New Strategy

Clearly this baby is stubborn like his mother and does not react well to ultimatums. Poking at his rogue feet while repeating "get out, get out get, out or else" is not working. Tomorrow he will be officially a week past his due date and I am going to have to start practicing some tough love if he doesn't decide to get things moving. 

It's not like we haven't tried to be nice about it. We've whispered encouraging words, J's been singing little tunes, and I've been eating awesome foods to try and coax him out. What? Those two ice cream bars and pile of cookies were totally for the baby. Yesterday I satisfied a major craving for a hearty Italian meal by making a giant batch of spaghetti sauce (with beef of course). We paired it with sauteed summer squash from our CSA. It hit the food craving spot so hard that we replicated the entire meal again for dinner tonight. What's not to love? 

In an attempt to get out of the house so I wouldn't go mad, we grabbed bagels for lunch up on Lovejoy, then walked down to Powell's in the Pearl to check out some children's books, and then strolled back home again. I even did a short sprint when I saw this guy driving down 10th Avenue. I jumped off the bench where we were resting and started running after the sort of creepy minivan yelling at J to "run to see the guy with the monkey!" J did not move fast enough in my opinion, so I yelled louder "the guy with the monkey" while pointing furiously in the van's direction. Luckily, the creepy clown caught a stoplight and J was able to witness the dude who drives around Portland holding a puppet while lip syncing to the radio. It was a pretty awesome afternoon.

Friday Fun

I'm in LA at the moment enjoying the sunny weather. I'll write more on all of my adventures when I get back home. But for now, enjoy a little YouTube clip of Bizkit the Sleep Running Dog. My sister alerted it to me yesterday and I found myself crying with laughter at the breakfast table.




Also, I've often described myself as a troll in the morning, but after watching this video, "Two Angry Camels in a Car" I'm definitely more like a camel. I played the video the other morning and Jesse called out, "Are you looking at yourself in the mirror?" I think a better question would be, "why are there two camels in that car," but whatever. They're mighty pissed to be alive and some mornings, so am I.

My Adventures with Seitan (or Devilish Turds)

After posting yesterday, I went straight to the kitchen and got to work on making seitan. I followed Mark Bittman's instructions to the letter and hoped for the best. He warned the reader not to be surprised at how quickly the "dough" comes together. It was shocking. Kind of like a science experiment. Not only did it come together quickly, it seized up into a globule that looked like something that might have been on the set of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Another head-scratcher was the fact that Bittman's recipe (as well as others found on the internet) says to knead it for 10 minutes. It's kind of a sick joke to ask the preparer to knead when the consistency of seitan resembles dried-out rubber cement that has formed itself into a monkey brain. Jesse put it a little more delicately by declaring that our soon-to-be dinner looked like "butt boogers" (great).

I tried to knead (unsuccessfully) and then finally put it aside to let it rest and relax for 20 minutes. While resting the rubber dough I made the cooking broth, which is pretty much water, some soy sauce, and a little spice. After the resting period, I was instructed to "stretch and roll the dough into logs." And I did. I put it down on the cutting board and started giggling. And then I started laughing so hard that I could barely catch my breath. Jesse couldn't understand what could be so funny about dinner and ran over to the kitchen. I was finally able to blurt out "oh god it looks like poo! YAY!" I rolled out the other lump and with tears running down my cheek from laughter, sliced the turds into medallions, and flattened them as much as I could.

After all of that work, I was determined to make something of the meal and went ahead and put the medallions to simmer in the broth. They bubbled and rolled and were generally weird looking. Luckily, after looking at the stuff floating in liquid for 30 minutes my expectations for the final product were pretty low. Thankfully, I hadn't hoped for a miracle to happen because they tasted like bland, rubbery, pieces of nothing.

We both kept tasting the slices of seitan and just shook our heads wondering how this could possibly be classified as food? I felt really let down, but Jesse had a brilliant idea. We threw the seitan into our little food chopper until it was the consistency of ground beef. Then, I sauteed it with black beans, onions, bell pepper, some leftover homemade enchilada sauce and spices as a filling for our tacos. Surprisingly, it was really tasty! It was a clean out the fridge night, so we also threw in a little leftover rice. I loved the tacos -- as did Jesse.

I think seitan will definitely be a refrigerator/freezer staple if we need a quick substitute for ground meat. However, I don't think we'll have seitan steaks anytime soon. I want to continute to play around with cooking methods to see if I can make it a little more palatable to have in stir-frys or maybe even on salads. I still have enough vital wheat gluten for 3 or 4 more batches.

Revisions

This week has been all about work, leaving very little time for blogging. Today is also all about work, but this time making revisions. I hate revisions, so the afternoon will most likely be very painful. Also, today is the last day of enjoying chicken purloo for breakfast. As of a few minutes ago, I lifted my last bite. (What? I'm sure lots of other people enjoy delicious chicken and rice for breakfast. I don't care what you think! It's good.)

In order to psych myself up for the grueling tasks ahead, I watched a video clip that I took last week at a concert. Several times. At this particular concert we stood next to a guy who looked a bit like Ghallager. I giggled to myself at the thought of him whipping out a watermelon from his coat and smashing it right in the audience. You only get a couple of peeks of him totally rocking out, but the song is good, so enjoy.

(For those who are impatient, I capture his enthusiastic air drums around 0:02, 1:01, and 1:40. There's sound, so you might want to mute your speakers if you're at work.) Yes, I realize that it is sideways. I finally figured out how to rotate the video and can now watch it normally on my computer. However, Blogger keeps loading it in the original format (and taking it's sweet old time about it too), causing smoke to come out of my ears.

YOU WIN AGAIN BLOGGER. Thank you for making my life suck this morning.

***UPDATE*** 3:15 PM

I figured it out, behold the edited video:

1852 Rowhouse

Our apartment in Savannah was located in a 1852 row house that's listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The exterior is impeccable and has been well-kept. The inside, while clean and spacious, is crammed with knick-knacks, do-dads, and lots of lace. The master bathroom had a tub that was large enough for our entire family and there was a baby grand piano in the parlor.


The walls were clad in red damask wall paper that was punctuated by an array of prints ranging from classic impressionist paintings and rather strange posters from a bygone era. If we had chosen to soak in the family-sized tub, we could have set our sights on this scantily clad butt during our soak.

The lady (with clothes that somehow were run through a paper shredder) greeted us every day when we came home from touring the city. The shredded lady was sandwiched between a 1920s ad and a movie poster for Gone with the Wind. I'm not sure if Scarlett O'Hara would approve.

Unlike Charleston, Savannah was warm and balmy. The temperature hovered right around 65 degrees during the day, but the humidity hung in the air and made our hair unruly and our shirts damp -- even while just strolling along the streets. Despite the fact that it was the middle of December, the city was still beautiful. The fountain in Forsythe Park was still running and the trees hadn't yet lost all of their leaves.

We didn't tour any of the houses in Savannah, instead choosing to take a trolley tour. Our legs were tired after all of the walking around Charleston and we decided it would be a lot more fun to see all of the city and just hop on and off the trolley when we found a site that looked interesting. Of course we walked by the Mercer-Williams house that was a prominent setting in the book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Even without the history behind it, I think the house is pretty amazing.

One benefit of the accoutrement in our row house was the opportunity to channel our inner child. Katie and I had lots of fun on our last night in Savannah playing dress up with items we pulled off the walls, mantles (from the 5 fireplaces scattered throughout), as well as our bedrooms and the parlor. Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls in the dining room? Heck, why not?!

Jesse opted to watch rather than play along -- especially since the only thing left for him to wear was the undergarment to my lacy negligee. The woman who owns this house must be seriously out of her mind, but the lacy bedstead, flowery towels, and bizarre sense of style made for a pretty good time in Savannah. I don't think I've giggled this much in a very long time!

Gnome Sweet Gnome

***This post was initially written in August, 2008***

As I have learned from numerous giggle-filled stories, Jesse and his college roommates, Ian and Larson take practical jokes and general spleening very seriously. Now that they no longer live together, or even in the same cities, they have to find new and creative ways to keep the romance alive.

For the past few years, Ian and Larson have traded possession of a rather disturbing Ann Geddes baby doll that is dressed like a ladybug. I can't recall the details of how the baby doll trade began, but at this point in the game it doesn't really matter. Apparently, the doll was stowed away in Ian's luggage on his last visit to Santa Cruz and has been living in Sacramento for about a year. This past weekend we went to Sacramento to visit Ian and his wife, Mary, and were charged with a very important mission -- to transport the baby doll to Santa Cruz. In order to up the ante, we were also given a hideous, yet charming, gnome cookie jar (from Mary's grandparents' house) in which to stash the doll.

After waiting for just the right time to plant the gnome, an opportunity presented itself today (Saturday, August 30th, 2008). Jesse and I stopped by Larson and Serena's this afternoon to scope out potential hiding places. When we arrived, Larson, Serena, and their friends Tex and Rain, were all elbow-deep in gardening in the back yard. At that point, I knew we had to strike -- and quick! I poked around the living room and found that they have quite an ample fire place. Perfect, in my opinion, for gnomes.

I ran out to the car (where we had kept the gnome for about a week) and Jesse guarded the hallway to make sure I wouldn't get caught in the act of "decorating." I was so stealth that I was also able to snap a few photos to send to Ian and marvel at my brilliance before putting everything back in its place. We stayed for a little while to chat and it took all of my strength to not blurt out "Wow, it's kind of chilly! Maybe we should start a fire."

**Flash forward to November **

But I waited. And waited. Still, no word on the gnome. I determined that they found the ceramic jar and were waiting for just the right time to tell us -- like on Candid Camera. Now, almost exactly three months after our brilliant plant job, I cracked. I had been counting the weeks and days until we could finally stop by their house and have a hearty chuckle over their new beautiful cookie jar. Upon our arrival this evening, I scanned the shelves and tables to see where they had (prominently) displayed the treasure. I was disappointed to find that it was nowhere in sight. Being the skeptical person that I am, I immediately assumed that they found it and were hiding it just to torment my poor soul.

Apparently, the joke was on me because Larson and Serena never use the fireplace. The gnome was still hanging out in the ashes where I left it in August. Even though I ruined the surprise (that might never have even happened) I think they were still stunned. And stoked. It was a good night indeed.

Friday Night, or Why I Am Not Hip Part 2

We hopped on the #20 bus to Doug Fir on Friday night and were chatting about the concert and our dinner and how sweet it was to get out for an evening. We sat in two empty seats near the back of the bus, right behind a plastic partition that separates the lower level and the stairs. Unbeknownst to me, my feet were wreaking havoc on a young man's soul as we enjoyed our ride down Burnside. Just as we crossed the bridge he ripped off his headphones (that were blaring music) and yelled at Jesse to stop kicking partition because he could feel every kick on his body and it was driving him "batshit crazy" (I think he threw in a fuck or two for good measure).

Ok, first, Jesse wasn't kicking the partition, I was -- the space was tight and I guess I was shuffling my feet around. Secondly, the jerk-face was leaning on the partition and lounging over four seats like a couch, so if he sat properly in his chair this wouldn't have been a problem. Finally, there was a bus full of empty seats that he could have moved to, but instead chose to yell at a perfect stranger. I didn't say anything, and neither did Jesse, because clearly he was crazy. However, I couldn't help tormenting him just a little for being such a little shit. We only had about four stops to go, so intermittently I would kick the partition really hard and would see his shoulders tense up. Then, as we neared our bus stop and stood up to leave, I made sure to do a drum roll with my feet. I know, I'm also a jerk, but it was fun.

As I mentioned earlier, my concert at Doug Fir was sold out so we walked over to the East End determined to have a fun night out. People watching was an experience. There were quite a few more dudes than ladies at the East End and they were all dolled up in their Friday night best. Clearly, I am no fashion expert when it comes to what the cool kids are wearing these days and was puzzled to find a surprising number of men walking around dressed as early 19th Century country gentry. If you swapped out the breeches for a pair of insanely form-fitting black jeans (tight to the point of possibly having to grease their ankles to slide them on) and cut off the tails on their waist coat this figure would be just about right. As a form of entertainment (for myself), I started imagining which A&E miniseries they would be most suited for, if I had full control of casting.

Most of the characters were not dashing like Matthew Macfayden as Mr. Darcy, but were more along the lines of A&E's version of Mr. Knightley -- complete with awful hat hair, but lacking the top hat as an excuse. I was pleasantly surprised when the lead singer of the second band turned out to be the guy I pointed out as Mr. Willoughby (good looking, but a bit of a cad) from Sense and Sensibility. I have no idea what he's like in real life, but in my East End narrative, he definitely will jilt Marianne (dancing seductively in front of the crowd) for a chick with a giant yearly allowance.

Since I am an old lady, around 12:30 I was ready to go home, but needed swing by the restroom before our bus ride back to the northwest. The line was insanely long and I found myself standing behind another "man of leisure" who was a dead ringer for Mr. Collins (the buffoonish clergyman from Pride and Prejudice). I think he caught me staring at him and he asked me if it was normal for four women to go to the bathroom at a time. This was as we watched a second group of ladies exit together from the single-toilet restroom. I shrugged my shoulders and told him that sometimes it helps to hold hands while you pee. He nodded his head (in earnest) and stroked an errant hair from my face. Really. He touched my hair. Mr. Collins then asked how I kept it so straight and shiny and complained about the little curls that were springing up around his ears from the humidity. I told him Static Guard. He adjusted his (popped) collar and seemed indignant about his styling product that cost a fortune, made his hair look unwashed, and yet would still not contain his boyish curls. I told him his curls were charming and he let me cut him in line for the bathroom.

Maybe Mr. Collins isn't such a boor after all. Weird, yes, but a perfect gentleman.

Fighting Back a Sneeze

For the past two days I have been feeling like another cold might be creeping up on me. The last cold I had was not even a month ago and it knocked me out for a solid week. I am mighty pissed at this near-cold and am doing everything within my power to nip it in the bud. My meals revolve around neon-colored fizzy "germ defense" drinks, lots of veggies, shots of orange juice, and dashes of Tabasco for good measure. I'm trying to smoke out anything that might be lingering. After struggling with a pounding headache all day yesterday (I never did make it out to run my errands) I finally gave in and went to bed early.

This morning I woke up feeling pretty good. My headache hasn't reemerged, but I'm not yet back to normal. That didn't keep me from running errands though, and spent most of the late morning at the fabric store and Target. Luckily I found a patch to fix Jesse's coat and also an 8-10 year old boy with this haircut. Seriously, his honest to god hair was cut like this wig -- only slightly less symmetrical. It looked like he may have started to cut it himself and then his mom finished up the rest, but then got distracted and just stopped. I was horrified and yet mystified. I actually had my camera with me in my purse, but thought it rude enough that I stared as much as I did, much less take a photo. The mom was also kind of burly and I'm pretty sure she would have kicked my ass.

So, now I'm back and will be mending Jesse's jacket and tending my cold for the rest of the afternoon. It's a good thing that I have plenty of indoor activities today because it is dreary and cold outside!