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Thursday, April 28, 2005
sugar
I have been living an overly soft life here with "bad" foods too easy to obtain and high stress levels driving me towards them. People just magically show up with home made cookies in tow or fresh poundcake made from scratch or irresistable hand cranked ice cream. I am totally serious... it is like everyone around here has the same hobby: making pie. Plus, the kitchen here is really nice. Many visitors come over to bake in the enormous oven and take advantage of the large mixer. (I made scones today- you can put two cookie sheets side by side in the oven, it is amazing.) I am also living with two chocoholics who regularly wonder which brand is best, so we go out and buy 6 large, gourmet bars from the nearby fancy markets and sit down for enormous taste tests. I made the mistake of asking if they had tried Berkeley-based Sharfenberger and had to endure a large taste test to match it against local faves. (Dagoba is remarkable, by the way, if you like darks, and while it is made in Oregon, I think you can find it at Whole Foods.) Anyway, you get the picture that there is a steady stream of treats which the regulars around here (rabid ultimate frisbee players) have no trouble burning off the effects of. (For those of you unaware, my future sister-in-law, the lady of the house, is a professinoal frisbee player- yes they exist, she is a former world champ and current national champ.)
I am not an ultimate player. I cannot even throw a frisbee and the last time I tried to catch one, it hit me in the boob. For men who don't think women have an equivalent of being kicked in the balls, I beg to differ- I am sure a frisbee in the boob comes damn close. I asked the female players how they avoid such incidents and the skinny minnies all told me, "just don't have breasts". Great advice gals, but I am not genetically predisposed to flat-chestedness. My mother wore a new bra at her wedding and, in her own words, looked like a giant battleship wih guns at the ready, if you know what I mean. On the other side of the family, my paternal grandmother is a demure 5' 1" but has trouble finding petite length tops that, like the proverbial bear who wanted to see what he could see, go over the mountains.
So I have to take action as a result of being surrounded by all the sugary convenience. I need to stay away from things like this. I am trying so hard to be good. I joined local gym and actually go three times a week. I am even going to yoga classes again. And boy is my yoga teacher a crackup. Um... I am not sure he means to be, however. He actually reminds me a bit of the "Competetive Boy" character described at Chez Miscarriage. (Ok now we have to pause for props to Melissa for showing me the meditation posts and alerting me to the general hilarity of this blog.) So my yoga teacher, who, in the spirit of Chez Mis we will assign a code name of "Ravi", likes to talk talk talk during yoga. He tells us about his day, his kids, his wife, his friends... and they are all really boring and we have heard the same stories over and over and I have only been going for like 3 weeks once a week. You know, I actually don't need to be regaled with family stories when I am upsidown. He also tells stories about, like, Shiva and Ganesh, of whatever, which are really odd stories about Shiva sucking in the poison of the sea or Ganesh saving a bug from a lizard or whatever. I am honestly trying too hard not to fall over during my rampant warrior pose to pay attention. But he doesn't just tell the story, when he should be talking about wether my hips should be facing forwards or sideways, he has to attempt to make it relevant either to the pose we're attempting or to modern life in general. Like Shiva cannot just stir the magical lake for 1,000 years, it has to be a metaphor for stirring up trouble in the middle east. Or the story about the yogi who learned to walk on water... we all know this is a cautionary tale about taking public transit. Yeah right. Oh and he also likes to tell us what each pose is good for. Handy info. There is one where you sit down and pull your feet together lotus style, but then interlace your toes (yes, you read that right: interlace your toes- it was freaky) that cures insomnia. Doing the mountain pose with your tounge out cools you off and helps with menopause and self esteem problems. And get this. This is too important not to write about. If you point your toes together and push your heels outward, making your two feet into an 90-degree "L" then move the heel of one foot to the toe of the other, still making an L but with a lot more twist to your ankles and hips, THEN reach over your head with your arms and garb your eblows with each hand trying to form a large halo around your head keeping your shoulders down THEN twist back and forth ever so slightly... IT CURES CANCER.
Tell your friends.
.: posted by Zemlet 6:41 PM
Friday, April 15, 2005
tacos
I thought it was going to be a lot harder, but after trying only one other place (which was awful, so I won't mention it) I found a decent mexican place to eat: Tacos Guaymas, which are all over the Seattle area, including Greenlake, which is the one I went to. Most of the employees and all of the cooks were Mexicanas, inluding many of the patrons. The place was packed and there was a live mariachi band, which was damn impressive for a Thursday. The place is along the style and quality of Taco Roco, not as authentic, obviously (I tasted canned jalapenos in the table salsa), but damn good for up here.
I'll have to check out the margaritas on a subsequent visit. They use Hornitos, which is my favorite tequila. I tried margaritas at a different local bar and they were terrible. Not nearly enough alcohol and so sour. Bleah! I swear it was a half a shot of tequila with sours. I like mine with some orange liqueur, such as tiple sec. Actually, in my recipe, which I call "Blue Rincon Margaritas", I toss in curacao and Rose's Lime to give it an interesting citrus taste with a touch of sweetness (while adding more alcohol- hello!). Now I know you are thinking I got what I deserved- what was I doing ordering a margarita up here- what did I expect? Normally I wouldn't have tried such a thing, but we have a friend, Leslie, who is over 8 months pregnant and who had a bad day at work and really wanted a margarita. That meant that Britta and I had to take her someplace and get our own margs, while she sipped soda, then breathe on her. We are such good pals. It is so cute, she and her husband have already named the baby, so we all say "bye Jack" when she leaves. Apparently her mother-in-law calls from New Zealand and insists they put the phone up to her belly so Gandma can talk one on one with Jack and warn him not to be born until her trip to the US. Her husband is one of the many ultimate players who frequent the Laurelhurst house and their new team jerseys sport the message "you don't know Jack" on the back. Because well, ok, none of us KNOW Jack... well YET. He's still in the womb fer crissakes. Britta is thinking of getting a little onesie for the baby that says "get to know me" or "I'm Jack", should he be in the cheering section at any of their upcoming games.
We met with our new real estate broker last night and she is just great. I'll give her a plug: Mary Ann Fordyce with Windermere. She is going to send me MLS today via e-mail, so I'll soon have a bunch of links to share with... well I was going to say "you all" but what I really mean is "Melissa". We are going to choose which to visit from that list and go on a tour of them Sunday. Then Mary Ann and I will go Monday on our own tour to see even more cute homes. I figure I've got a lot more stamina for looky-looing than J-dog, so that will work out fine. We are all pre-approved with a local mortgage broker, and are ready to pounce. There doesn't seem to be much in the way of inventory right now, so we'll see what happens. Mary Ann is such a hoot and has lived smack in the middle of our target area for over 25 years. She has lived in Seattle since her teens and has worked in the industry for over 20, so we are thrilled to have her. She supports local sorts teams and even sponsors a few, inluding Riot, where her name is printed on their uniforms in the derriere region. She recently sposored a cycling team where her name also graces the ass of their uniforms. Must be a good spot for her?
In other news, Britta's toenail came off. I am working on a press release.
.: posted by Zemlet 2:30 PM
Thursday, April 14, 2005
The D Word
Jon broke a tooth eating pizza and went to the dentist today for his temporary crown and getting the real one in a couple of weeks. The entire thing makes him grumpy: paying for it, having to get up at 7AM for the appointment, getting work done by a dentist, etc. I just got off the phone with him and he annouced that he could feel his tounge, which was an accomplishment, apparently. I tried to cheer him up by telling him that when it is all over, at least he’ll be king. (You know, since he’s getting a crown?) I guess since he is wearing a temporary one, this is his inter-regnum or something?
.: posted by Zemlet 1:38 PM
Monday, April 11, 2005
Just Getting Back
I am just mentally getting back from "art camp" which was incredible, but sapped a tremendous amount of energy. Since I left right after moving, I have been pretty wiped out and am now starting to feel like I am returning to "normal life". I have photos of the pieces I produced and stuff from my trip that I'll post anon. (I should work on client web sites before my own, dontcha know.) Plus I have personal jobs to do: starting the mortgage and real estate processes and setting up new holding and joint accounts, handling our moving claims, etc. At least I got all my taxes done. I have painstakingly saved all the receipts from charitable donations (I donated over $200 last year) only to find I was better off without itemizing my deductions. Jon pointed out thoughtfully as I struggled with my 1040 that I would never have to do taxes again- he'd take care of our return when we file as a married couple next year. (Whoa.) I'll probably still have to do all my business taxes, but it was a nice thing for him to say. Hopefully our taxes will have changed so much due to us being homeowners and Washington state residents who are making far less money than they used to that the "marriage penalty" will not be so glaring come next tax season.
While at art camp I bought an original Claudine Hellmuth from her "Domestic Bliss" series. I have taken a couple of classes from her, so I wanted one of her pieces. As pointed out by my mother, however, Claudine's "Poppet™" artwork (that is her ™ mark... not a joke of mine by the way) it is strikingly similar to Lynn Whipple's "Ninnies" which predates it by a lot and was taught on the circuit. So my mother doesn't think much of the lovely Claudine, but is a huge fan of Mrs. Whipple (who is also lovely, by the way). I am impressed more by Claudine as the marketer, getting her work imprinted on purses and T-shirts, cutting book and DVD deals along the way and creating original works in a way that allows each to be unique while still allowing her to produce a lot of them. I really splurged and bought an original Michael de Meng. This one as a matter of fact. He is a super inspirational assemblage artist that my mother is going to study with in Mexico this October. My Mum is also going to study with the O'Briens in Mexico, so she'll be gone like a whole month. Guess that limits when we can get married by a bit.
I went to the gym today and am totally wiped out. I feel like my body is holding me back from being who I want to be, so I'm renewing my commitment to regular workouts. I have developed terrible eating habits in the recent past, either from depression or celebration, and here food is so accessible (not to mention copious amounts of chocolate) that I need to take charge and make a change. I had lost a bunch of weight toward the end of last year, but feel it sneaking up on me again. So yesterday I walked all around Greenlake, which was awesome, and today started my trial membership at a local gym. I did weight training today and was informed by Britta that tomorrow is cardio. (That doesn't sound good- I have heard tales of the massive quantities of sprints she makes her ultimate team endure to get their hustle up.) Hopefully I'll have time to try out some classes to further evaluate this gym to see if I should get a full membership. They allow you to pay month to month or buy a quarter in advance at discount, etc, which sounds perfect. Perhaps I'll check out the yoga class on Wednesday.
After the gym, Britta showed me Metropolitan Market, which was so yummy. They have a pasta bar with a "man" (ok, it is acutally a young boy in a lot of makeup) that makes things "special just for you" (read: creepy). I think he asked how our Monday was doing like 5 times attempting to engage us (unsuccessfully) in playful banter. But he made a damn fine mac and cheese... first garlic in the pan (good so far), then add a little alfredo sauce (because cream, butter and cheese only make life better), then melt in some cheddar and at the proper moment toss in a bunch of pasta. He (she?) finished it off topping with bread crumbs. And this was only one of the bars they had... they had a soup and roll bar where I wanted half of all the soups (usually I only want one or there are not any vegeterian ones) and the rolls looked so so fresh and tasty. And they had a deli with paninis and then there was, you know, the rest of the store. I am sure there was plenty I missed... I caught a glimpse of antipasti and quiche on my way out. PLUS they were selling Woodland Park Zoo Doo. That is the local zoo and apparently they mix up all the dung and sell it in adorable buckets. "Oh Herbert, you have the most marvelous tomatoes! How do you manage it?" "It isn't me- it's those hippos over at Woodland Park." "Why Zelda, how'd you get such big begonias?" "Let's just say I had a little help from an elephant and two zebras." There is seriously a list of what animals "contributed" to the compost. It just proves my theory that you put anything in a cute bucket and it will sell.
.: posted by Zemlet 4:00 PM
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