Repetitive anticipation

The first time I saw Pearl Jam was pretty awesome, except for seeing a car chase that ended with someone falling out of the car (being chased) and then getting driven over by a cop car. My sister and I had lawn tickets at the (formerly named) E-center right across the river from Philly. Our parents dropped us off. I spent the whole time thinking, so this is a concert and no wonder this is where all the cute guys are!

The only time I saw Pearl Jam when living in CA was at (what the internet swears was) the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium (but what my memory swears was the Warfield) in mid-summer. I jet-setted back from a PA/NJ family week at the beach and right to the show. The venue was one large standing room. No seats. The front row was just there for the weaseling-up-to, and I'm one good weasel.

Did I make it to the front? Or was I doubled over in the back with random and severe abdominal pain waiting, patiently waiting, for the show to end so I could curl up in bed?

I couldn't make up that misery.

The next time I saw Pearl Jam was in Chicago at the United Center. I had Ten Club (cool kid) tickets so I knew I'd have great seats. But what I didn't know was that my membership expired that one week in '99, and that caused a reset of my cool kid number. That did, however, eventually explain why I was seated in the way the fuck back, back back, bleeding ears back (albiet center!) of the fucking United Center.*

But this time would be different. I was pretty excited. I was taking a day off work. The day would be leisurely, delicious, summery, and topped with Pearl Jam at Wrigley Field. Pearl Jam at motherfucking Wrigley! It's like an icon humping and icon and I was the lucky voyeur!

The day came. My food adventures and company were divine. And then, the show. My cool kid membership had given me the option for floor seats - at Wrigley no less - and I took it. Great idea, except when you're on the side in the back of the back of the seats that have no incline, and you're 5' 4".

Why do I never find my seat and say, AWESOME! 

This was my view of the stage. 

Sold out show (and storm clouds).

Strong storms were likely to pass through the area during the concert. I knew this for days. I was kinda excited to get soaked, singing and grinning in the rain. It would be epic! 

I was so dead wrong. 

Never did it occur to me that shows are now cancelled for weather like this. But not this ballgame. Two plus hours of a rain delay (what is this, a baseball game?) were spent corralled into the Wrigley corridors. You could stand around infinite smokers outside in the drizzle, go to the bathroom at your bladder's content, or wait in obscene lines in a stuffy, 90 degree outfield corridor for terrible, terrible, terrible beer. Did I mention the beer was terrible?

All I needed was some smoke-free air and a good beer. I needed some VIP treatment. Maybe a nap. At least a coffee. 

The concert eventually resumed and I don't think PJ ever really got the crowd back full force. Several times it struck me that this would be an amazing concert experience for a PJ fan who is also a crazy Cubs fan. Like Vedder. Talk about a dream come true. But for me? Meh. I was enduring.

Guiltily I thought of leaving the show many times. After this song. At the encore break. Maybe I should go stand by the exit. Why do I have to be jammed in this row like this? I'll disturb so many people if I leave. But hey, I was enduring. 

Waiting to leave at the concert end turned into a getting-home nightmare. The car wasn't within walking distance of the venue - a major mistake I kicked myself for tirelessly. Can we walk 4 miles to the car? My feet hurt from 7 hours of standing and I was nearly sleepwalking. Cabs seemed impossible. And the CTA... oh dear.. the CTA. 

Lesson learned, Chicago. Lesson learned.

In the end, like many things so highly anticipated, I'll just have to live with how it really went down and have a laugh at my experience. There was one unanticipated bright spot to the drama, however, and that was witnessing the grace and calm of my adventure companion. He had to be at the airport less than 3 hours after we finally got home (at 4 am). Hopeless on a CTA platform at 3 am, I'd be a mini-wreck. He was... zen. Funny how I never would have expected anyone other than Eddie Vedder to make my day that day.

Lesson learned, Universe. Lesson learned.

* I did eventually get my original cool kid number back due to one-time kindness by cool kid on telephone at Ten Club HQ.

Book club

Every time I read a good book - which are all the books I choose to read because I'm a vetting machine - a serious bout of narcissism comes over me. You need to read this book right now so that WE can talk about it. READ IT NOW. Do it for MEEEE.

You will benefit too, of course.

I'm pretty sure this is why book clubs start. My vision of book clubs is mingled with wine and cocktails and finger food. Doesn't that sound nice?

The last book that I got heavily righteous about was Dune. I know it became a classic long ago, but I just finally read it. AND YOU SHOULD TOO. Then come over and we'll talk about. Over finger food and booze.

Here is my cuteness protecting the sequel:

Early July garden

This is my same plot from last year, 2012, and many years before. Picture below taken in early July of this year.

In it are, front-to-back-ish, celery, fennel, marigolds, lettuces, kohlrabi, radishes, and beet rows, calendula galore, and horseradish (I'm hoping). Coming up along the left from the back are the veggies from my symmetric-ish row that divides my two areas and some leeks which I haven't properly be tending to.

In the new plot:

This plot has so much going on. 3 cherry tomatoes, 1 heirloom tomato, 3 broccoli, 4 cauliflower, 5 brussel sprouts, 4 cabbages, 3 jalapeno, 1 italian sweet pepper, 2 sweet banana, 2 yellow bell, herbs, herbs, herbs, flowers....

Ahhhh......

Wish it luck!

Favorite fruit - the strawberry

Many many many moons ago I was a little girl in corduroy overalls lying on my parent's living room floor watching The Newlywed Game. I remember the male contestants being asked how many days a week their wife preferred to make whoopee. I'm not sure of the exact phrasing, but I knew they just went from laundry expectations to SEX. The general answer was 2-3 times per week, and then one couple, the lone brunettes, easily agreed that 7 times per week was expected. The live studio audience hooted and hollered as the brunette groom received jealous smirks and approving nods from the other male contestants.

Just watching that one harmless show set me up to believe that in 3 out of 4 couples, men will want more sex than women and they'll just have to live with what they get. However, if the wife has long, luscious brown hair, there's a chance she is just as horny as her husband. Strangely, sadly, watching that show also set me up to think my loved ones should know my favorites, rituals, and expectations of everything, lest they one day be asked whom I prefer to balance my checkbook (answer, the computer).

If my future spouse is ever asked my favorite fruit, the correct answer is the strawberry.

Mashed, reduced, and herbed strawberries on toast. Herbs are hard to see, but they are in there.

Like this time last year, it's strawberry time! A few weeks ago I simmered about a quart of crushed and chopped strawberries with half of a peeled and minced apple (for the natural pectin) with a little sugar and LOTs of fresh herbs - parsley, basil, and mint. The more the merrier. I was going for an herb-strawberry jam, not the other way around. I added the herbs at multiple times throughout the process, as if I was adding hops to beer wort in stages, getting something a little different (flavor and nutrition-wise) out of each addition.

To borrow a great ad line - I put this shit on everything! It's really both a jam and a salsa. Soft corn tacos with black beans and tofu, check. Breakfast sandwich with eggs, cheese, and veggie sausage, sure. In marinades and dressings, why not. With nut butter on banana, of course. In smoothies, you bet.

If you're gonna live in the midwest, you best get down with seasonal pleasures. Up next - cherries!

Welcome back!

I suppose I'm welcoming myself back, most of all, since I don't know you were ever here before. We (me and all alter egos) hope you find the blog slightly new and improved, or at least a pleasant respite from a lacking day.

In my inaugural year of posts I labeled 16 rants, 16 times about food, dots 5 times, dreamhouse 7, the list continues..... I thought I might find a theme, but the theme is just.. me. Whatever I'm thinking about. I'll see about editing or focussing content if need be, but not now.

So once again, welcome back! I'm gonna aim for one quality post a week from here on out.

Hope to see you around..