Julie and Julia

I never saw the movie Juile and Julia but the rest of America did. Anyhow, as I've taken up cooking I'm now going to post recipes every evening to inspire Juila Childs to cook. As far as I understand it that is essentially the plot of the movie. So this one's for Julia.
Potato Leek Soup.
Cut up some leeks.
Cut up an onion.
Put lots of butter in a pan.
Mash up some potatoes. Drop some more butter on the potatoes for good measure.
Combine the two elements in a bowl.
Eat soup.
Pour you sig. other an extra glass of wine and bring up philosophy of life.
Say something like, "I think we just need to constantly reevaluate everything we believe." Then, immediately reevaluate what you've said and revise it. Repeat steps until your sig. other is bludgeoned into non-sentience by your drivel, so you can watch some television.
And that's my recipe Julia Childs. I think she's really going to enjoy that one.


Excerpt of the sort of conversation that I assumed I'd never be having and had. And felt a strange sort of out of body experience as I was having it. Like, really? is this what you're talking about?: (Standing in line at a farmer's market)
M: I just can't decide if I want to get the whole wheat bread or the rustic Italian boule.
Seller: Ooohhh. I'd go with the rustic Italian. You can really soak up a lot of the soup in the holes.
M: Then that's the one I'll go with. (Make sure that you add a slight lift in my voice at the prospect of capturing potato leek goodness in the crusty bread).

I've got like a thousand other recipes, but I'm probably going to share them at a later date. I'll probably just post the rest of them on my Twitter account which you can follow via my blog.

Ex:
9:00 A.M. Andrew is processing book loans.
10:00 A.M. Andrew is loving processing book loans.
11:00 A.M. Andrew is chillaxing in his chair as he processes book loans.
12:00 Andrew is eating his almonds for lunch.
12:05 MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...............almonds.
1:00 Andrew is sending books out in packages.
1:14 Andrew loves packing tape.
1:30 Fed-ex!!
2:30 Andrew is processing article loans for CLS.
2:45 What's that stand for?
2:48 Fun. Just roll with me on the acronym.
3:30 Andrew is correcting all the problems that came up during the course of the day whle processing loans.
3:32 Andrew is loving PBJ sandwich for lunch!
3:34 He meant to post that on his lunch break.
4:00 Andrew is checking the clock at work and trying to make it spin faster!!
4:10 Andrew is using multiple exclamation points to help his fans know how he feels.
4:30 Andrew loves a good honey crisp apple.
4:30 Andrew is done with work and ready to make dinner and hit the rewind button.

And so on....I'm anticipating that my followers will be as numerous as ants on an ant hill. But no, wait, like one of those ant hills that a kid has been poking at with a stick for like an hour. And the ants are pouring out of the ant hill to show that little bastard that they mean business. Like that kind of ant hill. Minus the anger.


I'm really just trying to hold down my excitement as S and I prepare for the move and spend our evenings discussing the relative sturdiness of cardboard boxes. What could be more exciting than that? Aside: It's definitely more exciting than reading ant hill cartoons, which are just atrocious in terms of comedic value. See above.

Scooby snacks

That's a picture of our side of the duplex. I tried to make sure that the pic. was taken from the angle that made it look the most haunted as that was S's initial issue with the house. What she calls a "haunted angle" I just look at as a defensible hill in case of a peasant uprising. Then again, I've been warned that I spend too much time worrying about an agrarian revolt and not enough about things like trim and primer.
I typically don't worry about things like trim and primer because they sound to me like the names of Transformers, and I'm not allowed to play with them anymore. Apparently these are the sort of words that I'll be developing and that will become a vital part of my ever decreasing vocabulary/intellect. I started the summer by checking out Heidegger, and I'm entering the Fall with a copy of Crate and Barrel raptly watching HGTV. In HGTV's defense, I found that I understood as much of Heidegger while I was reading it as when it was sitting on the floor and serving as a door jamb.
The likeliehood of an actual haunting in our house is pretty low and I reassured S that at worst we'd be dealing with Slimer and that the likeliest candidate for haunting the house was probably the next door neighbor with a mustache and a vested interest in stealing the property from us. Who, said neighbor, was putting on a costume in the evening and coming by to scare us in hopes of getting the treasure as any child raised during the era of Scooby Doo knows. I always hated Scrappy. Always.



I called a contractor today and asked him what it would cost to knock a hole in our kitchen wall and buff the hardwood floors a bit.

M: We've got about six hundred square feet upstairs that would need to be refinished.
(I wonder if he knows that I'm just making these numbers up? but I sound so convincing. Even to me, and I know that I'm full of shi-).

He quoted me a price of 6,000 dollars. As I know nothing about either of these projects I immediately accepted his offer. The funny thing about owning a home is that even after you shell out the most money you'll ever spend on a single purchase you then continue spending money on that purchase as if it needed it. The home is like the opposite of marriage, where you put in all that work while you're dating trying to fool some unsuspecting fool into marrying you then BAM! you're wearing your boxers with holes in the shorts around the house and singing to songs from High School Musical and there's nothing they can do about it. With a house, you dress up all nice take it out, and don't even get a kiss until the third date, but no matter how much you drink it never looks quite pretty enough but you're already at home with it.

That said, I'm thinking our house could really use some shutters. I wish I knew what color to make them. I wish I wasn't driving around looking at houses and admiring their shutters.

Interpolation:
If you're a smoker do you take into consideration folks around you?
Scene: I'm sitting on a bench having a nice honey crisp (in season) apple when a guy sits down on the bench next to me and begins smoking. I'm downwind of him and now I'm eating an apple and smelling smoke. My real issue is not with the smoking but that the guy didn't have the consideration to do it in a place where it didn't blow into my face. I mean, I was eating an apple. If I was eating a McDonald's hamburger by all means, puff away, I'm clearly trying to crawl into the grave as fast as I can anyhow. But if I'm eating a nice seasonal apple, please smoke elsewhere. If I'm eating a grape from South America in December, light it up.

The sad part is how much money you can save on fixing up a house by doing the projects yourself. However, I've no desire to spend my weekends buffing floors and shuttling back and forth between Home Depot. I don't get any enjoyment out of finding the right size of nickel pipe for my new plumbing or from having middle aged men making me feel inferior. I'm afraid that most of our weekends would just end with me challenging some guy in his sixties to a forty yard dash in the parking lot. And somehow, I think S wouldn't be too fond of that.

As far as I know it's pretty damn simple to cut a hole in your wall. The dudes on Looney Tunes used a saw and cut things in perfect circles. Perhaps I should stop using cartoons as my examples for how to get things done, it suggests a certain level of incompetence that I'm...who am I kidding? I'm entirely comfortable with it. I got a Master's degree, so I wouldn't have to do manual labor. Unfortunately, I got an MFA in creative writing, so I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to earn as much as the guys doing manual labor.

Work
Co-worker: I just think they got married too young. You know, like maybe they wanted to go out and test the waters elsewhere.
Co-worker 2: Yeah, you might be right.
M: (Trying to figure out who they are talking about in our office)
Co-Worker: John and Kate plus eight.
M: (What a strange world we live in).

Color Wheel!

The camping trip was fantastic. We ate out at nice restaurants, slept in comfortable beds and avoided staying outside in tents where bear sharks would have had easy access to us. On Friday night S and I had a discussion about what color to paint various rooms.
S: (Using a tool that allows you to faux paint a room). This is the sage green.
M: I like it.
S: This is brookside moss.
M: Okay.
S: (Clicks again) This is more of a shimmering lime.
M: It's okay.
S: (Clicks again) Now this is like the underside of a turtle shell.
M: I'm starting to have a hard time telling them apart.
S: We've only been doing this for two minutes, and you're already done with it?
M: I like the sage green.
S: Yes but do you like the sage or the shimmering lime more?
M: I might just watch some television.
S: (Clicks around for a while). They are hard to tell apart aren't they?



I can't tell you how excited I am to start perusing the color wheel in order to complete the painting of this house. I've decided that I'm a big fan of the color Kensington blue. Unfortunately, Kensington (which is based on nothing I'm assuming. Does anyone know if Kensington is actually a real color or just something created by Benjamin Moore to make me feel a little less masculine) blue is a darker shade, which apparently makes the room appear smaller. I think that's why they always paint dungeons black. Or maybe that's just a lighting problem. I guess track lighting doesn't usually adorn dungeons.

Aside: My master plan is to paint the entire house black and have everyone over for a smashing Halloween party. Granted we'll wake up in the morning wondering why we made such a horrible decision but think of all the fun we'll have scaring people the night before? Probably not enough to warrant painting the walls a uniform black.

Interpolation:
M: This conversation is kind of boring right now, so I'm going to watch some television.
S: I'm going to start my own blog and put that comment on there. That won't make you sound so good.
M: You probably won't.
S: I know.

It's hard to look at the wall above the railing on a staircase and try and decide what color to paint it. Really figure out what color defines you as a person/is going to define you as a person for the next five to seven years. You don't want to pick something pansy like beige. Beige is for HGTV. (And yeah, I watched like five hours of HGTV on Friday for the first time and got scared about inviting a contractor into my home. What's it to you?) I'm thinking royal purple defines us. I'm also excited about using words like trim and chair rail effectively, and generally exuding the sort of confidence that a person who owns a home exudes. I'm also hoping to use the word exude frequently.

Bumper Sticker: If you don't like the way I drive, stay off the sidewalk.

As a child, one of the most important questions for me (and I'm assuming for other kids though I don't have this corroborated) was the eternal, what's your favorite color? Looking back I just wish I'd been man enough to say Kensington blue and totally blow these other kids minds. I was always torn between green and blue but I wasn't comfortable with aquamarine until well into sixth grade. I'm now thinking that aquamarine is a kick ass color for our living room. Does anyone know where we can rent mermaids?


Bumper Sticker: I don't care who you are, what you're driving, who's on board, who you love, where you'd rather bed, or what you'd rather be doing. Just stop driving like a jackass.

We're off to the mountains

In one last futile attempt to escape the clutches of the city, (note that in any OT Bible verse that cities are pretty much harbingers and waystations of crime and tomfoolery). we're heading to the Shenandoah Valley again this fall. It's important to go to the Shenandoah Valley at least once during the fall so when people ask you what you did during the fall you can say, "I went to the Shenandoah Valley," which will sound really impressive. Trust me. A bit more impressive than "I watched a lot of college football games." Even if, deep down, you know that college football games are way better than leaves changing color because things happen faster in a game and leaves take their sweet azz time. I know from reading magazines like Time and US Weekly that our contemporary society likes things to happen quickly and leaves don't change color quickly. Though sometimes it's fun to say, "I can't believe that tree is so red. I feel like it happened overnight," because then it makes nature seem more like television, which is fun.

Interpolation: With S out of town I decided to watch every new television show that NBC or ABC premiered including a tandem watching of DWTS and So You Think You Can Dance. Here's my recommendation for the fall lineup.
Community-Overhyped not funny enough.
Glee-I hate it when any television show does a mock football game. Has it ever been done well? Answer: no. On the whole a pretty decent show. Not like Melrose Place good, but honestly, what is?
Modern Family-It's like some sort of hybrid between two and a half-men humor (read: not funny and intended for mass consumption by Americans who are by and large easily entertained) and Arrested Development. (read: intelligent comedy that demands that an audience pay attention to get the subtle interplay). Ergo; funny enough to watch and typical enough to probably stay on the air.

Interpolation in which Andrew talks to Anne Lacey about their respective Thursday nights.
Anne: And I'm just sitting there wanting to write, and then I find myself watching Cougar Town.
M: Oh yeah, I watched that one too.
M: The whole premise strikes me as implausible. Hey, I'm a really attractive/lusty woman who can't find anyone to sleep with.
Anne: It wasn't funny. It was just a bunch of people in awkward situations.
M: Kind of like this one where two people who got expensive graduate educations to write stand around talking about sitcoms.
Anne: Please don't mention this conversation to anyone else.

If you say Shenandoah out loud you'll notice that it's the sort of place that you should probably go for a fall trip. It just sounds right. I remember my trip to camp there last year. Though really, I primarily remember vast hordes of mangy deer sniffing around our tent. Remember when you were a child and you thought seeing a deer was majestic? Me neither. Deer are giant rats. Also, if one is sniffing/clopping around your tent at 2 A.M. it's pretty easy to lie in your sleeping bag panicking over the bear that is outside your tent. Then telling yourself, "No. No. You're crazy. That's not a bear. And even if it was, what's he going to do? Is he going to rip his claw through the side of the tent and carry you off into the wilderness? Is that what that bear is going to do? And yes, you realize that that is exactly what that deer/bear is planning to do and you start wondering how many people will make it to your funeral and what they'll do about your mangled body. Damn I love camping!

M: I think I'm just going to watch TV this year.
S: Don't make me think we spent 50,000 dollars on nothing.
M: Now when I watch the shows I can at least critique the writing and say things like, "I could have done better."
S: That's not really doing it for me right now.
M: Me neither.

I'm unclear on what bears eat, but I think it's a strict diet of blueberries, hair, and human flesh. Also, every time I'm on a hiking trail with any bear signs I start obsessing over whether a bear is going to be around the corner, and trying to remember if you're supposed to make yourself look big or curl up in the fetal position. I think it might depend on the bear. And you start wondering like how fast you could run. Like if you could outrun a bear. Or even if you would, what with the wife being with you and all. And if you'd be noble like that guy in Grizzly Man and let the bear take you first. And I guess you don't really know what you'd do in a situation like that until you are actually being chased by a bear. Let's just be honest here.

I have similar fears after about twenty minutes in the ocean regarding sharks, which is why I never properly took up surfing. Sitting alone on my board at six A.M. having fantasies about my leg being ripped off my body really didn't do it for me. In the end it's sort of just a long way of pointing out what I said in an earlier post about the world's most dangerous animal, which is (drum roll) a bear riding a shark or a bear carrying a shark. Either way, you're dead.



Note: Please excuse the above vulgarity, which is typically edited in this blog but is being kept due to perceived comedic value. Please also excuse the usage error of now your f-d instead of now you're f-d. Though this blog typically specializes, itself, in common usage errors and probably should not put on any airs or is it errors? about it.

Here's a nicer picture of a bear.

You looked younger

This picture gives me nightmares of house searching.

Let's talk about neighborhoods. One of the great things I learned about driving around beautiful Washington, DC looking for a home is that DC is not beautiful. In fact, 90 percent of the houses are pretty much brick duplexes. This fact lead me to say at one point while we were driving through the desirable Mt. Pleasant neighborhood, "I hate these damn houses. I'm so bored of brick. I think we should get one of those houses that's in a bubble." Naturally we bought a nice brick home a few weeks later.

Interpolation:
S: What happened to that drain in the back yard?
Seller: Oh. He, the dog, you know, he got back there and started digging around.
S: Did he fill in the drain?
Seller: Yeah. He was digging around and then laying in there. You know how dogs are, just messing everything up.



The advantage of the brownstone is that it is sturdily built. Sturdy enough to cause the house to sink a few feet in the seventy years since it was built. Settling is a great term to learn about houses. If a house is perceptibly leaning or a door doesn't quite shut, you can just shrug and say, "The house is still settling" and that makes it all better.

Later:
S: I think the dog is buried in the backyard on that drain.
M: Is that what she was saying?


Later:
S: I think the dog is buried in the backyard on that drain.
M: Is that what she was saying?




As I was driving to the airport to pick up S tonight I was struck by how much I miss the ocean. It was warm tonight in DC, but not uncomfortably so. I rolled down the windows and sang operatically until I injured my vocal chords and looked out over the rolling hills of lights, sad that they didn't end. In CA, if when you drive along the coast the black shape of the mountains is on your right and the ocean on your left. It reminds you that things besides people and freeways and cars exist. It also reminds you that you just bought a house 3,000 miles away from that particular part of the Pacific Ocean. I suppose every big decision you make brings regrets. I occasionally regret buying an appetizer when I'm out at a bar instead, so in the grand scheme of things it's no surprise that I'm not entirely pumped about this whole process. It's just one more step to getting old.

Facebook related Interpolation:
M: That picture of me doesn't look quite right.
S: That picture I made a comment on?
M: Yeah, the one from the other night.
S: I think that picture is from a few years ago.
M: (Looks closer) No. I wore that grey shirt on Saturday.
S: Are you sure?
M: Yes. It says literary dessert after party.
S: Oh. You just looked younger.
M: (Laughing) Thanks.
S: Don't put that on your blog.

Pass through or electric?

It's probably best to just skip to the bottom of the page at this point and turn on the Jaws theme to increase the intensity of the reading experience.

Before I begin calling contractors and getting estimates and using other adult sounding words frequently, I need to decide whether it is more important to make sure that the electrical box in our house is in working order or if we should get a pass through in the kitchen.

Plus of the pass through is that we can discuss the latest issue of the New Yorker while S cooks dinner.

Minus, S is going to be interrupting me as I try and watch a really great episode of DWTS.

Plus, other people will come over and compliment us on our pass through, noting the fine craftsmanship and vision that we possess and asking us for recommendations on their future pass throughs.

Minus, other people will come over to our house and possibly compliment me on our pass through while I'm trying to watch a Michigan football game. And I'll have to stand up, and sort of angle my body towards the television while engaging in half-hearted conversation with them and feeling really conflicted about my love for football and my hatred of other people.

I hate people, and yet I enjoy gatherings.

Plus, Our kitchen will not be exactly like the hull of a pirate ship.

Minus, Our kitchen will not be exactly like the hull of a pirate ship and I won't be able to call S a wench as she prepares dinner. Extra minus for the talking parrot we won't be able to get as well.

Plus, it will make S happy.

Minus...I guess that's enough.

Electric
Plus, getting it fixed will prevent us from trying to reset the breaker and getting heartily electrocuted.

Minus, has anyone ever seen the movie Weird Science? That movie is awesome and Kelly Lebrock is attractive even though it's set in the 80's, so you know she's the real deal. I think that by electrocuting ourselves we could create some sort of Weird Science scenario whereby we both get really cool and get hot gf's. I'm not sure this is as much of a plus for S.

Plus, Frayed and rusting wires around electricity are a bit of a hazard.

Minus, I like to live on the wild side. I mean, I'm considering biking to work.

I think the pass through wins out by virtue of having a better plus minus performance. Ergo; if anyone knows any contractors/how much it's going to cost or just really enjoys hammering/rewiring electric please drop me a line.

I suppose my third idea would be to put an above ground swimming pool in the backyard and stock it with fish. Then proceed to wake up loudly at 5 A.M. every Friday and put on a bunch of fishing gear including a trip to buy live bait somewhere in Maryland before coming back to the pool in order to fish.

The minus of this idea is that after watching the movie Jaws I was afraid to even take a bath. Why? Not exactly sure that I was reasoning at a high level. I'm fairly certain Great Whites don't live in the sewers but one never can be too safe.

What Comes Next?

A commonly held fear by the two to one people who read my blog bi-monthly is that I will not have anything to write about now that our housing search is over. However, I've already begun to compile a list of topics that I plan to blog about over the next few months/years/decades. Including:

1) Are babies cute when they are born or are we all obliged to just call them cute? Note: According to my sister (congratulations on the boy!) they don't exactly come out looking like the baby from the Charmin commercials. Apparently it's more of a cross between Stewie from Family Guy and those crappy aliens from that over hyped movie Signs. I mean, all I get is like one scene with the aliens? The suspense wasn't killing me it was boring me to death.

2) How much money will it cost to turn our new home into Pee-Wee's playhouse?/What sort of mold will we be required to grow in our basement in order to facilitate this?

3) Is it better to buy something expensive and well-made or to buy something cheap because you got a good deal. And you can go home and secretly remind yourself every hour or so about the good deal you got on that lamp that is now adorning your end table. And yeah, maybe the lamp doesn't actually turn off without being unplugged/slapped vigorously, but it was like four times cheaper than that thing at Pottery Barn.

4) Learning to shop at Crate & Barrel. Learning why Crate and Barrel is such an effective name even though ostensibly crates and barrels are pretty boring things mainly useful for carrying root vegetables or rolling over Niagra Falls.

5) Meeting new neighbors/beginning a systematic assault on them in order to facilitate a move on their part/enticing friends or family to move in next door.

6) Lemonade Stands? Great way to have neighborhood fun? An opportunity to teach a child about cost-benefit analysis.

If my math is correct, and it often isn't, that should cover about the next six years of blogging.

Interpolation/Reminder of the sort of thing that we often forget, which is that occasionally things in life get better.

S: Oh my gosh!
M: What? (Said with anxiousness).
M: Is it a roach?
S: Well, (said with trepidation) it's a black spot on the floor.
S: Oh, wait. I guess that's just a piece of a brownie.
M: Are you still upset about it?
S: A little.

Interpolation #2 surrounding an ongoing discussion of whether to buy a new can opener, which I've been in favor of for months but have faced vociferous opposition to what is being characterized as a needless purchase when we have a fully functional can opener that is basically guaranteeing us both arthritis in our declining years. Ie next year.
M: Can you come in here honey? Note: I may or may not have said honey.
M: I don't seem to be doing anything to this can except fraying the paper edges.
S: (Begins to open the can).
M: Let me finish. (Almost finished opening can).
S: (Rubbing her arm). I may actually agree to your wish.
M: You're going to dress up like Barbara Eden from I dream of Jeannie?
S: I was thinking more along the lines of getting a new can opener.
M: Oh.
S: Are you upset?
M: A little.