May 2008 Archives

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What? Memorial day was only a day long? Huh. Well, back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

Turns out it's Prunes, not Prune. Even better, the roadside attraction is actually for two burros: Prunes and Shorty. Good thing that part didn't make it into the story or who knows if we ever would have parsed it.

I've known two of these guys since sixth grade, and another for about ten years. Before Flobots was in the current incarnation, it was some guys messing around in a basement in high school. Then they recorded themselves and handed out self-created tapes. Then there was this magical fusion a few years ago when they introduced some key musicians and elements from another friend's funk band. Then they caught on fire. They were just signed to Universal and are starting to tour in a newer, bigger way. It's weird to see your buddies on national television, but so exciting.

Krista and Micah are discussing their plans to drive down to New Mexico this weekend.

Aubrey: You'll pass the giant borough. You should stop to see it.
John: Oh yeah, prune the borough!
Aubrey: Yeah, prune!
Krista: ....what? Prune the borough?
Aubrey: Prune the borough! He's huge!
John: Yeah, you have to stop to see him.
Me: What?
Aubrey: It's a giant stature. Of a borough.
Me: What word are you saying? Borough?
Aubrey: Y'know, b-u-r-r-o.
Me: You mean a DONKEY? Whose name is Prune?
Aubrey: Whatever! [puts on dramatic Spanish accent] burro. "Donkey." Geeze.
Me: No one would just use the term "burro" out of nowhere! I was thinking "borough," like in New York.
Aubrey: Only New York people would think that.
Me: No one says "burro"!

And then she called us all honkeys.

* * *

Scene: ice cream shop

Me: Hi, the bathroom door is locked, is there someone in there or do I need a key?
Very chipper ice cream girl: Oh yeah, it's only that one!
Me: ...so there's someone in there?
VCICG: Yeah, sorry!
Me: Oh, it's fine, I just wasn't sure if it was occupied or I needed a key to get in.
VCICG: I wish there were two! People always need the bathroom at the same time!
Me: Okay then.

The weather is just delicious lately. It's right at that moment before it gets too hot, but where it's nice and sunny and perfect for walking around with giant waffle cones dipped in chocolate and filled with ice cream. Speaking of ice cream, I made the best milkshake ever this weekend. Somehow I need to find a good balance between eating ice cream for every meal and not gaining so much weight that I'm completely immobile by August. I'm not sure it can be done, but I think the ice cream is winning.

I cannot wait to not have to take vitamins anymore. Why are pre-natal vitamins so big and smelly and gross? Why! I don't understand why they can't be encased in a capsule coating or made smaller for easier swallowing. All of the brands look exactly the same, so I guess it has something to do with magical vitamin construction and rate of dissolution or delicate balances, but still: gross.

My belly is big enough now that sleeping is pretty sucktown. My hips get sore during the night from all the side sleeping and I'm not sure how to adjust a pillow to relieve that sort of ache. Flipping from side to side is also now much more of a chore...something to do with loss of stomach muscles or them being buried by a small child. Then I do the math in my head and realize I still have like three and a half more months of this. And I'm not getting any smaller. On the up side, the baby sure kicks and squirms around a lot, which gives me something entertaining to pay attention to throughout the day.

Even though I am only a sorta mother at this point, people gave me little cards and stuff. J got me a gift certificate for a special pregnancy massage (though he kept insisting it was really from the kid, to be deducted from future allowances), and my friend gave me this sweet shirt. My brother, J and I took my mom to a chocolate festival, which is totally as awesome as you might imagine. The highlight of the night was getting to meet the real Violet Beauregard. She looks exactly the same, except older and less like a blueberry.

When I arrived at work this morning, I noticed that I had scrawled a word across my notepad and circled it. This word was "paranormal." I stared at it for quite awhile trying to decide what it was I had taken the note about. Obviously it was important enough for me to write it down and then circle it, but I will be honest: there are not many reasons why the word "paranormal" would get jotted down in my line of work. Was it the name of an article? A new blog? Was I supposed to schedule a seance for the office? It took me most of the day to realize it was the name of a dvd collection I wanted to remember to bring home.

We had our first baby shower over the weekend, put on by the super nice people at J's work. Whoever heard of the husband's work throwing a party for him and his pregnant wife? No one! Super nice! We got lots of adorable little fuzzy outfits, which is great because now the baby will have something other than recycled newspaper to wear, which is what I had been saving up just in case. There were also piles of glorious food, like deviled eggs (heaven) and brownies (J heaven).

The cake was pretty cute, with a frosting baby and tiny frosting bear on it. My mom became smitten with the bear and wouldn't let the hostess cut the cake before she'd carefully removed him and placed him on a little plate. The hostess presented me with the plate and slightly squished frosting bear, "Your mom wanted you to have the bear!" This put me in somewhat of a predicament because...well, what does one do with a frosting bear that's been granted a second life on a paper plate? He'd lost his right ear in the transfer, but otherwise looked up cheerily. I left my new friend in the kitchen while we opened gifts in the other room.

I was sort of hoping the bear had taken care of himself in the meantime. Perhaps ran off with a sultry potato chip or found his way into the tummy of the 6-year-old wandering around, but he was still waiting for me when the hostess began packing up leftovers. "Your bear!" my mom said, handing me the plate. "Now how are you going to get him home?" I suggested we slide him onto the piece of cake we were taking (because I did not have my large keepsake locket on hand). He lost the other ear in the process.

A day later, I ate the leftover cake, but now found I was having trouble eating the bear. Maybe because he'd been deemed "my" bear at some point, like I was supposed to care for him now, perhaps pay his way into frosting bear technical college and attend his graduation and then check in on him now and again as he pursued his dreams of becoming a clinical laboratory technician. The bear eventually became more squished and unrecognizable as he the fork pushed him aside and he wound up, more or less, a little mound of brown goo. Then, when he wasn't looking at me anymore, I stopped worrying about him. The slice of cake also happened to have the baby on it, but I had no problems eating the baby's chubby face and his be-onesied crawly body. I mean, after all, it was just frosting.

There are lots of kitchen gadgets we have that are fun, but don't get used very often. Chocolate fountain, fondue set, cherry pitter, melon baller, s'mores roaster. Of course, the once a year when I need to pit a huge batch of cherries or want to dip some stuff in chocolate, they come in handy, but we tend to accumulate a lot of tools of the trade that sit unused a majority of the time. That being the case, I am sometimes reluctant to buy new gear in the fear it will only add to the clutter without providing sufficient services to justify their existence.

However, after about the tenth time I had to transport/store a cake and wishing I owned a cake carrier, I finally caved and bought one. It was the last one Bed Bath and Beyond had in stock and I was totally thrilled. I'd been planning on an encore presentation of Deb's Expletive-Free Cake for Passover and needed a way to bring the cake over to my parents'. Now I had one and we were off to good start.

Unfortunately a good start is as far as I got. I know I managed to make the cake last year with minimal fuss, but this year I got snagged every step of the way. First, the recipe called for Dutch-processed cocoa, which I had a hard time finding. A guy at Whole Foods assured me their bulk cocoa was the right stuff, but I was nervous about throwing off the chemistry of the delicate cake and worried the whole time I didn't have the right stuff.

I had finished the batter--which is a giant mess of whipped egg whites and chocolate and creamed yolks--before looking over the ingredient list again and wondering where those 4 tablespoons of water were supposed to come in. OH, at the beginning, you say? Could I add water to a pile of beaten egg whites? Guess I would have to! Not too much trouble. But the cake is four layers and I only have the two pans, so a double batch would be in order. As the first layers were in the kitchen, I looked over the ingredient list again and saw this: salt. Shit! Well, if water can go into batter after the fact, the salt was going to have to, too. Into half the cake, anyway.

Then my eye caught the stupid cocoa sitting on the counter. Shit again! When was the cocoa supposed to go in? A quick scan of the recipe told me...it didn't! I was only used as a dusting between layers. Grumble grumble. The salt-less layers looked okay, if a little flat. Time to make the whipped cream filling. Can't screw that up, right? Turns out it's as easy as using the wrong measuring cup! Who likes extra sweet whipped cream!

Anyway, the whole thing eventually came together, but not after ruining the expletive-free part of the recipe. People even ate it and liked it! J wanted to bring the leftovers home to continue eating it! Bringing leftovers home would be a cinch, because hello! Cake carrier.

We made it about two blocks in the car before we heard a mysterious slide, thump, and crash. I stopped the car.

Me: What was that?
J: Did the cake make it into the back seat?

Turns out J had temporarily put the cake on the car's roof while loading other stuff and then forgotten about it. We drove back to assess the damage. The poor cake never had a fighting chance. It ended its days spread all over Narcissus Way. "How's the carrier?" I asked anxiously. J just shook his head. A total loss.

The story made my mom laugh enough to replace the carrier. I certainly learned to read through a recipe more than once before starting it. And J chalks the splattered cake up to experience. Now he'll know to be extra careful with the baby car seat.