Saint Vladimir's House of Pizza Worship

So a lot of hateful people who were/are against gay marriage have used ridiculous arguments like, “if you let a man marry another man, pretty soon a man will want to marry a dog.”  Or, “next thing you know, people will want to practice bigamy!”  These arguments are the crazy rants of alarmists, of course.  However…in case there comes a time when a woman can be legally married to both a man AND a cheese, I have selected my betrothed:  Chiriboga Blue.  Because you know that old schoolyard taunt, “if you love it so much why don’t you marry it!”  Why don’t I?  Because of our stupid restrictive laws, that’s why!!

from cookinglight.com

This cheese is fantastic.  Amazing.  Norman surprised me with it after I suggested we have bread and cheese for dinner.  It was love at first bite.  Creamier than your average blue cheese, both in taste and texture.  Here’s a more detailed description, from cheese.com:  Chiriboga Blue is a Bavarian (German) artisanal cheese produced by an Ecuadorian cheesemaker, Arturo Chiriboga. His cow’s milk blue was modelled on Roquefort but tastes more creamy and buttery than the peppery, assertive French classic. The smooth, spreadable texture is dense, evocative of frozen custard. The ivory interior with very few blue-gray streaks of veining produces a very subtle flavour of sweet cream and grass perfect for cheese mongers who have just started with their journey of blue cheeses.

I think cheese.com might be written by someone in Europe.  Or someone pretentious, who spells the word ‘flavor’ wrong on purpose because they think it makes them look sophisticated.

Anyway, back to cheese.  Our local cheese shop at 44^th and France has a wide selection to choose from, and they are pushers.  Like a drug dealer giving you your first ‘bump’ for free to get you hooked*, the cheesemongers will practically shove bits of cheese at you until you HAVE TO try some.  And when you sample something like Chiriboga Blue, once you try it you BUY it.  Or your husband does, if you’re too lazy to go to the store because you’d rather sit on your ass watching another episode of Orange Is the New Black.

*Mom, I don’t know about this from personal experience.  Just from watching a lot of reruns of Law and Order.

A different kind of Rerun

In case anyone is worried that I’m some hoity-toity type when it comes to cheese, let me tell you about my love of Velveeta.  Oh, you glorious “cheese product.”  The very best thing for making a grilled cheese sandwich.  I grew up with it and was mad when my mother tried to introduce actual cheese into my diet.  I did eventually learn to enjoy a fine aged cheddar, a buffalo mozzerella, and so on, but I never lost my love for a giant rectangular block of Velveeta.  So trust me when I say that anyone would be able to enjoy Chiriboga Blue.  (“Blue!  You’re my boy, Blue!”  – Old School)

Posing with William Henry Harrison at the National Portrait Gallery  (just a painting of him, not his rotting corpse)

A while back I was visiting a friend whose son Sam was two years old.  This child was able to do something impressive – if you asked him, “Who was the 12^th President?” he’d reply “Zachary Taylor.”  He knew all the presidents by number!  It was really cute,  until I realized that I could only name the first, the 16^th, and then all the ones after JFK.  The 13^th or 27^th, though?  Not a fucking clue.  It was humbling to know that I was dumber than a toddler, but on the other hand I wasn’t sure Sam would be able to pass the bar exam.  (He would, though, be better than me at those math problems that begin, ‘A train leaves Buffalo at 6am going 58 miles per hour…’ Anyone on earth would be.)

 Feeling like a presidential idiot, I decided to learn my history.  I printed a list of our leaders from the internet, placed it by the side of my desk, then proceeded to diligently ignore it.   But a year later I spotted a set of presidential flashcards at the thrift shop for 99 cents.  It was kismet!  These would do the trick, because unlike the boring list I’d downloaded, the flashcards had pictures!

 I set a challenging, breakneck schedule of learning one president per day.  I learned about Washington, Adams, Jefferson…all was going as planned until I got to the president to end all presidents — well, to end my study of all presidents:  William Henry Harrison.  Our 9^th president, whose term lasted just 31 days.  O Harrison, my Harrison!  It was love at first sight. 

I tried sticking to the original plan, I did.  I dutifully moved on to the tenth flashcard the next  day,  John Tyler.  But he just didn’t do it for me.  Tyler, shmyler, who gives a shit?!  I couldn’t get William Henry off my mind. “Old Tippecanoe.”  His arresting gaze from the front of the flashcard, his aristocratic nose, his idiotic decision to give a 2-hour inaugural address in the rain, the pneumonia he caught due to his stupidity, and his untimely death one month later.  It’s just so fucking stupid!  How could I resist him?

 So I’ve given up on all those other guys and have started reading a biography of William Henry Harrison, or ‘Bill’ as I like to call him.  I realize I may never be able to list all the presidents in order, but I’ll be able to tell you more than you’d ever want to know about William Henry Harrison.  That is, if you’re dumb enough to ask.

Woot! Pizza will definitely be cookin’ today. See you later Alligators!

Ok, pizza lovers, I know that scattered thunderstorms are predicted during our worship service on the 5th, but the party shall go on! 11-2. SATURDAY. If you show up today (the 4th) you will immediately be put to work. That dog shit in the yard’s not going to just magically disappear…

We will be on the back screened porch for the party (NOT front) if it’s raining. Norman will still make pizzas, while hopefully dodging lightening bolts.

See you soon!

Pope Elise

Saturday July 5th. 11am – 2pm.

Hi everyone! Gorgeous day for a pizza party! Come over between 11 and 2, and don’t forget your checkbook- the silent auction will be strange and wondero-ful!!

A warning though – twerking is forbidden at this event. Don’t even think about backing that ass up!

So as you probably know, this is an awesome show. I’ve been watching the first couple of seasons on Netflix. Hilarious writing, great acting. That’s not what this post is about, but it reminded me of something.

We recently built a jungle gym for the House of Pizza Worship’s east chapel, aka the backyard. Norman has been really getting into Crossfit and the jungle gym functions as a pull up station, place to do rope climbs, etc. Because Norman is a masochistic kind of a guy.

So I got to thinking tonight, after a few glasses of wine, that I should try to do a chin-up. This is still in the planning stage, mind you, because I’m exceedingly lazy. What I was wondering is: if I strain too hard (unlikely, but hear me out), is it possible that I could rip my arms off?

Please opine. Thanks!

OK, everyone- I managed to do everything on my “to-do” list except cleaning the house. Pizza vs. a neat house that we’re not even going to be in. Seems like a no-brainer to me.

See you all soon!

So as all of our acolytes residing in Eden* know, we had a huge storm exactly one week ago. The winds blew our giant old ash tree down – right on top of the pizza oven. Luckily St. Vladimir’s taint shone upon us and the only damage was to the chimney (praise be to his sacred pizza heart!). Trouble is, the damaged chimney was heavily mortared into the body of the oven. Waah wah.

Today, the intrepid Keeper Of The Flame (aka Norman) spent hours using a variety of tools –chisel, air chisel (nothing like an air guitar), hammer, sledgehammer– trying to rid our pristine pizza alter of its mangled chimney. His valiant efforts paid off and we now have a hobbled but chimney-free oven. I cheered him on silently from the sidelines with a whiskey-&-diet-coke at the ready, and by at the ready, I mean that I was drinking it. Ok, them. Whatever!

Anyways….with all we’ve been through on our pizza oven journey these last 2 years, I estimate that the average cost per pizza produced is about $97. But the memories? Priceless! Pizza brings people together, and that’s what it’s all about.**

*Minneapolis. It’s one of the 5 days a year when it’s sunny and 80 degrees!

** Yes, I do intend this as a legal challenge to the writer of the Hokey Pokey.

As you probably know, I watch a shitload of TV. But while I’m watching my shows, I’m often crafting. Because idle hands are the Devil’s workshop. I started thinking about this saying the other day. I mean, I like the fact that I can catch up on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart and make fake leaves out of duct tape at the same time. It makes me feel productive and less like a pop-culture-guzzling sloth. But is that really what this adage is about?

I think what it’s really about is masturbation. If one is not, say, making fake leaves out of duct tape, one will naturally masturbate the day away. Come on, you know that if you weren’t petting your dog or cat, washing the dishes, or writing a thank-you note to your grandma for that birthday check, you’d be masturbating.*

Since one of my goals in life is to promote critical thinking, I implore you to consider other sayings and try to figure out what they are truly trying to teach us. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the Bush” – is this a commentary about the two George Bushes? Or a suggestion that it might be time to, uh, trim up a bit down there to keep birds from nesting, in the event that you suddenly find yourself stranded at a nudist colony?

Something tells me this post won’t become the next Ethics Column in my company’s monthly newsletter.

*I’m talking to my male readers here.