It's worth it just to see the Fonz...

...even though he's 30 years older. I admit, I had a shameless crush on Fonzie when I was a kid, a girl just can't resist the leather.

WARNING: This is a celebrity endorsement for Obama, so if you have McCain tendencies but loved the Fonz, I just want you to be warned.

See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die

Time travel suspended in Cyclades Islands

From Kathimerini:

The islands of the Cyclades will be left without the ferry service that usually connects them from tomorrow as the vessel plying that route has been deemed unseaworthy.

I don't know about you, but I'd hate to lose my connection to or from tomorrow.

School spirit

All eyes are on my hometown and my alma mater tonight as the second U.S. Presidential debate is being held at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee. I don’t think there is a “redder” state than Tennessee, so Obama will have his work cut out for him (even Al Gore, a Tennessee boy, didn’t win his hometown state), but things don’t seem to be going too well for McCain at the moment so maybe we’ll see the state turn a nice shade of purple. Not that I am a die hard Obama girl, but I call myself a Democrat, so I better vote like one.

Politics aside, this will the first presidential debate that will undoubtedly make me homesick, as I see photos of the University campus I loved so much (and hardly recognize anymore, what with all the new buildings). The Belmont I left wasn’t even close to having the capacity to hold such a thing as a Presidential debate, so I can’t help but feel a tinge of pride at how far my school has come (in your face, David Lipscomb!*).

In the meantime, my absentee ballot arrived in the mail last week, so it is good to know that Davidson County Election Commission has their ducks in a row. As usual, there are a slew of unknown Independent candidates (including Nader, but I miss seeing good ol’ Lyndon LaRouche on the ballot). I’ll be sure to get my ballot off in plenty of time, I just wish it would count for something, since absentee ballots are apparently only counted in the case of a run-off election (if someone has some updated information on how absentee ballots are counted, please let me know).

Shine brightly, Nashville. I hope you have plenty of gas.

*This has meaning only if you attended Belmont or Lipscomb

My kingdom for a number

Our area of the village is fairly unpopulated, one of the most recently developed areas of the municipality. There are a handful of houses up here, and the trek to the village proper is at least a mile (perhaps more, I’ve never done an odometer check to be certain). So our street is relatively new, in fact, it may have just been a dirt/stone road when I first moved to Greece and came up to visit our house while it was still in progress. Despite having nomenclature, our road has not been officially numbered, either by the municipality or the post office, so we are without an official address. This is slightly annoying for a variety of reasons, given that the post office (and our P.O. box) is well out of our way (we end up getting our mail about once a month). Although it would be mighty nice to have mail delivered to our house, it would be nicer if, god forbid, we ever had to call police/fire/ambulance, we could actually give them a freakin’ address.

It doesn’t help matters much that our neighbor, in true Greek fashion, has apparently arbitrarily decided upon a street number for his house. How exactly he came up with this number is beyond me, but it has been made even more complicated by the fact that someone closer to the beginning of the road has decided their street number is 8 (higher than our neighbor’s 5), and posted it proudly. This would mean that our street numbers are ass backwards from the rest of the world, since there is no way there are seven properties between the beginning of the road and the illustrious number 8, and with our neighbor’s chosen number, this means that the numbers would have to start at the end of the street instead of the beginning (and since the end of our street is a dead end, obviously that isn’t the beginning of the street, is it?). If we can just pick our own street number, I think we should come up with something like 6242 and really throw people off, which is the kind of thing I am inclined to do but I don’t think my in-laws would go for it.

Here’s hoping that some day we actually do get this sorted out, so when I’m 90 years old and having a stroke, someone can actually give the EMT an address. That gives them about 50 years to figure it out.

If Dante had it right

It was just over a month ago that we were trudging through the hottest, sweatiest days of the summer, and yet here we are, at the end of September, freezing our bums off. While technically speaking the temperature has not been freezing, it has been hovering around 60 degrees F (about 15 C, I think), and has felt downright cold for the last week or so. Add a plethora of cloudy, rainy days and our house feels bone cold, so we finally decided to turn on the heat (the heat was on in early May, now again late September, I think this is a record for me). I’m sure things are colder up here on the mountain, but come on now, it would be nice to have some mild temperatures in between the sweltering air conditioning weather and the bitter heat on non-stop weather (we might have had a week of them, which isn’t anywhere near enough). Today has proven to be yet another gloomy, cold day (I think the coldest yet, the temperature hasn’t risen above 49 up here), and while I tend toward the dark and gothic, even the most melancholy of people need a sunny day now and then, if only to dry the laundry. There is one thing this weather is good for, however – cuddling on the couch watching T.V. with your husband and three cats.

In other words, it is official – I have become an old woman who spends her time complaining about the weather. At least there is one thing this weather is good for – cuddling on the couch watching T.V. with your husband and three cats.

Hometown pride

Things like this can only happen in Nashville. If you have lived there, you know exactly what I mean.

Idiotic, maybe. But I think this story made me more homesick than ever.

Dog days

I don’t know why I always get lulled into the false sense that by the time August comes, insufferable temperatures are not as likely. The reality is almost every place I’ve lived has the potential of facing extreme heat in August, as we’ve experienced here for the past few weeks. For most of the summer, the weather up here on the mountain has been a bit more temperate than the city, with cool, windy evenings. But not lately. It has been as hot up here as it has been downtown, with weeks of temperatures reaching 95 degrees and not much relief at night. Usually, even during the hottest days, our house would cool off some at night, but not lately. Luckily we have air conditioning upstairs, but any amount of cooking downstairs made it seem like I’d been schvitzing for several hours. We made the mistake of inviting people for dinner and by the time I served the meal I resembled a wet rat, but the food was good and the company pleasant so the sweat was worth it (not to mention a Clue tournament, which is a requirement for guests in this house). We are resolved to buy air conditioning for the downstairs next summer, which should make entertaining during the summer much more pleasant for us and our guests.

We managed to survive a wedding in the high heat of August. The church wasn’t air conditioned and from the looks of things, had the ceremony been any longer half the guests would have passed out from heat stroke. I also witnessed my first Greek Orthodox baptism, which made me feel slightly sorry for the two month old baby who had no idea what was going on and I think just wanted to sleep. My sister-in-law is the nona (her first time), so I was happy to be there to see her take on the responsibility. She handled it well, despite getting peed on (by the baby, not the priest), and I am certain she is truly “pandaxia” (always worthy). The couple couldn’t have picked a better godmother.

My husband and I have handled the heat by staying inside and embracing our inner geeks playing Lord of the Rings Online, watching Star Trek: Voyager, and playing Word Challenge on Facebook. Thank goodness last night offered the first real relief from the stifling weather, as a cool breeze flowed through the mountains and into our windows. I’m definitely looking forward to autumn.

God bless the internet

If we didn't have the internet, then where would people go when they wanted to know how to "make your own fake dog poop"?

Yes, I am the proud owner of a blog that ended up as a result of that search. Grats to me.

Son of Sam called, he wants his M.O. back

I read with horror a story about a couple who were shot while eating at a pizzeria in a Thessaloniki neighborhood recently. I had heard about another incident in the same neighborhood, only this time the couple were shot while sitting in their car at a drive-in cinema. The media hasn't been very forthcoming with details, and the police are insisting that the crimes are unrelated, which means one of two things: either they have enough information about one or both incidents to be certain they are unrelated, or they don't want people to think there might be a serial killer stalking a Thessaloniki neighborhood. Of course, I hope that the crimes are unrelated and the perpetrators are caught quickly, but it got me to thinking - can Greek law enforcement handle a serial killer case?

This is not to say I think the police here are incompetent. Sure, there have been a few big gaffes lately, but we all know how we only hear about the bad things and never about the good things. But as with most things in Greece, I am not sure if law enforcement has the funding in order to have the tools necessary to solve a major case. Let's face it - most crimes in Greece fall under the "passion" category, which pretty much means you gotta watch out for your family members because you just never know when they might turn on you. These crimes are often solved quickly, so the headache of meticulous crime solving is unnecessary. But a serial killer? That is a whole new ball game.

For now, I'll trust what the police have to say and assume there isn't a serial killer in our midst, but I do think we'll be avoiding that neighborhood for now.

All-Vegan Tofu Lasagna

I don't often post recipes, but I thought I'd share this one for tofu lasagna. It is basically an amalgamation of several recipes I've found in various places, suited for our tastes. It totally saves our fasting periods. It is so delicious, even people who don't eat vegan find it delightful. I'm not really used to compiling my own recipes, so the language may be a bit awkward, sorry for that. I'm also not 100% sure on conversions for U.S. products, so I've estimated.

All-Vegan Tofu Lasagna

Sauce:

2 T. olive oil

1-2 onions, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

400 gr. (8 oz)jar pasta sauce (I use Barilla Pomodoro)

500 gr. (10 oz) tomato sauce (just the plain sauce, I use Pommaro classico)

1 t. to 1 T. parsley flakes (depending on taste preference)

1 t. to 1 T. basil (depending on taste preference)

1 t. salt

¼ t. pepper

Filling:

2 349 gr. (almost a pound) boxes silken tofu (you can use regular tofu, I prefer the silken because it has a similar consistency to Ricotta)

¼ lb. soy cheese, grated

1 t. parsley flakes

1 t. basil

½ t. salt

¼ t. pepper

pinch garlic powder

Barilla Spinach Lasagna – 12 “sheets” (these do not require cooking before making the lasagna)

Preheat oven to 200 degree Celsius (400 F.). Grease lightly (with Pam or other spray on no-stick product) 9x13 baking dish. Put oil, onions and garlic into large skillet, sauté until soft (about five minutes), then add sauces and seasonings. Cook until heated through.

Mix tofu, half of the soy cheese and spices thoroughly in a medium bowl.

Line bottom of dish with a layer of sauce. Place a layer of noodles (4)over sauce, then top with half of the filling. Dot with a small amount of sauce, then another layer of noodles. Top with the majority of the leftover filling (leave a small amount to dot the top of the lasagna), dot with small amount of sauce, and add the last layer of noodles. Place the rest of the filling, and top with all the remaining sauce. Cover with foil and bake for 25 minutes, then remove the foil and sprinkle top with remainder of soy cheese. Bake for another 5 minutes, cool for ten minutes, and serve. 8 servings.

*You can easily convert this recipe into a carnivore’s delight by browning a pound of ground beef for the sauce, substituting Ricotta for the tofu and mozzarella for the soy cheese. Both versions are equally tasty.

Out, out, damn cake!

The one recipe that has saved us during fasting times is this vegan chocolate cake recipe, which is so good I actually make it sometimes when we aren't fasting. It is a quick and easy cake, so it is nice to serve last-minute guests when they come for coffee. The catch - I can't, no matter what I do, make it come out of the pan clean. Almost every time the bottom of the cake sticks to the pan. I've tried triple greasing the pan, baking the cake a few minutes longer, having the pan rest on it's side during cooling(which is usually the trick when it comes to getting stuff out of loaf pans), and finally I've tried letting it cool for various lengths of time, from the traditional ten minutes to 20 minutes to letting the cake cool entirely in the pan. No dice. I'm at the point of frustration where I feel like making the damn cake over and over until I can get it perfect. Yea, it is just a stupid cake, but it isn't quite so presentable with it's bottom sheared off.

I just know some of you cooking experts out there must have some tips for extracting stubborn cakes from their pans. Well, I hope you do. It is driving me nuts because I usually don't have sticking problems, and whenever I bake, it just has to be perfect.

Garn!

You know that blender I was bitching about a couple of weeks ago? Well, it broke. It fell from the dish drainer into the sink and shattered. I know what you some of you are thinking - it was my passive aggressive way of getting a new blender. But I was actually starting to get the hang of it thanks to y'all's advice. I was making granita and milkshakes and having all sorts of fun. Plus it was part of a set, so we'll have to find a replacement that goes with that model (what a pain). I guess we can buy a cheap blender for temporary use, but I'm bummed. I guess I shouldn't ever bitch about things - this is what happens!

Even in tragedy, hope can be found

It seems that summers in Greece are always full of tragedy – fires and tourist deaths are at the top of the list. I’m appalled at one of the most recent events – the deadly beating of a 20-year-old at the hands of nightclub bouncers in Mykonos. I can’t pretend to know all the details of what exactly happened, but it seems that there was some suspicion that the victim had stolen items from the patrons of the club (I don’t know if there has been any evidence to support this claim) and the bouncers followed him and beat him with what would prove to be fatal blows.

I’ve heard that there are often problems of this kind involving bouncers at clubs on these “party” islands, which is rather inexcusable. Last I heard, bouncers were not able to take the law into their own hands, and if they were, they certainly wouldn’t be allowed to beat people, stolen property or not. I respect the bouncer’s authority to keep people out of the club and to stop brawls within the club (with restrained means) but their authority stops at the door of the club. Hunting someone down is beyond the pale.

I wish I had the grace of this boy’s family, who generously donated his organs to save the lives of Greeks around the country and have shown aplomb in the face of such tragedy. My general feeling is to punish these thugs in the worst way possible (which isn’t death, by the way, that would be too generous for slubberdegullions such as these), and I am afraid that if I were the boy’s family, I would have so much anger I wouldn’t be in a position to make such a decision as to donate his organs. This death was unacceptable and needless.

May Doujon Zammit rest in peace, blessed by the lives he saved in death, and may his family find justice, peace, and comfort in the future.

It happened in Athens

Yes, I survived Athens. The city didn’t actually seem so bad from the 21^st floor of our hotel (the pool bar).

Not to mention it was practically a ghost town, with everyone away for diakopes (vacations). We had an excellent view of our old neighborhood from the hotel –

and Thanos went out bright and early Saturday morning and got me some tsoureki from our old bakery (I’ve not had tsoureki quite as good since then). The weather was actually pleasant for July – plus I think Athens is less humid in general than Thessaloniki so the dry heat didn’t seem so bad.

The wedding was beautiful, the bride and groom looked fabulous and the reception had the usual “Greek wedding reception” elements but a few twists thrown in, including fireworks and a buffet. I’ve actually never experienced a buffet at a wedding before. The food was decent and there was something for everyone, yet Thanos and I still experienced “buffet sickness” the next day. No matter how good a buffet is, it just never quite works out for me. Unfortunately, none of my pictures of the reception venue turned out, because our camera is s*#t and it was too dark (same with the interior of the church, I got a couple of passable shots of the artwork inside, but most of it was dark). Too bad, because the place was kinda cool with a modern design, on a huge property among other such venues snug on the slopes of Parnitha.

The flight there was a bit dicey – a delay on the runway because of too much traffic in the Greek skies, and then again mid-flight. Add some turbulence on landing and it was a rough ride. On the flight back I was certain they hadn’t locked the cargo door (we were sitting right over it and I saw it close but I didn’t hear or feel the corresponding kalump) while Thanos rolled his eyes every time I said it. I’m even more amused by passenger behavior than ever. I’m trying to figure out why exactly people have to be first to board when boarding means getting on a bus to get to the plane and the people that get on first just have to wait on a hot bus for ten minutes. Then the minute the plane stops 90% of the people jump up and start gathering their crap only to stand there for ten minutes while waiting for the door(s) to be opened. And what exactly is so hard about finding your seat on a plane? People get on board and it is like all common sense regarding numbers has been lost on them. If your ticket says row 22 you can be pretty sure you need to keep moving towards the back of the plane. Then when people get to their designated seat they stand in the aisle, puzzled, as if not sure what to do next. Sitting down is a good rule of thumb, or at least get the hell out of the way so the rest of us that can count can get to our seats. Honestly, is life really that difficult for some people, or does travel stress just overcome them? If the latter is true, I guess I can’t blame them. I’m sure anyone who knew English on the plane didn’t appreciate my constant chatter about the cargo door being unlocked.

So I guess Athens is ok – if you are just visiting. I still wouldn’t want to live there again, even though I do recall a few good times in the old neighborhood.

Love, life, and homesickness

I don’t know what has been up with me lately. I’ve been a little off. Off kilter, off my rocker, off side. I’m sure it is just a momentary lapse of seasonal dysfunction (that disorder most people get in the winter I seem to get in the summer). A big part of it, however, is good old fashioned homesickness. As an expat you expect a good dose of the ailment once in awhile, although it doesn’t occur as often as I would have expected. It is just that when it does happen, it happens big. I find myself having fantasies of life in America, with a good job and all the conveniences of American life. Hell, I don’t even care where in America I live, anywhere would be fine, as long as it isn’t one of those desert states (my apologies to people who love the desert states, it just isn’t my thing).

But then I think that I wouldn’t want to leave our beautiful house here, and international moves are the biggest pain, and my husband would have to take the MCAT (or whatever the hell the medical licensing exam is called in the U.S.) if he were to practice medicine there, and all the little things about Greece I would miss if I moved back to the U.S. It is weird having this sort of duality about home – now it seems that both Greece and America are “home” to me, so how can I ever pick between them? I can’t even imagine what it is like for expats who have lived in several different countries.

This coming weekend we are planning a short trip to Athens – the city where my expat life started – and I suppose that could be one reason things are coming together in my mind the way they are. I’m sure my parents visit this spring didn’t help matters much either. I dread going to Athens the way most people dread going to the dentist, and to be honest I’d send my husband alone if it wasn’t our koumbaros who is getting married. Not because I feel I owe him, but because I want to be there to share his special day and wish him well as he starts his married life. I just wish he wasn’t doing it in Athens. I can’t really pinpoint why I hate Athens so much, but it might have something to do with the harried-ness of the people there. It was as if life wasn’t being lived as much as endured. That kind of environment can suck the will right out of anyone.

Hopefully I’ll be back to my cheerful, snarky self before too long.

The price of progress

On Monday afternoon there was a lot of hubbub across the street. A big truck with some dubious mechanized equipment was doing something that we couldn't see because whatever they were doing was being obstructed by the giant truck. My brother-in-law went outside to find out what the hell they were up to, and it turns out they were installing new poles to run phone lines to the house up the road from us.

I'm torn between feeling sympathy for the people up the street who seemed to have lived there a mighty long time without having access to a land line and being upset that our view has become tainted by a new wire. As you can see, there were electrical wires already but they were positioned high enough that they didn't cut across our view when sitting on the balcony. Alas, the phone wires are too low to be avoided. Such is the price of progress in our little village.

"So wise so young, they say do never live long"

My first reaction to this story about adapting Shakespeare for children as young as five years old was one of disapproval. I mean, come on, does a five-year-old really need all those “everybody dies” endings? Not to mention plenty of very adult subject matter. I loves me some Shakespeare but I’m not sure it is suitable for kids under a certain age. Twelve was always my guideline for starting Shakespeare, which is why my niece hasn’t gotten any from me yet.

Then I remembered we are living in an era where parents dress their five-year-old daughters up like little sluts for beauty pageants and use the T.V. as a babysitter pretty much from the womb, allowing young kids access to all kinds of inappropriate entertainment. So hell, might as well give them Shakespeare. Add Aeschylus and Sophocles to the list as well. Nothing like a good tragedy to put a child to sleep at night.

Happy Independence Day

On this day of liberation for the United States of America, I would like to wish life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to people all over the world.

I believe in only one thing and that thing is human liberty. If ever a man is to achieve anything like dignity, it can happen only if superior men are given absolute freedom to think what they want to think and say what they want to say. I am against any man and any organization which seeks to limit or deny that freedom. . . [and] the superior man can be sure of freedom only if it is given to all men.

-H.L. Mencken*

*As spoken to Hamilton Owens, quoted in Guy J. Forgue. ed., Letters of H. L. Mencken (New York: Knopf. 1961), p. xix.

I must be an idiot

Are you not supposed to be able to crush ice in blenders? I always thought that was one of the great purposes of a blender, unless my margarita haze was blinding me to the fact that trying to blend drinks with ice caused broken blades and badly mixed drinks.

Anyway, I tried to crush some ice in our blender to mix with a granita mix, and it just wouldn't happen. The blades stubbornly refused to move the ice at all, in fact, the blade mechanism slid up so it wasn't even spinning at all anymore. It could be that our multi-purpose mixer/food processor/blender is multi-crap (although the mixer and food processor parts work pretty well). I finally got my granita by using one of those bags you fill with water to make ice thingies with tiny, tiny slots for the ice and using that in the blender, but I still had to open up halfway through to push down the ice/granita mixture so it would blend better.

I'm thinking we need a real blender.

I triple dog dare them

An eight-year-old boy didn’t invite two of his classmates to his birthday party. It isn’t exactly an unusual thing, is it? I guess that is why the world is so curious about the fact that the boy’s school has complained to the Swedish Parliament that, by not inviting these classmates, he has somehow snarked their rights.

Honestly - Sweden? The perfect country? The country with a clean environment, safe roads, good pay, bonuses for every child born, and hardcore women’s rights? They are taking it upon themselves to legislate who gets invited to kid’s birthday parties? Sure, sure. The decision hasn’t been made yet. But just the fact that the school feels justified in making this claim – to the point of confiscating the poor kid’s invitations – is a bit, well, pathetic.

The birthday party invite is one of the few great sources of power in the kid world. Whole kid dynasties have risen and fallen based on the invite. The only greater power amongst children is the ability to skip to the triple dog dare with complete confidence. We all know that nobody respects or fears the kid whose parents make him invite the whole class, and why is that? Because if you invite everybody, no one really cares. If the mean kid gets invited to every party no matter what, then he stays mean. You can’t send a message if you invite everyone. You can’t enact revenge on your mortal kid enemy. I realize that not inviting everyone can hurt the kid that doesn’t really do anything but everyone picks on, but hey, politics is politics. People really underestimate how politically charged the life of kids can be.

If the Swedish Parliament decides that not inviting every kid in the class is a violation of kid rights, then the whole power structure of kid-dom will come crashing down. Who knows what will happen next – they might decide that skipping dares is a crime punishable by no television computer usage for a year. What will happen to the children then?