Dominofish

Hello Internet! There is much to report and little time to report it. So I'll just do a quick update and maybe actually post pictures (I know, don't let your mouse slip from shock) later. This past weekend we went up to Vermont to camp/hike/raft/taste cheese and maple syrup/soak up the stars/etc. We were in church on Sunday (we drove in to this teensy town - literally, one stoplight that went to flashing at night, and one restaurant of which we were aware - on Friday night and not 3 minutes from our campsite was a church building) and a woman gave a fantastic talk. At one point, however, both Dan & I thought she said domino fish. If not for him, I'd probably still think that, but he managed to determine that she had said "dumb and oafish."

Dan then proceeded to lean over to my notebook and draw pictures of the "Pescadis Dominonis." There was "Pescadis Dominonis Solitarium" and "Pescadis Dominonis Pentagonum," etc. It was rather wonderful.

Then today, in response to the dictionary.com word of the day (which we both receive, shut up you know you have your vices too):

Dictionary.com: comestible: suitable to be eaten.
Dan: ex: Even though many species of the dominofish (pescadis dominonis) are highly comestible, their rarity values them such that their protection of personal property and life is assured.

To the world, and whomever else this may concern,

I have in fact read all of The Sorcerer's Stone and loved it, even more than I expected to love it. Thank you for not throwing soft projectiles at me, as I was never even aware that the items to which I devoted my attention (courtship, school, church callings, starting this company, working for two additional employers, etc.) were cause for reprehension. Now my only concern is that I still make enough time for all of those things now that I have discovered for myself the wonders of Harry Potter. Good thing that at least courtship and Harry Potter are not mutually exclusive (but are, rather, "co-requisites", at least in my case).

Sincerely,
The world's newest Harry Potter fan
Daniel Harbuck

p.s. How in the world could anyone successfully translate the nuances of those books to any language other than English? That would require a gift indeed. . .

Trip!

Tomorrow at 6am, Dan & I are heading off to California for a wedding. I'm super excited because a) I love weddings, b) we get to stay with/see several of my cousins and their kids, c) it's in California, and d) Dan & I get to travel together. It's kinda sad, actually, how much I enjoy traveling together. Perhaps because it's somewhat rare that something else isn't vying for our attention (laundry, dishes, cooking, friends, callings, see here). We're all geared up with Pimsleur language training CDs (Dan stopped by the library the other day and picked up, I am not even kidding, FOUR of them: Spanish, Russian, Italian, and Farsi...no joke), movies, and HARRY POTTER!!!

It's true; I married a person who had never before read Harry Potter. Worse, he HAD seen the movies. I know, I know, it's reprehensible - please refrain from judging me, I've done my best, okay? You can throw something at him, but please limit projectiles to soft ones. And he really is making an effort now, and is not one of those who has a bias against it or anything, so that should count for something.

In any case, I am SO EXCITED for us to finally read it together. For those of you who don't know, I happen to think Harry Potter is some of the most engaging, thought-provoking, clever children's literature ever created, and competitive with much adult literature. Plus, it's just so dang fun. And I happen to abhor the movies. Yes, even the fourth one. Yes, even after not comparing them to the books. Sorry.

Plus, I first new I wanted to marry Dan on a plane. :)

Worth the Wait

For once, the cookies are actually better than the dough.

Holy heavens alive. These cookies are. so. good. I mean, they are beyond good. They are terrifically, astoundingly fantastic. I know, I know - you're thinking, "They're just chocolate chip cookies. I've had dozens, even hundreds of chocolate chip cookies." Oh, how even the thought of those words makes my heart hurt. It pains me that you might brush these cookies aside thinking they're like all the rest. Because they're just that delightful.

When Dan got home from EQ meetings last night, I asked him to try one, trepidation written across my face. "I'm scared to let you try them." He bit in somewhat hesitantly, soon exclaiming, "WHY?" I was quite justifiably worried that he wouldn't let me take them with me to my work picnic.

I woke up thinking about how I wanted to eat one. Dan almost didn't let me walk out the door with them. He made me promise on the phone ten minutes later that we would make them soon (aka tonight). I just can't say enough about these cookies. Just keep the butter cold. And use sea salt (heck, you could even go wild and sprinkle a teensy amount on top of each cookie). And if you really want to live on the edge, throw in a bit of coconut.

Indications that Preethi is OCD, aka Crazy

10. My closet is organized by category (e.g. short-sleeved casual shirts, long-sleeved, casual shirts, button down shirts, short-sleeved sweaters, etc. etc.), and by color within category.

9. I am a compulsive list-maker. I make them for everything - grocery lists, movies-to-watch lists, songs-to-download-from-iTunes lists, places-we-want-to-visit lists, recipe lists...my favorite, however, is the CONSOLIDATION LIST! I love making lists of lists.

8. All of our books and movies are ordered by genre and author and/or title.

7. It stresses me out if plans get changed last minute.

6. When cutting my nails, I absolutely must make sure they are perfectly even and rounded, without any points sticking out along the edge of the nail.

5. The other day when someone put the Parmesan cheese on a refrigerator shelf instead of in the door, I had to move it.

4. I pick up every single hair from the bathroom floor.

3. Each pot and pan gets replaced to a certain spot on the rack.

2. I feel the need to give the kitchen floor a quick sweep most nights just to gather any stray crumbs.

1. I alphebetize our spices.

Thank you for still being my friend. Particular thanks go to Dan for willingly being married to me.

In other news, we've had several visitors of late, particularly of the sisterly variety. Two weekends ago saw the arrival of Priya, and it was glorious in its relaxation and food consumption. This past weekend, Liz and her friend Spencer were here. We shopped and cute new clothes were purchased. We went up to NYC on Saturday and were submerged in Indian-ness (Indian food, Indian temple workers...). It was great fun to see a number of old friends. There was also more cooking.

Off to another week.

Phobic

I'm not scared of many things. In fact, I like the dark (I especially love driving at night) and love thunder/lightning. I dislike bugs and think they can be gross, but I'm typically fine killing them on my own if need be (unless it's a cockroach, in which case the demolition of it falls into the category of Things My Husband Must Be Willing To Do). I may get a teensy bit nervous when I have to speak in public, but never scared. Admittedly, I do have slight skunderphobia*, but what girl doesn't?
(*When I first started working, I had my training in Minneapolis along with about 35 other new hires in my division. We had to come up with lists of fears we had regarding entering the working world. One table came up with "skunderphobia" - a fear of one's skirt getting tucked into one's underwear after using the restroom without one noticing. This was a table of all girls.)

I've recently decided, however, that I have a fear of blenders. (Sadly, I was unable to determine a specific name for this illness, even after much googlage; surprising, considering there is even an official name for a fear of buttons: koumpounophobia.) Wait - let me amend that; I have a fear of having to clean blenders. Don’t get me wrong - it's not because of the sharp blade (I'm perfectly fine regularly using my uber-sharp Cutco knives, even after gashing my finger wide open while cutting an avocado) or anything similarly rational. It's mostly because it's heavy and unweildy to clean. I dislike having to lift it into the sink, tip it while cleaning so water doesn't accumulate, and, most of all, I don't like removing the blade and reattaching it when I'm done. Again, not because it's sharp, but because you have to screw it on really tightly (there's even a contraption that comes with it to help unscrew, but you can't use it to tighten), so it makes it really difficult to remove and replace. Good thing Dan is nice and cleans the blender in return for roasted butternut squash and onion tart, corn chowder, avocado shakes, and peach/mascarpone/gingersnap tart.

Mondays: Like ships on the horizon

As the relentless march of time advances, another Monday at work has come and gone for the whole of us. As I sit in my state of blogger idleness (idle bloggerness?) I assure you that what I lack in contribution to the blog I make up for in something else. Then I see all that my wife does AND still finds away to leave her delicate footprint on the sands at the edge of the blogosphere and, frankly, I just have yet to discern what that something else that I do is.

In which stilled danandpreethi blog waters shall I dabble my toes? Perhaps I'll start in relation to my lovely wife's post of earlier this morning.

Why do I love Mondays? Well, mostly because its the freshest day of the week - after the weekend's activities and spiritual renewal, there's always a little bit more spring to be sprung in the step. Again, we can return to our daily labors and have until the weekend to complete those tasks, rather than the Friday afternoon crunch I often feel. That's not to say, of course, that I would in any way prefer Monday to a weekend.

Earlier in my growing up days, I became quite familiar with the monster that ended the summer. Every time we began to return to Salt Lake City on our summer family 10,000 mile road-trips, a sinking feeling entered my stomach and swallowed my esophagus with the epiphany that the sun was beginning to set on that summer. And so it was, summer after summer. But with each sinking, there was hope and vivid imaginings of where the road would take us the following summer, indeed, a whole school year of dreaming.

So may it ever be with Mondays - mellowed by the acceptance of another weekend passed, but vibrant with the hope of another weekend to come (and that, with a beautiful wife), indeed, with every man's dreams on board.