We're enjoying cocktails (orange juice and vodka, here) this evening while Calvin prepares to cook breakfast for dinner - steak and eggs with homefries and yummy goodness.

Calvin's playing DJ and I'm doing this entry while Marie is getting ready to go over to her maternal aunt's for the evening. Michael may or may not show up this evening - we warned him to call ahead, heh.

Calvin cleaned the kitchen - twice - while I wrapped presents and did laundry and got the grocery shopping list together. Then he and I went to Home Depot to pick up a thingamabobby to fix Marie's shower, then to Pet's Inc. for Kali's Christmas rat, then to the grocery store. He has been hugely helpful today AND he's cooking dinner. I just love him to little bitty bits.

It's a quiet evening, which will be followed by a day of furious cooking and present opening, and probably mimosas. Cuz that's just how we roll.

If I'm not around to say it tomorrow, I wish all of my friends, my readers (who are yet more friends!), my family, and any and all strangers that happen to stumble upon this modest little website a very Merry Christmas.

Labels: booze, Calvin, holiday, home

Posted by Laura at 5:44 PM | Permalink | Comments

To the left, a pint of Strongbow (Irish hard cider). To the right, the best Irish whiskey around, Jameson.

Labels: booze

Posted by Laura at 10:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

First, let me (and Jen, nyah) say, THANK GOD.

Second, Calvin and Marie and I went to Kona Grill last night in celebration of Marie's birthday. Much food was eaten, and a good time was had by all. (I was going to write this entry yesterday but I promised Marie I would leave her "Happy Birthday" message up as the uppermost entry for the WHOLE DAY in her honor.)

Third, I got four inches cut off the length of my hair last Friday, and as a result I have the Best Hair In All The World.

Fourth, today is National Talk Like a Pirate day. Avast!

And now, the weekend.

So, Friday Lucy was tearing around her tank like a crazy person lizard, running back and forth and scrabbling up on the sides and digging digging digging. So I took her out of her tank and into the living room, where I set her on the floor so she could run around. The cat was fascinated, and she kept running at him to check him out, at which point he would squint at her and flinch like he expected her to spit in his face or something, and then run off to the nearest hiding spot. Calvin and I were mightily amused by this.

Then suddenly Lucy squatted as if she was going to take a poo on the rug. Calvin warned me and I scooted her off the rug and onto the tile, the easier to clean up the impending mess. Except that instead of poo, out plooped... an egg!

We must have stared at it for a full minute before I exclaimed, "Hey! It's an egg!" Commence with the scrambling around as Calvin went off to Home Depot to secure some soil (for a laying box) while I called Pets Inc. to see if they knew where to purchase an incubator in a hurry. Calvin came back and we used a giant Rubbermaid storage container to put the soil in. I moistened it and packed it down so Lucy could dig a little cave to lay in. We put Lucy in and put a couple of screens over the top and rested a heat lamp on the screens. We watched expectantly.

She stared back up at us.

We stared back down at her.

She just sat there and didn't seem interested in digging a nest. So I dug what is called a "starter hole" to see if that would get her instincts to kick in. Nuthin. She totally had no idea what to do. She layed a half-dozen eggs (non-viable, which is common for a first clutch) on the surface, then spent a lot of time scrabbling up the sides of the box trying to get out.

Throughout the entire weekend she would lay an egg here, an egg there, an egg in the tub when I soaked her, an egg in her and Cheeto's tank after I put her back in it because I thought she was finally done with all of this nonsense (we have since separated them into their own individual tanks)... here it is Wednesday and I'm not entirely sure that she's done with the egg laying yet.

So! That was fun.

Friday night Calvin and I met a friend up at Iguana Mack's for some beer (and some more beer) and conversation. The weather, at least at night, is finally to the point where riding places on the motorcycle is comfortable again. I'm back to being a lightweight because I haven't been drinking very much at all, really, since we came back from the beer festival. So I got loopy and silly, as is my nature, and suffered a mild hangover the next morning. Phooey.

Saturday morning we watched "Invincible" on TV, and I drooled over Mark Wahlberg.

(pic courtesy of mark-wahlberg.org)
Being in a football frame of mind, Calvin secured tickets to the Arizona State/San Diego State college football game at Sun Devil Stadium. We left a couple of hours early in order to putter around Mill Avenue and the college district before the game. We ended up at House of Tricks (I once wrote an entry about it here). We sat at the bar and ordered drinks (whiskey and beer for Calvin, iced tea for me... stoopid hangover) and an appetizer, and just sat conversing and laughing and enjoying the cool-ish weather. We brought the camera with us and Calvin shot a few pics, then a nice man from across the bar came over and offered to take a picture of us together.









We left Tricks about a half-hour before the game started, and walked and walked and WALKED because we parked closer to the stadium than to the action-side of Mill. Now, I LOVE Sun Devil Stadium. I love the crowd, I love the college students, I love the atmosphere. I love the tributes to Pat Tillman, whom I was fortunate enough to see play when he was an ASU Sun Devil AND when he was a Cardinal.

I think I like being at a college game better than being at a pro game. There just seems to be more energy - the chants, the band playing, the students bouncing a blow-up doll among the crowd:



Some more pics:












The Devils beat up San Diego with a final score of 34-13. We left at halftime, though, to go back down to Mill (walky walky walky) and hang out at a bar for an hour or so. We watched the culmination of the game from a place called Coconuts.

We rode home. We wrestled. We went to sleep.

The phone rang at 2:00 in the morning. Calvin rolled over and grunted into the receiver - it was Marie's boyfriend saying they had a fight and Marie said she was going to our house, and was Marie there? Calvin got up and checked... no Marie. The boyfriend was informed, we knew Marie would head to a friend's house first, and we went back to sleep.

The phone rang at 3:00 in the morning. Calvin rolled over and grunted into the receiver - it was Marie asking if we had called her. Calvin said no. Marie said she'd gotten a call from our home number. Calvin said it wasn't us. He got up and checked the house to see if maybe it had been Michael who had called. Michael was at his girlfriends. We deduced that Marie's boyfriend called from our house to see if he could get Marie to pick up, having let himself in.

That caused some consternation. Not a lot, because we know this kid and know he wouldn't do anything wrong or rash or mean. But still. We shared an "Oh no he DI-INT" moment with Marie, and went back to sleep.

(Later) Sunday morning we woke up and discovered Marie asleep on the couch. The rest of the day was spent talking with her, talking with Marie's boyfriend when he showed up, watching TV, and napping. Currently, the boyfriend has moved out of Marie's apartment, and Michael is considering moving in with her.

(Snoopy dance!)

So! That was the drama of last weekend. This weekend is shaping up to deliver some NICE weather (supposed to be 88 on Saturday), so I'll probably have more pics to share of whatever trouble Calvin and I can find to get ourselves into.

Labels: booze, journal, kids, lizards, photography

Posted by Laura at 8:26 AM | Permalink | Comments

It seems that as I get older I don't want to get up early for NUTHIN. Back when I was a child I couldn't sleep the night before a trip, so excited was I. Now? The alarm goes off and I could be going for a month-long all expenses paid trip to HAWAII, and I wouldn't want to have to get up to make a 7:15 a.m. flight.

But make the 7:15 flight (to Oregon, not Hawaii), we did. Calvin and I have been doing a LOT of traveling this year, and the whole check in and security dance is getting quite old. However, we were duly entertained by angst first thing in the morning, as we waited our turn at the automated check-in station of Alaska Air. The lines were suggestions at most, and a lady ended up cutting in line. Which righteously offended this guy, waiting his turn. So angered was he that he approached the woman, told her off in a VERY LOUD VOICE for being rude, then stood behind the woman, read her name off of the check-in station, and said, "This is JULIE, everyone! JULIE is the rude woman who can't wait her turn! Let's hear it for JULIE!" Thereby succeeding in drawing everyone's eyes, originally staring at Julie, to stare instead at him.

So, that was fun.

Calvin and I sat to a very nice elderly lady (who was reading a naughty romance novel, which cracked me up) on the plane. She very helpfully filled us in on details of our destination, in between short naps and munching on a very strange "breakfast cookie" provided by the airline in place of actual, you know, food. We landed in Portland at about 10:00, wrestled with the luggage, waited for what seemed like an ETERNITY in the line for the rental car, and then waited for another ETERNITY to pull the car out of the parking garage as the people at the gate in front of us made the lady checking the paperwork trot back and forth to the rental desk.

That was an awesome run-on sentence.

The hotel let us check in early, and after dropping off our luggage we set off on foot to find sustenance and beverage. Nosh, if you will. Thing is? Portland Oregon is MUCH bigger than Portland Maine, a fact which I suppose I twigged intellectually, but not consciously. So, not knowing our way around at all, I'm sure we picked exactly the WRONG direction in which to strike out on our quest for food. BUT! We finally came across a Rock Bottom, which while not the quaint native hole-in-the-wall we were looking for, afforded us with an opportunity to hoover and guzzle and generally be hungry piggies. We ordered a beer sampler, were rather chagrined at the sheer amount of sample glasses plunked down in front of us, then found the consumption of said samples to be easier accomplished than originally thought (really, one gulp each x 8 or 9 samples = about a full beer for each of us).

(I do hope my judgmental anonymous reader comments again. I shall have more than enough fodder for him/her by the end of this entry.)

Okay! From there we decided to wander down to the Beer Festival (more beer! Beer is good!). There were no lines to speak of, Thursday being opening day, and most of the Good People of Oregon were still working. We bought our plastic mugs...



...then started down one side and up the other, stopping at whichever station had the funnest name. There was Sweaty Betty Blonde, Donner Party Porter, Bitch Creek ESB, Pliny the Elder, Whoop Pass Double IPA, and Noggin Grog, to name just a few. I'm a big fan of IPA's, so I think my favorite there was the Alaskan IPA brewed by Alaskan Brewing Co.

Along with our mugs we bought twenty tokens for twenty dollars. I kept 10 and gave Calvin 10. One token for a "taster" (about 1/4 mug), four tokens for a full mug. We pretty much stuck to just tasters, to sample the most amount of beers without having to buy more tokens. The weather was absolutely BEAUTIFUL - mid 70's and sunny, with a light breeze going. At one point we took our samples and sat in the (SOFT!) grass under the trees.



We must have sat there for over an hour, just enjoying the weather and people-watching.

After departing the festival, we went back up to our hotel room for a (ahem) nap. The beds were incredibly comfortable - the kind you sort of fall into and get consumed by. We were up on the fourteenth floor of the building (the Marriott on the corner of Washington and Broadway, for those Oregonians following along at home), where we could look across at the busily dedicated workers pounding away at their computers in the offices of the building across the street. (This one girl in particular in the corner office of the top floor was there late every day and even all day Saturday. The weather was so beautiful and I was tempted to go over there and drag her away from her work.)

We departed the hotel again at about 8:30 pm, marveling at how light it still was outside. I don't think the sun went fully down until about 10:00. We had dinner at Jake's Grill...



... then just wandered up and down the streets. There were these funky lunch carts EVERYWHERE, advertising food from every known nationality to man (plus CREPES!) that, alas, we never got a chance to eat at... and I also didn't take any pictures of them, which is weird, for me. We stopped at Tugboat's, a VERY hole-in-the-wall (nearly literally) bar, and then another place whose name escapes me at the moment but which I will probably recall before I am done writing this entry.



The next morning Calvin and I got up reasonably early, and I went off in search of Peets coffee (a shop was adjacent to our hotel - BOMB almond croissants, by the way) while Calvin showered. This is the routine when we are traveling together - I get up first and get showered and ready, then wake him up to get him going, and go off in search of coffee. By the time I get back to the room he's usually showered and dressed. A properly caffeinated husband is a happy husband. A happy husband is a happy Laura.

We claimed the car from the valet (hello, $26 a day! yeesh) and drove west on route 26 toward Cannon Beach. Along the way we hit a rest stop that, upon exploration, revealed a connection to Rock Creek and a little hiking trail.







There's something about being outdoors that makes Calvin want to take pictures of my nekkid butt ("Here I am, mooning the great outdoors..."), so we did that, but I'm not going to show you. Use your vivid imaginations. Just... be flattering, okay? Heh.

Since a croissant doesn't go very far toward keeping OUR appetites happy, we stopped at Camp 18 for some KILLER burgers (and beer, natch).



We received some very helpful suggestions and directions from our waitress, and made it to Canon Beach without a problem. I was completely geeked to catch glimpses of the ocean and Haystack Rock (GOONIES!!! Remember the scene where they line up the rock formation with the medallion?) from the road, and was totally in love with the place by the time we (finally) maneuvered the traffic and pedestrians of the town, found a parking spot, and made it down to the beach.







After wandering around the village at Cannon Beach for a while, we got back on the road and headed toward Astoria. The only thing lacking from our drive among the cliff-side houses was Cyndi Lauper singing that "Goonies are Good Enough". It was totally surreal; I kept expecting Mikey and the boys to come racing out to let the air out of Brandon's tires.

We gaped at how BIG the mouth of the Columbia River is, and (after a couple of wrong turns where we were all, "We're over HERE and we want to be over THERE,") drove across the bridge over to Washington.







Back over on the Oregon side, we stopped at the "Ship's Inn", a restaurant recommended by our waitress at Camp 18, who's perfect and LITERAL directions ("...the road right before the Burger King in Astoria...") dropped us right there. Calvin had a crab cocktail, I got some short neck clams.

And beer.





By the time we finished up at Ship's Inn, it was nearly 5:00 and time to head back toward Portland. Calvin and I really enjoyed the entire road along 26. Lots of trees, rolling green fields and farm stands sporting cherries and fresh berries. We fail to realize just now NOT green Arizona is until we go to somewhere as green as Oregon. As long as we were there, the contrast never stopped startling us.

The next day (Saturday) we spent the entire day pretty much just walking around the city. We bought some more comfortable shoes at Columbia Sports, our feet having suffered from our poor packing choice of footwear. We had breakfast at Mother's, then went down to the open air market they hold every Saturday. We encountered a homeless man in a flowered dress and straw hat brightly decorated with fluorescent fake flowers, literally IN the dumpster we parked near, who had a very cheerful hello for us. We also were nonplussed to be confronted by a homeless man getting a BJ from a prostitute under some bushes literally two feet from the HIGHLY TRAFFICKED (by families with children, even) sidewalk.

They were too busy to say hello.

We only stayed for a few minutes in the market before leaving again - I think we were traumatized or something. So we drove around for a little bit, then took the car back to the hotel and hit a couple of restaurants and a brewery. We had dinner on the sidewalk (where most places had their outdoor seating area) at Jake's Crawfish and watched the comings and goings of the very fancy men at the gay bar across the street.



After dinner we walked around some more, and found ourselves back at that bar whose name I can't remember. SIXSHOOTERS! That's it. We sat outside (on the sidewalk again) and chatted with a couple of young men who were in Portland on an internship with Walgreens. While sitting there we deflected more requests for "compassion" from several more homeless men (and we would be more compassionate if they weren't buying BJ's and booze with their donated money - and I'm probably going to catch hell from someone for that comment). We also encountered two very fabulous ladies on their way to a party at Escape, who were kind enough to pose for a picture:



Sunday was our last day in Oregon, so after the wake up/coffee/checkout/valet routine, we drove up to Cameo's Cafe for a terrific breakfast (best bacon EVER), and got a parking ticket in the process. We spent the rest of the misty morning traversing the paths of the Rose Test Garden and the Japanese Garden in Washington Park.













Okay, so Portland? Is hard to get around if you're not familiar with the place. After we left Washington Park we went back down to the city proper to find this floating restaurant/bar that Calvin recalled from a trip he took back in the 90's. We could see it from the road but had a heck of a time figuring out which turn to take that would get us down to the riverfront. We finally figured it out, but we were cracking ourselves up with the sheer amount of wrong turns we took.

First stop was the Marina Fish House, the aforementioned floating restaurant. We sat outside on the dock and watched the ducks and geese competing for the french fries a posse of little boys were tossing to them. The movement of the dock was a little disconcerting at first. We enjoyed an hour of river watching while sipping some brews - my new favorite is now the Bridgeport IPA.



(Sometimes I just can't believe how handsome Calvin is.)



We walked up the riverside walk to the park end and made ourselves comfortable in the rocking chairs on the porch of Three Degrees. We could have stayed there all day long, rocking and sipping and nibbling on a cheese platter. Entertainment was provided by a huge flock of geese that was completely unperturbed by the multiple attempts made by small children to get them to scatter. As soon as we saw them we immediately thought of Marie, who as a little girl (and probably still now) would have made just such an attempt.





We still had a couple of hours to kill before we needed to leave for the airport, so we wandered back down the walk and stopped at McCormick & Schmick's for some lunch... and more beer.







Winding down to the end, now... we made it to the airport with time to spare... and then discovered that we had even MORE time to spare than originally thought - our 7:15 pm flight was delayed until after 9:00. So we hung out in one of the restaurants in the airport, looked at all of the pictures on the digital camera, had some munchies, and braved a nuclear neon drink.



So, our opinion of Oregon is that we wouldn't mind living there, but definitely wouldn't live in Portland city proper. It's not small town enough for us. The countryside is beautiful, though, with a branch of AcronymCo that's located right in the middle of some farmlands. So transferring is an option, though not in the immediate future. All in all, we liked Oregon, though it wasn't exactly what we were expecting.

Labels: booze, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 2:15 PM | Permalink | Comments

(Guess which song is playing on my iPod right now.)

Calvin and I are off to Oregon tomorrow morning. Very, very early tomorrow morning. So that we may arrive in Oregon comparitively early and commence with all of the drinking.

What does it say about us that we are fashioning a mini-vacation around the purpose of drinking? No, don't answer that. Just picture us, whenever you think of us tomorrow (if you think of us... but of course you will, you loyal readers!), sitting in 75-degree weather, sipping a microbrew on the banks of the Willamette River.

Many pictures to come, I assure you.

(I'm hot, and I don't care who knows it... I've got a job to do.)

Labels: booze, vacation

Posted by Laura at 2:34 PM | Permalink | Comments

Efes Pilsener - Anadolu Efes Brewery, Istanbul, Turkey
Slightly bitter, clear, color similar to apple juice. Light beer with faint flavors of lemon and apple. Finishes clean and dry, no lingering aftertaste. Light carbonation. Would pair well with fruit, cheese, or fish.
Rating:
Calvin = 5 of 10 (has a fruity taste that he does not enjoy)
Laura = 7 of 10 (like lighter beers)

A Bitter End Pale Ale - Two Brothers Brewing Co., Chicago, IL, USA
Hoppy, bittersweet, and citrussy. Slightly cloudy, higher carbonation, coloring leaning toward light tannish orange. Slight bitter aftertaste that leaves the palate and back of throat dry. Reminiscent of Belgian ales. Would pair well with sushi or sashimi.
Rating:
Calvin = 6.5 of 10 (likes the finish)
Laura = 8 of 10 (has more flavor and character)

Peg Leg Imperial Stout - Clipper City Brewing Co., Baltimore, MD, USA
Very dark, roasted chocolate flavor, roasted coffee finish. Dark chocolate brown in color, no translucency at all. Not as thick as other stouts. Very mildly carbonated. Would pair well with red meat or roast, or anything caramelized.
Rating:
Calvin = 7.5 of 10 (the darker the better for Calvin)
Laura = 6.5 of 10 (would not drink more than one, too filling)

Adnams Broadside Original Ale - Solebay Brewery, England, UK
Pours with a decent head. Hoppy, richly bitter. Translucent brown with red tint. Light woody finish. Would pair well with strawberries and chocolate, or a smokey poultry dish.
Rating:
Calvin = 6.5 of 10 (more a stout fan than an ale fan)
Laura = 6.5 of 10 (a little too bitter)

Calvin and I actually liked all of the beers. Calvin likes a lighter end stout or dark ale, I like pilseners and light ales. We're not comparing the beers to one another, but to our personal preference for taste, texture, and finish. With that said, it is very rare that we meet a beer that we truly dislike.

Labels: best things, booze

Posted by Laura at 1:34 PM | Permalink | Comments

Wednesday:

Let's see. Just a week since we've been home and things are already starting to get fuzzy in my memory. Wednesday morning I ordered us some fruit, pastry, and coffee from room service and spent the morning reading, photoshopping, and relaxing while Calvin did the same with the paper and the TV. Around noon we took the car to get some gas, then drove to Dimillo's (a short walk from our hotel but we didn't want to put the car in valet again) to have lunch with my uncle, his girlfriend, my cousin and her husband. We were there for over two hours, enjoying fillet (Calvin) and baked stuffed haddock (me), drinks, and conversation.

My uncle presented me with my mother's class ring, which had been lost at one point and then rediscovered and kept for me. I got caught up with my cousin, whom I hadn't seen since my Grandmother passed away. I don't know why, but it continues to startle me how well I get along with my uncle, when I was so fearful of him (out of respect and the threat of his righteous anger to get me to behave) when I was little. My sister doesn't get along with him at all - she has a different history with him than I do. But more on all of that in a different entry.

Anyway, we all parted company at a little after 3:00, and secured an invitation for lunch at my uncle's (my Grandmother's, where I grew up) on Friday.

Calvin was out of clean jeans, so we looked up the nearest laundromat and spent an hour or so futzing around with the more mundane aspects of living out of a suitcase. We may or may not have taken a nap after getting back to the hotel, I don't really recall.

What I DO recall is the BEST evening spent with my favorite person (that'd be Calvin), doing a pub crawl all over the Old Port. We went back to Bull Feeney's for a quick beer, then wandered down toward the wharf so I could show Calvin the spot that I took pictures from Sunday evening, while he was napping.


After rave recommendations from my uncle, we had dinner at J's Oyster Bar (the link is to another blogger who reviewed the place and took the pictures of the outside that I did not). The place is, like, three square feet and when I say it's an Old Port "institution", I mean that in the truest and most respectful sense. We went there more than once in our short stay. They had the best crab legs Calvin and I have ever experienced. Plus I got my much-craved steamed clams (and my yearly recommended allowance of sand). It's dim and crowded and shabby and fantastic. Real food with real people running the place, and the most unpretentious sort of clientele.


God, we loved that place.

Breathing deeply of the crisp night air, we set out with no particular destination in mind, and no plans other than to crawl our way through some pubs. We hit Gritty's and sampled some of their great house brew. I just have to say that I love the bars in the Old Port - all housed in old, old buildings with exposed brickwork and wooden beams, funny crannies and architecture that screams "converted".

Next stop was a bar on Wharf Street called "Cake" (can't find a link to it). It's newly opened and the bar tender (and part owner?) was eager to please. We sat on the whiskey bar side - the dance club side was empty in early evening awaiting clientele. We grabbed a couple of beers and ordered steak tartar and some crackers with cheese and caviar (very fancy schmancy are we on vacation!).


From Cake we crossed Wharf Street and went to 51 Wharf, a contemporary bar that was offering salsa classes that night, of all things. We declined the lessons and had a couple of Jamesons at the bar (after he tried to serve us SOCO. Yeesh.). The bartender was fantastically inattentive but we're low maintenance customers so after we got our drinks straightened around it wasn't much of a problem.


By the time we stumbled out of 51 Wharf it was quite late, and I honestly don't remember us getting back to the hotel room. Which means we had a GOOD night.

Labels: best things, booze, Calvin, food, journal, Maine, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 6:08 PM | Permalink | Comments

I didn't provide too much detail during the week Calvin and I were in Maine, because, well, I wanted to be OUT DOING instead of IN WRITING. So you got your little drabs and your BIG amounts of pictures, which I hope helped to tide you over. That is, if you needed tiding. Perhaps you were completely and entirely disinterested. Who knows what goes on it that brain of yours, anyway?

Moving on.

The problem with going home is that at least two days out of every vacation are fully occupied with travelling. We left Arizona at 7:30 in the morning Arizona time on Saturday, and got to our hotel in Maine at 7:30 in the evening Maine time. That's flights, layovers, and the drive from Manchester NH to Portland ME. Coast to coast travel is a bitch, people.

Saturday, The Remainder:

The hotel (The Portland Regency, and I doubt we'll ever stay anywhere else, the place was AWESOME) was a MUCH WELCOME sight when we finally rolled in, even though we only paused long enough to shower up and change clothes, then we were out prowling the Old Port.


We stopped in the Armory Lounge, the hotel's bar, for some alcohol soaking food (Chicken Gorgonzola for Calvin, lobster salad on a croissant for me), and then went down the street and around the corner to Bull Feeney's, an Irish Pub that was packed and happenin' (and did YOU know that lobsters love Guinness? I didn't.).

I already mentioned the oddity that is Cinco de Mayo in Maine, with the Irish drinking songs and the VERY WHITE GUYS sporting very black fake moustaches and sombreros. There was "Fred", who loved everybody, and told everybody that fact repeatedly. There were these two guys that were wasted and standing, weaving, calling catcalls and encouragements to the live entertainment, and trying with little success to sing along. Calvin and I enjoyed ourselves hugely, drank tequila (which is per our standard, but the folks in the bar thought that was Very Authentic of us), got hugged by Fred about twelve times (who, it turned out, was just back from Iraq), and finally stumbled our way back to our hotel a little after 1:00 a.m.

Sunday:

Tequila = ow.

I already described how I woke up ridiculously early and how Calvin was forced to get out of bed against his will. How he could sleep through the constant calls of the seagulls was beyond me - they woke us up pretty much every morning. If I lived there I'd probably get sick of it, but at week's end it was still novel to me. The hotel is one street up from the harbor, and with all of the fishing boats coming and going, there was a lot of seagull conversating going on.

"Mine? Mine? Mine?"

We ate breakfast at Twenty Milk Street, the restaurant in the hotel. They had a very fancy-schmancy Sunday Brunch going on, but we ordered more standard fare. Calvin had corned beef hash made with actual corned beef (not those weird little Dinty Moore cubes) and poached eggs Benedict, and I had eggs over medium with bacon and toast. Good LORD people, can I just rhapsody a moment over the bacon? I don't know what they do to the pigs in Maine, but whatever it is makes the bacon taste like meaty strips of heaven.


You do know that this entry is going to be primarily about food, don't you? Maine is very VERY big on producing and selling locally grown produce, dairy, meats, and of course seafood. Very little (if any) of the food we ate was from "away". Except for the tequila (and some guy randomly told us in Bull Feeney's that there's a tequila manufacturer in Maine. I'm not sure I believe him. A cactus would never survive the Maine winters, even indoors.).

Anyway. We took the car out (valet parking at ten bucks a day plus a fiver tip every time you take it out) and drove "out New Gloucester way", taking the drive I used to commute every day to and from work (and whoever thought I ever would have wanted to do that for fun??). From there we drove the back roads to Freeport, stopped briefly at LL Bean for the required souvenier gifts for the gang back home, then wandered back toward the Old Port. Lunchtime rolled around and, utilizing the directions we got from the bartender at The Armory the night before, we went to the Amato's on India Street for my Mecca Moment. I tell you what, we had to wait for over a half an hour for those darned sandwiches - the folks behind the counter couldn't get their acts together and misplaced our VERY SIMPLE ORDER (one large regular, one small roast beef, guess which one was mine), like, three times. But we finally made it back to the hotel room with the Italians and the Humpty Dumpty salt-n-vinegar chips (an institution, and what an awesome website MaineGoodies.com is!!!), and the Sam Adams.

I think I ate that entire foot-long sandwich in three bites. Oh, the pickles! Ohhh, the bread. Ohhhhhh, the fact that I'm three thousand miles and God knows how many months away from having another one...

Ahem.

After lunch we went looking for a sports bar with a TV that would sport the Suns game ("The who? What game are you looking for?" ("Basket. Ball.") "Uhhh... the Red Sox are playing...") We walked into one place and turned around and went back out almost immediately, having assessed their TV-less-ness. A (rather drunk) guy standing just outside the door looked at us funny and said, "What'd you do that for?" Calvin bristled, still operating on Arizona Standard Defense mode, and said, "What do you mean?" So the guy slurred, "Why would you wanna walk into a bar, then walk right out again? Oh, you have a camera. You're trying to (hic) capture something..." I just laughed and pulled Calvin away, reminding him that in Maine, any questionable circumstance would most likely turn out to be well meaning but weird, instead of violent and confrontational.

We finally settled in the Old Port Tavern. There was absolutely nobody there (it being Sunday afternoon), and the more beer I drank, the sleepier I got.


Calvin got a little annoyed that I would want to take a nap (don't worry, the irony kicks in later). After about an hour of fighting it, I finally gave in and we went back to the hotel. I crashed in the room for ONE HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES, that's it. He hung out in The Armory to watch the game (and have two more beers, and a PORT, of all things). He came back up to the room at about 5:20, at which point I woke up and got up to get myself ready for another evening of prowling around the Old Port. As I was in the process of dressing and grooming my hot self, he FELL ASLEEP. Fully clothed. Watching the game.

So. I figured, okay. I'll let him rest. I needed a nap too, after all. I grabbed the camera and went down toward the wharf to take a bunch of pictures.


I was gone for probably an hour or so, taking my time and enjoying the evening and the weather and the light. I wandered back up to the room at about 6:30. Tried to wake Calvin up. Got a grunt and a snore. So I sat at the computer and photoshopped the pictures. Tried to wake Calvin up once every half an hour or so. Finally gave up at 8:30 and let Calvin sleep. For the rest of the night.

Ahem.

I went down to The Armory with my book (The Dreamhunter by Sherrilyn Kenyon, and I have to say I didn't particularly like the book), grabbed a burger and gabbed with the bar guys while they ROARED over The Family Guy. I don't get that show At. All. There was a random 10-minute sequence where the dad on the show battled it out 007-style with a man-sized chicken. For no apparent reason. And then just stopped. Again, for no apparent reason. Something was lost in translation for me, that's for sure.

When I was done eating I went to the Map Room (which I never actually took a picture of, but it's a lovely sitting room with leather and mahogany furniture and model ships and maps everywhere) and read for about an hour. Then I went back up to the room, didn't take too much particular care to not disturb Calvin (not that it would have made a difference because I would have needed a marching band AND an earthquake), and went to sleep.

Aaaaand obviously I can't "summarize" to save my life, so I'm going to post this stuff in chunks. More tomorrow! I'm sure your riveted.

Labels: best things, booze, Calvin, food, journal, Maine, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 3:16 PM | Permalink | Comments

We just came back from our holiday booze shopping. Check this out:

"Beautifully balanced, rich creamy supple mouth feel, with no astringency or angularity. Refined, almost pillowy texture."

This is from the info label off of the "Jewel of Russia" vodka bottle. Not sure how a flavor can have angularity, or be pillowy. And also, mouth feel? (Hansel?) But then, I ain't refined. I just like the likker. Even when it comes in a hand-painted (?!?) bottle.

We also picked up a bottle of Cabo Wabo (I don't have to chase that shit with NUTHIN) and a bottle of 1792 whiskey (aged 8 years and smoooooooth as silk).

Dude at the liquor store LOVES customers like us. We pretty much said "yup" to each of his recommendations. I'm documenting the experience here because we'll need to remember what to buy again next year. Until then, the cheap stuff will have to suffice again when this stuff is gone.

Deck the Halls meets 99 Bottles of Booze on the wall...

Labels: booze

Posted by Laura at 2:55 PM | Permalink | Comments

Slowly, over today's passage of time, I have become a Cubicle Zombie. I've somewhat managed to whittle down my "To Do" list, but I had to sacrifice my sanity in order to do so. I spent ALL DAY trying to resolve overdue invoices for my plethora of vendors. Our AP group is tough to deal with, to say the very least. Oh, I'm sure as individuals they're fine, but as a process it rather sucks balls.

Thank God for Calvin. For many reasons, tis true, but especially for the fact that he rescued me for brunch today, and I got to have eggs and homefries and sausage. I like my sausage like I like my pancakes, smothered in maple syrup. Heh. You thought I was going for something dirty there, didn't you? Frisky readers.

We've been dating a lot lately. It's a marvelous thing to go on regular dates with my husband of almost five years. And we've been together for almost nine. For instance, on Sunday Calvin and I rode up to Grimaldi's for The Best Pizza on Earth(tm), then went across the street to the Sugar Cone for a banana split and a mocha malt. THEN we walked to one of the shops nearby (Old Town Scottsdale is very pedestrian friendly), where he proceeded to buy me a leather motorcycle jacket for Christmas. Even though I told him I didn't need anything (else).

All this was his idea, mind you. Sometimes he gets all romantical and stuff. He wants us to go on another date on Friday to see Eragon at the theater (just because he knows I really want to see it), and have some dinner. And ride the motorcycle some more.

My bike is excellent for us to ride on together. It's a lot easier to snuggle up against Calvin's back than on his street bike. If we're riding without our helmets (oh, I KNOW - we say it's only because we're going slowly and a short distance, but you don't have to preach about the potential for accidents. We're risk takers, we are) then I prop my chin up on Calvin's shoulder and we converse while we're riding along. It's really, really nice.

We've been riding a lot together, hitting various bars and restaurants, or just toodling around. It makes us happy. And one cannot overemphasize the importance of simple things that make day to day life - and day to day married life - enjoyable.

In other news, my fingers hurt. I've been practicing the guitar and it's MURDER (I tell you!) to fret the 1st and 2nd strings. However, I can occasionally make noise come out of it that sounds less like a dying cat and more like (slow, halting, mistake-fraught) music. Calvin is getting a guitar as well ("Dear God, please forgive me for ordering off of QVC... and help me to hold strong against the powers of Esteban..."), and we're toying with the idea of taking lessons together.

The family that plays together, stays together? I can just see Marie on drums and Michael on the tambourine (I can hear his protesting "HEY!" when he reads this). Heh. The Partridge Family ain't got nuthin' on us.

In other, other news, we've officially tried Absinthe. ACK. ACK, ACK, ACK. ACK. Yarg.

I love the buzz (like cannabis, except that **cough** I wouldn't know what that's like **cough**), but the taste is just plain vomitous. Very STRONG black licorice. Thick, with a STRONG aftertaste. That leaves you burping up (ack) licorice for three hours afterwards.

Of course, that's if you drink it straight. If you drink it the traditional way (1pt absinthe to 3pt water, poured slowly over a sugar cube), it's less vomitous, but the buzz is less profound.

And dude, we SO ain't drinking this stuff for the taste.

Labels: booze, Calvin, guitar, journal, motorcycle

Posted by Laura at 3:05 PM | Permalink | Comments