Taster Spoon

Primarily because of the sesame seed duvet

Did you know the Hamburger Bed is my friendster?  Or Facebook stalkee, whatever.

It totally almost made a headline.

http://www.oddee.com/item_96623.aspx

I'm actually a big fan of the molecular bed now.  I wonder if it is accepting Friendsters. 

Challah back!

This weekend went by way too fast.  Nevertheless, good times were had. 

Friday I got home from work to find Ace standing at the sink, filling a big pot of water. 

"What are you doing?"

"I bought eggs."

"You're boiling eggs?" 

Whereupon I launched into my recent scholarship on hard-boiling eggs to perfection.  (Start eggs in cold water, bring to boil, boil for 10 minutes, remove and shock immediately.)  Ace allowed me to push him aside, which in retrospect I regret, because how delightful is it to come home to someone boiling eggs for Easter?? - and then I had to go and take over his project.  (But the eggs were perfect.)

Our CSA started up again, have I mentioned?  And it's already strawberry time.  So we washed off a quart of berries and walked around the neighborhood like the old people do.  There was a guy with his garage door open with sheets of aluminum leaning up against the walls. 

"That looks like a wing," commented Ace.

So I shouted: "Are you building an airplane?"

And so we met the neighbor who is building a two seater airplane from a kit. 

The rest of the evening was a bust as Ace and I dithered about what fun thing we'd do that evening.  Would we crash the Tribe happy hour (soooo farrr awayyy)?  Would we go to the drive in (nothing good showing)?   What friends we'd go hang out with...  I went through the paper and announced that we would lace up our dancing shoes and go learn the Hustle...only to find he'd fallen asleep on the couch.   At least I got caught up on my 90210.   Silver is totally insane!  Then he woke up and we ate salad and watched Risky Business.  (He remembered all the plot points except for the prostitution ring; that's the only plot point I remembered.  I don't know why Tom Cruise ever got a nose job.)

Saturday started out cloudy with a chill breeze, so I skipped the pool and closed my ears to my bicycle and went to the gym and did a little pre-Easter laying in of foodstuffs.  Ace was thinking lamb for Easter, he who doesn't like mint, but they were out of legs so instead I got lamb leg "steaks."  I didn't really know what to do with lamb "steaks" but we recently went deluxey mid-week and had real steaks seared up in a skillet that were great - I figured we'd try the same thing.   Trader Joe's was giving out their little samples, like they do, and this time it was mashed potatoes and ham.  I don't even like ham, usually, because it's so salty, but this was so moist and mild I had to get one.   

Upon getting home Ace suggested we invite some people to join us for Easter dinner.  It's such a family occasion, plus it was so last minute - I was doubtful anyone wouldn't already be booked.  So I e-mailed probably 30 people we both really enjoy, figuring we'd be lucky if we got two takers.

Then we went to sit by the pool.  I'm reading Sally Quinn's The Party, a how-to guide for a life I'll  never lead, all about how to throw fabulous society functions among the famous and/or influential.  The implicit understanding throughout is that you have a ready supply of hired help.  She makes the point that you don't want to get a reputation as someone who just invites EVERYONE all the time, because then guests don't feel special for being invited.  Point well taken, and I felt bad about the long e-mail To: list I'd just sent.   

We jumped in the hot tub and met another neighbor who told a vivid tale of fortunes gained (Multiple homes!  World was my oyster!  Cheering throngs!) and lost (uncontested divorce).  (Message Ace took away from the encounter: I am defensive that I now live in this dump here with people like you.  My takeaway was more positive, possibly on account of the casual reference to Lionel Richie.  Oh!  What a feeling!)

We went to the Empire Tap Room for cocktails, oysters and onion rings, and then went to the Stanford Theater to see King Kong.  'Twas Beauty killed the Beast!  I persuaded Ace to stay on for the double feature, Tarzan the Ape Man, whereupon I fell asleep.  So instead of gritting it out till the end, we sneaked away for a slice. 

Sunday Ace woke up with a "Happy Easter," a glass of pink pomegranate limeade and some early morning seasonal reflection, gazing out the window and eventually turning to me to ask, "Wait.  Do bunnies lay eggs?"

Then there was a little swimming, a little tennis. 

A little egg dyeing.

I'll never buy an egg dyeing kit again.  A tablespoon of vinegar, a few squirts of food coloring, and boiling water to half-fill your little dye baths (those cheapie tea light holders from Ikea - I have a million - were the perfect size), done.  And the colors were so vivid!

Do you see these colors??

The only thing the kit is good for is the little wire dipper and the clear crayon.  Maybe you could sub with a white candle and a coat hanger.  Oh, and the drying rack.  I guess that was worth $0.99.

Ace made a variety of bunnies...

 

...one of which was anatomically correct.

This is my favorite one that he made:

Ace and Chad and I went to Mass at Mem Church and because it was so crowded we sat way up in the rafters.  It was fascinating to see all those mosaics up close, some of which, I was surprised to see, were in disrepair.  I also decided there were several generations' stained glass iterations.  There were a couple that were more in line with the color scheme of the tiles around them, and I thought they were more beautiful.  (What do you think?  They're the two forward-most windows on the left of the nave).  I thought I was being irreverent by joking about how many guys were wearing their Easter uniform (blue shirts and khaki pants), but I guess I was outdone by the gals in front of us who were texting throughout the entire service.

Chad came over bearing challah and marzipan treats, and on account of their having grown up among the Chosen People, he and Ace actually knew the first line of how to bless it.  

I really thought it would be just me and Ace and Chad.  A couple of people had regretted that they were committed to the Big Wheel race, or, predictably, that they had prior plans.

But then Derek showed up with a good little boy (who was totally just enduring us for the evening) and an embarrassment of fresh strawberries and Christina brought exciting stories of her upcoming trip to Texarkana and MichMad came just in time for dessert with a very welcome dessert wine. 

We had curried pumpkin soup (success!), lamb (wasn't great), hamb (eh, not as good as the sample), quinoa-based pasta in pesto (don't recommend: quinoa pasta was mushy and pesto wasn't so hot either), plain steamed broccoli (yay!), fennel/green garlic/leeks in a cream sauce (all kinds of awesome) and a shiraz-based rose wine.  Finally, strawberries, apple pie and ice cream! 

We never got around to devilling the eggs, despite a specific trip to the store by Ace for Miracle Whip.  I kind of enjoyed looking at them too much.  

Speaking purely for myself, I really really enjoyed the evening.  We sure do know some great people.

Happy Easter! 

Hi, guys!

I've been mighty busy and out of town over the last several weeks, and work has been pretty consuming.  Both in actuality (real work that requires real time) and in my head (guilt that all spare time should be directed to working). 

But today I was shamed into showing my face for a moment.  I was reminded that I do actually have 'material' that I'm looking forward to sharing (such as my recent travels) and there's no reason I can't shoot off a hello every now and then. 

I could protest that my life story has unfolded on Facebook instead of here, but that's not even true.  I update seldom, and when I do, it's not usually pertinent to...anything real.  Example: A couple of days ago I Facebooked that I had consumed one of those Digestive Yogurts.  Commence the snickering comments concerning the well-being of my gastrointestinal tract. 

But the backstory is simply that I went to the dentist last week, and when I go to the dentist I have to take a bunch of antibiotics so I don't die.  And my mom always used to say that when you take antibiotics you kill all the good bugs as well as the bad, and therefore you should replace them by eating yogurt. 

So I thought I'd buy yogurt with extra bugs and lo, Activia and its Yoplait competitor were both half off so I basically walked out of Safeway with a one month supply. 

If you must know, GI-wise, I'm actually shooting for twice a day!  So there.

In related news, our CSA started up again last week!  Our pickup day switched to Friday, and I spent a pleasant Friday evening chopping off stems and blanching greens and whatnot so it all fits in the fridge.  Having to do that every Friday evening has potential to be a drag, but it's still fresh and new for now.

They sent us a great recipe for parsnip soup that I made, and for all it is shockingly easy, it tastes unusual (parsnippy) and luxurious:

Grate a mess of ginger (1-2 T) and saute it in a saucepan till fragrant.  Dump in a mess (4 cups) of peeled and chopped parsnips.  Add a quart of chicken stock.  Heat until the parsnips are very soft.  Whip it all up with an immersion blender (my favorite kitchen toy) and add about 1/4 cup of cream.  Salt and sugar to taste. 

I have read that parsnips are of questionable healthiness because they contain arsenic or cyanide or something.  But I guess apples do, too.

To your health!

Keeping up my end(s)

I know, this isn't the post you were waiting for as I hereby break my month-long silence.  Lotta stuff going on, that's all.  But then - and we've talked about this before - you take a little break for one reason or another and it's so hard to get back in the groove, because why post at all if it's not going to be about something significant, and as time wears on the bar inches higher.  So I'm instead going to abide by one of my life rules that has served me reasonably well: Keep Expectations Low.  (See how I put the "reasonably" in there?  The rule in action!)

So what's new? 

1. We are having a plethora of rainbows today! 

2. Because of the holiday yesterday, today is Donut Day!  There is someone who always gets to the donuts before me, who has been cutting the best donut (raised glazed) in half and leaving half.  The Dieting Donut Dissector!  I have been loving the DDD, because I feel like by taking the remaining half I am doing a public service by preventing staleness but also feel like I am getting a whole serving, but it is only half the usual guilt!

In the beginning of January, though, DDD started cutting only about a third of the donut out...leaving two thirds.  This was awkward, but manageable.  I couldn't very well continue to take my usual half, leaving 1/6 of a donut on the tray - that's like leaving a couple of bites.  Not cool.  So I have to either cut the remainder into halves and take a donut third, leaving a third to turn stale even quicker, or simply take all 2/3 of the donut.  You can imagine what I chose.  What with work and all, I've stopped exercising in any regular way, and, let's just say, you can tell.

Recently, DDD showed even further restraint, and began taking just a quarter donut.   Having increased my own consumption from a half to two thirds, it was natural that I seized upon the 3/4 donut as Mine!  But there's no virtue in taking 3/4 of a donut, so my pleasure is substantially reduced.  It's really a net loss.  

Can you see where this is heading?  Today the DDD literally cut out and removed just a bite of the best donut.  A tray full of variety sprinkles, coconuts, cinnamon sugars, chocolate dipped...and 7/8 of a raised glazed with drying edges. 

Which makes me want to say, Come on, man, we had a deal.  You take half, I take half.  You take a little less than half, I do my best for the cause.  Now you take a bite and I have to be the jerk who leaves 3/8 of a donut on the tray?  What would you do in this situation?

3. Have you heard about my haircut?  There's a topic we can sink our teeth into! 

I cut my hair somewhat less frequently than I go to the dentist, but more frequently than I go to the doctor.  I think it's been about two years.  After Ace begged me to get a Real Haircut from a Real Salon for my birthday in September, I hied me over to Yelp - and spent hours weeding out all the reviews from Asians (different hair needs) and was left with very few data points.  I asked friends with good hair.  I cut pictures out of InStyle.  I signed up to be a Hair Model at Edge and waited by the phone.  I pored over the archives at Hair Thursday. 

At Christmas I finally got around to following up on a recommendation from a co-worker whose hair has been looking pretty great over the last year or so.  Mine was dragging me down.  Long.  Droopy.  Ragged rather than wavy.  Anyway, I went to this salon where the lady freelanced, and she was...fine.  The haircut wasn't bad - she cut long layers into it so the wiggles in my hair look like curls that are meant to be there rather than just a failure to blow-dry out the messiness.  Picture Rachel Geller's before she got The Rachel.  Ace agreed that maybe it didn't look particularly glamorous, but said that at least it looked like a Haircut.

So I have no complaints about the stylist - hairwise.  Here's the thing - she is a recently-immigrated middle aged woman with mediocre English, challenging pronunciation and few shared cultural reference points who went freelance only recently but maybe didn't have the book of business she thought she did and is now clearly trying to rally a loyal following, and she oohed and enthused over my hair! my long, wavy, light brown hair! to a degree that was a little overwhelming.  Don't get me wrong, I like the idea of being fussed over but her fussing just had an air of desperation, making me feel less like she uniquely could see my inner beauty and was determined to bring it out and more like she was just buttering me up.   It was a stressful hour.

This doesn't make me excited to go back.  And maybe the reason I get a haircut so seldom is because I have yet to have a fulfilling relationship with a hairdresser.  It's always strictly a business transaction.  You know, gesture at some pictures, read a magazine, look up, cry, pay, tip sheepishly while apologizing for the crying, go home. 

You know what I want?  I want a hairdresser who says, "OMG!  Look at this MOP on your head!  Sweetheart, your hair needs some CPR.  Look at your eyes!  We need to draw some attention to these eyes!! Why are you hiding these cheekbones, honey?  You know what would look so good with your cheekbones?  You just sit back and let me bring out the gorgeous.  You know what you have, you have Jennifer Aniston hair!  Can you believe Jon Mayer?  Srsly, good riddance to Brad if you ask me.  OMG, are you seriously wearing White Musk right now?"  Someone who will flutter around and make me feel like a million bucks for $80.

Okay, fine, I want a homosexual.  Is that homophobic?  Or homophilic?  Maybe I should clarify that I don't precisely want a hairstylist because he likes dudes, but rather that I am seeking a certain set of personality characteristics.  And of course for him to have hair talent.  There was just such a hairstylist at the salon shared by Madame X.  He was cooing over and gossiping up a storm with his client and I looked at them longingly.  But I can't just go to the salon one day and hope that she is busy and he is not.  The salon is like a freelance workspace where the stylists rent their stations but have all their own clients.  You make appointments via their personal cell phones.

What to do, what to do.  Perhaps I was taking the wrong route by focusing my research on the hair angle.  I thought about asking my neighbors whether they "knew any hair stylists."  But I have a hunch they'd take it the wrong way, besides which, they don't seem like they would know any hair stylists.  I considered asking another friend who, while also not the type in question, seems like he'd be a little more up on the Scene and in the past has been a straight (ha ha) shooter about, you know, at which clubs in the Castro girls are welcomed/tolerated/discouraged, that sort of thing, and would probably not get his nose out of joint from my wishful stereotyping.   But he's moved away.

So I am adrift.  On a sea of wavy hair.

4.  I'm about to start traveling for almost three solid weeks.  I'm pretty excited that I am so deeply involved with work at the mo, what with the economy and all, but I'm also looking forward to checking in on some of my favorite ladies, one of whom I haven't seen in, gosh, three years?  She's a trapeze artist/salsa dancer/world traveler who keeps her independence as a freelance software developer.  She cannot be contained.  When you ask her where she is from, she says "Manhattan."  Actually, she says, "Manha-N." She is the New Yorkiest person I know, and she is going to go country and hike around the Appalachian Trail with me this weekend!   I wonder if she owns boots.  We have one of those relationships where, as long as I've known her (college, freshman year), I've done all the pursuing, and I don't mind a bit.

RAW IS WAR

What do you do when all your girlfriends are on the verge of delightful motherhood?

You console yourself by doing all the things pregnant girls can't do!  Go wild!

Like, buy raw milk at the farmer's market.

Hippie? 

Even lowest-common-denominator RealAge published an article suggesting that if you are going to drink milk at all, at least some of its nutritional benefits are destroyed through pasteurization.  It may help with allergies.  On the flip side, the New York Times depicts devotees as death wishing crazies.  But I'm young, I'm single, I have life insurance!

A quart of skim and a quart of whole were both $4.25.  A pint of cream was $10.  Naturally I got the whole.  I figured I could separate my own cream, thanks anyway, nice try. 

I was kind of excited by the prospect of un-homogenized milk, ever since I went to the San Mateo country fair last summer.  I prefer skim anyway, but was completely converted when I looked at a homemade sign made by a little girl for a 4-H project, explaining how milk is obtained and prepared.  She described the milking process and the pasteurization process, and then, just as straightforwardly, explained the homogenization process, which distributes the cream and remaining white blood cells throughout the fluid.  White blood cells?  You mean pus?

If that doesn't turn you off milk, nothing will.  My solution was to stick to skim, in the hopes that nothing was distributed throughout the milk, no pus mixed in with the cream.

It was fun - so olde tymey! - to see the layer of yellowish cream on top of the whiter skim in my glass bottle of milk...only I had no idea how I was supposed to "skim" it off.  I don't have a cream skimmer.  I can't even do the butter churn on the dance floor.  And I've had enough experience pouring things to know that you don't always get the top layer, or the bottom layer, or whatever layer you're trying for.  And then I remembered - my gravy separator!

I poured about half the bottle into the separator, only couldn't see the clearly delineated cream layer anymore.  So I put it in the fridge, and lo, what was left in the bottle sure looked like skim milk.  I had a small glass.  Would it taste strange and funky like that time I got 16 ounces of goat milk yogurt?  Would it taste "ethereal" like the milk in that New York Times article?

I have to be honest with you.  It just tasted like milk.  Skim milk. 

Pregnant ladies can relax.  You're not missing anything over here. 

I think I'll go pour myself a cocktail, light a cigarette, have some sushi and dye my hair.

I guess Ace likes nuts

Ace has two favorite holiday cookies: Mexican Wedding Cookies, translated into American by one of my midwestern cookbooks as "Snowballs," those balls of ground almonds rolled in powdered sugar. 

The other is these, which, on inspecting the creative process, Ace renamed "Schweddy Balls."

 

 

Thanksgiving Round-Up

Over the past couple of weeks, it's been starting to feel increasingly holidayish, what with the summer weather that held on so long going away and the dark, rainy days arriving for their annual five-month visit. 

A little bit has been going on since last we checked in:

Rad's birthday happened while he was away competing at Clearwater, so for the first Run Club after his return, Ace made a cake!  Angel food!  I was surprised that we had an angel food cake pan.  I was also surprised when he asked whether we had any sprinkles.  We did, but usually he avoids sprinkles (on his Cold Stone hot fudge sundae, for instance) because they are just "empty calories." 

Cafe Sophia, that Afghan place on Middlefield, is fantastic.  The food is unbelievably flavorful and there is a fine vegetarian selection.  The "Chef's Choice" mixed plates are good.

We've hosted and attended a couple of Game Nights, or nights where games were played.  I'm still learning how to match games with crowds.  You can't just play anything with anyone.  For instance, Celebrity is no good with more than about a dozen people, and it works best with a crowd of at least overlapping interests.  The Werewolves of Miller's Hollow requires attentiveness by all, but is enjoyable, if quiet.  It's reminiscent of that "7 up" game we used to play when we had a substitute teacher. 

Apples to Apples tends to be popular, but I find it mostly random and therefore not satisfying.  It's a good ice-breaker, however, because it takes zero skill, and helps to knock the competitiveness out of the evening.  I still haven't formed a complete opinion of Cranium, though my initial impression is that it's too easy to be all that fun.  At least, it's better with more than two teams.  And the Zombies! game, we haven't even played it because the instruction booklet is about thirty pages.  Puerto Rico gets rave Customer Reviews, but it's not a game you can play casually or while drinking.  Why Did the Chicken must especially be played while drinking.  Taboo remains a classic.

Hey!  Did you even see my Halloween costume? 

 

I've kind of bailed on my holiday crafting.  This will doubtless come as a surprise to Ace, given all the supplies in the closet.  Stuff just wasn't turning out very nice.  But I'm learning a couple of new crafty skills, which I'll show you in a little while, i.e. as soon as I make something not ugly.

My brother returned from Iraq!  Say it with me: "Phew."

For Thanksgiving Ace and I both went to Chicago, where half of his family lives and where my parents just moved after calling it quits on seventeen years in Singapore.  We both went to both of our families' Thanksgivings and it worked out actually a lot more smoothly than I expected. 

It was a chemically-fueled weekend, tea and coffee in the morning and always, always cocktails, wine and port in the evenings.  Instead of my usual attempts to keep the system clean, I gave in and went with what was on offer, and have learned that there is some wisdom in these habits.  They go a long way towards keeping everyone's attitude (including my own) manageable. 

On Sunday I rolled my stimulants and sedatives into one by having two Irish Coffees at Butch McGuire's, after which Ace and I avoided the sleet by hiding out at the Art Institute. 

I think Ace wishes he had spotted the architectural drawings sooner, and I wished I had discovered the "touch museum" sooner. 

 

I also got to see one of my dearest friends and her kid who is a laugh riot.  (And I am not one to fawn over people's kids.)  She probably won me over when, speaking to her mother, she called me "that girl."   Sure beats "that old lady." 

Another lesson from the weekend: direct flights are totally worth it.

Ace and I have been frugalizing by refusing to turn on the heat, so our house has been at a steady 61 degrees for the last month.  I thought he was merely humoring my cheapness, but he revealed that he was kind of making a personal character exercise out of not turning on the heat until at least Thanksgiving.  We got up at 2:30 a.m. California time to fly back yesterday and go straight in to work, so in the evening when he finally made it home, I made sure there was hot vegetable soup (to counteract nearly a week of midwestern meat, cheese and white flour) and a roaring fire.  And when he climbed in to bed, a hot water bottle.  That went over big. 

Our savings on heat will probably be balanced by our electricity bill: SOMEONE left the freezer door ajar for the five days we were away.  

How is an airship different from a blimp?

No, seriously - I don't know.  But apparently it's causing lots of excitement among the nerd herd.

We're estimating "the first zeppelin in U.S. skies for more than 70 years" to land at Moffet this evening.  I guess enthusiasts have been tracking it.  I'm sure we'll go over and look at it.  They're offering balloon rides, oops, I mean airship tours, for $500 an hour.  Worth it?

My window looks south, but I don't see anything yet.  We've had summer-hot weather all week, and it's hazy.

Also this weekend, I hope to hit the haunted Toys R Us.

And the house of that guy in Redwood City. 

Ace got himself a costume yesterday.  It's so him.  But he tells me mine is so me, so that's cool.  WB had the great idea to recycle the chicken once again and go as Yes on Prop 2, but I felt it was time to change it up. 

Really, I was just walking through Wal-Mart (I literally went in to buy just a spool of white thread!) when it totally jumped out at me.  It's the first time either of us has outright bought a costume in at least four years, but boy what a load off.  Remember when I was sewing a stingray on that flight to Hawaii?  Talk about a vacation killer. 

I'm falling way behind in my crafting.  I tried making the most of a car trip to Yoshi's on Monday by getting my embroidery on in the back seat, but all I got was carsick.   I'm going to have to reel my gifting plans way back in.  Sorry!

Last night I made those savory leaf pastries everyone is talking about, only my bucket of 100 cookie cutters didn't include any leaves (!) so I made them pumpkin and moon shaped.  They could have been anything.  (Seriously - no leaves, but you do include a football helmet?  What kind of shape is that?  Are football players really into decorated cookies?)  The pastries, though, were kind of awesome, mainly just in that they worked out as filled pastries.  They weren't bricks, and they didn't leak too badly.

I used this recipe for pastry, switching out some of the white flour for whole wheat, and switching out the water for vodka.  (I keep hearing about the Cook's Illustrated obsession with vodka pie dough, and I don't really know their recipe, so I guessed.) 

What I think really worked well was cutting the butter into quarter inch squares before freezing it.  Making pastry after that, even by hand, took no more than three minutes.  Genius!

They had good flavor and were flakey, but they were sturdy enough that the health conscious among us could roll them quite thin.

I made up a batch of sweet pastry too, but I'm reluctant to turn one of the many pumpkins scattered throughout our living room (I think we're up to about 24) into a pie yet.  Need something to throw at the sixteen year old punks in sweatshirts pretending to be trick or treaters.

Do you have plans for the holiday?  What are you going as?

What's new?

I dunno, what's new with you?

An old friend e-mailed this morning, asking what I've been up to, and I was about to wave him towards the blog - "Oh, it's all on there if you really want to know" - and then I remembered that weak post below about the lady with the sign has been floating there for more than two weeks now.   Really, that's the best I can do?  So then I had to actually write up a real reply.  Heaven forbid that I should actually correspond!

So what is new?  Ooh, lots of things.  None captured on film, unfortunately.

I've been getting into Fall in a big way.  The ladies at my firm had a leadership networky thing up in Napa a couple of weeks ago, and traffic was bad on the return, so I stopped off at a farm stand and bought fifteen pumpkins and some candy corn.  I had plans to carve, but the opportunity keeps slipping away, so I think I'll wait and we can do them right before Halloween.

Martha Stewart's October issue had the most hideous pumpkin I've ever seen, so I want to do one like that.  (These look beautiful for a dinner party, no?)

We decided to spend Halloween at home this year, to see what kind of neighborhood candy beggars we get.  I was inspired by this local house (which I very much want to visit), and want to do it up right with some tombstones in the yard or something.  As you are well aware, we don't have a great entryway, but perhaps the dishevelledness will add to the ambiance.  I picked up some spiderwebs yesterday.  (If you'd like to join us for H-Day, drop me a line!  There will be games and spooky foods!) 

I don't think we're dressing up this year, I usually like to go as something scary, but I'm sure there will be enough Sarah Palins already (cheap shot!) and am not sure how to dress up as a deficit.

I have big plans to make crafty Christmas presents this fall. 

My family made a pact last year that we would no longer exchange gifts but would instead contribute to a charity, and I can't tell you how pleased I am.  On a deep level it seems more satisfyingly in line with the virtues of the holiday, but on a superficial level, my family is notoriously bad - all of us - at gift selection.  We don't even remember each other's birthdays.  I don't mean we fail to send something (which is also true), I mean we forget when they are, usually until after they've passed. 

So anyway my family is covered, and I don't feel obligated to wrap up anything for anyone else, but I have some keen ideas in my head for a couple of friends.  I've been feeling compelled to be more creative in my downtime, and by calling things "presents" I'll feel less like I'm just wasting time.  They may end up too ugly to actually send, but will keep my fingers busy while I watch Pushing Daisies and consider folding false eyelashes into my own makeup routine.

The Fleet Week air show last weekend was exceptional as always.  For the first time we actually walked all the way over to Marina Green and listened to the narration over loudspeakers - it was a nice supplement to the show.  I teared up at one point, those things can be really moving.  Ace and I then went for a run over the bridge, from which we caught a rare San Francisco sunset that was unobscured by fog or anything.  My favorite part of it is always when the sinking light reflects off the buildings in Berkeley.  They sparkle and glow orange, like flakes of gold in a pan of mud.  How California!  Then we joined Scooter and Wendy B in front of the fireplace at the Cliff House (where I had never been - very romantic) for a drink, after which we all trooped over to New Eritrea for Ethiopian food.  (Note to VU: their Shiro doesn't hold a candle to that place in Morningside Heights.)  It was a great day in the city.

I quit my Japanese class.  I hope my teacher doesn't take it personally.  I like her a lot - both as a teacher, and as a person - she's really interesting and very entertaining.  But I found myself leaving my homework till the last minute, and scrambling to coast through the class, and feeling bad that I was wasting my time and hers.  Since it's purely a personal pursuit, it finally felt strange to spend $25 a week to feel bad about myself.  She was really understanding.  And I really hope to pick it up again, perhaps after the holidays are over.  It feels nice to focus on something that has nothing to do with your current life every now and again.

I also stopped going to ballet.  Similar reason - I just felt like such an inflexible klutz.  I still want to be a dancer someday, so I'll stretch and maybe find a community-level ballet class to ease myself in before going back. 

But we are thinking of taking the next step in sailing.  Our last class qualified us to take out a boat anywhere - that is, anywhere except the San Francisco Bay.  This next class will make us universally certified.  It's a pain in the butt to get to, honestly, more than an hour drive at the crack of dawn, and takes the whole weekend.  Also, it's a pain to schedule, because classes fill up way in advance - and then cancellation requires eight days' notice.  So we've scheduled and cancelled this class at least four times.  It's very frustrating.  Part of us wants to just get it done (it's $60/month for each of us just to keep our memberships in the club), and part of us is concerned that blocking off entire weekends through this holiday season is going to be rough.

Well, that's the news.  We really should keep in better touch.  We should have coffee sometime!  Oh, I don't know.  Why don't you call me.

Timely

This is one of my favorite recent YouTube finds.

The way she chops vegetables makes my thumb hurt.