Archive for the ‘family’ Category

Well, I feel reune-ed

Sunday, August 5th, 2012

This weekend was my family reunion (for my mom’s side of the family). It was in Woodland Park at a place called Triple B Ranch, so on Friday afternoon Crockett and I packed up the car (and the dogs) and headed down.

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There was a considerable amount of confusion on the part of the small furry members of the family.

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We stopped a couple of times along the way for supplies. Namely, wine. Lots of wine.

I was a little stressed, you guys. See, my mom is one of twelve children, and only one of her siblings wasn’t there. When you include my grandma, my aunts and uncles husbands and wives and a few (but not nearly all) of the grandkids and some of their significant others, we had about forty people. And one cousin and I were in charge of food.

Since I had to work Friday, my mom and that cousin did the shopping – and since they were doing the shopping, I took it on myself to turn our meal plan into a list with quantities. I was nervous about putting together food for that many people.

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Here’s some of them at our pancake breakfast. See? Lots of people!

We did do things other than eat, of course.

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We danced, and sang karaoke, and walked the dogs. The ranch had horses, so some people rode. (I opted to not smell like horse all weekend, so I passed.) We hung out with the puppies in the room and played charades. I supervised pool volleyball…

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With the help of a solo cup of wine and my kindle. Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead is a strange, compelling book, y’all.

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I cooked. Good heavens did I cook. This is a just one of the tables set up for one of the meals – the tables go off to the left and all those tables in the background were full of eating people in just a few minutes.

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I set aside food for myself while no one was paying attention. Grilled corn, turkey burger, half of a beef burger, broccoli salad, caprese salad (it’s back there, I swear), avocado, and some pita chips.

It turns out I love pita chips.

I may have gained five pita chip related pounds this weekend.

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Cloey enjoyed watching the world go by…

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and Maida enjoyed sitting under people’s chair and catching stray pieces of food.

Unfortunately, Crockett had to go home Saturday evening, so on Sunday my mom and I drove back together.

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The car was full of leftover food and exhausted, farm smellin’ dogs.

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We stopped for Coffee Light Frapuccinos (I don’t drink these very often, but when I do I’m always pleasantly surprised by how much tasty coffee bitterness they manage to maintain – are the non light ones that way too?).

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When I made it home, I gleefully shopped for a week’s worth of food for two people. Two. Yogurt, scallops, salad – it all fit into one tiny cart.

It was glorious.

If you’re interested, this was the meal plan for the weekend, with my commentary and quantities (and weird blog formatting that I’m too lazy to fix, sorry!):

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I especially like the last line. I’m so sensitive.

 

the heart wants what it wants

Monday, November 7th, 2011

Yesterday morning, my heart wanted a Dutch baby.

Not an actual Dutch baby. I don’t know where I’d get an actual Dutch baby. Hell, I don’t know where I’d get a baby on a Saturday morning. We have friends with new babies, I guess… but they’re not Dutch.

Digression.

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Dutch Baby (German Pancake)
Based on that badass Alton Brown’s recipe

2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs

Heat the oven to 375 F.

Find a pan of some kind. I used an 8 inch cake pan – a cast iron pan is more traditional, but it has to be 8 or 10 inches and ours is 12. The bigger one means less puff, and the whole point of a Dutch baby is the puff.

Put the butter in the pan and put the pan in the oven to let the better melt. Don’t forget. Seriously. Brown butter is delicious but is not the point. Do I need to mention again that the puff is the point?

Stir together the dry ingredients, and mix with the wet ingredients in a blender, food processor, or mixing bowl if you have a stick blender. (Stick blenders are awesome). Blend until totally uniform.

Pull the pan out of the oven, and pour about half the butter into the batter. Combine super quick, and pour the batter into the pan, then stick the pan back in the oven.

Bake for 22 – 25 minutes. It will still be soft in the middle, but it will be puffy all across.

Sadly, it will sink.

Still, it will taste puffy.

You can eat with more sugar sprinkled on top, or with syrup, or with lemon wedges as Alton suggests. I, personally, like them plain. Crockett ate his plain because I forgot to tell him he had other options.

Serves 2. Or just me.

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Obviously I ate half before taking the picture – sorry!

After breakfast I went to the gym, and then did something very important.

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Took my best friend to the vet.

She has a terrible ear infection.

Don’t worry – we have pills and ointments now, and she’s already on the mend.

Then, I came home and started studying for my Mathematical Stats midterm which is tomorrow at 9 which I should be studying for right now. If anyone has any insights regarding characteristic functions, now would be the time to share :).

Lunch happened like this:

 

me: Cloey is sleeping
I’m glad I went
I love her so much
she’s my baby
2:04 PM Crockett: I’m sure she’s glad you took her, too.
2:06 PM me: whoops
I just accidentally blocked you
and then unblocked you
could you tell?
was it lke EMMA HATES YOU for a second?
2:07 PM Crockett: ha
no, I didn’t notice
2:09 PM you want a sandwich?
2:10 PM me: from a place or from our fridge?
Crockett: fridge
(that is a place)
me: excellent point
you want proscuitto and manchego paninis?
Crockett: Does anyone deliver sandwiches around here?
me: I have no idea
probably
Dominos
2:11 PM Crockett: blech
me: blech to proscuitto and manchego paninis or dominos?
Crockett: dominos
OMGYES to that other thing
me: :)
ok

 

We were across the hall from each other while we had this chat.

That’s just how we roll in our house.

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Whole grain bread brushed with olive oil on the outside, then a thin layer of mustard, then cheese, then slices of pear, then proscuitto. After I grilled them, I pulled them apart and shoved in some arugula.

The bread was a little much, honestly. Very seedy and kind of overpowering – I bought it at Costco awhile ago and stuck in the freezer. I’s good but this sandwich needed something subtler.

Anyway.

I studied for hours and got basically nowhere, which was super fun for me, and then Crockett and I met up with his mom and brother and went out to dinner.

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I realize this is not good looking. I swear the chicken wasn’t actually pink in my warm squash and beet salad with chicken, bacon, and maple dressing at The Empire.

It was SO GOOD.

Since Crockett’s mom is only in town for the weekend, we played it big and went out for another drink afterwards.

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Punk.

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… in Ale.

I love pumpkin beer, and the Dogfish Head is sort of a cult version. it’s super hard to get, so when I saw they had it dove right in. It was exactly as delicious as I remembered, and I would kill to have some in my fridge right now. Someone remind me next year, ok?

sigh

Sunday, October 23rd, 2011

I’m having a boring, frustrating week. I did poorly on an exam (which I may have mentioned), and now I’m feeling the need to prove myself academically, and I’m having a hard time doing it. I just have so much to do that I can’t focus on any one thing long enough to excel.

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The work – it is constant.

Anyway.

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I know it’s no Dogfish Head – but I love me some pumpkin beer, and this one is pretty tasty.

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On Monday I made vaguely Asian inspired tempeh and butternut squash tacos. I thought breaking the tempeh into smaller pieces would make it more flavorful, but then I baked it after marinating it, and it dried out. It took a lot of greek yogurt to make them moist enough again – but at that point, they were pretty tasty.

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On Tuesday night, we went out with my parents to Southern Sun.

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I had one of the specials, a steak sandwich with horseradish mayo and melted cheese of some variety called ‘I can’t remember but it was white and damn delicious’.

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And my mom gave me a piece of her crabcake sandwich.

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My dad had the other special, the fish and chips. I love fish and chips, but for whatever reason I was of the opinion that my sandwich would be healthier.

Obviously that was not the case.

Fortunately, my sandwich was good enough that I didn’t regret not ordering the fish. I wanted a bite, but by the time I looked up, there were only fries remaining – clearly the fish was not a disappointment either.

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Crockett had a salad with pecans and arugula and who knows what else. He loved it, but he ate half my sandwich too. That’s the problem with salad, yo. Sometimes you just need a sandwich too .

On Thursday, Crockett made beer.

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In an enormous pot in our kitchen.

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With hops from our hops plant.

It’s bubbling away under my feet right now.

Yesterday, Crockett went to the CU homecoming game and I stayed home to work. I took two quick breaks – one to make chocolate chip cookies and one to make cauliflower gratin.

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For breakfast today: plain yogurt with cherries and a crumbled cookie.

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For lunch today: cauliflower gratin (made with orange cauliflower, not purple and orange like Deb’s).

The cookies are mediocre, due to some changes I made to the recipe because of last minute ‘holy shit I haven’t gone to the store lately’ shortages, but the gratin? People, it’s like macaroni and cheese if the macaroni were replaced with delicious firm cauliflower instead.

Anyway. I’ll be better about posting this week, promise.

How was everyone else’s week?

home again home again

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011

Yes, this is my third post of the night. I apologize if you’re reading this in an RSS feed and are like DUDE, EMMA, LET SOMEONE ELSE TALK.

Last Friday (yeah, I’m still back there – that’s why three posts in one night but this is totally the last one probably unless Crockett comes over here with some wine and then I may just keep going you never know) we woke up in Mackinaw City, Michigan, with a mid-afternoon arrival planned for Mio, Michigan.

 

That trip was never going to happen without adequate sustenance. Three hours of driving takes it’s toll, yo.

The Mackinaw City Pancake Chef had limited choices, but I managed to put together a good plate.

I had a whole pile of melon salad, a few strawberries, and two bites each of scrambled eggs, grits with syrup, hash browns with ketchup, sausage, and french toast with cherries hiding underneath.

I killed this plate while the people at our table who didn’t go for the buffet waited for their food, and then twiddled my thumbs. Downside of the buffet.

Upside of the restuarant?

You mention that there are a couple of birthdays in the group and they bust out two whole freaking cakes.

After breakfast Crockett and I walked back to our motel, to burn off a little breakfast.

Crockett went old school.

Doesn’t this look just like the picture on the Pancake Chef menu? I’m such a good photographer I sometimes don’t even know what to do with myself.

I asked Crockett to take a picture of me in front of the bridge, and then right when he pushed the button I realized we were standing in front of a lighthouse.

A LIGHTHOUSE.

I love lighthouses. I find them romantic. Probably because I was never a lighthouse keeper.

After the lighthouse, I was pretty much done with Mackinaw, so we headed down to Mio.

The Mio reunion was Crockett’s mom’s family (everything prior was Crockett’s dad’s family), and it was much more structured. They reserved space at the Mio park and set up a tent and had meals planned and all sorts of magical magic.

The camp came with lots of space to play, which the kids of the fam took full advantage of.

I’m not going to lie. Crockett’s mom’s family is enormous. I’m still not sure I knew some of the names that I thought I knew. They’re also super nice.

We celebrated the birthdays again. (Yes, these are the same two kids celebrating. Yes, this is the third time we’re having cake. Yes, they are kids after my own heart.)

We also had the grown up camper’s equivalent of birthday cake: Cheetos and red wine (Big House Red – surprisingly delicious even in a Super 8 cup). There were two full tables of food – pulled pork, sloppy joes, ten million kinds of chips, brownies, candy, and salads? Oh my god salads. Tuna salads, pasta salads, fruit salads, ambrosia salads, potato salads, vegetable salads… no plain salad salad, but basically anything else you can think of that ends in salad? Yeah, they had that salad.

Then, sadly, we ran into some Mother Nature shaped issues.

In this case, Mother Nature was shaped like a whole lot of raindrops. For a whole long time.

I was borrowing sweatshirts and wiggling into my pants in the backseat of the car. From my position here in my 70 degree Colorado evening, I’m having a hard time remembering the cold, but I know it was there.

The family was cool enough that being under the tent was pretty slick, so we survived the rain.

Two days later, we started the drive home.

P.S. I would have included pictures of Pioneer General (aka Am-Depot), but I was too busy buying Amish knives and Amish candy and wondering if I could pull off and Amish straw hat to remember to take any. Sad, I know. The knives are badass, though.

 

No, YOU’RE Superior

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011

The whole first part of my recent vacation took part on Lake Michigan.

I would totally put a little star on this map with a note saying ‘I was here’ if I had any idea where I was, but I don’t. Definitely up top somewhere. I do know that where I was was glorious.

Thursday, though, we got a chance to hop up to Lake Superior.

(Again, where was I? No idea.)

I do know I was in a town called Marquette, the home of Northern Michigan University and a little restaurant called L’Attitude. One of the branches of Crockett’s family tree has bloomed (see what I did there?) in that area of the state. We took Crockett’s uncle and cousin to L’Attitude because his other cousin (son of the uncle, older brother of the first cousin) is a busboy there and was working, and that was the best way to see him because we were short on time.

I mean, yeah, the service (other than the bussing), was a little spotty. We were missing silverware and … stuff. (Ok, I don’t remember exactly, I just remember her being inattentive.)

But the thing pictured above (called Three Ways to Heaven, sadly) was freaking amazing. Restaurant made tabouleh, hummus, and tapenade with little flatbreads? Yes please.

We also had this cheese platter – holy crapadoodledo. Sadly, our waitress had no idea what the cheeses were, just that they’d come from Wisconsin farms. If I knew what that soft blue in the far upper right was, I would buy it by the barrel. (They sell cheese by the barrel, right?)

My Thai Salad was particularly un-photogenic and mediocre to boot, but those cheeses and the heavenly trio more than made up for it.

Plus the view wasn’t ugly.

Since we had a Reunion 2.0 deadline in mid-Michigan, we were short on time, but we had to stop by Lake Superior.

 

So very beautiful.

So very cold.

We drove east along the Superior coast before dropping back south, and we found ourselves at the entrance to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.

Who are we to deny serendipity?

Do you think you’re hallucinating? Do you think that I photoshopped the Caribbean with pine trees?

That’s what I thought, because I apparently picture all of the great lakes as dark bluish brown.

This is seriously Lake Superior.

This is called Miner’s Castle. At some point, between when Crockett’s dad used to climb up there when he was a teenager and when we arrived last week, half of it fell down.

I still think it’s purdy.

Almost as purdy as Crockett.

On the way back to the car, I saw these and, quite seriously, said “babe, blueberries!”

I realized as I was speaking that this is not what blueberries look like when they’re growing.

Crockett is still reminding me.

We did finally make it to our evening’s destination: Mackinaw City.

When you’re a tourist, what can you do other than eat ice cream?

This was mine – Toasted Almond Coconut. I need you to understand two things. First, I asked Crockett if he wanted any and he said no, he was not in the mood for ice cream, and then he ate half of this despite me only handing it to him so I could take a picture. Second, I asked for and paid for a single scoop cone. I think the fella behind the counter thought I was adorable. This was confirmed when he threw ice cream at Crockett a few minutes later. (Fine, that second part didn’t happen. Jeesh.)

Here’s the weird thing about Mackinaw City. Every business is a spin off of an original business. They’re famous for fudge and white fish, and they all share all or part of a name. The fudge I bought as gifts came with a certificate of authenticity, for reals.

Crockett’s dad beat us there, so he had time to scope out the local eateries. He recommended a place – you know, a place? Four stores down from that alley where the third fudge shop is? Right by the eighth place that sells mocassins? That place.

The fish was delicious. The side portions were overwhelming. The hush puppies you aren’t seeing under the fries practically disintegrated, and not in a good way. Maybe the best street restaurants are only good at one thing.

Maybe not, though. I mean, the honky tonk bar made a damn good vodka martini, preceded by this conversation:

Me: Vodka martini, please.
Bartender: Sure, honey. You want it dirty?
Me: That’d be great.
Her: How dirty?
Me: More dancing on the bar dirty than going home with a stranger dirty.
Her: Ah. Balls dirty, not sweaty balls dirty.

The whole rest of the night she referred to my drink as a sweaty balls martini.

I love honky tonk bars.

 

 

bye-bye beach

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011

It’s Tuesday.

    These pictures are from last Wednesday, because last Wednesday is that last time I had internet access.

    That’s how the Upper Peninsula of Michigan rolls.

    There are four things one can do while on vacation without violating Emma’s Law of Vacay.

    • Eat.
    • Rest (this includes sleeping at night, napping during the day, and laying around staring at the water).
    • Talk (loved ones, strangers, everyone in between – go for it).
    • Read.

    On Wednesday I had a day packed full of all of the above. Every single relative of Crockett’s, on meeting me, shoved books into my hands. I left the house last week with three, read two in the airports and planes, and arrived home with 10 – the original three, two from his grandparents, one from his dad, two from his uncle, and two from his aunt.

    That’s a lotta books.

    Oh, I forgot something you’re allowed to do on vacation: CELEBRATE! Crockett has two nieces and three nephews, and two of the five have the same birthday. (Is this a really number heavy post? It’s all those books.)

    When we visited the Escanaba park, I zoomed over to the stand I’d seen while running the day before.

    Gram’s Pasties in the Park.

    PASTIES in the PARK, people.

    This? This is a pasty. Pasties are all over the damn place in Michigan. Like, ALL over. I actually knew what one was, theoretically. My understanding was that pasties were essentially meat turnovers for British working people – an old school Lunchable, basically. A traditional Cornish pasty is made from beef, swede (a sweet root), potatoes, and onions. In the UP, the swede is replaced by rutabaga, and you can order your pasty with or without said rutabaga.

    Everyone said use a LOT of ketchup…

    And then sat around watching me take a bite.

    I didn’t adore it. It was a tasty vehicle for the ketchup, but that’s about it. However, the local experts told me that it wasn’t a good sample – I really needed to wait until the church ladies did their thing. Hopefully when that happens, Crockett’s grandma (behind me offering lots of advice on the eating) will mail me one?

    Fortunately we had pizza:

    (Domino’s Pizza started in Michigan, so this totally counts as eating local).

    I had a slice of buffalo chicken pizza that may have permanently altered how I think about Dominos. It was that good, people.

    Also? Cake:

    I didn’t get a picture before it was sliced, but since it was for a birthday boy and a birthday girl who were three years apart in age, they went with the adorable and always relevant surfing Mickey and Minnie. So cute. Soooo much frosting.

    After dinner there was a free concert in the park. Every Wednesday the town band does what, based on my experience, seems to be whole bunch of awesome cover medleys.

    Escanaba is a happening town full of happening people.

    After the show, we headed back to our beachside motel to get ready for an early start on Thurs – the start of Reunion 2.0.

     

     

    beachy keen

    Wednesday, August 10th, 2011

    It’s a hard life, here at the beach. There are so many questions that need answering.

    Does Crockett have enough time to finish his sandwich before his scheduled nap?

    Should I focus on my lunch…

    or on the view?

    Should I make a run for it before this bee dive-bombs me (as he’s clearly considering)?

    Is the water more gorgeous, or the sky? (Does little Jack, sitting on the edge of the water, have questions like this?)

    Is a water trampoline safer than a regular one?

    What if it’s waaaaaay out there?

    Is there something about the beach that turns normally mature adult brothers into gladiators?

    Will I ever get in the water?

    Or will I just keep following the wildlife around?

    And most importantly: burger or brat?

    Fortunately there’s no question here. A scoop of everything, please.

    the end of an era (or weekend)

    Wednesday, August 10th, 2011

    My brother only comes to town once a year (or so), so we have to make it a big deal when he does.

    On Saturday night, my dad busted out his mad kitchen skills and put together a vegan meal worth of a king.

    Any desire I have to cook is to the credit (or fault, I guess) of this man.

    Yes, I did make him pose like he was chopping an onion. I missed the actual onion chopping and I felt it was necessary for the story.

    My mom and brother and I snacked on watermelon and cantaloupe while my dad slaved away. The wine was Cline Pinot Noir (2009). In the summer, I mostly avoid red wine, but my mom really likes it. Pinot is a good compromise, and this was particularly delicious and especially suited for the sweet fruit we ate before dinner.

    The results of his hard work? Not as pretty as they were tasty, I can assure you. The gorgeous thing above is a bean ball sandwich. The recipe came from Veganomicon, which I bought for Sam a few years ago after hearing great thing about it. I don’t have the recipe, because I don’t have the book – it’s a combination of kidney beans, nutritional yeast (I think), and all of the other things you would expect to find in meatballs, minus milk and eggs and cheese. The bean balls, despite having an unfortunate name, are ridiculously good.

    The sauce is my dad’s secret recipe and is not available for sharing unless I’m willing to take my life in my hands. The bread is an Udi’s baguette – flour, salt, yeast, and water. Naturally vegan, y’all.

    Clearly I hated everything about the meal.

    On Sunday my little brother had a criterium (a specific kind of bike race, whose details aren’t important – mostly because I don’t understand them).

    How good a friend is Star, coming out with us to cheer on my brother?

    My mom and I staked out quite the excellent viewing location for the start.

    And they’re off!

    The best part of a crit is that it’s usually through a town or city. The blue and yellow house is actually a Denver restaurant called Cuba Cuba. I tried to convince my co-watchers to stop for a mojito, but they insisted that we actually focus on the race.

    Happily, afterwards everyone came back to my house and a few of my brother’s high school friends came by. We had margaritas. And watched Birdemic (again). And had more margaritas.

    And then I got three hours of sleep and then got in a car then on a bus then in a big airplane then in a little airplane, and then vacation started and my brother-in-town weekend ended.

     

    pile o’ crank

    Monday, August 8th, 2011

    After Thursday tequila (which sounds way less cool than Tuesday tequila, don’tcha think?), I wasn’t really ready for breakfast until 11 or so on Friday.

    And when I was ready all I wanted were vegetarian corn dogs.

    With lots of mustard.

    To be clear, Morningstar Farms has no idea who I am or that I adore the everloving shit out of their products. They also have no idea how pissed I am that the corn dogs seem to be in short supply. Last time I found them I bought three boxes, and I’m now down to my last box.

    Fortunately I’m not hung over that often.

    After I worked for awhile, I met up with the fam. We had big big plans, but we needed to be fed. Since my brother had done all of his vegan friendly shopping, he ate at home. My mom was the center of the big big plans, and it precluded her eating like a normal person.

    Being neither vegan nor about to exercise really hard, my dad and I went to Snarfs.

    Snarfs is a Boulder sandwich institution. They have expanded to St. Louis and Chicago, but they started here and have 7 shops in CO. The one my dad and I went to is just down the street from where I used to work in Boulder. At lunch time the line goes out the door and down the sidewalk, and if you don’t know what you want when you get to the counter, it’s the plank for you, mister.

    At night it’s much chiller.

    We ordered our sandwiches and sat down to wait.

    The music was speech impedingly loud.

    We were hungry.

    That explains the look on my dad’s face.

    I ordered my favorite – ham and american cheese with everything. Everything includes pickled jalapenos. While eating, my dad and I concluded that any sandwich that doesn’t include pickled jalapenos should no longer be called a sandwich. (That thing you see him devouring in the background was an ‘italian’, and good, but no ham and american cheese.)

    We ate outside so we could hear each other talk. We, of course, solved world peace and all kinds of stuff. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you can hear.

    Then it was on to the big event.

    My mom racing like a pro at Boulder Indoor Cycling.

    That blur in front is her.

    She won two of her four races.

    Her genetics are a lot to live up to.

    The center of the velodrome is this kid’s obstacle/cross country thingie. I wanted so badly to ride on it. I would yell ‘weeeeeeeee’ the whole time.

    I’m related to winners.

    In other news, as I age my smile becomes more and more ridiculous.

    I’m never smiling in pictures again.

    Also? I’m wearing jeans that are too big for me with a big hefty belt under my tank top. That weird lump is not my belly.

    When we got back to my mom’s house, my secret bananas were ready!

    Have a Snarfy day.

     

    heeerrre’s lil bro!

    Friday, August 5th, 2011

    My little brother is in town.

    I didn’t make him sit on the floor – he did that all on his own.

    I mean, I could have. I am the big sister. But I didn’t.

    He’s staying with my mom, and I took a couple of hours off from schoolwork yesterday to hang out with them and my dad.

    My little brother is a vegan and he wanted more to eat than french fries and dressingless salad, so we went to Chipotle. Did you know that they’re vegan friendly? Yeah, me neither. Good on ya, Chipotle.

    Then, so that he’d have food to eat at my mom’s house (her fridge, like mine, is mostly full of yogurt and cottage cheese), we stopped by Whole Foods.

    We did not buy this. We mostly pointed and laughed. It has prickly pear extract, which is all of sudden supposed to be good for hangovers, which led us to believe that ‘urban’ is code for ‘you drink too much’.

    We also made a run to the liquor store.

    Shockingly, we did not buy Stinky Gringo margaritas.

    I mean, seriously?

    After I worked for a few more hours, the whole clan came over to lounge in my backyard. Cloey and Maida were thrilled – apparently I’m just not exciting enough for them anymore.

    We had all kinds of tasty beverages. I made Dad try Racer 5 IPA, because yum.

    I made myself a peach margarita – 1.5 ounces silver tequila, 4 ounces Freshies margarita mix (fresh juices and real sugar – it’s the best alternative to mixing your own), and half a frozen peach, blended up tasty like and topped with sparkling water. My theory here was that by adding fruit and extra water, I was making it healthier, and could therefore drink more.

    Today that seems like a less reasonable conclusion.

    I made the brother a non-blended, non-peach, non-sparkling version.

    Doesn’t he look like he thinks it’s poison?

    We threw some salmon burgers (pre-made from Costco) and some frozen vegan burgers on the grill, and had ourselves a nice little dinner. My mom took a picture of me being a mayonaise unicorn. These are the kind of shenanigans you’re missing out if you’re not friends with me on facebook.

    Isn’t family just the best?

    P.S. Dear Crockett – we missed you!