Cheeseburgers in Paradise

I have Bob Marley on Pandora.

I've been tabbing through VRBO looking at vacation rentals through out the Caribbean.

Kayak has been busy trying to find me a good deal.

This is the time of winter when I get stir-crazy. I am not a winter chick. I love the beauty of new-fallen snow or the crystalline shine of hoarfrost. A White Christmas is the only kind of Christmas. But the novelty wears off and pretty soon winter seems to have no end and spring is so far off it's almost next year. I've reached that point.

(An aside, rather than continuing to call my husband my husband, I am going to henceforth refer to him as HB. That's my nickname for him. Honey Bunny. Or Honey Bunny Bun. But HB will suffice.)

HB and I both love to travel. He's had the opportunity to live in South Africa and has travelled through Africa, Asia and Europe. I've travelled through the US, Canada, Caribbean, Mexico and Costa Rica.  Together, we've travelled to Antigua, St. Kitts, Provo (Turks and Caicos), Grand Cayman, St. Lucia, Isla Mujeres, and several areas of the US.

We have a tentative trip planned for early summer with some friends. But right now I need a beach, a frosty cold adult beverage and blue sea as far as the eye can see. Fresh bbq, plantains, lots of local flavors, some reggae or house music wafting over the waves and all the snorkeling I can manage.

One of my favorite Caribbean vacations was in very early 1989 with my high school bff CK. CK and I booked a two week winter break vacation to Antigua and Montserrat.  We spent 3 days in Antigua, flew over to Montserrat and spent 6 days there and then flew back to Antigua and wrapped up with another 5 days there. We stayed at the same hotel in Antigua, The Admiral's Inn in Nelson's Dockyard. 

Montserrat was the most beautiful island. This was back before Hurricane Hugo ripped much of it apart in the fall of 1989 and Soufriere volcano became active. The island was incredibly lush and green, given the nickname The Emerald Isle of the Caribbean.  Plymouth was the quintessential West Indian city, small, colorful, a little dusty. There was no deep-water cruise harbor with sweaty tourists racing around to see the sights. We were staying at the Vue Point Hotel which was about the only large hotel on the island. There was a pool, restaurant and bar and little cottages scattered across the bluff overlooking a black sand beach. Our room was an A-framed room with a partially separated bathroom that was so small that you could sit on the toilet, rinse your feet in the shower and wash your hands in the sink all at the same time. There was no tv and the radio picked up the Caribbean BBC.  Someday I'll regale you with tales of our insect and amphibian adventures. I still have a deep and abiding fear of spiders of unusual size in bathrooms of extraordinary smallness. 

While we were there, we went to Air Studio. Air Studio was owned by George Martin, onetime manager of the Beatles. The walls were lined with gold and platinum records and the air redolent with the lingering pot and cigarette smoke of the previous evening's recording session. It was surprisingly small and the actual studio was much less posh and fancy as I'd imagined and much more like the sound room of my high school's theatre department!

A famous rock band was on-island at the time, recording what would become a best-selling album. They were also staying at the only big hotel on the island, The Vue Point. CK and I had the great fortune of watching the Super Bowl game in the hotel's conference room with this band, drinking, hanging out. It was really cool. 

Sadly, Plymouth is gone, as is most of the greenery on the south end of the island. After we visited, Hurricane Hugo came through and destroying much of the island, including Air Studios. Then Soufriere erupted and hasn't stopped. Many of the island's residents left and went to England. Those that stayed had to move to the north end of the island where much has been rebuilt.  I still have my emerald green "Air Studios" tee shirt. I bet that thing is worth some money!

Our time in Antigua was a ridiculous amount of fun. As I mentioned, we were staying at The Admiral's Inn in Nelson's Dockyard. In the winter, it's home to Nocholson Charter Yachts where sailors from all over the world converge to crew various luxury yachts.  We were in the heart of sailor-land and the boys were friendly, gorgeous, drunk and lonely. Maybe not in that order. Start with drunk and work your way to friendly, drunk and gorgeous. We were invited onto one yacht and enjoyed the company of some scoundrel who gave us copious amounts of 151 over proof Cuban rum. It was tasty. And highly flammable.  We hung out with some Finnish guys and some English guys and I was determined to find a job on a boat just so I wouldn't have to leave. I'm lucky I didn't, my liver would have petrified years ago!

After one long day of hanging out at the beach, napping and drinking, we cleaned up and headed out for dinner. As in Europe, the party doesn't start til about midnight. CK and I were looking fine (we were 27 at the time. Who doesn't look fine at 27??) tan, slim, blond and ready for adventure. We had dinner and then headed up to Shirley Heights Lookout, which is a hillside that overlooks English Harbor. There's a party up there on Sunday nights, which included music, bbq, lots of beer and a lot of people hanging out. We met up with some of our boys and the party started. I remember at one point we went to a bar and I ended up sitting ON the bar....and another point (it gets blurry) out on a boat in the harbor. I think CK and I were determining the merits of 3am snorkeling. We decided the merits were 1) drowning 2) being eaten by unseen water creatures 3) drowning. We asked our boys to get us back to shore, where we stumbled up the dock.  I had enough and found a park bench and that was it. I passed out. CK had no choice but to leave me there.  She toddled on off to the Ad's and crashed.

Morning finally came, I woke up and felt like baby rhinos had languished and died on me. Holy hell, I still remember how lousy I felt. Off in the distance, I hear CK calling my name...."Kathy??!!" I got up and called back and she finally found me. She'd gone to bed and figured I'd find my way back at some point, but alas, my state of unconsciousness lasted well into morning. She woke up and realized I'd never come back to our room and dashed out in hopes of not finding my dead body floating in the harbor. I felt like a dead body floating in the harbor.

The best part of the story was that it was Monday morning. We still had a few days of vacation left but no money and there was no bank at that end of Antigua, so we had to catch a bus into St. John's at the other end of the island. We had to get to St. John's before 3:00 when the banks closed. So we cleaned up, found our bus and crawled aboard. This was an old beat up mini-van with hard seats, no air conditioning, no springs, no shocks and the loudest boom box playing the loudest reggae music ever played in the creation of the universe. Did I mention that Antigua, back then, had terrible roads full of pot holes? Have I also mentioned that fish mongers liked to also ride the bus with buckets overflowing with their morning's catch? Did I also mention that goats and chickens got to ride on the bus?  I'm sure I haven't mentioned that.

The bus careened off, bouncing crazily down the road. Antiguan bus drivers pretend they are doing the Dakkar Rally, blazing along at 90 mph, down the middle of the road and stopping! whenever someone raises a hand or flings a goat in their direction. The only part of these buses in good repair are the brakes and can stop on a dime.

So here we are, hunkered down in the back of this hot bouncing braking noisy stinking bus for nearly an hour and I had the hangover to end all hangovers. My hangover made the movie The Hangover look like a Muppet movie. I thought I was going to die. I know CK wasn't in better shape, but she seemed to hold up without wilting as hard as I did. How I survived, I'll never know. It was literally the longest hour of my life. Seriously. But we made it to St. John's and at the first opportunity, refueled with Cokes. We hit the bank and then headed to find someplace for lunch. I don't remember what we had, but I'm pretty sure it was deep fried and incredibly greasy.  Fortunately, we were both revived somewhat for the return trip back to Nelson's Dockyard. Just in time to turn around and do it all again that evening.

HB gives me with a funny look when I tell him I really don't like to drink any more. This trip is one of those reasons. I don't mind the drinking, but it's the poisonous hangovers I can't deal with. You know it's bad when it's memorable nearly 25 years later!  I still love the beach, but my days of party-hardy are long gone!

When Life Hands You Ice--You Make Martinis!

We are eagerly (hahaha) awaiting the arrival of the ice storm that is supposed to wreak havoc, mayhem and destruction in our area. Or possibly sporadic power outages. It's currently very gloomy and dark out with low hanging clouds and a warm breeze. Yes,  I said warm. It's all relative, but it's in the mid-30's which is practically shorts weather here.

We have some projects to do today that we put off knowing we'd be housebound. We have our batch of honey weiss ready to bottle. The bottles have been sanitized and ready to fill. We have to clean and do laundry. I need to sew some buttons on two coats that have come loose. I'd like to get some pictures hung in our office. My husband got the Wii set up so we might have some championship rounds of bowling or ping-pong this afternoon.

That could all go out the window if we lose power.

A year ago we were bottling a batch of beer when our phone rang. It was our realtor telling us our crazy-low offer had been accepted and we bought ourselves a new house!  We closed 45 days later and moved in 2 months after that. We did some remodelling prior to moving in and it took us time to get it all completed.  Two years ago we learned my Mom's cancer was not responding to chemo and she was making the decision to discontinue treatment.

Life is like those fast-forward scenes in movies where a book is opened and the pages flip by so fast you can't read any details.

Please Sign Here.

This week has kicked my fanny and I feel like I'm finally able to come up for air!

It was a very cold week here. I always chuckle when normally moderate areas of the country get a cold wave and the national news reporters and weather people get all excited and report on it with the same zeal as discovering Duchess Kate is carrying an alien baby. Or Prince Harry's. It's JANUARY, folks! Unless you live in Miami or Hawaii, chances are pretty good you  might need a jacket in January somewhere in the country!

As a department director, I have three managers who report to me and about 70 employees who work for us. While I don't have to deal with the day to day management of employees, like payroll and scheduling, I do get involved when problems arise. When an employee appears to violate a policy or not follow some procedure (set up to protect themselves and others from harm) the managers will ask me to vet the situation and we decide together what the next steps should be.

It would be nice if employees would step up and behave in ways that would give indication that they want to continue their employment. One long-term employee, who has a long history of sporadic corrective actions and issues, advanced to the last step before termination last fall. He continues to call this correction "bogus" and has the arrogance and ignorance to continue pushing the line with leadership. I would love to give him the benefit of the doubt and continue coaching him, but coaching him becomes a wrestling match with an angry octopus. He's too busy throwing his peers under the bus, deflecting any accountability and blaming his direct supervisor for his problems. I told him not long ago to close his mouth and open his ears and that lasted a day or so. He wonders why his elementary school daughters are often in trouble. I could hold the mirror up to him but he'd only see the fun-house curves and distortions. I just have no patience for someone who pays lip service about "wanting" to improve but resists any and all suggestions and plans to do so. 

I think he's still angry that we fired his "work-spouse" last summer. There was a triad of employees who gossiped, used subterfuge and openly defied their manager and one of the three lost her job. She lost two formal appeals and has now resorted to sending management threatening letters. She continues to influence the other two of the three legged stool. We are not actively seeking to break up this group dynamic, but the remaining two, the character above and one other, are making it too easy for us.

Another employee got into a verbal altercation last weekend with three others. One of the three sent the first's manager an email outlining the altercation and making some other allegations of policy violations. The manager shared this email with me and I advised involving HR in an investigation. That wrapped up this week as well. Of course the employee denies doing anything wrong! He insists he's being set up because one of the three is dating someone from his community (immigrant) and outside of work he knows this guy and he's not very nice and is out to get him! (You can hear my eyes rolling from where you're sitting, right?)  Suffice it to say, he will be getting a corrective action for violating our mutual respect policy. He's another one, like the character above, who always seems to find himself in the middle of conflict and has "who me?" eyes. Hmmm.

I always remind my managers that employees fire themselves, we just provide the paperwork.

Some weeks I remind myself that I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. Some weeks I have more success than others with this reminder.

TGIBF Thank God It's Beer Friday

You know it's a crazy week when in your rush to head to work you repeatedly attempt to turn the kitchen TV off with the remote and after a minute realize you're holding the garage remote and you've just opened and closed your garage door 20 times.

Or when you get in the car and your heel catches on the floor mat and shoves it all the way forward and the moment you reach down to pull it back you feel that muscle in your back give out.

Better yet, when you get up at 3am to use the bathroom, you whack yourself on the foot board and leave a large blue bruise on your thigh.

Yeeaahhhh.....it's been that kind of week.

How was yours?

The weather here in SE MN is on another roller-coaster. It's breezy and warm (40!) today and expected to zoom 50 degrees down to the below zero zone in the next day or so.  We're a hearty bunch up here...we have to be acclimated to the 50-70 degree temperature swings that occur on a fairly regular basis. I'll admit to feeling peckish as my favorite defense against winter sinus issues,  4Way Sinus Spray (non-medicated and menthol-enhanced) is not to be found in any store. (Thanks flu epidemic!)  That stuff is amazing for keeping sinuses moist when the cold and dry air take over.  I resorted to getting some plain old saline spray, but that's like snorting seawater.

In other news, I read an article this week about the whole kerfuffle about people still using TWO spaces following a period when writing. *aghast!* I can remember in high school typing class, hammering away on manual typewriters, being drilled on the elements of page structure. TWO spaces behind each period! No exceptions! I don't think I do it. Nope, just checked. I only leave one space. Between using word processors in college and years and years of Word Perfect and Word, I think I've had that habit auto-corrected out.

What else is new this week...thinking...thinking...

We made a batch of honey weiss last Sunday. Took us about 3 1/2 hours from start to finish, which is not bad. Different kinds of beers have longer steeping and boiling times. Making beer is a hobby I got my husband started on last Christmas and we've really come to enjoy it. It reminds me a lot of making bread since you need grains, liquid, sugar of some kind, hops for bittering and yeast.  The rest is a measure of infusing water with the flavors of the grains, the sweet, the bitter and letting the  yeast convert it all to alcohol. Once the wort (the liquid, not-yet fermented beer) is created, it rests in a warm place for two weeks with an air-void lock (so bacteria can't enter the wort and contaminate it) and the magic happens. Ours is bubbling merrily away so I assume we are getting a good sugar to alcohol conversion. This process takes two weeks. Depending on the beer, it is either then bottled with an addition of priming sugar which feeds the yeast and creates the carbonation, or it goes into a carboy (glass bottle) to secondary ferment, two weeks later it is then bottled with the priming sugar. Then it's another 2-4 weeks for the final carbonation.  The downside is not knowing if you have good beer until you pop that first bottle cap.

We made a batch of honey weiss a few months back and when we opened that first bottle, happily anticipating a FSTH! sound, we got-nada. No bubbles, no head, no nothing. We have a batch of flat beer. Which is a bummer to say the least. So my husband go online and read up on the beer forums and decided might be able to salvage it by moving it to a warmer location, or opening a bottle and mixing it with another beer that is fully carbonated, like creating a black and tan.  My suggestion was to dump it and start over. But I can be a little dismissive that way. Don't like it? Toss it. Don't want it? Toss it.  My husband, on the other hand, is a nurturer and problem solver so he's up to the task of coaxing a little fizzy out of his home brew.

Yes, running to the beer store, plunking $12 on the counter and putting up your feet to a cold one in under 15 minutes is a very good option as well.

Friday Frolic

I can't believe Friday is already here! My hopes of posting near daily have been thwarted at every turn.  My desk is a pile of random flotsam from the week--bills that need paying, reports that need finishing, an empty plate from a breakfast-snarfed cake and a few other remnants and detritus.

 

 

 

 

It's really foggy and gloomy out today. It rained yesterday and that was rather odd. It's January in Minnesota! It's supposed to be snot-freezingly cold with mountains of snow. Instead, we have a few inches of sloppy grey used-to-be snow piled up, lots of puddles and fog.  We watched some show on HGTV last night about buying homes in Hawaii and it looked very very appealing. You get to a certain age where snow and snow and cold and wind and snow and sleet and snow and cold and ice fog and snow and my-God is winter ever going to be over snow loses its appeal. Winter in my neck of the woods generally starts in mid-October and we don't see spring til mid-April or May depending on how much snow we have. Last year was unusually warm and dry and our lilacs bloomed in late April which was crazy early. In the summer time, twilight is near 10pm, but this time of year, it's dark out by 5:15. I crave warm sunlight. I crave the smell of freshly-mown grass and the sound of crickets and frogs. I want to grill out. I want to be awake past 9:00 and not feel like a hibernating bear. There are a lot of people here who really love winter and take full advantage of snow--skiing, boarding, hockey, ice fishing, snow shoeing, snowmobiling...but I like to take full advantage of my couch, fireplace, warm blankie and a nap.

 

 

Anyhow, I'll share a few photos from our big shindig last night. I completely forgot to take pictures of the finished food products-I was too busy running around with last minute details.



The giant dessert buffet with a huge gourmet cheese platter, fresh fruits, Cab Zin fondue and delicious homemade desserts.

 

 



Black Forest Fudge Cake. O M G

Raspberry Tiramisu

A melon swan.

That's a mouse on the cheese. Hard-boiled peeled egg. cloves for eyes and nose, thin apple slices for ears and a chive tail. He's adorable!

Our pretty place settings. The theme was Winter Ice Blue Balls Candlelight.

Garnishes. Cukes and Summer Squash stuffed

with paprika chive cream cheese

with lavender fronds.

 

Valiant soldiers waiting patiently to give their all so that others might party.

He wanted to know why I didn't bring him any steak.

 

 



Minnesota Halibut

Tales from the Grey Side:

We have a large all-house party coming up next week. Our residents are required to make dinner reservations for both their dinner time and their entree selection. One of the three entree selections is  Halibut Bechamel, which is a poached halibut steak, topped with Parmesan butter cream and herb sauce and then it's broiled. I don't like fish, but I think I'd dig into this one. The recipe looks glorious.

Someone apparently made a reservation and demanded "that fish better be fresh and not thawed out from frozen."

Okay! 

Let's review the facts, shall we?

This is Southeastern MN.  The closest we have to fresh fish here is Mississippi River catfish, walleye, northern and pan fish. Oh, and trout. Lots of trout in our rivers.We could probably scare up some smelt and few Asian carp.

I would venture to guess that in all likelihood our halibut is not coming from SE MN waters. It's coming from oh, let's say Alaska. From saltwater. And to haul a humongous halibut out of the water in let's say, Alaska, and then ship it fresh to SE MN would take a few days to a week. My guess is that (now week-old, not-so-fresh-anymore) halibut would find it's own way out of the box and walk into the cooking pot on its' own, after first knocking everyone over with it's funk and slime. Hmm what's that smell? Oh yeah, FRESH halibut! YUM!

I will also add that as a food service operator for vulnerable adults, I am not allowed to sell fresh-never frozen-fish. Freezing kills parasites living in fish, along with stunting the growth of harmful bacteria. I could be sued and lose my job is someone got sick over fresh-never frozen-fish if we were to serve it and it was contaminated.

Unless you catch a fish yourself and eat it within 24 hours, every fish you buy is frozen. (Disclaimer-unless you live in coastal area where fresh fish comes to market right off the boat. Not the case in land-locked SE MN)  It's frozen when it's caught, on the ship, then packed and shipped frozen to it's destination around the world. There is NOTHING wrong with frozen fish--it is better for you than fresh, as fish begins to degrade the second it dies. We receive it frozen, we use approved methods to thaw it (a week on the counter at room temperatu...) and cook it to an acceptable internal temperature so that no one gets sick.

There are times when it makes sense to smile and nod. Smile and nod.  Why yes, this is indeed fresh halibut. Smile smile smile nod nod nod.

*headdesk*

What Does Fifty Feel Like?

Fifty feels like 49 with a bad head cold.

Fifty feels like 25 years ago I had a whole life ahead of me. Anything was possible.

Fifty feels like 25 years from now may not be a possibility. I've lived more than I have yet to live.

Fifty fears every mammogram, as the magical ticking time bomb of familial breast cancer is waiting to go off. Am I next?

Fifty feels like creaking knees and a frustrating ache in that one spot that acts up when the weather turns.

Fifty hands look like my mother's hands.

Fifty feels like dry eyes, dry mouth, dry skin, dry hair, and dry down there.

Fifty feels like night sweats and cold hands.

Fifty feels alarming when hairs are discovered in places where hair shouldn't be and wrinkles in places they should, and neither were there the day before.

Fifty feels like a hangover after 2 beers, and gets heartburn with wine. That sucks.

Fifty feels like grey hair is winning the war and owning L'Oreal stock might be a good investment.

Fifty likes elastic waist pants.

Fifty feels like most days you don't give a shit about what other people think about you.

Fifty feels like carrying an umbrella and wearing boots and a rain coat and a hood and making sure there's a scarf and gloves and a frost scraper in the car.

Fifty loves heated car seats.

Fifty feels like calories burn at .0045 the rate of calories burned at age 25.  The age to calorie burn ratio is off.

Fifty likes not having periods, cramps, acne and greasy hair.

Fifty feels like wanting to try new things but fifty years of doubts, fears, anxieties, and negative inner-voices are happy to undo the excitement of trying new things. Fifty needs to make those voices shut up.

Fifty feels wise.

Fifty feels emotionally calm and thoughtful.

Fifty misses forty. Fifty won't even think about thirty.

Fifty feels like teaching the kids to avoid the hurt and disappointments of life that lie ahead. But its those hurts and disappointments that will help them be wise at fifty.

Fifty feels like endurance.