closing curtain

This past Wednesday my dear friend Tali and I attended our final show together here in CLE.

While we met just after I moved back to Ohio, our friendship bloomed in the velvet seats of Cleveland's Playhouse Square.  I don't remember who had mentioned wanting to see Mary Poppins when the tour was coming through town (I adore Mary, so I would guess it was me, but I can't be sure), but we bought two tickets, met for dinner at PF Changs and headed downtown to take in the show.

At some point shortly after Tali said "wouldn't it be fun if we got season tickets?!" I agreed and we purchased our first of five seasons the the Broadway Series.  Five seasons, seven shows each season, and a sprinkling of other concerts, shows, and readings.

Almost all of these shows began with a 5:30 meeting at the Dewey's Pizza in Cleveland Heights. (I know we had Aladdin's at least once while I was doing a clean eating thing, but I really think it was Dewey's all the other times).  Very little changed in our order: I would always get the harvest salad when it was in season, and we would split the peppercorn ranch salad when it was out of season.  Toward the end of our run Tali finally came to the dark side for the harvest, and when she adopted a vegetarian lifestyle we nixed the bacon.  Our pie always had half Ryan's Inferno (again, until her vegetarianism, and then we went the Green Lantern route).  We sampled almost every seasonal pizza that sounded good to us.  Sometimes we got water, sometimes diet cokes with lime.

One of the waiters at the Cleveland Heights location became affectionally known to us as The Butt.  He gained his name because of, well, his juicy booty.  He faithfully refilled our DCs and limes, and always brought a lime back with the refill; which, in my book is a sure-fire way to get yourself a nice tip.  And then one day The Butt wasn't there.  And a few months passed and he still wasn't there.  Then like a beacon of light in the darkness I went to the Lakewood location with my family and there he was! He must have been promoted from waiter to manager and The Butt found his way to my side of town.

I would say of the 40 some shows we saw we enjoyed the majority of them.  Frankly, there was only one where we left at half time, which I think is a good sign of the quality of shows that pass through.  That show we left during, Priscilla, landed is at Sweet Moses for a root beer float, and that was just fine by me.

We saw plays, operas, ballets and musicals.  We travelled to Chicago, Osage County, South Pacific, Washington Heights, Oz, and Uganda.  We saw dancing and singing nuns, flying nannies, flying monkeys, Frankensteins, Addams Families, Cats, Beauties and Beasts, and Fiddlers.  We saw more than our fair share of drag queens, and productions about hair, be it "greasy" hair, Hairspray, or just plain Hair.  We saw green witches, green ogres, feuding families on the West Side, and plight of those in the French Revolution. We saw the stories of famous people unfold before us: Jersey Boys, Come Fly Away, Million Dollar Quartets, and Memphis.  We went to Ireland twice with Once and Billy Elliot.  We saw a dancer reach her dream in the steel down of Pittsburgh.  We saw the amazing puppetry of War Horse, and the dice rolling of Guys and Dolls.

I enjoyed reading the playbill synopsis beforehand and trying to count the number of actors and actresses who had been on any of the Law and Order shows.  Tali and I would catch up during these monthly dates. It was good for my soul, and I hope it was for hers too.

We had such a great run.  Tali is moving this week to the Big Apple to chase a dream.  I'm excited and jealous and sad all at the same time.  But I don't like to think of this as a goodbye.  I don't like goodbyes, I like "see you soons."  And I prefer to think of this not as the closing curtain to our friendship, but just the closing of the first Act.  Good luck, kid!

Act II: a street somewhere in New York City 

the song that needs to go away

You know what song needs to go away? Just die and never come back? (You wouldn't have kept reading if you didn't think I would tell you, right?)

The song that needs to go away is: Rusted Root's Send Me on My Way.

What are the reasons you ask? Probably not very good or very founded reasons, but sometimes you can not like things just because.

Send Me on My Way (SMoMW) came on to the scene in 1992 and is some how still popping up on TV commercials and radio spots.  How is this still happening? How can a song that was only mediocre when it came out twenty two years ago last this long?

I suppose people think it's fun and carefree and bright and lively and energetic.  And I guess it is those things.  But my ears can't take it any more.

I was 10 when the song first came out.  In my head I was older than that but sometimes time is strange.  My sister and her friends were in the midst of a sort of suburban hippie stage where they would burn incense and wear tie-died shirts and listen to things like The Grateful Dead, Phish, and, of course Rusted Root.  My ten year old self idolized these sophisticated 12 year olds, so I guess I liked the song then.

But now I can't deal with the incoherence.  I just don't understand what this man is saying.  Two years later Blues Traveller came out with their hit Hook, which also featured an incoherent portion.  Barenaked Ladies? Incoherence is also in their wheel house.  I guess nobody wanted to know the words to songs in the 90s? Or, artists thought it would be kind to make the words to their songs so indiscernible that nobody ever felt ashamed when they got the lyrics wrong.  You know, because everyone got the lyrics wrong.

But here's SMoMW rearing its head again.  With its words that make no sense and it's strange hooting and howling cries.  And I can nearly smell the patchouli wafting from the band members themselves.

It's just a song that never seems to end.  Much like another song we all know and wish would die.  Because it's the song that never ends ... yes, it goes on and on my friend ...

[Now it's your turn! Tell me in the comments below what song or songs you wish would just go the heck away!]

hell hath no fury like a woman trying to get a mayonnaise to come together

Every now and then I like to launch myself into a period of time wherein I "eat clean."  You know, whole foods (not the store).  Foods as they exist in nature, minimally touched and tampered with.  I try to do this for a few reasons, but most notably this time around was to sort of "reset" what I was putting into my body.  Sometimes I get freaked out if I think too long about what an egg was supposed to be, and then I can't eat eggs for a while.  But now I'm thinking about all of the non food items that are available and what THEY were meant to be, and now I can't eat packaged food for a while. Funny how that happens.

I've lost 85 pounds in just under two years and in the last few months I've really dived head first into exercising.  What I've noticed is this incredible connection between moving your body and then having this need, hunger if you will, to feed it good, nourishing, nutritious foods.  It's like your body begs for quality food after you sweat your brains out for an hour at your CrossFit gym.  So I decided to give the Whole30 a try.  I had some friends who had successfully completed it, and my aforementioned CrossFit gym was doing a clean eating challenge and thus the stars aligned.

I began the Whole30 almost two weeks ago and immediately felt the effects.  Literally the day before I started the program I lamented on Facebook about how dang tired I was.  I believe I even used the phrase "delusional tired."  Within days of starting Whole30 I had so much energy I actually felt manic.  I had the energy to get up on time, work a full day, put in a hard workout, and come home and grade papers or cook or other things I enjoy doing (like watching Jeopardy).

Because you're eating whole foods there's a lot of cooking involved.  I mean a lot.  I was accustomed to spending a chunk of time on Sunday afternoons prepping my lunches for the week.  On Whole30 I have to do the same for my breakfasts, since I can't grab a Greek yogurt and run out the door (no sugar, no dairy).  I've been pretty creative with my dinners and I've learned to eat eggs for breakfast all.the. time.  For my lunches I like to have some veggies and something to dip them in.  Prior to Whole30 it was hummus.  Hummus is out on Whole30 (no legumes), so I had to come up with a Plan B.  Last week that was baba ganoush.  Which was good.  But I got baba ganoushed out.  I hit a wall and I literally could not put one more bite of roasted eggplant puree into my mouth and swallow.  So I began dreaming about ranch dip.  Which is so strange because I haven't had bottled ranch in something like over a year.  And this began my Mount Everest climb to make my own mayonnaise.

When I tackle a project I like to research the possibilities endlessly.  I can spend days looking up various ways to do something probably because I like to understand it on an intellectual level.  So I spent the better part of an evening looking at recipes for mayo and watching YouTube videos of everyone from Alton Brown to Jaime Oliver to a little old British lady in a witch hat who calls herself the "Saucerous".  One of my favorite foodie blogs said "all you have to do is put the ingredients in a mason jar, stick in an immersion blender, and in seconds you have mayo!" That was my attempt number one.  And it failed miserably.  So I tried again, and failed again.  And then I got mad.  Like really offended that I couldn't get an egg and oil to play nice.  I tried an immersion blender, which I ended up killing (it sparked and smoked.  RIP Immersion Blender).  I tried a regular blender, no luck. I tried using a whisk, no luck.  My last resort was to go and use my sister's Vitamix.  And then I complained to Facebook and received a lot of encouragement and advice.  I watched a few more YouTube videos, I girded up my loins and I set out one last time to make mayonnaise (who am I kidding, I probably would have kept going until there were no more eggs or oil left to be found).

This is the part you have all been waiting for: my recipe and tips and tricks.  I will be the first to tell you that this was probably sheer luck.  I blended (puns?) a few recipes together to come up with this version, and I think it turned out super thick and really tasty.  So here we go:

Ingredients:
*3 egg yolks, room temp
*1 teaspoon-ish Dijon mustard (if you're doing Whole30 or eliminating sugar make sure you read labels carefully.  Our old stand-by Grey Poupon has both wine and sugar in it, which is non compliant.  I found an organic Dijon that was wine and sugar free)
*pinch-ish of salt (Alton Brown says not to use kosher salt, the granules are too big to act as an abrasive.  I don't understand it, but I trust him)
*1 cup-ish LIGHT olive oil (don't use extra virgin, it's way too strong.  If you're not worried about Whole30 feel free to use any light tasting oil like canola or vegetable)
*lemon juice to taste

I put the yolks, mustard and salt into a bowl and started beating it with my hand mixer.  Just my little cheap hand mixer from Target! Not even my fancy pants Kitchenaid!  I mixed this until it started to get a little thick and the yolks got a little lighter in color.  Maybe a minute or two.  Then I started adding the oil.  And when I tell you I added it a drop at a time I'm not exaggerating.  I love me a good hyperbole, but this is not a hyperbole. I think this is where I went wrong in the other 6 attempts -- I added the oil too quickly (they all say to add it in a thin stream but they lie.  It's all lies.  DROPS not STREAMS here).  I would add a drop and then mix mix mix.  Add a drop and mix mix mix.  I got a little downtrodden because I didn't think it was getting thicker and then magically it did! It started ribboning out of the mixer beaters and I began crying tears of joy.  I thought: this might actually happen!! At some point when I starts to get thicker, word on the street is you can add the oil in more of a thin stream.  I didn't trust myself, or my emulsion, so I stuck with the drops.  And it took me nearly 30 minutes to make the mayo.  Once your oil is all in/you like your consistency, add in the juice of a lemon and mix again.  And tah-daaaaaa! You have homemade Whole30 and paleo mayo!

This beautiful nectar of the gods was quickly turned into chicken salad and ranch dip.  Ranch dip was mayo, garlic, fresh chives, fresh dill, dried parsley, salt, pepper and unsweetened coconut milk to thin it out (you could use regular milk or even buttermilk to thin it out, but no dairy on Whole30.  And you can't taste coconut at all in the unsweetened coconut milk, I swear!).  So stinking good!

time

Time is such a funny thing.  Sometimes it seems to move by so fast.  Sometimes it seems to stand still.  Sometimes there's too much time.  Sometimes there's too little.  Most often it's never what you want or need it to be.

I sat down today after work (the first time all week I've had a chance to watch Food Network and zone out after work all week) with the itch to write.  Autumn showed up today in CLE in a big way.  All chilly and sort of gloomy.  Perfect weather for a warm Starbucks drink and writing.  And then I remembered again what day it is.

We had a moment of silence today at school.  One, frankly, that they forgot to tell us to sit down from so we were all sort of standing there twiddling our thumbs for a while.  And then a different principal than the one who ushered us in to the moment of silence told us to sit down. And then she didn't hang up the intercom so we hear her tell the whole office that they forgot about us and she saw the whole dining hall still standing.  And then you could hear the office phone ringing, and then more ringing and multiple teachers were calling down to say "hang up the intercom."

Today is a very introspective day for many.  But it isn't for my students.  Thirteen years ago these kids were preschoolers.  It doesn't mean anything to them.  Well, I should give them more credit: it means very little to them.  And I can't blame them.  I was 3 when the Challenger crashed.  I sure did squeak a lifetime of school projects out of that event, but it meant little else to me than that.

As time moves further and further on this day will become an other D-Day, or Pearl Harbor Day, or whatever day is important to that specific generation.  Time doesn't care if we take the time to honor these days and these people.   But we should.  It's our American duty.  So today, I honor them.