Oh Canada!

En route back to San Diego from Canada right now. Wow did Vancouver blow my mind. SUCH a gorgeous city!!

Here is the trip -- compressed into a few random photos....

Started out at the Reflection Room in the San Diego Airport

Arrived late afternoon in Vancouver and checked into my hotel -,where this was the view from my 20th story room. :)

Canadians, I came to find out, are *very* safety conscious. In my many years of setting up our small booth at the annual American Academy of Neurology meeting I have never had to don a safety vest...

First time for everything, I guess.

Kinda cute though, no?

OK, back to pretty scenery...

I definitely want a sea plane!

Stanley Park is featured in the next batch of photos. It was located maybe 10 blocks from my very urban hotel:

I know!!

Pretty amazing, right?

Fast forward to today - headed back home already....

Can't skip the yoga room a SFO though

Life is good, no doubt. 

Although I'll be happy to land at my very own casa tonight.

happy talky talky happy talk*

Mistah packs heavy.

Some peeps pack light, some peeps pack medium, and then there's Mistah.

We went down to Mom's last weekend and Mistah didn't know what he'd wear on Sunday, so, well, he brought everything he owns.

And then he left everything he owns in Mom's closet.

I know.

But the fabulous thing about it all? Schleckie made a deal with Mom that if she met us halfway, we'd buy her luncheon on Saturday -- he needs those clothes! -- and we'd do the ol' switcheroo . . .

. . .  because apparently Da Dowd left a bag somewhere, too, and we had to deliver that, too, but what-ever . . . because luncheon.

(And don't let Mistah fool you; Mom had his stuff hanging on both sides of the back of her car.)

Luncheon!

Cauliflower! I mean, seriously. We had a three-meal cauliflower day that day. Not a lot of people can say that.

The Guilford Bistro rocks the cauliflower.

And scallops. They rocked those too.

Oh, shoot. We forgot to take photos of our entrees.

But there's the thing.

Bill and I arrived 10 minutes early. And mom pulled in the moment we did. And we did the switcheroo. And we started talking. And then we went into the Bistro. And we kept talking. And we poured wine. And we kept talking. And we ordered food. And we kept talking. And we ate our food. And we drank our wine. And we kept talking. And then we walked ourselves out to the parking lot and on kept talking as we got into our respective cars. We three had seen eachother the previous weekend. But we had so much to talk about.

We just have so much to talk about.

Always.

And we can't wait to get back to it.

Next weekend!

Because we have still so much to talk about.

The Tao of Meatloaf

The universe be funny, man.

I had a crappy week, and felt really tired thinking about what I might want to write today. The only topic that qualified itself in my mind was the stupid meatloaf. But then I thought NO. That is so boring. You can't even make a funny turkey sandwich reference post about it because that shit has been done to death.

Oh, you want to hear it?
K. You were warned.

The other night I gave everyone a choice for dinner: meatballs, chicken stir fry, or pork tenderloin. Oh, or I guess I could make meatloaf, I said.

Prologue: I'd made it a few months ago on a whim when Clara wasn't home and my boys loooooved it. There was barely enough for the three of us that last time, no leftovers.

So when the majority vote fell to meatloaf on this recent night, I had myself a conundrum. I had picked up two packages of ground turkey, because I LOVE ground turkey and it was on crazy sale. I thought I should double the batch, right? But I paused, because for God's sake there are only 4 of us, one of whom has chronic stomach ailments that make meal planning uniquely challenging. I wanted the second package for tacos or pasta sauce or something. One loaf would be enough, I was making plenty of sides and it irritates the hell out of me how my family doesn't eat leftovers. But what if it was a huge hit, and we could have meatloaf sandwiches! Yu-um. Double batch, baby.

(oh my god this is so boring)

But alas...I made a fatal mistake with this loaf... I chopped rather than diced the onions. This led to an overly crumbly loaf! I am partial to the hand formed loaf on a sheet pan rather than the loaf pan, but that's probably not important. Either that or it is vitally important, but it's in the past so let's move on. It tasted delicious, but it looked like hell. There were leftovers.

Epilogue: I googled uses for leftover crumbly meatloaf, and decided to make a glorious sounding meat sauce over pasta. everyone was very polite. There are leftovers.

How does this relentless yet excruciatingly dull story about meat prove that the universe be funny? When I looked back at April blog posts for an indulgent Flashback Friday, this is what I found:

THURSDAY, APRIL 2, 2009

meatloaf

I’ve been talking about it all week. I bought the ground turkey on Sunday, and could think of nothing else at work all day on Monday. I crunched the numbers: 20 minutes to get home, at least 10 minutes of prep, 60 minutes cooking time – 90 minutes minimum was the best I could do. We have a very small window between school and karate on Mondays and Wednesdays, which must include homework, dinner, and driving time. Dinner has to be on the table by 5:15 or we’re not going to make it. It was 3pm, but I thought if I left work by 4 I could make it work. I’ve never been very good at math. We had tacos that night.

Then Tuesday night, I decided to scrap my plan to hit the gym after work and head home to loaf. But my husband successfully convinced me to meet him for dinner somewhere that was showing our alma mater play basketball (again with the basketball). The kids and I were game, but the evening turned out to be an unmitigated disaster that ended with tantrums and tears and groundings and destroyed psyches and not nearly enough mind-numbing alcohol.

On Wednesday, I was determined.

I informed my workplace that I needed a half day off to attend topersonal matters. First, I went to the gym, and turbo-kick-boxed the shit out of any lingering frustration about the previous night's dinner fiasco. Then I scoffed at the nasty gym locker room and went back home to enjoy my beautiful shower. Have I talked about how much I love my shower? It’s my happy place. After that bliss, with my remaining time off, I began to construct the loafen meat masterpiece.

Who wouldn’t feel better when smelling this?


I have to say that there was a time in my life when I mocked the likes of Jessica Seinfeld and her subversive vegetable maneuvers, but then I met this clown


who does not care for inconsistencies in her food. She prefers that all of her food be uniform in color, preferably on the beige side of the spectrum. I put those beautiful vegetables into my food processor, and they came out looking noticeably less appealing. But I must say, there are not too many things I can think of that do look appealing when loafed up with raw meat and eggs.

The meal was…. anticlimactic. I chose not to battle with the girl over the difference between a nibble and a taste. I chose to focus on the yummy sounds emanating from the menfolk.

As for me, now that my craving has been satiated; I don’t think I’ll need to make meatloaf again for a long while. But I pity the fool who gets between me and my leftover sandwich tomorrow.

In my family, we have this thing where if you find yourself in the middle of a really boring story, you say it’s a turkey sandwich. I think that with this post, I’ve renamed the phenomenon. Welcome to my meatloaf.

Wordless Wednesday: sushi

Uh oh - never good when the fish dies on your watch. 

Hilarity Ensued

My sister Julie invented the most ingenious, absolutely foolproof way for taking the best self-timers ever:

Get your daughter / niece / granddaughter Erin on facetime on your phone and place it atop the camera on its tripod.

I promise you: hilarity will ensue . . .

We were dying laughing. And we owe it all to Erin, who surely must have thought we looked like a pack of slightly hysterical hyenas.

We didn't bring Erin with us into the kitchen, but hilarity ensued there, too:

It was a weekend of magically crossed paths of visitors and some sisters and The Masters and pizza and luncheon and quite possibly a drinkie-poo or two.

Or seven.

We're awfully lucky to have these peeps of ours come around from time to time . . .

photo by Da Dowd

. . . because we have us some pretty fun peeps . . .

. . . and the most fabulous, the most tolerant, the most awesome, and the most generous Mom in all the land.

Love you lovelies. Come back to me!