Nun Boutique

Every year we drive down to Fremont (soon to be new home of the Oakland A's) to attend the Dominican Sisters of Mission San Jose "Holiday Boutique." It's held right next to historic Mission San Jose (photo above). I'm talking 1797 people -- when the Spanish missionaries came to California and told the Ohlone Indians to move it. Their convent is right in the middle of an olive grove. It was here I finally understood (doh) the whole olives-grow-on-trees concept. Like, wait a minute, what in the heck are on those trees?!?! Olives? Really? WOW!

We've been going for six years, the first year as a lark to buy olive oil, but then we were hooked on the niceness of the sisters and the deliciousness of their holiday treats. Nun fruitcake is now part of our California Christmas tradition.


As a fundraiser, the sisters sell their 100% "extra virgin"olive oil (that's their joke!), along with fruit cake, holiday cookies, bourbon balls that pack a punch and homemade jam (which was all gone by the time we got there on Sunday -- sigh.) In a land without snow, for me the holiday season starts when we get to the nun fair. We buy olive oil and fruit cake (shut up -- it's good!) for both of our families. One year I forgot to bring home the nun fruit cake to my parents in Wisconsin and they were very upset with me. This year I will have to mail it so it will get there in time.

We are usually too shy to take pictures of the nuns out of respect (i.e. catholic guilt and the strong chance of a giant lightning bolt from the sky striking me down in mid-flash.) Although one year one of the nuns was wearing a Rudolph nose and I was very sad I didn't bring my camera, and then I felt guilty about the delighted thought of taking a picture of a nun wearing a Rudolph nose. This year we took pictures, and they didn't mind at all, and there was no "signal" from above that this was wrong, not even a holy tap on the shoulder that it was a venial sin.


Many of the nuns seem to be wizenheimers (Rudolph nose, etc.) and the ones selling the cookies made funny faces when the photo below was taken and made everyone on that side of the room laugh. They always have a door prize raffle -- this year I was only ONE NUMBER OFF! I guess that holiday gift bag with the Applebee's gift certificate went to someone who prays.


We bought olive oil, fruitcake, persimmons, christmas cookies, the famous (loaded with) bourbon balls, a felt turkey head (which is supposed to be slipped over a pineapple?! but my thought is a wine bottle) and nun knitting. I bought a tiny green & red knitted bag that holds things for joggers (?) and all of a sudden the Chef desperately needed yellow & brown hot pads.

Our Nun Boutique bounty is below.

Nert Certified

Today I put out fires, triaged boyscouts, learned what "cribbing" means (no, it's not cheating on the final test) and mistakenly tagged someone as dead when I just needed to put their head in an air intake position. Oops. Sorry volunteer victim. Now I'm a certified NERT volunteer with my own helmet, gloves and orange vest.

Deirdre's breakfast!

In honor of the Chef's food blog A Week of Porridge , I (jokingly) asked people to send me a picture of what they had for breakfast. Here's what Deirdre (the animal expert) eats -- "Greek fig yogurt and coffee with cream and a whole lotta sugar."


Now I'm serious -- please send me a picture of your breakfast!

Make Out Mix

I have a weird job. One of the things that I get paid to do is to create a weekly playlist of sexytime make out songs that are automatically loaded into portable "devices." That way, people can just plug in their device, and start their Friday night listening to, um, sexytime make out songs. Kind of creepy, huh? My suspicion is that those in charge had a big laugh assigning this particular list to me -- and while at first my face got all red when I had send them to my editor (e-mail goes something like, hey bob, here's this week's big make out songs. Do they meet with your approval?" blush blush.

However, turns out it's loads of fun to put together (and much better than whoever is stuck with the weekly "work out mix" UGH!) I try to pick some corny "classics" that are funny to listen to in context (although at closer listen I discovered that Journey's cringeworthy "Lovin' Touchin' & Squeezin'" is actually a jealous and bitter loser song -- I'm pointing at YOU Steve Perry.) I pluck songs from lots of unexpected genres (George Jones & Tammy Wynette's "Take Me" is a great one.) I also try to throw in a few curveballs, like Mirah's "Murphy Bed" (which is a plea to her on-the-road sweetie to tie her to the bed and "let's do all the things we said") to see if anyone will mention it to me, like, hey -- maybe not so S&M on the next list, ok? Of course, no one says anything about the list to me -- ever. Except for once laughing at me about after a particular indie rock Belle & Sebastian tinged sexytime list. Too sweet, okay. Maybe that's how I ride.

I was very pleased with this week's sexytime list:

• "You Sexy Thing" - Hot Chocolate
  

At my parent's house I have a tattered gradeschool CCD workbook somewhere (CCD is Catholic class for public school kids spared from daily exposure to nuns.) There's a page that asks lots of questions like -- what's your favorite color, what's your favorite food, and then, what's your favorite song? My response in scrawley grade school writing? -- Hot Chocolate "You Sexy Thing" I had no idea. Come to think of it, no one ever said anything about it to me then! You cannot deny the greatness of this song, even when you are 11 and have no idea what it really means.

• "Your Touch" - The Black Keys

Scrawny white nerds from Ohio who sing gritty sexed-up blues songs, the perfect match.

• "Do You Wanna Touch Me" - Joan Jett

Another classic that we all sang along loudly with in high school without giving a thought to being assaulted. Plus, Joan Jett in black leather with an Elvis snarl. Need I say more?

• "Come Close" - Common

It's hard to find a sweet, sincere hip-hop love song that doesn't use bad words to describe the ladies. This is a sweet, sincere hip hop song that will make you want to track down Common and give him a kiss. (update, I just saw Common on the TV rapping "Peace, Love, The Gap" so I'm re-thinking him as someone I would want to kiss. Peace, Love, The Gap? blah!

• "Let's Stay In And Make Love" - Nick Lowe

An adult old married folks sexytime song, that is quite blunt! Getting the message across, because old people don't have time to waste.

• "Make The Night A Little Longer" - Dionne Warwick

This song rules because Dionne actually makes a plea to GOD to extend the length of the evening so she can have more sexytime fun. Does that make it a gospel song?

• "Want No Other" - Holly Golightly

An underappreciated UK vocalist who sings many alluring 60's vintage-style songs about romance that range from upfront (the Headcoatees "Come Into My Mouth" -- I was not daring enough to include that one this week -- eek) I picked this one because she tells her bloke that even though he's a big jerk, she still digs him anyway. Who can explain the magic of love?

• "We're Gonna Boogie" - Primal Scream

See Black Keys above, replace scrawny nerds from Ohio with scrawny nerds from Scotland singing gritty sexed-up blues songs. Boogie, you know what I mean? nudge nudge, wink wink. Note that this is from their first new CD in years, and it rocks.

• "The Way You Move - (featuring Sleepy Brown)" - Outkast

My least favorite of the list, I never quite got the whole Outkast frenzy, but I try to throw un-adventerous listeners a familar treat if they can make it this far down this list.

• "Kiss Me Neck" - Lee "Scratch" Perry

An instrumental, yet one of the sexiest songs of them all. This was one of the Upsetters' very first singles, from the 1960s. Mix the title w/ the rock steady chugachugachugs and the vocal exclamations at the close -- wow. Sometimes the sexiest songs have no lyrics.

So next time someone asks me, "so what do you really do again for work?" I'll tell them I make lists of sexytime makeout songs that can instantly downloaded as a "dynamic" playlist to their portable "device" so they can enjoy a sexytime weekend, and maybe I'll hand them this list.

Big Cookie lunch

No, I didn't sit on the floor and eat giant chocolate chip cookies (burp.) Today I had lunch with DJ Big Cookie. She's a world travelling super-artist whose sweetheart is more than prepared for the next disaster to strike. They have MRE rations! She said that we could come over to their place after the next earthquake, but only if we bring the liquor. Agreed.


Not only did Neko Case wear the DJ Big Cookie two heads designed T-shirt when she played Bimbo's earlier this year -- she also wore it on the cover of nerd-guitar magazine "Frets."



Last week I was watching the hopeless new (and probably last) season of "The Gilmore Girls" and there was dopey musician character Zach, AGAIN wearing that Neko-approved Big Cookie designed two heads T-shirt! I took it as a sign that I should quick get one for my niece (it's her 18th birthday on Thursday) before all of Hollywood AND alt.county has purchased one.

A Week of Porridge

This week the Chef is doing a food blog for egullet.org - an on-line food community that he participates in by moderating the drunk and disorderly (i.e. cocktails) section. It's a lot of pressure, all this food documentation, as other people who have participated have traveled to Cambodia or live in Italy. He is going to take pictures of his oatmeal every morning.

My stroke of genius was to buy a giant bag of Peeps and present a different Peeps preparation for each meal for seven days. Peeps & Eggs, Peep Sandwich, Grilled Peeps (and so on) -- however, the classic Peeps are not "in season" so I'll have to wait until Springtime to recreate this fantasy.

Here is A Week of Porridge.

Media Love

It's fun to open up the newspaper and read about your friends.

Congratulations to Catherine Second Life & Deirdre the Animal Expert on all the media attention!

Fireman Frank

 

NERT

Tomorrow, the Chef and I will be getting up EARLIER THAN WE EVER HAVE BEFORE ON A SATURDAY MORNING to attend NERT training. That's Neighborhood Emergency Response Team. I think this means that we'll get to wear hard hats and orange vests during the next earthquake, and maybe even help people.

My New Wallet

This is my new wallet. My old Poketo wallet that my friend DJ Big Cookie gave me was getting all worn out and the change kept exploding out of the coin purse. DJ Big Cookie's designs were all sold out (and I'm hoarding my Postal Service freebie), so I took my chances and went directly to artist Susie Ghahremani's website to see if I could score one of her typewriter wallets. Whew, it was there. I also ordered one of the notepads, there were birds and owls on it, how could I resist?

The funny thing was, when I walked up to the grocery store yesterday (the Chef needed mushrooms) and I pulled out my wallet at the checkout line, the grocery store check-out kid said, "Nice wallet!" and when I started to explain how I knew someone that did designs for them, he pulled out his own wallet and said, "Look! I have a Poketo wallet too!" We got all excited talking about vinyl wallets, until the stupid middle-aged women behind us wanted (ahem) to have her goddamn groceries checked and I had to go home.

Do you think I should be worried that the highlight of my day was talking vinyl wallets with the grocery store check-out kid?

Moldy McSunkenhead

The Halloween season is officially over. Unfortunately, pumpkins don't last as long here as they do in the Midwest. Here is McMoldy in happier times, before he bit the doorstep.

!Ya Vote!

Is it wrong to vote for Hydra Mendoza for school board just because her name is so marvelous?

(oh, but she's endorsed by Gavin and that's a big plus too.)

Mondays

I go into the office on Monday. It bursts my illusion that I don't have a full-time job. There are times when I think I would be happier if I went into the office more often (as they would like me to do, so that they could suck out my brain and still not give me benefits) but there are other times when I'm very happy to be free of the get-up-ride-the-bus-only-to-sit-around with strangers routine that I feel like I'm living in a dream world.

Just me. Just me and the cats. Just me and the cats, sitting in the basement meeting all my deadlines. Just me, talking to the cats, just me, singing to the cats. Just me, isolating myself from the world. There are many days I have to resist picking up the phone to call the office in a fit of paranoia, and scream, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON THERE?"

Maybe I should go into the office more often. Then again, what about the cats?

Plus, riding public transportation is over-rated (if only by MY MOM.) Last year, my mother and I spent a weekend in Chicago and (because my mom has a bum knee) we took the bus down Michigan Avenue to the Art Institute. It was a public bus, but because nearly everyone who got on it was a clueless visitor who asked the bus driver for directions, it basically was a "tourist shuttle."

My mom said to me, "You know, riding the bus is great!" and I (sarcastic daughter) retorted, "Yes THIS bus is a nice bus, but not all buses are like this." She said, "But it's so convenient to hop on a bus and get to where you want to go." I responded, "Well, a few blocks on a bus down Michigan Avenue with a bus driver who is giving everyone directions is great. But really mom, not ALL buses are as nice as this bus." She just looked at me blankly -- she has no idea! My mother has missed out on the day to day horrors of big city bus riding.

Sometimes when I'm riding the #14 down Mission Street, I come to the realization that I'm the only white yuppie lady on the bus -- arms rubbing against probable gang members (who use bad words that hurt my tender ears), prostitutes (who discuss late-night intrigue and their "little somethin' somethin'" and who is trying to steal it where to hide it) and (ooof) blindingly pungent homeless drug addicts full of the crazies on their way SF General for methodone treatments. I try hard not to make eye contact with anyone and hope that I haven't just sat in something horrible and I think, wow, my mom would COMPLETELY freak out if she knew I rode the bus. She would probably make me move back to Wisconsin. But that bus ride down Michigan Avenue from Watertower Place to the Art Institute of Chicago -- that's a sweet carefree ride.

Shiny Shiny Stove

We finally decided which stove we wanted to buy, but when we got to Sears we were hypnotized by the more expensive shiny-shiny-shiny-fancy range. Thus, after days spent researching on-line, comparing, contrasting and weighing our options -- we bought that one instead. It looked cooler.

I curse you Consumer Reports.org -- why can't you control me!?!

2 Foot Yard

2 Foot Yard -- tonight @ the Jewish Community Center.
Carla is also in the Tin Hat Trio (our wedding band!)

Destinations

Places to go:

Oaxaca, Mexico
Genoa, Italy
Quigley’s Point, Ireland
Barcelona/Bilbao, Spain
Kauai, Hawaii
Arnes, Norway
Jacksonville, Florida
Acadia National Park, Maine
Grand Canyon, Arizona
Beijing, China
San Diego, CA (Stone Brewery!)

All Soul's Altar

This was a year full of souls. The Chef's father died and we both lost former (well-liked) co-workers. Above they are represented with WD-40 (Mr. E) Herbs de Provence (Florence) and a Belle & Sebastian CD (Jamie). Also a salute to ancestors on both sides, Eileen and the big black Kitty.

Dia de los Muertos

An opportunity to make sugar skulls (or watch someone else do it) and celebrate the lives of loved ones.

There is always an amazing altar exhibit at the Encantada Gallery on Valencia Street. Last night, we passed by it on our Halloween walk and I had to stop and press my nose against the glass.

We also plan to head to the Mission Cultural Center this weekend for more altars and installations.

Happy Halloween

This little Dinosaur also accompanied her Halloween costume with lots of ROARING, which I thought very appropriate, especially for a girl.

About five years ago, The Chef and I discovered that on Halloween, in the Castro/Mission, NO ONE goes out to eat. Too busy getting the elaborate costume together, answering the doorbell, OR avoiding the entire party-central hot spot. Thus, each year we pick a usually crowded no reservations type restaurant and get in without a wait. On our stroll home we can watch some of the Halloween parade but not get crushed in the crowds. It's almost like we partied in the Castro, but we just had to eat dinner and walk home. Note that an estimated 300,000 people showed up last year, so you can see how um, well, we had to get home and watch "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown."

This year we picked Pizzeria Delfina, which only has five tables. Only a few were taken when we arrived. The pizza was good, the music was bad (Bon Jovi?) and there were a few good costumes (great beehive hairdo fellow diner!) However, most of the good earlybird costumes were on kids -- and we had to get back to Bernal Heights for the full rush. It was more fun last year at Ti Couz. They gave candy to their customers to GIVE OUT to kids who are trick or treating at neighborhood businesses. I think that's been our only opportunity to hand out candy to trick or treaters since we moved to San Francisco. Yep, Ti Couz really has it together for lazy voyeurs who want to experience the joys of Halloween without getting too involved.

Ubu Roi

Toothy McPumpkinHead

Pumpkin Weekend

A good weekend for drinking pumpkin beer, eating pumpkin ice cream, and carving up my pumpkin from Half Moon Bay (picked from the patch to the left a few weekends ago.)

The Chef may even make pumpkin mole for dinner tomorrow.

Pumpkins rule!

John Peel

In honor of John Peel -- listen to The Undertones "Teenage Kicks" and then something completely different, perhaps a selection from his magic box. Today is the two year anniversay of his way-too-soon death.

It was the perfect evening to watch John Peel Night on BBC 4 - I still had been hoarding the package of DVDs from London that the wonderful Marybeth had sent me ages ago. My odd reasoning was that if I watched it right away that I wouldn't have any John Peel anything to look forward to anymore. So, at last, we had our own John Peel night and we watched the DVDs. The good news is that we haven't gotten through all the discs yet -- and the BBC tribute made me happy to see legions of nerdy Peel fans, from Stuart Murdoch to Nick Cave, all in awe.

Following that, we watched the hilarious BBC documentary "The Fall: The Wonderful and Frightening World of Mark E Smith." Amazing.

Marybeth also enclosed an article from The Guardian titled "Excuse me, weren't you in the Fall?" where they tried to track down every past member of the band since its inception. Funny to think how we were all kept waiting that night after the Milwaukee show because of that irresistible Steve Hanley. Ha!

Thanks to Marybeth for sending me the John Peel Night treasures!

Birthday King

This weekend the Chef had a birthday. We took a drive down south where we climbed on some (fit for a king) giant rocks. Then we went to a foo-foo-fancy-pants restaurant for a special birthday dinner.

Tra La La

Sixteen years ago, The Chef asked me if I wanted to go to a movie. The movie was "Last Exit to Brooklyn" and it's probably the antithesis of a "date" movie. Not even probably. Afterwards, The Chef apologized profusely, which I found charming. He insisted on buying me a drink to make up for all the disturbing Hubert Selby seediness. We ended up sitting outside the entrance to the Plaza (it was too crowded) and we talked and talked and talked and talked until the bar closed and they shooed us away.

It turned out to be a great date movie.

The Front Porch

Our new favorite neighborhood restaurant. Not only do they have tasty Southern-style comfort food and friendly service, but last night we dined to a non-stop soundtrack by The Clash.

Bake cookies and stay inside

During my lunch hour, I drove The Chef back to work to spare him from the MUNI bus. The Chef had just gotten two cavities filled. After the last sixteen years (!), I've noticed a pattern in the Chef's behavior -- whenever things aren't going well, he likes to make it worse. Thus, after putting off bothersome things, sometimes for YEARS, he likes to make appointments with the dentist and roofing contractors when life is particularly difficult. That way, he doesn't have to wonder about how many cavities he has (three) or if we really need a new roof (the contractor crawled up there last week and we do! Goodbye $$$.) So, The Chef has lots of appointments lately, and still one more cavity to be filled. There is drilling to look forward to and a great lack of money to commit to having things fixed.

On my way home, I decided to cheer myself up by stopping at the record store. Not just any record store, but Amoeba Records. I'm lucky because I live here and get to go there whenever I want to buy a record! I heart Amoeba.

My friend Derrick was working, so I had the good fortune to stand around with him in the aisles, distracting him from work by reminiscing about the Midwest and how nice the air smells there in October. Derek told me about growing up in Chicago, and how his family wanted him to be tougher but he just didn't swing that way. When he was a kid he wore an Elton John T-shirt and liked to stay inside and bake cookies with his mom. Derek says he grew up in "the ghetto" which (for some reason) makes the Elton John T-shirt, baking cookies and staying inside story even sweeter. It was a treat to hang out in the aisles at Amoeba and listen to him tell stories about his family, and his mom, who still lives in Chicago.

His new band is called Ultraset

I purchased new CDS from the Decemberists (cheap used copy!) and Portastatic's "Be Still Please." When Derrick and I were talking about EMO (the bad kind) he ran and got me a used copy of a Bright Eyes advance CD that was hidden in the back room (YAY!) Then I had to explain to him the difference between the good (Bright Eyes) and bad (Hawthorne Heights) emo. He also recommended two other used discs to me -- Brookville and El Perro Del Mar, so I immediately bought them because I know they'll be dreamy indie pop sweetness -- that's the kind of stuff that Mr. not-so-tough digs.

I also picked up a few CDs for The Chef, to counterbalance the cavities, but his birthday isn't until Sunday, so he'll have to wait.

Dragon Fruit

Dragon Fruit is a very exotic fruit. It seems like it should only be eaten on episodes of Star Trek. Even better, legend has it that it was created by fire-breathing dragons! Although I had never seen one before, I discovered it comes in many different varieties, including one called David Bowie, a slender white variety that has a sweet and tangy flavor.

We had no idea what was going on inside the Dragon Fruit, but one night we had our friends Catherine & Robby Virus over for dinner. We all drank a lot and decided to cut it open. Strangely, we all agreed, it tasted a lot like spoonfuls of..nothing. We think ours was a Harpua, because it's described as "semi-sweet" and if so, ours was "semi semi semi semi-sweet." Perhaps it would have been better chilled.


I had a hard time taking a picture of the gelantinous speckled nothing stuff because I had been drinking and was laughing so hard. The blurry photo to the left was my third attempt, and it's still blurry.

Dragon Fruit is a very exotic fruit.

Alex Trebek

Who is, a giganto (and super cuddly) cat who lives in our neighborhood?

Alex Trebek!

We took care of him this weekend.

Check out the size of dat paw.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Last month sucked. So many awful things happened in a short period of time, that I was convinced that I had stumbled upon a curse. I called it "The Curse of Inconveniences." Of course, some things were worse than that, but as I've learned, the worse the situation, the less likely it is that it will be mentioned. Let's just discuss the inconveniences. It's Friday the 13th, which seems appropriate.

1) The Chef's father is very sick. We cancel our plans to attend my cousin's wedding in Montana to fly to Arizona to visit him.
2) Awful Awful let's not discuss.
3) We fly back home. The Chef's stomach hurts. We spend the afternoon at Kaiser, the doctor thinks The Chef has appendicitis. The Chef has lots of tests, drinks banana flavored barium, and is wrist tagged as an incoming surgery patient but, he escapes with his appendix intact. However, something "funny" is discovered on the CT-Scan. That means it's not funny at all. Let's not discuss.
3) The next evening we make dinner. We discover our oven won't turn off. It's very hot, and we are frantic that we will burn the house down. We unplug the oven and attempt to turn off the gas, but we can't, the "gas off" knob hits the wall. We call PG&E and an "emergency" guy comes to our house so he can inform us that we will not die from being gassed to death in our sleep. (the upside - he is happy that we are an easy problem.)
4) Awful Awful let's not discuss, I drive the Chef to the airport so he can go back to Arizona.
5) I am home alone. At 5pm the power goes out in our neighborhood. What the f*&#k? I sit in the dark with my flashlight, but at 8pm it comes back on. I still clutch the flashlight all evening.
6) 2am, phone call, awful awful let's not discuss.
7) In the morning, I take a bus to BART to go the airport. Within a block of the station the bus is stopped by police cars. There is a bomb threat at the BART station. The police officer tells me to "walk around to the other side." That means THIRTY MINUTES running with my luggage in a strange neighborhood, getting lost and then having to walk OVER the freeway on a bridge like thing, only to discover that on the other side the BART station is CLOSED due to previously known BOMB THREAT. I plead with two bus drivers, but they are not going near the airport. I stomp home with my luggage. I refuse to go to the airport and cry in front of strangers while waiting for a standby flight. I rebook my flight to Arizona for the NEXT day. I call The Chef hysterical, but another day spent with kittens helps a lot.
8) I get to Arizona for the funeral. There is something about testing the jet engine to make sure that it works in "high winds" but at that point, I don't even care.
9) awful sadness, the slo-motion kind, everyone has it. let's not discuss.
10) The day of the funeral, my watch stops working. Of course!
11) The day of the funeral, The Chef's sister loses her Scotty dog puppy. (note: pup found the next day at animal shelter. Holy Crap!)
12) The day of the funeral, we drive somewhere, anywhere to get out of the house. The "Check Engine" light goes on in the car. We hyperventilate worrying that the car will break down in the desert (later, we are told that light goes on all the time.)
13) We get home after a week of extreme sadness and black humoured hijinks. The next weekend we head to another memorial service.
14) The Supershuttle that is taking us to the airport goes to the WRONG ADDRESS. Again, I'm on the verge of hysterical, why can't I get to the airport?
15) The plane that is heading to our destination is having mechanical issues. blah blah blah. Delay delay delay.
16) After a week of loading up my portable "device" with "feel better" songs to listen to on the trip, within five minutes of being on the plane, it freezes and won't turn off. Broke. Thanks.
17) More mechanical problems in St. Louis, we are delayed an hour trying to get to Madison. We make use of our time in "the Lou" convinced that they are only playing Nelly in our terminal.
18) After more sadness and condolences, we fly back home without any delays (!). The next day K&M e-mail us, telling us that their oven stopped working last night, but now it's okay. I hope I haven't left my curse at their house.

Okay, lesson learned. I GET IT! Some things aren't as important as the bad things that won't be discussed. I can tolerate all the inconveniences, bring them on, just please cease with the horrible and awful.

The good news: today we got a letter in the mail from Kaiser. "Funny" thing on CT-Scan isn't as bad as the "bone expert" may have thought. Vitamin D and calcium will save us all.

Sometimes I think that if I just lived in a small town in Northern Wisconsin, absolutely nothing would happen to me at all, including the bad things. I know this isn't true, but I believe it.

I'm sleepee, call an ambulance. Happy Friday the 13th.

Butterfly Brigade and Blow Up Santas

Months ago, I tried to buy tickets to the Sufjan Stevens show in Berkeley, but it was already sold-out. Yesterday morning, I trolled Craig's List to see if anyone was selling their tickets. There were many evil doers asking the desperate to "name their price" but there was a post from someone selling them at face value, even minus a few ruthless ticket fee bucks. What the heck, I called and left a message. AMAZINGLY, the phone rang an hour later, asking me if I could come pick them up in the Mission. ZIP I went. I was pleased that the seller was a nice guy who seemed my age (or even older) which made me feel less freakish.

The Chef was a little worried that going out mid-week would cut into our couch-sitting-with-kittens time, but I convinced him that it would be worth it. Sufjan! Christians! Songs about the great state of Illinois! I threw in dinner at Chenery Park and we were off to the BART station.

The show was spectacular. My Brightest Diamond opened and (while I already was digging their debut CD) I was very impressed with the sheer force of Shara Worden's voice. If only she would enter and win "American Idol" with her cover of "Use Me." Then came Sufjan and orchestra dressed in butterfly wings, with the addition of the Pacific Mozart Ensemble ?!?! Throw in shimmering silver backdrop (with movie screen) , and a few blow up Santas and Supermans surrounding the speakers -- and, again, I felt lucky to be there. "Get a load of that!" I whispered to The Chef.

Highlights? The massive vocal choir wall of sound, songs about birds, stories about summer camp, big white nerdy tennis shoes, cello players, banjos and the painfully perfect "Casimir Pulaski Day."

During Sufjan's disfunctional family carol "That Was The Worst Christmas Ever" a hundred of the blow-up Santas came tumbling off the balcony above us. "Santas!" I happily exclaimed to The Chef.

There was another round of cascading blow-up Supermans during "The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts" that were then bounced around by the audience like beach balls. Afterwards, Sufjan said that they had spent hours blowing them all up, and at the time it seemed that there were many more than were actually tossed. I wonder if they get a discount bulk rate on inflatables.

This morning I called and left another message for the guy who had to give up his tickets and thanked him again for being so nice as to 1) not scalp them and 2) allow us to have such an enchanting evening of music.

Clementine likes to PEEK.

This is Clementine.














She likes to PEEK.

Apple goes to the beach

We were given two apples (see below, K&M are nice) for our trip back to California. Chef E. was hungry and his apple complied. My apple joined us on a trip to Half Moon Bay and was happy to see the ocean.


Honey Crisp apples are delicious, and enjoy going on car trips (and plane rides.)

Visiting Cowell Ranch Beach always makes us feel better.

Autumn Below

I miss the leaves. Jump on a plane to O'Hare in October and you will get a big colorful dose of autumnal beauty (wow) right before the plane hits the runway. (If I had known about the big finish, I definitely wouldn't have taken twenty zillion pictures over Beloit.)

Leaves - check - now it's time to go home.

Hi, My Name is Lump

We like Kim & Matt. They let us stay at their house in Pardeeville, where we drank delicous beer, ate good food (Guinness cake!), and sat around a bonfire under a full moon.



Thanks Kim & Matt! You are nice.

Pork Shoulder and Jujube Fruit

Sometimes, Chef L'Erique gets these sorts of ideas into his head and we are very grateful for them. Who knew that JuJubes were something other than a movie candy that made your teeth stick together?

Delicious.

Family Sadness in Arizona

I would like to believe in the happy magic ever after, but I don't think believing that story makes it any easier to lose the people (and furry things) you love.

Grief is a slow-motion pile of awful that rolls through, always leaving crumbly bits behind. It also makes you forget to make your oatmeal in the morning.

New Barrels

Last year when Chef L'Erique's folks came to vist, his dad was set on not doing anything touristy, but doing something "with a purpose." We mentioned we needed to replace our barrel planters in the front of the house and IMMEDIATELY we were whisked up to Sebastopol to purchase new (and cheap) wine barrels that were toted back to SF in the back of the spacious AZ mini-van. Mission accomplished! Of course, these barrels sat in our garage housing big spiders for over a year. However, a few weeks ago, in honor of Chef L'Erique's pops, we were determined to do something "with a purpose." We spent the weekend sealing, painting and planting (not to mention shoveling and hauling dirt.) We replaced the old rotting barrels with the shiny new ones and planted them with new pony tail ferns (aka Suess plants).

Thanks Mr. E - you are an inspiration to do things "with a purpose."