I live in the PNW. Jealous much?

Vegan Vednesday is Very Vstupid

2012-02-06T23:31:00.000-08:00

OK, so I'm dumping this idea. It seemed like a fairly easy thing to cut out animal proteins one day a week, but this has proven harder than I had initially thought. First, animal products - whey, in particular - are sipped into tons of stuff. Second, my spouse doesn't eat schmeats: soy protein based fake meats. Even if she did, there are still a lot of those products that contain animal proteins. Lastly, making tasty, nutritious, and diverse vegan dishes means a lot more cooking than the time we have allows.

So screw it. Cheese, you no longer need to fear a diminished place in my life.

Super Sunday

2012-02-05T23:08:00.000-08:00

Super Bowl XLVI (that's 46 to those with poor Latin skills) was today, and it turned out to be a fairly exciting game as the New York Giants met the New England Patriots in Indianapolis. Just like last year, friends Leila and Jason Summers came over and we ate, drank, and enjoyed the game.

The highlight of the day was the food, and for lack of anything more interesting to write, I am including some recipes that we tried.

Leila brought an odd sounding but surprisingly delicious Moroccan Carrot Dip from the America's Test Kitchen cookbook. I can't wait to try making it myself.

Another dip we had was one I made, courtesy J&D's, makers of Baconnaise and other bacon-flavored wonders. The Bacon Cheddar Jalapeno Dip was super rich but spicy, creamy, and yummy.

Besides traditional Buffalo wings, I made Thai Green Curry Hot Wings (recipe from Food & Wine via the Huffington Post), which turned out to be absolutely phenomenal if I do say so myself. They were crispy and the coating turned out to be the perfect blend of flavorful and spicy. I can't wait to make these again, and plan on experimenting with the sauce on a larger scale and food that requires less touching with bare fingers as a tribute to my loving wife.

Meatlessednous

2012-01-23T00:45:00.000-08:00

I wouldn't call it a resolution, but I am going to give Meatless Mondays a try. I don't imagine it will be that hard, but I want to have a day where I am more conscious of the food I eat. I don't want to (and don't think I ever will) go vegetarian or vegan, but I/we have been working towards reducing the amount of meat we eat, and of finding sustainable, humane, and ethically raised meat and meat products. Yes, we know that terms like "organic" and "free-range" are bullshit, and that "natural" is even bigger bullshit. Hormone-filled, antibiotic-laden bullshit, shat out by cows in fear as they are marched into a slaughterhouse with underpaid, desensitized guys with sledgehammers and deep senses of self-loathing. That's serious bullshit.

Fortunately, we have two things going for us: First, we know that this is all bullshit. I have come to the point where I literally think about what the meat I buy went through before it wound up in my shopping cart. That said, some things - from a global, if not humane perspective - are what we look for in order to eat the lesser of two killed animals. For example, there is no law that says "organic" chickens need to be treated well or slaughtered humanely. Still, it means that the land they are on and the feed they eat is organic, which means a lot of chemicals are not going out into the world. If you're going to eat chickens from the supermarket, why not get the kind that have reduced the chemical and carbon footprint on the planet?

Second, I work in a grocery store that sells higher quality animal products alongside the meats that have two syllable first and last names. I can bring home steak from cows that lived in a field, eating grass and enjoying the sun. I can get wild game and heirloom turkeys and chickens. Sure, they're pricier, but that's part of eating with a conscience. And don't get me started on the Wagyu ("American Kobe") beef - these cattle are fed hay, grass, and the spent grains from the beer making process and have classical music piped into the barns and yards. These are happy cows. Before, you know, they are slaughtered and turned into food.

Still, all in all, I/we have two very bad habits when it comes to our animal product consumption: First, we eat too damn much. Like most Americans, we tend towards having meat at every meal, and if not, then we have enough alternate animal proteins so that we hardly notice. Macaroni and cheese and egg sandwiches are meatless, sure, but not without their impact, and not exactly healthy alternatives.

Second, we still - even with our knowledge and consciences - buy too much meat (and other animal proteins) that are anything but sustainable. This tends to be in the form of things like lunch meat and microwaveable meals, which are quick, convenient, and cheap. However, these are also prime sources of unsustainable meats from unknown sources loaded with hormones, antibiotics, phosphates, salt, etc., etc. This comes down largely to our addiction with meat. I personally want to change my mindset over to thinking that yes, indeed, a sandwich can be edible without meat.

With all this in mind, I have decided to work hard at following the Meatless Monday movement, wherein, as the name implies, no meat is consumed on Mondays. I have kicked this idea around in the past, but it seemed too hard to limit myself to a certain day. Why not just say "one day a week?" I told myself. Well, because that is way too easy to forget. I want to have a set day, and on that day I want to be conscious of what I am putting into my mouth.

I will also be attempting to go a bit further. I am going to ad Vegan Vednesdays (TM and (C) Fuzzy Chickie Productions) to the lineup. This is as much for a health boost as anything else. As I said, I tend to load up on unhealthy meat alternatives (read: cheese) when I make a deliberate attempt to be meatless. With that in mind, I figure a goal of one day free of all animal proteins will further my (minimal) global impact and help me in my efforts to be healthier in my overall life.

So wish me luck as I try to lessen the chunks of animals and their various secretions in my diet.

Snow day(s)!

2012-01-20T02:48:00.000-08:00

In a rare approximately accurate forecast, the local weatherpeople predicted a huge winter storm to dump between four and 36 inches of snow on the state of Washington, depending on the area. "Historical" was a word tossed around quite a bit. As it happened, winds blew and pressures changed, and the Puget Sound region (in which Seattle and Federal Way are located) was fortunate to end up with 10 inches at the worst (Olympia, in the south) and 4 inches at the best (Seattle). The good news is that the state and various municipalities were planning for the worst, meaning there wasn't the complete regional shut-down that we have seen the last few years, worst of which might have been the inch of snow that snarled traffic so badly in 2010 that people were stuck on highways for over 8 hours.

So, yes, we got 5" here in F-Way. Heading to work was out for both Kat and I, and based on the tracks in the snow on our street, for most of the neighborhood.

In anticipation of the impending storm, I had stocked up on essentials like propane, batteries, margarita fixings, cigars, wine, bourbon, and canned goods. In other words, all the normal storm essentials.

After we had each awakened, looked out the window at the still-piling snow, and called our respective places of work to reject the possibility of attendance, we started the day with wine and a lunch of homemade turkey soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I have to take a moment to brag on the sandwiches; they ended up in that perfect zone of crispy golden brown bread concealing (in this case) a blend of three cheeses that had melted to that perfect point of not being molten, oily goo, but to the point of borderline liquid while maintaining a stretchy viscocity. Bam.

After lunch, we watched a little TV and then threw on our layers of warm clothes in order to go play in the snow.

By "play in the snow," I mean largely "shoveling the driveway." Katherine actually took the initiative and started the dig while I chucked snowballs at the house. After about ten square feet were cleared, I took over the digging while she began work on our snowman.

I should point out here that shoveling the drive has, in the past, been a relatively modest chore. That said, this was the heaviest snow we have had since living in our current house. Five inches is a lot to dig off of a two-car driveway. Winter lesson learned too late #1: Buy another snow shovel. This is not an opulent purchase.

The credit for Snowqualmie, our snowman, goes largely to Katherine. She rolled the big bottom section and the head, while I rolled and placed the middle section and delivered the pristine driveway snow for her to pack around the base in order to conceal the leaves and other crud that ends up encrusted to most snowpeople.

Still, shoveling snow wound up with me wrenching my right shoulder in a way that it was not meant to be wrenched. By the time I was done, I could barely use my arm. As of the writing this, the pain has faded slightly, but it still hurts like hell. I guess I should enjoy this, as in a scant decade or two, I will likely die of a heart attack while removing snow from my property.

Once we had burned most of the daytime, we headed in to eat dinner and enjoy Citizen Kane on our new Blu-ray player and HDTV. The classic and largely accepted greatest movie ever made was beautifully restored and cleaned up to be an impressive example of what film lovers can do with modern technology. The greatest film ever made combined with the greatest movie watching technology to date is the reason we evolved with the eyes we have.

For dinner I served pizza with Romi chopped tomatoes with fresh herbs, cherry tomatoes, arugula, and fresh mozzarella on whole-wheat naan. We also enjoyed some chardonnay that was chilled in the snow in our backyard. It was a pretty decent dinner.

All in all, our snow day was a great day spent together. It was nice having a guilt-free "skip" day together, and we enjoyed being in each other's company. This is my blog, so I can't speak for Katherine, but I love her tons and any day - even one with manual labor at its core - spent with her is awesome.

*We ended up staying in the next day as well, since the night had brought more snow and an ice storm that was bringing down trees.

He doesn't know what's going on, just that the world isn't supposed to be white.

Ditto.

Had some pretty big branches come off the trees in our yard during the ice storm on day two of Snowmageddon 2012. Luckily we made it through without losing power.

Whispering a secret to Snowqualmie, our snowman.

Arcade games and beer

2012-01-20T02:17:00.000-08:00

Local gal-pal Paula was turning 29 again (just a couple of months after I turned 29 again), and invited Kat and I to a gathering of her friends which would start at a sushi place in Federal Way and end at an arcade/bar in Seattle. I had to work until 8ish, so Kat went to dinner with the group and they all headed to Seattle where I planned to meet them when I got done with work.

I got to Gameworks first, and had a couple of drinks in the bar while I waited. Gameworks is a pretty cool spot, one I had passed many times without a second glance. It is an arcade, filled with upright video games, new and old, and which also serves low-rate pub fare and alcohol. That's a winning combination if ever I've heard one.

I was a little disappointed at the scarcity of old-school games - I had been looking forward to Bad Dudes, Dig Dug, and that bad-ass X-Men game, none of which were to be found - but they had a great collection of moderns and of reboots, and the requisite pinball, skeeball, and air hockey.

The latter would turn out to be the highlight of our evening. Katherine had never played air hockey, while it was one of my favorite arcade activities. We had a blast, so much so that I wound up with an open sore on my hand from friction on the striker and a bruise on my thigh from slamming it into the table. All my injuries were for naught, as Katherine's natural skill and my generous nature led her to multiple victories. Generous nature. You should focus on that.

All in all, great times in a new place with old and new friends.

Second hike of the New Year!

2012-01-20T02:14:00.000-08:00

What do you call a soggy, chill, overcast day in the PNW? Perfect hiking weather! We took a Sunday afternoon to hike a fairly easy four-miler on Cougar Mountain in the Issaquah Alps. We both really enjoyed this one; it was good for a couple of hours of still-green forest and oodles of waterfalls.

And where do we go after a hike in the I.A.? Issaquah (Rogue) Brewhouse, of course. The original plan was for one beer each, and we had them while we watched the Broncos/Green Bay game. We stayed for one more beer so that we could chat with our favorite bartender, Ashley, who had just started her shift. I also ended up taking home a ceramic growler of specialty ale commemorating Rogue Creamery - no relation, other than a working relation, to Rogue Brewing - one of if not THE best cheesemaker in the PNW. They make a blue cheese whose deliciousness I would kill a polar bear by stabbing it in the heart with a bald eagle to get. The beer was thick and rich, a delicious ale with caramel-malty notes, but it didn't have enough head and therefore not enough bouquet, so I found the total taste experience lacking, as was the delightful tickle in the back of the throat that beers usually provide.

Christmas & New Year's 2011/12

2012-01-20T01:38:00.000-08:00

After surviving another holiday season in retail, I was ready for some relaxing time off. Our friend Michelle was due to visit, so I took a couple of days off during the Christmas-New Year's season.

Christmas is a paid day off anyway, and it was a good day. I think everyone in our house was pleased with what they got, we relaxed with mimosas and red wine, and feasted on Kat's amazing dry-aged New York strip roast and various other goodies. I also have to give a shout out to her almond joy cheesecake. Because sometimes you feel like a nut. And a giant cheesecake.

I was back at work the next day and for the next few days while Michelle hung out with Katherine and visited some other friends (people have other friends???) in the area. Back together again on Friday the 30th (our sixth anniversary), we all headed to nearby Dash Point State Park to wander around in the low tide sands, kicking up sand dollars and watching bald eagles nab fish from the surf. The wind chill was a bit colder than we had anticipated, but it was a lovely sunny day nonetheless.

After the beach, we headed back to Chateau McKinney, where the three of us managed - barely - to move the 36", 6,000 lb. Sony Trinitron TV from the living room into the Man Cave. I still had to enlist the help of a neighbor to get the behemoth monitor the two feet off the ground and onto the TV stand. Bitch was heavy.

With that out of the way, it was time to get our new, 46" Samsung LCD TV into the living room, connect the new Blu-Ray player, and start watching the new Planet Earth series from the BBC on Blu-Ray. When I took the protective, poofy plastic bag off of the screen, I saw that the glass had been smashed in near the top. I had been waiting to put everything together until we could move the old TV and I had received my present to me, the Blu-Ray player. I was, in a word, devastated. It's like if you got the pony you asked for, got ready to ride it, and realized that it had an arrow in its eye and was quite dead. Yep, it was just like that.

Trying (very) hard to put the disappointment of the afternoon behind me, Katherine and I freshened up and headed to Tacoma for dinner at Over the Moon Cafe. She had eaten there previously, but it was my first time. The decor seemed a bit forced, as though the owners had ordered the deluxe "Eclectic Bistro" kit. The menu offered fairly standard fare - steaks, roast chicken, salmon, and the like - and none of the unique, one-of-a-kind offerings I usually look for.

I took one of the specials, a ribeye steak with chantrelle mushroom sauce, and Kat had a wild mushroom risotto. My meal was very nicely done, but the sauce was a bit overwhelming on the steak; the flavor of the meat didn't come through like I would have hoped. Katherine reported that her dish was good, but upon examination it seemed that the chef had blended the wild mushroom risotto with one of the other specials, a butternut and apple risotto, as ingredients from both were present in her rice.

We had originally intended to see the George Clooney film The Descendants at a nearby theater after dinner, but we ended up enjoying each other's company and our bottle of zin too much and stayed at the restaurant past the start time of the movie. No worries; we headed back home for more wine and time with our friend in the perfect ending to an almost ruined night.

I have to admit that my anniversary gift to K was not available on our anniversary. It was a custom item, and I'll get to it later. Katherine came through, though, and as the sixth is the "iron" anniversary, she got me both a tin metal plane model and a cast iron bacon press. I had wanted both items, so she pretty much nailed it.

New Year's Eve was the next day, and after sleeping off the previous night's wine, we all headed to the so-called Issaquah Alps to hike up to Rattlesnake Ridge. This is a great moderate hike that ends on a ledge with great views of the Cascade mountain range. Weather was perfect and we all enjoyed the trek. After our hike, we visited nearby Issaquah to enjoy a pint at the Issaquah Brewhouse, currently owned by Rogue Brewing, purveyors of some of my fave brews. Michelle treated us to a few beers and to some various fried foods, both of which were much appreciated. Also appreciated was the bartender Ashley, with her cheerful attitude, red Betty Page bangs, and her [expletive deleted].

After rushing home to freshen up, we headed back north to Seattle to have some drinks and to catch the famed fireworks display that is launched off of the Space Needle. Time was short, so we had a couple of cocktails at The Hideout, then some bourbons at The Whiskey Bar in Belltown, but soon had to head towards Seattle Center. We stopped where a group of people had gathered, and while it was far away from the Center, a gap in the surrounding buildings offered us a great view of the Space Needle, and we were treated to one of the most impressive fireworks displays I've ever seen.

Traffic out of town wasn't too bad - I've seen worse in downtown - and we made good time home.

We slept in on the first day of 2012, and when we were all up and had washed the stink of a major metropolitan area off, we headed back again to said major metropolitan area. Our first goal was lunch at the Greenlake Spud, one of a local chain of fish and chip restaurants that we had been wanting to try, and for which we had a Living Social coupon. We tried both the cod and halibut, as well as fried clams, sweet potato fries, and housemade tartar sauce. The restaurant was tiny, and without us asking, the cashier/owner brought a rolling chair out from the office so that we could all fit at the two person table that was available. That's some good customer service. Besides the obvious fact that we ordered too many dishes, I personally made the mistake of ordering a "double," which included to pieces of cod and fries. The food was great, but those cod fillets were as big as my hand. Adding on the shared items and a few bites of each other's dishes, and I think we were all a little over loaded on grease. I should also note that Kat's halibut was good, but not enough better than the cod to justify the (literally) triple price. The owner had warned against it, but we had a big coupon to use, so she went for it. Spud is definitely a regular stop now.

We decided to walk off our 30 pounds of fried foods with a fifteen minute walk along the banks of Green Lake. It was kind of a gross day out, but nothing was falling from the sky and we had a good time chatting and strolling along the shore.

Aside from Spud, our primary goal for the day was to use another Living Social coupon we had purchased: an 18 month membership to the MOHAI, or Museum of History and Industry on the UW campus. The MOHAI is a museum of local history, but as told through the industrial eyes of the region. So naval shipyards, salmonry, and construction of the Seattle skyline play big here. We had been wanting to go here for a long time, and it was more or less worth the wait. I say "more or less" because the museum is relocating soon, so a number of exhibits were not available for view when we were there, as they had already been relocated. Still, it was a pretty good museum. Can't wait to see how the new facility looks in the former Naval armory on the shore of Lake Union.

By the time we left, the sky had opened up and it was raining pretty hard. Not ready for our Seattle day to end, we headed to Capital Hill to try one of the Starbucks locations that serves alcohol and more "bistro-esque" food. The girls had some pretty decent wine, and I had a Rogue Dead Guy Ale which had obviously been put in the fridge only moments before I ordered it.

After our drinks at the local (we get to say that 'cause we're in Seattle) spot, we went back home and watched (500) Days of Summer, a romantic comedy that was promised to be the romantic comedy to redeem the genre. It was OK. I think the filmmakers applied a lot of fairly common techniques in a way unique to romantic comedies, but they were common techniques nonetheless. Still, it was a solid flick. After Kat went to bed, Michelle and I stayed up chatting about this and that until the wee hours, and got a hug in before she had to leave the following morning.

Even the Pike Place piggies were in the holiday spirit.

At the Gum Wall, Seattle's most famous landmark.

A lot of our shots weren't usable, but we went through the local neighborhood known as "Candy Cane Lane" for the massive holiday light displays the residents put on in order to collect food for food banks.

Finally.

Dash Point State Park.

Rattlesnake Ridge Hike.

After poking some slime mold...

...they went back for more.

Yep, this is our unicorn impression.

Gettin' our bourbon on at The Whiskey Bar.

Nothing caps off a night on the town like a big ball of stale cookie dough.

32nd Birthday

2011-10-27T03:33:00.000-07:00

Another year has ticked off on my way to my expiration date, and luckily I got to spend it doing things I love with friends and loved ones. That's a win any day of the year.

My birthday fell on a Monday this year, and since Katherine hadn't been at her job very long, she didn't want to take time off for any sort of trip or anything, so we kept it local and low-key.

Through a scheduling SNAFU in my favor, I got off work early on Sunday, flew back to Federal Way and changed, and then our friends Paula and Barry came over and we all drove up to Seattle. They had invited us to a viewing of the season premier of The Walking Dead at Central Cinema in Seattle, and we were excited to go. We enjoy the show, and it was our first time going to the restaurant/bar/theater in the Central District.

The show was great, but had too many commercials and the projectionist didn't stop the pre-show intro in time to prevent a number of spoilers from popping up on screen. The food was really good as well, and besides our "individual" pizzas, Kat and I shared some sweet potato croquettes that were to die for.

On Monday, I got up early-ish (for a birthday) and picked up Paula for a day in Seattle. We started out with lunch at Tat's Deli in the Pioneer Square neighborhood. I had heard about Tat's from a co-worker, and it is apparently quite a big deal. I'm surprised I hadn't heard of it before. It promised to be the most authentic Philly cheese steak sandwiches outside the City of Love. I got a Philly and fries, she had a club sandwich. Both were served on "Italian" bread - I guess even a Philly place can't get real hoagies out here - and both were good. The cheese steak was delicious, but I guess I need to try the real thing; every time I have one, I am left with the feeling that I could make a better one at home (and in many cases, I have.) The fries were probably better than the sandwich, and I saw several other sandwiches that looked more promising, including an eggplant parmesan and a meatball grinder.

After lunch, we walked the few blocks to Pike Place Market with the sole intention of picking up individual cheesecakes from my favorite sweet shop, The Confectional. I'm not a big fan of regular cake, so I decided this year to get myself and Katherine a couple of small cheesecakes: pumpkin, Seattle New York, and peanut butter & chocolate. As always, their cheesecakes were above reproach.

Next we headed to the Seattle Center and the Experience Music Project museum. This used to be known as the EMP and Sci-Fi Museum, but somewhere along the line the sci-fi part seems to have been absorbed by the EMP. The current draw is an exhibit on horror films called Can't Look Away: The Lure of Horror Films. Before we got to that, though, we spent some time in the Avatar exhibit, playing on the interactive consoles and performing Oscar-worthy scenes in the "CGI" room, taking directions from none other than James Cameron. The computer had a bit of a hard time focusing on me, though; apparently no one programmed in kilts when they designed the software. I ended up having to hike my man-skirt way up, like how old men wear their kilts.

When we were done playing in the Avatar exhibit, we entered the horror movie exhibit. The exhibit consisted of a lot more monitors and a lot fewer artifacts than I had imagined, and was smaller than I had pictured as well. There were a number of viewing "rooms" where monitors played commentaries by a few horror directors on various films, a handful of props (not sure why I didn't take any pictures of these), a booth where your picture is taken while you screamed, and a display of images of the "main" antagonists in horror films: zombies, serial killers, and the like. It was definitely interesting, but again, less than I had expected. I'm glad we made time for the Avatar stuff, and I wish we'd had more time for other exhibits.

Amped up on horror movie energy, we stopped briefly on our way out of Seattle at Silver Platters, where we each grabbed some titles in the genre.

Back in Federal Way and after dropping Paula off, I picked up Katherine (who had left work a little early) and we hit the road again, heading for dinner in Issaquah and drinks at the Issaquah Brewhouse, a property of Rogue Brewing. For dinner we hit a highly reviewed pan-Asian spot called Saffron Deli & Pastry. It was a wee hole-in-the-wall place, and is apparently run by a lone woman with help (after school) from her 4th grade daughter. The menu was as small as the dining room, but with bg flavor. We started with a bowl of pho (pronounced "fuh"), and I am happy to report that it was the first pho I've ever really enjoyed. I don't know if it's more of a sacrilege to say that I don't like lavender or that I don't like pho around here; they're both really big deals in the region. I've tried the Vietnamese soup a few times, and each time I have been let down with boring, watery broths, and greasy, tough meat. This pho was amazing, though, and both of us were very glad we tried it. I would make a trip back just for this dish.

For entrees she had a coconut curry dish and I had a chicken noodle dish, which ended up being more of a chicken noodle soup than the lo-mein style dish I had anticipated. It was still very good, and Kat's curry was better than a number of other Thai curries we've tried. We always complain that Thai restaurants are all the same and tend to be a bit boring for our tastes, but these dishes stood apart.

After dinner we had a pleasant conversation with the owner/chef and her daughter (who was a splendid server and an adorable young lady) and then headed across town to the Issaquah Brewhouse. Long ago bought out by Portland's Rogue Brewing, the Issaquah Brewhouse is a blend of local and corporate. I especially wanted to go here since my membership in the "Rogue Nation" entitles me to two free beers and a free t-shirt on my birthday. We went there and I joined the club on my last birthday, but they make you wait a year after you sign up before b-day benefits kick in. I didn't stop at the two free beers, and had a few others from their ridiculously large selection, as well as some blends (pumpkin ale + ginger spice lager = WIN!) that the bartenders concocted. Oh, and I got my t-shirt.

Tuesday was a bit more mundane - chores and errands, mostly - but I still managed to enjoy myself, and had a great dinner at home with the wife. The weather for the entire "weekend" was perfect - sunny and crisp - and I took advantage of it and grilled some luscious burgers (and beer can chicken, and buffalo wings, both for later) in the back yard while enjoying a cocktail and fine stogie. I guess good days are what you make of them.

As you can guess, I designed this plant. The image is from a screen, and doesn't do my fantastic art a bit of justice.

Paula getting ready for a scene in the Avatar motion capture thingamajig. I can't find our videos on their site, but I assure you, they are amazing.

Yes, the original, hand-written transcript for "Dracula." Much like myself, Bram Stoker was Irish, creative, died penniless, and had horrible penmanship.

Portland Marathon 2011

2011-10-25T01:38:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's right, I was recently in Portland, Oregon, for the 40th annual Portland Marathon. No, I wasn't there to run it. And no, I wasn't there to stalk and photograph hot runner chicks. Well, except for this one:

Yes, Katherine was running her second marathon in what will surely be a tradition of money, pain, complaining, and b.o.

She says that she wants me at her marathons for moral support, and I suppose that's partly true. In all fairness, though, it's handy to have a lumpy person along to drive a sore runner around and bring her food and drinks and tell her that women look great after marathons. Hmm. Maybe that last one falls under the "moral support" heading.

Seriously, though, I am ecstatic to be married to someone who can sleep five hours, get up at 4:30 in the morning, drive 20 miles, walk a mile, wait in line for thirty minutes to pee, and run 26.2 miles without stretching or properly hydrating. That's awesome. She's athletic, tough, and stupid in an awesome way.

We left Federal Way early on Friday morning, and during the drive, I slept like a rock while Katherine prepped for her run by pressing one leg to the gas pedal for hours.

When we arrived, it was lunch time, and we came prepared to eat at Robb's Really Good Food, a beer-chili food truck that was a no-show at the Seattle Food Rodeo, an event we had recently attended. Their menu looked great, and the name was a clincher. Sadly, like at the Rodeo, I was the only Robb at the location where they were supposed to be. That was when we decided to say, like Indiana Jones might say about Nazis, "Screw 'em." Random Indiana Jones comparison; high five!

It ended up working out; we wound up at a food pod with a truck called Lardo, a pork place featuring pork and things cooked in pork fat and covered in pork. Pork! She had a sandwich of pork belly, egg, cheese, and arugula, and I had a pork meatball bahn mi, and we shared fries cooked in lard and covered with fresh pork rinds and Mama Lil's Kick-Butt Peppers. Yummy yummy yummy!!!

Lunch dealt with, we headed downtown so Kat could sign in for her run and so we could loot vendors for swag.

After the check-in, we walked a few blocks to a park where the Occupy Portland movement was in full swing. Yes, there were a lot of hippies, bums, losers, and the like, tents set up, a "pay what you can, take what you need" kitchen, and the unique smell of the burning of illegal plant matter. There were also lots of regular folks who were expressing their frustration with the inequity of the capital-political system. Whatever your opinion is on the "Occupy" movement, it was great to see a group of Americans united in a common cause, protesting the unfairness of the system. Just like that other great protest, the Boston Tea Party. Just sayin'.

Since we had several hours to kill before we met friends at the house they were house-sitting for, we went back to the Hawthorne (?) neighborhood and bummed around some shops, including a look through Really Good Stuff, probably the most eclectic and packed antique store I've ever seen. They had everything from stacks of vinyl and vintage clothes to an old telephone switchboard.

For dinner we wound up at a Bridgeport Brewhouse with the stated intention of allowing Katherine to carbo-load. To that end, we had carb-heavy meals, and from our seat by an open window, we eavesdropped on folks at a table outside, talked about our day, and planned our next day.

After dinner, we headed back into Washington to nearby Vancouver to meet friends Leila and Jason at the house they were house-sitting and where we would be spending the night. We chatted it up for a bit before we hit the hay. Oh, and we also learned that the basement in which we would be staying was home to two small dogs that seemed to be on their own for the two weeks their owners were out of town. We were in a bedroom with a door, so the dogs weren't a problem, but it was heartbreaking to have these lonely little doggies in the next room. They also did a little barking, which wouldn't have been a bother, but since Kat had to be up soon to run a marathon, so it was a little frustrating.

At five in the morning, we left for Portland and the big run. We parked, walked to the start line, and then stood in line for about a half hour while Kat and Leila waited to have their traditional pre-run pee.

Before we knew it, the runners were off, and I had five hours to kill. I started killing time by killing my body with a walk to Voodoo Doughnuts, where I got a large coffee and a box of doughnuts. I enjoyed an Old Dirty Bastard, a cake doughnut covered with peanut butter, caramel, and crushed Oreos, but the rest were for post-run celebration.

After securing our deep-fried, sugar-coated pastries in the car, I began wandering around Portland, my favorite place to visit. It was a brief wandering, as I ended up almost immediately in Powell's City of Books, where I wandered around for hours, ending up with a small stack of used books for future reading.

By the time I was done, it was time to get back to the finish line, and after getting turned around and going the wrong direction for a while, I wound up at the finish area, only to realize that barricades had been set up to keep viewers at a distance, and that I wouldn't be able to see Katherine finish without going several blocks out of the way and doubling back. I was worried about missing her entirely, so after a couple of attempts at playing dumb with the volunteer security people and trying to get to a spot with a view, I contented myself with standing on a corner a block or so from the finish line where all the runners were being funneled through.

I did manage to spot my sweaty, exhausted honey as she staggered through the crowd, and we headed back to the car, and then back to the house in Vancouver where the runner chicks showered and - I assume - secretly cried.

One last jaunt into Portland for dinner at Rogue Public House and Distillery, my favorite Portland restaurant and home of my favorite beers. The only problem was that due to mouth-breathing for four plus hours, the roof of Kat's mouth was chapped, and her first bite of food might as well have been a mouthful of smashed lightbulb. She ate what she could, but sadly she did not enjoy her first meal after her run.

Our goals for the weekend met (hers: run 26.2 miles, mine: doughnuts and beer), we headed home.

So happy before a run!

Occupy Portland.

A Voodoo Doughnut Voodoo Doughnut, a Bacon Maple Bar, and a Rogue Ales Bacon Maple Bar Beer. Best souvenirs ever!

Iron Goat Trail

2011-10-23T03:52:00.000-07:00

At long last, Katherine and I went on a hike I have been trying to go on for years, the Iron Goat Trail. This trail follows an old, abandoned rail line that once took passengers across the Cascades. The rails meandered through the forest and over the mountains. Because of the constant avalanches, a number of snow sheds - wooden, steel, and/or concrete structures built to deflect snow from the tracks - were built, and their corpses remain to this day.

Several tunnels, carved by immigrant laborers, also remain. I wanted to go in to these, but the signs warning of danger kept me out. OK, no, my wife kept me out. Poor decision making is why I'm not allowed to go on solo hikes any more.

The day turned out to be perfect for a hike, sunny and warm, and the trails were virtually empty. One of the reasons I had been wanting to do this hike for so long is the spooky factor. Not only is the area home to bears, cougars, and other animals with pointy parts, but it is also the scene of a huge number of deaths. People building the rails, riding the trains, and maintaining the tracks often met their ends due to old-timey accidents. At the far end of the trail from where we started are the remains of a town built just as a train depot, and near this is the site of a crash in which an avalanche knocked a train off the tracks and killed 96 people. It was the worst avalanche disaster and one of the worst train disasters in U.S. history. That's a whole lot of potential ghosts. Whoooo-OOOO-oooo...

After our (sadly) bear, cougar, and spectre free hike, we stopped on the way home for dinner at Garlic Crush, our secret Greek restaurant in Bellevue for some of their amazing Mediterranean cuisine. Could the day have been better? Doubtful.

This is a man-made tunnel. Not sure if it was ever completed.

If you look closely, the figure in this sign has a terrified, open mouth. That really sold the danger element.

A wall from a snow shed. Snow sheds were built over the tracks to protect from avalanches.

Lots of rusting camp stuff from those who built the rails were on this trail. I love artifacts on hikes.

Looks like a good spot for a picnic, no?

Yay! Frog cookie!

Mmm, frog eye...

Such a lady...

Rusty train part. Huzzah!

Yeah. We're awesome.

Probably the best view of any pit toilet in Washington.

Some rusty thing that used to do something. I love history.

You used to be able to go into this tunnel. Then some stupid people got washed away by a flash flood in it and ruined it for everyone.

If a car is going to hit 100,000 miles, you should be so lucky to have it happen doing something you love with someone you love in the next seat.

Glacier National Park Day 6

2011-10-21T01:28:00.000-07:00

The last night in GNP was SUPPOSED to be spent at a campsite near Apgar Lake. My caps indicate that we arrived too late, based on SOMEONE'S assumption that they wouldn't fill up. Those caps indicate that my wife made this assumption. COUCH. Those caps indicate where I will be sleeping tonight for calling out my wife on the internet.

Our solution to this surprise was to leave the park and stop at the first public campsite we came across on the highway. We found one, and it was actually pretty nice. Fairly priced, a covered spot for the tent, running water on the site, and very nice bathrooms. Wine, freeze-dried dinner, reading, and relaxing made for a very pleasant night.

The next morning, we aimed straight for Polson and the Miracle of America Museum. A friend had told Katherine about this place, and after she told me, it was a priority.

The museum is an eclectic mish-mash of - well - American stuff. There was a little bit of everything. It's almost impossible to describe it, but here goes: there were artifacts from our country's wars, musical items, motorcycles, planes, helicopters, farm equipment, medical devices, snowmobiles, cars, train cars, boats, military vehicles, taxidermied animals, and more, and more, and more. Like the name of the museum impies, the artifacts within (and without) do a really great job of showing some of the many inventions, innovations, creations, trends, and ethics that make this country so unique. More importantly, it was packed with cool stuff that cool guys would find cool.

After the museum, our next stop was another recommendation, the St. Regis Travel Center. This place was hands-down the most interesting rest-stop we'd ever seen. Sure, it was a gas station and convenience store, but it included a massive Montana gift shop, a restaurant, and even an aquarium with native fish. We had lunch in the restaurant, which is famous for a wide variety of huckleberry (it's a big thing in Montana) items, including the huckleberry bbq sauce slathered burger I had and the shake we shared. (Note for next time: individual shakes!) Even the soda fountain had a huckleberry syrup injector so you could enjoy the flavor in your Coke or Pepsi or Mountain Dew or whatever.

We hit the road after lunch, and soon spotted a sign that invited an impulse stop. The USFWS National Bison Range Wildlife Refuge was a roadside attraction we couldn't resist. Our National Park Pass worked here as well, so we got to drive around on the dirt roads that winded through the park where we got to see bison, antelope, and even a badger. We were on a bit of a time crunch, so we didn't do the whole drive, so we didn't see the promised herds of bison, and the deer and antelope were merely performing mundane chores and not playing.
Too soon - preferably, if not practically - we were on the road again, and before we knew it, we were back home, dusty, cramped, exhausted and packed full of new memories of our exploration of this great nation.

"Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door." The museum ties this in with the idea that America is the land of invention. That said, I looked it up, and most mousetraps (including, I assume, those pictured here) were invented in Europe.

A Nazi bicycle with a machine gun mounted to it. Twelve-year-old me just felt a chill go down his spine.

When I die, I want to be taken to the cemetary in a buggy like this. It's public record now. That means it has to happen.

One of the many displays of guns.

Reconstructed '50s soda counter? Why not?

As a Kansas native, I immediately identified this crazy big tractor thing as a crazy big tractor thing.

A M*A*S*H chopper!

She pedaled harder and harder, and by the time we realized visitors weren't supposed to sit on this item, she was hovering fifty feet off the ground.

When you fly off with one of the museum's artifacts, this is where you wind up.

What, your local gas station doesn't have a trout aquarium?

We were very excited to see this little guy. Badgers are shy and low-slung, and therefore hard to spot!

Glacier National Park Day 5

2011-10-14T02:04:00.000-07:00

Our last day in GNP was actually a day spent leaving it. After breakfast, we packed up our tent and took showers. Then we were on the road.

To be specific, we were on Going to the Sun Road, a long highway that passes through the park by way of one of the highest points therein. Going to the Sun Road is a long, winding road that showcases all that is best in the park. There are hiking paths all along, some of which we stopped for and hiked. There were lots of trees, animals, more waterfalls, more lakes, more alpine meadows, glaciated springs, and oodles of views.

Again, I'm going to have to let the pictures earn their thousand-word reputations here, as they will do the best justice to our trip, and as I am running way behind in posts. Enjoy. Or don't. I don't care, it's my blog.

Beautiful, deep mountain creek. How deep? That black and yellow blob is a training scuba diver.

Trail of the Cedars.

OK, the shot is blurry, but we came upon a mama deer and her bounding, playing fawn. Katherine didn't hear it, but I swear I heard a rabbit thumping its foot on a log somewhere...

At the Apgar Lodge, cool vintage - and moderately offensive - chandelier with Indian designs.

Glacier National Park Day 4

2011-10-14T01:37:00.000-07:00

This was the big hike of our trip; the Grinnell Glacier trail. Starting out from the Many Glacier Lodge, we headed out on a 12 mile hike.

It was a great hike, with lakes, waterfalls, alpine meadows, wildlife, mountains, and, surprise surprise, glaciers.

The glaciers are the payoff for the effort of winding your way through berry patches in grizzly country and hoofing it up 6 miles of ascending stone trails. That said, the park's namesake ice fields are almost gone. The Grinnell Glacier, the biggest in the park, is mostly chunks of ice in a lake now. We stood on compressed rock and earth that had once been under millions of tons of ice.

To be fair, the 125 glaciers that covered the landscape when white men first came upon them had begun receding before man made global climate change was a thing. Still, our collective carbon footprint has certainly not slowed the process. There are now fewer than 30 glaciers left.

I'll let the photos do the rest of my talking for me. I will say that after our hike, exhausted and sweaty, we stopped into the Many Glacier Lodge for a glass of wine (Kat) and of local beer (me) and sat looking out over a lake and contemplating the days to come.

I have no problem saying that this was the greatest hike I have ever been on. I really hope I can go again before the only ice left in the park is in a cup of Coke.

Glacier National Park Day 3

2011-10-12T01:11:00.000-07:00

We woke up stiff and sore on our first full day in GNP. It had been a while since we had slept on anything much harder than our memory-foam topped mattress. Ah, the joys of camping.

Luckily, our morning became almost immediately better when I combined some pre-cooked veggies, sausage, and potatoes with fresh eggs to make a sizzling hot scramble. I also attempted to make coffee in my new camping percolator, but it was one of the greatest culinary failures of all time. Some practice with measurements and timing is apparently in order for the next trip. Thank God for Rockstars!

After breakfast and showers in the nearby coin-operated stalls, we again stopped at the Saint Mary Visitor Center to get some info on weather and trail conditions. It was still drizzling out, but we were assured that the Swiftcurrent Nature Trail, our intended destination, would be passable.

On the drive to Swiftcurrent, my keen eye spotted a moose feeding in the lake next to the Many Glacier hotel. We stopped to take some pictures and realized that the large cow I had spotted was accompanied by a calf. Both seemed rather uninterested in the group of humans that gathered after us to take pictures and gawk. It was the first time I had ever seen a moose, and the first wildlife of any significance we had seen to that point on our trip.

Dozens of photos later, we headed further up the road to the Swiftcurrent Lodge, one of the many campsites with associated restaurants, cabins, and shops. We got some trail information, and as we started off on our hike, we were drawn to a crowd of people in the lodge's parking lot, all of whom were focused on a few telescopes set up by park rangers. The scopes were aimed at a trio of grizzlies, a mother and her two cubs, who were doing their bear thing on a ridge over the lodge. The scopes were powerful enough that we could see the radio collar on the mother. It was (thankfully?) the closest we came to an encounter with a grizzly on our trip.

Swifcurrent Nature Trail was a nice, easy hike that offered great views of the surrounding mountains and forests, but which had a disappointing lack of wildlife. I did, however, spot another trio of grizzlies way up on another mountain. There was also a kick-ass waterfall that fell into my favorite category; not that tall, but layered, clear, and best of all, approachable.

After our hike, we visited the Swiftcurrent Lodge to browse the gift shop before heading back to our campsite. At the site, I built what I will call - in a complete lack of modesty - the perfect campfire, over which we roasted wieners from local producer Bavarian Meats. We were also going to enjoy some s'mores, but ended up inviting over another young couple from the next site over for a chat. It was fun to hang out around the fire with fellow travelers; we haven't done it before, and it was kind of a great "must-do" for a camping trip.

There are bears in this photo. Swear.

Glacier National Park Day 2

2011-10-06T02:25:00.000-07:00

The drive from Spokane to Glacier National Park was scenic, if long. In particular, I enjoyed going through Coeur d'Alene in Idaho. Pretty looking place, I need to remember to go there sometime.

By the time we got to the Glacier area, the weather had become pretty miserable, with rain and strong winds.

Weather aside, we were excited about our trip of hiking and camping. The camping was planned to take place at Many Glacier, supposedly one of the best sites in the park. I suppose a combination of weather, popularity, and our slight tardiness meant that the site filled up about ten minutes before we got there. Plan B was Rising Sun, a campsite that was luckily fairly close to Many Glacier. We gunned it at a roaring 20 MPH down the winding, poorly maintained roads to the Rising Sun site. Success! We made it in time. Yes, we made it in time to pitch a tent in the rain and attempt to hammer tent stakes into a patch of dirt that was apparently a quarter-inch thick layer on top of bedrock. There were bleeding fingers. There was profanity. There was, however, a fully constructed tent at the end of it all.

After setting up our tent, filling it with our stuff, and griping about the weather, we drove down the road to visit the Saint Mary Visitor Center, where we got some info and tips about trails and sights in the area. In need of food and booze, we next visited the small town of Browning, in hopes of dining at the Park Cafe, a highly rated diner. Based on the crowd and wait, one would think that it would be a fantastic place. Based on the boring, over-priced menu and flippant host, I'm guessing that it wasn't. We'll never know for sure, though, since we skipped it and walked a bit down the road to Kip's Bar, quite possibly the diviest dive bar I've ever been in. Featuring a limited selection of pull-tabs, a more limited selection of liquor, and food that was only offered later in the night, it wasn't ideal. But the bartender was friendly, the selection playing on the jukebox was awesome, and as we were the only patrons, we looked over our maps and planned our days to come.

Our hope for food cooked by other people soundly quashed, we headed back to our campground and dined on stew which Kat had prepared before we left, and topped it off with instant mashed potatoes. It was bomb. Immediately after dinner, exhausted after our long drive and rain-soaked construction of our tent, we called it a night. The sounds of rain falling and critters snuffling around our tent only barely interrupted our slumber.

Our campsite.

Looking out from our campsite.

Glacier National Park Day 1

2011-09-21T04:28:00.000-07:00

OK, so the first day of our vacation to Glacier National Park in Montana was actually spent on the road and in Spokane, WA. This was the furthest I have ventured into Eastern Washington, and my first visit to Spokane.

While I admit that I slept through most of our drive, the parts I saw were grand. Considering I had only slept a few hours before setting out, the insides of my eyelids were the best things I saw on the drive.

Our final destination was Spokane, a decent sized city near the border with the panhandle of Idaho.

We took in some of the local sites, including Boo Radley's, a funky shop of whoosits and whatnots, and Riverfront Park which offered views of (spoiler alert) the Spokane River. We started our visit to the park by taking a ride on the Coeur d'Alene Carousel, an antique carousel that is a mark of pride for the city, as it started spinning in 1909 and was sought by Walt Disney to put into Disneyland back in the day. I haven't been on one of these for some time, and it was great to be on one with historical significance.

Normally, the Spokane Falls - a series of natural waterfalls culminating in a massive falls at a hydro-electric plant - are apparently a sight to see. When we visited, the heat and relative dryness of summer meant that the falls were trickling, and massive construction projects along the banks of the river detracted quite a bit from the natural beauty.

After the park, we met Sue, a former co-worker of Katherine's at the Davenport Hotel, an almost century-old luxury hotel that was the jewel of the Pacific Northwest in its time, and is still one of the finest old hotels I've ever seen. If the Titanic had been built as a hotel instead of a ship, this would be close tot he end result.

We wandered through the various "themed" rooms before winding up in the Peacock Room - a bar, restaurant, and lounge - for drinks before leaving for Sue's house in the nearby countryside.

After a barbecue dinner and some good conversation with Sue and her husband, our long day on the road sent us to bed fairly early.

9/11 Conspiracies

2011-09-11T03:16:00.000-07:00

On the eve of the tenth anniversary of the September 11 attacks, I have been more and more interested in "trutherism," the idea that the 9/11 attacks were partly or wholly conducted by the United States government. While I at first dismissed the theories put forth by these folks, I have done a little research into the matter, and have found some theories that just cannot be ignored:

Nicolas Cage, broke and desperate for work, orchestrates the entire 9/11 attack in what would turn out to be a successful bid to land a role in a movie based on the events.
Dick Cheney is seen on September 10, 2001, wandering through the Twin Towers with a screwdriver loosening every screw he sees by one-quarter turn.
Hassid al-Sallam, school janitor in Polson, Montana, called in sick to work on September 11, 2001, in what could only have been an attempt to distance himself from the impending attacks.
Although Al-Queada admitted responsibility for the attacks, they did so on Opposite Day, lending credibility to any and all conspiracy theories.
The tiny village of hyper-intelligent rats in a field in Shanksville, PA was the real target. The earlier attacks were meant to throw those NIMH bastards off their guard.
Later examinations of the Twin Tower remains would show that the steel had endured intense heat, and since it is common knowledge that jet fuel and days of smoldering ruins can only reach a maximum temperature of 78 degrees Fahrenheit, this clearly suggests some sort of government plot.

OK, so I joke. But the 9/11 "truthers" are grasping at similarly ridiculous straws, and have but me in the uncomfortable position of defending the Bush administration. Incompetent and borderline evil? Sure. Willing to participate in the slaughter of 3,000 innocent Americans? I can't buy it.

The events of September 11, 2001 were a horrific example of religious extremism attacking what it saw (right or wrong) as a corrupt country with an imperialist foreign policy.

Mourn the deaths, celebrate the lives, and quit trying to justify the horror of the day by looking for fictional conspiracies.

Glacier Basin

2011-09-10T02:29:00.000-07:00

Got to do the Glacier Basin hike on Mt. Rainier a few weeks ago. The trail was washed almost completely away during flooding in 2006, and this trip followed the recent completion of a rebuilding project by Washington Trails Association volunteers.

The rebuilt trail was fantastic, the hike was easy but fun, we bumped into some acquaintances in the parking lot at the trailhead, and in general had a good day.

Glacier Basin itself offers views of some of the (rapidly dwindling) glaciers on the peaks of Mount Rainier, and the trail offers many bubbling waterfalls, babbling brooks, wildflowers, and rusted, abandoned mining equipment from a "past life" of the area. Definitely a trail worth exploring.

Bear scratches.

Bear doodie.

Glacier Basin, the white-trash yard of hikes.

Stuff We've Been Doing

2011-09-07T11:40:00.000-07:00

I've forgotten a few fun items we've done lately! How could I do that???

The point is, I did. I apologize. The only way I can make amends is to write about them now.

A few weeks ago Kat and I were together on a lovely Sunday, and I planned a trip to do some urban hiking North of Seattle.

Our trip started in Edmonds at Picnic Point Park on the banks of Puget Sound. The park consists of a small bit of grassy area and a large bit of beach. Aptly named, both grassy knolls and beaches offer multiple spots - including tables and grills - for picnics. We settled down with our picnic backpack and enjoyed sandwiches, chips, and cold Saint M riesling. We also had apples, but did not enjoy them. They were awful.

After lunch, we made our way further north to the Narbeck Wetland Sanctuary. NWS is actually a man-made wetlands created when the nearby airport and Boeing facility displaced some pre-existing wetlands. Apparently, it was easier and cheaper to fill in wetlands, build some buildings, and then dig/plant/fill/create new wetlands. Yay bureaucracy!

A few trails go through the wetlands, which aside from their manufactured beauty, are actually really scenic. There were ducks galore, herons, and apparently a beaver dam with a family of beavers, although we missed the latter.

Finally we ended up at Spencer Island, a wildlife sanctuary north of Everett on the Snohomish estuary. A moderately long trail took us along the Snohomish River to the estuary where a wildlife preserve has been created. We got to see a number of new birds and frogs galore. Eh, that's fun for us.

The aptly named Picnic Point Park.

Narbeck Wetland Sanctuary.

Spencer Island.

A Fun Seattle Area "Weekend"

2011-08-22T18:33:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I got to sleep in a bit since Katherine was once again training for a marathon - the most foolhardy of sports - so while she ran, I slept. I did, however, get up before my alarm went off and even ran myself. It was only a mile, true, but the fact that I haven't run in weeks, and since it was morning and since it was impulsive, it was fairly impressive. Boo-yah.

When we got back from our respective runs and showered and what not, we left for Seattle for the dual purposes of getting lunch at Lunchbox Laboratory (one of the best burger places on Earth) and stocking up on camping supplies at REI in anticipation of our impending trip to Glacier National Park.

Lunch was awesome. We sat outside, and while we watched sparrows bathe in the nearby fountain, we ate a new special consisting of a Kobe burger with maple bacon, havarti, caramelized onions, garlic aioli, and herbed jus. The side, of course, was sweet potato fries with sweet chili mayo dipping sauce. I washed mine back with a Red Hook dunkelweiss, which was spicy and seemed more like a winter brew than a summer one. Damn. Just...damn.

After lunch we walked to nearby REI to look for any necessary camping supplies for our upcoming trip. We ended up getting a freeze-dried meal and a bunch of Gu packets, the latter for Kat's runs. More or less a bust.

When we got home, we had pizza and watched our new best-show-ever show, How I Met Your Mother.

Monday I met up with gal-pal Paula, proprietor of my favorite comic shop, Fantasium Comics & Games. I had originally intended on doing a hike, but since Paula was recovering from a cold, we decided that a day of trekking over rugged terrain with thin oxygen and clouds of allergens might not be the best idea. I opted instead to visit several local roadside attractions and to take her to a couple of funky local spots.

We started out by heading south to a McDonald's in Puyallup. I've been wanting to get there for a while, since it boasts a dinosaur theme. Now, when I was growing up, a number of McDonald's in Topeka, Kansas were themed, but I haven't really seen any since then. When I learned of this place, I knew I needed to go. McDonald's. Dinosaurs. Seven-year-old me was all about it.

When we finally got there, it was a little less impressive than I had hoped. Still, the concept was neat, and I would have loved it when I was a child. Standing guard over the drive-through lane was a rusting "skeleton" of a t-rex, built from old scrap metal parts. The interior of the restaurant featured a very realistic reproduction of a t-rex skull fossil, multiple framed paintings of assorted dinos, and a dinosaur themed Playplace. Our desire for some tall, frosty Cokes was thwarted by an unnaturally long line of diners before eleven.

Slightly disappointed but not daunted, we next headed to south Tacoma to look up Midland Mosaics, a house sporting multiple mosaic sculptures in its yard. According to my research, the sculptures were built by a tile layer with time on his hands and a creative soul. When we found the house, I knocked on the door to ask permission to wander the massive backyard. No answer. I wandered into the backyard shouting hello. Still no answer. We started taking some pictures when I spotted another small building in the far back end of the yard. Knocking on its door produced a middle-aged woman who gave us permission to explore, and informed us that after the radio show she was listening to, she would come out and "talk to us."

After multiple photos and speculation on meanings of the sculptures, our host had still not finished her radio show, so we took our leave. All in all, it was a really cool bit of urban art, and if you are in the neighborhood (and have the brass to wander through a stranger's yard without permission), you should swing by Midland Mosaics. Well worth the stop.

Our next stop was the Waterworks Gardens Park in Renton. The park consists of a trail that meanders through a series of descending leaf-shaped pools surrounded by native water plants. In spite of our many
fecal-urine-fertilizer-"are these corn plants?" jokes, the water in the park is all storm runoff from the nearby streets and parking lots. And, of course, since it was August and it's been relatively hot and dry (sorry, Texas), the pools were mostly empty, and the streams were not flowing.

Still, the artistic talents that were applied in the creation of the park were apparent and decidedly Pacific Northwest. The grotto, at the bottom of the descending pools, was a truly beautiful mosaic creation with multiple small pools of water, draping greenery, and cups designed to house bird nests.

Following the main trail past the grotto led us to more ponds filled with plants and fowl and to a creek that was fed by the storm water runoff after being filtered through the several pools. After a while, we got nervous about the length of the trail, and a bit of quick research on Paula's phone told us that the trail we were on continued on for miles, and that to get back to my car, we would have to pull a one-eighty. Technology rules!

On the way back to the car, we again turned to Paula's phone, this time for entertainment. She is into a tech trend called Geocaching, in which people hide little bundles of whozits, set the GPS coordinates, and people with GPS enabled phones track them down. It's supposed to be fun. Maybe if I had a better phone (DOB 10/17), I'd get to do it myself. As it was, it was kind of cool finding a small metal tube about the size of a thumb stuck with a magnet to the underside of a metal sign. Inside was a small scroll for finders to write down their names and the date of their discovery.

After Water Garden, we needed a bite, and Paula recommended a nearby barbecue place called BBQ Pete's in Renton. We each got a BBQ pork sandwich, and I really enjoyed mine. I'd like to go back and try the pulled pork and ribs, but the servings were too big (and a bit spendy) for a light lunch.

Our next stop was St. Edward State Park. It was formerly owned by the Catholic Archdiocese of Seattle, and a seminary was built there (and still stands). Now the seminary stands empty and available for private functions, and the land belongs to the state. The park sits on the edge of Lake Washington and aside from the large clearing around the seminary, the park has thick woods with winding trails. There is also one of the best playgrounds I've ever seen, with fairly new with massive interconnected wooden fort/castle type structures, a huge xylophone, child-made art, various swings and slides, and a rock climbing wall for little climbers. To say we "played" on the equipment would be a bit of an exaggeration, but we did "explore." Ah, to be 8 again...

When we left the playground to find the lake, we wound up on a trail that followed a surprisingly deep (for an urban setting) ravine and sloped down at a surprisingly steep (for an urban setting) path down to a tiny beach. The beach was undeveloped and signs referred to it as a grotto. It was secluded and beautiful. The view of the lake was awesome, and the view of a couple of bikini-clad sunbathers wasn't bad either. We even saw a guy with a cool Australian parrot. Take that, sitting at home and watching TV!!!

An urgent need to relieve our bladders resulted in a stop in what I can safely call the most horrific park restroom I have ever been in. I can only assume that the one I used was formerly a john in a Siberian Gulag concentration camp, and has not been hosed out since it was relocated to Kenmore. Paula didn't have very good reviews of the unit she used, either. She just came out, sort of shaking and crying a little.

Our choice of return paths was between a .4 mile "most difficult" trail and a .62 mile "moderate" trail. We opted for the harder trail, since it was called the "Grotto Trail," and since we had not yet figured out that the beach was the grotto, we hoped to find it.

Our mistake was not in taking the harder trail, it was made earlier in the day when we fell for the weather report calling for cool temps and possible rain. Jeans, khakis, and wool hats - not to mention my casual dress shoes and her thin girlie shows - were the wrong things to wear. I had also not been aware of the difficulty of the trails. So, cool, cool park, but not the best planned of stops.

Back in the car with the a.c. blasting, we went around the top of the lake and into Seattle for a quick stop at Archie McPhee's, purveyors of all things wacky. As always, it was a great shopping experience. She left with several tentacle finger things, and I left with a huge fridge magnet of a smiling beer bottle and a tin of Cthulhu Mints. As of this posting, I haven't tried the mints, but I assume they create breath so good it's evil.

To avoid rush hour and to cap off our evening, we went to my favorite bar in the whole-wide world, the Hideout in Cap Hill. Our plan to stay for less than an hour turned into over an hour as we sipped designer cocktails, commented on art, spoke of punk, religion, and business, and at my suggestion she tried artisan gins and learned - as I did on my first visit to the Hideout - that craft gins are an art. A delicious, delicious art.

I don't have much in the way of buddies here in the Evergreen State, so it was really a great experience to spend a day doing things I enjoy and sharing them with a friend.

The skull of an extinct carnivore in a McDonald's. Poetic, no?

A giant mosaic man at Midland Mosaics. I wish I had taken more time to get a better photo, but here you go.

I really like this one.

The light and shadows don't let the colors pop on some of these, but I like the effect here.

Entryway to Waterworks Garden Park.

She said it tasted awful.

Views of the grotto.

We found a Geocache!

St. Edward Seminary.

One heckuva playground.

When I was a kid, we had pea gravel, 2,000 degree metal slides, and swings with chains that could cut off your finger tips. Spoiled modern brats.

Kiddie painted tiles of apples on this apple tree mosaic. Lots of tiles on this trip! I wish that had been a deliberate theme...

Big honkin' outdoor xylophone.

For some reason, the squid sticker had me in stitches.

A Decent Solo Day Off (for once)

2011-08-09T02:34:00.000-07:00

My two "usual" days off each week are on Sundays and Mondays. Sundays are most often spent hanging out with my wife, while Mondays are usually used for errands, chores, and in theory, solo relaxation. The relaxation part is usually minimal, since I most often sleep in and then spend so much time cleaning, shopping, and so on that by the time I sit down and put my feet up, Katherine gets home and then we have dinner and that's that.

Once in a blue moon, I manage to either shun my grown-up responsibilities or complete them in a timely manner. Today was one of the latter.

I got to bed (relatively) early last night, and got up (relatively) early today. I managed to squeeze in various errands and an almost "company's coming" cleaning of the house, and still had time to kick my feet up and unwind. I even started my day with a couple of hours at Dash Point State Park and Dash Point Park, respectively.

When my lovely bride got home from her nine-to-five, I made a Mexican-ish dinner and we began watching season one of How I Met Your Mother, my most recent favorite show. We drank margaritas and had a pretty good evening.

As I'm writing this, I'm finishing the last of the margaritas, starting my third movie of the day, Star Trek: Nemesis (my first two having been Stripperland and Star Trek: Insurrection), and enjoying the end of a rare day of productivity and relaxation.

I hadn't actually seen a live sand dollar before. They're fuzzy and cute.

Sand dollar tracks.

This is at the actual Dash Point Park, at the actual Dash Point.

Dash Point Dock. Unfortunately in this photo you can't see all of them, but there are dozens of fishing poles sticking out all along the railing. A couple of minutes before I shot this, they were all pointing out over the other side, but someone caught a fish here so everyone ran over and re-cast.

A Day in the Past and Near Future

2011-08-09T00:25:00.000-07:00

When the Groupon popped up for half-priced tickets to the Washington Renaissance Festival, I snapped up two right away. I hadn't been to a Renaissance fair since leaving Kansas, and I've been wanting to go to the one here since we moved.

The big day came this past weekend, so we grabbed the camera and drove to nearby Bonney Lake. The fair was in a new location this year, on some pasture land that is part of an historic farm.

I have to admit, we were both disappointed. The fair Katherine had grown up with in Florida was apparently pretty decent, and the Kansas City Renaissance fair was absolutely massive. You should really check out the KCRF site if you want to see why the Washington fair was so mediocre for us.

After an ok fire juggler and a relatively pathetic magician - his tricks were all store-bought magic props and he played tinny music that never seemed to be queued to where he wanted it - we had a cider in one of the two beer gardens and headed out.

Since we had a lot more of our afternoon free than originally planned, we decided to take in the latest installment of the Planet of the Apes franchise, Rise of the Planet of the Apes. I've been looking forward to this film for a while, and recently we even watched the first three films from the original series to get in the mood.

The film was absolutely fantastic, with killer CGI, a brilliant story, and acting from the people playing the apes that blew away the "real" performers. The only thing I didn't care for - ***SPOILER*** - was the fact that the scientist who creates and raises the first smart ape doesn't treat him with the respect he should have, and one of the protagonists, an asshole working at an ape "preserve," hams it up too much and gets good lines he doesn't deserve. Other than that, it was phenominal. We both enjoyed it, and would be interested in seeing more if they decide to fire up the franchise again. I highly recommend Rise...

Another Good Seattle Weekend

2011-08-03T03:57:00.000-07:00

I'll keep it short. A couple of Sundays ago, we headed for Seattle to go through the Ballard Farmer's Market and wander through Discover Park.

The market was as usual: probably awesome if you got there early, but beat up and sad when we got there. We also went with the plan of buying nothing, so, you know, it was borderline pointless. For us, though, it's like window shopping in a mall. We just like to wander and see what's out there.

This trip also led us to a great discovery, our random lunch stop at a Thai-fusion place in Ballard called Root Table. The decor was rustic and comfortable, and the food was worthy of a repeat visit. We started out with "chicken lollipops," breaded and fried curried chicken balls on sticks, which were so-so. Our entrees, though, were fantastic. I would definitely recommend it to anyone looking for good Asian-ish food in the area.

After lunch we made the short drive to Discovery Park, the only old-growth park left in Seattle. The trails in this park represent quite a hike (as park trails go) and offer great views of the Sound, fields, abandoned naval buildings, and wildlife.

It's probably the best natural-ish park I've been to in Seattle. Loved it.

"Shellfish on the Rocks," a yummy Thai-inspired dish.

Discovery Point Lighthouse.

2011 4th Weekend

2011-08-02T03:11:00.000-07:00

After much hemming and hawing, we decided that on Sunday, July 3, and Monday the 4th, we would leave town for a mini getaway. Our destination was Eastern Washington (anything east of the Cascade Mountains), which I had never been to, and which Katherine had only been to for work. It's an entirely different set of ecosystems from the Western part of the state, and we have been wanting to do some exploring there for some time.

We decided to make it an overnight trip, since it's a pretty long drive from Federal Way, and so that we could take more time enjoying the sights.

The planning of this trip was special, since we both contributed. I picked out many of the stops, and Kat planned the logistics.

Our first stop was at the Ginkgo Petrified Forest State Park, a relatively small park nestled in the arid hills near the Wanapum Resevoir. As the name implies, the forest that once stood here was long ago fossilized, and the petrified stumps still stand. The only catch was that the stumps in the park are all still rooted, and have had cages built over them to protect them. I get it, I guess...still, it was a little less than inspirational.

We stayed on a trail here for a few minuted before heading back to the car. As we left the park, we stopped at the G.P.F. Gem Shop, a really groovy little store with postcards and other souvenirs as well as petrified wood specimens and other fossils. (All dinosaur fossils are imported - there are none to be found in WA, apparently.) This was another one of my chosen stops, largely motivated by the large, gaudily painted dinosaur statues that grace the parking lot. They, alone, made the stop worthwhile. The shop was a bonus. The hidden bonuses were twofold: first, there were better petrified trees in the parking lot of the store than there were in the damn park. Second, we noticed a visitor center a little way up a dirt road and decided to check it out. Glad we did.

There were, again, more petrified stumps here, but even better, there were First American petroglyphs. These adorned an outer wall of the visitor center on a bluff overlooking the reservoir. They were all originally carved into cliffs, but were carefully cut out and relocated when the basin was flooded to create the reservoir. They were really spectacular, in spite of their location, and were said to be some of the least translated petroglyphs ever. Sure, there were deer and men and whatnot, but there were strange symbols, the meaning of which no one has yet deciphered.

After leaving the park and crossing the reservoir, we stopped near another one of my "roadside attractions," the Wild Horses Monument, a sculpture of iron wild horses on a bluff overlooking the Columbia River. They were created to celebrate the state's centennial in 1989. They were quite impressive, but due to time concerns and crowds, we decided to skip the trail that led up to them.

The next attraction was a hike I've wanted to go on for a few months now, the Ancient Lakes in the Quincy Wildlife Recreation Area. The lakes themselves are ancient "potholes" carved by glaciers set in a dessert valley. They have been filled from a number of waterfalls, but unfortunately, all of the water is coming from irrigation and runoff of the surrounding farmland. It's a little less than natural, but it's still a lovely setting, in spite of a lot of litter and the faintly green hue of the water.

After a hot but flat and easy to follow trail from the parking area, we arrived at the location of the three lakes, and at the far side of the largest was a humble but pretty waterfall. We decided to carry on to the falls, but didn't know until we started that to do so meant a scramble over loose rocks on a sheer slope ending in the toxic-looking water. We were unprepared, but we made it nonetheless. We took a break at the falls, splashing the cool water on our necks and soaking our feet for a while before our return trip.

We took the opposite bank to leave, which was a little easier, but which took us to a trail that went through waist-high prairie grass swarming with grasshoppers. Katherine is not a fan of bugs, and having even harmless grasshoppers - especially en masse - landing on her was not a fun experience. This was also the part of our relationship where I learned that in such situations, taking a blade of grass and tickling the back of her neck was a bad idea.

Catering to yet another Washington spot I have long wanted to visit, we next drove through the small town of Soap Lake, which lies on the banks of a lake, not surprisingly also named Soap Lake. The lake itself has an extremely high mineral content and is said to have medicinal properties. During cooler months, these minerals cause a lot of foam, hence the name. The First Peoples in the area used the water as medicine, and in the last century, the town was an extremely popular destination during the natural spa craze. The only other lake in the world with the same mineral content is in Baden Baden, Germany.

The town was holding a pre-Fourth event on the shore of the lake, with maybe or so little booths offering pretty crappy crafts and other crappy things. Besides this, we were treated to a woman yelling at her grandson and calling him a "shithead" and a museum's worth of tramp stamps. Soap Lake (the town), it seems, is a bit red in the neck. And I'm from Kansas. I know.

Once we were back on the road, we headed to Wenatchee, a medium-small city nearby to spend the night. Thanks to the Yelp! app on my phone, we got dinner at an Italian restaurant near our hotel. Garlini's was a great little spot, and although we were getting food to take back to our hotel, the atmosphere was so inviting we sat at the bar and had a drink and a snack while we waited for our pizza. The food was good and the restaurant itself smacked of local comfort. I would recommend it to anyone visiting the area.

Refreshed after a solid post-hike and post-six hours on the road sleep, we ate breakfast at the hotel and set out for Leavenworth, a nearby town that was once a thriving logging area, and is now a thriving tourist area.

Apparently, once the logging in the area diminished, the town members got together and sought a way to bring in visitors. The solution: shtick. The entire business district was redone in "Bavarian" style, right down to the street signs and the McDonald's. In fact, it's a law that if you own a home or business within a certain area, the structure must fit in with the theme.

I was sick of the whole thing in a matter of minutes, but it began to grow on me. Almost right away, we came across a little shop called Cured, a wonderful store featuring house-made sausages, salamis, and hams, as well as cheeses brought in from local creameries. I bought some kielbasas and landjaeger to be picked up later, and they would all turn out to be wunderbar.

As we wandered through the town, we meandered in and out of various shops, and I have to admit, kitsch aside, they have a lot of nice stores. They were all over priced, but they were not as tacky as they might have been.

Spying a beer list that looked like it was written by my innermost desires, we went into a bar called The Loft. Our local flavor luck was with us, as this bar was apparently a local hotspot. Featuring the comfiest bar stools in the world and the greatest beer list I've ever seen (not counting Old Chicago), The Loft was a great little spot. A real must-see if you're in the area.

Chatting up the bartender over our biers, we learned that Cafe Christa was a local German restaurant that was authentic and not too overpriced. We shared wiener schnitzel and kaesespatzel, and both were good and fairly authentic, but I think we both agreed that the quality didn't justify the cost.

Not full from lunch, we stopped at the Bavarian-themed McDonald's for some fries. Kat's family has a tradition of trying McDonald's fries in each country they go to, so we decided to keep it up. I was surprised at how similar to our fries the German McDonald's fries.
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Exhausting the entertainment value of Leavenworth, we headed home on the scenic Highway 2. Once home, we grilled burgers and watched TV, a relaxing ending to a relaxing weekend. It was really a great, fairly spontaneous trip for just the two of us, and I'm glad we decided to take it.

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. But, you know, we could be...

This particular fossilized tree stump won't be hurting anyone ever again.

Raaargh!!!

Screeee!!!

Petroglyphys.

A dangerous, free-roaming petrified stump.

Sculpture at Soap Lake.

Little known fact: This is a duplicate of the sign at the gates of the Leavenworth, Kansas Federal Pen.

Just like in Bavaria...

When you're in Europe, the McDonald's restaurants look exactly like this. Exactly.

Wow. Bavarian fries taste totally different than American fries. They're more...I don't know...Bavarian.

This is one of my most favoritist pics of Kat in a long time.

The System Works

2011-07-14T02:48:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've seen a lot of my Facebook friends and heard a lot of people at work upset about the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial. She was found not guilty. This seems to have upset a lot of people. Based on the posts of my Facebook friends, many of these people are parents. I suppose this makes sense.

It also makes sense that people might be upset. Yes, from the comfort of our homes, it looks like Casey Anthony probably killed her young daughter Caylee. I think it's likely that she did it. But I believe that the not guilty verdict was exactly what should have happened. That, in fact, the American judicial system succeeded brilliantly.

It doesn't matter, judicially speaking, whether Anthony killed her daughter or not. What matters is that there was this pesky little thing called reasonable doubt.

The defense offered some fantastic and wildly speculative ideas on how Caylee died, how her mother reacted to this, and why. Their suggestion that alleged sexual assaults on Casey by her father and brother during her childhood somehow caused her to frantically cover up the accidental death of her child is a bit of a reach no matter who you are.

The problem is that the prosecution could not manage to get enough rock solid evidence that Anthony had committed the crime. There was no rock-solid proof. Even one of the most damning pieces of evidence, the searches for chloroform on Casey's computer, turned out to be done by her mother while Casey was at work.

So there wasn't enough evidence, in the minds of the jurors, to sentence this woman to life in prison or death. In my opinion - and the opinions of many others - is that she probably did commit this heinous crime. But we don't know 100%. And 100% is what a jury legally must and morally should have to send a person to jail or the electric chair.

If you believe in an afterlife judgement, then you can sleep easy; if Casey did it, she will be cast into the fire of hell for an eternity of suffering. If you don't believe in such supernatural justice, you can still sleep fine at night, because Caylee is dead and gone and doesn't give a shit what happens to the person who killed her, and Casey will never live a normal, unhindered life. She will suffer, in practical ways, for the rest of her life. There is also the possibility that something will come to light that will allow her to be tried on new charges.

It is also easy to play "armchair juror" with what evidence we've seen from TV coverage, and it's easy to succumb to emotions. Keep in mind, though that the jury sat for eight hours a day, listening to testimony, seeing evidence, looking at pictures and videos, and hearing from expert witnesses. Not all of this information makes its way into the CNN soundbites (sorry, Nancy Grace), so we should assume that the 12 honest people - selected by the prosecution and defense - took this information all in, weighed it, and made what they thought was the best possible decision.

I believe that Casey Anthony quite likely killed her daughter. Even if she didn't, if the swimming pool defense is correct, she is a horrible person for dumping her daughter's dead body in the woods and not coming clean right away.

I have a stronger belief, though, that the twelve jurors did the only legal and moral thing that they could do in finding her not guilty. So please put yourself in the jurors' shoes, and not the shoes of a shocked parent or of the shoes of little Caylee. She's gone. Pray for her, if that's your thing, and hug your kids, and be happy that if you ever find yourself on trial, and there isn't rock-solid proof of your alleged crimes, that the jury might not send you to your death.

Mom's Visit

2011-07-12T02:04:00.000-07:00

Since moving from Kansas in 2002, I have only seen my mom on a few pass throughs in Kansas. At long last, she was able to come visit, marking the first time I had seen her since arriving in Washington 4 years ago, and in fact her first visit to the area ever.

We packed a lot into her five-day visit. When she arrived on Tuesday, we launched right in. After I picked her up at Sea-Tac, we headed right to Seattle. We stopped in West Seattle for lunch and so that I could show her where I worked (sort of) by stopping at the Admiral Metropolitan Market. After we toured the store, we grabbed some paninis, chips, and drinks, and headed into the heart of Seattle.

As with all first-time visitors to the Emerald City, I took my mom to Pioneer Square to do the Underground Tour. As always, it was great. It might even have been the best tour I've been on so far.

After the tour, we stopped in Queen Anne to take in the view from Kerry Park.

As the evening approached, we left Seattle for home. Dinner was had on our deck as we enjoyed the end of the longest day of the year.

On Wednesday, mom and I left early and drove to Mt. Saint Helens. Our first stop was at the "Buried A-Frame," a house that was partially buried in the mudslide that ensued after the eruption of the volcano. The last time Kat and I had been to the mountain, we drove by this little spot on our way down. It was closed, and I made a vow to make it back sometime. The big draw, aside from the half-buried homestead, is a Bigfoot-themed gift shop.

My mom and I stopped on our way up the mountain so that I could be sure to hit it while it was open. The A-frame was pretty cool, partially excavated to show that it was almost completely furnished and liveable when it was buried. Luckily, the owners happened to be away when the volcano erupted.

The gift shop was also pretty neat, and as it would turn out, a lot less expensive than the state run shops higher up. They also had a lot of Bigfoot stuff, from plaster casts of footprints to statues to maps of sightings.

The operator of the shop also informed us that the bleak, overcast skies which had seemed to be the extent of the weather that day would break once we were higher up.

After several miles of ascent, the clouds did break, and just in time to see our first glimpse of the snow-covered basin of Mount Saint Helens. The view was breathtaking, with clouds filling the valleys below and the mountain peaks covered with late snow.

At the summit, we toured the Johnston Ridge Observatory, catching the film (different and much worse than the last time) about the eruption, and watching the ranger talks on the continuing evolution of the mountain.

Our timing turned out to be perfect. As we left the observatory, the clouds began to rise, and as we descended, the viewpoints we had stopped at on the way up were completely obscured by clouds.

When we got back to Federal Way, we picked up Katherine and headed to East India Grill here in town, the best Indian food outside of New Dehli. Sadly, the service was a little weaker than normal, as they were staffed with only the owner and one waitress. I ordered a beer that arrived fairly warm, so more points lost there. But the food was, as always, above reproach, and since this was the one hiccup in an otherwise perfect record, I won't hold it against them.

Thursday we all hit the road in the morning and went around the Sound to the northwestern part of Washington. We were visiting the Olympic Mountains/National Park, Kat's second visit and our first. Our first stop was Hurricane Ridge. It was a spectacular high-elevation view of the Olympic range, and the drive to it was beautiful.

After the ridge, we went around to the Hoh Rain Forest, one of the only temperate rain forests in the world. Our path took us through the small town of Forks, a largely inactive logging town. This town has, however, created a surprisingly large tourist industry because it is featured in the popular Twilight book series. I figured there would be some photo ops, some gift shops, and not much else. This town has gone overboard, though. There were multiple companies offering tours of the Twilight viewpoints, gift shops, and posters advertising Twilight souvenirs in every store, including the ACE Hardware and a florist shop. The Forks Chamber of Commerce building, where we stopped for a potty break and to look at a logger memorial, was bedecked in posters and sold Twilight gifts. There was even an old red pickup in front of the building which people were posing with for photos. I overheard a family say that the model of truck wasn't the one from the movie, but it was the same model from the book. Wow. Just...wow.

The rain forest was really cool, and more or less exactly what you'd imagine. Northwest woods that were amazingly moist. The trails we took were great but short, as the longer trails were really long. There was also a disappointing lack of elk - zero, to be exact - which are a huge presence in the area.

After the Hoh, we went back to Forks to the cabin where we would spend the night. We stayed at Huckleberry Lodge, a truly grand spot featuring a few small pine cabins set in a wooded spot just outside the town. Our cabin was small but more than comfy, with every accommodation we could hope for. There was a communal firepit nearby, and I built a fire while Kat cooked us a dinner of pasta and garlic bread. We ate around the fire, and made s'mores afterwards.

The next morning we were back on the road, this time driving to Lake Ozette, a lake near the coast. Our plan was a short (6 mile, roundtrip) hike from the lake to the beach to view the Pacific and the ancient petroglyphs carved into boulders on the beach.

The hike to the beach was relatively easy, boardwalked most of the way. When we got to the beach, we were treated to quite a bit of wildlife, from bald eagles to crabs and sea urchins and even a wayward deer.

The trek to find the petroglyphs was challenging, largely because they were further away than indicated by the (new?) park ranger we spoke with when we started our trip. We finally found what we thought were the only glyphs, but would find out later that there were dozens more. Oh well, we'll save it for the next trip.

After a beach picnic, we decided to head back on the first trail, rather than the rockier alternative. While this return trip was smoother, it resulted in a ten mile hike that we hadn't planned on. Needless to say, we were pretty wiped by the end.

This lengthy journey also meant that we missed out opportunity to visit the Makah Museum which is dedicated to the local tribes. Oh well. Another highlight for the next trip.

On Saturday - the last full day with my mom - we made a big time Seattle trip. Pike Place Market was the obvious first stop, and we wandered around for a while before beginning a feast of food from several of the food joints in the area.

Our two favorite Seattle neighborhoods - Fremont and Ballard - were next.

Our Fremont stop was fairly brief, with the requisite visits to the Troll, Lenin, and the Rocket, as well as some meandering through a few of the local shops.

In Ballard we first stopped at Golden Gardens Park, a beach park with great views of the Sound. The place was packed, and there were at least four wedding parties there. Kat and I made a note to come back before the summer is over and have a cookout.

After the park we stopped for a visit at the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks. The garden was barely in bloom that late in the year, but there were again several bridal parties. We got to see the locks operate, which is impressive to see up close, if you never have. There were even a few salmon left making their way up the salmon ladder to spawn (tee-hee!) and then die. Such is nature.

Our night ended back at home, where we picked up a little 'za from Papa Murphy's and watched I Love Lucy.

Sunday morning was our last morning all together, and I made bacon and strawberry pancakes with fresh, local berries for brunch before taking my mom to the airport for her trip home.

When I parked at the departure gate for Southwest, I walked with my mom to the end of the line waiting to get in. While she called the friends she was traveling with to see where they were, a large moving truck parked between us and my car, blocking my view. After a too-hasty goodbye hug, I ran to my car to find a police officer in the driver's seat just opening my glove box. After a stern lecture on security and a threat to tow me next time, she let me go. That was the end of my vacation with mom.

No, this isn't the real Bigfoot. It's a statue at the A-Frame House and Bigfoot Museum. Stupid.

There are actually lots of houses in this style on the mountains around here. This one got partially buried in the mudslide that resulted from the eruption of Mt. Saint Helens.

Being above clouds - while not in a plane - is awesome.

Me and mommy. Wait...mommy and me. Grammar counts.

The view from Hurricane Ridge.

The snow behind me is one side of a plowed road. Next time you feel like griping about shoveling your driveway, remember this.

When I think "cornice," a plummet to my death is not usually in the definition.

This bench was buried by snow. That's how you can tell how deep the snow is. By using this benchmark. Ba-dum-bum.

I don't remember the name of this lake, so I will call it Lake Hot Wife.

Outside the Forks, WA Loggers' Museum and Memorial, Kat shows off a huge log that one must assume, from this photo, that she cut down.

Entering the "Hall of Moss" in the Hoh Rainforest, we are immediately met with moss. False advertising lawsuit averted.

Two bald eagles (left) and their nest (right.)

A typical PNW scene: a deer in tide flats.

My mom saw the tide flat deer too. She also took pictures. And I took pictures of her taking pictures.

Witch Hat Rock. Maybe. I don't know what it's called. But it looks like a witch hat. And there's a bald eagle on top. Witch Hat Eagle Tip Rock. That's its name.

Sea urchins in a tide pool.

A petroglyph. I think it's a picture of a moose.

Red moss is neat.

We spent the night in this cabin, and it was pretty damn awesome.

The communal firepit and execution station.

Summer Solstice 2011

2011-07-07T03:01:00.000-07:00

The annual Fremont Summer Solstice Festival in Fremont (duh) is an amazing, Seattle-only event celebrating the beginning of summer. We had been in 2009, missed last year, and managed to make it again this year.

Since wacky Seattle events are best shared with visitors and/or new transplants, we met some of Kat's friends from Virginia who recently located to Seattle for the show.

Once we arrived and found parking in Fremont, we walked to Paseo, a famed local sandwich joint for lunch. Finding that it would be almost half an hour before they opened, we all wandered around the neighborhood for a while. When Paseo opened, we ordered sandwiches to go and hiked down the hill to find spots on the parade route.

People begin lining up for the parade early in the morning, but we managed to find ok standing spots. We chowed down on our sandwiches - my "Cuban" was so-so, sadly overrated - and waited for the parade.

The beginning of the parade is a stream of bicyclists wearing little more than body paint. It's one of the main draws. I can't describe it well enough to do it justice, so look at the pics. Just please don't flag me!

One of the neat things about this parade is a mandatory lack of advertising. Sure, the dance groups are schools and the bands are professional, but they are not allowed to have banners or signs. It keeps a very celebratory atmosphere going.

After the parade, we wandered through the collection of art, craft, food, and informational booths and the "art car" show before dropping Chris and Caitlin off at their car. Good time with (new for me) friends in the best city in the world. Looking forward to 2012!

Weinergate

2011-06-13T02:45:00.000-07:00

I have to depart from my tales of our PNW to discuss this whole Anthony Weiner thing. (Thing, get it?)

In case you don't follow the news, Democratic Rep. Anthony Weiner was recently accused of sending lewd photos of himself to a woman on Twitter. He lied about it, and even suggested that someone had hacked his Twitter account.

A week later, he 'fessed up. He admitted to carrying on several online affairs and to lying about this fact.

Several fellow members of Congress and the Senate have called on him to resign. I think this is hooey.

I've heard commentators and read articles on both sides of this argument, and I stand firm. The man should not resign. Period.

Here's the deal: The man "cheated" on his wife. Ok, yeah, I used quotation marks. I do consider online affairs cheating. I just understand those who don't agree. No physical contact = no affair. I disagree, but I get it.

I don't think the man should resign though for bigger reasons. I've heard the argument that he should resign not because he cheated but because he lied about it. Here's my argument: he lied so his wife wouldn't find out. That's normal, that's human, that's male.

Any man caught cheating on his wife will respond in one of two ways: "Yeah, that's right, she knows how to touch a man," or more likely "What? Baby, I don't know what you're talking about. She said what??? She's crazy. She's this crazy lady I met one time, but I swear to God, nothing happened."

These are normal responses from a scumbag caught being a scumbag. The only difference is that the average scumbag doesn't have 80 news microphones shoved in his face.

A recent argument made to me about this is that we don't want our government representatives to be liars. Obviously, if there was a rule barring douchebags and pervs from Congress, there would be no government at all. But lying; somehow this is the taboo thing.

No, I don't want my elected officials to be liars. I expect better of them. But the same goes for my doctors, police officers, lawyers, teachers, bankers, food preparers, and the people who process my personal information when I fill out a credit application.

Further, in this particular instance, (as of this writing) Weiner has a 56% approval rating from his constituency. Why? Are they idiots? No. They still support him because he has a near flawless voting record. He has voted with his party on 90% of votes, and has voted in 98% of all votes. That's pretty great by anyone's standards.

If my doctor, who might hold my life in his hands, cheated on his wife, I would still go to him if he was a kick-ass surgeon.

Lastly, it seems fairly clear that this guy has a problem. If he had other problems, I wonder if the issue would be as big. If he was caught masturbating in the House bathroom, and lied about it ("I was just shaking vigorously") to the press, then confessed to being a chronic masturbator, would we still have sch a problem? I don't think so. I think he cheated on his wife, and that's what people are largely latched onto.

The man didn't lie to his constituency. He didn't lie to the American people. He didn't lie to me or to you. He lied to his wife. He just did it on a national platform. I sincerely believe that if he were single, this would have been a much smaller incident of a creepy guy doing creepy things.

His wife has said that she will forgive him, and so should we. As an added point, I will even through in that since he apparently has a baby on the way with his wife, now is not the time to be quitting his job.

Another issue raised by all this is the question of why so many male members of our electorate are caught p in sex scandals. I recommend you read this article, as shared by my beloved wife. I should say that before I read the article, I made notes to myself regarding this issue, including women having more to lose and more to prove than men when it comes to political life, and the "fact" that women are attracted to powerful men, while men are repelled by powerful women. I think both of these arguments have serious merit. The former goes along with the double standard that a man with multiple partners is a player, while a woman with multiple partners is a slut.

I also think that there are some other factors. Since most elected members of government are men, by a serious majority, the odds of them getting caught doing something bad.

I would add, though, that the differences in behavior between the genders runs deeper. When a man succeeds in any sexual exploits - while married or not - he brags to his friends. He also tends to act more lewd and crude, as men do in general, and will likely make more of the gestures. Just like the generally accepted customs of a man asking a woman out, paying for the first date, making the first move, and so on, so should we expect a man to be the one who sends lewd photos and makes other forward moves.

This is a societal issue, not a masculine one.

I think that it's a safe assumption that a nude photo of a man is less of a turn-on to a woman than a nude photo of a woman is a turn-on to a man. However, sending those photos is likely more of a turn-on to a man than it is to a woman.

Finally - and this is totally my conjecture - I believe men in politics are more likely to have married a woman for more superficial reasons, and might feel the need to find fulfillment in another woman or other women. Women in politics are more likely to have married a man they - get this - love. As the aforementioned article brings up, politics seems to be more of a calling for women, while it seems to be more of a career path for men. Someone who would pursue public servitude as a career path seems more likely to chose a life partner that would further that goal. Someone who chooses a life in politics to make a difference seems more likely to choose a partner based on emotion.

And now, 5 sexist reasons why men in politics cheat more than women in politics:

Suits on guys look good. Suits on women look like they're on their way to an interview.
Congesswomen are too busy passing laws to bake delicious pies.
There are a couple of young, buff men in Congress. There are no young, buff women. (I've researched this.)
Male politicians need release from the stress of running the free world, and find this with other women. Female politicians need release from the stress of running the free world, and find this by reading Redbook, drinking ginger ale, and eating bon-bons.
Men just plain deserve it. Chew on that.

The Hike That Never Ends

2011-06-09T02:28:00.000-07:00

For several weeks, ever since the weather started getting tolerable, I have been aching to hike. I got a little of this fix met in Oregon when Katherine's parents were in town, but ultimately, I've been left hanging.

I made it a priority to hike on one of my weekdays off this week. Kat helped pick the trail, a hike in the north which goes by Bridal Veil Falls (the Washington version) and up to Lake Serene on Mt. Index.

When I arrived at the trailhead near Gold Bar, I opened my trunk to find that my water bladder had leaked almost its entire contents, rendering my backpack and its contents a soggy mess. This also left me with only a 16 oz. bottle of water brought as a backup.

The first part of the hike - that to Bridal Veil Falls - was expected to be easy and scenic. The forest is "new growth," meaning it had been largely cleared by logging in decades past. Considering that, it was heavily forested and beautiful.

The trail started out on an old logging road, and crossed several streams on its way up. There were very few - one, to be exact - bridges over these streams on the first part of the trek. That was strange, since we usually find streams crossed with fairly good bridges.

I had read in the book we found this trail in (60 Hikes Within 60 Miles of Seattle) that the first leg of the trail would reach a fork. The left fork would lead me to the lower part of Bridal Veil Falls, and the right fork would take me to the upper part. I reached a fork where there was a sign indicating that the trail continued to the left. On the right, there was another trail. I took the trail on the right.

At first, the trail was clearly an old logging road. After a while, it led off into what seemed to be dried stream beds. Finally, as I was being scraped up by salmonberry and blackberry brambles, I seemed to be on a deer run. Fresh human footprints were the only thing keeping me going forward. I eventually wound up at the foot of a sheer cliff, where someone had built a small memorial to three teenagers who had died; shall I assume by falling off said cliff?

After some more scratches, some scrambling over rocks and logs, and more than one time questioning whether I was on the right trail, I wound up at the top of another cliff, with a smallish waterfall cascading down. There was another hiker there, relaxing in the sun. I asked him if I was on the right trail to Lake Serene. He informed me that no, this was the trail to the upper part of Bridal Veil Falls. The trail to Lake Serene was below. This is when I realized that, had I continued on the marked trail, I would have found another fork, with a clean, clear, well-maintained trail up to the point where I was currently standing. Oh well.

I continued on the trail to the falls, which was one of the better stretches of the entire hike.

The falls themselves were spectacular, made grander by the proximity to the trail. The wind created by the falling water was enough to nearly blow off my hat. I imagine the falls are much less violent after more of the mountain's snowcap has melted, but it was thunderous when I was there.

Back down on the main trail - the trail I had previously missed - I continued on to the lower part of the falls, and also saw another set of falls. I crossed more streams, trumped through more brambles, and began winding my way up to Lake Serene.

This was - handily - the toughest hike I've ever been on. The book and the WTA information did not do its difficulty justice. It is a very steep ascent that seems to go on forever. I was burning fairly soon into the climb.

Due to the grade, there were many sections where stairs had been built. Stairs seem like a good idea at first, but after a flight or two, you begin to question their purpose. They seem to burn the thighs and ache the knees a lot more than slanted trails. I dunno.

Once I got close to the top, the trail got sketchy. There were a lot more stream crossings, but they were on the edges of cliffs. In other words: you slip, you die. No bridges here. You trust your life to the traction on your boots and the stability of the rocks you step on.

The next link was a chunk of trail covered with snow. There were even manufactured boardwalks, but these, too, were largely covered with thick snow.

Traversing snow on the edge of a cliff is scary. You should know this.

The worst part of this was the realization that the snow I was walking on was sort of a bridge; water cascading down from the higher elevations was running under the snow, so there was a gap of anywhere from a couple of inches to a foot or more. That, my friends, is relatively terrifying.

At long last - three hours and fourteen minutes after leaving my car - I turned a corner and there I was. Nestled in a basin under the formidable, jagged peaks of Mount Index was Lake Serene. The lake is continually filled by the melting snow on the surrounding peaks, and itself continually spilling into the valley below in the form of Bridal Veil Falls and assorted smaller falls.

Sore, tired, and thirsty, I sat down to eat lunch and take in the view. Like many mountains, there was a dense cloud cover over Mt. Index, so when I heard the cracking and rumbling, I took it to be thunder. Then I realized that there were avalanches of snow on the peaks across the lake from me. That's a pretty spectacular sight.

The lake was beautiful and - yes - serene, and the only drawback was that the majority of it was still covered with ice and snow. Luckily, the part that wasn't covered was on the trail side.

As I started to eat, I realized that I the olives, Salumi salami, cheese, and wine I had brought with me would probably aggravate my already annoying thirst, and I was out of water by this point. I ate a few slices of salami, a few olives, and wrapped it all back up.

I then continued exploring the area. The lake itself was clear, and I mean clear. Near the shore, it quickly dropped several feet, and you could see straight to the bottom. I'm betting that if you were to boat out to the middle (minus snow) you could still see all the way down.

Climbing up to a viewpoint - and learning the hard way, time and again, that the traction on my boots sucks in snow - I was treated to a view of Bridal Veil from the highest point, and of the vast valley below.

I also went in close to the lake for some photos. This ended up being a mistake, and luckily not a costly one. Remember how I said the lake was largely covered with snow, and that the snow was on the other side? True. Sort of. The snow I stood on to take some photos turned out to be one of those snow bridges. Like a scene in a cartoon where the cat realizes he ran off the cliff a while ago, and then falls, at the very second it dawned on me that I might be standing on snow with nothing under it but a nearly freezing lake, I went down. That sounds overly dramatic, but that's truly what happened. I went straight down, with both feet dropping instantaneously through about nine inches of snow and hitting the lake bed under about nine inches of water. My boots were immediately filled with almost freezing water and my ass slammed back on the snow.

I'm not usually much of a panicker. I pride myself on being able to make calm but quick reactions to urgent situations. I panicked a bit here, though, not sure about how far away I was from solid ground. I stuffed the camera in the bag, chucked it away from the water a ways (priorities, right?) and began a frantic scramble towards solid footing. (In case you think it was foolish to make sure to save the camera, it was more about needing my hands free and not having clunky things hanging from my neck.)

I pulled myself out of the snow and water and got to where it was safe. Whew. Upon further examination, I was right at the edge of the lake, so I don't think that I was in any real danger, but who knows? The entire snow bridge could have collapsed and pinned me or something. Luckily for me, Kevin Smith lost out on a paycheck.

Back at my picnic spot, freezing from knees to toes, I had a decision to make. I was thirsty. Really thirsty. I had no more water, and only wine to drink. Wine, on slippery, narrow slopes and in an empty stomach, seemed like a bad idea. So did collecting water from nature.

I had been sweating profusely, though, and panting had chapped my lips all the way to my small intestines. I needed water. Ignoring popular advice, I made my way down to the lake again (on dirt this time) and filled my bottle. I drained it immediately and filled it again for my return trip.

I based my decision on a few factors: as a youth, I drank from much filthier creeks and lakes than this one, it was moving water, and I figured spring water doesn't get much cleaner than melt from mountain tops. Also, I figured by the time any intestinal parasites kicked in, I would be home with access to clean water, toilets, and nearby medical facilities.

I loaded back up, pointed my numb toes back down the mountain, and started my trek back.

On the way I passed more hikers coming up than I had seen on the entire trip. I felt pretty good seeing people younger and fitter than I stopped and trying to decide if they should go on. I even passed a young girl who was very, very fit looking and wearing athletic clothes crying to her male companion while he was trying to persuade her that she could go on. I made it, but these healthier and sportier looking folks were stalled. Boo-yah!

Finally I was back at my car, five plus hours after leaving it. I hurt like hell. I smelled like ass. I was filthy. My feet were wrecked. But I had climbed over 2000 feet solo, through snow and water, to see a sight I bet none of you lazy bastards have ever seen. So there.

This trip was also a valuable learning experience for me. Below are a few of the lessons I took away from Mt. Index:

Ice cream, tires, and the container you use to carry potable water into the wilderness are all things you should by from brand names.
I like hiking tough hikes with company. It motivates me to have someone else.
Don't ask people coming down from a summit how close you are. Their perspective is skewed.
When approaching frigid pools of water, stay on solid ground.
If you arrive at your trailhead and find that your water bladder has emptied, screw your timeline; go find yourself an ample supply of water to take with you.
When you wear a hat that doesn't wick away sweat, bring a towel.
The "uphill right-of-way" rule is apparently dead and buried.
People who use "trek poles" are pricks.
Even when going on a well maintained trail, bring a pair of clean, dry socks and change of shoes.
Limit what you tell your wife when on the phone with her from the top of a mountain, lest you panic her.
Chance of snow on the steep, dangerous trail? Bring some Yak Trax.
Did I mention the importance of quality water containers? It's important.
A knife is a good thing to have with you. You should make sure, however, that it has not fallen out of your pocket in the car before beginning your hike.
Remember that emergency water filter and the iodine tablets you bought "just in case?" Consider bringing them on a solo hike in the mountains.

He passed me. Twice.

Bridal Veil Falls.

There is a boardwalk under there somewhere. Immediately to the right, off camera, is a steep drop-off.

If it gives you an idea, this is a hole in the snow, about a foot deep.

Lake Serene.

A wee chapel on the side of the US-2, for all your on-the-go worshipping needs.

In-Laws In-Town

2011-06-08T02:45:00.000-07:00

My wife's parents were here last week for a visit with us and a getaway for the two of them. It was nice seeing them again, and I can't thank them enough for the good times they shared with us.

They arrived late on Friday night, and the next morning we were on our way to Seattle for day 1 of the Northwest Folklife Festival. It was our first time attending.

Folklife is a massive music festival that takes over Seattle City Center. It's free to the public and offers numerous stages featuring dozens of regional bands of folk, rockabilly, swing, western, Gaelic, bluegrass and other persuasions. There were also countless groups and solo performers busking throughout the area.

The acts we caught were all pretty good, and we especially liked a swing-funk band early in the day that went by Maria in the Shower. I recommend catching them if you can.

There were also many, may booths selling crafts and the like, and food vendors offering everything from curry goat to deep fried peanut butter sandwiches. There were also, of course, beer gardens, one of which we visited almost immediately while we watched the aforementioned Maria in the Shower.

After our morning beer, we wandered around, taking in the festival. I have to say that this was probably the least commercial major event we've been to. Sure, there were a few booths from realtors and other non-folksy businesses, but very few. The food offerings were also amazing, better even than the Bite of Seattle, which last year had offerings from such local favorites as Panda Express and Chik-Fil-A.

We shared a couple of dishes, but saved room for lunch at nearby Peso's Kitchen. Peso's is our favorite Tex-Mex place, but Frank and Diane are hard to impress in this area. I'm pleased to say that (they at least said) they were impressed.

After lunch we walked back to the festival and took in a few more acts before leaving to take in the view of Seattle on this beautiful day from Kerry Park in Queen Anne. What a great place to take visitors on a sunny day! It was packed, but that's ok, we got our photos and wowed the folks.

At the top of Queen Anne Hill we stopped for coffee, and then went to Capitol Hill for drinks at The Hideout. On the way home, we stopped for cheese and bread for a light dinner. It was a very well-rounded day.

On Sunday we left early-ish for Portland. Our first stop was a food truck "pod" for brunch. Food trucks are a big thing in Portland, and they tend to congregate in clumps. We stopped at one and got several items from a few different carts. I don't remember the names and it's too much of a pain to look them up, but I remember what we had: an ok Belgian waffle with cream cheese, basil, and tomatoes; a very tepid but otherwise flavorful Mexican soup; arancini rice balls that were reported to be so-so; a trio of empanadas that were good, not great; and the winners, a fried egg sandwich with portobello mushrooms and greens, had by Kat, and a take on the Monte Cristo with fried eggs, gorgonzola, arugula, jam, and served on French toast, had by me. The group consensus was that the mushroom sandwich won, but for me it was a tie with mine. The Monte Cristo got extra points just for not being a greasy, deep-fried glob.

After lunch, we started our long drive to visit the Columbia River Gorge. The drive is on historic highway US 33 and follows a small (in the grand scheme of things) stretch of the second-largest river in the U.S. The big attraction, aside from the great scenary in general, is the abundance of spectacular waterfalls. All of the ones we stopped at were beautiful, and our trip concluded with Multnomah Falls, the second tallest waterfall in the U.S. and the biggest tourist destination in the state. While this was easily the most amazing waterfall on the road, its popularity meant that the area was a congestion of cars and people. The crowds were theme-park like in their size and behavior, and it really sucked some of the magic out of this otherwise grand testament to time, nature, and geology.

Drained and back in Portland, we checked in at our hotel, the boutique style Modera. It was a nice place, but I have to admit that I don't get the whole idea. In general, I don't get nicer hotels unless you are planning on spending a lot of time in them. A bed, a shower, and a toilet, and I'm happy. For ambiance, though, the Modera handily beats a Days Inn. After we checked in, we met in the outdoor dining area for wine and conversation around a funky fire pit.

For dinner we hopped a streetcar and headed for the Rogue Public House, purveyor of great food and my favorite beers. Sadly, the menu that was available the last couple of times we visited was not available, as they apparently have such high volume that they have a much smaller menu on weekends. Pfft. So we satisfied ourselves with two plates of Tater Tots (the second one was very unnecessary) and other appetizers. There were also, of course, the requisite glasses of Rogue brews. Sadly, I don't think anyone was as impressed as they should have been. I fault exhaustion.

On Monday we set out for a stroll through Powell's City of Books and breakfast from Voodoo Doughnut. The bookstore was a win, but Voodoo was an epic fail. The original location was closed for a remodel, and when we arrived at the second location, the line was so long it was over an hour wait. Their doughnuts are awesome, but not that awesome. We hit the road.

As we left town, we stopped in Beaverton for lunch at a McMenamin's Oak Hills Brewpub. It was another first for Frank and Diane, and everyone enjoyed brunch and our brunch beers.

Our next stop was Ecola State Park on the Oregon Coast. We took in the views and somehow I got my wish and we hiked an aggravating trail down to Crescent Beach, a lovely and less-frequently visited beach of super fine sand, waterfalls, cliffs, and views of the haystack rocks out in the surf. This is actually the beach where the Goonies are met by their families and the police in the movie.

More or less as soon as we got down to the beach, it started raining, sending us back up the trail after a brief stroll and a few photos.

Luckily the rain didn't last too long, but recent rains had already rendered the trail a muddy mess. We all had to wash our shoes at a water pump before getting back in the car.

After Ecola we visited nearby Cannon Beach, home of THE Haystack Rock. It was caffeine time again by this point, so while the Roses got coffee at a nearby espresso shop, I played it safe and got a Rockstar from the convenience store next door. Word was that the coffee drinks weren't very good, so I think I made the right call.

Dirty, tired, and done with Oregon, we headed up the coast towards home.

Once we got back to Federal Way - around 8:30, I think - we decided we were going to eat a nice dinner, sweat, mud, hiking clothes, and all. Luckily this is Washington, so no one really notices that kind of thing.

We ate at East India Grill here in town, the best Indian food in the area, and possibly outside of New Dehli. It was as good as ever. We really need to eat there more often...

The next day it was back to work with K and I as her parents went off to spend a few solo days on San Juan Island. Kat and I still haven't been there, and sadly, it didn't sound as though they had a super great time.

They were returning the following Friday, and while we were waiting for their return, we watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. I had already seen it, but I knew Katherine would love it too. She did. Like, teared-up loved it. Artistically and creatively, it's brilliant, and thematically, I think it actually speaks to the duality of the super-villain mind. In a world of meta and super individuals, aspiring to be a supervillain isn't so weird. The desire is humanized, though, with Dr. Horrible torn between his desire to rule the world, destroy his nemesis Captain Hammer, and win the heart of the girl at the laundromat, Penny. Enjoyable all the way around. Next up: the musical commentary!

Anywho, pretty soon after they arrived back at our house, we were on the road again to catch the Seattle Mariners as they played the Tampa Bay Devil Rays at Safeco Field. Added exciting element: they're Rays fans. So they in their Rays gear and we in our Mariners gear settled in to amazingly close seats to watch the game. I'm not normally much of a baseball fan - I call it the sport where they wake you up in the seventh inning - but being so close to the action was cool. Unfortunately, the game was lousy. I mean, sure we stomped the Rays 7-0, but that's just it. The Rays handed it over. There was no competition, no excitement, no real action. This also resulted in some grumpy Floridians. Again, not because of the loss, but because of lousy playing. The bright spot was that it was PHENOMENAL weather for a game.

It was decided that the evening was too young, so we stopped in at The Rock when we got back to F-Way for snacks and drinks. Yummy pizza and yummy drinks were a nice ending to the day.

This was also the last I would see of my in-laws on this trip. I had to be at work the next day, so they spent it with their daughter before they left, which was (hopefully) a nice cap on their vacation. You'll have to read her blog for details on that.

Yummy stir-fry, our first snack at Folklife.

Maria in the Shower.

Nice day to be in Seattle. Actually, nice day to be anywhere.

Morris dancers. Supposedly, it's masculine.

Boe Odyssey, Seattle event fixture. He really got some folks dancing with him this day.

Kick-ass seats!

Catch-up

2011-06-06T01:40:00.000-07:00

A little behind, sorry. I'll make it brief. Ish.

A month or so ago we visited the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival (insert joke at my expense here). This festival is a local "thing." Skagit Valley is the largest U.S. grower of tulips, and they all bloom at the same time, so before they're all cut and sent to florists, people go up and look at them. That, unfortunately, is pretty much the whole gist.

In stark contrast to the other harvest festivals I've been to, there was no carnival type setting. For the most part, that was nice. On the other hand, it meant that we had nothing to do but look at acres and acres of tulips. This was at least in part due to the fact that we went on the last weekend of the festival, which meant all the fields had been cut except for two. Supposedly, there is more to do earlier in the year. Oh well.

We only visited one farm, RoozenGaarde, the biggest grower in the area.

I will now digress to rant about the rights of the differently-abled.

In Washington it is legal and, apparently, quite easy, to get your pet registered as a service animal. This came about because people with emotional issues that the state recognizes as disabilities claimed that their pets kept them emotionally OK. Personally, I think this is a lot of hooey - if you can't shop in Target for 30 minutes without your Schnauzer, you need more psychiatric help than you might think - but I'll give folks the benefit of the doubt on this one.

The next issue is that it is illegal to kick someone out of a public place with a service animal. Fair enough, sure, considering the ADA. The problem is, no proof whatsoever is required to show that this animal is, indeed, a service animal. Everyone is supposed to take the "disabled" person's word for it.

Finally, it has been made entirely too easy to get an animal declared a "service" animal. You can do it online. You don't need medical documentation or anything. This allows anyone who wants to bring their pet into areas where pets don't really belong to get the legal right to do so. There was recently a case of a man suing some business or other because it wouldn't let him bring in his service boa constrictor. Seriously. Swear to God. Look here.

My problems with this are threefold: First, this makes an unnecessary inconvenience for those with legitimate disabilities. Someone with an actual guide dog, for example, should not have to be questioned. Second, true service animals are highly trained. You don't have to worry about them panicking in a crowd, pissing on furniture, or biting children who come up to pet them. There are no such guarantees with online registered pets in the guise of service animals. Lastly, it is morally reprehensible to abuse a system set up to provide legal rights of entrance to the community of differently-abled citizens of this fine country. You will miss your dog. I understand. But I promise you, he will be ok without you, and you without him, while you run to the store or spend a day at a tulip festival.

Whew. OK. That said...

We got in the line to enter the RoosenGaarde tulip farm. Immediately ahead of us was a trio of folks with two dogs. One was clearly a service animal (trained or not, I do not know) with a little dickie on and everything. The other was a pet. It was clear.

An employee came up and informed the group that pets weren't allowed. They informed him that the dogs were not pets, but service animals. A brief discussion ensued, and the employee left.

At the ticket booth, the gal selling tickets again questioned the status of the mutt. After insisting that the dog was a service animal, she asked for proof, like the first dog had. The proof? "This dog is with that dog." That's what these pricks said. Seriously. The ticket seller let them in.

The non-service dog immediately shat in the main thoroughfare.

Soon thereafter, a meaty woman in a floppy sun hat approached the group and started the whole thing over again. It was the last we saw of the trio of idiots.

After our hackles had gone back down, we wandered through the farm. The main fields of tulips were vast, but really looked like any other crop, only prettier. The real treat was in the gardens surrounding the main business structure. There were tulips of many more varieties than I ever knew existed. It was actually pretty cool. I think tulips, I think the standard shape. There are lots more, though, and in many more colors and sizes than you usually see in floral shops.

We decided that we had seen enough flowers and skipped the only other farm that was still open. We hopped in the car and headed to La Conner, a small town on an inlet that we have been to a few times before.

We wandered around the cute downtown, which has unfortunately been hit pretty hard by the recession. A lot of the independent businesses that had been there have closed, and it seems a few more are gone each time we visit.

One business that was booming was Hellam's Vineyard, a wine and craft beer shop that has a private pier over an inlet from Puget Sound. While they offer glasses of wine for $5-$17, you can get a bottle for $7 and up. We got a bottle for $7 and up. While they do offer a legal "bottle baggie" to take home you leftovers, we decided to finish the bottle. It was the right thing to do. The day was sunny and warm, and we sipped a lovely merlot on the waterfront and talked. It was fairly awesome.

For dinner we walked up the road to the La Conner Brewing Company, a gastropub recommended by a gal at the wine shop.

We started with clams cooked in white wine and herbs, and it was good, but not great. We then shared three individual pizzas (yes, we had plenty of leftovers) and Katherine drank wine while I had one or two of their beers.

The right amount of wine, and this is friggin' hilarious.

Kat's wine was a bit more than she needed. She left feeling pretty cruddy.

On the drive home, we turned found a local NPR station. The president came on as soon as we tuned in to announce that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. That occupied most of our conversation and thoughts for the rest of the drive home.

Fast forwarding a bit, I signed up for and ran the Great Kilted Run in Seattle. As the name implies, it is a run (5K) in which participants are strongly encouraged to wear kilts. This is not a requirement, however, which is probably some civil rights horseshit. In fact, the winner of the women's division was wearing shorts. Party pooper to the max.

Most runners were in kilts, though, and some in full Scottish garb. There is an award for most Scottish costume. I, and many other runners, wore Utilikilts, which hold no ethnic significance. Others wore tartan table cloths and other homemade "kilts." It was actually a lot of fun. It was the most laid-back, least competitive run I've ever been in. Turns out, a lot of occasional runners with potbellies and thirty bucks turn out for this run. That, in case you don't know, describes me perfectly.

I had understood that a free beer was a reward after the race, but apparently I was mistaken. I had to pay for my victory beer in the all to small biergarten. Seriously, at a run aimed at guys who wear kilts, the biergarten was about the size of my living room. This was silly. The good news was that there was a piper playing while we drank.

Since we only had enough cash on us for me to enjoy one brew, we soon left and headed to the Greenlake neighborhood so that I could get some new running shoes. While I am not as dedicated a runner as my beloved bride, I run enough that my almost three-year old pair of sneakers have been rendered bald, filthy, and uncomfortable.

Many, many people ask my wife what she sees in me. Answer: bitchin' calves.

Hello, goes the hand. Swish, goes the skirt.

Some guys take it a little too seriously.

Grrrh...

Hahaha...

There was an art display made of dive planes from retired submarines near the run. Neat.
I was allowed to go to Super Jock N Jill, a running store in Seattle. There I was fitted with various shoes while the salesperson crouched down and watched me walk and jog, thus determining the type of sneaker I need. I'll give them credit; the new Brooks shoes I left with were wicked comfortable. Although I was hoping for something lighter and cheaper - mainly cheaper - I felt an immediate difference in my new shoes. Shamefully, I will be taking them out on their first run weeks after purchasing them.

After my new shoe buy, we stopped by the Columbia City neighborhood for lunch. Geraldine's Counter is a popular spot featuring unique dishes and breakfast all day. They are consistently rated the best French toast in Seattle, and are very well thought of with regards to all their dishes.

We started off by splitting a small (two pieces) order of their famed French toast with a mixed berry compote on top. It was decadent, more suited for dessert than breakfast. I'm not a huge fan of sweet breakfasts, but this was damn good.

After our "appetizer," Kat ordered a breakfast casserole, and I got a fried steak and eggs dish. Both were good, but hers needed a little more flavor. A little more black pepper, some more salt, and maybe a dash of cayenne or something for a bit of bit would have done the trick. Otherwise, it was a great lunch.

Mad yummy French toast.

When we arrived home, we cleaned up and got ready for a dinner at the house of one of Katherine's running buddies and her husband. This is also when we learned that a pair of juncos had built a nest in one of our hanging planters. Spoiler alert, but they would end up abandoning it, I think because some bigger, meaner birds had discovered it, as I saw Stellar's jays visiting the basket and examining it, possibly looking for another junco scramble.

Junco nest in one of our hanging planters.

Dinner was nice, with BBQ ribs and grilled corn, and good conversation.

Soon after this was the period where tornadoes started bombarding the Midwest. Luckily, my mom only experienced pea-sized hail, wind, and rain. My friends seem to have come through the storms ok as well. I feel for those in Joplin, Sedalia, and everywhere else the scourge of the Plains has affected this year, and I keep my fingers crossed for everyone for the rest of the season.

In other news, I also got new glasses during this period. My insurance grants me a "free" (minus co-pay) eye exam and $150 credit on new hardware or contacts. Since contacts continually irritate my eyes, I have long since given up the idea of frameless eyesight.

After long suffering in the sun without sunglasses, I finally decided to start out by ordering prescription shades. After my credit and a coupon, I got new shades ordered on the cheap to arrive in a few weeks.

When I started shopping for new clear lenses, it turned out that I got a better deal using my AAA discount at Lens Crafters than at Group Health. I had a 25% discount on frames at the latter, and a 30% discount on the whole package at the former. I wound up with a pair of Oakley clears for less than a pair of off-brands at Group Health. Still, I have to point out that the glasses racket is just that. Hundreds of dollars for two pieces of glass and some wire??? The FTC should investigate. Seriously. Taking someone with a disability and holding not looking like a tool hostage should be a crime. Oh, well. I'm stylin'.

My wife's parents would visit soon after these events. More on that in my next post, which will likely be months later, if my past experience means anything.

Easter 2011

2011-04-26T00:47:00.000-07:00

Neither of us is what you might call "religious," so even though Easter - a day named for a pagan god, scheduled around pagan holidays, featuring pagan traditions, and turned into a hugely prosperous commercial venture - is still, somehow, the holiest day in the Christian calendar, we don't do much for it.

Since I grew up in a Christian household, I grew up celebrating Easter in both the religious and secular traditions. Since frustrations with organized religion and religious believers in general, as well as a growing understanding of the roots of traditional Christianity (understanding Christianity for what it is = disbelief), I have lapsed into an entirely secular view of the holidays in the Christian calendar.

This year I was off from work on Easter, and we exchanged small baskets with a very few items.

I also decided to celebrate by cooking the flesh of the two traditional Easter animals: rabbits and lambs. Some might think it's sort of dark to eat rabbit on Easter, but as a local chef said on the radio tonight, rabbit and lamb are the two animals in season right now. It's nature. So there.

For lunch, I made rabbit sliders (aka Bunny Burgers). I got some ground rabbit at work, grilled it in mini patties, topped them with balsamic grilled onions, Dutch goat cheese gouda, field greens, and poached quail eggs. This all went onto toasted brioche buns slathered with whole grain dijon. They were pretty good, although I must admit the onions didn't come out as flavorful as I would have liked. Still, you could really taste the meat which is nice. I hate getting a high quality burger smothered with so much crap you can't even taste the meat.

Our big adventure of the day was a trip to Trader Joe's for a few groceries. Exciting, huh?

At home again, we talked for a bit, drank some wine, and popped in A Single Man to watch while we ate dinner. A Single Man was a 2009 nominee for Best Picture starring Colin Firth as a gay man in 1962 who has lost his partner of 16 years to a tragic car accident.

I have to digress to talk about this film. It was one of the most moving films I've ever seen. I appreciated the fact that it didn't make the fact that the main character was gay an issue. It was a love story that translates perfectly to any situation. In fact, the love story aspect is there in many facets. The love between the main character and his deceased lover, between him and his gal-pal, between a student and him, and even between him and dogs of the same breed he had had with his partner.

It is also a story about learning to live each day like it's your last. There's a quote, or a story, or something I heard somewhere once about a guy who plans his suicide every day so that he'll truly appreciate every aspect of the day for what it is; a small miracle, a thing of beauty to be cherished. This film follows with that idea to the point that I, as a viewer, felt guilty at the end for often forgetting how precious life is.

The acting was some of the best I have ever seen. The casting was perfect, as though the book, written in 1964, was written with the idea of the film cast as the characters. Visually, everything from the cinematography to the sets to the costumes to the lighting was PERFECT.

I had tears running from my eyes at the end. Partly this was due to the story itself, which ends in a tear-jerking manner. Largely, though, this film to me was art in its highest form. An epic poem, a masterful painting, a classic piece of literature, all rolled into one cinematic masterpiece. You should see it. Seriously. You are doing yourself a disservice by not watching this film at some point in your life.

*whew*

Anywho, for dinner we had lamb. I had originally planned on doing a roasted lamb, but Kat isn't really much of a lamb fan. This is likely due to some sort of chemical imbalance, I think. I decided the best way to serve her lamb was to cook it in an Indian dish, as I know she has had some of my lamb dishes at East India Grill and enjoyed them.

I bought some simmer sauce at Met Market and threw it and some cubed lamb into the Crock Pot early in the day. While it cooked, I prepared a side dish of quinoa with diced green chiles, sauteed onions, and homemade curry powder. The quinoa came out great, but I have to say, for a fresh, local product, the sauce on the lamb was kind of boring. All in all, though, it was a tasty dinner.

Good day off. It's nice to have a lazy day off together.

Bunny Burgers. Yum!

Lamb Rogan Josh; lamb simmered in a tomato curry sauce. Also, curried quinoa. While we're at it, I made the plate in the photo, too. Boo-yah!

Man Movies

2011-04-26T00:10:00.000-07:00

During my mancation, I managed to squeeze in several movies. Thought I should mention them.

I started with the Star Wars Saga. I began with the three prequels, sort of like when you eat the vegetables on your plate first to get them out of the way. Last time I had a Star Wars marathon, I watched them in chronological order rather than numerical. It was less painful this way. Of course, I still wound up with ...Jedi as the finale, which is still less than ideal.

I followed these up with the Family Guy remake/parody versions of the three original films. I really appreciate these. You can tell they were done by true fans. Many of the scenes were remade shot-for-shot. The jokes are all right on point for the fanbase, too.

I also managed a few non-Star Wars flicks.

The first thing I saw was a D horror film from the boys at Troma called The Horror of the Hungry Humongous Hungan. After carefully watching every second of the film, as near as I can gather, it is about a girl who has a dream that a monster that is a man with a claw hand kills her and her boyfriend. Turns out that the creature - the "hungan" - is a zombie (more or less) brought to life by, apparently, the conjoined efforts of a mad scientist and a voodoo priestess. The mad scientist is trying to create a living creature from sewn-together body parts robbed from graves (sounds familiar), and the priestess doesn't appear until after we have encountered the creature several times. They have no other connection in the film. Not sure why the priestess is even there...

Troma has produced some gems, but their Toxie's Triple Terror series offers up the lowest of the low. In this case, the acting was atrocious. The makeup and special effects were cheap and clearly so. The story was, at best, disjointed, and after the finish, I knew nothing about what I was supposed to have gotten from the story. Film making at its worst. In other words: perfect flick for a solo man weekend!

Another "horror" film I caught was Ghidorah: The Three-Headed Monster, a 1964 installment in the long-running Godzilla franchise. In this film - probably my favorite sequel - a large meteorite crashes in Japan, and several scientists are sent to examine it. Meanwhile, a plane carrying a Nepalese princess to Tokyo explodes over the ocean, but a young woman who looks exactly like the princess shows up, claiming to be a Martian mystic. She begins alerting the populace that the meteorite contains the monster King Ghidora, the villainous scourge of Planet X. Unsure about the true identity of the "Mystic from Mars," a detective takes her under his wing, and assassins from Nepal arrive on the scene to kill her, just in case she is the true princess.

Meanwhile, a TV show which features children getting there wishes fulfilled presents a child who wants to go to the Island of the Monsters, where the second Mothra - still just a massive, evil caterpillar - is king. Although the boy can't go to the island, the producers have arranged for the fairy twins of the island to come and sing for him.

Still with me?

Next, a tour group at a volcano somehow manage to awaken Rodan, the winged monster (think sonic-screaming, giant pterodactyl), who bursts forth from the volcanic caldera to begin terrorizing Japan. This, obviously, awakens Godzilla from his aquatic home, and he comes ashore to battle Rodan.

During their battle, Ghidora comes out of the meteorite and begins a reign of destruction.

The solution to the Ghidora question is clear to everyone: Godzilla and Rodan must team up to fight him. Of course, the only one who can mediate a truce between the two behemoths is Mothra. The fairies sing and summon Mothra, who arrives and coats Godzilla and Rodan with silk until they stop fighting. He then tries to convince them to team up and fight Ghidora.

Will there be a truce? Will the Three-Headed Monster be driven away from Earth? Is the mystery woman a princess or a Martian? Do you care? Watch the movie and find out. I'm tired of writing this nonsense.

Next up was Chisum, the John Wayne film based on the true story of John Chisum. Well, as based on a true story as any western is...

John Chisum is the largest rancher and land owner in New Mexico. When a land-grabbing developer starts causing trouble, Chisum takes him to task. With his friends Billy the Kid and Pat Garrett, Chisum begins a campaign to outsmart, out-profit, and out-shoot the villains.

This is one of Wayne's later films, and a truly great western in an era when the genre was becoming passe. I especially like the depth that Wayne developed in his later films. He was still John Wayne, but there is a huge evolution between his films from the Forties and Fifties and those of the Sixties and Seventies. It was John Wayne, sure, but it was also John Chisum. While I enjoy all of his films, in so many it is just John Wayne being John Wayne. Chisum is a great example of how he could actually act, and not just talk tough on a horse.

Every once in a while, I have the need to watch an action movie. With (at this point) nearly 2,000 movies of various genres to choose from, I have many, many action flicks to choose from. My go-tos are usually Terminator 2, True Lies, Under Siege, or Die Hard.

Die Hard: With a Vengeance (aka Die Hard 3).

Not as good as the first film, but ten times better than the second, ...Vengeance sees veteran wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time New York detective John McClaine the target of a terrorist going by the name of "Simon." Simon seems determined to blow up New York, and as a bonus, kill McClaine.

In his first attempt at killing McClaine, Simon fails when a good Samaritan (Samuel L. Jackson) saves him. From then on, the unwilling civilian is required to be involved in all of the tests/traps/riddles meant to torture and hopefully kill McClaine.

Turns out, Simon is a master thief with a vendetta against McClaine. Can the tough detective and the hostile civilian beat the murderous puzzle master and save their own lives, not to mention those of countless New Yorkers? Spoiler alert: yes.

I needed a little fantasy in my weekend, too, and a trip to Pawn X Change provided a copy of the original (1981) Clash of the Titans. I hadn't seen this movie in forever and a day. It was great to revisit it.

I won't get too into the story, since you should know it. Perseus, favored son of Zeus, is blessed by his father but cursed by Zeus's jealous wife, Hera. With magic weapons, a flying horse, and the dream of marrying the lovely - and, of course, cursed - Andromeda, Perseus travels through the mythical world of Ancient Greece, battling Medusa, the Kraken, and more.

Stale by today's standards, this movie featured work by the greatest stop-motion animator of all time, Ray Harryhausen. I stand by the artistry of the work, and have the ability to watch a movie in chronological context, so I still enjoy watching the moderately jerky effects. I also refuse to see the 2010 remake. So there.

In a what can only be called an unbelievable occurrence, I only found time for one comic book-based movie. That being the case, I naturally chose Batman Begins, arguably the best super hero film ever made. Christian Bale would never have been my first choice to play Batman or Bruce Wayne, but dammit, he does a great job. Liam Neeson also makes an incredible Ra's Al Ghul, and man of a thousand faces Gary Oldman was born to play Jim Gordon.

The film takes the origin story of Batman and really gets at the meat of it. We all know the story: Dr. Thomas and Martha Wayne are murdered in an alley in front of their young son, Bruce. Bruce is pissed. He blames himself, and vows to persecute criminals with all the means at his disposal. In this case, the means at his disposal are billions and billions of dollars.

In this retelling, Bruce wanders the world, training in the ways both of the hero and the villain. He is "rescued" from a Chinese prison by Henri Ducard (Liam Neeson), a servant of Ra's Al Ghul, a mysterious guru of lethal justice in the Himalayas.

After seeking out Ghul's dojo, Bruce begins an intense training, learning the ways of the ninja. When he is forced to chose between the way of the sword and the way of true justice, Wayne chooses justice. Of course, he chooses it by burning down the dojo, killing dozens of ninja and Ghul himself in the process. The good news: he doesn't have to kill a convicted murderer. Justice!

I really enjoyed the detail of the creation story here. Everything from how the cowl is developed to where the suit and Batmobile came from, the "why, where, how" of the story is great.

Director Chris Nolan builds a lot more humanity into the characters of the story than any previous tellings. We get to know Bruce Wayne and Batman, and learn that he is motivated by more than the revenge of his parents' murder. He is a man afraid, and he wants the criminals of Gotham to share his fear.

In Nolan's Batman, everything seems plausible, and that makes all the difference.

I needed a little more violence and suspense in my weekend. My solution was to pop in another recent $.99 aquisition: I Spit on Your Grave.

A remake of a 1978 movie Day of the Woman (re-release title was I Spit on Your Grave), "Spit" is the story of Jennifer, a young female writer who rents a cabin in some anonymous woods to work on her next book. Her presence attracts the unwanted attention of several local rednecks, who harass and frighten her. When she seeks help from the local sheriff, he joins the motley crew in what soon escalates into a brutal session of repeated gang rape and torture.

At the breaking point, Jennifer staggers away from her attackers as the sheriff prepares to shoot her. Before he can take his shot, she leaps into a raging river and gets washed away.

The perpetrators search for her for days, but finding no trace of her, they relax and get back into their routines. That's when their nightmares begin.

Jennifer has survived her ordeal and returned to the area to exact revenge. Her idea of revenge: horrible, brutal, intricately terrifying torture ending in death for each attacker.

This is American indulgence at its finest. You've been attacked? Find the people who attacked you and attack them back times ten. In this case, though, the brutality of the rape/assault scenes and the malevolence of the bad guys is so heart-wrenching that whether you like it or not, you really do end up rooting for Jennifer's campaign of grisly revenge murders.

If you like vengeance films (think Inglorious Basterds), you'll like this movie. Even if you just like seeing Rube Goldberg inspired death scenes, this movie is worth a watch. I must say, the death scenes are as creative as they are horrific; the kind of thing some people who run in my circle likely fantasize about for people who merely cut them off in traffic, let alone people who might assault them.

Last but not least, I felt a little gangster action was required. I threw in Carlito's Way, one I haven't seen in years. The great thing about this film is that it's the story of redemption, and not one about glorifying the criminal underworld.

When Al Pacino's Carlito Brigante is a Puerto Rican drug king released from prison who vows to go straight. He becomes a manager of a night club to save money so that he can get to the Bahamas and start a business.

Unfortunately, he has people from every side pushing him to get back in the business. No one seems to believe he really wants to go straight. He has a crooked lawyer, cops, former bosses and former rivals, and new up-and-comers all pressuring him to take sides and reclaim his place, one way or another.

His genuine desire to leave his old ways behind him conflict with his loyalty to friends and former colleagues, though, and he finds himself in one bad situation after another, climaxing in an attempt to cash in, get his girl and flee the country.

I think this is a really important film in the genre of crime pics. So seldom do we see the side of the story where someone learns their lesson that it's a refreshing change. It presents the idea that a man can be loyal, tough, streetwise, and also legit.

When the Kat's Away...

2011-04-20T02:17:00.000-07:00

Day 1:

OK, Thursday wasn’t officially a part of my weekend, but I have to count it.

My tenth day of work in a row, I was exhausted. It was my own fault, really, as requesting a long weekend in the retail world equals a long work week both preceding and following it.

It was also supposed to be a short day at work. Since I had to drop Kat off at the airport for her girls’ weekend out in Austin at 5:00 in the morning, I asked to come in an hour later so that I could get a bit more sleep and a haircut. In theory, I should have had a short shift.

In actuality, three of my team members were late, equating to about 2 hours of lost productivity. In this case, it meant that the stuff I HAD to get done before leaving work had to be put off until later. I worked through my lunch shift (a union no-no) and ended up staying later than originally planned. Oh well.

I was motivated by my impending weekend of solitude. I was looking forward to getting home, having a drink, watching a movie, and hitting the hay.

As I was leaving the store, I realized that I had not a drop of liquor in the house (aside from wifey’s Malibu), that all my beer was in the pantry, warm, and that the only red wines I could remember having was good or “company” wine.

I purchased a bottle of Widmer Bros. Brrbon, a brown ale aged in bourbon barrels. It was friggin’ delicious. It will officially compete with Pliney the Elder as my fave brew.

My one beer and my very long day were enough to launch me into sleepyland. I headed to bed, where the mere removal of my hoody resulted in catastrophe. A sleeve whipped out and knocked loose a small set of shelves hanging on a wall. The shelves house several little knick-knacks, most of which are of a fragile nature. The fall resulted in a number of these items being chipped, cracked, or downright pulverized.

Shitty ending to an otherwise moderately crappy day.

Day 1.1:

My first official day of my four-day solo weekend was Friday. Originally, I had intended to get up early, load my iPod, and head for the SODO neighborhood of Seattle so I could be first in line for lunch at Marination Mobile, the best mobile restaurant in town (and the country, according to Good Morning America). Former coworker and gal-pal Dawnelle slings SPAM and spicy pork sliders and exotic tacos (fave’s the ginger lime chicken) a few days a week.

As usual, I overslept, but the bigger problem was that loading 800 songs onto my 2nd generation iPod Nano off of an external USB drive took about an hour.

I watched the chunk of Star Wars: Episode IV I had fallen asleep during and commenced filling up everyone on Facebook’s news feed, a trend that would continue through the day.

I finally got out of the house an hour after I meant to be in Seattle. I got to SODO and Safeco Field and found Marination. My heart skipped a beat and my blood ran cold when I saw that there was no line. There’s always a line! It’s, like, one of their things! I assumed – since there was only an hour left in their business day – that they had run out of food, which has been known to happen.

To my relief, it was just a slow day. Order-taker and hander-overer extraordinaire Dawnelle was awesome and recommended the exact right amount of food for me (last time I was there we ordered WAY too little).

Two sexy bitches, yessir.

The educational value of this exhibit was supposedly to see how the technologies of the Star Wars universe could potentially end up existing in the real world. I admit; I went into the show expecting a few signs talking about how robots could someday help us vacuum or something. It was much more than that.My plans had next taken me to the Bug Safari, a “bug zoo” on the Pike Place Hill Climb, followed by the Star Wars: Where Science Meets Imagination exhibit at the Pacific Science Center. I was short on time, so had to skip the zoo and head straight for PSC.

I was a little early, so popped in to the Center House to use the facilities, and to my surprise, there was a local high school band performing a medley of music from the Star Wars franchise. They were actually very impressive, and it was a fun little side experience for the day.

My tickets for the Star Wars exhibit were for both the exhibit itself and for a “ride” in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon. The Falcon thing was on a timed basis, so I had to hit that first.

It was actually pretty cool. A mock (and pretty realistic) cockpit had been built, and people were brought in in groups of four. I nailed Han’s seat. Score!

Essentially the passengers are treated to a flight to the edge of the universe. What was cool was that the most of the images were computer composites of real images from the Hubble Space Telescope.

The “trip” lasted about five minutes and was somewhat educational, and I’m glad I did it. The $3 ticket was a good price for it. I wish there had been more intro and outro, though. It just sort of started and stopped. There were TIE fighters zipping around for a bit, and at the end some X-Wings showed up and flew off, but a little more of the Star Wars universe would have been a nice touch. Maybe taking off from and landing at a space port or something. I dunno.

After the Falcon Experience, I wandered into the bug wing (ba-dum-bum) of the Science Center. I hadn’t been in before, and it was pretty interesting. Like most exhibits, it was designed more for families with kids, but I am a kid at heart, so there. In the attached tropical butterfly house, hundreds or thousands of beautiful, exotic butterflies flutter around and, you know, drink nectar and stuff. Whatever it is they do, they were doing it in spades.

I finally made it to the Star Wars exhibit. Now, maybe I’m naïve, but I had assumed that it would be relatively free of children in the early afternoon on a weekday. I was very, very wrong. Not only were there a couple of school or daycare groups, but there were kids EVERYWHERE! Attention parents: your kids are supposed to be in school. Weekends and evenings are your time to take them to things like this. And why aren’t you at work, anyway?

Rugrats aside, the exhibit was friggin’ awesome. Someone at work had told me that some friends of hers went, and said it was stupid because it was just a bunch of models and toys. Models, yes, toys, no. Among the many props from all six films were countless models used for filming. Some of the bigger ships were even mounted to the dollies used to move and tilt them.

Some of the models were also maquettes, representations of what a ship or character or whatever would end up looking like. Even the CGI characters of the prequels started out as maquettes.

So, in other words, every item on display was property of ILM and/or Lucasfilms, and all had been involved in production of one or more movies. Again: not toys.

The actual "car" used as Luke's landspeeder in "Episode IV."

A model used for distance shots.

One of the many Millenium Falcon models. The smallest one was the size of a stamp.

An Imperial Star Destroyer model. This one was huge, and attached to the dolly they used for shooting.

In the re-release of "Empire," the snow monster was a little more visible. They used a puppet. This is it.

The original Vader suit.

NOT from "The Sharper Image."

Real Han and Chewie costumes. The Chewie outfit is easily 7' tall. Hard to imagine working in it.

Original Yoda puppet, this is.

A close-up of the C3-PO droid from "Phantom Menace." It's either a designer's fantasy or nightmare.

An Imperial AT-AT stop motion model-model.

There was everything from how real desert populations survive (like on Tatooine) to a display on prosthetics (alongside Darth Vader’s suit and Luke and Anakin Skywalkers’ false arms). There were also interactive displays, such as building your own maglev vehicle out of magnetic Legos and running them on different types of tracks, and using computers to design robots, spaceports, and prosthetics.

I would actually have loved to sit and play - er, learn - with these displays, but again, the place was swamped with kids, and the last time I punched a seven-year-old to play with Legos at a museum, the police were involved, and it was this whole big thing.

It was another one of those experiences best shared with a kid. Maybe someday I’ll have a kid, and then I’ll get to play with toys to learn about science. We would like a child, but the Amber Alert system here in Washington is very well monitored.

Last but not least, I managed to make my way through the gift shop without buying anything. You should try and understand how hard this was. Everything from books to clothes to Star Wars themed M&M dispensers were available for the low, low price of 1,000x more than they were worth. I especially liked the lightsaber wall sconce. A call seeking permission to spend money on these items resulted in my leaving empty-handed. This proves what a manly man I am. I call my wife to see if I can buy toys, and don’t when she says “no.” Manly. MANLY!

Since I had missed my planned trip to the Bug Safari, I hopped a bus and made a visit. It was a cool little zoo, very professionally maintained and fancy. It lacked, however, the thing that made the Victoria Bug Museum so cool: hands-on interaction. The fancy, climate controlled, padlocked (?) terrariums were not opened, and even when I specifically asked if I could hold some tarantulas, scorpions, or giant stick bugs, I was told “no.” They don’t do that. Bummer. On the bright side, the goliath bird eating tarantulas were much larger than those in Victoria. The bigger one could have taken down a deer, I think.

Back at Seattle Center, I retrieved my car and headed for the First Hill neighborhood for some drinks at The Hideout, a local bar catering to the more artistic side of Seattle.

It’s a barely marked hole-in-the-wall spot, but when I say “hole-in-the-wall,” I mean it literally and not figuratively. A small set of doors in a brick wall under an office building, which you wouldn’t know was there unless you…um…knew. Inside, it was anything but a hole.

Small, dimly lit, and busy, The Hideout is a bar that is intensely art-themed. Every inch of the walls are covered by art, all by local artists, all for sale. Every month they take down whatever has been sold and replace it with new works.

There is even an art vending machine. Seriously. I had planned on buying a piece of art from the machine for the sake of doing it, but the pieces I liked ranged from $20-$80, and that was more than I wanted to spend, art and novelty aside.

I arrived during happy hour, and had a couple of cheap cocktails. That’s when stuff started getting weird. Creepy weird.

A guy came up to the bar - where I was seated – to request his tab. He spelled his name to the bartender – Robb, spelled with two bs. I asked him if I had heard him correctly. I had.

Now, in all fairness, his name was given and mine was not. Still, it proves what I keep saying: it’s a real friggin’ name! He even asked if I was Irish or Scottish. I told him a little of each. So was he. Wowsers.

Next up was a guy who came up to order another drink. He was wearing a KU polo shirt. He was a grad, and currently works for the KU Endowment. We talked Lawrence stuff, and as he was a bit intoxicated, he was overly ecstatic to meet me. He didn’t buy me a drink, though. That sucked.

I got to talking with the bartender – a lovely creature named Kristen – and the subject a local distiller came up. She poured me a sample of their vodka and gin. They were both excellent. When I commented on the quality of the gin and how normally I hate it, she got excited and snatched six bottles of artisan gins and poured me (and herself) a sip of each one. We worked down the line, discussing the peculiarities of each. One was distilled with rose petals. Another had lemon, lime, and cardamom. All were excellent, and it was a valuable learning experience.

In another dose of weirdness, I overheard the barback talking about costume design for a Canadian ballet company. I happen to know someone who also designs costumes, ballet among them. Turns out, they were former roommates.

Back to the artistic aspects of the place, one of the “things” there is a publication they put out periodically. It’s a magazine filled with the drawings, ramblings, poems, prose, thoughts, and vulgarity of their guests. As a patron, you are invited to grab a clipboard and write, draw, or whatever, and submit your work into a box. Several are chosen to go into each publication. How cool is that? I love this freakin’ city.

The next and last drink I ordered was called the “Hemingway.” It consisted of a bottle of Carta Blanca (a Mexican beer), a shot of Hornitos (tequila), and a Davidoff cigarillo. I’m not that familiar with Davidoff, and was expecting a miniature cigar, but it was a cigarette. (I gave it to a panhandler on my walk to my car.) Fun “cocktail,” though.

Upon further conversation with the bartender, it came out that I work at the Metropolitan Market in Kirkland. Turns out, her fiancé is one of our deli regulars! Furthermore, she used to work at the PCC market across the street, and he worked at the Houghton Market (where our store is now located) before joining Microsoft. That’s actually where they met. Again, weird.

I had invited Dawnelle – of Marination fame – to join me for a drink if she was still in the city. She had had too many errands, but invited me to swing by her place on my way home. She lives, conveniently, right off of the highway I take to get back to F-Way.

I stopped by, and met her dogs (her kids were at grandma’s) and we had a good long talk for a couple of hours before I hit the road. It was nice to just sit and have a serious conversation with someone. While Katherine and I have wonderful conversations, it’s different talking with friends than spouses, and since I have precious few serious friends in the area, it was a great treat, and wound up being moresomething of an impromptu therapy session for me.

After departing south Seattle and arriving home, I threw in Return of the Jedi and promptly conked out.

This was one of the best days off I’d had in a while, and hands down the best solo day off I can remember.

Day 2:

Day 2 of my Mancation was a bit lower-key.

I slept in, did a little housework, and left to run some errands.

First I swung by Fantasium Comics and Games (formerly Spy Comics) to pick up a little bit of literature.

Next were the pawn shop (on a successful DVD hunt), Trader Joe’s, Wal-Mart, and Branches, the best area garden center. I grabbed a sammich at Jimmy John’s and headed home.

Once back home, I washed both cars – a badly needed chore that has been waiting for a sunny day – and planted several lettuce plants and Walla Walla sweet onions. I also put beans and sweet peas into the ground.

In a manly exercise of killing living things, I pulled several weeds from the garden and surrounding areas. I also laid out a lot of slug bait (don’t worry, it was environmentally friendly) to protect my new plants.

Dead and dying weeds. Manly.

I then fired up the grill and threw on some wings, which would end up smothered in Buffalo sauce. I also grilled up some elk bratwursts and threw on a Thirsty Bird (beer can chicken) for later in the week.

Flesh of lesser beast + beer in can...

+ open flame...

= man food!

A few more movies, some comics, and then it was bed time.

Day 3:

Sunday morning was awesome. It was awesome because I slept late, smothered in blankets and sandwiched between two toasty-warm kitties. I woke up, re-started Batman Begins, read a few more comics, and finally started my day around noon.

I then feasted on scrapple for lunch. Scrapple, if you don’t know, is more or less what it sounds like: scraps. A friend in Virginia used to call it “sweepins.’” Essentially, it’s all the garbage parts of the pig (snout, liver, heart, squeal, etc.) ground up and mixed with spices and cornmeal. I had been wanting to try it for a long time, and finally got around to it.

Knowing what it was, I figured I should dress it up a bit. I seared a few slices in bourbon infused butter and served them with goat gouda grits. That’s where the deliciousness ended.

The grits were pretty good, I must admit. However, my expectations for the scrapple were less than met. I’ve eaten – and enjoyed – some strange things. Animal guts, tongues, and bits ground up into all sort of configurations have all been welcome on my plate. Scrapple, however, was the line.

It’s not that it was totally foul. I could certainly see where people could enjoy it. But to me, it was like the bastard child of a sausage patty and pate; the worst aspects of each. I did not enjoy it.

I ran a couple of errands, cleaned a bit at home, got potatoes and more peas in the ground, and watched more movies. I also called my mom and talked for a couple of hours. It was a really good talk, and I’m looking forward to her visit in June.

For dinner I made mashed potatoes and gravy, fried chicken, and biscuits. OK, the biscuits were from a tube, and the potatoes and gravy were from pouches. Still, it counts as cooking.

Day 4:

Monday was the last day of my four-day Mancation, and only a partial day at that, as I was picking Kat up from the airport that evening.

I slept in again, and tried another weird meat thing: blood sausage. Blood sausage (also known as blood pudding, black sausage, and black pudding) is ground pork mixed with dried pork blood (so, scabs, I guess) and spices, and stuffed in natural casing. Its texture was not what I expected; when I cut into the casing, the filling sort of oozed out. I see why they call it “pudding.” The texture was a bit like granular pudding, or even Cream-o-Wheat might be a good descriptor.

Blood sausage with roasted potatoes, seasoned with fresh herbs from our garden.

The flavor was actually pretty pleasing, but man, it was rich. And I mean RICH. I probably had six bites and had to quit. I enjoyed it, but the large link I had could probably feed a moderate-sized family. Still, very glad I tried it.

I spent the rest of my day cleaning and watching movies. Not too exciting, but relaxing and necessary.

That evening I picked up my wife from the airport and we spent the rest of the night telling each other about our weekend before she conked out, and I finished up by working on these posts, having a cigar, and praying that a freak weather anomaly would render the store closed on Tuesday and give me one more sweet, precious day off.

I have a goal! Yay!

2011-04-13T01:19:00.000-07:00

While I still haven't decided on a 10 or 12 kilometer run to partake in between now and October 17, 2011, I have picked a shorter run that promises to be more fun.

It's a secret for now, but I will begin training for both it and the impending double-digit k after Katherine returns from Austin.

I think having a fun run in mind and keeping it a secret will help add motivation to my workout plan.

This is assuming, of course, that the various physical maladies - flu, knee pain/surgery, cancer, etc. - that usually keep me from practicing as much as I would like do not appear, and that I can keep my lethargy in check.

To this end, I will be tracking my physical progress in this blog AND in my 32 before 32 blog. I need some accountability, and fessing up to where I'm at, where I want to be, and how I'm getting there should help.

It means some painful admissions, but I think it will be worth it.

Washington in general and the Seattle area in particular are two of the healthiest states and cities - respectively - in the country, and I think getting into that demographic fits well in both this blog, about my life in the PNW, and my other blog, about my annual goals.

Manly Weekend of Manly Manliness: Prologue

2011-04-12T03:08:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, April 14, I will be arising at the ungodly hour of 4:00 in the morning to take my wife to the airport for her trip to Austin, TX. She'll be spending a long weekend with her sister and mother in a sort of "girls' weekend out."

I have decided to recapture my manliness while she is gone. While I love her with my all my heart, one of the unavoidable tolls of married life - at least in a marriage that is as well-rounded and equal as ours - is a certain loss of masculinity by the man. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but every once in a while, husbands should take some time to remember what they've lost.

Some guys go out on a certain day of the week with their buddies and paint the town red. Some go on hunting trips with friends. Some go away to retreats where they dance naked around bonfires. (OK, that last one might not be accurate.)

Since I have no male friends in the area, I have to fly solo in my attempt at reclaiming my previous testeronic strength. This weekend will provide a perfect opportunity.

While Katherine has left me to my own devices for trips in the past, they were more subdued. This time I am going all-out in an attempt at organized machismo.

I'm still hammering out the details, but overall, I have had to think about what a "manly" man is. Since my normal level of manliness hovers somewhere between a baby in an Anne Geddes calendar and Charlie Brown lying flat on his back while Lucy holds the football over him and sneers, I needed to go back to the drawing board.

After some research on the subject, I have come up with a few points that I will be focusing on this weekend:
A manly man kills things
A manly man shoots guns
A manly man cooks with open flame
A manly man does things to/in/from cars
A manly man eats the flesh of wild beasts
A manly man drinks beer from cans and brown liquor
A manly man lifts heavy objects for recreation
A manly man eats food that gives dietitians nightmares
A manly man is able to enjoy the simple pleasures (also known as being a man-child)
A manly man enjoys contact sports such as fisticuffs and American foot-ball
A manly man associates with men and women of questionable moral fiber
A manly man reads things of no literary value
A manly man likes things that are disgusting
A manly man does stuff to his lawn
A manly man doesn't care, like the fearsome honey badger; he doesn't give a shit. He just takes what he wants 'cause he's hungry

My weekend will play according to the Rules of Manliness. I will only watch movies, eat food, and take part in activities that fit in with this small fraction of the Rules.

NCAA Championship, Flashy Drinks, Friends, Food

2011-04-07T01:38:00.000-07:00

I have been planning to take the day of the NCAA Men's B-ball 2011 Championship Game off from work and hang out at a bar to watch it for a couple of months. Of course, I had been assuming all along that KU would be in the game. I don't feel stupid, as everyone in the country felt the same way. Said a co-worker: "Picking KU for the championship is a given."

A stupid freaking arts college from Virginia wound up knocking them out. It was actually after the game where VCU triumphed over KU that I remembered I had applied to - and been accepted to - VCU when looking at moving to Virginia to be with my now wife. They are heavily into the creative writing thing, which worked for me, but too far from Kat.

I still took the day off, figuring that the fact that I enjoy and follow college hoops would mean missing the championship game would make me a bad sport.

I planned on meeting Katherine when she got off work as well as some local friends at The Rock, a local pizza place, for conversation and the game.

Turns out conversation reigned. Why? The Rock didn't put the sound for the game on, just their usual rock soundtrack. The only friends who made it were also able to maintain an interesting conversation. Oh, yeah, almost forgot....the game SUCKED. Even by college standards, it was low scoring, and will go down in history as the worst game to date. Even non-fans could tell how terrible it was.

The saving grace of the night was that we got to hang out with friends, ate some pretty yummy pizza, and I got to have a bucket and a lava lamp, a cocktail served in a lava lamp shaped glass complete with lights.

P.S. - A link that sums up the game perfectly can be found here. Please read.

The Best Holiday Ever

2011-04-03T06:05:00.000-07:00

National Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich Day is over.

PB&J cookies I took to work were a big hit.

Best part, though was my end of the day treat:

Two slices of locally baked artisan bread with freshly ground peanut butter and organic strawberry preserves, coated with Irish butter, grilled, and served with a scoop of locally produced vanilla bean ice cream and organic chocolate syrup drizzled on top.

Sometimes I love being alive...

PBNJDAYHOORAY

2011-04-02T01:02:00.000-07:00

Today (April 2, 2011) is National Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich Day. If your fingers aren't too sticky, and if you aren't too distracted by a bit of chunky stuck to the roof of your mouth, read on to learn a few true facts about America's favorite lazy-ass - and delicious - lunch staple.

Many people credit George Washington Carver with inventing peanut butter. It actually dates to the Ancient Incas, but the first modern commercial use was in 1880 by G.W. Carver. G.W. Carver, however, didn't patent it, or any of his other food discoveries, as he believed foods were a gift from God and shouldn't be patented. (Listen up, Monsanto!!!)

There are actually legal definitions for what is often grouped into the "jelly" category, but most are not. Jelly contains only the juice of the fruit (no skins, seeds, pulp), preserves are made with the whole, uncrushed fruit, jams are made from pureed fruit, and marmalade is made with the peel and pulp.

Like so many of the foods we eat today, WWII was responsible for the birth of the PB&J sandwich. Peanut butter was one of the few unrationed items, and people needed more ways to serve it. I've scoured the Internet, but no mention of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches exists prior to 1941. (This said, I don't believe that no one in history had thought of smearing mooshed fruit and mooshed nuts together on bread. It just isn't the kind of thing that probably made it into cookbooks.)

Bayle Food Products took peanut butter - which they weren't afraid to patent - to the 1904 St. Louis World Fair. They sold it at a penny a sample, and netted $705.11. They later went out of business. (Pay attention, Monsanto!)

Smucker's started out as a horse-drawn cart owned by Jerome Monroe Smucker from which he sold apple butter. Soon, it expanded to preserves, peanut butter, shortening, and more. In fact, from their own website: "The J. M. Smucker Company is a marketer and manufacturer of fruit spreads, peanut butter, shortening and oils, ice cream toppings, sweetened condensed milk and health and natural foods beverages in North America. J.M. Smucker company brands include Smucker's, Jif, Crisco, Pillsbury, Eagle Brand, R.W. Knudsen Family, Hungry Jack, White Lily and Martha White in the United States, along with Robin Hood, Five Roses and Bick's in Canada." In other words, the jelly business is good.

Once Again Nut Butter Co. introduced the first organic peanut butter in 1989.

Smucker's patented (with four patents) and launched the Uncrustables line of sandwiches in 1998. If you aren't familiar with the product, Uncrustables are PB&J (and now, PB&Honey and PB&Cheese) sandwiches, sealed in a crustless circle of white bread, found in the frozen section of your local grocer. To serve, you merely take one out of the box, put it in your kid's lunch box, sit back, and wait for the childhood obesity to set in. Chairman Mao is smiling in Communist Heaven. Smucker's has been sued over the patents many times. Sounds good to me; not since the electric-twirling lollipop handle has there been a lazier food product.

Read the labels on your peanut butter. At its most basic, peanut butter needs two ingredients: peanuts and salt. Some add sugar, and I'll buy that. Jif, Peter Pan, and Skippy all have at least seven ingredients. Do you need fully hydrogenated soy oil, high fructose corn syrup, or monosodium glutomate in your peanut butter? No. No, you do not.

Your peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a bit more complicated than you thought, no? Make wise decisions when building your entree, read labels, and most importantly, think about the history and the process of creating America's favorite sammich.

I'm taking my PB&J sammich seriously this year...

Interesting Day at Work

2011-03-30T01:51:00.000-07:00

For the most part, my work day was typical (aside from the fact that all scheduled employees showed up.)

It took an interesting twist during my lunch break.

As I sat in our downstairs housewares department, I noted a regular "customer," the type we know as "grazers," come down the stairs and go into the mens' room. "Grazers, FYI, are people who come in and sample all available foodstuffs with no intention of buying any of them. In particular, this guy often comes to the deli, asks for a sample cup, and meanders through the deli, eating what would probably amount to a pound or so of food through "samples." He also likes to go to the coffee shop, where there is a pitcher of milk for customers to lighten their coffee, and use the water cups we provide to pour himself a nice, tall, frosty glass of milk.

Tonight, he was spotted by multiple employees to be putting items in his reusable shopping bag, after which he went downstairs and into the restroom. After about 30 seconds, he reemerged with a heavy shopping bag. He then went back upstairs, where he took a 12 ounce water cup and filled it with olives from our olive bar before heading for the exit.

While our company has a policy against interfering with shoplifters, I was off the clock. and a severe backache rendered me particularly cranky.

While off the clock, I stopped this P.O.S. on his way out the door by asking him if he had a receipt for his purchases after he was out of the building. He asked, with out a bit of surprise, if I meant his "sample." His sample was a large cup of olives. I told him we were fine with sampling, but that some employees had seen him put items in his shopping bag. He said, without the slightest bit of irony, that his bag contained "my trash." I replied "You carry trash around in a shopping bag?" "Yes," he replied, "would you like to look through it?"

This was odd for a variety of reasons. First: Who the fuck carries around a bag of trash? Second: If you were really just carrying around a bag of trash, like we all do, why would you be so cheerful when stopped and questioned? Third: Even if there was a lot of schwag in the bag, who would want to dig around in a sack of empty cigarette packs, crumpled soda cans, and the like to find it.

The guy was smart. With any luck, he got the hint that he is being watched and that people aren't afraid to talk to him about his thieving ways. Hopefully, he'll not show up again. If he does, we'll be quick to involve the Kirkland PD.