I'm up late packing for the weekend. For those of you who may not have heard, Turd and Goose are getting married in Portland on Saturday night. I'm totally geared up for the wedding. I'm looking forward to seeing Turd and Goose and I can't wait to take part in all the wedding-related antics. Plus, I hear that Portland is super hot and sunny right now, which pretty much makes it heaven.
As far as I know, Hip E is still wrestling with his best man's toast. This toast may quite possibly be the most anticipated event of the summer. It's definitely been the most talked about. It seems like we should all be able to place bets on some aspect of the toast in order to make the anticipation and buzz just that much more exciting, but I'm not sure what exactly it is we'd be betting on. There's really no way to quantify funniness. Other suggestions?
You can count on RBlog for a full review of the matrimonial festivities next Monday.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
News Flash! RB lands new job
I was offered a job acquiring books for Wiley early last week and I accepted the offer. I gave my two weeks notice to my current employer on Friday. My last day at Avalon is August 4. I'll then take a week off and start my new gig on August 14.
I'm going to be working on the business and management line for the Jossey-Bass imprint. They publish a lot of books that will likely only interest you if you're an MBA-type kid. Some of the top sellers include The Five Dysfunctions of a Team and Death by Meeting (stop rolling your eyes -- they're interesting and useful books! they sell hundreds of thousands of copies!). I'm super excited about working on this particular subject matter. It will make my Haas life and professional life sync up extremely well, for the next two years at least. The new job is downtown, which cuts my daily commute from an hour and a half to about fifteen minutes, and opens all kinds of doors for convenient shopping and socializing.
I'm going to be working on the business and management line for the Jossey-Bass imprint. They publish a lot of books that will likely only interest you if you're an MBA-type kid. Some of the top sellers include The Five Dysfunctions of a Team and Death by Meeting (stop rolling your eyes -- they're interesting and useful books! they sell hundreds of thousands of copies!). I'm super excited about working on this particular subject matter. It will make my Haas life and professional life sync up extremely well, for the next two years at least. The new job is downtown, which cuts my daily commute from an hour and a half to about fifteen minutes, and opens all kinds of doors for convenient shopping and socializing.
I can't stop
I know I need to curb my compulsion to post every single picture of Jack that Clare sends me, but I can't help it. He's so cute and I love him. These are from their recent trip to Michigan:
This is Jackson playing with his Aunt Anna. I can see the family resemblance.
Summertime and the livin' is easy...
Haaaands, touching hands. Reaching out... touching meee... touch-ing YOOOOOU!
This is Jackson playing with his Aunt Anna. I can see the family resemblance.
Summertime and the livin' is easy...
Haaaands, touching hands. Reaching out... touching meee... touch-ing YOOOOOU!
Showtime for the Hoff
Thank god Denise passed this along (I think she found it on Salon.com):
David Hasselhoff, the Musical
It's painful to imagine a show tune about a futuristic talking car, but that's exactly what David Hasselhoff hopes to bring to the world. He's planning a stage production based on his own life, from "The Young and the Restless" through "Knight Rider" through "Baywatch" and beyond. "I am also doing a heart-rendering [sic] set on my life and the mistakes I have made," says Hasselhoff. "It sounds like a bad joke, but it is really going to be a good show ... totally campy. It's written by the same people who wrote Bette Midler's show and produced by the people who produced 'Chicago' in London." The musical is expected to debut in Melbourne, Australia, though no date has yet been set. (Celebrity Week)
I hope (and fully expect) that this show will have a long run in San Francisco.
David Hasselhoff, the Musical
It's painful to imagine a show tune about a futuristic talking car, but that's exactly what David Hasselhoff hopes to bring to the world. He's planning a stage production based on his own life, from "The Young and the Restless" through "Knight Rider" through "Baywatch" and beyond. "I am also doing a heart-rendering [sic] set on my life and the mistakes I have made," says Hasselhoff. "It sounds like a bad joke, but it is really going to be a good show ... totally campy. It's written by the same people who wrote Bette Midler's show and produced by the people who produced 'Chicago' in London." The musical is expected to debut in Melbourne, Australia, though no date has yet been set. (Celebrity Week)
I hope (and fully expect) that this show will have a long run in San Francisco.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Vote now
I need help in settling a little dispute. Do you think meatloaf is a normal thing to order in a diner? I'm not asking whether you would order it, or whether you think meatloaf is disgusting or not -- just whether or not you think is it something that is:
A) commonly found on diner menus
and
B) commonly ordered in diners.
Thank you for your participation.
A) commonly found on diner menus
and
B) commonly ordered in diners.
Thank you for your participation.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Kick the weekend off right
Here's a HUGE dose of cuteness to put you in a giggly mood for the weekend:
Uncle John and Jackson... Cute and cuter.
I didn't confirm with Clare, but I think the food eating thing is relatively new for Jack.
I'm enouraging Clare to start Jackson's modeling career now. Look out ladies, this one is gonna be trouble.
Tee hee hee! Buns.
Uncle John and Jackson... Cute and cuter.
I didn't confirm with Clare, but I think the food eating thing is relatively new for Jack.
I'm enouraging Clare to start Jackson's modeling career now. Look out ladies, this one is gonna be trouble.
Tee hee hee! Buns.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
The swimming hole
Last weekend I went up to the best campsite EVER. It was super relaxing couple of days spent splashing around, drinking Tecates, and soaking up sunshine. There's a swimming hole about a mile away from the site, and we spent a day hanging out there, mostly goofing around in the water and throwing rocks at things. The water was cold and crystal clear. It was so painful to have to leave when the sun finally started going down.
I tried to post a picture of this swimming hole last summer. It turned out blurry and you couldn't really make out how amazing it is. I took these last weekend, while standing on the top of a huge boulder overlooking the deepest part of the pool. I think you could probably jump off of it if you had no fear of breaking bones.
Who wants to go up there with me in August?
I tried to post a picture of this swimming hole last summer. It turned out blurry and you couldn't really make out how amazing it is. I took these last weekend, while standing on the top of a huge boulder overlooking the deepest part of the pool. I think you could probably jump off of it if you had no fear of breaking bones.
Who wants to go up there with me in August?
Sourdough bread works kinda like yogurt
I was recently explaining Nadia's mom's yogurt process to a friend, and somehow we got to talking about sourdough bread and how that process works. Neither one of us knew. Neither did anyone I've asked in the days since. Seems silly with most everyone I talk to living in SF, so I looked it up. Here it is, for your general edification -- how sourdough bread is made.
From Exploratorium.edu:
"Out of yeast? Don’t worry, it’s not hard to find. The feisty critters that make bread rise actually live all around us. In fact, the use of yeast in bread-making probably got its start accidentally, when 'wild' yeast caused doughs meant for unleavened flatbreads to ferment.
To this day, many bakers still use 'wild' yeast to make bread, especially in San Francisco, a city famous for its sourdough. To make sourdough, bakers use a 'starter,' a piece of dough in which yeast is continually reproducing with the help of regular doses of flour from the baker. The yeast that gets the starter 'started' usually comes from the air in the kitchen or bakery where the bread is made, but some starter recipes also use store-bought yeast.
In addition to flour, water, and yeast, starter also contains bacteria. When these bacteria feed on the sugars in flour, they produce acidic by-products. This is what gives sourdough its sour taste.
Actually, all doughs contain at least some bacteria. So why aren’t all breads sour? In doughs made with bakers’ yeast (the kind you buy in the store), the yeast outnumber the bacteria. Since both compete for the same sugars, the yeast win out, and the bacteria don’t have a chance to produce their acidic by-products. In sourdough, yeast and bacteria are more closely balanced, so the bacteria have a chance to add their flavors to the bread."
Also, from KitchenProject.com:
"During the gold rush days in California, some of the Boudin family who were well known master bakers from France came to the San Francisco area. They found out that the sourdough culture there was very unique and they became very famous for their bread with this special flavor. The miners flocked to this bakery every morning for this special tasting bread. Since 1849 they have been using the same sourdough culture, which they call a 'mother dough' and the same recipe, flour, water, a pinch of salt and some of the this 'mother dough.' So important is their 'mother dough' it was heroically saved by Louise Boudin during the Great San Francisco Earthquake of 1906."
From Exploratorium.edu:
"Out of yeast? Don’t worry, it’s not hard to find. The feisty critters that make bread rise actually live all around us. In fact, the use of yeast in bread-making probably got its start accidentally, when 'wild' yeast caused doughs meant for unleavened flatbreads to ferment.
To this day, many bakers still use 'wild' yeast to make bread, especially in San Francisco, a city famous for its sourdough. To make sourdough, bakers use a 'starter,' a piece of dough in which yeast is continually reproducing with the help of regular doses of flour from the baker. The yeast that gets the starter 'started' usually comes from the air in the kitchen or bakery where the bread is made, but some starter recipes also use store-bought yeast.
In addition to flour, water, and yeast, starter also contains bacteria. When these bacteria feed on the sugars in flour, they produce acidic by-products. This is what gives sourdough its sour taste.
Actually, all doughs contain at least some bacteria. So why aren’t all breads sour? In doughs made with bakers’ yeast (the kind you buy in the store), the yeast outnumber the bacteria. Since both compete for the same sugars, the yeast win out, and the bacteria don’t have a chance to produce their acidic by-products. In sourdough, yeast and bacteria are more closely balanced, so the bacteria have a chance to add their flavors to the bread."
Also, from KitchenProject.com:
"During the gold rush days in California, some of the Boudin family who were well known master bakers from France came to the San Francisco area. They found out that the sourdough culture there was very unique and they became very famous for their bread with this special flavor. The miners flocked to this bakery every morning for this special tasting bread. Since 1849 they have been using the same sourdough culture, which they call a 'mother dough' and the same recipe, flour, water, a pinch of salt and some of the this 'mother dough.' So important is their 'mother dough' it was heroically saved by Louise Boudin during the Great San Francisco Earthquake of 1906."
Hot new verb
Yesterday, Inga inadvertently made up the best verb ever. In typing an email about this Friday night, she somehow managed to give birth to the term "drunking." It's a combination of drinking, getting drunk, and wandering your way through various drunken antics. Very useful!
For instance:
"So anyway, Becky and I were drunking around on Friday after our haircuts..."
or
"This has been a hellish week. I need to let loose and do some serious drunking this weekend."
For instance:
"So anyway, Becky and I were drunking around on Friday after our haircuts..."
or
"This has been a hellish week. I need to let loose and do some serious drunking this weekend."
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Hooray, Italia!
I've been meaning to post photos from last weekend, but I got a little distracted. I watched half the game sitting on a fire hydrant on a street corner, and the other half crammed into a packed bar with every other person who thought it would be cool to watch the game in North Beach. The photos really don't capture the crazed glee that filled the streets when Italy won. Champagne was flying everywhere, fans were dancing and singing, and they had to shut down the streets in the hood for pretty much the rest of the afternoon. I celebrated with a prosciutto and mozerella sandwich. Yummy.
This one is even better!
I love it when he dances and pretends to be Satan! Could someone please send me a "Don't HASSEL the HOFF" t-shirt immediately?
The Hoff does it again
Oh, Hoff! How do you manage to maintain the constant, extreme weirdness? And why do I enjoy it so much?
Kinda sounds like he's singing "Asian man" or "aging man" through most of this amazing rendition.
Kinda sounds like he's singing "Asian man" or "aging man" through most of this amazing rendition.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
A Stove of One's Own
I blew a couple hundo this week at REI. I shouldn't be allowed in that store without a specific list of items pre-approved for purchase and someone to make me stick to the list. I'm now the proud owner of a Windpro remote-canister stove, by MSR (among other things). The stove was the main purpose for my trip to REI.
It's kinda cute. It can boil a liter of water in 4.25 minutes and it weighs only 10.5 ounces. Whoooo! Yhee!
This stove (and the ultra-light set of camp pots that I bought with it) signify a step in a new direction for me. I'm slowly but surely putting together my own complete set of camping gear. The only thing I still need to get is a tent. With that acquisition, I will be able to camp or backpack alone without having to borrow anything (except maybe a car). But that's not really the point.
Traditionally, camping has always been a couple-y sort of activity for me (since high school, really). Camping is not obviously romantic, since you're away from things like soft bedding and warm showers, but it can be romantic in a different way. You have to be pretty down with someone to spend days together with only trees and a creek for entertainment -- without the distractions of the Internet, phones, email, TV, or IM. You have to think your company is funny and interesting, and you have to be okay just doing nothing together. Peeing in bushes and checking each other for poison oak brings a whole new kind of intimacy to a relationship. I suppose it's for these reasons, that 95 percent of the camping I've done has been with a long-term boyfriend... someone whose preferences and habits I'm already very familiar and comfortable with, and, more relevant to this discussion, someone whose camping gear filled in the gaps in my collection of gear to make a complete set. I believe the biggest and most sincere commitment I've ever made to someone was to buy a set of sleeping bags that zip together to make one big bag for two.
The move to the single way of life has left me temporarily unable to camp in the manner which I am accustomed to. So ultimately, I view this camp stove as a step toward independent womanhood and self-sufficiency. The point is that I love camping and want to make sure it is always a part of my life.
It's kinda cute. It can boil a liter of water in 4.25 minutes and it weighs only 10.5 ounces. Whoooo! Yhee!
This stove (and the ultra-light set of camp pots that I bought with it) signify a step in a new direction for me. I'm slowly but surely putting together my own complete set of camping gear. The only thing I still need to get is a tent. With that acquisition, I will be able to camp or backpack alone without having to borrow anything (except maybe a car). But that's not really the point.
Traditionally, camping has always been a couple-y sort of activity for me (since high school, really). Camping is not obviously romantic, since you're away from things like soft bedding and warm showers, but it can be romantic in a different way. You have to be pretty down with someone to spend days together with only trees and a creek for entertainment -- without the distractions of the Internet, phones, email, TV, or IM. You have to think your company is funny and interesting, and you have to be okay just doing nothing together. Peeing in bushes and checking each other for poison oak brings a whole new kind of intimacy to a relationship. I suppose it's for these reasons, that 95 percent of the camping I've done has been with a long-term boyfriend... someone whose preferences and habits I'm already very familiar and comfortable with, and, more relevant to this discussion, someone whose camping gear filled in the gaps in my collection of gear to make a complete set. I believe the biggest and most sincere commitment I've ever made to someone was to buy a set of sleeping bags that zip together to make one big bag for two.
The move to the single way of life has left me temporarily unable to camp in the manner which I am accustomed to. So ultimately, I view this camp stove as a step toward independent womanhood and self-sufficiency. The point is that I love camping and want to make sure it is always a part of my life.
Paris vs Jessica: It's on!
This week's Us Weekly includes a poll that asks which will be the song of the summer -- Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind or Jessica Simpson's Public Affair. Us asked one hundred people in NYC's Fifth Avenue (as they always do) and a full eighty-one percent voted for Jessica's Public Affair.
Upon reading this I was driven to the Internet... Though I'd heard about all the cameo appearances in Jessica's upcoming video, I hadn't heard the song. It's super poppy in the traditional girls'-night-out-style. If songs could be pink, sparkly, and candy-coated, it would be. I think I might love it. You can listen to it here.
I must say I'm surprised that Jessica Simpson knows what the phrase "carte blanche" means. Her co-lyric writer must have thrown that one in there.
Upon reading this I was driven to the Internet... Though I'd heard about all the cameo appearances in Jessica's upcoming video, I hadn't heard the song. It's super poppy in the traditional girls'-night-out-style. If songs could be pink, sparkly, and candy-coated, it would be. I think I might love it. You can listen to it here.
I must say I'm surprised that Jessica Simpson knows what the phrase "carte blanche" means. Her co-lyric writer must have thrown that one in there.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
It's not horrible
Some of you may be aware that Paris Hilton is making a foray into the music world. She's been working on putting together the final music video for her song, Stars Are Blind. I'm not sure if that title is supposed to be ironic, or what.
Before I go on, let me make it clear that I do not like Paris Hilton. She seems vapid, mean, boring, and trashy. Predictably, the video footage is inane. However, I've heard the song a couple of times now and I have to admit, I don't think it's horrible. It's sort of catchy. I mean, yeah, it's dumb, of course. But, I was expecting something on par with K-Fed's recent music attempts. This, however, is the sort of thing I could picture getting stuck in my head after listening to 92.7 a little too long while sitting in a parked car on a hot day, or maybe the kind of thing I would wind up dancing to at 2 am in the Gerards' living room. Actually, it would need a faster beat for that.
Something tells me I will regret making this opinion of mine public. Oh, and you can check out the song and video here.
Before I go on, let me make it clear that I do not like Paris Hilton. She seems vapid, mean, boring, and trashy. Predictably, the video footage is inane. However, I've heard the song a couple of times now and I have to admit, I don't think it's horrible. It's sort of catchy. I mean, yeah, it's dumb, of course. But, I was expecting something on par with K-Fed's recent music attempts. This, however, is the sort of thing I could picture getting stuck in my head after listening to 92.7 a little too long while sitting in a parked car on a hot day, or maybe the kind of thing I would wind up dancing to at 2 am in the Gerards' living room. Actually, it would need a faster beat for that.
Something tells me I will regret making this opinion of mine public. Oh, and you can check out the song and video here.
Just dreams
In the past few weeks I've been having tons of those dreams that you don't realize are dreams until half way through your day, when something triggers that memory and you realize that it doesn't make enough sense to be a real memory. For instance, I recently dreamt that my cell phone broke in half (not like a part falling off, but that it literally split into two chunks right across the middle). It was very disressing to me. On a different night, I dreamt that my toes were covered in dark fur that was long enough to braid. You'd think that dream would have been kind of disturbing, but in it I was just running my fingers through the fur thinking, "Hmmm... Maybe I should start shaving my toes."
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Still not quite right
It's well into Wednesday night, the weekend is right around the corner, and I've still got a touch of the SNB. Usually it doesn't stick with me like this. I've pinpointed a few things that are getting me down. At least a few that I will admit to on this blog.
1) He-who-shall-remain-nameless* had me all geared up about the possibility of a camping trip this weekend. Now he can't go. I was envisioning a weekend filled with guilty pleasures purchased at Wal-Mart (tube tops, camo trucker hats, lawnchairs), campfires, packet meals, and floating around in an ice cold swimming hole, but now I will be in the city. It's good that I'll be in the city, I suppose. I can use the time to do useful things I've been putting off, like taking my duvet to the cleaners, doing some research at the library, and renting X-Men II.
2) It seems like almost everyone I know is either out of town, or tied up with work or family commitments this week and weekend. Really, it's almost as if it were a planned evacuation of San Francisco. I'll admit that I've never been very good with alone time, but it feels like absolute torture to be on my own for most of a midsummer weekend. Maybe I'm just being dramatic...
3) The Fountainhead has gone from "not very uplifting," to flat out depressing. She loves Howard Roark, but she can't be with him because she doesn't know herself and she can't bear to watch his excellence be crushed in an average, imperfect world. For me, the characters are only digestible on a purely symbolic level, especially when you throw in the fact that everyone in the book is obsessed with architecture. I expected this book to have a similar impact on me as Atlas Shrugged, but it's not at all.
4) The scale says I gained five pounds eating samosas and roti last weekend. Ugh. I feel like a blonde hippopotamus.
*You know who you are.
1) He-who-shall-remain-nameless* had me all geared up about the possibility of a camping trip this weekend. Now he can't go. I was envisioning a weekend filled with guilty pleasures purchased at Wal-Mart (tube tops, camo trucker hats, lawnchairs), campfires, packet meals, and floating around in an ice cold swimming hole, but now I will be in the city. It's good that I'll be in the city, I suppose. I can use the time to do useful things I've been putting off, like taking my duvet to the cleaners, doing some research at the library, and renting X-Men II.
2) It seems like almost everyone I know is either out of town, or tied up with work or family commitments this week and weekend. Really, it's almost as if it were a planned evacuation of San Francisco. I'll admit that I've never been very good with alone time, but it feels like absolute torture to be on my own for most of a midsummer weekend. Maybe I'm just being dramatic...
3) The Fountainhead has gone from "not very uplifting," to flat out depressing. She loves Howard Roark, but she can't be with him because she doesn't know herself and she can't bear to watch his excellence be crushed in an average, imperfect world. For me, the characters are only digestible on a purely symbolic level, especially when you throw in the fact that everyone in the book is obsessed with architecture. I expected this book to have a similar impact on me as Atlas Shrugged, but it's not at all.
4) The scale says I gained five pounds eating samosas and roti last weekend. Ugh. I feel like a blonde hippopotamus.
*You know who you are.
What is up with you people?
I have received about 400 emails in the past two days commenting on some aspect of some item I've recently posted on RBlog. Comment in the comments section, already! It's not that I don't like hearing from you, but come on. It's what the comments section of the blog is there for -- so you can comment. Work with me.
Prosecco at TJ's
Prosecco is on its way to the mainstream! Trader Joe's is now selling it. I discovered this a couple weeks ago, while browsing their selection of fine wines under $10. It goes without saying that I had to try a bottle. The brand is called Zonin.
Sadly, it's not very good. Too sweet and dull, no zing (hmm... I think I've used those same words to describe a date). I've had many bottles of prosecco from Plump Jack and A.G. Ferrari that are much, much better for not much more money. I won't bag on it too much, though. Any step in the direction of prosecco being easily accessible is a step in the right direction, in my humble opinion.
Sadly, it's not very good. Too sweet and dull, no zing (hmm... I think I've used those same words to describe a date). I've had many bottles of prosecco from Plump Jack and A.G. Ferrari that are much, much better for not much more money. I won't bag on it too much, though. Any step in the direction of prosecco being easily accessible is a step in the right direction, in my humble opinion.
Defining The Relationship (DTR)
SNB (see below) reminded me of another amusing and very useful acronym I've been hearing tossed around lately. I think it was Nadia who first called it to my attention.
DTR, another term for The Talk, is an abbreviation of "defining the relationship." I've heard DTR used in a couple of ways:
"We DTRed last night. He said he's not seeing other people anymore."
"I dunno how it happened. We were just sitting there talking about whether or not to order a pizza and all of the sudden, bam! DTR. At least we're on the same page now."
"You've been seeing her a couple of months. Are you gonna DTR?"
DTR, another term for The Talk, is an abbreviation of "defining the relationship." I've heard DTR used in a couple of ways:
"We DTRed last night. He said he's not seeing other people anymore."
"I dunno how it happened. We were just sitting there talking about whether or not to order a pizza and all of the sudden, bam! DTR. At least we're on the same page now."
"You've been seeing her a couple of months. Are you gonna DTR?"
Sunday Night Blues (SNB)
I have an absolutely horrible case of them tonight, and it's a Tuesday. The unavoidable reality about a great weekend is that I'm going to feel miserable when it comes to a close. The necessary downtime on a Sunday night (in this case Tuesday) always leaves me feeling aimless, lonely, and dreading work the next morning. Years of experience have taught me that I'll be fine once I'm back in the routine of the week, but that does nothing to buoy my spirits while in the throes of the SNB.
Tonight I've been trying to distract myself by tearing through The Fountainhead. It's not terribly uplifting, however, so I resorted to baking brownies. A friend has drilled this simple formula into my brain over the past year: Brownies = a quick temporary antidote to any form of malaise. So far, he hasn't been wrong. Even when it doesn't work perfectly, it still makes the apartment warm, cozy, and chocolate-scented. Plus, any situation with brownies is usually better than the same situation with no brownies.
Tonight I've been trying to distract myself by tearing through The Fountainhead. It's not terribly uplifting, however, so I resorted to baking brownies. A friend has drilled this simple formula into my brain over the past year: Brownies = a quick temporary antidote to any form of malaise. So far, he hasn't been wrong. Even when it doesn't work perfectly, it still makes the apartment warm, cozy, and chocolate-scented. Plus, any situation with brownies is usually better than the same situation with no brownies.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Homemade yogurt
This weekend, I found out that you can make yogurt at home. I am mystified by this process. I've never heard of anyone making homemade yogurt. Makes sense, though, as it obviously doesn't grow in those plastic cups. Nadia's mom makes all the yogurt their family eats, and I think it tastes a lot better than yogurt from the store.
Here's the basic process:
1) Boil a bunch of milk in a casserole-type dish (we were told Corningware with a glass lid). It doesn't matter what kind of milk. It can be skim, 1%, whatever.
2) Let the milk cool down so it's not hot, but still warm. Add about a tablespoon of the yogurt culture (which is just some of the leftover yogurt from the last batch of yogurt you had).
3) Put the lid on the yogurt and then wrap it in a towel. Put the whole thing someplace where it will maintain its temperature for about four hours, like a camping-size cooler. Apparently, if it's a warm day, you could also just set it in the oven (but leave the oven off).
After four to five hours, you check it and it should be yogurt. You put it in the fridge after that and add your flavorings, if you wanted any. Nadia's mom said that people bring the cultures that they use from India (wonder how that gets past customs?) and we're going to talk her into giving us some of her yogurt to take home so we can try and make our own.
Here's the basic process:
1) Boil a bunch of milk in a casserole-type dish (we were told Corningware with a glass lid). It doesn't matter what kind of milk. It can be skim, 1%, whatever.
2) Let the milk cool down so it's not hot, but still warm. Add about a tablespoon of the yogurt culture (which is just some of the leftover yogurt from the last batch of yogurt you had).
3) Put the lid on the yogurt and then wrap it in a towel. Put the whole thing someplace where it will maintain its temperature for about four hours, like a camping-size cooler. Apparently, if it's a warm day, you could also just set it in the oven (but leave the oven off).
After four to five hours, you check it and it should be yogurt. You put it in the fridge after that and add your flavorings, if you wanted any. Nadia's mom said that people bring the cultures that they use from India (wonder how that gets past customs?) and we're going to talk her into giving us some of her yogurt to take home so we can try and make our own.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
A few more wedding shots
I took a nap, but I'm still pretty out of it. It might be because I've eaten six meals in the last four hours and that it's eight million degrees in the OC, which doesn't motivate me to do much. Besides taking a shower, downloading photos from last night has been my big achievement for the day.
Roomies of 1288, looking very respectable. I think this is the most dressed up we've ever seen each other. I guess that's not saying much, because usually when I see them I'm wandering from the kitchen to the bathroom in pink duck pajamas. This might actually be only the third time I've been out of our apartment with both Nadia and Antia since I've been living with them.
Nadia's cousins and her sister (Aman, in purple), looking lovely in their rainbow of saris. The one in the middle is actually a lengha (not a sari), which is a top with a skirt, instead of the big wrapped up piece of fabric that makes the skirt and shawl of a sari.
Nadia's mom and dad show us all how it's done.
Shalu and Uncle on the dance floor. Shalu let me borrow the lengha I wore that night.
I'm not sure how all these ladies dance in the saris without them coming unwound. They're held up with special folding techniques and about 10 safety pins -- there's no way I'd be able to walk in one.
Late in the evening and I am still trying to master the lightbulb dance. Unfortunately, I am the whitest white girl ever.
Roomies of 1288, looking very respectable. I think this is the most dressed up we've ever seen each other. I guess that's not saying much, because usually when I see them I'm wandering from the kitchen to the bathroom in pink duck pajamas. This might actually be only the third time I've been out of our apartment with both Nadia and Antia since I've been living with them.
Nadia's cousins and her sister (Aman, in purple), looking lovely in their rainbow of saris. The one in the middle is actually a lengha (not a sari), which is a top with a skirt, instead of the big wrapped up piece of fabric that makes the skirt and shawl of a sari.
Nadia's mom and dad show us all how it's done.
Shalu and Uncle on the dance floor. Shalu let me borrow the lengha I wore that night.
I'm not sure how all these ladies dance in the saris without them coming unwound. They're held up with special folding techniques and about 10 safety pins -- there's no way I'd be able to walk in one.
Late in the evening and I am still trying to master the lightbulb dance. Unfortunately, I am the whitest white girl ever.
Punjabis get down
Man, Nadia's family can boogie. We were out until 3 am dancing, and EVERYONE was dancing... aunties, uncles, wedding-crasher roommates... it was amazing. After sleeping untill noon, I'm too tired and braindead to describe the festivities well, but here are a couple of photos that provide a taste of my evening.
Nadia's mom is in the lavender, auntie in blue, the groom's sister in the hot pink, and Nadia's little bro with the crazy Punjabi dance moves. Nadia's mom kept up with the bhangra team, who broke it down after opening the reception with a choreographed performance. It was funny to watch them hit the dance floor because they just never stopped. At all.
Nadia gave me a quick dance lesson... "Just pretend you're screwing in a light bulb. This is totally the way Shah Rukh Khan does it."
Nadia's mom is in the lavender, auntie in blue, the groom's sister in the hot pink, and Nadia's little bro with the crazy Punjabi dance moves. Nadia's mom kept up with the bhangra team, who broke it down after opening the reception with a choreographed performance. It was funny to watch them hit the dance floor because they just never stopped. At all.
Nadia gave me a quick dance lesson... "Just pretend you're screwing in a light bulb. This is totally the way Shah Rukh Khan does it."
Photos of Florence
It appears that I won't get sick of posting vacation pics any time soon. These are a few I took during the couple of days we spent in Florence.
This is the Ponte Vecchio, where you've probably already all been. It's all jewelry shops. Jeff humored me by letting me stare in all the windows until I got sick of it. It's apparently one of the worst places for being pick-pocketed in Italy -- likely because it's packed shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists and everyone is distracted by window shopping.
I just thought this produce shop was pretty. I will also add that ALL of the produce we had while we were on the trip was amazing, especially the tomatoes. Commenting on this really makes me feel like I'm my grandma, but I've been buying all kinds of tomatoes, melons, and other fruits and veggies since I've been back and they're really not the same. They don't look as good or taste as good, which is odd because it doesn't seem like the growing conditions in California and Italy should be very different.
The pictures below of are a butcher's shop. No way I couldn't take photos of small, stuffed wild boar, dressed as Renaissance-era diners. I hope they're not eating prosciutto.
This is the Ponte Vecchio, where you've probably already all been. It's all jewelry shops. Jeff humored me by letting me stare in all the windows until I got sick of it. It's apparently one of the worst places for being pick-pocketed in Italy -- likely because it's packed shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists and everyone is distracted by window shopping.
I just thought this produce shop was pretty. I will also add that ALL of the produce we had while we were on the trip was amazing, especially the tomatoes. Commenting on this really makes me feel like I'm my grandma, but I've been buying all kinds of tomatoes, melons, and other fruits and veggies since I've been back and they're really not the same. They don't look as good or taste as good, which is odd because it doesn't seem like the growing conditions in California and Italy should be very different.
The pictures below of are a butcher's shop. No way I couldn't take photos of small, stuffed wild boar, dressed as Renaissance-era diners. I hope they're not eating prosciutto.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Road Trip
Yesterday the roomies and I piled most of our apartment into the trunk of Nadia's Civic (which I have since dubbed "The Silver Bullet" -- Nadia drives fast), and headed down the Five. Destination: The OC and Nadia's cousin's wedding celebration.
We hit the greater L.A. Area in almost no time (seriously, I think it might have taken longer to fly down) and had a chance to visit the world's cutest baby before heading to what I now consider our practice event. The main celebration isn't until tonight, but last night we went to a warm up dinner at one of Nadia's auntie's houses.
Nadia failed to fill us in on some key Indian-family event strategies before we hit this dinner. For instance, it's all about the side hugs. Not so much the handshakes and no full-frontal hugging -- the side hug, one arm around the shoulders, is the way to go.
More important than hugging technique, Anita and I learned (the hard way) that these nights are marathons, not a sprints. You must pace yourself. Yes there is crazy good homemade Indian food everywhere, but it is just a snack and you have to make it through dinner, which will be served around eleven. Don't eat three samosas, no matter how good they are. Yes, the fried cheese is amazing, but stop yourself. It's only nine and there is more food coming. Soon you will be in pain and you definitely won't fit into your sari tomorrow.
I ate so much last night that I still can't really move. Still, I consider myself lucky to have figured out the strategy before the intensity of tonight's blow out. We're all camped out on the couch watching the England vs. Portugal penalty kicks, which doesn't require too much movement, just screaming, but I'm a little terrified about the fact that Nadia's mom is already putting more food on the table. It smells amazing... Something involving fried potato and roti. I know I won't be able to not eat it.
We hit the greater L.A. Area in almost no time (seriously, I think it might have taken longer to fly down) and had a chance to visit the world's cutest baby before heading to what I now consider our practice event. The main celebration isn't until tonight, but last night we went to a warm up dinner at one of Nadia's auntie's houses.
Nadia failed to fill us in on some key Indian-family event strategies before we hit this dinner. For instance, it's all about the side hugs. Not so much the handshakes and no full-frontal hugging -- the side hug, one arm around the shoulders, is the way to go.
More important than hugging technique, Anita and I learned (the hard way) that these nights are marathons, not a sprints. You must pace yourself. Yes there is crazy good homemade Indian food everywhere, but it is just a snack and you have to make it through dinner, which will be served around eleven. Don't eat three samosas, no matter how good they are. Yes, the fried cheese is amazing, but stop yourself. It's only nine and there is more food coming. Soon you will be in pain and you definitely won't fit into your sari tomorrow.
I ate so much last night that I still can't really move. Still, I consider myself lucky to have figured out the strategy before the intensity of tonight's blow out. We're all camped out on the couch watching the England vs. Portugal penalty kicks, which doesn't require too much movement, just screaming, but I'm a little terrified about the fact that Nadia's mom is already putting more food on the table. It smells amazing... Something involving fried potato and roti. I know I won't be able to not eat it.
RIP toenail
My toenail (left foot, second biggest toe) completely fell off on Thursday. It was an especially sad event as I had just gotten a fabulous fire-engine red pedicure. I'm assuming the cause of my loss was a fairly severe stubbing incident incurred while dancing barefoot* last Saturday night, but I can't be sure.
A toe with no toenail looks kinda weird, like a mutant/alien toe, so I painted on a fake toenail with nailpolish. Now I can't tell, as long as I squint a little.
I've never lost a fingernail or toenail before. Will it grow back? Am I deformed forever?
*It is summer vacation, after all.
A toe with no toenail looks kinda weird, like a mutant/alien toe, so I painted on a fake toenail with nailpolish. Now I can't tell, as long as I squint a little.
I've never lost a fingernail or toenail before. Will it grow back? Am I deformed forever?
*It is summer vacation, after all.
Another weird Match come on
Here's another attempted pick-up email forwarded on from my friend who is experimenting with Match.com. This is just SO weird and revolting...
"Anywho, have you seen the episode of CYE where Larry David wears a desensitizing condom backwards with his wife? Well, that's kinda been my life for the past year.... and things can only get better from here! So, How you doin?
What does a Turtle and Paris Hilton have in common? When they are on the backs... they are both F***'d.
Cheers
XXXX"
Really, this is real. Who would write this and think it might score them a date?
"Anywho, have you seen the episode of CYE where Larry David wears a desensitizing condom backwards with his wife? Well, that's kinda been my life for the past year.... and things can only get better from here! So, How you doin?
What does a Turtle and Paris Hilton have in common? When they are on the backs... they are both F***'d.
Cheers
XXXX"
Really, this is real. Who would write this and think it might score them a date?
Jeff loves grappa
Jeff took this artistic shot (very late one night during dinner in Italy) expressing his love for grappa.
Il Lebbio is the brand name of all the wines produced at the villa. I can't really handle grappa and am not really upset about that fact. Jeff really took a shine to it. Ick.
We were invited to eat with the family that owned the villa one night, at their home (another villa), and after dinner the grandpa busted out about 25 flavors of homemade grappa. They were all in different repurposed bottles and jars with the flavor written, in Italian, on masking tape stuck to each bottle. Since they didn't speak any English and we didn't speak any Italian, it took what seemed like hours to figure out what each flavor was. They were flavors like coffee, coffee with honey, pomegranate, juniper berry (think gin), orange, etc. Even after just small tastes, we were all pretty toasted by the end. It all tasted like flaming gasoline to me.
Il Lebbio is the brand name of all the wines produced at the villa. I can't really handle grappa and am not really upset about that fact. Jeff really took a shine to it. Ick.
We were invited to eat with the family that owned the villa one night, at their home (another villa), and after dinner the grandpa busted out about 25 flavors of homemade grappa. They were all in different repurposed bottles and jars with the flavor written, in Italian, on masking tape stuck to each bottle. Since they didn't speak any English and we didn't speak any Italian, it took what seemed like hours to figure out what each flavor was. They were flavors like coffee, coffee with honey, pomegranate, juniper berry (think gin), orange, etc. Even after just small tastes, we were all pretty toasted by the end. It all tasted like flaming gasoline to me.
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