Miami (not really): Dinosaur Sex

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Originally uploaded by reallyct

Remember recently when I mentioned that devoted partner and I have a vehicular compulsion that necessitates our jumping in a car and driving places just cause? Our recent trip to Miami was no exception. It's true that I had taken perhaps a trifle more sun than I should have, but it's also a bit of hard work to sit slothfully under the sun doing nothing save reading, occasionally sipping from a pina colada, and cooling off in the pool or ocean from time to time. A day of it is terrific. Two days can also be good. But a ceaseless stream of doing nothing can get old. Since we're throwing ourselves in the water for a good solid week later in June, we decided to forgo a bit of Miamian diving in favor of a needless toodle (toodle=touring) to the Everglades.

We even splurged and rented the Mustang convertible.

We started the day heading west towards Naples and a lovely area run by the Audubon Society known as Corkscrew Swamp. Sounds charming, no? For those fearful of malaria, the Corkscrew Swamp folks have constructed a 2 mile boardwalk through their patch of the Everglades - this is also good for families and persons of limited mobility. While the adventurer in you or me might scoff, considering how putridly hot interior Florida is, having the route mapped out for you ahead of time with no possibility of becoming lost, isn't all that awful.

I was the expert animal tracker (to see the whole (unfinished) set, click here), discovering icky bugs, raccoons and the first alligator of the day. Feeling as though we had accomplished our main task, finding an alligator, we took the long way home, stopping for late lunch at a fish place (bad idea - out of season + flavorless + deep-fried = bland and bad for you), before heading back east.

And then we stopped for Bob. We were driving along an unremarkable and very straight road when we passed two people standing on the side of the road not hitchhiking. They were looking at something. We drove about 200 yards before turning the car around and going back towards the people who we had decided had spotted alligator. This was a fortuitous choice because we then spent the next half hour or so harassing poor Bob (the name we have the alligator) as he tried to swim and ignore fish and just get on with his afternoon. There were also some massive, and massivly attractive-hued, grasshoppers which are in the full (unfinished) set of photos.

Now that we knew what to look for - other not-stranded motorists on the side of the road - we drove the boringest road with more purpose. And this is how we discovered what we discovered. Alligators. Doing it. Yes, for my first non-local outing with the new camera, I was privileged enough to be confronted by some of the worst light, the darkest subject matter, and lizard humping. Do not be confused by the seeming innocence of these shots. These alligators effed one another. Underwater for the money shot and away from the MANY prying eyes, but you knew what they were up to. Then they went at it a second time. As we were walking away a charming blond girl of 3 or 4 came scampering up yelling, "daddy, daddy, alligators!" She turned to me and said, "I think it's a boy and a girl." I told her I thought they were married. "Daddy daddy the alligators are married!" "How do you know, honey?" I told the father it was that the alligators were VERY FRIENDLY. How's that for some serious Discovery Channel shit?

Tomorrow: la comida de Cuba.

Miami: The Book Reviews (still haven't uploaded photos)

While we wait (patiently) for my editing and uploading, I can still talk about the lovely several days we spent in Miami. Sort of. I'll confess, we didn't do much. I mean devoted partner did quite a bit as he was there for work and so was working for two days but I not so much. The two places I had meant to go to? Not so much. What I did do for two days was tan and read (possibly a little too much sun, but it is now a perfect shade of bronze so no one's the wiser). Since I became over-infatuated with the knitting, my 100-meter dash reading habit has suffered. Also I've been kind of disappointed with nearly everything I've been reading. But I packed six books for the trip and thank god we didn't spend Saturday on the beach or I would have run out. As summer is on our doorstep and many of you might similarly take to the beach with a book, I thought I might give you my opinions.

Life After Yes. Aidan's book arrived prior to the cab to the airport meaning I was able to open her book bright and early Wednesday morning in my chaise. By 10:45am, Aidan's book was done (honestly, would it have killed you to have written another 300 pages? :smiles:). I will admit, rather shamefacedly, that I was anticipating more girlishness in the book than there was. And while I enjoyed the day at the beach those years ago when I read Bridget Jones' Diary, I don't traditionally pick those books off the shelf. Aidan's book was touching and feminine without trying too hard to land the chick-lit vote, which for someone who doesn't vote that way, was terrific. Her protagonist was aware of her flaws and her lapses toward cliche and that made her so much more human and easy to relate to, even as she was rich and pretty. The story traces a relationship through the unexpectedly rocky times post-engagement as the protagonist, Quinn, wonders if she's making the right decisions about anything. Woven throughout the story are memories of her father who died in the Twin Towers but the book doesn't seek to capitalize on boo-hoo 9/11 hokum like SO MANY OTHER BOOKS DID (I'm looking at you, Don DeLillo). So I now feel confident, nepotismessness aside, in recommending Life After Yes as excellent summer reading that even snobbish bitches like me who look at the girlbook table with disdain can guiltlessly enjoy.

Rough Music: Blair, Bombs, Baghdad, London, Terror. And of course, one must follow any enjoyable fiction with a short tome on British politics. I'll be honest: unless you're REALLY interested in British politics, you might want to skip this. As much as it pains me to say (and you have no idea how it pains me), this book, for me, suffered as Umberto Eco's "Turning Back the Clock" did (which was a lot about Italian and European politics). Interesting? Yes. But completely time-specific and, frankly, if you ever glance at a foreign newspaper or political blog, you're pretty much already familiar with what's happening. I call this a pass.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I think I'm pretty much the last one on the bus here, so forgive me if you read this book when it first came out. It had been on my list and I just hadn't gotten around to it. Quite pleased, however, that I finally did. Ostensibly merely the story of a lonely Dominican kid in New Jersey, Diaz does a rather brilliant job of capturing the legacy of the Dominican Republic in the 20th century while peppering his prose with more old school sci-fi references than I am comfortable admitting I understood. While I got the feeling that Diaz is no Mario Vargas Llosa fan, I would offer a double feature that starts withThe Feast of the Goat: A Novel. But then again, I'm a fan of double features (as anyone who has ever caught me doing a Poseidon Adventure/Towering Inferno thing will doubtless vouch). I found the character development in the book, and not just that of the protagonist, to be the highlight, and reminded myself how frequently I am disappointed reading half-formed characters, but the story, as pedestrian as it could have been (oh, right, coming of age story blah blah) was fast-paced and polytropeic (I have made up this word).

A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table. I have been reading Molly Wizenberg's blog, Orangette (see sidebar) for many years, and when I started subscribing to Bon Appetit, I was happy to see she was gainfully employed writing a column. I owe a debt of gratitude to so many of the food bloggers who made the internet a far tastier place and so I have frequently "thanked" them by buying their books. This one was different, though. In the place of a glossy picture book of recipes, this was a reading book. Each recipe boasted a story at times sweet, at other times a trifle forced, but the formers outweighed the latters (and have compelled me, at least theoretically, to a pledge of more salads this summer). The stories follow Molly from her Oklahoma home to her Seattle adulthood and along the way she loses her father to cancer and finds a husband while spending a jealousy-inducing amount of time in Paris. The recipes are from the heart and simple enough for timid cooks and I estimate that at least 50% of them will be made by me sooner rather than later.

Atmospheric Disturbances: A Novel. More often than not, a book will show up in my Amazon box and I have no idea how it got there. Sure, I remember ordering it, I just don't remember how I decided to order it. This was one of those books. When I read the back cover (man's wife comes home and is decidedly a double of his real wife and he must launch a search to find her aided by a psychotic who thinks he controls the weather) I was intrigued. I was thinking Operation Shylock meets something. Sadly, by chapter 6 or 7 (and these are those short 2-3 page chapters) I knew how it was going to end and the getting to the ending part was neither particularly interesting, nor particularly facile writing. This was an author trying too hard. I would also say that a 34-year old woman author writing a 50-something male protagonist was something that was mostly unsuccessful. The protagonist was far more unintentional Philip Roth satire than I'm sure was intended. I think it's very difficult to write from the perspective of the opposite sex and few (frankly I can think of none at the moment, but I'm giving the benefit of the doubt) examples that have worked. You may feel free to skip this one.

So that's what I read on my mini-break. If you have read anything of even relative merit recently, please let me know - we leave for Nicaragua in less than three weeks!

Around the House

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Originally uploaded by reallyct

This morning, as devoted partner removed the screen from our bathroom window in order that he might have a clear shot at the family of feral cats cavorting in our yard with his air pistol, it occurred to me that I hadn't updated much about the domestic suburbification. Perhaps it's that, while I think shooting at cats is perfectly normal for a Monday morning, I worry my former citymates would not. Perhaps it's that, should my gardening projects end in tears, I will be embarrassed at my total inability to thrive in grassy cultures. Perhaps it's simply that because the quotidian is so easily taken for granted.

So let's get right to it: my blue table still needs some help. I'm hoping the "Coming of Amy" will help with this. I just kinda need some guidance and some motivation. The laundry room could stand to be emptied of, well, laundry. Apparently it is true that the more space you have, the more space you fill. I feel distinctly cluttered until I remember that we have an attic for "emergencies."

But I guess there are two big changes, one of which I'm sure you can guess at based on the photograph: I am gardening. I dug little holes and lovingly put plants in them and sprayed them with water when they looked thirsty. Sadly, for my mother at least, these are not the pretty kinds of plants. These plants are utilitarian. 8 varieties of herbs and 9 heirloom tomatoes. I envision a long summer of endless fruitings (in reality, I know I'll be lucky to get one salad's worth). I even paid the neighbors' kids to water my pretty little plants while we were in Miami. Yes, I fear for them when it gets hot and they look wilty, but a cursory evaluation of their health while I was gone yields some positivity: they seem spry.

Now there are some problems. For one, I have not consulted the great Internet for information on, let's just use this example, what it means when the leaves are yellow. Does that mean too much water or too little? (Oh, and by the way, now that I have searched, there are more new questions and too many answers.) Also, at the same time as plants were going in the ground, another outdoor toy landed by the front porch. My new bird feeder, a small gift from devoted partner. It is now exciting to see birds eat things out of my feeder (though I need to create a blind from the kitchen window so I can try to take pictures of them feeding). But, of course, the bird feeder has also brought squirrels who, I am not certain of this, might enjoy eating my garden. (The nice man at the garden store assured me to the contrary, but I am skeptical.)

So we sit back, relax, shoot some animal intruders, and await our homemade mojitos and tomato/basil salads. Kids, this, it seems, is what it's all about in the suburbs.

P.S. Many Miami postings coming once I edit and upload the photos.

Benvenido, Sloth

Once upon a time I would have thought you were out of your mind if you had suggested to me that good times can be had whilst doing nothing. A vacation was touring cathedrals of Spain, castles of Germany, the Great Wall. Anything less was sort of a waste.

Devoted partner saw things differently. On our grand tour of Europe he continually beseeched me (besought me?) to find us a scrap of sand, if only for a day or two, to break up the monotony of Giottos and portculli. Turns out he was right. Beaching becomes me. I don't know why it took me so long to realize. After all, I can recall sunbathing ad nauseam at summer camp (with baby oil) and enjoying that. I just always though beach vacations were a cop out. Until I took one.

Now I have difficulty summoning up the energy for a museum or a walking tour of anything other than the pool. Well, not really, but let's just say I now appreciate the value of a stack of books, a cold beverage, and sweet sweet ultraviolet.

Which is why I invited myself on devoted partner's business conference in Miami over the next two days. I assured him I would be plenty happy alone, with my books, and my drinks, by the pool while he did whatever it is people do at conferences (I hear murmurings of powerpoint). This useless blathering is my way of excusing my sunny absence for the next few days. True, we'll have the computer and, conceivably I could write something, but I make no promises.

Now I am just hoping that the UPS man, armed with Life After Yes arrives before my cab to the airport.

Ciao.

Beer Good

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Originally uploaded by reallyct

Do you like beer? I know you do. How about really good beer? Brewed by a really good guy? Who has two hyperadorable rescue dogs? Yeah, that's beer you can get behind!

Saturday marked the launch of the New Jersey Beer Company with an event in North Arlington at the Copper Mine pub. The owner, Matt, is a very close friend, first of devoted partner's from high school and then, obviously, mine. Aside from his not permitting me to kidnap his puppies, I can say nothing bad about Matt, and as we have followed his journey from "I'm going to open a brewery," to "customs is holding my equipment hostage," to "Saturday 3-8pm beer launch," I have grown more and more excited (as I'm certain, has Matt).

So when the day arrived, we were up, at 'em, and on the road to New Jersey (a place reserved only for special occasions and invitations; ooh, wait, and the beach; I always forget I like Jersey's beach). I brought tennis balls just in case there were any dogs that would need entertaining - there weren't, grrrrr. The bar had that terrific neighborhood vibe that many bars strive for and few achieve. There were regular patrons making conversation with the owner and watching a variety of professional sporting events (the one with the bat, the one where you kick balls, and the one where you drive around a circle very fast), and, yes, they were ordering the new beer on the block!

Matt launched three beers this weekend: a pale ale, and abbey single, and a stout. It's the middle one that I couldn't identify and, when I tasted it, was more surprised still; I had assumed it would be, for lack of a better descriptor, sweet; but it was far more nuanced than that. Each beer had such a delightfully unique character and each conjured up, for me, a different way to be enjoyed. There was a fourth beer making the rounds, a version of the pale ale with extra hops, and wow if I wasn't educated about how slight changes can produce tremendous differences in the finished product.

Shameless plug, or not, I would encourage all of you to join the New Jersey Beer Company's Facebook page so you can find out where near you they're serving and upcoming events where you can support local enterprise and one of the nicest guys I know. Also, if I haven't yet mentioned it, the beer is really, REALLY, good. So drink up!

The Lies Women Tell

"My husband and I never fight."

"He can just look at me and I have multiples."

"Labor is the worst pain ever."

"My boyfriend's is enormous."

"I'd never want to be as skinny as she is."

"Every time is as magical as the first."

Thank god Amherst didn't have sororities or I would have been in trouble. I've not been fortunate in amassing a coterie of close female friends. There are a number of almosts, some halves, but I don't have that terrific group of women with whom I can take a week in Barbados. This makes me sad and the future prospects aren't great.

But, and rationalization this must be, some of the above statements have always given me pause when I am surrounded by an XX crowd. If you are a woman, you have heard other women you know, and occasionally like, utter one of the above ridiculous statements. Maybe you've ignored them, maybe you've pitied the speaker, or maybe, like me, you've seethed at the necessity for the utterance at all. Devoted partner has often said, and I have often been pissed at him for it, that while men measure their relative worth against other men on the power/income metric, women measure by relationships. And as we all know, no relationship can be good unless there is never friction and always huge member magical special time. Right?

I mentioned sororities up top because I always found this kind of chatter a form of hazing. I remember it especially when the topic of giving birth was brought up and those that had would launch into the most hyperbolic hysterics about how painful it was. But my mom told me it was no biggie. Sure, she wouldn't choose to do it every day, but her report of the experience was at complete odds with every other report I received. I chalked it up to a bit of one-upmanship. Of course when followed immediately by, "but it was worth it because my husband is gigantic and we had magical whoopie every night in an effort to conceive and I had a million little deaths each time," I felt less charitable.

Because isn't the goal of those statements, if only for a moment, to make the listener question her own life and choices? Wait a second, sometimes our special time isn't all that special, and last night I yelled about dirty dishes, and then there was that time when for a couple of months no one was reaching satisfying completion. F$%#%$K! Is my marriage/relationship/life doomed? Cause this bitch in front of me has it all!

Not nice, ladies, not nice.

I swear, and those who know me well know I am precisely this stubborn, I sometimes consider never marrying devoted partner simply in protest to all the people, most especially women who look at and speak towards me pityingly when they hear about my "situation." Or, should we birth, to film it and put it on YouTube showing me calmly reading a book during the whole process; or playing Parcheesi. For someone admittedly so good at lying, I seem to find insincerity and dishonesty at the top of my peeves list, and when I am around groups of women (no matter what kind of group), I hear it everywhere.

Now that we're older and people are, especially the coupled ones, having less sex, the bragging rights go to the couples that don't fight. Ever. I don't know why this is considered a good thing. To my mind, if you never fight, you're never really invested in something. Or you are so indifferent to one another that nothing seems worth getting heated up about. Or you've both already commenced your affairs, so why stir the pot?

Why this upsets me when, much like the television, I can choose to tune out or change channels, is that it simply perpetuates the wholly unrealistic picture of adult couplehood lapped up by young women. Which, when they discover how unrealistic it is, can spend much of their time feeling like they've failed. After all, if everyone else has X and I don't, there must be something wrong with me. And even among us liberated self-determinative, impervious types, there are a couple of moments of doubt we can all recall.

So why write about this? Well, I've been asking myself to identify things I'm passionate about and, as I look at what I've chosen to write about, I see a lot of women's issues creeping in. But not the traditional ones. Pay equity and reproductive rights, while certainly on my list, are issues there are more than enough people tackling. These other things, these insidious cultural things, these are never mentioned, and their ill effects are perpetuated. And we're all culpable. Any time we lied and instead of saying, "I'm really happy," we said, "it was perfect from the first moment," we contributed to the utter falsification of what a stable adult relationship is.

And we miss the opportunity to share the important information - how relationships aren't always easy, but when you know you want to work on them, you've probably found one worth staying in.

Rally

Best friend is fleeing the country. By choice, not dictat, but the result is the same. I will be best friendless for at least a year. His self-imposed exile with best fiance will commence in Mongolia and, as we discussed this, I said that, should devoted partner and I win the lottery, we would do the Mongol Rally and meet up with them. Prompting, of course the question: what is the Mongol Rally? The short answer is the Mongol Rally is awesome. The longer answer involves perhaps fighting with Uzbek rebels and running out of petrol (this is a Euro thing) somewhere in a desolate landscape and resorting to yak hunting. The longer answer is also awesome.

I don't know where it started though I know I can blame Tim Cahill's Road Fever for much of it (Tierra del Fuego to Prudhoe Bay - sadly the lame-os at Guinness Records no longer allow you to break these sorts of records citing "safety concerns" - lames). Then, as anyone who has ever spoken to us knows, we spent the summer after graduation driving. A lot.

But best friend asked why something like this, 3-6 weeks of driving, would appeal to us. After all, there wouldn't be much time for sightseeing (I disagree; I think we could drive fast enough during the driving parts to leave ample time for local color), it isn't the most conventional of trips, and there is the danger part. I brought this up with devoted partner who, while not setting his sights on the Mongol Rally anytime soon, would certainly join up were having a job not mandatory, and he somewhat coldly analyzed our motivations thusly:

We're relaxed when we drive.

Devoted partner doesn't mind being behind the wheel while I ooh and ahh at scenery and goats who climb trees, and now that I actually know how to drive, devoted partner can feel free to snooze in the passenger seat while I drive (and ooh and ahh at goats). We have twice gone (by google's count) 368 kilometers out of our way simply to enjoy the highway between Nice and Italy. We like being in the car together. I can't remember a single in-car fight about getting lost or almost getting killed (we've both been guilty once). While trying to find a good photo to describe why we like that stretch of highway so much, I found these guys and seriously considered learning how to ride a bike in the hope we could go with them next time.

Perhaps we're just especially canine, leaning our heads out the windows as feeling the force of the wind as we waggle our tongues, but even the thought of getting to the Mongol Rally one of these days (did you know the Paris-Dakar rally is no longer run from Paris to Dakar? this upsets me greatly as that was on the bucket list and I liked our chances) makes me happy. If any of you can think of a way to make it revenue neutral, I'd like to hear about it.