It's alliiiiiivvvvve!

Anatomy of a Wishful Bohemian went live yesterday. 

That just means I made the new blog public, but doesn't "went live" sound all professional and technosavvy? Update your bookmarks, readers, etc.! 

http://wishfulbohemian.wordpress.com

So, basically, this new venture is about combining my four passions: food, photography, travel and books, and blogging the heck out of them. It's still me, it's still my style... With the exception that I'm toning down the profanity and sarcasm. It's meant to appeal to a wider audience, so I am, in effect, "selling out" in the sense that I'd MIGHT like some goddamn traffic on that blog as opposed to this one, which nobody can figure out. (Did you notice how I did both things in that sentence that I said I wasn't going to do in the new blog? That was so you know it's really me writing this and I haven't been kidnapped by the PC police.)

I wanted to have a post in each category up before I made an announcement, but just the two I do have were REALLY HARD, what with the staying on track and not cursing and trying to produce something meaningful to share. Still, I'm hoping to post three times a week over there: one in each category of Read, Look, and Eat with the occassional Go and Think thrown in for variety. 

I've registered at a bunch of networking sites to get noticed, but that's a drop in the bucket. I'm asking you guys to pimp the new blog as much as you can/want/will-do-grudgingly. It's my goal to surpass the traffic on this blog by 100%. Since this blog only gets 20 hits a day on average, I THINK THAT'S DOABLE. This is my exercise in self-promotion, and I suck, so I'm asking you to give me a hand. If you want to wait until I have a few more posts up over there so you can see what you're advertising, that's cool. But if you're a longtime reader over here, can't you just take my word for it?? *ahem* Maybe I should sweeten the deal by offering some kind of reward for most clicks from your page...? I'll give it some thought. But don't relegate promotion to your blog/site only! Scratch the URL in the bathroom stall, or y'know, whatever the not-completely-disgusting equivalent is.

What does that mean for the ol' Penguin? Honestly, I'm not sure yet. I may return once or twice to vent my profane frustrations, or to make some bitingly sarcastic remark, but mostly I'll confine those types of things to Twitter and Facebook. I'm not above reviving this blog if for some reason traffic from the other one inspires a storm of new hits, but I'm not expecting that to happen. It's been an awesome experience here, I'm just ready for something different. I really hope you'll come along for the ride~

It's alliiiiiivvvvve!

PSA. (Not affliated with the makers of Underoos.)

Get your pets spayed and neutered! Seriously!

Heidi is in full-blown heat right now. Right smack dab in the middle of her estrus cycle. Her messy, leaky, swollen, whining, shedding, barking, get-up-50-times-a-night-to-pee, oh-my-god-STOP-IT! estrus cycle. I find myself in the very UNenviable position of trying to find Underoos to fit my dog. (So her little tail can go through the flap! Diapers are too expensive.)

Look, I have a kid. I've cleaned up - and put up! -  with all manner of annoying grossness. That's all part of the parenting gig; kind of required. But why, in the name of all that's clean and sane, would ANYONE put up with this level of rankness if they didn't have to? I don't know how breeders do it, and I certainly don't know why irresponsible pet owners do it. Did you know that some dogs can have four heat cycles a year? 

Hardly any of the boy dogs on post are neutered. I don't know if it's a symptom of the macho soldier culture or what, but now that I have to protect my dog from every single one, I'm tempted to just carry around a pair of scissors and do it myself! Dogs with testicles piss me off. And hey, you know what? Dogs with testicles are themselves mostly pissed off! Seriously! They tend to be more aggressive pets, less receptive to training; why do that to yourself? 

Heidi's vet said not to get her fixed until 3 months after her first heat cycle. Not before. WHY NOT BEFORE??? Heidi's vet is OFF my Christmas card list!

PSA. (Not affliated with the makers of Underoos.)

There are books on computers? Isn't the point of computers to replace books??

I'm not doing a very good job of tapering off here, am I? Oh well.

I finished my two-day class in web design today. Basically it was a crash course in Microsoft's FrontPage application, which surprised me for some reason. Although I'm not sure why; it's not like they're going to cram a bunch of HTML down our throats in 16 total hours. But it was still a valuable class in that I have a much better vocabulary and understanding of how things work overall when it comes to web design. And I can now use the words HyperText Markup Language without feeling like a pretentious idiot. Even if I still sound like one. Almost half the course credit was centered around building an original web page using the application. Considering only a few hours were allotted to the project in class, we weren't being graded on creativity. Which was REALLY TOO BAD because my site kicked ass. It probably helped that I've had a bunch of ideas rolling around like loose marbles in my head for several weeks now as I prepare to move blogging sites. What sucked is that the instructor wasn't even interested in reading my genius; he just wanted to check off the required components. I'm like, DUDE! Do you even know how hard this site rawks?? No. I didn't say that. But I was thinking it! 

Also, and I really need some effing congratulations on this, people, this was my first ever official college class. And I didn't die. So yay me. I know, I know... how can a girl use words like lugubrious and gauche and pandiculation and not be college educated?? Because I am a NERD, ladies and gentlemen! Haven't you picked up on that, yet? I get a perverse pleasure out of reading obscure material and eschewing the classics. Okay, you got me. I read the classics, too. My brain is like a bottomless dumpster; I just keep throwing stuff in, but it's kinda dirty in there so pulling it back out for use is often an unappealling prospect. Unless you're into that sort of thing. In which case, *call me!*

There are books on computers? Isn't the point of computers to replace books??

That's just me.

Randy gets thanked for his service a lot; from the couple dining at the next table to the customer service rep from our bank on the phone. He tells me he never knows what to say in these instances, but you'd never know it by his gracious and humble response. A smile, a "thank you", perhaps a duck of the head if the compliment becomes extravagant. He's had a lot of practice, I guess, and relies on a rule of etiquette that he's set for himself to handle such circumstances that would otherwise throw him. Mostly I follow his example, even though the gratitude expressed to me for his service strikes me as ludicrous in the extreme. After all, he was doing this long before we were married; when he joined the military the only war we faced was a cold one and that was winding down. Also, we've not been married long enough for me to feel I've made any real sacrifices for his career, though I allow that spouses with more time in might be giving me preemptive gratitude! Overall, I'm uncomfortable with the expression, but prepared to handle it by relying on the same practiced politeness that Randy exhibits so effortlessly. 

What I have no canned response for, however, is the wide, flat brush of pity that some seem to want to paint me with during this TDY assignment. Even people who should know better, who know that TDY is not the same as deployment to a combat zone, seem to assume that four months without my husband is the hardest thing this marriage has faced. I know that some people are just expressing a general concern for a less-than-ideal situation. Some people do that really graciously, as evidenced in comments to this blog and I appreciate the effort and execution. There are those, however, who give me a look or comment full of mollycoddling indulgence, as if it makes them feel better to pity me*. I know that the well-meaning aren't actually interested in qualifying their intentions by learning anything about me or my situation. That the fact that I am quite capable of handling my family during a brief and no-more-risky-than-usual separation is never really calculated in their effort to fall all over themselves to feel sorry for me. That I don't relate to women or men who use their relationships as an excuse to suddenly forget how to be self-reliant and expect that I will do same. 

Of course I will miss Randy while he's gone. I wouldn't have married him if I wanted to still be alone. But I'm not about to dissolve into a irrational mess of tears and misery because omg, my husband is doing his job which I knew would be the case since day one! I'd have a whole different rant if Randy was deployed to a combat zone. But Bulgaria is a resort comparatively speaking! I mean, jeebus, he took his freaking golf clubs! But I guess it's not the reality of my situation that many people are interested in sympathizing with. They'd rather assume, for their own comfort, that disengaging from responsibility is excused when the going gets tough. Maybe they imagine that if they treat me with the perception that I can't handle my life, they will be exempt from handling theirs. 

And yeah, okay, that's harsh. It's true, but only in a small proportion to the overall sympathy I've received. The truth of the matter is, I have even less patience for the people who do know me and my history. I mean, hello? Where was your overweening concern when I was living on eggs and celery and very near to being homeless? Oh yeah, I didn't want it then, either! Being married has not altered my core beliefs about independence. If anything, it's confidence in those core beliefs that allowed me to get married. The knowledge that I CAN do it on my own, that sleeping alone is simply a state of being, not a commentary on my worthiness as a woman or a person, that asking for or accepting offered help is normal... all these things contribute to a relationship, not detract. Not coincidentally, they allow me to ferret out the silver lining, slim as it may be, in circumstances where Randy and I are separated. I'm not crying. And even if I was, I'm not the kind of person who would share it. That's just me. 

Maybe that should be my response. 

*This doesn't apply to anyone who has said anything to me through this blog. You guys are the gracious ones whose gentle, but non-intrustive, concern has been such a refreshing counterpoint to conversations had elsewhere.

That's just me.

Notes from the peanut gallery.

James Earl Jones (narrating Earth): The beach is a writhing mass of walruses, which is a larger prey than the polar bear would normally risk.

Rowen: Not to mention a stinkier one if someone starts a game of "Pull My Flipper"!

*~*~*

Rowen: Why does Heidi eat so much grass on her walks?

Me (trying to be funny): Well, that's what rabbits eat; so she's trying to understand her natural prey. Y'know, really get into the mind of a rabbit.

Rowen (succeeding): Sooooo... what if my natural prey eats a lot of cake...?

*~*~*

Randy: How do you feel about me being gone for 4 months?

Rowen: I dunno. You haven't left yet.

*~*~*

Notes from the peanut gallery.

This is my 398th post. No joke.

Where I've been:

• I've been doing this blogging thing, relatively blind, for 2.5 years. 
• I've used more layouts than I can count. I know more about HTML and CSS than any sane person NOT making money on this endeavor should. 
• I've talked a lot about what I eat and revealed a little too much about how often I think about sex. 
• Mostly I've been slightly amusing, a few times laugh-out-loud funny and once or twice really serious. 
  
• Readers have come and gone. 
• I found my voice. 

Where I'm going:

• In the immediate future, nowhere. Not because I don't have plans, but because I'm a big ol' wuss-bag.
• In the not-too-distant future: WordPress. Blogger was good for the naïve me, but (and you have to say this next part with crazy, spy-flick villain eyes) now I know too much!
• Diving into the crazy world of blogging with a purpose/topic! Or as close to one as I can get, considering the schizophrenic nature of my knowledge and interests. 

Why:

• I need structure. Much as I've enjoyed sharing the rambling, incoherent dialog of the multiple voices in my head, it's no longer an exercise in good writing or connecting with a larger community. 
• I've been struggling with myself to NOT write the things here that are better left private. Sometimes I forget that strangers actually DO read this blog along with family, and the subjects that are appropriate to both are narrowing. In all honesty, I'd love to pour my heart out; I think it'd be a kick-ass read. But I need to either do it completely anonymously, or for a paying publisher.
• I need more feedback. For whatever reason, this blog doesn't get it.
• I'm good at this. I could be better. I wanna compete with the big slightly larger fish.

Let me essplain... No, is too difficult. Let me sum up:

• I'm not terminating this blog. Rowen still has hers attached to it for starters, and I wrote some fun stuff here I'm not keen on sending out into the ether, never to be reread on a completely aimless Saturday afternoon again. (Why, hello there, narcissism! Nice to see me!)
• I will be phasing it out with less frequent posting while I build my new one. 
• I will tell you where the new one is! Of course I'd love it if y'all came with me! But this brand of mostly glib personal ramblings is not coming, too. Glib, yes. Personal, sometimes. Rambling, not.
• If you're worried, I promise to not disappear. When the transition is ready, I'll let you know with linkage, URL, and a desperate plea to bookmark, add to your reader, etc.
• If you're not worried/don't care; why are you here? 
• If you have any other thoughts or concerns I haven't mentioned, please let me know in the comments.
  

This is my 398th post. No joke.

Not baked goods, baked bads!

The return of coolish weather in the Schweinfurt area last week fortuitously coincided with a few baking projects that couldn't be put off. One for the (now infamous) FRG meeting where the wives were asked to contribute a Mexican-themed dish for the soldiers/spouses attending. Having been to a few of these and seen what kinds of dishes most of the gals like to contribute (heavy on the meat and cheese, in accordance with what will most likely appeal to the largest number of people), I decided to stick to my cookie M.O. I ran a google search and came up with a lot of those puffy little wedding cookies, but I was looking for something a little more unique. 


Then I spotted this recipe for Aztec Chocolate cookies and thought, Eureka! because what's more Mexican than chocolate, right? I wasn't sure what to do about the ground chipotle in the recipe, but luckily found a hot pepper spice blend at the comissary that does not contain garlic. (I purchased some cayenne, too, just as a backup.) 

The results were unique, all right. The first batch was just too much; too spicy, too shocking, too... holy cow, what is this thing?? So I redid, cutting the spices in half. These were pleasantly biting, with just a little bit of heat on a three second delay. I liked them okay, as did Randy, but they weren't universally appealing.

One for the scrap heap, I think.

Unfortunately, I had about the same luck with a mini-cherry-crumble recipe I blog-lifted in an attempt to use yet another kilo of cherries I couldn't keep my hands off of at the German grocery. I didn't molest this batch, thinking that there were about a dozen recipes I wanted to try, but I waited a little too long and they started to wither from neglect. Having everything I needed on hand, I whipped them up with high hopes.

A little higher than was warranted. The struesel-like mixture forms a tooth-breakingly hard crust, and the cherry flavor is overwhelmed by the surrounding cinnamon and brown sugar. They were okay fresh out of the oven and still moderately soft and crumbly, but impossible later that evening. All was not lost, however! I decided that if you smother these babies in a complementary ice cream, say... Ben&Jerry's Cherry Garcia, perhaps?... you get a rather pleasant dessert experience. It takes a LOT of ice cream, though. A lot.

Not baked goods, baked bads!

...where people are never more abroad than when they are at home.

I'm terribly homesick at the moment. I do love Germany and am still happy to be living here, but whenever things get moderately stressful I long for NorCal beaches and a healthy dose of foggy morning. 

Let me define "moderately" stressful because everybody will interpret that differently, especially everybodies who freak out at the barest mention of anything less than perfect harmony in her children's lives. *ahem*

Randy leaves for Bulgaria in 6 days. He'll be gone until some time in November, we're not sure of exact return dates. He's not deploying to a dangerous combat zone, he's not going to be gone for a whole year, and he's not going to be without regular internet communication. In short, it'll be like an extra long business trip and nothing to get my panties in a wad over. (Hmm, perhaps that was a poor turn of phrase, considering that from now until he leaves I'd very much like my panties to be in a wad. On the floor.) If I was back home, with lots of comfortable, familiar things to occupy my time, I doubt I'd even blink except in anticipation of sleeping sprawled diagonally on the bed without the sound of elephants working chainsaws waking me suddenly in the wee hours. 

But I'm not. I'm in a country where, despite my best efforts, I suck mightily at both understanding the locals and making myself understood. Comfortable and familiar in no way describe the educational undertaking that I signed up for, and which will commence in one month. For some reason known only to the mischief demon who planted the idea in my head in the first place, I've taken on a dog whose sense of normal is more in line with Odie than with Lassie. 

In addition, the Family Readiness Group in which I was so eager to try out my shiny new tact-and-people skills is being run by a 26 year old diva who seems focused mainly on trying to impress with her stunningly petulant attitude and breathtakingly incompetent administration skills. My shiny new tact-and-people skills are no match for her. I bowed out awkwardly and ingraciously when I stormed out in the middle of a meeting last night. Even the captain couldn't get out my way quickly enough. 

In the grand scheme of things... hell, in the relatively modest scheme of just my own life experience, these are not things to get truly stressed over. They're just uncomfortable and prickly, like a hair shirt wool sweater too close to the skin. And it's summer and I don't want to wear a wool sweater. I want to sit on the beach and let the sound of the Pacific ocean take over, or sit in a restaurant overlooking the marina in San Francisco, good friends at the table. Drive through the hills, vine-covered to pine-covered in a single afternoon.

Of course, failing that, I'd take a weekend in Dover.

...where people are never more abroad than when they are at home.

It's been a long day, baby.

OMG, I am so hormonal right now. 

Go here and watch these movies. They're the happiest things that will ever make you cry. 

It's been a long day, baby.

No. Just... no.

I hope BK's former PR people are happy with the blowup doll that inspired this ad, because I'm pretty sure no one else is being seen in their company.  

No. Just... no.