The Buffet in Heaven

Special snaps and golf claps go out to my recent hostess with the mostess who, after taking a class in wine and cheese pairings (hello? why was I not informed of this??) decided to share her findings with a group of cheeseheads. I’ve determined that when you arrive in heaven you are promptly served a glass of chilled Prosecco, given a hunk of triple cream brie the size of your head, and asked to retire to the French Bread sofa right next to the bathtub of cheese fondue.

Oh, and for those of you who are not already acquainted with the Sofia mini cans of champagne, you may learn about them here. Beware the bendy straw. No good can come of alcohol with a bendy straw, let me assure you.

More pictures of Beth's Happy Places

Immediately upon typing that subject line, I became filled with regret, as that's not really a subject line one wants pasted all over the Internet.

Anyhoo, here are more of my smiley, giggly happy places in the new apartment. My plant-filled, Bay window-adorned reading nook, and of COURSE, the World's Best Washer and Dryer.

Behold the most charming place on earth

Um. Okay. I didn't really mean to post TWO pictures of my most-charming patio, but clearly Blogger feels the need to bring it to you all in Quaint Double Vision....Why is this damned program so easy about so many things, and then randomly difficult about others? Siiiiigh.

Okay. I digress. Here are some sneak peeks at the new place. Doesn't this just invite you to soak in the charm, the adorability? Can't you just smell the lavendery goodness on that little side table while you sip from your icy beverage and relax with the latest US Weekly?

Consider the invitation now fully open for y'all to join me on the patio -- appointments are now being taken at Casa de Beth. Unless you happen to know Philip Seymour Hoffman or Hugh Grant and in that case we can rush you right to the top of the guest list. Stop on by!

A gift from the kitchen cabinet gods

Last night I was engaging in my new favorite pastime, which is going through my kitchen cabinets and reorganizing my crap. Seems that when Beth moved in, she sort of just haphazardly threw everything into drawers and cabinets just to hide them, but once you actually open the doors you will immediately discover what a disaster area they actually are.

I digress.

So there I am, sitting on the floor, organizing my cleaning supplies under my sink, and I find this little guy sitting there, being all adorable and cute and functional. Who doesn't need a little froggy sink stopper? Did you notice the little webbed feet scattered all around it? Siiiigh. Big, moist, amphibious thanks go out to the cabinet gods (or, more like, the previous tenant) that left behind a little goody for me.

Wendy McClure and Poundy

I have a new BFF.

Um, she doesn’t technically KNOW me or anything and might be a little creeped out if she knew I was referring to her like that, but I have to share that I am LOVING this book I’m reading by Wendy McClure. This gal is hilarious. She is, most definitely, my kind of people.

Extra snaps are owed her because she used to (still does?) write for Television Without Pity, which is one of my most favorite websites ever.

(Not Quite 15 Pieces of) Patio Flare

Who’s got a full-blown case of patio flare? Why, Beth does, that’s who!

I write to you, World at Large, as the proud owner of a now fully decked-out deck complete with two lounge chairs, window baskets, lovely flowers and herbs and even a little lavender plant to put on my side table for added aromatherapeutic patio flare. I braved Home Depot with the rest of the Sunday suburban sprawling Seattleites (i.e., the sworn enemy of any hipster urbanite worth their salt) and picked up enough charming goodies in the garden department to keep me happy for the rest of the summer. It even took a platform cart/palate jack type of contraption for me to wheel all my flare to the Flexcar.

Siiiiiigh. Did my previous post about retail therapy teach me nothing? Clearly not, because again, I’ve proven to myself how DELICIOUS it feels to go out and buy things. Retail Therapy, again I ask, can’t you learn anything from your cousin Alcoholic Black Out and make me forget how fantastic you make me feel?

Retail Therapy’s Downside

Damn you, Retail Therapy, why can’t you be like your older brother Co-Dependent Relationships, who never has anything good to offer?

You know what the problem with Retail Therapy is? It works. It works SO WELL. You go out, you buy things, you bring them home, you play with them. And you feel GOOD. They make you happier. They fulfill you. They make your problems seem so less troubling. Plus you end up with neat stuff, which is nice.

This is all backed by a ginormous purchase made at Half Price Books this afternoon – including several movies (Crash, Royal Tenenbaums, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the TV series “Undeclared” and more) and several books (Joan Didion essays, John Irving, humorous travel essays and more….). I got my two jam-packed bags home and practically rolled around in all of my new possessions.

I love you, Retail Therapy. You are truly the best EVER.

To Whom It May Concern

For those loyal readers that simply cannot get enough of MY open letters to random persons or things, I humbly offer the McSweeney’s list of Open Letters to People or Entities Who Are Unlikely to Respond.

My favorites so far include An Open Letter to Penguins, an Open Letter to Low-Cut Pants, and an Open Letter to Umlaut. Anything that involves sending a letter to a smug seldom-used punctuation mark wins instant points with me.

Random gifts

Again I write about the joys of random gifts and how great they are. For the person who sent me a box of housewarming goodies, including some really scary/kinky looking Dryer Balls, I say THANKS AMIGA, YOU ROCK!

Way to help support my new fixation on doing laundry whenever possible!

A Lesson in Cheesecake

Someone recently asked me what the difference was between “normal” cheesecake and “New York style” cheesecake. Seriously, they really did. Behold the answer here!

You know what?

So, um, I was staring out the window? On my bus? And saw a sign in the Gap? That they are starting to roll out their Fall Preview line? And then? You know what? The same thing is happening at Nordstrom? Which means that Fall is starting to peek its brisk chilly little head out of the corner of summer? And? And you know what?

I AM NOT READY TO ACCEPT THAT AT ALL.

Fall better step the heck off or I am going to have a bust a cap in someone’s ass.

It's Done: Beth Is Moved!

Greetings to the World at Large from the new and improved Casa de Beth where I am (get this) listening to the sounds of my LAUNDRY BEING DONE right here in front of me. As i wrote to someone else earlier today, is it sad/wrong that I want to take a picture of this occasion?

Quick update since its been a few weeks....I am, for the most part, moved in. It's glorious -- the place is large enough to do cartwheels in (if a person so desired), with a patio for drinking wine on while doing some serious people watching. Not a single drunk/homeless ex-con in sight, which is more than I can say for my old neighborhood. Life, it would seem, is good.

So I'm headed off to San Diego tomorrow for a business trip (note to friends who live there...don't feel bad, I'm there for less than 24 hours....), and then home again where I can chill and get settled.

More later -- I know I have amusing stories to share but nothing's coming to mind. Better run and watch the dryer finish its load of towels. This might well beat TV for a few weeks.

History Lessons

By popular request, I've done some investigating and uncovered the history of Rachel the Pig, the mascot of the Pike Place Market:

"The unofficial mascot of the Pike Place Market is "Rachel," a bronze piggybank located below the Market clock. The piggybank is used to collect donations to the Market Foundation, which provides a variety of services for those in need. Installed in 1986, Rachel was named after a real pig-a neighbor of Georgia Gerber, the Whidbey Island sculptor who created the piggybank."

That's um, kind of boring, to be honest.

Also, I've looked into the history of Beef Wellington, so named "because in its larger version the finished product looks like a highly polished riding or Wellington boot."

That's um, kind of nasty, to be honest.

History -- proving once again to be sort of boring and nasty once you look further into it.

And what did YOU have for dinner?

Special thanks and elastic waist pants go out to the visiting Johnson Family - Rachel, Mike, Sophia, Tony, Sara, RadioShack, Muffin and Hairball - (and Gus, Bonnie and Charlotte!) that prepared a feast that will truly go down in history:

Tasty toasty triangles with your choice of caviar, foie gras, or pate with truffles and champagne
Fresh basil, tomato and mozzarella salads
Roasted butternut squash soup
Beef Wellington with collard greens
Seared pineapple and mango reduction with vanilla ice cream
Did I mention champagne and wine to wash it all down with?

As if a day of basking in the sun with the salmon weren't enough. A girl could get used to this.

Reflections Upon Packing

Well, I've officially begun to pack up my things for the move. Really this is just Phase One, an initial sweep through the things that I don't use on a daily basis. And now, as I sit surrounded by bare bookshelves and my floor becomes a maze of boxes, I'm waxing philosophical.

In theory, it seems perfectly logical to pack the "non-essential" items first so that you're not scrambling at the last minute to pack up random candles and napkins and bud vases. And yet, after just two hours of packing, I'm already feeling displaced. My home doesn't feel quite so....homey. I still have two weeks to go-- did I learn nothing from the last time I did this? I already miss the pictures of my friends and my magnet collection on the fridge.

Lesson learned (again)-- all of your possessions are essential. Even your grandma's teacups that sit on your top cabinet shelf and gather dust and the reminder near the door that "76.2 Percent Of People Leave Their Homes Every Day." It all adds up to create the place and the feeling of your unique home.

Grumble. I'll see them all soon enough, but still. Grrr.

And I wonder why the single, normal men avoid me

Did Beth really, honestly, truly, head to the Ballard Locks today for some sun and socialization, only to take along some KNITTING and a book about GRIEF*? (Note to self, can you become any more like a 70-year-old if you tried??)

And did she really, seriously, SNARL at the group of 30 first graders that came along to frolic on the grassy knoll she had parked herself?

Oh yes, my friends. She did indeed. Stay away from my grassy knoll when I'm knitting, kids.
She followed that up with a ginormous blue raspberry Slurpee at the 7-Eleven and all become right with the world.

*Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking" -- an absolutely heartbreaking read. Highly recommended, but perhaps not so much for sunny summer days.

Note to self

Hey Jackass,

For future reference, when you plan to move, you shouldn’t forget that your apartment will be shown by your landlord to future tenants.

So, given that, maybe its not such a swell idea to live in total filth for the week and leave the house when you still have laundry spilling out all over the entryway (even if it is clean) with dirty dishes piling in the sink and cat litter scattered around the floor and salt scrub coating your bathtub and used Kleenexes tossed casually around like confetti and last night’s dinner probably still on your living room floor and GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT ELSE – dirty underwear? sad self-help books? that escort you hired from last week? - laying around for total strangers to see.

Cause, you know, your landlord might call while you’re at work to give you a heads-up that some possible tenants are on their way over in the next 15 minutes and you’ll just dive headlong into an anxiety attack about your filthy house. Just sayin’.

Keep on keepin’ on,
Beth

On the Subject of Drunk Shopping

It’s recently come to my attention that there are folks out there that don’t yet know about the wonders of Drunk Shopping, which is something that ranks fairly high in my Top Five Activities I Enjoy list. So, under the theory that if you give a man a fish….something something….but if you teach a man to get drunk and then go shopping for fish, he’ll come home with a lot more than he bargained for.

It’s really not that hard of a concept – everyone knows about drunk dialing, right? This is not that far removed. With drunk dialing, one makes the decision to “reconnect” with old friends/one-night-stands free from the constraints of restraining orders/dignity that cloud your normally sober mind. With drunk shopping – one makes the decision to, well, buy whatever the hell they want to at that very moment, free from the limitations of your décor/credit limit/dignity. In either case you are completely convinced that your decision is COMPLETELY RATIONAL AND SANE, whether it be regarding a purple ottoman or that ex that done you wrong. Go ahead – buy it! Call him up! You’re drunk – it’s all good!

In both cases, unfortunately you’ll likely be disappointed the morning after. At least with drunk shopping you might have a cute sweater or a pony or a flat-panel TV to enjoy the next day while you recover.

(*In the interest of full disclosure, I felt compelled to share that Drunk Beth’s favorite haunts for Drunk Shopping include the self-help/relationships section of any used book store, and her local Whole Foods store.)

Simple Joys

I just bought a basil plant from Trader Joes for $2.99. I could smell that thing all day long and never get sick of it.

Movin' On Up (but not to the East Side)

Alright, alright, ALRIGHT. I am back! Summer appears to be in full swing here in Seattle with our blazingly hot 60 degree days and gradual transformation from partly-cloudy to partly-sunny. I’ve even shaken off my heavy black cardigan and switched out to my light/medium weight cardigan to celebrate.

In the biggest news of the summer, it looks like Beth will be (DRUM ROLL PLEASE) moving in about a month! This is truly an exciting occasion – because it means that I have found a place that has met every single one of my requirements. Upgraded and significantly less sketchy location? Check. Balcony for evening wine drinking? Check. Located on the busline and nearby access to Flexcar? Oh yeah.

But the kicker of them all is the simple joy of a washer/dryer IN. MY. VERY. OWN. APARTMENT. Do you realize what this means, World at Large? No more running out for quarters at 10 p.m. – no more waiting for an open washer while someone else’s boxers are sitting in the machine I want to use – no more having to schlep 40 pounds of dirty-and-then-clean laundry up and down to the basement laundry room! I get a little teary-eyed just thinking about it. Its a beautiful thing.

I am thinking of hosting a laundry-themed housewarming party where people can bring laundry-themed gifts or even bring in their own laundry to do. Details to come shortly....