Reality Check

I recently came to the sudden realization that I'm turning 25 in two months, and I'm not doing what I thought I would be. I've been doing a lot of re-evaluating.

I always fancied myself as the girl from the movies who uproots herself and runs away to live in another country.

Of course, I know it's the romance of it all that I find attractive, but I feel that I'm not as adventurous as I always thought I would be. I watch myself living in the suburbs, getting up every day to go work at a desk in an office building, and I think, "This is not my life! Who's freakin' life am I living???"

I hate the thought that this may be all I'll ever do, y'know? I've kept myself from branching out by convincing myself that I'm "tied down" with my job, bills, and other responsibilities. Now I'm starting to realize that I was just hiding behind those things so that I wouldn't have to approach the "unknown".

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate feeling secure in my job, and having a nice place to come home to, but I don't want to end up in my 30's, wondering why I didn't explore other possibilities. I've had conversations with older friends who talk about how they don't like the direction their life has taken, and that they haven't accomplished some of the things they'd set out to. I remember having these conversations and thinking, "That won't be me; I'm going to embrace life and the opportunities that I have to explore other things." Now I'm starting to realize that I'm not far off from those friends, age or mentality-wise, and I don't want to end up with the regrets that they have.

I think I'd like to save up and go somewhere in a year or so. Just take off and live somewhere strange and non-touristy for a few months. A "Self Discovery" of sorts. I'll have enough saved up to pay rent while I'm gone, and I'll schedule an extended leave of absence from work.

Running away from it all, responsibly!

Do not try this at home

So, when I blow my nose, I get paranoid about leftovers, so I always have to look to make sure that I've done an adequate job of cleaning things up. Yesterday I locked myself in a bathroom stall for the initial sinus flushing, then I went to the mirror to check on my progress. As I was lifting the end of my nose to look in my left nostril, my finger slipped, and I jabbed myself in the eye.

At first, I was in a state of shock. "I can't believe I just did that!" However, my amazement was soon replaced by really intense pain, and then the waterworks started up.

Unlike the underwear conversation of a few weeks ago, I did not divulge too much information this time! Even though I only told my coworker that I had poked myself in the eye, he still made fun of me.

Not for the weak - Lots of italics coming your way.

I've been sick for the last 2 weeks, and quite frankly, I'm starting to feel a little broken. Sometimes I hear about people getting sick and how their sickness ends up being more than they bargained for. You know how it is...I'm sick with blah, and as an unexpected result, this happened. That's what my sickness has been like, except this time, I got hit with all of the unexpected results.

Things started off innocently enough - a slight sore spot in the back of my throat; Itchy ears. The next morning I had a full blown sore throat. A few days later I was stuffed up, and then the next day I started coughing. Not just a cough...but coughing stuff up. Gross.

A week later I went to the doctor because I was still feeling like hell and leaving work early every other day or so. Lucky for me (and him), this particular doctor is really good at seeming to give a damn about how I feel, so that was nice. Unfortunately, I no longer have a silly little cold. I have a sinus infection.

So, now I've missed nearly a work of week all together, I've paid for a doctor's visit, and a prescription for antibiotics. I've finished my bottle of Nyquil by now, so I have to get more. This is getting quite expensive.

Matt dropped my prescription request off on his way to the gym, and called to let me know it would be ready in about 30 minutes. An hour later I still had not left for the drugstore, because I was still sitting on the toilet. It wasn't that things weren't happening initially, but things stopped happening just short of being productive. It was right about then that I realized, I haven't pooped in 3 days. Luckily Matt and I have been together long enough that I can make silly requests such as, "Hey Honey, would you mind running to the store real quick to get me some strawberry ice cream? Oh, and while you're at it, why don't you pick up an enema?"

Well, we got that disaster under control. I finally got to a point that I didn't think I would need Nyquil to sleep, but after last night I realize that I've come to depend on it for sleep.

I forgot to take acidophilus when I started taking my antibiotics. I have the worst yeast infection ever. Ever. This is coming from someone who would know what the worst ever should be like. So, now I'm popping supplements like candy, in hopes of catching up and realigning my system.

I equate the last 2 weeks to the following:

I'm in an airplane and I've just gotten used to the bumpy flight when I hear, "Attention passengers. This is your pilot. It seems that we're about to enter the eye of the storm, so I ask that everyone fasten their seatbelts and remain calm while we ride this one out." Shortly thereafter we nosedive and crash in the middle of a war zone. I regain consciousness just in time to hear, "Fiiiiiire in the hole!"

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm bound to acquire another more annoying ailment. I'm just having a hard time preparing myself for something worse than fire in the hole.

And it slowly sinks in...

The other day I was part of a conversation about the benefits/downfalls of dating someone who is religious, when you're not. Someone piped up that they had dated a Mormon once. I thought to myself, "Wow, I think this guy takes the corruption cake with that one." Then I thought further..."Wait. You're gay."

So when do you suppose it hit the other guy? "No matter how much I pray; No matter how many goats I sacrifice, I'm never getting my planet back."

Making the world uncomfortable, one colleague at a time.

If one of your coworkers asks how you're doing today, and you, being the funny person that you are, say "Well, I'm not wearing underwear, so I'm sure it will be a fantastic day!", and said coworker doesn't immediately start laughing, it would be a good time to start apologizing and offering to buy lunch.

Is HR in on this???

The company that I work for is really big on diversity, and I'm always getting "group communication" emails inviting me to brown bag lunches or workshops which are designed to promote diversity. We've got the Martin Luther King thing down like nobody's business.

Last week everyone received an email invite for "Understanding White Culture". As we were all trying to absorb what we were reading, we heard a faint voice across the expanse of cubicles, "Oh yeah, I nearly forgot - April is Cracker Awareness Month!"

Lesson learned.

You know the compressed air you can get for cleaning your keyboard? Never, under any circumstances, should you use said canned air to deal with static in your skirt.

Please disregard the previous statement if you want your upper thighs and crotch to be encased in ice, and therefore outlive the rest of your body.

Of course, if nothing else, it's highly entertaining to see your colleagues fall out of their chairs from laughing so hard.

I do NOT have PMS, you bastards!

Why is it that people on the bus feel the need to sit close enough to me that we touch arms? I fucking hate that! I am not a large person, and neither are you - there's absolutely no reason for us to be touching! This has been happening on a daily basis, with a variety of riders. People are gross. Don’t touch me if I don't know you!!! I'm tired of having to sit against the wall, with my outside arm across my chest. I mean, which is worse - touching another person, or touching part of the bus?

And another thing.

Why is it such a pain in the ass for people to rinse out a milk jug and toss it in the recycling? This morning I went to make my latte, and there were *4* cartons in the refrigerator with tiny bits of milk in the bottom. This also happens a lot. Apparently if you see that there isn't enough milk for an entire drink, you're supposed to just ignore it and open a new carton. This doesn't usually bother me, but this morning, as I was busy emptying the first of *4* cartons into my pitcher, I nearly got sick from the smell…then I realized the expiration date on that particular carton was April 01. What is wrong with people????

I should write a book. Musings of a Corporate Peon: A Tale of The Peons Who Make My Life a Pain in The Ass.

Do the whale thing!

Beluga
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

After Matt and I went to the Vancouver aquarium, he perfected a really fantastic Beluga whale impression. Matt pulls his arms to his sides and flaps his hands while he bobs up and down, keeping a very peaceful smile on his face the entire time. I laugh hysterically every time he does this. It's so funny, in fact, that I make him do it for people all the time. Not because I want to embarrass him, but because I think everyone should get to know the hysteria that is Matt.

I ruined a good thing.

Easter Sunday we were at his mother's house for dinner, and we started talking about our trip. Of course...Perfect segue to the Beluga whale impression! So, Matt, the obedient boyfriend that he is, stands up to start doing his act. Before Matt gets a chance to show off his newfound talent, his mother starts to tell a story about her Beluga whale experience. Please keep in mind that we had enjoyed some wine by this point.

"I went to the aquarium and saw the Beluga whales one time. There was one whale off in the corner amusing himself by bobbing around. He must have been really enjoying himself, because he had an erection the entire time!"

Matt refuses to do his Beluga whale impression now.

Email of the day!

I wish I could write Christmas letters like this.

Friends and Family,

We all have lofty aspirations in life, and I am proud to announce I have attained a lifelong goal that I once thought was merely a fantasy.

Yes, I am proud to say I am now a resident of the beautiful greater Federal Way, Washington area.

Aghast with envy you might be, I know. Sure, you North Sounders have your lakes, your arts communities, your BMW's and two car garages.

But I have chosen a different path, a path wrought with the exhaust belching from the rears of an endless line of 1980 Chevy Citations and 1984 Buick LeSabres, a path lined with 17 Office Depots, 42 Radio Shacks and 187 Teriyaki joints, a path that I affectionately refer to as "320th Avenue South." And at the end of that path lay my own slice of heaven, my own nirvana if you will. It's the Arco Gas Hut on the corner of 320th Avenue South and Pacific Highway. If there is a greater place to be on this earth at 4:26 AM on a Tuesday morning, please let me know where it is.

Sure, go ahead, laugh. I laugh as well, to tears of remorse each and every day, but have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, you didn't ever take the time to learn about the real Federal Way? I know how you snotty North Sounders are. I used to be one.

Have you ever thought that, hey, perhaps Federal Way can offer it's residents superior community services? Maybe Federal Way provides a relatively unknown yet vibrant cultural scene? What about fine restaurants, and institutions of higher education? Did you ever think to yourself that maybe Federal Way might offer any one of these things, or could even offer all of them at once?

Well, before you go jumping to conclusions, let me answer that question for you.

It offers absolutely none of these things.

Not even a tractor pull for God's sakes.

Just so you guys can have a little more information on my new hometown, I took some time and compiled some interesting trivia about Federal Way, and now I would like to share that with you.

A Detailed History of Federal Way

Federal Way used to be a highway. Then there was a Kmart. Then some guy opened a sword shop. Then some people got shot. Then some fat guys built a freeway exit. Then the people demanded places that offered quality donuts at reasonable prices. And today, Federal Way is a really good place to be if you find yourself in the market for a laundry hamper.

And that's what happened. Quaint, isn't it?

Here's some more information I curtailed from a book called "Reasons You'll Love Federal Way!". Actually, it's not really a book, it was more of a leaflet. A really small one, stuck on my doorknob. Half of the leaflet was reasons I'd love Federal Way, the other half was a coupon for 10% off Cheese Bread at one of 56 participating Federal Way area Domino's Pizza outlets.

FEDERAL WAY, WASHINGTON

Defined: Federal Way is a derivative of an ancient Klickitat Tribe term "Federah Whaya Hye", which, literally translated, means "Hey, let's dump all our shit here."

Population: 121,723
Number of Pedestrians hit by cars in 2004: 121,723

Unemployment Rate: 99.9%

Primary Industries: Strip mall construction; Mattress sales; Thuggery; Loitering; Abandoning cars; Production of unwanted children; Welfare Disbursement offices; Narcotics.

Educational Facilities: DeVry institute, Scuba Division. Dress Barn Training Center. Washington State DUI Victim's Panel Conference Center. Getting beaten up on the street.

Official Federal Way color: Tar
Commentary: Tie between Tar and Suffocating Exhaust, which I did not
know was a color.

Official Federal Way bird: Pigeon
Commentary: Apparently this only applies to a pigeons with a beak. They are protected. If you run over a pigeon with a beak, you will be sentenced by a judge to spend 15 minutes in Sea-Tac Mall.

(Editor's Note: Oh, excuse me. It's no longer "Sea-Tac Mall." Now it's "The Commons at Federal Way", or "Downtown Federal Way." Which is like giving George Bush a sparkly wand and a princess hat and calling him "Peacekeeper." No matter what you call it, you still don't have to buy bullets down here. Just walk around the mall for a while and you'll be full of them. There's even a police station in the mall. Didn't get that? I'll say it again. There is a police station IN the mall.

Official Mascot: Food Stamp Freddie
Commentary: Food Stamp Freddie wanders aimlessly around Federal Way because he is unemployed and waiting for his welfare check. Wears oversized Raider jacket, and he's a Crip motherfucker, so don't you start steppin' to him.

Official Flower: Grime-covered decorative shrub with beer can in it. It's outside Arby's on 320th.
Commentary: For the love of God, don't eat at Arby's.

Official Flag: Surrender.

Local High School: Federal Way High School, home of the Federal Way Societal Burdens. The football team plays half-heartedly in the first quarter, then waits for the government to bail them out. All seats in the stadium are in Section 8.

The Official Motto of Federal Way hasn't been decided yet, but it has been narrowed down to ten finalists.

"Federal Way: Lamp Shades Always 20% Off."

"Federal Way: We're Sort Of Kind Of By The Airport."

"Federal Way: At Least We Ain't Burien."

"Federal Way: Where Anyone Can Be Better Than 95% of the Population, and Also Get 2 Free Tanning Sessions!"

"Federal Way: You Just Stepped In It."

"Federal Way: Dashing Your Dreams Since 1972."

"Federal Way: City of Hopes and Fears. Okay, Mostly Just Fears."

"Federal Way: Get Knocked Up by the Time You're 14."

"Federal Way: Urban Blight 365 Days a Year."

"Federal Way: Birthplace Of Wilbur Fortknee, 1974 US Enchilada Eating Champion."

Federal Way provided me with a wide array of apartment and condominium options to choose from, and some came without bars on the windows. I chose an "apartment community" called Cove East, whose sole purpose for existence is to deceive you into thinking that you aren't in Federal Way anymore. This is done with an amalgamation of visual tricks, such as trees, a big pond, and even a fake river. Seriously, I walk out of my "condominium-style" apartment, and there is a river, right there, for me to fall into.

For those really into nature, Cove East also provides an ample supply of violent, water-based fowl, whether you prefer perpetually angry and aggressive geese, or simply intestinally challenged ducks whose innards are unable to congeal their excrement into any type of solid, removable waste product, so what comes out is essentially the consistency of yogurt, yet with the adhesive qualities of Elmers Glue, so it just basically just sticks to my porch like a Van Gogh painting on a concrete canvas.

I've realized that management in my community cares little about the bird problem. They manage everything here except the ever-increasing proliferation of pond birds. In fact, the property is littered with signs supporting their continued evolution.

"Don't feed the ducks or the geese!" the signs scream. "Feeding the ducks and geese human foods will make them very sick, and they could die!"

And then it shows a picture of a sad goose. A sad goose? I know that goose doesn't live here. Most the geese here carry chainsaws.

Um, correct me if I'm wrong here, but isn't killing the geese the ultimate goal? Do we, as a community, want to remain ankle deep in stringy white goose turd? I think not. I do believe we should change the signs. "Please, oh, please, community members!" it should bellow, "Please feed the ducks and geese chili dogs, frozen pizzas, canned okra, and macaroni and cheese. Feed them paper clips, plastic packaging waste, hot wings and Eggo Walnut Waffles." This, at least, would get them out of the pool area.

Yes, the pool area. That has become the Baghdad of the Cove East bird population. Sure, they have a humungous pond the size of a football field to live in, complete with lily pads, reed banks and flowing streams. But where do they choose to reside? In the community swimming pool of course, which is right next to the pond. The geese own the pool, and mark their territory by shellaqing the pool deck with an amount of goose poop that is only exceeded by the amount of goose poop actually in the pool. Occasionally, the ducks, who act as the insurgents of Cove East Pool Area, will try to break into some pool space, but the geese attack and feathers fly. I could make a living stuffing pillows on the pool deck at Cove East. But anyways, I digress.

I've ascertained that the using word "community" here is really pushing it though, because generally people in my "community" stare at me with suspicion and contempt, usually from their porches where they can't ever seem to find the time to ooze their obese asses off of. I feel like I'm guilty, and I haven't even done anything. Then I decided to steal a bike, so then at least my guilt won't be unfounded. I think I stand out as one of those "city boys" with "one of dem collar thingys on his shirt." Maybe they are just startled that I have a job, or, more likely, they're just really high on spray paint.

Moving in was quick and painless, in the same sense that getting eaten by a shark is quick and painless. IKEA selected and delivered an unintentionally two-tone computer desk, which may have worked in the 70's, but not today.

Two-tone would not work, you see, because I chose to make all the furnishings in my apartment white, along with my white carpets and white walls, thinking that women would believe I’m a modern, progressive man. Instead, it just makes it easier for them to inspect my apartment and tell me where all the dirt is. Which is good, because living in a white apartment, I am actually forced to clean it every 12-16 hours. Normally, I'd probably do it every 12-16 months.

Lastly, I would like to thank the good employees at Comcast Cable and Internet Services, and offer my prayers that your corporate headquarters will someday release you from the barn you are housed in. When I called Comcast I said "Hey, can you guys come hook up my new 'ultra-modern white condo-style apartment'" (I was trying to impress them.) "Sure!" they said. "Can you be there tomorrow?" They must have been impressed that my apartment was all white.

So they came the next day, and the guy went through the usual routine of pretending like he was really busy "hooking up" my cable, when indeed all he was doing was flipping a switch. Then he left and my modem didn't work. "Gosh darn" I said, "what an unfortunate situation I find myself in."

Actually that's not what I said.

So I call Comcast and say, "Hey, the guy just left, and my modem is broken." "No problem," said the cheery, um, woman, at Comcast. "We can have someone come out there and fix it for you." (Silence). "In two weeks."

I said "Wow, how unfortunate I got stuck in this predicament."

Actually, that's not what I said.

So after verbally flogging the poor girl, I got it down to eight days, which they term "emergency service".

And just because of that, I'm going to become a fireman. And when their customer service center catches on fire, they can call me, yelling "FIRE! FIRE!" and I'll calmly say, "Well, I can come help you with that fire. Can you be there between noon and 6 pm 13 days from now and show me where the fire is?"

The moral of the story is the same one you learn from your gym. Once you sign on the dotted line, they don't care about you anymore. It's like getting married, only not as bad.

So having no cable service, no computer, and no TV, I spent a few days looking at the wall in my apartment. It was white.

Anyway, I'm at work, with a lot of time to kill on this slow night. I have to go actually "work", so I'll cut this short before Random House publishes it. (Next week, rather than write a notice, I will be sending you all a handcrafted origami aardvark.)

You can still contact me at (xxx) xxx-xxxx, unless I owe you money or just pretend to like you, in which case I was run over by an unmanned wheat combine last Monday.

So, if any of you are unlucky enough to ever be in Federal Way for a court appearance or a laundry hamper or something, or if you just happened to get into a head-on accident in the I-5 area, feel free to drop by my place, and if you bring any mud in, I'll be really pissed.

Later.

Mike

Wow. Just......wow.

Matt and I went out for dinner on Tuesday night at this really great place in West Seattle called West5 - they have fantastic macaroni and cheese. After we finished dinner, I got up to use the bathroom. I don't know about the men's restroom, but the women's has one freakishly large stall, and one freakishly small. The large was in use when I walked in, so I decided to brave the smaller of the 2. When I closed the door, it was about 2 inches away from my nose. I'm surprised I was able to sit down without hitting my knees.

The girl in the other stall was singing. Seriously.

Just as I was noticing that my feet stuck out from under the stall door, and realizing that the other girl was able to see my shoes as she was leaving, it got very dark in the room. She had turned the light off. She hadn't seen my shoes.

There was a brief moment when I could have yelled, before the door shut behind her. I was thinking "Say something! Yell Kim!!", but nothing came out. I just sat there in the dark. There weren't any windows in the bathroom. It was really freakin' dark, and I was in a tiny stall. I reached my hands over and found the toilet paper dispenser. Frantically turning the roll, I realized I couldn't find the end of the roll. Oh my god. I started to freak out and thrash a little bit.

Think Kim. Think. Maybe I should just start yelling. No. I'll just sit here and wait for someone to come in and then I can thank them for turning the light back on. No. Maybe I can waddle out of the stall and turn the light on, then run back to the stall before anyone sees me. No. Dammit.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Scenario: You're in a restroom at an eating establishment. There are two stalls. DON'T TURN THE LIGHT OFF!!!

I do what the voices tell me to

I have a tendency to come up with very convincing arguments for staying in bed when I'm half asleep. These arguments make perfect sense during that brief moment it takes to press "snooze", and they make for very entertaining reflection once fully upright. This is the progressive conversation I had with myself this morning; No joke:

6:35am: "They prefer it when I don't get up until 7:15." Snooze.

7:14am: "My alarm cycle won't coincide with 7:15. I'll wait until 7:20, because I have to make sure that I get up on an even 5 minute mark." Snooze.

7:20am (fully upright): "Who the hell are 'They' and why would they care if I get up before 7:15???"

I swear to god I must have been abducted by aliens at some point.

Say it like you mean it!

There are times that I wish I hadn't given this url to my family. I mean, I love my family and all, and I think this is a great way for everyone to keep up with what I'm doing, but sometimes I wish I still had to send out a long email once a week. Heather is the creator of one of my newfound favorite websites. She is married with a daughter, and she has a fascinating way of telling funny stories about her boobs and constipation. She also curses more than anyone else I have met (in person or in writing). She inspires me.

I've had the desire to express myself by way of vulgarities, but I have to limit myself to "damn" or "ass" for fear of offending loved ones. Sure, there's the strategically placed asterisk, but that option always seems to convey a cuteness that I'm just not in the mood for.

Have you kissed a leprechaun lately?

Are you wearing green today?

No. I'm wearing totally hot shoes, so I'm exempt.

They must be pretty hot if you're exempt from wearing green.

Oh, they're hot. So hot as to be impractical!

That's pretty hot!

Riding in style

I have a new bike! Matt and I went shopping yesterday to see what was available, and I came home with one! I can't wait to get a basket with plastic flower decorations and some streamers! Look out pedestrians! Weee!!!

Modern technology takes a turn for the worst

mattkim
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I finally figured out how to post pictures on my blog. I rock. And Matt rocks too, as you can see.

Wha???

dirtyheifer4
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

One of my cats, Heifer, is a beautiful black and white long-hair variety. Unfortunately, he likes to roll around in dirt. He came in the other day completely covered in dirt. So covered in dirt, in fact, that when I patted him on the side, a cloud of dust formed. Last night was even better. He was covered in dirt, as usual, but this time there were bits of tree stuck all over his fur. I wish I could attach a little camera to his collar so I could see exactly what he does when he goes out!

I aint movin' for nobody!

I was laying in bed on Sunday, determined to stay there until a ridiculous hour of day, when I heard one of the cats mewing outside of the bedroom window. Matt was in the livingroom getting ready for work, so I called the landline from my cell phone, and asked him to let the cat in. He had the nerve to call me lazy! Me! Lazy!

Email of the day!

Thanks, Jenny for the fun read!

Creation Story

In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth, and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.

Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Creme Donuts. And Satan said, "You want chocolate with that?" And Man said, "Yes!" and Woman said, "and as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles." And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled.

And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair. And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size 14.

So God said, "Try my fresh green salad." And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.

God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them." And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof.

God then created a light, fluffy white cake, and named it "Angel Food Cake," and said, "It is good." Satan then created chocolate cake and named it "Devil's Food."

God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds.

Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds.

God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger. Then said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size them!" And Satan said, "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest.

God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery.

Then Satan created HMOs.

Thought for the day:
There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

Flying blind

Vancouver was great, and customs was relatively uneventful. Coming back to the states the officer found Matt's bags of loose leaf tea rather interesting. Of course it didn't help that they were packed in perfect little paper-bag bricks. I guess it was a good thing we opted to skip on the Cuban cigars.

While up north I acquired a new found respect for ramen noodles. Yeah, you read right. Ramen, baby. There was a Japanese place right by our B&B that served sushi and noodles. We went there twice. Of all the wonderful food options within walking distance, we went out for noodle soup two times. The attraction might not have had anything to do with the food; maybe it was the service. One afternoon we decided that we wanted to try Korean food. Bust. We went to several restaurants and finally gave up on any hope of understanding what was going on with the menu. The ramen place was similar. Lots of Japanese characters which were interrupted periodically with English. The ratio of Japanese to English seemed a little skewed to me, though it was nice to see at least a little English, not like the Korean places. There were a few pictures on the menu, but again, not nearly as many pictures as there were Japanese descriptions. Well, we knew that we wanted soup, and that was good enough apparently. When the server came over and found out we wanted soup, not sushi, she immediately started asking questions. What type of noodle? Meat? Broth base? Somehow I ended up ordering teriyaki chicken with ramen noodles and miso broth. As the server walked away I looked at Matt and asked, "So, do you suppose she's going to bring us soup?" He shrugged.

We went to the aquarium one afternoon. I must go to an aquarium every time I leave town. I must go to the Seattle aquarium! The beluga whales were by far the coolest. They smile! They're so peaceful the way they just float around. They swim for a bit, and then they just stop moving and float up to the surface. Amazing. They induced entertaining conversation as we walked back to our room:

Matt: So, do you suppose they have to kill the whales to get the caviar?
Me: I would imagine they could just be sedated and someone reaches in.
Matt: Possibly.
Me: Wait, aren't whales mammals?
Matt: Yeah, they are.
Both: Huh!

Anyone know where beluga caviar comes from if not from beluga whales?