Three and onwards

Three years ago today Joel and I served ice cream and pie to all of our nearest and dearest, in nuptial celebration.

Two years ago today we were living in Dave and Sheri's basement in Abbotsford and being secret well-dressed ninjas.

One year ago today we were...here.  In Victoria.  Joel was pegging away at his first year of med school and I was both finishing and starting a semester, because I am never not in school.

And then it was summer and we went camping a zillion times and surfing once or twice and it was not sunny ever.  Not once.

But we made it on the cover of the Seaside Times anyways.

And then we thought we were going to Sooke for a weekend but the hotel ended up being in downtown Victoria.  Twenty minutes from our house.  So we got our revenge by making fun of all of the statues.

And then Robyn came and we fed the bunns...

And then boo and Darren came and we fed the bunns...

And then Leah and Mike and Tina and Damir came and we did not feed the bunns, but we played in the potholes.

And then school started and then I had cancer and then they cut me open at the neck (twice) and then I couldn't have salt and then I was radioactive and then I didn't have cancer anymore but now I have a second mouth.

And then our basement flooded and then we had a moat, and that was awesome for maybe twenty minutes but then the construction idiots broke our pipes and started a fire and tore down our steps and our deck and we stopped getting our mail and our doors led to bleak, soggy nowhere.

And then we got rid of the Little White Car That Would Never Break Down, and traded it in for the Purpley-Brown Car That Broke Down Immediately and Has Cost Us Serious Moneys and Grief.  You are missed, LWC.

And then I wore a pair of, like, $4000 boots.

And then we finally used our raclette set...

and then I cooked a turkey and no one died...

And we went to Galiano Island and there was a puppy.

And we went to Uclulet and there was a puppy.

And then we got a puppy (note: there is no picture of this happening because it took place IN MY DREAMS).

And THEN we went to the OLYMPICS and everyone who was bitching about it can shut up because it was AWESOME.

And now Joel is finishing up his second year of med school and I am done my penultimate year of school and trying to figure out what it is one does during the summer when one is not in school.  This year has been long and very spiky, but also very excellent.  Here's to longer, more excellent ones to come.

For boo and Gillian

Remember that time we were having a sister day and I bought that red dress for $10 even though I had nowhere to wear it to and I said I'd wear it within the year?

I threw a tea party so I could wear that dress.  I wish you both could have been there.

Raych roasts a turkey: an exercise in anxiety (in real time)

Several weeks prior:  Get free turkey for spending normal amount of money at Superstore.  Gloat to anyone who will listen.

Two days prior:  Realize that turkey is not, as I thought, ten-ish pounds, but closer to seventeen-ish pounds.  Enough pounds to break the scale, anyways, as it is clearly not 0.2 pounds.  Probably should have moved it to the fridge three days ago.

One day prior:  Defrost, damn you.

7:00 am:  Frantically water-bathe turkey in effort to defrost fully, despite internet's warning that this will spawn bacteria and kill all my nearest and dearest.

8:00 am:  Turkey still very frozen.

9:00 am:  Turkey less frozen in outer inch or so.  Probably bruised from all the froze-testing poking.

10:00 am:  Internet search for 'Can I just cook a partially-frozen turkey for, like, longer' returns unanimous internet-shrieks of 'No!  You have ruined Thanskgiving.'  Internet = Eyore.  Fortunately, this is not technically Thanksgiving and cannot therefore technically be ruined.

11:00 am:  Turkey still pretty frozenish; make pie to assuage anxiety re: frozenish turkey.  Also, for dessert.

12:00 pm:  Pie is, at least, successful.

12:15 pm:  Figure turkey as as thawed as is going to get.  Turkeys are way grosser than anticipated.  They are very...bird-like.  I am not used to meat that's still on its body.  Internet is contradictory re: turkey prep.  Butter the skin?  Butter under the skin?  Cover roasting pan?  Don't cover?  Baste?  Am going with simplest method: give butter massage, ram onion into surprisingly small cavity, feel bad about the ramming because the turkey is very bird-like, cover with tinfoil.  Cook at high heat to seal in juices (and kill off any bacteria resulting from water bath) and then slow roast for HOURS because the inside?  Still frozen.

1:00 pm:  Turn down heat, resist temptation to peek at turkey.

2:00 pm:  Feel bizarre just leaving this thing in the oven for so long and not having to, you know, do anything to it.  Peek.  Turkey appears to be sweating butter.

3:00 pm:  Can't stop peeking.

4:00 pm:  Really, guys.  My oven is on, but I'm ignoring it and feeling uncomfortable.

5:00 pm:  Uncover turkey just for something to do.  Also, to encrispen skin.  Ponder how people make turkey and other things in oven, as turkey IS oven.

6:00 pm:  Stab turkey with thermometer.  Survey says: none of my friends will die if they eat this meat.

6:15 pm:  Potatoes and veggies arrive, with guests.

6:20 pm:  Carve off turkey bits until you get to the bits where it starts to look underdone.  Leave those parts to be dealt with later.

6:25 pm:  Gravy and stuffing arrive, with guests.

6:30 pm:  Have Thanksgiving in Spring.  Hope that no one dies tomorrow.

The Day After: Unexpected Delights

Strip carcass of remaining meat.  With hands.  Feel savage.

Make stock in comically large stock pot, which doesn't seem so comically large any more.

Make many turkey pot pies, of varying sizes.  Put in freezer.

Make turkey noodle soup that is mostly turkey.  For eating and for freezer.

Throw remainder of turkey (!!!) in freezer for, I don't know, turkey chili or something.  Later.

Eat last piece of pie for lunch because all this Little House on the Prairie shit is hard work.

Be-decked

There are guys outside a-building me a deck and...I don't know how to say this.  They aren't sucking at their jobs.  No one has been hit with an errant saw blade, no accidental fires have been started.  They've been here for maybe two days but half the framework is already up.  I'm having me a picnic soon.

Pantaloons, 2.0

Last weekend I went a-spending with my mother and bought a romper (you may recall).  Whether or not the romper was a useful purchase will out later in the summer, when it's warm enough to feasibly wear said romper out of doors.  Am I going to wear it every day or never?  These are my options.

ANYhoodle, that trip wasn't all potentially ridiculous purchases, because I also got a new pair of gym shorts, and I got them for $12.  I've been putting off buying gym shorts for almost a year because I didn't want to spend more than $20 and I didn't want to spend any time looking for shorts that were less than $20, so you see my bind.  But also, see my old gym shorts.

Embarassment, yes?  My t-shirt is long enough to cover those peep holes when I'm jogging, but I JUST REALIZED that when I'm down on the mat stretching, or whatever, that everyone can see how derelict I am.  So, rest in peace, old gym shorts that I accidentally stole from Chelsea (sorry, Chels).

Also being retired this year but with way more sorrow are my Trees of Mystery sweatpants. 

A roommate in Austria gave them to me in 2001, and she'd already had them for five years or so AND she'd bought them second-hand, so clearly they were hella old.  They held up against all odds until late last year when the waistband finally gave out.

There was nothing I could do.  I tried sewing them and pinning them, but the elastic was so brittle that it tore every time.  It was, I imagine, like putting sutures in old people.  Fond farewell, pants.  You have been up to many shenanigans with me.

Spring has sprung

I have been doing a wee bit of gardening.

All both of my plants have gone up a size.

Speaking of gardening, since we don't have any grass anymore because of the moat fiasco, our troll has been grooming the dirt.

We have the loveliest dirt lawn.   Look how level it is.  I can't wait to have a picnic on it.

As per request...

Here is a photo of my sister's legs, looking like they belong to two different people.

You're welcome, boo.

Target and treats

So Friday morning we're leaving school to hit the ferry to come to the mainland to throw my sister a wedding shower to stock up her new kitchen (to catch the fly, etc.) and my mom texts me all, Do you want to drive down to the States to check out Target?  Ha ha, what?  Of course.  So we booked it down over the border in mom's hot car with the top down so that I had to tie my hair back like Audrey Hepburn-slash-a refugee.

Target has just put out the Liberty of London line, which is sort of a big deal in the world of Cheap Cute Clothes, but none of the dresses were kind to my body and I had not yet read Lauren's post about how the juniors stuff is also adorable.  Alas.  Fortunately, Target also had a reasonable supply of rompers.  I've been pretty fatalistic about the likelihood of me ending up in a romper (a whole outfit in one piece! pockets! romping!) so buying this comfy beast wasn't something over which I had a terrible amount of control.

Also featured in that picture is the leftovers from our stop at Paso Del Norte.  All you Murricans have no idea how good you have it.  Our best Mexican food is literally Taco Bell (our second-best is Taco Time, which is incidentally also our worst).  Mom refused to be in any pictures with me because she said her hair was dowdy, so I ate both our meals while she was taking the picture.  HAAAAA, no.  You know I kid.  I didn't even eat all of my own meal, because look at those portions!

H'ANYvays, after downing said leftovers the next day, me and boo baked up a storm for the shower, where 'baked' translates loosely to 'got into the chocolate cupboard' and 'took unflattering photos of ourselves.'

Baking is hard, y'all, because sometimes recipes have directions like 'blend for ten minutes' and 'chill for an hour up to a week' and we are not good at pre-reading, and then sometimes cookies are like, Guys?  I'm making a break for it, and that makes the house smell like burning.

We ended up with a giant mess and a slew of treats

and eventually what passed for a party feast.

And then we had a good lie-down to rest up for the ensuing hijinks.

All of the pictures from the party are grainy because my camera takes shoddy indoor nighttime photos and my sister is allergic to the flash, but I might throw them up on facebook for sharing purposes.  Pretend you can see it, though.  All the aunties and the flowers and the tea towels and my grandpa banished to the family room and forced to watch tv on headphones.