You're Doing It Wrong

I’ve read about this once in Cooks Illustrated and once in FoodDay in the Oregonian.

Both sources said that if you had leftover red wine that you wouldn’t be drinking, you could put it in ice cube trays in your freezer and then transfer the cubes into a ziplock bag and these would be handy for flavoring when you made sauce or soups. (This isn’t an April Fool’s joke.)

I recently had some red wine that I didn’t finish and thought I’d try this trick. I appropriated a couple of ice cube trays and left a big note on the freezer so Bob wouldn’t freak out when he found them.

I had some stuff going on so I didn’t get to them for a couple of days but when I finally got ready to transfer them I found that they were a wee bit slushy. Well, that’s to be expected, right? Alcohol doesn’t freeze like water.

As I transferred them to the bag they disintegrated further and now I have a ziplock bag filled with winey slush in my freezer.

I forgot to tell you about this blonde girl dressed in pink on the plane on the way home from Denver. We were in row 19 — so, close to the back of the plane. Generally when a flight is deboarding, people are civilized and file out in an orderly way row by row front to back.

I got ready to exit my row during my turn and the little brat, maybe 4 years old, barrels through from the back, elbows my leg out of her way, bellows, “Excuse us,” and takes off down the aisle.

Me, finding this not even a tiny bit charming, did my best sarcastic, “Yeah, well I guess so.” And here comes Mom behind her and I figured she’d give me one of those embarrassed smiles and possibly even a muttered apology but no, she’s barreling past me out of turn as well. Then comes bratty slightly older son given the responsibility of carrying some sort of seat-contraption which he transported by kicking it down the aisle with his feet. Neat-o.

The next person, who might have been Dad was kind enough to stop and let me edge in but I had to endure kick-the-seat kid who made slow progress through the plane.

Hey people: not everyone is as patient as you are with the kids and, never too early to teach them some manners.

And slightly related: if you haven’t tried this yet, I highly recommend earplugs for public travel. This is a new discovery and it’s been fabulous. I’m thinking I’ll start wearing them when I take the train to work as well.

There was an article in the NY Times recently talking about commuters and iPods and how the iPod isolates people from each other. Yeah, right. Because public transportation has always been the hotspot for casual conversation with random strangers. You could argue that I’m also isolating myself by sticking my nose in a book the moment I get on the train. 25 minutes twice a day I could be building communities but instead I’m consuming media.

I also sometimes bring the iPod, mainly to drown out the people who use the train ride for inane chatty cellphone time.

Today it was high strung passive-aggressive woman: “Have you thought about my refrigerator? … Do you know when you’ll be thinking about it? … No, no hurry. … What? … I don’t know. … How much would you be willing to pay? … I don’t know. … What do you think?”

Earplugs. iPod. The choice is yours.

I bought some perfume (I guess they call it fragrance now) from a catalog because, you know, smelling good is a big priority for me. This source appealed because not only do they have the usual jug-size that would last me 12 lifetimes, but also a perfect tiny size which doesn’t cost much and will only last as long as I still enjoy it.

Ordering fragrance from a catalog is sketchy because how accurately can you describe a smell? This catalog says things like, a delicate scent wrapped in veil of dew-covered grass, rich moonlit evening and citrus. Oh. Okay.

I picked 4 and tried them all and then annotated the list. The one I liked best I put a star next to. Another one I wrote “rainy” because it reminds me of a fragrance I used a long time ago that was called something about rain. For the other two I wrote “whorehouse” and “bugspray.”

Bob and I went to Denver over the weekend to see String Cheese Incident with our friend, Walker.

Everything went smoothly and we had a fantastic time and according to Bob I saw 1 of the best Cheese shows ever. Good news because honestly, these were my 7th and 8th shows and all the songs still sound the same.

We hit a small snafu at check-in. Apparently one of our names matches a name on the current watchlist and given the braintrust that is operating “security” for this nation, I don’t doubt that half the people in the country get tagged when they want to board an aircraft. We were given a sheet of paper so that we (they don’t know which one of us triggered the extra security check) can go through some 45 day process to avoid the extra hassle at the airport. I’m certain it will be unnecessarily invasive and stupid and not sure we are even going to do it. If giving up kiosk check-in and waiting an extra 5 minutes for an ID check is the alternative, given how little we fly, we’ll probably live with it.

In the gate Bob pointed out this kid dressed in full Davy Crockett get up — coonskin cap and a brown denim top and pants in a deerhide color. When we boarded turned out we were in the back row, next to young Davy. He was a little twitchy but probably average for that age. He worked on his math homework, basic addition and subtraction: with a calculator. Are you allowed to do that? Shouldn’t it be a basic life requirement to add and subtract in your head?

I was burnt about the back row but all sorts of interesting people lined up to use the john. One guy had on a Phish shirt so I asked: “Are you going to Cheese?” and w/o even hesitating he said yeah and proceeded to tell us how it was a bunch of buddies doing a last minute reunion, they didn’t have tickets, but they knew lots of “other” ways to get into the show.

Another guy looked like a rockstar Tommy Lee guy in black leather fringe jacket and he brought two adorable little girls back, both wearing Harley Davidson t-shirts.

We met Walker at the Airport and grabbed a cab and headed downtown, checked into our hotel, changed clothes and headed right back out to grab a bite before the show. Walker and I both had a Great Divide Amber and we both took a sip, set down our glasses and at the same time said: That’s great beer.

We arrived at the Fillmore in time for the full-on hippy freakshow out front. Some guy with a megaphone wanted donations for something and tons of hippies stood around with a finger in the air, hoping for a miracle. (Didn’t see the guy from the plane.)

The Fillmore is a giant venue with a wide ballroom floor and chandeliers plus huge side areas with a few chairs and tables and plenty of bars. We chose to sit in the risers behind the stage. The view was excellent. I was thrilled to have a place to sit and during the show we could see what the band saw: the crowd bouncing around. Kyle had one of those little flying cows on a wire that went in circles over him during the show both nights. A cow tech adjusted the cow before each show and during the show if there were technical difficulties. I was riveted by the flying cow’s status and cried, “Cow Tech!” when it flopped around and needed an adjustment.

So about the show: I don’t know what to tell you. I had fun. I like live music and dancing around. The cloud of patchouli and smoke took about 5 years off my life, but it’s all part of the scene. Perry Farrell DJ’d Friday night and SCI played some Jane’s Addiction songs with him which I loved. And Del McCoury’s band (w/o Del) played with them a lot on Saturday night which was awesome. These were Walker’s 50 and 51st shows and Bob’s 25 and 26th. The band would play a bar or two and Walker, Bob and the crowd would all cheer and I’d be thinking, “This sounds exactly like the last song.”

After the show we went to the best liquor store ever. It was across the street from the Fillmore and basically a giant barn filled with rows and rows of every kind of wine or liquor you could ever think of plus a whole wall of fridge case with beer. We could have shopped there forever but we only had 15 minutes until closing. Walker wanted to buy a bottle of water and the guy was like, “Um, I think we have that… .”

After the show Saturday night we went for a late night snack. I wanted something sweet and all the choices were chocolate or cheesecake except for apple pie – which I ordered and they were out of. I went against my instincts and ate this cheesecake thing. Never again. I could hardly sleep my roiling innards were so unhappy with my choice.

We staggered out early, and headed back to the airport under a cold, clear sky. Excellent adventure.

Has anyone heard? Has there been a national advisory or anything because I think there’s been serious upswing in the amount of dust in the world. Or at least at my house.

I can’t believe how much dust accumulates in my house. I moved a couple of things around on the dresser the other day and was appalled to see a thick coating of dust complete with mini-dustballs covering the back corners of the thing. Then I walked by these little shelves we have between our kitchen-dining area and stopped to stare. Then I swept a finger along the edge and a huge ball of dust rolled off my finger.

Has it always been so dusty?

I am dead last in the office NCAA basketball pool. I am comforted by the fact that (a) I am the only person keeping my coworker from last place and he actually watches NCAA basketball and (b) when we do the office bake-off I will leave those people in the dust.

I finally invested some time figuring out how Flickr works and updating my photos. I’m going to try to change the photos more often but we’ll see how I do. I don’t know how these Internet people keep up with all the blogging and photosharing and contact lists and iPod playlists and cellphone ringtones. It’s a fulltime job maintaining ones personal technology. There’s software to update and batteries to charge and giant user manuals in 4 different languages to plow through. I have 5 free songs I’ve yet to redeem from the iTunes store.

I finished I, Elizabeth which turned out to be the never-ending novel. I don’t think I’m going to read anything over 400 pages, ever again. No, I take that back. But in general, I will avoid super long books. Do books need to be that long? This one sure didn’t. By the end I didn’t even know who she (Queen megalomania Bess) was talking about. How many Roberts were there? I’m going to find a chronology online to help me fill in the gaps.

RE: books too long. I used to read fantasy books but now I’m daunted before I’ve even started. Who can even type 1200 pages a year? I remember liking a book called A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth which was over 1,000 pages long and I stuck with it with few complaints. Then there was this book by Milan Kundera. I think it was Immortality and it wasn’t close to 1000 pages but it felt like it. I would read for what seemed like ever and only 14 pages went by. I had that book on the nightstand for 2 months and couldn’t believe I wasn’t finished with it yet. It was a loaner and I hate handing a book back to someone and saying I hated it. But I did.

I forgot to tell you a funny story from a week or two ago. Bob hung out with a group of his teacher friends one Friday after work and ended up getting home late (you know, after 9pm) and there was a communication mix up so I was a little annoyed. You know what they were doing? They were watching History Channel videos. How geeky is that? How can you even be mad a a person who stays out late watching History Channel videos?

Last topic for today concerns the show Alias. What happened to this show? It’s like the last season of XFiles, I’m used to watching so I keep watching and I don’t like it. Instead of being drawn into their world, I’m wondering how the actors can say some of those lines without cracking up. I never understand the missions. They jet to some exotic location and have to steal something or talk to someone either in a club, an impenetrable fortress or a crowded street bazaar. The idea of the sister is good but her character is sadly not very interesting. Even Sydney “I have weird posture” isn’t interesting any more. Bummer.

I am reading I, Elizabeth by Rosalind Miles. It’s about Queen Elizabeth I and about 600 pages. I’m enjoying the book but are so many people and they all have the same 2-3 names (Katharine, Jane, Mary or Henry, Edward, Thomas) and if they aren’t royals, they’re dukes or earls or regents or councillors or whatever. I need a white board to keep track of it all.

Those Tudor royals were nuts. How could you get anything done if you spent all your time wrangling for power, marrying your cousins, sending people to be executed? And that’s not even getting into the whole church craziness. I wouldn’t have cut it in those times.

I’ve watched a couple of DVDs this weekend. The kind with tons of special features.

I know special features are a selling point. People feel ripped off if there are no extras. But truthfully, who has time to watch that stuff? How is your life improved by seeing a trailer (a commercial) for a movie that’s been out forever and you’ve already seen the film? Who has the time and desire to page through photos or costume drawings or read a script on the TV?

Interviews are nice. I like hearing the filmmaker talk about the film and some commentary tracks are excellent. But some are just people talking, obviously trying to think of things to say. Or endless butt kissing about how talented the people who made the film are — do I really want to hear that?

The Lord of the Rings movies have multiple commentary tracks. It takes a special circumstance for me to have 4 + hours to watch a movie I’ve already seen anyway, much less all these extras.

I’m not saying the extras are bad, I’m just wondering how many people really take advantage of them.