Rain and Roses

One of the nicest feelings in the world (for me) is when you meet someone in person for the first time and there's that immediate chemistry of "Hey, here's someone who's going to be cool to hang out with." Which isn't to say that there haven't been plenty of folk without that whom I ended up becoming friends with once I got to know them better, but some people you just chat for a bit and go "Hey, you're cool." I don't even know what causes it, or what causes the opposite reaction to someone you don't know well. Appearance has something to do with it, as does bearing and self-confidence, but that's only part of the equation - I've met very charismatic people before who, after talking to them for a few minutes, made me go "Huh, not interested." But whatever the complex equation of speech patterns and charisma and pheromones and body language might be, it's always a very pleasant surprise to find someone who comes out as a positive result.

On that note, I'd like to thank Dan (aka gracewanderer) for hanging out tonight, and express my regret that he's taking off so soon.  It was a fun night of karaoke and fast food and pool and dancing, and I (at least) enjoyed myself immensely.  What with having him and Adam around (and even Brian for part of the evening), it felt comfortable and fun, like I'd been living here for a while and had friends.  Sadly, Adam's going to be on a business trip for three weeks (in Hawai'i, the jerk) and Dan's done with his training, so it looks like I'll be on my own for the next couple weeks.  Guess I'll have to actually make some local friends.  Ah well.

As for a report on the local nightlife, it's surprisingly not bad.  There's a little place called the International Karaoke Bar that's cozy and well-kept.  The drinks have very little booze in them, but I don't particularly mind that - I'm all for a drunk-enough-to-be-friendly-but-not-obnoxious crowd.  The bartender (a little Asian woman apparently known as "Mama") has a reputation both locally and on various websites for running a tight ship, and the bar reflects that - it's clean, well-maintained, and any troublemakers get shown the door promptly.  I'll have to show up another time or two to confirm my initial impressions, but on the whole I'd recommend it.  (Sadly, there was a sign behind the bar saying the place was for sale - one can hope that she'll only sell it to someone who runs it equally well, but there are no guarantees.  Sigh.)

We also checked out Rendezvous, which bills itself as an upscale nightclub.  To their credit, they mostly live up to their promises - the place is definitely nicer than anywhere in Juneau.  The quality of fixtures and general cleanliness were both quite good (with the pool tables and cues being worthy of special mention), the staff were friendly and alert to potential issues, and it was pleasantly crowded but not overly packed.  I didn't try any of their drinks, so I can't comment there, but the service was pretty good.  The DJ, sadly, had rather more ambition than skill - Journey's "Midnight Train" really didn't need to be mixed with Daft Punk's "One More Time".  But you can't fault his enthusiasm, and there was some decent music in amidst the "Bwuh?"-inducing segments.

Unfortunately, Rendezvous suffers quite a bit from the common nightclub problem of sensory overload.  I realize that loud music and flashing lights and all of that are kind of the point, but there's nothing wrong with [a] having the loud music be well-balanced instead of completely bass-heavy, and [b] providing a chill room or something so that people can hang out and chat (or get to know each other) without shouting.  The pool room, usually the closest thing to such in a nightclub, was at least moderately removed from the dance floor, but the music was still loud enough to be intrusive to conversation.  Even the bathroom (usually the area of last resort for the overstimulated dancer) was equipped with super-powered air hand dryers, which worked very well but were LOUD.

All of that said, I'll probably go back at least a couple more times, especially once I get around to making some friends locally.  Perhaps their DJ will even improve, who knows.  If nothing else, the Latin music and odd mixes break up the constant stream of hip-hop, which gets old after a while.  Now if they can just get him to work on his transitions...

• Roughly three of four pizzas and one of two plates of hummus eaten
• Half of beer drunk, other half taken away
• Two-thirds of leftover stuff now gone
• Quality time spent with eight friends, old and new
• A surprisingly large amount of cash in the donation bowl at the end of it all

Yeah, I think I'm going to call this whole shindig a pretty resounding success.  I would've liked a few more people to show up and take things away, but the ones who came by did a pretty darn good job on their own, and I don't think I could've asked for a livelier group of people to spend several hours with.

Many, many thanks go to Donna-doll for showing up at 10 AM and helping not only clean the living room and organize/set out everything that was going, but also cleaning out the cupboards as she emptied them and buying the pizza.

Laura, the lady who bought my car, came by for a while and had a great time - she fit right in with all our crazy friends.  She was very sweet - when we were telling her about some of our culinary adventures, she was going "Wow, why'd I have to meet you guys now?"  Hopefully she'll come visit us in Arizona sometime so we can cook for her.  Plus she's my shoe size too, so between her and Donna I managed to find homes for almost all of my nice shoes.

I think my favorite moment was towards the end when Chris picked up the donation bowl and went "Okay, so you guys are getting rid of this, right?  'Cause I'll take it off your hands as a favor if you want," and Brian and I laughed and laughed...both because it was funny, and because Brian had predicted Chris would do exactly that at some point during the night.

Jeanne was there too, with Anderson, now six weeks old and still one of the most remarkably adorable babies I've seen.  I have to admit, even though it wasn't much of a stretch picturing Jeanne as a mother, it's still wonderful to see how happy she is.  I know it's something she's wanted for a while.  Anderson doesn't have much personality as of yet, but I'm sure he'll grow into it soon, especially with such loving parents.

Robert, a friend of Donna's and reader of this blog through Facebook (*waves at Robert*) came as well and brought his lovely wife Olga.  I was amused at how amazed he seemed that we were just giving all this stuff away, and weren't depressed or sorry about it - I guess he forms stronger attachments to things than we do.  Fortunately he didn't let his amazement get in the way of taking lots of stuff, and we got the benefit of some great conversation from both of them besides.  And they, along with everyone else, rocked out to AC/DC's "Big Balls", which was awesome.

Monica came, of course, although she was mostly just her usual cheerful unobtrusive self.  She didn't seem to mind my showing people the picture of her Halloween costume (as various parts of it were scattered about to find homes), which provided for quite a bit of amusement.  And she got to play dress-up with my clothes, although how that's really all that different from any number of times she's come over I'm not certain, aside from the size of the audience.

I swear, good friends are what makes the difference between life being "decent" and "great".  I know some introverted people who would disagree with me, but I think there's a distinction there - a good friend knows when to leave you alone and when they need to be there for you.  We've been blessed with a surfeit of wonderful friends of that nature, and I'm grateful for each and every one of them.

Last night was First Friday, and our good friends Donna and Rick had a very cool show at one of the local art galleries. Brian and Andy and I had been planning to check it out, but due to various circumstances we didn't get there until the artists were about to leave. But at least we got to give them a hug and tell them how wonderful the show was (which it really is - anyone in town, I recommend stopping by The Canvas this month and checking it out).

While we were perusing their artwork, we could help but notice a band setting up in the corner for a show. I'd heard their name (One Aisle Over) but had never seen them perform, and I must say I'm happy we caught them. It was an acoustic performance, so their drummer wasn't included, and in that particular vein they reminded me quite a bit of Nickel Creek in their Why Should the Fire Die? album - soulful folk-rock harmonics that were lovely and melodic with some catchy hooks. Excellent stuff, and even more importantly, excellent musicianship - and their singer could actually sing. (I know it's elitist of me, but ever since I finally got around to taking some lessons myself, it tends to bug me when a singer can't, y'know, sing.) Additionally, I particularly liked the way they incorporated a saxophone player into their music. Usually you think of a sax as a replacement for a singer - it's a very bold, distinctive instrument - but they used theirs more for mood-setting during instrumental breaks, as well almost like a second vocalist in a few places, harmonizing with the lead vocals. It was very striking.

My favorite song was called "Carry-On Suitcase", which was inspired by the singer's experiences being trapped in Seattle with her husband over the snowstorms last December, when there were no hotel rooms anywhere and whole mountain ranges of luggage piled together at baggage claim and they ended up living out of a carry-on suitcase for five days, not knowing if they were going to make it home in time for Christmas or not. It was an oddly sweet reflection on how much of our identity we invest in our possessions and our plans, and what it feels like when all of that goes away. If I ever get around to learning the guitar and doing some performing of my own, I may have to ask their permission to do a cover version.

I went ahead and bought a copy of their (currently) lone album, a live recording of a concert they'd given at the local university, because I had $10 on me and I definitely liked the music $10 worth. It doesn't have "Carry-On Suitcase" on it, unfortunately, but they were talking about how they were on their way down to Portland to record their first real album, so I'm going to hope that it'll be on that one. But I'll buy a copy, regardless - the concert was good stuff, and it's always so fun when you discover nifty new things completely accidentally like that.

I find myself wondering if, now that we've decided to leave, Juneau's decided to shower us with as much of its awe-inspiring weather as it can muster. Literally. This is the third huge rainstorm in as many days. Usually they're fairly short-lived, or only over one spot, but we just drove all the way downtown, had dinner, and came all the way back, and the whole time it was pelting down rain along the entire way.

Audi with heated seats for the win. (Not that I'm going to mind not needing those in the future.)

It was a quiet weekend, for all the general stress caused by the premonition of large-scale upsets. Friday night I had a lot of nervous energy, but an evening spent dancing and chatting with Andy helped quite a bit. Saturday we mostly hung around the house (the awful weather did nothing to encourage us to do otherwise), and I did a lot of cleaning. Sunday I got the grocery shopping done and we did laundry, which is always something of a mammoth task as both Brian and I tend to put it off until we're essentially laundering our entire wardrobes at once. I think (as my mother used to warn me would happen when I was younger and hated housework, and I never believed) the cleaning helped me stay calm and centered, which was a nice feeling to have. (Sadly, it doesn't seem to have lasted, as last night I was having a lot of trouble sleeping. Hopefully that won't be the case tonight as well - tea and bath ahoy!)

I don't think I ever got around to mentioning on here that about a week before getting married, Monica introduced me to a friend of hers at the Viking - a real, live Scotsman named Franky (he was even wearing a kilt when we met). He works on one of the cruise ships that shows up here once a week, and he's quite a sweetheart, so he and Brian and I have taken to hanging out on Sundays when he's in port. Last week he invited us for a meal aboard the ship, and holy crow - they feed you like royalty on those boats. I had some lovely roast lamb, Brian had a seven-ounce filet mignon (and that was the petite cut), and Franky had a ribeye that very nearly overflowed his plate. The side dishes were impressive, too; the asparagus was perfectly cooked with a rich butter sauce, and the sauteed mushrooms divine.

One of the things that I noticed really made the meal for me, however, was the presentation. I don't just mean the way it looked (although each dish was quite artistically designed and I applaud them for it), but the fact that each course was just the right size. The soup course was a tiny cup of a very rich and tasty bisque; the beefsteak-tomato salad I ordered was three (large) slices of tomato with vinegarette and associated garnish; the main course varied from medium to huge (depending on what you ordered) with side dishes that were just the right size to savor without filling up on them; and the dessert, while perhaps a bit larger than I would have picked, was delicious enough to be worth making the extra room for. I hadn't even realized how much the general restaurant trend of "serve gigantic portions rather than lowering prices" irks me until I sat down at a place that did it right - I can't tell you how lovely it was to be able to enjoy each course without wondering where I was going to find room for the next, and to be pleasantly full at the end of the meal without feeling like I was going to burst. (I suppose I can see the advantage of the gigantic-portion view from a marketing standpoint, but really, I would think that they would make more on the appetizers and desserts they could sell to a non-overstuffed clientele than the measly few dollars extra they can charge for a huge plate.)

Incidentally, I would be remiss in my praise if I didn't also describe the apéritif I ordered from the bar. Given the size of the cocktail selection, I couldn't very well let the opportunity to try something completely new slip by, so I ordered something called a "Starboard Peach Martini", which, according to the menu, was made from Grey Goose L'Orange, creme de peaches, pink grapefruit juice, and passion fruit syrup. It was quite possibly the girliest drink I have ever ordered at a bar, but here's the thing - it was excellent. Sweet, yes, but far from cloying or overpowering; fruity, but not artificially so; not harsh or boozy tasting at all; and a pleasant orange-pink color. Combine that with the uber-classy presentation - in a single-serving shaker, poured over a sugared orange peel - and I didn't feel like I was in Juneau anymore. (The most complicated cocktail I've ever ordered at the Viking was a cosmopolitan, which got me well vodka topped with that lethal red mix...served in a beer glass. Seriously.) Once we're settled down again I'm going to have to track down some of those ingredients and see if I can divine the magic behind it.

We're having Franky over here for dinner next week; we'll have to make him something super-nice in return. Fortunately he's one of the least judgmental people I've ever met (I can see why he and Monica get along), so as long as we have some good beer and something reasonably delicious on the menu I have a feeling he'll enjoy himself just as much as we did.

Went bowling with friends tonight, which was fun. Our lane had what appeared to be the bowling-lane equivalent of an epileptic fit, which was less fun but kind of amusing. While the folks in the back sorted it all out, the waitress gave us a free round of beer, which was definitely fun, especially since I'd already had half a Red Bull.

Went to the Viking afterward, the first time I'd been back since returning, hyped up on booze and caffiene and endorphins and general good times. Danced a lot. I am going to be so sore tomorrow.

It'll be so worth it.

Our 3rd/4th of July celebration was really quite fun.  You couldn't ask for better weather - when we got out to the beach it was sunny and almost sweltering (fortunately a nice breeze coming off the ocean helped with that).  A few friends joined us and we got a fire going, and between the five of us there were plenty of drinks (alcoholic and non-) and food to go around.  Somewhere around my fourth bottle (over a period of hours, I wasn't drunk) I made a declaration that my usual eat-healthy mantra was suspended for the duration of the holiday, given how many liquid calories I was consuming.  Amusingly, though, aside from the drinks I think I actually ate healthier than normal - Brian made grilled salmon and corn on the cob, and I made honey mustard chicken sausage shishkebabs with peppers and zucchini and three-bean salad, and on the whole we had a rather delightfully gourmet barbeque.

Some moments that are sticking out in my mind:

• Reading the first bit of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to Brian while we waited for folks to show up
• Almost stumbling over a young child of six or so, wrapped up in blankets and conked out on the beach around 11:00
• Watching kids playing on a tire swing in the exact same way I used to when I was young
• Hurriedly moving the campsite when the tide started coming in
• Justin declaring he was "going to move the fire"...and then actually doing it
• Amanda looking absolutely adorable with roasted marshmallow smeared all over her face (not that I'd know how *that* happened...*cough*)
• Realizing how much more effort it takes to dance in sand, although AC/DC on a portable boombox is a good motivator
• Discovering exactly how dangerous Mike's Hard Mango Punch can be, given that it doesn't taste like booze at all
• Justin declaring in a Generic European Accent, "Ahh...sneaky booze!  My favorite kind."
• Andy having us in stitches with stories from his past years at Burning Man, including one about the Blue Man (his nickname for the dude who was carried into the medical tent so drugged out that he'd fallen face-first into a port-a-potty)
• Singing "Rock Me Amadeus" to the radio with Andy (and, yes, dancing some too)
• Discussing Palin's surprise announcement and all but taking bets on whether she was leaving voluntarily or because the lid was about to pop off of some new and even more hilarious scandal
• Holding Brian while we watched the midnight fireworks

Two and a half hours of dancing with CJ and Monica and Justin. It would have been closer to one and a half, except that the DJ waited until I was already fairly tired before playing five of my favorite songs. Back to back. Which, since I'd been waiting to hear them all night, I of course had to dance to. In a row.

It was awesome.

(God do my feet hurt.)

Somewhere in the depths of the many, many scenes that comprise O Lovely Glowworm, there exists a beautiful and heart-rending story of a taxidermied goat. Still conscious on some level, and in terrible pain, the goat constructs "scenes of exquisite beauty", based on the little variety of experience he had in his miserable life (discarded advertisements and news stories in the rubbish heap, arguments between the mother and son who owned him, songs and commercials from their radio that he hears through the walls). Throughout his time spent in this inner world, he tries to convince himself that in life he was not, in fact, a miserable goat - perhaps a sick mother, perhaps a mermaid on a rock, perhaps even a unicorn! - but as the characters populating his inner world take on a life and story of their own, he comes to the realization that there was nothing awful or shameful about being a goat, and perhaps he had his place in the world after all. Entwined in this realization is some achingly lovely use of religious symbolism, and perhaps even shades of some Universal Human Truth.

As I said, somewhere in Glowworm, like the shadow of a once-beautiful but long-neglected flowerbed, that lovely and touching and instantly-identifiable story exists. Even in its present form, there are occasional moments of beauty - moments that cause you to sit up and lean forward slightly, moments that make you think perhaps its all going somewhere and the pattern will soon emerge. But alas, these moments are all too brief and few, and soon lost in the morass of words and scenes that serve no purpose and inspire no reaction.

Or, as Philip put it, "It's like this guy got stoned one day and thought, "What if Kafka had written a play about love, starring The Three Stooges, and narrated by a dead goat?"

As you might gather, I didn't find much to love in Glen Berger's O Lovely Glowworm. The frame of a good story was there, but the script was so incredibly overlong (three and a half hours!) and so badly in need of an editor that for much of it I ended up shifting around in my seat and thinking about how it *could* have been so much better - if only we actually cared about the characters, if only there seemed to be some connection between the various images we were presented with, if only events felt like they grew out of each other naturally rather than happening because the script said so.

That said, at the end there were numerous people cheering and applauding, so perhaps I'm not the intended audience for this particular show. But really - when I go to a play, is it really so difficult to ask that someone give me a story, and not a series of disjointed scenes that might possibly be related in some way but that I never have a reason to care about?

To be a bit more positive for a moment, I'd like to offer my congratulations to the Perseverance cast. They all did a fantastic job with the script they were given, and the strength of their performances was almost - almost - enough to carry the material. It's not their fault that whenever the story started to gain some momentum, it got bogged down in its own pretension again. Let's just hope that the folks in charge of selecting shows for next season give them better material to work with. C-

I'm pretty sure the LiveJournal TOS requires that any given user post something whiny and self-centered at least once per month. Or, at least, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

I'm feeling kind of disillusioned and frustrated right now. Over the past year or so (and the past few months especially), I've really enjoyed going out on Saturdays - sure, the Viking isn't exactly a great venue, but their dance floor usually has some perfectly serviceable music, and the karaoke was fun (and pool if one's eardrums needed a break or one wanted to chat). But it seems like everything I enjoy about it's being changed - as I think I've mentioned before, they've replaced karaoke and pool with local bands on Saturday nights, and while I can do without the pool I really miss karaoke. The dance floor's still there, but the DJ lately seems to be really into music I have no interest in dancing to - this week I got all dressed and went out, only to hang out for an hour and kinda-sorta dance to a song and a half. And I was really looking forward to dancing today, too, because my moods have (for some reason) been on a roller-coaster today and dancing almost always makes me feel better. But it's kind of hard to get into it when the music just plain sucks.

I dunno. I could try going on Fridays instead, but part of the reason I like going on Saturdays is because that's when Monica goes, and if you don't bring any friends along it's nowhere near as much fun. I just wish I lived somewhere there was a real club.

I think I'll take a shower. Hopefully that'll help me feel better. If you read this far, thanks for listening to me whine, and I promise to return the favor sometime.

Of late, the Viking's been eschewing karaoke and pool in favor of having various local bands play downstairs and up on Saturday evenings. This tends to throw a kink in Monica's and my usual ritual, since the pool tables are all shoved off to one side to make room, and the karaoke area is filled with some band or other doing their cover of "Comfortably Numb". I like live music and all, but I miss singing, and without the relative quietude of the pool area upstairs to chat the whole "bar experience" becomes a bit of a drag after a while - nowhere to hide when the loud music gets to be too much.

The dance floor, however, is still more or less unchanged. So last night, when Monica and I brought along Philip and Justin for the evening, we planned to stick mostly with the dancing, and that was rather a success. And midway through the night, we retreated to the lone all-night diner in town for some truly mediocre food and a refuge from the noise, before going back to dance a while longer. I stayed out later than I have probably since high school, and thanks to the Red Bull and diner coffee I consumed, I was up until about 4 AM. So most of today's been spent recuperating. Fortunately, it's been a quiet kind of day.

Interestingly, I discovered today that my dancing had not gone unnoticed. I stopped at a coffee stand earlier to order a London Fog and was recognized by the girl at the stand, who said that she and her friends had been debating whether I'd done ballet or stripping or some such. It threw me for a bit of a loop; I know people watch me dance (appreciatively, I hope) but I tend to be off in my own world most of the time so I don't really think about it.

One of the things I've noticed quite a bit since I started practicing yoga regularly is how much it helps with dancing - I never would have guessed, but the Warrior series of poses strengthen all the same thigh muscles that you use, and of course the focus on balance can only help. Justin expressed his surprise at the range of motion I was able to exert in three-inch heels, which made all that time spent practicing Tree pose more than worthwhile.

Although, an amusing story from a couple of months ago that I never got around to putting down here: During one of our outings, Monica and I had been playing pool and I'd been drinking a glass of Alaskan Amber (hooray for excellent local beer). We went down to the dance floor, and while I didn't feel tipsy, I'm sure my balance was affected somewhat - and the fact that I was wearing the aforementioned three-inch heels, and that the floor was freshly painted, all factored in as well. Whatever the cause, I stepped on my heel wrong and found myself hurtling towards the floor. Oddly enough, I distinctly remember realizing I was falling and vaguely thinking "Hm, this is going to hurt" on the way down - 5'8" plus 3" is a long way to fall. But when I hit the (fortunately uncrowded) floor, I lay there a moment taking stock, and realized nothing hurt, and I had no bruises the next day. I guess the relaxing effects of the alcohol had kept me from panicking and cushioned the blow. So I got up and kept dancing (albeit slightly more carefully this time).

Next Saturday, I'm planning an In Bruges night before dancing. Brian will be making fish and chips, and then we can all watch some incredibly dark British comedy. I think it'll be fun.

I just realized that I only ever made it up to seven entries for my "8 days" posts. Tsk.

I will close it out with friends. Going out for rock climbing, and dinner, and pool, and karaoke with friends is excellent, especially on a night you'd otherwise be sitting at home alone.

I like to think I'm a good balance of introverted and extroverted; I can be perfectly happy sitting in the bath reading a book or playing around on the Internet or what have you. But even though I'm a bit slow to make them (probably because I'm picky about who I spend time with - you can all pretend to be surprised now), friends are (to me) what make the difference between life being good and life being awesome.

So, many thanks to Monica and Philip and Justin for hanging out last night. It was a blast. And thanks to each and every one of you who have put forth the effort to be my friend; trust me, I know it's not always an easy task. But it's been fantastic, and I hope it continues to be so for some time to come.

So to finish the meme...good times with good friends make me awesomely happy.

The weekend was nice and relaxing. Friday I went climbing with Monica, and afterward she and Brian and I caught a local band called Cayenne Blue that played a really nifty mix of folk/blues/rock. Lots of travel-oriented songs with good rolling beats; if I lived in a place where one could take a road trip, I would totally listen to them while driving. As is, however, road trips aren't an option and they don't have any recordings anyway (apparently this was their first time performing). I may have to see if I can catch them at Folk Fest, though.

Saturday was mostly spent in preparation for my Tropic Thunder party, which turned out to be a modest success. Given my somewhat shaky track record in the arena of previous party attendance, I was more than a little miffed when the time came and went and nobody showed up, and even more miffed when an hour passed with still no sign of anyone (and only one person calling to say they'd be late). Fortunately people did start arriving an hour and a half later, and everyone seemed to have a good time.

As an aside - I realize that folk my age are fairly prone to looking at an event start time as more of a guideline than an actual concrete arrival time, but am I completely alone in the under-40 set in being just a tad bit anal about punctuality? Half an hour late I can see, but an hour and a half without calling or letting the host know in advance? That just seems rude - if you've told someone you're coming, and then don't show up, it leaves them wondering if they've done something wrong or if you don't respect them. I'm not meaning to be personally judgmental (for once); I know it's sort of a generally accepted thing among younger people. But how did the idea of "tell someone you're coming and then show up whenever you feel like it, if you feel like it" being OK become so thoroughly ingrained in our culture? Is it really that hard to grab your cell phone, or send a text message, or just say in advance "Hey, I'll be there but I'll probably be a bit late?"

Okay, done complaining now.

We (minus Brian) went out dancing after the movie, which was very fun, but unfortunately something from the party (I suspect the buffalo wings) didn't quite agree with me and all my energy went kersplat. Justin ended up taking me home like the sweetheart that he is, and he and Brian and I hung out and watched silly internet videos before calling it a night.

Sunday was mostly a quiet day. Brian and I cleaned up the mess from the party, we hung around the Internet, we spent an inordinate amount of time in bed napping, we caught up on House, we read our respective books. I finally filed my taxes and paid the $540 that I owed (ouch), so to celebrate I took us out to dinner at the Hangar, and discovered that they make a fantastic Eggplant Parmesan. I also had a cocktail there that I hadn't heard of before - they called it a "Golden Painkiller" and according to the menu it involved "Oronoco rum, tropical fruit juices, coconut, and a sprinkling of nutmeg on top". (Judging from the flavor, I'd guess the "tropical fruit juices" were pineapple and orange or perhaps orange/mango juice.) What struck me the most was the nutmeg; the type they were using was extremely finely ground, which helped avoid the grittiness that often is a factor with nutmeg garnish. Plus, the flavor went remarkably well and really added to the drink rather than just being there for show. I can't find a mention of the drink online, but I enjoyed it immensely; I may have to experiment a bit and see if I can replicate or improve upon it and add it to my repertoire. (Is there some kind of etiquette involved when stealing other folks' drink recipes? Do I need to give credit in the comments? Or write "inspired by" on the recipe card?)

And now it's back to work for me. How was everyone else's weekend?

A certain friend of mine and I have a bit of a friction point where her significant other is concerned.  She's been with him for the better part of a decade and has a kid with him.  I don't dislike the guy, but the way he treats her gets on my nerves - he's not physically abusive or anything, but he's never quite reached the level of maturity where he understands that [a] relationships are a partnership with another person, which means you need to learn to compromise, and [b] when you have a family, they're you're first priority, above and beyond your own personal convenience.  So, as you might guess, it's a rather toxic situation - he does just the bare minimum and emotionally blackmails her into picking up the slack, and she puts up with it and gets to feel like the saint.

To be honest, I'm not sure which annoys me more - that he treats her that way, or that she apparently doesn't value herself/wants to feel like a martyr enough to put a stop to it.

I've been planning a movie night party for a couple of weeks now, and she had already arranged with him to have this night off (since Saturday's usually her night off anyway) so she could attend.  I'm planning to go and get her before the party, since she lives across town and doesn't drive.  Lo and behold, I get a call from her going "Oh, I'm sorry, I have to stay here for now..."  Apparently her SO has decided he's going to go play poker tonight, and left her with the kid.  So she's going to see if she can make it over here a little later...despite the fact that I'll be busy entertaining and (to the best of my knowledge) she has no one else to drive her.

Obviously, I'm a tad upset about this, but hey - it's not my life, she's an adult, I can't tell her what to do, et cetera.  So I spend a moment being frustrated and then go back to getting ready for the party when the phone rings again.

This time it's a different friend of mine that I haven't seen in a few months saying hi, and apologizing for not having hung out with me in a while, because she hasn't felt like going out lately.

Because she's been having her period.

For five weeks.

And hasn't seen a doctor about it yet.

"Oh, I meant to, but you know, I've been so busy with school and everything..."

...

...

*headdesk*

What is with all of my friends suddenly coming down with a terminal case of the stupids?

Boy, the way I've been going on about drinks lately, you'd think I was binge-drinking every night.  I know at least one of my readers would like some reassurance that that's not the case, so let me reiterate - that's not the case.  (I love you too, Mum.)

Poured neat - which is admittedly not my preferred method of gin consumption - the contrast was most interesting.  The Tanqueray smelled stronger than the Sapphire, but flavor-wise it was reversed - the Sapphire had the much stronger and more complex flavor, whereas the Tanqueray was mostly just sweet and juniper-y.  In a G&T and a Greyhound both, I preferred the Tanqueray - the complexity of the Sapphire mostly seemed lost, and the flavor of the Tanqueray shone through better.

But tonight, I tried making a martini out of the Sapphire.  And it immediately jumped in my estimation from "I'd buy it if it were on sale" to "must have a bottle for my drinks cabinet."  The vermouth blends harmoniously with the rest of the botanicals, enhancing the complexity rather than drowning it out.  And where the sweetness of the Tanqueray tends to overpower vermouth, the Sapphire complements it beautifully.  I liked martinis well enough before, but I think they just went up a few notches in my mental ranking.

My friend Monica wrote this and requests feedback.  Please feel free to post any thoughts.


Beyond Desire

And everywhere her eyes did wander
They fell with longing, with great hunger
'Pon faces so beautiful, so many
Heat to places unseen, flare
No touch needed, only a stare
To bring this yearning beyond repair

Pools of gleaming light hold fast
The quick'ning pace of heart's desire
Warm breath surrounds her, takes her, flows through her
Hands that turn flesh to fire without a touch
Make her shiver, make her cry "Surrender!"

My cell phone rings here at work, and since I don't generally answer said phone unless I recognize the number, I let it go to voicemail. Surprisingly, the caller actually leaves a message (usually this time of day all I get are telemarketers). I dial up the voice mail system and listen to the following (and for those of you who don't know him, I should point out that Justin is a soft-spoken individual who doesn't ever seem to get upset by anything, so the following was all said in a very laid-back, bemused tone):

Hey Rose, it's Justin. I just set my hair on fire...it smells kind of funny and is all singed now. But I love the way it feels when you've set it on fire, all crumbly and soft and ashy...Anyway, I have Saturdays off now, except for the 28th I'll be having Saturday off and working Sunday...so I was wondering if you'd like to get together, maybe go see a movie, like that there Watchmen everyone's talking about...send me an email, or call and talk to my family, or get in touch somehow. See you later...

It's been an absolutely lovely Christmas. My family always did the major present-opening on Christmas Eve, and since Brian had the day off he made the most excellent food as well - turkey with a delicious crispy herb crust, yams with brown sugar, mashed garlic potatoes and gravy, whole berry cranberry sauce with Grand Marnier for flavor, Pillsbury Grands! biscuits (not the most gourmet of choices, but in my family they're comfort food), herb stuffing, and enough Martinelli's to drown a horse. It was every bit as good as the food my mother makes (which is really saying something) and absolutely everything I wanted for Christmas dinner.

We watched Irving Berlin's White Christmas, with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye and Rosemary Clooney (the food-and-movie theme this year: comfort food) while we unwrapped presents. (Side note: I really want to see the contract the Clooney family signed to get that kind of multigenerational looks and talent.) Our Christmas was fairly Blu-Ray heavy, since we just got a player; highlights include Chicago, which I've been waiting to see in high definition pretty much since high-def became an option, Juno, Sweeney Todd, WALL-E, and the complete series of Firefly. And, of course, Iron Man and The Dark Knight, since if you've bought a Blu-Ray player and haven't seen those two you're Doing It Wrong.

We had a nice lazy morning today, with stockings and leftovers, and then ventured out to visit with friends and deliver presents. And then we went and saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which was a good story hampered by lackadaisical storytelling and overwrought Oscar-reaching theatrics. And then we came home and battened down the hatches, because it's supposed to be storming all tonight and tomorrow, and we don't have anywhere we need to be for the next three days, and there's no better feeling in the world than being in a warm and snuggly and well-stocked house while the weather outside does its worst.

And on the whole, it's been one of the nicest Christmases I can ever remember. And, for no real reason whatsoever, but for the first time in ages, I've just been ecstatically, euphorically, gleefully, joyously...happy.

I hope everyone else is having just as merry of a Christmas as I have. Because everyone deserves to feel happy like this at least once a year.

It's snowing like crazy outside. Should be a pretty busy phone day here at work. I wonder what the proportion of "You haven't plowed up here yet" complaints to "You've plowed and left a berm in my driveway" complaints will be?

Now that Brian and I aren't working at the same place, I was a tad concerned about what to do when going in to work - Brian leaves an hour earlier than I do, and no one's really in the office for a while after that. Fortunately the downtown grocery store is only a ten-minute walk away (and that's in this kind of snow), so I just hung out there and had some coffee and read my book.

While we were in Anchorage, I finally broke down and bought myself a nice coat. I've been wearing my periwinkle Columbia dual-layer windbreaker-style coat for three years now, and while it still works, it's not exactly the height of fashion. I'll still have it for skiing and whatnot, but thanks to Banana Republic having a sale on all their outerwear, I managed to snag a bright red wool trench coat for half the price of my Columbia jacket (and significantly less than the price of a similar one from L.L. Bean). Brian even found an adorable grey fedora to go with it, and my mother stuck a sprig of holly in it for a festive touch. I've gotten lots of compliments on the ensemble. It's good to feel like I look nice, especially since Brian recently invested in a lovely brown cashmere topcoat. Now we can both go out and be mad stylin'.

(Yes, I'll do my best to get pictures. No, I don't know when. Hush you.)

Justin came over last night, and we all watched the Peter Cook/Dudley Moore version of Bedazzled. Mmm, British comedy. Even though it was a tad dated (as you'd expect from a movie that came out in 1969), it was pretty hilarious, thanks in no small part to a fantastic performance on Peter Cook's part as The Devil. (I'm about 110% certain that there was a significant amount of influence there for the character of Crowley in Good Omens, especially given that both stories feature an order of nuns dedicated to a St. Beryl.) Admittedly, it didn't have Elizabeth Hurley and her truly awe-inspiring wardrobe from the 2000 remake, but Raquel Welch had a pretty good turn as Lust, and the script was far cleverer.

The power appears to be out all over town; we've got generators here, so it's no big deal for us, and it might be contributing to how quiet the phone's been so far this morning. Amusingly, the only FM station in town that appears to have power is the country station, and they've gone off the air (probably to conserve gas in their generators). So now we're down to our Hometown Radio AM station. It's a little creepy, scrolling through the whole band and not hearing anything but static, especially when you don't have a window in your office to confirm that the outside world is still there.

Just got an update over the aforementioned AM station - apparently the so-far-hour-long-outage has to do with multiple problems coming up faster than they can resolve them (trees on the lines, transmission towers having trouble, etc.). So the crew here aren't the only ones who are running around with their chickens cut off, as BD says...

Bleh. Going to my mum's house tomorrow and I have a cold. What a way to start a vacation.

But! Brian finally got me one of the pictures of Monica's outfit for Halloween - the one we put together from a combination of my closet and my sewing skills. Unfortunately, the shot doesn't get my black patent-leather platform-heeled boots, which sort of complete the goth-fairy-tale-character look, but you can at least see most of it. And day-um did it come out well, if I do say so myself.

( Oh Grandma, what big eyes you have... )

Props to Monica for being able to quit being bashful long enough to pose for the camera, as well.

And now, I'm going to zone out in front of Kurosawa. Later, all.

Two of my friends are having potentially-serious medical issues today. This is not shaping up to be a worry-free weekend.

So I'm going to focus on a somewhat pleasanter problem: Money! Or more specifically, whether/where to spend it.

A local opera company is doing a Bacchanalia fundraiser. It looks like great fun - theatrical and operatic sketches, audience participation events, good food, togas, and of course lots of alcohol, hopefully including some good wine. (Several local hotels "within stumbling distance" are offering discounted rates, but Brian's not a big drinker so he'd probably be our driver.) I'd love to go and potentially bring Lydia, but tickets are $35 apiece, booze not included. It's for a good cause, of course, and I can afford it, but that's $100-$150 I could be saving.

And then, of course, there's an article in the paper this morning about how the local food bank and homeless shelters are running extremely short on donations this year - especially for their annual Thanksgiving dinner baskets they give out to needy families. Being 70 turkeys short (not to mention stuffing and yams and cranberry sauce) when you start giving them out on Monday is definitely pretty serious. And $100-$150 would buy an awful lot of cranberry sauce. Opera is great, true, but if it's between folks in Juneau not having opera and folks in Juneau not having Thanksgiving dinner, well...

So here are the options I'm looking at. And since I finally got around to upgrading my account and want to get my money's worth, I'm going to make it a poll.

Poll #1301659 Balancing Rose's wishes for security, entertainment and altruism...
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 10

What should she do?

Additional comments or other answers are, as always, welcome.