Heart Attack Grill. . . not for the wimpy. . .

Apparently there's a bit of a secret they are keeping deep in the bowels of Arizona. And it isn't more air-conditioning.

Oh no! It's definitely diabolical if you are concerned about keeping some semblance of nutritional health. (but I'm told it's MIGHTY tasty)

If you don't mind a few clogged arteries and a bit of a seizing of the heart--just watch this youtube video and enter the fattening and oh, so yummy world of the 'Heart Attack Grill'

You can order a 'quadruple bypass burger' that's only a bit over 8,000 calories with a side of all you can eat 'flatliner fries' (medics on standby and priests offering last rites after the meal are optional)

You might not live through the experience--but I'm told it's a 'meal to die for'. . .

Fabulous Fall. . . Freezing Weather. . . and Polish Sausage, anyone?

OK. . . I know that title is wildly random and would capture even the slightest intrigued person to peruse through the post. . . so I hope not to disappoint.

But since I really didn't want to use the 'Odds 'N Ends' Part 3' as my post title-- because. . . well, at this point it would be so cliche. . . and since I have just a tad more random stuff to catch up on--I thought I'd put them all in the same title.

That way--if you are looking for info about autumn or winter weather or polish sausage--I've got all bases covered.

Now then---we'll start with Fall:

Fall is my most favorite time of year. I love the cooler weather, the changing color of the leaves, the back to school for the kids, football games, and of course--those fun caloric holidays that fall always brings: Halloween and Thanksgiving. . .



This year, for Halloween, my daughter outdid herself finding clever costumes for my grandsons. They went as giraffes--BOTH of them! And I am pretty certain you could not find two cuter giraffes on the planet.






Although Max was not too sure about this 'going up to stranger's houses thing'--He DID enjoy seeing candy put into his little pumpkin.

And Sam, of course, was a natural at smiling with those big baby blue giraffe eyes and saying the expected 'Trick Or Treat' at each and every home. He always gave the customary 'thanks' afterward as well. (although, he'd still gaze up at you with those big wide eyes--which seemed to plead: 'Please sir, can I have some more?') Needless to say--they got a TON of candy this year and did quite well for themselves.

Next on the list is WINTER. And oh my--as of this posting we are right in the middle of our first major snowstorm--which has the kids really happy because the schools are all closed. . . and many folks are happy too because some businesses are shut down. . . so of course we have taken advantage of this opportunity to go sledding with the kids, walking, traipsing and tripping through the ice and snow, putting chains on our car and driving around just for the sheer excitement of it (and to see who else enough is foolish enough to go out in this weather) and other dumb stuff. . .






Before the 'arctic freeze' set in--and while it was only cold, and rainy and miserable (without the snow and ice yet) we went and checked out the 'Holiday Express' with dear daughter and her family:





The little grandsons were REALLY excited to be on a train--ANY kind of train--never mind how old or decrepit it was:



I would post pictures of the rest of the family--but they don't show the same enthusiasm as the grandkids. . . however I did manage to snap a photo of my daughter and her husband when they were looking somewhat pleasant:



The highlight of the trip was when Santa came to visit and passed out candy canes to the kids and sang with them. Sam was heard to exclaim (after receiving his candy cane from Santa): 'My GOSH! These are bigger than the church ones we got. These are the kind I like, baby!'



Now for the 3rd and final thing I wanted to post about: POLISH SAUSAGE!



I know what some of you are thinking--what does polish sausage have to do with anything, and why would anyone post about it?

To answer the first question--Nothing! To answer the second question--Because I actually had a great time eating it, that's why!

Here's the scoop:

A couple of months back, dear hubby and I went with some friends to this little spot in downtown Portland called: 'Grandpa's Cafe And Polish Deli' because these friends had been to the Polish Festival on several occasions and tried out this cafe and deemed it: 'Good and cheap eats' and that was enough to get dear hubby motivated in this slumped economy.

Amazingly it did not disappoint! This place served authentic polish cuisine with such items as:

Pierogi (dumplings)
Golabki (stuffed cabbage rolls)
Kielbasa I Bigos (sausage and hunter's stew)
Nalesniki (crepes)
Placki (potato pancakes)
Flaki (tripe soup)
Chrusciki (angel wings)

And the stuff was GOOD! And PLENTIFUL! And yes, CHEAP! The most expensive thing on the menu was 6 bucks!

Grandpa's Cafe sells also meats, kielbasa, over 100 products from Poland, and about 15 different kinds of Polish beer:



The place is not much to look at--it sits underneath an old dance hall and library--but the atmosphere is warm and friendly--and the food is very good.

It was one of those unexpected surprises and if you are in the Portland area--you gotta try it out at least once. Oh--grandpa is nearly retired now, so it's only open when he's working--which is Friday nights and Sunday afternoons. . . otherwise he's napping or resting or gone fishing. . .

Let Them Eat Cake!

Well. . . this story will answer the question once and for all, if you are a true 'germ-a-phobe' or not. In addition, it will also answer the question of just how far you are willing to go to appease your friends.

Let me explain. . .

Wasn't it stated by Marie-Antoinette, the Queen consort of Louis XVI, to 'LET THEM EAT CAKE'? For the sake of argument. . . let us say this story is absolutely true.

The same statement was also said this past Saturday night at a birthday-barbecue I attended with dear hubby at the home of some friends. However, the 'cake' in question is what we ended up having an issue with--and much like the peasants in the mid 1700s, protested quite vehemently about.

Here's the scoop. . .

The party was one of those friend of a friend affairs--with more friends of other friends that you didn't necessarily know arriving. So dear hubby and I already had our 'best behavior' caps on--as well as warning signals on high alert just in case something needed to be salvaged or stopped. (all in the name of helping our friends, of course!)

The party was going swimmingly--everyone was admiring the new big screen TV that our friends had just purchased and making the appropriate ohhs and ahhs as each high-def channel was clicked on.

Then the table was loaded with good food and everyone began eating and talking and having a grand ole' time. No mishaps, no one set themself on fire using the backyard grill, no spills of drink, or inappropriate table topics were discussed. So far, so good.

In fact--this was looking more and more like your run-of-the-mill dinner party. Ahhh. . . . but just wait--it gets better. . . .

Finally the Piece-de-resistance was brought out to the table. . . The CAKE! (in honor of the birthday person, of course)













Without mentioning his actual age (just in case he somehow finds this blog post) we'll say that there were more than 30 candles on the cake--so it took some hefty huffing and puffing for this guy to get all the candles blown out. . . and the 'puffing' was being quite evenly distributed over the top of the cake.

Dear hubby looked over at me and whispered that we may not want to partake of the 'said cake' since there were quite a few 'puffs' being blown all over it that may have contained more than just 'air'. . .

Well, I was about to agree, when the next event completely cinched it for me. The host's youngest son was leaning over the cake watching the candle blowing, when a GINORMOUS SNEEZE erupted from his mouth and nose and completely covered the cake!

My good friend, who had the serving knife in hand--and not phased in the least said: "Alright, who's ready for some cake??!!"

Dear hubby and I spoke in unison: Thanks, we'll pass. . .

Good friend, cutting cake: 'No problem. Come on, people, get your plates up here--it's extra moist!'

Amazingly everyone at the table had a slice--even the new people who didn't even KNOW the host and hostess but were party-crashing as they were only friends of the friends' friends. (The exception being dear hubby and I--apparently the only two 'germ-a-phobes' in the room)

Everyone admitted it was the most disgusting thing they had ever seen--everyone laughed about it--but the amazing part was--everyone ATE IT!

I truly like my friends--I even like THEIR friends (and the friends of those friends) But I found out just where I draw the line. I cannot bring myself to eat food that has been showered with bodily fluids. . . even if I really like you. . . I guess I deep down, I really don't like you THAT much!

And just for the record---I'm swearing off cake for the time being!

An evening with Grace. . . .

OK! Here it is. . . my little

RANT

about customer service in this day and age (or the lack thereof)

Take for instance my little dining experience with dear hubby and another couple this past Friday night. . .

We go to a restaurant that we haven't tried before and upon pulling in the parking lot notice very few cars there. (That right THERE should have been a warning)

This was supposedly a 'classier' establishment--but we notice upon entering no host or hostess to great us--just a very disheveled, morbidly obese waitress by the name of 'Grace' who finally stumbles up to us and seats us in a booth right between the only other 2 booths that were occupied in the entire place!

There was an ENTIRE EMPTY RESTAURANT before us--but we manage to be sandwiched in between the only other booths that had people in them! My husband cleverly notices these booths were by an open window--so that drivers going by would see all 3 booths filled up and figure that 'Man! That place is hopping! Just look at all those people in there!' (Come to think of it--that's what drew us in in the first place. We drove by that window and saw that 'most' of the tables seemed filled)

My observation at this point was that Grace was a woman of convenience. She didn't want to have to traverse the entire room--so she sat us all down in the same area where she wouldn't have to walk more than 6 feet at any given time. . . Add to the fact that she didn't need to explain about the 'today's specials' since they were cleverly stained all over her uniform from delving into them in the back. Grace was sort of an enigma--as her persona did not fit the name she was given at birth. . .

Grace dutifully passes out the menus and promptly tells us that there has been an 'altercation with the menus' and some of the food choices are no longer available. (At this point, I was wondering if there was any fighting going on in the kitchen or something) She also asks us if we are 'implants' or originally from around these parts. (I was checking my blouse to make sure that everything was buttoned up properly) when she stated that she firmly believed in reintarnation. (which, I suspect is coming back to life as a hillbilly)

She also called her boss an 'ignoranus'--which I'm assuming is a person who's both stupid and a bit of a jack-donkey. . .

It then dawned upon all of us that we were not dealing with a Mensa scholar and so must adjust our actions and responses accordingly. . .

Since there were four of us and we had come as couples and I was sitting next to my husband and my friend was sitting across from us with HER husband---we politely asked Grace if she could do separate checks for us. This turned out to be more than her poor brain could handle as during the rest of the meal she kept coming back and asking who went with whom and whose bill she should put each item on that was delivered to our table. (Never mind the fact that we pointed out to her in the beginning how we wanted the checks divided. AND we were sitting right next to our spouses, for Heaven's sake! AND when my friend was leaning on her hubby's chest, holding his hand and cooing to him through the meal--Grace came back and asked her: "Who are you with again?" So, in exasperation she pointed to the guy in the booth behind her)

When we finally got our meals delivered and straightened out since EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM were delivered to the wrong person. . . My friend's hubby asked for some ketchup. The crestfallen look of our waitress, Grace, was a sight to behold. She shuffled 3 steps over to the booth behind us and asked the good folks there if they were done with their ketchup because 'these people' at the booth next to them wanted it. Then she just grabbed it and brought it back to our table and plopped it down!

We were pretty amazed to find out that they apparently must have had only one bottle of ketchup as we spared Grace any further discomfort and passed it along to the booth in front of us when we were through. . .

When Grace wandered back in halfway through the meal to see if there was 'anything else we wanted', we could tell by the look on her face that she was PRAYING no one would need anything. But doggone it! We were given these 4 teensy tiny dinner rolls that were so small the pat of butter that accompanied them was actually bigger than the roll. And they were GOOD! And I wanted more. (so did everyone else--but they were too afraid to say anything to Grace)

So summoning up all my courage and in my nicest most cheery voice, I asked if we could please have some more dinner rolls. . . Grace was not a happy camper. That meant that she would have to go back to the kitchen instead of collapsing in her cot in the corner as she had the habit of doing during our meal.

She came out quite a bit later with TWO TINY ROLLS in this giant basket and placed them in reverence at the end of the table and had the gall to say: 'Please tell me that this is enough and that you don't need anymore because if you do, I will have to go back and get more and I am tired of being woken up when I'm working.'

Let's see--there were FOUR of us--we all wanted rolls--even a single roll wouldn't be enough to feed ONE because of the minuscule size--at this point I just didn't care if I was in the 'Bozone Layer' or not. Bozone meaning the substance surrounding stupid people, that stops bright ideas from penetrating. . . With Grace, the Bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

So I speak up. 'It is NOT enough. We want more rolls. Please! Enough for all FOUR of us.'

I have no idea what went through Grace's uncanny mind at that point--but as she shuffled off into the distance, I wondered if we would ever see her again.

Actually she came back in a half hour to bring us an ENTIRE GIANT BASKET with LOAVES of bread, which could have rivaled the feeding of the 5,000! We stared in amazement and didn't say anything--but managed to dive right in--and I knew better than to ask for any more butter to go along with it.

The evening went along fairly well and even though we would have liked to try some dessert--when Grace appeared by crawling on all fours and pulling herself up to her chin to reach the end of the table and TOLD us we were full and couldn't possibly want anything else. . .we took pity on her and agreed.

She left the checks, which had to be figured out by the help of our new friends at the 2 other booths, paid our bills, tucked Grace in her cot, told her goodnight and left. . .

Needless to say--we will NEVER go back to that restaurant again--and I'm sure Grace will not mind a bit. . .

The art of the 'One-Up'

OK. . . here we go again. Tales from my life which can be words of caution to many of you out there in blogger-land. . .(OK--maybe not many--but at least the 3 or 4 souls who read my blog!)

If you don't know the art of women-talk and the 'one-upping' that goes on in many polite women's conversations---well, then. . . you just don't know women. Let me explain how you must be prepared and able to perform this artful, yet necessary form of conversation if you are to be accepted by ANY group of women on the planet. . .

Here is an example RIPPED from the pages of my own life for your perusal, study and enjoyment. (Note: This is a CAUTIONARY TALE and must be read and studied with great care if you are to fathom what the heck is going on here!)

Last week I went out with my gal pals to an Italian restaurant for our yearly 'Christmas Get-Together' where we mainly pick a place to eat and gab and then exchange gifts of candles, chocolates, or chocolate-covered candles.

No sooner had we begun digging into the food and drink when the merry mayhem of 'one-upping' began. Here is what went down verbatim---and may you learn from this conversation which has been painstakingly recorded for you here:

Gal pal #1: Did you know that a hoard of squirrels got into our attic and chewed through our electrical wiring and we had to call the animal control people to come get them and 're-locate' them? It was horrible!

(I must explain here that we live in the Northwest where these kinds of critters are revered and honored and so they would not be outright killed by 'animal control folks'. Instead they are quarantined, until they learn to fill out the necessary forms and then put BACK where they were captured from--only THIS time they are actually documented)

Gal pal #2: That's nothing. My son carries a pet python around his neck. He even takes it shopping with him--as the snake has extremely good taste and was very helpful in picking out new curtains for his apartment. He says it's a 'chick magnet' and was able to land a wife in very short order. (However the snake never recovered after they removed the girl from it's clutches--so they ended up settling on a dog when they set up house together)

Gal pal #3: Well MY daughter and son in law went camping in the Utah wilderness and had several mountain lions invade their campsite while they were asleep in their tent. It was awful--the lions took over their picnic table and set up their own card game, put out the campfire and used their own propane grill they brought with them, and then had the audacity to poke their heads in the tent and ask if they had any extra batteries as they couldn't get any of the flashlights lying around to work.

Luckily my son in law was 'Johnny-On-The-Spot' and had his cell phone with him and called his sister who was camping with her family just a short distance away--and she came with her trailer--backed right up to the tent--and my daughter and son in law crawled out of their tent and into the back of their trailer, just in the nick of time! These mountain lions had brought some acoustic guitars with them and were just setting up to sing a round of Kumbaya. What a nightmare!

Gal pal #4: That's NOTHING! We were camping just a few years back when we were awakened to the sound of our dear little 2 year old daughter screaming: "Go away, bad doggies! Get BACK! Bad doggies! Go AWAY!"

We stumbled out of our tent to see our beloved 2 year old girl fighting off 10 coyotes with a small twig she found from the bush we set up her tent next to. We would have intervened to help--but you have never been around her when she's angry or upset--and it's NOT a pretty sight. She was holding her own pretty good and scared them so badly--that the ones that didn't just drop dead on the spot from shock will need therapy for years.

Gal pal #5: Well, we have a bunch of feral cats that run across our property and they have grown tired of mice and small rodents. (or perhaps they have gotten them all) They used to lay small birds, and mice on our doorstep at night, just to show us what they had done and how they had taken care of our problems. But now when we come out on our porch in the morning, we find all kinds of things! We found a stray pizza delivery guy laying there once, the Avon lady--and even a milkman! And we don't even drink milk!

Gal pal #4: (she just can't HELP herself--she is not about to be outdone) Well--my dear hubby takes the CAKE, ladies. I came home from an exhausting game of Bingo one night to find him pretty smug and sure of himself. He was so proud and cocky and just CROWING with delight--cuz he bagged a MOUSE right in our HOUSE! All by himself! With a cast iron skillet, no less! He was gonna bring out the shot gun--but he decided that he would give the critter a sporting chance and use a 'smaller' weapon.

He had left it for me under the kitchen sink--right where he 'smashed' it and wanted me to see it before he mounted the head in the family room. I mean the 'rack' on this critter had to be at least 3 inches between it's little ears! He was practically CRYING he was so excited about it.

So I obligingly go take a look at the 'mouse' my husband managed to kill and just looked at him and said: 'Great, dear hubby! You have just killed your dear daughter's hamster!' (We had been looking for that thing for weeks since it got out of it's cage and figured it had gone out into the great outdoors and suffered some horrible death out there in the 'wilderness') But instead it had managed to live indoors and suffered a horrible death at the hands of my husband--who was wondering why it didn't move when he opened up the cupboard under the kitchen sink to throw something away and saw the little thing (WITH NO TAIL) staring up at him on its hind legs with its big brown eyes and sort of chittering a happy 'You found me! You found me!'

That's when dear hubby did the only sensible thing he could think of at the time--grab the cast iron skillet off the stove and plotz the darn thing into the next world!

All gal pals stare in complete silence and utter consternation as THIS story cannot be 'one-upped' They all turn to me as it was MY turn to give my own 'animal tale' and anti up.

Me: Uh. . . I fold. . . as I don't have a darn thing to say. Besides. . . dessert's here!

Oh. . . the SHAME OF IT! I came home and actually asked my husband if he could take me to an alligator farm to get a pet--or at least take me camping in some forsaken part of the world that is only inhabited by lions, tigers, and bears--oh my!

Until then, I am frantically searching the internet for good animal/pet stories and committing them to memory so I will be TOTALLY PREPARED for the 'one-up' party next year!

(Unless, of course, they pick a new subject!)