start. people. places. things. me. | island profilin'

An illustration of my life, loves and various random information
that you may or may not find the least bit useful...
all from the island of St. Simons.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Friday Foto: Some random stuff






I've been busy this week, trying to knock out the rest of the work I have for 2007. I'll be leaving my office today and not returning until 2008 and I can't wait! The above pictures are from this week. They are being used in ads for some clients of ours in the new year. I had a great time playing with the guns. I love guns.

I'm so glad today is Friday, I can't express that enough. Tonight I have a party to go to, tomorrow night I'm throwing our Holiday Soiree, part two. I'm pretty pumped, although I have a lot of house cleaning to do in preparation. I can't wait for Christmas! This is defenitly my favorite time of year, without a doubt.

Have a quick, great Friday!

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

The Sweetest Christmas Gift Ever

Before I even opened it, I knew what it was. It's obvious, the brown residue leaving it's mark, filling your nostrils and causing the dog to bark. I just couldn't figure out why it appeared to be a wrapped throw pillow.

Back story... I love to cook, always have. It seems every time I make that assertion, Kelly comes back with, "Well, if you like to cook so much, how come I'm always the one cooking dinner?" I usually respond with, "I like to cook good things," then quickly wish I had chosen a different adjective to replace 'good' with, something more like 'complex', 'detailed' or even 'big'. You can imagine the words that follow, a montage of "I'm sorry's" and "I didn't mean it that way's".

I believe it was two years ago this Christmas that I received that sweetest Christmas gift ever. Let's back step a little though. Prior to that Christmas I had hosted a large family dinner at my folks house for about 20 family members, in which I pulled out all the stops. I cooked authentic Italian food: Fresh spinach ravioli stuffed with cheeses, fresh sauces, an excellent gnocchi, tiramisu that would almost leave you dead and a lemon cello that actually did. I think it was there that my family saw just how much I enjoyed cooking. My passion for fresh ingredients and spices really shines in my dishes.

So now, back to the present. I have an Aunt that, to say is well-traveled, would be an understatement. When she is absent from an event, it's understood that she's just off in another country somewhere. Through her world travels, she has apparently found a source for fresh spices.

It was two Christmas's ago now as I sat in my Grandmother's living room clutching an awkwardly wrapped packed roughly the size of a small pillow. I shook the gift, as I always do, and noticed the brown pungent powder puff out as though a lady was powdering her cheek. I recognized the scent instantly and was brought back to the hoards of cinnamon toast I consumed as an adolescent. I unwrapped the present to reveal a plump gallon-size ziploc bag of ground cinnamon. See, here in the Galland family, we don't give tacky sweaters, ugly socks or amateurly-crafted figurines. We give bags of spice, or so we began. Little did my Aunt know what havoc that foreigner would reap to my already-non-vacant spice rack.

It started with the jumps. Cinnamon was a big boy and he wanted to play. I'd open the cabinet, he'd jump out. Every time. It's hard to keep him at bay. I'd attempt to weigh him down with the Mortons or the sugar, but that only made things worse. So, I had an idea. I'd use him. I craved some toast with cinnamon and sugar, so I broke the seal and sprinkled out the powder, and it was good.

Cinnamon's taste of freedom changed him. He wanted more. I would be cooking, he would conveniently jump out out of the rack and all over my kitchen and dish. At one point I remember my whole kitchen smelling of cinnamon. I finally was fed up and did the unthinkable. I put him in a ziplock and stored him at the back of the cabinet. Peace and quiet at last!

Well, several cinnamon-less months went by until one day I was minding my own business, plundering through the cabinet when the scent struck me clear in the face. There he was, my long-lost friend cinnamon. The love-hate relationship returned and I began to feel guilty at the lack of cinnamon my recipes and dishes called for. I made a vow to that spice that day that I would make something out of him. I would make him MY SPICE.

My first attempt was spaghetti sauce. I prepared it in manners similar to the norm, but added a little pinch of my ole' buddy. Well, that meal was short-lived, followed closely by a experiment in masonry with my new-found brick mortar.

My second attempt, was less inedible, at least to me. I was craving cookies. I should have stopped when the list of ingredients I did not have, far exceeded the list that I did. But hey, I told myself, I have cinnamon! For future reference, egg, flour and cinnamon does not make a good cookie. Gretsky's calling, he wants his cinnamon-flavored puck back.

By my third attempt I was determined to fulfill my promise. I made a massive pot of chili. Spent all day slaving over that dutch oven, and after adding a little bit more chili powder, heard the call of cinnamon and thought, what the hell, it's the same color. I pinched a little out. I began to put him away, when I saw the frown on his face, and I understood. It's a big pot of chili, and he didn't' feel very well represented. I pinched out a little more. I served it that night in crock-pots to all my friends and felt good. It was being eaten up. So what if the keg was floated already and it was only 10 p.m.? Drunk people will eat anything and they were eating my chili! The next morning I woke to find a good friend of mine, who in her inebriated state, wound up back at our house sometime in the middle of the night and was now plundering through my refrigerator looking for that perfect after-late-night-party-it's-early-and-i'm-extremely-hungover snack. I quickly rushed to the occasion, pulled out the pot, put it on the stove and put my old friend back to work. Chili's perfect for the occasion.

Well, she took one bite and remembered my friend too. It seems drinking did not lead to chili, but chili lead to drinking. It seems cinnamon had struck again, this time causing several casualties of both taste buds and moral.

It's been several weeks since I dare speak to cinnamon. Mabe Kelly's right. Maybe there isn't a place for cinnamon in every meal. Maybe cinnamon doesn't "taste like fall" and should therefore accompany every Fall Saturday baking session. I can't try to convince her any longer, cinnamon does not belong in marinara. It's tough, but I find help in that bible verse that refers to all season's having there turn. It won't be long before the guilt builds up again and my artistic side comes out. What should I make this time? I might try something that actually calls for cinnamon.... nah, that would be tasteless.

III


Three years ago last week I graduated college and three years ago today I married my best friend. Yeah, flog me all you guys want for being cheesy, but how often do you get to spend the rest of your life with the person you care about the most? I have a handful of friends, both male and female, that I consider best friends, but none that I can picture marrying more than her. The things I lack in life, she excels, and likewise.

This past weekend we went out for a nice dinner and spent the night out at a hotel. For the first time in probably 2 years, we escaped the BS of everyday life. It was only for an evening, but we laughed and talked like we hadn't done in years. It was more than I could ask for.

The weekend couldn't have come at a better time. I had been feeling drawn out, weary of life lately. One of my favorite authors, Jon Krakauer, wrote a book titled Into the Wild. It was recently turned into a movie and I went to see it last week. I don't really feel like going into a full movie review right now, but the general gist is this: It's the true story of a young man that goes into the wild to find himself. He learns a lot about himself, others and life and eventually dies. His quest for adventure and the thick wanderlust that saturates the story is so addictive. It left me feeling like I needed more out of life, that I was just living right now.

After this weekend, and after three years married now and out of college, I can say I don't think I am just "living". I'm "building"; a project that I'll never see completed, but can enjoy if I choose to... and I do.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Friday Foto: the countdown begins!


For me Christmas starts one week from today. For me, 2007 is over one week from today. I'll turn my computer off on the 21st and turn on my excitement for the holiday season. It will be in full swing. However, I can't guarantee that the process will be instantanious, but rather a slow demise into the holiday spirits as the week progresses. I can't wait. I can almost taste the food, almost feel the parties, almost see the friends and family. I have so much to look forward to in the upcoming weeks, I almost feel guilty.

This time of the year has always been special for Kelly and I. We will celebrate three years married on the 18th, and then Christmas a week later. Our families both run deep with Christmas traditions, and we try to pull on those in our family as well as attempting to create new ones too (that one where I wanted to open all the presents on the 22nd didn't work out so well).

I'm going to tile our spare bathroom this weekend. It will be an easy enough job, and a great improvement to the crappy vinyl flooring that is in there now. I will post up some pics for you all, so stay tuned.

Today's Friday Foto comes from my buddy's farm I went to a couple of weeks ago. I like it. What do you think? I love that bus and find a lot of inspiration in it.

So, on the Jeep front. It's been a good week. The jeep is running better than ever. I installed the new radiator last weekend and have not had a single problem. Now I can fully enjoy all the work and upgrades that I have put into it over the last three months. Is it better you might ask? Oh yeah. I used to get 11 mpg around town, now I'm getting 14.5. Not too shabby huh? It's more efficient, stronger, quicker and reliable (kelly would debate that one). This week has been warm, so the doors are off. I love it for that reason, but hate it for all others. It's December 14, it's supposed to be cold.

So anyway, as a little treat to you readers, I am going to post several times between now and Christmas. I would set a schedule, but I know if I fall off it, I will get chastised by at least one of you. So, check back often. I have some photos, some funny stories, some meager attempts at insightful writing, and much more. Happy early Christmas!

Monday, December 03, 2007

love/hate


This weekend was to be my Jeep's first, long road trip. Everything was ready. The bed was packed to the brim with camping equipment, coolers, guns, rods and sleeping bags. I had spent all last week "priming" her: reinstalled the rear seat facing back, installed new backup lights, had the engine tuned perfectly, everything was set up, ready to do. I didn't sleep at all on Friday night with anticipation of the farm camping, bass fishing and beer drinking that was going to take place Saturday night at my buddy's farm in Dublin, GA (about 180 miles from where I live). I picked up my friend at 6:30am Saturday morning, hit the back roads and watched the sunrise over coastal Georgia as I smiled from ear to ear... This is what my Jeep is made for.

30 miles outside of St. Simons, my eyes started watering. At first, I thought I was so happy I was tearing up. No. 15 seconds later I realized it was smoke and steam causing my eyes to burn and then the steam just billowed out from under the hood.

I guess it's a Jeep thing, but it seems you always know exactly what is that it my radiator. It blew a nice size crack under the upper hose fitting. Nothing could fix that except a new radiator. Of course no auto parts store in SE GA had one, I called them all. "Replace the Radiator" moved rapidly up to the top of the Jeep to-do list.

So, I had it towed back to the house, picked up my buddies Tacoma, threw all the stuff in the back; no more neat packing like previously performed. No more back roads to take. We jumped on the interstate, hauled a*s up to the farm and cracked my first beer just shy of noon. I had sorrows to drink away now.

Caught three largemouths and cooked some dang-good meat, so the weekend wasn't a total loss, but man... what a bummer. I ordered a 3-row radiator last night, so hopefully that'll get in this week and I'll be back to rolling soon. Above is a pic of the farm, enjoy.