Sweet, sweet vegans

I got fat over the winter, so I'm trying to do more cooking type things and less eating convenient fast food type things. When I cook I eat way better (as in healthier and more delicious) than when I rely on outside sources to feed me, and thanks to a really good cookbook selection, I've been pretty productive the last few days.

Vegetarian rubens, enchiladas, stuffed pitas, curried cauliflower, pineapples and strawberries.

But these... these vegan banana split cupcakes with vegan buttercream frosting and vegan chocolate ganache and a strawberry on top... these aren't exactly what a fat person should be cooking. They are, however, what a fat person likes eating.

Meningitolioatitis Tetanellow Fever

Mack and I decided to go to Ghana this summer. It was a decision that went sort of like this:

Me: "Maybe we should go to Ghana."
Him: "Sure. They have judo there."
Me: "Let's go get a book about it at the library."

So we got the book, arranged for a volunteer assignment, bought plane tickets for as much as a small country in Africa costs, and then found out we needed yellow fever vaccines. We have insurance through school for the next few weeks, and we plan to capitalize on that BIG TIME since they recently refused to cover my birth control. I'll show you Aetna.

Our doctor coincidentally had grown up in Africa (her parents, who were also doctors, were missionaries), and all the vaccines that we had written off she scared us into getting.

It's a wonder how "I've had two friends die of ___" will change your mind about vaccines.

Mack ended up getting out of there with three shots, but I had to get five. FIVE.

Buuuutttt, before I got my shots, I heard Mack in the next room screaming out in pain and I flashed back to when I was a toddler and had to get an allergy test that involved repeated shots and my blood pressure went up to 135/84 (normally mine is 100/60) and I had to start pacing so I would not explode from anxiety.

By the time the nurse came in with my tray, I'd learned that Mack was screaming out in pain about something else because he is a weinie, but my nerves were shot and dread was pulsing through my veins. And there I sat, staring at a tray of syringes with sharp needles, really wondering if meningitis was all that bad.

I finally let go of my very first world problem by thinking of all the Africans I'd be meeting who'd probably really enjoy a free vaccine that would keep them from getting Hepatitis A. And we got on with what the English very appropriately call jabs.

In addition to meningitis and Hepatitis A, I got shots for polio, T-dap (which is tetanus and some other things you get when you're a baby) and yellow fever.

And now I have a little bit of every disease. Forgive me if I don't move for the next day or so. I'll be sleeping.

A Parade of Rants

Saturday was the St. Patrick's Day Parade. I love a parade, especially one where nearby vendors sell green beer, so I called Leiah to see if she and Ben wanted to come along.

And now I'm going to complain.

Parades are fun for adults, yes, but when they are centered around such things as leprechauns or other imaginary creatures, they are for kids. Which means, hey, you giant assholes, back up and let the kids you're making look at your gross butt get a spot in front of you.

Parades are for floats. Not your company's giant RV/movable billboard or your Mustang Club. If you don't care to decorate a float, then you should have to walk and hand out candy. We do not come to Main Street for a parade so that we can watch decorative traffic. If that was fun, rush hour wouldn't be annoying.

Parades are for candy. Candy is crucial to the value of any parade, and I don't care if it's that skull breaking hard gum. You need candy. And whoever the prick was who made it illegal to throw candy to people during parades should be stoned to death by candy. The argument against candy is for the safety of kids... but what about when they run in front of a fire truck to get that dropped Now & Later in the middle of the road. Seems safer just to toss the candy to the sidelines, doesn't it?

Politicians should only be allowed in parades if their floats are awesome. And everyone has matching t-shirts. Or if they provide some additional service... like a marker board to show people the latest score of the UK game. If they can't provide a service like that, they better be on a float that is extraordinary. And loaded down with candy.

Can we be done with beauty queens in parades already, especially the ones sponsored by groups that sound progressive, like the Metropolitan Women's Club? Either that or the beauty queens should have to perform their talent while riding on the back of the convertible. Then they can stay.

We need more marching bands in parades, so the next time you see a high schooler band nerd, show them some respect. The only marching bands in the St. Patty's parade were the ragtag group of hobby musicians known as the March Madness Marching Band and a school band from Wolfe County.

The horse shit and garbage on the street after a parade is okay for an hour. No, it's not delicious smelling, and no, it's not fun to step in, but it doesn't warrant a crew of street cleaning machines and an entourage of leaf blowers to rain down upon the parade route minutes after the last entry rolls by. At least let the parade watchers dissipate before bringing in the Overly Enthusiastic Pavement Washers of Impatience and Rudeness.

I ended up having a good time at the parade, mainly because someone finally broke out the Tootsie Rolls and we elbowed our way to the front of some unmoving people in lawn chairs and sat on the curb in front of them. Plus Leiah and Ben were there. And the green beer.

Something to make Shannon feel athletic.

Prepare to have your day brightened. And to feel confident about your coordination.

Forget Beyonce. I'd like to dance like this instead.

All the single babies, all the single babies...

El Capital

Mack got to have Spring Break last week, and since the winter has made us Hermits (yes, with a capital H), we decided to get out of town for a few days. He made a No South Rule, so Asheville, Atlanta, Knoxville and most other drivable places that direction were out, and I refused to go anywhere colder, so anything North was out.

Finally we settled on Washington, DC... lots of free stuff to do, pretty walkable city, plus the Obamas and my favorite Lincoln Memorial.
I've really liked visiting DC in the past. I went there once when I was 10... for a day-long field trip with my class... and again when I was 14... with the band for Clinton's inaugural parade. But I think something has happened in the last 20 years -- maybe cynicism has crept in or perhaps I've officially watched too much news or it could be a post-9/11 capital or some California conditioning.

During this visit, I kept feeling disgusted at all the middle aged white guys in suits with their ties sporting Windsor knots. It felt like everyone there had an agenda, a trust fund and a long Burberry coat. It was like everyone was a descendant of politics.

There's also an overwhelming sense that you're being watched. Which automatically makes you feel like a suspect. I get that we need security and monitoring, especially considering a dude pulled out a gun at the Pentagon while we were there and shot two cops before they killed him, but when that sense of big brother is so strong you feel like you'll get in trouble if you step off the sidewalk and Walk Through the Grass!! something is out of balance.

Even the security guy at Baja Fresh was undercover!

[Sort of Related Tangent: Since we got into town kind of late, the only place really open near the White House was Baja Fresh, so we went in to grab a taco. Some homeless guy, the only one we saw while in DC, was sleeping at one of the tables -- and by sleeping I mean passed out. We had just sat down to enjoy our roasted tomato salsa when suddenly Sleeping Beauty woke up, did that throat grumbly thing that precedes a loogey, turned his head our way, and let mucus fly. I almost died. I thought he'd spit on Mack and had a flash forward of hoochie mamas/hutcimata/something judo being thrown like crazy, but luckily, undercover security a few tables away intervened and told the man to leave. I like a good nut job, but I Do Not do snot.]

Mack, who has watched a whole lot more news than me, was convinced that the Washington Monument was a free mason lookout tower that secretly covered an escape rocket housing aliens who are directing activities on earth. Normally I'd think that was just imagination at work, but since everyone in DC is a robot, I'm not so sure.
To be fair, some of my evaluation of the DC may have been influenced by our visit to the International Spy Museum, which taught you to trust no one. It also taught me about microdots and picking locks and that the key to being a good spy is having lots of hollowed out things... like sticks, shoe heels, lipsticks, cigarettes and cigarette boxes.

We also learned a lot at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum -- namely that, and this is not directed to people whose babies I like but all the other people in the world, PEOPLE NEED TO STOP HAVING BABIES. It would have been nice to look at the Insect Zoo if not for the 1 to 6 ratio of adults to kids. And you know kids are like ants but without the discipline. And since when do strollers have to be the size of Cadillacs? It's really a matter of space, and all these babies with all their crap are taking up way too much space. Babies that I know can stay, but no more new babies and babies I don't know need to be anti-consumers. That means a $15 umbrella stroller, one sippy cup and one toy. Maybe some diapers too, but that is it.

Normally when I go places I enjoy myself even if all I do is walk around and take photos, but for whatever reason, DC was just not inspiring me. In fact, the only inspiration I could muster came from Sarah and her collection of photos of herself next to things. May I present Amber in Photos Next to Things:
Overall, my favorite place was probably Chinatown. We found an awesome Thai restaurant that had some amazing curry. Our lunch at the Smithsonian was $40 (admission was free though), but our dinner at this Thai place, with beers and an appetizer, was only $35. I also loved the archway that welcomed you to Chinatown and being able to watch the guys cook duck in the window.
Getting out of town was fun, and it would have been a lot more fun if we'd been able to get over to Baltimore to see Sarah, but I think I'm good on DC for another 20 years.