Vacation, Day 1

We started our day with Argentinian-style Americanized empanadas from EmpanadUS in Riverside.

Mushroom and chicken empanadas on the bottom, caprese on top

In pictures, our trip to Super Tony's in North Riverside. As close to exotic vacationing as I'm doing this year!

 As far as we can tell, it's like egg nog with booze from Mexic

Starter kit for making your own baba ganoush.

"They have Mama ramen?!" my husband exclaimed.

Polish apple juice

Aloe water...

...and lychee-flavored aloe drink

 

 

 

For St Patrick's Day, some different potato choices, chopped and frozen for your convenience. Yes, I know yams aren't potatoes. Shut up.

Ratalu violet yams

Suran yam

Pre-sliced plantains

 

Asian wraps -- three kinds!

Mung beans -- across and down the aisle and from around the world.

Arabian moong beans

Asian mung beans

Rumspringen

In PA Deutsch, that's the verb "to run around" (wikipedia tells me). You probably know the noun in association with Amish teens before they've joined the congregation.

I've decided that's a good description of my days of "stay-vaction" (shudder, word hate). I am on vacation, The Husband is not, but since his work schedule is flexible (and his busiest week starts Sundsay), I have had the pleasure (mostly) of his company and he has shown the good grace to tolerate me invading his daily space.

Plus, you know, it has the word "spring" in it. To match the weather and my mood.

Our running around yesterday, on my first day of vacation, took us to SuperTony's (the best international market in our neighborhood) and all-American supply houses like Sam's Club and Dominick's. We ate Americanized empanadas in the next 'burb and made a "run for the border" ...twice. I ate my first Nachos Bell Grande.

Today, Day 2, we leaped from bed at the crack of 10:15 to dash to McDonald's -- too late. So we drove to the strange land of Hinsdale and puttered around the fish market while waiting for freshly made lobster rolls. Ahhh, a little taste of Stonington. Kinda.

Then, lunch al fresco, for the second day in a row, this time at Graue Mill, where we saw such sites as a three-legged dog, fold-able wooden kayaks and a super-sparkly shiny shirt.

Now, this. Ben is working in the kitchen on work stuff and then doing something dandy to pork. I am avoiding, apparently, the very purpose for my vacation, what I've looked forward to for, lo, these many weeks -- quilting.

But running around must be done. You must get it out of your system. And then you can settle down and focus.

The joy in existence without which the Universe will fall apart and collapse

From Madeleine L'Engle in "And It Was Good" 

"A young reader knowing of my love of new words sent me a beautiful one: namasté: I salute the God within you.

"The words which have taught me most richly come in logical progression: ontology: the word about being; ousia: the essence of being, that which is really real; ananda (also sent me as a gift by a reader): that joy in existence without which the Universe will fall apart and collapse. And now, namasté."

Mrs. Blackwell

I should feel bad, a small part of my brain keeps insisting, judging the clothes of beautiful women. Me with my sagging couch, cluttered living room, college sweatshirt at 23 older than some of the women on screen. There's even chip dip involved.

And I have opinions. Opinions about strapless dresses that look like swimsuits and skirts that look like minky craft fabric. I have opinions about ponytails and brown office shoes worn with gowns and about the need for a little more sparkle at the neckline and and a little less make-up.

It started with 30-second clips of "Fashion Police" at the end of "The Soup" and by now I'm trolling the internet for celebrity dresses after an awards show.

Let's go back to feeling bad about judging the clothes of beautiful famous women. No, let's shorten that sentence. I am judging women based on their appearance. Which is wrong.

But, sweet lord, some high-waisted ruching or a blue that compliments red hair...woman, she is beautiful.

I've never cared much about clothes or fashion. I liked Calvin Klein jeans in 8th grade because they fit my ass. I had a red dress coat because...well, come on, it was a red coat.

Left to my own devices, my ideal outfit is cords, long-sleeve tee and polar fleece vest, with an occasional guest appearance by a Cookie Monster t-shirt. Some of this ensemble worn, perhaps, in excess of three consecutive days, perhaps, in fairly recent memory. 

But I have opinions about fashion. I am amazed and a little proud.
 

Happy new year

New year's resolutions

#1:  More writing, more blog posting

#2: Sewing weekly

#3: Healthful eating

#4: Exercise 3x a week

#5: Cooking at home

Off to take the folks some black-eyed peas and greens for luck in the new year. Only an hour late.

2011 annual odes to autumn

Sunday

In the throes of a sinus infection and cough, so we've decided to breathe our germs all over Starbucks in Clarendon Hills today. The Husband finished off his Z-Pack this morning. I'm hoping to call the MD and get drugs for myself in the morning. Not that he's much better.

We like this store -- older staff on Sundays with a mellow music selection. Although we did hear a vaguely disturbing cover of "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

Started the morning with brunch with my folks, who were heathens today and didn't go to church. We were a hot aural mess, with Mom and the two of us suffering ear-stuffing cold stuff, and Dad with his standard can't-hear-despite-the-hearing-aids condition. Lots of shouting over restaurant noise followed by hacking.

Favorite moment at the restaurant: The high-maintenance customer at the next table encouraging us to ask for a bowl of mixed berries too, then complaining about the lack of service. 

And question of the day: Why is someone else's cold "just a cold," but your own is the end of life on this planet?