Travels.

Brandon and I went to LA this weekend, and here is what I discovered: I am no longer a human on airplanes.  I’m not sure when this started, or why exactly this happens, but I turn into a zombie on airplanes.  For a reason unbeknownst to me, migraines take over and render me completely non-functional.  This is new, because I remember thriving on plane trips, writing novels and sparking up conversation with strangers. It was a joy.

Now, while Brandon is just having a grand ol’ time ordering ginger ales and reading southern Gothic literature, I’m sitting next to him slowly rocking myself and trying to keep my eyes in their sockets.

I’ve illustrated my state in the following image:

This is right after take-off.  I usually fall into a weird coma-like state where I am still thinking of possible things that I can do once I feel normal.  That “normal” feeling never really comes and by the end of the plane ride, I am like this:

I no longer have control of any part of my body, my hair is matted in weird patterns and I can’t even think about how mad I am at the people behind me that are loud-talking about every scene in Horrible Bosses. (True story.)

I’m really confused as to how I traveled to and from France a couple times in a year and survived my zombie state.  I’m hoping this is just a phase.

San Francisco

San Francisco. My first real time.

No way to usher in the grand occasion than to witness the Pride Parade.

Look at those walls!

Probably my favorite thing. Giants game with Brandon and Casey.

Lobster sandwiches melted our faces off. (Thank you, Amy.)

China town.

Walked across the bridge!

Check out that hair! Holy wind!

Lombard with Ashlee.

Boat to Alcatraz. Rainy.

YES I BOUGHT A PONCHO.

My bestie from high school happened to be in San Francisco when we were there

so we got to hang out with her and another HS friend.  Williamsville East! Go Flames!

Ashlee and Amy were great to let us sleep on their couches. THANK YOU!

One view from Coit Tower. Two filters.

This is from June.

This all seems so irrelevant because it was in June, so I’ll try to pick lots of pretty pictures to distract you from how untimely it is.

Jeff and Aurora got married!

Glad to see other friends came. We made quite a day of it.

I was mostly interested in having Cindy make me laugh and getting some good shots of her.

In between the reception we all went and saw Super 8 and got pedis! (it was my first time and so tickley!)

With the bride and groom right before we left for San Francisco. That post will come sometime as well.

Grapes

I’m still trying to blog about San Francisco from three months ago, but I’m letting that go for a minute to talk about grapes.  I remember when we were little my brother once put all the Concord grape fleshies in a pile so he could eat them all at once without being bothered to spit the skin and seeds out every time.  I still thought this was a good idea last week, so Charlotte and I tried to separate the thousands of grapes that are growing in our backyard with our bare hands and after awhile it just made our skin really itchy and we wanted to cut them off but mostly just stop touching those grapes.

So the next day I found out making grape juice actually requires tools. Nothing that unheard of, just a potato masher. I smashed and mashed for hours and then boiled and simmered.

Then I used cheesecloth to strain it all yet I felt so cheated by the whole thing because you would think with cheesecloth and all its holes it wouldn’t take HOURS but it took HOURS. So when I tried to hurry up the process I got excited and my cheesecloth COLLAPSED into the very liquid I had just spent hours straining.  It’s ok, all I had to do was do the whole thing over again and get out all the stains from dark purple grape juice. NBD.

But all day of smashing turned into FOUR CUPS OF GRAPE JUICE!  Ummm seriously?  So in order to feel better about the unrewarding result, I doubled the volume with sugar, added some pectin, and made grape jelly.

Let me just say – I LOVE cooking. I think it’s fun and even relaxing and I love eating what I cook and I don’t even mind the clean up afterward.  MAKING JELLY IS NOT COOKING.  I was sweating throughout the whole process and you have to time everything and I didn’t know what a “hard boil” was and the pot I used was too small so I had half an inch of grape jelly goop underneath my stove because apparently a “hard boil” means boiling two feet above normal boiling and I was on the phone with so many moms and the jars wouldn’t seal and then I found out you’re not supposed to touch the lids and EVERYTHING WAS HAPPENING ALL AT ONCE.  I wanted to die. And I thought it was all over, but I was tormented for the next 24 hours wondering whether or not that liquid would set.  At least with cooking you can taste it along the way, and you add a little salt and everything is better.  I couldn’t even carry on conversations because I would just bring everything back to my jelly.  So after I cut myself off from social interactions and watched my jars all night, the next day I was finally able to bask in the glory of homemade grape jelly.

It set. And it’s delicious. (There were more jars, but I’ve already given some away!)

Sorry there are so many words here. It’s been awhile since I made anyone read.

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For the grape juice I used these instructions.

For the jelly I just used step 2 of this, and cut the sugar by about one-third.

 

Oh hey

Happy birthday.

 

Get ready for some tears.

Coach Taylor!!! Don’t leave!!!

Bonne fête!

DC

I was only there for 36 hours, but I was so glad to go.  Even though all four of my flights were delayed and they gave me migraines.

First time being with all my family in TWO YEARS! Whoa.

I’ve missed these guys.

Family pictures after church:

And congratulations to Jason and Heidi who, right before we snapped this picture, announced that they’re pregnant!

Rodeo

We found out Strawberry Days was starting the day before I went to DC so we HAD TO GO.  I’d never been to a rodeo.

Horses directing traffic.  (Look at those mountains!)

Preparing for Mutton Bustin’. (I love that the only thing that said Strawberry Days was that tiny sign right there.)

Marcie.  (Fishtails were my 3rd grade specialty.)

This is during the patriotic part. That’s why Bjorn’s hand is on his heart.  (Baby is half Swedish, so, unsure at best.)

Bare back:

Strawberries:

Fwends:

Not a very good picture, but I like how you can see all the cowboys lined up.

This is dangerous.

I’m so into this no-knead bread recipe right now.  Holy smokes.  My student and professor (her dad) led me to this gem and they’ve perfected it to yield beautiful golden baguette-like bread.

I tried it for the first time a couple days ago and I CAN’T STOP.  It’s just so EAAASYYYY.

Day 2 I added a little tomato/olive oil/garlic/basil. Delicious.

Here is a youtube of the recipe.  Instead of the dutch oven, I was instructed to put a cookie sheet at the bottom of the oven as it preheats with a baking stone.  When you put the bread in, put hot water in the cookie sheet to create the humidity that a dutch oven would have. Perfect bread. So easy.  And it’s just a terrible/delicious bread cycle every day.