Random Roundup

Frankly my life since my camping trip has been however many weeks of working every single day. That isn't to say that I haven't had any fun, but when your weekends aren't really your weekends and you're working longer hours during the regular week, well it does funny things to your brain. In any case, the one positive of working crazily is that you get subsidized lunches. For instance, this Primo's ham and cheese mini-hoagie, which was a little soggy but still an all around tasty interruption of sustenance in the middle of a work day. The dragon was happy to get back to the action.

Then another day and time, I went over to C. and R.'s for a pizza/puppy/laundry evening. The pizza was clearly half cheese and half pepperoni/olive, and just what the doctor - and by doctor, I mean "I" - ordered.

And then there was the evening that LW and I went to McCrossen's knowing it was T.'s last official night with the place. I ordered the boquerones and then we had some beers with a few other folks, including T. It was a good evening and an end to an era. LW and I went to McCrossen's a lot more a few years ago than we have been as of late, and it was my first-ever darts home bar. While our barfly ways petered out once darts became less of a thing there, it's still a good spot and I've always enjoyed talking and shooting the shit with T. and will be sad that he won't be in the neighborhood anymore. An end to an era I say!

In this photo T. and G. were speaking to each other and LW requested a photograph in which neither of them were paying any attention to us or my camera. It kind of worked.

They had some sort of magical raspberry beer that I liked very much.

Then another work meal. This time a take on a BLT from Rybrew.

Oh how the time it does fly. I really can't recall if this was a series of two or three days, or more than that.

Sushi Feast Time c/o Dad and Morimoto

On Labor Day weekend my father drove up to the Maryland State Fair and met up with a few other folks to see a horse he likes run in its first ever race. I was not among them, but it sounds like they had a generally good time even though the horse did not do terribly well. I was unable to make it down because the beginning of September is the beginning of madness in my professional life and three hour drives to state fairs for horse races are just too hard to balance with hours editing in an office. So my father came to me for a dinner meet up. I asked him what he might prefer and he suggested sushi. I debated taking him to a new place, but in the end we returned to Morimoto. When we went in the summer of 2011 we tried the Omakase meal experience, but I wasn't really interested in that amount of food and really was more interested in sushi. I touched base on how my father felt on that score and he seemed on board for a sushi-laden meal. I started mine with a sake martini. Morimoto is a huge space and I remain unconvinced that its aesthetics still translate as 'hip' in this day and age. It's kind of like being in the restaurant area of a space ship envisioned in the early '80s. And the lighting is just so wacky. Slowly pulsing neon lights come at you from all angles. So, the photographs I ended up with were a little hard to color correct...you'll see basically I failed.

We decided to 'go hard' and ordered one of the more expensive options for the Chef's sushi combination. It included two rolls, six pieces of sushi, and I think another six to eight pieces of sashimi. We also ordered ikura on the side. Of course this was a month ago and I really can't tell you much about the actual fish or my favorites, though on a broad scale, the fish was quite good and I liked it very much. There were a few pieces of types of fish I'm pretty sure I never had before, which I liked very much. Maybe something like golden amberjack? Maybe not.

We also enjoyed sake with our meal. Dad was definitely opposed to any sake that was described as having a 'stone fruit' element to it. He was looking for simplicity and I think he found it.

I got to eat both of the shrimp, which I enjoyed. And the tamago was perfectly sweet. Ikura will never do me wrong. It was a bit of a whirlwind meet-up. During my busiest months I really just have a hard time being a regular human being, but it was good to see him and I was glad to hear about the race firsthand.

Thanks goes to Dad for another great meal!

Burger With Cousin c/o Morgan's Pier

A while back my rather distant cousin P. alerted me to the fact that he and his partner/boyfriendwere going to be in Philly for a big sobriety conference. He has been clean of all substances for 34 years. I forget how long his partner has been clean, but they are definitely working the steps I would imagine. In any case he suggested we meet up for a meal. I suggested Morgan's Pier. And that is just what happened. We met for the first time in 2007 at cousin H.'s pig roast and hadn't crossed paths since, though I have had a meal or two with his son E. when he's on the east coast doing organic inspection things. In any case, Morgan's Pier was pretty quiet on the Sunday before Labor Day, which isn't any large surprise given the other event that was taking place in my neighborhood that weekend. We had our choice of seats and not much trouble with getting service. I ordered the burger medium rare. The burger that first came out, pictured here, was more like a charred puck with no pink to it at all. I asked if it would be possible for a re-do, our server was happy to oblige and the replacement burger I received was far more to my liking. It was good to check in with such a far flung family member, and I enjoyed hearing about the couple's cross country trip to get to Philly, which included copious camping and biking. One of these days I really need to make it a priority to go to California. I just think I'm a little too tickled with the fact that I can't say I've ever been. That or I'm afraid if I go I'll never want to leave.

Oysters, Fish Tacos and Fire in Rehoboth and Cape Henlopen Delaware

Happy hour at Fin's is a bit of a competitive sport, or at least that has been the case in my own life. I learned that it's no joke. Folks stake out spots outside a good 15 minutes in advance of the doors opening in order to ensure a spot at the bar. If you're not prompt (or early) the likelihood of your being able to get a seat is low. So the Wednesday for which there is no proof, I made a concerted effort to get there early and still had to deal with a pack of territorial 50-somethings who did not want to be my friend, which was fine because I overheard their conversation and they were boring. In any case, what I didn't realize about Fin's Friday happy hour is that it starts at some other time than 4 PM. So when I rolled up at 3:30 thinking I was totally on target, I found myself to be gravely mistaken; the bar was totally packed and there was no chance I was going to get a prime spot. This meant I was relinquished to the rather awkward second tier, standing bar shelf. Daunted but not doomed, I ordered a beer and a dozen of the happy hour oysters. Happy making they were, though I have to say that none of the two dozen oysters I consumed on this trip left me feeling as satiated or pleased as oysters usually do. I don't think that's the fault of Fin's, just perhaps a reflection of some thing or another in my own universe.

I also decided to try the happy hour fish tacos, as I had noted a few 50-somethings ordering them the last time and they seemed to be very generous in their portions for what was quite a reasonable price. This was a smooth move on my part. The fried white fish (no idea what variety to be honest) was crispy on the outside but moist and flaky on the inside. And the drizzle of sauce and mango-ish (maybe pineapple?) salsa that came with the plate were both right up my alley as well. Good times. I probably would have stayed longer and tried some other dish if it hadn't been for the awkward seating. Next year.

Then I returned back to my campsite. I have a whole rant about a lady who was rude to me/extremely incorrect in her campsite neighborly conduct, but the truth is that if I recounted the story, you probably wouldn't really care and I'd probably somehow turn out to be the asshole. But honestly, I was not the asshole, she was and we should all be thankful I did not write a mean note and leave it on her car's windshield. Instead I enjoyed an evening reading and stoking an unnecessary fire. God I love fire. I bought two bundles and started it before it was even close to being dark, which necessitated a run to the campground firewood shed to buy another bundle. Because I am addicted to flame y'all. Addicted to flame.

I really do love this campground. It's not really remote and some sites are far less awesome than others. This year was not an awesome year. Pretty much any year when I don't get a site around the edges of the grounds ends with too much proximity and not any privacy. It's interesting to me how we all willfully ignore one another, though we can clearly hear most all conversations. For example, I was entirely fascinated by all the activity going on at a site across the way from me where there seemed to be at least three or four young Mennonite couples and a whole slew of kids. Listening to them speak in Low German and laugh and chat while wearing basketball shorts and knock off Raybans was confusing. I had all these questions. Do they use bug spray? Do they use band aids? Are they actually permitted to wear basketball shorts and knock off Raybans? Why do they try to run me off the sidewalk that leads to the beach when I am walking and they are riding bikes? And why don't they apologize when they do so? Are they having sex in those tents? Do they hate their hair cuts? What did they think of the Tom Petty songs I was playing from my car? You know, just questions. Questions to which I will never have the answers because after the bike/running off the road episode, I no longer thought they were friendly Godly types and began to think they were wrathful Godly types. I could, of course, be mistaken on that score. The point is that it's always such an interesting cross-section of folks. Big family groups all speaking a language other than English. Older couples in their souped up RVs. Younger couples and their intense border collies. Extremely weird solo men trying to blow up their air mattresses using said motorcycles way after 'quiet hours' who then turn down the offer of air mattress pumps from granola-esque fathers or wayward kids acting on behalf of their parents. You know, just a funny mix of folks. All enjoying the semi-real experience of outdoor living, only with nearby bathrooms and neighbors probably even closer to them than in their everyday life. It's a mini-city and I like it. I keep hoping I'll somehow stumble across a dude who digs it too and comes on his own or with friends...but usually it's just foreign families, old people and creeps trying to fill their air mattress using a motorcycle. But I love it. These days I go back and forth about whether having kids is as much of a priority for me as it was when I was younger. This may be due to any number of factors, but I do still sometimes envision a life where I do get the opportunity to teach a youngster of my own the glories of setting up and sleeping in a tent, of building a fire, of diving under waves to get to the calmer part of the ocean, of the sheer loveliness of a perfect oyster with just a spritz of lemon. Meh, if I don't have my own I'll just steal the children of my friends for a weekend. At least one of the legion of children that will burst forth from the loins of my collective network would be down. One would assume.

Delaware Beach and Camp Times

This summer flew by. Between my two biggest excursions to North Carolina and Lake Champlain, I certainly can't say that I didn't get my fair share of swimming done, but somehow I struggled to find a weekend to dedicate to my annual Delaware beach camping adventure. In previous years I've gone in the early summer and then again in the latter part of the season. This year I wasn't sure I was going to go at all. I've gained some new responsibilities at work and they were making me feel slightly less capable of taking vacation days...but I made it happen. I arrived on the Wednesday before Labor Day and quickly set up my tent. Rain was also in the forecast, so I set up a tarp so I could still enjoy at least a little time sitting outside. After setting the site up I did as I often do and went to Fin's for happy hour and oysters. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera so you'll just have to trust me when I say that I had a dozen oysters and steamed shrimp and enjoyed a Troeg's beer while making friends with an older woman who has a hair cutting license in three states.

The next day it was beach times. I brought a beer with me. I also brought Let's Pretend This Never Happened, which is a pretty good read if you're interested in a funny woman with a wacky childhood recounting her various anxieties and triumphs.

The water was really perfect that first day. The waves weren't crashing as much as lolling and I was able to comfortably float without fear of being smashed to the ocean's floor. So the campground is about a mile away from an access point for the beach. This access point is about 2 miles away from the primary beach area for the park, which features a giant parking lot,  large bath house, concession stand and life guards. Generally speaking the section of beach that you can walk to from the campground is far less crowded. The area by the beach house is always pretty chock full of bodies and umbrellas, while this more remote spot certainly isn't going to give you a sense of being totally alone but does give you a little more space between people. This was very much the case on that Wednesday, when it was pretty much me with my set up and then a young couple a couple hundred yards away from me on one side and a lady with her two sons on the other. It wasn't quite as solitary or remote as the beaches of Eleuthera, but it was still nice. Oh and there was an Amish couple playing baseball because of course. I have many thoughts about the Amish/Mennonite folks also camping but I'll perhaps share that in my next post.

After a day at the beach it was time to seek out a meal. I decided to return to the Surfing Crab and debated whether I was going to go the soft shell or hard shell crab route. In the end I decided that I was up to a solitary round of crab cracking and ordered half a dozen medium crabs. In the past I've been seated, or have seated myself, in the dining room to the left when you first walk into the space, which has long picnic tables that are perfect for large parties. This time, however, I went to the room that actually had seats with backs. I was, as is often the case, the only person by myself and the majority of the other tables were older couples on what seemed like double or triple dates. In one instance three couples came in together and quickly the men sat at one table while the women sat at another. I guess that makes sense? As a woman who sometimes finds the conversation of men more interesting than those of women (not always of course), I always hate that breakdown, but maybe after you're married for 30 years you just don't feel like hanging out in a coed group anymore?

I also ordered fries. This was a generous basket of very hot and crispy fries. I enjoyed them but didn't make that much of a dent, as my real focus was on the crabs.

This crab was a dictator in life, and a high five enthusiast in death. I made it through four crabs but couldn't quite bring myself to eat the last two. Service was good and fast. I could have perhaps done without my waiter touching my shoulder in a way that I felt was a little pitying or presumptuous. Or maybe I was just being overly sensitive. I didn't see him touching anyone else's shoulders. So it is a funny thing, my simultaneous desire to want to talk about how it actually is a little bit of a bummer to do things I like by myself and my annoyance if anyone other than me assumes that I am bummed. I had a fine time on this evening. The crabs were good. I had a book. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. Yes, I would have liked to have a little company, but not having a companion didn't immediately make the meal (or any other aspect of the trip) suddenly sad. And yet I felt like those shoulder touches were somehow supposed to buck me up. Or it was all in my head. Hard to tell really.

And then it was a new day. The water was a little rougher and I was reading a new book, also good: Beautiful Ruins. This day was definitely more packed as far as folks, which made sense given the fact it was now a Friday on Labor Day weekend.

I worried after hearing stories all summer about these massive dolphin deaths in the Atlantic that I wouldn't see any on this trip. Luckily that wasn't the case. One of the positive things of being on a beach with other people, some of whom are children, is that I could focus on reading my book with the knowledge that if there were dolphins to be sighted, the parents would call out to their kids loudly enough for me to to into zoom photo action. As always, it was neater really to actually just watch their fins skim the water's surface than to try and photograph it. Really neat. Though I still haven't seen another one jump out of the water like I did quite a few years back.

Looking toward the main beach/bath house area.

Pho and Darts

At some point in the last few months A. (my roommate) and I bandied about the idea of a field trip to Bullseye Darts so that A. could get his very own set of darts after a year of using mine or one of our other teammates'. I also was falling a little out of love with my darts and was thinking about getting a new set. Then LW and I also discussed such a trip with the added attraction of having a bit of pho, which would basically be a variation of our 2011 manapus adventure. Of course one often talks about doing something for an extended amount of time before actually doing it. And in this case I think it was at least a month between the idea being brought up and schedules aligning to make it so. I thought I remembered where the pho place we went to in 2011 was...but I was wrong and we ended up at Pho 75. This was a smaller shop than the place I actually meant to take us, and its menu slightly less expansive...no pork rolls to try. Though there were fewer bells and whistles, they still had the crazy coffee.

It turns out this was going to be a day of firsts for A. Not only was he about to get his own darts, he also had his first pho experience. I think it went generally well.

The broth was good, the whole thing was good. I still like our go-to South Philly spot a bit more, but I was glad to try a new place and to introduce the glory that is pho to yet another person. 

Once our meal wrapped up we were on our way east to Bulls Eye. I think the three of us probably tried out a minimum of six different sets of darts each. At one point I was convinced that I wanted one set but then saw a completely different set and all my certainty went out the window. LW was especially dervish-like in her pursuit of a new set of darts. In the end ALL three of us got slightly different weights of the exact same darts. I've been pretty pleased with the new darts they have a different kind of grip that seems to be a slightly better fit in regards to my small little fingers and weak arms. Our league starts up soon, so that will be the real test. It was still very entertaining when we all walked out of the store with the exact same cases. Funny stuff. 

Bob Evans Breakfast

The next morning was certainly not the easiest. Originally I had suggested going to a kind of fancy brunch spot but the collective decision was that some of our party were too hungover to appreciate fancy food. So instead we went to Bob Evans. I must admit that I was momentarily saddened by this change of plans before remembering a)it wasn't about me and b)damn Bob Evans makes some good gravy! We all got different things but I got the two egg breakfast that came with sausage, biscuits, gravy and potatoes. The eggs were ok, nothing too special and I actually felt similarly ambivalent about the sausage. But that gravy? I would not be surprised if they put MSG in it because I just kept coming back for more.

This Christmas I made K., A., W., and K. all shirts. Well, I didn't make them with my bare hands, but I did put a picture that I made, which Cuz K. has always enjoyed, through an internet magic thing and had shirts made for them. I had seen them before but not all of the recipients in the shirts at the same time so one of my last requests before departing Ohio was to get them all together. There were two small issues with this. The first was that W. didn't know where his shirt was (teenage boys, what are you going to do about it?!) and the other was that it was night time and I was not giving them any very good direction about how to stand or smile. So I took a bunch of not terribly awesome photos. But the proof, it remains. Except for W. I was going to cover W.'s head with Jay Z's head...but then I realized that I don't know how to do that and gave up.

Bachelorette Night in Columbus

As is often the case in my life, now is quite a busy work time. This results in a further slacking off in blogging, not to mention a very bad case of the 'I will not respond to your emails or phone calls in any semblance of a quick turnaround time.' So even though it's mid-September, I must still share with you some photos from K.'s late August bachelorette shin dig, which I organized (well partially organized) with a lot of help from Cuz K.'s friends A. and S. The night began in at Columbus's newest Hilton, which I must say was quite fancy. There was a little problem at check-in, which resulted in a different room that originally planned, but also resulted in the staff knowing that we were a bachelorette type deal, which resulted in a complimentary bottle of champagne being sent to K. So the evening began in part with some toasts.

I asked Cuz K.'s friend to do a fancy braid in my hair and she did a great job. You can't quite see it here...

But you can here. I wish I could do such things. It was so even and flat and perfect I refused to take it out for days afterward.

We started our evening at Camelot Cellars. I spent the morning before the event running around and picking up supplies, and this included a run to get a slew of fancy cheeses. A. also made a delightful veggie plate.

Veggies!

And then everyone arrived.

Gifts were given. Note the kid in the background of this photo. He later came inside with his friend because they recognized one of Cuz K.'s friends as their former middle school teachers. It was very awkward for the grown women, but I think the kids were high so they didn't really care.

I printed out a 'bachelorette scavenger hunt' list, which mainly asked for photographic evidence of a slew of silly things. One of which was, take photograph with other bachelorette. Done.

So basically K. got a whole heck of a lot of lingerie and a few other boudoir-oriented gifts.

And her photograph taken with a teenage nuisance.

The next stage of the evening took place at Mickey's. The remainder of the evening was predominantly focused on karaoke and crossing other things off the scavenger list.

This was the bride getting a dude to let her write her name on him in permanent marker.

This was J. hugging a tree. Check!

This was S. getting her photo taken with a guy with weird hair. I think it's up for debate whether this was really an instance of weird hair.

I believe L. had to ask this guy whether he was wearing boxers or briefs. I believe boxers.

Of course there was much singing.

And a little shimmying.

The end of the night found us going back to the hotel and falling into bed. The next day it was agreed that it had been a successful evening in which plenty of fun things happened and really no disasters. Best of the bachelorette experience:)