Nothing to do but blog.

I am holed up in the basement of my building because of tornado sirens and a sky that looks like they mean it. It’s a familiar feeling that reminds me of my first weeks in Iowa. This time there is cable (Bill Murray’s Father’s Day marathon) and access to the washing machine. My first sheltering experience was crouched in the corner of the public library with my laptop. A guy next to me leaned over and asked me to check the radar online. So I found a national weather map and he said, “Click on Iowa”. And I had to say “Um, click where?” Because I didn’t know what my new state looked like, yet. I am telling you this because when my sisters came to visit me last weekend, they didn’t know where Iowa was either.

We stopped in THE WORLD”S LARGEST TRUCKSTOP for SNACKS and took advantage of a teaching moment among the merchandise. Meghan (of Michigan) and I were able to piece these state magnets together to give Katie enough geographical context to orient herself. Katie even helped a little with the Illinois border. She’s always been good with shapes. Lincoln looks pissed.

I will have to update later with more pictures because my camera is currently at risk of severe weather in my apartment. These are all Meg’s pictures and she is not in any of them. Just believe me that this is what we did.

1. Eat: pastries, burritos, nachos, pie milkshakes, cheese curds, tapas, pastries, in that order. Katie was made to face her fear of misshapen foods by trying cheese curds, a fear which I had no idea existed. Ultimately I think she felt betrayed because no one told her they would by squeaky when you bite into them. So now I guess she has a new aversion to squeaky foods. This is for Tony, from the attractively packaged bottle of the austere, sensible iced tea Obama drinks, Honest Tea.

2. Sleep: they both napped on Saturday while I sewed Katie some curtains. Three seams and it took me at least an hour because I kept sewing the fabric to itself and then threaded the machine wrong. Here we are measuring for them.

3. Watch movies.

4. Touch Katie’s pregnant body.

5. Cut my hair.

Stay tuned for Sister Weekend 2010.

Happy May 5!

Today I came home to an impromptu dinner and a gorgeous woman put a beer in my hand and asked me how my day was. Fried plantains, fancy tacos, queso. All I did was show up. It kind of makes you mourn the break down of traditional marriage roles.

Before Obama was President…

The second annual eBay Secret Santa Gift Extravaganza happened again and I’m ready to talk about it. I chose Mike, a scientist, to draw the names for us and I received this email:

Dear Joanna,
I have been appointed to be an independent and unbiased coordinator of your Secret Santa event!  Or as it is known in Ireland, “Chris Kindle”, or in Spain, “Amigo Invisible”.
Your assignment:  Wendy
Have fun!
Mike

Disclaimer (per Wikipedia):
“A Secret Santa event in a mixed-gender setting can often be marred by the anonymous provision of inappropriate gifts with the potential to cause embarrassment to the recipients. Typical gifts of this nature include many inappropriate objects, such as inflatable penises, dildos and pubic shampoo…”

He kills me.

My bidding did not go well. My plan was to force archivnoten into participating in Sweater Thursday on Christmas day but I don’t think my gift arrived until 2009. Hoping to get something there in time, I bought a placeholder gift but I accidentally chose an international seller and it arrived even later. Anyway, I blew it. I’ll let her tell you about her gifts, as per the user end agreement which I am just now getting around to upholding.
My Santa was Whitney, as scrawled upon the box.

A life-size glass head! How unexpected!

I emailed the seller to confirm receipt and asked WTF is this glass head? His reply:

Good Morning Joanna ,

THANKS for letting me know it arrived in good condition ! The glass head was intended as a display head for commercial use – that is why it is the anatomically appropriate size. We use them to display eye glasses.  Others have used to display hats. These are the more common uses. However, here on Ebay people have been more creative. Some people have filled them with items; one person used a low wattage bulb to make a lamp (not recommended); sold a number of them to an Army Officer who made a memorial homage to his fallen men.  If you or anyone else can use more, please let me know and we can save you money on combined shipping and purchase of more – especially case lots.

The head was obviously a plea for the return of last year’s feature – Who Would I Do and a Hat. Who am I to deny the people?

The hat: I’ve been into all shades of gray lately, if one can be into grays. You can roll up the brim if you want to but I like to wear it TALL.
The do: Chef Anthony Bourdain of the Travel Channel’s No Reservations.

He’s undeniably an aged version of The Moderatalist, minus the Midwestern charm, the physique, and the clean lungs. I bet he doesn’t eat tuna out of the can like David does, but same thick roiling curls. Same lanky gait. (Same ear piercing.)

Tony has a blog and one of his posts is titled the same as one of mine! A common reference to a shared pop culture? No way. It’s a promising sign of our shared future, traveling the globe, exchanging irreverent, witty banter.

Less promising? He hates vegetarians. I can change.

Here he is eating squeevilskweasel.

My special day

[Card courtesy of the nerdess]

I had a birthday last week. I have 28 years now. If I were to graph trends related to getting older, one of the factors on an upward sweep at this point is the baking skills of my friends. I have fond memories of the box cakes in college, but lime-coconut cupcakes from scratch? Expert blueberry pie, still warm? A noble attempt at profiteroles despite being short a few ingredients? I’m feeling good about this.

Another upward trend: the resourcefulness of my friends. I got some good loot. Highlights follow.

A book of postcards…

with such gems as…

Documented underboob, which I immediately turned into a magnet to keep the other chick company on the fridge. I now have an underboob collection. I imagine it will grow.

A check from my sister with this memo: For rat film production.

ART.

I know. It’s amazing. He sneers at me while I make coffee in the morning. And because of a mirror on the opposite wall, he does it again when I walk in the front door.

W and The Kee made the long cold journey to my city and state and I finally got in on the ground floor of some of their inside jokes. Most the activities I planned for us fell through. I made them promise to go snowshoeing no matter how cold it was but at -7F it was, in fact, too cold. The Miss America Pageant viewing I had lined up for Saturday night was a bust because my landlords canceled the cable. Luckily there was plenty of entertainment to be had from the Kee’s new snuggie to fill the void.

Another positive: because they were maybe getting a little stir-crazy, they were more receptive to bad ideas, like giving Whitney a faux hawk. At one point it looked as bad as this.

He stressed out a tiny bit but at some point, though it never really got much better, he seemed to change his mind about it. Here is he completely at home with his pony hawk.

My tree-house apartment seems almost too big without them, but I find comfort in the empty snuggie box and the puddle of human hair on my porch.

Drunk bar pictures prove we’re still fun

A few weeks ago I dragged W east for a wedding. Remember? I know it’s old news, and he already blogged about it. But it was such a magical trip, I need to share it with you.

BUFFALO.

Purpose of journey: To serve as a bridesmaid, with W as my date.

Length of stay: 72 hours.

Goals: Don’t disappoint the bride.

The highlights:

1. Mighty Taco.

I’m considering changing my tagline to GUACAMOLE HAS ARRIVED. I’m not sure if this was really a highlight for me because the sad fact is they don’t put a lot of love into their vegetarian options.

2.Wegmans.

3. Breakfast scrabble.

4. The wedding/reception. I think he’s making fun of Tommy in this picture.

5. Seeing Michelle for the first time since May 2006. It almost didn’t happen. Like me, she barely made her flight, but her backstory is more solid than mine. She’s an equine vet, she’d been at the clinic for days, and she was covered in blood and goat semen when she arrived at the ticket counter, begging to be put on the plane. They let her right through. Really. Probably because she’s so adorable and her southern accent comes out when she’s tired.

6. Whitney’s swim in the cold, swift Niagara River. I have a great video of him jumping in but I’m not supposed to show it to you.

ROCHESTER.

Purpose of journey: To rekindle our relationship in the city where it all began.

Length of stay: 13 hours.

Goals: Smell a baby’s head. Have a circuitous conversation with PHiL. Put Lisa in my pocket. Touch Seelander.

The hightlights:

1. W’s playlist on the drive. When we called Little Lisa Paladino to give her an update on our progress, W warned her that there would be no hugging. But that fell apart. There was a lot of hugging. We were like hobbits in a mead hall.

2. The first round of canal jumping.

3. Frozen beers at Seelander’s house. He owns it. He is the landlord. Such a tyrant.

4. Will’s house. I met baby Dawson and I was talked into buying a Genesee Rowing shirt in a ladies’ small.

5. Dinner somewhere. It was good, but I forget. I think we had coffee. This is when Lisa started to wear Whitney down.

A hug! Success.

Sadly this is the last we saw of her because she had to go to work, where sometimes she has to touch dead bodies. This inspired more hugging.

6. I think next was Boulder Coffee for Canadian coffees (bourbon, coffee, espresso, maple syrup, whipped cream, awesome). I also think this was the only thing I paid for all night. I’m sorry. After a few drinks, everything just seems free. Does that happen to you?

This is where the thoughtful political discussion began. People tell me they have no idea what that post is about. Just know that W’s now classic strategy when sparring with self-identifying libertarians is to confront them about community services like trash collection. It’s not sexy, but that’s kind of the point.

7. The Old Toad. I lost at least one thumb war and ACCIDENTALLY threw Whitney’s camera on the floor twice. It’s cute how sad he gets when his camera dies. Like it’s not inevitable. Fortunately it didn’t stay broken. In fact, maybe I’m the one who fixed it. I don’t remember. Can you tell he still loves me?

PHiL’s eyelashes kill me.

8. Intense car dancing. I know I had a leg out the window. Then we chatted with a police officer for a few minutes. For a short while there we were all libertarians. This was followed by even more highly spirited car dancing. (If W’s playcount of Alicia Keys – No One hasn’t shot way up since that night, he’s lying.)

9. The Elmwood. At least two more pots of coffee were consumed.

PHiL and I abstained from a shot of something so I talked us into a spoonful of ketchup instead.

And I’m not eager to include this picture, but check me out not paying for something.

10. Driving down the treacherous driveway of the old Crittenden Blvd homestead. We even got out to look at the spot on the house W used to smash into with his minivan. We never did pay for those missing shingles, even though his van had a house-colored stripe. Here’s a picture of the inside of it from five years ago (stolen from W).

11. More canal jumping. So cold. Not pictured.

12. Seelander’s house “for the night.” He made us hot chocolate to stave off hypothermia and I spilled it. Snuggling. Twenty minutes later, I put on canal-wet pants and W and I left to catch our early morning flights from Buffalo. I made mine with seven minutes to spare.