this is how i will get famous

Wisconsin Love Affair #2: Hook's 15-Year Cheddar

2012-01-02T20:06:00.005-06:00

I hit a giant and stupid wall of writer's block just a little while ago, while at the same time being unable to figure out how to transfer some pictures from my Google+ affected Picasa account to my stupid desktop. So annoying. It was a really frustrating moment, so instead of throwing my computer on the ground and screaming, I decided to stop myself and close that blog window. Totally not worth it.

Disclaimer: Before I decided to chill the hell out, I angrily deleted my stupid Google+ profile and my Picasa albums were once again perfect and usable. Stupid Google+. What's the point? I actually like facebook. Yesterday an old co-worker found a stray dog near her house and posted a picture, then a few of us in the neighborhood reposted, and THEN the dog's owner saw it and went and got his dog back! Internet! FACEBOOK! Tomorrow, I probably won't care, but for now, giant sucks to Google+ and applause for facebook.

Anyhow. Instead of making myself crazy by trying to finish the other thing I was writing, I decided to take a break...by posting a blog. Whaaaa?! Relax - it's another blog of food pictures. You should be used to this by now. For Christmas this year, my lovely boyfriend got me some beautiful, thoughtful, and amazing gifts. As we were exchanging a couple of days before Christmas, he confessed that he was nervous he'd gotten me too many food-related gifts. Immediately after, he handed me these:

That would be ice wine and Hook's 15-year cheddar cheese, made right here in Wisconsin. Holy crap, boyfriend. Holy crap.

You should definitely take the time to read about both the wine and the cheese, because they're both very unique and wonderful, and I've been talking about them for months, apparently (maybe I was subtly hinting at what I wanted as a gift, eh?). Honestly, I haven't tried the wine yet, but I have tried the cheese. Oh lord, have I tried the cheese. Andy and I rang in the popular holiday of December 31st at midnight by opening the cheese and sampling some. And it was amazing.

He cuts things very carefully.

We ate it plain, off the cutting board. Andy went through a lot of emotions, including disbelief...

"I need a rest..."

And, finally, peacefulness.
I think he nearly cried at one point. I just kept repeating "I'm so happy! I'm SO happy!" By the by, he's wearing his swimming trunks because it was really hot in my apartment.

What a bunch of nerds, eh?

Wisconsin Love Affair #1: The Sky

2011-11-20T23:44:00.013-06:00

My cousin Luai is a stand up comedian. I like to think he's almost as funny as me. Almost. Aw, who am I kidding? He's hilarious! Though you may remember him from such stories as this, you'll probably want to check out some of his standup here. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you'll find this hilarious if you're Arab. Or from Chicago. Or if you're a person with a sense of humor at all. Look, just watch it everybody.

Anyhow, about a week ago, I posted something on facebook about how I haven't blogged a lot lately. While I have been writing, it's mostly not share-y stuff. You know. Fall and winter. Feelings. Wah wah. But, I really am missing blogging, and thankfully, my hilarious cousin proposed that he and I make a deal to stay accountable to each other. He's been wanting to do more stand up lately, so we're checking in with each other on getting our respective things done. I mentioned to him how I wanted to start a series about my newfound love affair with Wisconsin. Yes, I have really fallen in love over the last few years, but more recently, there have been very specific things that stand out to me and present concrete, actual reasons why. It's nice to feel like you love something, but when you have a logical and rational mind that can sometimes override your pure emotion, it's real nice to know why you love something. You know?

And so, I give you my first Wisconsin love: the sky. Or, pictures of the sky, at least.

The sunrise over Monroe.

East Washington St. in Madison. View of the Capitol.

Two shots from the Beloit area.

A small hot air balloon on the east side of Madison, at the beginning of a drive to Tomah.

Somewhere on the drive from Chicago. Near Janesville, I think.

North of Sun Prairie, 6:57 pm.

South of Columbus. 7:09 pm on the same drive as the picture above

New Glarus. Around 7:30 pm.

Albany.

Nearing Evansville.

Milwaukee, leaving some hotel and following Helen in her car.

South Milwaukee, same night.

View of Lake Monona in Madison.

Between Monroe and Juda.

Driving to Milwaukee on a foggy morning.

Somewhere in Madison. Monona Bay, maybe.

Is this in Madison? Can you tell?

Whoops, this is from Glenview, IL. I love Glenview too, you know.

Back to Wisconsin, which this love affair is about.

Windsor, or somewhere near DeForest.

Heading west on the beltline. On the way to Quaker Steak and Lube to eat wings.

On the shore of the East Side Club, overlooking the Madison skyline and the sunset.

Lately I find myself wondering: has the sky always look like this? Have I missed it all these years, or has it just been especially beautiful over the last six or seven months? Am I just paying closer attention? Is something speaking to me? But mostly, I try to snap the pictures and then just appreciate. Whatever and why-ever it is, it just is. And I hope it continues to be.

Needless to say, I've been driving a lot. Which sort of conflicts with one of my potential next entries - namely the one about how in love with Madison (people and politics, specifically) I've become. I love driving and, living in Madison, that is sort of a no-no. Well, I'm very sorry Madison, but you live in an extremely beautiful state that I need to see more of. Especially that lovely Wisconsin sky.

Amazing Breakfast Sandwich

2011-10-20T08:51:00.005-05:00

There's this Simpsons episode in which they go to a swap meet and Bart picks up a "pencil holder," to which Homer says...oh never mind, I found the video. Here:

This line has been in my head for a couple of weeks now, only replace "seen" with "written" and "bong" with "blog." Yep. I haven't written a blog in years. Or weeks, really. But it feels like years.

And frankly, it may be awhile still before I write an actual, substantial blog that's not just pictures of what I ate this morning. I think that right now, I'm busier than I've been since I was in grad school. Yes, busy with weddings and traveling, but that still means busy, guys. Okay? And there just hasn't been time for blogs and writing. There will be soon, I hope, but not at the moment.

So for now, enjoy these pictures of what I ate this morning. I think I made one of my best breakfast sandwiches ever. And you just have to hear about it!

First off, I got these eggs from one of the families I teach. They have chickens in their backyard that lay 2-3 eggs a day, apparently, so I got these! By the way, does anybody want chickens? They're looking for a new home for them. Let me know.

I had some leftover pesto from some dinner I made, and some goat cheese, so I spread some on each side of an english muffin.

Then I put a layer of this really thinly-cut rosemary ham from Trader Joe's on top. Ham. All of a sudden I love ham. What's happening?

Next I fried one of those eggs, over-medium. Over-medium is awesome, because you can smoosh your sandwich down and all the yolk breaks on top of the rest of the sandwich. That'll happen later.

I put the egg on top of the ham. I like the cheese to be the top layer in most sandwiches.

Now - the smooshing! Absolutely delicious.

Some day we'll talk about something that isn't food. Some day...not today.

Pho

2011-09-19T15:34:00.003-05:00

It's pronounced like "fuh," so I probably should have called this entry "What the Pho?!" But hey, there are already 743,000 results when you google "what the pho," so none of that for me. I prefer my original title: Pho. SO LAZY.

It's a vietnamese soup with a bunch of topping you add in right before eating. It's one of the simplest, yet most flavorful and delicious things I've ever eaten. And perfect for when you're under the weather in any way; headache, body aches, cold, fever, broken spirit - whatever you like. Fortunately, I only had the first two of those (my spirit is wonderfully grand right now, thank you), so I got some pho from Ha Long Bay down the street - my favorite restaurant in Madison. I was knocked the hell out after my first couple of weeks of teaching hilarious, but really really gross children, as well as a weekend with zero down time and tons of busyness. So I got this soup as a l'il treat. The ingredients are so pretty, and I like documenting anything that involves a process, so here you go:

Container of chicken and broth, rice noodles and scallions in the other container, and the bag of bean sprouts, basil, jalapeños, and lime.
The noodles and onions and some parsley.
You dump the noodles and onions into the broth and let the noodles soften.
I am a wiener - I only used one jalapeño and I only let it sit in the broth for about five minutes, and even then, it was almost too spicy for me.
Put in a few basil leaves, a good squeeze of lime, that one temporary jalapeño, and the bean sprouts. Delicious.

The Elusive Student Handbook

2011-09-15T10:16:00.011-05:00

When I was in second grade, I memorized all the state capitals of the United States. I think, around the same time, my sister was studying them as well, and I helped her memorize them with the use of this book:

Student Handbook! How comprehensive! In the geography section, there was a list of states, organized by region, and their capitals. I quizzed Sara on each state, relentlessly repeating "Richmond, Virginia," because she just couldn't remember it. My Dad would peep in and out of the family room, listening to us. I remember him cracking up when he heard the capital of Florida: Tallahassee. "This is how we say 'Come over here and kiss my ass' in Arabic!" he exclaimed. Well, you'd actually pronounce it "Ta'al boos teezi." Same difference. I remember sitting with the heavy, brown book in my lap and giggling with my father and sister. Oh, America. You have no idea how hilarious you are in Arabic.

Anyhow, that Student Handbook was the greatest. It had so much information in it, and it really appealed to me as a kid. I loved it. So you can imagine my surprise and excitement then, when, last weekend, I saw that a friend of mine had the very same book on his bookshelf! I was thrilled, and sat on the floor for a good half hour, poring over the pages and laughing at the pictures in the dictionary which was in the last two-thirds of the book. Here are some of my favorites:

Oh, a muff AND a muffler! There's a difference!

Round-shouldered boy. Yep.

I just like the sound of all these E-words.

I'm both enraptured and enthralled by that gentleman's enigmatic smile. Also? English horn.

I don't think that house looks all that eerie. This pictorial definition is deceiving!

I like the potential correlation between drumsticks and drippings. Delicious.

Look at the interplay between dragon and downcast eyes! Totally on purpose.

Embryo of a rabbit. That is all.

Look at this guy! Look at this damn exhibitionist! He sure expanded my watchband, if you know what I mean...

This is also a history lesson, because you can see the tackiness that was considered "fancy" back in the 1970s.

Writing with flourishes! I feel like this group of pictures is pretty fruity.

Look at that judgey woman! It's just a furled sail, lady. And a fulcrum. Don't hate.

I understand this boy completely. I, too, gape in wonder at the majesty of the Student Handbook. The gargoyle is sort of gaping in wonder as well, don't you think?

I just love this one. No explanation necessary.

Handlebar mustache AND handcuffs in the same group? YOW-OW-OW!!!

Hey, it's Ole Lady McJudgey again!

What a slob.

Pictures aside, some of the definitions are hilarious as well. Check out what "Hollywood" means.

This one is just a little depressing.
I'm so glad I got to relive the pictures of the Student Handbook as an adult! I truly believe that my sarcasm and cynicism play well into my judgement of pictures. What a productive day!

What I Made This Summer

2011-09-07T09:38:00.004-05:00

It's no secret that I'm not the greatest cook in the world. I am a damn fine baker, and I can prepare the hell out of appetizers and desserts and party foods. But sometimes you have to try a little harder, and that was what I wanted to do this summer. Also, sometimes trying results in beautiful pictures of foods. And my love for food pictures is also no secret. So, this is what I made this summer:

Egg salad a la Nanny! Well okay, my mom made this one. But it was so delicious that I had to include it in the summer food blog. She puts in chopped up lettuce, tomato, and green onion. Delicious!

Oh, just a sandwich platter. I made this for lunch at my parents' house last week. Salami, turkey, ham, and two kinds of cheese! There were also some vegetables on another plate, so don't judge.

Look what you can do with such magnificence!

I cooked tofu for the first time! This tofu turned out awesome, but the "stir fry" was pretty sorry. Carrots, red cabbage, and green beans with sesame seeds. This could have used some noodles or rice, but I think my main goal was cooking tofu. So, BOOM.

Couscous! This is preparing, not cooking. I'll admit it. But I love the picture. It's a blend called Harvest Grains and it's delicious.

Um...okay...this is preparing, too. So what, man? I've told you before - it's my blog and I do what I want. This fantastic thing is called a "hot dog." Bite me.

Okay, polenta. I fried it up in a pan and sprinkled paprika on it.

Then I added some melted cheddar, cut up tomatoes, avocado, and two poached eggs. Is this considered cooking, snobby?

Tomato, mozzarella, basil salad. Two kinds of tomato.

Taco salad! I forgot about this one. Bed of lettuce topped with Gimme Lean (AHAHAHAHHHAAHAHA) that I seasoned like taco meat, tomatoes, vegan cheese, guacamole, and plain greek yogurt instead of sour cream.

Hmm...Jess cooked all of this, except for that little brown thing in the corner. That's zucchini bread that I baked, but I guess this blog isn't about baking. This one is. Jess made mashed purple potatoes with horseradish cheddar and a Moroccan carrot salad with dates and mint. That yellow thing is corn which is still attached to its own cob. Crazy!

Have you ever heard of nachos? Sarah and I made a nacho bar at her house with her Dad. Then we watched about 6.5 hours of True Blood. That's what you're supposed to do with your BFF, got it?

Black bean and corn salad! Black beans, corn, mango, red onion, avocado and cilantro. Topped with juice from one lime and one orange, and a little salt and pepper. You can substitute tomato for mango and it gives it a totally different taste.
I also made sushi, but you probably read about that already because you're an incredibly loyal fan who reads everything I write. Right? RIGHT?! Now that the weather has been fall-like for a whole 36 hours, I've already baked that zucchini bread and am getting together ingredients for banana-honey-date muffins that I'll made today or tomorrow. I'll probably just eat cider donuts and pumpkin-flavored things for the next few months and never touch a vegetable again. Thanks for everything, summer eating!

Punchy

2011-08-30T23:53:00.000-05:00

You guys! Vanilla/Ice Cream Face turned six last week! It's so weird...he seems so different from when we started lessons a year ago. I asked him what he did on his birthday, and he told me all about the pet Great Dane they got: how tall it is, what it eats, how it barks. He even crawled around on the floor imitating him.

Then he told me that when you're five, you're crazy. "What are you when you're six?" I asked. He looked at me thoughtfully for a minute before answering, "When you're six, you're...punchy." And he put up his dukes.

"Okay, what are you when you're 32?" I asked. "Are you 32?" responded Vanilla. I nod. He thinks again and looks at my hands. "When you're 32, you're shaky." He looks at my hands again and makes a face. "No, come on, be shakier. Be shakier!"

At the end of his lesson, Vanilla tells me, "You know we didn't really get a Great Dane, right?" I nod and smile, trying not to laugh. "We did get to stay in a hotel, though."

Oh Vanilla. You may be six, but you're still the most hilarious little kid I've ever met.

As an aside, a different kid, the one who played The Snowman for his Dad last Christmas, informed me that his pet frog died. He started telling me very cautiously, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk about it. But once he got started, he didn't really stop. The long conversation ended with him telling me that his frog is now broken up into pieces, inside a plastic blue easter egg, and buried in the backyard so he can see him any time he wants.

And this is from one day back at work. One day. Fantastic.

Real Life Gal

2011-08-29T22:09:00.000-05:00

Ways I'm becoming a Real Life Gal this summer:

I usually fancy "something sweet" after dinner when I never used to before. Like a bonbon.
All I want to drink is a margarita. I'm literally excited about margaritas. Maybe a fruity one. Usually I like vodka and bourbon, so this is different, see?
I wave and holler at firefighters from my car.
I wave and holler at firefighters when I'm walking by the fire station.
I wave and holler at this one firefighter on facebook who's a friend of my brother.
I thought the UPS man was hot, just because of his uniform. His whole self was really not hot at all.
I wear unreasonable shoes in inappropriate situations. Well, that's sort of all the time and regular. But still, Gals.
I tried on shoes at DSW just because they were insanely high. They are called Nude Pumps and I think about them about 3 times every day and lament not buying them.
I love Zumba.
I giggle about boys at work with Lacy. Literally, "HEEHEEHEE BOOOYYYSSS!!!" right in the middle of the damn art center, our place of work.
Later that night, I get a text from Lacy that says "I need to have a Gal moment - can you talk?" and I respond by frantically calling her and greeting her by screaming "OH MY GOD HI WHAT WHAT?!"
I wrote haikus about the men of Italy. And their well-fitting pants.

Wah.

WAH.

I guess this is just who I am now. AND I LOVE IT, RIGHT GALS?!?!?!?!

How to Make Sushi with a Friend

2011-08-10T23:47:00.011-05:00

I remember writing a blog entry a few months back, and promising that this wouldn't become a food blog. I promise, that was not a lie. "Become" is a word that completely transfers and changes, you see, so I can honestly say that I'm sticking with that. Yes, perhaps 99% of my blogs are now just pictures of food, but hey! I like pictures of food. I like pictures of food so, so much. Also, I'm busy. And lazy. So with that eloquent and detailed explanation, I give you...more pictures of food. But since I like you so much, you lucky so-and-so, I'll tell you what's happening too. How's that for busy and lazy!

I've discussed with several people lately how much I love cooking, baking, and preparing food with friends. Good activity, amazing company, and a satisfying result at the end. When else am I this productive with friends, I ask you? Sarah and I threw together last year's Nude Year's party on a whim and had the best time putting together appetizers and Nutella-banana empanadas. Sara, Layla, and I always had a great time preparing the spread for the Halloween parties, even though it was hours and hours of work. And I'll always appreciate that some of my favorite dates have been making dinner with a charming young man. Or a not so charming young man...in fact, on a few occasions, I think I liked making the dinner a lot more than I liked the man. Whoops a daisy!

Last night was the perfect example of this. One of my best and dearest friends, Tara, came to town, and had the brilliant idea of making sushi at her parents' house, which I'd never done before. Don't worry, though; although I'm a crappy student, Tara is a wonderful teacher. We had a wonderful time, putting together the rolls and gossiping about work, men, the future, and The Glee Project. Yep, we sure did. I got a lot of avocado on my camera whilst obsessively documenting. That was grody. But, hey, sexy results below, right? This is, by no means, a recipe, but more so a step-by-step guide on how to have an awesome time while making sushi.

First, you need a lovely friend and a bright and well-equipped kitchen. Thanks, Linda and Clay!

Next, you cut up whatever vegetables you want to include. Try and make them thin and long, and somewhat uniform.

We used carrots, cucumber, avocado, and tofu.

Linda, Tara's mom, had made sticky rice the day before, which shortened the process. Though, it still took us over two hours. Wah wah!

Tara cooked the tofu - you just dry fry it in a nonstick pan until it browns.

Hay, ingredients!

Sometimes people look a little sexy when they cook.

And sometimes people need to buckle down and focus and get back to work. That's right, Tschillard. Tighten it up.

Tara and Linda.

The assembly: Separate the rice a bit in your fingers and spread a layer over a sheet of seaweed. Then include whatever ingredients you want in that roll. We used all of them in this one.

This was the green roll: just cucumber and avocado. Texture-wise, this was my favorite.

Once you've got all the ingredients in, you roll them up and seal the end of the seaweed with a little bit of water. We made eight rolls total.

You need a sharp knife to cut through the rolls, otherwise they fall apart, or as Tara, said "explode." Wow, Tara, how dramatic!

This is one end of a roll, which looks a bit uneven, but you get the idea.

This is how many pieces we had. I bet we could make some great food bets and challenges with these!

Carrot, cucumber, and avocado rolls.

On the table. Good presentation is important, you know.

On the plate with a little soy sauce and wasabi mixed in.

I have to say, making sushi is the perfect activity for somebody with slight touches of OCD: you get to cut up vegetables uniformly and tiny, you make a huge mess that you get to eventually roll up into a neat little seaweed package, you get to arrange the ingredients by color, texture, and food group, you get to wash your hands numerous times...seriously, it's perfect.

We had a lovely evening of cooking and preparing food, then sharing it with Tara's parents and their friend. Tara also made these delicious truffles for dessert, but obviously I forgot to take any pictures of that. None. Maybe it was because I was so distracted by making the sushi. Or, maybe it was the fact that Linda made me three or four of these and I sort of forgot about anything else that wasn't a margarita:
Don't you love it when your friend's mom gets you liquored up? Classy times!

P.S. There was a widespread rumor (started by myself and Linda), that sushi and margaritas don't go together well, but we were proven wrong last night! You just need to get in two to three margaritas you before you have any sushi to make it work. Don't worry, you'll be great.

Restaurant Week Summer 2011 - 43 North

2011-07-27T00:03:00.000-05:00

Guess what! I'm not feeling too wordy lately. So, here are some pictures from 43 North during Restaurant Week:

"Amuse bouche." Jess says, "Well, I'm amused!" Come on, man, that's FUNNY. It was also sort of greasy, and I don't remember what it was. Sorry.

Bread with European butter and olive oil powder. Food is complicated sometimes.

Watercress Salad: Pineapple, goat cheese and hazelnut.

Chilled Tomato Soup: Pressed melon, salsa verde and olive oil

Bounty of Vegetables: Truffle spaetzel, malt, barley and hazelnut. Hahahaha! BOUNTY!!!

Game Hen: Gnocchi, wild mushrooms, sorrel and mustard caramel.

Benedictine Cheese: Carr Valley, shallot fig conserve and red quinoa cracker.

Tamarind: Passion Fruit, cilantro and coconut

There were a couple of delicious vodka drinks. And they gave out a $20 off dinner coupon, so yes, I will go back.

There is a Farmers Market Across the Street

2011-07-26T17:06:00.005-05:00

And there's a lazy lady who can't remember to charge her camera battery and is subsequently using her cell phone for all pictures these days.

This Is How We Do It (Kentucky Road Trip & Wedding in 48 Hours)

2011-07-25T23:36:00.001-05:00

This is how we get our nails did. And this is how we pick out shoes to wear in the car.

This is how we pack the car. Fancy clothes and hats everywhere.

This is how my father sets up an office in the backseat and works for 6 hours of the 7 hour drive. Included: paper clips, manilla folders, and a stapler.

This is how I get through the morning - three cups of Bob Evans coffee.

This is how Dad manages to eat healthy even whilst on the open road.

This is how we have a late afternoon snack in the hotel bar once we arrive.

This is how we coordinate without planning and walk around intimidating all the men in the room.

This is how we turn the rehearsal dinner into a dance party.

This is how we...um...this is just how some of us are.

This is how we rock a rehearsal dinner after party.

This is how we eat breakfast the next morning. And this is how food can be helpful when some of us are feeling the effects of the after party.

This is how we run into dear old friends by chance.

This is how we put on our wedding makeup while still in the bed.

This is how we wear our shoes.

This is how lovely they are.

This is how we drink at a wedding. Plus fifty or more.

This is how we dance at a wedding.

This is how the Mother of the Groom brought enough bellydancing scarves for the whole crowd.

This is how he does it.

This is how she does it.

And this is how we end the night.
This is how we do it.

Italy #5: The Photo Series

2011-07-14T16:32:00.006-05:00

You know what happens when you go through all 900 or so pictures from your trip to Ireland and Italy? You get a little dizzy and you see a lot of colors that probably aren't there. But also, you start to notice some common trends. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves this time, because...well, you'll see. Words would take away from the wonder, I think.

Photo Series #1: Throwing a coin into the Trevi Fountain.

Photo Series #2: Dad using his arms (or foot) to show how big things are.

I am my father's daughter.

Photo Series #3: Dad admires food on the street.

I think that's all I have to say.

Italy #4: Gnocchi

2011-06-09T22:30:00.000-05:00

I learned to pronounce it in Italian class in 2000. Domenic Vecchi was in that class, lovely Domenic. A shy, skinny, and modest Greek god-looking guy. I stared at him a lot. Vecchi means "old" in Italian; you pronounce the C twice and make a hard C sound, like a K, due to the "ch." VEK-KI. NYOK-KI. Double C. Chi.

On our first night in Florence, we have a long and confusing walk to the restaurant for dinner. Miscommunication and misdirection lead us to a much longer walk than necessary, as well as extreme hunger, which automatically brings about aggravation and short patience in my family. And we've been together for twelve days straight and have four more days together. In order to still like each other and enjoy one another's company in this beautiful city, we're gonna need to eat some food. Some delicious food. Now.

Long story short, we finally get to Buca Mario and I order the gnocchi. Hard C sound. The menu says that it's served with a gorgonzola sauce. That's it. No meat, no vegetables, no side, just a heavy, creamy sauce on top of small dumplings on a plate. That is what I want, so that is what I order. And this is what I receive:

The sauce coats every piece perfectly without being overbearing. And it's rich - so rich. Not overly cheesy, but plenty flavorful. I have no idea what this gnocchi is made of, whether potato, wheat flour, bread, or something else. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I can take one single gnocchi in my mouth and stretch it over my tongue like bubble gum, but softer and savory and more delicious than any stupid piece of gum could ever dream of being. And at the point at which the bubble should inflate, the gnocchi simply melts. This is how I eat each piece.

And I fall in love. With the gnocchi, the waiter, the restaurant, with Florence. In love with all of it.

So, I guess it's easier than I thought. Just catch me while I'm crabby and hungry, then serve me gorgonzola gnocchi, and I'll belong to you forever.

Well, it might help if we're in Florence. But it's probably worth a try.

Italy #3: Haikus for the Men

2011-06-07T22:53:00.007-05:00

Both my sister and my friend Miriam write haikus pretty often. And although they've never been my forte, I've been hearing some in my head as we've walked around Rome these past few days. A warning in advance: YIKES.

1. Curly dark brown hair,
Kind of like an Arab guy
But less like my Dad,

2. Walking with purpose,
Your pants fit you really well.
Appreciated.

3. Casual yet so
together. Suit jacket with
jeans. Very well done!

4. Marriage proposal
from the hotel's cute doorman.
Considering it.

5. Haikus about men.
What is Rome doing to me?
Feel like such a gal...

Italy #2: Bones

2011-06-06T16:07:00.004-05:00

I am a big fan of the weird things. Or like...weird touristy things, I should say. Once when BFF Sarah and I visited my sister in Atlanta (for Spring Break 2000, mind you), we drove all the way to Marietta, about 40 minutes away, just to take some pictures with a giant chicken that was part of a KFC. We drove there, took some pictures, got back in the car, and drove back to Atlanta. Why not?

And another time when I was in Atlanta, my sister and I drove to Dahlonega, GA (about a 65 mile trip, one way) to see a zedonk. Yep, a zedonk; half zebra, half donkey. Sara had read an article about it, see, and so since we had a day free, we really didn't have any other choice. I mean, come on guys! Zedonk! The Chestatee Wildlife Preserve was one of the weirdest places I've ever been, but that's another story for another blog entry that doesn't fall in the middle of my Italy series. To summarize, this zedonk was crazy. It was like a regular donkey with tall, zebra-striped legs. And we drove for over two hours that day to see it. Yep.

Whenever people visit me in Madison, some of my favorite places to go include Dr. Evermore's, home of the Forevertron, The Mustard Museum, and the awesome optical illusion of the Capital that you can see from just south of Monona Bay. And although I've still never been to the taxidermy museum in a funeral home (which includes squirrels in various poses and situations), I have big plans to go very soon. Big plans.

I guess I've always loved stuff like this because it's a little funny, or maybe you could even say it's "off the beaten path." That's what people say, right? In fact, I enjoy scouring this one website, Roadside America, to find more hilarious and unusual sights. But today, every "strange" thing I've ever seen fell into the background. Want to know why? Because today we visited a church in Rome that was decorated with the bones of monks. Hundreds of thousands of monk bones.

For real.

We got to the Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini Church at about 9 am, right as they were opening. We went directly to the lower level which holds the Capuchin Crypt. This is where one will find the bones. It is believed that over 4000 bodies, mostly those of friars, were brought to this church over a period of about 350 years, between 1528 and 1870. The soil on the ground of the crypt was brought to Rome from Jerusalem, and the bones were arranged to decorate six separate rooms in the crypt, each with a different name, and seemingly, a theme:

Crypt of the Resurrection
The Mass Chapel
Crypt of the Skulls
Crypt of the Pelves
Crypt of the Leg Bones and Thigh Bones
Crypt of the Three Skeletons

We stood in awe next to these rooms, jaws dropped and eyebrows raised, silent and a teensy bit horrified. But mostly in awe. My father began naming the bones we saw, which I know sounds a little funny, but it really wasn't at that moment. It just made it all more real. He was incredulous, looking up at the ceiling and pointing out individual bones, identifying them quietly, and assisting us in making the connection that, yes, these bones come from bodies. Human bodies - thousands of them. In each of the six rooms and in the hallway connecting them, there were ceiling borders made of the flat pelvic bones and hanging lamps made of vertebrae. Long, narrow femurs were arranged to look like flowers and rib bones were attached together on the ceiling to create decorative stars. We weren't allowed take pictures, so these are from National Geographic and some travel sites.

And the skulls. Oh my god, the skulls. One small area contained probably about 400-500 skulls. They were stacked on top of each other in one area, three wide and eleven high, to make an outlined space. On either side of these columns, more skulls were stacked, but randomly, with neck bones between them to fill the empty space.

In the last small room, The Crypt of the Three Skeletons, one full skeleton hung from the ceiling. In one hand, it carried the scales of justice. In the other, a scythe, which is the tool of the Grim Reaper. Death. And yes, everything, the scales, the scythe, everything, was made from more bones. And underneath the hanging skeleton, a quote:

En Italiano: « Noi eravamo quello che voi siete, e quello che noi siamo voi sarete. »

In English: "What you are now we used to be; what we are now you will be..."

This place was crazy. It was both chilling and fascinating, leaving me with a weirdly desperate feeling in my stomach - desperate to get out, and soon after, desperate to go back in. This is one of the strangest and most memorable touristy things I've ever done. I mean, The Mustard Museum is great and all, but cannot even hold a candle to the Monk Bones Church. Not even close.

Italy #1: How I Got Here

2011-06-05T14:52:00.007-05:00

The first time I came to Italy, it was 1997 and I was 18 years old. My parents, Emil, and I were visiting Amu Jamil, one of Dad's oldest and best friends from Baghdad, and his family. They were, at the time, living in the south of France in a small town near Nice. Jamil and his family were very spontaneous; one morning one of them got it in their head that we should drive into Italy. So we did.

Our goal was to get to Florence, but we only got as far as Portofino and Santa Margherita (of the Pinot Grigio fame) that night. Point A is Nice, Point B is where we ended up, and Point C is where we were trying to go. Whoops a daisy!
We stayed in a hotel overlooking the sea and ate delicious food and drank chianti, and my father and Amu Jamil had their arms around each other at all times singing "Forget Domani" over and over and laughing and smiling. It was two days of pure letting go, forgetting anxiety and troubles, eating and drinking deliciously, and literally, not having a care in the world.

The second time I came to Italy, it was 2001 and I was 22. I'd just finished my undergrad and traveled to Urbino to do a 3-week long piano study. I hooked up with Lauren, a 19 year old classical pianist from Boulder, and Matt, and 18 year old composer from Janesville. The three of us were inseparable for those three weeks.

Every morning we woke up leisurely and walked the two miles into town. The town center was located at the top of an immense and steep hill; there was even the option of paying three euros to take an elevator - that was built into the side of the mountain - to the top. But we always walked. It was like an incredible reward every day, trekking along the busy street outside our dorms in a single-file line, climbing that giant hill, and as we approached the top, taking in the beautiful Renaissance architecture, smelling the espresso wafting from the cafés, and watching the well-dressed citizens go about their business. This is a cell phone picture of a printed picture - see if you can see the steepness of the path in the way back of the picture.

We had a pretty regular daily routine: we'd buy coffee and pastries at a little shop on the Piazza, and then head over to the University to practice and have lessons.
After a few hours, Matt and I usually stopped for a slice of pizza in town, eating it sitting on the curb or standing against a building. We'd then walk back to our dorm rooms, back down the hill, for siesta. Lauren and I were roommates, and we'd lay around talking about boyfriends and love and stuff for hours. After siesta, we'd walk back into town, get a gelato, and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in our Master Class. We always had to wash our hands in this half-broken and I'm sure ancient fountain outside the school between gelato and class. Some nights after class, we'd go back to the University for dinner in their cafeteria where we sampled delicious gnocchi and fresh vegetables and cheese. Other nights, we splurged, staying in town and finding a little restaurant for dinner. Our standard order:

Una bottaglia di vino di casa rosso - tre bicchiere - e una prosciutto e melone, e una pizza margherita.

It's the only thing I still feel completely comfortable saying in Italian. We had long, slow meals and drank wine late into the night, talking and laughing and learning about each other. Occasionally, we'd head over to a table at the Piazza and sit and watch people, sipping on limoncello or cappuccino or more wine.

We took a day trip to Venice, where we spent a few hours walking over canals and flirting with beautiful men passing by. I remember watching a gondola float under a bridge I was standing on. In it was a man belting out a song I couldn't identify, but knew I'd heard out of the mouth of Pavarotti (via my parents' old records). I couldn't believe it was actually happening right in front of my eyes. The man in white in the first gondola is the singing man.
Leaving Italy, we flew out of the Rome airport at about 4 am. I remember looking longingly at the black sky and hoping some day to come back. It had been a 3-week journey through food, drink, music, and people. It was luxurious and lovely.

And I did come back. The third time I came to Italy was yesterday. It was another long and annoying journey, as has been the case on this current trip. We'd driven two hours from Fethard to Dublin, flown 2 1/2 hours from Dublin to Frankfort, then ran for over half a mile through the stupidly gigantic Frankfort airport in an attempt to make our connecting flight. Although I ran more and faster than I have in about 20 years, we missed our flight.

Thankfully, we rebooked and were in Rome about 3 hours later. But I was on edge; sick of traveling and flying anxiety, exhausted and hungry, desperately needing alone time and probably a shower. Rough start to this beautiful country I have come to love so much. But within about five minutes of being in Rome, we passed a man in the street playing an accordion and singing, and these other things just started to melt away. After about an hour of rest and some cold water splashed on faces, we ventured out for dinner. It was a small restaurant down the road from our hotel with tables crowded next to each other and signed pictures on the wall of all the famous people who had eaten there. Most of the pictures featured the owner of the restaurant kissing the famous ladies on the cheek - but I did spot one of him kissing Burt Reynolds as well.

We ate prosciutto and melon, caprese salad, and deliciously fried artichokes.

We each ordered a different pasta and sampled each others'.

Dad ordered gelato to split at the end of the meal. Ridiculously decadent. Today we toured parts of Rome and Vatican City, then ate pizza and a meat antipasto for lunch (eat your heart out, Delicious Food!). Now we're back at the hotel for siesta and the window is open to let in a slight breeze that gently moves the sheer curtains, as well as the voice of an invisible man singing somewhere outside. And somebody practicing their flute.

It all feels so unreal, even when right in front of me. This country that has me smiling all day, the people who somehow get by on spending their days leisurely drinking espresso on the street or eating the most delicious food that exists. Spontaneous singing and accordion playing. Not to get all Eat Pray Love on your ass or anything, but really, this country is unlike any other - it emphasizes pleasure, luxury, relaxation, happiness. It really seems too good to be true, but then you remember, no. We're right here, and it's real, and that guy is seriously singing O Solo Mio. Believe it.

Dearest Italy, are you for real? Regardless, thank you, and good timing. I needed a little fantasy world in my life right now. And I cannot wait to write about the fourth time I came to Italy. And the fifth. And so on.

Ireland #5: Immediate and Immense

2011-06-01T00:34:00.001-05:00

We were invited to Ashling's (Ian's fiance) parents' house for dinner tonight, just two days before the wedding. Never before have I met a family so identical to mine back in Chicago...

Your drink is mysteriously kept full all night without you seeing. There's more than enough food for everybody in the house, plus more for anybody who happens to stop by last minute. A boyfriend shows up late after his football game, and within no time, has taken a shower and has a warm plate of food in front of him. The neighbors are invited in. Everybody is obviously welcome.

The kitchen is the spot for action. Bustling. Plates going in and out of the oven, the dishwasher, the fridge. Smells you can't identify but love anyway. People getting in each others' way and laughing. Way too many cooks in the kitchen, and thank goodness for that because these are some of the best cooks you'll ever know.

We sit around, talking across tables, talking across the whole room, yelling over one another, until there's an unspoken, spontaneous decision to listen to one person. People sit, hearing each other's stories, sipping tea and booze, learning our own history from each other. My father tells the story of the first time he met my mother's parents (special treat - listen to my parents tell the story here on Storycorps!). Although I have heard the story a million times, I watch the others listening to him, and hear it with whole new ears. I smile and laugh with them, and I look forward to hearing their stories.

Although this is the first time we've ever met, there's a beauty, connection, comraderie that arises immediately. We are family automatically, not by blood or legality, but by love. Immediate and immense love. Just like at home.

To feel so comfortable and so natural right away, I guess it could be partly attributed to the fact that we're pretty easy, socially. Maybe a bit. But really, it's because of the setting, the feel, the energy that this family has created and welcome us into. I did not feel like a stranger. All I felt tonight was joy and happiness and love. That's what they welcomed us with. Their attitudes towards people - us, each other - towards life was so beautiful. A quote from my aunt on the car ride home, after talking about how happy Ian and Ashling and the whole family seemed:

If I'd wish anything on anybody, it'd be that they find happiness. You can get through an awful lot if you just have happiness in your life.

What a beautiful way to think and to live. Thank you, Mary Kenrick.

Two days later we celebrated the marriage of Ashling and Ian. We ate and drank and talked and laughed and danced for 12 hours straight; well, some of us for 15 hours straight, but I didn't make it that far. I did shots with cousins I didn't even know I had. There was no "her family" and "his family," just our family.

At some point late into the night, I spotted Ashling's sister Tracy running up to Sara and I in her yellow bridesmaids dress, yelling something about a dance we had to do. Laughing, I let myself be pulled to the dance floor and paired up with Christy, one of the guys who carried our bags on our first night, and found myself in the middle of a traditional Irish line dance. As I trip over my own feet, trying desperately to learn the steps, I watch my two great-aunts, both in their 80s, dance like pros on the dance floor. I see old men, my uncles and aunts, teenagers, Ashling's and Ian's friends, all dancing, laughing, singing along. "My god," I think, "it's just like Chicago."

I leave Ireland a day later with so much love in my heart; for my new family, for my old family, for Ian and Ashling, and for love itself. Love for the sake of love. This? This was a damn good trip.

Ireland #4:Crazy Lady Night

2011-05-31T01:06:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure what night it's been on the past few trips, but on this one, it was night three. Monday night. Though we've been out of the house all day and for much of the night, we still get a bit stir crazy. This is just what happens here. There is always the initial Crazy Lady Nights, especially when my sister and I are there together.

At about 11:30 pm, after all the visitors have come and gone and I've drank as many cups of tea as my bladder can handle, we start to settle down - we put up our feet and turn on the television. Lo and behold - Working Girl is on. A million props to Working Girl, because on this night, it is officially the best movie ever made.

I cannot explain television in Ireland. One night you'll find yourself trying to get tired, so you turn on the TV and miraculously catch an episode of True Blood at 10 pm, followed by an episode of Blind Date, followed by America's Next Top Model. Brilliant. The next night, you'll come downstairs fighting insomnia and jet lag with the small glimmer of excitement; based on what you watched last night, at least you'll see some awesome entertainment. But no - it's an episode of Becker, followed by a documentary about sailboats, followed by a Bosnian singing competition. It's so random. And this is why catching a movie like Working Girl, from the beginning of the whole movie, is a special treat. One more point about the strangeness of Irish television - they were showing the same movie on a different channel, but it had started fifteen minutes later. There ya go.

Back to Working Girl. Sara and I had a ball. We cackled at Joan Cusack's hair and makeup and Melanie Griffith's lingerie. And Sigourney Weaver - what a nasty bitch! And of course, any and every version of "Let the River Run" is played throughout the whole glorious movie, putting it in our heads for at least the next 48 hours.

After the movie is over, we creep upstairs and settle into our beds, gushing over what a great film it was. Right when I feel like my eyes might be getting tired and sleep could be near, which is a rare and beautiful thing during the first few nights in Ireland, Sara decides she wants to try and sing me her favorite lyric from the theme song. I say "try" because she's never actually able to sing the complete line. Why, you ask? Well, because as she attempts to sing, she's doubled over with laughter. Mostly because this is the lyric:

Come run with me now,
The sky is the color of blue
You've never even seen
In the eyes of your lover.

You see, in this moment, this is the funniest thing to ever happen, ever in life. And maybe nobody will understand that, and maybe it's not even that funny in retrospect, but in that moment, in this tiny room on the 3rd floor of a crazy, skinny house with my parents sleeping a floor beneath us, it is insanely hilarious. And we're both in our 30s and on a family vacation with our parents and sleeping in single twin beds barely a foot apart from each other and have hardly eaten any vegetables for days and we're now completely hysterical. Over nothing. We can barely breathe, tears are streaming down our faces, and we are trying to stay quiet so as to not wake our folks, so what comes out of our mouths sounds like a wheezing, heaving, messy, snorty, guffaw.

This is Crazy Lady night. The night where the most assinine things are the funniest, where our stomachs ache not just from the lack of vegetables, but from the giggling as well, where nobody but us would understand. And I love it.

Ireland #3: Me Mudder, Da Tour Guide

2011-05-30T21:08:00.003-05:00

"I can't remember what I did yesterday, but I remember these little things from over 40 years ago..." - Me Mudder

She is a wealth of local knowledge and history. She'll show you flowers and grottos and creeks and beautiful views no tour guide, book, or map could ever provide. She drives fast and fearlessly down tiny, winding, country roads, making guesses as to turns and directions, and always ends up in the right place.

We pass a monument and gravestone for a famous greyhound named Master McGrath. Yes, for real. I never would have noticed the small landmark had she not pointed it out. She remembers that her father used to stop the car and make the whole family get out to pay their respects to the famous dead dog.

She knows every beautiful little beach on the southern coast of County Waterford and County Tipperary. She knows exactly which turnoffs are worth stopping at, which will provide the best pictures.

It rains nearly every day in Ireland. Today it was pouring as she drove us down the curving roads of the coast. She eyes the blue sky in front of us, past the rain and black clouds. "That's where we're headed; it'll be sunny there," she proclaims. And sure enough, as we pull up to our destination, the sun breaks out and the rain lets up. And we see the most beautiful double rainbow I've ever witnessed.

"Never let the weather keep you from your plans - the rain always stops eventually."

She knows the exact mountain to visit to see the rhodedendrums that are only out for a few weeks of the year. We drive up The Vee (mountain area not far from Fethard) and are suddenly surrounded by the blossoming pink flowers. They're everywhere, above and below and on either side of us.

She tells stories that sound like urban legends; one about a man who was buried standing up on top of a mountain so he'd always enjoy the view. Another about a bottomless lake nestled between two hills. The thing is, these are not just stories. Everybody in Fethard swears that they're true. These stories are passed through the local residents - no tour or book tells you this stuff.

I know I could come to Ireland any time and my family there is constantly telling me to bring friends to visit, but honestly, I'd really miss having my mother as a tour guide. Without the stories, it just wouldn't be the same. They add so much history, interest, and hilarity to the whole experience of being here.

So, in conclusion, if you ever travel to Ireland, you should probably hire my mother to guide you. I promise, it's worth it.

Ireland #2: Two is For Joy

2011-05-29T13:30:00.001-05:00

There is a saying about magpies - the black and white, scrappy-looking scavenger bird that crosses your path randomly in Ireland. Nanny used to say it and my mother repeated it and I had it completely memorized as a teenager. It runs through my head - in my mother's voice - every time I spot one flying in front of the car or swooping from one tree to the next:

One is for sorrow, Two is for joy
Three for a girl, And four for a boy,
Five is for silver, Six is for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.

As my family sits in the living room, drinking tea and catching up, I feel myself zoning out, my mind wandering to the usual places its been going lately - to loss, sadness, so many other things. I cannot focus. Instead of appearing preoccupied, I drift off to the kitchen to do some dishes. To make myself useful. I look out the window. From a tree flies one magpie. One is for sorrow. My mind wanders further. For sorrow. So much sorrow. A word that cannot even describe, yet is so gentle and kind, and in a strange way, a bit perfect.

I feel the tears in my eyes; despite the perfect word, I am just too consumed by what it means. There has been too much sorrow lately, and sometimes I find it difficult to come back up out of it once I start drifting. I'm trying consciously to hold it together and calm down, so I lift my face to the sun that is struggling to push through the clouds and magically, as a beautiful reminder, a second black and white bird appears. A magpie. And I remember: Two is for joy.

For joy.

Ireland #1: We Are Home

2011-05-29T00:30:00.003-05:00

I wrote a ton in Ireland and Italy, and although I wasn't able to publish any blogs because of the lack of technology, I saved 'em all up in a notebook and will publish them over the next couple of weeks.

Perfect timing is rolling up to Burke St. (after a 7 hour flight followed by a 2 hour layover followed by a 2 hour flight followed by a 2 1/2 hour drive) and within seconds of stepping out of the car, hearing a familiar voice screaming "Lou!" (my mom's name in Ireland, pronounced like LEW). "Cuz! Hey cuz!" It's Ian, wonderful cousin Ian, who is getting married in five days. He is accompanied by two men who are each carrying a bag of freshly fried chips and cradling them to their chests as if they were holding babies. The three are trashed, smiling and laughing, and a beautiful sight for my bleary, dry, and yes, sore eyes. So happy these guys were here to meet us.

Ian embraces me and lifts me off the ground as he launches into his lightning-fast and often hard to understand exclamations about how he's nearly shitting himself about the upcoming wedding. He offers to help with our bags, and he and his friends go ahead and carry our suitcases up the narrow staircase of my great-grandmothers house; 13 steps to the second floor, 13 more to the third, on a staircase no wider than 2 1/2 feet. I hear MJ (who I will soon learn is "the funny one") shouting "how many fecking floors does this fecking house have?!" He nicknames it Fawlty Towers.

At this point, it's about 12:15 am and we hear a knock on the window of the first floor living room. It's Ian's father, my uncle Michael, who "heard something" (i.e. his son screaming in the street) from his house three doors up the road. Everybody is chatting, laughing, hugging, offering tea. MJ asks if we need a trip to the pub. I look around at the bright faces and smiles and I feel my heart surge - I know we are home.

This is Ian. Love you, Cuz!

Aaaaannnd this is MJ and Christie, the bag-carriers:

Appreciations #1: Jeremi Blowfish

2011-05-20T12:40:00.001-05:00

So I started writing this in early February, before Alex died, before my grandfather died...of course. Brains might be psychic sometimes, I don't know. Anyhow, I thought this would be a good one to finish, and hopefully continue the plan in the future.

It may be because I can't sleep and my brain is being a crazy person right now and not leaving me alone to lay down and breathe and sleep. Or it may be because I've been thinking about doing this for a couple of months now. Either way, I think it's time to throw around a little recognition. So...a bit morbid, yes, but maybe we need to be writing eulogies (or do I need a different word?) for people we love and care about while they're still alive. Hear me out. I'm trying, really trying, to be vocally loving and thankful to people in my life for what they've done, how they've affected me (or others or anything or the world), the beautiful little things they bring to life. I wish we did this all the time. I wish it was a part of every day life. Maybe even some sort of rule. Maybe one to live by. We need to appreciate more out loud, recognize the amazing people in our lives, and tell them. And tell everybody. So, my new project is to tell you all about some of the remarkable people I've had in my life, to share some appreciation for those people, and to tell stories about them so even more people know.

But at first I wasn't quite sure where to start; it all felt a little random and overwhelming. So, since I haven't talked this person in a really long time (but, of course, have connected on facebook recently) and I really do appreciate him, AND I've been hearing a lot of Rammstein lately, I thought I'd start here. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...Jeremi Blowfish!

When she was in high school, my sister had a job at a camera store in Glenview, IL, where we grew up. She worked with mostly creepy older men, but there was one person there close to her age. This was Jeremi. He looked like a cuter version of Silent Bob. He always wore all black, often band t-shirts, and he listened to a lot of industrial music. He worked in the lab at the camera store, developing pictures. He is the most talented photographer I've ever come across in my entire life (have a look around his website here). He started hanging out with Sara, and then with Sara and I, in our parents' basement, as that was pretty much all we were doing in the early-to-mid 90s.
Landscape photo by Jeremi Bialowas

One summer afternoon, Jeremi called into a radio station to request a song (perhaps some Rammstein, Jeremi?) and he told them his full name: Jeremi Bialowas. The DJ, naturally being sort of an ass, was all "Who? Jeremi Blowfish?! What's this?" And thusly, Jeremi Blowfish was born.

Jeremi came to the Spice Girls concert with my cousins, Layla and Lameis, and I. The four of us sat surrounded by a giant field of little girls and their mothers. I think it's safe to assume that Jeremi was one of the only men there, and definitely the only one who hadn't been dragged there by a 7-year-old - yep, he went voluntarily. Behind us was a group of four girls and three moms. Each mom had a girl up on her shoulders in order to see better. One girl was standing on the ground, up on her tiptoes, straining to see. Jeremi, in his heavy accent, said to the mother, "Would you like me to peek up your leetle girl so that she can see thee Spice Girls?" The mom gave Jeremi, the tall, bearded, long-haired man dressed all in black (let's say he was wearing a KMFDM shirt), the once over before deciding, "Sure, why not?" Jeremi held the little girl on his shoulders for the rest of the show. He bobbed up and down and back and forth, holding on to her legs for her safety, while she raised her hands in the air and cheered for the band. Later he said that he didn't mind it at all because it gave him something to do with his hands. He didn't want to stand around with his arms crossed like at all those other shows, you see?

My father's office is full of Jeremi's photographs. I think they're from the Grand Canyon. The pictures are giant and framed and have been hanging on the walls of the office since probably 1996. They set a peaceful scene in the office of the urologist. They provide a calm that might not be present otherwise. Time in the urologist's office can be anxious. I love that those pictures are still there.

When Jeremi was working on a project for one of his photography classes at school, he had an assignment to use a special kind of camera. Please forgive me, Jeremi; I have no idea what it was or what it did. But he asked me to pose at the piano. For several Saturdays in a row, we'd hang out around the piano for about 4-5 hours each time, me sitting, sometimes playing, and Jeremi turning knobs and flipping switches and changing little silver things I had no idea about. He'd say "just play and I'll take pictures when I need to," and I was probably very difficult, being the extremely self-conscious teenager I was at the time, but Jeremi managed to get his shots. When we were done, we'd get these microwave cheeseburgers out of the freezer and eat in front of the television in the family room. We literally spent hours and hours together, and I never got sick of him. He gave my parents one of the prints of me at the piano and they still have it in their house, hanging on the wall right outside their bedroom.

For my high school graduation, Jeremi gave me a picture he took in a cemetery in a north suburb of Chicago. It is a close up picture of the face of a statue, gray and speckled, with a pink flower next to it. He said that when he returned to this place just a couple of days after this picture was taken, the statue had been demolished and it looked like it had never been there. Sort of magical, if you ask me. Well, that's Jeremi Blowfish for you. Sort of magical. Also? He gave me a limited edition Barbie (Prom or Princess or something) for that graduation. Yep. Magical.

And so, let us recognize, and let us appreciate Jeremi Blowfish. I'm extremely appreciative for his strong musical influence in my life, as well as his artistic influence which majorly helped feed my love for photography, and the fact that he'd totally take me to Denny's any time. Do you even know how cool I felt, Jeremi, driving late at night, windows open, hanging out with the cool older kids? Do you even know?? Damn. Jeremi now works in the Chicagoland area as a photographer and teacher, so maybe you should call him up for your next photography-related need, eh? He'll do great photography and make you feel cool. What a combination!

Thanks for reading, readers! Let's continue to appreciate often and loudly. If anybody else wants to jump in on this, I'd love a guest writer or two! Let me know. xo

Love/Hate/Internet

2011-05-19T23:42:00.000-05:00

You know what? Sometimes I really hate the internet. When I've had my fill of Wisconsin politics and have already put a limit on how many articles I'm allowed to read, it sucks me back in and makes me read a zillion more. It's just too easy - a few words and an easy link, and they're right there! Stupid internet.

And god, reading people's reactions to Bin Laden's death that night - it made me feel sick. Anybody can say anything they want on the internet. Faceless, shameless people, being awful, and it's all allowed. Peace, gentleness, being a human; it all disappears on the internet. Gross.

And of course. I just lost one of my best and oldest friends, and it's all over the internet. He's sorta famous, see, and if I wanted to, I could read countless articles and posts and tributes and lies about him. It's exhausting, just trying not to read these things, let alone just knowing they're out there, existing, for the whole world to read.

But of course, it's not all bad. Because then there's a beautiful little moment. Like when you're so sad that you'll never hear his voice again, never hear his amazing laugh again...but then you find out this little gem exists:

Much thanks to Miss Amie for telling me about this video. Ridiculous and smiling and tears. I mean come on - that laugh! I love that laugh, and I love that other people get to hear it now. Well then, thank you, internet. You've redeemed yourself a teensy bit.

New Glarus Two Women: Our First Ever Joint Blog

2011-04-30T15:08:00.016-05:00

Recognize these two? No, you say? Oh, that's just us, Sarah and Reem, out for some beers at the New Glarus Brewery on a beautiful, sunny day. If you've met us before, you probably know that we cause quite a scene wherever we go, and today was no different. In fact, we were such a hit today at the brewery that they created and named a beer after us! It's called, duh, Two Women. Two fine women, I might add!
We found ourselves in the Tasting Room of the New Glarus Brewery. As you can see, there were a lot of white people here.
Thanks for setting the stage, Reem. In the tasting room we each got a wrist band with 3 tickets attached, each for a "taste". Quite a deal - $3.50 for 3-3oz. glasses. And you get to keep the glass!
Our first sample was Cabin Fever, a honey Bock. It is brewed with Wisconsin barley along with European hops. I found it to be a light, crisp, pleasant lager. Reem noted, "The mouthfeel is nosy. I detect hints of honey and Bock."
Here we have Sarah looking adorable and knowledgeable, taking notes on the various beers we sampled.
And here's me, being a total jerk.
Like I said before, New Glarus Two Women. I imagine this is the moment at which the official brewers decided they needed to document this magnificent day by way of alcohol. Good choice, brewers!
Here we are 'sitting in our storm, drinking a toast to the slim chance of love's recovery'. Whoops, there may have been some Indigo Girls on at some point. Anyways, our next selection was Moon Man- a Pale Ale, and Fat Squirrel - a nut brown ale.
The Moon Man was delicious. New Glarus's description is funny - the "bold blend of five hops flirt obligingly with the smooth malty backside". But it's true!! Hey Sarah - THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!
I suppose I'm being pensive about this one. And enjoying its tasty citrus hops and well-balanced character.
There they are! Moon Man on the left, Fat Squirrel on the right.
Reem was not so much a fan of the Fat Squirrel. Me neither. Generally brown ales are a little boring to me. It had a strong caramel maltiness to it; and is described as having hazelnut notes.
But, as Reem wrote, "Sarah said all this stuff about hazelnuts and caramel. So I was expecting dessert. I was thusly surprised and disappointed to discover that it just tasted like beer."

Okay, so our last two were the Golden Ale: R & D Edition and the Wisconsin Belgian Red Cherry Ale. The Golden Ale was a limited edition, but you can get the cherry one anytime. Sarah wrote about the ale: "slightly strong, soap-y, spices." Well, at least I think she wrote that; her writing is atrocious! JK, guys. We're still BFF. Here's what I wrote: "It smells like one thing and tastes like a different thing. Also, I didn't think about soap until Sarah said 'soap,' so now all I can taste is soap. Thanks a lot, Sarah."
The cherry ale, on the other hand, was pretty delicious and completely non-soapy! Sarah's words: "Gorgeous. Red head. Cherries. Tart. Friendship." I couldn't agree more, Sarah! My words: "Now you're talkin'! Sarah is being a TOTAL nerd right now. Oh man."
After enjoying our samples we explored the brewery. They had bowls of hops and malts. One could smell and touch. Perhaps even taste, if one was to be that bold.
Reem smelling the nuggets of hop goodness.
The outside of the brewery is real pretty.
There was a beer store. We made some purchases.
There were also some funny signs up around the brewery. You know, about things like yeast. And there were some cute gentlemen working. We noticed that Sarah was really interested in the beers and I was really interested in the BOYS! Am I right, gals?!?!?!
Giant bottle cap! Wah Wah.
This is a true fact.

Overall, this was a fun visit to a fantastic Wisconsin brewery. And yes we scored the beers.

Sarah: Reem:

Cabin Fever: B Cabin Fever: Pass (at least it didn't fail)

Moon Man: A Moon Man: A+++

Fat Squirrel: B- Fat Squirrel: F-

Golden Ale: C Golden Ale: F-

WI Belgian Red: A+ WI Belgian Red: A++++

Joy and Sorrow

2011-04-26T17:49:00.002-05:00

I found this half-completed blog entry from a few weeks ago - I'd found myself in the throes of the craziness of Wisconsin politics and apparently jotted this down. I can't help but see the relevance to where I am - mentally, emotionally, physically - at this moment. Specifically the Joy and Sorrow part. The Prophet is one of my favorite books, and this is my favorite chapter. I really do believe it.

From 3/15/11
Has anybody else been feeling totally heightened lately? In so many ways. Like, tiny little things make me burst with happiness and joy. The sun was out an extra hour yesterday and I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. But the heartbreaking things - ugh, so heartbreaking. Everything is deeper than usual.

Things in Wisconsin have been just that: deeper. In my attempts to explain to non-Wisconsinites what's happening here, I doubt that I've been clearly articulating how intense it's been over the last 30 days. The good and positive things have been amazing, making me laugh hysterically while sitting in my car by myself at a red light. The opposite end of the spectrum has left me broken and weeping at times, feeling helpless and lost. It has all been so huge.

I hate politics. I really do. But when things like this happen, you can't help but be involved. You stop avoiding potentially volatile and confrontational conversations. Your neutrality and evenness shed away as you open your eyes and come alive. There is no more neutral or numb or medium. There is high and low everything, huge and giant everything.

I need to remind myself of the lesson behind the "Joy and Sorrow" chapter of The Prophet by Khalil Gibran: that one's joys can only be as deep as one's sorrows. That one is made from the other. That they are interchangeable.

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

-Khalil Gibran

Respite in Austin

2011-04-21T23:28:00.007-05:00

Thankful for music and animals and tons of coffee and love and beautiful friends. Wonderful, amazing friends.

Most pictures borrowed from fifty acorns.

The Day I Will Remember

2011-04-11T22:21:00.012-05:00

When so many of the days are heartbreaking and painful and unbelievable and helpless, maybe what you have to do at a time like this is remember a different day. And so, I choose to remember this one, just less than a year ago...

We drove from Madison to North Freedom, Wisconsin on a perfect day. Sunny, some clouds, cool enough, but the air was still warm. Windows open, listening to a mix of 80s hair metal at top volume. Your hand rested on the open window as you stared out, gazing at nothing, peaceful.

We spent the afternoon with scrap metal sculptures and caterpillars and a slight breeze. We examined metal birds made from musical instruments. We stood in a cage containing a giant and ancient cash register. We decided how much money we'd have to be paid to eat one of those fuzzy caterpillars. You said you'd do it for $50. We laughed so much.

We drove without a map or directions, somehow happening upon the ferry that took us across a tiny lake. We ate homemade ice cream that we bought from a stand on the side of the road and watched the water move gently beneath the boat.

We stayed in that evening, resting on the couch, and you were you for awhile and I was me and we were us, just us, like we'd been when we were kids, just tiny teenagers who knew nothing of our own troubles and traumas, who didn't care about anything but laughing and talking and being young and alive. For that day, we were back to who we'd been - there was no wrestling and there was no mental illness, just for that day. There was just you, and you were just Alex.

I have loved you with all of my heart since I was 17 years old, and I will always love you. This was not the world, this was not the life, that you were meant for. I will now just hope and pray that your head has calmed and your soul is resting. You are in my heart forever, Alex.

The High Points

2011-03-28T20:26:00.011-05:00

So, guess what. I was really really sick on my birthday this year. It started on the night of my birthday party. I pre-gamed by napping, drinking the ever-disgusting Throat Coat tea, throwing up, taking a really hot bath, laying on the couch under a blanket shivering, throwing up again, and then wearily putting on some really cute glittery shoes. I lasted about 35 minutes at my own party before the wonderful Jess drove me home. Wah wah! Then, the sickness pretty much subsided by the day after my actual birthday. BO-RING, universe!!! Sucks to you! Thanks for nothing! Other slogans!!! I really was bummed because, honestly, I love my birthday and I love having fun birthdays, and this year it just really wasn't an option. Aww, sad.

But!!! Through a combination of a conversation with my sister in which I explained my pre-gaming, and an email from my friend Arvin which said "What's the best thing you did today?" I was inspired to just get past it, let this birthday go, hope for better next year, and, duh, write a blog about it. The subject of the blog? The High Points of my birthday, of course. I mean, that is the title. Come on, guys. Get it together.

Here are some of the great and hilarious things that came about because of my birthday and/or me being sick:

When you're insanely congested, you should probably cut dairy out of your diet - it'll help. Well, I've been meaning to try a week or ten days without dairy anyhow to see how I feel, so here you go! I'm on Day Five and, although I know I'm skewed because of being sick, I'm pretty sure I'll be feeling the effects soon! So, thanks, congestion, for getting me started on my temporary non-dairy!
When you're sick, sometimes you get delirious. When I received a Happy Birthday text from a friend who also told me his wife is expecting, my intended text back was to read "When is she due?" Instead, I typed "WHen she dUe!" I dunno, that was pretty funny to me.
I learned from my mother at an early age that one of the best things to help with a bad headache is to tie a bandana very tight around your head. So I did that. And every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I laughed because I looked like such a lesbian. Are you happy, Beloit classmates? Are you happy?! P.S. NO PICTURES of this.
I worked a half day on Monday even though I shouldn't have. But, I got to see some of the most hilarious kids. They knew it was my birthday (because their dad saw on facebook) and so they drew me a cake with 1800 or so candles on it. Apparently the dad mentioned that it would be nicer to make the number slightly less, so one of the kids guessed my age and made 20 candles. Aww! (I wish, right gals?! JK) Really though, seeing the kids was the highest point of my birthday. I love 'em.
Since I was home early on Monday, I watched Dancing With the Stars, which I never, ever watch. But hey, Ralph Macchio is on it! And he's still a total babe! My mom thinks he's wearing a rug, though. I'm going to investigate a bit.
The moment I felt well enough to jot down notes for a new blog entry was a definite high point. And, subsequently, the fact that I'm getting in my four blogs per month goal by writing this one. BOOM, universe! Again!
When you are sick and have zero appetite, sometimes good friends like the lovely Genia bring you the only food that you could even imagine eating. Like Pho (yep, pronounced "fuh," Sarah) from Ha Long Bay and a nice, easy Sprite. So delicious. Thanks Genia!

But then, oh man, when you get a slight appetite back, you make yourself a damn peanut butter and jam, and it's the best tasting peanut butter and jam in the entire stupid world. So delicious!

The Birthday Table! Oh, have you not heard of the birthday table? I'm so sorry. It's where you put up all your birthday cards, dude! Here is an example of my sister's Birthday Table from Atlanta, 2009:

And two classy ladies on display along with the table!

So, here's my Birthday Table. Every time I see it, it makes me happy:

Balloons and flower-cake complements of my parents, who met me in Milwaukee on Saturday before my famous pre-game and all that barf. Love!

And then, at the end of it all when you really get your appetite back, you can have a little adventure with this magnificent gift, again from Genia! Also, you may still be a little delirious at this point, so you may laugh way harder at this than others. Just sayin'.

Aww, thanks Genia! And thanks, High Points! And thanks, everybody else who is so wonderful and awesome and made these days passable! I'll totally remember this birthday forever. It can never be all bad. Ever.

Thank You Note in Blog Form

2011-03-25T00:31:00.001-05:00

Um...do any of you know my friend Lia? Holy crap. If you don't, you're missing out. Lia was my partner in crime in several hilarious Madison adventures when she lived here. For starters, she was my synchronized swimming partner in the summer of '05; we practiced in secret - in Lake Monona - to choreograph and learn a synchronized swimming routine to the song "Simply the Best" by Tina Turner. For reals. It included headstands under water! We were so awesome. We invited all our friends and prepared a picnic, and performed our routine pretty wonderfully, if you ask me. Here's the adorable invitation that Lia made (and found recently, and texted to me!):

Another favorite Lia-based adventure was when we were in a French Dip Club with her boyfriend, Elsworth. We'd go to a restaurant, each order a French Dip sandwich (sometimes with fries, sometimes with a side salad), and then rate them. We'd all take a few minutes of silence to write our notes, then discuss and compare our results. We included the price, size, and gave it a grade at the end. I guess we were pretty serious about it. Here's another picture Lia sent me the other day - it's her notes from one of our French Dip meetings:

And, Lia doesn't know this yet, but I also recently found my notes from French Dip Club! Here you go:

Yeah, she also has much nicer writing than I do. She's pretty great.

One of my favorite things about Lia is this one game we play. We play when we're together, over the phone, via text; it's really a game we can play anywhere at any time. The one thing is: You must be familiar with the Ani Difranco catalog. Yep. I said it. I'm outing the two of us. Lia and I both had a very long and extensive Ani Difranco phase. The game, in short, is this: Integrate any Ani Difranco song title into every day conversation. Sounds easy, eh? Well, it is very easy if you're boring. But Lia and I, we're not boring. We're awesome and creative, so the game can be a bit more challenging at times. Here are some of my favorites (this probably won't be funny unless you know Ani well. So, get ready Tara, BFF Sarah, and my sister, and probably nobody else!):

Several game plays have taken place on facebook. Here are some examples:

Reem TaraLia Carman
Wow, I almost missed that one! I definitely had a few eating superheros at my Thanksgiving dinner. They were pretty shameless. By the way, we nearly hit rush hour when we were on our way to my cousins' house. It was a close one, but I guess you end up living some days imperfectly. A few other families joined us at dinner; one mom was there with two little girls. They wanted me to do their nails, but I told them they were cute as is. Also, we played this game on the Wii called Just Dance in which you have to anticipate dance moves - super fun. Even my parents played, which is really out of habit for them! Anyhow, all and all, it was a great celebration of gratitude, and I'm happy to be the joyful girl that I am.
Sincerely, Fanny.
November 26, 2010 at 10:09am · ·
- Lia Carman likes this
Lia CarmanReem Tara
I got on my wii fit this morning after a delicious Thanksgiving meal yesterday. The results were not good. You don't know how sorry I am about my meal choices.
November 26, 2010 at 9:21am · ·
Reem TaraLia Carman
Well. Done. I'm not even worthy of you.
November 16, 2010 at 11:28pm · ·
Lia CarmanReem Tara
I just wanted to let you know I made it home. The plane was delayed due to a fuel issue. But luckily it was resolved and we were able to take off a few hours late. It is so nice to be back in DC! When I got in I really felt like I had my hand on the pulse of the city. I can't wait to see you again this weekend! Again, I want to extend my gratitude to you for letting me stay with you!
November 16, 2010 at 8:39pm · ·

Um, yeah. We're pretty great. Here are some examples of our awesomeness that came out in person:

Lia: Hey, Reem. I've been taking swimming lessons, and I think I'm getting really good at this one move...a Swan Dive!

Reem: Lia, do you like food?
Lia: Yes.
Reem: Do you like pizza?
Lia: Yes.
Reem: Do you like a certain kind of pizza from Chicago?
Lia, Oh, you must be talking about Deep Dish pizza!

Lia: Hey, Reem! Did you hear Ani Difranco had a baby? I wonder how it went when she had to Dilate.
Reem: Yeah, I heard about that. I wonder if she'll use Both Hands to hold her baby?
Lia: Probably. Maybe some day she'll have another baby, and then she'll have Two Little Girls.
Reem: Yeah, and maybe her daughter will have long hair, and Ani will be Fixing Her Hair, you know?
Lia: I bet she will! And I bet she's got a lot of baby supplies and will bring them on tour with her. You know, Cradle and All.

Sometimes Lia will start talking and I won't even realize she's playing the game:
Lia: Hey Reem, do you ever go into that Felly's Flowers on Regent St.?
Reem: No, not really. Hey, are you hungry?
Lia: I was just wondering if you ever went in there.
Reem: No, Lia. I said I didn't. So, where do you want to go for lunch?
Lia: Well, if I could just refer to that Felly's Flowers once more...
Reem: Dude, I said I've never been.
Lia: ...because I was once in there and I saw This Bouquet...
Reem: .....OHHHH!!!

But my favorites are the ones that have a very long pre-story to them:
Lia: Hey Reem. You know how there are those cops on horses?
Reem: Yes Lia, I know about those.
Lia: Well, I was just thinking about how they have a little more flexibility in their movement, like, especially as compared to cops who drive cars.
Reem: Oh really? How do you mean?
Lia: Well, cops in cars can really only drive in the street, you know? Whereas cops on horses can really go on any sort of terrain in any area. Like...they could go between Buildings and Bridges, you know?

There were also some references to the song "Pale Purple," but I don't want to talk about that because I think it's gross. Look, it's about nipples. Ugh.

Oh Lia. You slay me. One of my favorite Ani-related moments with Lia was driving around Madison on her last visit and listening to the song "Both Hands." Come on man, it's really beautiful. Don't hate. We decided that it would be hilarious to act out the lyrics, like to hold up a telephone when she sings "listening to the low moan of the dial tone again" and then to write graffiti on an arm when she sings "I am writing graffiti on your body." You know, hilarious! Well, as we were talking about this and laughing hysterically, I had a brilliant idea. I was going to do it. I would map out the song and take pictures of myself doing everything in the lyrics and put it into a slideshow for Lia for her birthday. It was pretty much the best idea ever, and I couldn't wait! I was also excited that I had a ton of time to execute this amazing project and do a thorough and wonderful job on it. Wooo, so excited! Lia is going to LOVE this birthday present!

Well, guess what. Lia's birthday isn't until September 5th.But you know when mine is? March 28th. That's in 3 days. And so, guess who beat me to the punch? That's right: the one and only LIA.

I came home tonight to a large package at my door. Inside it was a lovely card, a nice gift certificate, and a photo album. I think I knew what it was before I even opened it. "Oh no!" I exclaimed out loud, a smile on my face and a flip in my stomach. "She did it." And she did! Look at this genius. Look at what Lia did:

I am walking out in the rain

And I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again.

And I am getting Nowhere with you

I am writing graffiti on your body

I'm recording our history (haha "herstory") now on the bedroom wall, and when we leave the landlord will come and paint over it all.

And in each other's shadow we grew less and less tall

I am drawing the story of how hard we tried (how cute is this? Also, it actually happened about 6 years ago - true story)

Both Hands.

Okay, Lia. Alright. You win for the best Ani reference of all time. This gets you like a zillion points in any Ani game. I seriously cannot believe you did this, and I am forever thankful to you. My Gratitude for you knows no end. I'll just have to offer you a Rain Check on your birthday gift, I guess. Next time I'll have to Anticipate better. But really, this gift was better than 32 Flavors of ice cream. You have truly made me a Joyful Girl on my birthday. Sorry I Am going on and on about it; I'm just really Shameless about my love for you.

Okay, I'll stop. But I'm telling you, it's pretty difficult. Thank you, Lia!!!

Vanilla, aka Ice Cream Face, and Others

2011-03-24T21:31:00.004-05:00

Since every post I write about my students is something to the extent of "Stories About the Kids," or "More Stories About the Kids," or "Even More Stories About the Kids," I thought I should try a little harder and get a little more creative. Also, although all the kids have ben great and hilarious lately, tonight's main character is one Vanilla, the 5-year-old. Now, what parent would name their kid Vanilla, you ask? Well, probably no parent. See, Vanilla named himself. You can read about it here in the 4th to last paragraph. But enough about Vanilla for now - I'm gonna save him for last this time. Here's how a couple other kids are doing:

E, age 16, got his license a couple of months ago. It's weird, man. I've known him since he was nine and in 4th grade! And now he's driving. Weirds. Anyhow, today he was practicing a 4 measure section of the song he's working on, going slowly with the metronome and repeating it over and over again to get it right. He was actually doing really well until he stopped suddenly and exclaimed, "How do you do this every day?!" I looked at him. "Do what everyday?" I asked. "Sit here and listen to kids do the same thing every day, over and over again, and do it week after week?" I, of course, started in on a speech on how much I love it and how I love watching how kids learn differently from each other and blah blah blah. After a minute or so, E interrupted me with this: "You're really nerding out right now. Whatever, I could never do it." and kept playing. Fantastic.

D, age 7, tells me all about her day every Thursday. Like, a little too much, probably. Today she talked about eating an apple turnover at school. In complete seriousness, she said to me, "I turned it over, but nothing happened, so I just ate it anyhow." Then, as she was doing some theory work, she meant to write an E but wrote a 5. She laughed, erased it, and wrote another 5. She laughed harder, erased it, and wrote a 3. She then laughed too hard for it to even matter anymore.

L, age 9 (who you can also read about in the above link to Vanilla - she wants to give her sister a high five in her face), is very excited to go to the dentist next week. She thinks the dentist is going to send her to the orthodontist, who will tell her she needs braces. She is so excited to get braces. She says, "I am going to look so cute with braces." She also kept laughing at everything I said and clapping me on the shoulder for some reason.

Okay, are you ready to hear about Vanilla? Here is all the stuff he did and said today (keep in mind this all happened within 30 minutes):

There is a quilt on the wall that shows animals from all over the world, he shows me his favorite fish. He shows me the path that the fish swims, all the way down the river into the ocean. He's very sweet and gentle, and then proclaims, "This fish is going to punch the earth!" He then punches the wall and laughs hysterically.

"Today I made a dinosaur picture. He's the kind with the spiky face. I don't know his name today, but it will change every day. Tomorrow it will be called Benjamin Franklin."

"I had a dream last night about a little girl who got so many presents from Santa Claus!"

He made up his own words to the tune of Dynamite, which is his favorite song. They go: "Reem likes to throw up in the air sometimes. Likes to throw up, she likes to throw up!" Then he switched to his own tune and sang "She throws up like a club throws up!" When I ask him how much throw up is in a club, he tells me "Throw up the size of a million people. And that's a lot!"

Last thing: He called me mommy when he was leaving and his mom tells me that he's been calling everybody Mommy lately. I don't care, I'm still flattered. Thanks, Vanilla!

Roots

2011-03-16T20:41:00.001-05:00

Oh hay there! I have a question for you all. Do you think my mom and I look alike?

Yeah...most people don't. Wah wah! My mother is 100% Irish, which (because of math) makes me 50% Irish. Man, I love being Irish. We have like THE best music ever. Proof:

All God's Creatures

The Wild Rover

Boulevogue

These songs always strike such a strong chord in my heart. There are certain melody lines, certain inflections, in Irish music that are like no other music. The songs are so sincere and meaningful and heartfelt. Or, in the case of All God's Creatures, so hilarious.

And man, maybe Ireland isn't known for its food, but there are a few choice items that are so ridiculously amazing if done right. The other night, Genia and I went out to celebrate being Irish and spilt two dishes at Brocach: corned beef & cabbage and fish & chips. So delicious. Unfortunately, some of the more delicious things in life do not photograph well in a dark environment on a new camera I haven't quite figured out yet, so you'll have to observe these and use your imagination. And just trust me that they were absolutely delicious.

Here's my drink: a Murphy's. Look closely at the foam - see anything?

By the way, the people at Brocach say the name is Gaelic for "badger den." My mom says they're making it up. I believe her. But hey, the food is delicious and the atmosphere is pretty lovely.

I'll be traveling to Ireland this summer for my cousin's wedding, and I'm so excited to go. It's been awhile, and I miss it terribly. As kids, we spent many summer weeks in Ireland; I feel like I grew up there. My mother's entire family lived (and still lives) there, and I feel lucky that we got to know all my cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandmother as well as we have despite the distance. And Ireland is so beautiful. You know all those rumors about the rolling green hills and beautiful mountains and rocky cliffs and green everything? Well, they're all true. Ireland is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. Besides the natural scenery, there are ancient churches and castles by the side of the road anywhere you go. It's amazing. Check out these pictures from my sister from our last trip there in 2007.

There is a feeling, an energy, a smell...something, that is so different from here in the US. Maybe it's memories of childhood and growing up, or maybe it's the lushness of the land, or maybe just different air. Whatever it is, I miss it and I love it, and I cannot wait to go back there. This trip is really going to be a special one for me.

Lastly, I'll leave you with this. On St. Patrick's Day this year, why not make it a little less about the booze, and a little more about the Irish? Seriously. Celebrate my homeland and my people, but stay classy about it, okay? I mean, if a bunch of rowdy Arab men can do it, you can too!

ARE YOU READY TO LAUGH!??!?!

2011-02-24T09:56:00.010-06:00

A year or two ago I made a blog that consisted solely of internet pages and videos that made me laugh. The purpose of this collection was to make me chill the hell out when I wake up crabby. I haven't exactly been crabby for the last ten days...no, more so exhausted, tense, sad, confused, crazy-lady, delirious, achy, hysterical...and I haven't even spent the night in the Capitol yet (Props to Shane in that video - nice job getting "nestier," my friend)! With all that's going on, it's been a challenge to remember to take good care of myself, take breaks, not overdo things, and not become consumed. It's really difficult. So, with the goal of being a well-balanced person once again, I give you...

MORE HILARIOUS INTERNET THINGS!!!

Those of you at the Capitol night and day, I strongly salute your badass-ness and hardcore-ity, and sincerely dedicate this to you. You're doing amazing things, and for that, we all thank you times a zillion. So much respect. Now, if you feel so inclined, take a couple minute break and have a laugh!

If you read my last entry on hilarious internet thingies, you probably noticed my affinity for voiceovers. Yeah, well...they're funny. For example, have you heard of Randall's Animals?
The honey badger is definitely the most hilarious by far, but I also suggest watching The Jesus Christ Lizard, The Gross and Disgusting American Bullfrog, and The Gang of Flamingos one. You know what? Eff it, watch them all. Every single one.

Okay, once you've watched all of Randall's videos, why don't you come on over to one of my favorite websites called Totally Looks Like? This is basically a site of things/people that look like other things/people. Yep. That's it. Check this genius move - Cee Lo Green totally looks like Raphael (my favorite Ninja Turtle - ooh, that temper!):The whole website is pretty genius. Have a lookie!

Okay, let's get back to videos. Ever heard of Legion of Rock Stars? Um...it's basically more voiceovers. But with popular songs!
I cannot hear "Mother" in a regular way anymore. I can't even sing along to it because all I remember is this hilarious version. I also highly recommend The Lion Sleeps Tonight and I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen. Oh god, Bruce, I'm so sorry!

Let's see, what else is hilarious? Oh, I know. Go to google images. Google "smiling dogs." Tell me what you think of that! Here's a sneak peek, in case my mere suggestion doesn't entice you enough:

Yeah. That's what I thought.

Now, this next one isn't exactly hilarious, but it may very well leave you laughing with joy! Check out Bel Biv Devoe's brief reunion on Jimmy Fallon here. Oh BBV, you totally get it.

Back to hilarity. Here's a picture of Dawson from Dawson's Creek crying:

Poor guy.

This next one will probably take you a little while, so maybe it can be saved for a more substantial break. Go to Yearbook Yourself and upload some pictures of your damn face, and watch yourself travel through the decades. Oh lord. I'm such a sucker for these things. If you don't have time to do your own, you can just check out some of my albums (you probably have to be my facebook friend and signed in to view these. It's worth it, dudes). Here's a good example:
Yep, that's my siblings and I in Chess Club. Classy times.

Hey, there's always trailers for legitimate movies! Like Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus, starring, who else, Lorenzo Lamas and Debbie Gibson:

Totally legitimate.

Aaaaannnddd...let's close by revisiting a classic: A Giant List of Hobo Names. Good ole Whispering-Lies McGruder. He's a classic, he is.

I do hope I've brought a little laughter into your lives, my friends. When I was a child, my father taught me to laugh when I felt scared. So maybe that's really what's happening here. Whatever the reason, I know I've appreciated taking breaks, turning off a couple of switches in my brain (and that one was me mother's idea - what smart parents I have!), and finding a little hilarity in life. Whoops, I mean in the internet. Much love to all you awesomes who have been working so hard - you are amazing!

Getting to Teach

2011-02-19T01:34:00.002-06:00

Throughout this week, I've been feeling a little like pieces of me have fallen through the cracks. I'm not sleeping or eating well. My mind is constantly racing. I actually hallucinated a few stuffed animals and lots of red blobs in my living room yesterday. The other night I had awful dreams about some friends who turned into monsters that ate your skin if you didn't completely cover it with a sheet. I've been depressed about not having the same energy I did when I was 23, the energy to protest all day and night, the energy to fight forever. I thought about how I could just move away from Wisconsin, the state I've come to love so hard. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't me.

And throughout the week, there was one thing that happened every day to keep me from losing my mind: I got to leave downtown every day by 1 or 2 pm and go to work. My students would come in, and we'd do our piano lessons every day, just like we always do, just like we love to do. They'd come in and be themselves and be hilarious and lovely, and it kept me going. They made me sane. They soothed my mind. They rejuvenated my heart. I have never felt so lucky to get to go to my job and teach.

Dearest Wisconsin teachers - I so hope you get to go back to work soon. I hope you get to have what keeps you going in your lives again. I pray that people will stop standing in your way of doing your job and doing it wonderfully, as you have been this whole time. I know that's where you want to be, and I sincerely hope this is the case very soon. I support you 100% and I cannot wait for you to teach again.

Thank You, Teachers

2011-02-16T21:04:00.012-06:00

When they announced that Madison schools would be closed tomorrow for a second day in a row, my stomach sank. Schools were closed today due to a massive teacher sick-in, and they will be closed tomorrow as well. For anybody who doesn't know what's happening, have a look here. I've been struggling with my feelings of discomfort because I know that I fully support these teachers and fully disagree with Governor Walker's proposed bill to take away collective bargaining rights of most public sector employees (plus huge pay cuts for teachers). But god, the fact that kids are missing two days of school in a row, and parents are having to scramble to figure out child care, and some parents will have to stay home from their own jobs...it just really bothers me.

But I know why I feel uneasy about the schools closing. And I feel pretty confident that most other teachers feel the same way. No good teacher wants to miss a day of teaching. No good teacher wants their students to be out of school for days. But when you're left with little choice, you do what you have to do. As a good friend of mine, and an amazing public middle school teacher, said today, "I hope that people realize that teachers won't be getting paid today! This isn't a holiday; they're teaching a valuable lesson that you should stand up for what you believe in! I would much rather be in my classroom working with kids than standing in the cold fighting this bill, but it has to be done!"

Today I watched thousands of people march strongly and proudly on the Capitol today, many of whom were children and teenagers. I saw some kids and parents I recognized and my heart swelled with pride. Monday's protest totals reached 2,000 people. Yesterday's reached nearly 15,000. Today there were close to 30,000 people protesting at the Capitol. Yesterday, over 700 students from East High School walked out of school and kept walking the 3 miles up to the Capital to join in the protest and support their teachers. And I can't help but think about what an unbelievable experience this is for those students and any others that attend. How they are learning about politics and history and civil rights and discourse and passion and pride and a million other things. All in the real world, all happening right where they live. I can't help but think this way. You see, I'm a teacher. This is how we think. Every moment can be a teaching moment. Every moment can be a learning moment.

And I feel so proud to watch as other teachers risk their own livelihood to teach these kids about what it means to stand up for what they believe in, to stand up for themselves, and to stand up for their students. Teachers teach, no matter what the circumstances. And for this, teachers, I thank you.

Some pictures and video from the protest on Tuesday, 2/16/2011. Hoping for more tomorrow.

So I've Been Baking. And Learning!

2011-02-12T15:53:00.009-06:00

So...I've been baking. Isn't there a line in My So-Called Life that sounds like that? Something like "So...I've been hanging out with Rayanne Graff." I dunno, I'll let you know when I figure it out. I know, it's important to me too.

Anyhow, I've been baking. I feel like, even though I'm sort of a half-assed cook, I can bake really well. Plus, it's winter and it's cold out, and this'll warm you right up. And baking makes me so, so happy! I like to wear this one apron my mother brought me from Herrods and put my hair up and listen to Pandora. Today it was a Sleigh Bells station, but most often it's a station based off of Regulate by Warren G. It really sets the mood, you know? Plus, baking is educational. You get to learn how ingredients react with one another, and sometimes you have to do math if you change the recipe - so much learning! Anyhow, here's what I've been making!

These are white chocolate-blackberry-almond bars. I definitely got the recipe from the back of a white chocolate chips package, thanks for asking. It was one of those days where I wanted to use up some ingredients I'd had around for awhile; white chocolate chips (which, by the way, are amazing), sliced almonds which I toasted in the toaster oven, and an old jar of blackberry jam. The recipe called for raspberry, but blackberry worked really well.

It's a simple crust with a layer of jam. I know, I know, only one layer of jam?! But that's what the recipe said. Sorry, dudes. This was delicious.
What I learned: Keep track of how long you toast the almonds in the toaster oven because it goes fast and you'll probably burn the entire first batch and your kitchen will smell funny.

These are pumpkin muffins with a streusel topping. Making the streusel was fun and reminded me of making blueberry muffins with my mother when I was younger. But to be honest, I overcooked the muffins and they were sort of dry. Not my best work.

But very good-looking, eh? Now there's a good-looking muffin!
What I learned: Do not overbake. It's gross. And especially because this cute and charming young man tried one of these, and although he was kind and said they were good, I felt he didn't get to experience my finest work. So much pressure when people are so handsome!

On the big snow day last week, I made another kind of muffin: zucchini-bran-chocolate. I watched the baking time carefully on this one and they turned out so much better!

Want to know a secret about these? They make you poop. I gave everybody at work fair warning. Yeah, that was fun to say to my boss. Whoops a daisy!

I use chocolate chunks because they don't get ridiculously melty, but they melt just enough. These are delicious, and I like the way the green looks.

Second whoops a daisy: I was really spacey that day and forgot to cut the recipe in half. I gave away a billion of them and ate some and took many to work, and I still had to freeze some.
What I learned: It's funny to talk about poop at work, but mostly people act like adults about it. Except for me. I giggle a lot.

Today I decided to try a recipe I got from the mom of some of my students. She'd given me this frosted banana cookie the last time I was at her house, so I asked her for the recipe. I'd never made frosting before, so that was cool. Well, I guess I should say "frosting" because I think it's a little busted up.

Here's the banana cookie. Tons of banana flavor. The flavor comes from the bananas I added. How bout that!

This time I actually cut down the recipe by a third, so I don't have a zillion cookies. It's still probably too many, though, seeing as I like the baking process more than I like the eating sweet things process. So, come over if you want. I have cookies.

The recipe said to frost the cookies while they were still warm, but I think I was supposed to make the frosting way in advance and let that set for awhile. Well, I didn't. So the frosting got all melty and poured all over everything. See? Busted up.

Oh, and the other busted up part was that I didn't have any heavy cream, which was one of the frosting ingredients, but on the "internet" it said you could mix together butter and milk as a substitute. Here's how that looked - lovely, I know:

Whoops, back to the delicious, frosted cookie! On a cute plate. To get that milk-butter image out of your head. Sorry about that.
What I learned: Don't do all that busted up stuff. Or do it. Whatever. It all tastes fine in the end.

Wooo, baking! If you ever want some, come on over! I'm good at sharing baked goods. Just not sandwiches. Don't ask me to share my sandwich, okay?

Last thing! I'm trying to memorize all the countries of the world right now. I think I have at least 180 out of 195. So, there you go, more learning!

Legitimate Internet Search: Raw Chicken Implanted In Your Butt

2011-02-09T11:25:00.007-06:00

I'm gonna keep this one short and sweet. Well, no. More like short and weird and confusing. I have this thing on my blog called Feedjit. It tells me (and anybody who wants to look) how people arrive on my blog. So it shows a location, a website from which they arrived (if any), and possibly a search term. For example, perhaps somebody in Washington DC could search for my blog by going to Google and searching "this is how I will get famous" and it would show up as such. Actually, I wrote a whole entry about it a little while ago. Pretty cool, eh?

Most of the searches that land on my blog include things like "inappropriate facebook status" because of this entry and "surviving Wisconsin winters" because of this one, and occasionally "Tommy used to work on the docks" because of this ole guy. There are plenty of real winners up in there. For example:

Have a click on there to read it closely. Damn crazy people. Sexy hobo romance! In the last couple of days, I've seen some more ridiculous - and new! - searches that have led to my blog. Have a lookie:

Royal Oak, Michigan arrived from google.com on "this is how i will get famous: So Long, Ole Snaggletooth. Hello Regular Guy." by searching for "snaggletooth man saying i look better than you, i look better than you."

Oh yes, for real. And then again today:

Easley, South Carolina arrived from ask.com on "this is how i will get famous: So Long, Ole Snaggletooth. Hello Regular Guy." by searching for "can i have my snaggletooth removed and replaced with a fake tooth?."

Do people actually call it a snaggletooth? Man, I was kidding when I said that! Well, good job everybody. I guess. Good luck with your damn snaggleteeth.

Snaggletooth is all fine and good, but the one that took the cake this week was this:

Yes indeed, that actually says Beaumont, Texas arrived from google.com on "this is how i will get famous: You've Got to Know Your Chicken" by searching for "raw chicken implanted in your butt."

WHY?! What is going on?! What IS this, even? Do people implant raw chicken in their butts? Is this a thing? As I sat and wondered, guess what else popped up on the ole feedjit this morning:

Yep, it's true. This one says Boston, Massachusetts arrived from google.com on "this is how i will get famous: Inappropriate Facebook Statuses" by searching for facebook's famous inappropriate chicken in your butt

COME ON. America, what the hell is happening to you? I feel just about done with you and your craziness. I'll stick with all the foreigners who arrive on my blog by searching "famous busted," thank you very much. Seriously, there are like 4-5 of those ones a week. Jeez...

Poomageddon!!!

2011-02-01T15:38:00.004-06:00

List of Things I Will Do If There is a Snow Day This Week:

Go through my drawer full of tights and get rid of some. Specifically some of the ones I've had since high school.
Laundry. Bored.
Listen to Metallica.
Try out the ole donut maker.
Bake zucchini/bran/chocolate muffins.
Think about what "Fourth Wave Feminist" might mean some day.
Listen to people talk about "Snowpacalypse" and "Snowmageddon," and replace "snow" with words like "poo," "fart," and "boob." Sorry Mom, but it's true. This is how I am.
Write a blog entry (ooh, done!).
Shovel snow. Or, failing that, watch Xiao shovel snow from inside my apartment.
Shovel the lanai. Or, failing that, ignore it.
Watch two episodes of The Cosby Show. Although we're moving into the Cousin Pam years, so it's possible I'll replace Cosby with Roseanne. Or just look up clips on the youtube.
Read the Huffington Post a lot.
Spend some time on sites such as This is Photobomb, Totally Looks Like, Sexy People, When Parents Text, and Awkward Family Photos.
Wear this one pair of weird, baggy-ish leggings and a cami with ripped lace along the bottom. Maybe fleece socks, maybe a hoodie. Total sexy times.

Sounds good, eh? What will you be doing if you're stuck at home?

P.S. Even if there isn't a snow day, I'll try me best to do a lot of these things. Because they sound pretty awesome, I think.

Ever Heard of The Kids? They Rule.

2011-01-20T23:12:00.009-06:00

I find that there are certain times during which I feel the most affected by my students. Usually these are times when I'm crabby or tired or losing all faith in humanity or something along those lines. I can always take something from those times: be grateful for what you get to do, be grateful for kids who don't know any better than to be fantastic and awesome all the time, don't sweat the stupid crap that gets you down, there are bigger and better things than crabbiness, etc. It seems like there are certain days when I really need those kids to remind me of these things. The coincidence is very much appreciated at those times.

Then there's a day like today. Everything is fine. Life is nice. Things are great, in fact. I don't really need a reminder of awesomeness. But here they come! These kids, they still affect me so hard. And today, it's not because I need their awesomeness to remind me of all the things listed above. Today is a day where I can just enjoy the hell out of the kids and my job and nothing more, nothing less. Just appreciate.

J, 7 years old, is a newer student. He's extremely serious and genuine and sincere. I'd been playing the song "Dynamite" with the student before him, and asked J if he knew it. He said he didn't but that there was another song he knew. "It's called 'The Snowman' and it's from me and my Dad's favorite movie," he tells me. I know The Snowman very well. When my sister and I were preteens/teens, we got stuck playing The Snowman theme together as a piano/violin duet. It seemed like we played it all the time; at recitals, at the holidays, maybe even in a mall once or twice...for real. It was extremely tedious and I think we both sort of hated it, and still to this day make fun of it. Here it is:

Tonight, however, when J started talking about the same song, I felt my heart melt a bit. He described how, when they begin flying in the movie, his father would pick him up and fly him around the room because his dad loves him so much and loves the song so much. We decide to take a break from the songs he'd been assigned the previous week in order to learn the song for his dad and perform it for him at the end of his lesson. Within about 5 minutes, J has the song down and we practice a duet, me playing the same piano part I once played with Sara. It was the first time I was really able to appreciate the beauty in the song, and at the same time, I got to see how much it meant to a 7 year old and his dad. When we finish playing, J runs to his dad and they embrace and kiss (do non-foreign parents and kids do that? We always did). I take a breath to begin a speech about how he learned the song so quickly despite awkward hand positions and an unexpected lining up of the two different parts and melody vs. harmony, but I hold my tongue just in time. This is probably a moment in which the dad doesn't really need to hear the details about how his son learned it; it's just more important that he played it. And loved it. They just kept hugging.

Yesterday I went to the home of one of my families. S, age 13, has been with me for about 5 years. He's never been that into piano, and has always seemed kind of lethargic. Last week, he had his tonsils and adenoid removed. This week, for the first time in those 5 years, he was smiling and alert during his lesson. His eyes were bright and awake, and he played better than I'd ever heard him play. He made the songs sound exciting, putting in dynamics and way more energy than I'd ever heard from him. At the end, I express my happiness and surprise. He says "I know! I feel so good, it's like...I feel like I'm better at everything." We go on to have a conversation during which he reveals that he's felt tired for his whole life, and for the last few days, feels like he wants to run and play outside, and even read more and sleep less. This kid had never felt wonderful a single day in his life, and all of a sudden, he does. That's magical. Plus, his younger brother offered to make me a grilled cheese sandwich while I was giving lessons! So great!

Besides the heartwarming moments, there have been a couple hilarious times this week. The famous L, age 9 (the same one who kicks her friends in the nuts and spells the F word for her dad in the lobby of the art center), has been challenging herself to give me high fives in the middle of her songs. Like, while she's playing. She makes me ("makes," yeah. Sorry, but I can't not do it) hold out one hand near the keyboard and when she gets to a certain part in the song, she gives me a high five without missing the beat. Now that's talent! Of course, the naughty L has to come out, and she ends up talking about how she wants to give her sister a high five in her face, and how she could also high five somebody's stomach with her fist. Oh man.

I started teaching this 5-year-old, A, in September. Man, he's only 5! His fingers are tiny and his attention span is tinier. Half the time, I feel like it's enough of a challenge just to keep his attention for 30 minutes, let alone teach him anything on the piano. Every week for the past 4 weeks, he comes into the studio and sees the full length mirror on the door as if he's looking at it for the first time ever. He spots his reflection and exclaims, "That guy again!" Since I have no idea whether or not he knows it's really him, I ask "What's his name?" And every week, A answers "That's vanilla!" That's his name, that guy in the mirror. Also, every week, A asks if he can 1) sit on my lap to play piano, 2) sleep under the piano for the night instead of going home, and 3) let his fingers take naps from playing because they're so tired. He also asks what my favorite color is every time he takes a sticker, then picks a sticker of that color. He's so awesome.

M, 8, will be playing "Star Wars" plus one other song at the recital in a week. When I ask him which he wants to play first, he says Star Wars, "because then people will know I'm cool." I try and say something to the extent of how people will think he's cool anyhow, both songs are cool, you can play them in any order and still be cool, blah blah blah, but he stops me to say "People pay more attention to your first song. Then they get bored. I'm sorry, but it's true." He probably has a point.

They've been so earnest and honest and real. They always are. I am feeling it. I am appreciating it. Hugely.

P.S. Recitals are 3 pm on Sunday 1/30/11 at Attic Angels Community. They'll be lovely. You'll hear two versions each of Pumpkin Boogie, Whirling Leaves, and Jazz Blast, as well as songs by Avril Lavigne, Queen, Journey, Green Day, and Beyonce. And others. Like Beethoven and stuff. And there will also be a little ditty we like to call "Banana Split." You don't want to miss this.

Patience

2011-01-14T00:20:00.001-06:00

Tuesday night. I'm laying in my bed wide awake, still feeling the after effects of the caffeine-laced Excedrin, coffee, and soda I pumped myself full of today in an attempt to quell a migraine. By now, the pain in my head has calmed a bit, but my mind is still racing. The caffeine works pretty well, if you don't mind being all tweaky during your book-writin' meeting (sorry Jourdan) and piano lessons with children. At least I had the most insane kids today - they didn't seem to notice my darting eyes and constant fidgeting.

This evening, my father's thoughts travel aloud over the phone, brainstorming various things to look into and discussing different doctors I could see; an ENT doctor, or a sinus specialist. Maybe get a CT-scan of my head. I listen passively and in my head acknowledge that, although he makes an excellent point, I know exactly what I'd like to look into: the writing, meditation, and yoga I was practicing so regularly just a year ago. The routine of clearing my mind, relaxing and alone time, and especially silence. That was the most calm my mind has been in awhile. An anxious and obsessive mind like this one really needs regular practice most of all. Even just to go to sleep.

Although I know I should lay in bed with closed eyes and relaxed jaw and shoulders, silently chanting my sleep reminder (deep breath in - say "sleep." Deep breath out - say "sleep." It has worked every time I've wholeheartedly tried it. For real.), instead my hands absently wander behind my pillow to the headboard shelf where my phone sits. The phone with which I can look on facebook to check if Gina has had a baby yet. She was due two weeks ago and was prepared to induce today. "Just wait," a little voice says somewhere in my brain. "You can find out in the morning." About ten seconds after I heed the voice, another one sounds off, stronger and louder. "Hey! Go peek in the kitchen and see if the amaryllis has blossomed yet!" My bare feet are on the floor without hesitation and I tiptoe to my bedroom door and look around the corner. No. Not blooming yet. Same as it was 40 damn minutes ago when I checked it before I first tried to settle down for the night.

Seriously, Reem? You're peeking on a flower at 1 am? Go to sleep. Sleep now. Sleep (in) sleep (out) sleep (in) sleep (out). Breathe. Miyagi-style.

This amaryllis has been slowly growing for about 3 weeks and I've been noticing small changes in it every day. I've had nothing but patience for it for those weeks, but suddenly now that I know it could blossom any day, I'm watching it like a hawk. Obsessively. In the middle of the night when I should be trying to sleep. Watched pot, right? I remind myself to be patient, that beautiful things like babies and flowers will come around when they're meant to. And that I can just sit back and relax this mind and wait. And wait and wait.

And following that reminder of patience, just two short days later, I have a beautiful flower in my kitchen...

...and Gina and Patrick have a beautiful baby. Happy Birthday, Aidan Antonio!

Don't Forget What You Buy - It Could Result in Sandwiches

2011-01-09T21:24:00.010-06:00

Man, sometimes I'm so foolish. Or forgetful. Or flaky. Or all of those things, as I realized I've been until tonight. You know what I forgot I owned? A sandwich toaster!!! I don't know why I remembered this tonight, but all of a sudden, the thought popped into my head that I'd bought a sandwich toaster some time in the last year. I was with my Mom at Target and it was on sale for $6. Yeah, I definitely got a deal there. Apparently I brought it back home and put it away in a cabinet and forgot all about it! How foolish. And forgetful. And flaky. Such a sad story.

But here's a happier story: in college, I had one of these sandwich toasters in my dorm room. My friend Helen and I made hundreds of toasted cheese sandwiches in that thing. We needed only three ingredients: square-shaped bread (such as Wonderbread), Velveeta cheese, and margarine. I kept them in my mini-fridge. Yuck. But really, delicious. I remember the day of Helen's senior cello recital - the day we got to play Prince covers! She came over and, in order to calm her nerves, painted her toenails while I made us toasted cheese sandwiches. Yes, with Velveeta and margarine. Look, that Velveeta just fits perfectly into the compartments. And the cheese melts so well...sigh.

So, I'm thankful that I had that memory of sandwich toasters float into my brain tonight, and just before I needed a little snack! I knew exactly where the sandwich toaster was: in the cabinet behind the hand mixer. This is embarrassing because I go in that cabinet pretty often to get either the hand mixer for baking or the Magic Bullet for making hummus and being awesome. In fact, I used the mixer earlier today to make cookies. Whoops a daisy. Anyhow, there it is! Hopefully I'll be opening that cabinet a lot more in the future to make those donuts, too.

Here's what it looks like, all clean and cute. The cord is even tied together! So new!

Here's the inside. See the sandwich half compartments? Look how organized! I obviously love it.

If you do it right, you'll end up with two (or four) perfectly toasted sandwich triangles. With a ton of melted cheese inside. Maybe Velveeta.

I learned the hard way (when I used this appliance as a teenager and again in college) that you really need to separate the ingredients as you make the sandwich. That's smoked turkey breast.

If you just sloppily lay on all the ingredients, there will be a gross burned line of meats and cheese down the middle of the sandwich because of the triangle shapes. Take the time to separate; it's worth it. That's salami, by the way.

And white american cheese, in those same lovely triangles! Apparently I was just too excited to add any vegetables. Seriously, the thought didn't even cross my mind until right this second.

After putting the sandwich in the toaster, it wouldn't close all the way, but I wasn't too worried.

Well, okay, I was a little worried. My nerves get the best of me when sandwiches are involved. I just want them to be wonderful and delicious!

The finished product! See that diagonal line? That's where you'd have burned meat and cheese if you hadn't been so organized earlier. A little goes a long way, when it comes to sandwich ingredient organizing. Please also note that extra part at the end. My bread was too hearty and not tiny and square enough like Wonderbread.

I used a knife to take it out because I'm too lazy to move two feet over to get a spatula.

Look, there's hardly any mess at all! Just two globs of cheese that I'll let harden and scrape off later. Wah wah!

Look at that beautifully toasted sandwich.

The inside - no burned mess!

And the cheese was melted just enough.

Delicious! Believe you me, I'll be making plenty more toasted sandwiches this winter. Can you imagine a peanut butter and jam in there? Or Nutella and banana? Or something involving tomato and spinach and cheeses? Maybe I'll even buy some Velveeta...

More Photobombs to Start Your Year Out Right

2011-01-01T18:53:00.003-06:00

Yep. You're welcome.

Hey 2010, You Were Pretty Great.

2010-12-31T08:53:00.007-06:00

Almost Nude Year, eh? Usually I do this whole Year in Review thing at the end of the year - or, I guess, in the beginning of the next year because I'm a slacker at times. In the past, I've filled out a survey of questions, as well as going through my goals/thoughts from the previous year and assessing where I'm at with them. Man, that all seems so boring to me right now! Frankly, 2010 was an effing good year. I say that despite tragedy, sadness, scariness, health stuff, funerals, hospitals, and very anxious drives between states, among other things. Really, the year was quite tumultuous. But nevertheless, there was some really good stuff this year. Stuff that makes me feel better and happier and healthier than I have in my entire life. Stuff that I feel confident will continue in the coming new year.

But let's not get too serious here. Going in to all that would require hours and patience and probably some booze. And frankly, I have some houseguests and a lot of things to eat and drink, so let's not do that. Instead, let's look at the year in pictures. Here are some glimpses of some of my favorite moments of this past year:

New Years 2009 - 2010. So smart. Until all the booze froze.

Madison skyline, taken by Helen. I've come to love it so much.

Trip to Florida with my oldest friends, Gina and Sherin, and their husbands. Husbands are great when they love your best friends as much as they do.

Dipping my feet in the water; necessary for a mid-Jauary-suffering Wisconsinite.

Dad makes juice while Father Paddy cuts bread. Much love to these two men.

First daffodils of the year.

Genia cooks me a beautiful dinner.

Meeting the parents in Milwaukee. Doing nothing more than walking around and taking pictures and laughing.

Emil and Mladenka visit Wisconsin and we go to Devil's Lake.

Remembering Love in New Orleans.

Genia and Helen with Smokey Johnson. Total OG.

The grand opening of the National Mustard Museum with Lynn and Jess. We met the "Duchesse" herself!

Emil and I on our sibling date. He takes me to eat what I think was the best sandwich ever. Seriously, like ranked #1. This is a big deal. His was called Hide the Salami. Please ask him about it.

Alex comes to visit. We spend time with caterpillars and Dr. Evermore. He's a gentle soul, this Alex, believe it or not.

Visiting Sarah in Michigan. We happened upon an Orchid Festival. Of course.

Mom cooked a lovely dinner and we ate in the backyard surrounded by trees and birds and love. And vegetables!

Sampling chocolates at David Bacco with Lia. This was before they changed their name to "DB Infusions." DB, eh?

On a walk with Genia near Lake Monona, watching waterskiers.

Darwin Day and the Procession of the Species with Anna. Smiling giant puppets.

Cooking with fresh food from the farmer's markets this summer.

Sweet talking a bouncer at a meat and cheese tasting with Emil and the rest of the family. I'm getting way better at sweet talking.

After seeing Trombone Shorty at La Fete de Marquette with Genia this summer. This was one of those epic nights of which you cannot share all the details. But I will tell you that we danced for a zillion hours and ate tacos and at the end of the night, there were beautiful fake eyelashes on my bathroom mirror. Actually, they're still there!

Nordicfest in Decorah, Iowa with Anna and JB. This ice cream is made with some sort of special crystals that makes it more delicious. Seriously.

Annd and JB at Seed Savers Exchange, being adorable.

This is right after I got my new fake tooth! I'll spare Emil and not put up the picture where you see my broken tooth. But it's a good one.

Visiting Sara in Atlanta for 9 days. Mostly we did things that involved animals. We drove an hour and a half to see a zedonk (yes, half-zebra, half-donkey) and found this friend along the way.

The Atlanta aquarium is a remarkable, beautiful place. I definitely cried twice at this part. We saw whale sharks eat! I mean, they opened their mouths and ate, and everything was amazing.

Besides the animals, though, we also looked cute and went out a lot. With Layla!

Aaaaand...we dipped popsicales in vodka. Chocolate popsicles in whipped cream-flavored vodka, to be specific. And to be awesome.

Sarah came to visit Madison and we hung out with Cody. Brunch at Marigold Kitchen.

I saw the love of my life, Nick Urata, and Devotchka in Chicago with Mladenka. They still shake me. Best band ever.

Attending Sara's big event in DC. So proud of my sister - she speaks to hundreds of people and gets her point across eloquently and professionally, with just the right touch of loveliness in there. No wonder she's the big boss, eh?

Photobombing with Dad. We've always had fun, but this year I think we had the most fun together.

Mom and my two aunts dancing with Jiddu at Thanksgiving. Such a treat and honor to see Jiddu in good form, dancing.

Oh hey, did you know Emil got engaged? Here we are at his engagement party, helping him calm down by doing sibling shots. Two was the magic number.

Jiddu shows love for Mladenka. Welcome to the family, M!

Aww, love! I'm so excited for these two!

Dad and I did about zero shoveling on this day, but we did have a shovel/broom fight. Okay, I'll admit. It was fake and we were just posing for pictures. And I was still in my pajamas. But come on now, we're great!

The clan at Christmas. So lucky to have all these crazies as my family.

My wonderful BFF Sarah at the Botanic Gardens. Isn't she pretty?!

Replica of the Chicago Skyline, made only from plants.

My mom had the fantastic idea of going over to the Gardens right before it got dark, and we got to see everything all lit up and magical. My mom is totally the best ever!

Leaving the gardens. P.S. I love christmas lights. It was such a lovely year! I'm hoping for more loveliness next year, and for the amazing things that surrounded me to extend to others. I'm hoping for the continued family, friends, peace, positivity, and light(s) in my life, and the same in yours. Because it's been really wonderful so far.

A Christmas Miracle!

2010-12-25T00:35:00.006-06:00

Remember how I don't like to touch raw meat? Well, guess what happened...I made meatballs! It truly is a Christmas miracle. I'll let the pictures do the talking this time:

There's always room for a photobomb!

Truly, a Christmas miracle. Happy Christmas, friends! Also, whatchu talkin' bout everybody!

Snow Day and Hummus

2010-12-12T17:44:00.010-06:00

It snowed last night. It snowed about seven inches, which, in the big picture, is not that much considering some of the days we had last year and what Minnesota got today. I do tend to get overwhelmed by the snow, but I do my best to calm the hell down and not to freak out all the time. Sometimes the Crazy Lady comes out, but I think it's probably entertaining to some of you, especially my sister, so I'm okay with it.

My friend Lacy says that living in Wisconsin and getting through the winters probably makes us hearty. I love that. I'm sure that all the shoveling and pushing cars and trudging through knee-deep snow would help to build muscle and strengthen something. I don't know; your core? Your spirit? Something. Unfortunately, I had almost none of that today. My new downstairs neighbors are big proponents of "throwing money at the problem" and thusly hired somebody to come plow our long-ass driveway. I mean, it's really long. You know what? I am fine with this. That's totally cool; I'll just stay inside whilst somebody else does the work. No problem. As I waited for the four stout men to show up and plow, I thought I'd make some hummus. So many people ask for the recipe, and although I can't give measurements (seriously, it's all just adding stuff until it tastes good), I can provide some pretty pictures of the process!

Here are the basic ingredients: canned chick peas, tahini, garlic, lemon juice, and salt. Some people use dried chick peas, but you have to soak those overnight, and then you have to plan ahead and lately, I can't plan beyond the next half hour, so canned it is! You can buy tahini anywhere - it's basically a sesame seed paste (my dad uses it like peanut butter!). The garlic, as my dear friend Jess pointed out, should probably be fresh, not jarred like this. But I was snowed in, man, and I had zero fresh garlic. Anyhow, the ingredients:

You should probably get a Magic Bullet if you want to make hummus quickly and with little clean up. Food processors and blenders work just fine, but the Magic Bullet has a much better infomercial, I'd be willing to bet. Have you seen it? I love it so much. I've seen it at the very least 50 times. You should definitely watch it. Oh hey, here it is!
Part Two is here. "Dinna's always a production!" says the young actress dressed as an old lady with fake cigarette ash. "Yuck, I hate broccoli!" Grown ass man...But I digress. Back to the hummus! Drain the juice from the chick peas, but keep it somewhere - you'll use it later.

Dump in some tahini. I'm so bad at estimating, or guesstimating, if you will (do you know "guesstimating" is a word? Spell check didn't even underline it! Wow), but I think it's somewhere between 3-5 tablespoons.

Throw in the lemon juice, some garlic, and some salt. I can't give measurements because I think it all depends on how garlicky you want it, how salty, etc. You can probably add your own spices at this point too (a lot of people like cumin), but it's really good this way, with nothing else added!

This is the hummus when it's basically done. I put it through the ole Bullet for quite awhile to make it as smooth as possible. At this point in the process, I also pour in the liquid from the canned chick peas little by little to help moisten it. You don't want to put in too much as it will get too watery. So be patient. And use discretion.

When you're done with all this, put it in a tupperware and refrigerate it for awhile before eating. So delicious!

Wonderfully enough, by the time I finished making hummus, the men from Mr. Plow had come. I mean, I assume every plow company is called Mr. Plow. Or the Plow King. Either way. Look what they did to the front porch!

And look at this beautiful long and sort of snow-free driveway! That driveway is seriously long. There was a good 5-6 feet behind where I was standing, and the driveway goes all the way back to those faraway trees, and then to the right and behind the house. So much to shovel...

I was in heaven when I saw this. It only took me about 20-25 minutes to dig out my car and shovel around it. This, compared to hours otherwise. Wooo! All of a sudden, I don't mind snow so much!

To celebrate a successful snow day, I had some booze with some cute star-shaped ice cubes. I'd been talking to my sister on the phone when she mentioned that she'd had a few tiny wine glasses of sweet vermouth this evening. This is something we always used to do when we'd go to Jiddu's (my grandfather) house on Christmas, before going to the big family dinner. It's customary to visit everybody in their own homes around the holidays. We'd go to his house and sit for awhile, eating candies and potato chips out of small glass bowls, and eventually, somebody would bring out a tray of these tiny wine glasses with sweet vermouth in them. Delicious! Cheers abu cheers, Jiddu!

Okay, to be honest, I didn't have any sweet vermouth. This is actually Amaretto; it was the closest I could get! Still delicious. And I have no idea how this got in my house. Who bought this?

Amaretto makes pretty pictures. Jess, did you bring this over last Nude Years? Thanks for the pretty booze.
One last thing about the snow day: boots everywhere. There are four pair of black boots sitting inside my front door. Four. Ridiculous.

You know what? Snow days make me feel disjointed. There ya go.

You've Got to Know Your Chicken

2010-12-08T20:31:00.008-06:00

I think I might barf before I even begin this one. Sigh...the lengths we go to for our art. Or our blogs. Whatever. So, you may have heard that I'm a picky eater. It's funny, because in my immediate, surface thoughts, I really don't think I am! To test myself, I start making a list of foods I don't like: seafood, most fish, peppers...that's it, right? Then I remember where the pickiness comes in: I don't like mixing certain vegetables or meats with eggs. I don't like to mix meats with each other, unless it's bacon on a sandwich that already has another type of meat. I pick out green parts of things sometimes when I don't know what they are. I believe that on certain nights, things taste way better eaten out of bowls. Milk has to be ice cold. If chicken has a funny texture at all, like even a 0.5% funny bite, I'm done with it.

But these things all seem very reasonable to me! I mean, look. Lukewarm milk can be really, really gross, dudes. Maybe it's just that I'm a particular eater, not picky. Regardless of what I am, I'll tell you this: I am not able to cook meat. Don't get me wrong; I'll eat the crap outta some meat if somebody else prepares it for me. But making it myself? Barf. That means I'd have to look at and handle raw meat! Sickening. Especially chicken. To be fair, I have dealt with raw fish and beef before. I don't like it, but I've done it. I once dated a guy who bought us meat to make burgers for dinner and made me make my own burger. What an ass! But I did it, and it was fine, and no, I didn't learn anything from it or feel any better about raw meat, so maybe he should have been a gentleman and just made me the effing burger himself. Damn. Tis the season to handle the raw meat for me and let me lay around with a glass of wine making hilarious and witty comments, "gentlemen." Jeez.

My mother tells a story of coming home from work one night while I was in high school, expecting me to have started preparing dinner. She had called and asked me to trim some of the skin off the boneless chicken breasts she had defrosting. Man, I remember starting that chore soon after she called, and her drive home from work had to be a half hour at the very least, maybe 40 minutes...yet, as she walked in the door, I was standing there at the counter, facing away from the chicken on the counter, trying to cut tiny pieces off the chicken whilst simultaneously not barfing. I gagged a lot. My mom laughed a lot and finished making dinner.

So, as you can probably see, chicken is a difficult situation for me. I was explaining these "particularities" (yeah, that's what we'll call them!) earlier today to a friend when I remembered this one time I tried to cook chicken. Well, I should rephrase: I remember this one time I "tried" to "cook" "chicken." You see, in a fit of good intentions, I'd bought the most inoffensive, easy to deal with, and probably lamest chicken ever: boneless, skinless, frozen chicken breasts.

Ew. Even looking at that box grosses me out right now. Oh lord, I hope it's not still in the freezer. I'll check later. Anyhow, they're packaged individually so they come out looking like this:
Blech. Ack. Ooajhs. Lmnop. Sick. Looking at these pictures is really hard. At the time, even taking off the plastic was difficult for me. And yes, the chicken was still frozen and hard as a rock. I cut open the plastic, holding the irregular-breast-implant-looking-thing at an arm's length and dumped it on a baking sheet. Oh man, it was all glossy and slippery looking - I cannot believe I actually eat this.
After extensively researching salmonella and what happens when you bake chicken without defrosting, I thought it would be safe to do so. Yes, one might think that somebody as particular as me would have a few more qualms about food safety and preparation, but oh no! If one little unreliable site on the interwebs says it's okay, then it must be! Why bother checking any further? You'll understand more when I write a certain story about a certain burrito, but I can't write about it until next March. You'll see why when you read it, I promise. Oh hey, FORESHADOWING!!!
With the chicken in the oven for some amount of time at some temperature, I went about preparing the rest of the food. See, I wanted to make a barbecue chicken pizza. And yes, that is a tortilla instead of pizza crust. Sometimes I cook awful things. But look, this wasn't too bad: barbecue sauce, red onion, tomato, and cilantro.
Oh look, the chicken got all cooked! I cut it open in these three places, and then in about 27 more after I took the picture, to make sure it was cooked. And by some miracle, it was!
I chopped up the chicken, tossed it on the "pizza" (ahem), and added some cheese. I baked it in the oven for some other amount of time, and it came out like this:
Not too bad! Half-assed, yes. Mediocre, definitely. But fine. Apparently the particularities do not limit me to food that's sort of crappy. Wah wah!
So, are you ready to cook for me, specifically chicken? I'm pretty easily impressed. As long as you don't hold up an entire raw chicken in front of my face, I'll probably be happy with it. I might be okay if you hold up two chicken breasts over your chest and dance around a bit, because man, I do love prop comedy. But honestly, you'd be taking a chance with that one. I'll leave it up to you. Good luck. And get ready to possibly deal with me barfing. I'll try and do it as charmingly as possible.

Tis The Season to Post Old Blogs and Meet My Goal of Four Per Month

2010-11-29T21:26:00.004-06:00

I'll be honest - when I saw those first couple of snowflakes today, I smiled. Although I'm no fan of snow, I do really like this time of year. Mostly it's because of, you know, The Season. I've been listening to Christmas music for a solid week and a half already. The great thing about two different radio stations being all-Christmas all the time is that if a crappy, i.e. James Taylor, Christmas song comes on, you've always got another option. And if both options suck, you can always put on the Throwback Lunch and hear Regulate.

I was looking back at my myspace blog as I contemplated (lazily, without any action) archiving it all, and I came across several Christmas-related blogs I'd written. Several meaning, like, a lot. Most of them from 2007, because I guess I was the most Christmassy that year. I really get into Christmas. So, I thought I'd resurrect (OH MAN) some of the writing and hopefully rope in some of you to my spirit of the season. Something like that. Here ya go:

Please ignore the poor capitalization and probably some curse words. Oh, how I've grown up...

11/25/07
okay. so if you know me in any way that's important at all, you probably know how much i love christmas. i mean for real, i absolutely love it. i know not everybody agrees with me, so here are some of the reasons i love the holiday season. maybe it'll inspire you to love it a little more. or, maybe you'll stay in your sad little shell of holiday hatred. whatever. i don't care...

*the oldies station plays christmas music 24 hours a day. even if you don't like christmas music, the chance of hearing aaron neville on the radio increases exponentially. you can't tell me that's not an incredible reason to appreciate the holidays.

*another radio-related reason...you get to hear "the sexy christmas carols." this title was created by my brilliant brother emil last december. it refers to songs like "rockin' around the xmas tree," "santa baby," "jingle bell rock," the jazzy version of "white christmas," and "santa claus is coming to town" sung by bruce springsteen (you can hear him laughing in the middle of the chorus. how adorable). the sexy christmas carols really make the season what it is, you know?

*christmas lights.

*the festival of lights at olin park in madison. there are all these businesses that sponsor "light sculptures" which are pretty half-assed, really, but still great. i go about twice a week to drive around the park looking at a santa golfing, a penguin ice skating, a dragon acting gay, or an elf-looking kid running down the stairs. this year, i pledge to include booze in this trip more often.

*i can use my new catch phrase. it works mostly if i've been at the drink for several hours. basically what i do is have a glass in my hand, preferably a martini glass, and hold it up and let a lot of it slosh about, whilst saying "TIS THE SEASON." just a note, "TIS THE SEASON" can be followed by "bitches" or "assholes," and the sloshing can be replaced by ice cubed tinkling in a highball glass. either way, i'll probably spill a lot.

*presents. i'll always be a kid about presents. sorry. materialism.

*cookies. baking cookies. decorating cookies. eating cookies. duh.

*the birth of our one and only lord jesus h. christ.

*wassail. its kind of sweet, but its tasty.

*family time. especially because this year it will involved hours of guitar hero three, played on HARD, bitches, cuz i'm so talented, AND the karaoke celebration party. AND my parents will play both games. not well, but they'll play.

still hate the holidays? maybe you should be hanging out with me more often. sorry you're such a sucker. also sorry if i've been a jerk. i may be channeling delicious food a bit at the moment. oh passive-aggression, how i love thee.

11/29/07
I thought of some more reasons for the season. there may be more soon. make sure you check back often. anyhow:

*at java detour (the drive through coffee place on east washington in madison), they put these little stickers over the mouth hole of hot drinks. well, at the holidays, the stickers get way cute; snowmen, candy canes, and tiny mittens! you can also decorate the inside of your car with these stickers. totals sexy.

*there are actually THREE radio stations that play christmas music! one is "Lite 107.3" which plays the cheesier music. today I heard aaron neville twice. how bout it.

*when i leave work at 9 pm, i turn all the lights off but the christmas lights stay on.

*i constantly have a slightly fluttering feeling in my stomach. tummy. gut. crap factory. as hilarious as i am, come on...that was touching.

12/6/07
so basically, if you're anybody who's anybody, you read my blog, you subscribe to my blog...you cannot wait for my next blog to be written. and such and such. right? after all, i am kind of known as madison' own Gossip Girl (yes, akin to the CW's Gossip Girl) and am probably most people's main source of both information and entertainment. Um...if you're not one of these people, you might want to go ahead and subscribe to my blog right now and pretend like you've been a reader all along. it will most likely be better for you socially.

you loyal readers (and millions of fans), most likely remember a few blogs ago when i wrote about how much i love the holidays. one of my top reasons was because of my new catch phrase, "tis the season." as you probably recall, it is mostly used when consuming cocktails and being charming, as my life goes about 45% of the time lately. fantastic. Anyhow, I ran into one mr. shane at monty's yesterday who informed me that he has been saying "tis the season" for awhile as well, and says it frequently, and at extremely opportune times. to shane, i give a high five of solidarity, sister, and encourage you to do the same. not only high five shane, but let's get going on this catch phrase! spread it round, fools, and help to make those who are less fortunate than you and i (in awesomeness) a little more joyous. it can be your holiday charity/volunteer work that your mom asks you to do instead of getting her a present.

already, people and businesses around the country are contributing to the greater use of "tis the season." in fact, in a conversation with my sister, aka Lady Sara of Haute-lanta, she informed me of several emails she's recently received that do use our favorite holiday phrase. here are some that she shared with me:

Tis the season to earn holiday rewards! (Best Buy)
Tis the season to save on holiday shipping (Target)
Tis the season...to drink coffee! (Starbucks...BOOOOOO! booo to starbucks)
Tis the season to be greeting (Costco). huh? maybe it was written by a foreigner.
Tis the season to read mystery novels and drink hot chocolate! (from her local indy bookstore),
to which I replied
tis the season to curl up in a semi-modern armchair and read this month's issue of "Out" magazine

This got me thinking. If any old d-bag can send out some mass email with MY catch phrase in it, what else night be out there in the world? So i did a little research. and here are some of the things i found:

Tis the season for coupon codes!
Tis the season for controversy.
Tis the season to understand the ploys of persuasion.
Tis the season for drinking and driving.
Tis the season to deck the halls with December's critter...
Tis the season to be careful if you're buying Packers tickets.
Tis the season for parades, decorating and goodwill Main streets throughout Pickens County...
Tis the season to be nudie!
Tis the season to Photoshop Santa Claus hats onto everything.
Tis the season to shop for just the right gift card.
Tis the season to be a Marvel fan, as the Marvel Holiday Special dashes into stores with ...
and my personal favorite...
Tis the season to get stuffed with gratin ( If you're curious, click)

As you can see, others have absolutely NO qualms about using the greatest catch phrase in the world to their advantage. i suggest you do the same. Here are a few that I created, mostly that relate to my personal and work life at the moment. Just in time for the season:

Tis the season to not be a total d-bag.
Tis the season to eat a taco or burger with me tonight.
Tis the season to wear something tight.
Tis the season to take a shower.
Tis the season to buy a girl an effing drink.
Tis the season to dig my car out of the snow while I watch from inside.
Tis the season to let me watch your television because mine broke and all I do anymore is write blogs.

Tis the Season Blog - 2008

Woooo! Christmas! Tis the season, um, gentlemen. See how polite I've become in the last three years? Wow.