Ok maybe just one more picture

Because look how cute we are!  Aren’t you jealous!

Also, look how good I am getting at taking pictures of myself.   You can’t even tell!

(actually, please don’t be jealous because WE LIVE 995 MILES AWAY FROM EACH OTHER and I probably won’t be able to see him again for 3 months.  WHICH IS A LONG FUCKING TIME, PEOPLE!.)

(sorry, I’m awfully screamy today.  Forgive me, please)

Too many thoughts in my head

Ack!  I’m facing an unusual problem in that I have too much to write about.   I want to tell you all about my trip and how pretty and sunny and GREEN it was!  And there was grilling!  And Bocce ball!  And mini-golf!  And corn cooked on the grill!  And Clam Chowdah.  Yummy, yummy chowdah (Oh!  And a hardcore local complimented me on my pronunciation of “chowdah.”)  And also beer.  Lots and lots of beer.  And GREEEEN.

(no seriously, look at this:

GUH-REEN.   It looks photoshopped doesn’t it?  Has Massachusetts always looked like this?)
But I also want to tell you about the play I went to last night with my 65 year-old boss and her former republican congressman husband.  I play in which the word “fuck” was uttered many, many times.   And not in the random expletive way.  In the way in which it actually meant the physical act.   And also the “P” word.  IN FRONT OF MY BOSS.   AND HER FORMER REPUBLICAN CONGRESSMAN HUSBAND.  Who I was meeting for the first time.  And I was wearing pearls and my handbag matched my shoes and I felt like I was going to shatter into a million pieces because I felt so awkward.  The only way it could have been worse is if they suddenly started throwing tampons and condoms at us.

But it was actually a really amazing play and oddly enough the frequent use of said dirty words did nothing to detract from the fact that it was incredibly moving and touching and sweet.   And they both loved it.  In all of their old, republican glory they loved the play.  If that doesn’t say something positive about it, I don’t know what does.

(Oh, I should probably tell y’all what it is, right?  It’s part of Piccolo Spoleto festival and the play was Cloud Tectonics put on by Pure Theatre.  It was VERY minimal, with the only props being 2 chairs and a blanket but it was so consuming and exquisitely acted that you could see everything they were holding and eating and looking at.  The performances by Rodney Lee Rogers and Sharon Graci (a real-life married couple) were absolutely captivating and quite literally brought tears to my eyes.  There are three more performances during the festival, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.)

And then we went and had dinner at the Country Club (cue obnoxious southern debutante accent)  and listened to the story of how one of the local social magnates went to California to hire a surrogate mother to bear his children.  And he had a high tea to welcome them into society (twins, in case you are wondering).  Hilarity ensued, as you can imagine.  And it turned out to be one of the most unusual and highly entertaining evenings of my life, despite the fact that I had been sort of dreading it.  Who knew rich old republicans could be so much fun?

Ok, I’m just going to tell you about my trip tomorrow.  It was beautiful and wonderful and amazing and I’m super-pissed to be back home.

And no, Mom, I’m not engaged.  I would have called you and told you about that.

tick, tick, tick

I keep looking at the clock and it isn’t going anywhere.  It has been 2:57 for 14 minutes now.  OH WAIT!  2:58.  Victory!

At 6:55 my flight is supposed to be wheels up on the way to Atlanta before I catch another flight to Boston.   I am supposed to land at precisely 11:59 which means that from this moment, I have 9 hours until I am there.   I’m oddly satisfied that I am arriving only one minute away from midnight, and that Pete will be the first person that I see on Saturday, when the clock finally flips over.

I haven’t talked much about Pete lately, but only because I am violently resisting this blog turning into an outlet for me to whine and bitch, and if I started talking about him, that is all I would do.  It has been almost exactly 2 months since I have seen him, since I had the luxury of an entire week with him.   A week in which I could wake up next to him, in which I could eat breakfast with him, in which I could turn to him and vocalize all the trivial little thoughts that run through my head all day.  Luxury seems like too weak of a word to describe it.  It was lavish.

And I miss him.  Terribly.  There has always been that nagging difficulty of being in a long distance relationship.  That constant little twinge that tells you something isn’t right.  That something isn’t how it is supposed to be.  But in the last month, it has grown from a little twinge into a dehibilitating aching pain.  I pine for him.  I’ve actually been a little bit of a wreck, lately.

I’ve taken to trying to quantify the distance to somehow cope with it a little better.  I’ve plotted the route I would take if I drove up there.   It is exactly 995 miles, which would probably take me 3 days because I hate to drive for long periods.  I’ve counted the days we have actually spent with each other, which comes out to a shockingly paltry 21.  And those aren’t even all whole days.  Monday was seven months since I drove to Virginia to see if I was a crazy person for even thinking of getting in a relationship that I knew would be like this, and it is sobering to know that in all of those seven months,  it has only been 21 short, brief days.   Not surprisingly, none of those numbers make a difference in how I feel.

But I know that I will see him tonight.  And that number of 21 will slowly climb ever higher, until one day I can actually say that we’ve spent a month with each other.   If only that wretched clock would keep changing.

And you can damn well bet that I will be at that airport early.

LOL Presidents

Are y’all familiar with the concept of LOL Cats?  (if you are, just bear with me here.  I promise this will be good).  Basically what happens with LOL cats is that people take pictures of their cats (or other animals) and add random, grammatically incorrect captions that are full of silliness.  I think they are absolutely hilarious, as do other people, because one of the big sites I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER? is the fastest growing blog on wordpress right now.   It is complete and utter silliness, but it makes me laugh so hard that my stomach hurts.

For example:

See?  Funny, right?

So maybe you aren’t amused by that.  Or looking at  pictures of cats seems, oh I don’t know, so crazy old lady maybe?   Well, now you are safe, because Boing Boing linked to a shockingly hilarious collection of LOL Presidents today that has made tears stream down my face.  It is absolutely ludicrous, but in a historically arrogant way, which I totally appreciate.

Some of the best:

Now that shit is FUNNY.

Here are more.  LOTS more.

Tall Ships part 2

You can see part 1 of the pictures right here

Sorry I’m just getting around to posting these, but I thought I’d share none the less.

They said they had something like 85,000 people show up for the festival which is AMAZING.  Hopefully this means they will have tall ships coming every year, and maybe we can get more next time.  4 big ships and 4 small ones makes for very long lines when 85,000 people are trying to get on board.   But everyone seemed like they were having a great time.  I certainly enjoyed myself.

Oh yes, those are people in the rigging.  They were wearing harnesses, but still…

The sails of the Picton Castle.  They are handsewn!

My teeth are still chattering

Yesterday, finally, after seven months of saying “I’m going to buy a bike!” I finally went out and bought one. It is purple, and beautiful, and I love it.

It is also a cheap piece of crap, because I live in the ghetto. That way, when (and not if) it gets stolen, I won’t be too upset. I did, however, splurge on a really fancy seat (which had the slightly alarming name of “pillow-top saddle”), so that way I can fool myself into thinking it is a nice bike. As I put it to Pete, it’s like putting leather seats into a Kia. It’s still a piece, but your ass will feel very comfortable regardless.

So this morning, I sprung out of bed all chipper because I RODE MY BIKE TO WORK TODAY! And I was very excited about doing it. Because I would be all environmental and exercizey and good for me!

And then I actually got on the road, and I came to the incredibly sobering realization that I have NEVER ridden a bicycle on a major road with CARS. Ever. I haven’t even owned a bike since I was, oh, 12 or so? And I lived in the woods. And though I occasionally had to deal with a tractor, or some sort of animal carcass, I wasn’t really prepared for the big time.

Y’all, that shit is scary. Do you know how big cars are? And how fast? And how loud they are? And do you know that sometimes people talk on their cellphones and don’t pay attention to the people on little, rickety bikes (who maybe couldn’t even find a helmet that fit them, so just decided to put off that purchase and are imagining at EVERY MOMENT what it is going to feel like when their head smashes on the pavement)? Well, I know.

Oh, and here’s another tip: Maybe, on your first day riding your bike on a ROAD with CARS that could very easily DESTROY you, put on something other than your very cute strappy sandals with slick bottoms that provide no traction whatsoever so that whenever you peddle, your feet aren’t sliding off the peddles. I looked like something out of a cartoon, I’m sure.

But aside from the constant, gripping fear, it was a delightful ride. It only took me about 15 minutes, and that was going slow and taking as many back roads as I could. And yes, I did almost cry when that bird looked at me, because I know he was thinking of flying towards me, and I’m still shaking a little bit, but it was totally worth it. And now! I get to look forward to riding home from work today!

(Aside to Mom: can you please come pick me up?)

I’m so excited I am hyperventilating!

BECAUSE!

1.  Tall Ships!  Sails!  Masts!  Sailors!  (seriously, someone give me a paper bag here)  I’ma gonna throw up I’m so excited!  I haven’t actually gotten a chance to go on board yet (because WORK: YOU SUCK!).  But I’m going to go tomorrow morning and climb all over them and drool a little bit.  However!  I have been driving by the docks every chance I get, and it is an absolute wonder that I have not killed any pedestrians yet because of my craning and rubber-necking to try and get a glimpse of the masts.

My roommate, Leezle, is a tour guide on a boat that does harbor tours, so last night I begged a spot on one of her ghost tours and I got to see the boats from the water.  It was amazing and beautiful such a fabulous way to see them.

And yes, I took pictures.  Ninety Eight pictures, in fact,  but I will spare you and only post the really good ones.

But first!  Reason #2 I’m hyperventilating (from excitement):

2.  In exactly 6 days (and counting!) I am going to Massachusetts!  To see Pete!  HOORAY!  This just sort of snuck up on me, despite the fact that the trip has been planned for about a month and a half, but what with work and such, I just hadn’t thought much about it.  BUT NOW IT IS ALMOST HERE.  And I am very excited.  Can you tell?

Ok, Now here are some pictures (just a note, if you want to see more, just click on any of them, and it will direct you to my photobucket account where I’ve loaded all of them.)

 

The Virginia, with the Pride of Baltimore behind her (which is why it looks like she has extra masts)

 

 

Stern of the Pride of Baltimore

 

The deck of the Spirit of Bermuda (which is brand-spankin’ new, as you can see)

 

 The beautiful Spirit of South Carolina, which is also brand new

 

And again, with the Spirit of Bermuda, Pride of Baltimore, and the Virginia in the background

 

From the water

 

Pride of Baltimore

 

The rigging of the Baltimore and the Virginia

And now for the Big Girls…

 

That’s about 800 ft. of sailboat

 

From left to right:  The Gloria, Prince William, Tarangini, and Picton Castle

 

The Picton Castle

 

The Gloria and the Prince William

 

If this is what 4 ships looks like, imagine what you would have seen when Charleston Harbor was holding 150-200 ships like these.  It must have been quite astounding.

And one pretty picture of the bridge:

 

Ok, two:

 

Links o’ the day!

Here’s a fun game!  Who said it?  Hitler or Falwell?

 *insert obligatory predictable “witty” comment here*

Are you forgetful?  (What? Who said that?  Where am I?)  Here’s 10 things you can do to keep your memory strong.

Two Reps, Ryan (D-Ohio) and Schakowsky (D-Ill.), are trying to live for a week on $21 worth of food stamps, the average amount received by people on federal assistance.  Guess what?  It’s hard.  There are a lot of really valid arguments about the danger of the welfare state and the cracks (or gaping maws) in our system, and I honestly don’t know where I stand on the debate, but it is really refreshing to see 2 lawmakers actually step in and see what it is like for the people depending on this to live.  If more of them would do this, I think you’d see more lawmakers actually trying to solve this problem.

I’m a big John Edwards supporter, and I think the work he has done for the poor is  outstanding and brave, so it sticks in my craw when people harass him for being rich.  They call him a hypocrite for living in a big house and getting expensive haircuts, which seems like the most ridiculous argument in the world to me.  I’m not alone!

So, would it be okay if you had a limousine but decided to keep all your money for yourself and run the poor over with your limo? Then, I guess you wouldn’t a hypocrite, you’d just be an asshole.

The Blog | Cenk Uygur: John Edwards is Not a Hypocrite For Helping the Poor | The Huffington Post

A wooden spoon is helpful, but not necessary (except for beating)

Are y’all ready to learn how exciting my life is? Are you sitting on the edge of your seat to find out what crazy adventures I got into this weekend? Did I hunt Zebras in Namibia? Did I track down the lost gospel of the Bible, written by Jesus’ best friend, LeeRoy? Did I help Stephen Hawking with a soduko puzzle (he’s really bad at those! He’s always calling me and asking if I’ve finished mine yet, so he can steal my answers)?

Oh no, I made biscuits! From-scratch-handmade biscuits. On a Friday night.

God, I’m a loser. I blame this on my boyfriend, who lives 900 miles away and therefore cannot take me to see “hurricane on the bayou” on IMAX. Damn his eyes!

But biscuits!!

Do you want to know how I made them? Better yet, do you want to see how I made them? Well, I don’t really care what you want! I’m doing it no matter what. And I know that biscuits are one of those things that seems SO IMPRESSIVE and SO LAVISH, but seriously? They are criminally easy to make. Let’s try, shall we?

Fabulous Biscuits (adapted from a Hominy Grill recipe)

Ingredients:

• 4 Cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading/dusting (You need to use a southern biscuit flour, like White Lily – which is what I used – or cake flour.  It’s what makes them all light and fluffy)
• 2 Tablespoons baking powder (and make sure this is fresh-ish.  Did y’all know baking powder only lasts about 6 months?  I just learned this.  If it is older than that, it is probably inactive, and you will end up with very tasty hockey pucks)
• 2 Teaspoons sugar
• 1 Teaspoon salt
• 5 Tablespoons butter (and I mean real butter here.  If you use margarine, I will know, and God help you.  I will come to where ever you live and beat you within an inch of your life with a wooden spoon.)
• 5 Tablespoons shortening (I know, I know.  It makes you a little squeamish doesn’t it?  But listen, I am actually doing you a favor, because the recipe actually calls for the use of pure, unadulterated lard, for heaven’s sake! [I couldn't actually bring myself to buy lard, so this is where my mad adapting skills come in] A little Crisco isn’t going to kill you.) (And for the sake of honesty and full disclosure, I just realized, as I was writing this, that I actually misread the recipe when I was making these and only used 3 Tablespoons of shortening.  I’m not sure why.  But they were still quite delicious.  Now I’m going to have to make a whole ‘nother batch just to see how much of a difference it makes.  Damn!)
• 1 1/2 Cups Buttermilk (you could probably use regular milk, but if you do, please use whole milk.  You cannot effectively bake with skim milk.  Don’t even try it.  But seriously, the buttermilk is soooooo goooood.)
• An oven preheated to 425F (I always forget this part, so I put temperatures in the ingredients section)

Step 1: Have your mom give you some awesome prep bowls from Williams-Sonoma, so you feel like a real chef! Seriously, y’all, confidence is everything here. (Thanks Mom!  Look!  I’m using them!)

 

Step 2: Sift together your dry ingredients (for those of you who don’t cook much, thats all the stuff that doesn’t leave a bunch of yucky residue in your bowls. In fact, you don’t even really have to wash them. But you didn’t hear that from me.) (Also, notice I’m not using one of those damn sifters where you turn the crank or something. Those suck. Just get one of the strainers. They are quicker and much easier to clean. And you can handle a lot more flour this way)

Step 3: Cut in butter and shortening. (OK, “cutting” is much easier than it seems. You can buy these nifty little tools called “pastry cutters” which are perfect for this job, of you can be a cheapo like me [except that I actually have one, I just can't find it ANYWHERE. GAH!] and just use a fork. Just mush the butter against the side of the bowl and break it up as much as you can. Basically all you are doing here is cutting the butter and shortening into tiny little pieces which will get covered in flour. This is what give biscuits their flaky texture.)

It’s like a big, fluffy flour pillow.

 

Step 4: One you get your fats cut in, get in there with your hands and make sure you haven’t missed any big chunks.

 

You want your flour mixture to look like very coarse meal. Like so:

 

 

And look, this is no time to be squeamish! You will get dirty. Enjoy it.

 

Step 5: SLOWLY add your buttermilk. Don’t just slosh it all in at once. Biscuits don’t like it rough.

 

Step 6: Mix! (Now doesn’t that sound deceptively easy? If you’ve ever tried to make biscuits before and they turned out badly, this is probably where you messed up. You need to mix them gently and not very much. Overworking will kill your biscuits. It will KILL THEM DEAD. They will be tough and flat and very, very angry. They may just kill you in your sleep. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. The trick is to mix the dough so that it is just barely coming together, where it is all incorporated but there are still little areas of wet and little areas of dry.)

 

Step 7: Once your dough is just mixed, you want to turn it out of the bowl. Lightly flour a good, flat surface (I usually put wax paper down, because if I didn’t do that, there would be flour on the counter for the rest of my life. I’m uh…HORRIBLE at cleaning.) and then just dump your dough out. It will be very gooey and difficult to handle. Which is fine, because you don’t really want to handle it. Cover your hands with flour, and give it a few light kneads, just to pull everything together. Then pat it down to 1/2 to 3/4 inches thick.

And why yes, I am doing this on top of my WASHING MACHINE because I have no counter space in my kitchen. Seriously none. I improvise.

 

Step 8: Cut your dough. (Here’s another trick to make sure your biscuits rise- use a sharp dough cutter. I used to always use glasses or aluminum cans, but the sides aren’t sharp enough. Go out a buy a real biscuit cutter. You’ll be amazed at the difference.)

After you make your first round of cuts, push all the extra dough together lightly and try to get a few more biscuits out of it. These probably won’t looks as pretty, but I promise they will still taste really, really good.

 

Step 9: Put them on an ungreased baking sheet and toss them in the oven.  Let them bake 10-15 minutes, until lightly browned.  Mine cooked for exactly 12 1/2 minutes.

(But Taylor! Now I have 12 1/2 minutes. What should I do with myself?)

Some people would tell you to clean up the kitchen in this moment, so the dishes won’t sit there and get all hard and crusty. They are liars. You are much too pretty to be cleaning. Here’s what you should do instead:

1. Have your roommate make fun of you for being the messiest person in the world. You will now be covered with flour. Observe:

(and I would just like to point out that thing hanging on the baking rack just over my left shoulder. What is that? Oh yeah, a FUCKING APRON, MORON. If you have one of those, and you aren’t supremely stupid like I am, wear it. Otherwise:

I don’t know how it got there, your guess is as good as mine.

or, Option #2:

It was Friday, after all.

AND THEN!

Step 10: Congratulate yourself for being fabulous, and eat you some damn biscuits.

Mmmmm…biscuity goodness. Doesn’t this make you hungry?

A couple of random things

1.  If you live in the Charleston area, check out this website:  Go Green Charleston.  It’s about all things environmental and what you can do in our community to promote a healthy environment.

2.  Look what’s in the harbor!  LOOOOK!

The Charleston Tall Ship festival is this weekend, and the ships are already starting to sail into the harbor!  I am crazy excited about this.  I promise you that there will be many millions of pictures posted in the upcoming days.

This, incidentally, is the first ship to come in (Unless you count the Spirit of South Carolina, which I don’t, because it lives here).  This is the GLORIA, from Columbia.  We should also see the Spirit of Bermuda today, the Prince William and the Picton-Castle, which is currently off the coast of Brunswick, Georgia.  The Pride of Baltimore may actually be in port as we speak, but I didn’t get a chance to drive down to the piers this morning.  I don’t know when Tarangini is coming in.  Stay tuned!

Oh, and here’s a neat little map that shows the locations of tall ships all over the world (you’re welcome, Daddy!):

Good riddance

Jerry Falwell died today.

I don’t normally gloat over dead people, but it is about damn time. This man was a hate-filled spewing sore on America, and I’m glad we don’t have to listen to his crazy vitriol anymore.

Here are a few of his choice quotes (via Boing Boing):

* “AIDS is not just God’s punishment for homosexuals; it is God’s punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals” * “It appears that America’s anti-Biblical feminist movement is at last dying, thank God, and is possibly being replaced by a Christ-centered men’s movement which may become the foundation for a desperately needed national spiritual awakening.”

* “If you’re not a born-again Christian, you’re a failure as a human being.”

* After the September 11 attacks Falwell said, “I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say ‘you helped this happen.”

* “Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions”

* “[Homosexuals are] brute beasts…part of a vile and satanic system [that] will be utterly annihilated, and there will be a celebration in heaven.”

Yeah buddy, I’m sure Jesus would really approve of you.

It is times like this when I hope there is a God and a heaven and hell, just so I know that people like this will be punished for the rest of eternity. I hope he gets to the pearly gates and St. Peter punches him in the face, gives him a wedgie, and throws his ass into the fiery bowels of hell.

But the worst part is, there are so many more of him out there.

Links o’ the day! (Yeah, I still do this!)

Mmmmmmm…crime. Delicious, delicious crime.

*************

Visual examples of what we use in the U.S. The above is a detail view of the 11,000 commercial flights that cross the US every eight hours. Can you belive that statistic? Go to this site. It’s staggering.

(Via Boing Boing)

*****************

J.K. Rowling has a request (which I second)

Steps to save the planet and save you money (cheapskates!)

I knew the Romans loved the bling, but I didn’t know how ghetto-fabulous they actually were.

Caption this picture!

Seen on my way home from the grocery store today:

Here’s mine:  “Dude, Chris.  You’ve got a tough act to follow.”

Mom

Dear Mom,

I hope that you don’t mind that I’m doing this on my blog, but I wanted everyone to be able to read it. I wanted everyone to know how much I love you and how much I appreciate you and how indescribably thankful I am that you are my mother.

I know its a crapshoot when kids are born. Sometimes kids are born into the best possible circumstances, sometimes they are born into the worst. Damn. I really lucked out. I feel like I won the lottery. There is this really famous survey called the Proust Questionnaire, that asks insightful questions that are supposed to get to the core of someone’s beliefs and personality, and one of the questions is, “what would you consider the greatest tragedy.” My answer has always been “if I had been born to different parents.” You and Daddy are the best things that have ever happened to me.

I just want you to know how much I appreciate you as a mother. I literally cannot think of a single thing that I wish you had done differently (except maybe that you hadn’t made me drive that Ford Taurus for so many years), and I can think of millions of things, tiny and enormous, that you have done that I am grateful for.

All of the things that I am proud of about myself, all of the things that make me who I am, I have because of you (except for my ability to do accents, because that comes from Daddy). I am fair-minded and thoughtful because of you. I believe in doing the right thing because of you. I am confident and sure because you encouraged me to be. I am capable because you taught me to be. I feel like I can do anything I want to, and that I can take on the world, because you were always sure that I could. Thank you for telling me to take responsibility for myself and my actions. And thank you for always, always being there if I needed something.

And Mom, thank you for my independence. Thank you for teaching me to take care of myself, and for allowing me to find my own way. Thank you for putting aside all of your motherly instincts that were screaming at you to keep me close and not to let me do anything stupid, so that I could grow on my own. I know that the hardest thing for any mother to do is to let their kids grow up. To let them learn to be self-sufficient. To finally release them into the world to thrive as their own person. But you did it. Without hesitation. And as I have come to learn more about this world, I have learned how rare that is. I see 30 year-olds who still call their mothers every day for the most mundane advice. I see people who simply cannot comprehend a life without their mother there to tell them what to do with themselves. Thank you for making sure I wasn’t one of them.
I hope that I have made you proud. I hope that you see your work, and your love, and your 24+ years of trying to help me survive in who I am today. I hope that you see your influence in everything I do, in every step that I take, in every decision that I make. Because I see it. And I say thank you every day.

I love you mom.

Love,

Taylor

What the hell is this?

The weather has been CRAZY here for the last few days. Howling winds, swirling in all different directions, bouts of intense, heavy rain followed by blistering sunlight. It’s just been so odd.

And then? Then? Today? This is what I see a picture of:

Seriously, WTF?

I should note, that I don’t actually ever watch local news, and I only read the newspaper a few times a week, so I don’t usually have a grasp of what is going on locally, especially when it is something like weather. But y’all! That sure as shit looks like a damn tropical storm to me, and I don’t think I can take the stress of having tropical storms springing up in May.

Dammit, now! Y’all go out and buy those florescent lightbulbs RIGHT NOW. This is all Al Gore’s fault.

Picture VIA

*UPDATED*

Oh grand.  Now it has a name.  Andrea.  Sheesh.