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Friends are rad.

26 Nov

I’m gonna say it: there is nothing better than a four day weekend. Except a five day weekend, I guess. Just doing the math, five is better than four. Because, you know. It’s bigger.

A Saturday in the middle of a four day weekend is also great, because I feel that the third day off is when I really start to hit my stride, day off-wise. The third day off doesn’t have the associated horror attached to it that the final day off typically has, and by the third day off you’ve actually realized that this isn’t a typical weekend.

So, for our magical third day off, we had brunch with friends. These were the same friends that we had over for Thanksgiving dinner, so it was nice to see them in a more laid-back setting that involved mimosas and biscuits & gravy.

Not just biscuits & gravy. VEGAN biscuits & gravy.

And it was good! I thought sure it was gonna taste like a cat’s asshole, but I’m learning that vegan food is actually really good if you make it with love and care.

We also bought like ten pounds of oranges so that we could use our juicer for the mimosas. That’s right. We actually used a kitchen gadget that we purchased four years ago. You’re next, rotisserie chicken machine! I’m gonna set it and forget it, alright. Right in your face!

That made little to no sense, but I don’t care. The kitchen gadgets are coming out of the closet!

I know what I just said. I’m going to shout it from the mountaintops!

Anyway. Friends.

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The Morning After

25 Nov

Do I remember what happened this day? Not at all. The day after Thanksgiving kind of pales in spectacle. Painting, with the help of Blitz, failed color schemes, and leftovers. Glorious, glorious leftovers. We’re definitely past the one week mark, which is rad. I think we’re on Day 8 if my calendar is to be believed, and my math.

I have discovered a great dearth of friend time this week, partly due to the holidays, partly due to being informed I likely have a small tear in my left knee’s meniscus and hence taking two weeks off derby, and what I am starting to wonder, partly due to this challenge?

Everyone keeps asking us how it’s going. It’s going great, but we miss you. Come over for dinner, keep inviting us to join you guys, we’ll just have drinks. I didn’t think of myself as a social butterfly until derby, and now without seeing my people 3 times a week, it’s awfully lonely. Denny and I make a great team, for sure. I’d be utterly bonkers already if not for him, but having a group of friends around is also part of what makes up our relationship.

There’s a book that inspired this challenge, called The Art of Eating In, by Cathy Erway. She actually pulled this crazy shit off for a year. While I totally admire that, I need a much more realistic goal to ever get anywhere. I have a feeling that a lot of what she found replacing her eating out, such a supper clubs, weekend trips to local farms where the group cooked meals together, etc, only comes with longer challenges. I haven’t read the book yet. It’s been sitting on my shelf mocking me whenever I order delivery for the past year or so. But my guess is that she had this limbo period as well. Luckily I’m tearing my way through The Child Thief by Brom, so I can still read this other book before the end of this sucker and maybe see if my theory is correct.


Ah, Thanksgiving.

24 Nov

Sometimes (ok, many times), I have no idea what I’m going to write until it comes kicking and screaming into the world, mucus and bits of placenta still clinging to it’s body like barnacles on weathered old sea captain’s ship. This is one of those times.

As you can tell, I have no problem mixing metaphors into barely intelligible sentences, adding pieces as I go like Dr. Frankenstein. I do it for the craft, people. I do it for you.

Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

"Happy Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown! Let's watch Woodstock eat his father-in-law!"

What can I say about Thanksgiving that hasn’t been said a million times before? First, and most applicable to this blog, Thanksgiving is probably the easiest day of the year to eat at home. They give you the day off, just so you can eat at home. Most restaurants are closed. It’s a no brainer.

That being said, I have to admit that I don’t really like Thanksgiving food all that much. Of all of it, the thing I like best is pumpkin pie, and thanksgiving leftover sandwiches the next day. Turkey by itself has never really done it for me, as I have no idea how to cook it myself, and in my experience it’s usually either dryer than a saw pit or not quite cooked. Stuffing is a really nasty food. Why cook something inside of a turkey’s asshole and then eat it? This food usually reminds me of something my cat might puke up, so I have problems eating more than about two tablespoons of the stuff before I start dry heaving (although, by the time I start eating stuffing, I’m pretty crammed full of beer, so I guess ‘dry heave’ isn’t the best choice of words). Cranberry sauce is fine, as long as it’s coating a turkey. By itself, I can take it or leave it. Yams (or sweet potatoes, if ya nasty) are pretty great, but let’s be honest- they’re only like a quarter step away from dessert.

This is why, for me, Thanksgiving is more about spending quality time with my family, and almost killing all of them by the end of the day. Until I met Meg’s family, get-togethers like Thanksgiving were simply a time to remember why I hate most of my family and want to spend as little time with them as I possibly can. Most Thanksgivings weren’t complete without at least one drunken haymaker punch attempted at another family member, two to three drunken mumblings of, “You think you’re better than me? (Yathhhinkyerbettr’nme),” four attacks by the host’s cocker spaniel while everyone drunkenly laughs, and a couple uncontrollable fits of drunken hysterics. It’s like the song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ except for drunks and white trash.

The point I’m trying to make (If I am making a point at all) is that I really, really like my new family, and every single holiday reminds me how great they all are. I want to spend every single holiday with them, just to revel in how nice they all to each other, and how they can actually have fun without being forced to solve their problems in ‘The Cage’ (honestly, don’t even ask. There’s a lot of chicken wire in The Cage, I can tell you that).

And if nothing else, we can spend one out of every five Thanksgivings with my family just to remember that some people actually have problems, but manage to love each other anyway. I don’t know how they do it, but that’s the beauty of family, I guess.

Happy Turkey Murder Day.