Not a good day.

I am currently having this problem. I am on hold to get into an endodontist because the right side of my face is bursting with infection. I look like I put on twenty pounds. There better be a Lortab prescription in my immediate future.

Today's Song: When Did Your Heart Go Missing?, Rooney

Not Stella.

But close.

Go Ahead.

You know, February sucks. It's a long, cold, grey month. In SLC, the air quality in February is typically, um, toxic? So if you're going to run, you should probably do it on a treadmill. But we all know that running six miles on a treadmill is no fun. It's a chore. And you do whatever it takes to get it done. I got it done last night. I'm not ashamed about how I did it, either.

I picked a treadmill that faced about four televisions. The two televisions closest to me were airing the Democratic Presidential Debate and Entertainment Tonight respectively. Y'all I picked ET. I hate ET. I hate Access Hollywood. But it was exactly what I needed to get through the hard part of the run. Farrah is cancer free! Delta opened up about her depression! Donny talked with Valerie Bertenelli about cocaine(!) and infidelity(!)! Gripping.

Eventually I did turn over to the presidential debate and I happened to tune in just as the moderator was asking Obama about "plagiarized" speeches. His answer was so good. He said it was two lines, and those lines were authored by one of his advisors who encouraged him to use them. Then he said that we're getting into the silly season of the race or something like that. And I agreed.

Later, at home, I pulled up the internet for whatever reason and do you know what the lead article was on the debate? OBAMA ANSWERS PLAGIARISM CHARGES. Clinton and Obama debated a score of burning issues and that's the lead article. Whatever. Focus on the escandalo. The media is controlling this race and feeding us what they think we're interested in, but in effect directing our interest.

So go ahead and just watch ET on the treadmill instead.

Sorry to get all political. That's not what we're all about here. Farrah is tumor free!

Today's Song: Hometown Glory, Adele

"With words," she said.

I don't know about you, but I could look at that picture of the Fiji water bottles everyday. I suspect that if you come here everyday (and if you do, thank you - it's always nice to have you), a picture of Fiji water bottles won't sustain your interest. So I'll update and share a story from my super popular weekend.

To start, please recall the bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne from a couple posts ago. Remember? Okay.

I didn't consume that champagne on Valentine's Day. I didn't consume it on Friday. I didn't consume it on Sunday. In fact, it is at home, in my suitcase, wrapped in a pair of chinos, unopened. Here's why:

On Sunday night, I went to dinner at the Ocean Club in Scottsdale. We were picked up at Cambelback Inn in a Lincoln Navigator. Our driver was really impressed when I said, "Um we're going to dinner not to sell drugs." He was over the moon when I asked if he'd play some rap, call us ballers, and let me know if we were riding dirty. We of course got to the restaurant in record time.

For my part, recognizing that this was a very fancy, highroader restaurant, I decided to contribute my bottle of champagne to the dinner. We walked into the restaurant, I was carrying the bottle of champagne, and the hostess looked at me and smiled. "Arizona does not have a corkage fee," she said. "Awesome!" I exclaimed. (I thought this was tremendously hospitable of the Arizona legislature and reflected ruefully on the conservative, non-forward thinking, "this baby is black" legislature at home.) "No, sir," she replied, "that means we won't be able to open that for you." "Well, that sucks," I said. (And then I took back the nice thoughts I had about the Arizona legislature and hoped that the Utah legislature would never, ever give Arizona any of our hard-earned water.)

We were taken to our table and I'm not kidding when I tell you that me carrying that bottle of champagne turned many a diner's head. We were seated and our waiter promptly apologized for not being able to serve our bottle. I said I understood, and since the bottle was already chilled, I asked if he'd keep it on ice. He did.

For dinner, there was steak, lobster bisque, and a chilled seafood tower. I'll post a picture for all the foodies out there:



Delicious, right? (Sister, you don't have to answer.) Right. Dinner was complimented by the sweet sound of live music from the bar. A wide variety of soft rock from Your Song to Clocks. With some James Taylor in the middle. If it hadn't been live music, I'd have sworn they'd stolen my iPod. So after dinner, we adjourned to the bar.

Now, Arizona may not have a corkage fee, but that doesn't mean its liquor laws are like Utah's. Look:



999 bottles of all that on the wall?! Take one down let's pass it around . . .

Actually, I was still more impressed by the music. So I joined a group of people sitting at the piano and suggested (erm, maybe demanded?) a few requests.



(That's cute Pelli in the picture. She was gracious.) Unfortunately, there was no time for requests. The piano man was leaving soon.

For those of you wondering about this piano man, his name is Steve Kostakes and his website is stevekostakes.com. I know this because I bought his cd. (It was the second "piano man" cd I bought last weekend. I bought another one from a different singer at the hotel. Let me say this: Scottsdale clientele love the soft rock of the 70's and 80's. And they have loads of people willing to play the songs for them. Can I please have some of that in Utah? And not in the form of lame ass dueling piano bars. More like The Beverly Brothers who played Club Manhattan in my college days.)

So, yeah, point of the story was the champagne. Not consumed Sunday night. Not consumed Monday night because I flew home that night. Well, I meant to fly home that night. I missed my flight, had to stay overnight near the airport, and then fly home at 6:15am the next day. That tale of mine has been told time and time before.

Today's Song: Clocks, as performed by Steve Kostakes

Um which would you choose?

Wish you were here

and the noisy kids weren't.

Todays Song: Changes in Latitudes, Jimmy Buffett

I love the lonely

palm tree.

Lunch.

And I know how

To celebrate.

Today's Song: Your Love, The Outfield

B Lo knows how

To send a Valentine.

Happy Valentine's Day

That looks like a heart, right? I think it does.

I post this picture (taken circa Sept. 06) because I am leaving today for that same hotel and that same pool. (Don't hate on me.) My friend Ali is getting married in Phoenix tomorrow.

Congratulations to Ali.

I'll post pictures from the weekend and pool. You know, to keep you warm.

Today's Song: Gotta Have You, The Weepies (mp3 - my Valentine to you!)

So . . .

I may have seen Mika in concert on Friday night. And then I may have gone to Keys on Main afterward. Actually, I did do both of those things. And I have two questions: (1) How is In the Venue staying in business? (Is it lack of competition, because if that is the case let's give that dump some competition.);
(2) Why do dueling piano bars insist on allowing patrons to pay the pianists to stop playing a song? So frigging annoying. Seriously, the lame pianist stopped playing Time After Time - which a patron had paid $5 to get played - and then someone paid them to stop. The pianist then charged $9 to restart the song. You know what? It's a racket. I'm certain. Those geek piano players must have their friends in the audience and those friends then act as shills and pay the pianists to stop popular songs to increase the money flowing to the pianists and then they all share afterward. I'm Googling that to prove I'm right. No, I'm going to straight to the top: I'm going to Get Gephardt on the case.

Saturday I ran nine miles with Stella and Leah. Marathon training. Actually, I only ran 8.75 miles. I got whooped by girls. I think they've got Ethiopian in them.

Saturday night I may have gone to Tardy Mardi. I may have run into some old college friends. I may have done some crazy stage dancing to late 80's/early 90's hits. "Things That Make You Go Hmmm . . ." maybe? I think it happened. The details are all way too fuzzy. I'll need to check my phone for photographic evidence. Maybe I just imagined it all. If you saw me there, let me know.

Restaurants visited this weekend: (1) Crown Burger; (2) Chuck A Rama; (3) New Yorker; (4) Takashi; (5) Original Pancake House; (6) Wild Oats deli; (7) Chick Fil A (twice). Pretty eclectic.

Today's Post: I Say A Little Prayer, Aretha Franklin (though the Dionne Warwick version is good, too.)

1995

Stella's scrapbook.

Posting from phone

is success?

Today's post

is simply because I was reading other blogs, lamenting the lack of updates, and then realized you have to give to get. Though, really, I'm not giving that much.

I'd like to give a Lava Hot Springs trip report, but seriously, it would come off as bragging. How can a trip be that fun, you'd ask. Especially if this is a picture of the town's Main Street:



And then I would say things about "blooming where you're planted," and "it's not where you are, it's who you're with" and then I'd post pictures of me drinking with a bison or dancing with underage girls, and you'd have no choice but to believe me.

So instead, today I will do a cooking blog. (Any foodies out there say "Aii Oohhh!")On Monday, I made chicken noodle soup. Because I have a cold. Rather than make my usual chicken noodle soup, I decided to do a "fusion." I added some Thai elements. My recipe went something like one large onion, 5 cans low sodium/no fat chicken broth, five carrots, four celery, juice of two lemons, bay leaf, three clove garlic, Mrs. Dash No Sodium citrus blend seasoning, one package Grandma's old fashioned noodles. The fusion part: I added the juice of one lime, and a seeded, sliced poblano pepper. And I went one step further, I put a few stems of leafy cilantro into the soup after I removed it from the burner and let it infuse the soup for a few minutes and then I pulled it out. I thought it was delicious.

All was not well in the kitchen, however. For quite a while now, I've been pretty certain that my onion chopping skills are sub-par. I'm really just not an efficient onion chopper. I thought about asking someone like my dad or Stella for an onion chopping tutorial, but instead just opted to Google it. "How to chop an onion," I googled. What did I learn? I've been chopping onions all wrong. You don't cut the onion in half horizontally (i.e. separating the stem end from the root end). Instead, you cut the onion in half vertically. Then you peel the two halves and begin your chopping. The onion is easier to handle that way.

Well, easier for some! I chopped the top of my thumb off. Not the whole top. Just a divot. But nevertheless a bonafide kitchen injury. My onion chopping skills are thus still sub-par.

Okay, update your blogs everyone.

Today's Song: Sweetest Girl, Wyclef Jean with Akon and Lil Wayne

Maybe a Momma's Boy

Last night I was giddy. And it wasn't because of the Barack/Hillary debate. (Though I did watch it while running at the gym. I now get the allegiance that Barack fosters in people and I was completely impressed by Hillary's polish and regalness - regality? But seriously, when you're running on a treadmill and your mind is racing, it's hard to focus on the intricacies of universal healthcare and immmigraion. It's easier to wonder how many committee meetings were required for Hillary to settle on a brown suit with turquoise jewels and for Barack to opt for a lavender(?!) tie. I'm going to Google the answer to those questions.) Back on topic. I was giddy for the return of Lost. Love. That. Show.

Watching the recap episode (which was so well-written and so well-edited), I stopped and really thought about how great it is that there are such imaginative, creative, grand thinking people out there that they can create a show like this. And then I remembered Brian Vence and a lecture my mother gave me.

I think I was maybe nine or ten. Brian Vence was a boy in our neighborhood and he was proably four years younger than me. I was probably fifth grade, he was likely second. This kid had imagination. He'd show up to the bus stop and claim to be a dinosaur that day. And let me tell you - he was METHOD in his approach. Brando. He was a dinosaur. Raaaaar. The next day he was Spiderman. Another day a traveling salesman. (Okay, I made that one up. I have imagination too!)

Unfortunately, I teased the kid. ("What are you today? har har har) I wasn't alone. He got teased alot. But damn if he didn't keep on imagining and acting and playing. To his credit.

So here's the lecture. I'm sitting with my mom having lunch at Wendy's by the Layton Hills Mall. And I'm telling her about how weird Brian Vance is. She said, "You shouldn't tease that boy. With imagaination like that he may be the next Steven Speilberg or George Lucas." Good advice, right? So last night, I sent an apology out to all the imaginative nerds in the world and thanked them for all of their contributions to my life. Especially the writers and creators of Lost.

In other news, it's Stella's birthday this weekend. How are her friends celebrating? Check it.

Today's Song: Sure Can Start, Two Hours Traffic