A day for the chefs

How did we celebrate Culinarians Day? By eating lunch at Del Taco.

Just kidding. We did eat lunch there, but the true celebration was in diner. I busted out my creative culinary side and cooked up some cheesy stuffed burgers.

You can read about it (and get my recipe HERE).

All you can eat

Ah… Junk Food Day. It’s the gluttonous celebrate all that is salty and/or sweet in glorious excess. It is a day to indulge in whatever horrific and unhealthy pile of crap your creative hunger can imagine.

I indulged.

The ever-resent and hideously disgusting McDonald’s for lunch.
And delicious dissolve in your mouth chocolate chip pancakes for dinner.

To my credit, I had a weight loss shake for breakfast.

But isn’t observing a day of junk food counterintuitive for someone trying to lose weight? Probably, but it’s like my mom always said* “go big or go home.” I can slaughter myself at the gym tomorrow.


* Actually, I’m fairly certain my mom has never uttered that phrase.

Fresh Starts

Can I just say that the month of June sucks? Or do I have to admit that I sucked at the month of June?

First, the natural calendar is devoid of holidays (with the brave exception of Father's Day) or any rational cause for scheduled celebration. There is Red Rose Day on the 12th, and since then I've been idle.

June was a rough month. I've had a difficult time being (or even getting) excited about anything. My home life has been stressful with my son's transition out of school, my professional life has been as hectic as a mosh pit at a country music concert, and I've been suffering from a serious motivational drought.

But enough with the excuses.

It's July first. And while I'm at it, happy Canada Day to all my Canadian friends. It's a good day for a fresh start. Time to get back in the saddle. Time to think like Billy Corgan and say that today is the greatest day I've ever known. I can not testify to the veracity of that last statement, but if I say it enough, I might actually believe it.

This is going to be a good month, I can feel it. July's calendar is packed with celebratory goodness. In a few days, we get to celebrate America's independence from those crazy Brits. As the month progresses we'll enjoy days like National Fried Chicken Day, Vanilla Ice Cream Day, and my personal favorite - Embrace Your Geekness Day.

July is also National Hot Dog Month and National Blueberry Month (both are occasions I can wholeheartedly support). However the second week of the month is Nude Recreation Week; don't expect any naked recreating from this blogger.

I'll leave you with one final thought: today is also Creative Ice Cream Flavors Day. Before you crash for the night, indulge yourself in a nice scoop of fried eggplant ice cream. Or Dracula cool garlic mint ice cream. Or perhaps bay leaf ice cream (tastes like eucalyptus).

Happy Repeat Day

Yes, I said Repeat Day. Repeat Day.

When the budget allows

When Bekah and I were still newlyweds, the number of kids we wanted was an occasional topic of conversation. She wanted six. I wanted two. I think we compromised on four. Part of those negotiation processes included what we want out of life. Since she was a little girl, all she wanted was to be a mom. I wanted to be surrounded by music. So we brokered a deal, every time she got a kid, I would get a musical instrument.

Shortly after Christian was born, I bought a keyboard. I started shopping for a bass guitar before Zu was adopted, and there is one that I've had my eye on for quite a while. Now with one more adoption approaching, I'm looking for a good portable recording equipment.

Why do I bring this up tonight? Today was Buy a Musical Instrument Day. Now that is the kind of holiday I could celebrate with gusto.

Unfortunately, my musical purchases will have to wait. As shiny and awesome as new instrument could be, there are more important things. Like my kids. So, between the Bekah and I, if only one of us can get what we want... I'd rather it be Bekah.

However, as soon as it's in the budget, I'm heading to an authorized Traben dealer.

With apologies to my brother

My hometown was in strawberry country. Picking those berries was a first job for many of my peers. In fact, the City of Marysville throws an annual festival about this time of year - The Strawberry Festival. (I know - creative, right?)

This festival was (and likely still is) the most exciting thing to roll through town. A car show, beauty pageant, vendors market, parade, trike races, carnival... For some reason that still eludes any explanation, my favorite part was the giant strawberries that the city painted in the major intersections along State Ave. Nothing bolsters civic pride more than government endorsed graffiti.

As for the food options, those red berries received the center stage in every dish served around town. Strawberry milkshakes, strawberry shortcake, strawberry ice cream. It was the toppings for pancakes, elephant ears. Served in scones, on skewers. Dipped in chocolate, in whip cream, in yogurt.

My family was involved with the festival for a few years. My dad, brother, and I all worked the vendors market and volunteered as parade security. It came with perks. The guy who brought the go carts gave us unlimited or extended racing time, often after hours. We were given free carnival passes and an insane amount of free food.

Oh the free food. The food vendors understood that we were in control of their power supply and their access to ice. So they repaid us with goodies. This was greatly appreciated, but as it was a benefit it was also a curse. Remember how strawberries played a central theme in the festive foods?

After eating nothing but a variation of strawberries for five consecutive days, at the end of May, every year, you suffer something akin to strawberry burnout. At least that's what happened to my brother and me. For years, neither of us could stand to eat that infernal fruit. I'm not sure if Aaron has yet recovered from his strawberry aversion, but I have. Almost.



I have regained my taste for strawberries, but only in small doses - like a man building up an immunity to a lethal poison. It is a good thing, because today was Pick a Strawberry Day.

Zu, Christian, and I took a trip after dinner to pick strawberries. And there is no better place in Coeur d'Alene to pick strawberries than the grocery store.

Christian was seriously serious about his strawberries, but Zu was so excited I feared she might bounce out of her seat.

And of course, I savored my own bowl.

Stuff, lots of it

Happy Pack Rat Day. I am probably the first and only person to bestow that wish upon you today. I realize this. But if you're like me, you don't like wasting stuff. And it doesn't matter if it's food stuff or clutter stuff. Or time stuff. But you get that there are mathematical formulas to calculate stuff and scientific laws that govern the properties of stuff. (my father in-law posted a great list on this idea, READ IT.)

However, I know the life of a pack rat is one of stress, insecurity, worry, and overwhelming discontent. And yet there's irony in sharing my birthday with Pack Rat Day. (as most pack rats endeavor to throw nothing away, I forgot to take the trash out this morning)

How does one stop being a pack rat? Is it possible to be a rat that travels light? I'm sure it entails throwing and giving stuff away, but there is one thing I refuse to throw away - my friends. Thank you to all who wished me a happy birthday.

I may never wear purple again

This might quickly become my mom's favorite holiday: Wear Purple For Peace Day. Yes, it's a real day. Don't believe me? Google it.

So, purple it is.

Here's a short list of what i did today while wearing purple:

Watched the most recent episode of Fringe. (hooray for DVRs)

Made the kids' lunch.

Mowed the lawn.

Hauled firewood. (we don't have a fireplace, but our neighbor's supply spilled over into our yard and needed moved in order to mow)

Picked up pine cones. (the pine trees in our front yard shed like a cat it's horrible)

Did the dishes

Sweat. A lot. (it was muggy today, humidity plus heat is a bad combination for me)

I would have lit the barbecue while wearing purple, but by that time exchanged my sweat soaked purple shirt for a comfortable black one.

But I'm sure if it was up to my mother, every day would be Wear Purple For Peace Day

What happened to Friday?

If you were paying close attention, you may have noticed that I didn't post anything yesterday. Why? Because I'm ashamed.

Yesterday was Dance Like a Chicken Day. I was planning on teaching the Chicken dance to my two older kids. Then I had a revelation: it is a horrible fact that I know how to do the Chicken Dance. The fact that the Chicken Dance exists is a travesty. Yet it is standard fare at wedding receptions across America.

And as a former wedding DJ, I feel compelled to apologize all whom I subjected to this embarrassing monstrosity of a dance.

Eat it

My sister-in-law spent Mother's Day with us. While getting dinner ready she brought up this blog and some of the upcoming events. She told me she was going to boycott Clean Your Room Day. I don't fault her. Clean Your Room Day is not the type of holiday that could excite the typical resident of earth. How do you decorate for such a day?

Clean Your Room Day was yesterday, and if you read yesterday's post you would have noticed I did not celebrate that strange day. I joined my sister-in-law in her noble boycott. Today was another event I intended on abstaining from any participation.

Today was Eat What You Want Day. Glutteny in festive disguise. But if I want to achieve my other goal for the year (to lose some weight) eating whatever I want is antithetical to what I want to accomplish.

My will was strong when I started the day. Rather than eating what I wanted, I ate what I needed. A banana and a granola bar for breakfast instead of breaded bacon. Protien shake for lunch instead of something from the vending machine. Left to my own devices, my weight problem would be described in monolithic terms.

Dinner was a greater challenge. Bekah and I had a meeting at the DSHS office in downtown Spokane. A building that is two blocks from Sonic. We (heart) Sonic. By the time our meeting had concluded, it was dinner time and we had a short time frame to pick up the kids and get home before I had to run off to Bible study.

So much for the boycott.

In honor of the juicy, delectible, and artery clogging cheese smothered, BBQ sauce drenche slab of meat fastened between two slices of Texas toast that filled my belly... I wish you the merriest Eat What You Want Day.

Walking barefoot

Maybe I'm the only one that does this, but when I read the Bible, I want to add words or phrases that aren't there. For example, when the book of Isaiah says "How Beautiful are the Feet of those who bring good news," I want to make it read "How Beautiful are the Feet of those who bring good news... as long as they are wearing shoes."

I hate feet. I think they're ugly. Yes, they do serve a purpose. Feet hold us up, propels us to jump or dance, and provide the most ancient form of transportation. I'm good with their reason for existence as long as I don't have to see them. Flip-flops annoy me. Toe socks disgust me. Good news, bad news, I don't care what kind of news you have. Just please, for the love of all that is good and holy, wear shoes.

Or at least socks.*

But today was no-socks day. A day to forget the fabric that covers our soles. A day to defy all that separates our feet from the insides of our shoes. I've managed to survive the past 24 hours without socks. Including a trip to the gas station, Christians swimming lessons at the Krock, and a voyage to Zips to fetch Bekah's dinner. And I've done my best to keep my kids' feet collectively sock free.

Did my wife participate? No... I didn't even offer her a chance. If I had, Bekah would have given me a funny look that says 'You're the strangest individual to ever grace this planet, but I love you anyways.'


* Although, I still find the trend to wear socks with Birkenstocks to be completely daft.

May the Fourth Be With You

I got my inner geek on today. Well, my inner half-geek at least. See, I appreciate and enjoy the Star Wars movies, but I'm not an obsessed fan. I'm not brave enough to walk around public dressed like Obi Wan Kenobi, but I might toss a few movie quotes into conversation.

And today happens to be International Star Wars Day. While I'm not down with public humiliation, I can't resist a few shameless pop-culture references. So, if you've been following my facebook updates today, you probably notices a theme. It started early this morning. And by "early" I mean before I went to bed. The updates are as follows.

* It's after midnight, do you know what your ewok is doing? I hope it's sleeping; unrested ewoks are cranky in the morning.
* I think Yoda knew something we all didn't. When he said, “Soon will I rest, yes, forever sleep... Twilight is upon me, soon night must fall,” I think he was warning us about about Stephanie Meyer's writing; it would be so atrocious that a mere reading of Twilight could be fatal. If only we had listened.
* Ugh, I hurt from last night's workout. The downside, I'm walking around with C-3PO's awkward gait. The plus side, I don't have his shiny golden complexion.
* There's a girl at my office (and I'm not making this up) who looks like a jawa but talks like Jar Jar Binks.
* I'm pretty sure that when Luke found out Vader was his dad, his first thought was "him chopping my hand off makes so much more sense."
* I think I need a haircut. I'm starting to look like a scruffy looking nerf herder.

I've discovered something today. It is impossible to be grouchy when pondering how storm troopers spend their free time. But do you want to know what I enjoy more than talking about Star Wars? Watching other people talk about Star Wars.



And I'm not kidding about walking around like C-3PO. I think I strained something while working out last night.

So I'll let you depart with the shortest synopsis you'll ever see of the original trilogy. Hopefully this will bring a smile to your face.



And if you're a fan of Star Wars, and you like hip-hop, check THIS out.

Freedom!

This is going to be awkward. How do I explain it? Um...

First, I need you to listen to a few songs to get in the mood. Go look up these songs, youtube them, dig them out of your iTunes library. There are four of them: Freedom 90 by George Michael, We're All Dudes by Less Than Jake, Earthquake by Family Force 5, and Free Falling by Tom Petty.

Done?

Good.

Moving on. Facebook is a funny thing. Remember when women everywhere started posting colors as their status update - men completely oblivious to the purpose that the color posted was the color of the woman's bra? It's like a cyber flash mob.

Then a couple weeks ago, an Iranian cleric (who's name is only slightly easier to pronounce than the Icelandic volcano) stated that scantily dressed women lead young men astray, spreads adultery, and is the reason for earthquakes. Now the first two claims are debatable but they have merit. But that last claim is a whopper. Attractive women in skimpy clothes might case a few car accidents, but earthquakes? Really? Even people who believe that Obama was born in Kenya would call cleric Hockaloogie Shazam a kook. Last I checked (and a fact that even the most uneducated human would admit) cleavage and plate tectonics are two very different sciences.

In protest, a snarky feminist college student started a viral event that spread through facebook and other social media sites. Viola... we have boobquake. The hypothesized formula proven: women - modesty + less clothes than normal does not = earthquake.

Unless you live in a one room cabin miles away from civilization without internet and TV access while growing a unibomber beard, you've probably heard this story. If you are that bearded shack dweller willfully cut off from society, you couldn't possibly be reading this as you do not have access to the web.

I feel I've elaborated on recent history enough. Besides, boobquake was a week ago, so what does this anatomy/geology/theocracy lesson have to do with today?

So far, it's the women who have been able to properly exploit the infectious powers of facebook. When is it the dudes' turn? If there is a boobquake, shouldn't there be a male equivalent? OK, maybe not... but just for the sake of argument, there is such a day. You can read about it HERE.

If you're horrified by what you just read, stop now. Go scrub your brain by watching videos of puppies. Come back tomorrow.

If you're morbidly curious, the answer to your question is 'yes.' Yes, I did. And it was surprisingly comfortable.


p.s., I stopped celebrating and changed before going to the gym. There's no way I'm working out unsupported. There are lines I refuse to cross.

p.p.s. Jennifer McCreight (organizer of boobquake) would probably disagree with me, but modesty isn't a bad thing. While hooker-chic won't cause any earthquakes, it's not appropriate. There is a big difference between being dressed to kill and being dressed to be undressed. Big difference. A tad more modesty could make this a healthier, happier world. Even with non-cleavage induced earthquakes.