Mock Turtle Soup

They say one should not get their identity from their significant other, but thanks to Daniel's tireless efforts I finally I have a working OpenID. Expect to see me not lurking soon in a journal near you.

The waitress at dinner tonight bore a striking resemblance to Scarlett Johansson, though it was a bit difficult for me to pin down just how — something about the eyes and lips, I suppose. It was a tapas restaurant and one of the courses I ordered was a "Grilled Romaine Salad". What appeared was a head of romaine lettuce with grill marks on it. Its appearance was somewhat surprising, though the thought crossed my mind, "Well, I don't know what I was expecting."

Later we went to a scotch tasting in the city which was being hosted by Macallan. It was like an infomercial with hors d'oeuvres and booze which was about what I was expecting, though I rather wish it had been more informative. Still they won major bonus points for including one of the glasses I had been admiring during the event in the gift bag. I now have a pair of Glencairn glasses; and I can now explain the difference between scotch and whiskey (scotch is whiskey made in Scotland and, as such, is not called "scotch" in Scotland). Also I have an idea of the difference between "single malt", "blended" and "vatted".

The host for the evening was an amiable gentleman from Scotland whose official title was something like "whiskey ambassador". Most of his jokes revolved around the fact his job entails being paid to drink, I did note that when he was walking around before his introduction he had a glass in his hand and that he took a glass each "round", but I got the feeling this really was work for him. Earlier in the night I noticed a man in attendance wearing a kilt, complete with kneesocks and sporran. I smiled and he answered a question I hadn't asked by saying, "Someone had to," which amused me. While each scotch was served (there were five in total) a video montage of pop culture and news events from the year in which the scotch was created was played. The scotches were increasingly old as the night progressed (and getting older by the minute), culminating in one from 1990, though I preferred the one from 1991.

There wasn't a huge amount of alcohol to be consumed, but I did find myself feeling noticeably warmer on the walk back to the parking area than I had been on the way in.

I now have my very own Tippi Hendren qua Melanie Daniels Barbie!

To refresh your memory this is Tippi Hendren in Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds":

And this is my Tippi Hendren Barbie:

The doll is very detailed, right down to her accessories and hairstyle, but it's the plastic birds attacking her that really does it for me. This is probably the coolest Barbie ever.

Tonight at a Border's Bookstore the girl on the cover of Lula enticed me to start flipping through the magazine. Inside I found an article, I didn't even get to the text right away, because I was so dumbfounded to find myself face to face with four of my favorite characters not just name-checked, but with accompanying full page illustrations: Wednesday Adams, Enid Coleslaw, Margot Tennenbaum and Violet Baudelaire. Violet Parr and Lydia Deetz were in there too, just for good measure. The accompanying text was about outsider girls in film and literature.

It seems obvious now that all these girls fit a certain archetype. Still I never thought of them in those terms. They were just the ones I happened to relate to, and seeing them together like that was surprising and strange — though perhaps it shouldn't have been.

A few months back at the height of the hurricane season, I was invited to a backyard barbecue and I was told to bring cupcakes and booze. For the latter, I did a little web research and concocted my own recipe to make a pitcher of hurricanes. I also brought garnishes in individual containers along with stirrers and toothpicks. They were such a hit, I was sent to the grocery store to buy more supplies and all that I bought was consumed as well. While I was mixing up a new batch, a woman asked if she could write down what I was doing and then she got stuck handwriting copies for several attendees, even though I offered to e-mail the recipe to any who were interested. I was conscripted to be the bartender next year at another get together.

This same acquaintance has invited me now for Thanksgiving dinner. When I asked what I should bring, she suggested I bring another pitcher of hurricanes. That doesn't seem very appropriate though. So I am even now mulling over some ideas for a cocktail which I will dub, "Cranberry, Sauced".

Cranberry juice is a lovely cocktail ingredient that often gets overlooked because in most places the stuff they use in its place is little more than sugar water and food coloring. I'm thinking I will go for pure unsweetened cranberry juice for tartness and for sweetness maybe butterscotch schnapps, maybe dark rum, maybe both (I need to do some experimenting). For a garnish I have in mind apple slices and cinnamon sticks.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I have a philosophy when it comes to mixed drinks, but I do think it's cheating to use vodka just to up the impact. I think every ingredient should be included for flavor. The hurricanes, as it turned out packed quite a punch (pun not intended), but that was sort of beside the point. The flavor was good, both sweet and refreshing.

And, for the record, my preferred title is, "mixologist".

For the last month or so, it seemed everywhere I turned someone was saying how the election was finally drawing to an end after two years. Every time I heard this I'd set my jaw and remind myself that I only needed to grin and bear it for however many days were left. For months, none of the issues I really cared about were being discussed. None of the issues were being discussed period as near as I could tell.

If I heard one more "Wall Street versus Main Street" analogy, I thought I might scream. If I heard another reference to "Joe the Plumber", I thought I might slap someone. If the same people who claimed any criticism of Sen. Clinton was tantamount to misogyny continued to bash Gov. Palin, I thought I might have to kill someone. The absolute dearth of information was driving me mad, but I told myself that after the election we might just finally get some real solid answers from whichever party won. (Barring of course a 2000-esque nightmare that involved uncertainty until the Supreme Court told us who we had elected.)

And now three days after the election everywhere I look the media is still discussing the election and the only new information I have is that President-Elect Obama's daughters are going to get a puppy. Can we please get back to something real like just how much my taxes are going to have to increase to offset the cost of both the Iraq war and the 700 billion dollar bail-out? Will we take a more interventionist approach in Darfur under a new administration? Is the price of oil going to stay where it is or is it going to rise again? Why aren't the courts willing to recognize that laws preventing homosexuals from marrying are un-Constitutional?

But instead, today on Salon's website I came across this:

Like everyone else who spent the last two years obsessing about the upcoming election, only to wake up on Wednesday morning and go, "Now what?" I've been relying on Newsweek's "Secrets of the 2008 Campaign" series to ease the withdrawal symptoms.

The only people experiencing "withdrawal symptoms" are the journalists who may now be forced to cover actual issues again. They can not get back to doing real work fast enough for my taste.

Recently, there was a bit of a mystery at the Sea Star Aquarium in Coburg, Germany. For several days in a row, the staff found that the electricity had been short-circuited overnight. Some investigation revealed that Otto the Octopus was the culprit. He discovered he could extinguish the spotlight above his tank by shooting water at it.

You can hear the full story here.

Tonight I went to a performance of Sweeney Todd. I wasn't sure what to expect, the music in it can be difficult for professionals and this was a small theater company in New Jersey. I was completely blown away. The performances were really very good, the music was fantastic. They must have scoured far and wide to find such a competent cast. The kid playing Tobias should be on Broadway. I thought for a moment he was lip-syncing because there was this huge voice coming out of this tiny body. And even though the actor playing Anthony may have been the weakest singer, the song "Johanna" made me want to cry.

I walked away with only two complaints, and relatively minor ones at that. The first, and most annoying one, was that an actor wore a turquoise colored hairband which stood out like a neon sign in the midst of the grey and black wardrobe. He must have believed it would be covered by his bowler, but he was sadly mistaken. The second was an annoying shriek emitted from the sound system to punctuate the killings. In such a loud musical, I think silence would have been more effective, but even a cliché like the strings in Psycho would have been a vast improvement.

Still seeing performances like this done on a shoestring restores my faith in community theater.

These are photographs which I took on Tuesday morning, mostly while on Skyline Drive. The weather a few hours earlier had been clear, but then some storms came in. We avoided the rain for the most part though, and it made for some interesting looking clouds. My grandmother accused me of taking photos of the clouds instead of the landscape, and from reviewing these I see she is right.

I have returned from Virginia, more about my trip is likely to follow in the days to come.

I had a package waiting for me when I arrived. It contained four (4) bottles of Classic Prell shampoo. That's right, four glorious bottles of the bright green shampoo that has been around forever but has, within the last month or so, disappeared from store shelves in my area. I found I could order it through Walgreens; the shipping cost was up to 10 lbs. hence the multiple bottles.

The fact is I liked this shampoo enough to remember the brand and then it disappeared. I'm set for awhile now, but there's something a little weird about ordering shampoo through the mail. I can almost hear the voice-over, "Her neighbors described her as quiet and amiable, but they noted she received mysterious packages in the mail. The investigation later revealed that these shipments were from pharmacy warehouses and contained bottles of a discontinued brand of shampoo."