A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm!

Also, The City That Doesn't Work

By far, one of the most puzzling things regarding DC is the fact that there seem to be a lot of people out and about during the day who do not seem to be either students or part of the workforce.  Today Herr Meow and I went for a long walk around the Mall area and back, and we encountered more than just a few of these folks.

Now, don't get me wrong: I understand that DC is also host to the phenomenon called, "I Am Taking a Really Late Lunch Hour, That Starts Around, Like, One, and Lasts Until, Oh, I Don't Know, Four?"

I understand the need, in a city tailor-made for schmooze and for pretending that power isn't solely contained within marble halls, to get out and hold meetings in neutral places -- places where a person who normally holds all the power in the world might appear to let down his guard because there is delicious barbecue sauce all over his Hermès tie and har, har, har, isn't he just like you and me?

(Answer: I'm guessing his assistant carries a backup tie for events such as these.)

But, pray tell, what kind of schmoozing and political wrangling could ever be taking place at such pedestrian places as Starbucks, Così or Port City Java (a.k.a The Clone Coffeeshops), seriously? 

And if the answer is, "Tons!", then I want someone to come forward and tell me, because what I saw today was kind of a testament to the fact that DC is the City That Never Works.

_________

1:45 pm, Thursday, Clone Coffeeshop.

Two twenty-somethings, not in any way hanging out with each other sit at prime spots within the store-- that is, they totally took over the comfy couches, the rat bastards.  I got the feeling that the dude was giving the chick some majorly covetous looks that she was deftly ignoring or soaking up with the magic rays of her SuperDuper Blunt-Cut Bangs.

He kept on typing something random into his computer and looking up  toward the street/SuperBangs's décolletage--real subtle, buddy.

SuperBangs --who was closer to me and therefore in my line of snoopage-- kept on consulting something that looked like Work, but then seemed to be SuperPoking all of her friends.  And might I add that she seemed to be mightily popular, because this went on for a long time.  She also made a high art out of ignoring our seemingly-feckless hero despite his best efforts. 

She also had to pee at some point.

__________

So to recap: two able-bodied and presumably healthy young people (one of them nubile, even!), hanging out seemingly doing nothing but pecking away at their nice laptop computers and drinking overpriced coffee, all this on a quiet Thursday afternoon, way past lunchtime --which neither of them were having, either.

Were they students?  If so, what were they doing in Capitol Hill?  I mean, if all you're going to do is sit on your ass, there are coffeeshops available closer to that side of town, right?

Were they Hill staffers?  If so, surely someone needs them?  I mean, after all it's the congressmen and senators who get to slack off-- not the staff, right?  Right???

But like them, I see many many others, day in and day out-- doing nothing but presumably existing and taking up oxygen, and looking busy catching up on Facebook but not really doing anything.

Why?  Why does this happen? 

And more importantly, where do I sign up?

Spearmint Would Totally Be Don Corleone

Another short entry tonight; this one is to wonder at how cool it is that lavender, rosemary, mint, thyme, lemon balm, catnip, catmint, bee balm, basil, marjoram, oregano, savory and sage are all in the same plant family, the Lamiaceae.

I mean, what a family, right?

Even if you've never gardened or you're like my good friend who proclaims herself a hospice for plants (where plants go to die with dignity), you have heard of all or most of these plants.  For sure you've heard of mint; and you've waxed foofy about lavender.  Possibly you've ever eaten something with basil; certainly you've eaten something flavored with oregano (oregano is like the Alfred Molina of the kitchen, seamlessly blending into any kind of dish you can think of-- thank you, Monsieur Meow for the help with that analogy!).  And if you have a cat, chances are you've tried to get it high with catnip or catmint --and 2/3 of the time, it probably worked.

So yes.  If suddenly the mint family were to disappear from the planet I would be intensely sad.  Also, cooking would not be nearly as much of a pleasure or an olfactory parade; also, the pleasure of a summer walk infused by the scent of rosemary and lavender in the air would be gone forever.

What would happen to mint juleps?  The gum industry would all but collapse if spearmint and peppermint disappeared from their flavor palette, I would reckon.  And Italy would probably implode on account of the lack of basil.  France, too-- what would we put in bouquets garnis?  What would grow, fragrant and lovely in southern fields?

The native American rituals would be deprived of their smudge sticks and chicken would be a bland, greasy victual, overdependent on lemon and pepper to help it out.  And turkey would refuse to come to our tables at Thanksgiving, as a sign of protest.

And then, there are all the honey bees.

__________

Honey bees, both in kept colonies and wild,  love all these members of the Lamiaceae, quite a lot. 

And it seems that honey bees are disappearing, succumbing to something called Colony Collapse Disorder.  And that is not good for crops and it's not good for farmers who've come to depend on these bees to do the pollinating for them. 

If scientists can't figure out what is wrong with honey bees, you can imagine that I'm at a loss for words.  All I can say is that this sounds like a very dire and pressing issue that urges us as citizens of the world to appreciate creatures big and small, motile and sessile.

I encourage you to at least click through this stream of Flickr pictures of honey bees.  Look at the wonder and beauty that may be gone for good.

And consider adopting a member of the Lamiaceae, perhaps? 

Click here and here for more ways to help.

Wherein the Past is Relied Heavily Upon

  70% Open 
  Originally uploaded by Madame Meow

You may be wondering why I'm using this picture today.

I'll tell you:  because it's pretty.  And because that day was cold.  And today it is almost as cold as that day.

The basil that is outside must be cursing me.  The tomatoes are mad at me, too.  I want spring.  We all want spring.

And when we get it and it's warm and sweaty and then it's summer and the mosquitoes are in full swing and everything is moist and uncomfortable, this picture will remind me of what was.  What might be. What is to come in a few more months, if we're all patient.

Bundle up tonight; live it up tomorrow.

To The One Who's Read Even the Boring, Crappy, Self-Indulgent Entries.

Thank you, Mom!  And here's a little something for my mom and all the mothers out there (courtesy of someecards.com):

Happy, happy one!

Randomata: That Baby/Duggared!

Hey again, everyone!  Please pay a visit to Zen Sarcasm Reviews to find out more about a CD and DVD called That Baby, and a special 20% off offer!  I am pretty sure you'll be pleased with it. 

___________

So have you gotten over your Duggar-induced shock from the last post?

Holy  crap, huh?  I don't even know what to think.  Someone who found my last post involving the Duggars from August of 2007 --when #17 was born-- took the time to leave a very detailed and hurt-filled comment regarding growing up in a large family and how she felt it shortchanged the children.  Being an only child --albeit one with a weird extended-family thing-- I can't say I have much of an experience with having to compete for attention, but I sincerely do wonder just how the real Duggars interact and cope with their sheer familial size. 

By far, though, the blogosphere seems most abuzz with Michelle Duggar's possibly cavernous vagina-- which, well... that's the blogosphere for you, right?  But still... ow.

I honestly don't think that I can seriously sit down and write about this more.  I've been busy informing the world of this development and gauging reactions.  Most people don't have a bell ringing when I mention the name Duggar, but when I relate the number of kids everyone seems to have an opinion.

And ironically, the more I think about it, the less clear my opinion becomes-- despite having written this entry on the Quiverfull movement not too long ago.

(Yes that's right MSNBC-- it's (unfortunately) Quiverfull with two Ls.  Get it right)

____________

What is so wrong?  What is so right?

And, if the Duggars choose to make America a part of it all by sharing their (happy?) news on national television, does that give us all the collective right to judge and maybe to condemn them?

There are no answers, really.  But maybe the questions being asked aren't the right ones, either.

Just When We Thought it Couldn't Get Better...

... Michelle Duggar goes and gives us the BEST MOTHER'S DAY SURPRISE, LIKE, EVAR!!1111!11!1

Yes.

She's pregnant with her 18th.  I'll be back later today (with a plug for a new, awesome video for kids), but it was too good to keep to myself.

Click here to read the good news and rejoice!

_________

And yes: for those of you who aren't up on How To Detect Written Sarcasm, if I had my tongue farther up my cheek, I'd be choking.

Live From the Third (or Fourth?) Circle of Hell

The house?  Quiet.

The baby?  Asleep, quietly snoring with a little wheezy feedback (he's been a little sick).

The mixer?  Here!  In gleaming red, ready to quite literally whisk me and my choice of ingredients away in a lovely adventure wherein I pack on more pounds and enjoy it until I weigh myself.

(I must add that I didn't pay the price on the site, but a far more delightful one-- who knew Amazon had kickass deals?!)

The recipe to officially break in this appliance?  Aye.  There's the rub.

_________

Ever since my cells' genetic information decided to start screaming at me about wanting to be a domestic deity and creating perfect cakes and cookies and possibly brioche --or at least simperingly AND whimperingly aspiring to do so-- I have wanted to have a KitchenAid mixer.

A KitchenAid mixer, I would tell myself, would solve all the problems of mankind.  Or at least would solve the problem of my developing tennis elbow whenever I decide to make something that requires stiff peaks.

For some reason, things acquire larger-than-life attributes in our minds; and ever since seeing my step-sister
obtaining her own gleaming, look-at-me-I'm-so-grown-up KitchenAid, I figured that the day I secured mine would be the day my kitchen would transform itself into a palace of culinary competence and cornucopian abundance.

That day came yesterday, as my Mother's Day present from Monsieur and Herr Meow arrived early. 

My kitchen has not gone Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo.

It hasn't even moved.

________

But my mind has been racing.  Was it just frivolity, then, that led me to ask for a KitchenAid for Mother's Day?

Am I just one more dastardly consumerist searching to fill a void that deepens with every wretched interaction in this growing, festering sore we call life?  A chasm so large that the leaden weight of the KitchenAid stand (I'm guessing about 8 lbs) only pushes it farther in, threatening to create a black hole where my soul used to be? 

Okay, maybe a little.

And since it is a little unsettling to realize that one's new mixer is creating a level of hell in one's soul solely by weight (not volume), I decided to run to someone whose soul had already explored the vast depths of consumerist hell: one of my most beloved gurus, Craig Claiborne. (he deserves a post of his own sometime soon)

To The New York Times Cookbook!

_________

One word:  poundcake. 

Technically that's two words.  But oh.... POUNDCAKE!

In my opinion, there is no better, richer, or fluffier cake when done right.  And to do it right, you have to whip the crap out of it to allow more air.

Never in my life have I felt so fulfilled with so little... relatively speaking.

But so yes.  Welcome back, me, and all that good stuff.  And I'll let you know how it turns out, okay?

_________

Oh hey, you guys?  Faithful readers?  I have a question for you guys.  Would you buy things from me?  Would you visit my Etsy shop, were I to start one?  Thoughts?  Comments?  Shall I start up a poll?

Oks-- happy HumpDay!

All Things Seem Possible in May (Even a Little Rest)

Now that there is no NaBloPoMo for me, I am feeling a little naked and more than a bit aimless.  It's nice to have one's work cut out for one: much like wearing an uniform, somehow the identity takes a backseat and the mentality shifts into other pursuits.

I do realize that NaBloPoMo continues in May-- the theme this month is Voices, if any of you fellow bloggers are so inclined (and I also realize some of you brave and prolific souls do Blog365, which sounds like a great project as well).  But thirty days in a row is a fine endeavor as far as I'm concerned.  I feel accomplished and I need a little rest-- a longish weekend.

Also, I imagine some of you also need a break of my daily blogging, right?  You've stuck it out for thirty days-- I think you need to chill out, put up your feet, and use the time you've dedicated to reading my humble little musings to drink up whatever you want.  In honor of Cinco de Mayo I'd highly recommend a Margarita, but you can pick whatever you want whether alcoholic or not.

Cheers to you all and I'll see you back here on May 5th or 6th!

"Ñ" is for Lagniappe

Day thirty.  Honestly, the systematic, ordinal nature of this exercise has made it really easy and fun.  I've actually looked forward to writing most if not all of these entries.  I've enjoyed dreaming up sideways references and roundabout ways of getting to the heart of the matter.

I honestly didn't think it would be such a pleasure and a joy to do NaBloPoMo this month, but I guess that's just a little extra something I didn't expect.  A lagniappe, if you will.

________

For those of you rightfully irritated that lagniappe does not appear to start with today's letter-- the one true different Spanish letter introduced here, and our curclicued little "enyay"-- allow me to explain:

A lagniappe is a Cajun derivation of the word ñapa-- a Spanish word derived in turn from the Quechua yapa and meaning an extra helping or aid.

In other words, it's a word by which you call a gift; something wonderful and unexpected that comes extra.  After all, you were already in the store and buying something, but then comes la ñapa.

La ñapa makes things even better.  It's the banana and the apple that justify the $8 bag of freshly-shelled peas at Eastern Market-- still going strong, a year after burning down.  It's the extra samples of chips and delicious sauces and jellies that you get at Uncle Brutha's, along with a friendly smile.  It's the free ice cream and conversation that you get at Ben & Jerry's. 

And it's like the wonderful, buoyant feeling the Meow family got today at The Argonaut, eating one of the best meals we've had in a very long time (seriously!!! THAT GOOD!!!!) with a really great cider AND getting reeeeally good service AND (AND!!) getting Herr Meow's food for free because Wednesday kids eat free!!!  THAT'S LIKE ÑAPA PLUS!  (And DC people?  Go to The Argonaut and help revitalize the H Street corridor!  DO IT!)

_________

And it's the happy feeling that you get, because somehow someone's seen fit to help you and boost you up and make you feel even better than you were already feeling.  It's like awesome PLUS.  PLUS PLUS!

_______

And it's the feeling of concluding thirty days of posts and not wanting it to end.  Thank you, lovely April.  Thank you, NaBloPoMo.

See you in May?