One Thing Thursday: Alice Springs, Australia

A while ago, I spent a month wandering around Australia, traveling by semi-myself, but with a pack of revolving Europeans on a bus tour. The trip started in Alice Springs. I flew there from Wellington, New Zealand where it had been wet and gray and winter yuck for the past five months. I remember touching down and hopping on a bus to my hotel and peeling off my grubby cardigans and finally feeling the sun on my arms. I felt like a whole new person, ready to do some adventuring.

Me, upon first arriving in Alice Springs. Even though my sleeping arrangements included a bottom bunk and my only snack option was crunchy peanut butter, I was so happy.

Alice Springs was not a place I expected to fall head over heels for. It's hot and in the middle of nowhere and kind of small (actually, a lot like Des Moines, except it's cold here). I'm still not even sure if it was the high of solo traveling or the actual town that got me all giddy, but having traveled alone to other places before and not had the same longing to go back, I think it's safe to say that the magic was all Alice's.

One thing to do in Alice Springs? Head out of town and camp.

In case you can't tell, this is me. Sleeping outdoors. Like 100-freaking-% outdoors. On my bag of makeup.

So, not technically in the city proper of Alice Springs, but amazing. Alice Springs is near Uluru, or Ayer's Rock. Somewhere, not too far from the Rock, our tour group camped. Like really, truly camped, which I'd never done before. As an alumnae of St. Louis' answer to Troop Beverly Hills, my camping experiences all involved cabins, high-pitched bug-induced squeals and the occasional pizza delivery. When I saw the tour director hauling out G.I. sleeping bags and nothing else, I may have panicked.

But, there was really no need. I slept outside, no tent and no major bug/snake repelling cocoon needed. After our bonfire went out, it was just me and nature, man. It was unexpectedly delightful. I slept like an outdoor hippie baby and woke with the sun. I may or may not have spent the rest of the next day in the campground's pool, but I roughed it for that one night. Which is one more night than I could have said otherwise. Boundaries = stretched.

Two things in Alice Springs? Get mistaken for a Latina celeb. Yes. I, whitest of the white girls, was told I looked like Mariah Carey. Totally not true, but I was flattered.

Showing my new friend Yuki a good time, as I am apt to do (aka request Nelly from the DJ and introduce people to the joys of Flippy Cup - ah, the cultural interactions of my early 20s!). All neck, zero cares in this world. Uber-disclaimer: I'd just eaten kangaroo.

You see it, too, right? Mariah, look out please.

In which I get all hippie dippie on ya

So. Hubs and I were supposed to go to Panama. We bought the plane tickets on a whim and all was well. We were set to scurry to a land of ex-pats and yogis and snorkeling.
Until I started reading some travel forums. It seemed like every reviewer of our intended destination had a horror story – drugged drinks, hotel break-ins, near attacks, muggings, a gol-dang serial killer on the loose. Not to mention the other sad posts about how environmentally irresponsible a lot of the tourism and development is down there. Not a freaking word about the peaceful yoga on the beach or sweet hippie freaks I'd read about two months ago.

These were bad vibes, man. I could tell that this was not going to be the relaxing trip we had wanted. Who could relax when there is constantly that one story about that one couple in the back of your mind? How can you enjoy a snorkel excursion when people are standing on living reefs and ruining them? The short answer is that we cannot. The vibes would not allow it.

Now, obviously, I’m not the most green gal in these parts, but I don’t really want to pay hundreds of dollars and travel for 24 hours to watch nature be blatantly destroyed by a tourism industry that seems to be growing too fast for itself. And I’m not a huge freaking travel chicken, either. I've traveled alone and wandered through cities at night, but this felt different. I don’t want to test my theory that Panama was giving Hubs and I some seriously bad juju.
So, the tickets have all been cancelled and we are back to square one. We lost a few hundred on this deal, which sweetholybuckets, hurt my soul and my cheapness, but as my husband so wisely put it, “If we went and were robbed/injured/worse, I would rather watch the money burn.”

Have you ever cancelled a trip because of bad vibes? Or, on a lighter note – where should we go now? We’re thinking Napa or the Keys because we seem to be incredibly yuppie this year. Next thing you know I'll be wearing sweaters around my shoulders and buying a poodle. Isn't that what happens after you check in to a Sandals?

The cuke to beat all cukes

Another Thursday, another CSA delivery! It was a quiet week: some basil, zucchini (because I need more of them), three kinds of onions (yessssssssss), some more basil and the crown jewel - some zucchini muffins. I feel like you know zucchinis are taking over the planet when even the CSA would rather send muffins than raw veggies.

A quick step outside led to our next vegetable harvest and it wasn't even from our garden. Our neighbor handed over this:

The biggest flippin' cucumber I've ever seen. Tzatziki fo' life, man. That Greek dip stle my heart in 2003 when I first had a gyro and there has been no turning back since. Think I can freeze tzatziki? I don't really know if even I, dip lover extraordinaire, can down the dip produced by a cuke that is larger than my arm.

Gyro party, anyone?

My life as a river rat

For reasons unknown to me (but I presume it was an overriding sense of thriftiness), my dad hoards take-out packages of ketchup, soy sauce, pre-packaged plastic forks, and other random condiments. Without fail, every time we'd enjoy some White Castle and there remained a few extra salt or relish packs, he'd scoop them up, drop them in a bowl in our kitchen cabinets and proclaim, "Savin' it for float trip." It was a mantra around our house.

Photo

The items piled up and I could have traced the evolving McDonald's brand from our epic single-use packet supply. You see, as far as I can tell, my dad never went on a float trip (at least not in my memory. I'm pretty sure you can't get a Missouri driver's licence without having tubed down the Meramac, so he must have gone sometime.). I remember one time I used a packet of Arby sauce on a turkey sandwich on one of those good Hawaiian rolls at the lake. That's it, the only time I ever used the float trip supplies.

Now, in my own house, I've caught myself secreting away tiny honey packets from Popeye's and I may have once used Jimmy John's napkins when we had guests. But, I'm determined to keep my collection in check.

Each year, Hubs' fellow scientists plan a float trip down the Raccoon River. Like any good float trip, there's lots of food, lots of booze (Blue Moon comes in float trip friendly cans now!) and more rowdiness than you'd expect from donners of lab coats.

We float this weekend, so I've already got my condiments and sporks ready to go in a baggie in a baggie in a baggie and I'm ready to share the wealth. Want some BBQ sauce for your sandwich? Ranch for your carrot sticks? Napkin for the beer you spilled? Wet nap to wash your hands? Salt for your tequila shot? I've got it!

Who else has big weekend plans that include pawning off left-overs on friends? Or just big plans?

One Thing Thursday: Golden, Colorado

About a year ago, Hubs and I headed west for my childhood pal's lovely mountaintop wedding. My parents and little sister were driving over from St. Louis and meeting us there. Since the wedding was on a Friday, we had Saturday to hang out and enjoy Golden, which might be the cutest little western town I've ever seen. (I've been in Colorado for all of 64 hours in my life, so clearly, I am an expert.)

Anyway, here's one thing you should do in Golden: Watch people tube down Clear Creek. Or, do it yourself if you like 35 degree water and near-drowning.

Clear Creek is made up mostly of run-off from the snow in the mountains and it's also the creek that makes Coors fresh from the Rockies. It's a short float from the library parking lot to the hopping out point, but it's a little rough and majorly cold, so I'm sure it feels longer than it is.

Little Sister Tubing, a Photo Essay.

Before floating, Nervy St. Nerverson:

During floating, smile pretty:

After floating, not dead:

Not even considering floating, looking forward to a Coors:

If you have time for two things: A quick stroll around Red Rocks Park/Amphitheater is cool. I wish we could have had more time to see a concert there, but it wasn't in the cards.

Disclaimer: I noticed that people in Colorado are just a smidge more outdoorsy and active than people in Iowa. So, I'm sure that if a person from Golden (a Goldenite?) was writing this list, it'd have things like "scale a mountain," "wrestle a cougar" or "kayak up a mountain." That's just not how I roll. Not. At. All.

PS: Did you notice I didn't mention food in this one? Like, at all? I'm proud.

When in doubt, fry it.

We have a ton of sage bushes out back. So, when my wine-a-day desk calendar suggested frying sage leaves and enjoying them like potato chips with a glass of champagne, how could I say no? I rarely refuse the demands of the wine-a-day calendar. It can be so dang persuasive.

We dusted them in a little flour and plopped them in the oil.

Once crispy, we tried the fried leaves. They were kind of bland, really. The sage flavor really mellowed out. Downing these puppies plain was no longer an option.

Luckily, it was burger night at Case de Bigger, Better, Best. Together with fresh mozzarella, the fried sage came back to life and added just the right amount of flavor and light crisp to the burgers.

Verdict: Totally worth doing if you have left over oil and sage leaves. Use them as a topping for burgers, pizza, Italian nachos or pasta bakes.

Nowhere to hide

Warning: This post contains the dirtiest picture I've ever posted online.

The closets in this house have tons of built-ins. Cabinets, drawers and the closet itself times three. That's great in theory, but really when two people have so many places to throw junk and keep it hidden, things get ugly fast.

Case in point, our bedroom cabinet:

See what I'm saying? Dirrrty, Christina Aguilera style. The cabinet was were I kept yarn, clothes to be dry-cleaned or mended, craft supplies and our wedding photos.

After I took down the door and puttied up the holes left behind, I started by sanding the cabinets down since they were the same glossy blond that our hall trim and closets once were.

This wood is thirsty like whoa. So it took me about four coats to get a clean, fresh white.

Once it dried, it was time to repopulate the shelves! This time, in a more organized fashion. I used three woven baskets to hide things like belts, lotion, lint rollers, craft supplies and yarn. To spruce things up, I added some picture frames and flowers.

We've got our engagement photo, the CD case that holds our wedding photos (it's actually pretty, so I figure why not display it?) and a framed used Kleenex given to Hubs and I on our wedding day (we shared it while saying our vows and bawling and my parents' friends picked it up after the service (so, one of my first acts as a married lady was to litter. Not my finest moment.) and put it in an antique frame to give us at the reception. They wrote on the back, "May all your tears be tears of joy" and used a ceremony pogram as the backing. How sweet is that?).

These gladiolas and dark leaves are from our yard. I love the DRAMA. These flowers are the bitchy diva looking hawt and knowing it of our bedroom.

The best part of this project? It was free! I used paint I already had, baskets we already had and stole all those photos from our cluttered dresser. What beats a free project that adds punch to a room?

What's been your best free project?