Big day

So yesterday was the first day of the last year of my twenties. I think that is what is called a mind f. Getting older is the weirdest thing. It hurts my brain to think about how time passes and how I feel young and grown up and accomplished and unsettled all at the same time, and I know that's not going to stop, ever, even when I turn 500. Time is weird. But everybody knows that. And I feel like turning 29 is a bigger deal than turning 30 somehow, because 29 is the last of something, and 30 is the beginning. And I also feel like, who even cares how old I am or any of this thinking I'm doing right now? Let's all just spend a few minutes celebrating me!

And that is what we did yesterday. Because I am such a mature and responsible lady, I spent most of the day working from home and then writing essays (for school) from a coffee shop. But I really went crazy at the coffee shop, and instead of just buying a cup of coffee, I treated myself to a whole bowl of soup. On my birthday I really go nuts.

Then last night we went to dinner at Mizuna with Bekka and Joel, sometimes known as Lady B and Gentleman J. I had never been there for dinner before and it was great. They have a huge vegetarian menu, which meant that there were like five whole entrees I could choose between. I was in the lap of luxury. And our super cooky server took $6 off a really nice glass of wine in honor of my big day. The only downside of the Mizuna experience was that the same cooky waitress (can I still say waitress? do I have to say server? I'm not going to) knew it was my birthday, and when we were ready to leave came over and looked at me and said, "If I were you, I'd stick around for about ten minutes or so, if you know what I mean," POINTED LOOK. So we're all thinking, ooh, birthday treats to come for me! Dessert, etc. But here's what happens: she leaves us alone for about twenty minutes, and then gives us the bill. No dessert or mention of the fact she'd asked us to stick around. Happy birthday!

But Brad and I took care of the dessert thing by wandering over to the mall and getting some Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream at Ben and Jerry's before he took me to see The September Issue. Ice cream=my favorite thing. Fashion documentary=fascinating. Me=so, so old, but having a very nice life.

There is more to life than food...

...But apparently that's all I want to blog about. First, a quick Fresh Abundance update: I forgot to order my fourth variety box last week. But I still had a few things left from previous weeks (potatoes and yams, a couple of pears, celery, onion, a couple of peppers, Swiss chard), so I made a delicious minestrone out of most of that stuff (no pears or potatoes or yams) with a recipe I modified a lot out of Gourmet. Because really, I just don't have two hours to spend on soup most days. I also don't eat pancetta. So instead of cooking the first group of ingredients (through chard stems) for a leisurely 45 minutes, I went with about 15. The soup was still delicious. In your face, Gourmet! Maybe a few tips from me would have saved your little magazine.

That was a joke.

And on to the main event! Cookies. I made some flourless oatmeal cookies last week and they were a big hit. I was a little nervous because I hadn't gotten to taste the cookies before I brought them to class the night I baked them, but they were very popular and also, I am in love with them. I made about 50 cookies with the amount of ingredients shown below. The original recipe is for "monster cookies" but I think mine were just people-sized cookies. I also used a combination of white and dark chocolate chips instead of other chocolate candies - and I'm pretty sure I used WAYYYYYYYYY more than the one cup originally called for. Probably more like one cup of each kind of chocolate. Probably more like one cup of chocolate per cookie. Brad and I ate every single cookie that I didn't take to class, too - and that doesn't usually happen. If you knew for certain that there were no traces of gluten in your oats (like Bob's Red Mill, or quelque chose comme ca), these would also be officially gluten free.

Peanut Butter Oatmeal Monster Cookies
About 4 dozen cookies

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, slightly softened
1 1/2 cups creamy natural peanut butter, well-mixed
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
3 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla
2 teaspoons baking soda
4 1/2 cups old fashioned oats
About 2+ cup chocolate or mix-ins (follow your heart)

Preheat oven to 350F and line two large cookie sheets with parchment paper (or Silpat).

Cream butter, peanut butter, and sugars. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Beat in baking soda, then oatmeal and mix-ins.

Drop onto cookie sheets with an ice cream scoop and flatten slightly. Bake at 350F for 8-10 minutes or until done. Do not overbake! Don't you dare!

Remove from oven when slightly golden. Let cool on the sheets for a few minutes until they have firmed up enough to remove to wire racks.

A bloggy deal

Here's what I just learned from my blog stats:

• Most readers come from the U.S. The country with the next highest number of readers? Obviously, Brazil!

Searches that have brought people to my site:

• "dressing up for sporting events" (like that has ever happened!)
  
• "zaftig veronica mars" (excuse me??)
  
• "doesn't that sound nice" (there's a nice, specific search, holy cow)
  
• "one year anniversary for lovers" (I recommend Vermont)
  
• "rory logan goodbye" (that might make a nice subtitle for part of the episode, robot)
  

And my favorite:

• "I'm a fembot" (you ARE? So is Francie!)
  

True love

Brad and I saw Paper Heart at the Magic Lantern a couple of nights ago. This is a super quirky doc(mock?)umentary featuring super quirky comedian/musician Charlyne Yi and the ever-adorable Michael Cera (directed by Nicholas Jasenovek). The premise of the documentary is that Charlyne doesn't believe she is capable of love (specifically, of being "in love") and so takes a bunch of trips all over the country to talk with regular people, scholars, romance novel writers, and others about their experiences with and understanding of love. Along the way she and Michael Cera meet at a party in L.A. and start dating, which then becomes part of the documentary, because HOLY COW, if Charlyne is finally finding love as we're making a documentary about Charlyne not being able to love like other people, we better capture that on film! Hope that doesn't cause any conflict in their tender young love!

Something about the way their relationship plays out doesn't really ring true (and I don't even think they intend for it to, and also some say they'd been dating for years before this came out), but it doesn't really matter. The documentary is quirky (have I mentioned it is quirky?), funny, occasionally touching/cute/sweet, and worth checking out.

Rings like trees

Well world, I am way into my second produce variety box, and you know what that means: I just ate my first beet ever. I roasted beets in the oven today, how crazy is that? My only real beet knowledge comes from seeing them dying in their own sick bloody juice in salad bars. They have always looked way too disgusting to consider eating. But I decided that I'll try everything that comes in my variety box, so today, it's beets.

The one I just ate was golden yellow inside, and a little bit sweet, with texture kind of like a cooked carrot. It was very pretty and I sliced it into little circles. Also, apparently beets have rings, like trees. Mine was six years old.

(Note: I didn't put my beets in the refrigerator for a few days after I received them, because I thought they should be stored in a cool dark cupboard like potatoes are, but I was so very wrong about that; they're supposed to be refrigerated. So there is a chance that my mis-storage altered the way they turned out. Who can say for sure?! Produce is so exciting!)

I am doing other things besides dedicating my life to local abundance (which is an experiment that may die off at some point, although I hope not). School has started again (and I am taking an EEK SCARY POETRY WORKSHOP, among other things), and this is a really busy time at work, so I won't be blogging nearly as often for a while, although hopefully more than once a week. We'll see.

My bizarro best

Last week I signed up for a produce box, delivered to my home for free, from Fresh Abundance. This is something I did a couple of times about a year and a half ago, and loved and thought I would continue to do forever and ever, with one "variety" box of produce (a.k.a. seasonal grab bag, selected by Fresh Abundance, not me) arriving on my doorstep every Friday. Well, I did it exactly twice and then forsook Fresh Abundance altogether, probably because it's not exactly cheap. A variety box costs $35. To me, this was too big a chunk of our ideal grocery budget.

But recently I've been doing some thinking, and here's what that thinking has revealed: I think most of my diet should come from things that grow in from the ground: fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, whole grains, beans, etc. Not EVERYTHING. Oh no, let's not get crazy. I'm going to eat cheese and eggs and ice cream. But if, as most health/diet experts would advise, I made the majority of my diet fruits and vegetables (really good, local, in-season ones), those fruits and vegetables should probably merit a big chunk of my food budget.

So, back to my variety box. I got a lot for my $35, all of it organic, most of it local. I'll list everything just so that you can take in the vast majesty of it.

• 3 apples
• 2 oranges
• a whole bunch of the best nectarines I've ever had
• a few peaches
• a few bunches of grapes
• several pluots
• two pears
  
• one head of red cabbage
• one giant head of romaine
• one HUGE onion
• 2 potatoes
• 3 or 4 carrots (THE BEST CARROTS OF MY LIFE)
  
• a bag of green beans
• a red pepper
• a jalepeno
• another unidentified pepper; it is tiny, which makes me think it might burn my mouth off
• a gigantic bunch of cilantro
• a ginormous bag of tomatoes

This is a lot of produce, way more than I would normally eat in a week. But I am trying, and it's been fun for me, and so I keep looking for recipes that will use some combination of the menagerie of abundance I have here. Last night I made Indian food with potatoes and onion and carrots and peppers and coconut milk and spices, and served it with quinoa and a lot of cilantro (which I thought I HATED, I must add, but it is so good with Indian food, apparently), and it was fantastico.

Other times, I just get panicky at the thought of all the produce in my refrigerator and start flinging things together into bowls and eating them. Which brings me to the weirdest ever BEST FOOD EVER.

Sarah's Bizarro Cabbage and Bean Salad
Now, the reason why this is so freaking bizarro to me is because I thought I didn't really like cabbage, especially not purple (or red) cabbage, especially not as the star ingredient in anything. In fact, yesterday, I was so unconfident in what I made that when I was eating at work I hid it from view whenever anyone passed by, to avoid scorn and ridicule. But, omg, it is delicious, with the best texture and flavor. I am in love with my bizarro salad. I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it!

Ingredients:
3/4 cup chickpeas or kidney beans
1 cup chopped red cabbage
some chopped olives
lemon juice
olive oil
sriracha
sunflower seeds
feta

So, you simply and wonderfully combine everything through olives, put in some lemon juice, olive oil, and sriracha to taste, top it all with a little bit of feta and a handful of sunflower seeds, and then indulge in the surprise treat of your life.

Growing up

My brother was here visiting last week, for the first time in three years. Not that I haven't seen him in three years, just not in the Inland Empire. So, we spent a lot of time talking and lounging and playing Rock Band and eating and watching TV both good and bad and generally staying up a little later than I normally would, and sleeping in. On weekdays I get up at 6 and for me sleeping in is something like getting up at the ripe old hour of 8:30, but when I asked Ty what time he usually wakes up he said, "Ohhhhh, I don't know. Sometime between 10 and 11." Because he stays up late doing things like playing in three bands and planning a beautifully nomadic trip to South America, and I stay up "late" editing church newsletters and working on my thesis. And so when he said 10 or 11, I thought, oh good, because that meant I could sleep in AND sneak around getting things done in the morning and avoid being a mega boring married work machine during his waking hours.

So one morning at around 9:45 I called Brad's mom to check on a few things, including how those muffins I made recently were treating her. And as a mega boring married work machine I thought, hey, while I'm on the phone, why don't I sweep the house?! Our brooms and dustpans and mops and Swiffer-type things are all hanging in the stairwell that leads straight to where my brother was sleeping, so I knew I'd have to gather that broom very quietly. So I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear, slowly opened the door at the top of the stairs, took the broom off the hook, and promptly bumped the mop hanging next door, which in turn knocked EVERY SINGLE OTHER MOP, SWIFFER, DUSTPAN, ETC. clattering and thundering and colliding down the entire flight of stairs, where they landed within several feet of the couch where Ty slept.

Or so I thought. It turns out that he had woken up a little bit early and was watching back-to-back episodes of Top Chef. Meaning, I was upstairs being boring and worried about keeping quiet, and he was being just as boring downstairs. So he put all of the brooms and dustpans and mops away and came upstairs, and I made him watch The Rachel Zoe Project for a while before we went to a coffee shop, where I did boring work stuff and my co-grown-up did the New York Times crossword puzzle.

Muffin man

Last night I spent a few hours as the muffin man, baking about six dozen. Some for my mother-in-law, some for a staff meeting, and a few little baby leftovers for me and Brad. I made some pumpkin ones which were decent, not great, but the others are what I need to share with the world. These strawberry cinnamon muffins are soooooo so so good. Normally, I believe that any food thing with some semi-liquidy food thing lurking in the middle is at best questionable (Cadbury Creme Eggs) and at worst DISGUSTING (Gushers). But these have jam in the middle, and that very jam is a pure delight. I'd also like to note that these are low fat, if you care about that sort of thing. Please, treasure them.

Note: a good blogger would post a picture to really sell you on these muffins. I am not that blogger.

Happy birthday

Good morning world,

After that oh-so-bloggy last post, I had to stop blogging for a few days. But I'm over it now. And today is a very important day. It is the birthday of my most faithful of readers, Miss Danyeal Jones. Danyeal is a Johnny-Flynn-loving, Emmy-godmothering, world-traveling, barefoot-in-the-summertime best friend of mine since junior high whose history is littered with terrible birthdays. I hope that someday we will live together in the same city. Happy birthday, Danyeal!

What blogs are for

Thoughts on my weekend (ohhhh, openings like that are what blogs are all about!)

• I Love You Man is mostly not that funny, but the Andy Samberg parts are.
• I don't want any more of my friends to move to the Tri Cities.
• I was wrong when I said I was acclimated to hot summer weather. It is disgusting.
  

The neat freak

Fact: Emmy hates being dirty. She cleans her paws and face like a cat, will go awkwardly out of her way to avoid mud puddles, and won't even let sprinkler water touch her sensitive hide. But for reasons unknown, about once a year, our meticulously clean little dog finds something incredibly disgusting and gets it all over her petite self. Last year, she rolled in some sort of unnamed animal poop while she and Brad were vacationing at Priest Lake and had to have a bath, immediately. Since they weren't at home Brad had to use Head and Shoulders instead of dog shampoo, and she's been flake free ever since.

Two days ago, Brad and I took Emmy for a walk and for some bizarro reason, she rolled in a bunch of overripe plums. She smashed so much onto the top of her head that it seemed like she had covered it in gel, and it looked like she had gashes of plum blood on the sides of her body. When we got home she jumped onto the couch right away and I shrieked because I didn't want plum blood on it, but it turns out that all of the plum had hardened, much like hair gel, and was no longer leaving stains. So, it was into the bathtub with Emmy again, but this time she had her Pina Colada doggie shampoo.

She can be a little bit annoying sometimes, but even in the midst of that she always makes me laugh, and there is just nothing nicer than having a little dog live with us. Even when she gets water in her beard and drips it all over the kitchen floor, every day. Even when she jumped up to pick plums out of our backyard tree and broke her foot and had to be taken to the doggie emergency room. And especially when she greeted us at the front door one night with such an excited wag of the tail that the vet officially diagnosed her with a tail sprain. That's love.

A night of fashion

Whoops, I fell asleep early last night and forgot to post. Or, to be more accurate: I fell asleep from about 9 until 10, when I of course woke right up and watched Project Runway before falling immediately back asleep at 11, only to be cruelly (I thought at the time, but soon changed my mind) awoken by Brad at some point between 11:30 and midnight to watch a little segment on Conan called "Puppies Dressed as Cats." Omg, omg.

Anybody?

My rule for the rest of the summer (a.k.a. the few weeks I have left to draft essays for my thesis before school starts): I will not panic. So far, my approach to thesis writing is the same as my approach to most important and complex things requiring careful thinking mixed with bursts of creativity. Things which will ultimately be evaluated based on their quality. My pattern: thinking about big things that need to get done, deciding that it’s really unlikely that I can ever do them justice in the time allotted, procrastinating because the potential for failure or mediocrity is just too great, making some un-thoughtful, blind stabs at work that I end up tossing, feeling confirmed in my fears of mediocrity because my panic-induced attempts have turned out poorly, spending a lot of time moping about the fact that I'm not getting anything done, making lists of ways to start getting things done, worrying more about how badly things could all turn out if I don't hurry up and finally do something, repeat, repeat, repeat.

And then: in the last little smidgen of an inch of time remaining, I buckle down and rapidly turn out exactly the necessary amount of work, and whatever I was supposed to do turns out just fine, or better. Just IMAGINE what would happen if I would use all of that time for thinking and daydreaming or playing or brainstorming or praying or pondering instead of worrying and mulling and psyching myself out.




PS: This post is not intended to be a pity party. I'm just thinking. And I'm assuming I'm not the only one out there like this. :) This emoticon welcomes you to Procrastination Nation.

In all its glory

My flower garden is looking remarkably good this year. Not good for someone who has the patience and knowledge and instinct to actually be a gardener, but good for someone who likes blithely planting things in the spring and leaving them to fare for themselves through the heat of the summer. Is that not how this is supposed to work?

In all its glory.

The gigantic blossom of my indomitable Butterfly Bush.

Snapdragons, living large. I have to confess though that about 3/4 of the snapdragons I planted died within a week. And maybe because of that fact, I'm a little extra pleased with what's going on here.

What I would like

The perfect concert-going earplugs. They must:

• Protect my precious, button-sized ears from hearing loss
• Look inconspicuous, a.k.a. not fluorescent, giant, etc.
  
• Not block so much sound that, as Brad would say, "It's like I'm listening to this concert on my ipod in a coffee shop."

I know such things exist. Who will help me find them? Note: my ears are smaller than normal ears, which sometimes leads to fit issues. So, keep that in mind as you're out there shopping my troubles away.

Best food ever, Bellingham edition

There are always a few things Brad and I HAVE to do while we're in Bellingham, and when we make a list of those things, food we must eat usually makes up about two thirds of it. So, I ate all sorts of good things - pizza at Rudy's, a burrito at Taco Lobo on my first-ever visit there, and a shockingly good cupcake (because really, you usually know what you're going to get with a chocolate cupcake, but this one was outstanding) from a new-to-me, oh so hip and trendy cupcake place in Fairhaven. Have I mentioned that I want to open my own cupcake place? Well, I do. Anyway, I ate a lot of good things, but there were three highlights.

1. Yam Alechiladas from Boundary Bay
When we were living in Bellingham I don't think that Boundary Bay served a huge menu of delicious food like they do now, because I think the first time I ate there was two years ago. This time I got their yam alechiladas (which I'm sure means that the enchilada sauce is enhanced by a little Boundary Bay ale), and they are really, really, really, really good. I wasn't expecting something amazing, but they are amazing. I wish I had taken a picture or something so that I could remember what exactly made me so enamored of them. But I'll just say that if I recall correctly (I am a great food writer!), they are spicy, a little bit sweet (but not too sweet, oh no), full of yams and beans and cheese and sauce, and garnished with some salsa and sour cream.

2. The Cookies 'n' Cream ice cream at Mallard's.
Now, much like the really good cupcake I ate, I was not expecting to fall in love with something so run-of-the-mill (and something I so frequently consume) as cookies and cream ice cream. But it was so good, with huge cookie chunks and (shock!) sweet, creamy vanilla ice cream. I can't put my finger on why, but it is just better than other cookies and cream. I ate said ice cream right after I ate way too much of my enchiladas. Totally worth it. You have to sacrifice for the things you love.

3. Cinnamon Chip bread from Great Harvest.
I don't know if this is offered at other Great Harvests in the world (it's not in Spokane), but at Bellingham's Great Harvest they have this cinnamon chip bread that comes as a round loaf with this, shall we say, crust of cinnamon sugar on top. My longtime college roommate and sometime soul mate Kathryn introduced me to this delight, which is, more specifically, fantastic bread with little pockets of cinnamon and sugar sprinkled throughout and that addictive crust on top. I hadn't had any of this delicacy in years, but while Brad was spending way too long at Everyday Music (formerly Cellophane Square), I thought I should take a walk up to Great Harvest to see if Saturday was one of their Cinnamon Chip days (because a bread this good can't be put out each and every day, or people in the know would go crazy - it must be released in small, regulated doses). And it was just such a day. The bread was better than I remembered it, and Brad and I snacked on it for three days, even sneaking it into international waters on our ferry ride to Canada.

Party people

I just got back from the second ten-year reunion I've attended in a three-week period. Sorry Bothell High class of '99, but Lewis and Clark is the clear winner in party planning. Probably because there wasn't much planning involved at all with LC's - it was super casual, at a bar, no tickets to buy, no name tags to make ahead of time, no elaborate skits featuring masked friends wearing cougar costumes, etc. This kind of party was just more my style. They didn't try very hard, and that took the edge off.

The highlight of my night was probably when a high school friend of Brad's, a guy I had first met about half an hour earlier, came up to me and asked if I was having a good time. I said, "Yeah, this is the best night of my life." Which made him laugh a lot. So we chitchatted for a minute and then he goes, "OK. So how can we turn this around? Do you know any jokes?" And I don't really, so I told him so. So THEN he starts TELLING ME DIRTY JOKES! And high five-ing me after them! And I'm a stranger to him basically, and I feel like he shouldn't want to offend me or something, as the wife of his high school buddy Brad, and I'm laughing like a maniac, not at the jokes, but just the freaking weirdness of it all. I hope he's got some new dirty material ready by the time the twenty-year rolls around. Apparently I love that stuff.

Dinner party

Tonight my friend Bekka and I (hi Bekka!), along with Bekka's boyfriend Joel and of course Brad, had our first of many dinner club parties together (I don't know what we're really going to call this, but that name was super awkward). Bekka and I cooked this time, while Brad and Joel immersed themselves in the world of Whale Wars in the living room, because we are domestic goddesses, and they are big nerds. We made the Anasazi Bean Burgers, as seen at such places as The Elk, Moon Time, etc. (except we made them with black beans instead of the elusive Anasazi), roasted red potatoes, and a really good quinoa salad/pilaf type thing, with red bell peppers and tomatoes and zucchini in it. I wish I could tell you more about the quinoa, but Bekka was the mastermind for that part of the evening and I really don't know what all went on. However, the bean burgers are REALLY GOOD and REALLY EASY (although they took about 473892 years tonight since I never read recipes well enough beforehand to really know what's going on), and the roasted potatoes were perfect.

And then we played Settlers of Catan, which is a nerdy-sounding game, and it IS nerdy. But playing it is less nerdy than when, after Joel finally won (after about, oh, two hours), he and Brad started chanting "King! Of! Catan!" and doing their Harry Caray impressions. Dinner party club is going to be great.

Summertime travels

Brad and I got back yesterday from our little summer vacation: Bothell and Seattle for a Mariner game, a few days in our beloved Bellingham, and then off to Victoria, BC to revel in queenery (I made that word up). Now, what I am about to attempt to do is this: upload and post some pictures from our trip on this very blog! This should not be very complicated. However, I tried to post some pictures of my flower garden last week and it ended in disaster, with a cluster of five tiny photos, out of order, at the top of my screen, and no way to write words around them or put them in the right order. So, here we go.


We went to the Mariners vs. Yankees game on Thursday. Yawn! Every time I go to a baseball game I bequeath the responsibility of protecting my head from a fly ball on someone who will actually be watching the game, since I know my attention will drift to daydreaming and people watching after the first inning. Brad agreed to be my protector, and I survived unscathed.


Shortly before this picture was taken, I spent half an hour hiding out at the Mariner Team Store buying Brad that hat. He asked me, "What's better? Standing in line at the team store, or watching the game?" The answer was obvious.




We were in Bellingham from Friday until Sunday morning, and we spent a large chunk of Saturday reading books at Boulevard Park. I can't tell you how much I love Bellingham. It makes me happy just being there. On both of my Bellingham mornings I woke up and ran and ran and ran along the Interurban Trail and just loved being alive. Someday we will move back.




One of the things I pride myself on is my fine photography. This is probably most evident in the "glamour shots" I take of Brad. Just look at that face. He can't get enough.


We did a drive by tour of our former Bellingham homes. This lovely abode in the York District neighbors Nelson's Market and was my home for two years. It used to be green. Now it features red paint, a boat trailer, and a heavenly anointing of light.



Brad's cousin Staci is great and let us stay at her house in Bellingham. We had a lot of fun with her, and on our last night we all went to the Archer Ale House to play the aforementioned dart game we made up, Shrauge (the artful combination of Staci's last name, Shrum, and our last name, Hauge, obviously).

Brad, mere moments after his humiliating defeat. Good job Staci!

Game faces. Shrauge is not a game for the fainthearted.

And after we ate at all of our favorite places (EXCEPT LEMON GRASS! Lemon Grass is closed! Why didn't anybody tell me?!), met up with friends, browsed the farmers' market and bookstore, and mastered the art of darts, we ferried over to Victoria for a couple of days. It was great to just sit around the harbor and watch the boats and seaplanes (did that sentence not just make me sound about 70 years old?). We went to a great concert (Manchester Orchestra and Silversun Pickups, plus a little Cage the Elephant for good measure), and just loved being on the water and out of town.

The harbor.

And, I hereby proclaim myself the master of adding photos to my blog! I finally did it. I have entered the space age.

Queen of darts

We are moving on from Bellingham tomorrow and going to Victoria, so, goodbye forever! Or maybe we will have ample internet access and no goodbyes will be necessary. Who knows what might happen while we're visiting America's hat?

Tonight we spent a long, long time at the Archer Ale House. Brad totally dominated Staci and me in the first two rounds of darts. HOWEVER, Staci won the third round with a whopping 308 points (we played to 301 - is that completely weird? we made up a bunch of rules and then taught those made-up rules to a bunch of drunken 60-year-olds, who proceeded to break them left and right). And guess who came in with triple digits each round? Yes, that's right. Me. Queen of darts. 200 points behind my competitors, but what sportsmanship I displayed.