Thanksgiving in BG

Well, it's no secret that Sarah and her family place Thanksgiving at the number 1 spot for yearly holidays and that Christmas, well, I'm not even sure that it comes in second.

To be blunt, while I typically enjoy Thanksgiving, it's never been one of my top holidays. I would easily place Christmas, Easter, 4th of July, New Year's eve (when spent properly with good company), Halloween, etc. ahead of Thanksgiving. I don't generally enjoy the food as much as other people, it always meant an overcrowded house and lots of prep and clean up. In fact, my fondest memories of Thanksgiving were when Comedy Central used to do marathons of Mystery Science Theater 3000. Alas, this no longer happens.

When I met Sarah, I was introduced to such Thanksgiving novelties as prize BINGO, 35+ party dinners, and a more recent addition, Deep Fried Turkey. I like all these things, I don't dislike the dinner, I just don't get that pumped about thanksgiving, and this year was no exception.

Well, in short, I was inspired by the number of people who dared to be cliché and say what they were thankful for on their Facebook statii. Now, just 2 days prior I forced my Year Two IB Spanish students to say (en español) what they were thankful for during our second annual IB Spanish 10a Thanksgiving feast. I did this the way my dad used to, I made it mandatory and went around in a circle. It was lovely. But something about people willingly using their public space on Facebook to say that they were grateful for something God had given them, it struck me as genuine.

I gave in. I also posted what I was thankful for. I pretty sure you could guess, but I'll let you check my facebook status and leave a comment on my dying wall:) Leaving the status felt good, but being reminded on no fewer than 5-6 occasions today to pause and think about how thankful I am for what I have... well, it's making me want less.

My family (nuclear) is a gem. Sarah is an absolute doll who also happens to be an ass kicker when it comes to living well. Sam, you are so smart, and so creative, and so sensitive, and so much more than I expected the January day I came home to your mom telling me that you were on the way. Ray, you tear it up. Yes, quite literally, but in the figurative sense, forget your hardships early on, now you are a caring, loving and daring boy. You drive me up a wall sometimes, but I get you, and I love who you are becoming, so dangerous.

So, shit. Three days ago I expected to write that I ate some awesome fried turkey, owned in Monopoly, napped a bit and had a really good new beer (name escaping me right now...cousin B??). Thank you God, however, for showing me what to be thankful for.

NYC

Sometimes you just have to be a bro.

A phone call last spring took me by surprise as my good friend from elementary school/ex-next door neighbor/card carrying Metallica Fan Club member called to ask what I was doing in November. Before I mumbled a response he informed me that I was going with him and my brother to see Metallica at Madison Square Garden and that he had already bought my ticket. Apparently there was no backing out.

Last weekend, my brother, a high school friend of mine and I (elementary friend flew out early to see his brother) drove to New York City on Friday to see Metallica on Saturday and came home on Sunday. I'll start with the drive.

8 hours of beautiful, and gradual, hills in Pennsylvania and New Jersey in a car that I love with hilarious company and the entire musical library of Metallica which I got to listen to at stupid volumes. There was plenty of steering wheel drumming going on. I enjoyed the drive so much, that I refused to give up the wheel for the whole way there. We arrived at our hotel in Ridgefield NJ at 9:30p on Friday, and kicked off the weekend in a major way by staying in our hotel room and watching "The longest yard". It wasn't even the burt reynolds version...

The next morning we hopped a train to Manhattan. Getting around was so easy and cheap. Upon emerging from Penn Station we were greeted with crappy overcast weather, tall dirty buildings, major advertisement, a swarm of yellow taxis, bad smells, street vendors, pissed people; it was everything I hoped it would be.

Times Square is a mess. As much as I hated it, I kindof liked it. We hit up the old FAO Schwartz, now Toys R Us, and picked up some presents for the kids. It was a good moment when five male Metal fans all in unison agreed to go into Toys R Us and stayed for 45 minutes.

From there is was a pizza hunt. Having looked in vain for 30 mins, we asked a large gotee'd employee of Sam Ash ,who was on his cigarette break, where to go for good pizza. He informed us that we were in a bad spot for pizza and that most places around there were "Codswallop". He recommended "Ray's Pizza" as the best close joint. I rocked 3 huge slices, some garlic dough balls and a liter of Pepsi. Pizza was the real reason I agreed to go on the trip. Was it the best I've had? No. Was is damn good? I'll say yes. Was it a pizza joint named the same as my son? Yes:)

From pizza to Yankee Stadium(s), rocked the NY subway system and on the way back got off at Grand Central Station. I enjoyed hearing someone say "Grand Central Station" and actually mean it.

We later headed to Madison Square to meet my elem. sch. buddy and get my ticket. We had to split up because he won backstage passes to meet the band! To keep it fair, i scored a better spot in line and ended up one person away from the stage on the floor:) The show started, the music was loud and amazing. I was shocked at how old they looked, but they are all in killer shape and still play well.

I enjoyed the crap out of watching them play. I also realized that nostalgia of my youth such as crowd surfing, moshing, pushing, etc. now just bugs me. The highlights of the show for me were "That was just your life"- the opener with LAZERS!!, and "One" in which James sang the opening lines 8 ft from me and Kirk blasted the solo from the same distance.

After the show we walked a bit, avoided a
drunk friend's attempts to lure us to a
cabaret, ate some gyros, and snapped
this pic.
















This weekend was just what the doctor ordered. Testosterone, metal, car talk and pizza. Sarah, let me know when you want your weekend.

Passion

Is it overrated. Is it unreliable. Is it wonderful.

Why do I flip flop so much. One moment, the world seems to be in perspective, I have goals, good ones. I want good things.

The next, I'm tired, I'm a consumer, not a producer, and I could care less.

What is the secret of living with discipline without being a teetotaler?

I love my passions, but they make for big ups, and equally big downs. I am utterly unwilling to compromise on the ups, the big dreams, the overwhelming goodness I feel and the deep of my sadness about broken things. I could just do without the slumps that ensue. Sometimes I feel like a drug-free druggie.

I have a couple of boys at my side right now. I am so thankful for their mom. She does such a great job with them and inspires me to do more. I think it's time to record some music with them.

Before I forget...

Beer fun!

I mentioned Squatter's beer as being a fine local Microbrew here in the Salt Lake. Tonight I perhaps had a few of another local brewer: Uinta. "Earth, Wind, and Brew" I just read that their brewery is wind powered. Nice.

I tried two different varieties (the sum total will be another guessing contest for my few readers) with my newfound Canadian rock'n'roll friend, C. CC as it were. The first variety was a Hefeweizen (do we remember our new German word from my last blog) that was lovingly titled, "Golden Spike". It was delicious, grainy in flavor, and I shiza you not it was milky hazy, to the point that an english fellow asked me if it were a cider. Mmmm good.

The second was a very unusual to my virgin lips tasting brew called Cutthroat Pale Ale. Nothing to pale about it in my opinion, reddish like good tea. Upon first sip it hits your mouth tasting very bitterly. Once swallowed a pancakes and syrupy aftertaste ensues for a quick second. Strange but true brew.

So, thanks for wading through my beer freshman rantings. I'm relatively new to beer trying, but I like it.

In conclusion, Salt Lake makes a good burger and good use of Bison meat. Their pizza ranges from sucky to meh+. The beer and the architecture and the mountains and the coffee shops and the thriving indie community and amazing public library/park is enough to make me wonder if my family couldn't do well here.

Thanks for everything Salt Lake City. Maybe we'll cross paths again.

so nice, I went there twice

So, if you missed my last blog, let me just start by saying that the Acme Burger Company in Salt Lake City is straight up Baller. More on that in a moment.

Ok, Friday, morning free to spend, so I decide to knock out my long run of the week. The Columbus Halfsie is next weekend, so I got to do my "taper down" 8 mi run yesterday. Well, I didn't (even after Sarah's well intentioned advice) manage to grasp the severity of two big differences in running here in Salt Lake vs. Columbus. 1. Elevation. Columbus is more or less 800ft above sea level. Salt Lake city is approx 4300 ft above sea level. Apparently that does something to runners... 2. The Fing hills. The city is laid out at the feet of some mountains. Apparently my running paths lead uphill.

The end result: Me doing the 80 year old in sweatpants shuffle for 4 miles uphill as I hacked my way for breath past Mormon Temples, Impressive State Capital Buildings, ridge side bikeways, and gravel hill trails until that sweet Nike chip voice in my iPod said, "you have reached the halfway point". Translation, "turn around fatty, you can go downhill now:)".

I don't know if it was the Sufjan in my ear, the lack of oxygen, or the Carpe Diem spirit in me, but tired as hell, I ditched the path and the run for 5 mins to climb atop a large hill at the foot of the mountains to look back at the city. I have no pics to share but the ones in my mind. They are good.

After a shower at the hotel, I decided to ask the friendly concierge for another tip regarding pizza joints given the fantastic nature of the burger from Acme the night before. But as I asked her for her thoughts, an older employee butted in and told me I had to get Big Daddy's pizza or some shenaz like that. End result: 3 mile round trip walk for some glorified Papa Johns... (I typed those dots slowly). Silver Lining: I found a baddass coffee shop that provided a much needed refuge for the evening for some chai and introspection.

Salt Lake Coffee Break was a most Baddass indie-rockin Arab-owned java experience. I saw it on my dissappointed walk home from Big Daddy's and vowed to return. Oh, I did. The chai? Good. The fact that half of the patrons were international? Now more easily explained once reading the linked article (everyone wanted to shake this nice looking Arab fella's hand, everyone). The toungue-in-cheek replays of bad scenes from the matrix, punk rock outside, Beatles music inside, indie hipsters (not too hip, there's a coffee house down the road a bit for the pretentious types), huge room full of couches, and dining room 4x the size your average coffee house? Uber Baddass. I could only think of one thing most the time I was there. Happy Badger. I was never a patron of the famed Toldeo youth everythingery, but Coffee Break held the keys to something deep. Deep things were contemplated in a corner table by yours truly. I wonder when I'll feel ok to say Project 99 out loud.

So, today. Confereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeence. Now that that's out of the way, I made company with a Canadian, a Ukrainian, a Chinese, and a Taiwanese and hit the Mormon infused streets of Salt Lake. Say what you want about Mormonism, but they sure constructed one hell of a set of buildings (fighting the urge to say "complex"...I lost). Very pretty. We only were approached by missionaries twice while touring the grounds. But we did see at least 10 brides and their parties. After that and seeing the capitol building again, with less wheezing, we headed back down for my dinner recommendation of Acme Burger. Unfortunately, the Ukrainian was feeling a bit ill and opted not to join, but the rest of us sat and ate and talked for 2 hours. Kobe is a new word in my dictionary. There's a microbrewery called "Squatters". Good ish man. Last time I got their Pale Ale, tonight we all got a tall of their Hefeweizen (my Canadian German-teaching friend informed me that Hefeweizen is German for Wheat beer... so convenient dining with like a penta-lingual table). Good liquid wheat. Much more body than a Blue Moon.

Ok, i think I'm done. But with all these links, I should put just one more of a classic Salt Lake Favorite.

Anthony Bourdain

So, at 9a columbus time today I left worthington in a minivan and 11 hours later I arrived in my hotel room. Hell occurred in those hours. Not outright hell, just spells of it. Spells that will make good stories.

Ok, first flight, cool. Sat next to a woman who many years ago traveled through Spain and Morocco, we had a nice chat. Second flight, out of Memphis. I'm sorry. I like the south. I like accents, hospitality, pork... What I don't like are large men surrounding me, talking about guns for 2.5 hours, and the one who was my self-serving friend deciding to fart on 5 separate occasions, silently, but quite adequately and very mouth permiatingly. Farts.

Salt Lake, pretty, next to the mountains. Friendly bus folk got me to my hotel. On the outside it looks a bit shabby, on the inside it's Bacharach baby, yeah! Well, at least it was nice for a minute. I gave them my name, she got my keys, asked for a card, denied. After 20 mins on hold with the bank, 20 more mins of failed wireless internet for potential transactions, they got creative and got me my room key. Sweet Lord.

Well, I was hot at this point. Got on iChat with Sarah in my room, she told me to go eat. Good advice, I hadn't eaten a meal in 13 hrs. I headed back downstairs to the very friendly front-desk/concierge and asked where I could get a good burger and milkshake. She told me she didn't know about the milkshake, but she suggested Acme Burger Co. I was a bit dubious from the outside. It looked not so hot. I perused the outside menu (aren't those great?) and decided to head in.

I was greeted by a fine host/waiter who, seeing I was alone, led me to the bar to share the company of another couple, the wait staff, and the likeable chefs. The atmosphere was nice, somewhat Chipotle meets neo-burger. The waiter, thank god, was a good salesman. I almost got a normal burger/lettuce/tomato. He described, in succulent detail, three very popular burgers of the evening (oh so original and good). I was between a Kobe Korean BBQ and a Pork burger (the pork had been ground in house that morning). He steered me towards the pork. I added a paper cone full of Thick cut golden potato fries (these were real potatoes earlier today) and a Squatters Full Suspension Pale Ale (also a favorite of my waiter). Holy moly folks.

The beer was reddish, had a clean first approach but went down with a complex herbality. Damn fine brew. The "burger" was porkalicious, covered in a bourbon BBQ sauce on a nicely grilled onion bun with chopped slaw. The fries. Better than City Barbeque, same vain, but just cooked by someone who knows what they're doing. I ordered a chocolate tort to go, still have that in the bag.

I had to let them know how they had rescued an otherwise crappy day with their food, friendliness and ambiance. I asked the woman working the bar for a manager, she was the general manager in fact. I told her about how my day had sucked, but their restaurant redeemed it and was a warm welcome into Salt Lake City. She came back with a similar credit horror story. We all laughed.

In a bout of irony, she took my bill and credit card. Guess what? It got denied too:)

(PS- Sweet readers, The Maras' credit standing is fine. There was just a simple issue of delays and holds. Thank you for your concern:)

Soupguy

So, I have a loving father in law who, one Christmas after bestowing upon me the records "Michigan" and "Christmas Songs vol. 1-5" by Sufjan Stevens, asked, "Who is that CD, Soup Guy Stevens?" Yes. Soup Guy.

The Soup guy came to Champaign Il during a one-month tour to apparently promote his new effort, The BQE, an orquestral series of movements dedicated to transit along the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. More on that later.

My loving and lovely wife Sarah made it her mission to get tix as soon as she found out about the show from her rockin cousin E. So, when tix became available online at 10:oo am one Saturday morning, there she was with her credit card in hand and clicking the refresh button every 10 secs. Eventually, they became available, she purchased, we ate our minstrels and there was much rejoicing.

The wait finally came to an end last Saturday, Nunny and Papa came down to watch the boys and we hit the road early. Of course, we listened to nothing but Stevens (not Cat) the whole way over. Everything from Seven Swans to Avalanche. Damn fine tunes friends. To be blunt though, 5 hours of his stuff, and I was beginning to grow weary and wondered why we were going to see his boring performance.

Champaign itself swept away my pessimism. I highly suggest the Café Kopi. A bunch of intellectual freaks sit there reading poetry, singing aloud whilst dressed like Orlando Bloom in Pirates, or typing away on their MACS. Hella good chai to boot. So after some people watching, Sarah was itching to get back to the venue to see if a line had formed. Best idea of the night.

20 or so people were already waiting, so we jumped in line and didn't move. This meant 2 hours of waiting, but we met some nice people on either side of us, and after the wait, Sarah and I were about 3 and 5 ft away from the stage. Holy shit friends. Holy shit.

First band, Crypticize. Not bad. Then, without warning, without pomp, he snuck by me on the stairs and got on stage to set up his own equipment. Not only is he a musical angel, but his success hasn't made him a dick apparently.

I kept glancing back at Sarah, who I suppose doesn't have as big a crush on Sufjan as I, but then he spoke to open the show, and then he sang. It's truly a magic filled moment to A: hear someone speak for the first time after listening to their music for so long, and B: to hear a musician that you've listened to repeatedly on a CD sing live for the first time. As soon as he sang the first note, I looked back and now Sarah had the same look on her face as I did. (I can only remember having this feeling once before, and it was upon witnessing a reader of this blog sing live for the first time in a blessed basement.)

The show was truly breathtaking, I think I can say it was the best show I've ever seen. They pulled off his complex music with great precision, but with a high level of humanity as well. Every haunting and uplifting note and lyric pierced the bone more deeply than with the recorded versions. Sarah was holding me from behind, Sufjan was serenading us all from before, I was in heaven.

Thank you Sarah. That was a night I will not soon forget. I am glad to have spent it with you.

On a final note, The BQE. Give it 4-5 listens, and I think that you'll be disappointed the next time you turn on your local classical music radio station.

Mike (yes, Jesus is good to me)