Oktober Silliness

Back at the end of July, I had a convo with my blogger pal Juliann from Browsing the Atlas when she posted Weekly Photo Challenge: Masterpiece and covered the exquisiteness of Beijing roofs.

Juliann has a thing for choosing one focus for her photography as she globe trots, and I thought this was a rad idea.

Then, I remembered the time I did the same and focused on one pivotal representation of my surroundings.

The majesty, the colors, the architecture of….Lederhosen.

Some years ago, Mr H, my awesome sis-and-law and her hubby, and myself traveled to Fredericksburg, Texas (kind of the middle of nowhere) for Oktoberfest.

We always wanted to go to Munich for the real deal, but right in our Dallas backyard – not really, since everything in Texas is monumentally spaced out – was our very own Tex-German shindig.

oktoberfest dancing

Cute old couple alert! It’s a little blurry, but he danced with his hand square on her ass the whole time. That’s love, right there.

oktoberfest couple dancing

Umm…there’s a beer on your head.

oktoberfest beer hat

I wasn’t expecting a lot, but it was pretty damn fun! A little too much fun, perhaps. We blame the beer for “sultry”, gender-bending moments like this…

oktoberfest fun

That cold, frothy elixir turned the four of us into a team of misfits with one obsession…besides where to get our next beer.

We dared each other to get the best shots of Lederhosen, creeping up on unsuspecting, costumed dudes and snatching the best pic. Mind you, this was before phone cameras were any good.

It was risqué. It was silly. It was awesome.

First we have a distance shot of our unsuspecting Lederhosen subjects, Herr Rot and Herr Weiss…

oktoberfest musician

A little closer…

oktoberfest red and cream lederhosen

Then, the money shot…

oktoberfest lederhosen close-up

Guess they weren’t meant to live happily ever after. Herr Naked Legs stole Herr Rot away…

oktoberfest lederhosen

In the end, Herr Gelb stole the show with his manly stance and edgy variety…

oktoberfest yellow lederhosen

Hey, I warned you that this was Oktober silliness, nothing more. Hopefully you had some laughs. If not, please drink a big ass beer then read this again.

Find your own Oktoberfest (here are a few big ones in the U.S.) and marvel at some Lederhosen. You’ll love it.

Any silly Oktoberfest stories out there?

There’s a shelter when I get home.

Lindsey, a very amazing friend of mine (hey, sweet love), shared this fantastic video on Facebook today. And I almost didn’t watch it, because I was scanning my feed after a long day at work, my eyes half-open, my brain half-fried.

But, she said something that made me change my mind: “If you do nothing else today, watch this.”

Although this came out in 2010, I had never heard of Storycorps’ “Danny and Annie” before. I have to say that Lindsey was spot on, and as those close to our hearts always seem to know, I needed to watch this today.

I don’t usually have bad days. I consider myself a joyful person the majority of the time.

Today was different. I was kind of in a funk, consumed by self-doubt, pesky worries, and just plain disheartened after a long week of grinding and juggling.

Yet at the end of the day…there’s love. Right there. Love.

sleeping

I think all of us, from every speck on the map, can agree that love is this immaculate tint that covers our worlds, that turns life into a masterpiece, one radiating with color and soul.

This beautiful cartoon changed everything for me today.

There’s always a shelter when I get home. I am grateful for my husband and I can’t wait for him to hold me when he walks in that front door.

Mr. H, I write you epic love letters in my head every day. And I will continue to do so for the rest of our lives.

Press play.

Le Food, Le Drool

Ah, food. How you sooth me, energize me, and whisk my troubles away. How you bring me joy, fulfill me, and…

Oh, hello there! Sorry, I just went into a food love coma for a moment, but I’m back.

So, last week I chatted about our invasion of Montreal. Today, let’s talk food!!!

It’s no secret around the cyber world (this blog, my other blog, FB, Twitter) that I worship food.

So much that my idea of a shopping spree is going to our local Co-Op and spending without remorse. So much that purchasing our very first food processor a couple of weeks ago has made me insanely happy. So much that we even named said food processor “Bruce Lee”. He likes to chop shit up and he does it like a boss.

Anywho, one of the main reasons we gallavanted up to Montreal was for the food scene. There’s a lot of hype, saying it’s one of the food capitals of the world.

Was it the food orgy we were seeking? Um, let’s just say we’ve had better.

But, let’s also say that there was no possible way for us to eat at ALL of the restaurants there. I’ve never seen so many spunky cafes crammed together in my life. Also, we like to travel on a budget so we usually rock the apartment rental and cook a lot of our own food.

(A quick warning to budget traveling foodies…prepare yourself for the ultimate food tax at restaurants AND grocery stores in Montreal. You’ll be taxed twice and it will hurt your feelings when it happens.)

Anywho, since I just so happen to be married to the best chef in the world, there were many cozy nights spent on the terrace like this…

le plateau montreal
Our Stupendous Terrace in Le Plateau

One of the things we’ve learned over the years from the great Anthony Bourdain…when you first arrive somewhere, get your happy butt to the market. You will instantly connect with the people, culture, and pulse of your unfamiliar surroundings.

On our first morning, we took the Metro straight to the market. The Jean-Talon Market, mecca of grub.

jean talon market mushrooms
Mr. H Cruising the Shrooms
jean talon market herbs
Herb Haggling
Me and a Little, Old Lady
Me and a Little, Old Lady
Bell Pepper Parade
Bell Pepper Parade

The French do three things brilliantly: cheese, chocolate, and bread. In other words, throw your healthy morals out the freaking window, ditch the skinny jeans, and indulge your ass off.

We received this cheese recommendation from a young fellow at the Jean-Talon Market, which was used in the terrace pasta above. It was creamy perfection and we ate it every day.

quebec cheese
The Cheese Wrapper (sorry, we ate the actual cheese)

We explored chocolate in many glorious forms…

jean talon market creperie marche
Slingin’ Crepes at Jean Talon Market
jean talon market crepe
Salted Caramel, Butter, and Chocolate Crepe at Jean-Talon Market
Juliette et Chocolat brownie and latte
Bananatella Brownie (Banana and Nutella) at Juliette et Chocolate in the Latin Quarter

There was a bar of chocolate called Caramel Crack from a chocolatier in the Plateau that was to die for. It was my kind of crack! (Sorry, no pic. We ate that puppy on the long road back home to Milwaukee.)

Lastly, we dipped a fresh baguette in a yummy tomato broth Mr. H fashioned to go with our mussels.

jean talon market seafood
Jean Talon Fish Market

Mussels are everywhere in Montreal. To save some bucks, we recommend fetching your own at the Jean-Talon fish market and enjoying them at your leisure.

In the end, Montreal is a fun romp for foodies who like the richness of French cuisine. Know that you’ll pay out the ass for food taxes, the chocolate anywhere will knock your damn socks off, and you’ll probably need to detox when you get home.

A Coach’s Lesson, in 6 Words

coach

Happy Wednesday, fantastic friends! Just wanted to reblog this fun/inspirational piece from Eli over at Coach Daddy. He masterfully coordinates these “6 Words” posts, bringing peeps from all over together to dish out 6 words about various subjects. Along with yours truly, 50 other bloggers, readers, and strangers dished out 6 words based on the prompt “What’s one thing you learned from a coach?” Being that I grew up dancing, I added these six amazing words from one of my ballet teachers…24. “Forget everything, be true, just move.” Be sure to check out the rest of these one-liners for some mid-week warm fuzzies (and some good laughs) over at Eli’s place.

Eli Pacheco's avatarJust a dad ...

You can learn a lot from a coach.

Not all of it’s good. I remember a frustrated soccer coach who slammed his notebook to the turf after our team scored, then barked out the F word. Hayden, then playing U8 soccer, turned to me, mouth open slightly, and blinked several times.

I swear a light bulb illuminated above her head.

Thanks, coach.
Many other lessons are far less R-rated. Well, some.

View original post 842 more words

The Grit and Grace of Montreal

old port of montreal
Mr. H at Old Port of Montreal

If Brooklyn and Paris mated, their love child would be Montreal.

Grit and grace. Hard asses and romantics. The ones that won’t look you in the eye and the others who stare right at your ass.

This paradoxical city is emphasized further by its language tug-of-war. French is everywhere: the parking signs, the menus, the spoken greetings.

Yet, a sorry attempt at some high school French by an American tourist (yours truly) flips the switch. Seamlessly, as if “Bonjour” were never stumbled over, the conversation morphs into English with a peculiar flourish.

Walking down the street is a puzzling treat as English and French interlace. A couple at a table next to us bounces back and forth – a French question, an English answer, then one, then just the other – like a nail-biting tennis match for the ears.

Taking a road trip will only confuse the American more. Living in the U.S means conquering an ocean to hear that steady foreign hum.

Although Ontario looks a lot like Wisconsin, there are doors like these in the rest areas…

sortie

Eventually, there’s no more English. None. Our foreign experience creeps up on us in the form of construction signs and unpronounceable roads.

Where the hell are we? North America? Canada?

No…Montreal, Quebec.

Each languid day is strange – no schedule, no obligations. And, Mr. H. and I wander around this land without time.

trees and us
Snuggles with Mr. H

One of the deepest ways to connect with someone means surviving together in a place where nothing makes sense, somewhere that is the antithesis of home, routine, and grind.

Travel makes the heart open to possibilities. And, so we opened ours to Montreal and did all of this…

Mont Royal and Olympic Stadium
Mont Royal and Olympic Stadium
Le Plateau
Le Plateau
old montreal
Old Montreal
2013-09-02 13.21.36
More Old Montreal
Trife Life Graffiti Crew
Trife Life Graffiti Crew

And, we got down at Piknic Electronik at sunset on an island. Yeah, it was cool…

But, what about the food, Britt? Montreal is one of the foodie capitals of the world, isn’t it?

Indeed, it is. So, food gets it’s very own post next week. Get ready to drool.