Victory

Things you should know before heading to the newly re-opened movie theater on Victory Drive:

1. There is no marquee or indication outside that it is a movie theater, so it's hard to find.
2. They don't play previews, so get there early. If you are late, you'll miss part of the movie - not just the Fanta commercial.
3. When you sit down, it's all cushiony goodness and leg room
4. They haven't quite figured out how to frame the film so you don't get distracted by the boom mike. Or the correct volume.
5. The seats smell like salty ham.

Leftovers

When you live alone, it’s inevitable that food gets chucked out more often than you’d like. Sometimes it’s the fresh produce you can’t eat before it rots. Or the fact that a carton of milk is never finished so much as the last portion spoils and gets dumped down the sink. Or maybe after six days of carrot & mushroom loaf you simply can’t take anymore, you’ll go mental and there will be consequences.

If you are prone to experimentation, the misfits of the fridge* might get thrown together in a casserole. I tried to pull this off with the leftovers from fondue night, hoping to resuscitate a lovely meal. Trust me – you don’t want to experience what happens when $15 bucks worth of cheese goes to the dark side.

*Not unlike The Misfits of Science

Bustin' Makes Me Feel Good

For years I have noticed and complained heartily about the slutty Halloween costumes. To those who perpetuate it: where’s your self-respect? Even more important, where is your imagination? The media has finally picked up on this – er, situation. Yesterday there was a feature on the Today show about it, and Jane magazine had a recent article as well. Plus, last year on How I Met Your Mother it was acknowledged in a running joke that made me fluff up with a self-righteous finally! (Stop it. It’s a good show. Who can resist the charms of Neil Patrick Harris? Not this Frisky Biscuit!)

Halloween 2006 was no different. In Savannah, the sluts were out in full force. There were a few exceptions, my favorite being the girl dressed as Sweet Tea standing outside the Lady & Sons. She had two ginormous tea bags draped over her shoulders, sandwich board style, plus a halo. It took me a minute to figure out, and that is exactly the kind of costume I admire. Scary ones are fine too – it’s traditional after all. When someone is funny or clever, it rocks my shorts. Like the Joe Dirt wandering around, towing a red wagon that contained a meteor. Dude, you may not have been hot by current standards. But your creativity with that meteor and your confidence in owning that mullet was foxier than any of the French maids, slutty devils, or “slutty sluts”out there.

Mostly it’s women working the skimpy costume angle. There never seems to be anyone dressed in the male equivalent of a stripper. No Chippendale’s guys, loincloth boys, or lumberjacks (not that I fancy those types in particular; this is simply an example). Maybe men have trouble dreaming up hunky costume ideas. If you do want to go that route, my advice is this: Mr. Darcy in the wet shirt. Ladies will commence with the swooning.

It’s ridiculous to abuse the one day each year we can reject all that pressure to look perfect. Halloween is when we need to let go of vanity and show off our obsessions - for 80’s cartoons, or Sci-Fi movies, or musicians. You’ll still get attention, and this time it will be from people who recognize your awesome creative skills. That is a big improvement over the sloppy catcalls and easy leers from slow-thinking drunks. I’ve always thought a sense of humor was the most attractive quality a person could have.

Last year I wanted so bad to be a member of Team Zissou, but procrastination prevented the follow-through. And then last night on Broughton Street, I actually saw a group of three people dressed in Zissou gear. Not the Speedo, but the red caps and blue track suits were so on. A few years ago I came up with the idea of dressing Lady Buttercup as Slim Good Doggie, but I failed anatomy in college so it’s likely I won’t pull that one off either. I have a surplus of costume ideas (kept on a list, of course) and I’ll probably never get to be all of them. But I love knowing that none involve looking like rubbish. In Halloweens past, I’ve been a Ghostbuster, Hulk Hogan, and The Bowler from Mystery Men. But my favorite costume: a Fraggle. Take that.

The Pause

In case no one has noticed, I’ve been taking a break. And it feels good. It feels like the end of a school term and suddenly the constant homework thoughts are no longer hanging over my head. Since all of my posts are written in the evenings – after work, the gym, errands, laundry, etc. - it’s nice to have a little free time. I’ve actually managed to watch a few sitcoms and go shopping and do crafty stuff. Tomorrow I’m fixing dinner with Owen, and Thursday I’m going to hang out with some friends. Plus, it’s Fall! I can be outside without suffocating, and can take Lady Buttercup on long walks and to the pumpkin patch.

The other confession is I’ve found a way to do some writing for my regular job. So I’m getting paid and get to use my real name, which stretches me in a different but very satisfying way. I don’t think I’m ready to give up the blog, but I am re-evaluating how much time I want to devote to it. Because let’s face it: there may be a few decent posts, but many are simply filler so that fresh content can be delivered. I started it so that I could get in the habit of writing, and maybe evolve towards something more substantial. And I certainly can’t imagine keeping this going forever.

But then.

It only takes something semi-interesting to happen and I get that surge of energy propelling me to WRITE IT DOWN. Especially if there is some Mr. T news or a marginally interesting incident or story to pass along. Like the dream I had last night. I was swimming in a huge tank with Anna Nicole Smith’s baby, and Shamu smooshes his face up against the glass partition because he likes us and wants to swim together. So I open the divider and Shamu is swimming underneath us, until I freak out at how big he is and have to scram.

Also, I wonder if anyone else watched My Name Is Earl last Thursday, because that was totally Amy Sedaris playing the cat lady. Then the very next night I was driving back from Statesboro and Natasha was reading me excerpts from Amy Sedaris’ new book that I didn’t even know about – it’s called I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. How can I not make sure people know about it, and that it has her cheese ball recipes?

Or I could mention the choco chip cookies I made that were slightly over baked. I prefer soft and chewy cookies, but it didn’t stop me from noshing out on the crunchy ones until I’d scraped up the roof of my mouth.

The obvious solution is balance – a little for me, a little for the blog, and everyone’s happy. Balance is a big deal for me, whether it’s relationships or food or how I spend my time. To expect to spend each evening trying to post isn’t what I want. I’d sort of turned this into an obligation for myself, which took the joy out of it. So. I’m going to post only when the writing gushes out of me faster than I can keep up. Or when I crave that excitement that comes with seeing my thoughts typed out. So that means I’ll have less going on here, but maybe it will be the next phase: to focus on quality.

Add It Up

In spite of my recent daily struggle with migraines, over the weekend I still made it around to:

1. Cupcake Happy Hour: Brilliant idea from the baking wizards at Back in the Day Bakery
2. Wiener Dog Races: one of my favorite Savannah traditions
3. Bianca's cozy birthday dinner: where we feasted on shrimp fritters, cheese, grit cakes, crab cakes, and... cake cake
4. Found the occasion to wear both pairs of my new earrings

Food is Good

Lately I’ve taken to emailing my sister URGENT UPDATES about food I’ve just eaten. Typical big sister routine, trying to create an indignant fluster of frustration in the little sister. I like it when I find new ways to carry on the picking-on tradition. Ways that compensate for the fact that she lives in Maine and I live in Georgia and there’s no way I can rearrange all her furniture while she’s at work then just sit there all, “What? Is something the matter?”

Today it was, “I just ate an entire slab of Wensleydale cheese. It was so close to the end that wrapping up 3 bites seemed pointless. Besides, I had to accomplish something today or else I’d feel like a failure.” Yesterday it was the peanut butter and celery sandwich I had for lunch. Yep, you read that right – peanut butter and celery sandwich. Crunchy and delicious, without the sugar crash of jelly. (Now you want to try it too, eh?) Then there was that brutal week of daily tofu dog with black bean chili lunches. Sacrifices were made, all to keep the younger sister entertained. It’s important to keep the irritation techniques fresh, for both our sakes.

Fall in New England

While fall is beautiful everywhere, I recently decided that New England is my favorite place to spend fall. The Mainers celebrate fall by having a Maine-style fair. What's different from the normal fair? Well, some things are quite similar... You'll see the strength test and funnel cake (which yankees call 'fried dough'). But, everything at the fair is organically grown, and the food options are much more bohemian than at your typical fair. I saw pie cones, Bog Jooce (made with cranberries), tea pops, and many other delicious treats. The vegetable contest was my favorite event of the day. Here are some gourgeous organic gourds:


And this was the winner in the 'vegetable oddity' category:

To make fall even more special, I recently spotted these wild turkeys at work:

Biscuity Goodness

Wrapping up Biscuit Month, I have just a few more crumbs to share. I've shamefully neglected my British biscuit devotees - a serious offense when one realizes that their biscuits are what we call cookies. Even more so that while the Brits are famous for their cuppa tea, you'll find the loyal biscuit by it's side. Proof of this lies with the Biscuit Appreciation Society. Oh, if only I could join; I admire their brilliant cause. And I want to get my mitts on their biscuits.

I don't know if they make biscuits, but The Biscuit Factory is self described as "Britain's biggest original art store". So that sounds all right too. They probably serve biscuits in the restaurant. If not, they could turn to United Biscuits, makers of the famous McVitie's. Homemade biscuits are never a bad idea, either. The Royal Naval Museum shares a traditional recipe for "Ship's Biscuits" for the history buffs. No worries for the scientists, there are enough biscuits to go around for you as well. Bookish types should probably check out the Biscuit Press or Biscuits O'Bryan, the cowboy poet.

For some Aussie flavor, you can see what happens when biscuits go wrong. Mango biscuits? No thank you. But perhaps you'd like to try the ANZAC biscuits?

If you've stuck around to the end of this post wherein I've dropped all of my biscuit trivia on you, then I'm guessing you've exhausted all other Internet time-wasting options for the day. I hope for your sake it's time to go home. Clearly biscuits are premium with other people besides me, and these hopeless cases of biscuit lovers might tempt me to do some more research.

Hoot

A conversation between sisters:

Ramona: I'm thinking about being an owl for Halloween.
Natasha:With feathers and brown tights or something?
Ramona: Yeah! And some kind of Mardi Gras mask for the face.
Natasha: Or you could just wear a paper bag over your head.

Medieval Kids

I had no idea the Medieval Festival was really just a kiddie event, and my perpetually sweet boyfriend accompanied me anyway. It was quite lame, entirely too hot, and inexplicably there were heads hanging from some of the trees. So we recouped and went to see the Rembrandt etchings and have gelato. Much better. And in typical Savannah fashion, we saw something quirky downtown: the Cinderella pumpkin carriage.

Some Wee Details

1. Have you seen the Sock Monkey Dress? It looks like it has tumors. Or is straight from a horror movie set.

2. I really thought I saw Sarah Vowell on a TV show called "Six Degrees". I love her books, so an investigation ensued - and it was her!

3. Yes, this is about Mr. T (again). So what? His new show "I Pity the Fool" starts October 11th on TV Land. He is going to "teach some fools some basic rules", so I suggest you check this link out for a preview.

Get Down On It

Oh man, I’m happy. Fall is here! The light is turning golden, nights are cool, and soon I’ll be able to throw all my windows open and breathe deeply of the fresh air. Autumn is when I feel most like myself, my Ramona-ness peaking in a splendid whirl of decorating, baking, being outside, and getting stuff done. No matter what city I’m living in, autumn makes everything look and smell better. There is so much to look forward to, like Oktoberfest, fall festivals, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and enjoying frisky walks. The crisp cool air clears my head and amps up my energy, and suddenly I feel more alive, creative, and optimistic.

The clothes are so much cuter too – boots, scarves, sweaters and jackets all make their brilliant comeback. I have this list of meals I’m craving to cook but can’t be bothered to make in hot weather. Risotto, casseroles, chili, fondue, potato-broccoli-cheese soup, and homemade sweets are heading my way. Plus the Borat movie, and new episodes of TV shows.

Even though the leaves don’t change much in Savannah, I have a few beauties I keep my eye on. And acorns! I love acorns. When I’m walking, there is a compelling need to crush acorns for that satisfying feel and sound. I have to get an equal number for each foot too, stepping exaggeratedly to keep it even. Add a few acorns for my pocket, to later find their way into a mason jar, and I’m content. Fall - it’s just so good in every way.

Noodle Salad, Britcoms, Pirates

1. I’m the type of person who will pick up notes found lying on the ground. Or from a garbage can, if it’s on the top and doesn’t have greasy food stuck to it. It can’t be helped – the discarded words need to be read one last time, by an impartial scholar, to verify that yes, it really should be in the rubbish bin. My latest discovery was a typed note found in a parking lot. The content of the note: “Best wishes for a happy life together! Love, Tom, Sue, Lindsey, and Amy Smith”. Okay, nothing interesting there. But then it goes on to say, “P.S. Good times Noodle Salad”.

That whole last sentence is so mysterious – is “Noodle Salad” someone’s nickname since it is capitalized? Or did they send the newlyweds a dish to serve noodle salad in, while having some good times eating it? I like it; what could have been generic has lasted 3 days on my desk, and it’s still funny.

2. If you have devoured both seasons of The Office (British version), then you probably need a new Britcom. The best way to cope with the longing for some fresh humour is Little Britain. Owen and I are rationing this one, it is that good. Lots of new catchphrases – I dare anyone to not walk around going “Eeerrrhhh, Eeewwrrhhh, EEEEEWAAHHRRAHH!” spontaneously, robustly, and frequently after watching. Also, it’s terribly hard to resist responding to my co-workers with, “Computer says no-oh”. But that’s what Lady Buttercup is for. Now go throw an entire loaf of bread at some ducks.

3. Owen and I went to a concert in Forsyth Park Saturday night. It was Sister Hazel. Just goes to show that if it’s free and you can take your dog to it, the whole matter of taste and standards matters a wee bit less.

4. Ahoy, Mateys! September 19^th is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Get the most out of it and enjoy annoying your loved ones – I know I will. Arrggh!

5. Oh, and War Eagle – you know!

Biscuits & Gravy

Hey biscuit fans! The Biscuits & Gravy Quarterly ought to keep you busy for awhile. Then you can check out the presidential pardon. You know, if you feel like it or whatever. Still want to get your biscuit freak on? Then head on over to King Biscuit for even more of a media blitz.

That'll do.

Hot Biscuits

Childhood visits with my Alabama grandparents guaranteed I would hear five of my favorite words: Hot biscuits in the oven! Hot biscuits in the oven! Joyfully sung on summer mornings to bribe sleepy kids out of bed, the thought of my Grandma’s biscuits motivated me every time. I’m convinced we woke up so sweetly and easily for Grandma because of the savory aroma of biscuits drifting into our subconscious just before waking. Suddenly, grumpiness was traded in for excitement, and one of my favorite memories was born. When our parents collected us at the end of the week, they were always informed with a wink that it was no trouble getting us out of bed. I’m not sure if the parents knew exactly what the trick was, but there must have been some suspicion.

Biscuits have always been special to my family, showing up as part of the happy memories of holidays or breaks from the routine. Natasha and I were lucky to have a Yankee father who quickly adapted to the pleasures of Southern food. When we were kids, it was our father who drove us to Catholic school each morning. Every now and then, he would wake us up earlier than usual and take us to breakfast at Hardees. They had these huge, delicious biscuits, and we enjoyed that warm biscuit buzz for the rest of the day. On a particularly good streak one winter, our father also bought us the Shirt Tales stuffed animals. The Shirt Tales became synonymous with biscuit mornings at Hardees, until an ex-boyfriend’s dog soiled that association by humping Pammy the panda.

The biscuits we bake now are sometimes a bit healthier, but OH MY! Butter on a biscuit is the ultimate breakfast pleasure. If Mumsly is rolling out the dough, it's probably wheat flour with a sprinkling of flax, sesame, and poppy seeds. I kind of have a thing for cheese grits too, but me and biscuits go way, way back. Pretty much every weekend these days starts with a frozen biscuit – the ones by Mary B’s or White Lily are actually quite good. I suppose now the supreme way to wake up is to a rainy day where I don’t have to be anywhere. But I still make sure to get my biscuits.

If Biscuits Played Instruments

Most of us find the homey, comforting associations of a lovely biscuit irresitible. Whether it's a cookie and a cup of tea in the U.K., or the flaky, buttery breakfast of Southerners, biscuits are universally adored. So much so that people might name their band after them.

If the Frisky Biscuit had a house band, there are at least three candidates based on their name alone. For the bluegrass fan, there is The Biscuit Burners. "Fiery Mountain Music", or biscuit gluttons honoring their favorite food? For the jam band junkies, The Disco Biscuits won't harsh your mellow. Meh. How about something a little more hardcore for the punky metal types - the Gorilla Biscuits? Something tells me Lady Buttercup won't approve.

None of these suit The Frisky Biscuit exactly (we're a bit more alternative over here), but the search continues.

Somebody’s Fool

When it comes to making sure the children stay in school and don’t do drugs, Mr. T is no fool. As far as celebrity causes go, Mr. T is so heartfelt and genuine that you don’t want to let him down. In the words of Mr. T, “You don’t have to be famous to get respect. You just have to be somebody”.

As soon as I saw that the Sentient Bean* was offering a viewing of Mr. T’s Be Somebody, or Be Somebody’s Fool, I knew I couldn’t miss it. Oh, yes. This was a delight beyond what I was expecting. If I told you Mr. T wore short shorts and Punky Brewster socks, you would watch for that alone, right? Plus, you get some embarrassingly awkward break dancing, raps about treating your mother right, and exercising with a bag of popcorn. Let’s not forget the fascinating presence of a pre-Black Eyed Peas Fergie and a pre-train wreck Bobby Brown. Also, music by Ice T!

Don’t find yourself in an “Absoludicrous” situation. You can “Recoup” by watching it on Google Video. Gather the kids around and get a glass of milk, because you don’t even need a cocktail for this to make you high.

* The Sentient Bean is the Savannah version of the Black White and Red Theater for all you Gilmore Girls fans.

The Biscuit Bullet

For your biscuit rations today, a little urban legend called the Biscuit Bullet. This one involves a can of biscuits exploding in a car and getting stuck to the back of a woman's head. She hears a bang, feels the impact of something, and mistakes the dough for her brains. I think the lesson here is to just not eat canned biscuits.

The Eurotrash Cousin

Fusion food – I’m on to you. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. If you were able to do one thing well, you wouldn’t have to invent yourself a distracting, sexy name. Preening for attention from well meaning and innocent diners, your flashy style masks your lack of substance.

Every time, it’s the same sneaky hustle. First you come on too strong with those sweet words promising luscious decadence. Full of potential and delight, a glance at what you offer starts off with words like “fresh king prawns” or “tender, juicy chicken”.

Then you make that inappropriate pass, a wrong turn towards Crazyville. A few minutes in and suddenly you’re all, “basted with a cilantro-fig-peppercorn chutney and accompanied with grilled beets. Served with a glass of buttermilk”. Sure, sometimes it’s the dill mayonnaise mashed potatoes, or the eggplant, avocado and raisin couscous. But I think you look ridiculous. Who decided you were such hot stuff?

Baseball Biscuits

Biscuits are soooo good, they even have a baseball team named after them: the Montgomery Biscuits. Check out that pat of butter for a tongue! I wonder if they serve biscuits at the games.