Welcome to my blog.
I document my stupid
adventures. Have Fun!
The week started off with a bang. No, I mean literally started off with a bang. On Saturday night when Rizzo and I were on our way to our NextStop Theatre show a wire in our garage door snapped and the door came crashing down. The result was a door that wouldn't close and swung across the garage to bend the rail. The point of that was to tell you that I didn't go to work on Tuesday because the garage door guy was coming by to assess the situation and to hopefully repair the door.
In part 1 of this two part post, we provide a brief history of brunch.
Somewhere along the course of human history it was deemed inappropriate or uncouth to drink alcohol before noon. I don't know why that became the standard. It's not like the sun passing the midway point in the sky has some sort of mythical power that allows alcohol to be acceptable. However, there is one exception: brunch.
The last time I timed myself for a mile run was back in November (I also spent some time Up on the Roof). At that time I ran a mile in 8:52 which represented (1) only the second sub-10 minute mile of my life and (2) the first time I ran under a 9 minute mile. November was a long time ago so on Saturday I thought I'd lace up the sneaks and try to pull my best Prefontaine impression to see check out my mile time.
Weather is such a wonderful thing. Just try and imagine going go your second cousin's wedding, sitting at the "we invited you but didn't expect you to say yes" table, and trying to have a conversation with the elementary school best friend that lost touch when she moved away at age ten but reconnected on Facebook a few months ago so we had to invite her, without weather. It would go a little something like this:
Man, do I need a vacation? I can't wait to get away from work for a week straight and just relax. It's not like work is terribly busy this time of year but I haven't been away for awhile which makes the simplest tasks seem dreadful. I didn't even get up the energy to write this blog post until 6:55pm on Saturday night while Cece was taking a bath and only because I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't miss out on a blog day for at least a year. I'm sure my 7 readers wouldn't mind me skipping just one day. But I didn't because I care.
There was a time in the history of this country and, in fact, the world when you would get your beer from the local brewer. The beer hall was a meeting place and the center of the social and political debate. The beer hall was the meeting place, the motel, the restaurant, and the marketplace. In colonial America, beer was the common drink of choice. Water was not clean (we humans didn't quite understand how to clean water or the importance of drinking fresh water) and beer had the right amount of alcohol to kill all the germs but not so much alcohol (like whiskey or scotch) to get you drunk. The beer hall was the center of town and that is a wonderful tradition that Aslin Beer Company is continuing for Herndon, VA.
What? Wasn't it last Sunday that we celebrated Mother's Day? Well of course it was but how was I supposed to share pictures from Mother's Day before celebrating Mother's Day? It was impossible that is why we get to chat about Mother's Day and mothers a week late, so settle down, Skippy.
Why is it so hard to find real food in a box? I get some things are not made to stay fresh for long periods of time without some sort of preservatives. Meats will spoil. Vegetables will go bad. Fruits will rot. But what about baking products? Doesn't it seem like these types of boxed foods don't need to be filled with ingredients we don't recognize and can barely pronounce?
There are two things work reporting on this week. One is an amazing event. One is a terrible lapse in judgment. Let's start with the good stuff: Teachers.
How many of you have a favorite book? You all do, I'm sure. Fine, some of you don't have a favorite book because you could never narrow down the endless literature that has accumulated over the course of human history to one volume that you could single out as your favorite. I mean, how could you possibly choose between The Iliad, Catcher in the Rye, and Everybody Poops?
Take a moment to think of your favorite book. What do you think about? Do any of you think about the author and the process to write such an inspiring, exciting, educational, or thought-provoking piece of prose or poetry?
