T-minus 30 days till 30 Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Yes, in 30 days I'll be 30. I'm not freaking out, really- it's good. Mostly surreal, I feel like at any moment I'll wake up in be back laying in my dorm room and my freshman roommate will be across the way. We'll be watching a rerun of MTV's TRL, you know back when it was cool, then we'll saunter over to Nelson common and have some lunch.But the reality is those days are far behind me, I'm a real live adult. I've felt an elemental shift in the way I do things, no longer am I going to wait around. If the first 30 years have gone by in the blink of eye I can't imagine time will slow to a crawl for the next 30.
Frustration Sunday, November 01, 2009
I'm feeling the need to hit the gym, RIGHT NOW. I want to work out some crazy mental thoughts rattling around in my brain and some general anger. But of course it's late and my gym closes at 5pm on Sundays, which is a shame considering the onset of my black mood didn't hit until about 7:30pm.I'm wishing away my sleep so that it will sooner be 5:30am and I can get to a cardio machine. Slightly pathetic but I'm hoping I'll feel better after wards.
Down the rabbit hole Thursday, October 29, 2009
I can now check a whole 'nother round of things off my to-do list: take a last minute long weekend to see a man, eat some cheesecurds, drink out of a boot. Yes, I'm living my life like a character from The Bucket List. At some point this last year I realized, what the fuck am I waiting for? Hence the jumping out of a plane, trip to England and Ireland and now an impromptu visit to see a guy I used to date. He knew I was coming, it was like a sneak attack or stalking- I promise.It has always sounded deliciously romantic and straight out of the movies to make last minute plans and jump on a plane to go see someone. It was exciting and fun, and as a bonus I only had 3! days to worry about whether or not I looked cute enough or if my ass has grown since the last time I saw him (it has) and he'll be horrified (if it did he didn't act like it).
As a friend pointed out this was like an Alice in Wonderland trip, everything seemed to have an oversized theme to it. First there was the oversized chair we sat in at Lake Mendota Terrace, the giant ostrich egg I bought at the farmers market (because who could pass a thing like that up? Not I.) to the enormous boot of beer at The Essen House. Apparently everything is bigger in Wisconsin, who knew?
To back things up a bit, I had to get up ridiculously early and so by about 6:45am I was sitting in the Chicago airport getting some breakfast- I asked for a cup of tea and shot of whiskey, a classic hot toddy. The waiter looked completely horrified, like i had just told him I like to hang puppy dogs by their tails. First off I had a scratchy throat from breathing dry airplane air and I thought a drink my calm my fluttering stomach. So the waiter haughtily informs me that it is entirely too early for him to serve me alcohol and walks off. Whatever dude, fuck you.
Now when I get to Milwaukee I had about an hour to kill so I try again, this time I start chatting with the bartender and relay my story of getting shot down in Chicago. She pats my hand and says "Honey, this is Wisconsin, we love to drink." as she is serving up my bourbon on the rocks. Guess what, I didn't get tipsy it just slowed down my nervous mind and from then on out I was golden.
The nerves were completely unfounded because even with the two years since we'd seen each other last it was just fine. I think he was doing his damnest to prove to me that Madison was the awesomest since he's been touting in emails since he moved there. I have to say he's a damn fine tour guide (in addition to being damn fine), I got to see both terraces (Madison is flanked by to big lakes), the capitol building, the farmers market, 2 breweries, an apple farm and then other random assorted sites. I drank a ridiculous amount of beer, ate cheese curds, part of an ostrich egg, a burger that had bacon, beef AND and bratwurst on a pretzel bun and watched my beloved Browns get their asses kicked by Green Bay. Ok, so that last part wasn't awesome, but I'm a Cleveland fan- disappointment runs in our blood.
It is possible that I fell a little bit in love with Madison*.
Really, how could I not?
*Ok, I realize that I said the exact same thing about Ireland- but Ireland and I are full blown in love, Madison and I need to get to know each other a little better before proper declarations are made.
Labels: Awesomeness, beer, dating, drinking, drunken shenanagans, vacation
Ireland Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I came thisclose to never leaving Ireland. I can't explain it, I felt at home there. Perhaps it was the pint after pint of beer befuddling my brain or the general misty haze that comes with vacation but it's the truth, I love Ireland. WE ARE IN LOVE.And really, my hair looked fucking fantastic the entire time I was there. That alone is reason enough for me to move there.
Tom, Sara and I had wandered around Kinsale all morning and by early afternoon they were ready for a nap. Me, I wanted to wander some more so I did. First I went up the hill towards a nunnery and then I turned left. Somehow I ended up sort of out in the countryside next to an old Irish guy walking his dog, he turned to me and said something. What he said is entirely a mystery because it's possible was speaking Gaelic, because even after I ask him to repeat himself I still couldn't understand him. So I said "Yeah, that was quite a steep hill" and then booked it because he very well may have been saying something about the weather and wondering why this strange American girl is babbling about a hill.
Eventually I headed back into town, partially because I was pissed that some stupid McMansion sort of development had put up giant 12 foot fences and it was blocking my view of the Irish countryside. WTF?
One night after dinner Tom and I headed into a pub (seriously, the drinking that went on was ridiculous). Sara was too tired to come with so she went back to the B&B while Tom and I went to listen to some Irish music. It was the fantastically little cozy place with locals and tourists alike, we grabbed a couple of pints and sat down to listen. The guy singing and playing guitar was fantastic, he sang a couple of songs and then invited us to all sing along to Mary Mack. We were only a quarter of the way into our pints and the guy was singing a pretty (but slightly cheesy) love song when Tom leaned over to me and said "I think I need to leave now." Confused I asked why and he said "Things are rumbling in a way that isn't good". Both of us grabbed our pints and tried to down as much of them as we could- because the damn things were 4+ Euros a piece.
As we were hightailing it across the town square Tom's gut let out this unearthly growl. It was so loud and sort of echoed off the buildings around us, which only caused me to bust into laughter. Poor Tom ended up spending a good portion of the night in the bathroom.
The following morning he seemed quite recovered and we all headed off to the ancient fort outside of town, taking the low road. Completely forgetting that poor Sara had foot surgery in July and thus by the time we got to the fort her poor feet were tuckered out. Tom and I ran around the inside of the fort, which was massive, and then we boarded the little road train thing to take us back into town. Once in town we drank some more (shocking), ate some lunch and then DRANK SOME MORE. In our defense it was Arthur's Day- the 250th founding of Guinness so drinking in Ireland was an absolute.
I took a seriously insane amount of photos- a few are here, the rest can be found on my flickr page- since I don't want to endlessly bore you with 30 different shots of Kinsale harbor.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27133418@N00/sets/72157622355743237/
Tits McGee and Guinness:
Celtic Cross in a super old church:
Kinsale Harbor:
Charles Fort:
Labels: drinking, drunken shenanagans, Ireland, photos, UK Trip, vacation
Getting there is half the battle Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday afternoon I board a plane and leave for Britain and Ireland. This is possibly my first real true vacation. Sure I've had days off here and there, mostly spent with family. Short little trips to various locals but never a long, extended trip at a delicious location.Needless to say I am very excited. So excited it has practically rendered me mute. It's like all the things I want to say about it get clogged up in my throat and all come out as "Aaaaeeeeee!!!!!!"
I've long been an Anglophile so this trip is more than a dream come true it's epic. I'll be staying with some friends in Liverpool and probably taking little day trips all over. I'm a touch concerned since the friends who've graciously put me up are quite the drinkers and as such I'm afraid I'll be known as the yankee plonker who can't hold her drink. I suspect there will be many a drunken shenanagans.
Then mid-week we'll be taking a trip to Ireland. IRELAND.
My personal goal is to meet a cute red-headed fisherman and somehow seduce him. Eventually we'll settle into a little thatched cottage and I'll drink tea (or whiskey) and knit while our adorable redheaded children sit by the peat fire.
Entirely within the realm of reason, no?
Labels: Awesomeness, beer, drunken shenanagans, UK Trip
The most awesome wedding & bacon cupcakes Monday, August 31, 2009
All weddings are lovely and nice on some level, but I think it's the rare wedding that is so ass kickingly awesome that words completely fail you (unless those words are "awesome", "the best" or "ass kickingly" or any such combination of those terms to which the speaker feels so inclined). This past weekend two of my friends got married and their wedding was nothing short of spectacular. It was the sort of wedding were you got that perfect crystallization of a couple, it was just so them. And they are awesome.Ok, I know I need to stop saying that.
It was a camping wedding or could be if one was so inclined. Really, I'm not much of camper being that the last time I really dealt without indoor plumbing and went without a real bed was sometime in the late 90's, and I'm pretty sure that was a ploy to go out and drink underage away from the prying eyes of parents.
But a tent and air mattress are an easy thing to borrow and I'm sure glad I packed the extra comforters because damn, it got cold on Saturday night. I did find myself awake at 4:30am cursing the lack of shower and that I had to get up with raging headache and my lantern to find my way to my car and subsequently my purse to find the sweet release of Exedrine Migraine. Also pee.
Almost everyone had volunteered to help in some way. Before the wedding tons of people gathered in the pavilion to decorate it with chinese lanterns and twinkle lights, to set out flowers, decorate the brown paper covering the tables, arrange the cupcakes. It was the most lovely sense of community I've experienced in a long time. Here, people from all over the country, came together and were laughing and talking and having a ball while prepping the space for the wedding. It's hard to describe to people who were there because it sounds like a crazy hippie commune of happiness but really it was amazing.
The wedding itself was one of those beautiful, natural affairs in a bit of a clearing near the pavilion. There was some seating but most stood under the brilliant blue sky and listened to them read vows they'd written for each other. Vows that made us laugh and cry and sigh with happiness. When their friend (who'd be ordained via the interwebs) announced them as man and wife he said "you may now high five the bride".
I know, right?
AWESOME.
Then followed the drinking. Ok, the drinking started hours before the wedding and continued on into the night. Food was plentiful, considering they roasted a whole pig (no joke). Then came the karaoke. Me, I'm not a singer. But I'll stand in the crowd and yell lyrics right back at you while flailing about doing my best form of spastic dancing. It's not pretty but it's fun. Which is probably why I woke up Sunday morning with a throat that felt like I had taken a belt sander with 100 grit paper and gone to fucking town. Ugh.
Best parts of the reception include my awesome air guitar solo (playing the part of Ted Nugent in The Damn Yankees) during Can You Take Me High Enough and then quite possibly the coolest person I've ever met in my life. She was about my age, holding a baby in a sling (cradling his head with her one hand) and with the other holding a mic and singing Shoop by Salt and Peppa. At damn near midnight. The baby slept the whole time even though I'm pretty sure there were 20 of us in the audience screaming at the top of our lungs during her song. After her song I found her in the crowd and told her she was my hero.
My contribution to the wedding was pretty much the most talked about cupcake ever, French Toast Cupcakes with Maple Buttercream and BACON. I don't think they lasted more than 30 minutes post-wedding. Poof, almost 2 dozen gone in a matter of minutes. I got the recipe from Life With Cake and while the frosting was top notch I didn't like the way the cupcakes rose inconsistently. A good number of them puffed up and then randomly slid off to one side, in fact many of them slid in different directions even though they were made in the same batch. Since these caused a sensation and have been requested for a couple of birthdays and such I will try them again but with one of my more tried and true cake recipes. They were devoured so quickly that the bride and groom didn't even get one, which I'll try to rectify soon.
But my god, the frosting could not be improved upon. Nether could the bacon, thanks to local pork and the failproof oven cooking method. I highly recommend bringing these cupcakes when you want to knock peoples fucking socks off.
Zippy Saturday, August 08, 2009
Yesterday I finally bit the bullet and bought a road bike. It's so fun and quick, so very different than my hybrid. My hybrid bike is heavy and slow and to be honest I've been hating it so much that I haven't ridden it at all this summer. It just wasn't what I wanted, I wanted speed and lightness.This morning I went for a very short ride, since my ass is currently protesting the hard seat. I have no idea how fast I went or how far but I do know that it felt faster and really, isn't perception everything?
Perhaps it's entirely dorktastic but I like to name my bikes, cars, ipods, kitchenaid mixers. I think it has to do with the fact that I usually outlay a huge amount of cash for these items (well, it's a huge amount of cash to me). I've mentioned that I named the MG Bernard, my Kitchenaid is named Lucille, and now I've named my new road bike Francine.
Labels: bike
