In the dumps.

 Have you ever been so efficient as to go backwards?

I always think about this when I see someone speeding. If he gets a ticket, did he really get there any faster?

Trying to be efficient one day, I grabbed a load of items destined for the recycle bin. I also grabbed a small lock that needed to be placed on an outdoor gate and a little plastic bag that need to go back in my trunk to be reused the next time I went shopping. It seemed logical to grab all these things at once since I would pass the car and the recycle bin in close proximity on my way to the gate. It would save me the trip of having to come back into the house before going back out in over-110 degree weather.

Car trunk ✔️ - I dropped the plastic bag onto the lid of the trunk. My arms were overflowing with recycling material. I would put the bag in the trunk on my way back in.

Recycle ✔️✔️ -  I managed to get the lid of the bin open and dumped my armload of recyclables in. Along with the lock.

Crap.

The bin is a large one which was useful three years ago when we first moved in and had lots of cardboard boxes to recycle. Now, my recycling lays at the bottom beyond the reach of my outstretched arm. 

Did I mention it was a small lock? It, like car keys in my purse, dove immediately to the bottom, out of sight. The only way to get at it was to tip the whole thing over and to crawl in.

I was already showered and dressed for the day. I was wearing a skirt and a white shirt. I squatted down and reached for the larger items within reach in the sweltering heat: wine bottles to be sure, Sunday's newspaper, loose junk mail items but I could see no lock. 

I was now crouched on the open lid of the bin with everything I was able to reach now at my feet. I sifted through the items again more carefully. Surely, the lock had to be there. I had only just tossed it in.

But, no, I could not find it which only meant one thing. It was still in the bin at the very bottom. Was I really going to have to crawl in on my hands and knees?

I went back to the garage and put the plastic bag in the trunk while I tried to think of something long enough to reach the bottom of the bin. I had a push broom but that was too unwieldy. And then I spotted it. Something one might not think to have in the desert: An umbrella. 

Back inside the bin, it worked brilliantly. I pushed away the remaining debris at the bottom of the recycle bin and used the tip of the umbrella to fish the lock out. All that was left was to put all the recycling back into the bin and stand it back up.

But first, I put the lock in my pocket.

Speaking of pages ...

 I used to have a page called "WUV" which stood for What's Up Vancouver. It was subtitled:

Fun Stuff to Do Around Town

With the following explanation:

This is in no way an exhaustive list of things to do. This just represents the things that appeal to me. And, frankly, it's all about me anyway.

I still keep it up in a manner of speaking only now the events are those that take place in and around Coachella Valley and there's no link to the page from Chocolate Chip Mint (other than this one). One thing remains the same: it's still about me. 

I'm thinking about revitalizing the page, changing the name, and updating the links. I love to explore what the valley has to offer in the way of restaurants, events, things to do. People often ask, "How do you know all this stuff?" I guess because that's what interests me, that's what I look for on websites, in the newspaper, and on social media. These are the things I put on my own calendar. That doesn't necessarily mean I go to all these things but I like to know what's going on and I like to have that at my fingertips for when the inevitable question come up, "What should we do tonight (or this weekend)?"

Let me know if you have an idea for the name. CV Happenings? That might lead you to the Community Calendar for Coachella Valley Chapter of the Community Associations Institute (which is an interesting website if you're interested in the workings of an HOA). 

How about "S'up CV?" for What's up Coachella Valley? 

I tried searching for "Around CV" and got a lot of information about constant velocity axle boots and I've had enough of that this year!

Maybe a take on the words "desert" or "cactus" or "hot." 

What do you think?

Did you know...?

 There are 77 instances of the word "chicken" on my Eat Me page. I only discovered this when I wanted to  find a recipe that I posted some time ago - like years ago - but couldn't remember the title of it. All I could remember was that it had chicken and olives in it. ("Olive" is mentioned only 22 times but most often in relation to "oil.") After sifting through several recipes that utilized chicken, I decided it must have been the Chicken, Quinoa, and Green-Olive Stew that I was looking for.

Or maybe it was Moroccan Chicken with Green Olives and Lemon.

I guess I'll just have to make both.

In the end, all we have are the memories.

 It's the end of summer and I've been spending a lot of time with my soon-to-be 12 year old granddaughter before she goes back to school next week. We've been swimming in the afternoons and we've had pedicures. She's gel-coated my nails and added copper tinsel to my hair. She's repaired one of my beaded bracelets and made a new one from tiny buttons. (Buttons, btw, that were left over from when I knitted her a sweater when she was baby.)

We are creating memories. Much like the memories my late mother-in-law created for her grandchildren. I have great memories of my grandparents and, now, I have the great privilege of making memories with my grandchildren.

Sometimes making memories is exhausting. Like holidays and family reunions. The preparation. The noise. I also spend most of the school year with my granddaughter and her brother. Four out of five days, I'm involved in getting them to or from school. By the end of the year, I'm ready for a long break.

It's all a loving chaos. Family soup. Toss in all the ingredients and most of the time, you end up with something unexpectedly good that warms the soul.

Today, three of the gel nails are still hanging on, most of the tinsel has fallen out, and I have knots in my hair. But I also have the memories and I hope she cherishes them as much as I do.

I like Maxwell House coffee.

 There. I said it.

Honestly, if Facebook thought I was posting offensive or deceitful things, this probably is worse than the story about washing my car. Can you imagine? Influencing people to like Maxwell House? Go to your room!

It happened by accident, like most things do. I was traveling and that was the coffee in my hotel room. It was a coffee pod - the kind that work in Keurig-type machines.

My choices were to drink the coffee or don't. What was I to do?

I drank the coffee. Obviously.

It's a medium blend whereas I've always been a hardcore dark roast coffee drinker. Am I getting softer? Or less discriminating? 

Don't panic. I haven't switched brands. I'm not suddenly hoarding Maxwell House Original Roast (like I hoard Starbucks Christmas blend). It's not my daily drinker.

But I bought some pods, nonetheless. Could be handy the next time I'm traveling.

Or if coffee prices keep going up. Maxwell House is less expensive. But, it's still "good to the last drop."

I'm just saying it's worth giving it a try. At least, there's nothing to be afraid of.

In Color

Gettin' to it.

 For the record, I filed my tax return. Sort of. The FED return got e-filed but I just learned that the "free" state tax return that came with TurboTax actually isn't free to file. Yes, you can create the return for free but it costs $15 if you want to file it electronically.

So today's task is to print it and mail it. Can anyone spell FUN?

And since I'm writing about it, does this count as two things I didn't avoid?

Either way, it's hot.

 First thing this morning, I opened my weather app and saw the high was only going to be 99°F today. I say "only" because that's COOL for us this time of year. It would feel marvelous to be able to go outside anytime after dawn and actually enjoy being outside. We could even consider sitting a spell in the shade. With an outdoor misting system, it would be absolute heaven.

In the app, I scrolled down and saw temps would stay below 100 for the foreseeable future. I thought to myself, "What a relief!" I started shopping for new running shoes and plotting a training routine to prepare for a half marathon coming up in January. I wondered if I could also train for a 100-mile bike ride in March (because "overboard" is my default speed). I'd been going the gym or doing laps in the pool and I was ready to get outside and on land.

It's a little early in the season to start thinking about training for long distances in the summer desert but I was encouraged by the lower than average seasonal temps.

Then, in the next moment, I realized I was looking at temperatures for the city where my brother lives.

Which is not where I live.

First thing this morning, he was probably looking at the same weather information and thinking about how HOT it was going to be, converting his routine of being outside to being in the gym or in swimming in the lake near his home, quite the opposite of what I was strategizing.

Sadly, we are both stuck inside for the foreseeable future. Here, today's high will be 112°F. Additionally, we are under an Excessive Heat Warning and have been since since July 1 almost continuously. We will likely remain under an Excessive Heat Warning roughly through the end of August.

Looking at my weather app again, it looks like it's hot everywhere.

Everywhere except Copenhagen. 

Maybe I should look at taking a trip.

Caught In The Middle

 I almost filed my tax return*. I was just about to pat myself on the back for getting to a chore that I've been avoiding until I realized that I was using that as an excuse to avoid writing.

Think about that. I would rather do taxes than write.

Either way, I avoided something.

*I filed an extension in April.

Up Against The Wall

Tied Down

Hot Swappable

 I have two identical coffee machines. I bought the first one at least 20 years ago. It's a discontinued home espresso machine made by Saeco that was marketed by Starbucks for a time. It looks like this.

I loved this machine. Still do. Still using it.

About ten years after I had purchased my first one, I came across an ad on Craigslist, I think it was, for a used one in Portland, Oregon. I don't remember why the seller was selling it but I jumped on the chance to buy it and was willing to pay full price: $75! (I probably paid around $200 for the first one.)

At the time, this was not only a good price but convenient as I was now commuting between two homes and having the same coffee maker was like having a creature comfort in both places. 

Later, when we consolidated back to living in one home, I had a spare. Which, I have never had to use.

Remember, this model is discontinued as are many of its parts. It's irreplaceable. 

Then, one day, I broke it.

I came around the corner of the kitchen to show Hubby the damage and I saw it in his eyes. The fear. The rising panic. The true and certain knowledge that I could - and probably would - melt down.

Until he remembered and said, "It's a good thing we have a hot swappable."

Indeed, I have not missed a single serving of coffee. And, as it turns out, the broken part was just the plastic scoop for measuring beans. 20-25 years old, it held up for a long time but now it was gone.

Good thing I had an extra one.

"Good thing," sighed Hubby.

“Sorry, honey! I used all the cold water!”

You will never hear those words in Duluth.

You will hear that in southwest deserts of the United States.

Every summer.

By the Numbers

 We recently got back from a two-week roadtrip to the Pacific Northwest, a place where we lived most of our lives and where we first fell in love with beer. (Not to mention each other.)

It was a trip fraught with car problems the entire way. Not exactly ideal. Each time we stopped at an auto repair shop, we tried to evaluate if it was time to retire our 10 year old car with 156,000 miles on the odo. It's a diesel and run likes a champ. Except lately, when it doesn't.

The problems started on Day 2 of our trip. We could have turned around - cancel the whole trip - but we didn't. We pressed on. Things didn't seem all that bad. We arrived at our first destination on Day 4.

On Day 6, we took it to a mechanic. The first of three. 

We were shocked when they told us an axle needed to be replaced. We were also surprised by the cost. It was expensive. We contemplated trading in the car somewhere and buying a new one so we could continue our trip. We also thought about flying to our next destination and onward towards home. We did neither of those things. Two days later, Day 8, we were on the road again and to our relief everything seemed fine.

But then, two hours later, we made a pit stop. As we exited the freeway we heard a sound like we had blown a tire but I had no trouble controlling the vehicle. At our stop, we inspected the tires and everything looked fine. Puzzled, we took it to Mechanic #2 who said one of the tires - the one on the newly replaced axle - just needed rebalancing.

Two hours later, we were on the road again.

Just an hour and a half after that, we pulled over again. Something was not right. The car was shuddering. Enter Mechanic #3.

This time, all four tires were rebalanced. Another two-hour delay. When we finally hit the road, we only made it a couple of blocks before we circled back to Mechanic #3. Things were not better.

With a total of four hours delay for the day, we decided to call it quits and spend the night. We weren't going to make our destination that day. Not for the first time, we contemplated ditching the car forever. Instead, we rented a car and left ours with Mechanic #3. 

This was Day 9 which just happened to be July 3, the day before a long holiday weekend. The mechanics would not be working on July 4. Luckily, they were able to work on it the next day - Friday, July 5. On July 6 - Saturday, Day 11 of our trip - we returned to see if they figured out what was wrong with our car.

Mechanic #3 said the problem with our car was that the new axle fell out. Not all the way out. Just enough to make everything rattle and shake. It wasn't seated properly; it couldn't be. Mechanic #3 said we needed to take it back to Mechanic #1 because the axle they installed was too short. This is why it "fell out." However, he said it was safe enough to drive the 220 miles back to the first mechanic. 

This was nerve wracking.

We called Mechanic #1 but the shop was still closed for the holiday weekend. They wouldn't be open until Monday.

We re-routed our trip, skipping our next intended destination, and backtracked to the first mechanic. We had two days to kill: Saturday and Sunday. Naturally, we found beer. (You can see all the beers we tried on our trip here.)

On Monday, we were on Mechanic #1's doorstep when they opened. (We tried to call ahead but they were closed.) They were just coming off a long weekend and were not thrilled to see customers first thing that Monday morning. They told us they couldn't work us into the schedule right away. Maybe they could do it that afternoon, they offered. 

We insisted. We had already checked out of our hotel and the car was fully packed with two weeks worth of stuff. They could fix it right away or we were going to camp out in their waiting room until it was done. Ten minutes later, the car was on the rack. Shortly after that, we overheard them conferring. Indeed, the axle had fallen out and needed to be replaced again.

A new one was ordered and someone was dispatched to get it. They had us on the road again a couple of hours later. Day 13. 

Day 15 we were home and the car has been fine ever since, all thoughts of disowning it long forgotten. Through it all, we covered

• 3,600 miles
• $3,200 in car repairs
• 28 different beers 
• 14 nights
• 11 breweries
• 8 hotel rooms
• 6 stops for mechanical issues
• half a dozen friends
• 4 states
• 3 auto repair shops
• 2 relatives
• 1 rental car

And one raging case of hemorrhoids, in the end....

Despite the discomfort, the delays, the hand-wringing and uncertainty, the unexpected costs, and a missed stop . . .  despite vows that we'll never do it again, we had a great time because that's what roadtrips are for: surviving the unpredictable. Besides, it could have been worse.

There could have been two raging cases of hemorrhoids.

Do I Have To?

 You know that voice inside your head reminding you that you should probably should exercise more? Ignore her.

With all our recent travel and the extreme heat at home, I've fallen out of my exercise routine which, under different circumstances, consists almost entirely of walking outdoors. I really like walking outdoors. I'll go for miles and miles and miles.

I don't tolerate heat well so it's somewhat paradoxical that I should live in a place where temperatures are easily over 90 degrees for half the year. Right now, in fact, it's over 90 degrees before the sun even comes up. It's just too hot to walk outdoors. Anywhere.

I could walk on a treadmill but that's boring. Besides, it's hard to keep an indoor routine going when we spend the summer traveling. Oh, I have several more flimsy excuses.

That's where that little voice comes in. She reminds me that it's not too hot to swim. In fact, it's a perfect time to swim. Just make a reservation at the pool and do it. Putting it on the calendar will be motivating.

I signed up for a swim lane at the pool. I have it for an entire hour. 

It worked. For a minute. But then I remembered.

I don't like to swim.

Speakeasy

Yellow

My fridge is full of garbage while my freezer is full of Christmas

 I've been out of town the last four Fridays. Which means my garbage hasn't been picked up in a month. To be fair (to be fair), there wasn't much garbage to pick up because we've been out of town. 

However, in the last five weeks, we were home for about ten days. And in those ten days, we produced food waste - aka compost - which is picked up on garbage day.

Well, I wasn't going to just let that sit and rot on my kitchen counter until the next time we were going to be home on a garbage day. So, I put it in my refrigerator to keep it from smelling up the house and attracting bugs. 

But now, because my fridge is half full of beer (collected during said travels), the garbage takes up most of the remaining space. Indeed, there's a chicken carcass in my freezer. 

But speaking of my freezer, I also have an oversupply of Starbuck's Christmas Blend coffee. 

What? It was on sale! I couldn't help myself! Think of it as my version of Christmas in July.

I only have 159 days left to drink what's left of it (before it goes on sale again).

Meanwhile, the garbage goes out today. Not exactly Christmas but close.

Banned Reading

 Yesterday I posted on Facebook. It was roughly five words long - something like, "What's there to be afraid of?" - and a link to yesterday's blog post here on Chocolate Chip Mint.

My Facebook post was banned and removed by Facebook.

According to their website: 

" We do not allow content that is designed to deceive, mislead, or overwhelm users in order to artificially increase viewership. "

You got me. 

In truth, I was trying to artificially increase viewership because who else is going to read this? 

The gist of yesterday's blog post was that I had washed my car and I hoped it wouldn't rain.

For the record, I never designed to deceive or mislead anyone about the fact that I washed my car. 

Five words and a link to yesterday's post is hardly overwhelming.

If It Happens, It's My Fault

It's been raining. Yay! (We need it.)

We had bursts of rain in small patches. On Sunday, one side of town got 1.5" in 30 minutes, while the other side got next to nothing. 

My car was parked outside on Sunday and I was in an area that got rained on. The shower lasted only a few minutes but prompted flood warnings. Yet, by the time I got to my car, everything had dried up and my car was left with rain spots all over it. Boo!

On Monday, some people saw hail (called snow in Pennsylvania) while I saw nothing. 

Today, I washed my car. Yay!

But, I forgot to bring a towel. By the time I got home, my car was covered in spots again. Boo! 

So I washed it again in my garage by hand. I only had to spray it with a little water and wipe it with a microfiber cloth to remove the water spots from the carwash and accumulated dust from the drive home. Yay! 

But I still have to do an errand and fetch some Grin-itch spinach. Boooo....

I just hope it doesn't rain. Noooo!

A Genre With All The Words

Question:

Name any movie in the genre of "made-for-TV, science fiction, action, comedy, horror, disaster." Hint: There was a series of films made in this style between 2013 and 2018.  Per Wikipedia: "The first two films received mixed to positive reviews from critics, while the others received negative reviews." Rotten Tomatoes gives the first film 75%, the second one 61%, and the remaining movies anywhere from 14% to 36%.

Answer:

Sharknado. 

So bad, it's good. 

We stumbled upon it quite by accident because we would have never seen it otherwise. Indeed, we've been actively avoiding the Sharknado movies. The name alone should tell you that it's not worth seeing.

Then, one day, I heard an interview about "Surely You Can't Be Serious: The True Story of Airplane!" by David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker. I thought, that (Airplane!) would be a fun movie to see again.

While I was looking for ways to stream the Airplane!, we came across Sharknado and the only reason we picked it was because we could stream it for free. 

It was entirely worth every penny! 

But then we were hooked. The first one was bad but the second one was elevated to cult level bad. It's like everyone got the joke with the first one and wanted in. The cast of the second movie includes Vivica A. Fox, Richard Kind, Billy Ray Cyrus, Kelly Osbourne, Judd Hirsch, Robert Klein, Matt Lauer and Al Roker, Michael Strahan, Downtown Julie Brown, Kelly Ripa, and so many others.

My recommendation for this Friday's pizza and movie night is Sharknado and Sharknado 2: The Second One. Even more people signed on to be in the third movie, aptly named Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No! If you've got the stomach for it, just keep going. We only made it to the third one. Luckily, there are three more! 

Woo hoo!

Can I Buy A Vowel?

City News - October 14, 2023

Old Town La Quinta will finally be changing its name to OTLQ in keeping with the NVWL Ordinance of 2020 after the city of La Quinta threatened the village with fines and a potential lawsuit.

"They are a full year past the due date for dropping their vowels," said a City Council member who asked not to be identified as she was not authorized to comment. "The vowel shortage is real."

Concerns over vowel shortage began in 1999 concurrent with the supposed Y2K catastrophe that was expected at the end of the millennium. Vowels started disappearing with little notice in the early 2000s but as new restaurants and businesses began to move into Old Town La Quinta at a higher rate than in recent years, the loss of vowels became more widespread prompting the City of La Quinta to take action with the No Vowel Ordinance (officially, NVWLO).

"First there was RD RNNR," recounted our source. "Everyone thought it was weird but for the most part, no one took any particular notice. They - tourists, that is - they would ask 'How do you even say that?'"

Shortly after RD RNNER opened their doors, TQLAS followed with a name change from Taquillas Agave Bar and Grille. "Residents were okay with it but visitors started to complain which is when the Council took action with NVWLO."

DSRT CLUB, which opened earlier this year, was subject to the Ordinance when applying for its business license which was granted without issue. (Vowels are allowed but must be purchased from the City.)

Demonstrators outside La Quinta City Hall is calling for the city itself to change its name. While the Council will be considering the issue after the next election cycle, they have in the meantime put pressure on Old Town to make the change now. Some demonstrators have said this is not enough and have promised to campaign against candidates who refuse uphold the NVWLO.

While a date has not been officially announced, the name change from Old Town La Quinta to OTLQ is expected to happen before the end of the year.

El día próximo ...

We met a man from Venezuela. Another visitor from yet another country to rock out to some heavy metal music in the desert. His English was a lot better than my Spanish so I didn't even try. 

Nevertheless, I'm pretty impressed that "Power Trip" turned out to be such an international draw.

Fantástico!

Ayer

Algo muy interesante ocurrió ayer. 

Something very interesting happened yesterday.

Estuve aprendiendo español durante 150 días con Duolingo. Ya había estudiado español durante muchos años en la escuela cuando tenía aproximadamente quince años. ¡Han pasado cuarenta y cinco años desde entonces! Pero decidí que quería practicar mi español y aprender más. 

I was learning Spanish for 150 days with Duolingo. I had already studied Spanish for many years in school when I was about fifteen years old. Forty-five years have passed since then! But I decided that I wanted to practice my Spanish and learn more. 

Y ayer, tuve la oportunidad de practicar lo que había aprendido. 

And yesterday, I had the opportunity to practice what I had learned.

Hay un "dive bar" en mi pueblo. Es pequeño, oscuro y no es elegante. Las bebidas eran baratas y los baños eran muy pequeños. Se llama "Club 5." Pero este fin de semana, el nombre cambió a "High Voltage AC/DC".

There is a "dive bar" in my town. It is small, dark and not elegant. The drinks were cheap and the bathrooms were very small. It's called "Club 5." But this weekend, the name changed to "High Voltage AC/DC."

La razón es que la banda AC/DC está aquí en nuestro pueblo para el concierto "Power Trip". Es una fiesta de bandas de rock durante todo el fin de semana, y AC/DC es una de ellas. Es la banda favorita de mi esposo. 

The reason is that the band AC/DC is here in our town for the "Power Trip" concert. It's a party of rock bands all weekend long, and AC/DC is one of them. It's my husband's favorite band.

Vi en Instagram que era posible conocer a los miembros de la banda en este bar. No sé si era verdad, pero fui al bar de todos modos. 

I saw on Instagram that it was possible to meet the band members in this bar. I don't know if it was true, but I went to the bar anyway.

Hacía mucho calor, pero había mucha gente allí. ¡Eran personas de todo el mundo en este pequeño bar de nuestro pequeño pueblo! Venían de Ecuador, Reino Unido, Australia y hay un hombre de Chile. Seguramente también había muchas otras personas de muchos otros lugares. 

It was very hot, but there were many people there. They were people from all over the world in this little bar in our little town! They came from Ecuador, the United Kingdom, Australia and there was one man from Chile. Surely there were also many other people from many other places.

El hombre se sentó con nosotros y nos dijo que no hablaba inglés. ¡Pero yo hablo un poco de español! ¡Era una oportunidad perfecta para practicar para ambos! Él podía practicar su inglés y yo podía practicar mi español. No fue perfecto, pero nos entendíamos. 

The man sat with us and he told us that he didn't speak English. But I speak a little Spanish! It was a perfect opportunity to practice for both of us! He could practice his English and I could practice my Spanish. It wasn't perfect, but we understood each other.

Fue muy divertido pero no conocimos a la banda. ¡Tal vez hoy!

It was fun but we didn't meet the band. Maybe today!

Hilary

 

This video shows some of the damage in the Coachella Valley area. While dramatic, especially to those affected, it could have been much, much worse.

We are fine.

Hurricane Preparedness

With the advent of Hurricane Hilary, the townspeople are on the verge of panic. News outlets warn of flooding, evacuations, and rescues. Flights have been canceled and stations have been set up for obtaining sandbags.

The campus restaurant has closed!

Hubby went to the hardware store at eight o'clock this morning to buy an inverter where there was already a line out the door with people buying generators. He plans to use the inverter to connect the golf cart batteries to the refrigerator for a backup power source.

Wait, I said. What will be the backup power source for the coffee maker?

He shrugged his shoulders not sensing my rising panic. 

Afterwards, he went about making sure the garage floor was clear of anything that could be damaged by water while I made enough cold brew coffee to last a week. While he verified our first aid supplies, I ground some extra coffee to make coffee in my French press should the cold brew run out. While he taped up our plate glass windows, I confirmed all the coffee cups were clean. While he filled the bathtub with water so we could flush toilets, I filled empty containers with water for - well, water. Also, for coffee.

In case of evacuation, tire pressures have been checked, fuel topped off, and blankets and warm clothes are stowed. The coffee travel mugs are secured in their cupholders.

When the neighborhood restaurant closed, I hightailed it to Total Wine!

We have COVID-level amounts of toilet paper, plenty of canned food, lanterns, and Scrabble. All of the devices have been charged. And, if worse comes to worse, I have about five pounds of coffee beans in the freezer that I can just gnaw on.

We should be fine.

Will work for stars

The stars aligned this week. I'm not talking about the picket line in Hollywood or the Perseid meteor shower. I'm talking Starbucks.

They have my number, Starbucks does, with their stars. I support craft beer but I don't have the same loyalty toward craft coffee. Why? Because of those damned stars. 

(If my boss had figured out that I was motivated by stars, he would have retained my services a lot longer. Too late for that now.)

This week, three Starbucks promos overlapped. The first one promised 35 bonus stars if I bought something - anything - from them two days in a row inside of a week. Honestly, I don't usually go to Starbucks all that often and I never go two days in a row except when I'm traveling. 

When I went to the grocery store on Sunday, there was a Starbucks inside so it was easy. I went again Monday because, well, there was the matter of 35 stars to be had.

Before the end of the week another promo was offered that overlapped with the first one. It promised 60 more stars if I went three times in the following seven days. It's crazy to go to Starbucks three times in a week. But, because of the overlap, I earned 35 stars on Monday on the first promo while simultaneously logging the first of three coffees on the second promo.

Tuesday, was triple stars day. That meant for any purchase, I earned triple the amount of stars that I would normally get on any other day. Heck, yeah, I went! I bought a latte and two breakfast sandwiches!! I earned triple stars for Tuesday's purchase and and was one day closer to earning another 60 stars on the second promo. Are you getting all this?

Wednesday, I went yet again! I don't know why except maybe I was drunk on stars at the time. This time, I not only got all the stars from all the promos, Starbucks tossed me the keys to my own freaking' franchise!

I'm just rolling in stars now, baby! Woo hoo!!

Pet Peeve

My pet peeve is poop. Particularly, pet poop. More particularly, my peeve is the pet's person who permits poop in public places. Please, pick up your pet's poop!

One such person perpetually permits its pet to poop near a perimeter gate. The person scoops the poop in a bag and places it purposefully in a pile. With persistence, the pile grows each passing day. Until another person - me - personally picks up the pile and puts it in its proper place. This is quite unpleasant.

There is a pause in the pattern when the person, and, presumably, the pet, pass from this place making my performance somewhat non-permanent. But when the perpetual pooper, from whatever place they perchance visit, returns to this place their pet's perpetual pooping pattern persists.

Please! If a person is permitted to own a pet, said person should be prepared to scoop its pet's poop and place it in its proper receptacle. If said person cannot be personally responsible for its pet they should not be permitted to be a pet person, in my personal opinion. Without opposable thumbs, pets cannot be responsible for their own poop. Therefore, the onus is placed on the pet's person to perform this unpleasant duty.

While I perform this perfunctory duty on behalf of keeping this place pretty, I do so under perpetual and petulant protest.

Portland is Sustainably Weird

You know you've landed somewhere weird when people take pictures of the airport carpet. That's just what they do in Portland.

The carpet pictured here is the new airport carpet. The one it replaced, the old carpet, was famous. Go ahead, look up Portland Airport Carpet. Among other things, it has its own Wikipedia page. 

I digress. What makes Portland weird is not the carpet. That's just the introduction to what makes Portland weird. In fact, if you were flying in to Portland from another country, the test at Customs is whether or not you take a picture of your feet on the carpet. If you don't, then you can't come in.

The last time I was at the Portland airport, I saw an emotional support duck. It was a Mallard, to be precise. It was being pushed in a dog stroller (much like this one) only instead of a dog, it was a duck. It was zipped into its stroller but I could see through the mesh. It was definitely a duck. It quacked. 

I wondered if it had been on my flight*. Or, if it had taken a different flight. Did it fly with other ducks? Were they in formation? Did they have humans, too?

Don't laugh. While ducks aren't recognized by the ADA as service animals, ducks can provide emotional support. Well, not to me. But they can to Carla Fitzgerald. She traveled with her duck, Daniel, and became an overnight sensation. 

That was a few years ago. Carla and Daniel are both older now. Maybe Daniel needs more support now than Carla. Maybe it was Daniel in the stroller.

That was weird enough. I didn't even bother to go into the city of Portland. I crossed the river into Washington. It's a little less weird there. 

To be clear, we were in Washington State, not Washington DC. 'Cuz it's really weird there!

*It was not. I checked the website for Southwest Airlines. They only allow dogs and cats on their flights. (And humans.)

True Enough

I read this blog post on 76003.1414 about people walking backward and how it could improve one's mental and physical health. To his delight, he imagined that if this caught on, people would be walking backwards everywhere.

The article behind the blog post, Could walking backwards be the secret to physical and cognitive health?, recommended "that people walk backwards for shorter periods of time and that they create resistance by dragging something while they walk." 

For me, this evokes a vision of people dragging unknown heavy objects rolled up in carpet. The blogger's idea that it could simply be a shopping cart may be a better idea.

While it may not have caught on with the population at large, if you were to stop by my house just before bedtime you would find its occupants indeed walking backwards. For exactly two minutes and again in the morning while we brush our teeth.

We've gotten quite good at it. The challenge - and the cognitive benefit, I would assume - increases significantly when we are both walking backwards around the house at the same time. Knocking on wood, we have yet to trip over furniture or the edge of a rug and fallen to smash our skulls resulting in more of a physical detriment than an improvement. On the other hand, if one of us fell, the other one could drag the first one's body to even things out but let's hope it doesn't come to that.

I grin each night to think someone - perhaps this blogger - might spy in a window and catch a glimpse of our evening routine. Anyway, that should scare any potential intruders away.

In fact, they might back away improving their own cognitive abilities. Then, who knows? Maybe it will catch on.

I wonder how it was "discovered."

 

BREAKING NEWS

Large hole closes northbound Highway 99 ramp from West Seattle Bridge A 5-foot-by-4-foot hole was discovered Tuesday night on the northbound Highway 99 onramp from the West Seattle Bridge. There is no estimated time for the ramp to reopen. Seattle Times story here.

I'm so tired!

I just walked 13.1 miles at the first ever Trilogy Half Marathon! I'm still feeling amped up from the experience! (I wrote those sentences yesterday - LOL. Today, I'm just TIRED!)

It was a well-organized event although there were some last minute problems. I can't tell if the organizers just didn't have any experience on how to put on such a event - like any! - or if there were some unforeseen circumstances that couldn't be avoided. It didn't matter; I had a great time! 

The people who come out to cheer on the racers were the best part. It really elevated my spirit, especially in those final miles. There was such a feeling of relief and gratitude when I crossed the finish line. I nearly cried! There were cowbells (can't get enough cowbell!), music ("We Are the Champions!"), and craft beer (Fruitlands from Modern Times, no less, which - btw - is the perfect after-sport beer imo). 

I walked away with a few medals which surprised me. The last time I did something like this, I ran the whole Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati with my dear aunt who did the half. I didn't even come close to getting a medal then. Maybe because this was a much smaller event - you might call it "boutique" or "semi-private" (if not "exclusive") - that I had even a chance.

Today, I slept in and later today I plan to get a much deserved pedicure. The Trilogy Half Marathon was a world away from larger marathons such as Cincinnati's Flying Pig (or Seattle's Marathon which I ran just months after 9/11) but I would do it again. As I got ready for the event, I felt the lure of addiction, adding every marathon and half-marathon I could find to my calendar. I felt drawn to the "high" of exercise (if such a thing can be said about exercise) and I schemed as to when I could do this again.

Today, well, I'm just tired.

Hopefully, I'll get the opportunity to do the Trilogy Half Marathon again. Next year.

Links:

2023 Trilogy Half Marathon

2023 Trilogy Half Marathon Results

shab-LISS

Restaurant servers say funny things sometimes.  Like one time, when we were skiing in Utah, we had a waiter who also skied. He told us he would be in the Olympics one day and we would know him because his name was Kraft. "Like the cheese," he said.

We asked him what the soup du jour was and he said, "I don't know. It changes every day!"

Another time, we were having dinner at a Red Lobster. We were doing so in memory of an acquaintance who had died a year before. He used to treat us to dinner at Red Lobster, mostly because he could eat his own weight in lobster on all-you-can-eat night. He was a nice man and we always remember him when we see a Red Lobster.

On this night, we asked the waitress about the wine list. She recommended the Chablis but pronounced it shab-LISS. We laughed behind her back about the mispronunciation but it stuck. For the past I-don't-know-how-many years, we've pronounced Chablis as shab-LISS.

Then, one day very recently, we went to lunch at a nice restaurant near our town's hockey arena. It's in the clubhouse of a golf course and not only does it have good food and a nice wine list, it has amazing views from its outdoor patio. Without even thinking about it, I ordered a slab-LISS with my meal. 

The waitress said nothing but no doubt she was laughing behind my back.

I deserved it.

 

Smooth

We went to see Iliza Schlesinger perform recently and I ended up sitting next to a college student from Kansas here on Spring Break.

She asked whether we had seen Iliza before. Wanting to seem cool and hip, I told that we had adding that we also had tickets to see Leno the following night.

"Leno?" 

So much for cool and hip. 

I mentioned Leno again the next day to a young waitress, this time asking if she was familiar with him. She said, "I'm not a fan but I'm sure I'd know their music if I heard it."

The last time I saw Jay Leno was probably in the 90s. As in, the previous century. While I saw him on a college campus, I think the kids are into someone else now. To be fair, his crowd was rather geriatric. Iliza's crowd was definitely younger.

Air Fryer Review (Part 2)

I never did make the beets after publishing my first air fryer review. I thought I had too many to do in one batch so I roasted them in the oven. Instead, I made kale chips. Twice.

The first batch was rather tasty. I had freshly grown kale and while I had to make it in batches, each batch only took as much time as it took to prepare the next batch. I kept the chips on the kitchen counter and snacked on them often throughout the day. I figured it was a great way to sneak more greens into my diet. It also prompted me to floss more as I was forever walking around with kale stuck between my teeth.

The second batch was made from grocery store kale and wasn't nearly as tasty as the first batch. Was it the kale or some inconsistency in my preparation? I don't know but I've had enough kale chips for a while. (Kale has been touted as a cancer-fighting food. I can affirm that during the time I was eating kale chips, I did not have or become diagnosed with cancer. There you go.)

I also tried some asparagus in the fryer which came out rubbery. They were tasty - and I ate them all - but I prefer my asparagus to have a little crunch. Sautéed with olive oil, salt, and pepper works just fine and might be a little easier both in preparation and in cleanup.

I've also tried hard "boiled" eggs. They turned out okay, if not a little rubbery, but I prefer how they turn out when made in my pressure cooker.

One thing that did turn out well, was chicken wings. I had bought a giant bag from Costco to make during the Super Bowl and if not for the air fryer I wouldn't have even considered making them. I've never made chicken wings before and while I'll eat them, I've never ordered them at a restaurant either. 

All that to say, I don't think the air fryer is worth the cost (regardless of how much it cost) or the space to store it. For me, that is. I know a lot of people who love theirs. 

I haven't given up entirely, though. I saw a recipe for chickpeas make in an air fryer. Like the kale chips, the idea is to make a healthy snack. I've also read you can make a toasted cheese sandwich in an air fryer. I guess the idea there is you can toast both side of the sandwich at the same time. Like a panini press. (Register me skeptical.) I just read you can also bake cookies in there, if you only want four at a time.

If I get around to any of those, I'll let you know. In the meantime, however, the air fryer will be gathering dust in the pantry. I've got better fish to fry.

Or do I?

Air Fryer Review (part 1)

We recently acquired an air fryer for no other reason than it was on sale. I asked my sister-in-law what she uses hers for and she said it's good for all the same foods you would normally fry. This presented a problem as I don't usually fry food. In fact, I can't think of any food that I fry.

I asked a neighbor. She said she loves to make chicken and vegetables in hers. I haven't had much need for an alternate way to make vegetables but I was curious about how the chicken might turn out but haven't tried it yet.

My daughter-in-law likes to make fish or vegetables in hers. She has my interest. The next time I make fish, I will try the air fryer. (Review to follow.)

The fact is, we live in a great produce growing region and fresh fruits and vegetables are easy to come by. I just recently picked up some beets which will be my next experiment. But my first experiment was to make apple chips.

The advice I found online was to slice the apples very thin and then sprinkle lightly with cinnamon. The slices were to be placed in the air fryer in a single layer and "fried" at 375 degrees for three minutes.

The first thing I realized was that a single apple would require two batches which seemed like a lot of effort to go through to eat an apple. Plus, dirty dishes.

The second thing I figured out was I didn't get the apples thin enough. While the online advice warned me of this, I thought my knife skills were up to the challenge. They were not. After three minutes, the apples were just soggy slices. I flipped them around a little and put them in for another five minutes. Still, only one slice was thin enough to crisp up. While it was sweet and tasty, it was clear it wasn't worth trying to crisp the other half of the apple.

It's possible to get the apple slices thinner with a mandolin but then I would have a knife, a cutting board, a mandolin, and an air fryer to clean when I could have just eaten the apple.

It reminds me of something my grandson said when I told him I sometimes like to make a little shot of espresso in the afternoon and drink it out of a tiny little cup. It's a tiny, warm, and yummy afternoon treat. He said, "It makes too many dishes, Doesn't seem worth it."

I guess it's in what you value. The dirty dishes are worth it to me for a shot of espresso every once in a while but when it comes to my apple, I think I'll just eat it raw.

Up next, beets....

April 2014

I got an email from Gmail that said one of my blog posts from April of 2014 violated Blogger's spam policy and was, therefore, unpublished. The email included a hyperlink to the post but I wasn't willing to click on it so I don't really know what I posted nearly nine years ago that could have been so controversial. The post didn't have a title so I suspect it was only a photo. 

Instead, I went back in time and read all my posts from April 2014. If you have a few minutes, you should read the insanity. I literally laughed out loud.

I should consider writing more.

Truckin'

 

So what're you gonna do when you retire?

That's what people ask. My answer has included:

• take more Spanish lessons
• take American Sign Language classes
• volunteer
• get involved in more fitness activities
• cook more
• be more organized
• write more

What actually happened:

• wasted time on my computer

Honestly, that's what I did when I was working. I did laundry, walked or biked, ran errands, picked up the grandkids from school, posted photos on social media. I always had a lot of email that seemed to distract me, usually items that involved local entertainment or news. I always had a lot of tabs open on my computer for things I wanted to remind myself to do or look into.

Now I'm doing pretty much the same thing except without work getting in the way.

I have actually done some of the items on the above list - volunteered, took a Pilates class, cooked and baked. One thing I didn't see coming.

On the first day of not going to work, I tuned into a show about people going to work. Accountants, specifically. Like I missed my job already. 

On IMDb, the summary for the show reads, "This workplace comedy sheds light onto the hilarious scenarios CPAs, staff accountants, and audit professionals find themselves in on a daily basis."

Yep, that's the first thing you think of when you think of accountants: hilarious.

As tax season starts to ramp up this year, I'm happy to sit this one out. If I ever find myself missing it, I can always watch it on TV.

Yellow

 

Who will help me bake this cake?

You would think, when offered, both kiddos would have jumped at the opportunity to bake something sweet but when they found out the plan was to make coffee cake, they both declined to join me in the kitchen.

"I don't really like cake," the first one said.

"I don't like coffee cake," the other one said more specifically.

I proceeded alone.

I mixed white sugar with brown sugar and flour. "It's not like a cake you eat for dessert," I tried to explain. "It's more like a breakfast cake."

The first kiddo was still uninterested. The second one tried to disguise her intrigue as disinterest.

I added cinnamon and nutmeg. "See? This cake has all the same ingredients as apple pie . . ," one of their favorites, " . . . except there's no apple."

The older one looked at me disbelieving. This could not be a thing, he seemed to be saying. "I think it will be too sweet," he said being the discerning baker himself.

"It'll have too much coffee," the younger offered matter-of-factly. (She, being matter-of-fact in all things.)

"There's no coffee in this cake," I said. This utterly stumped the younger one and did nothing to change her mind. She stood steadfast by her previous statement regarding her opinion of coffee cake.

I added the rest of the ingredients and poured the batter into a pan. I added the crumble topping and popped the cake into the oven. Soon the kitchen filled with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar. When the cake was done, the little one wanted to know if she could try some. (The older one having already wandered away.)

"You've already had dessert. Besides, it's time for bed." We said goodnight as their parents came home and we went home ourselves leaving the cake for them to enjoy in the morning.

The next morning I received a text from our son thanking us for the breakfast treat. "Did the kids try it?" I asked. 

"Yes, they were going to help eat the cake," he answered.

Next time, I bet, they will help me bake the cake.

I got my ass kicked by senior citizens.

On Tuesday, I took a Pilates class. It's the first fitness class I've taken in roughly 30 years. (From that reference, you might think that I'm a senior citizen myself and you'd be correct.) For most of my life, I've relied on what I could do without paying someone to tell me how to do it: walk, hike, bike; situps, pushups, and the like. This method, it seems, has served me well. I feel fit; I look fit; and, I feel great. I don't remember why I thought I should try a Pilates class but I figured it couldn't be all that hard. Besides, the class I was taking was in a gym whose membership is entirely made up of senior citizens. How hard could it be?

Pilates is all about balance, stretching, and strengthening the core muscles. Or so I thought. Once upon a time, I purchased a book (limiting my fitness expense to the book alone) and tried the exercises at home. I  don't know if it had the desired effect, or even what effect I was going for. It was just the popular fitness craze at the time so I thought I would try it.

It's popular again with gyms (they're called studios now) devoted to the practice. This form of exercise (and I never really thought of it as exercise) has been modified to incorporate equipment which means not only more of an investment if one is to do it at home but requires an instructor which, as I've mentioned, I usually avoid.

Whatever possessed me, I signed up for the class.

I was the last to arrive and noticed that everyone had a yoga mat, a ball (such as one you would use for dodgeball or foursquare), a giant rubber band, and hand weights. Although I expected the yoga mat, I couldn't imagine what the rest of it was for. A very helpful white-haired man helped me gather all the requisite equipment from around the gym - er, studio - and the class began.

We started innocently enough with some stretching and range of motion exercises that incorporated the ball and the rubber band. Then, we proceeded to sit-ups combined with leg lifts. Later, we were instructed to clamp a hand weight behind one knee by bringing our heel to our buns and then lifting our leg behind us while we were on all fours (well, threes if you don't count the leg we were lifting). I couldn't keep my weight in place and dropped it on my other stationary ankle. At that point, I decided it was safer to proceed without the weight.

Finally, we did an exercise that closely resembled squats and we did them in slow motion which exercised the quadriceps - the fronts of our thighs. I'm not sure how many we did but I can tell you, it was not my core muscles that were begging for me to stop. When the class was over, all the senior citizens got up and put their equipment away while I lay on my mat and wondered if I should call to get a ride or if I could still walk home. Although I fared the rest of the class fairly well, my legs were shaky.

On Wednesday, my legs were so sore, I took a bath with Epsom salt which helped a little but by evening, I could barely get myself in or out of a chair. I had decided I would do some baking but when I realized that my mixing bowls were on the bottom shelf, I decided it wasn't worth the effort to crouch down to get them. Laundry was similarly out of the question as the dirty clothes were on the floor.

Today is Thursday and I had wanted to take a Zumba class offered by the same Pilates studio. Even though I would have had to pay for the class, Zumba doesn't appeal to me as an activity to be done alone. Besides, it sounded fun: music and dancing. Again, I asked myself, how hard could it be?

Well, I won't be fooled by these white-haired senior citizens once more. If I sign up for Zumba, I'll never walk again!

Tree

 

When a Bitch meets an Angel

When I say "bitch," I mean this - in the bitch's own words - as a term of endearment. And this bitch is the most endearing one you will ever meet. She is a kind and caring soul to her core, a woman of faith. She is no angel; she is but human suffering like the rest of us.

I saw her recently when we went to a holiday party where everyone was supposed to bring a gift for a “white elephant” exchange. We were a little reluctant to go. Why, for instance, would we want to go to a party to exchange crappy gifts with people we don’t know well enough to think that could be amusing?

We went, nevertheless, and brought an elephant as our gift - albeit a brown one. We had acquired it in a similar gift exchange but rather than feeling stuck with it, I rather liked it and kept it for several years. It had hinged limbs and has sat on the mantel every year alongside the Christmas stockings. 

The elephant became sacrificial when a week before Christmas, I didn't have a gift for a gift exchange that I didn't really want to go to in the first place.

Once the party was underway and everyone had been served a drink, the gift exchange began. It was played as a game. We all drew numbers to determine the order for each of us to select a present from under the tree or to steal a previously opened present from someone who had already taken their turn. With 41 players, it was destined to be a long night of embarrassment. My number was 12.

The first player opened a bottle of wine. A fine gift. Surely, it would be stolen by player number 2.

The next gift was a martini shaker in the shape of a penguin. It was was a nice present. I planned to steal it myself if I got a chance. I guessed the giver had gone above the budget of $20 set by the hostess (it also came with vodka) but the gift also seemed to reveal an unspoken theme for the evening. I mentally slapped my forehead for bringing an elephant, white or otherwise, when alcohol would have been the safer bet.

Trepidation set in. Players number 3, 4, and 5 selected their gifts. No one was stealing because no one selected duds from under the tree. As predicted, all of the gifts contained some quantity of alcohol. I was starting to strategize that I should select my own gift from under the tree and act appropriately disappointed for having selected a (nearly) literal white elephant. At least someone else wouldn’t be stuck with it.

Then, it was player number 11 who provided my solution. Their gift was handmade pottery - items made by dear friends of ours. They had just taken an introductory class and these pieces were their "mistakes." Rejects to them, the bowl and mug were treasures for me so when my number was called, I swiftly snatched the pottery gift from player number 11 without explanation or apology.

At this point, I will clarify that I am neither the bitch in this story. (Nor am I the angel.)

The elephant was eventually selected and I felt sorry for the recipient; she was clearly disappointed. I was relieved when the woman who was standing to my left later stole the elephant and claimed it for herself. I was surprised that someone actually wanted it.

A later player got a knit hat that looked like braided dreadlocks, another disappointment. However, the potter who made my bowl loved it. He traded his alcohol-related gift for the hat and immediately put it on. The dreads fit him to a T. Both parties to the trade were happy with their outcomes. Things seemed to be working out for all involved.

Finally, everyone had their turn but two presents remained under the tree. Coincidentally, two people in the room didn't have gifts: the hostess and the bitch. 

The crowd roared that the gifts should be distributed. One appeared to be a wrapped candle but the other was a mystery. The group's decision was the hostess should receive the candle and the bitch should get the last remaining gift.

The bitch unwrapped her present and found an angel. The woman who cherished my brown elephant had brought it. It was a metallic figure that could be hung as a wall decoration.

The bitch sobbed. She sobbed for a recent, personal, and tragic loss. She sobbed for a loss other people have suffered. Her heart was broken and as much as she is a positive light, the sight of this angel reminded her of an anguish she couldn't contain or understand. It was like a message from heaven. 

I don't know what the message was, or what it meant to her. To me, it meant that everything will eventually work out as it was meant to be although that's impossible to imagine in time of such momentous loss. 

2022 was hard for me, in its own way, and for people I love. There was the loss of loved ones (some expected, some not). There were diagnoses of cancer, covid, flu, and pneumonia. Others were sick but didn't know what they were sick from, just beat down and exhausted. It all seemed to pile up in the month of December and made for a very sad way to end the year.

I say, good riddance to 2022.

However, that angel reminds me that there were far more good moments in 2022 than bad ones and that life, though difficult, goes on. 2023 promises more of everything - the good and the bad. My heart aches for the people who are suffering or having to struggle through horribly difficult times. My prayer for all the bitches in my life - and remember, I call you this because I love you - is that the good will eventually outweigh the bad in 2023 and beyond.

Just hang in there and watch for angels.

HNY

 

Don't tell anyone ...

 ... but I think my heart grew three sizes.

But, hey, the day isn't over yet....

Do we have to do this every year?

As soon as Thanksgiving is over, I whip out my Grinch outfit and wear it until Christmas. At this point, Christmas Eve, it's stinks rather badly. I was going to wash it but I figured Grinch would rather like the stench so here I smell.

Hubby has gotten used to this annual ritual and greets me every morning with "Good morning, Grinchy." I try not to scowl in return as I know my heart will grow larger in inverse proportion to coffee intake. (It usually does anyway.)

It's somewhat ironic that as the temperatures drop outside during the holiday season, the Grinch keeps me warm inside; it's a rather cozy onesie. Although Christmas is tomorrow and I can officially put Grinch away, I might want to give it a wash and wear it for a few more weeks. Or at least until the weather turns a little warmer.

Another advantage of the Grinch suit is that I can get my husband to take out the trash rather easily or bring in the newspaper. The reason is I feel somewhat embarrassed to go outside wearing what amounts to furry green pajamas. I did go out once for the newspaper, however, in the first few days after Thanksgiving. I went out a side door and crept between my house and the neighbor's keeping an eye out for anyone who might pass by. When the coast was clear, I dashed around the corner, grabbed the paper from the driveway, and scurried back inside before anyone saw me.

Today might be different. I might intentionally wear it outside. It is, after all, Christmas Eve. If you see Grinch stomping around the neighborhood, don't be too alarmed. It could just be me on my morning walk. On the other hand, I might be just as willing to steal your Christmas cheer.

The spirit of Christmas tends to elude me during the Christmas season. I justify my grouchiness on stress: the stress of family gatherings and meal planning, meeting expectations (expressed or imagined); forced cheerfulness, if you will. After all, why does it all have to happen on December 25th? Couldn't we do it January 12th? Or July 15th when restaurants are open and I don't have to cook? After all, didn't we just all get together last weekend? Humbug!

But, in this quiet moment, on Christmas Eve while there's still hope and magic in the form of warm brown liquid in my cup (morning brown stuff, not evening brown stuff - although the latter generates it's own brand of hope come to think of it), I think of the people I love and the people who express love to me and I feel my outer crust start to melt and I feel grateful for all I have.

Ask me again in four hours and I may feel differently. There's a lot to do today . . . 

Before I finished that sentence, Hubby started talking about how we will cook the roast today. I looked up and saw the kitchen needs to get cleaned. I have cinnamon rolls to heat up but already Hubby is in the kitchen getting the roast tied and ready for the oven. And, I just remembered a couple of things I still need from the store.

Here we go. Let's just get through it, shall we?

(Guess whose cup is empty.)

Some Assembly Required

Christmas brings back memories of bleary-eyed Christmas Eve nights. Not from too much eggnog but from not enough sleep. They were nights of staying up long after all the little ones were tucked in bed with visions of inevitable sugar-coated bounty. There were presents to wrap, stockings to be stuffed, batteries to be installed, bites to be taken of what was left out for Santa (an important detail not to be missed). 

There are so many stories surrounding Christmas. Like the time our littlest was convinced he could see Santa flying high above the house. It was snowing that evening putting just the right amount of magic in the air.

Was that the same year Santa delivered bikes? The kids were so excited about Santa in the sky that they ran right past their brand new bikes to rush out the door and gaze at the stars (and the conveniently deceptive lights of a passing plane). When they returned, Ta Dah! There were bikes in their rooms. There was only one way this could happen because the bikes were not there just a moment ago: Santa was real.

Those are special memories but we will never forget the punchy late nights of putting together the Some-Assembly-Requireds. Tired and MacGyvery-ing solutions for toys with missing pieces or forcing parts that wouldn't fit together except through brute force, risking total destruction, we cobbled until we could cobble no more.

The kids are grown now and have their own Christmas Eve surprises to manufacture and it's been a long while since we've had to put together much of anything. But this year, we dusted off our Santa hats and bought something for ourselves with some of the best instructions I've ever seen.

 
Now that's the Christmas spirit!

Sans beverages, we put it together in the middle of an afternoon with the garage doors open: a work bench. All our prior Christmas Eve experience paid off. The parts were laid out and all accounted for and then the two of us assembled it in a mere two hours. One might say our skill level was quite high. No bickering, no skin was broken, and no extra trips to the hardware store were required. 

It's not a very sexy gift but it was needed. As this picture might suggest, we still have a little organizing to do. We have pegs for the peg board and tools to hang. We have hooks for the step stool and broom. 

Most of the clutter is out of the frame but you get the idea. We still have two sets of shelves to put together. This time, you can bet there will be a couple of beverages involved. But now, we have a work bench to put them on.

Let there be guitars

 

Cornered

 

Yellow

 

Up In The Air

 

Legs

 

A building

 

Car Show

 

Fall is for Frito Pie

Fall means a lot of different things to a lot of different people: cooler temperatures and warmer colors, pumpkins and spice, and - of course - football (real and virtual).

A lot more baking happens in the fall while comforting soups and stews simmer on the stovetop or in a slow cooker. Chili contents are held. 

While I've enjoyed a lot of chili in my lifetime, I have never had it served on top of Fritos. I had never even heard of it. . . 

Come to think of it, I did come across it once. There was a hotdog stand on a downtown corner where I used to live - Weiner Wagon. Their menu featured three varieties of Frito Pie. Three. I cannot recall if I ever tried one. However, I remember it sounded sort of amazing and disgusting at the same time.

Imagine my surprise when - several years later - I see an Instagram post from Food & Wine with a recipe for Frito Pie. The photo shows three individual size bags of Fritos, slit open, with the chili served right in the bag. Sort of lowbrow for a foodie publication, don't you think? (Is it really food? Is there really an appropriate wine pairing?)

A quick search for Frito pie will net you a plethora of recipes. Turns out, this is not a passing fad. Another publication, Epicurious, ranks eating chili right out of a bag of Fritos as the number one way to eat chili. (For reference, they rank Cincinnati chili as the worst.)

However, while Epicurious does provide a recipe for Cincinnati chili they do not for Frito Pie. That's because it's simple: "split a personal-size bag of Fritos down the middle and pour your chili in."

That didn't keep Food & Wine from publishing a recipe for Frito Pie - a rather highbrow one at that. The first reviewer wrote: 

" Ruined the simplicity of what makes Frito pies great with the addition of superfluous, Cali-elitist ingredients. Definitely not a Texas Frito pie that so many of us Texans enjoy every Fall Friday night under the bright lights of high school football stadiums whether our team wins or loses. . . . "

 (For reference, Food & Wine also has a recipe for Cincinnati Chili.)

I decided to try it. I made a hybrid Frito Pie, meaning that I made chili from scratch but a far simpler version. I served it in a bowl (not in the bag): Fritos topped with chili (with black beans), topped with shredded cheddar cheese and chopped onion. We ate it in front of the TV in front of a football game for the whole experience.

Mind blown! I couldn't believe I had never had this before.

Consider this: I have made Cincinnati Chili. On purpose. And eaten it. On purpose. So consider your reviewer's point of view. Frito Pie may not be too lowbrow for me.

Shadows

 

 

Your to-do list for October

There's a lot going on this month:

• Today is National Coffee Day.
• Oktoberfest is being celebrated in multiple locations.
• It's National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Here's what you need to do to cover all your bases. 

1. Go to a local brewery.
2. Order a coffee beer.
3. Think about tatas.

All month long.