Happy Birthday, Mother!

It's an old pic, but I know it's one of your favorites.

You Should Buy This. Seriously.

Checkitoutcheckitoutcheckitout. Check it out!

The Curse of Web 2.0

Don't get me wrong--I LOVE all the great things that make the internet so much more three dimensional. I just hate all the online time I'm devoting to changing my status of "wannabe techie" to "techie."

My new favorite Web 2.0 thingy/widget: Wink. It's a great people search engine, but more importantly it's a fab way to keep your online life organized. Seriously.

While Wink rocks, MySpace does not. I'm sick of trying to find the perfect background while learning basic html code in order to change the font, font size, paragraph breaks, etc. Facebook is just so much better. It's prettier and cleaner. I like clean. MySpace is a friggin' mess I have no idea how to make pretty. I hate it. I'm happy to have found some old friends, though.

In other (yet related) news, I'm putting together another new online class. This one is for ENG 112, which is called Varieties of Writing, which is the Part II composition course (in BGSU's Two Part program) that uses academic research and source synthesis. I'm excited! In preparation for creating this online class I'm exploring more Web 2.0 apps in order to make it even more stellar than my ENG 111 online course (more on that one soon).

At least today I did manage to spend the morning working outside weeding, organizing the garage, cleaning our new patio furniture (Thank you, Andy and Tracie!), and reading while tanning. So I haven't been a complete shut-in today.

For tonight: Pilates class, dinner, more online course planning, and reading. I just wish there was more time. I would use it to look at this. Which would still keep me online...

Exhausted

Finally, we here in the Mc-Rz house had caught up on our sleep and have gotten used to our daily routine again after vaca when lo and behold, we had the craziest night ever.

Before we went to bed around 11:00 and read for a half hour, we watched the weather radar and lightning outside and hoped for the best.

Of course, the worse happened. I should have prayed.

The storm was a total and complete CF. Violent lightning that, I swear, came through our windows several times with house-shaking thunder. I was clinging to FD like a little kid, trembling. At times I even let out a little scream. Especially when the power went out for three hours. FD slept. Until he heard the sound of water.

Not rain, but water. In the house.

The joy! Our basement flooded yet again. I don't want to over-exaggerate, it was only by an inch, but in the deepest spot it was 3 inches. And it's kind of hard not to be frustrated when empty cardboard boxes are floating by as if our basement was the Titanic.

Please, Lord, let us win the lottery so we can buy a house without a basement. BG really needs a first-time buyers city program. Rather than have houses that are extremely overpriced.

Exhaustion is getting to my mood. I'm bitter.

Must go and help FD with the Colrox Clean-up.

Oi!

Biased and Not

I know Carly. I love Carly.

So you probably think this review is biased.

I won't lie. It probably is.

But I can tell you honestly if I didn't LOVE this book, I would have never openly said I was reading it and then mini-review it.

the steam sequence is a risky, challenging, and fearless collection of poems that are/aren't narratively interconnected.

These poems are fragmented and rightfully so. They replicate one woman's Holocaust experience, perhaps at Auschwitz.

The said and the left-unsaid are spot on. I truly felt the unspeakable and the pain in the white space of these poems, in addition to the "all as one" idea in the combination of words/sentences/contexts poems.

Even if Carly wasn't my friend, I would be in love with this first book of poems. It's brave, loving, and hard. I'm probably stepping over my bounds, but I see it as Oliver's grandma's voice in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, if indeed her words on the page were visible and if she survived Auschwitz.

Thank you for your thank you, love. It means worlds.

Another rare five out of five Hello Kittys. And not a biased five out of five either.

I Promise There's No Spoiler.

I've been back from vaca, but very quiet...

So quiet, in fact, there is only one thing I could be doing: reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I picked up my pre-ordered book on Monday and was reading as slow as molasses. So slow that by Tuesday I was only on page 255. No good.

Taking matters into my own hands, yesterday (a dreary, rainy day) I did nothing but read. OK, I did stop for lunch and a episode of World Series of Pop Culture, to go bathroom (obviously), to cook and eat dinner, and to chat on the phone with a long, lost dear friend. But all in all, I think I spent a good 12 hours reading--not bad!

I finished at 12:30 this morning with a mixture of emotions: glee (to have finally finished such a long book), sadness (that it is supposedly the last one), and pissy-ness (I thought the ending kinda blows. I wanted something a little more devastating and not so much uplifting. I wanted no loophole for future books).

Overall, it was one of the best of the seven books. It had a lot of action and tied up the loose ends pretty well. But the whole time I was reading it, I felt it the book was the step to the film. All the action would definitely translate well into film. I hope JK wasn't thinking that as she was writing, but I'm skeptical. And maybe that because I recently saw the newest film and was skeptical of that. And I keep thinking that Book 7's movie would be a bit like the Lord of the Rings movies...maybe less gory...

Then again I was skeptical of the new Wilco album and the VW commercials with Wilco songs, and now I can't get enough of both...

I'd give it 4 out of 5 ghoulish-looking Hello Kittys.

My Beach Reads: The Book Reviews

My Year of Meats by Ruth L. Ozeki is a perfect mate for Fast Food Nation. I wish I would have read them together.

Though, I wasn't quite impressed with the language, the quality of the writing, or the sometimes unbelievable character reactions, especially near the end, this was a very readable novel with a very important message.

I'd like to thank Amy Dillion for suggesting I read it! She's a former student of mine who wrote a really interesting researched argumentative paper about the benefits of being a vegetarian that now I find myself convinced by more and more.

Though, I can't give up beef quite yet, I am only buying organic beef or Laura's beef as of right now.

4 out of 5 Hello Kittys.


~


Carly recommended I read Nicole Krauss' The History of Love after I declared my love for Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Because, get this, Krauss and Foer are married! I LOVE IT! Married writers! Kind of reminds me of someone I know...

I LOVED the language and narrative pacing of this book. It was gorgeous and very emotional. I did get kind of confused with a character name switch at one point, though. I think I have it figured out, but I still feel confused. I think that might be because this isn't really a beach-while-on-family-vaca read and I was kinda rushing my reading b/c I wanted to read as many or more books than my father-in-law, which I failed to do once I realized this book deserved more attention than I was giving it.

Regardless, I LOVED it, and plan on reading it again and again.

4 1/2 out of 5 Hello Kittys!

Confused?!?

It's 9:36 p.m.

I want to play Euchre, but I'm so exhausted I can't keep my eyes open.

It must be Vaca-lag.

Look Who's Back...

Say you missed me...

Imagine if I was tech savvy and could get music files to play when you came to this page.

Right now, you'd hear, you guessed it, "Say You Miss Me" by Wilco.

Definitely one of my favs...

Much, much more very, very soon.

A Response to a Tag From A Tag I Tagged...Is that right?

Gary tagged me after I tagged him. And so the cycle spirals. Much like the City Pool waterslide.

The tag:

"You're stranded on a desert island. With no one around. Like worse than Lost.

(I'm going to take liberty to revise here. Stokes pointed out that the Lost island is pretty magical, so my stranded island couldn't be "worse." Very true... So let's think of my island like this: you don't have any friends like they do on Lost or any Others to befriend or betray?, for that matter. I was thinking the polar bears and smoke monster might not be so magical if one was alone. It may be more scarier-than-hell-and-books-could-protect-you.)

Luckily, you have 5 books with you. What are they?"

Here is my list in no order. I have a feeling tomorrow I'm going to want to revise this post...

Emily Dickinson ~ The Complete Poems (Why? Because I still haven't finished that book. And I still have more to learn from her. I would never tire of my Emily.)

Sylvia Plath ~ The Collected (I was thinking Ariel, but The Collected would be more rewarding. Again, she could sustain me, give me much to think about instead of the smoke monster.)

Jonathan Safran Foer ~ Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (If I can't have FD, I must have my other love!)

Jane Austen ~ Pride and Prejudice (How could I live without Jane? Especially if Mr. Darcy is involved?!?)

Craig Thompson ~ Blankets (WHAT?!? I'd take a graphic novel?!? I was going to pick Lyn Hejinian's The Language of Inquiry which is a book I understand/don't understand and could spend a lot of time thinking about. But seriously, I might need something to look at when I don't feel like reading. And Thompson's illustrations are really awesome and it's a thick book so there's a lot to look at. And the story is really great!)

My five. I hope I think to pack them before I am stranded on my desert island.

I tag Katherine, Stephanie, Anna, Carly, and Mary. (Sorry, as you can tell, besides Gary, I only know girl bloggers.)

Keep in mind that books on a stranded island may be different from your all-time favorite books. FD mentioned that one of his books would be a dictionary. And I was thinking I could take along some Bly--I might need something to start a fire with...

Don't Worry, I'm Not Going to Spoil It.

FD went to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

I'd be happy to hear what everyone else thinks of it. I thought it SUCKED!!!

I knew that book would probably be the hardest to translate into film, and after seeing the movie my hunch was right. Book 5 is the one that is almost all psychological. It's about Harry's growth--physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's the transition book, the bridge for 6 and 7. I think the only way I would have liked that film is if it had more indie qualities to really replicate Harry's internal struggle. They crammed too much into 2 hours and 18 minutes, and a lot was left out. And "a lot" is an understatement. I was happy to see Helena Bonham Carter, though; she's one of my fav actresses...

Book 5 is my fav. I'm sad. 2 out of 5 Hello Kittys.

In other review news, I ADORED Brenda Miller's Season of the Body. These collection of essays was gorgeously written and engaging on many levels. It definitely helped me see the stylistic layering I can do with non-fiction, which I adored. And it struck a great balance between being accessible and challenging. 4 out of 5 Hello Kittys.

Speaking of challenging, I did not like Christine Hume's Musca Domestica. I don't know if I'm just not in the right frame of mind to read poetry right now when I'm focusing so much on non-fiction, but this book did not sit well with me at all. I thought it was challenging just to be academically intellectual, and I thought it was devoid of emotion entirely. With poetry, for me, I LOVE language/diction/abstraction challenges, but if there is no reward--emotionally or intellectually, I don't have time for it. To me, then, it just becomes a word game. I can play those in the newspaper. I believe the real challenge is being rigorous intellectually while giving the reader some emotional thread to keep them engaged on the basic human instinctual level. Maybe I'll read this book again, next year, and get it. Maybe I won't. This time around it wasn't for me. Great titles, though. 2 out of 5 Hello Kittys.

My lesson from this post: take the good with the bad.
Or: It's always good to find some good in the bad.

You're stranded...

on a desert island. With no one around. Like worse than Lost.

Luckily, you have 5 books with you. What are they?

I tag whoever wants to be it.

~

Oh, and while driving home from the Rec this morning, guess what song I heard?

"Joy and Pain ~ is like sunshine ~ and rain ~ sing it to me ~..."

"Joy and Pain" by Rob Bass and DJ E-Z Rock.

I rocked out! Literally, I did seated versions of the Cabbage Patch and the Running Man. I Raised the Roof. I got a disoriented look from a citizen man going the opposite direction on Fairview.

Of course, when I come home, psyched to buy it from iTunes, it was not there.

Woe is me.

Happy 2nd Anniversary, FD!

If Britney's Going to Church...

There are only three things that Britney Spears going to church could mean:

1.) Publicity--she has had publicist problems in the past, trusting the Big Man is a good move;

2.) Armageddon is here and she's pregnant with Satan's spawn, so she's going to church to recruit all the church-goers who are nice in church but give you the middle finger as they cut you off and speed like hell out of the parking lot; or

3.) Desperate times call for desperate measures--maybe it was God who chose Britney...

Really, this is a toss up.

1.) Seems logical; 2.) Seems even more logical; and 3.) Is just so crazy it might be the most logical.

~

One of my favorite sayings is that "everything happens for a reason." But really, if you believe in some kind of creator, isn't that creator the one who makes everything happen for a reason?

I don't mean it to sound like the creator is the puppet-master.

I just think maybe we should credit the person who makes "everything happen for a reason."

I'd definitely want credit for that.

~

One of my other favorite sayings is that "God only gives us what we can handle."

Here's where things between some Christians and I get a little tense.

I hear a lot of Christians say that God's love is amazing and that people should come to God because of his grace, all-loving nature, and goodness, which I believe all is true. Unfortunately, that's the bait and hook for the sad bastards who are lonely and looking for love--of any kind.

God is good and great, loving and all-forgiving. But let's not forget about the dark side of God. The God who "only gives us what we can handle." That's the Man I feel some Christians neglect to mention during the selling pitch.

Yes, God will love you. He will forgive you.

And sometimes you'll have to forgive Him. That's the hardest part of this deal, in my opinion.

Following the 10 Commandments isn't necessarily a cake walk, but dealing with the fact that God has a plan that includes war, murder, miscarriages, "accidents," etc. isn't easy at all to understand. Mix the two and it's as if God is saying, "Do what I say, not what I do." That's a true mind-f***.

In other words, I better understand Britney shaving her head, attacking the paparazzi with an umbrella, and going to church with her new "manny" and children than I understand God.

Granted both of them make no sense, but I'll take my chances on Britney. I mean, she did write an apology note to X17, which clarified why she attacked them with an umbrella.

I realize some would argue the Bible is God's explanation.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. As a English/lit/book person and creative writer, I just can't take the Bible literally. At least all of the time. Think of all the translations it's gone through, all the different interpretations. Also, consider the state of mind of some its readers--no offense.

Fables were a popular form of story-telling back in the day.

Even Jesus liked to tell stories. That in itself is a very helpful clue for me.

~

God's plan: Britney goes to church; the war in Iraq continues; season 8 of Big Brother starts; a couple miscarriages; a tulip opens; a eighteen year-old hits a guard rail going down a hill, is throw through his windshield, and decapitated; two lovers snuggle; a couple breaks up; the glass stillness of a pool shimmers; a baby is born mentally disabled with no medical explanation.

All of this is just one millisecond.

~

Story: Once upon a time there was a girl. Her name is Question Mark or ?. Her parents named her ? because when she was born her face was furled like someone thinking in questions. As ? grew up, she began to notice her sister wasn't like the other kids she knew. The other kids were punctuations marks--some round, some straight, some a little curvy--like her. Her sister was hard angles and a line, a tepee with a little window. A. Other kids stared at her, which made ? defensive of her sister and a bit of a hard question mark, one of anger than a soft one like a joke.

One day ? decided to ask questions about her sister, to find out why she was different. While asking questions about her sister, she came across other questions about family, friendships, humanity, God. ? furrowed her brow like when she was born. She was learning there are no easy answers to most questions.

But she believed asking questions showed faith, showed hope, created closure, proved she was living her life to its fullest extinct.

~

The same story translated: Once upon a time there was a girl named Amanda. Her parents named her Amanda because it meant "Beloved" and because it was a popular name in the 70s.
As Amanda grew up, she began to notice her sister wasn't like the other kids she knew. The other kids could talk, had straight teeth, didn't drool, went to "normal" school. Her sister couldn't talk, didn't have straight teeth, drooled, and went to a school for the "retarded." Other kids (and adults) stared at her sister, which made Amanda defensive and angry for a very long time.

One day Amanda decided to ask questions about her sister, to find out why she was different. While asking questions about her sister, she came across other questions about family, friendships, humanity, God. Amanda was afraid people would view her questions as hurtful when really she was just trying to live her life to the fullest. She really wasn't trying to hurt people's feelings by asking questions. She was trying to learn that there was no easy way to ask questions and that there are no easy answers to most questions.

But she believed asking questions that couldn't be answered easily was essential to being human.

~

What's lost between these two stories, their different translations?

What's gained?

~

This morning during yoga class, I felt the closest I have to God in a long while.

I'm in Warrior 2, for the first time on my right side, and I'm trying to sit down with my sit bones, keep my front knee over my front ankle, sit back into the back leg on the outside of the foot, breathe, lift up my sacrum, sit down into my sit bones, breathe. My whole body is shaking. My yoga instructor, God bless her, is shaking her head. The left side is the same struggle.

During the second time, I feel things starting to click. I know I'm not doing the pose perfectly, but I feel myself opening up in all the tight places and I'm breathing freely, not holding my breathe. I'm aware of my body in that moment and only that moment. My breath, my opening, my awareness--I feel God in me, even in my shaking thighs and hamstrings.

For me to see the blessing of his presence in my body, I have to be aware of the struggle in my body at the exact same time.

I don't know how else to explain it. A literal translation would ruin the whole mystery, the core meaning.

~

Oh, Britney, I think to myself in the car on the way home from yoga class.

We're not too different, are we? We're both just trying to find answers.

Maybe it seems easier or more justified for me because I don't have cameras following my every step. I don't have shitloads of money to further complicate things.

~

When I first started taking yoga, I looked around the room at all the participants instead of watching the instructor. I wanted to compare myself to everyone else. I wanted to know I was more flexible, a better listener, etc. By doing this I was cheating myself.

Now I only watch the instructor or I keep my eyes closed. I can't compare myself with others. I can only do my best. It's the instructor's job to help everyone else do their best, and comparing myself to them only proved I was insecure about my own practice.

It took me years to learn this. If I'm right about ten.

~

God only judges us individually, right? He doesn't compare us, right? And He gave me my life for a reason, right?

So then my life is the exact one He wants me to live, right? If he's judging me as me, based only on me as person, why do I think I'm living a less Christian life than others? Or why would others think that way?

If we use this comparison (or lack-thereof) model, then Britney stands a chance at getting into the pearly gates, right? And she should try, right? Without judgment. Why not?

But isn't faith usually comparable? Isn't it possible a priest ask parishioners to compare themselves with John the Baptist? Then what?

What of God's plan, his design, his intentions we sometimes can't see, the answers we sometimes never get? How do we know we are living in His image, if we're all being compared to people we aren't?

~

Why would it worry me if anyone compared me to my sister? Wouldn't that be a blessing?


This post was inspired by Britney Spears, Rock This Life, and many, many other things that fascinate me and that I appreciate whole-heartedly.

Homage and Hope

I am obsessed with bathrooms. I have to be.

I have a pea-sized bladder. For real. I've had medical tests done. They told me, and my response was, "Yeah, I know..."

I go a lot, and that's an understatement. I go so much that I have a routine and that routine with thoroughly washing my hands can usually beat any man, who, clearly, has the advantage.

So I'm obsessed with bathrooms. And I'm a germ-a-phob.

Now you probably can imagine my glee upon finding The Lavatory Lady. She's a kindred spirit who feels the same way about bathrooms as me, but she takes matters into her own hands--she goes around Washington DC with her digital camera and exposes the gross truths of uncleanliness.

If we lived closer, much closer, I know for a fact we'd be extremely close friends. No doubt.

This post is dedicated to her. Lavatory Lady, I can't do your work, but I hope this post pays homage to all the hard work you do and gives you hope!

Behold, a bathroom so clean, I seriously want to live in it. I had to fight the urge to lay down on the beautifully orange-tiled, literally sparkling clean floor and writhe around in joy.

Behold, the bathroom at my new favorite restaurant Revolver.

Yes! This is the BATHROOM! Can you believe it?

Of course, I squealed, laughed, and danced around to the music flowing at a reasonable volume through the overhead speaker.

It's so clean, it radiates!

It's so clean, Mr. Clean looks like a filthy dirtbag.




Look at how this toilet shines! I was not scared to sit down.

Some may think I'm being silly. I'm not.

You should see my thigh muscles from squatting.

This is honest giddiness that comes from finding a public bathroom that is exceptionally-maintained and clearly cared about, which reflects the owners' feelings towards his and her diners.

Obviously, they care.




Which means a lot in this world of such-disgusting-bathrooms-sometimes-it's-better-to-just-hold-it
-even-though-that's-a-risk.



My favorite: the sink!

Yes, this is the sink you wash your hands in!!!

Does all this totally remind you of that Kohler commercial with the blind guy who says to his girlfriend, "You have to see the bathroom!"?

I washed my hands three times during one of my several visits to the bathroom (not b/c I had to go but b/c I had to go see it again!)

And to boot, being environmentally sound, the owners don't use obnoxious blowers or wasteful paper towels, they use cloth individual cloth towels that once you're done using, you put in a basket beneath the sink.

I can only imagine that a staff member removes the used towels well before the basket gets full and then that person soaks those towels in bleach during the soak cycle then washes them in the hot water cycle.

My husband and I were some of the first people at the restaurant (we're early birds), but I can only imagine the attention this bathroom gets throughout the course of a late night.

Hell, I'd clean that bathroom every 15 minutes just to use the sink.

5 out of 5 Hello Kittys for bathroom cleanliness, Revolver. Thank you for caring about your patrons and restoring the faith of this frequent bathroom visitor!

I'm applauding. Right now. I bet you can hear me.

A Tasty Treat! (Eat Before Reading This Post!)

Because I believe in longer-than-one-day celebrations, FD and I chose to start our 2nd anniversary a few days early and traveled to Findlay, Ohio for a fabulous, gourmet meal at the very RAD, totally AWESOME, so-mind-blowing-good-everyone-should-go-there-even-if-you-have-to-fly-there
Revolver Restaurant (which was suggested to us by DH, who we are eternally grateful for)!

Revolver is a locally-owned gourmet restaurant that gets its name from a record revolver. The owners/chefs create not only a fantastic restaurant with fresh, locally grown foods; clean, simple plating; and a very open contemporary decor dining room that looks into the kitchen, but also what makes this restaurant so special is that they choose a music artist to feature every week--hence, Revolver.

If you love food and music, I'm serious, this is the BEST place to eat in Northwest Ohio--I'll take the risk to say in all of Ohio maybe in the Mid-west. (I'm new to being a foodie, but I really want to say, even in the USA--at least for what you get for the price!)

This photo journal is a tad bit of our journey. More photos can be seen at Flickr!


Of course, weeks before beginning any journey, FD scoped out Findlay bookstores online. You can see his dismay at finding this one closed. (And his dismay at me for catching his dismay on film.)

(We did head back to Books on Main the next day to find a wonderfully organized used bookstore with so many very rare books. Be sure to check it out when you're in Findlay!)






The outside of Revolver.

Looking at the building makes me starved!

Just wait until you see the inside!















As we're seated at our table and handed menus, we read that this week the chosen musical artist is...Woody Guthrie. Now, FD and I are fans of Mr. Guthrie. But when I think of WG, I think of the Mermaid Avenue albums Wilco and Billy Bragg did together. But I don't think twice about the Mermaid Avenue stuff. After all, it's Woody's night, not Wilco or Billy Bragg's

As we're seated, sipping on drinks after we've ordered, we hear the cymbals and drums of "Walt Whitman's Niece." Immediately, we clap and dance around in our seats.

Yes, the food made our experience, but this surprise made us feel holy. "California Stars" was the last song of the night at our wedding, and it was special because all of our loved ones formed a hand-held circle around us and we danced in the center, sharing beaming smiles with each other and our guests. It was truly special to hear that song and, even more so, be surprised by that album.

It was a sign we were definitely to eat there.



The amuse bouche (a bite-sized morsel designed to awaken your taste buds and force them to salivate): cherry foam with a sliver of white chocolate served with pinch of peppermint.

Yum is an understatement!









Appetizer: Chilled Walleye (there's a fancy name for it, but I'm a wanna-be foodie, so give me a break!) with carrots and beets.

So good I thought maybe I had died, but no, I was just in food-heaven on earth!

FD had shrimp wrapped in duck prosciutto. I was so excited about my dish I forgot to snap a pic of his before he gobbled it all up.







Salad: Bacon, organic greens with Amish hard-bolied eggs, resting on top of Maytag bleu cheese.

I squealed. Out loud. People stared.










Instead of salad, FD chose the corn soup.

This wasn't just some regular soup, though.

They brought the bowl with only 2 quarter-sized pastas that were cream-filled with bacon crumbled on top of them. Then our server, Chase, brought the broth in a little blue glass pitcher.

I love watching faces, and I especially loved watching FD's face of glee at this deconstructed/reconstructed soup as well as Chase's pure bliss at pouring something so rad!



Main course: New York Strip Steak with a very tasty sauce served with a side of polenta.

FD and I got the same thing because neither one of us wanted to have food envy.

The steak barely had barely any fat, and it was sooooooo tender and juicy I had a "OHHHHMYYYY"-gasm.

Yes, people stared at me.




Dessert: Chocolate Creme Brulee with locally grown organic raspberries.

Finally, my eyes rolled back in my head and I lost consciousness.

There are no words for this tasty treat!









FD got the handmade, homemade ice cream tray. Flavors from left to right: Strawberry, Chocolate, Ginger, Creme Fresh.

The Ginger was the best ice cream I've had in my life. We told them to start selling it or we could take it to the streets and sell it like crack.





The very full, totally satisfied, quite buzzed, beyond happy, but, most of all, simply in-love couple.

I can't recommend this place enough! If you live in Northwest Ohio there is no excuse for you not to go. I vouch that we did not pay any crazy NY/LA prices for this fantastic food. The prices were completely reasonable and well within our means (not, like, we could go there every week, but we're talking about trying to go every couple of months.) You should allow 2-3 hours, though. This is an experience, not some corporate-run get-em-and-out eyesore.



If you don't believe me, check out these reviews. Some from foodies from LA.

I have a feeling FD and I will be obsessing over this meal until we go back again.

What a special night with my hubby!

Mmmmmmmm!

Stay tuned for some tasty news.

I'm so hungry I can hardly stand it.

I love talking in code...

The 4th (And How I Imagine Our Forefathers Would Want Us to Spend It)

With threats of severe thunderstorms looming over us all morning, the pool became more a dream and less a possibility. And in that fading dream I saw my little friend Mohammad reaffirming FD is not allowed on the slide during adult swim. Oh, the fun that quickly vanished.

In the wake of my vanished dream, I have spent too much time on the internet today obsessively adding books to goodreads, adding pointless applications to Facebook, and constantly checking Fafa to see if I can't get out of my 5th place in 4 out of 6 of my leagues, and stumbling upon whatever stumbleupon stumbles upon. Oy, how my wrists ache with Carpal Tunnel, but for some reason it all feels worth it--I'm smarter, hipper, and maybe a winner.

I did spend a good deal of time reading and listening to Yes with little choice (FD's new summer obsession), so I wasn't completely sucked into the internet vortex...I had a good hour and a half break....

Now at 4:30, of course, the sun is beaming happily. And, of course, the pool that now costs $4.75-a-$1.75-more-than-last-year's-$3 closes in an hour. Totally not worth it. But grilling plans are saved and perhaps an evening fire and nighttime walk can be had. I have on my Juicy swimsuit and Halo bronzer with spf and Season of the Body beside Mimi the Mac, so I'm ready to move outdoors into the sun and away from the screen that could easily be my sun and moon.

Before I leave, though, let me leave you with some of my finds today (StumbleUpon rocks, especially when you're bored during on/off rain):

The Rhetorical Letter Writer
Scrapiteria
Beautiful Vandalism
Sweet Nothings

All are worthwhile blogs you could subscribe to. And I found some things for myself that later I will share. I want to keep them secret for now.

Ta-ta.

Putting Things In Perspective

First of all, I must get my hormones out of the way before I can say anything intelligent: Doesn't this young picture of Gregory Orr remind you of Orlando Bloom??? ~Or-lando Blooooom~just the name makes me light-headed.

Alas, I feel intelligent again.

The Blessing is a phenomenal memoir about Orr's childhood (Orr shot his brother to death during a hunting accident when he was 12), his adolescence (partly spent in Haiti where his mother suddenly died), and his early adulthood (when he was imprisoned in the South TWICE for being a participant in civil rights protests).

As interesting and unique as his life experience is, what really makes this memoir most successful his poetic language, meditative reflections, fresh analogies, and unflinching ability to recreate emotion. And beyond all the craft is one of the most honest messages I've come across in my memoir reading: that life is a blessing. This was a perfect read for me to see that others waver in their faith in humanity but still push on because there really is always much more beauty than we sometimes are able to see. Orr didn't beat this message into my brain and he didn't come to it as some big-fake-f***ing realization. He wrote about it as part of his growth as a human being and artist in a very honest and humble way.

Favorite passage: "This was poetry, not poems. Poems are discrete artifacts of language that prove someone's imagination and linguistic gifts have triumphed over disorder in a definitive, shaped way. What I held onto then was not poems, but the idea of poetry--which I had to follow for years before I emerged into the light, before I could let go of the thread for a moment and sit down to write my first poem" (144-145).

I adore this book. And I imagine if I ate it, it would be one very tasty morsel.

An impressive 4 1/2 out of five very-hard-to-get Hello Kittys.

Civil War Solider Caught with Cell Phone (As Promised)

So Funny I Almost Peed in the Pool: A Honest-to-God True Story

Setting: City Park, stairs leading to very fun water slide during the adult swim that happens every 45 minutes.

Me: "I'm so excited to go down the slide! I LOVE it!"

FD: "I know you love it."

Red-headed kid blocks the stairs.

FD: "Excuse us, please. We want to go on the slide."

Kid: "You're not allowed."

FD: "Why not?"

Me: under my breath, "WTF???!!!"

Kid: "No one can go on the slide right now. I'm first in line. You'll have to wait."

FD: "It's adult swim. We can go on the slide, but you can't right now. In ten minutes you'll be on the first on the slide."

Kid: gripping rails even tighter so we can't pass, "No!"

FD: "Please move so we can go on the slide." Voice stern and loud. He edges closer, looms over kid.

Me: Mouth open, squinting eyes. This is the first kid to not be afraid of a 6'4" man with a beard. I'm impressed--and irritated. I JUST WANT TO GO DOWN THE SLIDE!!!

Kid: "How old are you?"

FD: "Older than 18."

Kid: loosening grip, "OK..."

FD: "Thanks."

Me: Racing past kid who has now moved aside and FD who stands amazed. Yay! I can go down the water slide!

Kid: grimaces.

Revision I must add!!!:

At top of slide, I ask slide watcher, "What's up with that kid at the bottom? He almost didn't let us up the stairs!"

SlideWatcher: "That's Mohammad. Just tell him I said to let you through or he won't be able to ride the slide the rest of the day!"

Red-headed Mohammad and the power of a Slide Watcher! How could I neglect that info?!?

Thank Megan (and God) for Yoga Class!

After an hour of the new summer session of yoga class, I feel like my good old self.

Yesterday I was the most exhausted I had been in ages. Let me explain.

This past weekend our very good friends from Kent (Bunny, L, & E) came to visit! We had a blast with them! Lots of laughs and talks! And lots of play! E is a free-spirited, really intelligent almost-two year old. And I LOVE to play! So we played and played (at the park, in the driveway in FD's car, in our back playroom, during walks) and I wore myself while E kept going. Like the Energizer bunny, which reminds me of her father...But fab times were had by all! And I haven't took so many naps like I did yesterday or slept as hard as I did last night since probably my childhood, which honestly was really nice.

Friend me on Flickr! to see the cute pics of all of us playing!

On to other topics:

Am I quitter? I've decided if I'm not hooked by a book by page 10, I'm not wasting my time reading it. And so that's the very short story of my reading life with Mary-Ann Tirone Smith's Girls of a Tender Age. I wasn't hooked by anything other than the map she included before the book began. I was bored hearing about her family members and by her flat language. So on my goodbooks.com account I created "thequittershelf." My new philosophy is "There are too many books and not enough time."

Moving On:

I better get started on an online writing consultation before FD and I head to the pool! I'm so excited I can hardly stand it! I LOVE swimming. Looks like I might wear myself out again!

New obsessions:

stumbleupon.com & flickr.com