Thanks to Boegle mentioning the death of a hot-tub spa-type place in her neighborhood, RambunctiousGrl got it into her head that we had to try the local schvitz-place, AKA Banya 5.
We now expect to be going there twice a month.
First off, it's a Russian/Turkish bath. So there's the HOT room. the HOT STEAM room, the C-C-COLD p-p-pool, the (I'll stop doing the funny embellishments now) cold shower, the salt pool, and the hot tub. Which is just a hot tub.
The hot room (parilka) is supposed to be running around 200-210 degrees fahrenheit and low humidity. There was a fella there who kept dragging the poor front-of-house girls back to show them that the humidity was hovering around a constant 50%, which means that actual overheating doesn't happen.
Coulda fooled me.
So you spend about ten minutes in the heat, and then drop into the cold pool. Jump right out, sit for a minute, and then go back into the heat. Your basic sauna, right? Well, not quite.
I had a sauna growing up. Thought it was goofy. Now that I'm an adult, I f**king want one of my own!
However, if you have your own sauna, you won't get to see the contingent of the Russian Mafia having a nice sweat right in front of you. Old guys with big white bellies (with zero self-image issues) lying right on the hot boards of the sauna's top tier, while they whack each other with towels in order to increase the heat, and boost their circulation. Also in evidence were the young bulls, with the complicated tattoos that look like they might have happened in prison, but who knows, maybe I'm jumping to conclusions. All of the traditional guys were wearing funny little felt hats (chapka) which supposedly keep your head from overheating too much.
Russian Smurfs.
Anyway, best way to begin the day once breakfast has been consumed, and I imagine if one has a nasty hangover it works really well. Specially if you get that shot of vodka in your system before you go to the baths.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Permenent slackerdom
As further proof of my inability to write anything down unless actively prodded by a sharp stick, I give you today's entry:
Enjoy.
No really, that's it. There's no movie. It's just the internet equivalent of dead air.
Enjoy.
No really, that's it. There's no movie. It's just the internet equivalent of dead air.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Sneezing Panda
What can I say? Watch the baby, and watch Mom's reaction. Reminds me of my sneezes.
(you know who you are)
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The seven odd things
Tagged by RambunctiousGrl
Here's how it's done:
a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
HATE being it...
(in no particular order) things that are me about odd:
1. I have a large number of characters in my head, each with their own voice (many of them British), and they come out at what, to them, seems like the appropriate time. I have little control over this, and if surrounded by British people, I have to use all my powers of concerntration NOT to talk like them. I really can't help it, and I'm sorry.
2. I require order, yet am a complete slob. I do things in as orderly a fashion as I can. I know where everything is. If one little thing gets moved, I know it, and it drives me crazy. Dishes pile up, but I know where my socks are.
3. I think of dried fruit (most especially raisins) as smellyawfulBADnasty.
4. I prefer shoes that are very heavy - not just clunky, but heavy.
5. I work with computers and complex computing systems (both for work and for fun), yet believe that these things are destroying our lives. I think many new technologies are really cool, but are also making most of us slaves to them, rather than the other way around.
6. I can break an encyclopedia volume (or a hardwood floor) with my head. Yes, it hurts a little. I've been hit in the face with a baseball bat, I've been through at least one windshield, and I've done one of those pratfalls onto icy asphalt, and hurt my back more than my head. Never needed stitches or even a band-aid.
7. If I could wear only clothing made of leather, rubber and/or cast iron, I would.
I'm sure I could come up with weirder stuff than this, but my cow-orkers sometimes see this, and I'm afraid of spooking them. More than usual, I mean.
c. Tag 7 random people participating in nablopomo at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
Tag others? I only know those who have tagged me. And I'm not really participating in the NaBloPoMo thing, as I am too busy writing about Modern Journalism in my Modern Journalism class...
But here they are, from the Blogroll list at NaBloPoMo (randomly picked for the cleverfoodiness of their names):
Bowl Of Cheese
Dimsumthing
EGGO Project ALREADY BEEN TAGGED.
Indecisive Peach ALREADY BEEN TAGGED.
just a little radish
Mommy Wants Vodka
Soup to nuts
d. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
Here's how it's done:
a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
HATE being it...
(in no particular order) things that are me about odd:
1. I have a large number of characters in my head, each with their own voice (many of them British), and they come out at what, to them, seems like the appropriate time. I have little control over this, and if surrounded by British people, I have to use all my powers of concerntration NOT to talk like them. I really can't help it, and I'm sorry.
2. I require order, yet am a complete slob. I do things in as orderly a fashion as I can. I know where everything is. If one little thing gets moved, I know it, and it drives me crazy. Dishes pile up, but I know where my socks are.
3. I think of dried fruit (most especially raisins) as smellyawfulBADnasty.
4. I prefer shoes that are very heavy - not just clunky, but heavy.
5. I work with computers and complex computing systems (both for work and for fun), yet believe that these things are destroying our lives. I think many new technologies are really cool, but are also making most of us slaves to them, rather than the other way around.
6. I can break an encyclopedia volume (or a hardwood floor) with my head. Yes, it hurts a little. I've been hit in the face with a baseball bat, I've been through at least one windshield, and I've done one of those pratfalls onto icy asphalt, and hurt my back more than my head. Never needed stitches or even a band-aid.
7. If I could wear only clothing made of leather, rubber and/or cast iron, I would.
I'm sure I could come up with weirder stuff than this, but my cow-orkers sometimes see this, and I'm afraid of spooking them. More than usual, I mean.
c. Tag 7 random people participating in nablopomo at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
Tag others? I only know those who have tagged me. And I'm not really participating in the NaBloPoMo thing, as I am too busy writing about Modern Journalism in my Modern Journalism class...
But here they are, from the Blogroll list at NaBloPoMo (randomly picked for the cleverfoodiness of their names):
Bowl Of Cheese
Dimsumthing
EGGO Project ALREADY BEEN TAGGED.
Indecisive Peach ALREADY BEEN TAGGED.
just a little radish
Mommy Wants Vodka
Soup to nuts
d. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Who am I?
You Are The Turkey |
 The center of attention, the meaning of it all. Too bad you put people to sleep! |
Friday, November 16, 2007
The Furnace Maze
Now that I am warm at home.
Windows in December. Excavation pretty soon. New paths.
What does one do with dirt one doesn't want?
My cow-orkers are pushing me at my mazes again. When I was young (oh, so much younger than today) I drew mazes. My father once asked me why I was wasting my time with them (and then later apologized, which was nice of him). These were intricate, strange things with no dead ends and an infinite number of solutions. The idea was, you draw a bunch of spirals with many arms, and connect the spirals together. Each spiral center (or "valve" as I heard Greg Bright describe them once) has multiple exits. Each valve you pass through multiplies the odds against ever finding a way out. Technically, all the valves lead out. They also lead back in again.
But now there are computers. I could draw one of these things, and scan it in in phases, mapping the shortest route to the exit, but then keeping that information to myself. Proof that it's posible to finish the maze.
Perhaps I will draw one, and post it. A small one, so I don't spend an eternity doing it.
Windows in December. Excavation pretty soon. New paths.
What does one do with dirt one doesn't want?
My cow-orkers are pushing me at my mazes again. When I was young (oh, so much younger than today) I drew mazes. My father once asked me why I was wasting my time with them (and then later apologized, which was nice of him). These were intricate, strange things with no dead ends and an infinite number of solutions. The idea was, you draw a bunch of spirals with many arms, and connect the spirals together. Each spiral center (or "valve" as I heard Greg Bright describe them once) has multiple exits. Each valve you pass through multiplies the odds against ever finding a way out. Technically, all the valves lead out. They also lead back in again.
But now there are computers. I could draw one of these things, and scan it in in phases, mapping the shortest route to the exit, but then keeping that information to myself. Proof that it's posible to finish the maze.
Perhaps I will draw one, and post it. A small one, so I don't spend an eternity doing it.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Crap and Holy Crap
Sewer goes again - thank god for Rapid Rooter. Fixed in an afternoon.
The very next morning, RG starts getting really really dizzy, which she later describes to me as a feeling of wanting to go to sleep. Also, the house smells kind of like burning. She's telling me this on the phone, so I suggest she turns off the heater now now now.
The oil company man comes in this morning and gives me a quote of $4,000!!!! for a new oil heater. So this, since I don't necessarily want to kill off prospective buyers of this, our beautiful but toxic home, seems fair.
We had a nice weekend, except for my cold. Spent in the lovely Edgefield Inn in Troutdale, OR (just outside of Portland), where I drank too much, we both ate too much, and we found a place on our way out of town called John's Marketplace, way out on Multnomah Blvd.
Every beer ever.
A large cooler of nothing but large bottles. Another large cooler of foreign brews at the appropriate temperature. Yet another large cooler of nothing but six-packs. Shelf upon shelf of excellent beers that they didn't have room for in the coolers. I am working my way through them.
Siletz beers won in the popularity contest: the Spruce Ale (made with real spruce tips, so it smells a little like a Christmas tree) was not what I was hoping for. A little weak. The Siletz Oatmeal Cream Stout (made with oats and lactose - hence the "cream") is a rich, chocolatey brew with undertones of coffee and an overall thumping in the back of the head feel. Last but not least is an organic fresh hop ale from a brewery I can't remember (I'll post it later). Yummy. Similar to the Sierra Nevada Fresh Hop Ale in body and nose. I have the Hair of the Dog Double IPA, a Deschuttes brewery Hop Trip Ale, and Siletz Chocolate Porter (made with real chocolate) left to drink. I suspect I'll be done by Friday, though I may reserve one for Saturday night, as I expect Saturday will be a day of pain and heavy lifting.
To explain: the poetry appreciation chair must be moved into storage. A 1920s antique optometrist's chair, it's really cool, but large, heavy and currently only used for hanging things off of. Then there's everyone's favorite futon and frame, which must also find pride of place in our storage unit, until we have a larger home to put them into. Then, to accommodate the fellers installing our new furnace, I need to move six sheets of drywall from the top of the stairs to somewhere they won't be in the way.
Then drinking.
Then dinner.
Then dirnking.
thndrknvdfof
The very next morning, RG starts getting really really dizzy, which she later describes to me as a feeling of wanting to go to sleep. Also, the house smells kind of like burning. She's telling me this on the phone, so I suggest she turns off the heater now now now.
The oil company man comes in this morning and gives me a quote of $4,000!!!! for a new oil heater. So this, since I don't necessarily want to kill off prospective buyers of this, our beautiful but toxic home, seems fair.
We had a nice weekend, except for my cold. Spent in the lovely Edgefield Inn in Troutdale, OR (just outside of Portland), where I drank too much, we both ate too much, and we found a place on our way out of town called John's Marketplace, way out on Multnomah Blvd.
Every beer ever.
A large cooler of nothing but large bottles. Another large cooler of foreign brews at the appropriate temperature. Yet another large cooler of nothing but six-packs. Shelf upon shelf of excellent beers that they didn't have room for in the coolers. I am working my way through them.
Siletz beers won in the popularity contest: the Spruce Ale (made with real spruce tips, so it smells a little like a Christmas tree) was not what I was hoping for. A little weak. The Siletz Oatmeal Cream Stout (made with oats and lactose - hence the "cream") is a rich, chocolatey brew with undertones of coffee and an overall thumping in the back of the head feel. Last but not least is an organic fresh hop ale from a brewery I can't remember (I'll post it later). Yummy. Similar to the Sierra Nevada Fresh Hop Ale in body and nose. I have the Hair of the Dog Double IPA, a Deschuttes brewery Hop Trip Ale, and Siletz Chocolate Porter (made with real chocolate) left to drink. I suspect I'll be done by Friday, though I may reserve one for Saturday night, as I expect Saturday will be a day of pain and heavy lifting.
To explain: the poetry appreciation chair must be moved into storage. A 1920s antique optometrist's chair, it's really cool, but large, heavy and currently only used for hanging things off of. Then there's everyone's favorite futon and frame, which must also find pride of place in our storage unit, until we have a larger home to put them into. Then, to accommodate the fellers installing our new furnace, I need to move six sheets of drywall from the top of the stairs to somewhere they won't be in the way.
Then drinking.
Then dinner.
Then dirnking.
thndrknvdfof
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