Sunday View

Peaches & Beans

Saturday we woke up in a crazy money spending mood and decided to visit the fancy Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market downtown (instead of our usual low-rent neighborhood regular folks farmer's market that is just a few blocks away from our house.) The produce may be more expensive, but the waterfront view is much nicer than the intersection of Highways 101 and 280. There was even an old clipper ship sailing on the bay!

Our goal was to spend next week's lunch money on peaches. Super fabulous perfect picked at the exact second of ripening and hand carried in velvet gloves (to prevent bruising) straight into the hands of the wealthy people peaches. We didn't even glance at all other peaches there that looked just as perfect -- we headed straight to Frog Hollow Farms. I think this makes us more spendthrift than wealthy.


We gave them all our money, and they gave us a few perfect "summer lady" variety peaches. Later the Chef added lemongrass, romano beans and chicken and turned them into a summertime dinner salad. He is magic!

Underhill Lounge

You can find the Chef hanging about at the Underhill Lounge.

Pelvis Party

Many of Haus Frau's favorite pals celebrate birthdays in June & July. I must like Crabs.

Today is Rodeo Queen's birthday. To celebrate her recovery from the welcome-to-the-new-year-get-tossed-off-a-horse incident, she threw a pelvis party on Saturday!

Here she is beaming with hip swiveling health wearing a bright bougainvillea hula skirt. I think Recovered Rodeo Queen is the only person I know who can pull off a bougainvillea hula skirt.

The pelvis x-ray cake was delicious --


And there was much pelvis-related Elvis about the house --

Happy Birthday to Rodeo Queen and may the healing continue. We would do all the helping again in a heart beat because your pelvis well-being is important to us.

(It's also "Frank's" birthday today, but since he doesn't throw theme parties there are no pictures. Happy birthday "Frank"!)

Librarian Birthday

Hooray for the Librarian for today is her birthday!

We wish you heaps of every day memories, even keels and a non-urgent ho hum, sit on the porch with your sweetheart sort of day.

(and a vegan cupcake for two with a bright candle)

Late Lips

Excuse my boasting, but last year I had the opportunity to "be flown" to Oklahoma City to do this cool rock star thing. Still in shock after my overnight trip there and back, I muttered about my kooky fantasy experience to a few people, but the final production was never released. I was perplexed, because I thought it had turned out (ahem) fantastico. They said it was "tied up in legal." My paranoid interpretation was that maybe it hadn't turned out so, er, fantastico. Months passed and I began to think it was just a hallucination. Right down to the OKC studio where this interview was recorded.

File under "better late than never" or make that "Who the hell cares when it will be added? I got to hang out with Wayne Coyne for an afternoon!"

Heaps of thanks to Cameo for this brush with a dazzling personality. When she called to ask me to do this, my actual response was, "Hello? Is this the Make-A-Wish Foundation?"

Rowan

Hey look! My Montana-bear-saving-lawyer cousin Ronni had one of those cute pink wrinkly things explode from her stomach, just four days ago.

His name is Rowan.

Clink!

Happy Birthday MB!

Upswing

I talked to Dr. Sally this morning and she reported that she is (finally) on the upswing after a lengthy horribleness involving post-surgery complications. The first thing she said was, "I didn't want to tell you because we had so much fun in San Francisco!" I completely understand this rationale, but I assured her that her slow recovery story does not tarnish the fun we had with her family in April. Never! The lesson she has learned is that the longer you refrain from telling people your depressing news, the longer the story gets each time you have to finally spill it. She sounded well enough to laugh about that, which is very good indeed.

Today is a better day and tonight is Girl Geek (and the Chef) Meeting #3 -- we are going to watch the Roky Erickson documentary "You're Gonna Miss Me" unless Polyvinyl Chloride makes us watch the Slade movie (eek!). I'm also planning to force upon them the recent live performance from Robyn Hitchcock on the Henry Rollins show. It's even better online w/the interview where he testifies that old indie rockers chugging away are no longer thought of as "a pervert squad".

I think I have finally recovered from the mid-week hot dog excitement -- although you can understand why the pictures below ruined me for the rest of the work week.

The Chef grilling in our backyard jungle!

There is a woman who works at the grocery store in our neighborhood who brought in this corn from her family farm --- it was almost as good as the summertime corn we get in Wisconsin.

The Chef wouldn't be the Chef if he hadn't concocted a special red, white & blue cocktail for the occasion -- taken from the "Strawberry Tapioca Soda" recipe that was recently in the NYTimes.

Although, um, next time we'll skip the crunchy Tapioca hazard of this drink and just stick w/ the champagne, sorbet and berries.

Can you believe I had to go back to work the next day after all of this patriotic gluttony? Next year I'll mark off my calendar as "Very busy with hot dog/potato salad/corn on the cob recovery."

Crappy Day

The happy mid-week holiday has thrown a wrench into my week and has made me unable to focus on the whole "get back to work" attitude that I have been embracing in my new job. I've been loving my new completely insane and incredibly amazing job, but today I felt CRANKY and hated the world and wanted to go home and eat another hot dog. Why did I have to stop eating hot dogs and go back to work? Why do I have to go to another meeting about changing the world when just a few days ago I was eating hot dogs and drinking beer?

I spent the morning muttering expletives at my giant flat screen monitor each time I received a disagreeable e-mail. Also be aware that if I hear anyone on the phone saying things like "We're going to hit this one out of the ballpark" or other baseball metaphor bullshit, you are lucky that I don't jump over the desk and strangle you. I'm not sure why, but when I'm grumpy, this kind of positive can-do lingo drives me completely insane. Each time I heard it I would madly IM the Chef with "Can you believe that?!" and "I can't STAND THIS ANYMORE!" He knows not to argue with me about the realistic level of this kind of annoyance.

When I got home I received an e-mail from my mom - one that made me close it right away and then pretend I hadn't received it. More people are sick. Goddammit. I swore at the e-mail and then at my mom for sending it to me, even though the e-mail and my mom are not to blame for bad news. I thought, "Why doesn't she withhold bad news from me? Doesn't she know that I have no coping skills and that she is the reason to blame?!"

Tonight the Chef and I pretended that it was still a holiday and ate leftover hot dogs and potato salad and watched "Kitchen Stories", a funny little Swedish movie about the simple things in life. Tomorrow I will call Dr. Sally and make sure that she is okay. It just takes me a while to get used to the idea of sad things, but I know it's important to be there for people when they happen.

Happy Fourth of July!

The Chef and I are marching around singing "We Love Our Flag" (a patriotic favorite written by my Mom) and wishing we were at Camp Laf-A-Lot with family and friends.

Tonight we will be walking up to the top of Bernal Hill to watch the illegal fireworks explode in The Mission, but our hearts will be floating on Lake Kawaguesaga.

Happy Fourth of July to all the Laf-A-Lot campers near and far!

Ratattouie

Speaking of children (and still not speaking of cats -- just rats) this afternoon the Chef and I went to see a crowded matinee showing of the new foodie Pixar movie "Ratattouie."

There were lots of children in the theater, but everyone made loud noises in appropriate places. It reminded us that sometimes it's fun to see a movie in a crowded theater and not just from a sofa seat at home.

Thumbs up, way up -- we recommend seeing this movie in the middle of the day with lots and lots of children in attendance, because it will make you smile that the adults will still make the biggest gasps, laughs and huzzahs.

Accomplishments

Tonight I hung out with a bunch of friends who are moms, and I never once compared their children to my cats, not even when they talked about how their babies kept trying to destroy their record collections. I just smiled and nodded and didn't mention cats. When I got home I told the Chef all about it and he was very impressed that I was so restrained.

Do the Whirlwind!

Recent Discoveries:

Jackfruit tastes like Juicyfruit gum, except better because you can swallow it instead of spit out, thus it won't get stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

Sock monkeys make people loosen up and laugh.



If you avoid drinking Absinthe and switch to Aviations, your head will still hurt the next day.

Architecture in Helsinki have embraced a new Salt n' Pepa style 80's sound -- jury still out on this drum machine twist.

Who knew (at my age) I'd find myself obsessed with animated characters from Norway who drink beer, kids in Oakland on Scraper bikes (thanks DJ BC) and dogs wearing wigs. Mid life crisis alert?

Combining flamenco dancing with hip hop beats is a nice mix - especially when you get to see it performed live, from a balcony seat (away from a flailing crowd.)

When you get out on the sidewalk and start mocking someone's mad dancing skillz, you will most certainly whack your hand against a mailbox and make it bleed. Ouch. I deserved that.

If the Tracy Jordan character from "30 Rock" moved to Brazil and joined a band, he would sound like Carolinos Brown (who surrounds himself with dancing girls wearing sailor hats and a Spinal Tap-esque backdrop of two huge blue blow up kissing fish.) The video is subdued in comparison.

Even if I stay in my pajamas all morning it won't slow down the weekend.

Happy Birthday Irish Goddess!

Even though the Irish Goddess is celebrating her birthday ALL MONTH (it's true) today is actually her real birthday. June 13th -- the day she was born to unleash her acerbic wit, endless talents and scary smarts upon the world. Irish Goddess has always been an inspiration to me, starting in Junior High and then high school when she stomped through the smoking section between the two buildings and didn't give a fig if idiots yelled cowardly things in her direction. I thought -- I want to be like that! I want to be myself and tell everyone else to piss off! Irish Goddess has always been punk rock (despite her favorite band being the Rolling Stones.)

Even though she lives far away, it's been a joy to be part of her world and keep in touch with her via pictures and stories and shout outs in the comments section. She showed me how this sort of modern day communication makes sense and inspired me to start this thing.

Thanks Irish Goddess -- and HAPPY BIRTHDAY (MONTH)!

(maybe this weekend I'll dig through boxes and find some picture of us wearing braces and threaten to post it here.)

Shrimp Bombe

On Sunday the Rodeo Queen (in recovery) and the Great & Powerful Oz (so true) invited us to a Shrimpfest fundraiser feast -- with special guests the White Boot Brigade ( "a group of Louisiana shrimpers working to preserve the Gulf's culinary heritage through sustainable shrimping and alternative marketing.") It only took us two seconds to yell "YES" and give up all our money to those slow food shrimpers. Lots of other people were also interested in shrimp (go figure!) and when we arrived it was a bit of a mad house, with people who were told to wait out on the patio deciding to fend for themselves and returning with big plates of boiled wild shrimp and giant mounds of corn and green beans (my favorite). We were taught tricks by the determined women at the patio table next to us and then we passed those tricks on to others (and we all ended up happily well-fed.)


The Chef will be the first to tell you that I don't like shrimp. I especially hate those frozen pink blobs that are served over the holidays with red sauce and presented on iceberg lettuce like it's some kind of special treat. Is this a sad, we-live-far-away-from-the-ocean, Midwestern tradition? Blech! However, this shrimp was so wild it jumped out of the water with tail and tentacles intact. I still can't say I enjoy the messy decapitation part and then there is the uh, other thing, that middle bit that shall not be mentioned. (I still feel queasy.) However, listening to New Orleans Jazz and surrounded by good hearted people, I leapt right into the shrimp eating fun. I know that the Great & Powerful Oz felt the same way because she started eating corn, until the Rodeo Queen (in recovery) reminded her that she was allergic.


Afterwards we convinced TRQ (IR) and TG&PO to join us for ice cream at ICI because we were in the East Bay and felt like it was something we had to do since we DROVE ALL THAT WAY ACROSS THE BRIDGE and we had never been there. We had only see pictures of their fancy ice cream sandwiches in the newspaper. We faced another long line, this one of east bay ice cream eaters. I followed the Rodeo Queen (in recovery)'s "OMG THE APRICOT! THE APRICOT!" suggestion and (of course) she was so right. ICI also served giant fantasy meringue ice cream "bombe" things, which made me go all ice cream heaven hysterical frenchie "Bohmb, Bohmb, Bohmb"until the Great & Powerful Oz countered with her ice cream heaven hysterical American "Bahm! Bahm! It's Bahm!" Then we doubled dared each other to blog about it. Do I win? hee hee.

This it NOT your neighborhood ice cream parlor. Bombe (looks like just a section of it) in upper right hand corner.

Four Eyed Monsters

I'm only telling you this because I am your friend.

If you have 71 minutes and want to see a fantastic movie (free! but only for a week) click here - it's at the place um, you know, the place, so that's how I know about it.

Join Spout | Buy DVD | Watch Video Podcast | Get Code

Please do -- LOGIN (at the place) AND VOTE (and I guess you still need to join the other place, they haven't reached their goal yet - but they are close to $18,000.) It's easy and painless and this is how stuff works in this modern age. It's so easy, it's easier than dialing the phone and asking a congress person how to vote. I'm not saying that this is fair. You'd be surprised at how many normal people don't bother to do these things. It makes sense, but it doesn't.

Why? Because it's totally worth it to support cool things in this world.

DO IT!

Mr. Pollen Pants

Buzzzzz --- check out the Pollen Pants on this bee! He is wearing puffy yellow leg warmers. Below is Mr. Pollen Pants abuzz over one of our wrinkly petal variety poppies. The Chef says they are "Breadseed" Poppies. So, next time you crunch into a three-seed baguette I hope visions of these fancy flowers dance through your head. Not bumble bees.

Arcade Ants

Oh Arcade Fire -- you are so far away, and I am here, sitting on a 70 degree slope of cold lumpy grass, trying to pay attention to your joyous Canadian shoutings. It's a challenge, as I'm surrounded by people on their cell phones, checking their e-mail, and talking nonstop throughout the entire song about how good the song is "I love this song, it's a good song, do you like this song? Which song do you like? What a good song! Yeah! I like this one" (the song is over now, but they are still talking.)

And when did smoking become cool again? Or are we accidentally sitting in the smoking section? If all of the outside world is a giant smoking section, did we enter the lumpy grass seating area with a sign pointing "Hip Smokers! Enter Here!"? I watch as the girls in front of us kindly direct their smokey exhales into their neighbor's faces and then stub out their cigarettes next to them on the lumpy grass area where their friends will sit when they get back from the beer stand. Did the sign near the lumpy grass seating area say, "Welcome concert goers! Grab a seat in our uncomfortable giant ash tray!"?

When you launch into my favorite song (Antichrist Television Blues) from the new album "Neon Bible" the annoying drunk guy wearing a baseball hat leaps to his feet in front of me and starts doing a crazy epileptic dance. I panic, thinking -- uh oh, now will I think of this idiot every time I hear this song? Have I ruined my enjoyable listening experience of an Arcade Fire song by simply attending this sold out concert? If I do not ponder it for too long, perhaps the image will leave my brain. Except for now I've written it down, making it more of a challenge to forget. Crap! Panic attack!

I have just overheard some first date conversation from the people next to me who have their legs intertwined. They have invaded my personal space and the hulky dude is touching my arm as he asks his date what she's doing July 17th and, if she's free, does she want to go to a wedding with him? Later, when we move away from them their back pack rolls down the hill and hits me.

I look at the Chef and he apologetically smiles at me. I say "Blah Blah Blah. I'm not having fun. Blah Blah Blah Blah."

Sorry Arcade Fire. I'm glad that you are still full of joyous Canadian shoutings and that, despite your huge popularity, you have refused to sell out to the man, won't play venues that are run by the corporate mafia and remain on a cool indie record label (go Merge!). I respect and admire you, but I'm easily distracted and I can't feel your madcap energy from so far away - even when your guitarist climbs the stadium rafters. Even when Regine Chassagne skips around the stage between playing accordion and the hurdy-gurdy(!).

As we are walking back to BART and trying not to follow the young people who are returning to their UC Berkeley dorm rooms, I say to the Chef, "Next time we come to the Greek Theater (a gift from William Randolph Hearst!) we'll show up early so we can sit on the cold hard concrete seats instead of the cold lumpy grass." He replies, "Will there be a next time?" I put on my ski hat (because even though it's June, summer concert season is foggy and windy in the Bay Area) and respond, "Yeah, probably not."

Fort Funston

The Chef & I spent Memorial Day contemplating life (and way too much death) during wartime by ogling dogs and listening to the sound of the sea. It's only a short drive from our house to the edge of the world. Click on the path to the ocean to see the furry friends that made us feel better.

Fort Funston Memorial Day 2007

Picked Yesterday!

It's blueberry season! The Chef & I are always happy to see the blueberries make their brief appearance at the farmer's market. Last week they were all gone by the time we got there (dammit!) so Saturday we showed up early and raced DIRECTLY to the blueberry stall. We bought enough to bake with, and some extra to pop directly into our mouths.

Our blueberry bounty (and beer!)

The magic that takes place in the oven.

"Galette" is a fancy name for PIE.

Voila! is a fancy way to say "get a load of this!"

Me and Dr. Sally at the fun fair

Remember Jerry Lewis backyard carnival fundraisers? Here's an old snapshot of one in our backyard, starring Dr. Sally (costumed nicely in a matching hat and raincoat) her brother Michael (every carnival needs a whistle blower!) and me -- I'm the clown. The plastic margarine tub hanging from a string around my neck was meant to collect donations (was I selling not-very-blown-up balloons?) I borrowed the big tennis shoes from my dad. My sister Susan is in the background with her head sticking out of sheet hung across the garage doorway. I believe there was a fee to throw a sponge at her face.

Close Call Weekend

This weekend was scary, as each time we left the house bad things happened.

Saturday -- someone was stabbed while we were grocery shopping.
Sunday -- we nearly bumped into that idiot Vincent Gallo.

Yesterday we got all fussy about what kind of salmon (wild!) we should have for dinner and drove to an out-of-the-way grocery store. We parked, went in and five minutes later someone ran into the store and yelled "Someone's been stabbed, call 911!" It's in those moments that you realize people have a hard time computing such sentences, because everyone was paralyzed, until someone finally called 911. While waiting for the police to arrive I decided it would be the perfect time to panic shop and proceeded to buy chips, ice cream, chocolate bars and beer! We stalled around and when we were finally brave enough to leave they were loading up an ambulance. They were also wrapping the parking lot with yellow crime scene tape. Our car was inside the scene. One of the officers told us we could leave "in a second" the other police officer told us, "get out of the crime scene!" (strangely, we've heard that one before!) We discussed taking the bus home and wondered if they would let us get the ice cream out of the car first (we managed to put our groceries in the trunk before they told us to leave "the scene".) How to explain to a police officer that your stress purchase is melting in the car and THAT'S why you have to get home immediately. We stood around with the other trapped gawkers (and crime witnesses who had to stick around and give statements) but then the wind took pity on us and broke the police tape! At this same time the woman parked next to us came out and we both made our appeal -- LET US OUT! The tape had broken, the police officers decided they wanted our spots and they (whew) let us take our melting panic ice cream home. We were going to run another errand, but decided it would be best to GO HOME AND STAY THERE. Plus, there was so much panic food to eat. After dinner, the panic ice cream was enjoyed with strawberries and Ms. Stella's delicious pound cake.

On Sunday we took our chances and left the house again. I was still panicked (it involved a work-related "inappropriate" video called "Party With Beer" - don't ask.) I needed to go record shopping (see music/healing/therapy). As we exited Amoeba I nearly bumped into none other than Vincent Gallo. Those of you who know me (which means you read this blog) may know of my hatred for Vincent Gallo. All of a sudden, there were his beady blue eyes and scruffy beard face walking down Haight Street -- After he passed, I whacked the Chef's shoulder and said, BAH! THAT'S VINCENT GALLO!

There are so many people in the world -- why would we stumble upon Vincent Gallo? VG holds a lifetime spot on my short, yet venomous super hater list. I was going to link to his website so you could see what an idiot he is, but I hate him too much. Do not go there and give him the pleasure of one more user count click.

Scary weekend, but not tragic. We remain unharmed, we were not witnesses to a crime scene, we got our car home so we could eat ice cream and we didn't make physical contact with Vincent Gallo.

Close calls, the super scary narrowly avoided. Whew.

The Monk and Cake

This week was interrupted with a few bright moments of live music.

As you know, it takes a lot to tempt the Chef & I off the couch midweek because of our great passion for kittens, Tivo and sofa sitting. No one but the lovely Ms Stella Sturm could have convinced us to give up our lazy mid-week fun. A rare treat to visit w/ Ms. Sturm! We immediately agreed to join her on Wednesday evening to attend a performance by Meredith Monk. I was a little worried about the concert as it was part of the Jewish Community Center's "Art & Healing Program" which set off a lot of alarms in my head. I admit that I'm sceptical when music is referred to as "art" and then throw in "healing"... (even though I believe with all my music-obsessed self that music serves as both art and a magical form that gives much comfort) whenever things are treated so seriously, well, I don't like it. I would rather use lofty terms like "cool stuff" and "this rocks" and "wow!"

Even more off-putting, there was a section of the concert where Meredith Monk was going to perform music composed for UK hospice patients. As I like to avoid sadness of all kinds I was concerned that with buying a ticket and entering a place where hospice themed music would be performed that I would become incredibly sad. Perhaps weepy. This kind of thing would instinctively be on my list to avoid, but it was a rare opportunity to get together with Ms. Sturm, who is a HUGE Meredith Monk fan, and (with rare exception) usually anything that Ms. Sturm loves, well, I know there is a damn' good reason behind it. That's how we ended up leaving the sofa and kittens mid-week to attend this "Art & Healing" program.

Of course (see above: Ms. Sturm knows her stuff) it was a fantastic, inspiring and JOYFUL evening. Now the Chef & I join Ms. Sturm as full-time members of the MM fan club -- because well, "wow!" and what a disarming, kind, unique and silly 21st Century composer who has no pretensions yet is amazingly talented, and again, I'll just say, um, that I'm so glad I ignored my list of suspicions and the warning bells. Instead of making me feel gloomy about death, it made me happy about life -- especially the two pieces written for hospice patients (called "Impermanence") -- the one about the old lady on the phone talking about all her stuff filled me with belly laughs. There was also another dazzling duet of bird-like noises and gestures that made my mouth hang open. You know how the word awesome is overused? Well, it was awesome. I was IN awe.

A tip of the hat to Stella Sturm -- we knew it would great to spend time with her, but now we thank her for convincing us to witness the magic of Meredith Monk.

If that wasn't enough Art & Healing - the Chef surprised me with tickets to The Sea & Cake. I was introduced to a few of the members ages ago (at a time before Club de Wash burned down when they were still in Shrimpboat) as "This is one of your BIGGEST FANS!" This is not a good way to be introduced to a band. They always look at you as if you are crazy and then politely smile, hoping you'll wander away soon .

Anyway, it sure was good to see some old people play their soothing comfort sounds. Sam Prekop looks and sounds good as an aging indie rock star, and their music is as if someone plugs some kind of peaceful happy murmuring feeling directly into my ears. Ahhhhhhh. The Sea & Cake.
This time we snuck out before anyone could pull me over and reveal that I was * STILL* one of their biggest fans - obviously stalking them *STILL* after all these years. Don't mention the whole plugging the happy into my head description to them, because then they will know that I'm also *STILL* crazy and hope that I wander away.

Mac held hostage

Nobody touches this laptop until I get some skritchings!

Kaboom Two

Kaboom Do-Over

This time last year we invited Dr. & Mrs. Virus to join us for dinner in the neighborhood and then walk up to Misson Dolores Park, where we would have a spectacular view of the Kaboom fireworks event. (It's a radio station sponsored thing that equals fireworks in May.) That night we ate dinner with one eye on the clock and then rushed over to the park. No one was there. We wondered if we already missed it. We sat on a bench and talked for a while and nothing happened so then we all walked home. That night I looked up the event on the internet and realized it was actually NEXT weekend. I had gotten the date wrong. Oops.

So last week we made plans with Dr. & Mrs. Virus to go out to eat in the neighborhood. A few days later we realized that it was the same night as the Kaboom fireworks. When I mentioned this to Dr. Virus, he responded with, "Do you mean that it's NEXT weekend?" ho ho ho.

Thus, after dinner at the Velvet Cantina we walked AGAIN up to Dolores Park and AGAIN grabbed a bench at the top of the hill to watch the fireworks display. This year it seemed more promising -- there were other people with blankets and radios who seemed to have the date right. The fog had cleared, the fireworks started exploding and we ooohed and ahhed and sang a long loudly to the"world class rock" soundtrack of some crap songs and some okay songs.

I'm glad we got this Kaboom do-over because it's way more fun to sit on a bench in Dolores Park on a clear (but chilly) evening in San Francisco if there is a well-timed fireworks display.

The Trouble With Poppies

...is that they are so fragile that most of the time we can't make it to the garden fast enough before all the petals have blown off in the wind.

Note to self - next year, plant sturdy flowers.

Dr. Sally

Last night the Chef and I had dinner with Dr. Sally, one of my childhood friends who was visiting San Francisco with her husband and college-bound son. Dr. Sally and I grew up next door to each other in Wisconsin. We decided that we've probably known each other since she was two years old and I was only one. Does that count as the start of a friendship? We have unique conversations that begin "Remember that time we hid in the closet from your brother?"

Dr. Sally and her husband are surgeons in a small town in Washington. Surgeons! That means that someone that I spent time with chasing around the backyard, climbing trees, collecting bugs, picking raspberries, riding ponies and singing along to The Jackson Five now operates on people and saves their lives. Sally and I joyfully reconnected around five years ago, but it was the first time we met her husband and her son. The Chef and I were immediately quite taken with both of them. We love the Dr. Sally family!

When we were in middle school, the future Dr. Sally was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease and went through the whole horrible roller coaster of treatment. I remember when she explained to me how painful it was to get a spinal tap and being completely in awe of her strength and bravery. That whole period of our friendship seems foggy as it was so stunningly awful and scary that it just left me bewildered. Shortly after that her family moved to Oregon and we lost touch with each other. Her experience with beating cancer when she was young encouraged her to become a doctor and now she specializes in breast cancer surgeries.

I find it amazing that Dr. Sally is still much like she was when we were kids. She is independent, smart, determined and brave. She has a nice laugh too. When I look at her I can see her doctor side and her ten-year-old self in there! I'm so happy that we got back in touch with each other and are able to spend hours discussing Donny Osmond and neighborhood kick-the-can games.

I heart blogs!

As my life cascades into a whirlwind of BUSY with the new job (OMG) -- I am really diggin' this blog thing. I came home tonight to discover that Rockmama spent her weekend celebrating birthdays in the sunshine w/ lots of happy faced kiddies and libations, Irish Goddess bought a bunch of cool books that I want to discuss with her, jet lagged DJ Big Cookie has a new neighborhood in Paris (!), Rodeo Queen ventured outside (!) and delivered a "comeback food post" about lemon slushies and chicken pot pies and the librarian's sweetheart got a kick ass haircut! Thumbs up on the haircut -- lookin' good librarian's sweetheart!

Oh yes, and thanks to y'alls for the anniversary wishes -- that sure was a fun day. There were accordions and we ate cake. Some of us avoided the whiskey and scored points for that wise decision. Others drank coffee cups of beer and stayed up all night. I was always opposed to girls who said that their wedding day was the "happiest day of their life" (yawn) but GODDAMMIT, it sure was a good day.

Anniversary

It was seven years ago today...!

Time Flying

When we first moved to California and I started working at the leftie radio station, I realized that I was 10-20 years younger than the majority of my co-workers. It was the first time (at a job) where people treated me like a kid. I tried to ignore them.

Flash fifteen years later -- I start a new job where the majority of my co-workers are 10-20 years younger than me. Somehow the continuous not-quite-fitting-in theme makes me feel at home.

I think I like surprising people by not acting my age, both then and now.

Fionn Regan

While sitting in a pub in Galway, we heard a few songs from this Irish singer-songwriter. The bartender wrote down his name for us on a napkin and when we got back to London it was one of the CDs I bought on my birthday. Here's a sweet video from his album.

Adventures in Noogling

A few things I learned today:

-- New employees are identified as "Nooglers"
-- Giant real time word search projection screens in the lobbys.
-- The toilet seats are heated!!
-- New dot com lingo as in "We like to dogfood our applications."
(I'll explain later.)
-- People here are nice geeks not corporate goons. yay!

Also, the song that was playing when I entered the magic fantasy lunch room was (no kidding) "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" by The Cutting Crew, which for some odd reason was the cringe worthy song heard throughout our recent visit to Dublin. This worldwide power ballad conspiracy made me start laughing hysterically -- which I had to quickly suppress lest people think this "Noogler" was standing in the middle of the lunch room hysterical with joy, at...all...that...delicious...free....food. I guess I could have been giddy over that alone, but really, it was The Cutting Crew!

Hey librarian -- do I blame the Divine DJ?

Earth Day

If I wasn't so tired from pulling weeds I'd walk back to the garden with my camera and take a picture of all the work we did there today. Instead, here's Sweetpea inspecting my muddy gloves.


Plus, a message from the gardeners at Trinity College. Happy Earth Day!

Jet lagged

The concept of time is still murky, yet slipping away so quickly this week. tick tick tick. We greet Friday night at The Alembic with our friend Trott (who is also celebrating a new job -- change is in the air) at this nice spot that would be nicer if I didn't have to skirt a bum on Haight Street to get in the door. Excuse me crazy person, I need a drink.

On the way back (while attempting to get Trott to invite us over for whiskey) we spot a bunch of girls on a stoop celebrating Spring Break and discuss the option of crashing their party. Our wishes are heard (as I am a loud wisher) and they wave us over, offering us sake in dixie cups. They are from Forestville (!) and are very impressed that I was just there YESTERDAY visiting with Miss Tancho. Such a small world as we sip sake on their stoop and discuss pancake breakfasts at the Sonoma county fire station. A good-time Friday night with friends and friendly strangers.

West Coast Return

Back home now after an eleven hour flight -- UK over icy Greenland to Point Reyes' coastline and San Francisco's colorful salt flats near the airport. We woke up this morning at 3 AM wondering where we were and what day it was. Now we are jet lagged zombies in too-much-fun recovery.