This morning, this is where I wanna be.

This post is going to be short and sweet. Normally, I have to censor myself from rambling and rambling and rambling and….you get the idea. But, writing a blog has forced me to say more with less.

So this morning, this is where I want to be. And here are a couple of reasons why:

1. I have cleaned up two rounds of cute puke before 7am.
2. I need to study for my real estate exam and truthfully don’t want to.
3. The leaves will not stop gathering on my front porch and I’m tired of sweeping them up.
4. I love hopping from hotel to hotel and not worrying about cat puke, leaves or studying.

Instead, I want to be walking the ancient streets of Europe-lit by the morning light-smelling the baking croissants and sipping an espresso. I want Biceps at my side sharing the memories with me as we bounce along to our next destination.

I want to go to a local European cafe, stumble through the language barrier, order slices of cheese, loaves of bread, yogurt and a beer at 10am. (Of course, the beer is for later…)

This is where I want to be this morning. But for right now, I’m off to clean up cat puke mess #2.

Where do you want to be?

A Castle, A Beer & A Pizza

There are times when I obsess about and long for a flavor from the past. It is a hunger that cannot be quenched until I tastes of its goodness once again.

There are times when this is impossible-due to the nature of where the food came from.

I have been craving a food from the source of Salzburg, Germany-found only here at this castle.

After a vigorous climb to get to the castle (we were too cheap to ride the gondola up), Biceps and I sat down to enjoy this view…

…at the edge of the castle’s restaurant.

First things first, we ordered a tall Pilsner beer. Then, we ordered a pizza (cheapest thing on the menu) and sat back to watch the tiny cars below zipping around as our food was being prepared.

The pizza was absolutely amazing and ridiculously simple-spinach, tomatoes, mozzarella and a red sauce. I need this pizza. I want this pizza.

Blame my obsession over this fantasy pizza on the long trek to the castle, the fact that I had been subsisting on pastries and cheese for days at that point or that the scenery was unbelievably beautiful.

I don’t care. I know in my heart that my hunger for this pizza will not subside. Biceps, pack your bags. We are going back to Germany. The end.

The 2011 Christmas Photo Reveal!

By now, those of you on the gigantic “Greiman Christmas Card List” have received your 2011 Christmas Photo.
If not, you have lazy postal workers.
Or perhaps-I have the wrong address.
At any rate, you shouldn’t have to wait any longer to feast upon such photographic magnificence.
And without further ado: Here is our 2011 Christmas Photo.
(If you would like to see past year’s photos, check out Christmas Cards.)

Let me fill you in on some of the details.

My Pippi Longstocking hair has floral wire interlaced throughout my braid.
Bicep’s Lederhosen are courtesy of a $30 thrift store purchase in Minneapolis.
I own the Germanic dress, courtesy of a $1 purchase at my favorite local thrift store in Tulsa.
The “backdrop” is a rug purchased from the flea market, and currently resides in our breakfast nook.
The beer was real and heartily consumed.
The mustache is not.
The inspiration was from God.
Amen.

(Again, if you would like to see past year’s photos, check out Christmas Cards.)

Grant’s Farm in St. Louis, Mo

Every once in awhile it works out that while we are on tour, we get to stop by to see friends and family. These moments of normalcy bring a balance to the late nights where weird people are left meandering outside the club after a show hoping to catch a glimpse of what I lovingly refer to as the dirty, stinky boys (or girls in some cases).

On this particular day of normalcy, I was able to visit my beautiful, fun and awesome mother. She took me to Grant’s farm-just a short drive away from their home in a suburb of St. Louis.

 

If you aren’t familiar with Grant’s farm, then let me tell you a little bit about it. It’s weird-but in a good way. Named after our President Grant who farmed the land way back when, it eventually was bought up by the Busch family (yeah, that Busch family who makes the beer). Grant’s farm is FREE to get into, it’s right in the middle of sprawling St. Louis suburbia, and espouses a crazy amount of weird animals, live shows, food, train rides and…yes, free beer.

 

We walked around the main portion of the farm, before hopping on the train. This guy received a lot of attention from these here mid-westerners. I couldn’t help but think about the time my Grandma asked Biceps, “One hump, or two?”, about the camel he had ridden at a state fair.

 

This guy was giving me the shy treatment. But later, he came out of his shell.

 

I don’t even know what to say to this. I should have been wearing Bicep’s lederhosen and traversing the side of a steep mountain while herding him back to the stable, followed by several ducks.

 

This proud little bird busily protected his female companions, squawking anytime we got too close.

 

I cannot resist a baby version of any animal. This cute little buffalo plodding along next to his momma just nearly broke my heart. I know he could still kill me if he so desired, but I instead pictured him curled up at my feet in front of the fireplace, with the two kitties asleep on his back.

 

After all of this walking around and riding on of trains, I needed some refreshment. We headed over to a beer garden which felt like I was back in Dusseldorf or Munich or Heidelberg…to taste the Busch beer and rest our own little hooves. In the back of my mind, I knew somewhere a stinky bus awaited me, but I was in heaven-sitting next to my mom, with a cold glass of free beer and the sites and sounds of my homeland, Germany. You can’t beat that.