loss of momentum.

My life follows the rhythms of the academic calendar. When semesters end I can usually carry the energy I feel for a solid week, shot out of a cannon into the air of no constraints. I devour a prodigious number of books and concoct great plans for my free time. Then, with travel or weather or the passage of time, I settle into a relaxed life of steady beer and media consumption interspersed with cooking projects and the occasional working of an academic book to appease my guilt. Then depression sets in-- the vacation is nearly over! I have not accomplished what I set out to do!-- indeed, a stack of books acquired for the break has been neglected entirely.  A frenzy of activity follows as I try to redeem myself, and then school starts. For a few weeks I verge on and dabble in anxiety attacks as I put in twelve and fifteen hour days, forget to eat, and log countless bike miles commuting needlessly to the office or library on days off. And then I settle into the blissful hum of steady productivity for the next ten weeks, taking luxurious days off to go to Target and clean my house and host parties, and then I am dumped out at another vacation with the resolve not to waste it.


I appreciate that with my comprehensive exams, dissertation, and teaching my own classes, these rhythms stand to be disrupted as I transition from student and course-taker to researcher and teacher.  Thank god. There's only so much filing left to do do, and I've got all these books left to read, and I keep scheduling meetings to give myself the illusion of productivity. 

 

summer lifestyle lessons from england, part 2.

Since all of the lessons from my last post involved going out, today's will involve staying in.  The nice part about vsiting people, especially when they are generous and gracious enough to let you stay for a long period of time, is that you can to try their routines on for size. Dearest Mommy and Don have picked up some nice habits on their expat journey that I think are examples of quality living.

4. If you're going to stay in for the evening, you should probably have something nice to drink.

After a long day of touring, or writing papers to finish incomplete classes so you can get your Masters degree, there is nothing more refreshing than a fancy drink.  Moscow Mules were a house favorite last summer.  Or how about a Dark 'n' Stormy made with Cuban Rum? (if only!)  Strawberry beer, sweet German wines, and of course classic Gin and Tonics all provide maximum summer refreshment.

If you want to go all out, have a Pimms! You can have your drink and eat it too.

5. Now you'll need something to eat. 


British cuisine is pretty straightforward. Grab some fish and chips. Snag some apple sausages from Trader Joe's (or, Philadelphians, get to Gracie Tavern stat).  I'm a big fan of the ploughman's lunch- typically bread, cheese, and pickle.

I made a modified ploughman's lunch recently with crackers (read: I've been eating them almost every day).  Apricot stilton is my life.  You should top off your meal with a nice dessert- maybe some molten chocolate cakes if you want to replicate the suffering from every episode of the BBC cooking show Master Chef (the major plot thread was that nobody could make a chocolate soufflé. But you can!)

6. Now, what to watch?  
A little googling and you can watch episodes of the working-class soap Eastenders and the medical drama Casualty 1909 (I am so behind on Eastenders it's not even funny!)  

Holkham Hall

If you're looking for movies that feature houses we visited, you can see Burghley House in the new Pride and Prejudice and Holkham Hall in The Duchess (the house outshines Kiera Knightly).

Of course, if you want to come over, we can just crank up the streaming of Star 107 Cambridge / Ely and watch my iPhoto slideshow (ha! I do that like, every day ;) ).

summer lifestyle lessons from england, part 1.

Last summer I went to visit my mom, stepdad, and pup siblings in England.  It was the trip of a lifetime- seven weeks in the English countryside with some very wonderful company.  We went to National Trust houses and beer festivals.  I presented at my first conference in Cambridge.  No piece of antique furniture could escape our loving gaze.  Sunday roasties and the pleasures of tea-time (clotted cream, where art thou?!)... lovely lunches and riverside walks... beautiful churches and lingering trips to Marks and Spencer (to emerge with canned cocktails for public consumption)...  Eastenders and the joys of the BBC... really, it as the most wonderful trip. (a handful of related blog posts here)


I've been thinking of the trip often lately.  As it stands, I am grounded in Philly for the summer; at present, I am beginning to gather materials and start reading in preparation for my comprehensive exams (one must have an occupation).  There have been summers in my life that escaped my memory (Summer 2008, I'm looking at you) so I've decided to apply some of the lessons of pleasured living from last summer to this one.  Realizing that there are so many lovely points to highlight, this is the first in a series of posts.  So what if I can't live in the now.


1.  Find somewhere nice to visit with friends.

Caerphilly Castle

Last summer I went on an excursion to Wales with a friend after hanging out at his place in Cambridge.  This summer I'm planning on making a couple of trips to Boston and New York with my buddies.  If it's close, you should go.  Grab some honey ale and some stilton and crackers lest you get lost and need to picnic.

2. Don't forget to visit the beach.

                                   

Hunstanton Cliffs

This is very important for health and well-being. This summer I'm bound for the Jersey Shore, and you can bet your sweet pippy when I get back to Washington, there will be some beach time as well.

3. Beer festivals are a top priority.

                                      

Three different kinds of cider at a beer festival we happened upon unexpectedly.

The Campaign for Real Ale has done much to promote and preserve English beer culture.  We took great pleasure in selecting a range of delicious local brews from an overwhelming number of casks at CAMRA festivals.  It expanded my palette and was just so dang pleasant.  This summer, I'm looking forward to Philly Beer Week. June 4-13  is going to be a very glorious time.  I've already got the June 9th Real Ale event at Johnny Brenda's scribbled onto my calendar.

(excuse the wonky formatting... ahem, Blogger...)

helpful tips: hauling a macaroni and cheese.

Summer is here! I'm braindead. But done with the first year of my PhD! (please start chanting, "Four more years! Four more years!") I needed a blog post just to help me get my act together for a recent barbeque-- one so special that I made some crack and cheese.  Planning on how to haul it by bike- with a potato salad, no less- was probably the most intellectually stimulating thing I'd done since I turned in my last paper four days before.  I say it was intellectually stimulating because I couldn't suppress the image of my beloved stoneware 9x13 pan careening through the street, sending a shattering exploding blast of golden fatty deliciousness into traffic.


So! For my own sake, I present some helpful tips on how to successfully haul a macaroni and cheese to a barbeque by bike.  I recommend you try it because, well, you want people to like you, don't you?

First you will need to gather your tools.  Here we have the usual suspects- 

a basket 

a free Filene's Basement reuseable tote- first for preserving your potato salad en route, this will come in handy when you decide you need to take yourself and your dirty pans into the Grace Tavern on the way home.

helmet

 a light- because you know you and your posse are going to overstay your welcome.

But wait! That's not everything!

You will also need: 

a bungee cord- for locking that shit down

some bangin' sunglasses-because hello! you are hauling a macaroni and cheese!! own your awesomeness.

Benefit Dr. Feelgood- honey, it's muggier than a swamp. Just bathe yourself in that biz before you leave.  

Sassy Wedges- do you even have to ask why? come on! you are owning it!! (and they will also make liftoff at stoplights easier when you are hauling a zillion pounds of cheesy density)

Ok. Now you will need some food to haul.

Like one sexysexysexy macaroni and cheese.  I topped mine with foil so it stayed warm.

Some light and glorious red potato salad with a barrier to keep potato salad lovin' critters out.

Here is the first most important part- make multiple trips. I took my bike downstairs while the mac was baking.  Then I took down all my gear, then the mac.  Again, we are trying to avoid disaster here.

Behold! Our secret weapon!! I tossed my pan into a roasting pan with handles.  It fit perfectly on the rack between my saddle and the bag prop on the rack.  The unsung hero of this whole experience, the bag prop kept everything secure when I forgot my bungee at the barbeque. The bungee was nice, but not having it was no big deal either.

Don't judge my missing skirt guard, ok? It went rogue on me a couple weeks ago and now there's just no getting that thing off of Fox News.

(because that's where rogues go, natch.)

As you see, the Old Dutch Treat is a natural macaroni and cheese (and potato salad!) hauling machine.  It was a slow ride to the barbeque, but I was hailed as a hero so it was like, no big deal. 

Here's to hauling many more beautiful sides this summer!

rocky mountain high.

After not posting for twelve days, guilt is finally starting to set in. I know, I know, twitter isn't enough for you people! (you people!!!) My first impulse was to post this Whitney Houston video because I fell in love with the song watching VH1 while I was in Denver (tvs are so novel to me), and then I was like, oh yah, I went to Denver!

There were so many awesome things about the trip. I went for a Western history conference, and of course enjoyed the expected joys of conference attendance- finding out what kind of work other people are doing, networking, presenting, free coffee. Less expected, but definitely what made the trip worthwhile, was the time spent with friends. It was a strong reminder to me that facebook is so illusory- connecting and reconnecting in person matter. The memories of the weekend will definitely buoy me through the intensity of the rest of my semester.

I was lucky to have extra time after the conference to see the city. While exploring on Sunday, I was stoked to come across this:

Pretty sweet huh? I'd been bummed about not being able to take the folding bike and the total dearth of bikes in downtown Denver (well, it was freezing), so I was pumped to stumble upon the very promising beginnings of a city-supported bike program.

vacation and mildly depressing politics sandwich.

Yes, it's true, borne out by my Twitter feed and many annoying facebook updates to tease and taunt- I'm in the UK and loving it. I decided to share this photo because it features prominent quadriceps gifted to me by the ODT, so you know, I can be a schmuck and brag about how fit biking's made me. With this picture I can also brag about how good the 9% apple cider is, but you know, I think that's pretty obvious.

Anywho, if you get the chance, check out Frank Rich's commentary on the recent spate of right-wing violence and conspiracy theories. Obviously, conspiracies are nothing new, but I think Rich is correct that the lack of conservative / Republican leadership on the issue isn't helping and will cause further problems. Interesting stuff to chew on.

Here also is a fascinating summation of the Iranian elections. I too believe that the election was stolen and think it's a total bummer because well, the implications suck.

What, you're depressed now? Yah, well here's some tips on what to take to people who invite you over (I liked the idea of bringing a giant jar of Nutella) and a funny food oriented photo from the Tesco grocery store offering a good pairing for Father's Day. Best to eat our feelings when it comes to domestic and international politics.


p.s. I laughed, I cried, I peed a little: "45 Ridiculous Pictures of Boy Bands." I miss the 90s!

blog hiatus.

Now that I've moved out of Utah and into my career as a hobo, I'll be blogging a little less frequently for the next while.  Cheers!

there's got to be a moral to this story.

I had a lovely Christmas break. Once we got that pesky holiday out of the way, it was truly a magical and fantastic communion with my family and my home city. My bank statement reads like a laundry list of Tacoma's finer teriyaki joints (with all other transactions involving some kind of booze purchase) and my camera runneth over with cute pictures of the Beloved Little Ones. Once I managed to get out of Salt Lake, it was a rather idyllic visit. But just as visits are nice, it is also nice to come home to see what's in your mailbox and how dead your plants are and what your thesis chair has done to your draft (I have not checked any of those things yet).

We arrived in Salt Lake about ten minutes late. Usually Southwest flights are kinda fun and cheerful, in large part due to the staff. But tonight, man, we had these two dudes running the show-- straight dudes-- and they were, I kid you not, the most non-plussed stewards ever-- they were surprisingly all business and quite vigilent about not using your iPod during the descent. So that was weird, but whatever, right? I was still riding high on the beer and Lifesavers (I haven't had them in forever and they were amazing!) and Vogue magazine I'd acquired at Seatac.

So then we land, and then we wait on the tarmac for ten minutes because the other plane at the gate hasn't pulled out yet. NO BIG DEAL, right? (that was my best effort at foreshadowing right there). Then everyone goes to carosel one and bags start coming and nobody's pipcking up their bags, and this goes on for like forever before we are told that in spite of the screen showing our bags being at carosel one, they are just starting to come up and my bags were naturally, nearly last. Ok, so I'm a mite josseled by this but whatever, I'm going to go pop on the bus and then the TRAX and then come home to my cozy warm den of smiling Chinese roommates. I decide against taking the shuttle because really, I can ride UTA for free and what do I really have to do to tonight and really, really, I could spend that same wad of cash on a feast at Bombay Kitchen tomorrow (I can't wait). And really, seeing how much money I pissed away last year when I looked at my annual expenditures I felt a mite resolutionish about spending more smartly. So I go to wait for the bus.

I am an experienced rider of public transportation to the airport but had not included into the equation:
1. I usually never check a bag and tonight I had two checked bags.
2. Busses run with less frequency at night.
3. It was twenty degrees outside.
4. It was twenty degrees outside.

I mean really, all I had were visions of chicken tikka masala and onion naan and maybe even some saagwala and definitely some of that mint chutney (which makes it a Star of India fantasy) and they might have, maybe, gotten in the way of my judgment. BECAUSE WHEN IS INDIAN CUISINE EVER A BAD DECISION? Ok, so anyways, I go outside to discover:
1. The bus just came five minutes ago.
2. It's twenty degrees outside
3. There is really no warm waiting area that isn't blocking a doorway and isn't miles away from where the busses pickup.

And I'm like, "well, what's 45minutes? I don't have any big plans!" And about ten minutes in I'm like "why didn't I just ask somebody for a ride?" but at this point it's snowing and cold and I'm like you know, hellbent on being cheap and self-sufficient so I wait and wait and wait and eventually my fingertips shrivel up but really, the bus will come at 7:50-- I landed at 6:20-- so I just sat there hanging out because it didn't feel absurd at the time but in retrospect, WTF, MELANIE?! Anyways, the bus didn't come and then it finally did come at 8:00 and finally, somehow, someway, after it meandered all the effing way around the periphery of downtown, I got to the TRAX station and got on the wrong train but then I got on the right train and then I get to my stop and I'm like, "yeah! I did this!" and then I proceeded to pull my luggage through the accumulating inches of snow to the bike elevator, because really, who wants to pull 60+ pounds of dirty clothes and whatever up three flights of stairs?

I get in the bike elevator, relieved. I am so close, just a ten minute walk away! I push the button. I'd been steeling myself for this to happen because I thought if I did, it wouldn't happen, but no, really, the bike elevator went nowhere and finally, finally I start to yell obsenities because the door won't open to let me back out. And then it did, and I began my long brusing ascent of the stairs. I look forward to seeing the polka-dotted evidence of my battering attempt on my legs and hips tomorrow.

I made it to the bridge. I felt aggitatedly exultant, pulling my luggage along the unshoveled sidewalks in the truly courageous fashion of a Mormon handcart pioneer. Ahead loomed a slower walk than expected and I was kind of reaching that point of just moving, like the time I got dumped and determined that the only thing to kill the pain would be to go running for two hours when I hadn't been training that much-- just one of those instances when you just check out and move. Anyways, I decide that the uphill walk will be easier if I walk backwards (what can I say, I want a tight butt) and who do I see but my favorite, seriously FAVORITE of the Chinese classmates-- this is the guy that speaks the best English and is the group leader and is just so stinking nice to me (rather than trying to get me drunk or telling me that eating chicken feet will improve my skin)-- and he offers to pull one of my bags and together we walked back.

As it turned out, all of his buddies had taken the shuttle back from their class but he chose to walk, LUCKY ME! So my Chinese Savior and I chatted as we traversed the snowed over sidewalks. My roommates greeted me with big smiles and a loud welcome and really, everything worked out in the end even though it seemed so dramatic at the time.

I'm going to go take a bath.

The End.

what i have been doing lately.

Don't think that I've forgotten about you lately!  I've been home living as my alter-ego, Auntie Mel.  As Auntie Mel I find myself getting up before nine, reading stories, trying to placate the baby, partaking in auntie-niece tooth-brushing sessions, supervising the clean-up "game," indulging in the occasional snuggle and getting nibbled by Frankie the Dog.  And drinking.  

It's nice to get in touch with all of the variety that is so easily accessible here in Tacoma.  Between Trader Joe's, Metropolitan Market and the seeming endless number of available draft beers, I have been filled with holiday cheer.  Here's what I've sampled since I got here:

Cook's mimosa, beloved adopted family's house

Big Horn Brewing's Big Red Amber Ale, growler, beloved adopted family's house

Livingston Blush, wine, Grami's house

Boring German white wine, mom stash, Grami's house

Lovely German Pfalz ice wine, mom stash, Grami's house 

Yellowtail Shiraz/Cabernet mix, Grami's house 

Rainier Beer, can, Brother's house

Rogue Dead Guy Ale, forty, brother's house

Dick's Cream Ale, draft, Parkway Tavern

Mac & Jack's Serengheti Wheat, draft, Parkway Tavern

New Belgium Mothership Wit, draft, Parkway Tavern

Trader Joe's Honey Moon viognier wine, brother's house

Charles Shaw ("two buck Chuck") cabernet savignon, brother's house 

more lovely German Pfalz ice wine, mom stash, brother's house

Brown's Point Porter, draft, The Hub

On tap:

Frontier Red wine

Snoqualmie Avalanche winter ale

Pyramid Snowcap Winter Ale

Schloss Biebrich champagne (New Year's)

giving the brothers grimm a run for their money.

The past few nights that I've been here I've had the privilege of getting to help Niece One get ready for bed.  I cherish those mellower, quiet moments with her as she moves from the intensity of play into relaxation and sleep.  The other night after reading a couple of books to her I asked her to tell me a story.  She is a precocious little person who enjoys books and the oral tradition of her grandmother's "when I was a little girl" stories-- not to mention constant interaction with her gifted storyteller of a father.  After I told my brother the story she told me, he suggested I share it here on my blog.  So here it is, as best as I can remember it:

Once upon a time there was a family, a mother and a father and a little boy and a little girl.  One day some bad guys broke into their house and wouldn't leave.  So the family fled to the beach where they bought a tent to stay in from the lightbulb store.  The bad guys turned into foxes and they tore the mother and father's sheets and they still wouldn't leave. The family wanted to come back to their house so they caught one of the foxes and cut him up into little pieces.  (at this point she seemed satisfied that the story was over, so I asked for a happy ending).  But the other fox still wouldn't leave.  Then that fox destroyed the little boy's sheets and the little girl's sheets, so the family used magic on the fox.  Then the fox went like this (she put a finger in each of her cheeks and pulled her mouth into a smile) and that's the happy ending.  The family got to move back into their house again.

Extraordinary for a three year old, isn't it?  I love that kid!

good tidings to you.

Big Brother castigated me for not updating even though I, the source of this blog, was sitting five feet away. Eggamuffin.

So, for the holidays, I have a story about breast reconstruction (you have a choice) an obligatory Paul Kruger puff piece and a video about people who do the Iditarod route by bike.  

I'll end this post with a Christmas classic:

Happy Christmas to you and yours!

greeeeeaaat.

I can't tell you how excited I am to trade the blizzardlike conditions of a place that can handle snow for the blizzardlike conditions of a place that can't. Looks like I will be finishing all my Christmas shopping before I get home after all. Yeesh. I'm supposed to get in on Sunday night but that seems oh so iffy.


p.s. see here's the benefit of the stretch blog format: we can enjoy this picture how it's meant to be enjoyed!

a granulated self-promoting treat from the pre-digital era.

In Aachen, 2005.

another birthday month self-tribute picture.

st. louis, part II.

I am still so worn out from my trip! But as a few days have passed I figure I should toss something up here on my St. Louis trip. It was by and large kind of a surreal experience, because being alone things happen and you start to feel like you are just kind of making them up. Granted, I spend a lot of time alone, but I swear my "do whatever I want urge" reaches odd primal levels when I'm traveling and I find myself going a little bit overboard. Nothing sketchy, but I'll get to it.

So I met Phyllis Schlafly. She is nice and old and really did talk about socialism and the recession while I was in the room. The whole experience kind of blew my mind as I wasn't expecting to meet her. Research was quick and very fruitful.

Leaving the EF archives, I decided I'd walk through this nice neighborhood I'd seen on the way over. And then I kept walking, past Washington University and into Forest Park, which is lush and lovely and goes on forever. I hit up the fabulously free Art Museum and then I kept walking. I somehow got it in my head that I wanted to walk all the way to the Arch. Well, St. Louis is a very big place and I made it through St. Louis University (tacky-ist campus ever-- overrun by these awful sculptures) and probably within a half mile or so of the Arch. And then my feet were dead because I'd walked like 9 miles. So I caught a cab and went to the baseball game.

The baseball game was mostly great-- after I got through the insane ticket line and got my beloved Nalgene confiscated at the gate and spent way too long wandering around trying to find a bratzel. I found it, along with the world's largest (and most expensive!) cup of Budweiser Select and made it too my great seats off homeplate. Bratzel was tasty and I am going to figure out how to make them, beer healed my tired soul and the stadium was super nice. I've never been alone at a baseball game, but it was actually really nice, lots of people talked to me and I didn't feel as alone as I would've been if I'd just retreated to the Holiday Inn. Got a ride home from a cabbie who told me if it's not ancient history, it's not history. Whack.

Thursday it was raining and I was slightly crippled from my crazy walk the day before so I took it pretty easy. Visited the Arch and the accompanying museum, say an emotionally manipulative Imax film on Lewis and Clark that made me all "I love America" and caught a pulled pork sandwich and a yummy yummy Shiner Bock at this place called Jake's. Took the Metrolink train from downtown to the airport and despite it being a touch late, had a great flight home.

Perhaps the best part of the flight was, as usual, the drink and listening to This American Life. It was better than usual because the drink was free-- I am not sure if it was because the flight was late or because the stewardess, while looking at my ID was like "Wow, somebody who looks like she's twelve drinking bourbon" was all impressed or something, but free is free!

Made it back just in time to see some of the Pioneer Day fireworks. Pictures are up on facebook and I am really too lazy to post them here, at least right now.

a picture says a thousand words.

vacay pics.

no, this blog isn't dead after all.

I'm back! My trip to Washington and Oregon was awesome. I feel like this was probably my most productive visit since moving to Utah-- I got to see a ton of family (immediate, extended and adopted) and got to try all kinds of new things, such as:

-New Belgium's summer beer, Skinny Dip (refreshing!)
-Oysters (tasty!)
-Rock-climbing at the climbing gym (that is the sport for me! don't let the bruises on my knees fool you)
-Fried Macaroni & Cheese (indulgent!)
-a White Russian (of course I loved it, because I love anything with half and half!)

Good times, good times. I should be tossing up some pictures later today.

done-zo.

Well, I did it. One year of grad school down, seven or eight to go! In a blaze of intellectual glory (please, pretend with me) I finally cranked out the last pesky, lingering paper and can now indulge in some sentiments that have been dormant for the last two painfully crazy weeks-- bust out the tissues folks-- you know, now I can go on and on about what a great year it's been and everything I've learned and all the awesomeness that's ensued since I loaded all my crap into my Honda to seek wide open spaces, room to make to big mistakes, blah...blah... blah... or I could watch "Muppet Treasure Island" with the cute niece squad.

I love how easy decision making is when there's no homework to do. Cheers!

san rafael swell's greatest hits.

Wedge Overlook

So I am trying to dig myself out of the leftover debris of the semester... namely five loads of laundry and some unfinished class stuff, which means it's as good a time as ever to post about my camping trip in Southern Utah. We drove all over the frigging San Rafael Swell, saw tons of cool scenery (who knew there were so many variations on rocks? and so many colors other than brown in the desert?) and ate a shit ton of smores. You would not believe how much land the Bureau of Land Management just has out there, waiting to be camped on. Anywho, I am back and grateful for running water, toilets, and alone time. Here are some of my fave pictures:

Buckhorn Wash

Goblin ValleyRandom cute little desert flower