Friend Or Pho?

Sunday afternoon, after helping Mike install a new fishfinder (hah!) in his boat, Mary Ann and I traveled to around Broadway and Argyle looking for some Korean food. We didn’t find any at that exact location, but we saw numerous Vietnamese restaurants. Neither of us is any expert on Vietnamese food, but we decided to give it a try.

At random, we selected a restaurant. Its name will not be revealed here, because nothing that follows is intended as a knock on them. There was no particular Americanized menu, because nothing there was Americanized. Since I’m generally vegetarian, I ordered a stir fry of tofu, flat noodles, and mixed vegetables. Mary Ann ordered a combination plate which was supposed to include char-broiled pork, shredded pork meat, Chinese sausage, Vietnamese egg cake, sunny [side] up egg, grilled meatballs, and tofu rolls, served on a plate of broken steamed rice. After an unsuccessful and messy attempt to eat a large spring roll with chopsticks, I was ready for the main course.

As soon as Mary Ann’s food arrived, I knew there was a problem. She was looking at it in absolute horror. Now, Mary Ann is an extremely picky eater, but I had to take her point this time. It was hard to pick out the various components of the food: none of them looked the way we Americans would expect. So, rather gallantly I thought, I offered to switch entrees with her and tackle the combination plate.

Unexpectedly, the plate included shrimp. I knew what they were, ate them, and enjoyed them. Then matters became problematic. One piece of tough, very sweet-tasting meat I reckoned might be the char-broiled pork. Most of the rest, I had no clue. There was something that looked like a greasy carnation, with a chunk of what looked like rough-hewn muscle attached. There was rice, but also some kind of strange noodle. I did identify the sausage. Like the park, it was hard as a rock. There was a little square of something that looked like cake, but most decidedly didn’t taste like it.

Because I abhor wasting food, I dug in and tried to eat everything. I will never forget that carnation-thing. I just about heaved right then and there. Then, the cake-thing nearly finished the job. I resorted to the noodles, but there was something very wrong about them as well. I was literally on the verge of gagging the entire time I was eating. The iced tea didn’t help, since it had no ice, was at room temperature, and consisted of about 98% sugar. It was probably the most difficult meal I’ve ever had. Mary Ann said I looked like one of the contestants on Fear Factor. But I persevered. I ate the majority of the food and drank all the tea, then, a little unsteady on my feet, I got the hell out of there. I’ll say one thing — I sure wasn’t hungry any more.

After we got home, just out of curiousity, I pulled the restaurant’s menu off the web. My queasiness increased exponentially as I realized what had happened. We had accidentally been given a different combination plate with a similar name. The carnation-thing — that was the “bible tripe,” the one made from the lining of the cow’s third stomach, famous for its many folds of mucosa. I think they left a chunk of the stomach attached for good measure, or maybe that was the “fat brisket.” The cake-thing — something made out of egg. But the noodles, those weird noodles, must have been the “soft tendon.” Aargh! I was eating freaking TENDONS! Aargh! Aargh! Aargh!

I’m feeling better today. I will have lunch at a place I know very well and which offers no surprises.

TENDONS!

Mom Hits The Bottle

Mom is always jealous of my skill with eBay. It breaks her heart when no one wants her antique canes and paintings by obscure Ohio artists, but they buy my useless hand massagers and broken stereos. Recently, though, she really thought she’d scored. She put up a really old blue bottle she had in her store (which is called “To Each His Own” and located in Painesville, Ohio). To her delight, the bids came rolling in. Right off the bat, it went up to $27.50. It would probably have gone for appreciably more by the final bell.

Would have. You see, while mom was trying to clean that bottle just a little bit more, she knocked it off the counter and BROKE IT! I checked her listing and found that it suddenly had ended without any bidders. I called and heard the whole sad story. Sorry about that, mom. I was really hoping you’d succeed this time. By the way, I just sold a malfunctioning old radio for 60.00!

Anyway, because mom is a good sport, she sent my a picture of the unfortunate aftermath of her slip.

Before:

After:

You know, that one on the right somehow reminds me of Hillary’s campaign…

Orchid Has Survived Several Weeks Now

It must be that microclimate we’ve created over there.

Really Smart Baby Born

Congratulations are in order to Scott and Elizabeth on the birth of their son, Spencer Ryan, entering this world today and weighing in at a healthy eight pounds, three ounces. All the best to the three of you!

Hubble Project Reaches Completion

No, I don’t mean the one in space, I mean the one in Betsy and Gary’s condo.

As Gary’s birthday approached, Betsy mentioned something about him liking the Hubble space photographs. After a little discussion, we decided that making a bunch of framed Hubble-type images would be a great birthday present for him.

Eventually Betsy managed to winnow down the millions of images to a top ten. I downloaded some high-resolution versions, tweaked some low-res ones, and cropped them all to exactly fit 16″ square frames. The reason for the square frames was that the Hubble images are, natively, square. I did, however, take the liberty of using Photoshop to stick in a few extra stars where needed. You know, some filler galaxies.

A hero of the project was Scott, the master graphics designer. He printed the images with his awesome Epson wide-format printer on some beautiful Hahnemüle fine art paper. No one could have done a better job.

After Gary’s seven favorites were framed (and I breathed a sigh of relief when they fit), they were ready for hanging in the big loft. A lot of precise measurement paid off, and they lined up nicely. Everyone, I think, was pleased. I was especially happy because then, and only then, did I feel I could safely have a beer.

It’s a good feeling to help someone’s idea become real.

Mary Ann Rejects Hot Dog Maker Outright

I don’t eat hot dogs, but Mary Ann does. I’m always on the lookout for a better way to make hot dogs. True, the traditional methods of boiling and grilling work fine. However, they involve effort, something I generally try to avoid.

There it was at the thrift store: a Presto Hot Dogger, circa about 1976, in near-mint condition. Right on the box it proclaimed: “COOK 6 HOTDOGS IN 6 MINUTES.” Bingo! I’d heard of these things before, but never owned or used one. I figured that it might even cook two hot dogs in 20 seconds. Even the full minute would be fine.

I initially figured the Hot Dogger to be some kind of pumped-up grill or boiling device. When I examined it, I determined that there was no such subtlety involved. In essence, the Hot Dogger simply electrocutes the dogs. You stick each end on a nasty spike, spanning two spikes on opposite sides. When you plug the Dogger in, the full household voltage passes from one side to the other. Since there’s quite a bit of electrical resistance in a hot dog, it heats up rapidly. It’s basically an electric chair for hot dogs.

For some reason, Mary Ann didn’n find the Hot Dogger appealing. Maybe it’s that electric chair aspect, or some misguided worry about electrocution. Why, anyone would know that the odds of killing yourself with a little household current are pretty slim. I’m still alive, right?

Fortunately, there’s a market for vintage Hot Doggers on eBay. I wonder if there’s a market for vintage Mary Anns.

Preki Doing Well So Far

The tumor removed from Preki has been evaluated as a Stage 2. There are three stages, 1 being the most easily treated and 3 the worst. If they got all the tumor, prospects of survival should be pretty good for Preki. There was an area near the ear where they weren’t able to cut as much of a margin away as they would have liked. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hit that area with some radiation.

Asparagus Not Raragus

When you’re as absent-minded as I am, using the toaster oven isn’t the best idea.  Especially this time. 

A Few Tips About Great Stuff

I was using a little Great Stuff today — you know, that foam adhesive sealant.  Here are two things I learned:  1) There’s a reason why they say to use gloves; and (related) 2) Once Great Stuff dries on your hands, no solvent on Earth can remove it.  Literally.  Trying to rip it off results in some unfortunate skin loss.  Don’t even bother.  Looks like I’ll have to wait this one out.

Spring Has Sprung (Leaks)

So I went outside and washed my bike. I could have washed the car, but I figure the bike is actually worth more than the car — upwards of $75.00, I reckon. Anyway, from the basement, I turned on the water to the outside spigots. I immediately heard a spraying sound. Not good. I ran out there and the water was spraying backwards from the sprayer attached to the hose. A mere washer problem, I thought, until I replaced the washer and nearly had my glasses knocked off when I turned the water back on. Then I noticed the big hole in the brass end of the hose itself. Repair needed. Then I noticed all the water leaking from the drum of the hose-winder-upper. Uh oh. Difficult repair needed. I’ve broken out the epoxy and set to work. I could kiss the feet of whoever invented epoxy glue. I use more of it than some smaller industries. This has been a lot of work for a mere attempt to rinse off a bike.