I have had to keep looking at the calendar the past couple of days, just to remind myself what month we are in. The picture hanging on the wall in my hallway of the baby goat wearing a sweater states clearly that we are in the month of August (calendar courtesy of my mother, who appreciates giving calendars at Christmas, whether they be ones with scenes of waterfalls, distant mountains, or rather small farm animals), but the past 48 hours have been nothing but cold and rainy.
As much as I look forward to autumn, I am actually caught a little by surprise. The summer has not been unbearably hot, and I have sort of enjoyed hanging around outside wearing shorts and enjoying the long evenings, despite my preference for cooler temperatures. The local festival in my neighborhood is just starting up, people are starting to get excited about the start of the football season (both Bundesliga and Premiership), and hell, a lot of kids are still on their summer holidays, so why is it suddenly feeling like the middle of November? I am not quite ready for it; I want a few more weeks of shirt sleeve weather.
Last weekend, when it was still kind of balmy, I spent an afternoon outside in the sunshine visiting with various friends, many of which kept referring to the recent visit of the folks from the big house on Goliad. "Wow, your friend's daughter was exceptionally good with Aria," remarked Aria's mother and grandmother as we stood at the Tonne outside the pub. "Indeed she was," I responded, watching Aria splash in the little fountain a few steps away from our position. "And, she also liked playing in that water, too."
The past week started like any other; I was already looking forward to the upcoming weekend before I had really even logged into Monday morning's emails. Things are a little quiet at work right now, due to the vacation period, so I have been taking advantage of the slowdown and spending a few more minutes each day at the piano. My grandmother's birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and while I do not think I can surpass the gift I gave her last year to celebrate her 100th birthday, it did occur to me that perhaps sending her a few mp3s of some pieces I have learned might be fitting.
So, I have been doing a bit of practicing, and even managed to get a few bits recorded. To celebrate my progress, I elected to arrange a gastronomic treat and make some beef nachos for myself. Over the past months I have really cut down on meats, preferring to load up on salad as much as possible. With the exception of the time I spent with the "I want Schnitzel" gang during July, I have held pretty true to my diet, with relatively decent results. So, a one time splurge with some ground beef and queso? Why not?
As I whisked through the supermarket Thursday, I picked up the needed ingredients. I had actually been awakened Wednesday night when the idea came up in my dreams, and I actually got out of bed and made a special grocery list. Everything was going fine in the grocery store aisle, until I realized that they were out of the queso that I normally use. (Yes, I have made myself nachos here before, but it has been a while.) Well, I am going to write this off as very bad spontaneous judgement, but I decided that I could make do with a sort of artificial cheese sauce that I found on the "American" shelf in the grocery store. This shelf is where they stock things like: one flavor of Pop-Tarts, microwave popcorn, "hotter than hell" barbecue sauce, and various other overly processed foods that people correctly associate with the American diet.
I examined the little plastic bottle of cheese sauce in hopes I could understand what the contents actually were, then threw the bottle in my basket and headed for the checkout. Once I got home, I did a quick online search to try and compare the product that I purchased with what I had wanted to purchase. You see, I had my heart set on these nachos, and was pretty sure that I was still going to be able to make it work. My logic was based on the assumption that things like Velveeta (which doesn't even exist in Europe), my normal queso sauce (currently out of stock at the store), and the item I had just purchased were all pretty similar: all of them look gross, feel gross (to the point of disgusting), and it goes without saying that they easily are designed to survive any nuclear testing. My glimmer of hope had mostly to do with my experience with two of three products. One does not grow up in Texas without eating (and loving) queso made from Velveeta, and my experience with my normal queso sauce has always been adequate. In short, the stuff looks like shit and is really bad for you, but you eat it anyway. And like it.
Unfortunately, door number three turned out to be a real disaster.
Perhaps I should have already sensed there would be problems when I read on the label that it was OK to put the plastic bottle in the microwave to heat up the cheese sauce. I sort of thought, "wouldn't that make it more toxic?" even though I proceeded to try anyway, but only for about 20 seconds. Of course, 20 seconds did sod all, so I tried squeezing a portion onto a safe dish, which, after about 90 seconds at 600W resulted in something that looked just like what I did for my 4th grade science project at school.
Even then, I tasted a bit just to see.
Bad idea.
The beef was already browned and simmering on the stove top, and I stood there trying to figure out what to do, thinking perhaps rereading the label on the bottle would help. When I realized that the "Haltbar bis" date had expired right before my birthday a few months previously, I immediate chucked the whole thing into the bin.
So, that is how I came to have tostada chips covered in ground beef topped with jalapeños for dinner Thursday evening.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling very glad that I would not be spending the next three weeks on the Klo, and made the decision that a nice green salad would be perfect for my Friday evening dinner.
Friday brought not only the start of the Kerb, the local festival in my neighborhood, but also the opening of the English football league, with Arsenal playing at home to start the season.
Well, it rained pretty much the whole day, and while I was a bit excited about the start of the festival and the football, I found myself getting really cozy on the couch. Instead of heading out for a handful of beers in the wet weather before the 20h45 televised kickoff, I found myself under a blanket, reading a book on the sofa. I got my stream hooked up for match-time and felt very responsible (and sober) as the game started. 2 minutes into the game when Arsenal scored their first, I was pretty thrilled, as was Chris, who sent a text from the states.
2 Minutes later we were texting again, as Leicester got an easy equalizer. We continued to text during the rest of the first half as the game (exciting as it was) continued. Both teams went into the break at 2-2, and I tried to rally myself for a more positive second half. It was either that or an early night reading my book. In the end, Arsenal got a positive result, and I was glad that I stayed up long enough to help see them through.
So, I sit here Saturday morning, enjoying the coolness and gentle rain outside. It's only just past 9am, but I have been up a couple of hours already; this happens when I get a decent sleep and part of me thinks that maybe a few more evenings skipping pints would be a good idea from time to time.
Quatsch. It's the Kerb! It is Saturday! I have got things to do, people to see, and maybe, just maybe, another attempt to satisfy my craving for nachos.
See you out there.
bryan
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