College Ave.
Our street is gradually filling up with new homes and families. Only a few building lots still remain. The two best ones are beside me and down the street beside my friend. The lot premiums on them are a little steep so they've been sitting for a long time.
A couple weeks ago, a much older couple looked at the lot beside us. They had come by with their realtor on a Saturday when we were all gathered on a neighbor's patio having beer and smores; and then they came back again with some relatives on a Sunday. They have college-aged kids and although I hear they were very nice from the neighbors on the other side of the lot, we are all kind of hoping for people with younger kids. Oh, and party people or party tolerant would be nice as well. This street isn't nicknamed "College Ave." by the rest of the neighborhood for nothing.
The people looking at the lot beside us were really hoping to find a pre-existing house. The fact that my IPOD was blaring "Blame it on the Alcohol" while I cleaned out my car out front probably didn't help either.
Last week, we were hanging out down the street at my friend's house and someone came to look at the lot beside them. They were back for the second time and my friend wasn't happy about it. Apparently, during their first visit, they avoided eye contact and seemed extremely unfriendly. This night was no different. The builder rep said hello to us and the couple ignored all of us. There were at least six adults out front talking and the kids were running around having a water gun battle royale with a little help from me.
I offered to go get my IPOD to scare them away, but it wasn't necessary. The couple didn't have any kids and between the six houses that hang out regularly, we have 13.5 kids. They were pretty much all present and running around like crazy chasing each other. Add to that a couple other neighborhood kids who stopped by and Big I's friend who was spending the night. It wasn't exactly a peaceful night in the neighborhood.
After the couple walked away, the builder rep drove down the street and I stopped him.
"So, did you sell that lot tonight?"
"Hmph," he chuckled, "this was the second time they came to see it. I had the paperwork all ready to go and they said they had to 'think about it.' I didn't count on there being some crazy kid with a hose and an army of kids having a watergun battle."
We both laughed and then I told him that if they want "quiet," they don't want to be beside us or my friend. I pointed at the lot sandwiched between two homes who belong to people you only see driving to and from their houses and told him that was where they wanted to be. I also put in a request for party people or party tolerant people for both lots. He said he'd get right on that.
In a neighborhood where the beer pong table circulates like play group might in an ordinary neighborhood. . . in a neighborhood where Flip Cup is the grown-up entertainment after a kid birthday party has winded down, only those two scenarios will do.
More of a Reason to Sing or Fake Sing
So I came up with this idea to do a "Summer Serenade" contest back in May or June. I posted a poll and asked readers whether or not they would participate. There were a bunch of people who clicked the little button that says, "I'm already working on my video" and then the only people who stood up and put up were Adam and Karl.
I heard all the excuses in the world. "I don't have enough time" and "I don't know what song to pick" and "My video camera is circa 1960" but still. I mean come on people!
So, I'm extending the deadline and sweetening the deal. The winner of the Summer Serenade contest will be able to pick a product of their choice from CSNStores, up to a $65 value. They have a ton of stores where you can buy anything from chaise lounges, to kid furniture to entertainment centers, etc.
And here's another incentive to get your video together. The next BBM lip sync video will be coming out in August. It's already in the planning stages and you won't want to miss it. I had to wait for the right song to come up and now it has. See. I don't expect you to make fools out of yourselves all by yourself. I'm joining you.
So here you go. The deadline is now extended to August 15th. All of you anxiously awaiting to see what Karl and Adam did will just have to wait a little bit longer, but the reward will be that much better.
So, who else is signing up!?! Come on people! Step up!
The Cure for Knee Issues: Step in a Ditch
Two Monday's ago, I attended karate class and really enjoyed myself. There were only three of us there and it was one of those nights where you initially feel like you can't get anything right and then things sort of start to click. I wanted so much to go to class on this past Monday night to add on to what we had been doing before; but I decided it was best that I not go.
During the Monday class, I got thrown around a little bit and while it was happening I was concerned about my knee. There were some sudden movements and although braced, I still worry. I keep hearing my surgeon's words echo in my head, "You only want to do this once. Revision ACL surgeries are not successful."
I came home after that class and told Mr. BBM that despite the scare, my knee was feeling solid. I told him I was feeling more confident and how happy I was that it was holding up. Then I woke up Tuesday morning in a world of pain. My extension was like post original surgery and I was visibly limping. Add to that the pain whenever I tried to straighten my leg and I was a very unhappy girl.
Mr. BBM assured me I had just overdone it a bit, maybe tweaked it a bit, but the discomfort continued. I skipped class on Tuesday and hoped I'd be better by the Pittsburgh trip. But I wasn't.
I spent the drive out there icing my knee, popped ibuprofen like candy through the weekend, and spent the nights in bed trying to get my leg to straighten out, sometimes pushing my knee down against the bed to the point that it almost brought tears from the pain. When I hit a week and it still wasn't any better, I contemplated calling my surgeon. Clearly something was very wrong. I decided I'd give it another week; but I played it safe and traded my karate night for swimming laps at the pool instead. The cold water in the pool always seems to help when my knee is feeling cranky and I wanted to do some type of exercise.
Yesterday, the grass needed to be mowed and Mr. BBM wasn't feeling well. So I strapped my ACL brace on and went out to mow. The edge of one side of my yard borders a vacant building lot; and we live in a rocky area lacking uniformity. I looked at the street for a second to watch a car drive by and stepped in a hole that would have made my knee hyper-extend if not for my brace. It hurt, badly enough that I had to stop and breathe for a minute.
I walked it off and continued mowing the lawn as my knee throbbed the rest of the time. I figured I had really screwed it up. I came inside, took my brace off and stood there with a straight leg. In fact, with a straight leg with the maximum extension that my left leg now allows, I had only a tiny bit of pain. I figured it was a fluke, went to bed, and woke up this morning with only a tiny bit of soreness behind my knee.
I really think that I broke a piece of scar tissue loose at karate and that it was inhibiting my movement to full extension when it got stuck somewhere it shouldn't have been. I think when I stepped in the hole, I knocked it loose making me able to bend again.
Today, I walked without a limp for the first time in a week and a half. Tomorrow night, I'm back at the dojo.
***Summer Serenade videos will go up this week!
Transformation: Form of Pincushion
Sewing is not my thing. It's never been, not even when I was able to hand stitch pillows together in Home Economics class, not when I tried to make MC Hammer pants. I've just never been good at it or enjoyed it. I've always been a little jealous of those who can sew outfits, curtains, whatever. It's just not me. In fact, the sewing responsibilities usually fall on Mr. BBM in this household. I just don't have the patience for it. I can't even make a button stay on a coat longer than a day or two.
So you can imagine how frustrating it was for me to see that I had to sew a patch on my new black belt. Black belts are like the thickness of a California Redwood tree. Sewing anything onto them is especially challenging.
The night I was promoted, I asked Mr. BBM if he would sew my patch on, but it was late when we got home and it didn't happen. The next night, I asked him to try.
He broke two needles in the process, the thread tore halfway through the project, and it was barely on when all was said and done. Half of it was lifting up so I ripped it off and decided I could live for a class or two without my kobudo patch sewn onto my belt.
Last week, I went to the fabric store in search of Patch Attach. I've heard wonderful things about it and figured the couple dollars was well worth it. I came home and opened it up. Mr. BBM promptly threw the instructions away. I discovered this while he was at work. He's a lucky man.
I looked it up on the internet and found the instructions. You're supposed to apply the glue and then let it sit for 10 minutes before affixing to the fabric. So, I prepared the patch and promptly forgot about it, never getting the chance to glue it onto the belt. I even set a timer. Unfortunately, you can't hear a timer when you're outside helping your daughter ride her bike.
I came inside, noticed my mess-up and scraped all the Patch Attach off with my fingernail. I applied the glue again. This time I followed the directions, waited, and then pressed it onto my obi. I had the iron waiting. I followed the directions exactly. I finished with the iron, picked up my obi and off fell the patch.
You've got to be kidding me.
I repeated the process by scraping the glue off again. I also cleaned off the surface of my belt. I even scraped the back of the patch a bit with a knife just to make sure the glue would take the second time around.
It didn't.
Mr. BBM came home to find me in a fury of frustration. I wanted to get mine on before Lil C found it and decided to shove it down the air conditioning vent, like she sometimes does with random Cheerios she finds from time to time.
So today I went back to the fabric store. This time I took my belt and the patch along. I walked up to the woman who looked like she sews wedding gowns over her lunch hour and asked her what I needed to make this work.
She led me to some curved needles and I then went to find the most heavy duty thread I could find. I couldn't find fishing reel so I settled for coat thread. I also bought a thimble. Mr. BBM's fingers could have strained pasta when he was finished with his first attempt. I knew he wasn't going to volunteer to help. This time it was up to me. This time, I wasn't messing around.
Tonight I settled down around 10 p.m. to start the kobudo patch project. I went through several transformations during the 70 minutes it took me to sew that patch onto my obi.
I became my Mom. . . "Oh for Pete's sake. . . ".
I became my Dad. . . "Son of a . . . . "
I became a hypochondriac. . . "I think I have arthritis or something. Why is this so freaking hard to get the needle through? Why do my fingers hurt so badly? Something must be wrong with me!"
I became Big I. . . (throws head back and moans audibly so the entire house can hear before making horrible sounds with my throat and then almost screaming out "WHY? WHY? WHY?" while watching myself make horrible faces in front of a mirror before realizing that I'd wake up the girls and that might make things even worse).
I became my father-in-law as I thought, "Now who could I get to do this for me? Who's better at sewing than I am? Who could I compliment right into them doing this for me?" (I realized the answer to a better person was "everyone" but that no one was really biting to help).
I became Lil C as I contemplated having a snack instead of putting myself through any more of the torture.
I became a pin cushion, literally, as I stuck the curved needle right into my middle finger and out my skin a centimeter over from the starting point. Ouch.
And then I turned back into myself and decided that this too was part of my black belt test; this too was a mountain I'd have to climb, a test of my patience and ambition. I assured myself that I could do it, and I did. It may have taken me 70 minutes. My fingers still hurt typing this now, but it's done. The kobudo patch is on and I can officially go back to the status of "not sewing" again.
Unless of course, someone is looking for MC Hammer pants, in which case, we'll talk.
Visiting the Old Haunts and Corrupting the Children
On Thursday morning, Mr. BBM and I packed up the kids and headed off to Pittsburgh. A couple months ago, my parents took Big I to the "happy valley" or as we Pitt grads like to call it, "enemy territory." She came home with a Penn State hat and a Penn State t-shirt for her little sister which is currently being used as a cleaning rag residing at the bottom of her drawer. Big I also came home with the idea that she was going to attend Penn State one day. Mr. BBM and I have been silently biding our time.
The time was Thursday.
We arrived in Pittsburgh and when she saw the Cathedral of Learning, she was intrigued. Who wouldn't be?
We quickly passed by the Pitt campus and went to one of my favorite places where I waitressed while in school, the Union Grill on South Craig St.
Everyone who reads here knows that I kind of watch what I eat and try to eat healthy. It's part of the martial arts lifestyle (or should be anyway) and I do my best to eat well. Well, for the past four days, I ate really well, but not exactly the healthy way.
My favorite thing to eat when I worked there was a cheddar cheeseburger (that was seriously like the size of my head) along with a generous side of garlic roasted mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy. I used to make myself feel a little better by putting a slice of tomato on top of my burger. Vegetables, you know.
I did the same thing on Thursday and I enjoyed every single bite of that delicious enough-calories-for-an-entire-week meal. The mashed potatoes and burger which have frequented my dreams over the years tasted the same. It was like the entire world disappeared when I was eating that meal.
After gorging ourselves, we headed a few blocks over to Pitt's campus. We both knew that the girls would be impressed with the Cathedral of Learning so we started our tour there. Big I and Lil C both thought it looked like a castle and couldn't believe that we had taken classes in that building. We took them up to the 36th floor and showed them the rest of the campus and the city from above. They were impressed.
Next we walked through the library before taking them to the fountain in front of the Frick Arts building.
We let them walk around in the fountain with their shoes off and we knew we had them both. Happy what? That's right.
The art building was equally impressive and they enjoyed walking through the countyard garden around the fountain on the interior of the building.
Then we let them ride the new carousel on the lawn. After that, Mr. BBM bought them some kind of Asian bubble drink. We knew we had them both at the Cathedral. We were laying it on thick and they were loving it.
"So what do you think?" we asked Big I.
"I'm so going HERE!" she yelled out.
We bought a Pitt sweatshirt for Lil C and a new Pitt hat for Big I and we drove off to drop off Mr. BBM for his business meeting.
We spent the night in a nearby area with Renovation Girl and had a great time. I literally ate my way through that entire visit too. I need that orzo recipe RG!
In the afternoon we went back to Pittsburgh to retrieve Mr. BBM and decided we'd have dinner at Johnny's Place on North Craig St., the place where Mr. BBM and I met many years ago, instead of fighting with traffic to get out of the city. It wasn't 20 seconds after we walked in and Johnny was already asking us how we've been. I swear the man forgets no one.
Johnny and his wife Karen, used to keep their place open late at night and it was the place to be in North Oakland back in our day. Johnny used to mix up new shot concoctions and let us try a pitcher of them on the house to see how we liked them. He always had the best drinks and the most amazing food. His burger rivaled the Union Grill's and his wings. . . there is no comparison.
Several years ago, Mr. BBM had a trip out to Pittsburgh. He asked me if I wanted him to bring anything back for me and I told him "wings from Johnny's." They survived a flight home beautifully and I was a very happy girl. When we walked in, Johnny immediately asked Mr. BBM how those wings turned out after the long trip home. It was like no time had passed. It has been at least six years.
Most wings are too gummy, not cooked long enough and either drowning in hot sauce or completely dry. Johnny's Place has the most perfect wings; and one of these days when this wonderful couple retires, we're on the list for the recipe. The heat is not overwhelming, but just right and there's this spicy hint of asian sweetness to the sauce that is just amazing. Many of the Pittsburgh Steelers have signed his wall and call ahead to get their wings there too.
We sat at the bar with the girls and like old times, Johnny gave us one round on the house. Each time we have gone back over the years, it's been like visiting old friends, old friends who really know how to entertain.
Johnny's Place is currently for sale and there's no telling how long they'll continue to remain a glorious little spot in Oakland for wings and conversation. But as long as they're there, we're going to continue visiting.
I'll deal with the extra ab exercises that this weekend's caloric intake will require. It was so worth it. Pittsburgh, I really miss you sometimes.
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