A Saturday in the Park with Martta

I have no good reason for not updating my Year of Taking blog since June because I have done a TON of taking this summer.  So, for my 3 readers, I guess I am "taking" from you since you don't get to read about my awesome taking adventures.  Too bad for you.

This weekend Jonathan (aka: my husband) and I went to Chicago with my friend Martta Howard (Type-A overachiever extraordinaire).  You have to understand that if you are friends with Martta every action you take could be construed as an opportunity to compete. For example: Martta convinced all of her friends, including me, to procure and use Fitbits (advanced pedometers) as a fun activity we can all do together to improve our health.  She has, allegedly, created an advanced web interface that tracks the number of steps that all her friends take so before she goes to bed she makes sure to take at least 1,000 additional steps so that she consistently wins the "step contest".  Needless to say she has broken my fragile spirit and I no longer even compete which is why I spend so much time on my couch instead of walking through my neighborhood.

Martta had been to Chicago a few times but mostly for work so she hadn't really spent a lot of time exploring so the purpose of this trip was to show Martta around and have some fun.  I found that sometimes those two lofty goals are mutually exclusive as you will see...

We left for Chicago last Thursday and before we left Martta mentioned that she was really looking forward to escaping reality for a weekend.  So, to help Martta relax, I created an "airplane fun pack" for her which was comprised of coloring books, stickers, playing cards, crayons and other stuff from the Target dollar aisle. Mostly that was intended as a joke and to lift her mood but of course Martta managed to turn children's toys into an extravagant art experience.

Before we landed in Chicago on Thursday night Martta walked down the aisle of the plane and presented me and Jonathan with gifts of elaborately colored (within the lines of course) pictures from her Spiderman coloring book.  The coloring was so good that I am literally having the picture framed.  Score 1: Martta. She is such a show off.

In the weeks leading up to this trip Martta kept telling me to bring my workout clothes so I could work out with her early in the morning on vacation. Naturally I thought she was kidding.  It is a well documented fact that when I vacation I don't normally get out of bed before 10 am and often don't leave the hotel room before 11:30 am (after a leisurely room service breakfast).  On Thursday night when we arrived in Chicago Martta started to seem more serious about the workout thing.  She even tried to set up an actual time for us to meet in the hotel fitness center (7 am). That made me nervous. So after Martta went to bed (9 pm) Jonathan and I executed a covert mission, complete with masks and weapons, to move from our original hotel room to one that Martta didn't know about.  I managed to give her the slip on Friday morning and sleep until 9:30 am.

Friday was a whirlwind of Martta-type activity which mostly involved forced marches around every possible museum, park, and monument.  At one point, when my feet actually started bleeding, I tried to climb a tree to escape.  Martta actually grabbed a stick and knocked me out of the tree which seemed to amuse the homeless/transient folks on Chicago's West Side where we had been force marched for 15 miles because Martta heard that "there was a really cool park bench she had to see".

Needless to say, by Friday afternoon I was plotting to roofie Martta's Diet Dr. Pepper so I could rest for an hour.  Martta must have sensed that I wanted to drug her and force her to sleep so she tricked by refusing to drink any liquids at all.  

On Friday night we met my friend Lana (motto: I love Serbian Gypsies) for dinner at a restaurant called The Publican (motto: meat, meat, meat. Screw vegetarians.).  The thing about Martta is that, starting at about 5 am, she goes about 100 mph without stopping so by 8pm she is starting to crash.  The transition to old age is going to be really easy for her.  Dinner didn't end until 9:30 pm I really enjoyed making Martta stay up past her bedtime because after 9 pm the girl starts yawning and curling into a fetal position.  I felt that I was taking some sleep pleasure from her while I expanded my vodka drinking pleasure at the same time.  Two-fer!

Saturday morning was kind of a disaster.  I thought that if I slept in the closet in our room that Martta couldn't find me and drag me to the fitness center. I was wrong.  She actually crawled through the a/c vents into our room and had dragged me all the way down the hall (by my hair) before I could groggily start to fight back.  Sadly, I am no match for an endorphin-crazed engineer.  

The next thing I knew we were being harassed by a tiny Jillian Michaels (motto: I want you to exercise to death) who was coaching (screaming at) us via Martta's iphone.  I could do some of the exercises (lying on the floor) but some were more challenging (getting up off the floor).   Martta "took" my morning from me and really seemed to enjoy watching me flop around the floor of the gym in attempt to keep up with her calisthenics.  Fail: Liz.

On Saturday we went to Wrigley Field (greatest place on earth) for a noon Cubs game.  My friend Matt (motto: I know more about baseball and hair metal than any person living or dead) joined us in our awesome seats along the 3rd base line.  During the Cubs game I learned a little tidbit about Martta: she doesn't really like sitting in the sun so I enjoyed watching her sweat in her jeans in 90 degree heat.  

After the Cubs game I was exhausted from sitting in the sun all afternoon and drinking beer.  Normal people go take naps after Cubs games. However, Martta is not normal. She pitched several ideas for post-Cubs games activities: architectural boat cruise, a hike to Milwaukee, swimming across lake Michigan, kickboxing class with Mike Tyson, or shopping at American Girl Place (hell on earth).  I told her I would go shopping with her and when she turned her back I ran into the nearest Irish pub I could find and drank Guinness with some kindred spirits until dinner time.

We had an 8 am flight home today and normal people like me were sleeping. Martta on the other hand knitted 1/2 of a baby blanket on the flight home while also winning 20 games of boggle on her iphone.  

When I think about my "Year of Taking" mission and apply it to this past weekend I think that I have been bested, once again, by Martta.  Certainly I "took" from her a bit but I think she won this round by making me walk more than 10,000 steps per day, shaming me into working out at 8 am with her, and by forcing me to curtail my vodka intake by planning never ending adventures.  I am not sure how long it will take me to recover from this trip but I am pretty sure that at least 2 hours of vodka therapy will be involved.

The Society of Tingly Disorders (TSTD)

My friend Stephanie has been suffering from what she calls "tingly feet" for the past couple of months. Her feet constantly feel like they are asleep and its caused her to quit running for the time being which she hates because running is her exercise and her outlet for her Splenda-fueled energy.  She has been though all kinds of un-fun medical tests and they can't find anything wrong with her but the tingling continues to make her pretty miserable.  Last week she put aside her fear of needles and tried acupuncture which means she is getting desperate for a "cure".  She wrote about the acupuncture experience on her blog and, being the super sensitive friend that I am I told her about other cures that she may not have heard of.   I think my sensitive and gentle remedies qualify for The Year of Taking.  

As a public service for any of my 3 readers/really bored friends who occasionally read this blog I have copied my suggestions to Stephanie in case you have tingly feet.  (my attorney suggests that instead of referring to "tried and true" remedies I say "alleged remedies" so if you are litigious please make that substitution on your own when you read this....I am way too busy to make the actual content changes)

My suggestions/comments to Stephanie......

Steph,

Did the acupuncture work?  How many times do you have to do it before it works? 

If it doesn't work I have a  few tried and true methods that you can try.  You have insisted on using "traditional medicine" and "real doctors" thus far so I didn't want to bring up the fact that The Society of Tingly Disorders (TSTD) has done numerous studies and experiments to find the most effective remedies for tingling extremities.  A few of the tried and true remedies include:

1. Boiling black beans, lima beans, and rare guano beans, draining them, and then drinking the water in which they boiled. Repeat 10 times and you will be cured.  Possibly.

2. Contact Dr. Gregory House for a brain drilling procedure.  A lot of people think that stuff that happens on TV isn't real or doesn't really work but brain drilling is an effective method for eliminating tingling.  Side effects include: coma, catatonic state, removal of personality, and the inability to form sentences.  Totally worth it though if your feet quit tingling.

3. Stand on your head and recite the alphabet backward while a friend squirts you with a garden hose turned on to "full blast". Its very important that this remedy be performed in your front yard on a Saturday afternoon between 1 and 3pm in the summertime.  It is also very important that someone you trust (like me for example) videotape the procedure to submit to the archives at The Society of Tingly Disorders.  For research purposes of course.

4. Go into the woods and find some bear poo. Roll around in it. Do not bathe for 3 days. You will be cured.  Or ostracized from society...results of this experimental remedy have been pretty mixed to be honest.  I wouldn't start with this one...try one of the others first....especially if the bear is still hanging around when you roll in the poo.

5. Go to McDonalds and buy a large coffee. Ask for the coffee to be extra hot. You don't need to add Splenda by the way.  Put the styrofoam cup in between your legs while you drive as fast as you can down 183 during rush hour.  Slam on the brakes when you hit the inevitable traffic jam.  Coffee will splash all over your upper body and legs which will give you 3rd degree burns for which you will be hospitalized.  The burns will suck but you won't even notice tingly feet while focusing on your long and painful recovery.  By the time the doctors are finished with all of the skin grafts the tingling will be gone for good.

6. Fly to Pamplona, Spain.  Join the "Running With the Bulls" annual race/suicide mission.  If you manage to avoid being gored by any of the bulls you will realize that when your life is on the line you can run "hella fast" and you will ignore the tingling for the rest of your life.  Even if you don't avoid the bulls your problem will be solved (although this option isn't really optimal if you like "life" and "living" and "breathing) - you should probably go ahead and get your will together before you fly to Spain for this event.  Of course I expect to be your primary beneficiary (mostly I want your chest of magic beans that I know you hid in the greenbelt by your house).

7. Drive down to the US/Mexico boarder and ask a few of the "nice people" wandering around if they have any meth to sell.  Then show them your fake Police badge and see where things go from there.  I think the chances are pretty good that tingly feet will be the least of your problems if you choose this option.

8. Fly to Austria and check yourself into "The Institute of Tingly Disorders". Stay for 6 weeks.  I can't tell you about all of the procedures they will perform because many are proprietary but lets just say you will walk away cured.  They have a 100% success rate but many of their former patients are later diagnosed with PTSD, ADD, OCD, and VD but that is probably just a coincidence.  What? Those lawsuits were bogus!!!!

9. Go to Liz's house.  Scrub her floors on your hands and knees. Then do the dishes.  Sweep the floor and make sure to get all that dog and cat hair cleaned up you slacker.  Change the sheets, vacuum, feed the dogs, and pour Liz a drink.  You will be cured.  Shit, you will probably see right through this one, I mean its not a "tried and true" or "FDA approved" cure but I am sure it will work. Sure will make me feel better...of that I am sure.

10. The 10th option is so highly secret that i can't write about it on the internet.  We need to set up a super secret meeting to discuss it.  Bring $100,000 in small unmarked bills in 2 large duffel bags.  Why? Don't ask me why, just do it! Do you want to be cured or do you want to "save for retirement" and "remain financially solvent".  Get your priorities straight.

Sincerely,

Dr. Liz (You can just call me Empress if you want)

If you want to read more about the trials and tribulations of Steph's tingly feet you can read about it on her blog:  http://runningwithlumpy.blogspot.com/

Kepper Lagarde's First Birthday Party

Every once in awhile I realize that I have been given a gift (perhaps by God?) of an amazing "taking" opportunity.  When I received an invitation from my friend Alisha to her son's carnival-themed first birthday party complete with actual pony rides I was giddy with anticipation.  Kepper is an adorable kid and I love Alisha and her husband Jamie and all but it was the evil thought of "taking" the pony that got me excited!  I have spent the past 2 weeks plotting to "take" the pony.  Plans were drawn up, full scale architectural drawings of Alisha's house were created, escape routes were considered, and a horse trailer was hidden 2 blocks from the kidnapping site the house.

If you are reading this and thinking to yourself that taking a pony from a child's birthday part is just plain mean then you lack the imagination needed to participate in the year of taking.  Half the kids at the party were too scared to ride Tonka the Pony so, really, had my endeavor been successful I would have been doing the kids a favor.  Not only that but Alisha and Jamie had just planted grass in the backyard and Tonka was eating it at an alarming rate so had I taken him their yard would have been lush, green, and uneaten.

I think my plan first started to unravel when Jonathan and I arrived at the party and Alisha poured us wine. I am not at my spryest when drinking during the afternoon (also I tend to become easily distracted by additional cocktails) but since I already had a plan I figured I had to go with it...its not often than I plan anything for a whole 2 weeks.  After a couple of glasses of wine and a few really delicious fried shrimp I decided it was time to act.

Step 1: Build trust with the Pony

Tonka and I seemed to have an immediate connection although he seemed very hungry and not at all excited

to leave his tasty lawn-treat.

Unfortunately I didn't anticipate Alisha's ninja-quick reflexes although really I should have figured that a mother who has spent 2 months planning her child's party would notice when a guest tries to steal the key piece of entertainment...

A fight for Tonka the Pony quickly ensued between me and Alisha. The crowd (even her 100 year old grandmother and several of the older children) started screaming "fight, fight, fight".  It was a heady feeling like what I imagine Mixed Martial Arts fighters feel before going into the octagon.

I thought that if I screamed, "Hey who invited George Clooney to the party" I could distract Alisha enough that she would lose her grip on Tonka's saddle.  Sadly she is smarter than I anticipated so she didn't fall for my clever ruse stupid trick.  You may notice that in this photo Alisha is actually digging her heels into her new lawn...she isn't planning to lose the pony and she is freakishly strong.  Dammit.

Sometimes, in the words of the great Kenny Rogers, "You have to know when to hold them and know when to fold them".  So I released my hold on the pony and quickly pretended to faint which distracted everyone for the moment. I think that Alisha was considering throwing me out of her house but I told her that I thought maybe someone roofed my wine so it wasn't my fault.  I don't know if she believe that or not but she had other shady guests to worry about (I saw at least 2 trying to steal silverware and another one humiliating a child at the powerlifting booth) so she forgot about me.  Jonathan and I snuck out the backdoor to make our escape because all of Kepper's grandparents were in attendance and we figured it was only a matter of time before they got wind of the attempted-pony-heist and turned on us.

All in all it was a great party...the food was amazing, Alisha's house is gorgeous (I saw several items I would like to "take" from her but I will wait until she goes on vacation to break in visit her house again), and she and her family are the hosts-with-the-most.  I hope she will give Tonka the Pony my phone number because I think we really connected and I think he would enjoy eating some of our lawn in his spare time.

And for Filanthropy Friday and for Kepper's birthday, Jonathan and I donated $50 to Cavalier King Charles Rescue USA in Kepper's name.  I don't know if it's his first charitable donation but I know it won't be his last because Alisha is a big believer in helping others.

Thanks for playing along with the year of taking Kepper, Alisha, and Jamie!

Good Intentions Gone Awry.

(Me and Cash after a day of playing outside)

Have you ever had one of those days where all of your good intentions sort of go wrong?  I have those days all the time so, really, it should never come as a surprise to me when it happens but sometimes I manage to surprise myself with my own ineptitude.

On Friday I made myself a mental to-do list for Saturday which included planting the rest of the flowers in our ginormous front flower bed, cleaning several rooms in our house which seem to be especially dusty, washing the dogs, and then maybe doing some laundry.  Had I done all of those things I would have felt a huge sense of accomplishment and our house and the front yard would have looked fantastic!  Sadly, it was not meant to be.

Let me back up a step here and explain that once a year, during SXSW, the famed week-long music festival, my husband Jonathan and Steph's husband Matt go to the all day event at The Continental Club which starts with Mojo Nixon's Jalapeno Pancake Breakfast and features a multitude of artists.  This year's lineup was as follows (for you music lovers):

10:00am    Allen Oldies
10:50am   Sara Petite
11:40am   Roger Alan Wade
12:25 pm  Two Hoots and a Holler
1:15 pm    The Mastersons
2:05pm     Whiskey Sisters
2:55 pm    Jon Dee Graham
3:45pm     James McMurtry
4:35 pm    The Iguanas
5:25 pm    Mojo Nixon

Stephanie said she would drive Matt & Jonathan downtown in the morning and I agreed to pick them up in the evening after the last act ended so they could save a bundle of money on cab fare.  The plan was for Jonathan to call or text me to come and get them when they were ready to come home.  I figured that I would spend my day on my to-do list and then pop downtown and pick them up (anticipated travel time = 1 hour) and then Jonathan and I would have a relaxing evening at home.  

My day started off on the wrong track when, instead of getting up and starting to do my chores, I opened up my laptop and logged into Facebook while turning on the TV and tuning in to Law & Order.  Naturally with that level of distraction I managed to lie around in my PJ's for 3 hours watching TV and writing pithy comments on FB.  Around 1pm I realized I needed to do something so I cleaned the master bathroom including the dusty area behind the jacuzzi (Nigel loves to play there).  I felt pretty good about that but really wasn't motivated to do much else so I decided to go over to Stephanie's house and "take" her time.

I showed up at Stephanie's around 3pm and, right away, I started "taking" by giving her Great Dane, Riggs, a big crunchy dog treat which he managed to crumble up all over the couch.  Score!!  Then, inexplicably, Stephanie decided we should take Cash outside to play (I think she didn't want me messing up her whole house which was my plan).  

The next thing I know Cash is making me play with him - we drew some great art with sidewalk chalk, kicked leaves into the sewer, and raked up dirt with some sticks - while Stephanie took pictures.  Somehow that sly Stephanie turned things around so SHE was taking MY time not the other way around.  Needless to say I was so dispirited by my failed "taking" event that I rushed home to cry for awhile.

Around 6pm Jonathan called me and told me that he and Matt were ready to be picked up downtown.  Since I knew they had spent the day drinking adult beverages at an exhausting concert I decided to bring them some bottled water and some tacos from Taco Cabana.  I grabbed the tacos and headed downtown in the LizMobile only to find that my timing calculations were completely off because I had forgotten that SXSW crowds combined with St. Patrick's Day crowds = total traffic mayhem/gridlock.  It took at least an hour to get downtown and another 30 minutes, after picking up Matt & Jonathan, to get out of traffic. (and can I just say that I know were are all supposed to LOVE bicyclists because they are eco-friendly but I freaking hate their slow-moving-in-traffic-bad-attitude-cut-in-front-of-cars-attitudes)

By the time we were on MoPac headed north I was in a pretty foul and bitchy mood which I did not keep to myself.  My husband was just thrilled with my continuous remarks about the traffic and how much of my time it took to go pick him up.  Later I felt pretty bad about complaining so much because I realized that Jonathan probably thought I was trying to make him feel guilty but really I was just mad that what I thought would be a 1 hour excursion took more than 2 hours on a Saturday night.  My fault entirely for not calculating correctly.  On the bright side I was able to "take" my husband's good mood and ruin it.  I didn't feel that good about that "taking" situation though.

So the long and the short of it is that sometimes "taking" doesn't go according to plan.  I learned that sometimes when you try to take from a friend you get so caught up in fun with a happy little kid (Cash) that you happily give your time instead of taking someone else's.  I also found that sometimes the best of intentions for giving lead to a bad kind of taking (ruining someone else's mood).  But with all of that said I am still committed to taking as much as I can from the world this year.  

Ruining Meals For Everyone in My Path. You Are Welcome World.

Wow. It's so hard to know where to start with today's Year of Taking Post.  Stephanie who is clearly mentally ill  very creative developed the "art work" you see in this post.  It's pretty disturbing so the least I can do is explain to my 5 readers who are probably all calling the police right about now.  Put the phone down and back away from the 9-1-1 call....the picture will make a strange sort of sense in a minute.

Today, my friend Danielle, the victim willing participant in a previous Year of Taking escapade, came over to my house for lunch.  I knew she was coming over and I admit I didn't do a lot of advance planning. If I were Martta, I would have made homemade bread and maybe a turkey for a lunch guest. But, sadly, I am not Martta, I am Empress Liz and I was busy with my Empress-like life (I went to Target this morning and I think we all know how distracting that can be) so I forgot to go to the store and buy any special food for lunch.  Or really any food at all.

To be fair, I did email Danielle this morning and ask if she wanted to order pizza or if she wanted soup and sandwiches. She responded that she didn't care what we ate but that she didn't eat olives.  Somehow in my mind I thought "oh, OK no pizza so I can just make sandwiches, I know we have ample sandwich stuff in our refrigerator".  And then I forgot about food for the moment.  At about noon I took some bread, cheese, the two remaining slices of ham (oops), Claussen pickle halves (delicious!!), peanut butter, Nutella, grapes, and an assortment of canned soup and placed it in an appetizing array on the counter.  It was a magazine perfect setup believe me!

When Danielle arrived I asked what she would like for me to make from the wide array of choices. She chose a ham and cheese sandwich.  Great! I had 2 pieces of ham and American cheese so I figured that would work.  But then she said she liked mustard on her sandwich  - in my defense I don't eat a lot of mustard on sandwiches so maybe my eye for quantity is a little off.  I squeezed mustard onto the bread...but as I was doing so I wondered if maybe it was too much mustard. 

It looked OK and Danielle didn't say "hey stop it! that's way too much mustard!" so I just added the ham and cheese to the  globs of mustard.  I asked if she wanted a delicious pickle and of course she said yes but that she wanted pickles on her sandwich.  Hmm...we didn't have any sliced pickles so I pulled one of the Claussen dill pickle halves out of the jar and asked her if I should cut it up before putting it on the sandwich. She said "no" so I put the pickle half right in the middle of the sandwich.  The sandwich looked kind of like a whale in between two pieces of bread.  

I didn't think about it at the time because I was busy sharing my political manifesto with Danielle (she was fascinated) but maybe Danielle didn't want a sandwich that was mostly pickle and mustard?  That thought didn't occur to me until I told Stephanie about how I made lunch today and she started asking probing questions like, "what did you make?"  And that is when I realized how much shame I should feel over taking Danielle's time today and taking away her opportunity for a delicious lunch.  When I told Stephanie about the sandwich she got that look on her face that she gets when she realizes I have done something really stupid and that she can ridicule me about for a long time. This was like Christmas-come-early for Stephanie

Stephanie asked me if I had taken a photo of the awful sandwich I made and I said that I didn't because at the point that it dawned on me that the sandwich sucked (when I saw mustard oozing out of the sides of two pieces of bread covering a giant pickle) that I didn't want to draw Danielle's attention to it.  I mean maybe she would think the sandwich was really good if I didn't say anything? 

So, Stephanie decided she would draw the sandwich the way she imagined it to be and that is the picture you see at the top of this post.  That doesn't explain the bunnies in teacups that she also put in the photo...that part of the photo has me a bit stumped.  But Stephanie lives in her own world so maybe she saw a bunny earlier and got distracted when creating the little photo of Danielle. I also don't know why there is a palm tree in the photo but I have been friends with Stephanie for a long time so I know not to even ask about that. I am sure it makes sense in her crazy mind.

And may I say, "I am truly sorry for the crappy sandwich I made you today Danielle."  I feel such shame but at the same time some pride that "taking" has become such a part of my life that I could take lunch from you without even trying! I am truly becoming a gifted taker.  I will make it up to you by making you a sandwich that is mostly ham and less pickle next time you come to my house...if you ever do.  

But if you think my day of taking ended there you are wrong.

I met Stephanie for dinner tonight (which is when it came to my attention that I am a bad hostess and bad sandwich maker) at Firebowl Cafe which makes a delicious pad thai.  Earlier in the day I told Jonathan to text me if he wanted me to bring him some dinner from Firebowl.  But then, when Stephanie started grilling me like some kind of crazy sandwich Nazi I got flustered  and I totally forgot about food for my husband and didn't check my phone until I was a block from home....and, of course, Jonathan had sent me a text asking me to bring him some pad thai.  I thought about blaming Stephanie but I realized that Jonathan would see through a self serving lie (you know, because he lives with me and knows my tricks) so I told him the truth and offered him a Sonic cheeseburger.   No go.

Ever since I got home Jonathan has been saying things like, "you know what would be really good now? Pad thai." And then he got a headache which seems to be turning into a migraine and I think he blames it on the lack of pad thai. So not only did I deprive my husband of the delicious Asian Fusion treat he craved but the lack of noodles has resulted in his developing a massive headache.  So you could say that today had been like a level 5 hurricane of Taking.

I sure will sleep well tonight. 

The end.

The Year of Taking: Stephen O'Flynn Edition

The Year of Taking (tm) went global last week! That is right I was taking things all over Spain and it felt great.

In the first hotel at which we stayed in Barcelona I took two bath sponges (didn't know if they were supposed to be used to clean our bodies or if the hotel wanted us to clean out the tub) and some soaps. Sadly the housekeeping person seemed to notice that I was filching soaps and quit bringing them to us so I was forced to take them off the housekeeping cart when she wasn't looking.   You snooze you lose.

During most of my stay in Barcelona I was walking around and seeing the sights so there wasn't much to take.  Then I got hit by a stomach bug so I wasn't even able to take food and eat it!  Score 1: Spain.

Last weekend Jonathan and I traveled 3 hours south of Barcelona by train to visit our friend Stephen O'Flynn whom I have known for 17 years and who traveled all the way from Spain to Mexico to attend our wedding nearly 7 years ago. I adore Flynnie and, in fact, adopted him as my brother several years ago. It wasn't legally binding so I am not obligated to send Christmas or birthday gifts...its more of an honorary thing which requires that he buy me beer at every opportunity.  Visiting Flynnie in Valencia was a boon for the Year of Taking!! So much taking going on!

First when we arrived at Flynnie's apartment we gave him some presents from the US.  Honestly I am glad he took the gifts off our hands because they were freaking heavy and I may have suffered some kind of permanent back damage from hauling those things around the world.  (He asked for cajun spices so I brought lots).  In return I took several beers, some wine, and water from his refrigerator. He said I could take all I wanted. So I did. Score!

Here is Flynnie opening our gift and finding a really spicy cajun seasoning.  We included a few more but this one was a big hit.  To support the Year of Taking, Flynnie specifically asked me to make sure to "take" the spices from someone else. But that never really panned out so I knew I had to give him a gift that I had "taken" as well.

So what else could I give him but the sponges from our bathroom at our hotel in Barcelona?  Flynnie seemed disproportionally excited about the sponges but what do you expect? He is Irish...they get excited about everything.

Visiting Flynnie was a lot of fun but really exhausting.  For one thing his perspective on distance is somewhat skewed.  When Flynnie says that a restaurant is "a couple of blocks away" what he is really saying is that "it is on the other side of the country; bring a sleeping bag and pack a snack because it will take an hour to walk there". Oh and he LOVES to walk.  He walks everywhere no matter how far his destination is and without regard to the fact that some distances are better served by grabbing a taxi.  And he feels that his guests should participate in his leisurely strolls forced marches.  I am starting to think that life in Spain has driven him a little mad.

One night to go eat dinner we took the most arduous of the forced marches which I have renamed "The March of Tears (tm)".  The March of Tears was an emotional and difficult night for all of us because after walking all the way to Portugal for dinner at a restaurant that Flynnie described as "the best ever" we found that the restaurant we had been promised had stopped serving dinner at midnight which is when we arrived.  After being rejected at multiple other eateries I finally resorted to my tried and true method for getting a table at a restaurant: I curled into a fetal position on the floor and whailed as loudly as possible until they agreed to sedate me with vodka and bring us all some food.  I don't know what the waiter said to Flynnie in Spanish but I am pretty sure he is banned from ever coming to that restaurant again.  Serves him right.

Here are Flynnie and Jonathan rapidly downing some booze after the March of Tears (tm) and my temper tantrum on the floor.  I think they needed drinks at that point:

In our other adventures in Valencia we reluctantly joined Stephen O'Flynn for an event he described as 

"At 1pm we will head to the Plaza del Ayuntamiento early to get a good place to stand for the day's Mascletà. Fireworks use explosions to make shinies to look at. Mascletàs use gunpowder to make as much noise as possible without causing hearing damage. Conservatively, around 200 lbs of gunpowder will be exploded strategically in the centre of the city for the entertainment of citizens." - from Super Awesome Travels in Valencia travel agenda by S. O'Flynn

Needless to say his description of this local experiment in torture festival had me nervous about my future ability to hear normal sounds and voices.  I was especially worried about my career which revolves around my ability to listen to people tell me about their work histories.  

It turns out that Flynnie should never work in the travel business. Or event marketing business either.  What he described in our travel agenda is really part of an annual festival called Las Fallas.  Wikipedia describes it as follows:

The Falles (Valencian: [ˈfaʎes], sing. Falla; Spanish: Fallas) is a traditional celebration held in commemoration of Saint Joseph in Valencia, Spain. The term Falles refers to both the celebration and the monuments created during the celebration. A number of towns in the Valencian Community have similar celebrations inspired by the original in Valencia. The five days and nights of Falles are a continuous party. There are a multitude of processions: historical processions, religious processions, and comedic processions. Crowds in the restaurants spill out into the streets. Explosions can be heard all day long and sporadically through the night. The Mascletà, an explosive barrage of coordinated firecracker and fireworks displays, takes place in each neighbourhood at 2:00 pm every day of the festival; the main event is the municipal Mascletà in the Plaça de l'Ajuntament where the pyrotechnicians compete for the honor of providing the final Mascletà of the fiestas (on March 19). At 2:00 pm the clock chimes and the Fallera Mayor (dressed in her fallera finery) will call from the balcony of the City Hall, Senyor pirotècnic, pot començar la mascletà! ("Mr. Pyrotechnic, you may commence the Mascletà!"), and the Mascletà begins.

Mascletà is almost unique to the Valencian Community, hugely popular with the Valencian people and found in very few other places in the world. Smaller neighbourhoods often hold their own mascletà for saint's days, weddings and other celebrations.

The Mascletà was a really fun and lively event and yes there were explosions but they weren't that loud...I mean there were children there so how bad could it be? This is the "after" photo after they did all the pyrotechnics...lots of smoke.

During our visit to Valencia we had several lively brainstorming sessions (complete with powerpoint presentations and graphs) about what I could take from Spain for The Year of Taking?  One great idea was to take the Holy Grail which supposedly resides in a church near Flynnie's apartment.  You can go into the church and actually see the Grail but we were there after one of our late night forced marches so the church was closed and I didn't bring my lock picks or rappelling gear with me so I was unprepared to break in and take a major religious artifact.  Also in the back of my mind I realized that I was unclear on the penalties for a B&E in Spain...probably pretty strict now that I think about it.

That left me in a bit of a quandary.  I mean to have the opportunity to take the actual Holy Grail and not be able to attempt it (because I am sure it wasn't well guarded or anything) was disappointing to say the least.  But then I realized that Flynnie had something almost as valuable in his possession: A Fat Boy Beanbag Chair.  If you have ever been sucked (literally) into one of these evilly comfortable things you know that it is one of the most comfortable and peaceful places to rest.

Picture doesn't really do it justice...

Here is an action shot of me enjoying the bean bag:

At last I found the thing I wanted most to take with me...the bean bag.  But I knew that Flynnie wasn't going to give it up easily as it is his most prized piece of furniture.  So I thought I could be sneaky by putting it in my bag...

Wait I know I can get it to fit...

OK it clearly won't fit in my backpack.  Need plan B.  Will drag it out the front door and go buy a suitcase to take it back to the US. Excellent plan.

What could possibly go wrong with this plan? Why is the beanbag suddenly so heavy? I thought Flynnie was in his bedroom and couldn't see what I was doing....

Oh my goodness...has he no shame??? Why are you making this so hard for me Stephen?? C'mon.

This was the most pathetic sight I had ever seen.  I mean it was one thing when Dick Douglas wrested control of the stag's head that I tried to steal from his house but as you can see here Flynnie is crying and begging me not to take the beanbag. He calls it his "safe place" and he said that if I took it that he would have to go back on his medication again. Eventually the whole situation got so emotional and uncomfortable that I dropped the beanbag and left Stephen curled up on top of it with a bottle of gin while I went out to get some air and clear my head.  Hands down that was the most awkward Year of Taking (tm) moment so far this year. I had no idea that Flynnie was so disturbed and that he had such an attachment to the bean bag chair.  Honestly, I didn't need to know that his emotional problems had devolved this far but I am hoping that he can get the help he needs through Spain's socialized medical program.

Flynnie - thanks for playing along with the Year of Taking! You were the host with the most and we will come back and visit you/take from you any time we can! That is, if I am not banned from your apartment and Spain in general by now.

Stephanie, Cash, and Parenting Tips

I should alert my 5 subscribers that this post isn't really about "taking" its more of a background piece on Stephanie's and my friendship which is relevant because I mention her frequently in my blog and on my Facebook page.  Sometimes people who don't know me or Stephanie well wonder if my teasing is, perhaps, a little harsh.  This post should clear the air on that topic...

As many of you know I have a best friend. Her name is Stephanie and this blog was 1/2 her idea. We concocted the idea together at the Firebowl Cafe here in Austin.  Many of you have also noticed that I give Stephanie a lot of grief on her blog and on Facebook and this post is all about why I do that, why we are friends, and why Stephanie needs so much of my "advice" and "counsel".  

Steph and I met in 2005 when we were both working at the same company.  We started a weekly ritual of having dinner together every Wednesday night. Sometimes we went out and sometimes we hung out at my place and cooked dinner (read: I cooked Kraft Macaroni & Cheese for Stephanie) and just watched Law & Order.  But whatever we were doing that one night per week was the time we unwound, complained about the things people complain about, and laughed a lot.  In other words, we had a perfect girlfriends night once a week.

In 2006 Stephanie got married and my living room and our Wednesday nights became ground zero for the creation of wedding programs, menus, save the date cards etc.  Over time, as some friends do, we started to notice that we each had a few quirks and, as friends do, we started to make fun of each other for those quirks.  Sometimes humor really keeps you grounded and honest about who you are.

When Stephanie got pregnant in 2010 she told me by bringing me a bouquet of flowers with a card that said, "You are going to be Aunt Liz"!  It was so sweet.  I was very nervous about how her pregnancy would change our friendship as I am not a big "child lover" and I have to admit, I didn't really want to share Stephanie and our Wednesday nights with a baby.  

I think Steph knew about my apprehension and so as usual we approached the situation with humor.  We started joking around about her unborn baby whom she called "Lumpy".  We joked about how all the Splenda she consumed would cause the child to be born a cyclops.  We joked about how Matt & Steph would love little Lumpy even if (or in Matt's case "especially if") he were born with features that made him fit to join the circus and tour as a "freak". In other words we both had a good laugh about Steph's pregnancy and, over time, I got a lot more comfortable with sharing my best friend with a Lumpy little baby. In fact, I started to get excited about becoming Aunt Liz.  

Since I am a control freak the mere thought of being Aunt Liz sent me into a planning frenzy.  Lumpy would need to start learning a language in the womb. He should start physics at age 2. And of course he would go to Stanford or maybe Harvard.  Aunt Liz started to have big plans for Lumpy which amused Stephanie but I also think she kind of liked the fact that I was now excited about (instead of being apprehensive about) her baby.  Stephanie teased me about my plans for Lumpy just as I started to tease her about undoing all my planning for the baby's future. And so the foundation for our jokes about her parenting skills was laid.

Then Lumpy - renamed Cash at birth - was born.  Aunt Liz and Uncle Jonathan fell in love with little Cash who was such a sweet baby.  But one thing we started to notice is that when shown a baby (or even a phot of one) every single person in the world seems compelled to say "ooh how cute" and "ooh he is so beautiful" and its so predictable and boring.  I started rolling my eyes every time Steph posted a photo of Cash on her blog or Facebook page and saw that 40 people wrote, "Oh he is so cute".  Really? That is the best comment you can come up with? Nothing funny? Nothing interesting?  

Since I can't stand being predictable or boring I started leaving comments on Stephanie's blog that were just the opposite of what any normal person would say about Cash, his antics, and his photos because it made Stephanie laugh.  And then we found out that some of Steph's friends and family were in on our joke and they started reading my comments and it made them laugh too.  So Stephanie started writing things and posting photos on her blog that she knew would bait me into writing my "rants"...and it became a fun inside joke among our closest friends and family.  And that is what it remains today.  So for anyone who reads our Facebook banter or the banter on this blog or Running With Lumpy now you know why we tease each other so mercilessly...because it makes us laugh.  And we hope you laugh along too!

If you read this far I should tell you that I just "took" your valuable time reading my blog.  Thankfully I was able to "take" something of value (your time) from you today.  

PS: Stephanie - don't think for a minute that just because I wrote a few nice things about you that I am going to stop making fun of you.  Oh, and I stole 50 of your invisible magic beans from your backyard today.  I know that is going to drive you freaking crazy and you will probably search your whole yard for them tomorrow and you won't find them.