Summer Craving

I would go to some great lengths for a BLT right now. Qualification: the tomatoes have to come from my parents' garden.

Store bought tomatoes are good for pasta sauce and all that, but those home grown tomatoes ripening on a vine in Kenosha as I write... those are the tomatoes I could take in my hand and eat like I would an apple. I could cut them up in great big, thick slices and make myself a mighty fine blT. I could walk out to the garden and pick the ripe ones straight off the vine. Who would need a grocery store?

Robble Robble Deprivation

So Oliver and I tend to roll along from day to day, doing our normal everyday things. Enough of these regular days pass and I start to believe that we're remarkably similar people. I start to take things for granted, start to assume that he knows all the things that I know. Then one night I sit down to dinner with him and talk about the Hammurderer.

A: Yeah, a few years back The Onion did a piece on McDonalds' new McDonaldland characters. One was named the Hammurderer, and his catchphrase was "stabble stabble stabble".

Waits for laughter

A: You know, like the Hamburglar? Robble robble cheesburger?

O: blank stare

A: And they did a spoof on Grimace? They called it the Grapist? 'Cause Grimace is purple?... trails off

O: blank stare

A: Who are you?

Wow. Talk about a shock. I mean, who doesn't know the McDonaldland characters? (answer: Oliver) I guess I always assumed that when McDonalds took over the world, the Fry Guys came along for the ride. I guess they never made it to Germany. It's a shame, really. What sort of childhood do you have if you never get the chance to toss aside your happy meal wrappers and run around inside a giant metal Mayor McCheese?


Other things Oliver has no prior knowledge of:

He did however, know all about this guy:

Zing!

Toillemazingful

My parents came and went, the weekend came and passed. The heat is still here. Go figure.

Sweaty backs and glazed eyes aside, it was a great weekend. We took in an amazing Broadway show, visited a fascinating museum, ate at an incredible deli, fanned ourselves on the benches of an extraordinary park, and so forth (I'd go into more detail, but I'm running out of over-the-top adjectives).

The most outlandish descriptives however, belong in the description of my parents. Fantasticful? Amazriffic? Not only did they walk for hours in beastly heat with (slightly pained?) smiles on their faces, not only did they assure me "the apartment feels fine" while they mopped sweat off their foreheads, but they went so far as to do a little manual labor with me.

See this pattern? I'm sure you've seen it before. It's called toille, and a few weeks ago I decided that it was the fabric I wanted to reupholster my dining room chairs with. Never mind that I don't have the tools or the proper know-how to refinish a chair; my parents have all that! My dad owns just about every tool known to (reasonable, middle class) man, and my mom just took a furniture reupholstering class last year. How could I have access to such riches and not take advantage of it? Did I mention that my mom even went out and found the fabric for me? Do you hear that little note of guilt in my voice?

Sunday morning we took an hour, a screwdriver, a staple gun, a couple yards of fabric, and about three liters of sweat, and made four of this:

My decorating style has a sort of elegantly mismatched thing to it, and these chairs fit in perfectly. I love the contrast between the old colonial-style fabric and the mid-century modern chair frame. And since my dad generously donated the staples and my mom found a great deal on the fabric, the whole project cost about $10. Or to be honest, it was free. She wouldn't let me pay for the toille. Again, do you hear the guilt in my voice?

Hot Times, Weekend Visit to the City

My parents are coming to visit this weekend. Hooray Mom and Dad! We've got a great relationship and I'm excited to see them...but DANGit! I KNEW it! There's a heat wave a'comin, and it should end just as they leave town on Monday. Have I mentioned that we don't have air conditioning?

No bother. Things always work out. Right? Right?

While Walking Home from Work...

... I couldn't resist a quick picture. Maybe I belong in a smaller city. Maybe I belong in a cottage by the sea. Maybe I still haven't figured out where I belong. In any event, I like the things I see in the place I am now.

Candy Fast 2008

I've always had an insatiable sweet tooth. Seriously, in 2007 there was probably not a day that passed without some little sweet or another. Same goes for 2006. And 2005. And so on. What can I say? I like dessert. And/or the sweet afternoon snack. And the late night handful of cookies. I don't usually like all these things in the same day though. Don't get the wrong idea.

My sugar habit has never been a serious cause for concern. I mean, I don't smoke, I don't drink much, I rarely drink caffeine, I don't eat much salty or greasy stuff... can't I have my one little vice? Yes, yes I can. Pass me that Twix bar/ brownie/ red velvet cupcake/ strawberry rhubarb pie/ white chocolate-dipped macaroon/ Oreo/ peanut butter cookie/ piece of birthday cake (extra frosting please!).

Only what if I could kick the habit? In the back of my mind, I've always had this dream where I live on a diet of only the healthiest foods. No corn syrup, no aspartame, no grease, no cheeto dust... and no unnecessary sugar. It's all part of my quest to... honestly, what exactly is it that I'm I trying to do here? Live like the Amish? Like the Ingalls family? Like a wild animal free of vending machines and reality tv? I'll figure it out someday, but won't bore you with half-formed thoughts in the meantime. Getting to the point: Candy Fast 2008! I actually started this fast a month ago today, and have been surprised at how easy it has been. In the last month, I broke the fast only once. It was the 4th of July and we had one of those giant cookie cakes at our barbeque. Hey, you've got to live, right?

Anyhow, I've decided to start a little counter at the side of the screen. Not because it's necessarily something you're dying to know about, but because it sounds like fun to me. I'm not going to write a lot about Candy Fast either, because I suspect it doesn't make for engaging writing. What, you don't want to hear about the 7-layer bar I didn't eat today? I never knew you were so self centered.

The rules:

Out: candy, chocolate, cookies, cakes, pies, soda, etc. Basically anything that is obviously classified as junk food.

Not out: jam, honey, juice, and all those other things that are on the borderline. Also not out: salty things like potato chips and cheetos. I'll probably make more of an effort to avoid them (not that I eat them much to begin with) now that I'm on the healthy train, but they aren't part of the fast.

And a final note: I'm not going to completely avoid all sweets. When we're in Germany for example, I'll probably try a local dessert. I'm not trying to punish myself, after all. I just like streaks, and am interested to see how long I can keep this one going.

Onward then, to Candy Fast!

A Good Fourth

We all know that some friends come and go. Have you ever taken a few minutes to think about all the people who have passed through your life and lost touch with you? My own personal collection of long-lost acquaintances unfortunately grows every year, but it makes me grateful for the people I've kept up with.

I spent the 4th of July weekend with some of those people, my girls from DC. A few of us went up to Massachusetts to visit a friend who moved up that way about a year ago. For four days, we took in the sights of Fairhaven, New Bedford, Providence (RI) and Boston. We admired fishing boats, ran in vain to catch up with a small-town 4th of July parade, gorged ourselves at a barbeque, watched fireworks from a hurricane barrier, went to not one but two kickin' museums, bought overpriced food at Faneuil Hall, talked, and laughed. A lot. It was exactly what I had hoped it would be.

It was also fascinating to see how people had both changed and stayed the same. The sense of humor and all the other good qualities have remained (and always will, I suspect), but at the same time new things like (graceful and inspiring) motherhood, professional evolution and a strong sense of self have made my friends into newer versions of themselves, good versions. I'm not sure how much or in what ways I've changed these last years, but it would be nice to imagine that I can see in my friends my own reflected growth.

A few bits from the weekend:

Uncle Sam with tractor, boat shoes

Boston architecture

Fife and drum band (fifes not pictured), Boston


Fairhaven, MA