Opening Day!!!

Just a reminder about what today is:

What??? No, of course I'm not obsessed with Derek Jeter... why would anyone have that idea?? What a strange thing to say...

A new view...

Stuffed from dinner at Carmine's tonight, which is an Italian restaurant downtown near mom and dad's hotel. And in the Italian tradition, they make sure to give you more food than a human being should be allowed to eat. (But as my grandmother used to say, "It's a party! You don't have to eat it all..." And it was ALWAYS a party to grandma -- grandma was awesome. :))

Before we left, I stopped into the ladies' room, where, at first, I thought there were two people waiting in line. But then I realized that it was a bathroom attendant and (I'm assuming) her daughter, who were sitting against the wall across from the sinks, where an assortment of gum/mints/mouthwash/tissues/soap/etc. were gathered on a tray. Now, even ignoring the fact that I have an issue with people loitering outside a bathroom stall while I'm attempting to use it (please go away... I'd rather you NOT engage in conversation three feet away from me...), I was slightly distressed by the fact that I had no money, and I know it's proper etiquette to TIP attendants. So after spending all of ten seconds in the bathroom stall (I REALLY do not like people standing right outside...), I washed my hands and, feeling a slight sense of guilt, took the towels the attendant offered me. And of course at this point, all conversation stopped, and the bathroom was dead silent. I'm sure the attendant and her daughter were both staring at me expectantly, waiting for the generous tip I was about to drop onto the tray, but all I could do was offer a "thank you" and make a hasty exit. (Note to self: next time, use the bathroom at home before heading to Carmine's. Or bring dollar bills...)

The last time I can remember seeing a bathroom attendant was at Yankee Stadium when I was a teenager. We used to go to so many games that the woman who worked there actually remembered my mom and I every time we came back. But by the time I'd moved away from New Jersey and Yankee games were few and far between, the bathroom attendants were a thing of the past. And truthfully, I prefer to find my own soap and towels in the bathroom, anyway...

And, since I probably shouldn't spend this whole post talking about bathrooms, here's what I did when I got home:

I was trying out some different settings on my camera to see what they looked like. This one resulted in a very bright cityscape...

This one made the lights look more white/blue...

Whereas this one made them look more yellow/red...

But this one is probably my favorite tonight...

And I know, I know -- enough with all the skyline shots, Lisa!! I'm just taking as many as I can right now, because our view will soon be much different:

Not horrible -- I mean, it's a great view of the Hancock building... (although actually, when you're not close to the window, it's really more like this:)

And we will have a good view of Michigan Avenue, which might be kind of cool at Christmastime when they have the parade:

Well, I'm off to read for a little while before I head to bed...

Weekend random stuff...

I have about two hours before Fantasy Baseball Draft 2011 begins, and I have NO CLUE who I'm drafting or what I'm doing this year. We're using a new scoring system this year, and I'm not entirely sure how it's going to work yet... in other words, I expect to be in last place after opening day, and probably most of the season thereafter. (But who knows, maybe I'll figure everything out immediately... :))

So Rick and I walked about 4 miles around Lincoln Park this morning and afternoon. We headed out around 8:45 this morning and walked to Home Depot for an appointment with their kitchen/bath designers. (By the way, early Sunday morning is a great time to be out and about in Chicago -- the streets were practically empty... we picked up some Starbucks cappuccinos, and, despite the fact that the temperature was below freezing and my face hurt, quite enjoyed the mile walk to the store on sunny sidewalks in almost-solitude.) We picked out some cabinets/counters/flooring we'd like in the new condo, just so we could get an estimate for how much all the work/materials will cost. (FYI -- it's going to cost a lot... :)) I think we got some great ideas while we were there -- I can definitely see a plan coming together. I can't wait to close on this condo so we can get started with some renovations...

Afterwards, we had the idea to head to Stanley's for life-changing fried chicken, but unbeknownst to us, they also have a very popular brunch on Sundays -- so the place was packed. I was already starving (having skipped breakfast), so made the executive decision to move on to find food elsewhere. Of course, we ended up walking another 20 or 25 minutes, and by that time, our table probably would've been ready... oh well...

I'm watching Home Alone -- is that weird? I mean, I realize it's a Christmas movie, but it's pretty funny. And besides, it IS only 33 degrees outside right now. It might as WELL be December... I should make sugar cookies...

Speaking of cookies -- I made chocolate chip cookies the other night, even though I was pretty sure I didn't have quite enough sugar or flour... I was still determined. They turned into something more like chocolate chip pancakes. But did I care? Nope. Did I still eat them? Yep.

So mom and dad are heading up on Tuesday, and mom has informed me that I have to make fajitas some time while they're here. I haven't made fajitas since we left Austin... and I can't remember if my fajita seasoning made it up here in one of our kitchen boxes... *Lisa runs away from the computer to check the cupboard.* Hey, it DID make it! (Although there's not much left... I may have to see if my little grocery store down the street carries this brand...)

Okay, I'm off to read about baseball players, to see if I can gain some insight between now and draft time...

Today's random pictures:

Piva was being particularly photogenic today... (and of course, as usual, the skyline was calling to me... :))

Photo Project 6...

A photo that makes you laugh.


As always, I had a hard time choosing just one photo. So here are a few that at least elicit a chuckle now and then:

Who, exactly, were the toilet-water-drinking people who made this sign necessary??

What's even funnier about this picture is the fact that Riff is about three times as big as this now -- he makes Piva look like a tiny little dainty cat...

Eric and Eric in Costa Rica. This is pretty much a normal day for them...

Some crazy guy who was outside my car window in Montana...


And finally -- this is actually a picture from a t-shirt website, but I seriously love this shirt. (Made even funnier by the expression on this guy's face):

Hahahahahaha... :)

Random weekend ramblings...

We just returned from a reconnaissance mission to explore our prospective new neighborhood. We checked out a few condos yesterday, and saw another one we really liked, so we're putting in an offer on it. The view isn't quite as good as the view in the first place we were considering, but it's not bad (still has a view of the Hancock building, AND a great view of Michigan Avenue... and just a few slivers of lake...). It's in a high-rise that was built in 1991, and the condo had barely been updated since 1991... so it needs a little bit of work to bring it into the 21st century. But the good thing about that is that we can redo things in our own style. (And the bad thing is that rehabbing costs more money... :)) The location is great, though -- walking distance to Starbucks, Argo Tea, Ghirardelli (quite important), Whole Foods, Michigan Avenue, tons of restaurants, etc... I actually feel like this place is a better fit for us than the last condo was, so maybe the fact that we backed out of the other place will end up being a good thing...

So last night Rick and I watched what may have been the worst movie either of us has ever seen -- Skyline. I remember it being out in theaters around Christmastime, and I actually considered going to see it, mainly because Donald Faison from Scrubs was in it. I love Scrubs, so I'm always happy to see one of the stars working in something else. But alas -- all the Scrubs alumni in the world couldn't have saved this movie. The premise was simple -- aliens come to earth to abduct all humans and eat their brains. Like zombie aliens... zombie aliens on a quest for brains... delicious braaaains... The zombie aliens simply shine their pretty blue lights in the faces of their human prey, and all of the humans' free will is sucked out through their eyeballs. (At least that's the idea I got from the less-than-stellar special effects.) Once that happens, the humans willingly allow themselves to be beamed up to the mothership, where the zombie aliens feast on their brains. As in most movies of this type, a small, ragtag band of determined humans manages to escape the initial blue-light special, and they hole themselves up in an expensive LA penthouse. Apparently, all they have to do to evade alien notice is keep the blinds closed... but of course they try to make a break for it, at which point Scrubs guy is eaten by a brain-sucking alien. After that it all went downhill... (actually, I think it started at the top of the hill and just kept going down... at least we didn't pay movie-theater prices for this thing...)

Speaking of skylines (you knew this was coming, right? :)):

This was when the sun was setting a couple nights ago... a little cloudy, but I liked the sunlight reflecting off the buildings...

Okay, that's about all I've got tonight... it's been a slow weekend... :)

Lucky...

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone! To be honest, I totally forgot until this afternoon, when I was out and about, walking down the street, and noticed a bunch of people wearing inordinate amounts of green. (Oh yeah... that's today...) Why is it, exactly, that we make such a big deal about one particular country of heritage on this one particular day, yet totally ignore the other 190-something countries out there? I mean, what about a Peruvian day? Or a Korean day? German day?? How about an Indian day where we all eat curry and listen to Bollywood for 24 hours straight?? Actually, I might call that "next Wednesday." Yeah, that's right. Sorry Rick. (Ha! No I'm not... :))

Needless to say, I forgot to wear any green today. Just jeans and a blue sweater. Oops. The weather here was great today -- 67 degrees, and almost TOO warm for a jacket. That's crazy -- last year at this time, I would've considered 67 degrees "cold." In fact, pretty much anything below 75 was pretty chilly...

A couple days ago, before our heat wave began, Rick and I ventured downtown so he could buy some new shirts for work. He made dinner reservations at Tavern at the Park, but we ended up arriving really early (having overestimated the time we'd need to make our way downtown/shop for shirts...).

So we wasted a bit of time wandering through Millennium Park:

 We made the required stop at Cloud Gate (aka "the bean"):

And gazed upon urban canyons:

We took the required "reflections in the bean" pictures:

And then followed the scary face back toward the restaurant:

The faces are some sort of art installation, of course... but I find them a bit disconcerting... And by the way, we really enjoyed dinner at Tavern at the Park -- especially the mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwich we had for dessert.

The ice cream, by the way, WAS green -- so maybe I just celebrated St. Patrick's Day a bit early... :)

On a clear day...

...Lisa takes pictures of the skyline. I just can't help myself... :)

Not so miserable...

Finally, something has (temporarily) unseated the Bollywood music that has been rattling around in my brain for the last week. And don't get me wrong, I am completely in love with my Bollywood playlist... I'll probably be listening to it again this afternoon when I work out. But it's also nice to hear a song that I know all the words to... where my brain isn't creating its own lyrics (is this guy singing about bologna?? Did they just say something about a chupacabra???). This is why I feel compelled to find the lyrics online and follow along... I can NOT be thinking "chupacabra" every time I listen to a song... unless the song really IS about a chupacabra...

But last night, I happened to catch the very end of a PBS special in honor of the 25th anniversary of Les Miserables. Wow -- 25 years?? That show (along with Phantom of the Opera) was such a huge part of my high school experience. Or, er... I mean... elementary school. Yeah. Preschool. Because I'm only about 28 years old now... Yeah. That sounds about right. (I will mention that the 25 year anniversary was for the London version -- the Broadway version opened a few years later. So I haven't QUITE been away from high school for 25 years. Yet.) My geeky drama/chorus friends and I knew all the words to every song in that show... we sympathized with the unfairly hunted Valjean, yet understood Javert's commitment to his duty... we were heartbroken by Fantine's lost dreams and Eponine's plight of unrequited love... and my girlfriends and I would swoon over Michael Ball's soaring vocal rendition of Marius (he used to be completely adorable, by the way. I think he's gained about 40 pounds since then. But seriously -- He. Was. Adorable.)

And there are so many great songs in this show, but I think "One Day More" is probably the one song that could stop me in my tracks and reduce me to the equivalent of a musical-theater junkie high on harmony every single time I heard it. And I still feel compelled to jump up and give someone a standing ovation when it's over (which is particularly weird when you're alone in your house). It's the song I happened to catch last night as I was flipping through channels, and I immediately turned up the volume on my TV (neighbors? What neighbors??) so I could listen. It was cool to see most of the "originals" singing again, and afterwards, THIS song was stuck in my head for a while. And make sure you stick around until the end of the song... it's just... like... the best end of a song ever... it's even better if you turn it up really loud... I will now listen to it again and give another standing ovation in my living room:

 

It's stuck...

Today's stuck-in-my-head song:

Go ahead -- listen to it a few times. I dare you to not have it stuck in your head for the next five days...

By the way, if you pay attention to this video, you'll see Irrfan Khan in the crowd now and then -- he was the police inspector in Slumdog Millionaire, the father in The Namesake (did anyone see The Namesake except me? So-so movie, much better book... which is generally the way book/movie combos go...), and probably a few other American movies. (I'm also sure I recognize the guy who's singing, but I don't know from where...)

Rick thinks I'm completely bizarre for liking Bollywood. And to be honest, I've only ever seen a smattering of Bollywood movies, so I'm not exactly a connoisseur. But the movies I've seen generally tend to subtitle the parts where people are talking, and then when the singing and dancing starts -- no subtitles. Since I don't understand the language, this always makes me wonder if the singing and dancing actually has anything whatsoever to do with the storyline, or if it's just a random intermission. Adding to the confusion is the fact that half of the time, the subtitled dialogue takes place in normal, mundane locations where people would generally be talking -- a living room, a coffee shop, a market, etc. But the singing and dancing is usually a huge production number in a more exotic location. So two people are standing in a kitchen talking to each other, and then suddenly there are 50 people on top of a cliff overlooking an ocean and everyone is singing and dancing. At this point, my mind always goes, "I have NO idea what's going on..." And you know what? I LOVE IT.

I am, after all, the strange girl who sat in a hotel room in Rome several years ago and watched an entire Arabic soap opera on TV, despite Rick's pleas that I change the channel... I watched an entire episode of "Trading Spaces" in German... I watched an episode of the Simpsons in Italian... and, with the exception of various words and phrases in the Trading Spaces episode (good old high school German to the rescue), I understood very little of what was said. (Of course, I've probably seen every episode of the Simpsons two or three times, so that was easy to figure out... :)) And yet I'm completely fascinated by the sounds of unfamiliar languages, so I'll sit and listen long after most people would give up... it's as if I'm certain that eventually my brain will automatically figure out those strings of nonsensical syllables and everything will make sense. So far that hasn't happened --but it doesn't stop me from loving Bollywood... 

Especially since everyone in a Bollywood musical number seems to be having so much fun... everyone wears an interesting outfit... everything is lively and colorful... and the wind is always blowing JUST right so everyone's hair looks great. Basically, this is the way I think life SHOULD be -- lots of color, plenty of costume changes, random singing and dancing for no apparent reason, and hair that just automatically falls into place. Sure, we do plenty of talking in living rooms and coffee shops in our jeans and t-shirts, but do we ever sing and dance on top of a cliff with swirling swatches of colorful fabric? Do we ever tell reality to hold on for four or five minutes while we work on our spontaneous choreography?? (And will my hair EVER look good for more than five minutes???) Sigh... alas, I think not.... 

And besides -- my mind tends to work in a colorful, random way that doesn't always make sense anyway. Even though 97 percent of what's in my head is in English... (2 percent is in German... and 1 percent is "other"...) So I may not always understand what's going on, but I say bring on the singing and dancing -- life should be more than monotonous black and white, don't you think?? Ja völlig... ;)

Random thoughts: Global edition...

Did everyone remember to spring forward? (Or is it spring back? Fall forward?? Fall back, fall sideways... spring up, spring water, spring cleaning... whatever...) I switched all the clocks pretty early last night so I wouldn't forget... and then we proceeded to stay up really late watching a movie, thereby laughing in the face of our lost hour. Yeah, I'm adjusted to this new time thing already...

I just read that the earthquake in Japan moved the country at least 8 feet. That earthquake MOVED a country. That's insane. The news coming out of Japan is so sad right now... and the threat of a Chernobyl-like disaster seems to be more likely by the hour. Not good. This is one of those events that reminds us of our insignificance on this planet... we're just a bunch of specks of dust on a marble that can be tossed about like a ping pong ball at any time. Hmmm... that's either depressing or humbling... take your pick...

So it looks like, unfortunately, we will NOT be buying the condo we thought we'd be buying. We discovered that there are lawsuits pending against the management of the building, and our relocation company doesn't like that very much. Which I can understand -- I wasn't very happy to hear about it, either. We probably could've found a way to finagle a loan eventually, but I'm not really comfortable with the idea of jumping through hoops to buy a place. I'd rather find a place that results in very little hassle when all is said and done. So once again, we've been out looking at condos to try to find the "perfect" place. (Although I'm not sure the perfect place exists.) We drove downtown yesterday, and on the way, we kept seeing groups of people dressed in various shades of green, some with shamrock hats or bead necklaces. And since St. Patrick's Day isn't until Thursday, it didn't take me too long to figure out what was going on: yesterday was the day they dyed the Chicago River green. (They dye the river for St. Patrick's Day every year... although honestly, that river is ALREADY pretty green... :)) Side note: did you know that I actually have a TINY bit of Irish in my lineage? I actually had no idea until my grandmother gave me a family tree chart years ago... and there, in the middle of the all the Swedes and Germans, was a random Irish guy. So yeah, my great-great-great-uncle/grandfather/second cousin/whoever-he-was happened to be Irish. Maybe that's where I got this lovely, blindingly white, never-able-to-tan skin...

I have been waking up this past week with various Bollywood songs stuck in my head. This is thanks to my friend Faisal, who gave me an awesome, crazy-catchy playlist that has pretty much been on a continuous loop on my iPod for the last few days. I'm not kidding when I say that I've had a different song in my head every single morning -- and I don't even know, exactly, what criteria my brain has been using to choose what it will wake me with. Because it doesn't matter what song I listened to last... it's like my brain is on "shuffle" and just picks something at random. And it also doesn't matter that I only understand about one percent of whatever is being sung (thanks to a smattering of English words) -- no, no, on the contrary: this forces me to Google Hindi lyrics and listen while reading along, in the hopes that something in my brain will suddenly click and everything will make perfect sense. But I knew Faisal would come up with some good stuff for me to listen to -- he has great taste in music. He's the one who introduced me to the Gipsy Kings (also awesome music, and, interestingly, also not English lyrics...). But I'm starting to think this stuff is permanently embedded in my cerebellum... maybe I should go listen to some Lady Gaga or something...

Okay, I need to go get ready for more condo exploration... I think we're heading out to find some open houses. I'll let everyone know if we find anything interesting...   

Photo Project 5...

A photo of you in a car.

Pay no attention to the dirty side view mirror... I believe this was a rental car, anyway. :)

Hope everyone has a good Friday!

Happy Birthday Dad!!

Yep, today is my dad's birthday! Which means, in honor of this day, none of us can eat any cheese -- because as far as dad is concerned, cheese is poison. It goes against the laws of nature, and must not be consumed. So I declare today to be No Cheese Day!! I won't say how old dad is today... but seeing as I'm, at most, 25 or so, I'd have to say dad is no more than 50-something, right??

Actually, I'd say that my dad is responsible for many of the reasons I DON'T feel or (hopefully) look as old as I (supposedly) am (yeah, I'm totally in denial, okay??). Some of the things I've learned from dad:

1. Drink plenty of coffee. Dad was drinking coffee long before all those studies were conducted that proved its many benefits. He was obviously ahead of his time...

2. Walk as much as possible -- five miles a day is a good place to start. Again, dad was touting the benefits of walking long before the popularity of pedometers really took off. And when pedometers started becoming popular, the first thing all the "experts" said was "aim for 10,000 steps a day." Guess what 10,000 steps a day works out to? Yep, about five miles...

3. Read a lot, and never stop trying to learn new things. It's a well-known fact that using your brain helps to keep it working properly... so the more you read and learn, the better off you'll be in the long run...

4. Travel... and don't be afraid of new experiences. I'm fairly certain that I got my love of travel and curiosity about the world from my dad's side of the family -- they're an inquisitive, well-traveled bunch. And my dad has taught me that it can be quite rewarding to step outside of your comfort zone now and then and see what the world has to offer. In fact, dad even went so far as to sample a slice of the dreaded, poisonous CHEESE when we were on the Italian island of Sardinia several years ago. The amazing part is -- he actually LIKED it. Granted, that was mostly because it was completely devoid of flavor... but the point is, he TRIED it. 

5. Don't sweat the small stuff -- and it really IS mostly small stuff. My dad is probably the most patient person I know -- definitely not a "type A" personality. And the funny thing is, when you think about all the things that people get worked up about over the course of a normal week, it really IS mostly silly, innocuous stuff. Traffic, long lines at the bank, leaky faucets, surprise visits from Jehovah's Witnesses, etc. None of it is worth getting upset about... and really, what good does getting upset DO, anyway?? All you can do is take it in stride and get yourself another cappuccino...

So in honor of my dad, I'm off to drink some coffee and dream about my next vacation abroad. Happy birthday, Dad!!!! :)

Monday randomness...

So I've never seen the movie Footloose -- is that one of those movies that I should've seen by now, because it was so crazy popular back when it first came out? I remember hearing the SONG ad nauseum when I was a kid, which, I suppose, made me curious about what the big deal was with the movie. But I've never actually watched it... I mention this because I just happened to notice that it's on HBO right now, so I switched over for a couple minutes to see if I could become engrossed (even though I missed the first third of the movie). I was immediately met with the image of Kevin Bacon in the throes of some sort of improvisational-freestyle-guerrilla-street dance in a warehouse. It was sort of like a jazz-hands version of parkour -- that French "running through the streets, leaping from building to building as quickly as possible" thing, made famous in the beginning scene of Casino Royale a few years ago. Only instead of looking cool and dangerous and rebellious, the Kevin Bacon version incorporated cartwheels and pirouettes and a strange gymnastics routine on a random warehouse pipe. (And holy cow -- Sarah Jessica Parker is in this movie, too... so THAT'S what she looked like in her pre-Sex and the City days...) Honestly, though, I'm having a hard time believing this movie was ever cool, even back in the 80s...

We went to see The Adjustment Bureau a couple nights ago with Faisal... Rick really liked it, but I think Faisal and I were more of the "eh" opinion. I mean, it wasn't bad -- I just thought the ending was rather cliche... and the movie went to great lengths to get to such a cliched ending. It was the OBVIOUS ending -- I guess that's the problem I had with it. Of all the ways the story could've gone, this one went in the direction you'd have to assume it was going... (which, now that I think about it, is interesting considering the story was about NOT following a preconceived direction...hmmm...) We were planning to go to the 9:30 show, but it was sold out... so we settled on a 10 o'clock instead. While we wasted time waiting for the theater to open, Faisal regaled us with examples of his elocutionary talents, seamlessly switching from perfect American to British to Indian accents... It was slightly disconcerting. I don't even know who he is anymore.

And speaking of What's-His-Face, I've been told that I may have been rather harsh on him when I last mentioned him, when I said something about how he's "almost always wrong." Just to clarify, he isn't REALLY almost always wrong. He's wrong a normal amount of the time. Whatever a normal amount is, that's about how often he's wrong. (Although *I* am almost always right... in fact, I'd have to say that I am RIGHT an abnormal amount of the time.) Besides, I believe the rest of that paragraph I wrote was rather complimentary, so really, the compliments should outweigh the insults... right?? ;)

I was looking for Advil this morning in my medicine cabinet -- actually, I think "medicine cubbyhole" is a better description, because there's no door on it. It's just a little cutout rectangle next to the mirror over the sink. So everything in there is just sitting on a shelf, well in reach of any curious cats that might be around. Piva never gives it much thought, jumping on the counter only to drink water from the running faucet. But Riff, on the other hand, is in the habit of knocking random objects off random shelves all over the condo. So when I looked for my Advil in the cabinet this morning and couldn't find it, my first thought was that it must be on the floor of the bathroom somewhere, no doubt knocked down by Riff. When I couldn't find it in the bathroom, I moved out to the bedroom, looking under the bed and dressers... no Advil. I finally found it tucked into the back of my closet. Seriously, my cat is insane. (The funny thing is, he must've done this last night when we were sleeping -- and neither Rick nor I heard a thing. So somehow, Riff knocked a loud, rattling bottle of pills off a shelf onto a tile floor, then rattled it around in the bedroom until it reached the closet... and we didn't hear a thing. We must've been out like lights last night...)

And, lest anyone think I've stopped taking pictures of my skyline, here are a few pictures from the weekend:

   

Crunchy cake...

So Mardi Gras is coming up in a few days -- I imagine hordes of drunk people are already gathering in the streets of New Orleans, readying themselves for an onslaught of green, gold and purple beads. I've never been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, and although it seems like one of those things you SHOULD experience at some point in your life, I'm not sure I'd ever actually WANT to. Kind of like New Year's Eve in Times Square -- do I feel like I'm supposed to go there at least once in my lifetime? Yeah... it's a huge tradition in one of the best cities in the world -- I should probably go some day. But do I WANT to go? Um... nah. Not really. Crowds aren't really my thing...

One of the interesting (or maybe "weird") customs during the Mardi Gras season is the King Cake. The cake itself isn't weird -- having a traditional cake for any reason whatsoever (it's my birthday! it's Christmas! it's Wednesday!) is never weird -- in fact, the cake itself is quite yummy, with cream cheese filling and some sort of lemony, purple-, green-, and gold-sugared icing. It's what's baked INSIDE the cake that's a little bizarre -- it's customary to bake a small plastic baby into the cake, and whoever finds the baby in their slice of cake is said to have good luck that year (and they have the honor of baking the next King Cake). And maybe this particular tradition is well-known in the South, where Mardi Gras seems to be a bigger deal... but in the northeast, I don't remember anyone ever making a big deal about Mardi Gras or any of its accompanying culinary customs.

So imagine, if you will, a girl who has zero knowledge of the idea of a "King Cake." And one warm day in March (because this is in Austin, Texas, mind you), a co-worker brings a King Cake into the office and emails fellow employees to announce its arrival. So this girl, with her King Cake ignorance, wanders over to where the colorful, sugary ring-of-a-cake sits, and slices off a small piece to take back to her office. The first few bites are surprising in their deliciousness, considering this cake is completely devoid of chocolate. And then, all of a sudden -- CRUNCH. A disturbing, unexpected texture amidst the soft, buttery sweetness. But what is even MORE disturbing is when the girl reaches into her mouth and pulls out a plastic baby. A freakin' PLASTIC BABY. I mean, seriously -- what??? And for that matter -- why did no one WARN ME that there was a PLASTIC BABY baked into that cake?!? Maybe that little harbinger of good luck worked, because it's amazing that I didn't break a tooth...

That same co-worker brought in another King Cake the next year, only this time I knew to eat it carefully, inspecting every bite before diving in. And since then, I've seen recipes for King Cakes that call for a pecan or an orange wedge baked into the cake (with the plastic baby sitting outside the cake), so no one hurts their teeth on a little synthetic rug rat. Much better idea, if you ask me...

NOW you tell me...

I have a confession to make...

I bought a ridiculously expensive pair of Tiffany sunglasses last year. In my defense, Rick and I both bought sunglasses on our anniversary, because we hadn't bought gifts for each other -- so really, RICK bought me the ridiculously expensive glasses as an anniversary gift. And besides, I DID have a job at the time, so I wasn't spending beyond what I could afford. And ALSO besides, they're really nice sunglasses (that's a good excuse, right??). This is the first pair of round, slightly over-sized frames that has managed to work with my (I can only assume) abnormally small face. Apparently I have the head of a fourth-grader... my bike helmet is like extra-super-small or something. And usually when I try on this particular style of frame, I end up looking like a really surprised alien. But when I tried on these Tiffany glasses, I immediately loved them. Ergo, Happy Anniversary to me...

But really, this is so unlike me. I'm not a "Tiffany sunglasses" kind of person. I don't walk around with my Louis Vuitton jacket and Chanel shoes and my "look at the logo on my bag so you'll know I spent a lot of money on it" bag. I'm much more the kind of person who buys ten dollar purple sunglasses at the counter of a general store...

I also tend to not brush my hair very often...

And the funny thing is, those cheap purple sunglasses are still in great shape, despite being tossed into random bags and suitcases over the last couple years, dragged on many a weekend getaway and short grocery store trip, and, basically, treated with less respect than they truly deserve. Because they've been a great pair of sunglasses...

My expensive Tiffany sunglasses, on the other hand, have, for the second time since I bought them less than a year ago, decided to demonstrate the meaning of "having a screw loose."

Fortunately, both times this has occurred, I've managed to FIND that tiny little screw. The first time it fell out, we happened to be downtown near a mall. So we took it so a Sunglass Hut, where a man who gushed over my "beautiful pair of sunglasses" generously fixed them for free. He also told me I should make sure to regularly tighten all the screws in the sunglasses, something I've obviously been neglecting to do. But why do the screws never fall out of my cheap purple sunglasses? I never have to tighten THOSE screws... So not only did I pay more for these, but they also take more maintenance?? But I'm sure it MUST be worth it, just to say "my Tiffany sunglasses..." Right???

Then again, is there really anything wrong with saying, "my cheap purple sunglasses"?? :) 

Photo Project 4...

A photo of the last place you went on vacation.

I had to search back through my pictures to figure out when we last went on vacation. Apparently it was our trip to the Big Island back in May. I was rather surprised when I realized this trip was a mere nine months ago -- it seems like it was such a long time ago. I was just telling someone that this past year has seemed to simultaneously crawl along at a snail's pace and fly by disturbingly quickly -- how can it do both?? This trip seems like eons ago, yet I'm having a hard time believing that March is here already... I don't know where January and February went...

And again, I had a hard time choosing just ONE picture:

 The tree outside the Beach Tree restaurant at our hotel...

Dessert!! (I don't know HOW I can be thinking about dessert after all the dessert I've had this week... and yet this ice cream looks really good to me right now...)

 The beach...

Oh yeah -- NOW I remember what it's like to be somewhere warm... :)

What's that noise?

Two nights in a row now, we've eaten far too much for dinner. But mom and dad have been here, so that's a good excuse, right? Besides, Rick and I have walked to and from dinner (about 4 miles round trip) both nights, which helps me to justify the huge amount of chocolate cake I ate last night, and the slightly-smaller-yet-still-huge amount of carrot cake I ate tonight. (Hey, I probably would've eaten the same amount had we taken a cab or driven ourselves, so I'd say we made the right choice...)

Our friend Faisal joined us for dinner tonight, and at some point (I can't remember who started it, although I distinctly remember mom bringing up the "Obama's birth certificate" question ;)), the conversation swung in a political direction. At which point I sighed heavily and ordered a shot of whiskey. (Just kidding... I don't even LIKE whiskey...) Actually, everyone remained quite civil, although I kept myself out of the conversation. Faisal is probably my most liberal friend -- or at least my most liberal GOOD friend... I probably have a few super-liberal acquaintances -- but I've always appreciated his willingness to simply listen and DISCUSS other points of view (as opposed to immediately dismissing anyone with an opposing viewpoint as a moron or idiot -- something I hear from both sides of the political spectrum far too often). So even though he's always wrong (just kidding -- he's only ALMOST always wrong ;)), he can discuss issues without getting into some kind of heated, angry debate. And fortunately, mom and dad and Rick are usually like that, too (and I, of course, stay away from angry debates altogether by never throwing myself into the middle of them... I'm like Switzerland personified...). So it was an interesting dinner...

Our walk to and from dinner was interesting tonight, too. It was dusk when we headed out, and our route took us past the Lincoln Park Zoo. As we got closer, I kept hearing a strange noise, which at first I thought might be a bunch of neighborhood kids, yelling and running around in the park. But as we neared the zoo, it became apparent that the sound was an animal of some sort... or rather, I have to assume, a PACK of animals. A pack of animals howling and yelping. Wolves? Hyenas? Plain old dogs who happened to wander into the zoo?? (Werewolves?!?!?) If we hadn't been on our way to dinner, I would've detoured into the zoo to find the source of the howling...

About a mile farther along our route, we met a girl talking on the phone, and she was walking a dog who was straining at the leash, trying to get into the foliage at the base of the trees along the sidewalk. As she passed by, we heard her say, "I'm walking the dog -- he just saw a rat, so he's trying to get away..." Rick and I glanced around at the sidewalk, but saw nothing but concrete and low patches of ivy. On our way back from the restaurant, however, as we neared that exact spot, we saw TWO rats scurrying along the sidewalk. As soon as they noticed us, they darted over to the other side of the sidewalk and disappeared somewhere in the darkness of a brick-enclosed patio...

And the weird thing is, the rest of the way down that street, I heard the most annoying, high-pitched screech. Rick thought I was crazy (I believe he said so several times, as I complained about the noise), because he wasn't hearing it. When we reached the end of the street, it stopped, and my ears were met with blissful silence. (Actually, that's not true -- they were met with blissful regular old sounds of traffic, etc.) When I got home, I did a little Google research and discovered that high-pitched noise is often used as a rodent deterrent (although it's not always very effective... obviously). So either that entire street is outfitted with high-pitched rodent repellents, or my ears were seriously screwed up on the way home... I'm going with option A...

Anyway, I'm off to bed, where I hopefully will have dreams of chocolate and carrot cake, and NOT werewolves and rats...