Monday, July 16, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
I Think I May Have Made History
If you know me, then you are familiar with my proclivity/propensity/whatever you call it,
towards bakeries. You might also know that I used to run regularly, when I
lived in Boston. Lately, I run when I can, and there seems to be no time, so TODAY, I decided to start my running routine (30 minutes) in the morning-before work-to get it out of the way.
On this day, July 12, 2007, I may have made bakery history, or perhaps running history. And here's how: When I started running this morning, I wasn't feeling it. Not in the groove, not having it. No inspiration..until I saw the OPEN sign of a new bakery near where I live. So, after 8 minutes of half-assed jogging, I stopped into this local bakery--I did have to order a cake anyway--and placed my mid-jog order.
I think I need to write Running magazine, or Bakery Monthly...probably the latter.
Thought you all could envision this Tina T. scenario in your head. You'll be amused to know, in the interest of "serious" running, I did stop my stopwatch, waited until I was done perusing the goods in the bakery, and finished my pseudo-run after my order:-)
towards bakeries. You might also know that I used to run regularly, when I
lived in Boston. Lately, I run when I can, and there seems to be no time, so TODAY, I decided to start my running routine (30 minutes) in the morning-before work-to get it out of the way.
On this day, July 12, 2007, I may have made bakery history, or perhaps running history. And here's how: When I started running this morning, I wasn't feeling it. Not in the groove, not having it. No inspiration..until I saw the OPEN sign of a new bakery near where I live. So, after 8 minutes of half-assed jogging, I stopped into this local bakery--I did have to order a cake anyway--and placed my mid-jog order.
I think I need to write Running magazine, or Bakery Monthly...probably the latter.
Thought you all could envision this Tina T. scenario in your head. You'll be amused to know, in the interest of "serious" running, I did stop my stopwatch, waited until I was done perusing the goods in the bakery, and finished my pseudo-run after my order:-)
Friday, June 29, 2007
Boston, You're My (Second) Home
On May 19, David and I flew to Boston for his friend Adria's wedding. The beautiful Princeton, MA wedding started at 11:00 a.m. and we landed at Logan at 9:07 a.m. Needless to say, we rented a car and flew down the Mass Pike, and got there a stunning "only 15 minutes" late. We were proud. We had a minor setback in that they rented us a nasty Kia-something that looked like the previous renter's sole activity was throwing dirty junkyard parts on the front and back seats and rubbing them into the upholstery. Nonetheless, a very lovely ceremony was followed by an awesome dinner at a local lobster shack in Fitchburg, MA. I got to meet many of David's Chicago amies and everyone had great stories to share. From Fitchburg, we traveled to Concord, MA (start of the Revolution) to show David the cutest village green ever! and to walk to the Old North Bridge for ye olde towne centre. However, our stay in Concord was short, due to the fact that Friendly Fenway was a'calling. The Sox play the Braves at 2:05, but a rain delay took us (me, D, and J.F.Klug) to Anna's Tacqueria in Brookline and we got to the game just before it started. My other boyfriend David [Ortiz] did not disappoint, and I think he was 3 for 4 that game. Met my Boston friends in Somerville for dinner, and boo hoo, we only had Monday left to see my second city. We ran my old route the next day and I took David to Renee's Cafe in Somerville.....where i'll have to explain the "It's Yah Muffin" story in person. (I loves me the Boston accent somethin' terrible). We also got our does of aggressive East Coast driving, and I reminisced LOUDLY as it took us over 30 minutes to find parking in Cambridge at lunchtime. We walked around Harvard Square, wound our way to the North End for brick oven pizza and of course, ended our trip by double parking in front of Mike's Pastries. TTFN Beantown.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Hilton Head: Where Rules are Meant to be Broken, and Somebody, Please Install Some Lights on that Island Before We All Get Ourselves Killed
Yep, it’s that time again, where I force you to listen to all the fun I had on Hilton Head Island, where I spent 5 days with David and his gracious hosts of parents, Nancy and Roger. We had a grand time: took walks on the beach, ate great seafood, biked a bit, and made two day trips to Beaufort, SC and Savannah, GA. My only regret is that I lost camera juice and so I took rien de photos of Savannah. Fortunately, we didn’t hear "The South will rise again" once, nor did we see any confederate flags. I don’t think the HH "rules and regulations" handbook would’ve allowed for them. HH is a nice place, I suppose, if you golf or play tennis with a manic streak. Pics: David, doing lord knows what pose on the beach, then D and Roger chillin' in the cafe,
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Thanksgiving
Hey, everyone. Yinz make fun of me all the time for taking photos of food, but this time, I've included human hands. So I have modified food photography, and therefore don't want to hear about it.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Dallas: "A town where they root on Goliath to beat up David"
Ok, I can't take credit for my subject line. Molly Ivins, an Austin, TX columnist, who died this week, said it first. But I will take credit for my travelogue of my few days spent in Dallas and San Antonio. It wasn't the best trip, let's just say. Lest us forget it is the same town in which JFK was slain, and we all know how I feel about that. People taking touristic photos on the grassy knoll should indicate a weird state (literally and figuratively). My journey began at Pgh. International, where, as an Au Bon Pain frequenter, I thought I'd mix it up a bit--get crazy--and instead of ordering the usual sesame bagel with full-fat cream cheese, I opted for the the sesame bagel egg sandwich with bacon (full-fat cream cheese on the side, in case, you know, an extra bagel nibble found itself chaste.) Imagine the extreme disappointment felt when I saw, after boarding the plane, that I purchased a lousy dry egg sprinkled with brittle bacon pieces. An Egg McMuffin, it most certainly was not.
Then, and I'm not exaggerating, there was a loud-voiced woman on the plane who regaled her neighbor (who may or may not have been the most polite person in the history of modern flight) for the ENTIRE 4 hours with tales of child-rearing, a brief but frightening account of Texas-Mexican relations, and opinions of oh, whatever struck her. I "overheard" her mention that she had 4 kids, and let's just say, in the immortal words of Mister T.: "I pity the [kids]"
Next to me was a lovely, sweet, and QUIET Mellon Bank worker whose total and utter dedication to her Word Searches booklet was truly mesmerizing. I caught myself staring, as she bothered to scratch out the clues (something I never ever did). She carefully traced the diagonal answers too.
After renting a car in Dallas and being on the road in my nasty Dodge Magnum (sorry if you own one, really, I don't mean to offend)......I noticed that the first Dallas police car speeding by me was a Trans Am. It wasn't turquoise, nor did it have an airbrushed eagle on it (I am describing my dream car as an 8 year old, FYI), but i believe a T-roof was involved, AND, the license plate was not like the other Texas Lone Star Emblem plates, but rather, it only featured black numbers only on a background, with the word "exempt" forged below. Interesting. (Interesting, pronounced with 4 syllables, that is).
I was on my way to lunch. I typed in "best lunch in Dallas" on the hotel's google service, and "3 Hot Spots" appeared. Hook, Line, and Sinker (known for its catfish), a burger joint (which mentioned the term tar tar, thus moving right along), and then Margaux's. Having visited Dallas all of 27 minutes, I recognized the street name, and I picked it not only b/c of location, but because of the intriguing description of "exquisite Cajun food in very un-Cajun surroundings". What possibly could "un-Cajun" mean? Plus, I picked it 'cause I'm a sucker for -aux endings. The review said it was found in Dallas' Design District, and so I went. When I entered the place, I felt like I had walked into an art gallery opening, an opening to which I received no invite.
The one-room restaurant was very sparse, with black-tableclothed seating. A single red rose in a square vase sat at each table. It was a former industrial space that had been converted into, well, a very Un-Cajun space. Concrete floor, sky lights, big steel beams for support, and some very artsy art. i.e. blown up prints of individual pieces of silverware. About 30 pairs of eyes glanced at me as I walked in. I was promptly greeted by no one. Three minutes later (diners has forgotten about me about 2 minutes and 30 seconds earlier), a woman accessorized with ballet flats and a cell phone seated me. Once sitting, I am granted the opportunity to be ignored by not only the greeter and all the guests, but now the entire wait staff. The whole time, all I can think is that JR and Miss Ellie--especially Miss Ellie--NEVER received this kind of treatment. However, I was an indignation-free foodie that day, and once my cornflour-dusted oysters came out, bathed in their black pepper remoulade, all was forgiven. More to follow.....
Then, and I'm not exaggerating, there was a loud-voiced woman on the plane who regaled her neighbor (who may or may not have been the most polite person in the history of modern flight) for the ENTIRE 4 hours with tales of child-rearing, a brief but frightening account of Texas-Mexican relations, and opinions of oh, whatever struck her. I "overheard" her mention that she had 4 kids, and let's just say, in the immortal words of Mister T.: "I pity the [kids]"
Next to me was a lovely, sweet, and QUIET Mellon Bank worker whose total and utter dedication to her Word Searches booklet was truly mesmerizing. I caught myself staring, as she bothered to scratch out the clues (something I never ever did). She carefully traced the diagonal answers too.
After renting a car in Dallas and being on the road in my nasty Dodge Magnum (sorry if you own one, really, I don't mean to offend)......I noticed that the first Dallas police car speeding by me was a Trans Am. It wasn't turquoise, nor did it have an airbrushed eagle on it (I am describing my dream car as an 8 year old, FYI), but i believe a T-roof was involved, AND, the license plate was not like the other Texas Lone Star Emblem plates, but rather, it only featured black numbers only on a background, with the word "exempt" forged below. Interesting. (Interesting, pronounced with 4 syllables, that is).
I was on my way to lunch. I typed in "best lunch in Dallas" on the hotel's google service, and "3 Hot Spots" appeared. Hook, Line, and Sinker (known for its catfish), a burger joint (which mentioned the term tar tar, thus moving right along), and then Margaux's. Having visited Dallas all of 27 minutes, I recognized the street name, and I picked it not only b/c of location, but because of the intriguing description of "exquisite Cajun food in very un-Cajun surroundings". What possibly could "un-Cajun" mean? Plus, I picked it 'cause I'm a sucker for -aux endings. The review said it was found in Dallas' Design District, and so I went. When I entered the place, I felt like I had walked into an art gallery opening, an opening to which I received no invite.
The one-room restaurant was very sparse, with black-tableclothed seating. A single red rose in a square vase sat at each table. It was a former industrial space that had been converted into, well, a very Un-Cajun space. Concrete floor, sky lights, big steel beams for support, and some very artsy art. i.e. blown up prints of individual pieces of silverware. About 30 pairs of eyes glanced at me as I walked in. I was promptly greeted by no one. Three minutes later (diners has forgotten about me about 2 minutes and 30 seconds earlier), a woman accessorized with ballet flats and a cell phone seated me. Once sitting, I am granted the opportunity to be ignored by not only the greeter and all the guests, but now the entire wait staff. The whole time, all I can think is that JR and Miss Ellie--especially Miss Ellie--NEVER received this kind of treatment. However, I was an indignation-free foodie that day, and once my cornflour-dusted oysters came out, bathed in their black pepper remoulade, all was forgiven. More to follow.....
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
I Guess I Learned How to Post Photos
Just wanted to explain that I've chosen 3 photos, of which I only photographed one--you figure it out. These have all been screensavers of mine at some point in time. The surfer I caught around dusk the last time I visited San Francisco. The kelp and myself was taken while kayaking around the San Juan Islands (my kick-$## vacation 2 Junes ago). It was called Bullwhip Kelp, and i even tasted it ("not so tasty" was the verdict). Lastly, me and the guy--the guy is a W&J alum, but also the NFL commissioner. I asked him when I met him what he thought of fantasy football (Meanwhile, I know NOTHING about fantasy football, but I thought it'd be a decent question, one that might be remembered for its brilliant originality).
Ohmygoodness, Je possesse un blog
Yeah, so people have been telling me, with as much emailing as I engage in, that I should switch to a blog. I believe friends are tellling me this, so they can CHOOSE to find out what I'm up to, rather than have my stories (always witty and engaging in my humble opinion) be forced upon them. At any rate, I'm psyched to be here, and you should be too. Be forewarned: this blog does not negate my holiday newsletters. In fact, it will only serve to augment my blabbings. I totally need to learn how to post photos, but that's a job for another day. Ta Ta for Now, or, if you are in 5th grade: TTFN,
Tina-T-in-the-House.
p.s. This blogging, you'll be happy to know, should eradicate my horrible habit of eschewing capitalization in emails.
Tina-T-in-the-House.
p.s. This blogging, you'll be happy to know, should eradicate my horrible habit of eschewing capitalization in emails.
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