Eat, drink, and be merry

I don't know what got into me. Wednesday night I had several friends over and I cooked. That's right- I cooked. It was really a joint effort, so I can't take all the credit. More to come on that.
I grilled Hawaiian Chicken (that's what I'm calling it at least. It's a variation on my mother's 'Holly Chicken' but without many of the things she includes. Thus, I just call it Hawaiian Chicken). Teriyaki marinated chicken breasts were wrapped in bacon, topped with a slice of pineapple, placed in the grill basket, and put on the grill. Meanwhile, Chandler helped me by monitoring the rice and green beans. The hardest part about cooking is timing everything so that it is done all at the same time. My mother is quite the master at this technique. I, however, am not. So, I employed Chandler to help me. Daniel and MC brought salad and a key-lime pie. Lee and Dana brought a watermelon, a bunch of drinks, and cookies. It ended up being a wonderful (and much needed) night of food, friends, and fun. We sat around the table that held up many meals for my family growing up. It's still pocked with fork marks from my brother and I. We told stories, took pictures, laughed. We ate, drank, and were generally merry.
The downside? I spent the better part of my morning this morning doing a million dishes by hand because I don't have a dish washer. It was worth it though. We know that food and good times often go together. I think this correlation is made even stronger when the food is prepared by you and your friends.

Whoa, things got crazy.

Well said, title. Turns out my recent string of boredom was the calm before the storm. When I say storm, I mean an onslaught of people that I love and that are very important to me. Yesterday saw the return of one of the main characters in my life: my roommate and best friend Daniel. He's been in Europe for nine weeks with the college of building science. He and his betrothed are hanging out in Auburn while he finishes his studies and prepares for graduation. So, it's great to have them around for the next couple of weeks.
But wait, there's more. My good friends Whitney and Hope came to Auburn to hang out with Chandler and I. Remember camp? These are friends from camp. So good to see them as well. Their brief visit brings new meaning to the phrase "short, but sweet".

Good talk, see you out there.

An Inconvenient Food

I began thinking about what I was going to do for dinner tonight. Immediately, Veggies To Go popped into my mind (Auburn people, you know what I'm talking about). I started piecing together my order when it hit me: it's Sunday. Veggies is closed on Sunday. I haven't thought about Veggies to Go in probably two months, and the one day I want it, it's closed. Doesn't it always happen that way? "Man, I'd love some Chik-fil-a... oh wait, it's Sunday". Maybe it speaks to some deeper meaning within the human condition: we always want what we can't have. Or, it's just an inconvenient food.

Nostalgia

The driveway was long. Vegetation surrounding it on the left and right, even above; a living tunnel. The light at the end of the tunnel was only more driveway, this time out in the open. It was unpaved, save the oyster shells that cut at my summer feet. As we near the end of the driveway, the animals rush to greet us. An old Brittany spaniel investigates our arrival as a younger animal of the same breed barks and runs about.
The entrance to the house is covered with tropical vegetation. Young palms fan out in the summer sun. We brush the foliage away from our faces as we walk into the house. It is hot, but the floor feels cool on my bare feet. The smell of boiling shrimp permeates the air. The house has all the usual furnishings; sofas, tables, chairs, etc. It's the decoration that strikes me. One room is full of giraffes, wooden, slender, hand-crafted. The stairwell adorned with teapots from all over the world. Tribal masks hang on one wall. A mural beams from the floor of the sunroom, challenging my imagination. Photography throughout; the kind that makes you have to catch your breath again. Ornate, yet simple. Exotic, yet somehow so homey.
The screen door slams shut, signaling my arrival to the backyard. A large tree of some sort provided shade for most of the area, including a picnic table perfect for eating freshly boiled crab. Water. A swimming pool: the pinnacle of summer bliss, and this one even has a diving board. Thirty yards past the palm trees behind the pool lies the bay.
The house was called Pine Lodge and it was in Gulf Shores. My Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin lived there. I went back six years ago. There were no animals, no people. The house was void of its decorative eccentricities. The pool was brown.
Despite its current state, which may now be bayside condominiums, Pine Lodge remains in my memory as one of my favorite places in the world. The house was full of beautiful and interesting things. My fondest memories, though, are of the family gatherings that took place there. We would visit during the summers and catch bay crab and boil them. We would shoot fireworks off the pier. We listened to Jimmy Buffett. Our ENTIRE family would converge there after Christmas for a few days. I will never forget that place. I hold tightly to its memory, perhaps because I know that I will never again experience it. Sometimes, I just sit and think about it...

Newton's First Law

The first of Sir Isaac Newton's three laws of motion states that an object in motion tends to stay in motion while an object at rest tends to stay at rest, unless otherwise acted upon by an outside force. I am this law. I've had a broken ankle for almost a month now. Needless to say, I've been an object at rest. I feel gross. I feel like a lazy bum. I sleep late, and I don't get exercise. Yet, I continue to be able to sleep ten hours a night! Why is this? We tend to think that if one gets an abundant amount of sleep one night, he or she will not need as much sleep the next night. I have been sleeping late all week. Newton's first law. I need an outside force (preferably one capable of cutting through three layers of fiberglass.) I want to run. I want to take my dog running. I want to swim. I want to take my dog swimming. I feel like all I do is eat and sleep and watch movies. The best days of summer are passing me by in a full-bellied, foggy-eyed, one-legged haze. I do push-ups and sit-ups to try to replicate exercise, but nothing beats a good two-mile run. I'm weird in the sense that I feel like I have to "earn" a good meal and a long sleep. "Earn" in a metabolic sense. To have burned enough calories and energy through exercise and just daily activity to need a big meal and a long night's sleep. Instead, I just feel gross. Sigh.

Well, I'm going to go prop my leg up and watch more TV.

New Yorker Cover

What. The. Hell.

This is the upcoming cover of the New Yorker Magazine. It depicts Senator Barack Obama in traditional Muslim attire fist-bumping his wife, clad in terrorist attire standing over a fireplace in which an American flag is burning. Oh, and don't forget the portrait of Bin Laden on the wall.

What. The. Hell.

Spokesmen from the New Yorker say it is meant to be satirical. They claim that it is meant to poke fun at those people who think Obama and his wife are fist-bumping, flag-burning, Muslim terrorists. If this is the case, then shouldn't they draw cartoons of those people? Regardless of one's political leanings, no United States Senator deserves this kind of treatment. Both campaigns called the cartoon "tasteless and offensive." I agree. I'm appalled.

A "friend" of mine on facebook had as his status "laughing at the New Yorker cover and worried that it's a sign of things to come." The fact that people actually think that about Obama is the only thing worth laughing at here. Grow up.

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Since originally posting this, I have watched and read several discussions on this issue. I now understand what New Yorker was trying to do here. The editor of the New Yorker made a comparison to Stephen Colbert, a comedian whose work I hold in the highest regard. He said that Colbert satirizes right wing commentary by playing a right wing "pundit". I get what he's saying. New Yorker is satirizing these perceptions of the Obamas by becoming the perceptions. Even still, I don't think it worked that well and I'm not sure the timing was appropriate on this one.

Yes, we can.

Soothe the Savage Soul

This is the child of two of my dear friends. They play a recording of me playing a classical piece on the guitar called "Romanza". Watch his reaction!