Job

I got a little job working at the consignment store from which half of my wardrobe comes. This is one of two stores that I shop at in Panama City (the other one is Dillard's - but only the clearance racks). I guess the owner decided that since I'm in there so often (at Lee's Designer Consignments) I may as well be productive for her.

One big problem for me. Every day I'm there, I pretty much feel like a kid in a candy store: really tempted, but I know if I actually got everything I wanted, I would be really sick (well, at least our budget would be). I imagine this is what Kevin would feel like if he worked at a beer store. Or if Kelsey worked at Crate and Barrel. Or if Jennifer worked at a Twilight store. Or if Julia worked at Talbot's. Or if my mom worked at a puppy store. You get the idea.

Visiting and Learning: Part 2

The education never stops.

Parboiling: briefly cooking something but not all the way; cooking something partly before you cook it some more another way

Chiffonade: some cooking thing that means to roll up basil leaves and cut them longways

Lane's: a peach and pecan grower in Georgia that is slightly touristy but has interesting souvenir things like Road Kill spice

Monopoly Deal: a card game where you play Monopoly but with cards (obviously) rather than a dice

Nothing kills sugar ants except time and lack of rain.

It is possible to enjoy Cobb salad equally as much two nights in a row.

Preparing a salad (i.e. assembling ingredients) is not cooking. (This newest fact I've learn is one I don't entirely agree with but if it gets me a homemade Cobb salad twice during a visit, I will concede.)

I love learning.

Visiting and Learning

There is something about being on an educational vacation that fills me to the brim with satisfaction and contentment. It's justification for fun. I'll explain.

Right now I'm at Kelsey's house in Georgia visiting her and keeping her company till her husband Eli comes home from a TDY. I've been here a little over 24 hours and I've already learned what blanching is, how to peel a peach easily (related to the blanching lesson), that there are alternatives to traditional high chairs, that the website the Pioneer Woman is awesome, that Warner Robins AFB is now called Robins AFB, that the Mormon faith condones self-reliance including a 3-month food storage, that grain mills are a fun invention that I would love to use but never would think about it in a million years, that my Real Simple magazine should have arrived already but it has not, that the restaurant Kevin and I visited in Savannah on our honeymoon is one of the 1000 places you should visit before you die, and many other interesting tidbits that are not only useful but intriguing as well.

Educational vacations: priceless.

Monster Hair Plants and New Orleans

Kevin and I did yard work on Sunday and I pulled out the jungle in our backyard. These plants with looooong, green, skinny leaves were taking over. Some of the leaves were longer than I am tall! I was amazed (and annoyed) by them so I took photos of them. Maybe someone out there will know what they are (besides annoying).



And now here are a few photos from our trip to New Orleans. I took a hundred and I'll put them on flickr. Here's a sampling.



Above is Pedestrian Square in the French Quarter.



Above is us in the foyer of the bed and breakfast we stayed in just a couple blocks from the French Quarter.



This is Jared, Kevin's friend from ROTC, and Kevin with a person dressed up funny. She/he had these finger clapper things that got my attention and I just knew this would be a fantastic photo opportunity.

Theme Song

I've decided that my hair has a theme song. Here it goes:

I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky.
I think about it every night and day.
I spread my wings and (try to) fly away.

I believe I can soar. See me running through the open dooooooor!
I believe I can fly. I believe I can fly.
Oh I believe I can flyyyyyyyy.

Hair, I do NOT believe I enjoy you at the moment. And let me state for the record once more that I do not enjoy the wings.

In case you readers are having trouble comprehending the flying and wings of my hair, I've included a picture. Keep in mind, this is after I've washed it and (tried to) style it.



Moral of this story: I hate HATE HATE growing my hair out.

A Limerick

It's raining, it's pouring.
Ruby is snoring.
She fell asleep
On top of my feet
And now it's getting boring.

Post Travels

We survived New Orleans. I gotta say: that is not one of my favorite cities. I am a clean, dainty person (*cough cough*) and I do not love dirt and grunge. And I must say, those are two descriptive words that fit New Orleans. I believe I best described it to my mom: loud, colorful, and dirty. I am only a fan of things that fit the middle adjective, so New Orleans is not for me. I think Kevin had fun, though. Actually I did have fun; it was just more due to who I was with (and what I was eating) rather than where I was. I'll just check New Orleans off my "been there, done that" list.

Now onto real life: I'm going through the application process to volunteer in the NICU/nursery at the local hospital here. I tried doing this before, but then I got hired at Tyndall Elementary, so I never finished. I also may be watching my friend's baby while she goes back to work, so that's something else new. And I'm (finally) organizing our filing cabinet. I consulted my Martha Stewart cleaning/organizing encyclopedia so I feel prepared to tackle the task now.

And now for my most favorite activity: grocery shopping followed by cooking dinner. Man, life doesn't get any better than this.

N'Awlins

We are here in New Orleans. We got here yesterday and met up with a friend of Kevin's from MSU ROTC. We wandered the French Quarter and some unnamed area of New Orleans all afternoon and evening. We had to have walked for miles. And lucky us, we arrived just in time for the Southern Decadence 2009 party, the gay/lesbian extravaganza! It was awesome - made for some fantastic people watching.

We saw the usual N.O. stuff: Bourbon street (a once-in-a-lifetime and never-again experience), Magazine Street, Canal Street, bars, naked ladies, half-naked gay men, the Mississippi River, Cafe du Monde, big ass beers (aptly named), Tropical Isle grenades (disgusting Midori-type concoctions that give one a horrendous hangover the next day [something I chose not to experience]), and more.

Today we ate breakfast at Surrey's, a place on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives (on the Food Network). Awesome breakfast!! Of course, I was the only one who really enjoyed mine, as Kevin and Jared were feeling a bit "grenade-ed" if you know what I mean.

After bidding Jared a sad farewell (what a fun guy), we headed to the 1870 Banana Courtyard B&B. The only way to describe this place is through a series of oxymoronic phrases: huge but claustrophobic, musty but clean, old but modern, bright but dank, nice but mildly dingy, overwhelming but understated, colorful but brown. Our room is the Canopy Room. Nice-ish. The owners are very nice, very knowledgeable. Right now we are waiting to actually unpack our car and take our stuff to our room. It's POURING outside and the only way to get into our room is to go outside and up some stairs. Not a good time to lug 4 bags with you up 2 flights of metal stairs.

So we're just chillin'. More later.

A Case of the Happies

When the eye doctor told Kevin a list of all the side effects of having Lasik, he did not specify that Kevin would experience the Happies. This is a rare side effect associated with very few surgeries in which the patient is extremely excited and happy before, during, and after the surgical procedure (unrelated to any drug intake whatsoever). Similar symptoms of giddiness, pure joy, and optimism may also occur. Warning: these are contagious to individuals not associated with the surgery. The Happies can negatively affect these other individuals and cause irritation, annoyance, and at worst cases, extreme panic from worry associated with the patient being too happy and careless with his eyeballs. Warning: even nagging has no negative effect on the Happies. This may cause additional panic in the non-surgery individual, but try not to get hysterical. Based on past experiments, nagging is a powerful tool. Never give up.

Surgery = accomplished! Cake = it's debateable.

Kevin got his Lasik eye surgery this morning. He was as excited as a man in a brewery without a brew master. It lasted about an hour (including pre-op and post-op stuff) and now he's upstairs snoozing away, enjoying the last effects of his Valium. He kept stopping me on the walk out of the hospital and up to our room to say "Hey, I can read that!" The doctor said the recovery time should be short and easy. Hopefully it'll actually be that way. He has to have eye drops every hour for the first 24 hours then every 4 hours every day for a week. Because I'm anal, I set up alarm reminders on my phone to help me remember to wake him up and give him eye drops. Which reminds me, his eyes have ink in them. When I first saw them, I thought it was blood and I was horrified, but then when the doc said it was ink, I was less horrified. Still slightly disgusted, but oh well. As long as Kevin is happy and sleeping and pain-free, I'm good.

On the topic of my Splenda pound cake, I'd judge the results as falling somewhere in the middle of disaster and success. It tastes and looks like pound cake, but it's dry. My standards are much higher because of this cake that somebody brought to a training I went to: it was so moist and delightfully decadent, that no pound cake will ever taste good unless it tastes exactly like the one I ate at the training. I simply have to track down the recipe.

That's all. Keep Kevin in your prayers that his recovery goes well.

I've been commissioned

While Kevin's been off gallivanting with doctors about getting Lasik (which, by the way, he found out he's getting the Lasik surgery, not the one that uses blades), I've been hanging out at the Fisher House with the manager guy, Larry, and the housekeeper, Mary. Both are colorful people who are making the visit much more enjoyable than it otherwise might not have been. So Larry and I were chatting over breakfast and somehow I got commissioned to bake a cake for another guest's birthday. Easy peezy, no problem, I said. Then Mary decided that since I must be a great baker (this assessment of my ability was based on one observation of me making a Betty Crocker boxed mix cake, but whatever), so she commissioned me to make a pound cake. With Splenda (since she's diabetic). Great, I said. I've never made a pound cake, let alone with Splenda, but what the hey? I'll give it a try. Now, I am not a baking master, but I am aware that making a good pound cake is difficult. This little experiment will either yield a royal mess and much wasted time, ingredients and energy, or either you will see a photo of my creation proudly displayed on my blog. Stay tuned.