S--tless in Anchorage

We have been having a string of incredibly beautiful fall days in Anchorage. Clear blue skies, beautiful fall colors, and temperatures that are just cool enough to put a slight spring in your step. These have been some of those days when you are thankful to live here. Shortly before 10 this morning, I was in my office and mom was with others in the other building participating in a spill drill. Earthquakes come in many shapes and sizes. This one started with a big bump, kind of like going over a speed bump in a car. Sometimes that is all you get. This time the bump was joined by sustained shaking that increased in intensity. About 10-15 seconds in the shaking seemed to reach a crescendo and slack off, but then, we started back up the ladder of intensity. At this point I abandoned ship and headed for the core of the building, just getting out of my office as the sliding glass door started clanging in its tracks and things started falling off my shelves.

I staggered down the heaving hall and reached the elevator bay thinking, "wow, this could be the big one." Finally, it subsided and the tremors of the earth faded into vibrations of the quake resistant building. The elevator cables thrummed in their bays, but the elvators were shut down..

Quick "are you ok" calls, texts, and emails went around. Websites were consulted to find that it was a 6.2 quake. There is definitely now a new topic for conversation around the halls. Most were like us. That is the biggest quake we have felt.

Maybe this is not so wonderful.

The Mumbai Pie

Several Sundays ago my friends and I were invited to participate in an annual pie party our friend Seth co-hosts every year. Upon receiving his invitation I became gitty with the many possible pies I could make. Pumpkin pie, Key Lime pie, chicken pot pie, the possibilities were endless! Since I am not a huge fan of sweet pies a savory, also known as a humble pie, was my obvious choice.

Now, since this was a competition I knew I could not make a "generic" chicken pot pie as much as I love that classic down-home taste. I had to do something exotic. But how do you make a pie exotic?  I thought long and hard on what makes something exotic and after several pondering hours COLOR sprung into my brain.  The thing is, when I think of exotic I imagine brightly colored, highly textured clothing and landscapes so why couldn't those same things be embodied in a pie.  Thus commenced my pie research.

After a couple internet hours I found several recipes that kind of satisfied my exotic pie needs but not one truly fit the bill. As a result I set out to combine and conquer.  Below you will find my colorful exotic creation recipe appropriately named THE MUMBAI PIE.

Crust: (this recipe makes 1 crust so double for two crusts)

• 1 cup all-purpose flour $
• 3 tablespoons ice water
• 1 tablespoon cider vinegar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup vegetable shortening (I used butter because of the rules of the pie party)
• Cooking spray (to ease the slices from the pan)

To prepare crust, lightly spoon flour into a dry measuring cup, and level with a knife. Combine 1/4 cup flour, water, and vinegar in a small bowl, and stir with a whisk until well-blended to create a slurry. Set aside. Combine 3/4 cup flour and salt in a large bowl, and cut in shortening with a pastry blender or 2 knives until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add slurry to flour mixture, and toss with a fork until moist. Press the mixture gently into a 4-inch circle on heavy-duty plastic wrap; cover with additional plastic wrap. Chill 15 minutes.

Filling: (some of these are estimates and it should also be noted that if you make all of this filling you will get two whole pies)

• 1 teaspoon coconut oil (any oil will work)
• 2 tablespoons curry powder (I added more for extra flavor)
• 2 cups diced baby golden potatoes
• 3/4 cup chopped onion
• 1 chopped red bell pepper
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 1/2 pounds chicken, thighs and breasts cooked and shredded beforehand
• 1 1/2 cups fat-free, less sodium chicken broth
• 1 yellow squash
• 1 zucchini
• 1/2 cup golden raisins
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons cornstarch (arrowroot was substituted)
• 1 tablespoon water
• 1/2 cup (4 ounces) 1/3-less-fat cream cheese

To prepare filling, heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add curry; cook 2 minutes. Add potato, onion, bell pepper, garlic, and chicken; stir-fry 3 minutes. Add broth and next 5 ingredients (broth through black pepper); bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 5 minutes or until veggies are tender. Combine cornstarch and water in a small bowl. Stir in cornstarch mixture and cream cheese; cook 1 minute or until cream cheese is melted.

Upon filling your exotic pie and placing the top crust, cut several slots into the top for steam to vent through. Bake at 400° for 30 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly around the edges. Let stand for at least 10 minutes before serving. When serving allow yourself to be taken away to far off lands filled with bright colors, grand vistas, and amazing architecture. I know I did.

Broken KitchenAid Mixer Correspondence with Dad (posted by Emily)

From: Dad Sent: Tuesday, September 16, 2014 11:15 AM To: Emily Subject: RE: I made butter...

Don’t cry over churned milk.  Back in the day, every small town and neighborhood had a small appliance repair guy.   These were frequently wounded vets or odd little guys who didn’t really fit in to the larger society but had an affinity for tinkering, boundless patience, and nothing better to do.  Their lairs were often dark basements or tattered store fronts but were always cluttered by partially deconstructed appliances, magnifying lenses, assorted screws, and electronics.  The places were scary and intriguing at the same time.   Though these people could not have made much money, they were valued and respected within the community for their apparent wizardry.

Perhaps there is a message here.  These days, when things (or people) break they are cast aside partly because there is no on there to fix them but partly because we quickly give up, and partly because it is simply easier to throw it away and get something new.

-

From: Emily Sent: Wednesday, September 17, 2014 5:42 AM To: Dad Subject: RE: I made butter...

Thanks, Dad, for this really thoughtful response. I read it to my officemate and she said that you are a “true poet.”

-

From: Dad Sent: Tuesday, September 16, 2014 11:15 AM To: Emily Subject: RE: I made butter...

I should have probably made this a comment on the blog, but that would require logging in and I still find that clunky.

Do you have your KitchenAid fixed?  You know me, I would probably just keep it unplugged and work with it that way for years.  I guess that is why I can’t have a sailboat.

Two years ago, my snowblower (which we bought 2^nd hand when we got here) broke.  I tinkered with it and tried to fix it myself, but, worried that I would only break it more.  I tried looking up small engine repair places and found that the only ones that were around were only open during very restrictive parts of the week.  So, through the winter of the most snow on record, I shoveled that crap, while the snowblower sat in the warm garage.   Finally, at the end of the winter I discovered a little place that was open and, at least said, that they could fix it.  The first thing I had to do was work out a way to get the thing to their shop.  I tried to fit it into the back of the big Volvo.  That was me trying to lift this huge awkward thing and fit it into our new car without scratching anything, all the while mom standing by making unwelcome comments.

A near hernia later I decided to go rent a pickup from U-Haul.  You know how I hate borrowing things from other people and I refused to borrow someone’s truck and U-Haul advertises trucks for $19 a day.   Of course taxes and charges etc. added up to about $30 but, at least, I wasn’t borrowing something.

When I arrived at the repair shop, it was as I had expected.  The outside front and back was littered with row upon row of pieces and parts of lawnmowers, snow blowers, and other unidentifiable small engine devices.   I tentatively stepped through the door into a dark and cluttered Quonset hut and was confronted by a group of about six  guys with a mixture of what do you want and who the heck are you expressions on their face.  I felt a bit like I had interrupted something important.    After a couple of beats, one of the more amiable guys stepped to the counter and asked, “what can we do for you.”  The room seemed to relax and what ensued was a hilarious group dialogue of the “your momma” variety with all of these guys cutting on one another and even, gratefully, including me in their joshing.

Eventually, the form got filled out in spite of the laughing.  A guy was dispatched to go into the parking lot to help me unload the snowblower, which he did by basically reaching into the truck and lifting this 175 lb. piece of equipment out with one hand.  As I drove away I wondered if I would ever see my snowblower again.

In just two weeks I got a call that it was fixed.  I asked if they could deliver it, to save me the trouble of renting another pickup.  They said that they would have someone deliver it for an extra $25, which was a bit of a gouge, but well worth it.   Of course last year was one of the lowest snow years on record, but the snowblower worked better than ever.  The one thing I missed by having them deliver it was that opportunity to step into that other world where men are happy to hang out in one another’s company, where skills with things mechanical are held in high regard, where appearances are less importance than reality, where a well told joke or well played prank is valued, and where camaraderie is easy and natural.

Weekend Update: Underwood Ranch Baby

Underwood Ranch Baby

This weekend J and I made our way up to Lometa to visit his family's land.

Since our last visit, the Underwoods have co-leased some acreage from their neighbor, a guy who's stocking up for the End Times. So, only somewhat worried that we'd be shot by something from his impressive arsenal of weaponry, J and I took the Mule buggy over to the new land to check out the new cows.

This visit to the farm was unlike any other visit to the farm that I've experienced since I began dating J two years ago. Why? Well, it has something to do with a disturbing trend that some people like to call a "baby."

Now she was very cute and well behaved, don't get me wrong. But I had this startling revelation that drinking until I can't stand up and playing washers til 3 a.m. may be a thing of the past. Also, and this is something I was becoming aware of as soon as I graduated - there is a huge range of experiences for the young twenty-something. It was just that until now, those experiences didn't include infants.

I did have a chance to watch the baby while her mom and dad were out shooting the handgun the mother got for Christmas. That was cool. I kind of understand now what Mom has been saying about liking to play with Aggie because she doesn't have to take care of her when she leaves. Yea, I feel the same way about babies right now. It was cute and made cool sounds, but I'm more than happy to hand her off when she starts screaming.

KitchenAid Mixer Update

The best news out of this weekend is that Mrs. Underwood called Bed Bath and Beyond and they will take my broken mixer and replace it with a new one!

I'm somewhat embarrassed that my boyfriend's mother had to do this calling around for me, but I really didn't even think to call the place she got it from. I thought that we'd for sure be way out of warranty. Also, now I know that Target has a 90 day return policy, so I guess that's points in favor of BB&B.

Shit, I made butter & Everything breaks

Shit, I made butter

If you've ever wondered how to make butter, last night I learned how.

I was elbow deep in the process of making Tres Leches (an involved process, not for the faint of heart) when I received a call from Dad. He wanted to talk. Apparently he talked to "his other offspring" this weekend.

Anyway, so, per usual, I got carried away in the conversation. Realizing that things were going a bit long, I threw some whipping cream into my KitchenAid mixer along with vanilla and sugar and set it to high. And walked away.

I kept talking to Dad and eventually remembered to ask how long it takes to whip cream.

He said, "Oh, eventually it will stiffen up...but don't let it go too long or it will turn into butter."

Well, so, I went to check on it and realized that I'd beaten all the air out of my cream and turned it, churned it, into sweet butter.

Everything breaks

When I tried to turn off the mixer to clean up the cream mess, I realized that it wouldn't turn off. It will only go to two speed and when I try to turn it off it pops back to two speed.

I did what any grown up would do and panicked. And started unscrewing ye old KitchenAid. And that sick feeling in my stomach started to gurgle up.

Because this was a gift from Jarrod's mother. My maybe future mother in law. And clearly, if I broke it I AM NOT WORTHY. As a woman, as a person, as a cook, as future mother. My head started to spin and I got more and more upset and I knew that I needed to go to Jarrod's to meet him when he got back from his flight.

So I screwed the broken thing back together, grabbed my keys and left.

I knew when I saw him I would cry. Cry, and cry and cry.

And I knew that he would say, "It's okay, I'll fix it." But he's not a KitchenAid mechanic.

And so I cried more.

And my apartment is still covered in chunky cream.

Weekend update: It's just a can opener

Can or Can't Opener Sunday I kept my word and met up with a group from my church to play soccer.

Nothing makes me realize how unfit I am like praying that I was chosen for the the Shirts team in Shirt versus Skins and then trying to hide astonishment at the chiseled ab-ness of some of my fellow parishioners (there's something hot and unholy about that).

While huffing and puffing up and down the small soccer field, I started doing what any cake-loving kid would do and began dreaming of the meal that I would eat later that evening. Of course, it was going to be healthy. A lean protein like fish or shrimp.

After it got too dark to play, Aggie and I drove to the HEB to pick up some food stuff. I've heard before that you shouldn't go grocery shopping hungry or after a workout and I understand why. Everything looked like a flipping jelly doughnut. And I was wanton for a jelly doughnut, you-know-what-I'm-sayin. Anyway, I got this crazy idea as I walked into the store that I would make my meal for less that $10. Activate anxiety. Activate Mission Impossible music.

I'll buzz through the shopping part as it wasn't exciting. I settled on shrimp (to be turned into baked coconut shrimp), rice and fiesta bean salad blend in a can.

I was at J's place doing laundry, so I knew that I was limited in my cooking tools. I knew that he didn't have a can opener. That's a lie. He has an electric can opener and I've battled that thing before and decided that I wasn't up for fight it tonight.

So, I bought a $2 manual can opener.

I brought my bounty to the shortest checkout line (for once in my life I was able to stand in the 15 items and under line). The cashier's look screamed, "I play Dungeons and Dragons, wear ironic graphic boxers and live with my mother." You know, male, low pony tale with hair parted straight down the middle and small glasses. Looks like he might program software in his downtime.

I finally got up to the front of the line and the guy began checking out my stuff - er, groceries. As he comes upon my can opener, he says "oh this won't do."

I returned a small, strained laugh.

"Yea, I know."

It was a piece of shit-can-opener. I was well aware. The type of can opener that you through against the wall after you mangle a can lid into a murder weapon. If you're laughing, you've been there. We all have.

It was this can opener or the $15 KitchenAid. And that shit would have blown my budget. And (of course) I've got my KitchenAid can opener at my house.

"I mean," he said, "I used to work in a restaurant and I had this boss that every two weeks would buy me a new can opener (what the heck is ponytail guy doing with can openers?). And this just won't work. It won't last."

"I just need it to open one can," I said, realizing that I had boob sweat stain prominent on my University Democrats shirt. A thrill, I'm sure.

"Oh, it'll do that for sure. Probably 20 cans. But not much more than that."

"That's fine," I said. Paid and carried out my shrimp, other stuff, and less-than can opener.

Thanks for your concern HEB guy.

Other Stuff This Weekend

J was out of town in Chicago with his sister. She was in charge of planning the trip and did not invite me. Okay. I see how it is.

I had a church leadership retreat Friday and Saturday. Came home carsick as all get out Saturday and slept until Sarah Neill (who was watching Aggie) knocked on my door and woke me up (and the litttle dog jumped on my bed and really woke me up).

Sunday I had church and gardened. And then played soccer and did laundry at Jarrod's place. It wasn't until hours into my laundry doing that I realized that the heat on the dryer was turned to low and finally understood why my clothes wouldn't dry.

Curmudgeon Chronicles - The Selfie Stick

I saw something new that I really wish I had invented. Well, not actually, because the self centered ridicoulousness of it, made me cringe. I had a really intense week in London this week and was only able to get out for a brief walk on my last afternoon. Since I was staying one block from the Westminster bridge, I went in that direction.

Westminster is certainly one of the most photographic sites that I know. First, you have a low stately bridge that crosses the Thames in the heart of London. On the North side, there is the house of Parliament, itself impressive, anchored by the Big Ben clock tower. Westminster Abbey is in the background. There are views up and down the Thames, including the London Eye monster ferris wheel just downstream.

It is a great walk, but becoming almost impossible to enjoy. Every time I cross the bridge, it has become even more clogged by tourists. There are tourists like me, trying to walk casually and enjoy the scene. There are tourists taking pictures of the scene. There are tourists who feel that any work of architecture, history, art, or scenery is made better by having friends and family in the foreground. I may agree that the, "we were here," pictures are meaningful and I/we have posed for our fair share. The problem is that you cannot walk 10 feet without someone with a camera trying to focus on a person(s) standing on the other side of the sidewalk, thyus blocking the entire path. The walker must either veer around, stop repeatedly, or just ignore the photographers and step through the pictures, with a Not my problem attitude.

Perhaps not as intrusive, but even more impressive were the selfie takers. Whether individually, or in groups, on any transit of the bridge, or surrounding area, you are forced to step around people who stop on a dime hold up cell phones and cameras at arm's length to get their face in front of the scene. I was amazed that there were far more selfie takers than straight up scene takers. Hey, the fact that you took a picture of Big Ben establishes that you were there without needing to have your face obscuring it and forcing it to be out of focus.

As I walked, though, I gradually became aware of something new that I was seeing. There were lone walkers who were carrying aluminum poles. Some were extendible, others were not. On the end there were attachments into which cell phones could be clipped. I saw people casuallty holding their devices out from hip level getting pictures that do not have the signature arm's length limitation.

The possibilities for poses and action shots are greatly increased. It is the equivalent of having your own personal photographer following you around and taking pictures of you. There will just be one hand that is not showing.

Okay. It is a cool idea and a great tool for the lonely and friendless. But to actually purchase, pack, and carry around such a tool to get your mug in every shot, seems to be the height of self involvement.

Still, I wish I had invented it.

Water under the sink

Ever wake up with an "it's going to rain today" headache? That was me this morning. I've been trying out this new alarm SpinMe, which requires that I get out of bed and spin around twice to make it stop making noise. It's meant for people who have trouble getting up in the morning. Like me.

Anyway,  so I was off to a good start. I was up so early, in fact, that I had time to clean up the kitchen a  bit before GoTime.

So I went under my sink to grab a scrubby sponge to clean off the stove. And discovered the bin that I store my cleaners in was filled with brown water. Yep. The same bin that was filled with brown water last week when I called Ye Old Landlord.

And that's the same sink that she texted me about last week and said was an "easy-peasy" fix when the plumber came out.

Not so easy peasy. It's still leaking. And now, the bucket overfloweth and I have a big mess.

So, I went from zero to 60 mad.

And J chose this time, this early morning, pissed off time to say,

"This is why I don't want to buy an old house."

When my dog ate (or tried to eat) Turtles

The part where I left her alone Aggie, my twenty-pound mutt, spent some time in her early years out on the streets of of Baytown.

In every other possible way she is a civilized dog, except for this one thing. Whenever Aggie is left alone, she dashes to whatever food is around and devours it. This is often a problem because, well, it's not like I leave out Dog Food. It's always People Food and not the good, healthy kind. Insert story about the time she ate a plate of  Ghirardelli brownies.

Last night, I decided to go visit a friend and planned to be gone only for an hour, so, thinking she could be trusted and that I didn't have any food out, I did not crate her.

The part where  I was wrong

I returned home to Aggie poking her head through the curtains, wildly wagging her tail. She met me at the door. I should have known something was up.

In my living room there was a package of Chocolate Turltles on the couch and one on the floor - I wouldn't find the package in my bathroom until later that evening. Luckily the packages were somewhat chewed on, but otherwise intact. She wasn't able to make her way into any of them. Thank goodness, or we would have had another shit storm. Insert story about the time she ate a plate of  Ghirardelli brownies.

You see, what makes this funny is that the box of Turtles was on my kitchen table which is pushed up against the wall. Aggie, being only two feet on a good day tall, couldn't have just reached the box. No, I'm sure it was a charade. The Little Dog must have climbed up the two chairs, jumped on the table, then walked across the table to where the box was.

And she has a really little mouth, so she must have done this three times to account for each of the chocolate turtle packages that I found. I just can't imagine what was going on in her Little Dog brain each time she grabbed a chocolate, couldn't open it, then climbed up onto the table to grab another. Or why she stopped at three. And why she didn't try harder to rip open the package.

The part where I didn't scold her

Standing there in my living room, taking this all in, all I could do was shake my head. Aggie, I guess filled with guilt, ran into my bedroom whimpering with her tail between her legs and folded into a really little ball. And I just laughed. After all, I was the one who left out the chocolate. I just never thought she'd climb the table to get to it. Or that she could smell it.

So I went and grabbed her from my room, laughing, pet her head and told her it was all "OK."

Insanity Workouts and Cheez-its

Past the age of 25 there is a natural decline in the rate of the resting human metabolism. Initially, you may not notice the change but as years press on you suddenly notice that it takes significantly more activity to lose even the smallest amount of extra pudge.  Not to mention the extra effort needed to engage in fat burning activities as they directly compete with an ever growing list of “adult” responsibilities.

As a result, many of us turn to various weight loss/exercise methods to ensure that we are at least chipping away at our waist lines.  For me, I typically employ a mix of running, hiking and all around activeness in order to fight the battle of the buldge.  Recently I added an extra component to supplement running on rainy afternoons - Insanity workouts.

For those of you who may not be familiar with Insanity workouts I’ll keep it simple by saying that insanity is an accurate descriptor.  Each workout is approximately an hour long with 20-30 minutes of “warm-up” followed by a little cool down and then it pretty much kicks your ass.

Despite lingering hesitations and warnings from friends, yesterday on yet another rainy afternoon, I decide I am going to do an insanity workout.

Upon arriving home from work I am feeling a bit peckish so opt for a nice light snack before my workout, Cheez-its. Not just a handful of Cheez-its but at least 4, but possibly 5 or 6, heaping handfuls of the delicious cheesy snack cracker. Once I have sated my appetite I sit on my couch feeling somewhat guilty but determined that my indulgence will not hinder my insanity. Peeling myself off the couch I slowly pull on a set of my shortest workout shorts, shoes and a sports bra because nothing inspires working out like minimal clothing. Now appropriately dressed I turn on my computer, move some furniture for space, cue up a workout music mix and prepare to get my sweat on.

The video begins with some light stretching and jogging in place. Next, jumping jacks followed by high knees. “I’ve got this” I think to myself. Already I’m sweating. I feel it is important to add here that it has been rather hot these past few weeks and I’ve been using the air conditioner in my apartment minimally.  As a result the temperature in my apartment is sweltering.  All of a sudden the video kicks it up a notch and throws in some side to side lunges that involve you touching the floor. My stomach begins to turn. After about another 15 minutes of "warm-up", that feel like forever, we enter a short cool down phase. At this juncture sweat is pouring off my body like it has never done before. I grab a towel, a chug of water with barely enough time to get back in front of the screen before the bulk of the workout begins.

“Here it goes” I say to Dante who is looking at me balefully from beneath the kitchen table. I think he knows that this is about to not go well. Immediately side to side lunges ensue followed rapidly by skiers, climbers, burpees and jumping squats. I can barely keep up. It seems by the time I manage to get a move down they've already moved on to the next activity. As we enter yet another set I am actively feeling ill. I can feel the Cheez-its sitting like a brick in my stomach and that brick is rising. Still I press on. Well, that is until I burp mid set and a bit of vomit enters my mouth.  Next thing I know I’ve completely abandoned the workout out and find myself bent over the porcelain goddess. Gross, I know.

Sitting on my bathroom floor I lean against the cool tub and feel defeated. The sound of my workout mix still blares in the next room. All I can think is “Insanity workouts and Cheez-its do not mix”.

Another wonder meal at Matt's in the Market

I will turn my back on the tremendous view from our hotel room at the Westin. The view of Elliot's Bay and Peuget Sound is ever changing and mesmerizing. A television is unnecessary in this room, unless, of course an Alabama football game is on.

Ginger was in town for work all week and I joined her for the weekend. It seems that the fabled Seattle rain always clears and we have beautiful temperate weather when we are here. Yesterday was certainly no exception. Clear blue skies and mid seventies temperatures were the conditions of the day. The perfect evening to visit one of our favorite Seattle eateries.

We have eased into Matt's over the years. Our first discovery was while visiting Pike's Place Market and looking for a place for a late lunch. Repeated visits for lunch or drinks and cheese have gradually shaped our view of Matt's as a place where you can always get innovative food served in a cordial atmosphere with fresh breezes through open windows and views of the market and the sound. On the upper floor of the building, directly across from the Market entrance, the place has an open warehouse loft feel and the large windows always seem to be flooded with light.

After much anticipation and walking around trying to kill a couple of hours, we couldn't contain ourselves any longer and showed up 20 minutes early for our nine o'clock reservation. Unfortunately, there had been some kind of snafu and we didn't actually have a reservation. They were definitely slammed, but the hostess was cordial and worked us in for a 9:15 reservation. We waited patiently and spent the time cruising real estate listings on G's iPad.

9:15 became 9:30 and we were called to our table at a window in the bar area, but all good. Our waitperson, Phillip, came quickly and was responsive and helpful without being pushy to get a drink order. We were quick, though. The last time we were here we had a cheese plate and G had a tasty cocktail, so that was where we started.

We also settled on our entrees before Phillip left the table. Matt's menu changes regularly based upon what is fresh. The menu is not expansive, with 5-7 choices in each of the categories (appetizers, salads, entrees, and desserts), yet it covers the range of food groups, such that whether you are in mood for fish, fowl, or beast, you can find something that looks good. Though I usually do not order halibut when out at a restaurant, because of the frequency and quality of the halibut that we have at home, the preparation with fresh corn, fava beans, and dashi broth sounded too good to pass on. I would have gone with one of my always favorites of seafood stew, but the preparation was with a coconut green curry broth and coconut is one of the few things that can spoil a meal for me. To my surprise G ordered the stew, so, I could, at least, sample it .

The cheese plate came, five cheeses arrayed on a piece of slate, each with a special accouterments of jam, ground nuts, home made corn flakes, etc. It was a mixture of Washington local cheeses and cheeses from France and Spain. It was also a mixture of cow and sheep milk cheeses that ran the gamut from brie to bleu. It was hard to choose the star of this array. Not usually a huge bleu fan the combination of a very mild bleu with a thin flat of chocolate with dried strawberries made that, I think, my favorite, but it was really like naming your favorite child. They were all special.

The Albarino that we had ordered was really good, pleasantly tart and paired well with the cheese and our entrees.

When the entrees came they were visually beautiful. G's seafood stew came out first and was overflowing with shellfish with nice pieces of salmon and halibut peaking out of the broth. "No way, are you going to eat all of that," I said. My halibut followed closely. It was perfectly seared (how do they do that?) and on a bed of veggies. When the server poured on the dashi broth I was assailed with a smoky aroma that set my salivary glands going. I definitely need to explore dashi as an ingredient.

I quickly snagged a mussel that was not deep in G's coconut infused broth. I could just taste the dreaded coconut, but the mussel was wonderful. G. dug in and the seafood flew, shells clattering into the discard bowl accompanied by appreciative expletives.

My halibut was wonderful. The preparation was fresh and nuanced. My first impression had been that the portion was a bit on the small side, but I found myself just barely able to finish. "Oh man!"

As we sat back to finish our bottle of wine, G. started surfing real estate listings again. Philip came by and, on a whim, I asked him where we might want to look for houses in the Seattle area. After a bit of back and forth, he pulled up a chair and talked with us about neighborhoods.

All in all, it was a great evening and really great food. Matt's is like any great thing. When the food, service, and setting are this good it is going to be discovered and known. We will return again and again, but so will others.

The Greatest Show on Earth with the Greatest Cousins on Earth

There isn't really a type of person that goes to the circus. I mean it's really an event meant for kids, but I was suprised at the mix of people there. There were people of all ages, young and old and many different cultures represented.

It's been a while since I went to the circus. I remember that Mom and Dad took us when we were young, but I don't remember much more than that.

I had forgotten the colors, the dancers, the acrobatics. I remembered the elephants and tigers, but forgot how amazing it was to see these animals do handstands. I was amazed at the skills of the poodles of all sizes.

Anyway, I'm so thankful that Aunt Lori came into my life and that she continues to invite me out. Lauren, Evan and Wesley are the best kids and so well behaved.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh9hpeGX5EI&w=420&h=315]

EMpowered with Emily Macrander

Pedal Party in Midtown Houston

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyHjAsoKIY8&w=560&h=315]EMpowered with Emily Macrander

Always looking for my Knight in Shining Armor (Big Bend trip)

As it was getting toward evening Saturday night, Chelsea and I decided to take a walk around Marfa. This was the point in our trip where we talked a lot about life and where we see the future, faith, God and family. As we rounded a corner we saw this small stone church and Chelsea asked if we could go up to it. She was satisfied that her suspicion was true, it was in fact an Episcopal church. Chelsea was raised Episcopal and is in a period of spiritual exploration as she tries to land in her adult church. Anyway, no one was around so we tried the door. It was open. Despite Chelsea's concern that we might be tripping some sort of silent alarm, we went inside. The sanctuary was still and empty inside and seats maybe 100. It's pretty small. I told Chels that this is the kind of place I want to get married because I wouldn't be overwhelmed with the number of available seats for guests. The church windows were colorfully illustrated biblical scenes. We walked around for a few quiet moment before letting ourselves out and continuing on.

"Henkey is Marfa" (Big Bend trip)

When I was in Marfa, there happened to be a film festival so there were all kinds of unique individuals running around. In the center of town there was a small art bizarre capitalizing on the out-of-town tourism that was booming in their town for the weekend.

As I told Chelsea, I was really interested in getting a piece of art to commemorate out trip to Big Bend. At the bizarre, there was a young blonde woman that had a booth set up where she was selling shirts that she was drawing original art on for $25. Next to her table was a night stand (smaller table) with stacks of her art on it. I'm not sure if she had any intention of selling this art. But it was there, so I asked.

I was particularly interested in the pink man you can see in the above picture. Below his face, it reads, "the most beautiful man in the world." I really wanted to get it for Todd and Nick to add to their collection. I also wanted something for myself, but couldn't figure out just what I wanted. So, Chels and I asked Megan to put aside the Most Beautiful Man so that I could come back later and purchase it.

When we returned later that evening, the booth was empty. So I grabbed the most beautiful man and wandered around wearing my best concerned face. I found a woman in a top hat that seemed to know what was going on and explained that the artist was gone and she'd never given me a price for the Most Beautiful Man.

The top hat woman led me over to couches by the booth where Megan and a young man were cuddled together in a "dream-like state." Megan told us what she wished to charge and helped me pick out the painting that I would buy for myself.

Then, checking out, the top hat woman looked at my Most Beautiful Man picture and said, "I can't believe that you're buying this."

"Why?"

"This is a picture of Henkey. Henkey is Marfa."

I'd met this guy earlier. He was the one Megan was lying with out the couch with. I smiled.

"Henkey is a tortured artist," she went on. "And he used to dress in drag. Then Megan moved to town and they fell in love."

Oh, I get it. So this wasn't just any Most Beautiful Man. This is a portrait Megan drew of the man she loves, an adoration of his whole self. So cool. So Marfa.

Always say, "Yes, and..." (Weekend update)

I'm so excited to announce that Jason invited me to join him for a Comedy Sportz Houston six-week improv course. Jason and I were in Comedy Sportz High School league together and I'm really looking forward to the class and to spending some time with Jason. One of the main teachings of improv is to always say, "Yes, and" when given a suggestion.

In other news, this past week, I went to my first-ever Texas Exes Alumni Chapter meeting. A things have shaken out, I spend a lot of time with Aggies (thanks J) and really don't have many Longhorn friends in Houston. I really enjoyed that the chapter meeting was a lot like the Kappa Delta meetings of yester-year. Shouldn't surprise me as the president of the chapter was Greek himself and is running the meeting the only way he knows how - like a fraternity meeting.

J threw a party this Saturday and we mixed many friend crowds. Always nerve-wracking, but it really went well. We had a few friends from Jarrod's office, friends from college, from church, and Gonzalo and his neighbor Eric. The night ended with a walk to House of Pies and a delicious Bayou Goo pie...which I then ate for breakfast Sunday morning.

Sunday afternoon J and I went to Bombay Pizza to eat and watch the World Cup game (I'm so glad that my "interest" in soccer has come to an end...).

I'm most proud of myself this week for painting and putting up these shelves in my bathroom. I was, however, a little overzealous and got red spray paint all over my cement porch. Oops. Sorry, Landlord Donna.

Hanging with friends, helping out neighbors

J and I went out with my Flow-Cal colleagues tonight because the receptionist is leaving our office for greener pastures.

Over pizza, I got to talking to my friend about giving back. OK, I told her I was getting tired and needed to get some sleep because I was getting up early, but whatever, we got around to the topic.

She told  me that she was on a giving-back kick as a part of a self betterment thing she'd been doing since the New Year. I'd say seven months of success is pretty successful resolution, right? She said that every time she goes to the grocery store she does two things: she brings recyclable bags (because we waste so much plastic) and she picks up one of those pre-packaged Houston Food Bank bags. She said she figures that with the money she saves with her grocery loyalty card, the $7 or so it cost to buy the bag is negligible.

I was really moved by the conversation. I think what I came away with is that I can do something to help. Even when I'm busy or broke, helping people gives me worth and confidence and on some days, perspective.

Some friends and I (even J came!) had the opportunity this morning to give some time to the Heights (my hood!) Interfaith Ministries Food Pantry. They were celebrating their 50th year of serving the community and we were chosen (or I chose...) to man the clothing giveaway booth.

Performing this service was really neat. There's something about giving people the clothes that they will wear or the food that they will eat. There's something about giving without asking questions, about respecting someone's autonomy and dignity.

As time went on our piles of clothes would swell with donations, then shrink as people claimed items. But all throughout, some items, particularly some decade-defiant garments like the ones we're wearing in this picture, stayed behind. Why?  Well, I think I figured it out when four tween girls lept at the opportunity to bag a trendy lace top - people, all people, want to look good. They could have been shopping at the Galleria and it wouldn't have been any different. I think we'd all rather go naked than look like fools.

I remember one time seeing a Goodwill billboard that read, "donate what you'd want to buy." That's tough for me as I tend to want to hold onto my stuff with a death grip. And it's a tough call. But I can say that at the couple of places I've sorted clothes, we trash clothing with rips and stains. Also, just toss that old g-string and matching bra, really. Though I really do wish that I'd gotten a picture of my friend Dan wearing that blingy-bra. That woman was either drag queen, a stripper, or someone who really liked to dress up at home - the bag was full of similar items. It was like a 1994 Victoria Secret fire sale.

When we were unloading things from the storage unit today, we pulled out a car seat. Before we could wheel it over to the giveaway area, a young mother came up and asked if she could have it for her son. Yes, of course.  I can't know that woman's struggles, or why she needs assistance to buckle up her son, but I can be the one who puts that in her hands.

Dancing at The Post in Marathon, Texas

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPJTbjyEz84&w=560&h=315] Friday morning, Chelsea and I were told that we needed to go to The Post in Marathon to meet all of the "strapping young cowboys" by our guide director at Far Flung.

Saturday evening, late-late by my standards, Chelsea and I left Marfa and headed out toward Marathon. We hadn't eaten yet because we were waiting on the famous grilled cheese in Marfa. When we got around to checking out the Grilled Cheese Parlor, however, we found out that the wait would be around 30 minutes to get a sandwich and they only took cash or check.

So, we did what every good American would do and we went to Dairy Queen. I tell you what, the chicken fingers were hot off the fryer even five minutes before they closed. And if you get the chance, check out the S'mores Blizzard, it's the bomb.

It would have taken us around 40 minutes to get to The Post, but it turns out it's not on any published map (do as the locals do and ask). So we burned some time driving around and getting lost. Finally, we stopped by The Gage Hotel and I ran in to ask. I was surprised to find that our waitress Meghan, from a few nights before was working the bar. She gave me directions and told me that "everyone in town will be there."

Her directions were as follows: "Take a right at the railroad tracks and drive for about two miles." Um, make that 10-15 miles in the middle of nowhere with no lights. The only reason that Chelsea and I kept trucking was that we get being passed by cars going in the opposite direction. That seemed hopeful.

Finally we arrived. Chelsea and I both thought that we were going to a two-stepping bar. What we didn't realize was that we were really going to a community gathering. It wasn't a bar at all. There were grandparents and grandchildren and high schoolers. There were popular kids and misfits. It was a scene. People were sitting on lawn chairs, popping beers out of coolers. Chelsea and I found a space on a cement bench and watched.

There was a live band and a big cement block that people were dancing on. After some rag tag Texas Country, they played "Sweet Home Alabama" and I knew that these people were alright and everything was OK.

Chelsea and I visit Big Bend

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HK8cfBt0tQ&w=420&h=315]

You're never too old for a Daddy Story

This weekend was a rare treat. Dad was in town because Shell deemed it necessary for him to man a booth at the Grand Prix. Because Dad came in town, Todd and Nick drove down from Baton Rouge on Saturday evening to spend the night. Bonnie and her boyfriend Kyle also drove in from Katy.

It's so good to be around old friends. Bonnie and I have been friends like junior high and she knows me an my family really well. When we were in high school she would come over for dinner for a meal cooked by Dad, so this Saturday wasn't much different.

Dad cooked his famous pizza with cracker crust. After we ate we sat around my apartment telling stories about growing up. I'm happy to share this time with Nick and Kyle because I think they get to know a side of their plus ones that maybe you don't get so much with newer friends. Also, I always love entertaining and filling the Norhill House with love.