Rain, Plants, Demolition and Health

Here in North Raleigh, we've gotten at least nine inches of rain in the last week and a half. That's in the neighborhood of what my former home of San Diego gets in a whole year. There was some flooding (a nearby mall's parking deck still has expanses of mud in it), and I think a record was set. It's summertime, too, so it's a humid, hellish sauna. The plants in our yard love it. Life is exploding everywhere (including insect life), and my herbs have been flourishing. Even my sluggish parsley is starting to pick up the pace. My wife is in charge of the plants that look nice, and she has turned the back yard into a lush garden (it used to be a vast, copperhead-harboring expanse of English ivy). Her parents helped us quite a bit this last weekend. They pulled weeds, bought me an extension ladder (I don't know how I've been a homeowner this long without one) and her father helped me with a bathroom demolition project.

It should be clarified that this is the first real work my father-in-law has done in six months. He had been feeling like shit for a year or so. Fast-forward two family doctors, an endocrinologist, a parathyroidectomy and a laparoscopic kidney procedure, and I can't keep up with him. He pulled weeds, cut down a tree, cleaned gutters and ripped out a third of the heretofore indestructible bathroom tile standing in the way of a remodel. The dust and noise created by a diamond circular saw blade is incredible. You could say I'm spoiled rotten, but I tried to do some of the work myself. I really did. But he just kept going. He's a home improvement machine, you see. Kind of like a great white shark is an eating machine. It's just what he does. Millions of years of evolution have given rise to his unique species, and men who pay to have things fixed are forgotten. I hope he gets some use out of the industrial strength grill brush I made for him for Father's Day. It's actually a brass pizza oven brush from the restaurant supply store with a handle attached. We got him Travel Scrabble, too. He's tough to shop for; he's one of those rare people who aren't particularly materialistic and has everything he needs. At least he likes the way I cook skirt steak.

Here are some pearls of wisdom from this past weekend:
1)North Carolina is not a desert.
2)Properly installed bathroom tile does not want to move.
3)Pay close attention to the elevation above sea level of the house you buy. We got lucky, and ours did not float away.
4)Pay the extra money for quality in-laws when you're at the dealership. It's worth it.

Hurricanes Got the Cup, Y'all!

 

Yes, indeedy. This is the first major league professional sports title to be won by a North Carolina team. 

I got the pic from the Raleigh News & Observer website.

The Wedding in Jamaica

The ceremony took place on top of a seaside cliff at the resort, officiated by a Jamaican minister:


The afternoon was overcast, but a glorious sunset broke through right at the end. A great shot of a very handsome wedding couple, I think:


The reception, with all its eating, drinking, dancing and jubilant noise took place in the resort's restaurant:


Part of the celebration was a box of Cuban cigars. Here's a slightly blurry shot of me enjoying an excellent Cohiba and a bit of rum. It was an excellent cigar. Stupid embargo.

Herb & Cheese Filled Bread

I baked a braided loaf of bread. It has white and whole wheat flours with rosemary in the dough, and the center of each braid strand contains a vein of cheese, thyme and rosemary.
  

I sprinkled some Trader Joe's Hawaiian Red Sea Salt on top:
  

I baked it for a potluck at work. Fresh baked goods always earn some points from the crowd.

A Fine Little Corner of the World

(listening to "Wild Hearted Son" by the Cult)
We stayed at The Rock House in Negril, on the western tip of Jamaica.

  

This is the view from our breakfast table at the resort's restaurant:

And this little bridge view is a short stroll away:

This banana tree is in front of one of the cabanas:


This little grotto is literally underneath where we often sat for our meals at the restaurant. The ladder makes it easy to go for a dip in the warm, salty, unbelievably clear water. I wished I had an underwater camera; the snorkeling was great.


Here are Lindz's toes. I have provided the Caribbean Sea in the background for size comparison. Lindz's feet are smaller. This is where we spent many a happy hour reading and drinking.

Arrival in Jamaica

Lindz and I just went to Jamaica to attend the wedding of a friend of hers. We sort of declared it our own honeymoon as well. Here's a few tidbits from Day 1.

That's Cuba down there, as seen from a comfortable, first-class seat on an Airbus A320 EOW. The nice flight attendant gave me Scotch on the rocks and little shortbread cookies. A wise man once said, "It is better to go first class than to arrive." Lindz's folks helped us out with the plane tickets (they have enough miles saved up to go to Pluto).

After braving the skies above the menacing Tropical Island of Communists, we landed in Jamaica and spent an hour or so in the customs line with legions of fat, ugly Americans. I don't include my wife and myself with the fat, ugly Americans because she is slender and good-looking. I am married to her, therefore I am svelte-in-law. We finally made it to our tour company and headed for the resort.
Here we are, crawling through Montego Bay traffic with our driver, Hennis, at the wheel of the Toyota HiAce van:

Although it's difficult to make out, I zoomed in on Hennis's false teeth. Had he put them in his mouth instead of the dashboard, I might have understood his heavily accented descriptions of towns and natural features:

Jamaica is a lush, beautiful place. We drove for about an hour and a half from Montego Bay to Negril on a road that followed the coast.

We arrived at the resort and inhaled some tasty coconut shrimp and conch fritters. The first item on our agenda was a "Welcome Cruise." After some logistics, waiting, sweating, bus riding, waiting, sweating and paying, we got on the boat and started drinking. It rained at first, but a gloriously clear evening ensued.
Here are some locals in a boat. I believe they were trying to sell something to the folks on a nearby catamaran.

A woman who resembled Brigitte Nielsen was quite naked on said catamaran:
  
After everyone on our boat was suitably full of rum punch and beer, the captain and crew pulled up close to shore and offered everyone the opportunity to swim to shore and jump 40 feet or so into this cove:
   I did not partake, but I was told that if one jumped inexpertly, one would undergo a thrillingly painful seawater enema.
This is the sunset that we enjoyed near the end of the booze cruise. By this time, I had already endeared myself to the company that brews Red Stripe.

Lindz and I got off the bus at our resort, had a tasty dinner at the restaurant, and went to bed. A day of uninterrupted travel, drinking and swimming really takes it out of you.