Ich liebe Dich muchos.... really!
*wink*
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
this is just the beginning
The Fehrenbach's longtime friends from their NE days got hitched just down the road from us, so we all hoped in the van and made a little trip down to the Tripp/Gonzalaz wedding. A few other engaged couples also with partial connection to the NE were there.
Us with the Grace's-to-be.
the lovely couple.
Us with the Grace's-to-be.
Us with the Wilson's-to-be.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
dem german knives are sharp
WARNING: not for the weak stomached.
I am serious, this is an entry that may cause you to faint or be sick. Don't read on if you're that kind of person. This entry contains a graphic account of a knife accident.
We absolutely love our new Henkels kitchen knives. After all, they're German. *grin* We got a few as wedding gifts, and I'm still shopping for the bread knife. But today I am typing with the tips of only seven fingers and two thumbs. That's right. Sadly and much to my surprise I severed the entire tip of my left index finger this afternoon. It's the deepest cut I've ever had. That's just to say that I am not used to seeing the innerparts past my epidermis. Dem knives are sharp people. No seriously, so sharp you hardly feel the cut, in fact you feel it after it's too late to retreat. Once I saw and realized the severity of what happened, my dear husband said that I jumped up and down and started shouting, 'I cut my finger off! I cut my finger off! Ahhhhh!' I guess I stuck it in my mouth then held it above my head in shear horror. He ran to my rescue and then found the remains of the thick slice of my finger still stuck to the other side of the knife. After searching our medicine cabinet high and low we discovered that we didn't have appropriate bandages and ointments, so with my finger wrapped in a damp paper towel we drove across the highway to super target to see what we could find. We returned with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a tube of neosborne, gauze, bandages, and cayenne pepper. One of these things didn't seem to belong, but I found out that cayenne not only kills germs and helps with the healing process, it also burns like leaving your hand on the stove top for longer than you should but not being able to remove it. Like a terrible torture scene. OwWee! OwWee! OwWee! oh man, did it ever burn! And still does. Don't think I will ever be able to put that on anyones' wounds myself. However, I still love my DH and know he was doing his best to take care of me.
I am serious, this is an entry that may cause you to faint or be sick. Don't read on if you're that kind of person. This entry contains a graphic account of a knife accident.
We absolutely love our new Henkels kitchen knives. After all, they're German. *grin* We got a few as wedding gifts, and I'm still shopping for the bread knife. But today I am typing with the tips of only seven fingers and two thumbs. That's right. Sadly and much to my surprise I severed the entire tip of my left index finger this afternoon. It's the deepest cut I've ever had. That's just to say that I am not used to seeing the innerparts past my epidermis. Dem knives are sharp people. No seriously, so sharp you hardly feel the cut, in fact you feel it after it's too late to retreat. Once I saw and realized the severity of what happened, my dear husband said that I jumped up and down and started shouting, 'I cut my finger off! I cut my finger off! Ahhhhh!' I guess I stuck it in my mouth then held it above my head in shear horror. He ran to my rescue and then found the remains of the thick slice of my finger still stuck to the other side of the knife. After searching our medicine cabinet high and low we discovered that we didn't have appropriate bandages and ointments, so with my finger wrapped in a damp paper towel we drove across the highway to super target to see what we could find. We returned with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a tube of neosborne, gauze, bandages, and cayenne pepper. One of these things didn't seem to belong, but I found out that cayenne not only kills germs and helps with the healing process, it also burns like leaving your hand on the stove top for longer than you should but not being able to remove it. Like a terrible torture scene. OwWee! OwWee! OwWee! oh man, did it ever burn! And still does. Don't think I will ever be able to put that on anyones' wounds myself. However, I still love my DH and know he was doing his best to take care of me.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
what's worse, best wursts or parkin' tickets?
There is a little bratwurst stand that is found parked in various places downtown... sometimes it's across from the art museum on Congress during the day, but at night you have to prowl about 6th Street to find it. But believe me, it's well worth the pursuit. These literally are the 'best wursts' you have ever had this side of Germany.
So my little story from yesterday continues... My DH and I were cruising along after our afternoon at the park and hungry, I was craving none other than a delicious bratwurst. Not even Whole Foods had what I was looking for... and thus began our little jaunt through downtown Austin. It was not quite dusk yet and so we figured 6th wouldn't be closed or packed out with the usual drunken crowds just yet. The roads twisted and turned in an unusual fashion and that should have been my first clue. But then we passed a building through which windows we could see a horde of police officers. 'A police officer reunion or party,' I naively thought.
Then finally we reached 6th. A few blocks down I spotted the stand. Circling the block, my DH handed me his wallet and let me out at the light. He drove thru the light to the end of the corner to wait for me. I think we were the last car down the street before they started to close it off. When I approached the Best Wurst stand the man said it was still cooking the first few. So as I waited patiently next to the stand I looked around. Over hearing two street-men gabbing about their ex-lovers I turned my attention to the little purple, yellow, and green festive flags blowing in the wind at ever street lamp... (second clue, but I was still very much confused). A large lady in a motorized scooter scooted up to a man standing outside his shop, he had some merchandise available for sale.. There were beads, big ones, bigger ones, and flat out HUGE ones. She settled for the ones in between and scooted off in her scooter.
A group of like ten officers walked past in a pack with pamphlets in their hands. They gave one to one of the street-men by the stand. Feeling a little safer I thought to myself, man, they sure have a lot of officers out on 6th tonight. The smell of the brats were intensifying and I was still sooo hungry. On two occasions I noticed motor cops turn down the street where my DH had parked waiting for me with his blinker on. It was then I realized I had his wallet! Uh oh!
At this point I was nearly salivating at the supremely appitizing aromas that were reaching my nostrils. After claiming the very first two brats off the grill topped with delicious sauerkraut and mustard the man quoted me a price for them that was cheaper than his sign... so I mentioned the difference, and he said he usually charges more at festivals, and it was then that I realized it was Marti Gras. Silly me, I get that mixed with Cinco De Mayo all the time. When I rounded the corner to get to the car I noticed he had moved a little further down the street. and that just ahead of him three large buses were parked... and out of them jumped another 15-30 police officers.
I got in the car all pleased with my hands full of the best wursts I have ever had and my DH tells me of the three accounts where officers had to mention that he couldn't park where he was... Phew! They hadn't asked for his i.d. which I promptly afforded to him after freeing my hand of his bratwurst. We got out of there as best as we could with the roads all shut down, all just before the evenings festivities had fully been kicked off.
Needless to say, the bratwurst was devoured shortly after that down to the last lick of mustard off my finger tips. My dear husband however did make me promise not to send him off on a best-wurst bratwurst hunt if it happened to be a holiday someday when I'm pregnant. (note: I said someday, I am not currently at large *grin*).
So my little story from yesterday continues... My DH and I were cruising along after our afternoon at the park and hungry, I was craving none other than a delicious bratwurst. Not even Whole Foods had what I was looking for... and thus began our little jaunt through downtown Austin. It was not quite dusk yet and so we figured 6th wouldn't be closed or packed out with the usual drunken crowds just yet. The roads twisted and turned in an unusual fashion and that should have been my first clue. But then we passed a building through which windows we could see a horde of police officers. 'A police officer reunion or party,' I naively thought.
Then finally we reached 6th. A few blocks down I spotted the stand. Circling the block, my DH handed me his wallet and let me out at the light. He drove thru the light to the end of the corner to wait for me. I think we were the last car down the street before they started to close it off. When I approached the Best Wurst stand the man said it was still cooking the first few. So as I waited patiently next to the stand I looked around. Over hearing two street-men gabbing about their ex-lovers I turned my attention to the little purple, yellow, and green festive flags blowing in the wind at ever street lamp... (second clue, but I was still very much confused). A large lady in a motorized scooter scooted up to a man standing outside his shop, he had some merchandise available for sale.. There were beads, big ones, bigger ones, and flat out HUGE ones. She settled for the ones in between and scooted off in her scooter.
A group of like ten officers walked past in a pack with pamphlets in their hands. They gave one to one of the street-men by the stand. Feeling a little safer I thought to myself, man, they sure have a lot of officers out on 6th tonight. The smell of the brats were intensifying and I was still sooo hungry. On two occasions I noticed motor cops turn down the street where my DH had parked waiting for me with his blinker on. It was then I realized I had his wallet! Uh oh!
At this point I was nearly salivating at the supremely appitizing aromas that were reaching my nostrils. After claiming the very first two brats off the grill topped with delicious sauerkraut and mustard the man quoted me a price for them that was cheaper than his sign... so I mentioned the difference, and he said he usually charges more at festivals, and it was then that I realized it was Marti Gras. Silly me, I get that mixed with Cinco De Mayo all the time. When I rounded the corner to get to the car I noticed he had moved a little further down the street. and that just ahead of him three large buses were parked... and out of them jumped another 15-30 police officers.
I got in the car all pleased with my hands full of the best wursts I have ever had and my DH tells me of the three accounts where officers had to mention that he couldn't park where he was... Phew! They hadn't asked for his i.d. which I promptly afforded to him after freeing my hand of his bratwurst. We got out of there as best as we could with the roads all shut down, all just before the evenings festivities had fully been kicked off.
Needless to say, the bratwurst was devoured shortly after that down to the last lick of mustard off my finger tips. My dear husband however did make me promise not to send him off on a best-wurst bratwurst hunt if it happened to be a holiday someday when I'm pregnant. (note: I said someday, I am not currently at large *grin*).
a walk in the park
This afternoon Erik and I went for a walk in Austin's Zilker park, but to avoid waiting in a line of cars and paying that silly parking fee we decided to drive a little further down the road and walk down to the river and along it to the foot bridge into the park. We saw people flying kites, tossing sticks or balls for their dogs to chase, kicking soccer balls, playing various games with players in shirts & skins, and still others throwing frisbees. We had ours with us and joined in the fun. Making our way across the field we passed a guy and a girl and their pot-belly pig. I kid you not. I kick myself for not carrying my trusty camera with me as I usually do. We climb up a rocky portion in the middle of the field. It looks as though it had been some sort of geological fault plane. At the top there was another boy and girl playing guitar and banjo and singing-- ol' timey children folk songs mainly. At the other end was a group of like ten high school students dressed as pirates complete with eye patches, bandannas, swords, hats, and the like. They were posing for photographs. We couldn't help overhear their conversations (complete with "ARGH's") and secretly wish we had remembered our 'pirate' clothes/gear and could sneak in the shoot. We continued our walk across the treacherous Barton Springs road (I felt like I was in a real life game of Frogger) and into the playground area, pass the little train, and over to the other end of the pool where we people-watched for a while and then headed back to the other end of the park where our car was. By the time we reached our car we were starved and I was craving none-less than a delcious downtown bratwurst from the famous Worst-wurst stand on 6th street. My dear husband sweetly complyed...(and you'll have to read the next post to find out what happened!)
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