I'll have my debris rainbow-flagged please

One hundred years ago, today, San Francisco suffered her great earthquake that, in my mind, has been synonymous with the City by the Bay.

Real odometer anniversaries make me wish that I knew about them earlier to have planned a party have to themed around the event.

So I thought that I'd google alcoholic beverages called "Earthquake."

I found one from Recipezaar. (Cut and pasted here)

1 1/2 ounces tequila
1 teaspoon grenadine
2 dashes aromatic bitters
2 strawberries
1 orange slice

Mix in blender for 15 sec at high with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with fruit.

"Eh," I thought.

So, I found a Earthquake Cocktail on a Creole Recipe Page, aptly named Gumbo Pages (The link is midway on the page.) I thought, "Ah, Nawlins, she who names drinks after natural disasters - some of which whoop her ass - she will have a great recipe." I cut and pasted for your ease of reading.

By the way, the recipe actually comes from the Savoy Hotel Cocktail Book, circa 1930.

The Earthquake Cocktail.
1 jigger gin
1 jigger whiskey
1 jigger absinthe

Shake well and serve in a chilled cocktail glass.

"Eww, gin and whiskey and absinthe together! Gross." I bet you're feeling your own personal earthquake after that.

I thought that I would find a fun new drink (though, maybe next time I'm in Prague, I'll order one of the Savoy Earthquake) but I was a little let down. I'm just gonna take me a Hurricane and throw in some chucks on vodka soaked fruit and call that an Earthquake.

Unless you know of any good drinks?

April 14 - An anniversary

I had a migraine on Good Friday, so I called out of work. When I finally felt better and able to get out of bed and dressed, I realized that it was an anniversary of sorts. In reading Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country, he mentioned that there is a day when you don't exist while traveling to Australia from the US. It's all due to the International Dateline and the speed of commercial flight. For me, I left the US on a Air New Zealand flight at 11:30am from LAX on April 13 and I didn't finally get to Sydney until 10:30am April 15. I had jumped up into the air and the earth spin until I fell down two days later. (Now I know I existed because I had a window seat and I was blocked in by a charming old En Zed couple who were fast asleep when I had to take a wicked slash! It was a 26-hour journey in coach.)

In waxing nostagalic for Australia and feeling better, I felt industrious and looked up a recipe for ANZAC Bickies. Knowing that ANZAC Day was coming up (April 25) and reading the ingredients (they have coconut in them), I thought they would be a good cookie to make for my family for Easter for their baskets.

So I spent my 1st anniversary of my being en route to Australia cooking an Aussie traditional treat, and planned on sharing it as a new tradition with my folks and family.

Rain, Rugby and Rabbitohs

Alas, I was aching to play a match of rugby yesterday. One would think that we would like playing in the rain and mud. C'mon, let's face it. We're all just really big kids and who wouldn't want the opportunity to get dirty. However, it was not to be. Whitehorse's pitch is a public school's playing field and the arrangement includes not playing on the pitch when it's raining heavily. (Playing rugby in a heavy rain will tear up any grassy area and the high school kids need it for the week.)

However, Whitehorse still was going to host the drink up. These boys have been really good chaps, including the fact that most of the team goes to our drink ups that we host at Tavern on Camac. (Those who don't come just wouldn't have been staying for the drink up anyway.) So a handful of us went out to Malvern to hang out with the team.

After Lee, our Whitehorse contact, made a joke about the drink up being like a bad high school dance with the Gryphons on one side of the room and Whitehorse on the other, we mingled and chatted it up.

One of the Whitehorse supporter is a South African, who makes his own jerky. He made an throwaway comment about the jerky he brought to the drink up being made 3 years ago in SA. I said "I've always wanted to try Springbok." He was happy to oblige. In reality, it was cured london broil and it was good.

A second supporter showed up late due to getting off work, and he was an Aussie from the suburbs of Sydney. I found that out since I commented on his overdressed attire. It turns out he's an alumnus of Thunderbird and we could talk about MBA programs. He was a very interesting chap. He wife is American who can't understand why he left Sydney. (Recently, they got to go to Australia to visit family and friends, etc.) She loved it.

He had an impressive dossier. He had played for the South Sydney Rabbitohs and was mates with Ian Roberts, the famous Australian footballer who his equally known for his coming out. We talked about how the Rabbitohs had a strong fan following and how due to the fan base the Rabbitohs were saved from disqualification through legal battles. Fans collects money in buckets to find the legal fee payments. (The Rabbitohs play in Australia's National Rugby League. They are the most successful team in the history of Australian rugby league, in terms of championship, winning an unprecedented 20 first grade. However, they have not won a champoinship since 1971.) We also talked about Russel Crowe's purchasing the team.

I informed him about the sad news of the Wharton MBA student who died at the Thunderbird rugby tournament last November. The player suffered from a pre-existing, undiagnosised medical condition that just struck him while playing. Since it was a school's tournament, a full investigation was conducted and found that is was definately a pre-existing, undiagnosised medical condition that took his life. He began to relay a story about a tourney at Duke, and I asked him if it was the tournament where the referree died due to a similar condition. He confirmed and looked me dead in the eye and ask "Oh, so you know about that?" (The Thunderbird Rugby team started a scholarship for the referree's then four-year old daughter.)

We talked about how horrible Bush is and the state of being gay in world. His nephew is gay, and he has a strong opinion about the idea that being gay is a choice. He knows that it's not a choice, it's just who one is. Why anyone would want to choose to be part of a group who is ostricized, ridiculed and marginalized is beyond him. He's very counter-Christian Fundamentalist.

Our day had to end and we were all disappointed that we didn't get to play. However, we'll reschedule and hope it's not raining heavily the Saturday we reschedule.

These Boots Were Made for Walking

The home opener for the Phillies was a wash. By the bottom of the fifth, the Phils were losing 10 to 0. We were getting rained on, and even trying to get into McFadden's was a hassle. Eventually, they finished the game 13-5 but by that time I was in my bed dry and passed out.

About 8:45pm, I get a call to join up with friends at the Public House on 18th street. I hadn't been there in ages, not since it was a Dock Street Brewery.

I rush over and join my friends for a beer, and we dig the music. Whoever was the DJ had a really good sound going on. I was very excited to hear a different remix of Like a Prayer, and I got somewhat blue when I heard Together Again. However, the music had us all energized to go do something -- dance or inspiredly sing karaoke.

The only game in town that I knew of was Woody's. After a dogged night of disappointing baseball games and disappointing men, we motley crew headed out to karaoke!

We got to the bar and settled in with waters and beers, and we proceeded to the dancefloor cum stage. We dove into the big book of songs. Lisa and Matt signed themselves up for These Boots Were Made for Walking.

We were down because of men (Lisa and I) and the Phillies (Matt), but we just felt the energy in the bar. Everyone wanted to sing or listen to their friends and favorites. Jose sang a Morrisey or Smith's song. Barbara sang MacArthur Park. Others sang Borderline, Last Dance, Since U Been Gone. People were just drinking and happy. We hopped up on the dancefloor to dance with the crowd as the patrons belted out some of our favorite dance songs.

Some of our blues about life just melted like MacArthur Park was in the dark. However it was getting late, and Lisa and I were getting tired. We have to work tomorrow. As we were putting on our coats, the hostess called Matt and Lisa to sing.

Ah, what joy and bliss! All the warming up at Bonner's paid off. They performed with the best of them, dancing and moving and singing. The blues that were dogging us, just were away for a moment and it was thrilling. We all had smiles on our faces and the crowd danced as they performed. I was so proud of them. Lisa has started to get the jitters, feeling intimidated. We weren't going to let her, and she rocked out on the stage. Matt's a trooper; we knew that he'd be fine!

The rush was good for all of us. For a moment, we felt joy and it was good. Then when we have to face all we don't want to face, we have the fond memory and it will get us through.

"Are you ready, boots?"

"Start walking."