Another year, another Oscars

Make no mistake: I don't find the repetition of yearafteryear Academy Awards mundane, but reassuring and almost always surprisingly rewarding. It's like opening a Christmas stocking from my Mom & Dad - I know it's going to happen every year, and there will be patterns and there will be surprises, and I am going to love the process as much as anything contained.

As I sit here, the mountains of San Diego are being doused with snow - ten inches since this morning, and it's still falling - and the only thing on my mind is: What if we can't drive down the mountain for the Oscars? The roads are nowhere near plowed, and we live in a land of no cable, with only a Toyota Camry to our name. So, moreso than ever before, there's the chance that tomorrow Trevor and I will not be watching the Academy Awards. Gulp.

Of course the Oscars will still happen. Of course I could read about them online. of course I would know what everyone wore, and who won what, and who offended whom. And it won't change anything in the world at large. Right?

Well, let's not worry about that yet - let's focus on the Oscar predictions!

Oh, that's right, I write a blog!

Hello blogosphere, and sincere apologies for a lack of entries. As you likely know, my husband Trevor, and I have recently relocated to the West Coast and begun new jobs as resident staff at a year-round camp and outdoor education center. You can read more about that here. It's exciting, but the transition has been a bit crazy, and blogging has fallen by the wayside (Did I just use that term correctly?). Have no fear! I am re-committing myself to regular entries starting...NOW! First up, movie reviews! I've seen 4 films since 'Julie & Julia' and I know you're just dying to know what I thought about them. So, stay tuned for summaries, insight and maybe just a little bit of snark, about 'Paper Heart,' 'Funny People,' 'Inglourious Basterds' and the home-viewing of 'A History of Violence.'

Goodbye Boston!

It's been a long and wonderful 9 years in Boston, and in just a few short hours, Trevor and I depart for California. We'll be there for at least a year, and after that, who knows? I've been saying "We'll just have to see" a lot over the last few weeks. I've also been having a lot of Lasts over the last few weeks - last time at Fenway, last day of work, last volunteer shift at Rosie's Place, last ABC Club, last dinner out with friends.

Just as important as the Lasts, I've been doing a lot of Firsts. Nothing like a rapidly approaching departure date to put the fire under you to actually go all those places you always meant to. I am referring to The List, a note I've kept in my iPod since April, tracking restaurants, bars and attractions that I'd somehow just not done yet. Not everything is crossed off - if I lived here for another 9 years I probably still wouldn't make it to all the appealing bars and restaurants - but I am pretty pleased with my progress:

Complete:

• Cantab Lounge (Dive bar fantastic)
• Cuchi Cuchi (Freshly muddled blackberries and gin? Yes, please! Waitresses dressed as flappers? No, thank you!)
• 28 Degrees (Blue cheese stuffed olive martini? Done. This night also checked off the bonus accomplishments of Sibling Rivalry and Hammersley's Bistro - two South End hot spots I hadn't thought to include on The List)
  
  
  
• Sam Adams Brewery (Must do!)
  
  
  
• Dinner @ Centre Street Cafe* (This one comes with an asterisk because we actually had lunch here, a place we normally go to for brunch when my sister is in town.)
• Flour (It is a good thing I live far enough away from this South End bakery & its recently opened Waterfront counterpart, because this was amazing. The Sticky Sticky Bun, as we'd seen on Throwdown with Bobby Flay, was just as good as promised. Yum.)
  
  
  
• Twin Donuts (You just can't beat a good ol' rundown 50s style donut shoppe. Seriously.)
• Clink* (I actually still haven't been to Clink, but I did go to its sister bar in the Liberty Hotel, Alibi, so I am marking it off. It's my list - I make the rules!)
• Falafel Palace (I walked by this often during my last year of commuting, and apparently it's a bit of a Cambridge landmark. Tiny, cheap and delicious.)
• 1369 Coffeehouse* (Another asterisk! After hitting up the Mass. Ave. location for their famous cold-brewed iced coffee, I realized I had actually been to the Inman Square location before. Alas. Mark it off.)
  
  

Outstanding:

• Parish Cafe (Deluxe sandwiches and a beer mug club? Damn!)
• South Street Diner (When Sarah heard I'd never been to this 24-hour downtown diner, she said "You must never have been clubbing with me downtown." Yes, that would explain it.)
• Wally's (Famed jazz joint, this is the one I'm most disappointed to have not marked off yet.)
• Improv Asylum (But, hey, at least I've been to Blue Man Group)
• The Friendly Toast (This place just opened, so I don't feel too bad for missing out on it.)
• ICA (The recently moved Institute of Contemporary Art, it's now on the Waterfront with a Shepard Fairey exhibit.)
  
• Angela's (Would have loved to try the guacamole here, but East Boston is just so far away.)
• Santarpio (See above, just substitute "pizza" for "guacamole".)

Definitely gives me a few more reasons to come back and visit soon.

Time's a-flying

Life has really gotten in the way of blogging lately, and I apologize for that.

As you know, after many moons (9 years for me, and 8 for him), in Boston, Trevor & I are moving to California in August (August starts when?!?). Last week, I had my final day of work, and we went away last weekend for our 5th annual trip to Vermont. Over the last three days, I've been leaving the house at 6AM to go to Lowell, Massachusetts for a babysitting gig, and wrapping up my days with insane amounts of list-making and packing, while trying to squeeze in final nights out and dinners in with dear friends who I might not see for awhile.

I'm certainly not complaining - we had an amazing weekend in Vermont, I have a nice amount of (hard earned, if I do say so myself) babysitting money in my pocket, and I just spent a random hour with my best friends fo' life eating sandwiches in the South End - I AM making excuses. Don't worry, y'all out there in cyberspace, I'm alive and will return to my fairly regular blogging regimen soon.

So, while I fully intend to post a review of 'Up' (which we saw last week and which was just as wonderfully heartwarming as I expected), pictures from our trip to Vermont (maybe even someday I'll finish posting about our May trip to Seattle & Portland) and a blog devoted to my Boston List (things I want to do in Boston before leaving), right now, I really need to be packing up never-used steak knives, because we are loading our first moving truck (things that are going for storage at my lovely sister's house) in 3 days. In the meantime, please feel free to submit suggestions for August's Man of the Month, because I can't really believe it's time to choose one again!

Thanks for your patience - and stay tuned!

Farewell to Fenway

In 2005, I was bequeathed a seat in a 10-game Red Sox ticket package by my friend Steve who was moving to New York. Sitting in a group of 4 that included my college friend Heather and 2 of her old roommates, our section-mates eventually learned my name (I was called “New Steve” for the entire first season I was there) and thus inherited a truly wacky Fenway family that became one of my favorite groups of people in Boston. Wednesday marked my last day with this family. Watching David Ortiz hit career homer #299 and a pinch-hitting Nomar get a standing ovation from an appreciative crowd, I couldn’t help but get a little misty-eyed thinking about all the good times I’ve had in that park.

I saw Johnny Pesky’s number get retired, and watched David Ortiz break the Red Sox single season home run record. I watched the Sox dismantle my Angels in the ALDS (again and again), and wonder if I could ever cheer for them again, and then watched them do things like go back-to-back-to-back-to-back off the Yankees and realize that I could.

Johnny Pesky's number being retired

ALDS 2007

I've watched a lesbian couple and a North Shore tough guy who works at a video store become friends. We’ve judged professional baseball players by their at bat music and fellow fans by their signs. I’ve seen a drunk guy in a Cecil Fielder jersey get kicked out of the bleachers – twice in one game.

I’ve said no to the FanFoto guys about 25 million times. I've pilgrimaged to Pesky Pole and to the fried dough stand that’s literally the last place you can reach in the stadium. We’ve snuck in burritos and cookies and flasks and wondered why on earth they don’t sell cupcakes as a concession.

Pesky Pole, 2006

I missed Trot Nixon’s last game as a Red Sox, because it happened to be after a 6+ hour rain delay. We’ve waited out rain delays too, keeping ourselves warm with $7 beer.

Miscellaneous rain delay. 2008?

We’ve busted down the door at the Cask & Flagon on Drinking Sundays, turned down free Brahma beer (it’s just that bad) and shared packets of sunflower seeds. I’ve sung to Caroline Kennedy at the top of my lungs, and watched the crowds filter out until the end of 'Joy to the World.' It’s been a good run.

Drinking Sunday (Last Sunday game of the season), 2006

Drinking Sunday, 2007

Last game of the season, 2008

Though it feels like an end, this is certainly not na-na-na-na-hey-hey-hey-goodbye to Fenway Park. Just like Nomar, eventually I’ll be back.

Seeing Seattle

Like most urban dwelling liberal 20-somethings, at one point or another, Trevor and I have discussed packing it all up and transporting ourselves to Seattle or Portland or Austin or Denver or San Francisco... With a surprise party in the works for my California-based in-laws, we had a built-in reason to plan a West Coast visit and check out the vibe of Seattle & Portland, and so at the beginning of May, we found ourselves settled onto JetBlue and bound for the city of 'Grey's Anatomy.' What follows is a recount of the ensuing events.

We arrived close to midnight on a Saturday and took a cab into Seattle proper, bound for this adorably hip boutique-y hotel that wanted us to pay only $99 a night, in exchange for using very large and clean bathrooms that just happen to be shared. I'm in. By the time we settled in, it was 4am according to our bodies, so we called it a night.

First stop the next morning was our hotel's continental breakfast which included fruit and granola (this was Seattle after all) and Make-Your-Own waffles (What an unexpectedly welcome flashback to dorm life!). For the day we had two distinct goals: Trevor wanted to make it to the Sounders game (Do you know about the Sounders? In the 2009 season, the MLS introduced a new franchise. The city, recently abandoned by David Stern and the NBA, immediately latched onto the team, selling out of season tickets and every game so far.); I wanted to see the first ever Starbucks. Off we went to Pike Place Market , which, possibly because it was Mother's Day, or possibly because everything in Seattle is always covered in flowers and love and pink, was absolutely overwhelmed with bustling flower stands. We didn't see any fish being thrown, but we did recite the opening to The Real World 5-10 times and see a psychic cat.


Early on in the day, we achieved my goal – here I am in front of the original Starbucks (We were headed to a soccer game – I felt channeling by 14 year old self with French Braided pigtails made sense.):


Trevor had read about a pre-game Sounders rally where the faithful fans meet and parade to the field. We set out on a mission to find the rally and when we did, it didn't disappoint – Sounders green as far as the eye could see, a band to lead everyone in song and then a 4 block walk to Qwest Field. It was the most festive and pumped up fans that I've ever seen for a regular season game of any sport.



Conveniently located next to Qwest Field is one of the brew pubs for the Elysian Brewery, and since there was still a good hour (and it was now respectably past noon), we stopped in for our first of many vacation craft beers. The space was awesome, and the beers delicious. We enjoyed Dragontooth Stout and a couple of IPAs. Shocking we didn't take advantage of the stellar guest beer option:


Then we made our way into the stadium. First things first: Our seats were impossible to find. We wandered the stadium, up and down ramps for over 20 minutes, following the incorrect directions from any number of stadium employees (unless “left” actually means “right” in Washington State). We eventually made it and settled in with the crazy crowd, which included this guy:


Yes, a Sounders fan so devoted, he has his own GOALIE GLOVES. The Sounders were playing a Beckham-less Galaxy team and the game eventually ended in a tie, a fact that should surprise no one (The Galaxy's record so far this year is 2-2-9. That would be 9 TIES).


After the game, our mission was to find a bar showing the Lakers game. At this point it was Game 4 of the Rockets series. Do you remember that game? The Lakers were down by 30 at one point – Yeah, we weren't there long. We powered back from the painful loss for the night with a trip to the Space Needle, great pizza and salad, then a bottle of wine with 'Drillbit Taylor.'


Day 2 was a big one. We were nervous it was going to rain, but, somehow our 3 days in Seattle were all rain-free. We'd planned to hit up the Seattle Art Museum, but discovered it is closed on Mondays. Plan B: A trip to Bainbridge Island! Though I had watched Harper's Island (sort of), I was able to convince myself that we would not, in fact, get inexplicably trapped on the island and murdered, so we boarded the ferry for a lovely afternoon of walking around, gorgeous city views and chocolate chili ice cream.



We returned to the city in need of an afternoon snack and found our way back to The Pike Pub back in the Pike Market for a sampler and some amazing nachos. Pike Brewery is cool because it was a family-owned brewery that was sort of bought out and then, like 10 years later, bought itself back.


After Pike's we went on a long walk through Seattle's downtown, bound for a bus that would take us North of the city to a bar that, in honor of Seattle Beer Week, was having a Victory Brewery Tasting. We got there about an hour before the kegs showed up, and were able to snag a place at the soon-to-be-very-in-demand bar.


After the tasting, which included an introduction by the Victory brewery founder, we headed back into the city, where we had earlier passed a movie theatre that is also a bar. We were too curious to pass it up, even if it meant seeing 'State of Play,' with the dreaded Russell Crowe. Review still to follow (no, really), but movie theaters where you can also have a glass of wine are okay by me.

We only had a couple hours the next morning before our train to Portland, and we passed the time at the Olympic Sculpture Park, before packing up, saying goodbye to Andre the Giant, and making the cross-town walk to the train station, bound for another (hopefully awesome) Pacific Northwest city.


All the details on Portland in a few days!

In better shape than the Phoenix Coyotes

I haven't always been Phoenix's biggest fan - I tend to associate them with their "weirder" stuff from the 'Lost in Translation' soundtrack. which gets me thinking about nepotism, and how their songs were on that album because the lead singer's married to the movie's director, Sofia Coppola, and eventually I wind up getting mad at Francis Ford Coppola for giving us Nicolas Cage - but over the last few weeks, in preparation for their concert on June 18 at the Paradise, I've been studying up. And I like what I hear - it's upbeat without being too sugar poppy, and there's some really addictive percussion (keyboard counts as percussion, right?). Their new, wicked highly acclaimed album 'Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix' gives me some of what I love about Delta Spirit - music you just have to move along to - and also a slight tinge of Modest Mouse, maybe?



Anyway, I'm clearly not a music critic, and I couldn't tell you what most of their songs are called, but it was a good time. HOWever, they were also guilty of two of my biggest concert pet peeves:

• A backdrop advertising their new album
• A reserved area for family & friends, way too large for the amount of people there, and filled with chatterboxes who couldn't be paying less attention to the music that the rest of us spent good money to get in to see.
  

It's just so not necessary. What else do I hate at shows? Well, funny you should ask, I just happen to have made a list. Aside from the pretty unavoidable (ticket fees, wrist bands that pull at your arm hair, overpriced beer and when the band doesn't play my favorite song), here are the things I really can't stand:

• When, un-beckoned by a band member, people clap along to the music.
• All forms of canoodling by fellow concert-goers.
• People who yell out requests for obscure songs from the band's unreleased first EP to prove how they're such big fans.
• When the band makes zero attempt to interact with the audience at all (I'm talking to you, Jack White).
• The lingerers who stand exactly two inches behind you just waiting for you to make any move that might let them step closer to the stage. Seriously, if I can feel your breath, you're too close.
  
• People who don't turn off their digital camera screens.
  

How nitpicky am I being? I'm curious about the rest of the world - what really gets on your nerves when you're at a show?

The National - Live at House of Blues, 5/23

The National, famed from South by Southwest 2005, and made recognizable (even if you don't know it), by the instrumental version of their 'Fake Empire', which was adopted by the Obama presidential campaign, played tonight, Saturday, May 23, 2009 at the recently opened House of Blues in Boston.


Trevor & I had seen them before, but before I had any idea how much I loved them. Over the last year, The National has literally been the soundtrack to my life (Each of their songs on my iPod has been played over 300 times), and the show was everything I could have hoped, featuring some new stuff, all the classics, and an amazing encore.

Here's the set list, in somewhat accurate order:

The Runaway (new - formerly called Karamazov)
Start a War
Mistaken for Strangers
Brainy
Secret Meeting
Baby We'll Be Fine
Slow Show
Squalor Victoria
Abel
Ada
Vanderlyle Cry Baby
Apartment Story
Blood Buzz Ohio (new)
Daughters of the Soho Riots
Fake Empire

Encore:
Green Gloves
Mr. November
About Today

Don't call it a girl-cation, part 2

Continuing the adventures from Puerto Rico...

By the time we returned from National Salsa Day, it had turned to night. We were sun-worn and full of ridiculous amounts of fried food, but not quite ready to call it a night. Our hotel had a beachfront restaurant – we’d eaten lunch there the first day and taken advantage of the fresh fruit blended rum drinks (hellooo fresh mango!) – but this was more of a wine night. A bottle of wine, three exhausted ladies and an amazing ocean breeze: Yes, the first two days in Puerto Rico treated us all right.

Day 3, we got up bright and early for an epic day. Over the objections of our hotel “concierge” about handling it on our own, we rented a car to go explore south of San Juan, including the El Yunque rain forest and bioluminescent bay in Fajardo. By the recommendation of our guide book, we wanted to get to El Yunque early to avoid the crowds, so by 9AM we were on our way winding through tiny towns along beachfront roads (Most importantly, past the club where they filmed 'Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights'!), and an hour later we were there, in North America’s only rain forest.


One of the economic stimulus programs from FDR’s new deal involved paving the rain forest – because who wants to hike when you can stroll along on concrete? (So don’t worry everyone, if the economy keeps tanking, we can create more jobs by adding sidewalks to our National Parks – Yosemite, here we come!). Despite this strange incongruity, El Yunque is undeniably beautiful.

Here I am, coming around the bend, on our "hike"

We got to the end of the road, and found a trail that would take us past La Anza waterfall. We opted to not go swimming in the waterfall, as it was crawling with traveling teens and their families, in which many of the parents were behaving worse than the kids (I’m talking to you, Dad trying to scale the wall inside the waterfall), but we enjoyed quite a lovely walk from end to end of the path and back (One of my favorite quotes of the weekend, courtesy of the overweight woman gasping for breath on her way down a hill thought we had done the there-and-then-back hike by mistake: “They went the wrong way! Make sure we don’t do that!”)

That was enough exertion for the day, so we made our way out of El Yunque, in search of the perfect Puerto Rican beach. Mission accomplished:

But we didn’t go swimming. Our bodies demanded food, and we’d read about the famous food kiosks that lined a road near our location. Food kiosks? You had me at hello! Because it was a weekday, a number of them were closed. And some of them were really, really closed:

But we eventually settled in at Bubbles, where we enjoyed the patio for a good couple of hours. We chatted with the super friendly cook, bartender and owner, sipped margaritas, enjoyed an amazing view and cried over stray cats. Well, that last part was just me.


With full bellies, we had just enough time for a lazy hour on the beach, so at the recommendation of the chatty Peruvian ex-pat owner of Bubbles, we headed down the street to Luquillo, where it appears we took no photos, so you'll just have to trust me that it was gorgeous and, finally, wind-free!

After the relaxing afternoon, it was time to get back in the car and head to our bioluminescent bay tour. The tours are kayaking excursions from a harbor, through a 10ish-foot wide canal, into a bay where, thanks to the perfect intersection of ecosystem and temperature, hundreds of thousands of single-celled kinda plant, kinda animal organisms "glow" within the water.

We put on our life vests, listened to the safety schpiel, climbed into our 3-person kayak…and promptly went off course. Not just a little off course – like, headed to open ocean off course. I wish one of us had a waterproof camera, so we could share photos of this disaster. Jessica – the “steering wheel” at the back of the boat - overestimated her unpracticed-for-years rowing ability. I – the “motor” at the front” – overestimated my ability to see the boat ahead of us and keep us on track. Sarah – in the middle and oar-free – overestimated her ability to sit between us powerless. It was truly the perfect storm. How bad was it? At one point, we were literally turning in circles. The tour leaders had to go back to shore, grab an extra boat and rower, and split us up into two kayaks. (I'm really trying to resist the urge here to talk about how naturally athletic and coordinated the three of us really are...).

Jessica & Sarah went with one of the tour leaders. I went with the extra employee they’d grabbed, who didn’t want me to row – or talk. Once we settled in, we were able to enjoy beautiful night sky, and the tiny plankton-like creatures glowing in the dark water below. The beginning of the kayak trip had already been so crazy that the giant traffic jam back through the canal – different tour groups passing one another on the wrong sides, colliding, getting turned around or sometimes stuck in the trees that lined the sides – didn’t really phase me. Eventually we made it back to shore in one piece. Here we are with Jessica & Sarah’s boat captain, Señor Jokester:

Water-logged and wholly amused by what had just transpired, we headed back to our hotel, determined to have one final night out – we still had outfits left to wear, afterall!

Unfortunately, Monday nights don’t tend to be the most happening nights around, so our night out mainly meant drinks in a hotel lobby, a quick trip to the hotel casino (I made $7!), and a dinner that finally included plantains.

Our flight was early afternoon on Tuesday, and we decided we had time to squeeze some historical touring of Old San Juan in. So, after returning our rental car, we jumped on the bus one final time and headed straight for Fort San Felipe del Morro. As public transportation is wont to do, it took us a bit longer than we expected to get there – so imagine our dismay when we saw the walkway up to the Fort:

10 minutes later we were inside – with about 20 minutes to see everything there was to see. We rushed up and down mysterious stairways, enjoyed the amazing ocean views, and promised ourselves we’d read up on the importance of all this stuff later (Yeah, that totally happened…).





We did, of course, find enough time to commemorate the trip once more, from atop that long walkway:

And then, just like that, we were off to the airport for one final tropical drink and back to Boston.



This trip was a long-time coming, and absolutely everything I could have hoped for – three days of solid girl time, plenty of sun, delicious food and drinks, and just the right amount of culture and history. Now, time to start planning next year’s trip – perhaps somewhere French speaking, so Jessica can take the lead. Did someone say Monaco?

Don't call it a girl-cation.

At the end of March, I went on a trip to Puerto Rico with Jessica & Sarah. We were there for 4 days and had a truly amazing time. Such an amazing time that I lost my camera. Actually, it’s not what you think – No drunken debauchery is to blame; I left Trevor's & my camera in the cab we took to the San Juan airport. So I have none of my own photos to share, and it took me awhile to gather them from the other ladies, but I’m now finally ready to give you the rundown on a long-awaited girl trip.

Where to start? The airport of course. Sarah is a wonderful wonderful woman. She is also always late. (No, like, alllllways. ). And yet, somehow, Jessica & I are the ones who almost missed our flight, due to the longest line ever seen at Logan security (this includes Thanksgiving & Christmas Eve). To kick off the trip of firsts, this marked the first time I've ever been paged over the loud speaker that my flight was about to depart without me. But, we made it. Sarah had gotten us coffee. We were on our way.

We stayed at a boutique hotel in Ocean Park, a strangely gated community, on the outskirts of San Juan (I say "strangely" because it took us two days to figure out that only some of the streets were blocked from through-traffic with locked gates).


We chose to stay outside of San Juan because we wanted to be on the beach. Little did we know how windy our beach would be!

Post-beach the afternoon of our arrival, we made our way into Old San Juan - just three gringas, trying to take the bus. Old San Juan is beautiful, with quiet streets, bright colors and warm architecture (a weird descriptor for architecture, for sure, but apt).

And thus began our bar crawl, in which Jessica demanded we visit at least 5 bars. We intended to take pictures of each to commemorate the occasion, but, well, here's what we've got:

Our first stop, Madre, specialized in margaritas. One lime, one coconut, one...remind me?

We couldn't get a table here without a reservation, but this snack we had at the bar
was one of the mostdelicious things any of us had ever
tasted - fried yuca with an almond mole sauce.Amazing. Yes, that is my hand -
I couldn't stop eating it long enough to stay out of the picture.

So we ate here instead, at a place owned by the brother of a big pop star,
where the menu describes each meal's deliciousness in terms of aphrodisiac-ness (As in: Really delicious is "Ay yay yay!!!")

Here we are in an ex-pat bar we stumbled upon. A ridiculous juke box,
graffiti all over the walls, and 10-oz cans of Medalla Light. We can be hipsters too?

The night ended at a salsa bar that we'd heard about from some folks at the graffiti hipster bar. While both Sarah & Jessica participated in the dancing festivities, I held the purses (have you met me?), and let it be said that I have enjoyed fewer things in life more than watching my best friends dance salsa in a tiny San Juan club. We made our way home, with ambitious intentions for Day 2.

Sunday was Dia Nacional de Salsa in Puerto Rico, and it was our destination for the afternoon. In the morning, we made our way to a more deserted (still windy) beach. It's a good thing we conserved our energy, because the trip to the stadium where the festivities were being held was a doozie. There was walking, there was a bus, there was a train from the bus, and then there was more walking. And then some more. And then there was an oasis that turned out to be an office park. And some more walking, and then a mall parking lot, where from far off, we finally heard the sounds of salsa. It took two hours, but we made it, and boy was it worth it. Good mojitos, great music and amazingly-bad-for-you-and-delicious food.

Here we are, Jessica with some meat on a stick, and me w
ith freshly fried potato chips covered in nacho cheese. That's right.
And then later we had donuts. So...yeah.

It took 2 months, but I've covered Days 1 and 2, and taken enough of your time for the day. Stay tuned for all the goods on Days 3-4, including a kayak trip that will live in infamy.