India for 3 weeks to meet her and came back engaged.
Fish went through an agonizing 9 month wait while immigration did what immigration does best….paperwork. Finally, in September of this year, Fish and his Indian fiancée got married. The marriage was in Kentucky and was strictly family-only. 2 months later Fish and his new Indian bride held a reception and invited the author of this here blog and the boyfriend of the author of this here blog to join in the celebration. The author of this here blog was elated!
Last Friday night was the reception. The author of this here blog and the boyfriend of the author of this here blog were seated at the honky table with a few of our fellow co-workers who were also invited.
Fish's Bride, Fish, and Kevin ACTUALLY WEARING A TIE!
As one can imagine, an Indian reception follows a different pattern than an American style reception. An American style reception goes as follows:
At this particular Indian reception, there was no booze. While there was no booze, there were appetizers. And after appetizers, there were speeches. And after speeches, there was cake. And after cake there was dancing, and not just slow dancing, THIS kind of dancing:
The author of this here blog thought it was awesome. Though because of being unfamiliar with tradition, began to think that maybe the appetizers WERE dinner. But no, after 45 minutes of dancing, dinner was served. It was delicious.
Shannen would be in heaven, everything but 1 dish was vegetarian.
Then there was more dancing! Fish came around and tried to get his sorry honky co-workers to dance but we all refused. The author of this here blog WOULD HAVE danced if it weren’t for the fact that the author of this here blog was with co-workers and was terrified of ‘hearing about it’ Monday at work.
Fish knows how to get down. The author of this hear blog wishes she did.
Fish is a great co-worker and cubicle wall sharer. He taught the author of this here blog a few Indian words and phrases that may or may not become useful in the years to come. One of these phrases is ‘shukriya’ which means thank you and has impressed a couple waiters at Mother India. An even more useful phrase - mainly during work hours - is ‘Monet coontalow ave-che; muje maar dalo abhi’ which means “I’m bored; kill me now.” Fish was also gracious enough to share with the author of this here blog tastes of his incredibly yummy smelling lunch from time to time, most of which was very spicy and made the author of this here blog drink lots and lots of water and squeak to Fish that no, in fact, it wasn’t that spicy. Fish knew this author of this here blog was lying.
When the author of this here blog met Fish 3 years ago, he was a young lad of 25. Fish would on occasion mention how old he was (not in the “oh yes, I’m 25” way, but in the “I can’t believe how OLD I am, I’m going to be 30 soon!”) and that his mother thought it was high time that Fish got married. The author of this here blog would laugh at Fish, but also secretly cursed Fish for calling the author of this here blog old as the author of this here blog was already in her thirties. But the author of this here blog digresses. Anyhow, while the author of this here blog thought the pressure of getting married at 25 a bit unusual, the author of this here blog understood that there are different cultures and traditions so didn’t argue. In fact, the author of this here blog suggested to Fish that he date one of the waitresses at Mother India....that didn’t work out.
A couple years later Fish mentioned that his mother had put an ad in a newspaper in India looking for prospects for Fish to marry. After calling and emailing one of these ladies, Fish went to India for 3 weeks to meet her and came back engaged.
Fish went through an agonizing 9 month wait while immigration did what immigration does best….paperwork. Finally, in September of this year, Fish and his Indian fiancée got married. The marriage was in Kentucky and was strictly family-only. 2 months later Fish and his new Indian bride held a reception and invited the author of this here blog and the boyfriend of the author of this here blog to join in the celebration. The author of this here blog was elated!
Last Friday night was the reception. The author of this here blog and the boyfriend of the author of this here blog were seated at the honky table with a few of our fellow co-workers who were also invited.
Fish's Bride, Fish, and Kevin ACTUALLY WEARING A TIE!
As one can imagine, an Indian reception follows a different pattern than an American style reception. An American style reception goes as follows:
- Guests start to get drunk at bar while waiting for bride and groom to ‘appear’
- Bride and Groom announced, slow dance ensues
- DINNER!
- Toast after toast that make guests sleepy after all the booze\dinner
- CAKE!!!
- Dancing
- Chicken Dance\Shout!\YMCA
- Dancing
- Drunken brawl between Aunt Gretchen and that creepy uncle that no one can remember his proper name (he’s just referred to as ‘Ass Hat’)
- (WI Only) Bridal party leaves to get more drunk at local dive bar. Guests either get taxis or beg the bartender for just one more Miller High Life
At this particular Indian reception, there was no booze. While there was no booze, there were appetizers. And after appetizers, there were speeches. And after speeches, there was cake. And after cake there was dancing, and not just slow dancing, THIS kind of dancing:
The author of this here blog thought it was awesome. Though because of being unfamiliar with tradition, began to think that maybe the appetizers WERE dinner. But no, after 45 minutes of dancing, dinner was served. It was delicious.
Shannen would be in heaven, everything but 1 dish was vegetarian.
Then there was more dancing! Fish came around and tried to get his sorry honky co-workers to dance but we all refused. The author of this here blog WOULD HAVE danced if it weren’t for the fact that the author of this here blog was with co-workers and was terrified of ‘hearing about it’ Monday at work.
Fish knows how to get down. The author of this hear blog wishes she did.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Irish Stew - *HOME ENTRY*
It’s been awhile since I did a home entry, hasn’t it?
It’s November, which means that Southern California will get bouts of cold weather in between bouts of really hot weather. And when I say ‘cold’, I mean about 60 - 65 degrees. If you’ve lived here long enough, 60-65 degrees entails falling in love with your sweatshirts (which is honestly the only form of a ‘winter coat’ I have) and eating soup again (ha! I first typed ‘soap’ which spell check wouldn’t have caught and would make you wonder how much of the sun has gotten to my brian. Ha! ‘brain’). All last week it was ‘cold’ (and I’m using quotes to repel nasty comments from my WI readers) so while I was sitting snuggly in my sweatshirt, I thought about making soap (!! SOUP !!) or stew for my new thing this weekend.
After perusing around Allrecipes.com I finally decided on a nice Irish lamb stew because I’ve never cooked lamb before and in fact, I had no idea what it looked like before it was cooked. I know what it looks like when it’s on the big spindle at Greek restaurants and I certainly know what it looks like before it’s dinner, but not raw. By the way, I’m sorry vegetarians. If it’s any consolation, I always manage to convince myself that the lamb I’m eating looks like this:
And not like this:
Please don't eat me.
Basically I like to think of my lamb as Phil Spector, not Mary had a little.
Anyhow, when I first printed out the recipe, I failed to notice that it called for 6 POUNDS of lamb. I think the recipe was under the assumption that I either had my own lamb in the backyard and/or I was attempting to feed 17 children. I obviously cut the recipe in half but still felt a bit awkward asking the butcher at Ralph’s for the 3 pounds and certainly felt that I should of cut the recipe into fourths since it’s only Kevin and me. However, my measurement skillz (with a ‘Z’!) have always been poor (I cringe when they pick that subject in ‘Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?’ because I will always get the question wrong) and didn’t know if ¼ a teaspoon of thyme would equate to more than me waving the thyme container over the bowl and hope it got the essence of it, so I just halved it.
Here are the ingredients. It’s too long to list so I won’t:
Strange thing about this recipe is that it called for a pound of bacon. First of all, I don’t remember ever having Irish stew that had bacon in it and secondly, I just realized that I never halved the bacon like I did everything else. Seriously, that just occurred to me right now. Oh man, no WONDER why there seems to be as much bacon as there is lamb.
Homer Simpson would be proud.
Anyhow, so I cooked a heart attack’s worth of bacon while Kevin cut up the lamb. We rolled the lamb in some flour (that would be a great line if the lamb was still alive) and browned it in the bacon fat. Added the bacon and lamb to the crock pot and added the beef stock, onions, and garlic. Set the crock pot on high and let cook for an hour and a half.
While that was cooking, I cut up the potatoes and the rest of the onions. I cheated and bought the pre-cut carrots because sometimes I don’t mind paying 27 cents extra to make up for my laziness. I then aligned all the ingredients on the counter so I could give you my Martha Stewart money shot.
After about 45 minutes, I went to check on the stew. It didn’t appear to be simmering like the recipe said that it should. I reviewed the recipe closer only to realize that it said to use a S-tock pot, not a C-rock pot. I think I was so excited to use the crock pot again that my eyes saw ‘ock’ and went for it. This mistake meant that I had to transfer the contents from the crock pot to the stock pot (which in our house we simply refer to as the “big ass pot…you know, for the chili”) and try to boil it instead of simmer to make up some time. Kevin told me there is no ‘making up time’ in cooking, but I didn’t believe him and boiled away.
From Crock pot to Stock pot
Now’s a good time to mention that when Kevin and I cook and there’s some sort of boiling/simmering action going on, we will have a silent flame war. This is something I’ve never mentioned but always noticed….I’ll set the stovetop to around 3, let’s say, because I want it to simmer. I will then walk away to do something else -adjust the volume on the TV, smoke a cigarette, get a glass of water, whatever - and when I come back, Kevin will have turned the knob to 1. He will have walked away by this point, so I’ll put it back to 4…one more to make up for the 1 he had it in. Later, he’ll come by and set it back to 1, so on and so forth until it’s either done or he will exclaim, “do you really want this to boil?”
…which is exactly what happened with the stew. And because the stew took 2 hours to cook, it happened a lot. Regardless, the stew turned out perfectly. It was a bit strong in the lamb flavor the first day, but by the 2nd day it was great.
Oh! I forgot to mention that I added the potatoes, carrots, and onions after awhile, but I’m guessing you figured that out, huh?
IN OTHER NEWS….
I wanted to give a couple of shout outs since I’m here. First, I wanted to say hello to Bux who was gracious enough to bless us with his presence Monday night. It had been about 3 years since I’ve seen him last. With all good friends the conversation and laughing were easy and made 3 years seem like 3 days. He’s also engaged now, which is awesome, because he deserves to be happy. And just between all of us, I really have no recollection of making him buy shoes for a night in LA those many years ago. Not saying it didn’t happen, I just don’t remember it. Thanks Bux! You are always welcome at the Casa de Costa Mesa.
To Bethhead I'd like to say thank you for the awesome knife! Kevin and I realized it was the sharpest knife in our current knife arsenal and were very pleased to have it around.
Last, but not least, I wanted to say hello to my dad who celebrated his birthday this last Sunday. When I spoke to my dad, he was in a Packer bar with the rest of my family watching (what else?) the Packers and….doing Jell-O shots. He made a claim that the Jell-O was going to be good for his fingernails. I think he forgot that Jell-O isn’t good for your fingernails; it’s just MADE of fingernails. I love him regardless. Happy Birthday Dad!
It’s November, which means that Southern California will get bouts of cold weather in between bouts of really hot weather. And when I say ‘cold’, I mean about 60 - 65 degrees. If you’ve lived here long enough, 60-65 degrees entails falling in love with your sweatshirts (which is honestly the only form of a ‘winter coat’ I have) and eating soup again (ha! I first typed ‘soap’ which spell check wouldn’t have caught and would make you wonder how much of the sun has gotten to my brian. Ha! ‘brain’). All last week it was ‘cold’ (and I’m using quotes to repel nasty comments from my WI readers) so while I was sitting snuggly in my sweatshirt, I thought about making soap (!! SOUP !!) or stew for my new thing this weekend.
After perusing around Allrecipes.com I finally decided on a nice Irish lamb stew because I’ve never cooked lamb before and in fact, I had no idea what it looked like before it was cooked. I know what it looks like when it’s on the big spindle at Greek restaurants and I certainly know what it looks like before it’s dinner, but not raw. By the way, I’m sorry vegetarians. If it’s any consolation, I always manage to convince myself that the lamb I’m eating looks like this:
And not like this:
Please don't eat me.
Basically I like to think of my lamb as Phil Spector, not Mary had a little.
Anyhow, when I first printed out the recipe, I failed to notice that it called for 6 POUNDS of lamb. I think the recipe was under the assumption that I either had my own lamb in the backyard and/or I was attempting to feed 17 children. I obviously cut the recipe in half but still felt a bit awkward asking the butcher at Ralph’s for the 3 pounds and certainly felt that I should of cut the recipe into fourths since it’s only Kevin and me. However, my measurement skillz (with a ‘Z’!) have always been poor (I cringe when they pick that subject in ‘Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?’ because I will always get the question wrong) and didn’t know if ¼ a teaspoon of thyme would equate to more than me waving the thyme container over the bowl and hope it got the essence of it, so I just halved it.
Here are the ingredients. It’s too long to list so I won’t:
Strange thing about this recipe is that it called for a pound of bacon. First of all, I don’t remember ever having Irish stew that had bacon in it and secondly, I just realized that I never halved the bacon like I did everything else. Seriously, that just occurred to me right now. Oh man, no WONDER why there seems to be as much bacon as there is lamb.
Homer Simpson would be proud.
Anyhow, so I cooked a heart attack’s worth of bacon while Kevin cut up the lamb. We rolled the lamb in some flour (that would be a great line if the lamb was still alive) and browned it in the bacon fat. Added the bacon and lamb to the crock pot and added the beef stock, onions, and garlic. Set the crock pot on high and let cook for an hour and a half.
While that was cooking, I cut up the potatoes and the rest of the onions. I cheated and bought the pre-cut carrots because sometimes I don’t mind paying 27 cents extra to make up for my laziness. I then aligned all the ingredients on the counter so I could give you my Martha Stewart money shot.
After about 45 minutes, I went to check on the stew. It didn’t appear to be simmering like the recipe said that it should. I reviewed the recipe closer only to realize that it said to use a S-tock pot, not a C-rock pot. I think I was so excited to use the crock pot again that my eyes saw ‘ock’ and went for it. This mistake meant that I had to transfer the contents from the crock pot to the stock pot (which in our house we simply refer to as the “big ass pot…you know, for the chili”) and try to boil it instead of simmer to make up some time. Kevin told me there is no ‘making up time’ in cooking, but I didn’t believe him and boiled away.
From Crock pot to Stock pot
Now’s a good time to mention that when Kevin and I cook and there’s some sort of boiling/simmering action going on, we will have a silent flame war. This is something I’ve never mentioned but always noticed….I’ll set the stovetop to around 3, let’s say, because I want it to simmer. I will then walk away to do something else -adjust the volume on the TV, smoke a cigarette, get a glass of water, whatever - and when I come back, Kevin will have turned the knob to 1. He will have walked away by this point, so I’ll put it back to 4…one more to make up for the 1 he had it in. Later, he’ll come by and set it back to 1, so on and so forth until it’s either done or he will exclaim, “do you really want this to boil?”
…which is exactly what happened with the stew. And because the stew took 2 hours to cook, it happened a lot. Regardless, the stew turned out perfectly. It was a bit strong in the lamb flavor the first day, but by the 2nd day it was great.
Oh! I forgot to mention that I added the potatoes, carrots, and onions after awhile, but I’m guessing you figured that out, huh?
IN OTHER NEWS….
I wanted to give a couple of shout outs since I’m here. First, I wanted to say hello to Bux who was gracious enough to bless us with his presence Monday night. It had been about 3 years since I’ve seen him last. With all good friends the conversation and laughing were easy and made 3 years seem like 3 days. He’s also engaged now, which is awesome, because he deserves to be happy. And just between all of us, I really have no recollection of making him buy shoes for a night in LA those many years ago. Not saying it didn’t happen, I just don’t remember it. Thanks Bux! You are always welcome at the Casa de Costa Mesa.
To Bethhead I'd like to say thank you for the awesome knife! Kevin and I realized it was the sharpest knife in our current knife arsenal and were very pleased to have it around.
Last, but not least, I wanted to say hello to my dad who celebrated his birthday this last Sunday. When I spoke to my dad, he was in a Packer bar with the rest of my family watching (what else?) the Packers and….doing Jell-O shots. He made a claim that the Jell-O was going to be good for his fingernails. I think he forgot that Jell-O isn’t good for your fingernails; it’s just MADE of fingernails. I love him regardless. Happy Birthday Dad!
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Casino Night - Tustin, CA and Pumpkin Party - Costa Mesa, CA
Kevin is currently watching the Packers vs. Redskins game and so I thought it might be a good time to write. Granted, it’s hard not showing my team colors right now since I am from Wisconsin
Anyhow, last weekend we were pretty busy. On Friday night, Andrea and Roland invited us to Casino Night, which was a fundraiser for the high school basketball team at the school they both work at. The tickets were $20, and it included a buffet meal and $200 in ‘gambling money’ that you play for tickets to use in the end of the night raffle. I was looking forward to it as I love me some gambling, even if it’s with play money. If there’s ever a sore part in mine and Kevin’s relationship, it’s the fact that I love Vegas and he hates it. Of course he’ll win any Vegas argument due to the fact it’s not logical to piss away your hard earned money on slots and blackjack, but damn, it’s so much fun. But obviously that’s just my opinion.
Anyhow, last weekend we were pretty busy. On Friday night, Andrea and Roland invited us to Casino Night, which was a fundraiser for the high school basketball team at the school they both work at. The tickets were $20, and it included a buffet meal and $200 in ‘gambling money’ that you play for tickets to use in the end of the night raffle. I was looking forward to it as I love me some gambling, even if it’s with play money. If there’s ever a sore part in mine and Kevin’s relationship, it’s the fact that I love Vegas and he hates it. Of course he’ll win any Vegas argument due to the fact it’s not logical to piss away your hard earned money on slots and blackjack, but damn, it’s so much fun. But obviously that’s just my opinion.
We met up with Andrea and Roland at the Tustin Inn at about 6 PM Friday night and followed them over to the Community Center. While I realize that this was a fund raiser, it still seemed a bit odd to hold a gambling event in a community center. Just saying. The food was pretty good, but I had a hard time concentrating on what I was eating as all the tables were being set up and all the wonderful raffle prizes were on display. After dinner and meeting all of Andrea and Roland’s fellow teacher friends, we headed over to the Craps table.
Andrea and Roland
I’m not a big fan of craps for the sole fact that I really don’t understand how to play. 7’s are bad…that’s about it. But in a setting like this, it’s a good environment to learn as the craps dealers are patient with you and teach you the game. This is unlike in Vegas where you get scolded every 2 minutes, especially if you are trying to learn craps at 4 in the morning wearing a feather boa and maybe had a wee bit too much to drink.
So we played craps and I kept losing because I didn’t understand what I was supposed to do. I kept at it though, because I really wanted to be the dice roller. When it was my turn to throw the dice, I kept throwing them too hard and one of the dice would land behind the dealer’s chips. Unlike Vegas, if that die happened to be part of a 7 combo, he would let me roll again. If it was a good toss, he’d let it stand. When my turn was finally over, I wandered over to the roulette table….where I lost even more money. OH! Was I getting worried that I wouldn’t have any money left over to buy raffle tickets! I eventually broke down and bought more “money” and played a bit of blackjack, where I did OK, then went back to the craps table because it was almost my turn to roll again.
So you think you can roll again do you?
All in all, I got 8 raffle tickets but didn’t manage to win a single thing. They had a regular auction too, and couldn’t win that either. We did manage to snap up a couple of the centerpieces (which were bags of Starbucks coffee) so it wasn’t all a loss. Thank you Andrea and Roland for a great night!
On Sunday, it was Richard and Squishy’s annual Pumpkin Carving Party. While this isn’t a new thing (since we went last year) it was fun, so I’m going to include it. Richard and Squishy put up close to a $100 of their own money to give out as prizes for the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place pumpkin winners at their party. About 5 people who don’t do carvings do the judging. Last year I won 3rd place and got 2 movie tickets. I was really determined this year to place at least 2nd.
For a couple of weeks before the party, I researched on the internet for pumpkin ideas. Outside of 3-D carving, most of the fancy carvings seemed pretty easy to do. I went through 3 solid ideas before settling on the tricker-treaters idea (as you will see below). I bought two pumpkins, a special carving knife, an exacto knife, a nail punch, mini Christmas lights, and a regular light that changed colors. All in all, I spent about $35 on my idea. It really wasn’t about the prize at that point, I just wanted to win. Richard’s brother always comes up with fantastic ideas so I knew that I had to do something good.
When I got to their house, I was really anxious to start carving. But no one was carving quite yet, so I jittery sat there, had some juice, and tried to make conversation. All I could think about was that damn pumpkin. After a half an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked if it was alright that I start.
Kevin and Richard's brother (!)
So I started carving and got into a zone. People came over and said hi and I’m sure I said hi back and maybe even a ‘how ya doing?’ but I can’t say I heard the response. Carve Pumpkin. Carve Pumpkin. Don’t screw up and break that piece. Carve Pumpkin. ...It’s all that was going through my head. Andrea and Oliver even sat at my table and Oliver was being so cute as usual…but I hardly heard a word.
Mine is the one with the purple lights.
After two hours I was done and pretty happy with the results….until I saw what everyone else had carved up while I was in my zone. There was Frodo (Richard’s brother!), an awesome carving of the Eiffel Tower, a witch mud flap, 3-D floating pumpkin head, a scary cat, just to name a few. While I thought I did OK, I was really nervous over the talent. I was started to wonder if I would even place at all. But when judging was done, I ended up getting 1st place. I was elated. The $50 dollar 1st prize was only an added bonus to my happiness. I was so stoked, when we got home I told the neighbor’s cat. I told my cat. I told Kevin over and over, “I won 1st place!” I was really really happy.
After soaking my pumpkin in water for an hour and rubbing it down with olive oil, I put it in the refrigerator. I was confident that if I could win 1st place at the party, surely I could place at the pumpkin carving contest at work 3 days later. I actually had a hard time sleeping that night because of my excitement of winning at the work party.
I’m such a foolish girl.
Three days later I trot my award winning pumpkin to the HR office. Part of my confidence was knowing that only 3 pumpkins were submitted last year and only one of them was decent. However, walking into the HR office was a completely different story this year. There were already 6 other pumpkins submitted, and they were all better than mine. There was a pumpkin jail that had a little pumpkin inside of it. There was a 3-D pumpkin. And there was, what would be, the Work Pumpkin Carving Party winner, this thing:
Stupid Burger.
People afterwards tried to console me by saying the burger wasn’t even technically carved, but it was good and creative and it deserved to win. I took my sad little tricker-treater pumpkin to the Harp after work and donated it to that night’s Halloween party. It had a good time at the Harp, and I not only was glad that strangers kept coming up to it and wondering if it was actually real but that the next morning it was still there on the Harp’s front stoop. It was a good Pumpkin (Charlie Brown).
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Camping at San Mateo Campgrounds - San Clemente, CA
Not really understanding the word ‘ironic’ the way some Europeans do, I would like to say that with all the fires raging on right now, I find it ironic that this entry is about camping. And not ironically at all, the campgrounds that I’m writing about is pretty damn close to be surrounded by flames.
Two weekends ago (I missed a weekend due to illness), a few of us went camping inSan Mateo campgrounds near San Clemente San Mateo is actually the first campground I went to in California
You might have to strain to see it in this picture, but these guys playing football totally destroyed one of their tents from a pass from the 50 yard line.
When I was younger, camping was a big deal for my dad. He loved it. I have memories of camping inSouth Dakota Mississippi River . I even have memories of camping in butt ass cold weather every fall in Door County , WI
Derek and Jamie
It was awful and I hated every single minute. What I remember is complaining about the long walks and bike rides. I remember crying buckets over having to take a shower with the june bugs. I remember holding a grudge that I was only allowed one s’more after dinner. And I remember every time it rained my tent flooded because I always set it up on a slight hill. The only thing I did like was collecting sticks for the fire, putting said sticks in the fire, and carving a stick for the marshmallows. Since that was all of an hours worth of fun, I was pretty miserable most of the time. What can I say; I was an indoor type of kid.
Andrea and Oliver
These miseries kept me from camping for a long, long time. When I was college age, friends from school would go on camping trips up in the Dells area. I always refused. I really hated camping that much. When I moved out to CA in 2000 I met up with a group that liked to go camping. I was hesitant at first, but agreed from the peer pressure. And you know what? It was awesome.
Derek and his sausage....and beans!
I never put two and two together in my head that if I went camping now, as an adult, I can do whatever I want. I don’t have to go for 18 mile walks if I don’t want to. I don’t have to shower with june bugs if I don’t want to. And I can certainly have as many damn s’mores as I wanted to (and beer for that matter!). I was hooked….
…to a degree. You can’t convince me to go on a camping trip where we have to hike up to the site with limited gear. I’m a car camper. I don’t care for pit toilets either, but I’ll deal with them if I have to. Just don’t ask me to crap in the woods.
A proper crapper is the flushing kind!
Anyhow, so we went camping a couple weeks ago. It was Derek, Ian, Ian’s little girl, Andrea, Andrea’s little boy, Kevin, and myself. Even though it rained on us the first night and I might have accidentally left both my pairs of shoes and hat out in the rain, it was fun. I ate too much as usual. I was fire-girl and kept the blaze going into the wee hours of the night (which in camping terms is like 11 o’clock). We never did go on our usual hike down to the beach (I claim tiredness due to child entertaining). I had a good time.
OK, totally awesome 'town in the dirt' that Oliver, Jamie and I built.
I’m hoping that San Mateo will survive the fires so that we can go again sometime.
And this is how you properly have a fire...
Two weekends ago (I missed a weekend due to illness), a few of us went camping in
You might have to strain to see it in this picture, but these guys playing football totally destroyed one of their tents from a pass from the 50 yard line.
When I was younger, camping was a big deal for my dad. He loved it. I have memories of camping in
Derek and Jamie
It was awful and I hated every single minute. What I remember is complaining about the long walks and bike rides. I remember crying buckets over having to take a shower with the june bugs. I remember holding a grudge that I was only allowed one s’more after dinner. And I remember every time it rained my tent flooded because I always set it up on a slight hill. The only thing I did like was collecting sticks for the fire, putting said sticks in the fire, and carving a stick for the marshmallows. Since that was all of an hours worth of fun, I was pretty miserable most of the time. What can I say; I was an indoor type of kid.
Andrea and Oliver
These miseries kept me from camping for a long, long time. When I was college age, friends from school would go on camping trips up in the Dells area. I always refused. I really hated camping that much. When I moved out to CA in 2000 I met up with a group that liked to go camping. I was hesitant at first, but agreed from the peer pressure. And you know what? It was awesome.
Derek and his sausage....and beans!
I never put two and two together in my head that if I went camping now, as an adult, I can do whatever I want. I don’t have to go for 18 mile walks if I don’t want to. I don’t have to shower with june bugs if I don’t want to. And I can certainly have as many damn s’mores as I wanted to (and beer for that matter!). I was hooked….
…to a degree. You can’t convince me to go on a camping trip where we have to hike up to the site with limited gear. I’m a car camper. I don’t care for pit toilets either, but I’ll deal with them if I have to. Just don’t ask me to crap in the woods.
A proper crapper is the flushing kind!
Anyhow, so we went camping a couple weeks ago. It was Derek, Ian, Ian’s little girl, Andrea, Andrea’s little boy, Kevin, and myself. Even though it rained on us the first night and I might have accidentally left both my pairs of shoes and hat out in the rain, it was fun. I ate too much as usual. I was fire-girl and kept the blaze going into the wee hours of the night (which in camping terms is like 11 o’clock). We never did go on our usual hike down to the beach (I claim tiredness due to child entertaining). I had a good time.
OK, totally awesome 'town in the dirt' that Oliver, Jamie and I built.
I’m hoping that San Mateo will survive the fires so that we can go again sometime.
And this is how you properly have a fire...
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Fire!
A lot of family members have been calling me in the last few days to make sure that Kevin and I were alright (due to the fires). I suppose not posting here hasn’t helped the mystery at all so I thought I’d give you all a little update before my regular entry.
Kevin and I heard about the fire up in 
Sunday night I was at home nursing my cold\sinus infection watching a bad movie I bought for $1.99 on Pay-Per-View (it was called ‘the Gold Diggers’…a PG rated movie with Cristina Ricci about two 13-year olds searching for gold in a mountain) (no matter how I phrase that it sounds bad, doesn’t it?) when Kevin called me up. He was out at our friends’ house having dinner and noticed some smoke on the horizon. He wanted to know if the news had anything about it.
Truthfully, I was so engrossed in my bad movie that I didn’t even notice the smoke. I walked outside and saw it immediately. The sky was black and orange and it smelled like a campfire. I went on the internet and saw that 
I closed all the windows in the house as I didn’t want the smoke to get inside. However, the 
Kevin made it to work the next morning but I was still at home with my cold\sinus infection. With Kevin’s asthma and my cold\sinus infection just trying to breathe normally was hard. At work, they let any non-essential personnel leave and work from home.
As bad as it is, I feel very fortunate. We aren’t in any immediate danger. As I told my mom last night, we may be 15 miles from the fire, but there’s a lot of concrete from there to here. The worst we have to deal with is cleaning the layer of soot that has covered the backyard.
It’s Wednesday now, and the
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Biking to Huntington Beach
So I ran out of time this week to give you a proper entry due to a mid-week sickness (a cold, that I’m sure someone-at-work’s small child blessed us with) and now a rush to get ready for this upcoming weekend’s activity. This entry is going to be picture heavy in lieu of words (hi Shannen!). It’s all as well due to the fact that I’m once again cheating.
The thing is, I’ve ridden my bike from Costa Mesa to Huntington Beach once before. With Andrea and Hefe to be exact, 6 years ago, and I suffered the entire way due to a massive post-Harp hangover. I hadn’t made the ride again due to post-traumatic stress from biking against the wind with a post-Harp hangover. I’m not sure why I recently thought of doing the ride again, besides the fact that I got an awesome beach cruiser bike for my birthday (hi Kevin!) and I felt like biking somewhere else beside the peninsula. My breaking the new this weekend rules and justifying it is that:
So there you go.
My awesome new beach cruiser
The ride from Costa Mesa to Huntington Beach is great. It follows Pacific Coast Highway on the ocean side, on a fairly flat bike path. It was a beautiful 75 degree day last Saturday and we made the 16 mile round trip without too much effort. We did have a pretty strong headwind going there, but it was so nice going back that we did 8 miles in a little over 15 minutes.
Starting Point
Ending Point
View from the bridge
Main Street, Huntington Beach
Huntington Beach Pier
Kevin wants you to now sing the theme song to Three's Company. "Come and knock on our door! We're waiting for you! Where kisses are something something needa-nodda-de-doo!"
I’ve got to get back to getting ready. I’m afraid to say that this upcoming weekend is a previously done thing before, so I’ll have to gather ideas on how to make it new-y.
The thing is, I’ve ridden my bike from Costa Mesa to Huntington Beach once before. With Andrea and Hefe to be exact, 6 years ago, and I suffered the entire way due to a massive post-Harp hangover. I hadn’t made the ride again due to post-traumatic stress from biking against the wind with a post-Harp hangover. I’m not sure why I recently thought of doing the ride again, besides the fact that I got an awesome beach cruiser bike for my birthday (hi Kevin!) and I felt like biking somewhere else beside the peninsula. My breaking the new this weekend rules and justifying it is that:
- I’ve never done the ride with KEVIN before
- I’ve never done the ride with a beach cruiser before
- I’ve never done the ride WITHOUT a post-Harp hangover.
So there you go.
My awesome new beach cruiser
The ride from Costa Mesa to Huntington Beach is great. It follows Pacific Coast Highway on the ocean side, on a fairly flat bike path. It was a beautiful 75 degree day last Saturday and we made the 16 mile round trip without too much effort. We did have a pretty strong headwind going there, but it was so nice going back that we did 8 miles in a little over 15 minutes.
Starting Point
Ending Point
View from the bridge
Main Street, Huntington Beach
Huntington Beach Pier
Kevin wants you to now sing the theme song to Three's Company. "Come and knock on our door! We're waiting for you! Where kisses are something something needa-nodda-de-doo!"
I’ve got to get back to getting ready. I’m afraid to say that this upcoming weekend is a previously done thing before, so I’ll have to gather ideas on how to make it new-y.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Newport Dunes Marina Outdoor Movie - Newport Beach, CA
I’ve really had a brain fart recently finding new things to do. Not to say there aren’t things I’d be willing to do....there are plenty of festivals and fairs still going on; but I figured that would start to get old (plus I don’t want my love of corn dogs to go away). I was still perplexed on finding something when Saturday approached. In my pajamas and with my decaf coffee, I scoured the internet for anything that would be good. I had finally resigned myself to drive 3 hours for a sandwich (which, not to give too much away, will happen at some point) but decided to go get my nails done first (have to look pretty for sandwiches). Kevin, not wanting to drive 3 hours for a sandwich (yet!), offered to look for some ideas while I was gone.
By the time I got back Kevin (who rocks) and found a great idea that was a cheap, and even better still, it was practically in our own back yard. We decided we were going to go to the Newport Dunes Marina. They show outdoor movies on the beach every weekend.
Kevin’s idea was a great idea, but it was also an “on the\in the” activity, which really is the best kind. InMilwaukee Drunks in the Park Jazz in the Park every Thursday night in downtown’s Cathedral Square
The movie didn’t start until dusk, so Kevin and I went searching for a place that served dinner before 5. HA HA HA! Apparently there is no such thing as dinner before 5PM on a Saturday inSouthern California . We ended up getting appetizers in the bar at Habana, and then got dinner to go at Memphis Memphis
Almost completely forgot! Remember last time when I said that the bartender at Skosh Mohahan's had to dress in full makeup because he lost a bet with one of the waitresses (Broncos vs. Raiders!). Here's the evidence that he actually went through with it:
By the time I got back Kevin (who rocks) and found a great idea that was a cheap, and even better still, it was practically in our own back yard. We decided we were going to go to the Newport Dunes Marina. They show outdoor movies on the beach every weekend.
Kevin’s idea was a great idea, but it was also an “on the\in the” activity, which really is the best kind. In
The movie didn’t start until dusk, so Kevin and I went searching for a place that served dinner before 5. HA HA HA! Apparently there is no such thing as dinner before 5PM on a Saturday in
We managed to get to the marina a good hour before the movie started. It was only $10 to get in (for parking) and a short walk to the other side of the lagoon to get to the movie area. There weren’t that many people there when we first arrived so we managed to get pretty good seats up front. We were a bit confused on what they were going to show the movie on so we were absolutely amazed when they started ‘blowing up the screen’.
I guess now is a good as time as any to tell you that they showed ‘the Goonies’. I actually saw ‘the Goonies’ in the theaters when I was eleven - two days in a row to be exact (hey! I was eleven!) - not to mention countless times on TV since then. Kevin, however, had never seen it before and I could tell by the look on his face that he was pretty skeptical of this Spielberg masterpiece. But he ended up really liking it. I kept on looking over to be sure.
Seeing a movie on the beach was really great. There really is nothing like watching a movie with your feet in the sand, cool breeze and the smell of a campfire near by, eating a semi-warm hamburger from a to-go box, drinking wine out of plastic party cups, sometimes getting distracted by the huge yellow moon over the water, and watching someone who has never seen ‘the Goonies’ really enjoy it.I definitely want to do this again.
Kevin will want me to mention that there was a wedding reception going on the other side of the lagoon. The little kids had glowing light-sabers which with the darkness were really visible from far away. They also had karaoke going on and two, probably already smashed, wedding guests doing the worst bubble-gum metal song ever. Two guys, back to back, screaming\singing “AAAAAAAAA! (inaudible lyrics here)”. They literally had a crowd of non-guests peering through the fence to take a look at the humor. At the end of the song, one of the guys brought the microphone back to the DJ and said matter-of-factly, “Now THAT’S how it’s done.”
Almost completely forgot! Remember last time when I said that the bartender at Skosh Mohahan's had to dress in full makeup because he lost a bet with one of the waitresses (Broncos vs. Raiders!). Here's the evidence that he actually went through with it:
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