ADDED: That's an interesting YouTube portal into Chinese commercials. Check out this very weird Panda cheese thing, and this one made me feel like I needed to have a seizure.
Mmm. Well. At least I'm now able to confirm by inference that my pronunciation of Chick-fil-A is correct.
ADDED: To respond to some questions in the comments, I assumed, reading the sign, noting the capital A, and using common sense, that the name was pronounced "chick fill AY," that is,"chick fillet." But recently somebody laughed at me for saying it like that and insisted it was pronounced "chick FILL uh." I was embarrassed. When I came across the slogan that I've put in the post title, I thought it was a funny way to say I was right. Why does that slogan show I was right? Because it has meter and rhyme only if it's pronounced my way. As for the folks in the comments who thought it had something to do with fellatio — "fill-A-tio"....
It's nice to think that the hyper-glamorous affair went humble and comfy as the night wore on. Or am I being a chump to consume this PR that's intended to make people — face it, women — think the Clintons are just folks?
We're happy to find a place that might be okay, open for lunch in New Richmond, Wisconsin. Bellarietta. I misread it as Bellateria and joke that it's deleterious.
(Enlarge to read the text of the open book... and the messages we've penciled on the table.)
After extensive consultation with our excellent server Tanya, I trusted them with a Philly steak sandwich and Meade, oddly enough, went for a black bean burger. It looked like this and tasted as good as you'd hope upon seeing it, and it's hard for bread to meet my high standard:
Computer on the table? Damned right: There was WiFi! Yay! The wifie got her WiFi, and her hubby is happy with that. So marriage can work. It was possible to find a husband who suited my eccentric needs.
And it was possible to find a great place to eat in this little town in the middle of Wisconsin.
Great, and I think you could do most — all? — of these on a panini grill inside and even more quickly. I was amused by Bittman's video demonstrating how to make a real grilled cheese sandwich — actually grilling it...
... but you don't need a plate on top with a can weighing down the plate and you don't need to flip it and do the other side if you have a panini grill. (Here! that's the panini grill we use. But if I were buying something today, I'd get this — because we eat a lot of pancakes at Meadehouse. Note: Making a purchase at either of those links will automatically and without additional cost to you help support my work on this blog.)
Althouse managed six posts this August 3rd as well as in 2008, even while getting hitched, impressive consistency, that.
Interesting set of posts, though, the Dowd thing is a reminder of how ridiculous the press was with regards to Obama before the election, and the sandwich manifesto is probably something that deserves revisiting.
Again, congratulations to you both, it's a wonderful and daring thing both of you have done.
Thanks for noticing. I was on vacation then too. It was especially funny to me to see that on August 3, 2008, I switched to the fisheye lens: "I realized I had the fisheye in my bag, and this is the first fisheye shot... L.A. crystalized for me in extravagantly bent form at that moment. It was all fisheye from there."
And yesterday, August 3, 2009, our wedding day, I got the old fisheye out after a long while. It was great for arm's-length shots of the 2 of us, including lots of scenery along with the full view of our heads, because the angle is so wide. Unfortunately, most of these shots are too intimate for blog use. You'll have to imagine those. You do have the hands with rings shot below, and I have another I'm going to put up in a separate post, coming soon.
I like looking back to a year ago too. If someone had told me at the time that I would get married a year later, I would have been astounded. I really did not think of myself as the marrying kind. I was very post-married then, very much into being on my own and not being judged or beholden to anybody. My motto — referring quite specifically to marriage — was "I will not serve."
My comment, at 3:59 today, Central Time (though we are on Mountain Time), in the post "We're here in Colorado not just for the scenery, but for the law," which read: "What is the law we love so much — this beautiful example of the benefits of federalism? I will tell you soon!"
The first commenter there, reader_Iam, instantly got the answer:
Are you wanting to solemnize your own marriage, as opposed to having an officiant required?
Couples themselves may solemnize their own marriage (perform one's own marriage ceremony). According to Colorado Revised Statute 14-2-109, a marriage may be solemnized by a judge of a court; by a court magistrate; by a retired judge of the court; by a public official whose powers include solemnization of marriages; by Indian tribe officials; by clergy; by the parties to the marriage. If you wish to solemnize your own marriage, you will be responsible for acquiring, completing and returning the license to marry to the appropriate county Office of the Clerk and Recorder.
And that's just what we did. This afternoon, we drove from our hotel in Bachelor Gulch to the Office of the Clerk and Recorder in Eagle County, where we showed our driver's licenses, answered a few questions, paid $30 cash, and got a license that empowered us to marry each other. We drove up Bellyache Ridge — just the 2 of us — where we did things our way and solemnized the marriage on our own. Then, we did the additional red tape — filling out the bottom of the Certificate of Marriage and handing it back to the county official who'd asked us the questions earlier. And now, we're here at Yeti's Grind on Broadway, in Eagle, eating our first food (sandwiches) and drinking our first drink (mango smoothies) as husband and wife. And we're both on the WiFi.
One thing I love about American federalism is that — subject to the limitations of national law — individual states can do things their own way, and we can move around finding the law we like. We decided against marrying in Madison, because under Wisconsin law, not only do you need to pay $125 or so for the license and then go get a minister or a judge to perform the wedding — you have to wait 6 days between getting the license and doing the wedding. What's that all about? It's insulting, not to mention avaricious. We went west, out of the grip of a paternalistic state, for greater freedom and individuality.
And, yes, we think same-sex couples should also have the right to marry. You'll have to travel somewhere other than Colorado if that's the freedom you want. We traveled and got what we wanted, and obviously, we have the additional benefit of getting a marriage that will be recognized everywhere. I hope the day will come when the Coloradan attitude that favored us will smile on gay people too. But for now, I'm just really happy to be married in Colorado, on Bellyache Ridge, with just me and Meade on the scene. Aptly, it turned out that there was a big old cell phone tower on top of the ridge, so we texted and emailed and telephoned.
And I made a blog comment — a comment, not a post, because that's where I found my dear husband, in the comments.
Trooper York has quite a picture — in a post that's about the Althouse Cincinnati meet-up (which I talk about minimally, with pictures, here). In Trooper's comments:
An Edjamikated Redneck said...
Now dag nab it Trooper; I ate the Hot Brown (which was actually more like a Hot White -- being chicken & all and not the original Roast Beef -- but the chicken is healthier, not that I'm worried about my health, but... Where was I? Oh, yeah).
(Ha ha. Hot White. Here's my pic of the Hot (supposedly) Brown.)
Any way, it was not a crap sandwich as you have portrayed (yeah it did look pretty wild when it came out of the kitchen with a knife stuck in it -- and this was a classy place; well classier anyway -- I mean it is usually the dives where something comes out of the kitchen with a knife in it- and its usually the cook... Where was I? Oh, yeah).
It was a pretty good sandwich (I mean the comments over at Althouse; Heart attack on a bun! It was CHICKEN for cryin' out loud! It’s the original white meat! Not like it was pork or something… Where was I? Oh, yeah).
And I was with some classy folks (not that I would meet and tell you understand, but you know Althouse was there; how much classier can you get? And the place actually served long neck PBRs! Do you expect a place like that to serve a crap sandwich? I mean hell, it’s not the Congressional Dining Room for Pete’s sake! I mean there they KNOW a carp sandwich when they serve one… Where was I? Oh, yeah).
Carp sandwich?
So, I want y’all to lay off my dinner; it was a great place and a helluva good time (you know the place has been open since 1861? My Great-Granddad ran a hotel on that block in the 1870’s; most likely he probably had at least one beer there himself, back in the day. He was German ya know we seem to have some sort of reputation as beer drinkers… Where was I? Oh, yeah).
Redneck responds to Darcy's request for details about the meet-up:
Any way Darcy, as much I would like to accommodate you and spill the beans on last night (now there’s a meal that would deserve comments! What if I would have had a plate of beans and rice? Not like a place classy as that, and on the northern side of the river would even serve beans, but… Dag nab it; did it again! Where was I? Oh, yeah).
A gentleman never tells the details. We had a good time, ate a good meal and all parted amicably.
One detail I will spill; Not only did I get to meet Althouse; I also got to meet Silvio.
And he took me at the light. I got to admit THAT was not the highlight of the evening (no redneck, even us edjamikated ones, like to admit that we lost a drag race, but her ‘chauffer’ caught me flat-footed trying to retune the radio when the light changed. First I knew the light was green was when I heard the roar of an Audi’s exhaust… Where was I? Oh, yeah).
IN THE COMMENTS: Okay, you people are trying, but you are not succeeding.
Oldirishpig said:
"The Mutated Chicken of Death"?
Issob Morocco said:
Prelude to Heart Bypass Surgery.
Peter V. Bella said:
Vampire Chicken.
MadisonMan said:
I don't know the name, but I do know you can't kill a sandwich like that with a knife -- you need a silver bullet or a cross.
An Edjamikated Redneck said:
MM- I'll have you know I killed that sandwich with nothing more than a fork and a large appetite.
And a little ice tea to wash it down.
Of course the fork may have been silver; I didn't stop long enough to check.
Yes, that was an Edjamikated Redneck's sandwich, which I photographed at the Cincinnati blogger-commenter meet-up at Arnold's Bar and Grill. Now, the menu is not available at the link, but I can tell you that it was listed on the menu as a hot brown.
And thanks to all who came to the meet-up. I've done meet-ups in NYC, San Francisco, and LA, but those are larger cities than Cincinnati. It's incredibly cool that we can get together a good crowd in Cincinnati.
