The Never Ending Journey

Ah, coffee. You were the highlight of my day.

My mother and I departed Salt Lake this morning at 10:18. Oh, wait. No we didn't! We departed at 12:20, two hours late. Thanks, United.

We missed our lunch date with our cousins (disappointing) but trekked up to Emporio Rulli anyway. Having risen at 630 (after a nice wakeup at 2am, 4am, and 6am - Iain!) and breakfasted at 7, we needed a little something to keep us from biting Californians.

But we ought to have known that our morning of delay, frostbite (small airplane plus cotton socks- ZOMG), and frustration (101N? Ha! Try 101S to 380 to 280 to endless traffic in SF) bode ill for a service experience. We happened to visit Rulli on a day when they were breaking in two new employees. So it took ten minutes just to order, then we waited endlessly for our coffee and sandwiches, then we found that Mother's turkey sandwich had morphed into a ham sandwich.

I might have stalked into the cafe and proclaimed, "My mother's Jewish, this ain't gon' fly!"

Ahem.

Anyway, while we waited the couple of women next to us got up, kissy-faced, bade one another goodbye and separated. So when two men walked up and said, "Is this table open?" I said, "Yes!" Then one woman came back. Oops. She was a complete...person who rides a broom. "What made you think I was gone? What kind of person just takes a table? Where's my stuff?"

Sandwiches consumed. Coffee swallowed. Let's get the heck out of here. Which way? How about this way? Nope. How about that way? Nope. Ten minutes up a crazy, windy, tree-lined road with ABSOLUTELY NO PLACE TO TURN AROUND? Sure. Great. Let's do it again.

Finally on the 101, we spent three hours in traffic. Every time we thought it was over it popped up again. Let me tell you about the 7 exits for Novato.

At last. AT LAST, we reached exit 523 - California Highway 128. Yay! Mendocino!

No. No. No.

68 miles on a windy, two-lane road lined with: construction, redwoods, boulders.

We finally arrived, achy and punch-drunk, at 815 Pacific time. Our B&B is utterly adorable. We're watching TV, drinking water in wine glasses (it's wine country, y'all), and eating the cookies we bought at Emporio Rulli. Thank god for those cookies, because there won't be any supper tonight.

help. me.

Gifts

Me: What should we give Cousin Audrey for Christmas?
Iain: I don't know. What kind of Legos does she like?
Me: I'm not sure if she likes Legos.
Iain: No, what type of Legos does she like?
Me: She might not like Legos at all. She might like dolls or trucks or balls or playing kitchen.
Iain: Ok, so we'll give her Duplos.

The Random

I have a deal for you.

Never give me honey.

It gives me a knee ache.

What's a balcony?

-found poetry by Iain

Strut the Mutt

We took six photos. Iain closed his eyes in every single one. I think this is his idea of what smiling looks like.

Yesterday Iain joined about two thousand other Salt Lake-ians (Lakers? Salties? Meh.) at Liberty Park for the annual Strut Your Mutt benefit for Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.

Boris joined us, of course. Being half Labrador and half ?, he's the perfect subject of a mutt strut. I wasn't sure how he'd handle so many people and dogs but it turns out that faced with total chaos he becomes Velcro Dog ("I will stick to your side!"). Iain was the same, holding my hand for the entire walk.

Wait, what?

Iain walked? Iain? The kid who rode in his BOB for Maddy's Run? The kid who claims his legs hurt anytime he has to walk around the grocery?

Yes, that kid. He walked two blocks from the car to the park. He walked all the way around the park. He walked back to the car.

If you look closely at the image above, you'll see how I managed this. Chocolate pudding pops have a significant motivational effect, especially at 10am.

Joshua Tree Time Lapse

Ascendance from Henry Jun Wah Lee / Evosia on Vimeo.

Lovely.

Rice Cooker

Click on image to go to Amazon.com. No one paid me for this post. No one pays me for anything on this blog. The very idea is hilarious. I think about 5 people read this blog on a semi-regular basis.

Sometimes you have to face reality.

I don't recommend doing so regularly - too depressing. But every now and then, especially after a protracted struggle, you just have to acknowledge the truth.

In this case: I'm no good at rice.

I love rice. Wild, white, brown, fried, coconut, sticky, pudding and any other kind you can imagine. But I've tried for years to cook it the regular way (in a pot, with a lid). The results have been pathetic at worst and modest at best.

Meanwhile, I read a few food blogs devoted to Japanese home cooking and bento lunches. No shame in a rice cooker on those blogs. It's just another device and one that can make life a lot easier.

So I faced my rice reality and bought a rice cooker. It's moderate in size - 3 cups - because there are only 3 of us. How much rice can we consume?

Maybe a lot. Actually. It's kind of amazing to pop in a scoop of rice, slosh in the water, click shut the lid and press the button to produce cooked rice. I'm not an expert rice-eater and I can't say that the first batch blew my mind. But guess what? It was cooked. All the way. Not swimming in white water, not mushy, not crackling under your teeth in a way that elicits furtive little glances ("Should I mention that the rice isn't cooked? Better not.").

Several years ago I gave up on pie crust. Whatever gene you need to make good pie crust, I don't have it. So I buy Pillsbury like everyone else (not everyone, of course. I know at least five people who make outstanding pie crust. Just not me.).

This is a moment like that one. Eventually, you just abandon the search for The You You'd Like To Be and embrace The You That Is.

All Set

Throne? Check. Two stuffed animals? Check. Pillow? Check. Blanket? Check. 

Moooooommmm! Can I watch My Big, Big Friend???