Ham August 28, 2007

For seven years of my young life, the ‘ham was my home. Framingham, MA, about 20 miles west of Boston, where a young Seth learned the ways of the world, driving around in his 4-door bright red GEO Metro, Tori Amos’s Under the Pink cooing on the stereo, a few friends to join him in pondering the ways of the world as they passed through the Dunkin Donuts drive through.

My favorite thing about ham is that it is the forgotten deli meat… I usually go straight to the turkey, or if I’m feeling crazy, the pastrami or corned beef, but I always like ham, even though I forget about it, and when I get a nice ham sandwich, I’m usually pretty happy.

My favorite thing about The Framingham is the mall.

My real favorite thing about Framingham is sitting in my parent’s living room, watching my nephews scream their faces off, drinking some Trader Joe’s wine, making fun of my siblings, going out for dinner with my parents, sleepovers with my best friend, chatting with my grandma, and going through my high school photo albums.

Speaking of Ham: I am currently making a spinach, ham and cheese quiche. It is in the oven and I am so sure that it is going to be incredible and that it will influence the quiche landscape for generations to come that I had to run straight to the computer and blog about it post haste.

I like blogs that have surveys, so here is the first Wind Beneath my Chicken Wings Survey:

Fill in the blank: Seth’s quiche is the ________ quiche ever made.

(a) most provocative
(b) least controversial
(c) most unexpectedly life-changing
(d) least litigious
(e) all of the above
(f) other

I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Boarding Areas August 18, 2007

I’ve been on the road.

More like, I’ve been in the boarding areas.

Two weeks ago I went to Minnesota for Danette’s wedding. D and I were both in Peace Corps so her wedding proved a great opportunity for the PC Thailand group 116 crew to get together and road-trip it up to somewhere-not-near Minneapolis. We did it Thai style — stopping every hour and buying way too much food. Anyway, here’s what the wedding looking like:

So what were the highlights of this trip…? Luke thought it was weird that when I have a magazine from home on the plane, I rip out the address label and furthermore, I rip the label into tiny pieces and scatter them in my area. I suppose I can’t really explain why I do this, but I am sure that it is the right thing to do. For example, should the next passenger find my un-ripped address label, they might try to send me more magazines or worse, stalk me and try to kill me in my sleep for leaving my crap in their seats.

Though we missed the actual wedding and our camping trip turned into a motel trip, it was a great two days. I have a long history of camping trips turning into motel trips and an equally long history of having a blast in random, side-of-the-highway towns (this one was called Fergus Falls). My PC friends are family, so being around them makes me feel all warm and fuzzy (though that also may have been the beer).

Moving on, the next weekend my best friend Jacki came from Madrid via NYC, Massachusetts, Michigan and a few other places. For the occasion, we threw a BBQ in the yard behind the apartment. We crocked it pretty hard all day and as a result, the chili was widely praised (yes, chili for a 90 degree summer BBQ. I do not limit my crock pot seasonally). Add to that burgers, pork loins, mojitos, no-trees-falling, and you get a really fun Glover Park evening. Jacki, Luke and I rounded out the weekend with a trip to the Portrait Gallery which is now my favorite museum in all of DC.

So this week I went on back-to-back work trips. First stop was Raleigh, NC, where I basically saw nothing and have nothing clever to say. They call their Beltway a Beltline. That was pretty interesting. Oh, my car was “upgraded” to a soccer mom mini-van. When car rental companies say “upgrade” they really mean “bigger, clunkier, uglier GM car.” From Raleigh I went to “but-it’s-a-dry-heat” Phoenix. My friends, when it is 115, heat is heat. This dry heat nonsense is bunk, I say. Phoenix looks like LA, only orange-ier.

So now I’m back in the district. I’m seriously considering unpacking but not able to motivate as of yet. It looks like a beautiful Saturday (read: not humid) so perhaps we’ll take the Kia out for a Saturday afternoon spin.

 

Kickball August 6, 2007

Kickball is a serious sport here in the district.

My team was called the Chicken Kickers (I had nothing to do with the name. All things Chicken related seem to find me). Last Wednesday, during the second round of the playoffs, we were knocked out of the season in a spirited nail-biter in the shadows of the Washington monument. An era has ended.

But there was something different about this last foray. Maybe there was something in the air. Maybe it was the added thrill of being in the playoffs. Maybe the spirit of the great sport of kickball was with us. One cannot say with certainty what it was, but for the first time this season, I, Seth, writer of this blog and kicker of many a pop-up and foul ball, made it to base. And not just one base, mind you. With my partner in crime Emily right behind me, I made it to two bases, also known as Second Base.

“Ha” you think. “Kickball?? The game of grade schoolers?? Anyone can make it to base!” you snicker. Indeed. As Billy Joel said, “you may be right. I may be crazy.” But the point is, and I don’t want to exaggerate here, kicking that single was a monumental achievement the likes of which may never be seen again here in DC or anywhere else for that matter.

DC Kickball is no playground recess activity people. There are rule books and refs and leagues and hierarchies and bars that sponsor teams and there is this whole shadow sport of flip cup that so many ballers find themselves engulfed in come 11pm on game nights. I’ve been down that dark staircase into the flip cup world, my friends, and it is a rough trip. But that is an entirely different subject and to be honest, I might not be comfortable telling that sordid tale here. Plus I don’t remember much except that “Don’t Stop Believin” was playing and basically I’m a flip cup champion.

I digress. I want to salute my fellow Chicken Kickers. Thank you to all of you for enlightening my life this season. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for the wings and the miller draft. Thanks for running over to my side of the outfield when the ball was hit my direction so I wouldn’t even have to attempt to catch it (which would never happen anyway). Thanks for supporting me through my long dry spell. Thanks for making me a better player. Thanks for sharing memories and taxis.

Go Chicken Kickers!