chefjenny

So, I am a horrible relative to have.  I will never remember your birthday.  I will send cards sporadically, although I know I should do better.  It's not hard to plan these things, it's not like people's birthdays change every year.  But I am a sad panda when it comes to tracking such things, and am far too easily distracted by what's in front of me right now rather than birthdays for family who are close in heart but far in physical distance.  I should go home to get slapped around by grandma and grandpa so I couldn't possibly forget to write anymore.

My dad, at least, I had the sense to call before I went on vacation last month.  It was a five minute phone call, which I feel is pretty lame.  Ok, so I'm mad at myself, and indulging in some self-deprecation.  Bah.  Moving on.

Hey!  My kegging system arrived in the mail last week!  It's awesomely sweet, and (!!!) the mini-fridge that's been gathering dust in the basement is totally the right size to house the five-gallon keg.  My pen-pal wants me to turn it into a Kegasaurus Rex kegerator ^_^ 

The new beer supply store near me is nice, albeit in that "too new and shiny" sense.  Hopefully it gets enough traffic to make it feel a little more lived in, a little more secure.  Still, it had all the supplies I needed, which was awesome.  So I went home and made a "pecan pie" ale.  I was excited because I got to use the hops I grew myself (I had a whole half ounce harvested!  It doesn't sound like much, but hop flowers are light, so that's nearly two cups of hops).  The pecans you throw in at the last minute and steep, and I was shocked at how much the taste of 8 ounces of pecans permeated the whole ale.  I also used a bit too much brown sugar, which may result in some tartness (or cidery-ness), but on the whole it tasted fantastic going in the bucket, and has been burbling away merrily ever since.

I'm really looking forward to being able to pour myself just a mug of beer.  Lately I've been splitting bottles with Phil after work.  I'm not a big drinker of anything most of the time - coffee, tea, water, soda, you name it - so a whole 12 ounces is at least half wasted on me.  6 ounces isn't quite enough, either, so I look forward to being able to pour a half pint for myself.

Plus, I keep seeing this study cropping up that says drinking a moderate amount of beer every day increases bone density.  So fark you, osteoperosis!  I'ma have me a beer!

Touristas, originally uploaded by jaydotsnyder.

Our vacation photos now up on flickr

Okay, I have a new plan. The cruise is nice, but really I don't need most of these services. What I've enjoyed the most so far is getting off the boat and away from the tourist cities and into the backwoods. The tours have been nice – lots of well-kept ruins – but it's been other little things that have absolutely made my day. Today was fruit from a roadside stand; cut up pineapple, with chile and lime. Fucking amazing. The pineapple, when picked ripe, tastes completely different from the stuff from a can or from the store. It tastes like pineapple that's been grilled with sugar; it's soft and sweet and luscious, and even the core is pleasant and edible. Then, to go with it, they give you a little bag of chili powder and salt, and a wedge of lime. For diez pesos, or little less than a dollar. The tour bus stopped on the way back, and it was a spectacular treat.

So, the new plan: learn to pilot a boat, and then just make my own way down the coast of Mexico. The other really fun thing for me has been practicing Spanish. The more I try to speak, the more I realize I know enough to get around, to have a good time, to ask questions and take directions. In fact, I did something today that I never do in English – I haggled! I talked a vendor down from $40 to $25 on a dress I really liked, entirely in Spanish. I was so proud of myself! So, I'll take Phil and a few friends, be the interpreter, learn to pilot a boat, learn to fish, and just go fuck around off the coast of Mexico for a week. It's a good plan. I'm glad to be a part of it.

Ah, ok, so the ruins: Today we went to Chacchoban, which was some of the nicer ruins we've seen. The tour guide knew as much about the local plants as she did about the mayans, and I got to visit an all-spice tree, and a sopadilla tree, which is the original gum tree for chiclets and wrigley. That was neat. And then the complementary meal on the way back was a slice of ham and processed cheese on white bread with mayo, which normally would have me making faces, but part of the complementary beverages was a whole lot of mexican beer, so suddenly I wasn't complaining. Something about the spicy chiles and that beer just made my day.

So, yeah, once again I'm faced with the fact that I love food. And not in the gluttonous I'll-eat-anything kind of way, but in a way that has me wholly intrigued by what people eat, where they eat it, how and why. The culture of food, if you will. In Belize, too, as soon as the guide started talking about what the locals eat I sat up and listened. In Costa Maya, I cracked up when the guide told us to watch out for the salsa at the taqueria – the real pico de gallo is made with habaneros, and the stuff with jalepeno is mostly for kids. And me, because God knows I won't touch the habanero stuff. Maybe I missed out, but damn those fish tacos were good.

We got some shopping in today, finally. We've been so busy with the shore excursions we haven't gotten to do too much touristy shopping. We stopped at the liquor store on the island and tasted various tequilas, which was interesting too.

Also, we have constellations of itchiness and pain across our arms and legs. And we've both been a bit over-sunned – Phil's head is peeling, and I have a vicious stripe across my back from the strap of a sundress. All in all – great vacation so far. ;)

It seems really long, though! Not in a bad way, we're just packing in a lot of different stuff in just a few days. We've sat at dinner for a couple nights; our more “formal” seating as opposed to the buffett. The people who are assigned to the same table as us are not our type – and I'm sure they think the same of us. They are the quintessential rude and loud americans, obsessed with drinking and gambling and shopping and sex. Nice enough people, but Phil and I feel especially out of place there. It's there at dinner we miss our friends the most. I hope if we do something like this again, we can take some friends with us who will bust out Arkham Horror during dinner.