The Essentials

When you move to a new place, there are a lot of things to take care of. Changing all of your  bills to your new address, updating your driver's license and registration, finding a new doctor, etc. This is the drudgery of relocation. It's time consuming, but it does nothing to make you feel at home. For me, the true essentials of being happy where I live involve finding:

1) A "greasy spoon" diner - for the occassional big, fatty, sampler-platter style weekend breakfast (Now simply a guilty pleasure rather than the hangover cure of my college days.)

2) A good sushi bar - for sushi, obvi.

3) A running trail - which doesn't have to be an actual trail, just a safe loop with nice ambiance and hopefully some shade.

4) A library - I mean, I'm a librarian.

5) A tailor - for hemming everything to fit my stumpy petite frame.

Checking everything off this list can take a long time. Like me, you can be somewhere for years before experiencing the thrill of the find.

I had a bag of clothes that needed alterations sitting on my closet floor for literally a year until my friend Keekes recently recommended a good tailor. And oh, what a tailor he is! Not only does he do exquisite work at reasonable prices. He embodies the particularly wonderful je nes sais pas that I want for my tailoring experience -- or whatever the Italian equivalent of that is. When I walked in, I just about did a happy dance. The shop is tiny and old, with ancient but well maintained sewing machines in the workroom, bustling along with a sing-song whir. The tailor himself is a sweet older gentleman -- complete with a handlebar mustache! His movements are swift and proficient, and his thick Italian accent is a lovely bonus to the aura. Do I really need to fully understand what he's saying when he is obviously so competent? The answer is no.  He is like your grandpa if your grandpa is a happy and gentle soul, has impeccable taste, makes delicious homemade pasta sauce, and plays bocci on the weekends -- in other words, very lovable.

I am so glad I didn't cave and go back to the crappy lady at the dry cleaners down the street. I didn't expect to find the quintessential master tailor in the middle of South Carolina, but I'm happy that I did and it's made me feel a little more complete in this place.

I'm sure everyone has different things they look for in a new city -- the little finds that make you feel at home, and I'm curious...what are yours?

After the Pause

As you can see, I recently took a nice long hiatus from blogging. What have I been up to, you ask? Actually, quite a lot. Here's a quick visual summary to catch you up:

I ran the Marine Corps Marathon - my 7th and The Hubs' 1st!

We celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Old cake! Yum!

We met Tom Selleck at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund Gala.
What a fox! (And a nice guy)

We got all shnazzed up for the Marine Corps Birthday Ball

I graduated with my Master's degree in Library & Information Science!

We spent Christmas in California,
(image from viwephotos.info/)

And found out that we'll be living apart for another year :(
(image from www.futurity.org)

I've been trying to stop the house from crumbling around me.
(Just kidding...kind of...)

Of course I've been hanging out with the pups!

And having snuggy snugs with Ziggy.

I'm still cooking a lot...

And finding things to organize...

And I'm keeping busy with work!
 Here I am at a recent Cocky's Reading Express event. So fun!

So there you have it. My recent life in a few snapshots. Looking forward to filling you in on the details now that life is settling back down again.

Cheers,

Sarah

Evolving Kitty Antics

First of all, I should update you that my TV fasting really did work. I watched only two hours of television in nine days, a record of which I am quite proud. And then a weekend rolled around, and I finally caved and cleared out my DVR. The proper balance seems to be avoiding it at all costs during the week, and then enjoying being a glutton all weekend.

But what I really want to share is a new development in Ziggy's demented personality. Every morning around 5:30, Ziggy comes into the bedroom, jumps up onto the bed, climbs over me and onto the side table, and starts chewing on the lampshade. And it drives me absolutely bonkers. The first few times he did it, I jumped up and chased him out of the room yelling and waving my arms like a maniac. But it seems as though it's all a ploy for attention, since the more peaceful tactic of scootching over to create a warm spot for him to be my little spoon seems to work. At least temporarily. As soon as I fall back asleep, and therefore stop petting him, he resumes eating the lampshade. Lately we've been repeating this cycle about three times before I finally jump up and chase him out of the room yelling and waving my arms like a maniac.

When he was a kitten, his nightly routine was to attack my face promptly at 11 pm. So I guess we're making progress?

Yes, you should be embarrassed,
you little nocturnal attention whore.

Tuning Out (Temporarily)

A while ago I wrote about not having much time to sit around and pine for my geo-bachelor husband. Well, apparently I have a lot of time to sit around and stare zombie eyed at the television, because I've been doing a whole lot of that lately. It all started so innocently. I would turn the TV on just for background noise so the house wasn't so quiet and empty feeling. But the problem with that was I ended up listening to the background noise, and getting sucked into watching Kardashian marathons and Teen Mom finale specials. Then I was using it as an avoidance tactic instead of doing work for my painfully boring research class. And then it was just because I was in a bit of a shlump, and half the time I wasn't even watching a show because nothing even slightly good was on; I just flipped mindlessly through the commercials instead of trying to do something more interesting.

With deadlines looming, and my spirit slipping into self loathing after realizing that I was watching the same reruns more than once in the same day, I decided it was time for a detox. I was shooting for 24 hours sans TV, but it turns out that I really do have a lot of other things I can and should be doing. Things like finishing a paper and doing laundry and cooking dinner and taking my dog for a walk and finishing a beautiful, heart-wrenching novel. (No, I wasn't playing favorites. The other pup was at the park with his bff, a certain spunky black lab). And, I'm very much enjoying the silence. The weather is cool and the crickets are chirping and my windows are open to the breeze, and it's peaceful. That is, until the neighbors decide to have another raucous party. It's been 46 hours so far since my last reality TV fix, and considering my plans for the rest of the weekend, I think I might actually make it much longer.

Me vs. The Lawn Equipment

While I was out running the other day, I saw one of my young, female neighbors calmly and efficiently trimming the grass around her flower beds using my most feared yard tool: the Weed Wacker. She made it look so easy that I vowed this would be the weekend I would finally try to conquer the rest of the mysterious manly stuff in the shed that I've been avoiding.

I think I missed something...

So this morning I got up, opened the shed, put on my gloves, and got to work. I tried to ease into it, first mowing the grass with my nice, silent, non-gas-spewing manual mower. Today, it was okay that it didn't even pretend to cut the thicker weeds; the dreaded Wacker was following close behind to tame those reluctant tufts into submission. After going over the whole backyard a few times, I could no longer avoid it.  I got the Wacker off its hook, attached the extension cord, and pressed the button. And I was.....moderately successful. The edges along the walkway are clearly delineated if a little wonky, and I only wacked a few bare patches into the lawn. However, while the weeds along the edge of the path were severed, they were still stubbornly clinging to the center of the path.

After somewhat clearing the path, I turned to the weeds at perimeter of the house, and that's when things really went downhill. They should change the sticker saying, "no bumping required" to "no bumping into the side of the house recommended." Anyone know how to fix that little green thingy?

On the bright side, it does still wack things--just in a much smaller circumference.

Once I was sufficiently dejected by the Wacker, I turned to the Blower. This is much more my style. I might get some dirt on my face, but I won't chop off any toes, and there are less moving parts for me to break. It's also lighter and easier to carry around. Unfortunately, I am only as good with the Blower as I am with an iron, which is to say...not good. For every area I smooth out, I create more wrinkles in other areas that were just fine and dandy prior to my intrusion.

I tested my aptitude with this equipment from the shielded safety of my backyard prior to going out front, because I knew I was going to make an ass out of myself and wanted to limit the number of spectators as much as possible. But even with the practice, I did get quite a few strange looks once I finally tackled the front yard. It probably had something to do with the medieval torture device I was jumping up and down on. I speak of course of the Aerator. Our front yard is so dry and grassless and compacted that instead of rolling it to and fro like a normal person, I had to take a more series-of-swift-punctures approach. 

But having a raggedy yard will just make our house spookier for Halloween, right? And that'll be here before you know it, so it's probably a good thing that I start getting ready now...

Oh and did I mention that while all these festivities were happening, one of our dogs, Ollie, licked up some ant killer? Don't worry, I called the poison control number and he'll be fine. Turns out it's mostly ground up corn, and the pesticide is much more harmful to a microscopic ant than it is to an 80 pound dog. So today, it's actually a good thing that he's a bit of a fat-ass!

I think we all better stay inside for a while. 

Nom Nom Nom

With The Hubs gone, there have certainly been days when all I can rustle up for dinner is a fun-sized bag of barbecue potato chips and a box of lean cuisine eggrolls. Or an entire sleeve of Saltine crackers and a bowl of raw veggies with ranch dip. C'est la vie. But ironically, I've actually been cooking a lot more now that he's gone than I did when he was still here...probably because I don't have him to cook for me! I am also the Queen of Leftovers lately, which is kind of necessary since most recipes make enough food for at least four, and I am only one. If I didn't get inventive, I'd be throwing out a whole heap of food. For example, I made a big brisket roast with carrots, and then repurposed it as both enchilada filling and a breakfast hash (see below).

A while ago, I posted about a commitment to start planning meals and following recipes instead of throwing things together willy nilly, and I am happy to report that I have actually followed through. The potato, carrot, and leek soup was from a vegetarian cookbook, and the tuna steak with lemon and herbs was from a vintage New York Times cookbook that my wonderful mother-in-law got for me. The roasted beet and goat cheese salad recipe I got from the Epicurious app I have on my phone (one of my go-to resources). The dressing is so yummy and so easy -- just some extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and frozen orange juice concentrate. Tangy and delish!

I've been meaning to post about my culinary adventures while I was in New Orleans for the American Library Association Conference. I mean, it was fun to learn about library stuff and all, but it was sorta all about the food. My roommates and I had the goal of "eating our way through New Orleans" and I think we put a decent dent in it. If I can ever find the camera that has all those pictures on it, I will be sure to let you in on my best finds from The Big Easy. Two words: Shrimp Creole.

During our honeymoon trip to Saint Martin, my main focus was on eating as much delicious French food as I could....it seems as though the older I get, the more my life revolves around food. Cooking and eating has replaced partying and at least some of my wild adventures. It's a good thing I run marathons, or else I might be a little rolly polly.

Happy eating,
Sarah

p.s. When in doubt, put an egg on it.

A Self Righteous, Passive Aggressive Moment

The next time my neighbors decide to throw a loud, obnoxious party until 3 a.m., I just might have to wake up at 6 a.m. the next day to do some yard work. In particular, I might have to mow the non-existent grass and blow around all of those leaves that are in my side yard. You know, the side yard right outside my bedroom window where all their drunk friends were parked, and thus where their drunk friends kept slamming their car doors all night. Apparently, a prerequisite for attending an obnoxious party is the ability to enter and exit things emphatically. I might also have to scream expletives while I'm doing said yard work, but that shouldn't bother them because it seems to simply be the way in which they communicate with one another.

Seriously though, I live in a really nice, family friendly neighborhood. If they want to throw down like that, they should have chosen to live on campus in the Greek Village. I realize I'm sounding like an old fuddy duddy, but people's complete obliviousness (or plain lack of regard) for how their actions might effect other people gets under my skin and drives me crazy. We've had parties here until the wee hours of the morning...but we keep the noise inside the house, not outside right next to where our neighbors are trying to sleep. Even in my college heydays I tried to keep the volume down whenever I had parties. Be young and fiesty, do whatever you want. But don't force the whole rest of the neighborhood to listen to your idiocy. It's just rude.