So just got back from a 5 day trip to Minnesota to hang with Mom's family.
Wednesday I flew in and was promptly deposited with my mother at Cousin Deanna's house. Nice place. Her 3000 sq foot house on an acre of land was a delight. Later I learned that her mortgage payment is about the same as my sub-1000 sq ft loft in SF. Wow.
We got up and got coffee before Crazy Aunt Judy (CAJ) came to get us. CAJ can be quite amusing - she declares that she Always, Always, Always gets up at 9:30 AM. However, I never saw her wake up at that time at any point in this trip.
Thursday was spent driving out to Lower Bottle Lake where Cousins Deanna and Dave have a cabin. It was left to them by their father, Tom, who passed this year. Tom & CAJ broke up years ago, but Judy's memories were of having terrible problems up there. She went into detail about those problems over lunch while we were driving up. Thanks Aunt Judy, way to get us psyched up!
We stayed at the Super 8 in Park Rapids, the Cousins, their spouses and the gaggle of kids were at the cabin.
More later.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Compost This
I subscribe to Daily Candy and they had featured this a while back:
http://www.naturemill.com/
And indoor composting machine. Now when I first showed this to Greg, I don't think he realized I was serious. He advocated us purchasing the one that handles dog poop. I really wanted to try this indoor composting, but am not ready for the dog-doo part. I cook enough that we might need a 2nd unit. If it comes to that, I'll get pet friendly unit. Despite his taunting, I went ahead and got it.
Getting it was a 2.5 week ordeal, as they had the wrong address, so my credit card wouldn't work. Then it was shipped ground from Chicago. Thankfully it wasn't waterlogged with the flooding out there. It got to my office, but I was in Washington DC on a business trip. Finally, it came home with me Friday.
I had been saving compostable bits from my cooking from Wednesday on in preparation for its arrival and use. Only after I eagerly opened it up, I learned that I was going to need 2 cups of topsoil from a garden where plants were happily growing to provide the microbes for natural composting.
Where am I, the downtown, city dweller going to find that? I could just imagine getting caught dirt-robbing the neighborhood gardens. Or worse, I could get dirt that was overly chemical & pesticide laden.
I did what any woman does when in need of help, I called my dad. Greg and I were going to be up in Sausalito looking at possible apartments Sunday afternoon and I figured I could stop by and get some dirt from his garden.
It was an odd phone conversation, "You want what?""What are you going to do with the dirt?"
Once they understood, they happily agreed to provide me with the needed dirt. When we stopped by, they did express concern that their dirt was inadequate. Of all things, they were unsure if their dirt was dirty enough. I didn't know one could be self conscious of garden dirt and, to their credit, they did reflect upon where I should dig for dirt in their garden. There were offers to supply additional dirt if we found that the initial batch was lacking.
But we got it home, I put the dirt in, added the suggested 2 tablespoons of baking soda and 4 days worth of scraps - it only said to fill it 1/2 way, but I had so much! I may have over-filled it. Everything went in, the plug was plugged in and then it didn't do anything. I just sat there. Then, at about 10 pm, after we were rosy on our wine we hear what we think is a distant siren. We get our lazy tushes off the couch to go close the front door - thinking that it was coming from the outside - as we pass through the kitchen, I realize it is on our new nifty composter. Inside it was churning.
Against the instructions, we openned the lid to see all the goodies getting turned about. It looked very soil like - I think that is due to both the soil and the coffee grounds. I was proud.
This morning I'm trying to resist opening it up again. There is a little engine in there keeping teh compost warm and turning at specified intervals. My mom has signed up for compost and I think my father & Cathy will take some. I should be able to deliver a wonder bread loaf sized output of fertilizer every 2 weeks.
The funniest part of all this, in my mind, is how I cannot utilize my product. It will need to dry & cure before getting used inside. Since I have no drying area, I'm just stuck producing this quality, organic compost and giving it away. It is good for the planet.
http://www.naturemill.com/
And indoor composting machine. Now when I first showed this to Greg, I don't think he realized I was serious. He advocated us purchasing the one that handles dog poop. I really wanted to try this indoor composting, but am not ready for the dog-doo part. I cook enough that we might need a 2nd unit. If it comes to that, I'll get pet friendly unit. Despite his taunting, I went ahead and got it.
Getting it was a 2.5 week ordeal, as they had the wrong address, so my credit card wouldn't work. Then it was shipped ground from Chicago. Thankfully it wasn't waterlogged with the flooding out there. It got to my office, but I was in Washington DC on a business trip. Finally, it came home with me Friday.
I had been saving compostable bits from my cooking from Wednesday on in preparation for its arrival and use. Only after I eagerly opened it up, I learned that I was going to need 2 cups of topsoil from a garden where plants were happily growing to provide the microbes for natural composting.
Where am I, the downtown, city dweller going to find that? I could just imagine getting caught dirt-robbing the neighborhood gardens. Or worse, I could get dirt that was overly chemical & pesticide laden.
I did what any woman does when in need of help, I called my dad. Greg and I were going to be up in Sausalito looking at possible apartments Sunday afternoon and I figured I could stop by and get some dirt from his garden.
It was an odd phone conversation, "You want what?""What are you going to do with the dirt?"
Once they understood, they happily agreed to provide me with the needed dirt. When we stopped by, they did express concern that their dirt was inadequate. Of all things, they were unsure if their dirt was dirty enough. I didn't know one could be self conscious of garden dirt and, to their credit, they did reflect upon where I should dig for dirt in their garden. There were offers to supply additional dirt if we found that the initial batch was lacking.
But we got it home, I put the dirt in, added the suggested 2 tablespoons of baking soda and 4 days worth of scraps - it only said to fill it 1/2 way, but I had so much! I may have over-filled it. Everything went in, the plug was plugged in and then it didn't do anything. I just sat there. Then, at about 10 pm, after we were rosy on our wine we hear what we think is a distant siren. We get our lazy tushes off the couch to go close the front door - thinking that it was coming from the outside - as we pass through the kitchen, I realize it is on our new nifty composter. Inside it was churning.
Against the instructions, we openned the lid to see all the goodies getting turned about. It looked very soil like - I think that is due to both the soil and the coffee grounds. I was proud.
This morning I'm trying to resist opening it up again. There is a little engine in there keeping teh compost warm and turning at specified intervals. My mom has signed up for compost and I think my father & Cathy will take some. I should be able to deliver a wonder bread loaf sized output of fertilizer every 2 weeks.
The funniest part of all this, in my mind, is how I cannot utilize my product. It will need to dry & cure before getting used inside. Since I have no drying area, I'm just stuck producing this quality, organic compost and giving it away. It is good for the planet.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Big News
This morning I remembered that they found white stuff on Mars, but hadn't yet heard what it is. And, happy to say, it is ice.
Nasa's Phoenix lander has unearthed "perfect" evidence of ice on Mars.
Which I think is super cool. And contradicts the recent headline that made me sad:
Bush wants to drill for oil in our coastal waters
Why would we risk our already in dangered coasts to drill for a substance that pollutes and damages our planet. And how is this the Democrat's fault, as he claims. Why didn't he raise the MPG on cars or subsidize the development of domestic and clean energy sources? His connections to the oil companies are so deep and, with this, so apparent. He is mindbogglingly terrible, that man.
I'm happy that we're heading in a new direction. Mark Morford writes about it beautifully.
Nasa's Phoenix lander has unearthed "perfect" evidence of ice on Mars.
Which I think is super cool. And contradicts the recent headline that made me sad:
Bush wants to drill for oil in our coastal waters
Why would we risk our already in dangered coasts to drill for a substance that pollutes and damages our planet. And how is this the Democrat's fault, as he claims. Why didn't he raise the MPG on cars or subsidize the development of domestic and clean energy sources? His connections to the oil companies are so deep and, with this, so apparent. He is mindbogglingly terrible, that man.
I'm happy that we're heading in a new direction. Mark Morford writes about it beautifully.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Historic Marriage?
One of the main arguments against Gay Marriage is this line about marriage being historically between one man and one woman. Here's an example: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24969197/
I was thinking that, historically, it wasn't really one man & one woman; it was one man and one chattle. We were property, not women, with no right to vote, no right to own or inherit property; it isn't possible for 1 piece of property to own another, is it? Maybe we should say, 1 man & 1 piece of property.
Then again, if we want to get historical and look to the bible or other religious text, marriage isn't between 1 man & 1 woman -but 1 man and several women. I'm sure the group in Texas would be happy if we went back to that, historic, version of marriage. Don't forget, in the past different races weren't allow to marry. So this one man & one woman is becoming one man and several woman, as long as they were of the same race.
It is silly. Our culture has been evolving into a more equitable and just society - with a small 8 year slide - but, generally speaking, we've been on a progressive track. It was 89 years ago today we decided to allow 50% of the population to vote here in the US. And around 140 years before that we started letting non-white men vote too. Slow progress, sure.
I'm not buying it. I would prefer it to be marriage is between 2 people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their days together.
I was thinking that, historically, it wasn't really one man & one woman; it was one man and one chattle. We were property, not women, with no right to vote, no right to own or inherit property; it isn't possible for 1 piece of property to own another, is it? Maybe we should say, 1 man & 1 piece of property.
Then again, if we want to get historical and look to the bible or other religious text, marriage isn't between 1 man & 1 woman -but 1 man and several women. I'm sure the group in Texas would be happy if we went back to that, historic, version of marriage. Don't forget, in the past different races weren't allow to marry. So this one man & one woman is becoming one man and several woman, as long as they were of the same race.
It is silly. Our culture has been evolving into a more equitable and just society - with a small 8 year slide - but, generally speaking, we've been on a progressive track. It was 89 years ago today we decided to allow 50% of the population to vote here in the US. And around 140 years before that we started letting non-white men vote too. Slow progress, sure.
I'm not buying it. I would prefer it to be marriage is between 2 people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their days together.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Today's lesson
As many know, I'm on perpetual, Bridget Jones like mission of self improvement. Now, maybe I shouldn't say Bridget Jones, as I only read the first 100 pages of that book before I got distracted with higher quality literature, but still, she and I share the goal of being better.
As part of this ambition, I'm reading "Benjamin Franklin's The Art of Virtue: His Formula for Successful Living" edited by George L. Rogers. Today's lesson was part of guiding principle 10, "Life is immeasurably more satisfying to those who get along well with other than to those who do not." I had a very, "that's so true!" moment. The initial bit is simple - don't take offense and try to not offend. Simple. Avoid extremes, always, ever; be moderate in one's words. Next ignore the trifles - be not disturbed by accidents common or unavoidable. Very sensible. Then practice forgiveness, sincerity and justice. So easily said, and a lifetime to implement.
But, what really struck me was his advice to avoid confrontation. He notes, "I made it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own. I even forbid myself, agreeably to the old laws of our junto, the use of every word or expression in the language that imported a fixed opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly, etc,. and I adopted, instead of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to be so or so; or it so appears to me at present. When another asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately some absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I began by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in the present case there appeared or seemed to me some difference."
I was meditating on how much of a relief it would be to not feel compelled to correct every wrong I see or hear and as a corollary, how nice it would be to live in a world where I wouldn't be frequently corrected or have my notions aggressively contradicted. And then Greg and I were at Trader Joe's and I saw a lovely flower that reminded me of coral. I noted, "Wow, I've never seen flowers like that before." To which Greg commented, "Yes you have. I've given you one of those flowers before and you said the same thing."
My bliss hissed out of me with the FFFFTTT of a child letting air out of a regular balloon. How much more pleasant it would have been for me to have remembered or to have merely stated on the beauty of the flower. How much more pleasant it would have been to not have been reminded that I had seen them before.
Even with that, I'm going to take this next week to do my best to follow Ben's advice. As he noted in a letter to a friend, who had decided to drop an argument,
"So you see I think you had the best of the argument; and as you notwithstanding gave it up in complaisance to the company, I think you had also the best of the dispute. There are few, though convinced, that know how to give up, even an error, they have been once engaged in maintaining. There is therefore more merit in dropping a contest where one things one's self is right; it is at least respectful to those we converse with. And indeed all our knowledge is so imperfect, and we are from a thousand causes so perpetually subject to mistake and error, that positiveness can scarce ever become even the most knowing; and modesty in advancing any opinion, however plain and true we may suppose it, is always decent, and generally more like to procure assent."
I hope I can find that such behavior is intrinsic in my personality. As Michelle and I were noting, the wise man is most similar to him self. I want to be the best me I can be and I want that Jennifer to be good and to bring joy into the world.
I feel a little goody-good after writing this and I'm OK with that.
As part of this ambition, I'm reading "Benjamin Franklin's The Art of Virtue: His Formula for Successful Living" edited by George L. Rogers. Today's lesson was part of guiding principle 10, "Life is immeasurably more satisfying to those who get along well with other than to those who do not." I had a very, "that's so true!" moment. The initial bit is simple - don't take offense and try to not offend. Simple. Avoid extremes, always, ever; be moderate in one's words. Next ignore the trifles - be not disturbed by accidents common or unavoidable. Very sensible. Then practice forgiveness, sincerity and justice. So easily said, and a lifetime to implement.
But, what really struck me was his advice to avoid confrontation. He notes, "I made it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own. I even forbid myself, agreeably to the old laws of our junto, the use of every word or expression in the language that imported a fixed opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly, etc,. and I adopted, instead of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to be so or so; or it so appears to me at present. When another asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately some absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I began by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in the present case there appeared or seemed to me some difference."
I was meditating on how much of a relief it would be to not feel compelled to correct every wrong I see or hear and as a corollary, how nice it would be to live in a world where I wouldn't be frequently corrected or have my notions aggressively contradicted. And then Greg and I were at Trader Joe's and I saw a lovely flower that reminded me of coral. I noted, "Wow, I've never seen flowers like that before." To which Greg commented, "Yes you have. I've given you one of those flowers before and you said the same thing."
My bliss hissed out of me with the FFFFTTT of a child letting air out of a regular balloon. How much more pleasant it would have been for me to have remembered or to have merely stated on the beauty of the flower. How much more pleasant it would have been to not have been reminded that I had seen them before.
Even with that, I'm going to take this next week to do my best to follow Ben's advice. As he noted in a letter to a friend, who had decided to drop an argument,
"So you see I think you had the best of the argument; and as you notwithstanding gave it up in complaisance to the company, I think you had also the best of the dispute. There are few, though convinced, that know how to give up, even an error, they have been once engaged in maintaining. There is therefore more merit in dropping a contest where one things one's self is right; it is at least respectful to those we converse with. And indeed all our knowledge is so imperfect, and we are from a thousand causes so perpetually subject to mistake and error, that positiveness can scarce ever become even the most knowing; and modesty in advancing any opinion, however plain and true we may suppose it, is always decent, and generally more like to procure assent."
I hope I can find that such behavior is intrinsic in my personality. As Michelle and I were noting, the wise man is most similar to him self. I want to be the best me I can be and I want that Jennifer to be good and to bring joy into the world.
I feel a little goody-good after writing this and I'm OK with that.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Sunshine and the City
Yesterday Tsunami and I decided that it was a glorious day and we were going to go out and enjoy it. I woke up early with the sun shining through the window and directly onto my face. So I was up and about at 7 am. She and I took a stroll down to the ball park and back, enjoying the weather. It was too nice to stay indoors.
So after Greg got up and we enjoyed our waffle breakfast, Tsunami and I hit the road. We had planned a route from the Bay Bridge over to the Golden Gate. It was about 6 miles and we were going to make a brief detour to visit the little brother.
The walk was just suburb. Up the water front, past the ferry building and around the next pier. I didn't realize that there is a clan of ethnic people who take over the end of the pier for a day of fishing, as I often walk there on weeknights around 5 pm and have it all to myself.
The wind cooled down the sun and the water was topped with white caps. As we went further north, we reached the Alcatraz ferry pier and the tourists started in earnest. I put Tsunami in her sling as we passed Pier 39 and Fishermans' Wharf. I wonder what type of impression people have of San Francisco when all they see is that little corner. The street musicians, the faux facades and the abundance of stores hawking snow globes and sweatshirt branded with San Francisco are utterly non-representational of San Francisco and devoid of locals, except for the random jogger trying to get from the embarcadero waterfront to Aquatic Park & Fort Mason.
Once at Aquatic Park my blood pressure dropped, Tsunami was back trekking along beside me and we did a short stint on the beach. I'm trying to teach her to dig - much against all boyfriend & parental advice. She's a dog and she is supposed to dig, but my examples in the sand didn't hold much interest for her. Nor did my attempts while in the back yard of Dad & Cathy's house.
Oh well, we made it to Fort Mason, basked in the sun and the view and then turned in to drop by little brother and his wife. Tsunami wasn't sure about her cousins - Maggie & Zach. They are big. I wrestled a hello with Maggie - I guess big dogs can be fun. However, she get excited and my flipping her over while in a partial headlock did seem to release a bit of flow from the girl. Kate was lovely in not minding me causing a yellow puddle on the floor. We had a good visit. Tsunami got refuled by some of Kate's power bar and we were off again.
Once on the Marina Green, we placed a call to our car service, aka Greg and told him we'd be needing a pick-up at the sports store at Crissy Field in a half hour. He was happy to oblige. Tsunami and i picked up the pace, as we had 1.75 miles to go in that half hour. I was set on getting my little puppy to the beach so she could frolic. So we fast walked & trotted, Tsunami did the trotting, down the Marina Green, passed the docks and onto Crissy Field. I was joyous... but Tsunami was losing steam. I kept peeping at my GPS watch and saw that we had .35 miles to go (we were doing 6 miles total) So I scooped her into my arms. She seemed OK with that... but we did get odd looks from those we passed by. Here we are in dog central and I'm carrying my four legged friend.
Oh well, I know what I'm up to - I want to get past the bridge an over to where dogs can run free on the sand. Which is well and good, when there aren't sand storms that rage about 8 inches off the ground and blind my mini doxie. So, she was down, then she was back up in my arms again... more strange looks.
We finished the last 300 feet and paused to reflect on our long journey together. Tsunami gave me a little lick and tucker her head back against my chest with some air of exhaustion. I looked out over the water towards Angel Island. A flock of kite surfers was passing a pack of sail boats. The sun highlighted the foam on the water and the breeze was making my left eye tear-up. I felt the glow of it all and was so glad to have the day, the dog and the doggie death march. I hope I get another chance next weekend to do it all again.
So after Greg got up and we enjoyed our waffle breakfast, Tsunami and I hit the road. We had planned a route from the Bay Bridge over to the Golden Gate. It was about 6 miles and we were going to make a brief detour to visit the little brother.
The walk was just suburb. Up the water front, past the ferry building and around the next pier. I didn't realize that there is a clan of ethnic people who take over the end of the pier for a day of fishing, as I often walk there on weeknights around 5 pm and have it all to myself.
The wind cooled down the sun and the water was topped with white caps. As we went further north, we reached the Alcatraz ferry pier and the tourists started in earnest. I put Tsunami in her sling as we passed Pier 39 and Fishermans' Wharf. I wonder what type of impression people have of San Francisco when all they see is that little corner. The street musicians, the faux facades and the abundance of stores hawking snow globes and sweatshirt branded with San Francisco are utterly non-representational of San Francisco and devoid of locals, except for the random jogger trying to get from the embarcadero waterfront to Aquatic Park & Fort Mason.
Once at Aquatic Park my blood pressure dropped, Tsunami was back trekking along beside me and we did a short stint on the beach. I'm trying to teach her to dig - much against all boyfriend & parental advice. She's a dog and she is supposed to dig, but my examples in the sand didn't hold much interest for her. Nor did my attempts while in the back yard of Dad & Cathy's house.
Oh well, we made it to Fort Mason, basked in the sun and the view and then turned in to drop by little brother and his wife. Tsunami wasn't sure about her cousins - Maggie & Zach. They are big. I wrestled a hello with Maggie - I guess big dogs can be fun. However, she get excited and my flipping her over while in a partial headlock did seem to release a bit of flow from the girl. Kate was lovely in not minding me causing a yellow puddle on the floor. We had a good visit. Tsunami got refuled by some of Kate's power bar and we were off again.
Once on the Marina Green, we placed a call to our car service, aka Greg and told him we'd be needing a pick-up at the sports store at Crissy Field in a half hour. He was happy to oblige. Tsunami and i picked up the pace, as we had 1.75 miles to go in that half hour. I was set on getting my little puppy to the beach so she could frolic. So we fast walked & trotted, Tsunami did the trotting, down the Marina Green, passed the docks and onto Crissy Field. I was joyous... but Tsunami was losing steam. I kept peeping at my GPS watch and saw that we had .35 miles to go (we were doing 6 miles total) So I scooped her into my arms. She seemed OK with that... but we did get odd looks from those we passed by. Here we are in dog central and I'm carrying my four legged friend.
Oh well, I know what I'm up to - I want to get past the bridge an over to where dogs can run free on the sand. Which is well and good, when there aren't sand storms that rage about 8 inches off the ground and blind my mini doxie. So, she was down, then she was back up in my arms again... more strange looks.
We finished the last 300 feet and paused to reflect on our long journey together. Tsunami gave me a little lick and tucker her head back against my chest with some air of exhaustion. I looked out over the water towards Angel Island. A flock of kite surfers was passing a pack of sail boats. The sun highlighted the foam on the water and the breeze was making my left eye tear-up. I felt the glow of it all and was so glad to have the day, the dog and the doggie death march. I hope I get another chance next weekend to do it all again.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Weekend Fun
Greg and I had a lovely weekend. Saturday I woke up and decided to go to a Daily Method class. I love them, challenging while not impossible and they leave me the right amount of sore the next day.
I got back to find Greg musing over what we used to do on Saturday before the NBA playoffs started. I tried to remember, but neither of us could come up with anything. So we decided to go to the Giants game. It took all afternoon to get tickets. Greg did his sharpshooting on Craigslist and we found 2 seats in the Club section just to the 1st base side of home plate. He had never been in the Club box level and enjoyed the handy bar and short food lines. The field and bay views were fantastic, the weather was perfect and we enjoyed our evening. It took me about 2 rounds of drinks before I was yelling out encouragement to the team. Greg says that, "Good Try" isn't a good cheer, but the Giants played much of the game as if they were in little league, so I felt my parental type cheer was completely appropriate.
Sunday I stumbled out of bed knowing that i needed to let little Tsunami out. As we walked to her favorite relief spot, I was feeling how mussed up my hair was. I looked over across the street and see two young men with suit jackets, ties, shorts & running shoes. It took me a minute to remember Sunday was the Bay to Breakers. The embarcadero was mobbed with fresh & shiny young 20-somes fresh from college with silly outfits and beers in hand. As we dodged Elvis relieving himself in the bushes, we were nearly taken out by a man dressed as a cookie. All so strange that I had to go up one of the side streets. I thought we were alone until I heard some familiar beats. I had the blocks from tetris following us.
When I got back I booked my "hit-the-snooze-button-on-the-biological-clock" 4th of July trip to Minnesota. This won't be my first 4th of July in Minnesota. I remember going as a girl. This year should be fun, we're going up country to a lake, just like my mother used to do when she was a girl. She describes the water that was so clear you could see the leeches swimming by. She and I will be sharing a motel room where my crazy aunt Judy will also be staying. We elected private accommodations instead of staying at the family cabin - where my 2 cousins, their spouses & 5 children under the age of 10 will all be staying.
Once that was set, we hopped on craigslist again. Greg found fantastic tickets on the cheap. This time we were 1/2 way to 1st base about 11 rows behind the WhiteSox dug out. The sun was warm and we shared a BBQ pulled pork sandwich. The Giants played better and we were excited for them, until they lost their rally and gave up a number of runs.
That's the report.
I got back to find Greg musing over what we used to do on Saturday before the NBA playoffs started. I tried to remember, but neither of us could come up with anything. So we decided to go to the Giants game. It took all afternoon to get tickets. Greg did his sharpshooting on Craigslist and we found 2 seats in the Club section just to the 1st base side of home plate. He had never been in the Club box level and enjoyed the handy bar and short food lines. The field and bay views were fantastic, the weather was perfect and we enjoyed our evening. It took me about 2 rounds of drinks before I was yelling out encouragement to the team. Greg says that, "Good Try" isn't a good cheer, but the Giants played much of the game as if they were in little league, so I felt my parental type cheer was completely appropriate.
Sunday I stumbled out of bed knowing that i needed to let little Tsunami out. As we walked to her favorite relief spot, I was feeling how mussed up my hair was. I looked over across the street and see two young men with suit jackets, ties, shorts & running shoes. It took me a minute to remember Sunday was the Bay to Breakers. The embarcadero was mobbed with fresh & shiny young 20-somes fresh from college with silly outfits and beers in hand. As we dodged Elvis relieving himself in the bushes, we were nearly taken out by a man dressed as a cookie. All so strange that I had to go up one of the side streets. I thought we were alone until I heard some familiar beats. I had the blocks from tetris following us.
When I got back I booked my "hit-the-snooze-button-on-the-biological-clock" 4th of July trip to Minnesota. This won't be my first 4th of July in Minnesota. I remember going as a girl. This year should be fun, we're going up country to a lake, just like my mother used to do when she was a girl. She describes the water that was so clear you could see the leeches swimming by. She and I will be sharing a motel room where my crazy aunt Judy will also be staying. We elected private accommodations instead of staying at the family cabin - where my 2 cousins, their spouses & 5 children under the age of 10 will all be staying.
Once that was set, we hopped on craigslist again. Greg found fantastic tickets on the cheap. This time we were 1/2 way to 1st base about 11 rows behind the WhiteSox dug out. The sun was warm and we shared a BBQ pulled pork sandwich. The Giants played better and we were excited for them, until they lost their rally and gave up a number of runs.
That's the report.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Recession 2.0
Back when we were first inflicted with Bush Co., we got bombed and dove straight into a recession. Fear was in the air, yet there were signs in shop windows, "America, Open for Business". There was our Fearless & Feckless W telling us to buck-up and go shopping.
5 years later, our shopping bills seem to be coming to roost. We bought, we re-financed, we exploded the National Debt as well as the Trade Deficit. We spent on war, we spent on new surveillance products to help our government spy on us, oh, I mean the terrorists. And now Bush is about to bumble his way to a career in speaking engagements, or maybe he'll just have books ghost-written for him, as his English ain't so hot.
Either way, Recession 2.0 feels much scarier than 2002. Maybe I just didn't know what damage we could do to our economy & environment and now I do. I've lived through 3 downturns since graduating high school (I set that as when I became coherent that I wasn't the center of the universe), so why does this feel so much more frightening?
I've been trying to separate out the factors. The Media seems to hype things up. That could be a factor in there not being much other news - so all the details of the economic downturn are magnified. It could be that Greg and I started that business and hits to the market can directly be felt in our business. There just seem to be so many dark danger signs: China, with America, are plowing through our oil reserves and bringing gas to an astronomical price. There have been food riots in places where the price of bread or rice has tripled.
I keep looking at what could be good about it all. Higher gas prices means we all start to buy local and the trade deficit drops. We build more sustainable local economies that don't poison the environment and lessen the impact on our world. That in turn both improves the environment and could help chill out the middle east problems. (on a digression - I'm reading a fascinating book about Saudi Arabia that Andre gave me a couple years ago. The insights into the cultural thought process, dress, and religion are fascinating.) Oil prices hit the tipping point on fossil fuels and we find new renewable energy resources.
We should learn from Recession 1.0 and build a sound recovery instead of the house of cards that Bush built.
5 years later, our shopping bills seem to be coming to roost. We bought, we re-financed, we exploded the National Debt as well as the Trade Deficit. We spent on war, we spent on new surveillance products to help our government spy on us, oh, I mean the terrorists. And now Bush is about to bumble his way to a career in speaking engagements, or maybe he'll just have books ghost-written for him, as his English ain't so hot.
Either way, Recession 2.0 feels much scarier than 2002. Maybe I just didn't know what damage we could do to our economy & environment and now I do. I've lived through 3 downturns since graduating high school (I set that as when I became coherent that I wasn't the center of the universe), so why does this feel so much more frightening?
I've been trying to separate out the factors. The Media seems to hype things up. That could be a factor in there not being much other news - so all the details of the economic downturn are magnified. It could be that Greg and I started that business and hits to the market can directly be felt in our business. There just seem to be so many dark danger signs: China, with America, are plowing through our oil reserves and bringing gas to an astronomical price. There have been food riots in places where the price of bread or rice has tripled.
I keep looking at what could be good about it all. Higher gas prices means we all start to buy local and the trade deficit drops. We build more sustainable local economies that don't poison the environment and lessen the impact on our world. That in turn both improves the environment and could help chill out the middle east problems. (on a digression - I'm reading a fascinating book about Saudi Arabia that Andre gave me a couple years ago. The insights into the cultural thought process, dress, and religion are fascinating.) Oil prices hit the tipping point on fossil fuels and we find new renewable energy resources.
We should learn from Recession 1.0 and build a sound recovery instead of the house of cards that Bush built.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Channel Islands - Prisoner's Harbor
Saturday we were a little apprehensive about going back to Santa Cruz Island. We had shivered through Friday and weren't sure we wanted another day in the fog with nearly identical scenery. But we were down there and had reservations and multiple layers of clothes, so we dutifully bundled up and headed out.
When checking in at the dock, we were warned that the crossing would be slightly rough. Hmm, all I could think was that I was glad I had my ear patch. My mom decided to hold off on breakfast until we were on the way. Since it was Saturday, the routes had changed slightly. The boat was to make 2 stops - first at Scorpion Anchorage (where we were the day before) and then continue on to Prisioner's Harbor. And this time, to take the walk we wanted - over to Pelican's bay - we'd have to sign a sheet to get a permit and stick with the Island Packer's Guide on our hike. Fine, we figure - we did want to do the hike into the Nature Preserve portion of the Island.
The boat was crowded and we had to share our table with 2, seeminly nice people. They were a couple on a trip, from what we could understand, they were with a high school group and they were living in LA, but Korean. They did appear to be part of a group of 30 or so Korean people, however, the group was similar to our seat mates, being made up mostly of late 40 year old couples, and distinctly lacking teens. While they were with us, I did ponder this slightly, but the poor woman didn't do well on the rough water and they spent a good portion of the crossing feeding the fishes.
I had brought along my New Yorker and started out reading and nibbling on a lemon scone. Mom was focused on seeing large marine mammals and was encouraged as the fog had lifted a bit, and she could see for miles. As we topped the waves and dove into their troughs, it wasn't long before I lost my ability to focus on the article I was reading about the possible death of the penny. To calm myself, I noticed that the crew didn't look scared. I bolstered myself by thinking of how they had probably seen rougher seas, and this was just an average day. The guy working the galley explained that the wind had pushed off the fog, giving us a clear day and rough seas. Quite a trade-off.
We got to the harbor, off-loaded most of the passengers and gained an interesting party of 3. As it turns out it was a husband, wife & son from Santa Cruz who had been camping on the Island and were spending the last day on the Prisoner's Harbor side. They were nice. They joined us on the hike. The sun was uber-nature boy, he could recognize the plants and I learned that he had been sleeping under the stars the last 2 nights - sans tent. Much more rugged than I every hoped to be.
As it worked out, the sun was out by the time we landed and it was all much more picturesque. We did the hike, getting privacy on the return portion, as Mom preferred a slower pace than the group was aiming for. Thankfully that pace did get us back in time to catch the boat.
Here at the photos - some of which might seem odd. I didn't quite understand my camera and thought I was using the scenery setting, when in fact I was set to twilight:
Hiking out to Lunch
Pebble beach we passed on the way to lunch.
The Matching Jackets
Dueling Cameras with Mom
Inland View
Lunch View
When checking in at the dock, we were warned that the crossing would be slightly rough. Hmm, all I could think was that I was glad I had my ear patch. My mom decided to hold off on breakfast until we were on the way. Since it was Saturday, the routes had changed slightly. The boat was to make 2 stops - first at Scorpion Anchorage (where we were the day before) and then continue on to Prisioner's Harbor. And this time, to take the walk we wanted - over to Pelican's bay - we'd have to sign a sheet to get a permit and stick with the Island Packer's Guide on our hike. Fine, we figure - we did want to do the hike into the Nature Preserve portion of the Island.
The boat was crowded and we had to share our table with 2, seeminly nice people. They were a couple on a trip, from what we could understand, they were with a high school group and they were living in LA, but Korean. They did appear to be part of a group of 30 or so Korean people, however, the group was similar to our seat mates, being made up mostly of late 40 year old couples, and distinctly lacking teens. While they were with us, I did ponder this slightly, but the poor woman didn't do well on the rough water and they spent a good portion of the crossing feeding the fishes.
I had brought along my New Yorker and started out reading and nibbling on a lemon scone. Mom was focused on seeing large marine mammals and was encouraged as the fog had lifted a bit, and she could see for miles. As we topped the waves and dove into their troughs, it wasn't long before I lost my ability to focus on the article I was reading about the possible death of the penny. To calm myself, I noticed that the crew didn't look scared. I bolstered myself by thinking of how they had probably seen rougher seas, and this was just an average day. The guy working the galley explained that the wind had pushed off the fog, giving us a clear day and rough seas. Quite a trade-off.
We got to the harbor, off-loaded most of the passengers and gained an interesting party of 3. As it turns out it was a husband, wife & son from Santa Cruz who had been camping on the Island and were spending the last day on the Prisoner's Harbor side. They were nice. They joined us on the hike. The sun was uber-nature boy, he could recognize the plants and I learned that he had been sleeping under the stars the last 2 nights - sans tent. Much more rugged than I every hoped to be.
As it worked out, the sun was out by the time we landed and it was all much more picturesque. We did the hike, getting privacy on the return portion, as Mom preferred a slower pace than the group was aiming for. Thankfully that pace did get us back in time to catch the boat.
Here at the photos - some of which might seem odd. I didn't quite understand my camera and thought I was using the scenery setting, when in fact I was set to twilight:
Hiking out to Lunch
Pebble beach we passed on the way to lunch.
The Matching Jackets
Dueling Cameras with Mom
Inland View
Lunch ViewSaturday ended up much better than Friday. The wilderness more remote with more foliage. After our 2nd day of trekking - we did 6.5 miles on Saturday for a total of 14 miles in 2 days - we headed to the Oyster Bar & Restaurant in the harbor. We started out with just a glass of wine and the next thing we know Mom's talking to the man on her right and the guy on my left tries to use that as an opening to talk to me. He was a more than a bit intoxicated, I was able to quickly and politely turn away when his cell phone went off. With me turned away from him, I think he though he has some privacy, as he proceeded to work out the details of a drug deal for later in the evening. I hope that worked out for him.
Back to hanging with mom and we ordered dinner. I enjoyed a big plate of crab. Though after seeing some of the Discovery Channel's The Deadliest Catch marathon, I do feel a twinge of guilt for enjoying that tasty sea bug. Mom assured me that Crab was not endanger of being over fished... and I believe her. However I did see the Cornelia Marie catch over 1 million pounds in one season. That seemed like a lot. But they are just bugs, right? The world has a lot of bugs.
We crashed again on Saturday night. Sunday we cleaned up, packed up and headed to the Santa Barbara Natural History Museum where were learned about rocks and how we did-in the Chumack Indians. And the Chumack seem like very nice Indians... mostly chilling, farming, fishing and having a good time prior to the arrival of the Missionaries. Bummer.
Back to hanging with mom and we ordered dinner. I enjoyed a big plate of crab. Though after seeing some of the Discovery Channel's The Deadliest Catch marathon, I do feel a twinge of guilt for enjoying that tasty sea bug. Mom assured me that Crab was not endanger of being over fished... and I believe her. However I did see the Cornelia Marie catch over 1 million pounds in one season. That seemed like a lot. But they are just bugs, right? The world has a lot of bugs.
We crashed again on Saturday night. Sunday we cleaned up, packed up and headed to the Santa Barbara Natural History Museum where were learned about rocks and how we did-in the Chumack Indians. And the Chumack seem like very nice Indians... mostly chilling, farming, fishing and having a good time prior to the arrival of the Missionaries. Bummer.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Back to Santa Cruz Island
Now I think I was waxing dull about eating lunch on a bluff one hundred some feet above the water. Mom and I enjoyed our Trader Joe's salads, almond packs and dried cherries together with a great view. After lunch we turned back East, then South down to the Scorpion Valley, going through the camp ground.
For those interested in following along - you can find the PDF map here:
http://www.nps.gov/chis/planyourvisit/hiking-santa-cruz-island.htm
We then started up the hill and stumbled upon an oil drill that was picturesque and well rusted. Mom was happy to arrive there, as it marked out highest ascent. On the way up she kept threatening to turn around. I just felt invigorated with the cool, foggy air and up-swept views.
We circled around the top of the ridge and then headed back down to the dock area. All in all, we hiked about 7.5 miles. Mom was exhausted, however she did rally to go into Ventura's little downtown for dinner. We totally crashed about 9:30 pm.
For those interested in following along - you can find the PDF map here:
http://www.nps.gov/chis/planyourvisit/hiking-santa-cruz-island.htm
We then started up the hill and stumbled upon an oil drill that was picturesque and well rusted. Mom was happy to arrive there, as it marked out highest ascent. On the way up she kept threatening to turn around. I just felt invigorated with the cool, foggy air and up-swept views.
We circled around the top of the ridge and then headed back down to the dock area. All in all, we hiked about 7.5 miles. Mom was exhausted, however she did rally to go into Ventura's little downtown for dinner. We totally crashed about 9:30 pm.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
One win for the Protesters
After 25 minutes of waiting amid a sea of protesters and packs of police, I have abandoned my effort to see the torch. What a bummer. The protesters just seemed to be buzzing about going from one potential ado to another with no order.
The whole thing made me sad. I think that pictures of the torch with protesters in the background would have made a clear statement. Instead, they filled the street and marched or milled about aimlessly - no photo ops as there was no torch. Today likely my only chance to see the torch in real life. Now it is gone.
SFgate.com reports that my section of the torch route has been abandoned and left to the protesters. I got some pictures, but they don't capture the scene well.
Back to work. My lunch break is over
The whole thing made me sad. I think that pictures of the torch with protesters in the background would have made a clear statement. Instead, they filled the street and marched or milled about aimlessly - no photo ops as there was no torch. Today likely my only chance to see the torch in real life. Now it is gone.
SFgate.com reports that my section of the torch route has been abandoned and left to the protesters. I got some pictures, but they don't capture the scene well.
Back to work. My lunch break is over
Free the Protest Noon Report
I just took Tsunami out for another spin. When I got to the end of the block there were fewer people than I expected. The Chinese National Crew seemed to have moved down the block closer to the ballpark and expanded. The Free-Tibet people appear to have displaced them, being the first group I came to.
I use came to loosely - as I was on the civil side of the street the protesters, flag wavers and banner holders are all on the water side. The sky has a host of small, nat-like aircraft - bringing back those annoying days & nights of the omnipotent police helicopter in Los Angeles.
Walking further on towards the ballpark, I see the Go Chinese Crew out with the big red flags. The occasionally seem to dare the Free Tibet Peace-lovers to lynch them by fearlessly walking up and down the block. The scattering of police officers both on the civil side and roaming the embarcadero going 2 by 2 for 3 or 4 pairs. One stopped me, but she was very friendly - asking what type of dog Tsunami is. No harassment or unnecessary use of battering baton.
At this point Tsunami is getting more and more fussy. She's not into the noise and general tension in the air. So I take her home around the back, avoiding the Embarcadero. As we're rounding Main going down to Spear I see a flood of incoming protesters. Something about it made my stomach turn.
20 more minutes until I try to see the torch.
I use came to loosely - as I was on the civil side of the street the protesters, flag wavers and banner holders are all on the water side. The sky has a host of small, nat-like aircraft - bringing back those annoying days & nights of the omnipotent police helicopter in Los Angeles.
Walking further on towards the ballpark, I see the Go Chinese Crew out with the big red flags. The occasionally seem to dare the Free Tibet Peace-lovers to lynch them by fearlessly walking up and down the block. The scattering of police officers both on the civil side and roaming the embarcadero going 2 by 2 for 3 or 4 pairs. One stopped me, but she was very friendly - asking what type of dog Tsunami is. No harassment or unnecessary use of battering baton.
At this point Tsunami is getting more and more fussy. She's not into the noise and general tension in the air. So I take her home around the back, avoiding the Embarcadero. As we're rounding Main going down to Spear I see a flood of incoming protesters. Something about it made my stomach turn.
20 more minutes until I try to see the torch.
San Francisco Loves a Protest
I break away from my Channel Report to describe the current situation near my house.
I'm at Spear & Harrison or, Spear & Embarcadero if you go the other way. I took my dog out for a short walk to find that people were already starting to line up along the Embarcadero with signs and banners in preparation for the Olympic torch to go by.
The torch is scheduled to start it's progress around 1 pm. At 8:45 AM we're already seeing protesters & beefed-up police patrol. I'm stuck trying to decide if working from home is better than going in. If I go in, I don't know when I'll be able to get back here. If I stay, I might get my first taste of tear gas.
I blame Tibet and that War-Monger, the 14th Dalai Lama!
I'm at Spear & Harrison or, Spear & Embarcadero if you go the other way. I took my dog out for a short walk to find that people were already starting to line up along the Embarcadero with signs and banners in preparation for the Olympic torch to go by.
The torch is scheduled to start it's progress around 1 pm. At 8:45 AM we're already seeing protesters & beefed-up police patrol. I'm stuck trying to decide if working from home is better than going in. If I go in, I don't know when I'll be able to get back here. If I stay, I might get my first taste of tear gas.
I blame Tibet and that War-Monger, the 14th Dalai Lama!
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Channel Islands - the Crossing
Sorry for the slow out-put of this report. Real life keeps interrupting my reporting on it.
So, Friday started off uneventful. I got up, washed, brushed & put on the multitude of layers I knew I was going to need for the day. While it did mildly pain me to wear the matching jacket, I'm glad I was through wearing it before hearing Greg's comment (upon seeing a photo of me & mom), "You look like lesbians from Kansas!" I did a quick run to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf while mom showered and came back to get mom before heading over to the dock.
The dock was the headquarters with small gift store. We check-in peruse the generic except for the logo sweatshirts, t-shirts and hats. Having applied our ear patches the night before, I have no worries about any sea sickness. Instead I have worries about the small nature of the craft I'm about to board and travel across open ocean. Despite that, we board and settle into the main cabin. I desperately send a few, "Farewell, I love you" text messages to Greg and generally feel excited as we head out the harbor.
My mom keeps watch over the crossing for whales and dolphins. I sip the coffee flavored water mom bought me. An hour later and no marine mammal sightings later we're at the Scorpion Harbor landing on the East corner of Santa Cruz Island.
We linger at the dock end to get our obligatory ranger orientation which is the standard "Stay on Trails; Take only photos; Leave only foot prints" lecture coupled with an invitation for a nature & history hike. Mom and I are keen to head off on our own. 
We race up the first trail - with my GPS watch clocking us at about 20 minute miles - and get a glorious view. The weather was quite foggy and, despite the matching, I was glad to have the rain coat. Photo is from the initial ascent.
We circle around the Cavern Point Trail and head to Potato Harbor.
On the way we see a fox on the opposite hill and then it comes towards us. It passes at about 10 feet from us. It checks us out and moses on. Clearly we aren't foxy enough for its tastes.
We make it to Potato Harbor. Only once we arrive do we realize that it is an overlook - no beach access. So we paused on the cliff top and enjoyed lunch while watching 3 kayaks paddle around below. The kayaks aren't terribly visible with the small photo size.
More soon.
So, Friday started off uneventful. I got up, washed, brushed & put on the multitude of layers I knew I was going to need for the day. While it did mildly pain me to wear the matching jacket, I'm glad I was through wearing it before hearing Greg's comment (upon seeing a photo of me & mom), "You look like lesbians from Kansas!" I did a quick run to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf while mom showered and came back to get mom before heading over to the dock.
The dock was the headquarters with small gift store. We check-in peruse the generic except for the logo sweatshirts, t-shirts and hats. Having applied our ear patches the night before, I have no worries about any sea sickness. Instead I have worries about the small nature of the craft I'm about to board and travel across open ocean. Despite that, we board and settle into the main cabin. I desperately send a few, "Farewell, I love you" text messages to Greg and generally feel excited as we head out the harbor.
My mom keeps watch over the crossing for whales and dolphins. I sip the coffee flavored water mom bought me. An hour later and no marine mammal sightings later we're at the Scorpion Harbor landing on the East corner of Santa Cruz Island.
We linger at the dock end to get our obligatory ranger orientation which is the standard "Stay on Trails; Take only photos; Leave only foot prints" lecture coupled with an invitation for a nature & history hike. Mom and I are keen to head off on our own. 
We race up the first trail - with my GPS watch clocking us at about 20 minute miles - and get a glorious view. The weather was quite foggy and, despite the matching, I was glad to have the rain coat. Photo is from the initial ascent.
We circle around the Cavern Point Trail and head to Potato Harbor.
On the way we see a fox on the opposite hill and then it comes towards us. It passes at about 10 feet from us. It checks us out and moses on. Clearly we aren't foxy enough for its tastes.
We make it to Potato Harbor. Only once we arrive do we realize that it is an overlook - no beach access. So we paused on the cliff top and enjoyed lunch while watching 3 kayaks paddle around below. The kayaks aren't terribly visible with the small photo size.More soon.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Channel Islands - the road trip
Thursday morning I set out from the loft, sans-a-doggie, for a trip to the Channel Islands. My mother has always wanted to visit the islands and I thought it would be a fun mother-daughter bonding. We hadn't taken a trip together since our jaunt from Albuquerque to Los Angeles in May of '06. Tsunami stayed with Greg for some Papa-Puppy bonding.
I set off about 8:30 AM and head to the Orchid Spa, better known as White Oak Orchids. We dropped off some plants that needed better love than we can provide. I visited my lycaste orchid which is actually some other type of orchid, according to the nice spa attendants. However, I had let to go too far and it was hanging on by a dear leaf. I'll pray for it.
Once the plants were settled, off down highway 1 to my Mom's. Quick arrival and departure, with me learning that the spare water-proof jacket had a camouflage pattern that, if caught in a New England forest, would make me impossible to see. See, she had ordered one for herself and then found it wasn't water-proof. So she called & complained, they said that it was a fluke and sent her another. Since, I don't have rain/drizzle gear, I was borrowing her 2nd jacket. Boy did we make a team, mom & daughter dressed in brown hiking boots, deep blue denim and matching maple forest camouflage jackets. You could tell I was me, as I was wearing a hat.
But that is getting ahead of ourselves - that was our outfit today. Yesterday, we took 101 and flew down the coast in a vain attempt to reach the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History before it closed. I blame our stop at a Mexican joint in King City for our delay. Regardless, it was a beautiful drive. California is filled with lush and beauty.
When we hit Goleta, we realized there was no way we were going to make the museum, so we stopped at the Sterling Preserve - a new park that mom read about in Sunset magazine and
wanted to see. It was low on wildflowers - as was Santa Cruz Island, however we made due. I got to practice more with my nifty new watch toys. Greg generously gave me a GPS tracking watch for my walk-a-half-marathon training. Mom gave me a heart rate monitor watch for the same reason. I love both. When I go walking, I will be wearing both - see photo below.
The southern sun was warming and delightful. We did 1.8 miles in 39:53. Not up to my goal - staying below 15 minute miles.
Our next stop was Trader Joe's - for hiking food supplies. Then to the hotel, La Quinta - which is clean and utilitarian. And finally over to the harbor for a dinner at Milano Cafe or something like that. All fine and dandy. Early to bed to get ready for today's trip to Santa Cruz Island.
Bed time - we'll save the Santa Cruz Island stories of the traveling DeLano Twins for tomorrow.
I set off about 8:30 AM and head to the Orchid Spa, better known as White Oak Orchids. We dropped off some plants that needed better love than we can provide. I visited my lycaste orchid which is actually some other type of orchid, according to the nice spa attendants. However, I had let to go too far and it was hanging on by a dear leaf. I'll pray for it.
Once the plants were settled, off down highway 1 to my Mom's. Quick arrival and departure, with me learning that the spare water-proof jacket had a camouflage pattern that, if caught in a New England forest, would make me impossible to see. See, she had ordered one for herself and then found it wasn't water-proof. So she called & complained, they said that it was a fluke and sent her another. Since, I don't have rain/drizzle gear, I was borrowing her 2nd jacket. Boy did we make a team, mom & daughter dressed in brown hiking boots, deep blue denim and matching maple forest camouflage jackets. You could tell I was me, as I was wearing a hat.
But that is getting ahead of ourselves - that was our outfit today. Yesterday, we took 101 and flew down the coast in a vain attempt to reach the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History before it closed. I blame our stop at a Mexican joint in King City for our delay. Regardless, it was a beautiful drive. California is filled with lush and beauty.
When we hit Goleta, we realized there was no way we were going to make the museum, so we stopped at the Sterling Preserve - a new park that mom read about in Sunset magazine and
wanted to see. It was low on wildflowers - as was Santa Cruz Island, however we made due. I got to practice more with my nifty new watch toys. Greg generously gave me a GPS tracking watch for my walk-a-half-marathon training. Mom gave me a heart rate monitor watch for the same reason. I love both. When I go walking, I will be wearing both - see photo below.The southern sun was warming and delightful. We did 1.8 miles in 39:53. Not up to my goal - staying below 15 minute miles.
Our next stop was Trader Joe's - for hiking food supplies. Then to the hotel, La Quinta - which is clean and utilitarian. And finally over to the harbor for a dinner at Milano Cafe or something like that. All fine and dandy. Early to bed to get ready for today's trip to Santa Cruz Island.
Bed time - we'll save the Santa Cruz Island stories of the traveling DeLano Twins for tomorrow.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Caramel-By-The-Sea
This year, for my birthday, Greg took me down to Carmel. We left mid-day on Friday, a little later than expected and dropped sweet Tsunami off with Mom. Mom was very excited about her weekend of dog sitting.
Off again, down the coast and we got hungry around Santa Cruz. I recalled how my mom and I had eaten in Capitola a year ago after our kayak trip in Elkhorn Slough. I tried to guide us there, however, we turned to Google Maps, after several wrong turns and a trip back up the coast. We found Capitola's cuteness slightly damped by the drizzle and took refuge in the Margaritaville. Maybe not the best choice, as the food wasn't special and the service seemed to want training. But we were back out on the road before long.
Heading on South we hit yawnville on our approach to Sand City and pulled off to get some coffee. I was so excited to head south, we soon jumped back in the car for the last 15 minutes of trip.
We arrived in the rain and didn't have any trouble finding our hotel, The Wayfarer Inn. The room was better than expected, with a fireplace that was controlled by the room temperature. We'd slide the guide up to 70 and, poof, the fire would come-on. Before leaving, slide back down to 60 so the fire would go out. Very find and dandy, until 2 AM when then thing kicks back on and suddenly the room is romantic & aglow.
Greg was under the impression that Carmel was closer to San Diego's temperature than San Francisco. The first night, on our way out for a nightcap, we realized he didn't have a jacket. I only had a light coat. We both were cold throughout the weekend, but made the best of it.
Saturday started out gray but we forgot about it with our super yummy breakfast. We choose a place that looked local and decided to share. He ordered Eggs Benedict with crumbled Italian sausage. I got a blueberry waffle. The Benedict was super savory. The waffle got drowned in syrup.
Next we were off to the Aquarium. I was so excited to go back. It had been nearly 10 years since I was there last. The jelly fish lived up to my memories. So magical, drifting and dangerous at the same time. How does it know to do that swimmy-thing when it has no brain. It is just a floating stomach with arms. Off to the otters, who were exceptionally cute. The only downer was my inability to stomach the children after 2.5 hours. So much yelling, screeching & crying.
It also played into my recent depression about the planet. We're messing things up pretty badly. We're taking away habitat, killing off our natural resources - I'm not going to eat fish more than once a month due to our over-fished oceans. After 2 hours in the aquarium, my hysteria had me looking for a sword to fall upon.
To cheer me up, we headed out and explored the seaside. I snapped several pictures that I have yet to upload. The best photos were from south of Carmel & the North part of the 17 mile drive. Stunning scenery. We drove the drive and stopped for lunch at the Carmel Lodge. Enjoying French Onion Soup & a hamburger - technically a cheeseburger - along with a Tap Room Ale. The service was fantastic and we wondered if we were dining among rich & famous whom we didn't recognize.
Soon after we got back to Carmel and wandered around town. Dinner was French - French Cuisine, French Service and a French style tip to match. We passed out early, about 10:30, after I drunken-dialed my mother to check on the dog. She graciously reports that I was a cheerful call and I just seemed happy.
Sunday we headed North after another exceptional breakfast. We were so lucky - there were several parties waiting, however they were all 3+ people. We got the first open table - a 2 top. This place had so many benedicts the waitress had to come back 3 times before we had made our selection. Thirty minutes later we both rolled out of there filled to the gills with eggs & sauce.
On the road, it cleared up as we drove. One little side trip to Bonny Doon. I liked some of the wines, we both disliked the chipper girl behind the counter who was pouring. She seemed to think we were jerks for not cooing over the first red we sampled. Sorry, dear, we're just not into thin reds.
Up to Mom's and a happy reuniting with Tsunami. They had a good time, but I should have brought Tsunami's sweatshirt, as she was shivering every time mom took her out. Mom is happy to Tsunami-sit anytime. Luck us!
That's it. Tomorrow I'm off with Mom. We're going back down the coast to Ventura. Friday and Saturday we'll be taking the boat over to Santa Cruz Island for day hikes. Should be good, providing my head cold doesn't turn into pneumonia when confronted with the cold sea air & my hypochondria.
Off again, down the coast and we got hungry around Santa Cruz. I recalled how my mom and I had eaten in Capitola a year ago after our kayak trip in Elkhorn Slough. I tried to guide us there, however, we turned to Google Maps, after several wrong turns and a trip back up the coast. We found Capitola's cuteness slightly damped by the drizzle and took refuge in the Margaritaville. Maybe not the best choice, as the food wasn't special and the service seemed to want training. But we were back out on the road before long.
Heading on South we hit yawnville on our approach to Sand City and pulled off to get some coffee. I was so excited to head south, we soon jumped back in the car for the last 15 minutes of trip.
We arrived in the rain and didn't have any trouble finding our hotel, The Wayfarer Inn. The room was better than expected, with a fireplace that was controlled by the room temperature. We'd slide the guide up to 70 and, poof, the fire would come-on. Before leaving, slide back down to 60 so the fire would go out. Very find and dandy, until 2 AM when then thing kicks back on and suddenly the room is romantic & aglow.
Greg was under the impression that Carmel was closer to San Diego's temperature than San Francisco. The first night, on our way out for a nightcap, we realized he didn't have a jacket. I only had a light coat. We both were cold throughout the weekend, but made the best of it.
Saturday started out gray but we forgot about it with our super yummy breakfast. We choose a place that looked local and decided to share. He ordered Eggs Benedict with crumbled Italian sausage. I got a blueberry waffle. The Benedict was super savory. The waffle got drowned in syrup.
Next we were off to the Aquarium. I was so excited to go back. It had been nearly 10 years since I was there last. The jelly fish lived up to my memories. So magical, drifting and dangerous at the same time. How does it know to do that swimmy-thing when it has no brain. It is just a floating stomach with arms. Off to the otters, who were exceptionally cute. The only downer was my inability to stomach the children after 2.5 hours. So much yelling, screeching & crying.
It also played into my recent depression about the planet. We're messing things up pretty badly. We're taking away habitat, killing off our natural resources - I'm not going to eat fish more than once a month due to our over-fished oceans. After 2 hours in the aquarium, my hysteria had me looking for a sword to fall upon.
To cheer me up, we headed out and explored the seaside. I snapped several pictures that I have yet to upload. The best photos were from south of Carmel & the North part of the 17 mile drive. Stunning scenery. We drove the drive and stopped for lunch at the Carmel Lodge. Enjoying French Onion Soup & a hamburger - technically a cheeseburger - along with a Tap Room Ale. The service was fantastic and we wondered if we were dining among rich & famous whom we didn't recognize.
Soon after we got back to Carmel and wandered around town. Dinner was French - French Cuisine, French Service and a French style tip to match. We passed out early, about 10:30, after I drunken-dialed my mother to check on the dog. She graciously reports that I was a cheerful call and I just seemed happy.
Sunday we headed North after another exceptional breakfast. We were so lucky - there were several parties waiting, however they were all 3+ people. We got the first open table - a 2 top. This place had so many benedicts the waitress had to come back 3 times before we had made our selection. Thirty minutes later we both rolled out of there filled to the gills with eggs & sauce.
On the road, it cleared up as we drove. One little side trip to Bonny Doon. I liked some of the wines, we both disliked the chipper girl behind the counter who was pouring. She seemed to think we were jerks for not cooing over the first red we sampled. Sorry, dear, we're just not into thin reds.
Up to Mom's and a happy reuniting with Tsunami. They had a good time, but I should have brought Tsunami's sweatshirt, as she was shivering every time mom took her out. Mom is happy to Tsunami-sit anytime. Luck us!
That's it. Tomorrow I'm off with Mom. We're going back down the coast to Ventura. Friday and Saturday we'll be taking the boat over to Santa Cruz Island for day hikes. Should be good, providing my head cold doesn't turn into pneumonia when confronted with the cold sea air & my hypochondria.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Ode to Jesse
Personal Vegan Chef Jesse Minor pinged me after getting a Google Alert that someone had used his name. He's off cooking for a yuppie dinner party tonight - here's the menu we're all missing out on:
Salad Course:
- Mixed Greens, Shaved Fennel and Roasted Beet Salad with Toasted
Pistachio Nuts and Orange Vinaigrette
Entree Course:
- Maple Dijon Tempeh
- Creamy Meyer Lemon Israeli Couscous
- Roasted Asparagus
Dessert Course:
- Creamy Chocolate Mint Pie with Chocolate Cookie Crust and Raspberry Sauce
I remember Tempeh Skewers at Smith that looked like bologna that had been placed in the mud and run over by the Federales when their jeep caravan passed by. So, after a bit of mocking the Tempeh , Jesse helped me understand that they are, " fermented soy beans that are pressed into a cake". Or fermented soy beans that happened to be in the same mud puddle that got pressed into a cake by the passing jeeps.
That aside, I also learned that Jesse The Vegan Personal Chef, does most of his cooking for non-vegans. There are many other young professionals with the urge to eat more healthier, meet their RDA of 5 veggie servings per day and lack the time to adequately prepare and cook. I can relate. Maybe I should add "making school lunches" to my Not To Do List.
Salad Course:
- Mixed Greens, Shaved Fennel and Roasted Beet Salad with Toasted
Pistachio Nuts and Orange Vinaigrette
Entree Course:
- Maple Dijon Tempeh
- Creamy Meyer Lemon Israeli Couscous
- Roasted Asparagus
Dessert Course:
- Creamy Chocolate Mint Pie with Chocolate Cookie Crust and Raspberry Sauce
I remember Tempeh Skewers at Smith that looked like bologna that had been placed in the mud and run over by the Federales when their jeep caravan passed by. So, after a bit of mocking the Tempeh , Jesse helped me understand that they are, " fermented soy beans that are pressed into a cake". Or fermented soy beans that happened to be in the same mud puddle that got pressed into a cake by the passing jeeps.
That aside, I also learned that Jesse The Vegan Personal Chef, does most of his cooking for non-vegans. There are many other young professionals with the urge to eat more healthier, meet their RDA of 5 veggie servings per day and lack the time to adequately prepare and cook. I can relate. Maybe I should add "making school lunches" to my Not To Do List.
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