Not How I Intended to Come Back from Vacation

(Or, the ‘And then…’ Game redux) I love this game.

I bet you thought you would get a post and pictures about how freaking AWESOME Costa Rica is and how you should totally GO and it’s so green/lush/wild/TOTALLY COOL and how it’s all kitties and butterfiles here in the real world and YAY I love everything.

Well, it’s not.

Wellll, Costa Rica is all that, but the real world is decidedly more shitty today than your usual coming off vacation downer. At least I came home to a clean house and a cat that -for once- was happy to see me. Baby steps, right?

- Wake up on time, but only 3.5 hours sleep
- Toilet was, erm, (yes toilet) not participating.
- decide to check work email
- Even after shutting off water, toilet is slowly filling up
- Discover I might lose my job because of reports not generated by my co-worker and myself (but from our system)
- Start alternately bailing out and plunging the toilet (much tears and cursing)
- accelerate work preparation process.
- Pray then go at the toilet again.
- Forget: breakfast, watch, earrings, mascara, shoes, lunch, badge,
- More toilet bailing.
- BUT I remember my coffee – DEEEVINE.
- Toilet capitulates. I AM VICTORIOUS! (note: no more cliffs bars)
- Book it to bus stop because car is at metro (Thank you Continental)
- Get call from co-worker that none of my reports for today are done
- Book it back to house, (wasting $1.35 in fare) do earliest report first
- Finish report, walk outside
- Realise it is after ten and there are no more convenient buses at this hour
- More cursing and gnashing of teeth
- Try neighbors house.
- Home but not home.
- Remember that there is a taxi stand on the street
- Turns out it is a Taxi Inspection Station, and I’ll only have to wait five minutes
- Ten minutes later I have a cab.
- Need cash, get driver to take me to bank
- Wait in line behind the slowest person on the planet, pull out $20
- $30 ride to Huntington later…
- I pay with my visa and tip him in cash even though I had to give him directions.

On top of all this, I get to wear the Dunce (temp) badge today.

Awesome.

Archibald Goodwin or “Archie”

The Art of Grilled Cheese

(For Marshall and now Matt, because the rest of my posts aren’t fit to be seen at the moment)

My podmates and I were discussing grilled cheese sandwiches the other day. I love grilled cheese sandwiches. They are the ultimate comfort food. Easy and crunchy and buttery they remind me of home, snow days and of no personal responsibility.

And much like any version of a custard/pudding (yet another food-related weakness of mine) or wines, not only does it vary by region, it can vary by sub-unit (erm, family). Usually because of ingredient availability.

The conversation brought out our own personal variations, some are –I thought– shockingly crass things to do to a grilled cheese, but then I should probably mention that I am a grilled cheese (custard… wine…) snob. If there wasn’t one before, you can best believe that I am setting the standard HIGH.

Rule 1. No fake cheese.
I don’t care HOW smoothly it melts,  American “cheese” that comes individually wrapped is Evil. I will slap it from your hand. No, no a thousand times NO! Real cheese, not the one chemical step away from plastic pre-portioned cheese blasphemy in a trifold wrapper. REAL ACTUAL FAT from some dairy-producing animal. Nor should you discount the tang of goats cheese, it is AMAZING.

Rule 2. No white sliced bread.
It is NOT the greatest thing ever invented when it comes to grilled cheese. Use fresh bread if you have the time and resources. Sourdough or ciabatta or whatever bread you use for panini (but NOT pre-sliced white bread you are shorting yourself. TRUSSSSS me. Would I lie to you? About this?) is stable and structured enough to keep cheese in and then have a nice crispy outer shell after cooking.

Rule 3. Do Not Neglect Supplemental Flavors.
A dry grilled cheese (though perhaps a contradiction in terms) is a travesty. There are so many condiment variations on the grilled cheese that leaving it dry is just plain lazy. Sloth-like. You are not fit for grilled cheese consumption! Try: mustard variations, flavored mayos, seasonings for the outside, even switch up your cheeses to your taste.

All this being said, when I am feeling snazzy this is how I do mine:

two slices sourdough bread (you can use one slice, but really? why tease yourself?)

medium sharp- sharp cheddar

Spicy brown mustard (whole grain, that’s just my preference)

mayo

tomato

butter

lawry’s

Pre-heat your pan to a medium high heat. I use gas so I can’t give you specifics. Just not too hot because otherwise you will blacken the outside and your cheese won’t cook uniformly. I don’t recommend blackened just from personal experience.

And while your pan is heating, do your prep (if I were organized I would follow my own rules):

Slice cheese, tomato and have everything within arms reach. Lay your bread out. Quick swipe of mayo on the cheese side slice. Then, place your cheese so it is overlapping slightly, but give yourself a seam allowance of about a quarter inch on the edges. I don’t like my cheese to spill out (but again, just my preference).

One or two slices of tomato, quick swipe of mustard on slice opposite cheese.

If your butter is soft enough spread it on the bread and sprinkle bread with lawry’s. Otherwise, one pat in the pan (if it browns instantly, turn the fires of hell down, srsly) it SHOULD bubble and melt right away, *slight* browning is fine.  Sprinkle lawrys in butter and then throw on your sandwich.

I usually squish it down a bit to seal the edges (compulsive need to not waste yummy cheese) do the butter and lawry’s thing while the first side is cooking. Flip. Squish. Brown to your own taste. Pull it off.  Serve with tomato bisque soup (with fresh basil if you have it).

Artomatic.org

I signed up for Artomatic this year. If you go, leave a note.

Placement of this year’s selected building was nothing if not a kick in the pants omen.  So I paid my money, signed up, picked my spot and then had to figure out what to do with my 8′x8′ space on the ninth floor (spot 9 05,that’s top floor, fifth spot but it’s bright blue you can’t miss it).

More than anything I am proud of the lighting job. Thanks to my dad for helping me find the right plug, I learned a great deal about wiring in this project. And how NOT to get electrocuted. I managed to finish set up with five minutes to spare.  Go me. So This is a general idea of what it looks like. If you want focus I am afraid you will have to go see it in person.  

Here’s more information on Artomatic 2009:

Come check out my art & the art of over 1,000 other DC area artists showcased over 5 weeks.
For more information go to: artomatic.org
ARTOMATIC 2009
May 29 – July 5, 2009
55 M Street, S.E. (at the corner with Half Street)
Washington, DC 20003
Metro stop: Green Line, Navy Yard, Ballpark exit
Free admission. Donations accepted

HOURS
Wednesdays and Thursdays: Noon – 10 p.m.
Fridays and Saturdays: Noon – 1 a.m. (except for special events. See calendar).
Sundays: Noon – 10 p.m.
Closed Mondays and Tuesdays

Admission to Artomatic is free for visitors. The Artomatic 2009 building has elevators and is accessible for those with wheelchairs.

In celebration of its 10th anniversary, Artomatic will be bringing its trademark one-of-a-kind multimedia arts event to Half Street’s 55 M Street, S.E., in Washington, D.C.’s Capitol Riverfront neighborhood in summer 2009, the arts organization announced today.

In conjunction with the Capitol Riverfront Business Improvement District (BID) and Monument Realty, Artomatic will be presenting more than five weeks of art, music, theater, workshops and more — all of it free for visitors. Located between the U.S. Capitol Building and the Anacostia River and between Barracks Row Main Street and South Capitol Street, the Capitol Riverfront is a vibrant new business center, urban neighborhood, entertainment district and waterfront destination.

Held regularly since 1999, Artomatic transforms an unfinished indoor space into an exciting and diverse arts event that is free and open to the public. In addition to displays by hundreds of artists, the event features free films, educational presentations and children’s activities, as well as musical, dance, poetry, theater and other performances.

On DC Driving

An article in the DCist has Jim Graham trying (again) to slow down “antichrist” Maryland drivers, and the DCist attached another poll just to make sure that people still felt the same way about our northern neighbors.  As of me voting yesterday, the consensus was 78% “Hells yes the roads would be safer in the metro region if they would JUST stay in their state.”

DCist Article

I wouldn’t so much say that MD drivers are the worst in the region -though I voted that way-  they just have their own personal brand of bad driving.  This is a short primer :

Maryland Drivers: Have no concept of strategy.  Sure, driving impossibly fast is great but when (not if) traffic backs up anywhere in the metropolitan area they’re the drivers you’ll see fly past you. Stop. Get passed by the adjacent lane. Ride bumper like the person in front of them is the ONLY thing between them and their destination (nevermind the long line of cars in front of THAT driver). Rinse Repeat.

There is no overcoming, adapting, change. I travel on average at around 70mph on the highways here (Hi, Dad. Love you mean it.), when I cross the state line into Maryland I can travel easily at 80 and still get passed like I was going backwards. Easily. If you can’t see the bumper/lights of the car behind you, it’s a Maryland driver.

 Virginia Drivers (of which I am one, admittedly): are AMAZING assholes. I am constantly surprised at the lengths to which we go to be utter and complete road hogs. We are aggressive and unduly self righteous. It doesn’t matter that We’re going to slow, if you pass us? We’ll totally speed up.  There is full speed passing on shoulders (I was GOING 70mph). You name the jackassery and I have probably seen it.

Granted, I’ll let a driver in front of me if he uses his blinker and common sense; if I see someone turning onto the street I am on, I won’t speed up and then honk my horn/flash lights at him for daring to pull in front of me with PLENTY of room to spare. My one shortcoming is if you are expecting me to be a sympathetic driver and all but stop to allow you to change lanes, or take it gracefully when you pull out in front of me and decide to I don’t think so. It’s dog eat dog, and if you can’t keep up… Oh well. If the driver behind you is flashing/honking/flipping AND you can’t see the bumper it’s a Virginia driver.

DC Drivers: Don’t exist.  They get behind the wheel of the car and make it go with the gas pedal but that’s not driving. Just like having a baby does not automatically make you a good parent.  For all the preaching the majority of the DC population does about being pedestrian friendly area they do an inordinate amount of driving. Be that as it may, I can’t tell you how to ID a DC driver because frankly I don’t think they exist. Like Yeti.

Spawn of Satan Himself: Blue the Foster Puppy

There were a few requests for my house-pooping, night-howling cute bundle of foster joy. So I give you Blue the Dog who Broke Claire.

Oh. Wow.

UPDATE:
You know. I just can’t devote the resources to this utter waste of mass. Why? What difference would it make really? The long and short of it is: I dated a man for two years who allowed me to believe that he was fully and completely divorced from his ex-wife. But apparently that is not the case as it was actually final today.

This should not at all shock me as he wasn’t even decent enough to want to protect me from his STD. When a place as morally topsy-turvy as Hollywood is making commercials about protecting your partner and he STILL didn’t see the importance of wearing a condom or taking valtrex, there HAS to be something fundamentally wrong with his values. And to then have the gall to be shocked when when I didn’t want to have relations?

I know what the law says. I also know what I believe: that separated is married and is not final. He chose not to allow me the information to make a decision that would have been best for me in the long run. And I know how this will play out: He’s already leeching off the next girl. He’ll tell her that I gave him the HSV-2 (sorry, bud, tested clean. Twice). I’m the crazy bitch.  He’s just a victim in this crazy game of life.

And I realized that on the way home. I have no control over that and that’s all I have to live with. The upside? He is SO not my bundle of sociopathic tendencies anymore. Score one for me.

OP: Oh. oh oh oh, Senor. You are so fucked. I wish there were other words, but really? What I heard today renders null and void any level of respect or leeway for you I ever provided.

On SO many levels. You had better make whatever BS excuse you have for it good because as soon as I gather my facts, and this comes out on the wrong side (and it will) I am breaking the bad-mouthing embargo.

Big time. Flaming the likes you have never seen. Wow, lucky for you right now I am so pissed I don’t know what to say.

New Foster: The First Two Hours

The new foster pup arrived today. He’s a pretty boy. There are pictures and I will post them but I don’t think you understand how tired I am.  My fingers are incapable of caring that I need to post pictures I am so tired.

The Bell household didn’t even stay up that late.  All told we were all in bed by 11:30, but this dog (he’s a good boy, but I know by telling his story here that I am going to lose a good portion of adopting public) has exhausted me.  I am mentally defied by this dog at every turn. He is Akita through and through, with just enough husky (independent, yodely, stubborn) thrown in to make me nuts. Pretty blue eyes though if you are a sucker for blue eyes. *I* no longer am.

Good news is that the monsters have taken to him very well. Bruno has been more tolerant than usual and Tempest has met her match in the unadulaterated obnoxious energy category. She is outright outclassed. All my puppy tricks and treats I used for Bruno and Tempest aren’t working with Blue.  I laid down by his crate at bed time and he just yodeled like he was getting beaten while I cried. (Kidding. Mostly.) I am shocked the neightbors didn’t call Animal Control.

The whole routine, if you can call anything that I do routine, has been upset and I am desperately trying to integrate him as fast as he can go.  Moose, not so much, but he needed ruffling after he shredded an entire pound cake on the new rug.

To give an idea of what exactly went on last night, these are my thoughts in no particular order upon the arrival of Blue to the Bell compound.

• That is not a husky, that is an Akita. Jebus.
• Aw how cute.
• He’s four months old. Jebus.
• Ow. pointy teeth!
• Does NOT know sit.
• Hah. He’s wearing Tempy out.
• Hm. Maybe I should intervene.
• Nah, a few more minutes should do her good.
• Ew, ok he’s hanging off her face.
• Ok, break it up you two.
• Aww he’s so cute.
• POOP!
• House trained my rosy red a…..
• stupidrassafrassin…
• Ok, I think we’re in for the night…
• PEE!!! ARRRRRGH! And out again.
• Ok, let me check email
• PEE!! FOR. PETE’S. SAKE!
• It’s a good thing I am taking up all this carpet.
• HOW BIG IS YOUR BLADDER??
• I am going to cry.
• You were hiding that… where?
• Walking bladder. Forget walking stomach… walking bladder.
• What did my disgusting carpet ever do to you?
• Ok bed time.
• GO TO SLEEEEEEEEP. For the love of all things holy PLEASE GO TO SLEEP
• I am never having children. NEVER. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!
• Bruno, Tempy I am sorry for ever having yelled at you. SO SO SO SO SO SO sorry.
• I am doing this for Candi. Doing it for Candi. Doing it for Candi.
• My non-existent children are NEVER getting a puppy.

Three iterations of sleeping arrangements, four walks, two pee soakings, and pleading for mercy with a shot of Dalmore later, he passes out of his own accord. I’ll post pictures after my volleyball game tonight.

Vent

I have a pretty long temper about most things.

At least I like to think so. I have my hot buttons like anyone else.

So when I saw the picture of the (LITTLE) snake hacked to bits on Facebook, I kind of passed it over. Actually, I didn’t get to see it first time around. The picture wasn’t showing.

I had an opportunity to go back and see it hacked to bits I was pretty disgusted. They hadn’t even severed it at the head. Or at all. But a ragged and gaping mortal wound was inflicted at the topline mid section. Had they even put it out of its misery? I mean, really?

I can’t speak to what kind of education people have regarding snakes. There are things that some people know about snakes, that others may not.  I would hate to think thought that someone gets some sort of pleasure or satisfaction out of beating a snake. An anaconda I would understand, but this was a full grown, pencil circumference, less than 18″ snake. Dude, you weilding the knife are BIGGER many times over, least you can do is kill it right.

This is what I know and am passing it on for future reference:

• Of the 37 common species of snake in my home state of North Carolina, 6 are venomous. Six. Roughly 16% percent of the snake population can potentially kill you. 
• Of those six, you can recognize all but one of these venomous snakes by their triangular shaped heads (Family Viperidae).
• The sixth is a coral snake and the bright colors are warning enough. Bright colors are natures way of saying: “NO TOUCHY TOUCHY!”
• If the rattles and distinctive patterns weren’t enough… well I don’t suppose they would get close enough to see the shape of the iris. But take comfort in the fact that if you do get bitten, death is only assured through inaction.

I get that people don’t like snakes. Long history of biblical association and demonization, blah biddy blah blah. I am not saying that I love them -I like them better than spiders- but I respect them as living things. I gave snakes wide berth when we crossed paths. And we crossed paths many times playing in the woods. Snakes in houses, wells, dropping from trees, in the creek, under bushes… and on and on.

What pushed me over the edge from disgusted  (aside from the inhumane dispatching) to furious, is the hysterics and pleasure taken in seeing a snake that LITERALLY  fit on a styrofoam dinner plate killed by virtue of being a snake. We humanely euthanize just about everything else, at least we can do as humans is act humane and cut off its head. This one? It bled to death.

Snakes of North Carolina