Yesterday was beer bottling day. Much like Laverne and Shirley, we worked the line Old Milwaukee style and came away from the adventure with nearly 6 cases of tasty Rattlesnake Lager. Good stuff. Some of our friends agreed to join us to lend a hand. I guess the promise of free beer is motivator enough. We all met up at 1:30pm at Vine Park Brewery in St. Paul. I thought the actual brewing part was fun, but the bottling was even better. The staff at the brewery encourages the you to sample your beer as you bottle and cap it. We provided some snacks as bottling is some hard work and one can become famished. We had to guard against folks passing out :)
Above you can see the antics of some of our brewing comrades (I will withhold names to protect the guilty!). I think it is fair to say that we all had a pleasant experience drinking our self-crafted nectar and partaking in some harmless revelry.
In one of the images you will see there was a quality control incident. One bottling related injury occurred so, be warned, this task is not for the faint of heart. Ms Jo received a small gash whilst opening a bottle. After some immediate triage, we all agreed that this injury was not fatal and she would live on to bottle another day. Whew. Jo, you might want to investigate a Tetanus shot to forgo any future lock jaw issues or various other bottling infection-type maladies. I'm just sayin . . . .
Well, lest you think that all we did was drink and cause mayhem, here are some pictures of the finished product. Since it was only 3pm when we finished, we continued the fun at a secret, yet-to-be disclosed location. A bonfire and more merriment ensued. All in all it was a great day!
Now onto an Independence Day tie-in . . . you knew it was coming . . . A while back there was a big uproar over the French not supporting our ill-conceived and poorly executed war in Iraq. Some brilliant (insert sarcasm) person decided to re-name French Fries to Freedom Fries. I thought that was funny. I would like to do something similar and from here on out will refer to our beer as Freedom Beer not just because we bottled it the day after the 4th of July. No. Each time we take a sip of this fine beverage, we will pay tribute to those brave souls who stand up and defend our freedom. I'm not talking about the soldiers in Iraq. While I respect and admire them for their sacrifice and I wish them a speedy return home, I'm talking about those who are trying to defend our Constitution, fight for our civil liberties and keep the government in check. Not an easy job. For you, fearless defenders of the freedom, well . . . this beers for you. Happy 4th of July everyone.
July 3, 2008. I began the day with a goal. I had big, ambitious plans. The kind of plans where you take a day off work, make reservations, wake up early and map out your day. What, you ask, were these gigantic plans? Previously I wrote about the need to sell the townhouse and find something a little spacious for the Oz's. In that post, I had declared a need to de-clutter in order to put the house on the market. Well, today was going to be a day of de-cluttering. Last week, I reserved a 10 foot truck. You see we have some miscellenous boxes, small furniture and the like that simply will not fit in our cars. That's where the truck comes in. Bright and early this morning, we lept out of bed and hightailed it over to Metro RV & Storage. Sounds like a great place full of helpful peeps, shiny equipment and everything one could possibly need to take care of their moving needs.
Wrong!
Driving to pick up our truck, I noticed a great deal of road construction going on. I took the turn and BAM, haulers and pavers and blades and such dotted the landscape at precisely the spot where I was to turn in. No big deal, right? Just turn around and look for a detour. There has to be one. Right?
Oh there was. We followed it only to be taken on a wild goose chase around the hills and vales of our fair suburb. The back way in, too, was blocked. Road closed. Dead end. Too bad.
I had a phone number so being the responsible person that I am, I called. No one answered. Not to be thwarted (I am resourceful, after all) we called the national Budget rental hotline and conveyed the story of the ill-placed road construction. They gave us an alternate number for the joint. Again, no one answered. We dialed that damn number like 16 times. Nothin.
You can be sure I left a message in a very stern tone. My plans, in an instant, were gone. My goal for the day was not to be.
A few hours later I received a call from the place. Apparently the road construction louts accidently cut off their phone line so they could not receive incoming calls nor make outgoing calls. I was also told that we could have driven on the 'closed road' if we would have stopped to ask the construction truck driver dudes to let us through. Whatever. I'm done. You lost your chance Metro RV & Storage. From now on, consider yourself dead to me.
Anyone have a pick-up truck we can borrow? Help. I need to DE-CLUTTER!!!!!!!
I was perusing some of my favorite blogs and stumbled across the list of 2008 James Beard award winners. If you are unfamiliar with the James Beard awards, I can easily provide an explanation. These are top props for all of those chefs and restaurateurs out there. Think Academy Awards for the culinary world.
2008 James Beard Awards
I have yet visited many of the listed restaurants, but it doesn't really matter. A girl can dream. I consider myself to be a bit of a food snob, or better said, an appreciator of all things gourmet and delicious. I will just add many of these lauded spots to my list of things/places to go before I die -- my very own bucket list. Extra HUGE kudos to 112 Eatery, La Belle Vie and Restaurant Alma in Minneapolis. All were nominated under the category of Best Midwest Chef. I've visited each of these and can attest to their creative and tasty fare. Beware of the sweetbreads and other organ meat on the menu at Alma. You can run, but you can't hide!
The Gramercy Tavern in NYC won the Outstanding Restaurant award. This is extra exciting for me, not because I've ever been to the Gramercy Tavern. I haven't. But, I do boast a connection. A high school friend, Nancy Olson, is the head pastry chef. Her desserts are magnificent. I'm contemplating a trip to NYC simply to try one (or more than one) of her sweet treats. She's a genius. Her pastry inspired.
Under the category of books, I just picked up Barbara Kingsolver's latest, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life. I haven't cracked into yet. Still trying to finish a few of my other books. But, I can hardly wait to start reading it . . . Among my favorite books of 2007 were a couple by Michael Pollan. The Ominvore's Dilemna was eye opening and really made me rethink my attitude and behavior toward the food we eat. If you are interested in taking a closer look at how we, as a society, plant, pick, transport, manipulate, pen and produce our food, than this is a read for you. It is scary at times. Many have likely heard the term, industrial military complex as a description used for our war-ready economy. I think we also have a industrial food complex which pumps an amazing amount of crap into our diets each day. After reading Pollan's book, you'll want to take a hot shower and then pick up an apple, wash off the pesticides and chemicals and take a big bite.
This weekend I experienced a first. My first trip to the dog park. Ladies and gents if you have not yet visited a bona fid(o) dog park, you don't know what you are missing. If Paris Hilton were writing this blog, she would say this place was "hot."
The sun was shining. The weather was fine. And I went with Jess and her mini Schnauzer doggy named Daisy. Daisy is crazy. She's not a very big dog, but you wouldn't know it by her b
ehavior at the dog park. She was chasing down fellow canines that were at least twice her size. Retrievers, Labs, Bulldogs . . . she would take all comers leaping into the air, sniffing butts, frolicking about. Look how cute she is! You can't resist her furry little face.
This particular dog park has to be one of Minneapolis's finest. We entered a chain link gate and immediately took Daisy off her own chain. She went berzerk. The other dogs also seemed to be enjoying themselves. As a non-dog owner, I was a little out of my element. But I did have fun watching the madness. Although we didn't walk the whole 4 acres, it was a nice hike surrounded by trees on one side and the Mississippi River on the other. We headed down to the river and Daisy dabbled in the surf but only momentarily. Many owners played fetch throwing sticks and balls into the water only to have them returned by the strong swimmers. Daisy was having none of this. Jess thinks she has a fear of the water after suffering from some sort of near drowning as a pup. I don't think Daisy missed it much. She was having a blast just running down other dogs and generally forgetting any possible cares she might have had. Needless to say, Daisy got dirty. By the time we left, she was filthy and stinky. Jess tried to rinse her off with the hose at home but Daisy didn't care for that. No sir. Dogs, apparently, love to be dirty and stinky. After the wash-off attempt, Daisy would just run around the backyard rubbing her whole body in the grass as furioiusly as she could.
According to Jess, a trip to the dog park wears little Daisy out. All that excitement tuckers her out. I'm sure this dog park trip is, to Daisy, like a trip to doggy heaven.
Going to the dog park made me, in some small way, wish I was a dog. Among these exploring hounds, there was no vanity, no pretense, no worries and no fears. Well, maybe the very tiniest dogs have fears about getting beaten up by the bully dogs, but I really didn't see any of that. It was all glorious, rambunctious, off the chain fun. Dogs. I'm officially jealous.
Saw the movie Wanted on Friday. Very entertaining flick. I'm becoming a fan of James McAvoy from Adaptation and Last King of Scotland fame. This kid's got talent. In Wanted he plays Wesley Gibson -- anxiety attack prone accountant who sits in his cubicle and laments his tortured and mundane existence. It is all very Matrix like (ala mild mannered nobody becomes the hero) as Gibson suddenly realizes his father was a deadly assassin and he has inherited good old dad's gifts of making time slow down, bending bullets around walls and other murderously delicious talents. Angelina Jolie is Fox, the lady assassin who generally kicks ass and trains Gibson to take up the mantle of his now deceased father. He joins the band of unruly hooligans and the madness ensues. The action is stellar. The plot, although somewhat half-baked, has enough going for it to keep it interesting. This is a summer must-see people. Get out of the house and buy yourself that tub of popcorn and Enjoy!
This movie got me thinking about my own slightly boring life as an office dweller in cubicle land. I think the theme of the movie is something that so many can relate to these days. The relative monotony of modern life can bring you down and sometimes the days just seem to string together in a long haze of repetitious acts of waking, work, tv, sleep and back to start it all over again. I don't mean to sound to defeatist or harsh, but a person can get stuck in a rut. I know. I've been there. Maybe I have some secret assassin power that I'm not even aware of? Could I read minds? Go back in time? Kill an enemy with a sneeze or fart? Probably not. My rut involves inactivity and the vortex of my sofa. It sucks me into its web of comfort and relaxation and I'm unable to break free from its clutches. Damn you vile overstuffed furniture. I curse you and will one day avenge myself by killing you with a single fart.
Whilst waiting for the movie to begin, I got to partake in one my favorite movie going rituals -- the previews. I love the previews. Among the teasers was one for the new X-Files movies. Talk about scrumptious. I cannot wait to see this one. July 25th baby! For those who knew me when, you will attest to my love (dare I say obsession) with the X-Files tv show. Oh, Mulder why did you leave us hanging?
And speaking of summer extravaganzas . . . this summer could find the Oz's moving. Sick of the clutter and chaos of tiny casa del Oz, I've engaged in communication with the realtor today. Also got ourselves a storage unit and will be renting a truck next week to transport said clutter to said storage unit. By God, the mere thought of ditching some of the crap (at least momentarily) makes me giddy with excitment. Small furniture, wedding gifts, boxes of clothes and miscellaneous stuff will all be loaded and stored. We need to get the place in tip-top shape and put it on the market. Good times. While I'm looking forward to the prospect of a new place, a larger place, the notion of the whole selling and buying process does not totally thrill me. Any advice for the would-be real estate dabblers?
While I'm waiting for input from y'all, I'm going to keep looking for my super, secret power. I'll practice my death ray stare and see if I can control my heart rate with my mind. Wish me luck.
Poodle sent this to me tonight:
Cookie Lady
It made me laugh out loud and hard. This chic is all about getting her cookie and it makes her HAPPPPPPYYYYYYYYY! I wish I was that overtly crazy about something, anything.
Well, I suppose you could argue that I did get a wee bit crazy when I saw Coldplay on the Daily Show.
Oh my. Chris Martin is stinkin adorable. I love his shy little, awkwardly geeky, bouncy, melodic, witty, British ways. We downloaded their new release and it would definitely fit under the heading of My Best. Loving it. You'll probably recognize the title track from the recent IPod commercial where little Chris is boppin and hopping about. It is incredibly catchy and I can't help but get the line "Roman Catholic choirs are singing" trapped in my head each time I hear it. In a recent review, the Vancouver Sun wrote "Coldplay's latest effort is nothing more than a cross between The Beatles, U2 and Radiohead." While I will admit to catching some similarities, particulary in the composition and production (supplied by ambient music pionneer Brian Eno), this is far from a rip-off. This is Coldplay with some added layers of lushness and tranquil overtones.
I purchased tickets to see the lads from the UK on July 8 in St. Paul. A birthday present for Mr. Oz. Sadly, they postponed their date to Nov. 12. Wha!?! I'm not sure I can wait that long. Oh Chris, you need to be-bop and bang your piano keys westward to my door. Puhleease. I'm like the crazy cookie lady . . . . Coldplay makes me HHAAAAAAAAPPPPPYYYYYYYYY!
I've decided I really need to take better care of myself. While I like to think of myself as this ageless, ever youthful, perpetually nimble and spry gal, let's face it . . . I'm no spring chicken! In about 6 months I'm going to be closer to 40 than I am to 30. That fact alone should be enough to strike a little fear in my heart (still beating, not yet dysfunctional heart). In November of last year I took a pretty big step toward healthier living. I enlisted a personal trainer. Her name is Meghan and she's very nice but really knows how to kick my butt. She comes to my house once a week. For a few months, she was coming twice a week. Wedding preparations, you might say. Her routine is what you would call Boot Camp. I was doing all sorts of jumping jacks, leap frogs, mountain climbers, twists and push-ups. She had me running up and down my stairs, lifting weights, etc. Now, I'm not saying these activities are "My Best." In fact, you could often hear me complaining, whining and heavy breathing my way through most of it. But, I will say, that with the exception of about a 4 year period in high school when I was on the basketball and volleyball teams, I am in decent shape. Not superior, smoking hot bod shape. No. I have plenty of weight to lose. BUT, I did notice a reduction of a few inches and my clothes did seem to fit me better.
Since the wedding, I have been a slacker. My level of exercise has severely diminished. I have rarely made it to the gym and my muscles feel atrophied. This is, quite frankly, lame. I've spent a fair amount on a trainer, gym membership and have put in some time working my way up to the point where I don't breathe like an 20 year, 3 pack a day smoker when I climb a flight of stairs. That said, I'm back at it people. I went to the gym on Sunday and got back on that darn elliptical machine. Meghan came over tonight and put me through my paces. It was rough. I'm not gonna lie. But, when I made it through I felt pretty gosh darn good. I'm not going claim that exercise will ever be "My Best." It just won't be. But, I'm going to keep at it and see what I can achieve for my health and well being. I'll keep you posted blog fans.
