Another pair of shoes...and a haiku

The perfect spring shoe...

Why hello, gorgeous,
want to run away with me?
Tie me up, Scotty.

Thank you, Jeffrey Campbell, for your fine craftmanship.

Munich by camera phone...

In honor of my trip being short, so too will this post.  Plus, I imagine the 7 friends/family members that regularly follow this (thanks to my emails informing of updates) have discovered my unwavering verbosity, and may be slightly tired of squinting at run-ons.

This weekend I wanted nothing more than to gad about my European home base soaking it up again whilst eager to convince that I'm not (entirely) a tourist despite my dismal knowledge of the German language.

That being qualified, I took maybe 15 pictures with my phone to provide a visual delineation of my 3, agenda free days in Munich.

pretty little street leading right up to the Wiesn (Oktoberfest grounds)

Neues Rathaus

lunch and dinner

Altes Rathaus

2 lovely options for modern flat decor...

Frauenkirche

my corner fruit stand

our friendly neighborhood coffee shop where I spend too many euros...ironically, it's a German company

my dirndl patiently waiting for Oktoberfest 2k10

a road weary schnellbahnnetz

breakfast of champions

contrary to popular belief, these archaic systems still exist...in Germany

I'm contemplating spearheading a class action suit for false advertising as there is nothing easy about flying.

# of tickets necessary to get from Munich to Plymouth...one way. 

Believe, Hon

Ahhh, nothing quite reminds me of home like the ambiguous city-wide 'Believe' campaign.  I don't exactly remember when the single entity replaced it's predecessor, the laughable mouthful, "Baltimore: a City that Reads", once plastered on every bench south of Stevenson, but I'll admit that I'm filled with pride and nostalgia when I see it (especially if it's followed by a comma and a 'Hon').  I like the irony in this trash bin picture, too.  I won't admit it a fitting description of my beloved birthplace, but given preconceived notions and the popularity of The Wire worldwide, it made me laugh.   On to my point and my post...

In my most recent hobby of blog stalking, I came across a sweet college student who posted 25 things she believed in.  Most were sappy regarding love/family/relationships/honesty, but they made me smile nonetheless and instantly ponder what 25 things I'd assert as belief-worthy.  I think it's relative really.  Actually, I know so.  If you'd have asked me in 2004 to complete the same task, I would have certainly believed in my family, homemade chips from the Tavern, friends, booze, cheap/cute clothes and a raucous spring break...and probably the politics of poverty, to make myself sound slightly less shallow, as I vaguely remember taking a captivating class of the same name in that year. 

Here's the thing, I'm not pledging to save the world with the following catalogue, or make anyone tear up (I realize I shouldn't flatter myself).  I just happen to think I have some decent and logical beliefs, sprinkled with a few frivilous ones.  So here's my list for March of 200910 (random WORDY aside: I've become quite fond of sending snail mail across the pond.  There's something about surprising people with a postcard onto which I've tried to spurt the maximum amount of wit from abroad in a space the size of a movie ticket.  I also love the fact that most recently, all my mail is sent out donning a "Royal Mail" sticker with a stamp of ol' Queen Beth next to it.  My point is that I always write the year at the top of each letter because I'm a sappy hoarder - or, my mom - who saves every card I receive and likes them accurately dated.  Well for the past 3 months I've been writing 2009.  Must have been a good year or something, but I do realize it's over and have staged an intervention with my ballpoint to halt my blunders.)

No really, here is the list.  I BELIEVE......

1. That the R in 'Toys R Us' should be turned around.  What are we teaching our children???  There is no reason for it to be backwards.  None.

2. In God.

3. That traveling light is VASTLY underrated.  I'm moronic in my overpacking, and realize that pashminas in every color of the rainbow are not essential.  Nor are 2 pairs of congnac boots despite the slight differences in heel height.  I long to travel with one underweight suitcase containing the ultimate all-purpose outfit withstanding multiple appearances with the same people.  I long to breeze through check-in without shelling out 50 bucks (30 euro, or 10 GBP per kilo over) PER suitcase.  I long to make it to my gate without red strawberry bruising on my right shoulder from my handled cylinder block, I mean carry-on (read: someone buy me a pretty little Mac rather than this hunker).

4. That at the end of the day, your word is what you have, and that shouldn't be taken lightly.  I believe that you should just be honest...it's not that hard to do.

5. That old things have the best stories, perhaps explaining my love affair with antiquing despite my youth.

6. That multi-purpose cleaning spray is as comforting as my childhood blanket....which isn't saying much as I don't really remember said blanket or have any idea its location.  Bottom line - I believe in the power of the spray down.

7. That love is best shown in the simplest of ways.  No explanation necessary.

8. That the BBC broadcasts the most stellar documentaries.  So far I've been behind the scenes with Taliban insurgents, witnessed the true power of a killer squid, and been privied to the wicked interiors of some ghastly prisons.  I also believe that I have a predilection for the morbid, but that's not # 9.

9. That going to the movie theater is therapeutic.  Regardless of the world outside, you're sat for 2 hours in (sort of) silence with buttered popcorn.  In those moments, all is right with the world.

10. That everyone should live, for some time, as close to the center of a city as their wallets allow.  The experience is humbling (lugging laundry), convenient (take-out at all hours), fitness-inducing (grocery bags and stairs), penny pinching, culturally stimulating (museums, architecture, street style, etc.).

11. That everyone, and I mean everyone should have the unlimited use of a dishwasher.  I would rather walk barefoot through Grand Central Station, scrub the toilet - you know, underneath the rim where it's particularly grotesque - and listen to Randy Travis on repeat before living without a dishwasher.  I. hate. handwashing.

12. That iced coffee is the most economically sound and reliable cure-all.  Could be a migraine, stomach ache, Mondays, hangover from hell, Tuesdays, snow days, sleep deprivation, Texas summers, jet lag, rainy days, Wednesdays, I miss the USA days....you get the point.

13. That all towels should be big and white.

14. That onions and/or honey mustard make 99.9% of things taste better.  Sweets being the clear exception.

15. That education is of the utmost importance.  If I could single handedly make higher education a reality for all, I would.

16. In refinishing furniture.

17. That people should compost more.  Disclaimer: I don't actually do it, I just think about it a lot as I constantly throw food scraps away/down the drain.  One day, when I have a home with a deodarized drawer specially designed for rancid food, I will compost.  I guess I'd need to have a garden too?  Yikes...

18. That the Snuggie, though a backwards robe and an easy target, catches a bad rap.  Since receiving my very own (Luxury) Snuggie, I find myself wondering what life was like before it accompanied me everywhere.

19. That the answers don't come in our time.

20. That blazers are tried and true.  They cover lovehandles, instantly enhance an otherwise dull outfit, withstand various categories of weather, and most importantly, have pockets.

21. That the Olympics are one of those things that simply better our world.  Steroids, ambiguous birthdates, and the occasional on ice brew and stogie aside, they are an addicting example of emotion, competition, pride, comraderie, and a thousand other sappy things.  I always cry, always, and could watch the dullest of events (ahem, curling) with as much enthusiasm as I do watching KC score a game winner.  And I'm not just listing this because they recently ended and are fresh in my mind.  Bring on London 2012!

22. That it is unacceptable to walk through a door without glancing behind to see if someone else is following suit.  Inaction on this front is something I simply cannot tolerate.

23. That white shoes should never be worn after Labor Day/ before Memorial Day.  Residence in Miami does not an offender excuse.

24. That baths are often the answer.  Go ahead, throw a little bath salt in there.

25. That yoga is boring.

The Great Butter Incident of 2010

As mentioned previously, I managed to destroy a batch of idiot proof cookies.  Unable to find them of the slice-and-bake variety, yet craving that just-out-of-the-oven warmth, and lacking the appropriate kitchen tools to produce them homemade, I went for the next best thing: a box that read "just add butter".  I mean, how hard can it be?  I'm college educated, and proud of it (although moderately disappointed on the basketball front at the moment...). 

I've spent many hours in the kitchen watching the masters in my family, Nama, Mom and Sister, cook and bake for years now.  And while I'm not typically as down and dirty as they are, I'm certainly a contributing editor...until the dishes of course, at which point I mysteriously fall asleep on the couch looking too sweet to wake up.  I digress. 

The box simply asked for 25g of butter.  Ahh, the metric system.  One of those cultural idiosyncrasies to which I steadfastly refuse conforming.  I'll gladly learn German, will utter "cheers" and ask where the "loo" is, and always (attempt to) keep my carrying, yankee accent to a volume 3 or below, but I stand firm in my denial of the metric system, ignorant though I may sound.

Here's what I had to work with: a 250g rectangle of butter.  Mind you, I'd used some portion of it on another culinary concoction, earlier in the week, so an indetermined amount was missing.  Since I couldn't remember how much of the 250g was gone and don't own a scale, I turned to google to find out how to rid my experiment of the nasty metric system. 

I do this a lot - google "what's ___ celcius in F" or "how many cups are in a liter".  Next time I'll try "why can't a smart girl remember simple conversions or seem to bake in a foreign country?".  Anyway, desperately wanting my cookies baked and in my mouth moments out of the oven (screw the cooling phase, I have an abnormally heat-tolerant tongue), I quickly looked at the first website listed exclaiming that 25g is equal to 5 tablespoons?  Brilliant.  I can do tablespoons. 

Next came the softening of the butter stage.  Clearly too impatient to let butter soften on its own agenda, I put it in the oven for a hot second to facilitate the process.  Not having the desired effect, I thought f-it, I'll just let it melt...it's all the same anyway, right?.  Again, impatience (a virtue of mine) prevailed and I figured that 1/3 softened, 1/3 melted and 1/3 still hard was fine enough to work with and I attempted to spoon out the first 2 tablespoons.  Neglecting the knowledge existing somewhere in my head about solids and liquids of similar visual amounts having different masses in their unique forms, I decided that the remaining amount of butter looked to be about 3 more tablespoons and just threw it all in the dry mix. 

Employing KC to do the hand mixing (my fight with the metric system rendering me fatigued), I ignored his occasional comment regarding the myriad M&M sized butter balls appearing in the bowl.  "It's fine" I assured, "The box said it was ok if was a little lumpy, plus, butter makes everything taste better".  Taking back the reigns, I noticed the batter a bit runny, but spooned it on the cookie sheet regardless, popped those bad boys in the fan-assisted oven, and stood watching for the next 10 minutes, checking on 2 minute intervals.  Yikes.  This is what I got:

You might think, as I did, that they'll still taste fine.  I mean, they (I suppose they're really an 'it') resemble the cookie cakes I remember so vividly from my childhood, as I always wanted to be the kid who got to bring one into school on her birthday, but never did.  Too contrived for my mom.  Originality being paramount to my life now, I thank her. 

I took a fork to them approximately 18 seconds after removing from the oven.  Swallowed.  Felt myself getting fatter and thought, I just ate 4 pads of butter in one bite.  I knew I could get KC to take a bite...but I'm pretty sure his ended up in the bin.  No offense taken.  After a few minutes, I tried another bite.  I don't know, call me a glutton for punishment.  Maybe I was testing my ability to ingest grotesque things in case I'm ever on one of those "eat this for survival or for a million bucks" reality shows.  The horror warranted a picture...say BUTTER!

How bout that shoebox they call a kitchen?  There's a strict one in, one out policy not unlike the UGG outlet on the Jersey Shore (yes, I've been there and let me tell you, there was a Situation).

In conclusion, it just dawned on me to double back on my conversion research to see if, perhaps, I misread in my haste.  Of course I did.  Much to my chagrin, it turns out that 25g of butter is only about 2 tablespoons, maybe even a bit less.  I used more than 5, though I'm still not sure how many it was.  That'll teach you to trust the list of sites on google.  One more click may have saved my cookies and me a few extra lbs.

** To make it clear, I do realize that we, Americans, are the only ones that don't utilize the dreaded metric system.  I also realize that most Americans probably can and do use said system with regularity.  I still maintain that I hate it.  End rant.

Dabbling in the local trade...

I'm a serial browser.  Seriously.  Online, botiques, high streets, antiques, parchment, electronics, real estate...I don't discriminate.  I don't even physically purchase that often, honest!  I am just addicted to browsing, and have never met a shop I don't like.  I can do as much damage in the Dollar General as I can in Nordstroms...really, don't challenge me.  As my sister can attest, I like to share my findings in emails of the following format:

Subject: "check these out" or "new obsessions" or, the less elusive, "I want"

Body:
link to item #1
link to item #2
link to item #3
link to item #4
.
.
.
.
Link to item #14

thoughts?

Signed,
M

With this new platform in which to share my musings, my penchant for "browsing", and my list-making tendencies, I can now make public my eye/tastes/visions/material desires.  In other words, here is a glorified Wish List in case anyone's looking to bequeath me a large sum of money, or shower me with frivolous gifts.

This is a tabulation of British persuasion as the Brits who are fashionable, are quite fashionable.

1. Lanvin + Chanel - a couple hundred bucks = these.
If I combined all the money I've spent on fashion magazines, I might be able to afford the pair of Lanvin flats I consistently read about.  Enter omnipotence paradox.  I kid, I kid.  But really, if I saved all the $4.99's to secure my pair of something lovely, how would I know what that lovely should be?  In lieu, I think I'll work on procuring this budget friendly version from the local House of Fraser (British Macy's).

2. I 'bow' to you, Anya Hindmarch
Any designer who uses a bow as his/her logo is a friend of mine.  I've been declaring for weeks now that my summer bag will be navy blue.  I've scoured my trusty sites, magazines, and importantly, the streets for the red velvet (I don't like creme brulee) of purses, and I think this is it.  Neutral navy body for versatility, black patent details for a touch of fancy, and rugged camel leather straps.  I think I will.

3. These really take me back
I might feel like a 5 year old sporting these, but I love them all the same.  I abused the whole bow wearing stage, taking it further into my teen years than I care to admit (I went to an all girls school...my plethora of bows in a variety of colors and patterns was merely a way to express myself in those formative years).

4. Just waiting for Ed McMahon to show up at my door...
Because that's the day I'll buy these $800 puppies.  Come on though, you're drooling too...even the few male members of my family that are reading this.  Perfect color, perfect punk-wannabe neon detailing, perfect bowed stiletto.  I'll stop before professing my undying love.

5. More suitable for my lifestyle
The 'clumsy' in this blog's title isn't just another adjective.  I happened to rank up there with the cast of Jackass for the Most Accident Prone superlative...only I'm not doing it on purpose.  I spill, trip, rip and/or break things daily (so far today I've given the carpet in our den a fresh coat of shepherds pie AND managed to accidentally quadruple the amount of butter necessary in the "add butter only" box of easy bake cookies but more on that later).  My point is that plastic shoes are a slice of genius for someone like me.  They are indestructable, able to be hosed down, give more easily when you misstep and roll your ankle, and can probably be recycled?  Maybe?  The lush color combo doesn't hurt either.  Chinese red and light blue has always and will always be a fave of mine.

6. Everyone needs a day clutch
This friendly clutch would accompany anything!  Gotta go grey, I say.  Big enough to fill with the uneccessary, industrial enough to throw on the ground whilst lunching at a cafe, and a pink grossgrain ribbon to boot!  Not bad, methinks.  Not bad at all.

7. Don't mess with homegirl.
That's precisely what this bracelet says, and exactly why I need one.  I travel a lot these days and I truly believe someone contemplating attack might step off after glimpsing this badass number.

8. I'm like a barracuda...attracted to shiny things.
Anyone would be attracted to these sweet little purses and their cheeky embossed phrases.  I'd fill my Maintenance Kitty with the German delicacy that is Labello, whatever form of concealor I'm currently test driving and my bottled star, Angel (no matter what season).

That about sums up my material desires here in the UK.  Now I need to go read my book (Same Kind of Different as Me - definitely recommend) to remind myself that I have interests and talents other than "browsing".

Cosby Sweaters

I noticed at the top of my blog a tab that reads 'next blog'.  I clicked it and came across the blog of someone living in Hong Kong.  To no surprise, I couldn't read it, so I clicked 'next blog' again.  This brought me to one commemorating the life of a beautiful little girl who passed away far too young.  Instantly saddened, I quickly clicked 'next blog' once more.  I was chasing curiosity and sort of searching for inspiration, I guess, so I clicked 'next blog' again, and again, and again....and obsession ensued.  It's not like I'd never read a blog before.  I've poured over plenty of creative and intriguing blogs of fashion and shopping and interiors and politics and weddings and celebrities and cooking and soccer.  I realize I may have just portrayed myself as a materialistic, cleat chasing, stepfordish intellect.  I assure you, I am not all of those things :).  But there's somethng about reading about total strangers that fascinates me.  No lie, I spent the last 2 re-runs of Friends (just sounds better than 'hour') furiously clicking through 'next blog' after 'next blog'.  There was the Mormon couple with a baby in a full body cast, the DC collegiate overly enthusiastic about DC, the mom with an adorable curly haired Molly (who'da'thunk), the stylish Nashville girl with an apparently perfect and cohesive life, and the generically named dude who hates everything.  I could go on, and after this post, I will (Friends is on again...it's on all the time on the British tele).  It's not like I read every word these complete aliens write, but there are a few things I make sure to check out.  I love blog titles.  They can be as generic as "The Jones/Smith Wedding" or as confusing as a rubix cube, but every once in a while is a true gem .  I've come across some but in an effort to certainly impress, I'll wait to fill in that blank when the rarest of them all comes along (I'm a big fan of 2 I just found titled "Cows at the Airport" and "Glitter Pissing"), so you'll just have to check back.  But how about the self proclaimed "Miasma" I stumbled upon just moments ago.  Yeah, I had to look that one up too...it's basically like a poisonous atmosphere or something.  Hey, at least my errant blog-diving is educative.  One day I'll start a blog, call it "Cosby Sweaters", and photograph the most heinous of sweaters - or jumpers as the Brits call them - wherever I go.  I could probably get a good start on that here in Europe, although a few good laps around a Walmart would yield just as many in far less time.  But that's neither here nor there...

Ultimately, these blogs are some of the finest examples of creative writing, stream of consciousness, cynicism, and real life.  They are a quick reminder of the vastness of the world wide web - something we currently expect, not meditate.  They can make you feel as normal as plain toast or as abnormal as black pudding (aka blood pudding or "dried blood with a filler until it is thick enough to congeal when cooled", according to wikipedia).  Trite as it sounds, its a brilliant reminder of the diversity that so many of us lack in our routine lives.  That's not a criticism, it's just reality.  I compare my current job, Unemployment, to my previous career, Baseball Ticket Peddler Extraordinaire, and I really see how mundane everyday life can be.  It's not a profound thought, just one that someone else may not have the time to cogitate (as I cogitate...).  Something about the rants and ravings of our fellow terrestrials revives in me the desire to look around a little more when I'm otherwise engaged...rather than trudge forward on whatever seemingly important mission I'm on.  Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse for my excessive (and tactless) people watching.  Whatever it is, I think I'll shut up for a few minutes and click through a few more rando's blogs....