Tuesday, May 25, 2010

What else do you do on Second Pentecost Day?

I am back now and feeling a little less stressed.  I've gotten to a better place with my chapter and presentation and I sent Sea Legs Girl my story about running, whew.   Now that I have downshifted into regular stress mode instead of the very unattractive freakout gear, it's time to get back to some writing that doesn't involve footnotes or citations of any kind.  Just thinking about writing without those restrictions makes me feel all dangerous, as if I could say anything on here without the requirement to back up my claims.  Good thing I pretty much only write about food and what happens in my own kitchen.

Because it was finally warm and sunny here this weekend, we ventured outside our own four walls and felt very social.  Saturday and Sunday were packed with a birthday celebration for a friend and an excursion to a park with the in-laws, all wonderful stuff that I can post about later.  The big question on my mind and I am sure yours as well: "What does one do the day after Pentecost?"  That's right, it was time on Monday for Second Pentecost Day.  Most places are closed giving you the opportunity to relax and do nothing.  We could have also headed to IKEA, which is open on this holiday of holidays, for their blowout breakfast special.  We could have wandered the massive showroom in search of affordable Swedish design that doesn't look like it came from IKEA.  As we are not in the market for an Ektorp or a Flor√∂, and I detest crowds, that was nixed as an option.  Instead, I foolishly decided we should spend our morning productively at a garden center.  My mint looked like it was dying a slow death, and the basil needed a bigger pot.

Do you know where the Dutch people go who don't end up at IKEA?  They go to the garden center...the horrible, gigantic, crowded garden center.  I just wanted a bag of soil and a few terra cotta pots, and it ended up taking us almost two hours to get that accomplished.  There was a traffic jam of carts full of geraniums and cherry tomatoes stretching for what seemed an eternity through the maze.   It was probably like any major garden center on a holiday weekend, but I have never in my life visited such a place.  If I had taken pictures of my experience you would only see pictures of me really irritated by a lack of customer service and the very long lines.  Better you should see the following pictures:
I think your third option for getting out of the house and "doing something" on Second Pentecost Day is sitting on a sunny terrace with a Belgian witbier while you watch the boats go by.  Once you've done that, you can really enjoy re-potting your herbs.  Watch out, tomato basil salad!  I'm getting ready for you.


  1. Wow. Looks like some intense relaxation going on there. And a Green Bay Packers shirt, nonetheless. Being from Wisconsin, I can't refrain from feeling a bit of pride.

  2. And I was thinking the beer looked better than anything in Wisconsin and Holland might be far enough away that people won't snicker when they see "Green Bay Packers."

    But it's the butter... oh, one can get good butter in Wisconsin if one really tries, but the butter in Europe... so tasty!

    [Thank for adding me to the blog roll. I may have to write something that doesn't look out of context, though.]

  3. The relaxation was absolutely necessary, and much enjoyed, after my struggle to find a little top soil. I was born into a Packers family, hence my husband's shirt.
    Steve, please don't tell me you're a Vikings fan. We might have to have words once the football season rolls around. I'm glad to see so many posts on your blog. Glad you're writing.
    Oh yes, the butter...so creamy and flavorful on top of fresh bread. I've had to adjust some of my recipes, because the butter can be a little heavier here.

  4. I've never seen someone so thoughtfully butter a piece of bread. :)

  5. The butter was still really cold, and I was trying to keep the bread from tearing. You can understand how important it is to keep the bread whole.