Trois

This blog is about music, food and adventure. And I don't mean to make irrelevant comments a habit. Therefore, I will try to weave all three above topics into this totally b/s post. Here I go.

This post is going to consist of three stories, three people and three pointless, fleeting thoughts. Please try to stay with me.

1. Adventure: Here is the story the way I remember it: C Box has a friend. This friend goes by the name of Nate Taley. C and another friend come up with an ingenious prank and print stickers reading "Nate Talley Sucks". The idea is to post them as many places as possible, including, but not limited to: toilet bowls, bars and breasts.

2. Music: C Box has a friend. This friend is to remain nameless to protect those involved, but we shall call her Cantaloupes. Last night, Bo and I had a party. This party was rockin' thanks to C's musical mix playing on his iPhone. In between bites of barbecue and binges of beer, the iPhone ceases to play music for 2 seconds and beeps in with a message: from Cantaloupes-...omg I have been so horny today. The music made its way back on. Now from this event, it came to my knowledge that Cantaloupes had been convinced by C to post a "Nate Talley Sucks" sticker on one fake breast and leave the other to wave hello to everyone.

3. Food: After lunch (this is my half ass way of getting food in here), it is a lazy and rainy Sunday. Bo and I decided to take a nap. As is customary for us, Bo starts his twitching sleep about 3 seconds after his head hit the pillow. I can't fall asleep. So, to take up time and endulge my curiousity, I google "Nate Taley Sucks" to find this infamous picture of Cantaloupes' decorated breast. In the process, I run across one of C's friends who happens to be a journalist for the Wall Street Journal. His blog is fabulous. Really a good read.

All this to say go to reporterbyday.blogspot.com and enjoy.
Oh, I never found the picture.

Who will I be at 75? How do I get there?

Since I work in the hospital, I see it all. Many people say that, but until you see someone stare death straight in the eye, it doesn't mean a whole lot.
And in the hospital, I see all ages, but what really interests me are the people who we refer to as "elderly." Some are happy, some are sad, some are hopeful, and some want to give up. There are few that have partners of 60 years and some with a new one of just two years. Some shine brightly and some don't have an ounce of life in their eyes. All of these encounters have led me to think...Where do I want to be when I am 75? Who do I want to be? What do I want to be? And how do I get there?
Many of you guys know more than me. Let's discuss this. Help me find out what and who you want to be. Give me advice.

Not really on the blog topic...but soooo funny!!

Irish Brew

So, it has been one week back in the States...one week back to work...one week since my last Guinness. What is one to do? Browse through pics, reminisce with my hubby, or sneak to an Irish bar and try to find a pint?
Ireland held so many surprises. I was expecting the beautiful landscape. I knew there would be quiant villages, and I was looking forward to the burgeoning Irish cuisine. But one thing that was a pleasant (and by pleasant, I mean tipsy) surprise was the national brew, the Irish black gold...Guinness.
Let's be honest, one look at the creamy foam and silky black syrup, taking a sip is a must. But, the first time I tried the brew in the States, it was a bit...bitter. However, when we were in Ireland, I knew I had to give it a second chance. And oh how wrong I had been!!!
Here's how it unfolded.
Bo and I walk into a bar. It isn't just any bar. It is what one would imagine an Irish country side pub would look like. The server's outfit is pressed. He is wearing a vest and handles the glassware and spirits with respect. It has been a long day of tourist trouncing for us, and we were a tad exhausted. We place elbows on the wooden counter and the server asks our pleasure. "Two pints of Guinness," Bo says. I look at him, questioning his choice. We waited 15 minutes (this is proper pouring technique, 3/4 full, let it settle, and then finish the job). Finally the stout took its place in our waiting hands. A sip, a gulp. And a foamed stained smile crept on my face. Pure heaven!! Two Guinnesses a day for seven days and three pounds later, I have decided Ireland will be the only place I endulge.
Ireland...go, drink, and be merry. Cheers!

Ireland

Just got back from Ireland. What a beautiful place. 5 out of 7 days of pure sunshine was not at all what we expected (neither did the locals). With our sweaters and the luck of the Irish on our sides, we explored most of Southwest Ireland from the Burren to Kinsale. Our Ford Focus burned the roads, leaving no rock unturned, no castle unexplored, and no roadside brick wall unscathed.
From our homebase in Adare (http://www.adaremanor.com/) we explored Adare, Blarney, and Muckross Castles (bypassing the kissing of the Blarney Stone) and drove past Bunratty Castel numerous times. We traversed the wide and straight roads of the Ring of Kerry. We hiked the rugged terrain of the Cliffs of Moher and The Burren. We fished the treacherous waters of the River Maigue.
After much peer pressure, I eventually gave into the urge to drink the popular dry stout brew that made Guinness famous (in my history book). Guinness is made to be enjoyed in Ireland (and only Ireland). They send the spoils to the United States.
Shelby is going to post a full report of the trip plus some fancy web designing that she recenlty learned in class. Stay tuned.....

Inspiration

Since most of my reading comes while sitting in a 4x6 foot room with a shower, faucet, and a toilet, I hardley ever finish (or start) a significant piece of work. In my first attempt at real reading outside of Texas Montly and the various cooking magazines that my wife has stored away on the back of the latrene, Three Cups of Tea describes how Greg Mortenson's failed attempt to climb the the second highest mountain in the world (K2) lead him to his real quest in life. Set in Pakistan, a place that most of us only know by what we have seen on TV or read in the newspaper, Mortenson is resqued by a local porter and ends up in a small village that helps to nurse him back to health. Through his experience in the village and the constant care of the local tribe, he lays out a plan to return and build a school for the children (mainly the girls). His adventure turns into a life long goal of providing primary education for Pakistani and Afghan children, made possible by Mortenson's hard work and a few generous people along the way.
To complete a book like this at my stage of life was a miracle no doubt. The fact is you cant put it down (and I was working nights). If you feel compelled to give this book a whirl, I recommend purchasing the book via the official website (http://www.threecupsoftea.com/) and 7% of the total goes to the organization that made his works possible.

A morning at Gainesville's newest hotspot

On Saturday morning, the wait time to get into the Flying Biscuit Café was roughly one and a half cups of coffee.
That was about how many helpings of the free, fresh brew customers were able to sip through before their buzzer started vibrating, notifying them a table was ready.
“We are full to the gills,” Annie Boucher, one of the managers, yelled to a hostess. “There’s not an open table in the house.”
To appease hungry customers, the restaurant set up a temporary coffee table. It was stocked with two carafes labeled decaf and regular, a mound of creamer and a heap of sugar packets that were all lying on a neon-colored, floral tablecloth.
After smelling the fresh biscuits, even a long wait time could not divert patrons.
“The weekend wait got up to an hour,” manager Ernest Milian said, “and it has been about 20 minutes on the weekdays.”
The Atlanta-based Flying Biscuit Café officially opened in Gainesville on April 14. However, the weekend crowd ended the week on a hot note. Hot coffee, hot biscuits and hot sausage were all flying out of the kitchen at a furious pace.
“The oatmeal pancakes were voted number one in America by AOL,” server Brenda Lee said enthusiastically.
She was able to spout off the menu like it was her favorite poem.
The eager patrons outside had to wait their turn to be the judge of what goods the café had to offer.
The group was a conglomeration of old and young. Drowsy college students with their hair still disheveled from a deep sleep stood in silence trying to wake up, while the perfectly coiffed older couples patiently waited their turn. Bright-eyed children were buzzing around, and their parents tried to keep an eye on them. There was even a dog calmly sitting by his owner’s feet.
The organized chaos ran up and down the shopping mall. Patrons of the café were weaving in and out of the surrounding businesses, including Dorn’s Liquors and The Fresh Market.
“Our buzzers work from one end of the shopping plaza to the other end,” the hostess said with a smile.
Dorn’s Liquors has noticed an increase in onlookers since the Flying Biscuit opened. With coffee in hand, patrons sashay into Dorn’s and sample the wine of the day.
“A lot of their customers have come through here,” Brent Thomas, a Dorn’s employee, said, “but we have not noticed an increase in sales. They usually just want to taste the wine, but I can’t imagine coffee and wine mix well.”
Dorn’s has booked extra staff to work on the weekends and handle the increased number of spectators and wine tasters.
University of Florida student Kelly Donovan said she will keep coming back for the “not fried” fried green tomatoes.
“They are so good,” she said. “They are topped with goat cheese and have some sort of spice sprinkled on them.”
She is not the only one. Michele Hughes has been anticipating the cheese grits for a while.
“They came into Moe’s restaurant a while ago and served the grits,” she said. “They were amazing, and I have been waiting to eat here ever since.”
With a pen nestled behind her ear in spiky, blond hair and another in her hand, Brenda Lee is ready to take anyone’s order. With a rhyme that would even make Shakespeare hungry, she calls the café’s grits “dreamy and creamy.”