A brunch grows in Brooklyn

So, the morning after Ikea, feeling fully recovered and reenergized, Mike and I headed down to Bushwick for a Thanksgiving brunch and Jonathan and Nikki's place.  They have a fabulous loft in a not-so-fabulous neighborhood.  

And a fabulous view!

The food was OUTRAGEOUS.  So good.  They made a pomegranate parfait thingy that was absolutely fresh and delish, and baked root vegetables with candied pecans (that had something called "black salt" in it, which Jonathan said was some sort of MSG?), baked eggs with cream cheese, turkey sausage with apple shittake gravy, and pumpkin waffles.  And fancy champagne.  I'm drooling just thinking about it. 

Mike gives the Slagletown Seal of Approval

Oh, and another fun thing is that Jonathan and Nikki's cat looks just like Morris!  Spitting image.  But I forgot to take a picture of their cat, so you'll just have to take my word on this one.

Ikea, thou art a cruel mistress.

Every good holiday deserves a trip to Ikea.   This year, like last year, Mike and I decided to host Thanksgiving.  In years past, I would often go to friend's homes instead, only to find a fancy meal, a hodge-podge of people I didn't know all gussied up in their Sunday best, and no football.  Sacrilege!  Thanksgiving is for gravy! Thanksgiving is for sweatshirts and elastic waistbands! Thanksgiving is for the Detroit Lions!!!!

So, Mike and I decided to set things right in the world.  We hosted a Thanksgiving that would make our pilgrim forefathers proud.  This, of course, meant a trip to Ikea.  

We set off on a brisk Saturday afternoon.  Freezing, by New York standards, but we nonetheless decided to take the water taxi over from the Seaport.  It was a nice ride, kind of choppy but the cabin was warm and the 4 o'clock sunset was at its peak. 

A pretty view through a DIRTY window.

Despite having just eaten our fill of pizza and coffee at a lunch counter, we felt obliged to sample the local fare (as one tends to do).  The Swedish meatballs were just as I remembered, and my belly somehow found room for a whole plate of them (well, maybe Meeks helped a little).  Mike got some crappy ice cold buffalo wrap that totally sucked balls.  I have no idea what possessed him to order that.  When in Rome, Michael, when in Rome...

I do believe I'll pass on the vomitorium today, Giles.

So, early dinner ended up being the best part of the trip.  Because, after that, the shopping began.  Personally, I'm a big fan of spending money on fun kitchen and home decorating items.  Meeks....not so much.  To be perfectly honest, he kind of shuts down...emotionally.  Stops talking.  Rubs his beard.  Spends too much time staring at his phone.

Shutting down in 5...4...3...

Long story short, we ended up being there for about 4 hours.  That's pretty much 4 hours of me mulling over serving platters and table cloths, picking out curtains and putting them back, and then a long discussion with myself about decorations.  Finally, we ventured back onto the B61 bus and headed home, exhausted, mildly triumphant and yet somehow feeling defeated.  With a serving platter in hand but sans a gravy boat.

Then I got carsick from the bus.

Ahh....Ikea!

Yes! M!CH!GAN!

Slagletown, USA briefly relocated to Michigan this weekend.  Funny how things happen like that.  Meeks and I figured it would be cheaper/funner to drive than to fly so we rented a car and made our way the 11 or so hours to Michigan from NY.  The original intention had been to leave the city on Thursday night and spend the night somewhere in Pennsylvania (yes, the idea of visiting Punxsutawney on the off-season was briefly entertained), but in the end we decided to just drive straight on through.

I won't bore you with the details, but will instead list the highlights of our trip, in chronological order:

1.  The Budget Inn - the finest lodging establishment this side of the Mason-Dixon.

Fine and dandy.

2.  Oh. Hi! Oh. 

3. The Diego Rivera mural at the Detroit Institute of Arts

4. Rallyburgers at Checkers (Mike liked his Big Buford so much that he went back up and got a double cheeseburger to wash it down)

5. Korey's wedding

6. Standing almost 4 hours in the rain, snow, and sleet with sopping wet feet just to watch Michigan get its butt beat by Northwestern from the first row at the 45 yard line.

Mike channeled his inner viking to survive The Perfect Storm.

7. The Michigan Marching Band (no explanation necessary)

8. Buying a $6 sack of kettle corn on the way out of the stadium

9.  The Heidelberg

10. A 4 hour dinner with my sister and brother in law

11.  Drinking organic wine with Kala out of dixie cups

12. Kala's Santa Claus sack of weed

13. Jack Tar's Wii

14. Mike spilling red wine on Jack Tar's cream colored armchair.  Twice.

15.  Going to bed and laughing hysterically for a full 10 minutes over Kala's Santa Claus-sized sack of weed.

16.  White knuckle driving through the snow and rain in the Pennsylvania hills

17. Enjoying delicious giant dill pickles at 70 MPH.

Mike, in a pickle.

12.  Surviving the Lincoln Tunnel

13.  Home, sweet, home.

Assassination!

He is dead! 

For the first time in this century, and the second time in history, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin is dead.  In a shocking departure from his first peaceful passing, this second more public death shocked residents of New York's Lower East Side by its extremely violent nature.  

The former Soviet leader's beheading appears to be the distinctive handiwork of Mexican narco-terrorists, though such incidents are undoubtedly unusual this far north.  While the NYPD does not appear to have noticed that such a gruesome crime has taken place on its roof, the Soviet nation once again mourns his passing.

Memento mori

Obama for MY mama!!!

Ours!

Yes, yes, YESSSS!!! What a glorious evening Election Day turned out to be.  Personally, I was worried.  Everybody kept saying that Obama would win but all I could think of was don't celebrate yet...he hasn't won yet...don't jinx us...I mean, this is the same country that elected the baby Bush.  TWICE.  You can't expect too much from a country like this.  There's too many people for whom race is an issue.  Too many people who are afraid to challenge the status quo.

So, I waited until after work and then briskly made my way down to the Lower East Side to vote.  I had expected the long lines I had seen on the telly all morning, but no, there was nobody.  I just walked right in, gave my name, signed and was directed to my booth.  

I love voting in NYC.  Its always a crap shoot.  I'm never sure if today's the day that this 100 year-old antiquated piece of work is going to finally quit.  Right in the middle of my vote.  Well, yesterday was not that day.  The machine was true.  My vote counted.

Cheering and tearing.

So, now we have a new president and a new future in the form of a black man with a muslim name.  Talk about the weight of the world!  When the election was finally called, the streets here in Brooklyn erupted in cheers, and tears.  People were out hootin' and hollerin' and high-fiving strangers and people were literally crying tears of joy.  Tears of joy.  Now, I was happy when Clinton was elected in '96.  I was crazy 

happy when Michigan won the national championship in '97.  I hooted and I hollered with the best of them.  But I didn't cry.  And I'm a total cry-baby.  I cry at everything! 

So, needless to say, I cried last night.  Oh, but last night, EVERYBODY was a cry-baby! Cry babies in the street, cry-babies in the bars, cry-babies crying on the couch.  Never in my life have I seen so many people crying at once over the same thing.  And they were all crying out of happiness! 

It was a beautiful thing.