Hallelujah!

wtf to the fourth power

2009-10-05T08:15:00.000-07:00

Steve, the man with the missing teeth, ordered me another bourbon rocks.

I was sitting inside my neighborhood dive bar, alone, listening to Elton John and his Crocodile Rock. Friends were en route. But for just that moment I reveled in sitting like a big girl, nursing a bourbon. Not to quote Simply Red or anything, but I was holding back the tears ...

Every time water leaked from my eyes, Steve the toothless man ordered me another bourbon. It didn't matter if I was done with the last one or not.

I had just been fucking had. AGAIN. by a boy.

This one wrote me long letters and pretty words strung together, that my imagination jinxed and my brain accepted as truth. He was in San Francisco for a few days.
I want to see you.
He said.

Offered to cook him dinner. I wanted to hear about his long trip around world. He was coming at 8 o'clock. So I smoothed, chopped, wiped, brushed, glossed, rinsed and tidied. In anticipation.

And then it was 8:30. Then 9. Then 9:30. Then 10. At 10:30 I was two bourbons deep alongside Steve the toothless man. By 1:30 I was balanced in my kitchen on a ledge. My best man friend was sitting on the white couch in my kitchen. Eating the dinner I'd made for the flake. The dinner I'd cried over a few hours ago. It was around then that I discovered the flake had written me an email, about 45 minutes before he was supposed to have come over.

His friend "needed" him and could we reschedule?

My man friend raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Sock it to him, Mims. Thats bullshit. HE'S bullSHIT!"

So I did.
16 bourbons to the wind. And I composed and sent the following email.

> Not even a phone call to cancel barely an hour before we were to
> meet up? Really?
>
> I just now got this email, after being upset most of the night
> trying to figure out if you'd been hurt or lost on public transit.
> Very inconsiderate.
>
> Have fun in dickland, dick. It's where you belong. Highly recommend
> that you stick to unhappy, ugly girls who don't know any better.
> Those of us in well-adjustedland just get disgusted and furious
> about bad behavior.
>
> Thanks for demonstrating the things I don't want in a man.
>

My bark is alot worse than my bite.
Truly.
But my tears are always genuine.

The bright side?

I found out how many people truly love me and care for me and rally around me. And how many people are willing to break kneecaps for me.

walkin in a spiderweb

2009-09-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

I really like this BLOG. I like the spiderweb photograph alot.

It got me thinking about how intertwined we all are. And connected. And dependant on each other.

How one person's dream or wish might be able to be solved or provided by someone else. How we should be looking, as citizens of the earth, to help each other as much as possible.

So today, for the rest of this week, leave your anonymous wishes. Put your intentions out into the universe and into the hands of other people. You never know what might happen . . .

two-faced bitches

2009-09-29T23:29:00.000-07:00

Be sincere.
Be real.
Be honest.

or BE REMOVED. From my life.
Because I don't have time for he said, she said drama.
I'm busy saving the world over here.

Mmmkay. Thanks.

Turophile Tuesday: Gouda, Gouda, Gouda ... rockin everywhere

2009-09-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

Aaah, Gouda. A traditional cheese that has been reinterpreted the world over. Traditionally a cows milk cheese from Holland ... you can now find it made from goat, sheep and cow from an international collection of dairymen.

what to look for: boeren kaas
why: indicates farmstead cheese literally translates into farmer cheese.

Gouda cheese is named for the Dutch city of Gouda in the province of Zuid-Holland. Gouda is perhaps the most famous Dutch cheese export, with millions of wheels of the cheese being sent all over the world. Gouda is often used on dessert platters, sandwiches, and at wine tastings as a palate cleanser.

Gouda grows sharper as it ages, starting out very creamy and mild. If allowed to age, the cheese will grow more complex, much more astringent, and almost cheddar like. Gouda is a semi firm cheese, and usually comes wrapped in a wax rind.

Without a rind, though, the cheese ages faster and becomes almost Pecorino-like.

The color ranges from white to creamy yellow, with aged cheeses usually being darker, while the flesh of the cheese is sometimes polka dotted with small holes.

Gouda is also often smoked by dairy producers, which complicates the flavor - the way certain fillers in stuffed olives enhance a good martini. Some Gouda producers also make flavored cheeses, adding herbs, pepper, jalapenos, and other ingredients to the cheese while it is being manufactured.

A few really nice Goudas . . .

Beemster L'Amuse Gouda Holland - pasteurized cow's milk.
L'Amuse Gouda commands your attention and won't let go. It's a gorgeous cheese, the color of amber, generously dotted with the pale spots that indicate crunchy protein crystals.

Cheeseland Ewephoria Gouda-Style Holland - pasteurized sheep's milk
Ewephoria is possibly as close as cheese gets to candy. The texture is firm, becoming drier toward the rind, and the flavor intense and sweet, with enough acidity to keep the cheese from being cloying.

Meadow Stone Farm Di Greta Gouda,* Connecticut.
Yellow beeswax coating. A raw milk Gouda from the milk of Jersey cows.

Buckeye Grove Farm Cheese Boeren Kaas Gouda,* Ohio.
Red wax coating. A raw Jersey milk, farmstead Gouda from a closed Jersey herd that is hormone free. The cheese is produced “with minimal environmental impact.”

Winchester Cheese Super Aged Gouda,* California.
No wax coating. This is a raw milk, farmstead Gouda, or boeren kaas. It looks a little like a Parmigiano-Reggiano, with its darker straw-colored paste.

Little Bunny FooFoo Hopping Through the Forest

2009-09-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

Mission Accomplished: 1 Happy Bunny

confidante, confident

2009-09-26T15:47:00.000-07:00

Every year, on her birthday, I write some amazing tribute to my sister. For whom I love so very much. She knows every single thing there is to know about every single thing I do.

There is no one who makes me happier. Or who is capable of causing more anguish than her. We have had many, many adventures together.

It's always the people who love you and you love THE MOST who are capable of causing the most damage and smoothing things over the cleanest. You need THOSE people around. The ones who are allowed inside your walled city.

Cheers to my sister, who not only walks freely inside my walled city. But also re-built some of the walls for me and patrols it's perimeter. With a vengeance.

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” -Rumi

Alotta Hare

2009-09-24T07:35:00.000-07:00

I need some help.
I'm going to be a Burlesque Bunny in a dinner project I work on, sometimes.

These are the ears I'm making.
I need a hilarious stage name.
Rassles, whatcha got fer me?

i'm gettin tired of yer shit - Erykah Badu

2009-09-22T20:09:00.001-07:00

Why is it so hard to slam the door? shut.

The other day, I drank so much bourbon I fell in a hole on Haight Street and my friend Jason put me in a cab. My cab driver started fussing at me on the Bay Bridge. About having to drive me home to Oakland.
And I socked it to him.

Sucky Cab Driver: GARGH! I'm losing money. GAAARGH
Me:(in sing song falsetto)Do you know what I do for a living?
Sucky Cab Driver: No!
Me: I teach wine classes. And when someone hires me to teach a wine class, I suck it up and TEACH THE CLASS.
Sucky Cab Driver:ehm-
Me:-So, YOU! You are a cab driver. So CAB ME THE FUCK HOME.
Sucky Cab Driver:ok, lady.
Me: ok, cab driver.
Sucky Cab Driver: strong lady.

Now I can handle my shit. Except when it comes to love. Then I fall apart. I can't stick to ANYTHING. I flip flop. I change my mind. I try to keep the door as open as possible, no matter how wrong, mean, negative or ugly the situation.

My closest friend. My soul anchor. My lace.
My poor, poor Lace is going through a terrible time.
A really, really selfish man. The kind of man, who is actually a boy.

The kind of boy who treats girls like he treats his tonka trucks in the sandbox.
Carelessly, roughly and mindlessly.

If you hear of a crazy lady being locked up in Los Angeles.
It's just me.

I'm going down there to smack this man in the mouth, with everything I have.
Instead of my hand, I'm gonna use his own ballsack.

See, I figure he likes it rough too.

Turophile Tuesday: Culture Magazine

2009-09-22T09:04:00.000-07:00

I bet you didn't know there is a magazine dedicated to all things cheese.
Culture.
Try some.

It's the Complete Word on Cheese. The articles are well written and interesting. Connecting dots that the rest of us might not ponder or entertain. AND it's not boring.

It's not like your boring finance-guy Uncle trying to get you to read Barrons or something. It's more like your gabby little sister leaving out US Weekly on the counter. But. For like cheese.

RugRats + Outkast = Hiluuuurious

2009-09-21T09:41:00.000-07:00

I was driving the other day. And I totally got the giggles when Outkast came on the radio.

You know, because he's referencing the RugRats in that song.
Because he's all hard.
Watching Nick Jr.

in the midst of a celebration

2009-09-17T21:07:00.000-07:00

"Whoa. Where're YOU girls headed?"
The cashier dude wiggled his eyebrows at us. Suggestively.

We were buying last minute supplies at a grocery store in Davis. Beer, Bacon and Ky.
Thats a funny parade of items on the late night tip on a Sunday.

I was with my soul anchor friend. We were both trying to out brave the other one. But I knew she was scared. So I tried to be the brave, carefree one.

Buying Beer, Bacon and KY relieved the silent, white noise that was clouding our car.

Fear tackling is a difficult, soul-searching business.
Its about honoring yourself.
Its about recognizing your deficiencies.

I fought Burning Man. The dirt scared me. I don't like to be around drugged out druggies. I hate camping. I dislike being hot. Roughing it isn't something I wear well. I'm not a fan of being in situations where I have zero control to remove myself if I so desire.

And then to pay close to $1,000 to top it off?

No thanks, I'd rather be on a beach in Mexico sipping a rum cocktail.

But the art called me. The mystery sang to me. The lure whispered in my ear.

And I was out to prove something. Because I phony it up by being all fearless in public. Isn't it weird how it's hard to admit fear? Like its easier to just be all hard ass about something. Stubborn.

Instead of just standing up and saying.
"Yeah. I'm scared. It scares me."
But I had a GREAT time. It was AWESOME. And MAGICAL.
I loved the people I was there with and the people I met along the way.

If this was Romper Room, I'd be looking into my candy striped mirror and saying "Thank you Jamie. And you too, Be. Lailani, I love you. Jeffie and Keen - you warm my heart. Thanks for playing with me, Skylar and Logan. Robin and Christina and Gregor and Jasmin you four are the best. Elizabeth you are heart and soul."

Here are some photo's. Or as her royal highness, Lailani might say, Faux Toes.

EVOLUTION: It is interesting to contemplate a tangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent upon each other in so complex a manner, have all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the largest sense, being Growth with Reproduction; Inheritance which is almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct action of the conditions of life: a Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a consequence to Natural Selection… There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers… and that, while this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed laws of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and wonderful have been and are being evolved.
— Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species

Turophile Tuesday: Charlie The Magical Unicorn and the Evil Fougerus Fish

2009-09-15T10:48:00.000-07:00

How did this happen?
Wait.
I KNOW how it happened.
A better question? Why didn't it happen SOONER!
GOD BRAIN. WURK ALREADY!

At the same time I was watching (for the 3,000th time) this video about Charlie the Unicorn I was also thinking about what to write about for Turophile Tuesday. Something delicious. Something that would pair nicely with the Sauternes I was sipping. Something that matched well with a bad case of the giggles.

The Fugu Fish spawned this massive linking from a video about a facking unicorn to a beautifully earthy, fungal and minerally brie-style cheese called Fougerus introduced to us by muy famoso maestro de queso:

Robert Rouzaire

Fougerus - $28.95/lb
Made in the heart of the Brie region of France, Fougerus exudes the classic terroir quality of the region. A rich buttery cheese dominated by truffle and mushroom flavors.

Fougerus cheese is a cow's milk cheese which originates in Northern France. The cheese is traditionally made with unpasteurized milk, and it has a dense, creamy texture and flavor which causes it to closely resemble Brie. While not as popularized as Brie, fougerus cheese is quite a respectable cheese, and it can be served at room temperature with crusty breads, spicy white wines, and mild fruits.

Like Brie, fougerus cheese has a soft, creamy interior with a slightly salty, chalky flavor. The thick velvety rind is fully edible and in fact quite flavorful. When served at room temperature, the cheese is soft and very spreadable.

It's a Girl!

2009-09-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

I feel ferklempt, like Linda RICHARDS, trying to express how happy I am for all of my friends welcoming gorgeous, radiant bundles of joy into the world. Liberia and Libya: same continent, different countries. Talk amongst yourselves.
Ok. I'd LOVELOVELOVELOVE to be welcoming in my own bundle of joy. But I sort of love the irresponsibility of my life right now. So having best friends provide you with living dolls to play with, is perfect.

I feel overjoyed for the sisterhood.

So Miriam, Heather, Keri, Tiffany and Cara. For you. The mommies.
I quote the words of the great Arrested Development in their hit single, Everyday People:

my soul was at ease
say WHOOOOOA
say YEAAAAAAH
WHOAYEAHWHOAYEAHWHOAYEAHWHOAYEAH
Iiiiiiii'mmmmmm everyday people

So welcome to the world, Maya and Ashley.
You have been graced with strong, loving, balanced, giving, educated, kind queens to raise you. And you have a swarm of auntie's all around you, that can't wait to spoil you.

gum drops and sugar breezes,
Auntie Mimi

comin home to ya darlin

2009-09-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

I'm obsessed with this song right now.
I love it.
I love it.
I love it.
I lllluuuurrrrrrrrrrvvve it!

I WISH it was only three more days until I got to see him.
*sigh*

vivid dallas reruns

2009-09-10T19:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I imagine walking up to the bar and tossing a stiff martini in someone's face. Flouncing through a department store and flinging hundreds of dresses on the floor. Smirking at people as they clean up in my wake. Taking every cheap shot I can in verbal wars.

Sometimes I imagine bitch slapping stupid faces off people's heads. With a wet hand. And red lipstick on. And a sneer.

Or taking a slingshot out of my poufed sleeves and aiming at the cops on bikes in my town. Or pushing the unicyclist who always hangs out at my local Starbucks. Or kicking dumpsters and lighting them on fire. For funsies.

Then other times I google my name and find some internet lovin.
i heart compliments. Thank you Justin. You just saved lives from being ruined by my temper.

Turophile Tuesday: Do you want cheese on that?

2009-09-08T22:03:00.000-07:00

In reality, it isn't known when cheesemaking was first discovered, but it is an ancient art.

Cheese is a fermented milk product made from the curds produced when milk is coagulated. Usually it is made from cow's milk but there are many varieties made from sheep's milk and goat's milk. Cheese can also be made from the milk of various other animals. Real mozzarella, for example, is made from buffaloes' milk.

In the process of making cheese, milk is acidified to a point where the casein precipitates. This process, called coagulation, produces curds (which eventually become cheese) and whey (the liquid portion that contains water, lactose and serum proteins).

...

Egyptian hieroglyphics depict workmen making cheese. In ancient times, the whey was consumed immediately and the curd was salted and/or dried to preserve it. The Roman Legion was instrumental in spreading the art of cheesemaking throughout Europe and England.

During the Middle Ages, the art of cheesemaking was improved greatly in the monasteries and feudal estates of Europe. The monks became great innovators of cheese and it is to them we owe many of the classic varieties of cheese marketed today.

During the Renaissance period cheese suffered a drop in popularity, being considered unhealthy, but it regained favor by the nineteenth century, the period that saw the start of the move from farm to factory production.

...

Though the American state of Wisconsin has long billed itself as “America’s Dairyland,” California is breathing down the Badger State’s neck even when it comes to Wisconsin’s premier product, cheese.

An October 2006 report by the American Dairy Products Institute indicated that in 2005 California turned out a quarter of the nation’s cheese, some 2.14 billion pounds, threatening to close the gap with Wisconsin, which produced 2.4 billion pounds.

Wisconsin’s cheese makers tend to be smaller; some 1,300 licensed producers make 600 varieties of cheese, as compared to California’s 55 producers with 250 varieties.

After California (which became the top milk producing state in 1993) and Wisconsin, major milk production states are New York, Pennsylvania, Idaho, Minnesota, New Mexico, Michigan, Texas, and Washington. In 2003, American cows produced 19.7 gallons pounds of milk. Many American dairy farms are small; Wisconsin, for example, has 17,800 dairy farms averaging 71 cows each; the California average is a whopping 659 cows.

Tammy Terrell and Marvin Gaye ain't got nothin on us

2009-09-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

I can walk into his house without knocking, flop onto the couch full of clean laundry and start munching the popcorn thats been sitting there for a *few* days. It's 9am. I didn't call before I blazed over. He doesn't feel the need to clean. It's just me.

We both drink beers in the morning. He just hands me one without asking if I want one, because of course I want it. We were on our way to a mutual friends art show opening at a coffee shop.

First we talked 6 million miles a minute about a myriad of subjects. To me, he's the best girlfriend I never had -- the one who likes beer first thing in the morning and has a motorcycle. To him, I'm a great manfriend substitute. I know how to french braid his long hair and I usually pack him lunches to bring to work.

He grilled me on my Burning Man packing job and clucked over me like a mother hen. Handing me costumes, goggles and his own face mask bandana. Then I grilled him about his life. Then he grilled me about all my boyfriends that swirl around everywhere.

And we finally ended it all by laughing about how no one's ball sack can match mine.
Which, when I'm home alone, isn't as funny, but somehow on his couch surrounded by laundry and Burning Man gear was hilarious. Ball Sacks.

Thats a whole 'nother blog post.

(he's a dance dance dance dancin machine)

I can't recall exactly when he and I linked up. It was more than a few years ago. My parents bought a house near him. I was home for the holidays bored, bored, bored and a mutual friend gave me his number.

I will do anything to beat the boring so I invited myself over to his house for dinner. And from that point on - we hung out constantly. He had a small little budding family and they welcomed me with open arms.

He and I learned to play Tai Chi Darts together. We simultaneously burned our tongues on hot pink watermelon salsa. He came into the tow truck office and talked to my mom on the phone when my car got towed in San Francisco. He introduced me to one of his friends that I dated for a bit. Once I got stuck in a city two hours from home after a first date with this friend of his and he was the one to come pick me up and take me home -- and all the way home he lectured me about choosing the RIGHT kind of man to date. We've danced to so many songs on so many dance floors in so many cities I could never recall them all.

He has DJ'ed alot of my culinary classes. And I have come to depend on him alot, since he is one of the rare few who get to see me behind-the-scenes.

He has cooked more dinners, with me, than I can count in all the various kitchens of all of our mutual various houses.
In fact it was with him, that I discovered my talents for making goat nards. A meatloaf/lamb/mint/red onion combination that is DELICIOUS.

I know that one of his favorite cheeses is a full milk fat French Sheep's Milk Feta. I make sure I have some when I know he's coming over.

His laugh is like gold coins jingling in a tweed pocket mixed with rainbows, 3rd grade school assembly clapping, the song 'Rockin Robin', tires peeling out of a parking lot and golden hair swishing in the wind.
It's THAT good.

He is one of the kindest souls to walk the earth. He is more sensitive than most people I come across. In fact his sensitivity rivals mine. And mine runs DEEEEEEEEEEP. We are definitely from the same tribe.

He is my people.

He once convinced me to start playing online space craft video games just so we could both sit across town from each other, head phones donned, late at night, whispering directions to our nerdy partners across the world. Then I realized I'm not cut out for video games. So I convinced him to streak naked downtown with me. But he realized he doesn't like to streak naked downtown.

So we did what we always do.

Crank music and drink beers.

I just realized today how empty my life would be without him. I had tears streaming down my face, driving down the highway, thinking about how far away I live now. I hate it.

So I'm just writing. to say. I. love. you. bryzzle. dyzzle.

This one's for you my love:

Una and Uma

2009-09-06T10:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my dog Uma jumped out of the 2nd story window of my new studio so she could be sure I wasn't going to leave her behind. I started crying because thats how I react in a stressful situation. CRY. I saw blood and started flapping my hands like a crazy person.

Uma is just fine. She's young and spry. And I doubt she'll ever do that again.

The Strange Part: the little neighbor girl came outside just as Uma jumped. The little girl is named Una and she was carrying a Unicorn. And I was standing with Uma holding my Magical Unicorn.

spooky.

Infinite Creativity

2009-08-29T10:16:00.000-07:00

I'm going on a little camping trip with a bunch of lady friends. I hear it's gonna look a little like this...

I'll be back soon with tales of poems, lights, love, songs, dust, friends, wisdom and ideas. Until then, keep tabs on it all by going here.

MWA

2 o'clock this morning

2009-08-26T08:19:00.000-07:00

I know
I think I'll look for a job.
Fall in love.
Move.
Shop & Pack for Burning Man.
Plan two back-to-back birthday parties.
all in the same week.

Brilliant.
Dont'cha Think?

Turophile Tuesday: Buko

2009-08-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

I met a gang of Danes at a disco in Barcelona once. They followed me all around singing the American National Anthem and being ridiculous with gyrating discoteque moves. I miss them. And I miss being 20 years old running around Spain.

In honor of the Danes I bring you: BUKO!

Buko is a soft, flavored cream cheese style fresh cheese.

According to Kraft Foods,the first cream cheese was made in New York in 1872 by an American dairyman William Lawrence. In 1880, ‘Philadelphia’ was adopted as the brand name, after the city that was considered at the time to be the home of top quality food.
Philadelphia is used by some as a generic term for cream cheese, and in Spanish it is translated as Queso Filadelfia.
References to cream cheese in England start from at least 1754 and recipes follow soon after, particularly from Lincolnshire and the southwest of England. There are french references to cream cheese as early as 1651.

Creole cream cheese is a form of farmer cheese that was once common in the New Orleans area, made from skim milk, buttermilk and rennet. By itself, it has a mild, slightly sour taste; frequently, it is mixed with cream, sugar and fruit and served as a dessert. Creole cream cheese is difficult to find today, but is produced by a few dairies in Louisiana.

Cream Cheese aside, to delve into the cuisine of Denmark click here. Explore and have fun. If you run into my dancing Danish boyfriends - make sure you wink at them and maybe offer a little pelvic thrust before you offer them a bagel'n'buko.

See, now they can't say I never did anything for them...

Got to be YOU!

2009-08-24T08:13:00.000-07:00

You shouldn't ever express anything other than who you really are and what you really think and feel. The more open and honest you are, i think, the more deeply people can connect with you.
When we try to hide behind shields of farce no one can relate. Because we all have ups and downs, highs and lows, sad and happy, joyful and shameful. We're human, afterall.

I mean, you all can relate to the fact that I decided to buy a plastic Unicorn and photograph it. And refer to it constantly. Aaah, Magical Unicorn.

In the garden of Good and Sneaky

2009-08-23T09:08:00.000-07:00

She thoughtfully chewed a garbanzo bean that had been deep fried. Then.
Looked at me, through the haze of the dark Peruvian restaurant in Bernal Heights and said
"Meems. The last thing you need is a boyfriend. Last. You are flying high right now. Friends galore. Jobs. Direction. You need to focus. Get yourself somewhere. Go. Really, dahling. The last thing you need is a boyfriend. You are finally yourself again. F-I-N-A-L-L-Y! And none of us are ready to let you go again."

I am good at escaping situations. But I've never been good at escaping affection. I'm addicted to it.
Give me a little attention and I'll be your adoring pet.

As far as getting AWAY goes, what I'm REALLY good at is getting IN.
Sneaking in.

It started with raves in high school.
And it also started with convincing the cashier at our local Quick Stop that I was in fact 26 years old, using a fake i.d. I'd made myself that proclaimed I was one "Miss Honey Cunningham" from Montana.

And sneaking in progressed to. The White House. The MOMA. Any party I've ever wanted to get into, ever. The County Fair. Art & Soul Concert. Snoop Dogg. Montreal Aquatic Center. Some dude's house who lived above the wine bar because I had to go to the bathroom.

I will say that I've never been able to sneak into universities a la Ferris Bueller. But if NYU turns me down for my Phd this Fall, I will change that tune in 4 beats.

I once snuck into the Exotic Erotic Ball. I told the bouncer I was a writer for KDUH (Kay-Dee-Ewe-Ehch) and then pointed at my friend Ruben.
"He's my cameraman!"
And Ruben sheepishly held up his taped together cell phone and lit up the flash on his phone camera.

I am hard to say "NO" to.
It's a magictastic gift.
I fully appreciate it.

As for the fellas? Well, I seem to have a knack for getting where I need to be whether I knew I even wanted to be there or not. I can get in. I guess maybe it's the getting away.
But in this case, I follow the true words of Oakland rap royalty, Too Short.
You Should BE Getttin it while the gettin is good, get it while you can.

Flashback: Sneaking Out of Your House

Remember what time your parents usally go to bed, or if they have to stay up late to finish some paperwork etc, take note of this because this will help you to sneak out and not get caught.
Consider your situation.
If you live on the first floor and have a window, this is much too easy. Take the screen out during the day (when people aren't watching, of course), and get ready.
If you live in a basement, this is even easier! Sneak out through a window (if you have one) or go upstairs, your parents will have a harder time hearing you if you don't let the stairs squeak. You can do this by staying to the side and leaning heavily on the handrail.
If you live on the top-floor of the house, either try to maneuver yourself onto a tree near your window (read how to sneak out of your second story window if there isn't a tree) or go down the stairs quietly. If your parents hear you and think you're a robber, quickly give them a reason why you are downstairs -- you needed water, a CD, getting homework, etc. If you are dressed for going out, they will suspect something, so cover yourself with a bathrobe that you can discard later.

Once your parents go back to bed, take the opportunity to get out of the house and calmly walk to your meeting spot.
If confronted by anyone, have a story ready. Maybe say you heard a loud bang or scream outside and went to investigate. If you're caught far away, say you saw someone and were chasing them. You will still get in some trouble, if not by your parents by the police, for breaking the curfew law or for suspicious activity, but it will be a lot less if you have an alibi.
Another option is to leave all your materials that you will be needing outside but not visible. Walk out the door and wait about 30 minutes. If you get a call from your parents that means they've found your pillow twin in bed. This is okay. Walk back into the house saying you were just looking at the stars. This will sound a lot more convincing if you didn't have a purse or wallet on you. And about the pillow twin make an excuse saying you didn't want them to worry which is why you did that. If no call comes from your parents you are free to go and they did not hear you leaving.

sunrise

2009-08-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

Color of lemon, mango, peach,
These storybook villas
Still dream behind
Shutters, their balconies
Fine as hand-
Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.

Tilting with the winds,
On arrowy stems,
Pineapple-barked,
A green crescent of palms
Sends up its forked
Firework of fronds.

A quartz-clear dawn
Inch by bright inch
Gilds all our Avenue,
And out of the blue drench
Of Angels' Bay
Rises the round red watermelon sun.
-Sylvia Plath

If you haven't woken up early to watch the sunrise with friends, I highly recommend
doing it.
It felt so special to see the cabs show up at my house, people were coming from
parties, from home. Tousled.
Warm. Happy.
We brought champagne and toasted a new day.
Cheers!

C'mon Get Happy

2009-08-20T08:16:00.001-07:00

These days, just a well taken picture makes me happy. One day at a time . . .

Turophile Tuesday: Cheese for all Budgets (St. André)

2009-08-18T13:19:00.001-07:00

Recently I became embroiled in several discussions with cheesemongers and cheese aficionados high up in the echelon of the fromage world about St. André. Each person has their own philosophy. Their own rules.

Eat only farmstead. Eat only organic. Eat only local. Eat only seasonal.

I understand where each and everyone of them are coming from. I myself, at one point or another have embraced these concepts of eating only locally produced, hand made, pesticide free & true to Mother Nature gifts of cheese, wine, olive oil, charcuterie or fruit jams and compotes.

Frankly, this isn't the economic climate to turn your nose up at certain mass produced, albeit delicious items. St. André cheese is one of them. Affordable, easy to find at most grocery stores and a great introduction to thick creamy triple cream cheese.

It is right and it is important to have opinions.

Follow ways of life that indicate to others your food ideology. Go ahead and eat and drink whatever makes you happy. Even if that means you are seen in public with a gorgeous, creamy hunk of phatty fat that you bought under-ripe from Trader Joes.

I'd rather you eat cheese every day and drink wine every day. Sometimes we drink Salon Champagne and sometimes we drink Barefoot Bubbly. Sometimes I wear my Burberry Silk skirt to the breakfast table and sometimes I wear sweatpants on the couch snarfing donuts.

Do not let anyone ever, ever make you feel bad for the food choices you make.
They are yours alone to make.
You can however, be educated about what you eat and develop your own FOOD PHILOSOPHY.

St. André is a soft, ripened cheese in the tradition of Brie and Camembert. In 1928 a country cheese maker started the St. André Creamery in Villefranche de Rouerque, France, in the middle Pyrénées, a region also known for Roquefort cheese. Fast forward 40-some years and the soft-ripened, triple-cream cheese named St. André made its debut, with a reputation as a blend of the perfect brie mixed with equal parts of thick, sour cream and whipped sweet cream. St. André is made from cow's milk and enriched with pure cream. St. André is also fairly rare in that it contains no less than 75% butterfat for every 100 grams of cheese, St. André is commonly agreed to be 50% richer than the average Camembert. This cheese is a favorite for cheese boards!

Country: France Region: Middle Pyrénées Milk: Cow Recommended wines: Light, fruity rosé or ale Consistency: soft, buttery, silky Taste: Rich, creamy, sweet Brand name: Yves Soulie, Compagnie des Fromages

sometimes everything is hard

2009-08-17T11:17:00.000-07:00

And sometimes it's all very easy. If you just ignore it all. Escape into an abyss. Swirl into mind-blowing activity until you are so tired even your eyelids hurt.

Ain't nobody who can stay as busy, for as long. Every single day is an endurance test for my brain and my spirit. If this were Double Dare, I'd be accepting every single god damned Physical Challenge Mark Summers could offer me.

I am putting myself through bootcamp. I don't know why. But I can feel that something is coming to test me. Something inside me is saying "prepare!" "prepare!" "prepare!!"

And I really don't feel like talking about it anymore. Its just happening. It is what it is. And I do what I do.

Hi Ho
Hi Ho
Hi Ho

Sing it to the world, sing it out loud

2009-08-16T10:20:00.000-07:00

Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa
Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa...
You got to be startin' somethin'

I know the universe has a treat in store, it's just around the corner. I feel it.

sweet thang

2009-08-14T18:14:00.000-07:00

Sometimes fate intervenes and turns our frown upside down.
Shakes us awake. From our nightmares and our go-nowhere dreams.
Turns us upside down and blinks into our faces.

I'd just gotten my hair done. Straight, supple, luscious. Just like him. He came in through the front door and into my sphere of conscience. I've thought of him off and on this year.

I remember locking eyes with him. And him breathing into my hair.

On a day that could have been sad. Earlier this week. Instead fate intervened. The universe wants my days to be happy. No more sad for Miss Mimi.

And I received a cryptic message from the heart of Israel.
It goes like this...

soul anchor

2009-08-13T01:08:00.001-07:00

We were lying there listening to a Pokemon Cartoon play. My cousins and dogs were climbing all over us. Coffee was brewing. Birds singing. Blankets were thrown every which way. It was really early morning.

A monster voice threatened the use of a "Soul Anchor" on the cartoon.

And we erupted into giggles. My whole life, I search for perfect terms to describe the universe I live in. And never in a million years could I have found a better pairing of words.

g

Soul Anchor. This lady is my soul anchor.

Talkin to Myself (how can i explain)

2009-08-08T22:07:00.000-07:00

It was all coming to a head. Everything. I had a flashback to last summer.
A good friend had just bought a gorgeous plantation style house in Atlanta with a Carriage House in the back. A Carriage House with my name on it, he said. In Atlanta.

And I could already see the story forming five years from now that would pour forth from my mouth "This one time, my heart got broken so I ran away to Atlanta and...." Because I'm good at running. I have many stories that work out like this:

"So I was hitch hiking in South America..."
"Weeeell, I was taking culinary classes in Spain when..."
"So I bought a one way ticket to Vermont..."
"When I lived in Manhattan..."
"The boat was flipping and whipping around the British Virgin Islands, I was there island hopping and..."
"I was 6 miles from Cuba ..."
"Naked, in hot springs in Ischia I couldn't believe"

And while running has always led me on amazing adventures it never got me closer to where I felt I needed to be, in life. And so this time. I didn't run. I stayed and fought it out. I had a prescription for some much needed pastilles (because I'm a sissy). I had a life coach. A therapist. Long conversations with friends. And I got through. To myself.

I stayed and fought it out. Not a jog, let alone a run in any direction.

But also in this very same life, where I've always excelled at all things career angled, things haven't been so dandy. For once it's reversed. I have more love and laughter than ever. But my career is suffering. I blame the economy. And myself.

I'm not used to failing. Or giving up. But in one fell swoop in the same week every avenue and door that had previously been open to me suddenly swung shut. Closed. Nada Mas.

And the first thing I did was run.
R.U.N

I ran to Carmel-by-the-sea for some thinkie thinkie time. I didn't answer phone calls. I didn't talk to anyone. I pressed ignore alot. And concentrated on the swirling, fast thoughts gyrating through my mind.

I thought. And thought. And thought.

About quitting Praise Cheeses. About moving. About Family. About love. About writing. About desk jobs. About kids. About houses with white picket fences. Y, sobre todo vida. TODO.
To Do.
What to do.
What makes me happy? What inspires?

Someone once said when the doors all seem to be closing or you have to force things then it's time for a new path. And the doors, my friends are completely closed.

And so mid-week it seemed pretty clear what I needed to do. How I needed to proceed. And I made peace with what seemed to be the inevitable solution. Quit. Get a real job.

...

I was at the beach at sunrise the next morning. And I felt tingly with the beauty of the sun and the cypress trees all around. That afternoon I picked up a treat from the Carmel Cheese Shop. And with one bite of Prima Donna aged 15 months, I was in.

IN THE GAME.

Suddenly ideas came exploding. Avenues Opened.

I don't have to quit ya'all. I have to switch up my game plan. I gotta get back out there and fight fight rah rah siss boom bah. But with different weaponry and methods.

While I re-organize my life, enjoy some Burlesque photos I snapped the other week. Lets all get some fun out of life.

I got knocked down into the mud. My teeth were stuck in the mud, my mouth was full of grass

2009-08-02T23:28:00.000-07:00

When you are so involved in your own little world, and you suddenly look up and realize how far ahead you've gotten yourself. The pack is behind you and a few harder hitters are ahead of you. You look up. And you think - is this all there is?

Suddenly. A straggler calls to you. WAAAAIT. From the back of the pack.

So you do. You wait.

And then you find out how much fun it is behind the pack.

Until one day. You miss the pace and the grind. So you work twice as hard and try and bring the straggler with you to show them your world, the way they showed you theirs. And you're up front. Jamming. Quick, quick. Free, air all around, not a person in sight. At the front.

But the straggler wants to go back.

And you try, so hard to be happy up at the front again knowing whats going on behind you. And you jog back there once in awhile and forget about the front. And then remember, and go back. And repeat, repeat, repeat.

Until it just is too obvious. You belong at the front. Not because you're smarter or wittier. But going fast. Not wasting time. It's natural. It's how you like it. You crave hard work. And hard work gets you up to the front.

And there you are involved in your own little world again, but your world has been expanded. And just being happy with your head down in your own world is hard and the pace just isn't as easy as it used to be. But its what you know.

And there you are.

Go! Go! goooo

Sometimes you strain your ears, hoping for a WAAAAAIT. Knowing you can't go back anymore. Still liking the idea of the WAAAIT. The slower pace, the more relaxed people ... but the boredom always drive you back up front. The zeal for life, the inspiration of life, the eagerness of people and places. To taste, feel and have everything.

For you, life is up at the front. The cusp of everything. Straining. Forging a new path.

The Wink

2009-08-02T14:58:00.001-07:00

My Guy was looking at me. I was staring at The Other Guy, trying my best to mask my incredulousness. Nodding my head. Listening. Trying to learn something new ... all while thinking "This is BULLSHIT."

I wanted to give The Other Guy a chance. So I winked at My Guy so he'd know not to blow my cover. Not to let the cat out of the bag. Keep the lid on the pot. Ix nay on the ecret-say eapon-way. Mmkay?

But My Guy thought my wink meant, Get Him Babe. He thought it meant SPILL THE BEANS from the amber waves of grain to hills alive with the sound of music to the tops of tall buildings. It meant to blow this Other Guy out of the water.

Aah.

The old wink.

Not always the clearest form of communication.

35,000 year old Cannonballs

2009-07-31T08:59:00.000-07:00

My new favorite blog, Lets Have A Cocktail, constantly amuses me. Today is no different. It turns out even Neanderthals were obsessed with boobies.

walking on a dream

2009-07-29T00:18:00.000-07:00

we WERE always pushing up the hill for the thrill of it, the thrill of it. weren't we?

turophile tuesday: Know Your French Cheeses

2009-07-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

Bleu des Basques Brebis - is an artisan sheep’s milk blue cheese made in the Pyrenées mountains, a region of the French Basque country (near the border of Spain) These verdant hills here are full of the wildflowers and fresh grass that give the milk its complexity, subtlety, and lightness.

Crottin de Champcol - This is a simple pasteurized goat cheese from the Loire. (Did you know that "Crottin" in French means dung as in manure? The explanation is that old "Crottin" gets harder and browner and tends to look like horse dung or dung in general.)

Tomme de Savoie - often made with skim milk after the cream has been used to make butter. It is a pleasant and unpretentious cheese with an approachable, mild flavor. This typical cheese from the Alps was originally made as a result to the lack of milk used for the Beaufort or other Gruyeres. They are produced in large flat wheels.

Valençay - named after a town in central France, it is shaped like a pyramid with the top cut off. Originally, the shape was perfectly pyramidal. Legend says...coming back from a calamitous campaign in Egypt, Napoléon stopped in Valençay. He saw the cheese and with anger took his sword to chop the top off. Valencay has a soft and delicate taste with nutty flavor.

Camembert - made from unpasteurized cow's milk, and is ripened by the moulds Penicillium candida and Penicillium camemberti for at least three weeks. Originating from the Normandy region, when fresh, it is quite crumbly and relatively hard, but it characteristically ripens and becomes more runny and strongly flavored as it ages.

Roquefort - a.k.a. the "king of cheeses" as many proclaim, Roquefort is at least one of the oldest and best known in the world. Roquefort has a creamy-rich texture and pungent, piquant, somewhat salty flavor. The name "Roquefort" is protected by law from imitators. For example, salad dressings made from blue cheese other than Roquefort cannot be labeled "Roquefort dressing."

Brie de Meaux - a nice white and sweet cheese with a slight greyish tinge under crusty white mould; very soft and savory with a hint of ammonia. The white mouldy skin is tasteless and edible.

Morbier - a semi-soft cows' milk cheese named after the small village of Morbier in Franche-Comté. It is ivory colored, soft and slightly elastic, and is immediately recognizable by the black layer of ashes separating it horizontally in the middle. It has a rind (skin) that is yellowish, moist, and leathery. The bottom layer consists of the morning milk and the upper layer is made of the evening milk.

Comte - a cooked and pressed cow's milk cheese, made only from the milk of the Montbeliard cow. It is the first French AOC (label of origin) cheese, guaranteeing the quality of the cheese. It is typically described as salty, mild, and fruity. Some cheese have strong hazelnut flavors, others have subtle hints of nutmeg. Paired well with either dry white or light red wines.

Epoisses (de Bourgogne) - a classic cow's milk cheese originating from Burgundy and has been made in the small town of Epoisses since the late 1700s. In order to develop the characteristic dark orange rind, this strong smelling cheese is washed with brine for several weeks then finished with wine or brandy. It's one of those stinky cheeses where its bark is worse than its bite.

St. Agur - a cow's milk cheese and fairly young, which yields a nice, smooth, creamy and mild flavor, something between a Gorgonzola and Roquefort (not as bold as an in-your-face Gorgonzola!) Perfect spread on pear or apple slices, or just on some French bread or raisin bread. Because of its creamy nature, it melts well in sauces or just on top of chops.

the night the jigsaw pieces fell together

2009-07-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

Most of the time, the universe hands you NOT what you want, but what you need. Need.

And the night the universe handed me Lea I was so lucky. She has been such an amazing, connecting friend in such a short amount of time. Do you ever have those people that just fit so perfectly within your life and mental psyche -- it seems crazy you haven't known them for your whole life.

She has become a member of my family. literally. Everyone in my family has met her. Loves her. Hangs out with her. My sister threatens to steal her constantly.
She knows my entire story. I know hers.

We met and connected late last year. And spilled our guts. I was a sad girl. She was a happy girl. She made me happy. Then she was a sad girl and I was a happy girl. So I tried my best to make her happy.

She is the only person in recent memory who doesn't think twice about throwing $500 on a bartab, making out with 6 boys in one night, hopping in the car and driving to LA just to eat chow mein in a different setting. She is the only one who will drink Bourbon with me on a school night. The only one who understands that if you can track down toothpaste and use your finger and flip your underwear inside out you just might be ready to do it all over again (Screw home). She uses more curse words than I do and has more jewelry than I do.

More importantly. She acts and reacts in the ways I wish I did. We are alike in many ways. But where I veer wildly into sensitive-cry-yourself-to-sleep land. Lea remains, stoicly, in stand-up-for-yourself-in-your-Miu Miu-slides-while-giving-your-enemy-the-finger land. Make no mistake. Lea taught my wootie how to express himself through speech. Kids love her and so do the fellas. She's gifted.

She is leaving for New York in a few days.
I am sad she is leaving me. It's not enough to have her in NYC for me to visit whenever I want. She won't be here next to me on a daily basis.

It's a good thing I switched towns a few weeks ago.
Otherwise I'd probably slide into my cry myself to sleep land.

I guess like any good breakup, you should look back on the good times. The best times. The fun. The laughs. The madness of the whole experience. Right?
Cheers to you Lea. I love you. I'll see you in Mozambique next summer. For our next adventure.

You've been hit by. A smooth criminal

2009-07-27T07:58:00.000-07:00

I think it's odd that so many people find my blog by googling a certain Michael Jackson song lyric.

1. annie are you ok annie

2. annie are you ok are you ok annie

3. annie are you ok you ok

4. annie are you ok, are you ok , are you ok annie

5. annie are you ok, are you ok annie?

6. annie are you ok? annie are you ok? are you ok, annie

7. annie are you ok? written about

8. annie are you okay annie

9. annie are you walking

10. are you ok annie

11. are you ok are you ok annie

12. "annie are you ok"

13. annie are you ok

Although my number one search term, according to Google, with a record 7 searches is this: chris.t.walters@gmail.com
Hmmmm. . .

scratch that, lets break the rules

2009-07-25T19:09:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I said I was going to stay home and think. Scratch that. I didn't. I went and raged in Oakland. With all my friends. Cuz I'm an easy target for cajoling and pleading that goes like this:

Friend: (casually) "Wanna drink bourbon tonight and dance our faces off?"
Me: (excitedly) "YES! WHEN? LETS GO NOOOOW!"

So we went to Flora in Oakland. I love the food and bartenders and especially the drinks. But either the management are total hard asses or every single employee is a complete RULE FOLLOWER. I effing HATE total rule followers.

When I'm dropping $350 on a bar tab I want to be able to do a few things. Like order food in the teensy tiny lounge area which was the only place we could smoosh ourselves into and out of the way. And if I can't order some food and I then move to the bar instead SO I CAN ORDER FOOD. Can someone carry my drinks for me to the bar? Can I be allowed to squeeze one more little stool in the corner so all my friends can sit and enjoy their 12 year aged single malt scotch?

Cuz if I can't then I'm not coming back.

I thank this bartendar for delicious drinks. The drinks and the no food led to this happening to my foot. Is it ok for a pinkie toe to be black and purple?

Don't worry, I happen to look mighty fine in flat boots. And a broken toe distracts awesomely from pounding post-bourbon/dancing face off hangovers.

stop. look. and listen

2009-07-24T08:29:00.000-07:00

I'm going to sloooooow it all down this weekend and listen. There's alot going on in my hurricane of a life. And I need to feel it and hear it.

Turn it around.
Listen.

you mean the world to me

2009-07-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

I think this retrograde did something to me. I had conversations with people in my mind and settled some things. I cried a little bit. the good kind, the balancing kind. Because, see I was settling some things. And even though the other people weren't actually present. I still managed to get complete.

I wish I could settle all discrepencies and declarations of love with people just... So smoothly as in my mind. I guess it's not fair. They aren't there to tell their side and learn me some things. But on the flip side, I get to get some stuff out that's been sandbagging my heart.

...

Sometime last year I fell completely apart. My sister had warned me that my path was going to split me open and make me die a little. And I didn't listen. I kept at it. Because I'm Melissa. I get what I want. I can fix anything and anybody. I ain't afraid of no ghost.

Sure enough. I split open. And I was lying in my bed next to the spot where he'd been just moments before. And I couldn't breathe. Just crying so hard. I actually cried my kidneys out through my nose.

My roommate called my friends. In a panic. And my brother came over because he lives the closest. He burst in my room and snuggled next to me. Filling the spot.

I hadn't shared a bed with my brother since we were little kids. I asked him to hold my hand. My clammy, ice cold, limp, dead fish hand. A hand that wouldn't do anything but pop human tranquilizers for some months.

He talked me down from the depths of despair. Eventually he had to go home to his own family. And in his place came my old Napa roommate. She took up residence in my bed for an entire day and night. I did nothing but cry.

As the changing of the guard occurred, they whispered things that didn't make sense to me. They were speaking in ENGLISH and I was speaking only in BROKEN HEART. And my brother leaned down and kissed me and said in BROKEN HEART (somehow he knew how to speak that language), "Stop this Melissa. This isn't who you are. Stop it. You are BREAKING my heart. You mean the world to me."

...

I finally, just yesterday, told my brother that HE means the world to me. All this time went by. And I thought it every day how much I really love my brother. LOVE. And I never opened up and told him this story and how it played out in my mind and how much it meant to me.

How much he means to me.
How wonderful he is.

So I told him. And he said in this other language that only BROTHERS and SISTERS can speak. He said something that will stay with me always.

It's just so good to get feelings out in the open.
So good.

turophile tuesday: camembert

2009-07-21T20:53:00.000-07:00

Legend has it that a resident of the village of Camembert, one Marie Harel, invented the cheese which bears the village's name. She was reportedly given the "secret" of its manufacture by a priest. During the French Revolution (beginning in 1789), all Roman Catholic priests in France were required to swear allegiance to the newborn republic. Those prelates who refused were executed or forced into exile. Some chose to hide in the countryside while waiting for better days. In 1790, during the month of October, the Abbé Charles-Jean Bonvoust supposedly sought refuge with Marie at her farm, Beaumoncel. He came from the Brie, a region near Paris famous for its cheeses. In return for the shelter she offered him, he gave to Marie the "secret" of making soft, bloomy cheese.

Whether this is true or not, is up to you, your imagination and penchant for deep internet trolling through cheese diaries. What I ask you to do is start experimenting with Camembert at your next shindig in lieu of boring old brie.

Facts:

Camembert is a soft, creamy French cheese. It was first made in the late 18th century in Normandy in northern France.

Camembert is made from unpasteurised cow's milk*, and is ripened by the moulds Penicillium candida and Penicillium camemberti for at least three weeks. It is produced in small rounds, about 350 grams (around 12 oz) in weight, which are then typically wrapped in paper and packaged in thin wooden boxes.

When fresh, it is quite crumbly and relatively hard, but characteristically ripens and becomes softer and strongly flavoured as it ages.

The cheese was famously issued to French troops during World War II, becoming firmly fixed in French popular culture as a result. It has many other roles in French culture, literature and history. It is now internationally known, and many local varieties are made around the world.

* Camembert can also be used as a guide for cheesemakers in the New World. In the United States you can find Camembert's made of goat and sheep's milk - both pasteurized and unpasteurized.

dim sum on a sunday

2009-07-20T05:46:00.000-07:00

Sum are dim.
Sum are not.

Sumtimes all it takes is a walk across the Golden Gate bridge to remind of this fact. That it's completely ok to be loud, to be weird, to be yourself. That it's the dim who stifle down their natural urges.

"The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak."

rises up, like a tide

2009-07-19T22:15:00.000-07:00

It churns me around. Spins. I can't help but do everything at once. It's fast and whirls me and makes things fly by. My skin gets bad. It flakes it grows red spots. My eyes move around, darting. Looking. My brain is never, ever off. Dark circles, not sleeping. But always sleeping. When I rest I want to move and when I move I want to rest.

I can't stop.

Project after project after project. Phone call after phone call. Paper after paper. Proposals to end all proposals.

I speak in ideas and the words I use are hand gestures. Fast and furious. I can't get it out fast enough before the next vomited wave of power comes unleashed from my inside, tearing to get out.

I see everyone. EVERYONE. But it's so fast it doesn't count. I can't connect. Maybe it appears but its not.

I'm never home. I don't have a home. I have three homes.

Lots of money. No money. Lots of money. Too many ways to use it.

Need water. Need sleep. Need rest. Need none of it. The brink is here. Cresting into super achievement. Flopping into the sand exhausted but energized. Ready to dance even more. Even cheaper hauling. Better dancing. More parties. Less parties, more day activities. Nothing.
Blank sidewalk.

Losing my mind. Finding my mind.

Making sense. Not making sense. It comes gushing out. Finishing the book. Re-writing the book. Re-writing the ending. Dreaming of what it could have been. Writing what it is. Not writing at all. Creating a garden project. Starting a non-profit.

PhD.
Kites.
Platforms.
red hair.
want to be blonde.

What? Phone is ringing. More people come into the picture. Some more leave. But then EVEN MORE come into it. I can't keep up. I've lost it.

No, I've found IT.
Twitter
Facebook
Old-Fashioned Love Letters.post marked, Scotland. post-marked.
Kissing in the alley.

Kissing. Writing. Loving. Leaving.

Where do I need to be now?
where?

What is "22 Seconds inside my head?"

Saint Theresa's Prayer

2009-07-18T10:27:00.000-07:00

My beloved grandfather, Roy, sends me email most every day. Sometimes it's chock full of financial advice. Sometimes it's a note to let me know it's Time To Plant Carrots. Other times its just a little note about remembering the important things in life. Like Saint Theresa's prayer.

Saint Theresa's Prayer

May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love
that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the
freedom to sing,
Dance, praise
and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

I contest my affinity with the Catholic Church quite often. And then I remember that just as I accept the bad parts along with the good parts of all my favorite people, I can accept the bad with the good of my religion.

I choose to align with the positive.
The uplifting.
The motivating.

(and then be verbal as hell about contraceptives, sex education, gay rights and the death penalty)

Manhattanhenge

2009-07-16T10:32:00.001-07:00

Manhattanhenge (sometimes referred to as Manhattan Solstice) is a biannual occurrence in which the setting sun aligns with the east-west streets of Manhattan's main street grid. The term is derived from Stonehenge, at which the sun aligns with the stones on the solstices. It was coined in 2002 by Neil deGrasse Tyson, an astrophysicist at the American Museum of Natural History. It applies to those streets that follow the Commissioners' Plan of 1811, which laid out a grid offset 28.9 degrees from true east-west.

At sunset, a traveler along one of the north-south avenues on the West Side looking east can observe the phenomenon indirectly, being struck by the reflected light of the many windows which are aligned with the grid. An observer on the East Side can look west and see the Sun shining down a canyon-like street.

The dates of Manhattanhenge are usually May 28 and July 12 or July 13 (spaced evenly around Summer Solstice). The two corresponding mornings of sunrise right on the center lines of the Manhattan grid are approximately December 5 and January 8 (spaced evenly around Winter Solstice).[1] As with the solstices and equinoxes, the dates vary somewhat from year to year.

turophile tuesday: little bo peep

2009-07-14T07:22:00.000-07:00

Sheep's Milk Cheeses are incredibly earthy, creamy and mouth-coatingly rich. Which is probably why Little Bo Peep looked after her sheep so fervently.

"Dairy products made from sheep's milk are more easily digested than
either cow or goat products, and are gaining a loyal following in the United
States. It may sound strange to milk a sheep, but most people don't realize
they've already eaten imported sheep cheeses like Pecorino Romano or Roquefort
Blue." - Alpine Lakes Dairy

My Three Favorite California Sheep's Milk Cheeses:
Bellwether Dairy - San Andreas and Pepato
Cypress Grove - Lamb Chopper

Though I must give a shout out to the largest Sheep Dairy (that I know of) with 1200 sheep frolicking on green, green pasture land: Old Chatham Sheepherding and their Ewes Blue.

You have so many cheeses to choose from: French, Italian, Blue, Soft/Bloomy, Farmstead, Organic, Artisanal, Goat, Sheep, Cow. Just like learning anything new, it's best to start with one category and move outward from there. Choose a dairy near your house and start tasting. I advise California Sheep's Milk Cheeses. It's a small category, so you won't feel overwhelmed.

And you can always sign up for my next class: Sheep Showdown - A Rodeo for your Mouth @CheeseSchoolSanFrancisco.

She'll make you an offer you CANT refuse

2009-07-13T09:49:00.000-07:00

Seriously, my niece is a total riot.

ain't no shame, lady, do your thang

2009-07-12T20:23:00.000-07:00

Lying in my room. Sunlight streaming in through the windows. The golden Berkeley sun, lilting us from asleep to awake.

Her: "You know, I think I have some things to apologize for, from last night. But I'm NOT gonna say sorry. Because those are the things that make me, ME."

Me: Amen. I'm not apologizing either.

Her: Except, I am sorry that we can't be wizards.

Me: I know. If we could PEE in a CIRCLE like he did, we could be wizards too. But I'd rather be a magical unicorn anyway.

Her: Lets get coffee.

Me: Amen, sister. Amen.

Joy Frequencies

2009-07-10T11:44:00.000-07:00

Dont resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone wasn't all that comfortable.

Joy Frequencies, is one of my favorite blogs, that I consult via Twitter most mornings. When I have the time. Let some sunshine in and check it out. Click Here

The other morning I just couldn't sleep. I was having job/housing/man friend/life palpitations. So I went to the beach at 5AM with my dog. Here are some photo's I took in the pre-Dawn and mid-Dawn light.

Namaste

we like the pinot, the pinot that goes NOIR. we're Tigra and Bunnie and we like the NOIR.

2009-07-08T23:25:00.000-07:00

Aaah, Jason. He is the one who is moving me forward at an awesomely radical pace ... I've never met anyone who not only can keep up with me but actually lopes along at a faster, smarter, stronger speed.

He has reserves of intellect and aforethought that blow my effing mind, mane. So there we were, visiting a winery to do a tasting. La La LA.
We heard another winery was for sale down the road. LA LA LA. Hmm Hmmmm Hmm.

And the next thing I know we have a meeting to buy the vineyard and a proposal in the works and a plan. I mean, I'm actually sitting in someone's living room. Looking over official paperwork. Albeit, old school paperwork from an Alex P. Keaton briefcase. but still, p-a-p-e-r-w-o-r-k!

Here's a few pictures of the joint. Whaddya think?

You know. Any time you can make a new friend who encourages you to take leaps and chances. Who has a great sense of humor. Who can SEE the VISION, man. Grab ahold of them and appreciate the strength they bring to your life.

It's not every Tom, Dick or Harry that can cause ripples of inspiration.

is it REALLY too bad?

2009-07-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

will you keep bringing out the best in me?

2009-07-07T23:43:00.000-07:00

His hand rested in the small of my back. It was just how we've always stood together. It makes it easier for him to lean down and whisper into my ear. I don't think it registered. To either of us.

Until his girlfriend looked at both of us sharply.

I noticed her look. He didn't. He was busy wrapping himself around me. Because we always used to be that way. Wrapped.

Aah well.

I've put a week in between that moment and this moment, sitting here, drinking tea, alone, listening to Van Morrison.

Now if only I could figure out how to put enough space and time between all the moments in my memory strung together like a paper doll.

chocolate face

2009-07-06T10:34:00.000-07:00

sometimes all you need is a double boiler full of chocolate and some friends ...

the lightening to my thunder

2009-07-02T21:27:00.000-07:00

we missed each other.
when he tried, I was busy. when I tried, he was busy.

But he made me feel beautiful. And wanted. At a time when I needed those kinds of feelings. When I'd been dragged through a hellacious sand pit of ire and destruction. He came along and rescued my ego and self-esteem.

A sexy musician. Curly hair. Soulful eyes...Bedroom eyes.
When he's on stage, I couldn't help myself but yank off my lady knickers and dance on top of the bar. Screaming his name. Tossing my hair around. Jigging in tall boots and a short skirt.

He's gone now. Just when I get propelled into his direction, he gets vaudeville yanked in an entirely different direction. We can never meet in the middle. His stick never connects me into the corner pocket.

Maybe one day.

the mess around

2009-06-30T20:10:00.000-07:00

My family is basically a gang. You mess around with one, you mess around with everyone. My mother will jump in, in a hot second. We don't claim colors. We don't tag freeways. But we do claim glory and tag you out, if we need to.

I learned all my best moves from my mother. She plays to win and she plays to grin. As in, stand over you and smile after she's won. She'll even help you up afterwards. Because she's a good sport.

Somebody is getting all up in my grille. And I let it all air out on Monday night at our Family Night Dinner Ritual that takes place at my grandparents house. Over fried chicken, I told my gang the ridiculous story.

My brother asked "Where does this bitch live?"
My mother said "Don't give in. Stay strong."
My aunt said "We will sue her. No problem. Lets sue her."
My grandfather said "I've never cheated anyone before. It's so wrong to take people down. Just do your best, Melis."
And then my brother asked where the bitch lived again.

I'm no stranger to standing up for myself. Speaking up. When I get wicked, I get WICKED. And this morning I got a little wicked. And the games are over. And the cookie is done crumbling.

If you ever think that nice people are easy targets, you should make sure your nice target isn't surrounded by a family gang. Also . . .

No one will love you harder or more fiercely than me. No one will support you and help you more than me. BUT! If you cross over the line. No one will leave you in the dust F A S T E R to wallow in self-pity faster than me.

I play to win, fool. Best believe.

turophile tuesday: cheese by hand

2009-06-30T06:29:00.000-07:00

There is a new road trip book, covering the cheesemakers of the West Coast. Read about the Cheese By Hand project here. I love innovative and engaging people pursuing their interests and following their ideas.

The West Coast is a region of startling diversity in landscape, climate, culture, and artisan cheese production. Cheeses of this region have earned respect nationwide and internationally and are ready for their own, dedicated guidebook.

France, in the summer...

2009-06-29T18:44:00.000-07:00

Anyone want to go on a little trip? I'm craving an adventure, a picnic and a new Hermes scarf.

smiling cheshire moons

2009-06-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

We danced and danced. The sky changed from light blue to dusky purple to throaty velvet midnight. The moon was along for the ride. We were dancing.

It was 100 degrees outside, never cooling down.

"Doesn't the grass feel great?"

"They should bottle and sell how cool grass feels under bare feet. Can you believe those people over there have shoes on and are missing how incredible this feels?"

Then I all I could think about was the grass and how wonderful life seemed at that very moment. And old friends I've known for many, many moons were swarmed all around me. We were dancing.

Barefoot on grass under the cheshire moon.

Annie are you ok? Are You OK, Annie

2009-06-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

Michael Jackson should be a lesson to everyone out to there to NEVER get a nose job. He jumped shark the moment he began effing with his face. While I was growing up, my mom would always sigh and say

"MJ was soooooo cute when I was younger. Now look at him! I used to have his poster on my wall when he was in the Jackson 5. Now LOOK at him."

Look, I love to dance to Billy Jean atop a bar as much as the next gal. I did a routine in High School to Thriller, fully choreographed by one of the biggest MJ lovers in existence. My best friend Ruben.

And as sad as it is. To say goodbye. I wish Michael Jackson sweet relief in the next life (or wherever he's gone to). He seemed crazy, unhappy, odd and unable to reach peace. And it all seemed to start just after he started getting all the nose jobs and skin bleaching.

So learn from MJ.

Love and accept yourself. Because you could possess the most brilliant talents of all time and STILL let it slip through your fingers while friends and family slowly watch your demise in shocked horror. Helpless.

SO get yourselves together, SPREAD some love, ACCEPTANCE is key.

if you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it

2009-06-24T22:24:00.000-07:00

Him: Come over.
Me: Nah. It's late. I'm tired.
Him: You ALWAYS come over late.
Me: I'm tired of coming over late. I'm not coming over late anymore.
Him: Thats all you have time for...
Me: NO! Thats all you think I have time for. I have time for dinner and hang out. Now I'm going to bed. Night.

a coupla weeks later

Him: Hey. Howzit going?
Me: Good. You?
Him: Good. I miss you. There's a new sushi bar by your place. Wanna check it out.
Me: Hmm. Maybe some other time. I'm late for dinner with a friend.
Him. *pause* who's. Ahem. Who's this friend?
Me: No one. Just a friend. I've gotta run. Bye.
Him: *pause* Bye.
Me: in car, in hot dress, en route to dinner with newest man friend.

Fellas. Asking a girl to wait patiently for you to get your shit together is like asking Jaws to just give you a sweet lil hickie. Ain't gonna happen.

I will replace you in minutes.

And, I ALWAYS, spring for an upgrade.

radar love

2009-06-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I push things to see how far it can go. See what the threshold is, where the line will be drawn.

Those in the know don't let things get too far. Those not in the know,

never rein a damn thing in ... either to amuse themselves or see how far it can go.

He drove a big powder blue Suburban. It was after a wedding. Radar Love was blaring from the speakers. I was doing flips across the seats from the very, very back to the very, very front seat. I'd land sprawled across laps, giggling hysterically.

Soon everyone was doing flips from front to back and back to front. Everyone was giggling. Flipping. Party dresses flying through the air. Mid-Flip, he stopped me. Grabbed my leg. Kissed me.

Then I flipped all the way over and got lost in the jumble.

This weekend I'm moving to Berkeley. I need to get lost in the crowd this summer. Go to big parties. Meet new people. Teach bigger classes. Start writing food stories again. Get inspired. Flip over a few seats. Kiss a few boys. Sing some songs. Have harmless fun, while toeing the line and pushing a few buttons.

2009-06-22T22:24:00.000-07:00

The three of us picked our way amongst the rocks. We stood on different heights, along the ocean's shore. We tandemly opened our arms wide and welcomed life to us.

Inevitably Life means Love.

One is in love with someone far away. And dating another.
One is in love with someone who just can't pull it together and make it happen.
One is not in love, but wants to be.
One is forgetting someone who just won't be forgotten.
One is remembering someone who should be forgotten.
One is in love with several people and in love with none of them at all.

It was early in the morning. Not light, but very dark. We giggled alot. The ocean roared at us. And whispered as it drew back, guided by the moon.

Much later I wiggled my toes and I could still feel the sand.

You can read a different interpretation here.

Terence Trent D'Arby said it best...

2009-06-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

Kissing like a bandit
Stealing time
Underneath a sycamore tree
Cupid by the hour sends
Valentines
To my sweet lover and me
Slowly
But surely
Your appetite is more than I knew
Sweetly
Softly
I'm falling in love with you

Wish me love a wishing well
To kiss and tell
A wishing well of butterfly tears
Wish me love a wishing well
To kiss and tell
A wishing well of crocodile cheers

lovely day, lovely day

2009-06-21T10:35:00.001-07:00

Thank You Big Beautiful World. I am ready for whatever the universe wants to offer me. Wrap it up, I'll take it.

Happy Birthday To Me

2009-06-19T09:56:00.000-07:00

Come Sunday, I'll be a big girl. But for now, these next few days I'm just going to be a giant sloppy fun mess of love with all the people who've flocked into town to rock me like a hurricane.

I have never felt more loved. MUAH!

No Cheesecloth? Use Jeans instead!

2009-06-18T09:02:00.000-07:00

My good friend, Jason, with whom I'm thinking of buying this random, magical vineyard is also a magician in the kitchen. He does ridiculous (read: Ridiculously AWESOME) things like buy a hog's head and butchers it in his home after watching a video and thumbing through a book.

Because.

Well, he's a genius and he's not afraid of ANYTHING. Which is why I keep hounding him to be best friends. I love people who ain't afraid of no ghost.

Read his home butchering tales here.

"Chris Farr wraps his pig parts in cheesecloth, but I think cheesecloth is, more or less, shenanigans, and it turns out that the leg from an old pair of jeans was a perfect size to give some form and support to the porchetta while it cooked. So into the jeans it went, and into the pot and into the oven and then I waited. For 14 hours, I monitored the temperature using a probe thermometer and it turns out that my oven, on it’s lowest setting, will maintain a pot full of water and vac-sealed porchetta at 190 degrees. Perfect!"

Home Butchering Lessons learned:

1. I need more workspace for these sorts of shenanigans. A tiny plastic cutting board and my kitchen table aren’t sufficient space or equipment to take apart a hog’s head, much less a whole hog (coming soon, hopefully).
2. I need better lighting in my kitchen.
3. Butchery is a messy, artful business.

the most important things in life...

2009-06-17T07:35:00.000-07:00

remembering where you came from ... your childhood ... important friends ... significant moments ... the beach ... flowers ... and famigilia

carried away

2009-06-16T09:13:00.001-07:00

Hurtling. Towards 30 years old. I was letting the immature, the unaccountable, the ridiculous, the naughty and the snarky leave my body. And then I was like "Holy Shit!" then life would be drab and gray.

So I went and stuck my fun parts back in my body.

Bring on the good times!

Turophile Tuesday: Yellowtail Snapper

2009-06-16T00:01:00.000-07:00

So I'm going to try and balance a "key learning" with cool photo's from my last fishing adventure in Key West.
Here's the Key Learning:

The yellowtail snapper, Ocyurus chrysurus, is an abundant species of snapper found along the North American coast of the Atlantic Ocean. Although they have been found as far north as Massachusetts, their normal range is along Florida down through the West Indies and Brazil.
In certain reefs, most notably in the Florida Keys, this beautifully colored fish is commonly spotted among divers and snorkelers. The yellow tailed snapper is also a popular and abundant game fish that makes excellent table fare. Yellowtail feed on shrimp, crabs, worms and smaller fish. They spawn in groups off the edge of reefs from spring to fall, but heavily in midsummer.

Here are the Cool Photos:

none of it really matters except for this part

2009-06-13T10:28:00.000-07:00

A wedding somewhere in California. Post Reception. Starting to get really fuzzy, not from darkness or alcohol, wholly. But from a combination of not eating enough wedding chicken and wedding rice; standing around in high heels all day and all night; darkness and alcohol.

We were just about to enter that point into no man's land when...

Strange guy: Hey, come to my hotel party.

Maggie: OK

Jack: Lets Go!

Mimi: myrwfgtdrgy ok jhsd

Strange guy: Here we are

Maggie: heeey. This is OUR hotel, too. awesome.

Jack: fack. this is awesome. What room?

Mimi: myrwfgtdrgy ok jhsd

Strange guy: Dudes, sorry there aren't any cups left.

Jack: Girls, we'll have to drink out of our shoes.

Mimi: myrwfgtdrgy ok jhsd

Maggie: good thing I have pumps on.

So all three of us drank ice cold beer out of our shoes. Until sunrise. Then for some unknown reason we all passed out in the same bed in our room, even though we had three beds.

This was all a few years ago.

Diary of a Kindergarten Pick-Up

2009-06-11T23:51:00.000-07:00

Everyday without fail, I pick up 6 year-old Wootie from Kindergarten.
And everyday, his name sails out of my mouth "Woooootie" and every day I open up my arms for an afterschool hug.

And without fail, everyday, he covers his eyes and runs towards me and burrows inside my arms.

Pediatric Healthcare Missions

2009-06-11T08:27:00.000-07:00

I call her the Autism Whisperer. She has changed the courses of countless lives that might otherwise live in a quiet, meticulous untouchable world. She recently went to the Ukraine on a pediatric mission to save even more lives.

Read about her adventures here. And for God's Sake, leave her a comment.

Let's positively reinforce the work of absolute angels.

MUAH! Happy Thursday!

Homemade Maraschino Cherries

2009-06-11T07:01:00.000-07:00

This will most likely be my project for the weekend. I need some downtown er downtime to lay low, relax, rest up, refresh and mellow out.

From The CupCake Project, here is a recipe for fun. At least if you are a super geek or just enjoy super-geeking-out sometimes.

Ingredients

1 pound sweet cherries, pitted (If you want to be really technical about it, it would be good if you could use Marasca cherries. Since most of us don't have access to them, any cherry will do - the redder the better. If you don't own a cherry pitter, you will definitely want to invest in one.)
1/2 C sugar
1/2 C water
2 t lemon juice
1 cinnamon stick
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1 t vanilla extract
1 C of maraschino liquor (Try Luxardo brand. On Serious Eats, they just used a regular brandy and were not as happy with the results. eGullet has an interesting discussion thread on types of cherry liqueur that is worth a read.)

Wash and pit the cherries.
In a saucepan, combine all ingredients except the cherries and liqueur and bring to a rolling boil.
When the liquid begins to boil, reduce the heat to medium.
Add the cherries and simmer for 5–7 minutes.
Remove from heat, add the liqueur, and let cool.
Transfer the cherries and liquid into clean jars and refrigerate, uncovered, until cherries are cool to touch.
Cover tightly and refrigerate for up to two weeks.

And if this doesn't work out, then I just might buy these bright blue cherries, for funsies.

Syrah Video Numero Cuatro

2009-06-09T18:45:00.001-07:00

Big Hugs to my verrrry talented friends at French Press Films!

Take Back Tuesday

2009-06-09T09:07:00.000-07:00

This Tuesday, think of something you might have said to someone that you wish you could take back. Go make it right. If you can.

This is for Lauren. Who patiently brings new ideas and ways of thought through my thick, hard-headed skull. Loves.

Current Mojo: Fruitcake Status

2009-06-08T20:00:00.000-07:00

Eccentricity is often associated with genius, giftedness, or creativity.

Weird is good. Being an Eccentric is wonderful. You'll live longer and happier.
According to author David Weeks,

"Eccentrics live longer and are happier than the rest of us. It's a combination of an optimistic outlook and low stress. Eccentrics don't give a hoot what the rest of the world thinks of them. In fact, eccentrics revel in the fact that they make people laugh. I think we can all learn a lot from them about holding on to the dreams and curiosity we had as children."

How do you know if you qualify as an eccentric? Take this quiz. Or this one, from my new favorite blogger.

If you possess 5 or more of these 15 characteristics then YOU my friend, can join me proudly, in Club Crazytown.

1. Nonconforming attitude
2. Creative
3. Strongly motivated by curiosity
4. Idealistic
5. Happy obsession with a hobby or hobbies
6. Knew very early in their childhood they were different from others
7. Usually the eldest or only child
8. Opinionated and outspoken
9. Noncompetitive; not in need of reassurance or reinforcement from society
10. Unusual living or eating habits
11. Not interested in the opinions or company of others
12. Mischievous sense of humor
13. Highly intelligent
14. Not a good speller
15. Usually single

My New Best Friend

2009-06-07T14:06:00.001-07:00

"occasionally i cook a dish just to see if i can, and then i'm left to wonder what i'm going to do with, say, a bowl full of brandied pears."

-My New Best Friend is hilarious

Dancing is like going to Church

2009-06-06T10:07:00.001-07:00

gotta get get

2009-06-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

It's a whirlwind rewind in my mind. No matter how much you try and ease into a decade change, things come flying back at you. At 120 mph with Neverending Story-esque winds. Sometimes they creep up on you like Chuckie, from the backseat as you are stuck in traffic. Or they slide into your lap, and look at you with big eyes.

One such moment happened the other day.

I was sitting at a gas station pumping gas. I'd been driving and driving and driving from visiting friends. It was THE gas station, where we used to walk. It was en route from downtown to his house. But that was long ago. He doesn't live there anymore.

My eyes traced the path we used to meander along. I was sliding into reminisceland.

JOLT! BEEP! HOOOO-oooonK!

There he was. No joke. In his car, headlights almost kissing my headlights. It was broad daylight. His car was full. Mine was empty.

He rushed me. Stuck his head in and kissed me on the cheek. His friend that I used to love hanging out with was right behind him.

"Riot is in town. Lookie here. Little Miss Riot is here. Gonna cause a scene RIOT?" said the friend.

Friend made alot of noise while he and I had a moment. A staring contest. Then he said, "It's not working out. She's not as adventurous as you are."

I stared straight ahead.

Willing myself not to cry.

Stoic.

Friend was digging around for the handle to the passenger side of my car. Friend slid into the car and rubbed his hand over my hair to make it messy. I used to like it alot. Friend is the one that got me hooked on having my head rubbed.

F i n a l l y. It was over. And they were gone.

And I was alone. Staring straight through the windshield. breathing. gulping for air.
Then I hightailed 266 miles home. I don't remember driving.

But I'm proud I didn't cry once.

foreground, background

2009-06-04T09:51:00.001-07:00

The Missus is a frequent guest here on my blog. She encouraged me to start writing again when I thought I'd be perfectly OK to curl up in a ball, crying, never writing again.

She encouraged me to apply for the peace corps.

She wrote my first cover letter for a job in 2001.

She taught me how to buy my own sticky icky and not depend on boys for it.

She showed me how easy it could be to go volunteer at an orphanage. Showed me how easy it was to give joy and see that joy circle back 'round.

She forced me to a Reggage Concert over the summer and it was the best medicine.

She searched for hours on You Tube for videos that to this day, make tears run down my face, I'm laughing so hard.

I found this picture for her. Because I sometimes feel guilty for how much I take from her. She gives and gives and gives. She's this beautiful nymph in the background holding many people up with her strength.

See those pretty pink shoes? That's me. Or anyone of The Missus' 400 million friends. She encourages everyone around her.

I would like her to come into the foreground. And let us encourage her and hold her up now. It's very much her time. Her turn.

Now if only I can match her strength ...
(impossible!)

aruba, jamaica ... cocomo

2009-06-02T23:06:00.000-07:00

I.Hate.Lines.

It's not that I think I am better than you. It's just that I heart dancing and I can't stand to wait in line when I could be inside dancing. The line at this joint Cocomo snaked around the block.

I took the Australian with me to the front of the line. Between my sweet talking and her accent we were a shoo-in. But no. No Dice. The bouncers were having none of us. None.

The Aussie went to ogle a parrot. I went into the street. Someone handed me a cigarette. I walked along looking for a light. I don't carry a light, because I don't technically smoke.

I saw two men striding along, they looked like they owned the joint. I quick-stepped up behind them. Reached out. Grabbed one of their hands.

He looked back at me and smiled. And then the 3 of us sailed into the club through a side door. The owners private entrance. He got me a drink. Then walked off. Instructing the bartenders to take care of me.

I texted my friends to come to the side door.

And then they were inside and we were dancing.

Free drinks all night long.

Jamba Jamba.

Turophile Tuesday: Cheese Storage

2009-06-02T06:09:00.000-07:00

Aah cheese storage. The oft neglected part of buying, loving and eating cheese. Why spend all the money on artisanal, farmstead cheeses if you're just going to cram them into the deli drawer?

Quick and Easy Steps:

1. Remove plastic from your cheeses immediately after purchase. Plastic can cause a rubber tasting "taint" on your cheeses.
2. Wrap cheeses in wax paper or cheese paper. Just like you would wrap a birthday gift, wrap the cheese.
3. Store cheeses in a vegetable crisper where the temperature is more stable. Keeping them in the deli drawer or on a shelf in the fridge exposes them to more flux humidity, temps and activity.
4. NEVER, EVER store blue cheese near milk, butter or other cheeses. The penicillum bacteria in blue cheese will jump ship to the next dairy product and begin its attack.

And enjoy!

Twenty Days until my Twenties are Over

2009-06-01T09:29:00.001-07:00

In honor of my Twenties I made a special list of all the things I learned in my twenties for which I am so grateful. Today marks the Twenty Day countdown. The last 20 days of my 20's.

1. Hitch-Hiking in other countries is still pretty much, ok.

2. Keep all your ridiculous clothes. Playing Dress-Up, NEVER, ever gets old.

3. If your gut screams NO. Listen to your gut. Especially if your gut is screaming about a certain boy or brownish tinged liquor.

4. A can of Coke can make everything ok again.

5. Making new friends, Making new adventures and Trying New Things are the Three most important facts of life.

6. NO matter how painful or shameful. TALK ABOUT IT. Ignoring something for many years is such a waste. I will never ignore a problem again.

7. Roller Skating and Booze do not mix well. This will never change.

8. Accept yourself. Just do it. It probably won't be 100% every day all day, but the closer you can get to 100% the better.

9. Listen.

10. Throw away tights with holes, runs or stretched out waist bands. Otherwise you might find yourself in quite the predicament, if you've packed a bad pair on a trip.
(Apply this to friends and shoes as well. Don't purposefully keep bad stuff around)

11. Remember we're all human, everyone makes mistakes.

12. Food unites people. Everyone should have a few specialty dishes that they can whip up.

13. Dating a man who can only go out late at night might seem mysterious and fun. But it probably means he's married. Stay away from men who seem too mysterious.

14. Always have one thing to be passionate about: that isn't a MATERIAL thing.

15. Wear the high heels. Yes, your feet will hurt. But you feel better about yourself striding along. And your legs will look maaahvelous in all the photos.

16. Smile and Laugh as much as possible. Even if you're just remembering to yourself the time you flew, one way to Vermont on a whim. And your bag got lost and the only clothes you had to wear for a week were a pair of long johns from a country store that you cut off at the elbows and knees. Causing a local to say "Californians sure dress funny!"

17. Keep enemies to a minimum. Be the bigger person as much as possible and bridge the gap.

18. The VEGAS airport staff won't, in fact, let you fly drunk wearing only a nightie and one shoe.

19. State The Obvious, because it might not be obvious to everyone else.

20. Love makes you feel more wonderful than anything money can buy.

I am a little sad and scared to leave my 20's. But as a German friend said, who was just visiting me, "Can you imagine if you were turning 19 years old again and had to do it all over again?"

No I can't. I'm ready for new, wonderful, amazing things. They await me in my 30's.

After visiting, living on or just traveling to 3 continents; 16 countries; 12 islands; 47 US States; I've learned people are the same everywhere. They are proud, they are humble. They are fun, they are drunks, they are helpful and they are warm. They fight. They love. They eat. They sleep. And they'll welcome you with open arms if you'll let them.

Earth Art Studio

2009-06-01T06:06:00.000-07:00

I was in a busy little coffee shop and saw a flyer for an art class for kids. I took the flyer and signed up my little 65lb friend, Wootie. That was last summer.

I can't believe it's been almost a year.

Since then, I've learned how to throw on the wheel. Hand build. Create abstract art pieces. Use my imagination. Paint textures and glosses onto my pieces and use organic materials to finish them.

Art is the best thing on the planet. If you are not enrolled or playing around with some form of art at the moment, do not finish this week without changing that status. Art turns your whole life around. It connects all the dots of life (bills, money, people, episodes, fun, laughter, family, gardening, food, grocery store shopping and gas stations) by building bridges of thought.

Everything can serve as inspiration. The world slows down a little bit. You use the mundane to create whimsical.

I love art so much, I started teaching consumable art classes at the little art studio. Here are some recent photos:

If you live in between Monterey and Santa Cruz, click here to sign up for classes.

Colors of Life

2009-05-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

It's unfortunate, magnificent and real to experience all the colors of the rainbow in this life. Orange is the happiest color. Grey the most melancholic. Each color represents a different facet.

People are colors, too. They embody emotions, they invoke emotions.

The Sad Man

The Sad Man is never fulfilled and thus can never be happy. He wants what others have but is unwilling to work for it. He manipulates and tweaks situations so he is always the sad underdog who got the short end of the stick.

Despite having a beautiful woman who loves him. Despite having his very own place to live. Despite being able to do whatever he wants to do in life.

It is not enough.

"Misery Loves Company" is his mantra. He tries to be a roadblock for others. He must have read a page somewhere about Lord Voldemort feeding off other people in order to survive. Because he takes absolutely everything he can lay his hands on. Never gives.

He is jealous. He is boring. He is Sad Man.

The Success Man

Success Man offers quick laughs. He recognizes when he has done wrong, takes the information, learns from it and doesn't make the same mistake again.

He is vested in those around him. He loves success in himself. But he loves success in others also. He understands that giving is love. He knows that to be fulfilled, to be happy, to be the absolute joy for those around him he must be true, kind and wise.

Appreciating what others have given him, he is quick to scratch the backs of his fellow brothers and sisters. He recognizes his talents and uses them as best he can.

He tries.

And trying leads to Success.

He is Success Man.

Even after all this time The sun never says to the earth, "You owe Me." Look what happens with A love like that, It lights the Whole Sky.

2009-05-28T10:04:00.000-07:00

Giving without looking for anything in return, perfectly describes my grandmother, Beezus.
I am so lucky to have her warm influence in my life.
And we look alot alike, which makes me happy.

turophile tuesday: Murphy-Goode

2009-05-26T22:43:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes you wished you lived in some beautiful, green, foliage laden eden. Filled with wonderful scents, amazing food and great people. And you didn't have to "work" and made like 10 thousand bucks a month with free rent. And you could take pretty pictures and make observations and be a little bit snarky.

Oh boy, my favorite videographers over at French Press Films did me a huge favor and whipped up a little snippet so I could apply for the coveted Murphy-Goode blog job that pays 10 Grand a month for blogging, observing, writing and just generally being clever.

Here is my audition tape....

Now go here and vote for me. Which means to go to my video and tell them why I'm the JAM.
Or email them and tell them why I am your fave blogganista.

And if you are interested in visting my future home and checking the scene, you are welcome to visit the Murphy-Goode winery.
20 Matheson Street, Healdsburg California.

how did Zeke know?

2009-05-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

Zeke is a friend on a world wide traveling adventure right now. He makes me jealous with videos of dangerous bus rides in the Amalfi Coast and pictures of fruit stands in Greece.

I just found this picture in his cache. How did he know i'm obsessed with leaves against the sky? oh.my.god maybe he's obsessed too. Wait is everyone?

I publicly swear that one day I WILL print fabric, using organic shapes from some of these photos of leaves against sky. I must have over 1,000 of these photos now. Maybe more.

i.am.a.dork

spreading love, without a doubt, is always the best rule

2009-05-25T23:09:00.000-07:00

I was walking along West Cliff drive in Santa Cruz, enjoying later Monday Evening fog and sunshine with a friend. We were hugging and walking. This friend needed a pick-me-up. As we walked further north, towards Natural Bridges Park we stumbled across a small huddle of people.

There, amidst drumming hippies, mom-jean wearing ladies, roller blading UCSC students and older Vietnam Vets was a small sign with candles and flowers around it.

Apparantly an AWOL Iraqi War Veteran, named Pfc. Roy Brooks Mason Jr., just 28 years old, drove from Colorado to this particular spot in Santa Cruz and committed suicide. Read further here.

My friend and I stayed long after the crowd dissipated. We chatted with a Vietnam Vet who was crying for this other, much younger soldier. We sat with the Vet. He was silent and chatty at intervals.

Later, we walked home. I just kept thinking over and over again, how much we need each other. People. How easy it is to reach out and tell someone you love them. Tell them you care. It really can't hurt.

Walking for the Homeless

2009-05-21T22:30:00.001-07:00

Walking for the Homeless
Originally uploaded by nikon dad

This Memorial Weekend ... memorialize, remember, salute, pay homage to a cause. ANY CAUSE. SOME thing. That amazes you. SOME thing that inspires you.

It doesn't have to be "war" worthy.
But it should be something you would fight for.

And you can define FIGHT anyway you like.

Dan Mullins of Dalton, GA photographed in Hopkinsville, KY near the 68 bypass.

Mullins is walking across America to raise awareness for homeless Veterans.

Mullins started his walk across America on January 5th, 2009 in Alexandria, LA.

Since then, Mullins has walked through Atlanta, GA., Lexington, KY., and is currently leaving Hopkinsville, KY on his way through Cadiz. Mullins will head SW to the border of Kentucky and Tennessee. He intends to walk through the Sahara Desert and end up on Funeral Mountain/Funeral Peak in Death Valley. There, he will plant the flag on the top of the peak and then return home.

Mullins estimates this journey will take him ten years.

To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.

2009-05-20T07:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I really stick my foot in my big fat mouth. Sometimes I lie in my bed cringing at things I've done. Or continue to do. Sometimes I think of certain people and cry for them. Or cry for myself. Sometimes I am too nice. Sometimes I cut like a knife. Sometimes I hate how things turned out...how I manipulated situations.

And other times, I am pretty motha-fucking glad for who I am.

road stand magic in Yeehaw Junction

2009-05-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

You can buy corn from a grocery store, farmers market or grow it yourself. Did you know you can also sweet talk a truck driver, at a road side pit stop in one of the oldest brothel locations in the SOUTH and just get some corn for free?

turophile tuesday: provençe

2009-05-19T06:16:00.000-07:00

If you had taken my Med Mama class on May 10th at The Cheese School of San Francisco you woulda learned all sorts of interesting facts. Like 80% of wines from zeh provence, are rose. Delicious, delicious pink wines.

Even though it's not Mother's Day anymore. Don't forget to tell your mom you love her.

beat it

2009-05-18T11:21:00.000-07:00

A good friend is celebrating two years today. Two years ago today she beat her addiction. And she is winning.

You too, can beat anything. Achieve anything. Make anything happen. Create magic in your life and in the lives of those who love you.

doowhatchoolakk

2009-05-15T11:31:00.000-07:00

She was a senior student in my class last night.

"Melissa, you aren't working on the cookbook anymore?"
Then even sadder she said quietly, "Oh no, honey."

She's been with me for almost two years, steady.
And in the past, I would have tears well up and I would have had to say "I'm going to get going on it. I'm going to do things that make me happy. Don't worry Gloria."

But last night I had a triumphant answer for her. Happy, Glorious, Go-Getting, TRIUMPHANT Mimi is back in the house.

So I responded to Gloria "I AM working on the project, Gloria. I have a wonderful new photographer who is just a dream to work with...she's just an angel. And we learn from each other and travel really well together. GO look at the website, it's full of people and places and interesting anecdotes now."

I love this picture the new photographer snapped of me at the beach, during a particularly spectacular sunset. I'm holding Baby Lukie, a glass of Champagne and have a face full of optimistic determination.

You only allow people to take you down for so long. And then you shed that skin just like a snake sheds its skin in the grass. And you raise your head above the blades of grass à la Norma Rae. Sometimes doing what you have to do, isn't fun and isn't pretty. It doesn't necessarily go along with who you are or who you think you are.

But doing what you have to do, shapes you to be who you are supposed to be.

kitchen sink

2009-05-15T06:28:00.000-07:00

Two special people, who live in Oaklandia, are really, really inspiring me these days.

He is a very handsome, good time guy, who has no qualms with disseminating an entire hog. He also loves to dance.

She is an artist and a thinker. She is always game for playing dress up and creating things. She loves to dance too.

So I ask you, over this lovely weekend.

Would you ever go to an underground dinner?

What would your expectations be?

What price would you pay?

How would you prefer to find out about it? Twitter? Facebook? Friends?

What wouldn't you want to eat? What WOULD you like to eat?

And if anyone of you writes pussy in the comments I kill.
Be serious.

Uma

2009-05-13T21:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I hear slogans and phrases and follow them to a T.

Like: "Start your week off with a bang!"

And I thought, how can I top the starts of other weeks? I traveled for almost a month starting each week in a new place. I ditched most of my would be suitors or they've ditched me - so I can't start this week in lust/love. Regardless.

Follow your advice. Go! DO SOMETHING!

My sister and cooed our way through the animal shelter. We blew kisses to a light brown shnauzer. We waved at a couple baby pit bulls. We laughed at a pomeranian. We stopped for a long while outside the cubicle of a hound dog mix named Sassy. Until we came to Uma.

Uma is a total fraggle. A giant, gentle black fraggle. She was lying quietly in her cell. She stuck her nose out tentatively. She was very sweet with kisses when released from her cell into the doggie play area. I had to have her in all her Airdale Terrier glory.

I haven't really been calling her by her real name, Uma. I just squeal FWAGGLE! at her. Today she went down the slide at the park. She also was on the play structure with all the kids - galloping with her furry pig tail ears flying behind her. She's a total nut job.

We've only been together for 30 hours. And don't tell mommy, but we've already slept together and picked out matching Halloween outfits. I know. I tend to move too fast. But Uma/Fwaggle is just so sweet and sensitive and kind. I am very happy she came into my life.

Uma:In India, she is the personification of light and beauty. In Hindu myth, Uma is known as "light" or "splendor," embodying great beauty and divine wisdom.

Indeed.

foreheads pressed

2009-05-13T17:36:00.000-07:00

He was getting restless. And moody.

He suddenly bear hugged me. Pressing his forehead to mine. And said...

Nothing. You need nothing from me. I feel unneeded. If you want to buy something you buy it. If you want to go somewhere you go. If you want love you reach and grab me and take it. If you want to laugh you think of something and giggle.

And he didn't let me respond.
Just walked away.

And then I was restless. And moody.

turophile tuesday: MON-te EH-NEB-roh

2009-05-12T09:09:00.000-07:00

Today I'm going to talk about a cheese I didn't like, from a recent class I taught. In my notes that I'm reviewing, I wrote down: Tangy, very soft, like eating/sucking mustard seeds, funky, TOO FUNKY and then I put a series of doodled sad faces.

In case that hasn't turned you off from the cheese, here is the official story of the cheese. Remember, everyone's palates and taste is different. One man's trash is another man's treasure.

Monte Enebro is handmade in Avila, Spain, by legendary cheesemaker Rafael Baez and his daughter Paloma. The Baezs make their complex goat's milk cheese from pasteurized milk and innoculate the logs with the same mold used to make Roquefort, adding to Monte Enebro's complexity and distinctive appearance. Air-shipped to Artisanal at only 21 days, Monte Enebro arrives creamy, lemony and slightly acidic; as it ages, the texture becomes denser and the flavor acquires more intense, pungent finish. Pair this cheese with Sauterenes or a Spanish desert wine.