flying solo

it was sunny today, and i couldn't bear to waste the day with homework and housecleaning, so i went to london. i was supposed to have some wingmen for the trip, but one of them was contagious, one of them has a job, and the other one claims to be a slave to his work. i went anyway.

although i enjoy the company that having a travel companion provides, there are bonuses in going solo. like when you go to the british museum and realize, "hey, i hate museums," you can take a quick photo of the Rosetta Stone and some Greek friezes and get the hell out of there. luckily it's free, so i didn't even feel bad sloughing off the 2.5 miles of Chinese jade, Native American masks, Mexican art, and toppled marble columns (see also, the cruise). i know that if a certain LJ would have tagged along, i might still be there right this minute (ding! time for a pint!).

after ditching the ancient world, i thought maybe it was the subject matter that was putting me off. so, i hopped on the tube and thought i'd give the National Gallery a go. i like paintings! i walked in, scouted out the goods, avoided the 4,000 "Madonna with Child" canvases from the renaissance, and spent a nice hour drooling over my impressionist friends. the national gallery has more than 60 rooms, and i spent my entire visit in three of them. because i could.

follow that up with a pint in a cozy pub reading a good book and enough sushi to make my stomach stretch to twice its normal size, and i would say that i've had a pretty good day.

what's in a name?

this guy was parked across the street from my house monday, presumably doing some plaster work for the neighbors. so clever, these British.

texture

here's a good idea? take a pretty purple eggplant and a few zucchini, slice them up, marinate them in fresh olive oil, sea salt, and herbs, roast them over an open flame...and then toss them in a bowl and go at 'em with a Magic Bullet to create the perfect French meal: Jell-O a'la Provence. these French made goop out of everything -- leftover poultry innards (chicken liver pate), fish eggs (caviar), smoked salmon (salmon terrine), and even their pancakes are a little stretchy and slimy (crepes). oh, and most goop was served cold.

i thought the British had the Euro-reputation for bad teeth, so i am unsure why the French feel the need to make meals fit for Springfield Retirement Castle. i actually like chewing my food. and i like all of those items listed above. maybe the blender is the dirty little secret of Le Cordon Bleu.

my traveling companions kept commenting, as they slurped their jellied caramel creme desserts, on their inability to deal, not with the (really fantastic) flavor of cuisine française, but the texture. which brings up a little bit about said companions.

i like meeting people; sort of like i like doing jigsaw puzzles. you know when you meet someone, and you just barely break the surface? it's all polite small-talk and "where are you from?" you mull over facades and first impressions, twisting around the pieces. i found it really nice to take a gamble with some girls that i didn't know all that well and spend some time travelling with them. i learn so much about myself and what i value, whilst having a great time learning about them. the little journey we make from fuzzy impression to multi-dimension.

i won't go into too much detail, but it was fun to reveal -- preferences (things Brent-sized), favorites (pearls), hobbies (playing ball), and memories (getting it -- a new car for Christmas that is). and we all prefer red wine. perfect!

oh, and the question we've all been waiting for: Are the French really assholes? actually, not the ones we met. everyone was so helpful and friendly. no fewer than three people helped guide us through the many 18-point-Austin-Powers-style turns through the medieval streets of Arles. our wine guide was polite and fun. a group of French teens pulled over and gave us directions when they stopped beeping and realized we weren't retarded, but lost. sure, every culture has assholes, and the Parisians have a reputation of being some of the worst on the planet, but mostly these Provencal French folks were happy to host us in les sud de la France. but we had 10 boobs on our side, too.

and now i can order a coffee with milk in three languages. i'm cafe fluent!

tension.

i want to rant. about something. but i've been stalking people online (probably you) and simultaneously discovering that people i know read my blog and i don't know about it. there is so much information out there. i can have a first impression of you even before i meet you, and vice versa.

i had a chat with a dude about this the other day. he said something like, have you ever learned something about a friend that you didn't need to know from their facebook page? maybe it is streamlining the friendship process. or maybe we could have a certain type of friendship and i don't need to know that you think Steven Segal should win an Oscar, Scientology is the only way to eternal life with aliens, and and you are in the group "Addicted to Paris Hilton." then all i will be able to think about is how i want to punch you in the face. even though you are my favorite racquetball partner, and that was working out just fine before you "friended" me on facebook.

so, either i make my blog private, or do some slight censoring and wait until i'm with you before i have a rant or share an emotional outburst or give a cheesy life lesson of some sort. i'll try keep the blog to the abstract stuff (hollylosophy), the serious stuff (toilet cleaning), and silly stuff (my upcoming plans to go to france and drink wine until i find the french charming. that might take a lot of wine!)

7,000 dryer sheets later

i have an experiment running. if you purchase bulk products from Costco, how long does it take before you have to purchase them again?

in September 2006, i took my last trip to Costco for a few household items and a tasty Polish sausage with the works before i let my membership expire. i thought, at the time, that i would be moving to north carolina, so i figured that whatever i didn't use i could load up in the truck if the movers wouldn't take it. then plans changed. i don't know how i convinced the dude to put a gallon of soap in with my kitchenware when they were sketchy on packing up my candles and cinnamon, but they tossed it in and (i think secretly) hoped it would explode.

well, there were no explosions, but i did end up with some bulk items purchased at a great value. and a little more than two years later, they are beginning to run out. here are my results so far (note: i have factored in the four months these items spent in transit):

1. Giant coffee-table sized brick of paper towel rolls - 14 months.
2. Swiffer-sweeper dry floor dust cloths 3-pack - 18 months, depending on if you have a dog to lick up crumbs or not.
3. Kirkland bulk 4,000,000 ct. dryer sheets - 2 years
4. Giant gallon-ish size of Dawn Ultra dish washing liquid - 1 year, 10 months
5. Three-pack sponge-style mop heads - still have one left!
6. 20-pack sponges - still have a zillion left since Dan likes sponges and i think they are germ factories, i keep them hidden.
7. Three boxes bulk feminine products - still have one box left.
8. Giant gallon-ish size of Softsoap hand washing liquid - still have 1/3 bottle left.
9. Kirkland 200 ct., 13-gallon drawstring trash bags - man, these last forever. i still have 1/3 of the box left! maybe this will last me through my move in 2010! anyone want to place bets?

man, i love bulk value and bargain shopping. as they say at Tesco: every little helps!