Grape Did It

Friday at Five: Bloody Mary

I just, NO JOKE, lost my entire Friday at Five post about Bloody Marys. Not to worry, it wasn't all that good. Unfortunately though I have a flight to DC to catch and that means you get the annotated version. Still, might be for the better had you seen my original writing. Too many fried mushrooms will leave you with an inability to write coherently the next day.

Recipe:

1.5 ounces vodka (we like to pronounce it WODKA around here, we feel pretty sure that's how the Russians do)

3 ounces tomato juice

1 dash lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon Worchestshire

2-3 drops Tabasco sauce

1 lime wedge

My addition and changes. I did not add the lime because PLEASE, I have seen people drink these in the movies and they always have a celery stalk in them. If nothing else, we strive for AUTHENTICITY here at the Grape Did It factory, and I mean to bring the authentic.

I also added a little salt to one drink and then a little cajun seasoning salt to the other. Both changes made the drink better.

I like to think of this drink as a favor to everyone who plans to go out this weekend because people will not judge you if you drink it in the morning and I'm pretty sure I've heard it's a good hangover cure.

Side note: this weekend is Georgia's bachelorette party and I make the solemn promise to you to report back on here if someone falls asleep with a Pringles in his or her mouth. And we take pictures. And laugh in an immature fashion because, Thank God that's not us being mocked.

Another condition that might need medication

Right now I am having blog-rage because though internet is working again (Surprise! We decided you should actually HAVE the service you are paying for!), my blogging service is all, you can SEE this page, you just can't EDIT it. Okay? Glad we got that misunderstanding fixed and please, call us again for any of your online writing needs.

So, cannot archive my last Daily Photo but SOMEHOW managed to get a new one up there.

Something like growing up in my family

Last night I did not have the time or energy or desire or whatever, I'll be honest and say I didn't take the dogs on much of a walk. I let them run around a wooded area for a few minutes when I got home and before leaving for the grocery store, but even that's sort of wrapped in a lie because Sadie won't run around and don't even get her started on the recent rain fall because that has rendered the whole neighborhood, like, wet, dude. And gross. Remove my paws from this soft, nasty substance called mud.

Because they didn't have much run around time yesterday, last night was an exercise in how much one can take of two dogs running circles around the couch. And with Copper it's even worse. He finds his tennis ball and runs up, shoving it into my lap. So I reach out and try to grab it to toss across the room, which is when he clamps down firmly on it and I'm all I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU WANT DOG. He's not getting the physical concept that he has to RELEASE the ball in order for me to throw it.

But, you know, finally after several frustrating minutes of this some light bulb goes off, or maybe his jaw just gets tired, and he drops it, nosing it firmly in between my thigh and the arm of the couch. And I throw and he gets and I throw and he gets, this part not being my idea of a intellectually stimulating game but hey, YOU DIDN'T TAKE US OUT LONG ENOUGH TONIGHT SO TOUGH SHIT SISTER.

Last night though, during what amounts to my favorite game, I accidentally threw the ball in such a way that it lodged between a planter and the bottom window sill. I know you're thinking I did this on purpose but actually, no, because I just didn't have the energy for that kind of foresight, or the aim or really I guess, the cruelty. Copper looked at it, pawed at it, but couldn't get it and here's where I think he must take after me because then he just GAVE UP. That's right, that's right, if it's too hard shrug it off and WALK AWAY.

But do you know what happened next, can you guess? Sadie's over achieving, show off, type A personality scampers over and extracts the ball with her long skinny-ass nose and drops it in front of him. Like, see? You might indeed have this teacher next year for Government class but rest assured, you'll never get the grade I did.

Oh Atlanta, I hear your subway calling

Our trip to Atlanta did not go entirely as planned, even though I'll bet that if you read this on a regular basis you're going, Um yeah, could have told you that BEFORE the trip. Maybe it's because travel is just like that, maybe it's because this is the same person who tried to roll start a car in reverse only to realize, as she was flying backwards down a very steep hill, HEY NOT SURE THIS IS WORKING. And then totaled it. (I was reminded of that story last night, something that happened many years ago now, and am still marveling at the thoughtlessness).

The thing was, Georgia had asked me, or maybe just SILENTLY asked me, to bring a car big enough to fit all four of us in thereby allowing us the luxury to drive around town, see our old houses and whatnot, putter, if you will. And we, well we have only two trucks to our name (great for moving! But not as much for puttering around town) and the one with four seats was in the shop. In other words, travel mistake number one.

The other problem was our...differences in opinion on how the weekend should transpire. Me, I had a romantic image of tripping or skipping lightly from brunch on a patio to a walk through the quainter parts of town before dinner overlooking a little river. I DON'T KNOW, it's what I like. It's pretty much how I picture every trip I take. Never works out quite like that though.

Georgia imagined, while not SUCH a different weekend as mine, a weekend where we could actually drive to these place because, um, we are in downtown Atlanta without a car. And uh, we tried the Marta once which was less than pleasant and yes, we've both lived in DC with an underground train system. Still, you never really get used to that surprising odor of underground and dank and un-wash.

The last problem was that I had a small breakfast before leaving Birmingham early Saturday morning and so by the time we were in the dank, the underground, the pee, Bud was holding me by the shoulders saying things like, "Not your weekend," "we aren't necessarily going to do everything you want in every way you want," and, namely, "calm down," While internally I was shooting daggers at anyone who dared look at me because, no food! Plus, I think it's YOU smelling up this place.

That first day, and really our only full day to hang out, did eventually work out. We traipsed THROUGH A MALL, being asked, would you like to try this perfume? No, how about this one? UNLESS I CAN EAT IT LADY, FUCK OFF. Before finally finding a restaurant that was on my list! On my list! And feeling the calming effect of some food ALREADY, mixed with a little hot sake (Aside: first time trying sake hot and yes, much better, delicious, even.)

Now, The Night of the Paper Bag comes later. If at all.

And because Bud and I took a little extra time Sunday, after Peter and Georgia had to fly home, to drive around in our two person truck, this picture is for Georgia:

But be sure to check the Daily Photo Archive in order to enter the competition for Wow, You Have Really Become That Person

Turns out it is rainy, rainy, rainy this morning and Bud's truck is still in the shop and thus the bike cannot be rode, RIDDEN, to work. WHICH JUST MEANS, I have to leave a half hour early to drive him to work and it will cut my stories short and I will be sure to remind him of this later when he will not scratch my itchy back because "it'll only make it worse" which is just code for, "I don't feel like it" BUT I DROVE YOU TO WORK THIS MORNING. It's all part of my master plan.

So Atlanta stories will have to wait and I think that is actually a good thing since I am still shaking the Atlanta fog from my brain and trying to figure out, did we really just witness someone slam into another car and then drive off? And yet, she could not drive off quickly since she was crammed into a back alley and so we sat there, mouths open, watching her make eight sad and nervous points of a turn and THEN drive off. See, we didn't have much room to talk as we were all drinking out of brown paper bags. STORIES, my friends.

Friday at Five: Passion Fruit Mojito

Here are a few questions you might be tempted to ask yourself when reading this post.

Did she really just buy a mix, a PRE-MADE, run of the mill, takes no talent MIX, slosh it around with some liquor and pass it off as her drink?

Well, maybe it's been a long week. Of what? Over-coddling her dogs? Listening to her parents bicker over the meaning of email passwords?

Perhaps she went to the grocery store on the motorcycle and didn't have room for several lemons, a little shaved ginger, coconut milk, truffles and dark baking chocolate. But, but, saddle bags! The previous owner bragged about fitting many, many groceries on a single trip.

Is this the middle finger? Straight to her readers?

YOU SUCK HOPE.

Actually, all, or some, or a little bit of a lot of those, are true. I won't give you the I Am Busier Than Most speech, not only because it's probably not true, but because I have a hard time meeting anyone recently who's not TERRIBLY STRESSED OUT and breathless from what life throws their way. However, I have made a discovery, about myself, lo these past few tumultuous weeks. DOES NOT HANDLE STRESS WELL. Or: would prefer to be on the beach right about now NOT worrying about what happens next or more importantly IF I DON'T DO IT, NO ONE WILL. Is that just a disease women in general get, somewhere in their twenties? If so, bring on the zen thirties. What? It just gets worse?

Ok, I have clearly hijacked what should be a light and fun post about cocktails so I will at least end with this. I bought the Rose brand Passion Fruit Mojito mix and man, was it delicious. Take 1 part rum, 3 parts mix and pour over ice. Enjoy repeatedly as responsibilities become blurry.

You can see how much we enjoyed it. Urp.

Where did you get married?

Am sitting here having a maddening back and forth over what constitutes "hacking". Now dad is shouting about how big my nephew has gotten.

SO. Amid these voices that will not let me concentrate, enjoy this video, I know I did.

I've got it

I woke up this morning wondering what exactly I was going to write on here, especially since I'd promised something based on my parents arrival into town last night. The thing was, there were all kinds of anecdotes I could have shared - I found myself laughing hysterically in the kitchen last night and I think it had something to do with hot peppers - but I was too busy enjoying myself to actually jot it down or commit it to memory.

I told my mom last night that, come on, tell me something funny dad did earlier. I know he did. What were we giggling about at the dinner table? I could vaguely recall muttering to my mother that my middle right finger was just twitching to lift itself up - I THINK that was after dad complained about my usage of bad language. BUT ANYWAY. Couldn't really figure anything out. Having my parents around, nay any of my family members, is more of a FEELING. You realize you'd just as soon bang your head, hard, into the wall, all the while smiling cheerily, than be asked AGAIN if you have any seltzer water? No? But I want seltzer.

Until my mother, just about ten minutes ago, came walking blearily out of the guest room and the following conversation ensued:

"Mom, bad news. I'm so sorry I didn't anticipate, but I don't put milk in my coffee any more, so we don't have any in the house."

"No milk?"

"Nope."

"NONE?"

"No, sorry."

"Any canned milk?"

"Uuum, no."

"Oh dear, oh lord."

Which is when I hear her giggle to herself:

"What's so funny?"

"It's just, giggle, too strong coffee, and no milk!"

The giggling continues as she brings a cup to my dad in the guest room.

"Earl, they don't have milk."

"No milk?"

"Nope."

"NONE?"

"No."

"DO THEY EVER BUY GROCERIES?"

And do not tell me it's not a flying buttress, because I know this

Plus, mom and dad come to town today so I'm prepared to get back on here tomorrow and write about interesting stories like: Who watered down the coffee and why? Is it really going to be a "hot one" today, dad? Because we are in Alabama. What's a Spacebook or a MyFace? Or, the thing I look forward to the most when my parents get here: Who's In Charge of The Remote?

Stay tuned.

And it's MON-ON-ON-DAAAAAy

Bud and I shuffled through this weekend as if in a thick fog, and neither of us could figure out why. Ok, yes, he just came back from a week-long trip and I...I had pretty much no reason to feel so exhausted but found myself repeatedly shaking my head, cat like, all, why am I so tired? I was reminded just how pathetic we were being when Bud asked for a rest between lunch and GOING TO THE POOL. Sort of like this:

(We have just arrived home from lunch and are complaining to one another about how TYE-RED our LEH-HEGS are, from riding the BI-IKE, and so forth):

"You ready for the pool?"

"I mean, I guess,"

"What'd you mean, are we going or not?"

"I didn't mean we had to go right away, I thought we could rest first."

"You do realize you are asking for rest in order to gain energy to LIE AROUND A POOL?"

"SIIIIIIGH, ok let's go."

And then I promptly fell asleep stretched out on a lawn chair, waking up a few minutes later with a start, all old school funny like in a movie from the fifties, "Whawhozat?" Then I'd repeat the entire scenario until Bud got tired of talking to himself and would jump in the pool, waltz over to me and, I don't know, drip water on my oh-so-warm-and-sunbaked-skin or something, which is when I'd whine again about, leave me ALONE, I'm SO TIRED.

Getting old?

Should quit taking Lunesta in the middle of the day?

Are just really, really lame?