PlOwwwww Through It

We had a lovely trip to New England. Unfortunately my blogging ability has been hindered for ages - first by a crazy primitive form of wired Internet connection and then when I returned from our trip with outrageous back pain. I went to the doctor the day after we got back and she said I had a trapezius muscle spasm. Any motion from the left side of my body evokes a stern, "WTF do you think you are doing?" from the knife between my shoulder blade and spine. Finally, work is really, really busy. It's a good thing, but a bit difficult when I'm operating without the most effective 20% of my body. (I'm left-handed.) And don't even get me started about having the moxy to lean forward! What am I out of my mind?


I had an appointment with a doctor on Tuesday. I drove to the hospital complex where the office is located. There are four parking garages - they are by color, but let's just say they're DC, Chicago, San Francisco and Honolulu. I figured my appointment was in San Francisco, so I headed into that garage. I wound down floor after floor behind one of those guys who wants to check every single spot is full until I reached a detour to the Honolulu garage. I entered Honolulu and wound down a few more floors into some dark recess in the Earth. The clock was ticking, I was either supposed to be there 15 or 30 minutes before my appointment to do my paperwork, but I had pre-registered online (even filling in the most complicated info twice after a spontaneous reset of the page), so it should be a breeze...


So I get out of the Honolulu garage and look at the paper (yes, that antiquated form of data storage) and now I think my appointment is in Chicago. But when I ask, "You can't get there from here," was the honest answer I received from a desk clerk. Getting to Chicago involved going upstairs, crossing through a breezeway while the girls behind me discussed the fact that it was a breezeway, getting into another building, going down the stairs to get to an elevator to the third floor... Where I discovered that my appointment was actually in DC, not Chicago. Now it was back down the stairs and outside - eff this crazy maze.


That's when I started thinking I would just bail on the appointment. I mean if it is THIS hard to get to her office! And my next appointment was at 3:00. I was starting to doubt there was anyway I could get to the next time zone, fill out paperwork or read People magazine, meet the doctor, and then get all the way back to Honolulu in time for the 3pm meeting. Huff, I pushed on, as my left shoulder felt like it had detached from my body entirely the two parts held together only by the blade of steel that seemed to be wedged in my back.


I got to the office and announced I'd pre-registered. "Did you bring your print out?" What?? You computerized everything to get rid of the paper and now you want a print out? Didn't I just put all the data in your computer system? So, unbelievably, she handed me six pages of blank forms and set me to work again.


Now I will digress even further, because you see, I used to love my handwriting, but now I would rather type than write. I loathe filling out forms because I always over think them, "Responsible Party?" What does that mean? "Policy Holder?" You mean that's NOT me? But I have a card with my name on it? So the writing that went down on those forms after I'd hauled my hind end all the way from DC to Honolulu was full on Resentment Handwriting. I was triumphant when the nurse, upon receiving my scrawl, said to the other woman behind the Wall of Glass, "Can you make this out?" Ha! Ha! Take THAT! 


Anyway, the reason this picture is here is that our trip to New England pretty much began with Jac declaring, "OMG, they put the road right through that mountain! Instead of going over it, they just went right through it!" 

Knitty Kitty

Today was a day where I stayed up late working, went to bed and couldn't fall asleep - in some ways aided by other creatures in my bed who were dream destroyers. I then needed to wake up early to get back to work. Suddenly I have to write three kind of important documents in the next 5 days. When I am in the midst of them the work is kind of fun, but I am the type who has trouble cracking the book open, and no trouble plowing through he work when I get in there since I do enjoy this type of work. 

I went to knit night tonight and was so glad. Those ladies are just lovely and our evenings are so comfortable and free of stress. We even had a dizzying selection of gourmet cupcakes to make it super super great. I arrived with a hat and left with a scarf. The hat I had been knitting would have fit Dumbo and I am aiming a bit more for items that will actually fit my friends and family for this holiday season.I love the pattern I've cast on and hope the recipient enjoys it too.

I am eager for the arrival of sleep tonight -- too many nights of too little sleep. But there's just one more pair of hurdles to get over tomorrow and I will be sailing into the weekend.

Requiem for a Decent Meal Part Two

Sometimes, when you blog, you can paint yourself into a bit of a corner. My multi-post stories can be a little like that. Best to be pithy and succinct. Get it all out but try not to use a million words. But when I last talked about dinner in the Northern Neck, I was right there in that corner staring out at confining paint all around.


See, "the River" is worthy of nurturing. Our beloved escape is so wonderful in part because it is undiscovered and unrefined. We bemoan the silly snobby "Come Heres" who fret about not being able to find a "decent meal". You didn't come here for the meal, trust us, it was something else.


So when someone makes an effort to do something new (for the River) at the River, it's a big deal, and one I think everyone hopes will succeed. But when those ventures fail, oh how we long for what they could have been.


I have been spending a lot of time reading Chowhound reviews of Boston restaurants and the snooty foodies on there decry Boston dining as positively backwater since everything on earth is better in NYC. I just chuckle and add more Boston gems to my trip plans. If those Chowhounders found their way to Seven in White Stone they would never ever stop snarking about it. (Uhh kind of like I'm doing now.) Our meal at Seven has been so memorable that I am fearing every bite of meat now that it could be as atrocious as the last bite of Beef Stroganoff I had at Seven. I am pretty picky about where I'll eat meat, so I only remember one other time that I've had beef that dreadful. It was a refrigerator section ready made pot roast that I served Jac years ago and it was gross. I think the Seven bite was worse. I will try to spare you the worst of it, but imagine wrapping several sheets of unflavored gelatin around a bland slimy piece of beef. I warned my waitress that I'd spit out (what I could) into my napkin.


What ensued at our table was a lengthy discussion of Sysco Foods - the provider of supplies and prepared food items to food establishments everywhere. I am certain most of that Beef Stroganoff came out of a food service bag, but I don't know who to pin that bad beef on. So Seven isn't on my list of places I want to go for dinner in the Northern Neck. (My dessert was barely thawed cake.) Unfortunately there aren't many other choices there for now. To the experienced, adventurous restauranteurs out there I say: Beat a path to the Northern Neck as soon as possible please. And when you get here keep those Sysco orders reasonable. Make us most of what you serve, don't re-heat it.

Butternut Squash Pasta

Jac is definitely a hunter, not a gatherer, when it comes to food. He'll take fruit of the sea over fruit of the tree any day. The Atkins Diet would be like a wild bender for him rather than a hellacious nightmare (as it would be for me). So squash night isn't too frequent. I try to space them out until the memories of the last one are just faded enough that he can't protest, "But we just had squash on Wednesday!"


But I love butternut squash. I didn't have it until college. I even secretly think the first time I had it was at a Golden Corral buffet. It came in the form of a fried nugget. The insides had turned into creamy golden goodness. Butternut squash is so decadent I can scarcely believe it doesn't come with a hazard warning. 


I made us butternut squash with pasta in an herb cream sauce. I didn't measure as I cooked (bad blogger!) but for two servings I would estimate: 1/2 butternut squash, cubed and roasted until soft (about 45 minutes at 350 degrees); 2 tbsp butter; 1/2 cup milk and/or cream (I mixed skim milk and half & half); 1/2 cup ricotta cheese; 1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese plus topping; 1/2 tsp parsley; 1/4 tsp rosemary (but I would have preferred sage); and salt and pepper to taste. I cooked the pasta and drained it. In the pasta pot I warmed the milk, butter and cheeses. Then I returned the pasta to the pot and coated it with the cream sauce. Lightly toss the squash with the pasta and top with freshly grated parmesan cheese.

This One Commercial Part 2

When we last met I was rambling about the Chase Sapphire commercial where Molly spends an awful lot of rewards points on a stupid dress while her husband is fantasizing about touring the Cote D'Azur by boat. 


I was just about to confide that last week we got a letter from Citibank raising the interest on Jac's Citibank card to 29.99% otherwise known as thirty percent! We carry a balance which is a good thing for a credit card company - they make money from us! We pay on time. We have been customers for a long time. And now we're closing our account.


Twitter was all aflutter about the Citibank rate hike. (#badcitibank) I watched breathlessly all week as the news nets decried "fees" from the credit card companies we all just bailed out. I waited for a story about this insane usury but there was none. (Lo how twitter is so much more relevant...) 


Anyway, we had been on a mission to use points as we earned them for a while. Credit card companies have been slashing benefits and devaluing points by upping the exchange prices for a while. When the letter came in we began to abandon ship. It is infuriating that closing the account will have a negative impact on his credit score. 


So the economy is in the tank, and credit card companies are going bananas in advance of the enactment of the Credit Card Reform Act. Chase is legendary on Consumerist for its abusive practices. Americans are taking staycations and supposedly discovering that "less is more". But in Chaseland there is a beautiful and magical couple who only have opulent desires. I mean, haven't they seen Real Housewives? All the Real Housewives are downsizing, getting evicted, filing bankruptcy, not marrying Big Papa... 


The Chase Sapphire ad is the most wildly off-tune ad I've seen since McDonald's declared, "I'd hit that!" They've got Americans over a barrel right now, but eventually things will turn around and I hope we all remember then what insanity they put us through now. And then we go buy ourselves foofy dresses with cash.

This One Commercial

Something about the Chase Sapphire commercial that has been running for months has really chapped my ass, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Actually, I was putting my hands all over it. Every time I saw it (which was often because I watch a lot of basic cable) I found something else to dislike about it.


Breaking News 24/7 says "Chase Card Services, a unit of JPMorgan Chase & Co., said Wednesday it will now offer a rewards card designed for wealthy customers.

The new card, called Chase Sapphire, is designed for the top-earning 15 percent of U.S. households. It offers travel services, access to round-the-clock customer service and a rewards program." A scant bit of research puts a goodly number of dual-earner Washingtonian households in that target audience. In a fit of craziness it might even theoretically include mine. (Laughing uncontrollably.)


First there was the nagging question: Who is that woman? WikiAnswers had had the incorrect answer -- Julia Roberts. Someone corrected it to say Molly Culver of VIP (with Pamela Anderson) fame. I thought she was a model. Anyway, there's that vague familiarity breeding a little contempt.


The premise is a whole lot like a Cyalis ad only substitute a hella expensive dress for a suspiciously handsome middle aged guy getting his schwerve on with his wife on Saturday afternoon. 


Molly prances in like a second-grader with her new Easter dress. She is tilting and hinting at her pricey smock. Meanwhile, like the disembodied head from so many drug ads, her husband is recounting the finer details of Chase Sapphire. See, her husband wants to tour the world with the points they racked up at Le Bernadin and she's giddy about her secret -- she blew their points on a dress. A freakin' extremely ordinary dress. Am I the only one who thinks this is completely effing crazy? Fortunately the Internets had the same response.

So Molly has a new dress and that is stupid. Point One. But also, this commercial is a perfect example of stereotyping by opposites (I just made that up) that is so rampant in advertising. It's when you see some characters interacting and they're clearly playing (a very intentional) opposite to some historic cultural or advertising stereotype. In today's commercials the wife is always scolding the stupid oafish husband about cleaning/health/travel, the black guy is always the informed best friend cluing in his doofus white dude buddy, and the woman is always the doctor giving credibility and weight to the value of the pharmaceutical product. It's the archetype of Everybody Loves Raymond, King of Queens, Family Guy... It's not that the wife, buddy, doctor wouldn't have authority in real life; it's the heavy-handedness of the roles. 


I automatically reverse the roles in my head when I hear them and am often startled at the idiocy they imply. Doing it backwards doesn't make it right. How about being a little more clever and developing some new paradigms for advertising?


But back to Chase Sapphire - which is airing this very moment - Molly has blown all their points (Enough, her unsuspecting husband thinks, for a sweet vacation involving motorcraft.) on a stupid dress. Molly's done this behind her husband's back - like the Drapers would do. They must be the modern-day Drapers ("You have everything! And so much of it!"). Chase Sapphire offers all the standard credit card rewards - gift cards, travel, badly priced shopping options. Who, in this suckalicious economy, is blowing their rewards points on a dress? We just cashed some of ours in last week on our dreadful (and soon to be closed) Citibank card...

The Not-Nice Girl

When I was a little girl, someone from school remarked to my mother that I was just the most cheerful thing. I smiled and said hello to everyone. I still have some of that girl, but these days I can find it more difficult to warm up to someone I know than someone I don't.


Our neighbors at our old house were the devils incarnate. They pushed us around and we were young and polite and put up with more than we should have. I wanted to like my new neighbor but soon found that they shared the "my property rights extend as far as my eye can see" philosophy in the middle of the city that my old neighbors had. I was polite and laid low. A thousand disturbances and inappropriate "requests" were met with pleasantness and civility. When they crept across the property line, we gnashed our teeth but decided not to start World War III over it. When they nudged us to pay for a pricey upgrade that was somehow on the property line they'd just squatted right over, we complied rather than get into it with them.


And so today, when I got home and discovered that Amazon had utterly inexplicably shipped an order of tea to my house with signature required and that the delivery had been attempted during two of the whopping four hours I'll be away from the house this work week I was peeved. Knowing I will miss the second delivery attempt was extra special. When my stamp printer ran out of labels and "ate" a couple dollars worth of postage and forced me back into the endless line at my post office, I steamed. When I couldn't watch either news channel because they were both so inane and third hour of the Today Show-esque, I sighed.*


Cut away to a scene three weeks ago when our other neighbors who have a monster gardening fetish and matching contract had a gardener walking around with a leaf blower. Gardener fine. Leaf blower fine. Gardener who uses leaf blower in 100,000 on/off pulses in an afternoon you are going to destroy that thing, but not soon enough. Jac and I remarked to each other about how unthinkable it was that a leaf blower could be made exponentially more irritating, and that this guy had somehow found the way. (Aside to the aside: I am not talking 30 second pulses while he moves a pile and goes to gather more, I am talking about a rhythmic pulsing of the leaf blower like a blender gingerly cracking one ice cube at a time - for an entire afternoon.)


So when our nearer neighbor hired that same pulsing leaf blowing guy, I didn't even have to look out the window, I knew. And when Jac got home from work I thought just commiserating with him would be enough. But for the 100 other little inconveniences this day it might have been. I opened the door just to peer out, to see when the hell this madness might end. Before my head knew what my feet** were doing I was out the door on the way to kindly suggest to the gardener that he might be ruining his equipment.


Only I was sort of charging apparently and I had failed to notice the neighbor standing in her yard (duh of course I believe we have covered the fact that the neighbor lives in her front yard how could I forget that even for a moment) and I traipsed right past her. "What's wrong???" she demanded. Shit.


I kind of suck at artifice. I mean I can tell a good story but I generally have trouble concealing the truth. Particularly when it is sweating out of my pores like garlic. I told her I had never heard a leaf blower operated in such a manner and it was driving me kind of nuts. I was dumbfounded when she responded with all the entitlement I'd always presumed she had that it was only once a year and he was almost done and no (of course mother earth goddess that she is) she does not like leaf blowers and no she hadn't heard anyone use a leaf blower quite like that either but effyouverymuch (implied). I looked at the leaf blowing gardener. I stammered something non-noise related at my neighbor. I walked home. 


And the thing is, for all the thousands of times I have wanted to change the behavior on my neighbor's property, this is the first time I have ever said a word and yet I was received with all the indignation of a perennial pest. So my intuition is validated. My resentment is redoubled. There are some people on the playground who just can't be won over with that little girl's cheery disposition. I hope they get an irresistible job offer in Timbuktu.


And I come away from it like a clumsy lover who knows she accomplished nothing. I had no sense of relief or victory, only the feeling that it had unfolded all wrong.


*Not that hours one and two are remotely watchable. Is there a fourth hour? Hell I don't know. (Avarice with Kathy Lee!)
**Odd since generally my head must make numerous increasingly threatening demands to my feet and ass in order to get them to go forth boldly.

It Was a Long Day in October

 Right now the sight of Logan from Gilmore Girls, Christine Baranski and Julianna Marguiles on my tv is one of the most delightful parts of this long, long day.

I went to bed late last night, too late. I thought I'd sleep in since my commute to work consists of the living room floor. But Jac's day started off rough - he'd misplaced his keys. He usually does all of his morning stuff and gets out the door with me none the wiser. Not this morning. Holy moly those keys were so elusive. Finally I turned on the lights and there they were. He dashed off to work, but sleep was gone.

I woke up to wall to wall Rush Limbaugh on the morning news shows. You would think MSNBC had stock in the man. Blech. That's not a good way to start the day. Then a customer who'd recently tried to find greener pastures emailed all in a tizzy over something their boss had determined while we were working for them. I sent off a response and haven't heard back. Then I tried to print postage for some stuff we'd sold on Amazon and wasted some cash.

It'd be nice to have that cash though, because Jac recently acquired some phat dental work. I'm talking about his second gold crown. Seriously! That freaking dentist put a gold crown in the man's mouth a year or so ago and Jac went back for more. I am married to Flavor Flav. I could point out that this is the same man who nearly ripped his own dental work out when he discovered a dentist had given him a silver filling instead of a white one. Now he's chewing with gold nuggets and he isn't outraged. Our lovely dental bill arrived today and I got the damage for the well, damage they did to my husband.

Without going into detail, I also got my own confirmation of the state of the economy and lending crisis today when we learned tapping into your equity is not the free-flowing party it once was. That was another fun part of the day.

I also had to begin plotting my revenge for the utterly outrageous Virginia driver's license I received in the mail yesterday. Curse those terrorists (real ones not DMV people) for screwing up our driver's licenses. Now we have to have these crazy "no smiles" black & white "natural" pictures. Next time I am wearing a burka. The DMV chick had chatted with her co-workers the whole time I was there, taking a good twice as long to do each task as it would have taken me, completely un-oriented, if I'd hopped behind the counter to do it. I know there are good, hard-working DMV employees but lo you were not at the South Arlington DMV last week. So out of nowhere DMV Lady says something chuckle inducing. This prompts me to lose my perfectly practiced sleek chin pose and scrunch up my face and nose, blow out my cheeks and turn my eyes toward her. I know this because I will have a lasting image of that for the next TEN YEARS. Thank you deranged slacker shecky DMV Lady. Thanks soooo much. I look like Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles.

Since I'd had little sleep and I needed to be on top of my game for a late afternoon marketing meeting, I thought I would try to sneak in a cat nap. You would think working from home napping would be a common thing. But it's far more common for Jac to come home and find that I am still wearing yesterday's clothes. I have not been to the bathroom since 10 and hell no I have not touched the dishes or the laundry -- I'm woooorking. So it was with an almost clear conscience that my head graced the pillow and my eyes closed. Of course six minutes later when my cell rang my boss wanted to chat and schedule a redundant meeting for later in the week,  I sprung into instant wide-awakeness.

So I put all the Amazon stuff out for the mailman. I was doin' all that risky home postage printing for the sheer and utter joy of handing off packages to the mailman instead of hauling them to the post office. But no, he left all my packages sitting on the front porch untouched. I was in for a trip to the post office at the crossroads of the world.

I love my neighborhood. I love living in a diverse metropolis. I do however wish that we had an orientation system for the post office. I feel like I never go to the post office, but when I do, the same people are always there. There's the guy who wants stamps, wants to know about the future of stamps, wants to get stamps that are not kept out front but in some secret cache in the back under a heap of postage due fruitcakes from 1987. There's the woman who is not going to understand what he means by "Do you want to require a signature?" no matter how loudly or slowly he says it. There is the guy who just moved who goes to the counter empty-handed for a change of address form who will fill it out standing at the counter. And I will be waiting behind all of these people with something that simply needs to be handed to the postal clerk. (All set, postage, labels, good to go.) And while I am gnashing my teeth at how there should be an express lane for handoffs only, someone will charge to the front of the line to ask a couple dozen questions and then end up filling out a form next to the address change guy. And yes she wants stamps. What do you have in a Love stamp? Are there any new designs out?

Requiem for a Decent Meal

It was my dear husband, Jac's birthday. My parents invited us to Seven, a martini bar. I had apprehensions about Seven from the first I heard of it. Seven is inside the White Stone Events Center in White Stone, VA. I am telling you this now because I doubt you're going to want to find out where it is later.


Seven just looked wedding reception-esque. (Not my perfect reception or that of any of my friends or family whose weddings I ever attended, ours were all perfect.) It looked like a community center hall, rented by the half-hour and loaded with 8-top rounds covered with cheap but durable tablecloths.


See here's where I start to feel guilty. I feel guilty because my beloved Northern Neck is determined to field a home team. We don't have Applebee's (thank all that is holy). We don't even have a Starbucks. The Northern Neck is homegrown to the point of suspicion of all things "Come Here". It is at once charming and bedeviling. I love it because there is one stop light in my county. I love it because the biggest traffic jam I'll be in all day is two people deep behind a 147 year old lady who can't find her bonus card in Food Lion. Indeed, I even love the absence of the dining scene that inspires my cooking and blogging the meals I make at home.


But when we do want to go out, say to celebrate Jac's birthday. It is a dreary endeavor. For a bit more than a year, the "scene" (if you can call it that) was boosted by the presence of Swank's on Main. It was a little outsider. It was definitely pricey for what you got. It was pretty and clean and new and gourmet inside. And now it is gone. To be continued... 

Planning a Trip to Boston?

I am and let me tell you, we'll be heading straight to Ristorante Toscano because "A TripAdvisor Contributor" has taken many females there.

A Wonderful Wedding in the Palmetto State

Hmm, I don't think I'm down with the Palmetto State as a moniker but maybe that's just because palmetto doesn't feel conversational. But South Carolina, you are a lovely state. You are also edging ahead of Virginia in progressive state symbols after all we still have a bizarre 1850's minstrel song as our "state song". Headdesk.


We went to South Carolina for cousin JJ's wedding and it was a beautiful day and she was a beaming bride. I think my favorite sights of the day were her kids tearing up the dance floor and my cousin Joe getting hopped up on OJ from the OJ Fountain! OMG an OJ Fountain has to be the best thing in the world to a four year old. Heck, if it were Coca-Cola or champagne I'd install it in my foyer. Or as Jac would say in my fwayayyyy.

She Said We'd Like it None of that Tex-Mex Junk

To be honest, I love Tex-Mex. Give me white meat chicken and goopy cheddar cheese and I'm a happy girl. I'm sorry I know I'm ghetto. But I'm proud ghetto.


We went to Rosa Mexicano in National Harbor. It was a bright respite on a cool and rainy afternoon. 

Half the fun of coming to Rosa's is the table-side preparation of guacamole to taste. As a child to who dreaded the annual (and very public) gym class skin-fold test I learned that avocados contained lots of fat. Back then there was no distinguishing between "good fats" and "bad fats" like there is today. I tasted avocados and rejoiced - it was a "fatty food" that I could very happily live without for the rest of my life. It was like God had taken spinach and pureed it with 2/3rds warm ice cream. Blech.


Fast forward 20 years and now there are "good fats" only they happen to exclude the fun fats in most cases. But I now had a free pass to re-examine avocados. Okay, not so bad, and you get to surreptitiously nosh them with chips or tortillas. I can support that.

In addition to the tortilla soup and guacamole above, our party tried the enormous and tasty short ribs: Tablones / Short Ribs, 18 oz. of grilled boneless beef short ribs served with a mestiza sauce (tomatillo-tomato-chipotle) and rajas (slow-cooked Mexican peppers).

We tried the Alambre de Camarones / Shrimp Brochette Grilled shrimp marinated in a garlic vinaigrette over house rice with onions, tomatoes, serrano peppers and roasted tomato-jalapeño-caper sauce.

We had to have sides of plantains but I find queso fresco wildly forgettable.

I ordered the beef Mole de Xico / Beef Two soft corn tortillas filled with shredded chipotle beef, topped with Veracruz mole made with raisins, plantains, hazelnuts, pine nuts and mulato, ancho and pasilla chiles. Garnished with crema and queso fresco. This elicited a quizzical "Have you ever had mole before?" from my waiter. What do you read my blog and know that I like Hershey's chocolate and cheddar cheese and therefor have a completely unrefined palate or something?? Yes, I'd had it before. This mole was spicier than I remembered but that just meant Jac was happy to devour the leftovers for lunch the next day. It was one of the most beautiful dishes I've ever been served. (Don't be deceived by the poor lighting.)

Rosa Mexicano is a beautiful restaurant. It was getting dark out by the time I remembered to snap these pics so you can't see the lovely views of the Potomac here. You'll have to go there yourself.

Autumn - A Love Song

I am a Fall fanatic. What is not to love about autumn? The temperature has regained its civility. The days are not too short and not too long. The food is a-may-zing! The arrival of October means our birthdays are on the way and the best holidays of the year - the Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas trifecta are just weeks away.


We have Halloween plans for the dogs of the house, but they'll stay under wraps for now. What? Oh dressing up our dogs? Yeah, but only once in a while and only if there's a compelling reason like All Hallows Eve.


I've already made apple crisp and it was so heavenly I can't wait to make it again. I was inspired to toss a couple of waning graham crackers into the crust and I was transported back to the delectable apple treat Roy Rogers used to serve up in a little red tin when I was a child.


Ahhhh, Fall. You are here. Stick around. Stay awhile. We've missed you. It's been far too long. Sit a spell. Have a cup of cider.

Boulevard Woodgrill

I had lunch with a colleague and I got to pick the spot. Jac and I always mean to go to Boulevard Woodgrill, but we often end up somewhere else. I like the ambiance - it's got an open kitchen and it sits on a corner in bustling Clarendon. I'm not always in the mood for city chaos, but it was perfect for a long leisurely lunch.


I had the woodgrill steak salad. It's not often that I order something exactly as written but it was just as I'd make it - greens, steak, blue cheese and ranch (Is that even legal?) and what is that? freaking fried potatoes on top!

My dining companion had uhhh wrap that is not listed on their online menu. Do I have to start writing things down? It's not enough to subject everyone I ever dine with to photography of their meals now I have to write down what they are eating too? I think it was a tuna wrap but there's only a chicken and avocado wrap on the menu. It's purty in any case.

Desperate, I'll Say!

Yikes! I'm all for mature women in Hollywood getting lead roles. I don't know if it is the faces themselves, the makeup or the composition of this promo for Desperate Housewives, but they are looking downright scary. Is ABC turning the once (still?) popular show into yet another show about vampires? I thought only teen vampires were supposed to be sexy. 

I Got Buns Hon'

I would rather bake bread from scratch than go to a grocery store in the city on a Sunday. Fortunately these buns from AllRecipes are absolutely fabulous. I made them a few weeks ago and then again this week. They complement Jac's request for Sloppy Joe's perfectly.


Instead of actually following the recipe, I just melt the butter and throw everything into the bread machine to form the dough. Then I remove the dough, separate it into rolls and let it rise for an hour or so. Then I bake them as suggested. The leftovers are delish the next day warmed with butter and a drizzle of honey.

Das Vettest Oktoberfest

We had tickets for Das Best Oktoberfest this weekend. The forecast called for a 70% chance of rain during the day and a 100% chance of rain Saturday night. The forecast did not disappoint.

We've been to several events at National Harbor this year and I think Jac and I both give the notion of a day at the harbor two enthusiastic thumbs up. The event website said "everything is tented" which was encouraging if a complete and utter lie.


We met up with the lovely D and wended our way through OMG IT'S RAINING traffic to the harbor. We arrived and entered a long line for entrance, but were pleased that the organizers had their act together and it moved pretty quickly. Once we got in, we were pleased to see a lot of tents since it was raining by this point. Unfortunately they weren't linked in anyway so we got out our umbrellas and proceeded to begin juggling the desire for beer and food with the desire not to be soaking wet. That was pretty much how the day went. Fortunately people are very gregarious once sated with beer and mass quantities of German food (though it may have been the other way around.) We made our way to a big tented hall and made merry with strangers.


I take a lot of pictures of random people and scenery for Magniferous and my prodigious tweeting habit. I hate it when people catch me in the act. Then I come home with a picture like this where she is clearly thinking, "WTH are you taking my picture freak girl?"

Best Little Furniture House in North Carolina

Jac is a "make good time" kind of traveller. Even when we are walking around some new destination I have to remind him "This IS what we came to see!" We were headed to South Carolina for my cousin's beautiful wedding. I started perusing The Google for interesting places to go weeks before our journey. But Jac would have none of that. "It's already a seven hour drive, isn't it?" Also, we were going to have two fluffy but needy dogs with us so he planned an all business drive.


The day before we left, a funny thing happened. Jac said there was one place he wanted to visit on the way. I braced myself for the name of a comic book store. 


"I would like to stop at Red House Furniture in High Point, North Carolina." What? A furniture store? Then he showed me this: GO TO YOUTUBE. (Do it, you really need to.) I agreed it was good viewing, but wasn't too sure about the stop at the furniture store.


We walked in and headed straight to the counter. A couple of the guys from the commercial were there and they were happy to offer us tee shirts and other goodies for sale. We shook their hands. I wanted to buy a sofa, strap it on the roof of our car, drive it to South Carolina, attend a wedding and drive home. I liked the furniture store that much. Alas we had to settle for tee shirts this trip. Next time though.

An Afternoon in China

I confess to not being the most adventurous eater in the world, the house, or possibly even this chair. But this weekend I felt like branching out a bit and giving a new (to us) Chinese restaurant a try. I have very bizarre criteria for Chinese food. I am, as previously disclosed, obsessed with Chinese pancakes. I checked out Chowhound and perused the posts labelled "Authentic Chinese Restaurants" for somewhere new and discovered a mountain of praise for Hong Kong Palace in Seven Corners.


Hong Kong Palace is one of two Chinese restaurants in one small row of a strip mall. When we stepped inside all signs pointed to good food ahead. It was nearly two in the afternoon but the place was packed. The clientele was buzzing in Chinese. They had those zodiac calendar placemats.

The specials on the wall looked impressive if completely indecipherable to us. The specials wall is the most ornate decoration in the cozy restaurant. Our waitress nodded approval when we declined an offer of utensils and picked up the Chinese menu over the American take out version. 


I knew I wanted to try scallion pancakes. 

I'm always on the look out for good vegetable dumplings.

Jac is a wild and crazy guy so he'll order something like "Spicy Wonton" without any description. We're thinking pork. 

He does have a favorite dish though - Kung Pao anything. So he got Kung Pao Shimp & Chicken.

And then I discovered possibly the most incredible of all Chinese dumpling foods I've had in my life, the mythical Sesame Ball which I will now commit to memory by its proper name Jien Duy because when you hang with people like you guys you don't go around saying "I love Sesame Balls" lest you be mocked for all eternity with witless puns.

Our waitress asked if I'd had them before and then explained that they are served at New Years celebrations and told us how they are made with rice flour and white and black sesame seeds. I will try Stir-fried Green when we go back.


She also told us she is from the town in China "where pandas come from" which www tells me is Sichuan. I gave her ... oh hell, confession...


There are business cards for Magniferous.com. They were inconceivably cheap from Vistaprint.com. I give them to anyone who will willingly put their hand out. Panhandlers sometimes do not like this.


I gave her a Magniferous card which has yarn on it because in theory I am a knitter not just a clever observational humorist. (P.S. Wishing a speedy recovery to Garrison Keillor.) She asked if I knit and then told me that her mother used to make her panda sweaters which was about the cutest thing I could imagine. I told her that my mother made me panda cupcakes when I was little because of Ling-Ling and Sing-Sing who were the pandas at the National Zoo. She liked that a lot. There was a lot of bonding going on. Jien Duy will do that to you.

Nine Nine Oh Nine

Jac's mom had hip replacement surgery today. It was a repeat performance. Last winter she was put under for the surgery and had a major complication, heart failure. Fortunately they fixed her up and after many months of physical and drug therapy she was ready for Round Two. Early this morning they took her in and swapped out some parts. The surgery went quickly and smoothly and they'll try to have her walking this afternoon. We are all grateful and relieved.

Jac and his sister saw a blood drive at the hospital scheduled for tomorrow and they both signed up to "pay it forward". He is a heckuva guy. He's type A- but I'd give him an A+. Awww.

Back to Work

It was another glorious holiday weekend in the Northern Neck. We had friends down for a visit which meant floating in the pool and marinating in the hot tub and playing Foodie Fight and having general merriment.


We took the dogs to the Irvington Farmers Market. As usual, Lexi was delighted to be in the company of Brand. New. People. Kirby was, well, less enthusiastic. The highlight of the trip for me was just before we left as we stood at a booth and Kirby lay on the ground panting. Suddenly, children approached! With grabby hands. And he had nowhere to go! So he laid there and took it pretty much like a man. He got petted by little people! And he did not melt like the Wicked Witch. 


Now that is a good day in the land of the rescued Kerry Blue Terrier just after his second birthday.

Spectacular Flop: Kitchen Fail II

I have had a yen for plum cake all summer long. I suppose I've been seeing them on blogs. I'm pretty sure I saw one in Everyday Food this summer. Plums just sound heavenly, you know, atop cake and all that.

But I didn't have the wherewithall for cake making. Or even pie making. What I did have was a box of rolled pie crusts. Oh, I know, I'll make a crostada.

Before

After

I do not entirely blame myself though, for as this was baking my mother says, "Oh, a plum crostada. That sounds fattening!" So you can see, clearly, there was subterfuge at work.

A Book and a Cover: Kitchen Fail I

What are you making for dinner? My sister IM'ed. Simultaneously I said, "I'm making minestrone for dinner." I blame this meal, that Jac described as "interesting", on my Kolbe tendencies toward being a planner and a quick-start with poor endurance for solid follow through. (Really that's what it said! Right before it said I should be a creative organization's leader. Then I liked it again.)

I had garlic, carrots, onions and asparagus and broth. I had two kinds of beans and a couple cans of tomatoes. I picked up shell pasta especially for the minestrone (though it's not technically a requirement). The first sign of culinary laziness emerged when I decided to chop the onions and carrots in the food processor. I did at least pulse them and not process them into oblivion. The goal was to create an especially small amount - say 2.5-3 portions. That was the rationale behind using only a bit of the beans from each can. That is why I boiled what seemed like just a smidge of pasta... But then, just as the soup started to come together, I must have thought about updating my status on Facebook or catching up on Twitter because when I got down to business I found I had a too-small pot full of pasta, a tiny bit of beans, a gloppy sauce, indiscernible onions and carrots and uncooked asparagus. I attempted some remedy, declared it pretty, took a picture, gave it to Jac.

Interesting.

I admit I felt the same way. I carried the remainder of the heaving pot to the compost bin and willed it to break down quickly.

Happy Anniversary Vol VI

Six years ago today, on this bluff overlooking the Great Wicomico River, Jac and I were married. Where on earth does the time go? I feel lucky that the memories of that day have crystallized and are forming a warm patina.

Today we are more of what we hoped to become and it seems this is so with each progressing year. Life reminds me daily how lucky we are to have each other. And, when I still manage to forget, he is there with a knowing smile, a well-timed IM, or the willingness to let the dogs in/out for the umpteenth time today.

DC Restaurant Week: Art & Soul

The lovely Lisa invited us to join her and husband for a Restaurant Week dinner at Art & Soul. It was planned a couple of weeks in advance so it was wonderful to see a decadent night out pop up on the calendar. Art & Soul is the creation of Chef Art Smith, known for his relationship with Oprah and a recent too-short stint on Top Chef Masters.

Art & Soul is in the Liaison Hotel. Now I shall plunge into full-fledged fan mode and say that at least from the peek inside Liaison looks like one of the more ideal places in staid Washington to have a liaison. It's like a different world in there.

We stepped into Art Bar in Art & Soul and it had the kind of comfy, cool vibe, even earlyish on a Monday or Tuesday night, where I'd actually hang out. The food was very good. Jac and I were a little disappointed in the entree because we had somehow psyched ourselves out for fried chicken and a baked chicken threw us both off a little.

Pull-Apart Herb Bread

Capitol Hill Salad

Grilled Shrimp with Succotash and Chili Lime Sauce

Chicken with Goat Cheese Drop Biscuit,

Roasted Vegetables and Chicken Gravy

Chocolate Cheesecake with Chocolate Sauce

We were happy to check it out and I'd gladly return to the hotel, bar or restaurant. I am going to have to deconstruct that herb bread and make some soon.

P.S. I just noticed I dined with Ghandi over my shoulder. It was prix fixe for RW, but on another night he might have inspired some restraint on my part, mayyyybe.

A Saturday Kind of Thing

I think I have seven open windows in Firefox right now. I have to blog from Safari because it's just easier with the account I use. Right now I'm watching mourners leaving Sen. Edward M. Kennedy's funeral. I just spent an hour trying to figure out who was engaged in a Mommyblogging fight last June (08) because all the people who commented on a fight where Sweetney tweeted about Mrs. Fussypants being "parasitic" wanted to veil the identity of the parties involved. I'm still not done investigating what went down but it seems pretty ridiculous and exclusive that all these bloggers were concealing the identity of the accuser. I started looking at this craziness because I was reading Dooce's post today where she mentioned that she had once wound up in a spat with another mommyblogger and I couldn't figure out WTF she was talking about so I had to search for her and a fight and voila it's a year ago and someone else is tweeting about another someone else.

Oddly enough, in my digital adventures, this little bit of cliquish research immediately followed me watching the Kennedy funeral while reading the tweets about it online. Way back in the 80's I think I thought Sen. Kennedy was a punch line, a caricature. But I have developed a deep respect for his life's work while being amazed that it ever took place because of the egregious and seemingly insurmountable moral and ethical failure of Chappaquidick. It's a very foreign notion to me that he would have been able to just go back to work after that. In today's world the scrutiny and pressure would seemingly mount to push him from office. I say seemingly because Larry Craig is serving out his term, and Gov. Sanford is still in office as I write this, and John Edwards allegedly had an affair and a child and that wasn't what derailed his political campaign. Clearly, Sen. Kennedy benefitted from his family's influence and affluence. He got breaks "mere mortals" wouldn't have.

But I was struck, throughout these past days by the number of people who said he had called them on the telephone. I hate the telephone. I cringe when it rings rather than reach for it in anticipation. But he was from another generation where the telephone was an indispensable tool as the web is to me. He called everyone and in his government service he believed he was working for the good of everyone. So as I read the tweets during the service this morning I was "following" those who had something insightful to say and "blocking" a few who said outrageously hateful things.

Last night I was frustrated and handed out the same sort of "pats & darts" as it was known at JMU reading comments on websites about the heinous crimes of Phillip Garrido. I physically felt ill when I read that in 1976 Garrido had abducted a woman and taken her to a mini-storage unit, walls lined with carpet and filled with sex abuse accoutrements. He was sentenced to 50 years in prison PLUS 5 years to LIFE for various crimes. This was at least his second trial - he had been convicted of some felony a year prior but no one yet knows what crime. After 11 years, he was released from prison.

Then a slew of prostitute murders and the murder of one young girl occurred and the bodies were dumped near where he worked but he was not investigated. They are now researching a connection. Then he abducted the unfortunately named Jaycee Lee and kept her in bondage in his back yard. And yet, people knew. It was reported to the police that girls were living in his back yard. He had a parole officer who apparently never looked at the property where he lived. He was called "Creepy Phil" by the neighborhood. His customers and family knew he was "off". He committed a parole violation, was caught, and instead of being returned to prison for the rest of his original term PLUS the new offense, he was released in just a couple of months. Police had come to the house at one point and interviewed him on his front porch, never exploring the property when his conviction stemmed from hiding a woman in a box! He had a blog where he claimed superhuman powers. He was a registered sex offender, which his neighbors knew, but as delusional as he was, he was able to keep his demented set up for 18 years. God only knows what other crimes he committed. I am outraged at the failure of our justice system in this case. I wonder how many other people in this country are held in captivity. It truly makes me ill.

So where does all this rambling leave me? We all think we know what justice is. It is as plain to us as the nose on our faces. It is the denial of truth, honesty, freedom, security. Yet accusations of mimicry or intellectual property theft on the Internet provided plenty of room for interpretation and defense on both sides. A case of manslaughter so clearly seen by one side is as ludicrous to the side that focuses on a man's life's work as their beliefs are to their opponents. And I read with astonishment the diversity of opinion about fault and criminality and causality for the heinous crimes of Phillip Garrido. Where one would decry the state of the justice system another would insist that the miscarriage of justice was intentional, political. It is dizzying, and heavy.

I return to my refrain that it is August in Washington, for the love of God. We cannot take heavy. Our air is plenty heavy with heat and humidity. I have a nice light but fattening restaurant visit to detail in an upcoming post. I'm looking forward to a return to our regular programming.

Guy's Night

Jac is out with a friend which means I have the house to myself tonight and dinner on my own. It's a strangely liberating feeling when it comes about which is crazy because I usually work from home. Nonetheless with an empty house I indulged in one of my ultimate guilty pleasures - roasted brussels sprouts.

What? You think a plate of vegetables is not an indulgence? Well then you, clearly, cannot smell my kitchen or feel the temperature in this house right now. Roasting vegetables on a 95 degree day is most certainly a guilty thing. When done right their intense King of Vegetable flavor gives way to a sweet nutty taste that I cannot resist.

So I am munching on sprouts and angel hair with Gruyere and watching last night's premiere of Top Chef. That's just how rowdy it is on Girl's Night In.

Sprouts: quartered, tossed lightly in olive oil and salt, roasted at 400 Convection for as long as it took to boil 2 cups of water for the pasta.

August is the Boring Month

Somebody should have told My President's administration that August is not "debut a new initiative across America month". It is HOT. People are out of vacation time. They are grouchy. They are running out of three day weekends. My old boss used to take the month of August off -- and she worked in Public Policy! (That's government people!)

I don't know how the mythical beast of Obama communications has fallen so low. I mean health care is a sticky wicket but this is some crazy ess going on out here! The message has been so manhandled and the people who are supposed to be communicating it all seem to be in Argentina looking for trails or something. I mean granted, when the fringe are claiming the president isn't an American and carrying guns to rallies, and comparing the notion of providing healthcare to people who don't have it to Nazis?!?!?! Where do you go from there? I mean what can you possibly say.

So I have to admit, after what's already been a long, frustrating summer politically, when I saw Barney Frank tell a woman toting an Obama as Nazi drawing that he had no interest in talking with her because it would be like talking with the dining room table, I laughed. And then I smiled. There is so much fervor being drummed up to make us afraid, angry and hostile. That laugh expelled a bit of built up venom and drew in just enough light that I could remember that we are among the luckiest people in the world to be able to fight freely over whether or not to provide health care. We are very, very lucky. Most of us are, anyway, and hopefully we'll remember that when the instinct is to guard our kitties and fend off any threat of change. And a grand round of thanks to Barney Frank for saying what so many of us feel, but in far more polite terms than I would, that these screaming fringers are non-sensical and aren't advancing the conversation.

These last couple of weeks when my dog was diagnosed with Cancer, my unswerving determination was that she would have the best care, that I would find a way to pay whatever it took to help her, and that we would get through this thing. I think everyone who encounters a life-threatening illness feels some version of that, "I am important! I want to live! I want whatever there is that can help me!" I remember the privation, many years ago of not being able to take extraordinary measures to heal the heart of my then kitten. When life and money are put up against one another, for me, at least, money seems so trivial.

Earlier this year I provided some technical assistance to a Facebook friend who was trying launch a campaign to help fun the treatment that her friend's son needed because he was having many seizures and heart failures. The insurance company deemed the needed treatment "genetic treatment" and not covered. The needed funds were less than $35k at the time if I remember correctly. That would cover the treatment and some continuing care. They should have that treatment and my heart broke at the thought that they had to resort to cyber begging to attempt to fund it.

We are Americans. We're not Europeans or Canadians. We're going to have American health care. We're going to fight it out and something will come out of it. And when we get sick we are still going to believe, "I am important! I want to live! I want whatever there is that can help me!" and that's not going to change whether we're dealing with a shitty HMO bureaucrat or a shitty government HMO bureaucrat. And when we can't get what we want, we will do what Americans do, we will make a huge stink about it and fix it. We'll use our three branches of government to end up with a system that serves us. And if BOTH the commercial health industry and the government option fail us, we will come up with an alternative. That's our nature.

I Vote We Lose Wednesdays

It feels like another long week, but it's only Wednesday. It really feels like tomorrow should be Friday, but alas, it's going to be a fairly busy Thursday. At work this week I had to learn about wild futuristic technology and then write a 20 page white paper on complex techie stuff (hello non-science person) in about 36 hours. What I wrote about is totally not classified, but I think it calls for a drink or five anyway.

That said, I do kind of love that next week I could be plunging into basically any subject matter. I have researched and written about so many things sometimes I think I'm still in a 300-level essay-heavy class. It's both fun and tedious. They tell me (har har) that after exercise one experiences a high - like gee that was hard work, but now I feel great! I think this is like that but also think that the exercise people were high to begin with the whole exercise business in the first place.

What is sure to be the highlight of our week was my trip to the vet with Lexi yesterday. She had her stitches removed. Now all the Cancer and all the stuff that was around the Cancer is gone. She is gonna make it. She could not be happier. I could not be happier. Kirby cannot sniffing the vet smell on her. We will be vigilant. We will watch for other peas that do not belong under her skin. We will love her and she will have fun. So, yeah, pretty great.

But Not TOO Mad, Okay?

Tonight we welcome back our sterling acquaintance, Mad Men. I don't know when Sunday night TV became such a big deal, but it is. As a kid Sunday night meant a Disney movie, scrambling to finish neglected homework, and collapsing into bed.

As an adult it means re-setting the house from whatever went on over the weekend, finding something clean to wear tomorrow, debating whether to pre-empt Monday morning email bombs by checking in on Sunday night or letting them blow their fuse on time, and wondering how many weeks there are, approximately, from now to retirement.

It also means tv. Since at least the Sopranos it's meant the treat of quality tv at least one night a week. Something new, above the fray, riveting. Sopranos episodes always ended with me feeling three things: OMGdidthatreallyjusthappen?, wow 54 minutes went by fast, ugh it's time to go to bed we have to work tomorrow.

For us, then came Six Feet Under where we found characters gruesomely twisted in a whole other way. For what should have been a depressing subject - afterall every episode started with someone's demise, it was a show with light and depth and quirks and humor. The actors were so riveting they seemed larger than the show.

From that we leapt to Big Love. I was instantly intrigued by the concept of a fundamentalist sect of Mormons who were still secretly practicing polygamy. I was compelled to watch by the presence of the brilliant Jeanne Triplehorn. Alas, the characters were so real, and Chloe Sevigny's deceptions and manipulations so toe-curling that I found I was stressed watching each episode. There were crushing debt, and manifest lies, and layers of complexity of truths and alliances and a lot of characters. It was kind of like being in a really stressful office on a Sunday night. When I stopped asking to tune to it, Jac didn't even ask why.

He merrily pounced over to Law & Order: Criminal Intent. Criminal Intent was less stressful because hey, they usually show you who did it in the first minute, and it's not the tough, gnarly crimes my man Ice-T is tackling over on SVU. So, a little hint of smartness (you know when Goren is all omnipotent and Eames lets him explain to her, an experienced and venerated detective, the criminal mind). But then Bobby had a story arc with his mother being sick and with the evil and omnipresent Nicole Wallace. It was...the dreaded...dramatic tension!

Dear TV:

I hate Dramatic Tension. I think she has no place on your show and wish you would ship her out on the bus with Paula Abdul. Of course even Ryan Seacrest's pointless pregnant pauses exist simply to create dramatic tension. Dramatic Tension stresses us out! If Hawkeye and BJ could have just hung out in the swamp with occasional visitors instead of wet blankets Frank and Charles, we could have had a little respite from the travails of the 4077th.

If Bubbles had just BEEN a competent assistant providing Edina and Patsy with what they needed instead of leading them into predicaments we could have just had a fine old time having some drinks and finding things to get us into our trousers.

But really, I have to go back to Nellie Oleson and her meddling misanthrope mother. If we could have JUST let them pass through Walnut Grove there would have been a good deal less strife all around!

I suppose you will say that we wouldn't appreciate the characters if they didn't have moments of great peril and exposure thanks to these difficult people, but I'll admit they stress me out on a Sunday night when I already can't imagine that the weekend's winding down.

This year in Mad Men it's 1963, there has been a heap of tumult going on at Sterling Cooper and all hell's about to break loose out in the real world which they've largely been able to avoid. The teasers say this is a season of change. Change is a tricky word because its connotation is subjective and incidental. I hope it's as painless as changing my oil or we could resort to changing the channel. Oh who the hell am I kidding, we'll be there for every deep drag on the cigarette to numb the insane reality moment of it. But we might need one of Roger Sterling's double cocktails to get to sleep after each episode.

Our Kitty's a Winner

I'll get that mouse if it's the last thing I do!

It's quite hard to believe since we tell her 836,487,815 times a week to quit crying, to get down of that counter right now and to wait until later for breakfast/dinner/treats, but apparently our little Maddie is quite a winner.

We got a call that our picture of her dangling over my (old) monitor has won the Northern Neck Animal Welfare League photo contest. She is a cutie, a crazed, lunatic cutie.

Queen of Spain Rocks

I should have known the Queen of Spain would have just the right things to say on this health care scare-a-thon:

Read her here.