All the Dots

The Chef & I wish you and yours a Happy New Year -- one that bursts with joyful moments and lucky breaks. A pox on resolutions, just remember to pay attention to the quiet nice things that happen every single day. Loud nice things count too.

Santa Hat Cactus

Santa Clara Creche

When we were at the Grand Canyon we went to an overpriced tourist gift shop to browse Native American crafts. It was there that I spotted this Santa Clara Pueblo pottery creche and decided that I had to have it. I have never owned a creche before, but my mother collects them when she travels and puts them all out on display during the holidays. I have always been impressed that she is able to find unique creches from all over the world (Africa, Peru, China, etc.) as I have never seen any souvenir Creche Marts. But here was this creche, and I was traveling, and I was not with my family for the holidays and I really missed them. So I went bonkers and I bought this creche. When I got home I looked up the artists and discovered that they are a husband & wife team named Dorothy and Paul Guterriez and they are known for their animal figures that are "made to put a smile on your face and to remind you not to take life so seriously all the time." Now I can put this creche out during the holidays and remember throwing snowballs at the Grand Canyon and follow in my mother's tradition all at the same time. Totally worth it.

Attack of the Giant Tumbleweeds!

Our trip home yesterday was like driving through different levels of a video game. Except that we were in our car in the middle of nowhere instead of being comfortable on our couch with a joystick. It started out just fine from Chandler, AZ through the desolate Sonoran desert -- aside from the exciting 4-5 dead cow carcasses on the side of the road (level 1 - don't hit cows) along the way. However, past Yuma the winds started to pick up and there was a little sandstorm going through the dunes section of Hwy 8 (which runs right next to the Mexican border) just past The Center of the World. We made it through that (level 2) and headed up the scenic Sierra mountain pass on our way to Escondido only to hit rain (level 3) then hail (level 4) then fog (level 5). That was my toughest level as foggy driving conditions with no visibility on a giant mountain pass with no guard rails is um, well, I tried to avoid thinking about it.

The bonus prize for level completion was a stop for lunch at the Stone Brewery in Escondido, CA. Wow. It was much fancier than your usual warehouse microbrewery and involved elaborate stone architecture, a beautiful outdoor patio and glass walls on one side of the restaurant that rolled up like garage doors. I felt underdressed. I still regret not taking a picture in the bathroom, which had a design of small pebbles and barley (!) stuck on the walls. They were celebrating their tenth anniversary and were offering pours of every single one of their beers. This was appropriately titled the Stone Winter Storm. The Chef had the Double Dry-Hopped Stone Levitation Ale w/ Amarillo & Crystal hops (I'm not making this up) and I sadly had to pass on the brew because it's hard to drink beer at lunch and then drive for seven more hours. Plus, if I drink beer before 5pm I get very cranky and then fall asleep. Thus, it wasn't much of a hardship to watch The Chef drink while I ate my fancy Southern California lunch (duck tacos!). Note that there were lots of guys in there who looked like they were extras in the smarmy L.A. HBO mini-series that I never watch called "Entourage."

By the time we left I realized we were going to hit L.A. rush hour and I became very cranky despite not drinking any beer. That's not a good trade off. Traffic was horrible (level 6) but it still wasn't as bad as the last time we drove through L.A. which was even worse. I don't know how people live in that city but insane traffic is just one reason. When we entered the incline to Tejon Pass it started to rain, and then even better, sleet! (level 7) We got higher and higher and temps dove to freezing and then cars were scattered on the side of the road. We grimaced and wondered if we should pull over, but there really wasn't anywhere TO pull over, so there we were, with the Chef white knuckled on the steering wheel and the wiper blades not working so well. I put on some more Marisa Monte samba music for the Chef because that helped me when I was back in level 5. We went up to 4000 feet and then started down again, the temps rising and turning the slush back to rain. (the next morning we read in the paper that they closed this section of Hwy 5, probably right after we made it through.) So, it's true -- it snows in Southern California.

Wait - I forgot to mention the high winds (level 8) -- which made things very loud, like a monster boxing our ears, so we had to blast the music to attempt to ignore, which didn't work.

We were very happy to be left with just the rain & the high winds when we got to Bakersfield, so we decided not to stop for the night but be insane and barrel through to San Francisco so we could sleep in our own warm bed with furry kittens. Yet, further along on Hwy 5 there was a big warning sign that said "High Winds Causing Dust to Blow" or something like that. Dust? Who cares about dust? Also, it had just stopped raining, so could there be dust? Pah! we said to the flashing sign. Soon, we realized that "dust" was code for GIANT TUMBLEWEEDS blowing across the highway (level 9). First we were all "HA HA HA, tumbleweeds!" as usually that word summons memories of cartoon westerns and easy-going "tumbling tumbleweeds" songs. I mean, c'mon, tumbleweeds, you never think of them as being scary. That was until we realized that there were LOTS OF THEM and some were as BIG AS OUR CAR! We stopped laughing. At first I attempted to avoid them as they flew across the road (which was exactly like a video game) but then I decided (as this technique was getting impossible and seemed very unsafe) I would test hitting some of the smaller ones to see if anything bad would happen. They sure thwapped the car, and a big one got stuck on the front of our car for a while (which was only funny because eventually it blew off) but they didn't cause any damage and we missed that HUGE ONE which was certainly a blessing. The giant semis on the road with us certainly didn't have to worry about them. When we stopped for gas the Chef removed some Tumbleweed detris from the grill of our car and commented "Ouch, tumbleweeds are prickly."

Note, even at 9pm in the roadside town of Kettleman City -- the In & Out Burger parking lot is jam packed and you still have to fight for a table (level 10) and wait ten minutes for your order. Overheard at the table next to ours, "You know, I just don't do so well when I can't see the road."

High winds followed us all the way home (level 11) but by the time we reached the Bay Bridge The Chef just scoffed at the flashing "High Wind Alert" warning sign. He said "You call these high winds?" However we still had one more level (12) -- when we reached the other side of the bridge, construction had closed the hwy and dumped us off into downtown San Francisco with no detour signs. Luckily, we live here and know our way. I felt bad for the people going to San Jose who got stuck driving around lost at 2am.

The kittens yelled at us when we got home because we took so long. After some patting and fresh water they forgave us (kind of) and we all went to bed very thankful that we were able to complete all levels of "X-MAS ROAD TRIP" (rated MA) with people and car intact and not stuck stranded on the side of road in sand/snow/rain/sleet/wind.

whew. it's nice to be back home.

Grand Canyon Snow!

On Friday we made it to the Grand Canyon (from Kingman, AZ) in the middle of a snow fall. There was zero visibility, but who cares when you can run around and throw snowballs! In Arizona! Oooo, now it does seem like Christmas. It was fun to drive around to scenic viewing areas with other international tourists and see absolutely nothing. There was lots of giggling and make believe. Thankfully, the next morning we woke up, and there it was, that big hole everyone is always talking about. I could use the word "majestic" to describe the scene, but I think that's been done.



We drove down to Chandler, AZ through the red rocks of Sedona, and now we are in Sun Lakes, where it's still a little brisk, but no ice to scrape off the car (like Saturday morning.) There is a tiny Scotty dog named Sundance here who is cheering everyone up.

Season's Greetings

My apologies if you receive a holiday card from me & the Chef with a bunch of nonsense written on it.

It meant to say -- Happy Holidays! We miss you! May you be showered with goodness in 2007.

Special shout out to the librarian and her sweetheart in St. Paul -- hang in there, we are sending you good thoughts and warm fuzzies.

Hollaback @ the Post Office

I was in line at the post office mailing packages (darn you X-mas!) when an older-than-me postal worker plugged in her iPod to the speakers in the corner. All of a sudden I heard, "Uh huh, this my shit/All the girls stomp your feet like this."

Did she just say shit? In the post office? Did an older-than-me postal worker just hook up the post office to the unedited dance remix of "Hollaback Girl" by Gwen Stefani?

Maybe it was a different word, that just sounded like shit.

As I was puzzling and trying to make sense of this odd post office soundtrack, again I heard "Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit, Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit, Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit, Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit, I heard that you were talking shit and you didn't think that I would hear it."

Okay, she is definitely saying shit. Gwen is singing about her shit, IN THE POST OFFICE with old ladies and moms with kids in line mailing their holiday presents, and did they play this version on the radio? Am I THAT out of it? Does everyone now just accept the broader usage of the word shit even in public buildings like the post office?

I looked around wide-eyed at everyone, but no one seemed to notice. Only the older-than-me postal worker was squinting at me, daring me to complain and make her take off the highly inappropriate Gwen Stefani "Hollaback Girl" remix. Of course I just giggled to myself and continued to listen, even though I did think it was highly inappropriate. I don't even mind the song, but you sure couldn't play this version on the radio.

"Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit
Let me hear you say, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
Again, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
This shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna happen like that
Cause I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl
[2x]
Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit [4x]

At the POST OFFICE!

Amalgamating Smells

The kitten hissing at our house has ceased. Sort of. There is still the random slappy fight or a tail chomp out of the blue. The worst was the who-the-hell-is-that-other-cat-on-the-bed shock at 2am. Let's just say we have not been sleeping very well this past week. Every day I would explain to Clementine (the cat who didn't go to the vet who was attacking her sick sister) "That's your sister. We adopted her the same day we adopted you. You are sisters from the same litter of kittens." and she would just look at me puzzled, with the expression "red alert! red alert! there's a strange cat in the house!" The worst part was that Sweetpea, after being on the receiving end of a hissing attack, would look at us, like, "What the f*#ck?" In the morning she would sullenly sit and stare as if she was the loneliest, misunderstood, under attack kitten in the whole wide world.

When I explained to the vet that the actual trip to the office was creating more havoc in our house than the sick kitten (who is all better now, whew) she apologized for not warning me about the whole territorial cat thing. She also recommended this product called Feliway that helps to difuse the behavior of sparring cats. Get this -- it's a plug-in! "Feliway is an synthetic analogue of the feline facial pheromone which reproduces the familiarization properties normally produced by a cat when it deposits its own facial pheromones in the environment." I was explaining this to someone at work and they said, "Do you think that is a real thing?" like I had seen it on some television ad in the middle of another sleepless cat hissing night. Only $9.99! Order now! It does sound made up. The vet also told me "you can buy it on the internet" which also makes it sound like a Ron Popeil product. We figured that by the time the Feliway plug-in arrived in the mail that the cats would be sick of each other, which is pretty much what happened.

We did use the cheaper "towel technique" method, which involves rubbing a towel on a cat and then yourself, and then the other cat, and then yourself, and then the other cat, and so on and so on and so on, and how much fun are we having?

Amalgamating smells is a good way to spend the time, but I'm glad it's over. Aside from the occasional slappy sister fight and tail chomp out of the blue.

Next time, BOTH cats go to the vet, BOTH cats will smell exactly the same.

Good TV

After watching this season's final episode of "The Wire" (and like a hammer when I realized that the friend of former junkie Bubbles was former junkie Steve Earle) I realized AGAIN what a miracle it was that this intricate, intense drama representing people of all sizes, classes & colors even made it to the airwaves. Each season opens up a WHOLE NEW WORLD.

HOW DO THEY DO THAT?!?!

Another show I've been watching this year that does a similar amazing thing is "City of Men." Like this season's story behind The Wire, the plot of each episode is so universal in terms of kids growing up. There are lots of television shows about kids growing up. However plunk the same old story into the settings of the Baltimore housing projects or the favalas of Brazil and it's a lesson in similarities and huge contrasts. These programs are a peephole into learning about a drastically different environment -- and for me, they bridge a huge gap in understanding. For when will I ever spend a good thirty minutes in the slums of Brazil, because they will never let me pass up the hill to eavesdrop on their conversations. Plus, I don't understand Portuguese, although I could listen to it all day and not care -- it's so lovely and soft sounding, all those zaraleenas and woochola sounding words.

The other odd thing -- both these shows follow the lives of boys, young boys -- an age group and a gender that I would easily cross the street, run out of the room, not make eye contact with, plug my ears and sing to myself to avoid. Teenage boys, they are annoying, no? Is there anything more annoying than teenage boys? Just another reason I find myself mystified that I'm completely drawn to their stories. Like a good book, here I am, wondering what the hell is going to happen to Randy. The characters are so good I can't let them go.

Plus, those kids -- where did they find those kid actors? Oh yeah, some of them are Shakespearean trained, and some of them lived in the neighborhood. Again, I'll just say it's a miracle. That these kids could represent these kids in these stories about their own world and be so damn' good at it tosses me smack into the middle of the story. There is so much crap on television that when something good makes it on, I'm shocked. I want to thank everyone involved in getting these shows on the airwaves -- the WRITERS, the directors, the casting directors, the heads of HBO and whoever is their liaison to Time/Warner that fights for letting them do what they want to do, the BBC and the Sundance channel and whatever funding in Brazil that got into the hands of the insanely talented director Fernando Meirelles (and co-director Katia Lund) and gave jobs to actors who IMPROVISE THEIR SCENES and translate their environment for TIVO owning losers like us who just want to sit down, turn on their television and be magically transported.

HOW DO THEY DO THAT?!?!?!?!

Lest you think I'm a TV snob who only watches critically acclaimed programming about social issues, I just finished watching "10 Best Truck Stops of the World" on the Travel Channel. The truck stop in Racine, Wisconsin made #3 because it has a chiropractor.

Merry Muppets

This may reveal my melancholy tendencies, but my favorite Christmas song is "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." It perfectly acknowledges the real things in life, like the golden value of friends and family and the preciousness of time without wasting it singing about babies in mangers. It's a song that makes me sentimental, teary and happy all at the same time in a seasonal sad little might-as-well-enjoy-the-fleeting-bright-spots sort of a way.

To this day, my favorite (and the most sincere!) version of this song is the duet between Rowlfe the Dog and 70's (future suicidal) superstar John Denver. To me, real emotion is best expressed through the use of piano playing puppets. That's probably why they use them so much for therapy. Trust no one but puppets to express your emotions!
When I was growing up, this John Denver & the Muppets lp was pulled out and played over and over and over again during the holidays and I still never get tired of listening to it. A few years ago it was reissued on CD and my sister bought a copy for everyone in my family. I like to image that when I'm listening to Miss Piggy leading all the muppet characters in a round of "Christmas Is Coming" that others in my family are all singing along.

Hop-It!

This Belgian ale was so HOPPY that the cork popped off with no prompting. We screamed AHHEEEHHH, checked to make sure no one lost an eye, and then drank it up. We liked it more than Moylan's "Hopsickle" brew -- which was over-the-top "hopsick."

Okay, enough Barney, I'll stop blogging about beer, but that doesn't mean that I've stopped drinking it.

Miss Sweetpea

Three cheers for Miss Sweetpea! Today she had a big adventure at Mission Pet Hospital. In the waiting room there were two giant greyhounds, one rottweiler, two pit bulls, and various cats that (in comparison to barking dogs) weren't that scary. We warned her that kittens who are treated like babies (pro - sleep on fluffy duvet) are also treated like babies when they get sick (con - rushed to the pet hospital by worryworts.) She was very brave and not as scared as the time Goompy & Gampy came to visit, despite having a fever w/ high temp even for a hyperactive attention deficit disorder princess. They also x-rayed her to make sure that she didn't eat the metal zipper off the Chef's jacket (his suspicion for the last two weeks.) The vet asked us, "Does she eat things? plastic? string?" This was met with great laughter as Miss Sweetpea has always found everything non-edible quite delicious. Zipper, yum.

She is back to acting like her old self again but NOW her sister Clementine has decided that if a cat (related or NOT) has left the house for over two hours she is a veritable STRANGER --- HISS! Who the hell are you?

I guess if you were a kid and someone put your annoying little sister in a box and took her away, perhaps you would hope that she was gone for good and you would be forevermore the queen of all attention. It would be a big let down when they brought her back.

HISSSSSSS

Dateline 1933

"On December 5, 1933, the 21st Amendment to the U.S Constitution is ratified, repealing Prohibition. The manufacture, sale, and possession of alcoholic beverages is no longer illegal and the government enacts an emergency ordinance permitting the sale of beer and wine."

Tonight we went out to celebrate this joyous anniversary at Park Chow, drinking (what else) a big pint of one of our local favorites, Speakeasy's Prohibition lager.

Aren't you glad it's not 1932? or 1919? Or any year in-between? I hadn't realized that the Women's Christian Temperance Union made everything dull for nearly fourteen years. Did you know that the WCTU still exists? Initially they did not accept Catholic, Jewish or African-American women, or even women who had not been born in North America. However, today even men can join as honorary members. They still hate alcohol, cigarettes, "club drugs" and of course, because there is more than enough hate to go around, same-sex marriage.

Arrogant Bastard

Just be glad that I have more beer to talk about, instead of going on about watching "Finding Neverland" this evening while trapped with a cat on my lap, unable to reach the Kleenex. Resistance was futile. Besides, there's a time for getting weepy, and there's a time for avoiding "the ticking crocodile."

Arrogant Bastard to the rescue! This stuff is oaked dammit. I am certainly not worthy.

p.s. I believe in fairies. Always have, always will.

An Homage to Beer

We usually avoid Bison Brewery beers because of our admitted anti-Berkeley bias (remember, we lived there for a while, we can slam it) alongside their unusual flavor choices (coriander? gingerbread? honey basil? ewwww.) However, this Farmhouse Ale was quite delicious. Light and saisony. Plus, it appeals to our beer snob sensibilities as it is a hard-to-find "Brewer's Reserve" ale. They recommended drinking it with "a nice Emmenthaler or Gruyere as part of a Ploughman's Lunch," but I think we just ripped it open on Friday night and glugged it down. Note that they shut down the pub/restaurant they used to have in Berkeley (we went there a few times, but there were too many annoying college kids there, go figure!) Now all their beers are commercially produced by the Coast Range Brewing Co. in Gilroy. That's the garlic capital of the world -- you will smell it before your arrival, providing a much nicer whiff than driving through the city of Mosinee, WI and getting a noseful of the paper mill.

I'm Barney!

Holy smokes -- encouraged by the Irish Goddess, I took the "Which Simpson are You" test. I'm BARNEY! It was some comfort that the Chef also took the test, and is also Barney. A match made in heaven I would say. Burp.

You Are Barney

You could have been an intellectual leader... Instead, your whole life is an homage to beer You will be remembered for: your beautiful singing voice and your burps Your life philosophy: "There's nothing like beer to give you that inflated sense of self-esteem."

The Simpsons Personality Test

Shiny New Stove

Bling!