Happy Halloween!

Who says Astronomy students don’t know how to have fun?

Pick me up

I blew up the coffee pot at work last week.  I was tired, it was early, and somehow I ended up with steam and bubbling grounds everywhere.  I heard it hissing from far away and instantly got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I thought (a) I broke it for good, (b) I wasn’t going to get any coffee and (c) all the coffee fiends were going to be pissed.  That morning it seemed like nearly the end of the world because the funnel filter put up such a fight.  Luckily I was able to clean it up and there was no lasting damage, but it was a mess to think about waiting another 10 minutes for a second pot.  Sadly, I mess up coffee at home too often as well.

My mother-in-law has been in town this week and as a favor to her step-daughter she wanted to go to Trader Joe’s for a list of things not available in Iowa.  It seems there are a shortage of Trader Joe’s out there — oh the humanity!  We don’t go to TJ’s often (though I do love the store) because it’s a bit of a hike.  My lovely husband knows of my coffee pot plight and bought these for me:

Dark chocolate and caffeine — what could be better?  Now, if only I could limit myself to a few at a time…

An Open Letter to Picky Eater Haters

Dear Picky Eater Haters,

I am sorry if being a picky eater offends you.  Really though, I shouldn’t have to apologize.  I’ve been picky all my life and I’ve accepted it as best I can.  It’s just a part of me.  I am not quite sure why you have a problem accepting it or calling me out at a party or continually asking “Do you like this?  What about this?”  I am happy to answer any curious questions but beyond a few and it gets a bit draining.

I don’t mean to be personally offensive by turning my nose up at things.  Truthfully, I try to say no thank you as politely as possible.  But to some, no thank you is never enough.  Trust me — tacos are just as good without sour cream and hamburgers just as fine without cheese that bounces.  If you demand to know why, I cant explain it.  It would be like me demanding to know what it’s like to be 6′8″ tall.  And “Picking it off” is not the same just like “Wear flats” isn’t always practical.

I don’t show up at your door and demand to know why you don’t like the Red Sox.  Is it the green monster?  The beer too stale?  Because they traded Manny?  Do you hate that Varitek has the C on his jersey?  Some wear shorty pants and some don’t — what’s up with that?  Is it the hard seats?  Does the Citgo sign offend you?  What’s so wrong with the Yankees?  *I* like the Red Sox so clearly anyone else near Red Sox Nation surely should like them too.  There’s where your logic is flawed, picky eater haters.

What would YOU say to that?  The same I’d say to “Do you like green tea?  Yes.  Ice cream?  Yes.  Then why not green tea ice cream?” BECAUSE.  Even though you like olives and sausage doesn’t mean you should put them together and it also doesn’t mean I like either.

And please don’t try to guilt me into trying something.  I’ll just secretly seethe at you.  If I get a wild hair, and I do occasionally, I’ll take my vinegar and guard dog and go visit Yankee Stadium.  I won’t have a sausage though.

Signed,

Mando

Wordless Wednesday 10/21/09

Does life get any better than this?

Dial UP the Flavor

While most college students lived on spageddios and ramen noodles, I subsisted on Annie’s shells and white cheddar, tilapia fish sandwiches with ketchup (they were made on the George Foreman…don’t ask me WHY but they are SO GOOD) and these bad boys:

What can I say?  I had strange tastes and a vegetarian roommate who introduced me to a longtime love affair with Trader Joe’s.

I went to a different grocery store this week than usual and I found these which sent me on a walk down memory lane.  YUM!

Reclamation

Quite a few examples of a group reclaiming a word that was once derogatory or demeaning and taking the power away by owning it have popped up in my world lately.  Two instances I can’t wrap my head around include rappers who spout the n-word, and Eve Ensler’s Vagina Monologues reclaiming the c-word. Both bring up negative images and they are words I don’t allow in my vocabulary or like to be said in my house.

But now I’m beginning to wonder if there’s not more behind the idea than I initially realized.  Does my uneasiness mean I let those words have too much power over me?  A younger version of me would have been horrified at the thought.

I have been reading a bit over at We Are The Real Deal, and the Fat Acceptance / Size Acceptance movement intrigues me.  As someone who struggles with labels and loving myself for who I am rather than who I want to be, I can’t quite wrap my head around being content at this point.  And I wonder — is it because fat has such a negative connotation in my head?  Is it because I project what I think society thinks of ME onto myself and therefore it is not OK for ME?

So, what do you think about reclaiming words?  Is it powerful and/or beneficial?

And they called it puppy love

This weekend we are dogsitting for my brother-in-law’s seven year old Belgian Shepherd, Spot.  In case you were wondering, he has no spots.  My niece, who was 2 at the time, got to name him.  But now, the name fits, and we can’t imagine calling him anything else.

Our Weim Bella is a bit…opinionated.  I wouldn’t say she’s dominant (ok, maybe I would) or dangerous, but she likes to be the alpha female.  We don’t foster girl dogs for just that reason.  She had a hard enough time when I started dating her dad.  That was a rough transition when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere.

The domineering girl with my mom's turtle.

So, it amazes me that this hardened, bunny chasing, driven, and bossy girl absolutely melts whenever her Belgian boyfriend is around.  Instead of putting her head higher than him or pawing his face, she lays her ears back and falls to the ground in a puddle.  Bella acts like this around no other dog, not even her little brother Weim.  It is hilarious to see her in a tizzy whenever you ask her where Spot is.  She only sees him twice a year at best, but she remembers his pointy ears and long shaggy tail in that little loving brain of hers as if they cuddle up together each night and dream of making litter upon litter of northern European furballs.

I’m working on getting a good picture of the two of them that is G-rated.  Stay tuned, friends.

Sugar & Spice

I traveled this past weekend to the Los Angeles / Santa Barbara area, which is part of the reason I haven’t posted lately.  I spent more time in line at LAX at 4:30AM than I did writing my last 3 posts.  I kid, I kid, but really, I have never seen security that long at my cowtown airport EVER.  There’s a reason they once had a TV drama about it; that place is like it’s own country (its own country with Starbucks a’plenty, naturally).

After we recovered from some serious travel exhaustion and more mid-afternoon traffic than I navigate at rush hour, we went wine tasting!

The scenery was breathtaking.

Our first stop had a very Tuscan feel.

There were lots of barrels.

I would love a porch like this.

On our second stop we saw the calmest, cutest (and laziest) yellow lab.  In my head I named him Steel after the steel barrels the white wine I enjoyed was aged in.

We got to take home our glasses, too.  This winery was in the movie Sideways.

Aren’t my friends cute?  Meredith, in the back, drove us where we got much-needed sandwiches.  An unfortunate incident with a port-a-john and some soap followed.

The next day was the main event!

I got to do a little crafting and doodling.

We had fun with the extra ribbon.

There was a lot of it.

Presents with baby feet wrapping paper — I love that stuff.

On Saturday night, we did get to a restaurant that looked EXACTLY like the one Aurelia worked at in Love Actually.

I was just waiting for Colin Firth to waltz in and say in Portuguese:

Beautiful Aurelia, I’ve come here with a view of asking you to marriage me. I know I seems an insane person – because I hardly knows you – but sometimes things are so transparency, they don’t need evidential proof. And I will inhabit here, or you can inhabit with me in England.

Sadly (well, not really for Joe, but he knows I love Colin Firth as much as he loves Brad Pitt Queen Latifah) that didn’t happen.  I managed to enjoy the food even without a surprise proposal.

I didn’t even get pictures of the shower food (with TWO kinds of vinegar) OR present opening OR the expectant mama or sunset over the Pacific OR the rest of our adventures at the beach because I was too busy having a fantastic time.  The only casualty that weekend was my phone that got stuck on silent and had no battery to speak of and a few hours sleep.

For much more professional looking shots (some of which are still coming!) check out Mer’s flickr page.  I think Sierra will blog about it too (and if not, now she has to)!