Happy New Year!

Hank wishes everyone a Happy New Year! Today he's on tv!

Just kidding. Hank really goes for the pun-based humour.

Packing Material

I never have the proper packing material. Some people send me things with those fancy air cushions in between the items (or bubble wrap around everything). But I never have bubble wrap; if I've sent anyone a gift with an air cushion it's only because I received an air cushion filled box from Amazon.com the day before. Instead I mainly use newspaper, tissue paper, or a really small box that won't allow items to shift.


I recently bought some Christmas sweets from Etsy, and the sender clearly had the same shipping tendencies as myself. In lieu of an air cushion was the following crumpled up shopping bag (an idea I'll be using in the future). However, this was a shopping bag that attempted to brighten up one's day by evoking a classic (read: corny) joke:

Original Joke as told to me by one Liz L. in college:
Q: What do you call cheese that isn't yours?
A: Nacho cheese


We're here all week, ladies and gentlemen. Try the veal!

Sadness

One of the BEST people and grandfathers ever. You will be missed a ton.

Kindle vs. An Actual Book

The subject of an e-reader vs. a book made from paper is something I've talked about before. But it's something that presents itself once again due to my friends having them and my constant dilemma of trying to decide which books to take on work trips and vacations. Sometimes this quandary is not too intense, but this is only when I have a stack of New Yorker issues that I need to catch up on. However, this is not always the case.


I am not the only one. This short post on one of my favourite sites touches on a lot of the same reasons why I cannot break down and get one (or ask for one for Christmas/birthdays/graduation).


I recently put this choice in the hands of fate. Except Fate was an elderly lady with a Boston accent. She was walking around the convention hall where I was trying to give away copies of some environmental science journals, and she asked me to take a survey about the convention center. If I took it, I would be automatically entered to win an e-reader. I took the survey with mixed feelings. I didn't really want an e-reader, but I did want to take the survey on her fancy-schmansy iPad. 


Maybe the real question is this: forget the e-reader, do I secretly want an iPad?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hank says Happy Thanksgiving!

He's super glad he's not a turkey.

Yards Brewery

On a rainy Saturday, my brother Budd and I took the brewery tour at Yards Brewery on Delaware Ave in Philadelphia. It's a super small local brewery, but the beer is fab (and the tour is free). As a bonus, there is a tasting room with a long, u-shaped bar on one side and pool and air hockey tables on the other.

Our tour guide looked like our Uncle Doug. So, for argument's sake, let's call him Doug. He offered us free samples of an IPA and the George Washington Porter. Being partial to the darker beers, I tried the porter. I made the mistake of letting Budd try a sip. Though he extolled the virtues of the lighter IPA, he also wouldn't give me back my tiny cup of porter.

Mean.

Whilst Doug was giving the tour, he also sipped from a pint of the George Washington Porter. And when I say sipped I really mean that he took long, unapologetic swigs. I didn't blame him one bit.

(Budd by the bottling machine)

(Me too)

It was a quick tour, and if you've been on other brewery tours (as we had done), there's a lot of the same stuff about hops and yeast, etc. It was still interesting (especially to hear how they properly dispose of the yeast and such), and our tour guide was really the best. We actually spent more time in the tasting room appreciating the final product. It's a lot fun, and I'm sure we'll go back to get a growler to take home....though the growler shown below is too big to stand upright in my fridge. Needless to say, my fridge still kind of smells like the George Washington Porter.

(Budd and the growler)

(Cheers!)

I Have Senioritis

Whenever I am about to graduate from school of some kind, the last year or so is super difficult. Not necessarily in terms of coursework but more along the lines of "I have no desire to do any work, and I cannot focus on anything that has to do with school." It can get bad; my last semester of undergrad I seriously considered showing up to the final presentation for my Latin American Plays of Protest class and saying, "No tengo un presentacion hoy. Estoy aburrido con mi vida." 


However, I didn't know that this was an affliction that was going to hit me in grad school too.


Senioritis can cause one to do things that they might never normally do. Even the most dedicated student is prone to it. Some side effects include:

• Realizing that spacing and margins on your papers are extremely important. (More important that the paper itself sometimes);  
• Deciding to write a blog post....or seven;
• Getting sucked into watching the entire second season of Bored to Death in 4 episode increments;
• Looking at all of your old photos for hours and wondering why the hell haven't I bought a photo printer yet;
• Realizing that your computer could get a cold and accidentally erase everything; and running out to buy an external hard drive because your old one is formatted for a PC and you're now using a mac;
• It suddenly becomes important to do freakishly detailed cleaning projects that you would normally hate to do- such as cleaning your keyboard....or the oven;
• Cooking like the Barefoot Contessa moves from a distant life goal into something that must happen immediately;
• Cursing yourself because your recipe box is already in alphabetical order (a project you completed the last time you procrastinated);
• Cleaning the bathroom until it is super clean...and we're talking on the level of "it's never this clean unless a boy is coming over."

Sometimes procrastination is more exhausting then just doing the work you're meant to be doing in the first place.

Fall Baking

Continuing on the theme of Fall and Becca's visit, I bring you the apful kuchen. A lovely German sweet made from the Dahm family secret recipe. It is sweet but not too sugary, and it really lets the taste of the apples shine through. 

(I sliced the apples)

(Placing them in a delicious fashion)

(almost ready for the oven)

(Baked and ready to eat: what you see is cinnamon, not burned apple)

(Happy Fall!)

Autumn and a Western Pennsylvanian

One fall Sunday afternoon, Becca was here from Western PA, and we visited Linvilla Orchards. It was October, the leaves were starting to change, and it was about 85 degrees....not exactly apple picking weather, but we dealt with it.

 Mums were everywhere, and we were able to squeeze past the hoards of sticky, crying children to find the perfect sized pumpkin (who was immediately named Chuck for no real reason at all).

(Becca holding Chuck)

We also wondered who was in charge of creating signs around that place....(and yes, many inappropriate jokes were made about the speed hump sign).

Finally, we grew tired and ready to go home and eat the apples we bought. But there was still time for us to actually take a photo together (something we don't do very often for some reason).

(We didn't want Chuck to feel left out)

Mi Madre Tiene Cinquenta Anos

My mom recently turned 50, and we had a wee party for her. Just a nice dinner out at The Towne House in Media, and a cake. We could've just gotten fancy desserts at the restaurant, but the cake part was the thing my mom was looking forward to the most (bakery cakes are her absolute favourite...not those awful ones from the grocery store but the ones from a proper bakery). 


I was happy to oblige; it's so nice to have a mom who is easy to please. :-) 

(Parents and the wee brother Jake)

This occasion also marked the first time my mother was photographed (and saw herself) with glasses. 

I think she got a kick out of it too!

Hank Eats Blanket

Remember how Hank hates that blanket I put over his cage? He yells at it, and he shrinks away from it when I pull it on or off the cage. Never before have I seen a bird with so much hate for an object that is meant to keep him warm and shield him from too much light.

Now it has come to this: he has started eating holes in the blanket.

I mean, I know he hates this thing, but I never thought it would go this far.

The thing is, do I wait until he eats more of it to give him a new one? Will he eat the new one too? Should I be worried about his vitamin intake or something?

Penguins in Jumpers

Those of us who knit know that there is a limit to what we can make for our families and friends before they come to dread receiving gifts from us. We also know that, unless they ask for it or really seem to need it, people won't really wear or use the things we surprise them with (exception: blankets and baby things).

My Grandmother was a knitter for something like 70 years, and she used to knit preemie hats for local hospitals. I have been doing this for a while now too, and they are quick and fun to do (though old ladies in the airport always give me that "are you an unwed mother?" look).

For those who have the time and the heart for it, here is another knitting project that is actually really cute and helpful. I came across this today: a request for knitters to make penguin jumpers for those birds who have been affected by the oil spill in New Zealand. The pattern is there too as well as a photo of a penguin in his new outfit.

Mice Are NOT Friends

One of the joys of working in a city would be the ever-present creatures you encounter on a daily basis. No, I'm not talking about creepy men on the subway; I'm talking about mice. I grew up on a farm-complete with field mice and the occasional snake-but I am still freaked out by city mice.They're just so dirty...hanging out in sewers and people's garbage. While a field mouse, who might scare the crap out of you when you open the barrel of horse food, just hangs out in a field with the corn.

I bring this up because my office has been invaded by mice. I've been here for almost five years (whoa), and we've only ever had the occasional mouse. Now there are so many more; apparently it has become a building-wide problem. Twice in the past month, I have arrive to find that the mouse left some evidence of his visit. Right on the desk. Except that time that he actually got into my desk drawer.

That is not the way to start a Tuesday.

And what is the office doing about it? Offering me a glue trap to stick near my desk. This glue trap comes with the office manager's tales of finding just feet on her trap because the mouse chewed them off to get away.

How about making the cleaning ladies, um, I don't know, clean? Vacuum? That might help a wee bit.

Add to this a report that one of the girls found a roach on the bathroom sink (and don't even get me started on the bathroom). NO amount of farm living will EVER make you comfortable around a cockroach...mainly because I've never seen those awful brown giant things hanging out in the barn.

For a Relaxing Time....

Have you ever searched for Bill Murray related items on Etsy? What am I saying? Of course you have! 

I myself just decided to do this today, and I was delighted (and a little frightened) by what I found.

For instance, you can buy buttons made out of photos of his movie roles and his teeth (photos of his teeth...not his actual teeth. That's a little to Angelina and Billy-Bob for me). And how about a baby onsie (I'm sure all  pregnant friend would love this...or completely stop talking to me) or a $10 temporary tattoo? And most things are organized under the appropriate heading of "Geekery."

This really proves two things that I have always known:

1. People will buy anything

2. I am not alone in my adoration of Mr. Bill Murray.

 

Though, if we're being honest here, the only thing I would buy is the coffee mug.

Second-Annual Maine-Cation

Last month, my sister, parents, and I went on the second-annual Maine-Cation. Well, it's the second annual trip for me, anyway. My parents and younger sister have been there five times now, and they still constantly talk about moving there when my dad retires. 

Besides being absolutely beautiful, the thing about Maine is that we always find something new to do. This year, we did the usual kayaking and cycling down to the general store. But this time, we rented the pontoon boat and took it out to Mt. Kineo.

Once we got there, we just parked it and swam in the water or laid in the sun.

(myself)

Some people went cliff-diving. I was not one of them, but I enjoyed watching.

(Once this girl resurfaced, she yelled, "I have a wedgie!!!")

Sister drove the boat too.

And then she tubed behind it. She likened the moving rush of water beneath the tube to an enema. 

All-in-all, I would call it a successful and extremely relaxing vacation. I really don't blame my parents for wanting to move here.

Cooking with the Big Girls

When I was a little kid, I wanted an Easy-Bake Oven like nobody's business. I begged my mom for one, but she said no. I was crushed. But now I look back and smile at her reason: she said she'd rather I learned to bake real cakes and sweets. She did teach me how to bake enough cake for everyone in the family while following a real recipe (and occasionally coming up with alternative ingredients such as pancake batter when we ran out of flour).  I'm glad she did, but she also indulged me by buying me the Easy Bake pans and mixes and letting me bake them in the real oven. 


They didn't always turn out so well. 


Now they have re-done the Easy-Bake Oven to catch up a bit with the heat of an actual oven. They had to do this since the incandescent bulb is being discontinued, and the new version sort of looks like something from an episode of The Jetsons. that or a really cool microwave that someone in my college dorm would've had.


Check the new version of the Easy-Bake Oven.

Protection from Television

My brother Jake always practices safe television watching.

Though the helmet is so big you can't see the tv if you're standing behind him.

The Secret Aim of Morton

The sign was changed the other day to reflect the secret reason why this town was founded....

Also, the word "your" is apparently now spelled with a "Q". Personally, I think we need more words that start with "Q"....would really help when you're playing Scrabble.

Presence not Presents

A friend of mine recently attended a 99th birthday party. This made me wonder, "Did you get the birthday boy a present? If so, what?"

What do you get for a birthday boy or girl who is really getting up there in age? My adopted Porter grandparents always say "Your presence not your presents are requested." And it's a good thing too because Grandpop Porter just turned 85; can you imagine how much stuff he already has? Things like giant balloons and extra sweets for the dessert table are always welcome, but no one brings anything more than a card.

(The party's here)

It is nice, though, because you can relax and be excited to go to a party where you are guaranteed to have fun. I mean it. The Porters are the most fun of all people. There is always plenty of food and drink, and sometimes you get to go out on the boat. Also, sometimes my aunts will pull out their flute and guitar and play some folk music for a while. Not kidding. It's a wonderfully hippy-like experience. One of my strongest childhood memories is my uncle (with his thick, dark brown beard) singing and playing "Sally the Camel" on the guitar to entertain us kids.

I was devastated when he shaved that beard.

Anyway, back to my point. Once you hit a certain age, isn't just seeing everyone present enough? And after 85 or 99 birthdays, aren't you tired of making the "I'm pretending I like your strange gift" face?

New Yet Erratic Series

The insurance company down the street from my apartment has the best signs. I tried to figure out when they change them, but it seems kind of erratic. For instance, they kept the "Welcome to Morton, Home of Roy Halliday" one up for the majority of baseball season, but last week they changed the sign twice (so I didn't get a photo of the one that said, "Don't be mean, Irene").


The actual first time I posted about these signs was during the week of the Royal Wedding. The one that's up there today isn't as silly, but it does reflect the goings-on of the majority of the population.

So I will share these with you whenever they pop up. Perhaps they will start to change all those stereotypes we have about insurance people....

Dressing the Goddaughter

Check out the adorable outfit I found in Maine for my goddaughter Adrienne. It makes me laugh. I hope she still fits into it when I see her next. 


I am also impressed that the people of New England have found so many different ways to fit the word "moose" into phrases and clothing and assorted other souvenirs. Some things are a tad corny, but most of them are pretty funny. Though I can totally do without something like a shot glass shaped like a moose hoof. 


That may be taking things too far.

And some socks for her new little brother Lucah (baby socks are freaking adorable):

But I also found a glow-in-the-dark shirt for Adrienne's big brother Ethan. Seriously. It glows in the dark. I almost want to keep it for myself.

Cheerio, Irene

This time last week, I was trying to recover from the massive hype and stress of Hurricane Irene. My neighbors, Gloom and Doom, had convinced me that my apartment was going to become a swimming pool (it didn't), and I was a nervous wreck. So I took Hank over to my parents' house in Jersey (which my neighbor also told me was a bad idea since "Jersey's supposed to get it worse!" (Side note: not talking to them anymore). My parents' house flooded quite a bit in the basement, but we were really lucky after all.

(getting all my stuff as far away from the floor as possible)

(Hurricane Preparation)

(Butterfly on my parents' porch. It doesn't like the wind)

Monday, after I got home, I took a drive past Swarthmore falls. My dad had driven by them mid-storm and told me that there was so much water, you couldn't even tell that there was a waterfall! The water had gone down a bit by the time I got there, but there was still so much of it. And the noise was deafening. A lot of trees had gone down too, and the whole area was surrounded by police tape. I totally would've gone past the tape to get better photos if there hadn't been some weird creeper lady sitting in her car on the side of the road. I never figured out why she was there, but she was acting like she was looking for someone. Like I said, weird.

(Swarthmore Falls)