Wow.

This weekend was packed with the celebrations, fo sho.  Let’s recount them, shall we?

Friday…

Caroline and I trudged forth to the wilds of Seattle to meet up with Synde for some not-writing, as it turns out.  What we did do was head to Trophy Cupcake for some bitterness, not in the form of burnt coffee beans ala Starbucks, but unpleasant counter staff.  Nevermind that we drove 50 miles to have a pineapple upside down cupcake complete with cherry in its scrumptious brown sugar icing and told the clerk just that. When she told us they were out, we were happy to opt for the red velvet and snickerdoodle varieties to go with our french press–even though we had to wait for the Red Velvet to be iced.  So how is it, that on my birthday weekend, after full from consuming our second choice breakfast and chatting quietly nearby, a large tray of pineapple upside-down cupcakes shows up on the rack? Three words for the clerk.

Damned. To. Hell.

Afterward though, and this is definitely going to make us sound like a bunch of cattle grazing across the cityscape, we met up with our friend Ellen and got us some more cud at Skillet…

Skillet has the BEST burger in Seattle.  That’s singular, not plural, because there’s only one and you get it how it comes bitches, don’t fuck around with having stuff put on the side, because this here burger is a work of art.  

It’s got the bacon Jam!

I shouldn’t need to say anything else, but I will. Warm brioche bun, arugula and cambazola and a big ass grab of handcut fries tossed in poutine.  What’s poutine, you ask like a heathen? Well, it’s gravy and cheese curd and herbs and it turns a snatch of fries into a wet mess of sexy.

Oh Skillet, can we make love?

The chef even, out of the blue, asked if it was my birthday and tossed in a free shortbread, which I didn’t get to eat because I was having a hard time breathing with my stomach engorged to the point of shoving my lungs up into my neck.

We met up with other Team Seattlites at a new frozen yogurt place and then scrounged down Broadway for some browsing. Sadly, Broadway has lost its flavor. Once teeming with street kids and a variety of gays, the shopping and restaurant district gave up the ghost a while back to the condo developers.  The Broadway Market is now a QFC and the vibe is just off.

Where is the next big neighborhood, people?  I’d like to know.

As if we hadn’t eaten enough, we drove back South to meet up with Kevin and Jo for some Old School Pizzeria in Olympia. They’ve got the closest facsimile of a New York cheese slice I’ve found, so definitely check out that shit.  You’ll have to wade through the cloud of patchouli’d street kids who’ve migrated from Capital Hill, but it’s well worth the nose rape.

Guaranteed.

Saturday…

Because I’m completely anal retentive and obsessed with my back yard right now, I spent a good portion of time last week working on getting the garden in shape so it didn’t look like we were having a barbecue in a vacant lot.  So I weeded and relocated dry creek beds (fake ones, of course) and even righted the heinous wrong of adding a weed barrier.  And did it all with Caroline’s b-day Home Depot gift cards. Which are the most awesome gift for us, in case you’ve been fretting over what to get me.  We spend a lot of time outdoors over the spring and summer so we love it not to look like a homeless camp.

My next big project back there is to make this…look like this…

Yes. That is my fake dried creek bed, thank you.

We didn’t have any brain cake debacles this year and I was super happy with my first shot at grilling ribs (I know, it’s weird).  Boiled them for three hours, dry rubbed them and then slathered them with a homemade bbq sauce made of my secret ingredient (Diet Coke, no shit).

Here’s some people you might recognize not enjoying the harshest martini known to man, the Lava Lamp…

 

Like liquid fire people. I know, I downed the first one on an empty stomach and was rolling.  

Never. Again. 

I got a nice haul in gifts, including the most hilarious bottle of rum ever from Richelle (which I can never show you lest a hellstorm of fury swirl around Team Seattle). Yes, that’s a French edition of Succubus Blues and a cocktail shaker in the form of a prescription bottle, also a ganglia (Richelle, Caitlin, Cherie and Kat, respectively). Synde hooked me up with an ARC of The Strain, which I’ve been dying to read and a cool CD of indian beats that get me bollywood dancing everytime I listen.  My best friend Kevin rallied the family to get me Target gift cards so I could buy new underwear –I’m down to just wearing the bands, the cotton long since worn away.

But my most favorite thing were, no surprise, my gift cards to Home Depot (thanks Jo and Craig-Drapers!).

Wait!

Before you chastise me for playing favorites, a little story.

We’ve been in this house for 7 years and watched each of our neighbors install automatic sprinkler systems for the low low introductory rate of a few thousand dollars.  We’ve not been in a position to fork out that kind of cash, in forever, so I had to rig up my own little system which I turn on and off and devote roughly 4 hours of each day to.  Well, not anymore…

If I had photoshop I would have outfitted this picture with a halo.  The sprinklers are now on timers, all 4 zones.  Thank Jeebus!

Sunday!

This blog post just keeps on going.  I bet y’all are sick of it by now.  So I’ll wrap it up.

Sunday was family day, so we took the dogs to the folks and chilled.  Good times were had by all.

*sighs*

 

What did you guys do to celebrate my birthday?