baby time!

My sister has taken on a new role over the weekend. The role of mare. My aunt's horse died, leaving its two-day-old baby foal orphaned. The situation is a desperate one. No one who knows horses would claim otherwise. It is not rare for a baby horse in these circumstances to lack the will to live or to encounter complications that otherwise endanger its life. But, lucky for all, Jamie had just arrived in Black River Falls to spend five weeks on the homefront. Both Mom and Jamie are job-free for the rest of the summer and theoretically capable of waking up every two hours to bottle-feed an infant horse. Mom says that raising a baby horse in such a manner is actually more labor-intensive than raising a baby. Mom comes from the 'raise yourself' school of child rearing, so this is not an exaggeration. Jamie and the horse have thoroughly bonded.


It would appear that Jamie has given the baby horse reason to live.

mall of america

I fell off the face of the earth briefly (i.e. went to MOA and it took me this long to reassimilate). Actually, I had a very down to earth experience at the Mall of America. My relationship with the mall is this: I hate myself for loving it. I love it because I always leave before I feel satiated. I have never once gotten my fill of the Mall of America. I should just commit to spending a whole afternoon there some day so that I will get the whole thing out of my system. I am never disappointed by the mall. I'm not deluded. I know there is going to be mediocre food for high prices and kids screaming in toyland and that 90% of the shops are an insult to humanity. There will be hoochies and ho-bags and posers and delinquents and mall rats and mall chicks and 300-lb women further encumbered by their unnecessary purchases. The only stores I can afford to shop in will be ankle deep in clothing that no one bothered to pick up off the floor. The frozen yogurt I treat myself to stands a 50/50 chance of tasting more like plastic explosives than any distinguishable flavor. But I accept all of this. I surrender to it.

We had an hour and a half to shop before close. Have you ever walked into a Forever 21 store at this hour? The place is in bad shape. 1/2 the merchandise has footprints on it. The key is to realize that you are not going to leave with your dignity intact. After which it is surprisingly easy to lose yourself in the fruits of so much East Asian child labor. I guess this blog is making me feel bad, so here is a budget outline to keep you super frugal.

light rail pass: $1.50 each way (non-peak)
boca burger at Johnny Rockets: $4.99
frozen yogurt: $2.69 for smallest size
child labor dress: $22.80

$35 dollars per person and you are all set to rock out summer in your new dress. And you can do it again next year because your dress will be broken by then.

lake calhoun holiday

This excursion is best if you can play hooky. If you wake up feeling like work might not be such a good idea (no need to explain yourself), you're a prime candidate for lake therapy. I should warn you- this therapy ends with a fish taco and slush puppie, so if you are not faking it- just go to work. As for hooky, I recommend a jaunt around the lake via whatever means presents itself. You've got all day, so why not stroll? It facilitates staring. I promise you that there will be occasions when you want to stop and stare at people around you. Say, for instance, when you happen across the tannest man ever to exist above 35 degrees N latitude. I could give you a detailed description, as he is almost always 90% nude and posing for an abdominal count, but that will not be necessary. When you see this man, you will think to yourself 'that is the tannest man I've ever seen.' You will be wrong. There are plenty of guys that tan below 35 degrees N latitude, but you get the point. Other things you may have to pause for reflection on: any puppy- even if some bitch is walking it (dog term, totally cool), muscled out guys playing volleyball, baby turtles, topless girls thinking they don't count because they are lying facedown (hey babe, still topless, so I will stare at you until you feel uncomfortable), anyone who falls down trying to do something ballsy, kids way out of control in front of their passive parents, bikers in the walk lane, people getting in a fight, anyone severely burned by the sun, windsurfers, etc. The lake is a three-mile circuit, so you'll work up an appetite. I do not suggest doing laps, as this will put your appetite way out of the cheap adventure range. There is a snack stand on the north end of Calhoun that sells hotdogs and cotton candy. Better to save yourself for The Tin Fish. Just look at the line.

(oops, I forgot I zoomed in to eavesdrop on these guys. He was saying "we always used to go sledding at that hill, until we found a bunch of dead hookers there." WHAT HILL? Eavesdropping such a tease)

Anyway, lots of fishy foods. I've only ever had a mahi taco. Delicious. But I've stared at a lot of people who all seemed to really enjoy a wide variety of other things. Here's a vague idea of what they have to offer. Vague, as in blurry.

So while I cannot quote an exact cost on this adventure, I would say $9 will get you far. Technically, right back to where you started.

$3.63 date night

If you have never vended from a RedBox DVD machine, your world is about to change. Redbox allows you to rent a DVD for $1.07 per night. More importantly, it is quickly becoming ubiquitous. This is key to its appeal, as you can rent from one and return to another with no discrepancy in cost. There are two catches. One- RedBox only houses the newest releases and is limited to the big box office titles. Two- if you are someone who forgets to return things, this is gonna be like that. The first catch, limitation to blockbusters, is major in that it creates a mindset where you are willing to sacrifice quality for immediacy. Not surprising then, that McDonald's is one of the most prevalent sites where these DVD vending machines can be found. This has always been their niche in the marketplace. Bad food now. The first catch equates to life hours lost to meaningless movies, simply because they are cheap. And while I am a sentimentalist when it comes to film- I consider the time spent watching P.S., I Love You two such wasted hours. Catch two, forgetting to return things, is your problem. But from another angle, no problem at all. The worst that can happen is a $25 fine after which the movie is yours. People like you generally embrace DVD collections of mediocre quality.


I know, it isn't sounding like a great date so far. Here's the deal. Vend your movie from McDonald's. Then, upon leaving, treat yourself and your lucky lady to a McDonald's ice cream cone. If it's below zero out, the cone will keep just fine. If not, and generally I would hope not, just eat it on the way home. Grand total $3.63. When all goes well- there isn't some total idiot ahead of you in the RedBox line (or as many as ten), the ice cream is not too soft, the guy behind the counter is actually smarter than the ice cream machine, the movie ends up being worth two hours of your time, you don't forget to return it by 9PM the following night- this cheap adventure feels a little like winning the lottery. The odds are similar.

book reading

I don't mean reading a book, though this would certainly meet the criteria for a cheap thrill. Especially cheap if garnered from the public library. But we'll save the public library for another day. I mean attending a book reading. An event to promote the book sales of a recently published author. The author typically reads twenty minutes worth of material from his work. Book readings range from dry to thoroughly entertaining. But even the dry ones are, for the most part, free. And beyond that, almost every book reading entails a period of question and answer wherein the author makes himself completely vulnerable to the audience. This risk is tempered by the assurance that the audience is comprised almost entirely of devoted fans and people too shy to ask questions at all. I do not believe I have ever seen an author grilled by a member of the audience.

On Saturday, David Sedaris gave a book reading at Borders bookstore in Rosedale Shopping Center. This called for a bus adventure, followed by an awesome book reading experience. If you think Me Talk Pretty One Day is funny, you have to see David Sedaris field a series of inane audience inquiries. Even better, inquiries from suburban Minnesotans. Luckily, Minnesotans are good sports and tend towards self-deprecation. David Sedaris proceeded to victimize almost everyone who raised their hand, while making the audience howl with laughter. None of it malicious. It was just seriously smart and hilarious and his timing was impeccable. Watching David Sedaris in Q&A is like watching a great comedian put on a completely original show. My dad was in attendance and I can say without hesitation that he laughed more and louder than anyone else in the room. A badge of honor. You should have heard Dad throughout a piece detailing a wearable urine pouch. Dad could make a good living being paid to sit in on comic events. Whenever we watch live comedy with him, you can see the comedians thinking 'God Bless That Man.'

squirrel watching

Today kicks off Super Cheap Adventure Week. My inspiration? A recent bout of poverty. But these adventures are not merely for the scarce of cash. Anyone will find them empowering. I'm not setting a price limit on exactly how cheap these adventures will be, but trust that whatever your mom used to pay you for mowing the front lawn would cover it. The first adventure costs nothing- so you can start saving for something really special come the end of the week.

Squirrel watching. This idea is compliments of my mom. She was visiting on Saturday and her attention was instantly drawn to two squirrels on the window sill of my third floor apartment. The squirrels are old news to me. I think they were figuratively (literally?) squirreling around in the same spot the day before. I always feel uncomfortable when things mate right in front of me. Hence, my aversion. They are the same squirrels that lived next to my air conditioner last year. The reason there are pieces of hamburger buns and doritos and pizza crusts rattling around inside it. Anyway, mom has a hard time simply watching a wild animal. She insists on interacting with them. So she stuck a piece of sandwich out on the window sill. Within minutes, the squirrel was pawing at the window for more. It was entertaining. Not quite enough to make up for the fact that I can never open my screenless window without fearing assault. Today I watched a squirrel polish off the bottom half of a waffle cone. I can honestly say that I have never seen Jon eat a cone with as much decorum.


(squirrel with waffle cone)

A pleasant byproduct of squirrel watching is the squirrel-related conversation it can provoke. Dad mentioned that squirrels don't have rabies. The context was that I should never be afraid to feed one right out of my hand. Sometimes I get the distinct feeling that Mom and Dad wish I wasn't such a wuss. Dad said that his mother used to constantly warn that they would get rabies some day from the squirrels. Mom had the same childhood experience.. She was bitten by a squirrel as a girl and her parents worried she might die of rabies. They decided to just wait and see. Mom was a triplet = expendable. Mom asked me if I would be sad if the squirrels weren't around. I said, ' I guess.' I could tell it was one of those questions where there was a right answer.

mpls reads

Jon and I wish we were part of an inspiring book club. The criteria isn't that outrageous. Everyone must be willing to read good books. It is harder than one would think. We had this once. A wonderfully engaging book club where all six of us showed up with worn copies and drank coffee or wine until it was coming out of our ears. We read three books and then the honeymoon ended. Jon and I moved to NYC and the remaining four parted less than amicably over Ulysses. It's hard enough to find people who read books at all these days. Much less someone whose repertoire extends beyond James Patterson or Jennifer Weiner. I get depressed just thinking about it. We might put out an ad on CraigsList.

Tonight we went to a book reading by Nam Le. He recently graduated from the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Very impressive writing. Check out the review in the NY Times Book Review from last week. He is Vietnamese with an Aussie accent. I could have listened to him read the back of a cereal box. High fructose corn syrup as poetry. The only thing better than a great accent is an unexpectedly great accent. Which is why I hope Mr. Bean never actually says anything.

crazy sandwich book

On Saturday I happened across a book sale at the main branch of the public library. The library is a gorgeous building designed by Cesar Pelli. An architectural triumph. Occasionally, when I'm hating on Minneapolis, it is the only building downtown that makes the city worth living in. The book sale was an event I had heard spoken of. I found three gems. Grand total 73 cents. I bought one book with the intention of ripping the pages out to adorn our kitchen wall. But after reading it through several times on the bus ride home, I could hardly bring myself to do it. It helped that I only spent 39 cents on it. Now the kitchen wall boasts little known culinary facts from a children's book published in 1975 called Sandwichery.



The book also includes recipes for sandwiches. Try the cottage cheese sandwich with radishes and cucumbers or the peanut butter, carrots and banana sandwich. And, as if politically incorrect illustrations and hodge-podge recipes weren't enough...sandwich jokes to boot.

Q- Why can't you trust a sandwich?

A- Because it's full of baloney.

Don't try to get all philosophical about it. I am not a sandwich.

weltanschauung

$4.00 means very little to me in a literal sense. But on a higher level- it means everything in the world to me. $10.00 a gallon would mean more. What bothers me most about paying $4 for a gallon of gas is that we haven't been doing it for 5 years already. I wish we had.

bad groceries

Yesterday I went to buy a can of sweet corn and did a doubletake. I realized I was holding a can of cream-style corn instead of the kernels. I would like to say this is the first time I mistakenly grabbed creamed corn. The truth is, 1 out of 10 cans of corn I buy is accidentally cream-style. These mistakes add up. Hence, the list I am starting today of all the groceries that people accidentally buy. I would be willing to wager that some of these accidents are foods that there is no market for whatsoever. It only appears that there is a market because people mistakenly buy them so often. I guess what I am saying is that dumb people shouldn't be included in market research.

things people only buy accidentally:

cream-style corn
refried black beans
Ry-Krisp NY deli-style crackers
granola with raisins
salt free cottage cheese
I Can't Believe It's Not Butter
papaya
ground pork sausage
almond filling
spice drops
non-waterproof mascara
grapes with seeds in them
unfilled long johns
sweet pickles
cherimoyas

If we didn't live in a democracy, I'd say pull the plug on them all. Which brings me to a more strident point. Does democracy allow for too much junk in the marketplace? With the state of the world being as dire as it is, couldn't we just declare the next generation of Bratz doll a low national priority? Chalk one up for socialism.

June 6, historically

A day rich in significance. D-Day. The death of Robert F. Kennedy. My birthday. This used to be a day on which I looked forward to a slumber party, or a trip to Chuck-ee Cheese (formerly ShowBiz pizza), or, at the very least, taking a treat to school. This year I could only think to myself, 'a lot of really depressing stuff happens on this day.' It hasn't always been that way.

top six birthday moments:

-mom's yellow cupcakes cut in half with a brownie in the center to look like hamburgers with yellow and red frosting as condiments

-the year my slumber party got busted for making prank calls and, later, when my friends were long gone, for the forgotten undies in the freezer

-Jon's gift of a pink Kitchen-Aid mixer, unofficially the world's most well-traveled mixer

-the year that my crush on Nicholas Cage coincided with Con-Air's June 6th release date

-realizing that my mom's decision to make krispie bars with generic crisped rice was undetected by my fellow students (until the unveiling in the classroom, I thought she had used rice chex and was completely prepared to be shunned by my entire third-grade class for bringing retarded rice krispie treats)

-warm biscuits with Jamie and Jon at the Clinton Street Bakery and Restaurant (see recipe below), followed by Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which Jon now uses as proof of my birthday being a sentence that he bears annually. Fair enough.

This year I technically had two pre-birthday celebrations. I also opened every present and card as they arrived. I welcomed these occasions in the hope that I would not feel sorry for myself come lunch hour at the job on my birthday. It didn't work. On Tuesday, Jon and I went to a pre-birthday Twins Game in the company of our friends, Gretchen and Jeff. Jon insisted I share an action shot from the evening.


For those on whom the action is lost- that would be an airborne peanut.


* Clinton Street Baking Company biscuits I only just uncovered this recipe as I reminisced. Note that 8 cups of flour somehow converts to 'about a dozen' biscuits. Fair warning- these biscuits will be as big as your head and they will not be nearly as good as the biscuits at Clinton Street Baking Company. Biscuits are 99% execution, which is exactly why biscuit gurus don't mind giving out their recipe.

extreme weather

Spring has been short and extreme this year. The whole of it has existed in one of two states: something falling from the sky or something brewing. Exciting. Especially for the pedestrians among us. We walk around in a constant state of acceptance towards wet pantlegs.


Sno-cone party!! Bring Your Own Fixin's and Adhesive Plastic Strips. Pretty awesome. Just ask my shirtless neighbor who rollerbladed home from the lake in it and my mo-pedding neighbors screaming down the street at 15 miles per hour. (15mph + hail @ 15mph = 30 mph ice pellets the size of marbles to face) I watched the whole thing glued to the window, laughing out of nervousness- not cruelty. This season brings to mind a favorite quote. I only favor it because it reminds me of Marsja.

Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Cheesy, I know. I think I've seen it on a quilted greeting card. Probably in a gas station, which is the only place I ever feel compelled to buy cards. My goal is to one day read it aloud without sarcasm. My mom is a big advocate of the quote. But she says it differently- quit your bitching.

Extreme weather at home, too. Mom and Dad showed me the damage from a recent lightning strike to a tree along their horse trails. Frightening and marvelous.

politics

It is good to see our country euphoric over politics. It has not happened in my lifetime. I have only experienced political euphoria via video footage of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy. I have hope that our generation will be remembered for something more than letting a lot of shit happen that we didn't really agree with.

born again hats

remember this tapestry? Well, I said I saved it to make a hat out of. Shortly after, I washed it in my parents' washing machine and their washer effectively shredded it. Sometimes their washer does that. It also reduced a pair of my dad's jeans to fringe. This is one of the lesser risks inherent in visiting my parents. My hatsmanship, already limited in its own right, was further limited to the shreds of the tapestry. Last week I was finally inspired to make good on my promise. Which is to say- keep it. The end result was a disappointment. The hat appeared to be flawless until the final stages. Then, as is most often the case with my novice sewing projects, the truth became apparent. The lumpy misaligned truth. I stuck it on my gumball machine for the picture because my head made its flaws all too evident. The style is supposed to be a cloche, not a gumball cozy.


While I was at it, I made another hat. Out of upholstery I cut off a random discarded chair with a utility knife. I know. I also think it sounds like a bad idea. Cat piss, cheetos crumbs, hairs of all pedigree, etc. I thought of all those things. But it really wasn't like that. The upholstery was striking. It is true that the cushion and arms were worn to nothing but the back side of the chair was practically untouched. I snuck outside with my utility knife and harvested as much as I could before the garbage man showed up. It was over a year ago that I acquired the fabric and did the requisite triple wash of it. The cloth lost so much dye that I thought my sink would be red forever. Which lends itself to an appropriate biblical metaphor. Washed all the sins right out of it...I hope. Here's my born again newsboy. Fully lined, just in case.



I used Eugenia Kim's book for all of my patterns. I highly recommend it.