The Face of Things

Thank you, Joy, for the introduction to Chimay Ale. This delightful champagne of beer is just the new drink I was looking for. It's different, it's delicious and it's not a martini but tastes and looks nice served out of a martini glass. Plus, I like the bottle. Very hip. Just my speed.

I may even add it to my Facebook page as a favorite item and really get the talk going. Because let's face it, Facebook is out of control. Seriously, it's taking over people's lives and capitalizing cocktail conversations worldwide.

Last night, at a gathering that was organized via wall-to-wall posts on Facebook, I got together with old friends Joy, Kim, Kris, Novella and Katie at Katie's nice, new house somewhere between the burbs "Bum" and sounds like "Duck." Thanks to Facebook, we were already semi up to speed on each other's lives since the last time we all got together some two or three short years ago. But there were holes that needed filling. Like, when did Katie have her fourth child?! And WTF is Kim's last name now? And what do you mean, Novella, that you're selling everything and hopping in the car with no real destination or plan?! And why, Kris, won't you just go ahead and sing us a karaoke song?! And since when, Kriste, did you get a divorce?!

Throughout the evening, Facebook kept popping up. We chatted about each other's 25 Things lists (apologizing to those whose lists we hadn't yet read). We talked about people's pictures and kids and random friends that have recently made it to our invite lists. We wondered how some people in our collection of Facebook friends do anything but troll the site and post comments. Still others have had offline conversations about how they don't understand some people's status updates (hey, if you don't get my updates you really don't need to be my friend). And then there's the whole issue of "defriending." It happened to Katie. She was defriended by an old friend who shall remain nameless (you know who you are you messed up mess). It happened to my friend Margie, too. I defriended a woman, but that was only because she was a whack job and was scaring me! And then there's my friend Kym Gerlock, who just decided that Facebook was too much and dropped off altogether. The nerve! I'm starting to think she may be onto something though. I casually keep up with Facebook, and I try to keep up with people's new posts and comings and going and postings to my wall and such, but frankly it's a little too much sometimes. I've found that some people take it personally if you don't respond for a long time. They think you're mad at them or something. But if I'm mad at someone, I'll usually tell them rather than go all Facebook passive aggressive on them.

It does make me wonder, though, what would happen if I just up and defriended everyone one day? I mean honestly. How long can this Facebook thing go on? I can barely manage the 289 friends I have. What's going to happen in say, 10 years, when that number has doubled? Or, what if I've made everyone so mad at me by then by not posting to their walls or commenting on their status that I'm down to a handful of friends who really aren't friends at all? I know one thing, my girls from Clarksville will always be my friends. They're smart. They're sassy. They're funny. And they feed my soul.

A Taste of the Goad Life

Here's the deal. I like to eat, and I can put away a lot of food. So much so, that is solicits comment from men and women alike. In fact, the only time in my life I ever remember not having an appetitite twice my size was during my divorce. Those were dark days. I withered away to 117 pounds (which, for me, is anorexic), surviving on a diet of coffee, alcohol, cigarettes, a bite of food here and there and the teeniest amount of sleep. I do not recommend this.

Since then, I've come back into my own. I quit smoking, kept drinking (in greater moderation, of course), started sleeping, returned to eating and regained my sanity.

And so, this blog is my little corner of the world where I plan to post musings about the various things that feed me, Kriste Goad, as a person. Let's start with the past weekend, 'cause it was a good one.

First, I finally saw Frost/Nixon. Loved it for many reasons, mostly because the acting was fabulous by all involved, but Frank Langella, in particular, lived up to the billing he's received. I haven't seen The Wrestler yet, but if Mickey Rourke beats Frank Langella for best actor this year, I will be very upset. Then there was Kevin Bacon and Oliver Platt. I love them both. In any role. Wrap them up, and put a bow on them.

After the movie, there was tapas at ChaCha, a new hipster spot on Belmont, right beside the renovated hookah bar we've known for years as Tabouli's. Tasty treats at this little nook, but my very favorite was the goat cheese and tomato tortilla. Delicious! Franke's favorite was the spicy gambas (spicy shrimp). Worth a visit, and I shall definitely return.

Saturday night, though, brought Miel, which I've been dying to try since before Christmas. It was spectacularly delicious from start to finish. From the wine (Domaine des Toures, Rhone Valley) to the cheese plate, to my delectable entre of Eggplant Roulade to my cookie plate dessert with French press coffee. Cannot wait to try their Saturday and Sunday brunch.

Sunday brought sunshine and a trip to Warner Park. First, though, we cooked up a breakfast of salmon and scrambled eggs, sourdough bread toasted and drizzled with avocado oil and several cups of bold, dark coffee. That was plenty of fuel for the 3-miler on the blue trail at Warner Park. Perfect day for a run in the woods. The hills kicked my ass, but it was a good ass-kicking. Train there, and you can tackle any road race around.

From there, it was back to my place for fruit smoothies and a sopressetto-provolone-pesto sandwich that I would challenge any restaurant to beat. Seriously, it was that good.

Later, it was Super Bowl fare washed down with several tasty Sam Adams Winter Lagers. Fun crowd at the Solinsky's abode and then, sleep, glorious sleep.

Oh, and of course, Franke. He fed the Goad, as always, with laughter and kindness and companionship. It was the kind of weekend that makes you say to yourself: "Life is goad..."