I had a nice 3.5 mile run around the neighborhood tonight (with a soundtrack by Johnny Cash). There's something poetic (or cliche depending on your level of cynicism) about listening to Ring of Fire while running laps to a setting sun.
Speaking of cynicism, for those of you who argue that I never buy anything healthy from Costco, may I present my dinner for this evening:
It's my version of Croque-monsier, made from a rosemary-olive loaf, roast chicken, and Dubliner Irish cheese - all sourced from Costco. Unlike the French version, I toasted mine instead of frying the concoction in oil. The squash, btw, was a gift from Betsy.
And now, an open letter to Dustin: It looks like I won't be joining you on your cross-country tour. I wish I could, but I just don't have my act together. Reading your blog, however, it seems you have a good crew of riders already accompanying you. I feel rather aquamarine (sad and envious) about it. I'm sure you'll have a great rest of the trip and many cool stories to tell when you get back (and maybe a picture or two).
The following is for my brother-in-law, Joe. Happy Birthday!
Ron was in town this past weekend looking for romance. Well, maybe he was just hoping for a little rest and relaxation (the other "R" words). However, given the pace of his 24 hour visit, maybe he should have just settled for rapture.
We started off Saturday evening with an appearance at the Bell school house post-rapture/housewarming party. After a couple of beers, we headed to Sao Paulo's for some Brazilian food and caipirinhas.
Lulled into false comfort, Ron talked me into a final beer at the Broken Spoke. Citing a $12 need to dance, he even paid for my cover to get in.
Once inside, we stood around like a couple of wall flowers - it reminded me of junior high dances I suffered through (should I ask her to dance? what if she says no? how will I live with the shame? what if she has cooties?). Despite much prodding, Ron still refused to ask anyone to the dance floor. Sensing our reluctance, a woman finally approached us and asked if we were there to just stand around or were we there to dance. I confirmed the later and shoved Ron towards the inquisitor (she introduced herself as Marti). Needless to say, once Ron started two-stepping, he couldn't be stopped. In the end, he danced several dances with several women, and I even managed half a dance - Marti tried to teach me the standard quick-quick-slow-slow with limited success. Counting to four wasn't difficult, but keeping rhythm proved a little more challenging.
The next morning, Ron and I met Betsy at Town Lake for a quick 7 mile loop together. Afterward, we met Ron's nephew at Trudy's for brunch, then Ron ran off to Z-Tejas to meet a date for lunch (yes, he has dated every single woman in Houston and is now focused on Austin). He said the date went well - but I'm not sure how he's suppose to sustain a relationship with a woman who lives 150 miles away. I have a hard time dating women 15 miles away. I guess he's a romantic, and I'm just lazy.
Ok, maybe I'm a little romantic. Here I am helping Betsy make almond cookies yesterday (and by "make", I really mean "eat").
It occurred to me I haven't posted in a long time. My apologies. The last month or so have been a nice blur.
I've been running a bunch and have sold off a number bikes, including my stainless Hampsten and my celery green Speedvagen (not to worry, I have more):
But this past month has really been about food.
Like the good son, I went to Houston for Mother's Day. Benihana happens to be my mom's new favorite restaurant, so we went there for lunch Saturday. I will admit, their sushi boats are quite tasty. For brunch Sunday, we went a more traditional route and had dim sum at Arco Seafood Restaurant. A lot of dim sum:
It was Betsy's birthday Wednesday, so I surprised her with dinner at Olivia. Yes, that's foie gras (let the hate mails begin):
And some artfully arranged bird bodies:
Olivia's dessert selection is pretty amazing. This one had dollops of smoked cream, toasted marshmallow, a small cup of chocolate sorbet, malt, and a wafer thin cookie (not to be confused with a wafer thin mint):
Our waiter composed this shot. I'm not so sure I like the careful symmetry of it all, but at least he tried:
Thursday night, I helped Betsy make frosting for her son's birthday cake (by keeping Aster the beagle from eating the butter):
And finally, my strawberry plant is starting to bear fruit. I just like the way the morning dew collected on the ends of the leaves in this pic:
That's it for now. Hope you all have a good week.
I've been coughing like an aging smoker all week. My doctor says I have bacterial and viral infections and prescribed some antibiotics to help. That and Mucinex has kept my hacking to a tolerable level. Well, most of the time. This morning was not a good morning to ride.
However, I felt well enough yesterday to join Slow Food Austin on their farm to cafe tour, following the local food chain from Sand Creek Farm in Cameron to lunch at the Monument Cafe in Georgetown. If you're at all curious about the food you eat, you really should check out Slow Food Austin's site.
The tour started out at Ben and Alysha's Sand Creek Farm. They are a source for, among other things, raw milk, cheeses, and grass fed meats:
Ben tends the farm without the use of any tractors. Instead, the family (Ben, Alysha, and their 5 girls) uses work horses to pull farm implements. It's amazing how quiet and peaceful their farm is without the added engine noises.
After the farm, the group (all 50 or so of us) traveled to Georgetown to have lunch at the Monument Cafe. Our meal was prepared with ingredients sourced from Sand Creek Farm:
Afterward, we visited Monument's demonstration farm behind the cafe where Rusty Winkstern, the owner of the cafe, gave a short talk about sustainable farming, sourcing ingredients locally, eating seasonally and discussed the upcoming Monument Market opening soon that will feature organic food from a 300 mile radius of Georgetown:
All this food talk is excellent. However, I've been sourcing my food from two primary sources this week, Annie's and the Girl Scouts:
I do doctor up the raviolis just a bit with spinach, carrots, and portabella mushrooms to add a bit of excitement:
...with my car dealer, that is. I take my convertible in for an oil change and inspection once a year. I only drive it about 4500 miles annually, so the timing is about right. Besides, an oil change is $250 for some crazy reason, so changing the oil more than necessary seems like a complete waste of money. While the car was in this time I asked them to check on the passenger side door lock sensor. Seems on hot days the sensor fails in that door and the window won't roll down half an inch to clear the roof gasket when you pull the door handle.
After a couple of days, I got a call saying my car was ready. When I asked for the total bill, I was fully expecting some astronomical figure - there is no such thing as a cheap Porsche service visit. Remember, these are the same people who charged me $1.50 for a tail light bulb and almost a hundred dollars to install the tail light bulb.
Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised when my bill came to $316. That's $250 for the oil change, $20 for the inspection, and the balance for installing a new license plate light and cleaning out my drains. I was shocked to find they took care of the door sensor as a warranty item. Pressing my luck, I decided to ask if they could give me the part number for the center caps on my wheels. Apparently, it's fairly common for the emblems to be pried off by vandals. I walked out to my car one day to find 3 out of my 4 emblems missing.
The dealer wanted almost $100 a piece to replace them. I thought if I could get the part number, I could search eBay for suitable replacements for a lot less. Anyway, the parts guy told me there were 2 versions of the center cap - one with full color shields, and another with black and silver shields. He said the black and silver ones weren't very popular, so he offered them to me for $30 for the set of 4. That was a major score, and I'm happy to report my car looks whole again.
Btw, Porsche drivers are a pampered lot. When day light savings time rolled around recently, my dealer called me up and left an automated message instructing me on how to adjust the clock in my car ahead one hour. If I still had trouble, I was told to bring my car by the dealership, and they would be happy to adjust my clock while I waited. Not only that, Porsche doesn't just send you a card saying your car has been recalled for a safety issue. No, they send a card saying your vehicle "may benefit from a product improvement campaign."
So Ursula and Gregg were married this past weekend. The ceremony was very nice, with a mix of Christian and Jewish traditions. I would like to point out the obvious here - Gregg is tall and Ursula is not. And they are one very happy couple:
The week prior, a number of us guys took Gregg out to San Antonio for his bachelor's party. Nothing really wild took place - especially if you're at a Denny's at 2:48AM:
I wished we had rented this late model Buick for the stud wagon, but alas, it was already spoken for.
I was pretty tired that weekend, because I decided to ride with Pete and Ondre from Hyde Park to Samsung for the Rosedale Ride - and then ride back home.
The wind and heat were brutal, especially on the leg back. However, I did get a nice tan:
All-in-all, we rode 84 miles - then I drove to San Antonio. Needless to say, I fell asleep during some of the bachelor party activities that evening.
