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About this blog

Random musings on Romance

Entries in this blog

 

Anyone need a worker for the summer?

Originally I was set to teach a course in the summer, one which was meant to include local high school students. It was a great program--the thought is to include them on certain popular courses so that their transition to college (be it community college or a 4-year college) would be better. 6 weeks, and a collegiate course. It was going to be tough, but hell, I was up for the challenge!   News just came down the pipe...the high school district just now realized that the high school students (who would be the bulk of the students) are at different preparation stages, depending on their schools, so they wouldn't all be ready for the course...that, and there was an issue with enough students taking their courses in the fall. So the course was cancelled.   This puts me in a difficult position. One college that I'm associated with (the main one I work at) doesn't need anyone else; they barely fill the one Spanish course they offer for the summer. As of now, I got no other offers. Another college I have worked at doesn't make their summer schedule for a couple of weeks yet, so perhaps something will come about. If I get nothing, I'm seriously going to be short on funds; I'll have to pick up work elsewhere. I guess it's no big deal, just that I really hate being in limbo.   I guess if there is a positive side, I don't have to teach an 8am class 4 days a week now!?   (Gah, this has been a craptastic week.)

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Oh the idiocy of it all...

I decided that I'd go out for sushi tonight...and being that I live in Japantown, well, I knew it'd be good. Oh boy...I oopsed big time.   I'm allergic to shellfish. It's an interesting food allergy...comes in a variety of forms. Usually, the afflicted person is more affected by either crustaceans, mollusks or cephalopods; for me, crustaceans are evil. It also afflicts the poor soul in a variety of ways: the worst being apoplectic shock, others are covered in hives, and those like me are incredibly nauseous. And I'm really careful, especially when eating at a 'seafood' restaurant. I love sushi, but I know to be careful of some rolls. Ok, most rolls.   So I go in, and order my 2 favorites--toro/fatty tuna and unagi/freshwater eel--and want something new. I saw this roll called "Peach Bow"...unagi, salmon, and avocado in a beautiful roll, with tobiko (really small roe) on top. Ok...sounded good. Um, I must have missed an element...because there's imitation crab in there, too. And I didn't realize it until my last piece, which fell apart, revealing it's evil insides.   Oh crap...well, here comes the time bomb.   See, here's the thing about imitation crab: it's mostly white fish (often haddock), but can have flecks of real shellfish, especially crab, in it. It's also got 'shellfish juice' (probably shellfish stock) in there, in order to give flavor. So in any given piece of 'fake crab' I could have zero reaction...or a fair amount of one. And it happens with me about 30 minutes after I eat...joyous!!   So, by the time I walk home, it's almost been half an hour...and I'm already having bad indigestion with stomach pangs. This is common if I eat something that had shellfish in it, but no actual shellfish eaten. In the meantime, Bella can't get enough of my breath...she smells fish, perhaps smells crab, and wants to know where hers is. I told her no...but she's about as hardheaded as I am...so she didn't give up. I sat down in my computer chair, she got on my lap...and about that time I knew that I had better get to the bathroom PDQ. Well, false alarm...still, I'm still burping horribly and have a bad feeling in my stomach...oh man, it's gonna be a long night...and it's pretty much my undoing!!! Yeesh!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Cienfuegos Tiene Ya Su Guanguanc

Ah...beautiful Cuban son playing in the background...just close your eyes, and you can feel the sun warming you to the core as you sip a mojito...ah...paradise.   *screeeeeech*   Bella! Get off of me! I'm daydreaming in the sun patch on the living room floor! Go get your own sun patch!   Cats...seriously....   Ok, I confess: I'm dreaming of wonderful tropical climes because it's damned cold outside.   Ok, ok, I confess again: I'm a native Californian, and we're weather wusses. What's cold for us is a brisk spring day for most in the Frozen North. I don't wanna hear it. All I know is that, while it may be sunny out, the air temperature *might* be 50'F in the daytime, and the strong northwestern winds are blowing a gale, bringing the relative temps down to 35'F or so. Holy cripes, that's cold.   Normally I would wait until after New Years' Day to take down the Christmas decorations, but somehow I'm done with them already. I don't know, maybe I put them up just a bit too early...Thanksgiving weekend. Regardless, everything came down today, including the lights on the deck. That meant going out there and trying to stay upright as the win did its best to knock me down. I won, in case you were curious. I think I've never been so happy to have my cat lick my nose afterward...she thawed it out, for certain.   But, indoors, that's a different story. I share my cat's predilection of taking an afternoon snooze in the sun, something that I have enjoyed since I was a ni

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

True comfort in food

There are certain smells that just call to us as individuals. Some come from outside--the smell of sweet jasmine in the summer, or of freshly-cut grass. Some come from the inside of an oven, or on top of a stove...perhaps even on a grill. These scents awaken our olfactory system, setting our bodies in motion for a culinary experience which is second to none. Oh, perhaps it revolves around a 5-star feast that would make any gourmand melt into a pile of goo, but more often than not these gastronomic creations come not just from the home, but from the heart. In a phrase, I'm talking comfort food.   I have two dishes which will tug at my stomach strings in ways that nothing else can.   One is a good spaghetti gravy...or, for those of you who are not of the Italian-American persuasion, I'm talking about a tomato rag

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

I'm just blown away

Ok, I'm not, really, but it makes for a great title.   I crack up anymore about meteorology and the news. If you're here in the States, and perhaps on some BBC newscasts, the weather here in Northern California made headlines. "Monster storm!" "Buckets of rain!" "Flooding!"   Yeah, ok. Let me 'splain some tings, Loocee: 1) January is usually a wet month for us. Usually November is, too, as is March...this time 'round November was kinda dry, but so far January's holding up its end of the bargain. Granted, it's only the 4th.   2) High winds aren't always usual--certainly not hurricane force winds, true enough. But it does happen. I remember one year my dad had no more gotten down out of the trees after pruning back the cypresses behind the house when the next day a huge storm came in, and possibly would have knocked some of them down. Like I said, it's not usual...but it's happened before.   3) Flooding...what people keep neglecting is that each place that floods is in a goddamn flood plane!!!. Therefore, every year, when storms hit, the tendency is for these areas to flood. Yet people build there...because 'they've always been there'...blah blah blah. Lookit, I do have sympathy for you that you lost your stuff...but whose idea was it to go and live in a natural flood plane? Did you not check the area out before you decided to live there? Oh, sorry, that requires common sense.   Basically, I figure that it has to be 'big news' (hell, it's taken over half of the newscasts locally) because news producers are bored...or perhaps they find this entertaining. Really, I don't need another 'story' about people loading up on supplies and sandbags, nor the trees that randomly came down. The bit about the tree falling in the BART tracks, yeah, that's important (BART, or Bay Area Rapid Transit, is our elevated/subway transit system). Closing of roads and bridges, that's very important. But notes on how a small creek is "20 feet from flood stage, and rising"??? Nope, really, that's ok.   FYI: I'm dry...but then again, I didn't go outside. Go figure.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

31 December 2008; A year in review

My 34th year is now completed. No, I don't want presents...although if you really wish to send me something, I'm sure as hell not gonna pass it up (that'd be dumb). No, I don't want a party thrown in my honor (unless Neph is conjuring up some wonders and delights!)...I'd rather host my own and let you in on the real reason why we're all here. I'm sneaky like that.   This year I have been blessed, much as in years past. Oh, sure, there were bumps in the road, but what the hell...honestly, life would be dull as watching paint dry without those twists in the road. There were some great adventures this year--some great friends made in the process--and overall I'm pleased with where I'm at. I can do better in some things, and I will, but I've improved in others. After falling off the exercise wagon, I rebounded in a huge way and am back in the losing category...in a good way. I'm working more hours than ever before...making a little more money, but not heaps more. I still live in my little studio, Bella still runs around like an eejit thereby making me guffaw. I can breathe, I can eat, I can sleep, I can use all 5 of my senses fully, I can think and speak whatever damned thing I want, I can be as bloody-minded as I want to be...yep, I've got it all.   My hopes for 2009? Well, I still start off for a weeks'-worth of world peace...maybe if we all tried it for a week, we might actually like it enough to work for it on a continual basis. I still hope for a full-time, tenure-track position, but as the saying goes, you can hope in one hand and shit in the other, and see which one fills up first...I have more work that I need to do on that. Mostly, I just hope that everyone I know, and pretty much everone else, too, has a very happy and healthy 2009...that we all remain positive, because things will get better. They always do

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

The Most Wonderful Time of Year

Sure, the song talks about the holiday spirit, the thrill of meeting up with family and friends, of enjoying a bit of Christmas Cheer as we celebrate a season of giving.   But, see, this also is a most wonderful time of year for the professorial types. It's the end of fall term.   Most of my grading for the semester is done...everything but the final exams and some wayward homework assignments that seem to find my mailbox on campus. And then...judgment day, or days, in my case; Monday night and Tuesday mid-morning, my students will be int he computer lab, banging away their final essay in Spanish, as I finalize the gradebooks in everything but the final exam. And this time, I don't have much time to get the grading done, as one of my closest friends comes in on Wednesday night for a few days of visiting and sight-seeing. So, basically, the finality of the semester, followed by fun tour-guide   Actually, the reason I love this time of year is simple: normally grumpy, cranky, and generally unpleasant people are actually nice to one another. People help others out, there are more people smiling and generally happy. Even those who have seemingly outgrown the concept of Santa Claus still display the spirit. I love it!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Pleasure little treasure

The funny part about this blog is that I've meant it to be a writing exercise. I wanted to try and write something every day, or at the very least every other day, in order to not lose touch with that side of me. But the last few mornings, I haven't had much, and in fact I've been positively empty. Yet this morning I'm full...well, maybe not full...not quite even half full, but I do feel the need to write something today. It's kinda like being in an exercise routine, and then you have to take a couple of days off. And finally your body screams for some kind of aerobic movement. My brain woke me up 20 minutes early, ready to start with the creative eloquence that is The Language of Love. Now whether it's any good or not....   I found a little surprise at the bottom of the Cheerios box yesterday. Let's be real, I have no children, so I don't buy one box of cereal simply because of the goodies that may or may not lie in the box, so I didn't notice at all that this particular package was supposed to have some sort of toy. So, having finished my box of healthy breakfast food, I noticed a small item at the bottom of the box...it was a race car, a cute, little, cheap plastic race car, meant to promote the upcoming NASCAR season. How cute, I thought. And then in comes Bella, strutting her feline stuff in her precocious way. She's curious as to what I have in my hand, after all it's plastic, and therefore must be approved by her. So, after putting on the labels (because it can't go fast without it's proper labels), I let her smell it. Immediately she takes to it, trying to face rub it and mark it as her own. I put it on the floor and shoot it across the room...immediately Bella's green eyes light up, her butt does the traditional "ooh I'm going to chase that!" wiggle, and off she goes, chasing after the little #3 car. She can't stop playing with it...it's plastic, it's small, it makes rattling sounds (I did mention the lack of quality, right?)...it's right up my cat's alley.   First thing she starts to play with this morning? The black #3 car. She's got a new love

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Get On Your Boots

This has been a very busy week so far, one of many in the coming 8 weeks. My schedule is in full-throttle: 5 courses, meetings galore, students adding, dropping, needing help. I actually love it--to put it mildly, I don't have time to be bored--but it's ruining my reputation. Normally I'm an evening person...most of my energy comes after 3pm, and it's damned near impossible for me to fall asleep before 11:30 or, really, 12. But having to wake up at 5:30 each weekday morning, well, it puts a damper on that whole night-owl image. Last night I came back home from the night class at 8:30, and was wiped out...I barely stayed awake until 11. This just won't do. An acquaintance hipped me in on fish oil, that it helps with the mental synapses that get overfired when we're up and doing a lot of things for a long period of time. I need to try this.   Regardless, this semester I seem to have a great group of students, no dead weights as a friend calls them. These would be the folks who show up to class when they feel like it, participate when they want, and could give a care less about their grade. I tend to weed most all of them out by the first or second class; I don't teach easy classes, and I don't ever want my students thinking that they can sit and do nothing and still pass. But occasionally there's one or two who figure they can charm their way into making class easier for them--if I smile and compliment the professor, maybe she'll not care that I'm talking in the back of class to my friends and texting my homies at the same time. Um, nah, not gonna happen. They tend to drop about half-way through the class. It leaves me with the workers, those who want to learn and earn their grades, and that's just fine with me. Separating the chaff from the wheat, so to speak.   The weather here has returned to winter: cool and rainy for the next few days. I'm kinda happy about it, if for no other reason than the fact that I can wear my black leather knee-high boots. Yes, I love me some shoes, and despite a fixed income I still manage to get bang for my buck. Ok, my shoes serve many functions--I walk around in them all day so they must be comfortable, yet stylish as I don't ever want to be mistaken for the mousy bookworm who could care less about image. Dude, I stand in front of people all day long...I gotta look good. Not perfect--that's not obtainable for me--but well-put-together. And I hate always wearing pants on rainy days...so while I spent a little more on these boots than normal, I don't really care. I like them, I want them...they're mine!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

And the whirlwind tour is done!

Ok, I'm back. Here's the gist of things:   Wednesday: we all get in around 9am, take the shuttle to our hotel in Queens. Since we can't check in yet, we decide to change and take the subway out to Yankee Stadium. The bad news: since we have bleacher seats that day, we can't tour around the rest of the stadium, but that's ok. The game went well--Yankees won convincingly--and the bleachers were just as I love them: great crowd of people, lots of kids, and a good time all around. (And no alcohol sales in the bleachers at Yankee Stadium? Seriously?) Actually, one element which was a bit dour: a young 20ish woman came in and sat behind us, plastered (or, as I term it, chemically altered), with her friend in tow. She was completely incoherent--prolly high more than drunk--and going on and on and on and on. Communism, freedom of speech...there were a few topics touched upon. There were several day camps in our section, and this 'lovely lady' was cussing a blue streak for no reason. She was ultimately 'asked to leave' (aka kicked out), and her friend could not have been more embarrassed. Otherwise, loved the bleachers! But my mom, my brother and I were so tired from the red-eye and running around that we didn't go to dinner at the swanky Manhattan joint we planned...instead we opted for the hotel, a shower, and going down the street to a steakhouse. Great dinner, but we were beat! Early bed time.   Thursday: ok, this part is well explained by Neph. Neph is by far one of the coolest chicas I've ever met, and I can't wait to get back to NYC for a proper tour. My mom got the biggest kick out of her and John, and we both agree that they were awesome tourguides. After we left her, Mom and I met up with my brother at Yankee Stadium. We got there as the gates opened and went to Monument Park. For those who don't know, they have shrines for Yankee greats, both retired numbers of players and plaques noting their accomplishments. It's a beautiful tribute to baseball players (and some front-office people) of yore. Another good game--Yankees lost by a lot--and we got back to the hotel late. Shower, and sleep...a long drive the next day!   Friday: 4 hour drive to Cooperstown, NY, to the Baseball Hall of Fame. And what a place! If you even like baseball, let alone love it like we do, it's a must-see. Cooperstown is truly a small town, common to upstate New York. The HOF is not that big a building and complex, but it's amazing what they have. They have relics and pieces from the earliest days of the game (late 1800s), plus pieces from the most famous moments and players of the game. The hall with the plaques of those enshrined was by far the most touching...I found myself tearing up at those recently-inducted who have supplied me with an entire childhood of memories. But still, to read the plaques of Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Willie Mays, and so many, many more, well, honestly there isn't a word for it. If you love a sport, to go to it's 'hall of fame' is truly breathtaking. This was no different. So, after spending a few hours there, we had dinner in town and went back to our hotel room the next town over.   Saturday: woke up to...DOWNPOURING RAIN!!! That was fun (not). But got out ok, and had a 3 1/2 hour drive to Boston. We thought we out-ran the rain, and we did, but when we had to go to the game at Fenway Park, it caught up with us. Eh, it's all good...a $10 plastic poncho worked well. Anyway, we stayed on Beacon Street, not far from the park, and enjoyed a beautiful evening once the rain cleared. Bleacher seats again in Fenway, and it was WAY better. No offense, Yankee Fans, but "Sawx" Fans have you beat. Very lively crowd (in a good way), tons of fun...felt like I was back at AT&T Park watching my Giants. (With beer sales! Wooooooooo!) Red Sox won (and beat the snot outta my brother's A's...HA HA!), and we went back to the hotel.   Sunday (today): woke up, got out of bed, ran a comb across my head...oops, sorry, Paul. Anyway, went to the airport to leave. We all had noon-time flights--Mom flew back on a different airline than my brother and I. We ended up volunteering to be bumped, and got a $300 voucher and first-class all the way back home for the trouble...but we got in at the same time as we would have. So now I have $300 to spend on American Airlines...hmmmmmmmmmmm....   So, when I have time, I'll post more pictures. Gotta combine them with the ones my mom and I took with her camera, and those of my brother. It was an outstanding trip, but I'm weary. Tomorrow I gotta buy food (ack! the cupboard's bare!) and pick up my cat from the boarder. But I am without words to describe the entire trip...it was spectacular!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Don't Stop Believing

Ordinarily I hate that song. Both on general principals--I dislike Journey passionately--and the fact that it's way overused for sports teams. The concept is...well...to keep the faithful believing that the Home Team (whoever they may be) will in fact to all the way to become the next champions.   Of course, my Giants, or rather fellow Giants fans, chose this song.   Ugh.   SOOOOOOOOOO many others could have been chosen. Instead, we have this bit of insipid guitar chords and wailing.   And yet...the Giants are going on to the next round! I told you they would. Well, I always knew they would. And now we have Philly...and I think we'll beat them, too. Yeah, I said it. So there.   On the flip side, my brother, the Oakland A's fan, is openly rooting against the Giants as he's wont to do. The boy loves disturbing the manure pile. And since his parents and older sister openly root for the Giants, he has to go the opposite way. There's always one in every family.   I remember as a child I would ask, nay, demand of my mom that we see a game at Candlestick Park when the Dodgers came into town. You see, the Giants and the Dodgers have been bitter rivals since their days in New York and Brooklyn, respectively. They carried that out to the West Coast in 1958, with the Giants coming to San Francisco--Baghdad By The Bay--and 'Dem Bums' going down south to Los Angeles--that cesspool of smog and superficiality. In the 1980s, the manager for the Dodgers was one Tommy Lasorda, a man who pitched for the Dodgers (and who was average by all accounts) but who perhaps was their most legendary manager. He would rant and rave to make sure his players got what was right...in all honesty, if he was your manager, you loved him. We Giants fans, well, we hated him...his blood ran Dodger Blue.   I had to go every summer to a game when the Good Guys would beat up on the Dodgers, just so I could boo Lasorda. Of course, we'll ignore the fact that the Dodgers always seemed to play well against the Giants, especially in Candlestick Park--a fact that seems counterintuitive, seeing as how the 'Stick was a hellhole of a baseball stadium, both as a player and as a fan. No matter, I wanted to go and root the Giants on and revile the Dodgers...and my mother loved that. So she would take us...she and I (and my dad, on the rarities that he could come with us) decked out in Orange And Black...and there was Matt, sitting next to us, sometimes in his A's Green and Gold, sometimes not...rooting for the Dodgers. Dammit.   No matter...my prediction for the NLCS: Giants over Phillies in 7 games. Mark it.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

The boys are back in town

Baseball season is back! Wheeeeeeeeeeee! The grand spring tradition is here! Hey now, I love all sports (and I don't consider golf, bowling, or race car driving to be sports; they're amusements), but baseball always seems to tug at my heart strings a bit more. My Giants are 4-0--an amazing feat for a couple of reasons. One, well, they are the only undefeated team left (162-0, baby!...oh, yeah, right). But more importantly, compared to last year's DISMAL start, this is positively amazing. I'm not saying we'll go all the way and win the World Series, but you never know. I'm just saying.   This means, however, that the return of the absolute worst TV announcers in all of sports is here, too. Joe Buck is the son of one of the best in the business-- . Joe doesn't have as much talent in sum as his father did in his pinky finger. And then there's Joe's analyst partner, Tim MacCarver, who is positively the most redundant, most unintelligent person behind the mic. He's never been good, ever; I've been listening to baseball since, well, before I was born, and I've never heard anyone worse than MacCarver. He's never improved his style, his commentary or his delivery...he still comes off as the catcher who's been run into a few too many times. Oh wait, he is. And yet Fox Sports puts them on the Game of the Week every Saturday...gah.   On the other hand... is back...hard as a Giants fan to appreciate ANYTHING from Dodger-land, but Vin might be the best ever. Oh, yeah, and we have our own Hall of Famer, Jon Miller, who is so incredibly smooth. Of the 'younger generation', he might be the best; there's no question why ESPN has tapped him for over 20 years as the voice of their nationally-broadcasted Sunday night games. There are some great radio and tv announcers all over--the Giants and the A's both have great teams (no, I'm not biased ), and I used to love listening to (he of the Hank Aaron, homerun #715 call, doncha know) when I lived in Austin. Oooooh, Bob Uecker...he's been underrated for years nationally; I think because so many beer ads and wrestling appearances, people forgot how great he is in calling a game. Joe Castiglione calls a beautiful game for the Red Sox. And lest you think that sons cannot follow the footsteps of their fathers in the world of broadcasting, let Marty and Thom Brennaman be a reminder of how good you can have it (although most Cubs fans don't agree). There's something magical about either listening to or watching a game, bringing back so many memories for me.  Memories like...being able to afford going to the game. I can't believe how damned expensive the tickets are. It used to be that the cheap seats might cost you $15, and max for the day you'd spend no more than $30. Um, yeah. Now the bleacher seats (which are no longer the cheap seats; those would be the nosebleeders) are $30 alone at AT&T Park, where the Giants call home. The train ride round trip from San Jos

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Margaritaville

Hmmm...perhaps the title should be instead: Mai Tai Ville?   Tomorrow morning I'm off for a 4+ day holiday to Honolulu...a long overdue return to that special place. Oh, sure, there are other areas in the Hawaiian Islands that I want to explore. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I want to see all of them. However, Dad's in Honolulu for 3 weeks, and I decided that I would join him.   This trip marks the first big trip of 2009 for me...and it won't be the last. I know I'll be going to Austin and San Antonio in June to visit two of my best friends. I'll be in Philly right after Christmas for the MLA again, but might be able to swing a trip up to NYC after that...who knows (Neph, don't get your hopes up quite yet!). For once in my life, I can actually afford to go on these trips. Airfare is cheap ($450 for a RT ticket to HNL!!??), and I am making enough money to put in the bank, so that instead of working I can take some time off. True enough, I wanted to take a grander vacation this summer--I have a free ticket on American Airlines. and was going to use it to go to NYC for a few days in the summer before purchasing a ticket from there to either Spain or Italy--but since I don't have a teaching position lined up for the summer, well, there's no extra spending money. On the other hand, I get to see two close people in my life, and that's ok, too.   So, I dropped Bella off at the borders' this afternoon and then got stuck into some cleaning. Sure, it doesn't sound glamorous, but there's something about coming home after a trip to a spotless (or close to it) dwelling. Thing is, once I finished, I really was looking for her...just to cuddle a bit, or play in the backyard. Nope, she's less than a mile away...I leave early in the morning, so I needed to be able to drop her off today. Anyway, I've been reading, cooking (gotta use up the last of the fresh veggies before I go away for a few days), and now I'm bored. I could read some more, but I've had just enough wine (hey, it was open...gotta drink it before it turns to vinegar), so the thought of reading isn't very appealing. I have 20 minutes until the Sharks play, so I'll watch that...but it won't be the same. I'm half missing Bella, half geeked up for this trip.   I think it's the anticipation that kills ya. You want to get to your destination...you want to (in my case) hit the beach, go play in the warm water, and enjoy a well-earned vacation. But I have to wait. I've even checked in online and printed my boarding pass, and set up shuttle service from the airport to the hotel in Honolulu. I've already packed all that I can; the only thing left is my BlackBerry, the charger, and my toothbrush. I guess in theory I could work, but there's no way on God's Green Earth that I'm gonna look at work right now. I'm on vacation, dammit...that can sit and wait. I'd use saltier language, which is really what I'm thinking, but, well, I'm supposed to be chill. Relaxed.   Hmmm...time to watch hockey That'll keep me entertained for a few hours.   So, seeyas on the beach, everyone. Mai tais and pi

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Viene Su

Heh here I am, at the airport in Rome. It's 10pm local. I couldn't get a hotel room near the aiport for the night, and since my flight out is bright and early, I'll just sleep here. Oh, I've done it before, with more luggage than what I have now. And while I had talked people into thinking that I was very comfortable with this, the truth is that I'm only relatively comfortable with this. In some way, I hope that a repeat of 2003 doesn't happen.   **flashing back to 31 July 2003**   I had taken the train from Alicante to Madrid the night before my flight--same situation as now--and camped out in the Madrid airport near the Delta international desk. This woman was sitting next to me, and we started what I then thought would be a short conversation. She said she was from a very small town outside of Grenada, on the coast, and was on a trip to the US. How nice, you say. But there's more, of course. This woman had never been to Seville, let alone Madrid...and she's on her way, alone, to Los Angeles. Um. Yeah. Turns out her husband of 22 years gave her a trip to LA for her 40th birthday, so that she could visit a gentleman friend she made online...who lives in the San Fernando Valley and worked as an actor. Alone.   (For those of who you do not know the area, when someone (especially under the age of 25) says they live in the San Fernando Valley and is an actor, you can pretty much bet that they are in the type of films that require very little clothing and a whole lot of lubrication.)   At any rate, this woman kept me up *all night long* talking about herself, her life, her trip, etc. I did impart wisdom on her--mostly about how while there are Spanish-speakers in the area, don't count on everyone speaking the language, and other important information that one should have when visiting SoCal. But by the time I finally got on the plane the next morning, I was so exhausted that I passed out in my chair, despite sitting in the middle seat of the row. I don't remember much from that flight home.   **returning to the present**   Anyway, hopefully I'll be writing next from my apartment. It's a long day tomorrow: 1 hour flight from Rome to Zurich, 2 hour layover, then a 10 hour flight from Zurich to San Francisco, followed by a 2 hour public transit ride home. But I will be home. And with so very many stories to tell and pictures to show.   Ci vediamo pronto!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Knockin' On Heaven's Door

First, an apology to all 'true' Clapton fans...I know that isn't one of his best songs, and unlike when I usually type out this blog, I'm not even listening to the song on iTunes or in my head. In fact, I don't really like the song. But the title is just so appropriate.   Yesterday I went to sign the lease for the new apartment. Oh how the cherubs in heaven sang! I keep telling myself, 8 more days and I'll be on my way to the apartment that I've wanted for quite some time. Not just new, but around professionals who won't stand outside your window yapping at dark during the week, where I don't have to worry about walking home at night for fear of random intoxicated street folk. A place that is finally big enough to have people come over, and its maintenance will be up to professionals who take such concepts as 'repair' and 'appearance' seriously. A place to truly call home.   I used to have such a place once...from 2003-2005 the apartment in the northwest corner of Austin. That was a gorgeous place...magical, almost, especially given the place I had lived prior. I went from a place that went from ok-acceptable to ghetto in the span of 6 months; in one year we had 40 car break-ins, 10 robberies and 3 attempted rapes in our 150 unit complex. Then I moved northwest, to a gated complex away from any ruffians. Sure, it was a commute to get to campus, but at least I could work in quiet, and I didn't have to worry about much. In fact, the most fearful experience I had was trying to walk to the park-and-ride, which was half a mile. No problem, you say? Well, yeah, but there were no sidewalks, and I had to cross two majorly congested roadways. I decided to drive it instead...felt sheepish and ashamed about it, but figured my safety was a wee bit more important.   The place I'm moving to now is very similar, minus the gate. And I can walk across the parking lots (2 of them) to get to work...easy enough. My biggest worry, I suspect, is students walking over, thinking they can knock on my door and come in for impromptu office hours. Um, no. There will be none of that.   As for now, I have a full weekend with family. The bridal shower for my soon-to-be sister-in-law is Saturday, and then the rest of the weekend with my parents. I'm really looking forward to seeing how incredibly girly this party's gonna get...ok, no I'm not. I'm dreading it. I have a strong suspicion that it'll be all girly games, brainless activities in the name of goofery and supposed fun...and I'll be miserable. But I can put on a brave face for a couple of hours, right?

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Christmas in San Francisco

Every year at Christmas, once school got out, my mom used to take us up to San Francisco. We'd park at the Stonestown Galleria, which is in the outskirts/Park Merced district, and take the street car into Union Square. We'd go to FAO Schwartz to play with the toys and dream of what we'd really love Santa to bring us; we'd have lunch somewhere in some cafe; we'd watch all the ice skaters fall down and look silly on the rink on top of Union Square. We'd gawk at all of the glorious displays in all of the stores...I always wanted to buy something, even if it's small, and sometimes my mom would let us. It was a tradition; my grandmother and great-aunt used to take her, and supposedly my grandmother and great-aunt used to go when they were younger (they didn't move to SF until 1925, and they were teens). To this day, I go at least once during the Christmas season, just to see what is going on.   So I just posted in the gallery my pictures that I took today. There aren't many pictures of displays...it seems that in these economically uncertain times, many stores can't afford them. The Christmas Tree in the center of Union Square is still the focal point, and it's in its usual splendor. It stands strong along with the Dewey Monument, which was erected to mark the accomplishments of Admiral Dewey. Macy's has sponsored the tree for the last 5 years, as they are such a monumental part of the vibrancy of Union Square. But things change: where FAO Schwartz used to stand (it closed several years ago), Nieman Marcus has a store; they now have a tree displayed in the front, but it's nothing like the mobiles, trains, and other miraculous toys the old store had.   Nephele, this is for you: The New York Times' Marquard Liquor Store!   The ice skating that used to be in the Square has been moved to the Embarcadero...and I just didn't feel like crossing town to fight more crowds. But here are some links to the best treats of San Francisco during the holidays:   The San Francisco Ballet's The Nutcracker: I saw it for the first time last year, and was floored. I'm not a ballet person, but it hit me hard...gorgeous.   The Maritime Parade: Many of the boats and yachts in the SF Marina light things up, and show off their wares. The Victorian houses along the Marina and Chrissy Field are wonderfully dressed up, too...on a cool, crisp night it makes for a beautiful walk.   The Embarcadero: Each year, as one comes in from the East Bay and goes across the Bay Bridge, this is the sight that greets you. It's not the Holidays unless the Embarcadero's lit up.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

The inevitable

It took 14 weeks...14 weeks of students who were so stubborn and, in some cases, ignorant...who continuously come to class despite being severely under the weather. And in this case, the maladies mostly revolved around strep throat and bad colds.   Yep, 14 weeks of my immune system fighting the tough battles. Of waging war against those horrific germs who were trying to invade my temple.   Finally...I have become collateral damage in that war against the ill-feelings that are typical with the changes in the temperatures.   Ok, that's being overly dramatic, even for me. I really don't get sick. Even my colds are relatively mild; they'll sap some of my energetic zing, leave me congested and with a bit of a sore throat, but really it's not that bad. But it's definitely annoying.   Last night the sore throat started, and was in full force this morning as I woke up. Raw as can be, the pain going from my throat to my soft palate. But no fever, no real aches, and as the day went on a slight sinus headache did arise...but nothing like what I've had in the past. Advil and Riccola...that's the remedy for the day. Lots of tea. A hot Toddie at night (sheer bliss), and a shot of Robitussin before bed. Guaranteed I'll be better in the morning. Well, I won't sound like it; I'll probably be congested, but the throat will be better (gee, might I have to go to the gym tomorrow and sit in the steam room? Shucks...). These things are usually pretty quick with me.   And the best part? Today was the last day of review for one campus...hardly any talking for my part. I don't teach tomorrow, but I have a make-up final exam to give. So a relaxing weekend is coming up, and I dare say I'm ready for it!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles

I had a confirmation of an epiphany yesterday. It was a revelation of something that I deeply suspected, but had been afraid to act upon for some time, and in truth I should have just bucked up and taken the reins and confronted this truth.   Ladies and gentlemen, I like salmon.   Trust me, this is a shock. For years and years, the only way I liked salmon was as sashimi...since raw salmon didn't have that pungent olor that put me off. And I do love other types of fleshy fish...everything from orange roughy to cod to petrale sole, from tuna of all varieties to swordfish to halibut...love me some eel, skate...just about anything. Except salmon...I just consistently got turned off for years.   Yesterday was my cat's birthday, and my present to her, so to speak, is to go to the fish monger and get her a couple of prawns. It's a birthday dinner that lasts a couple of days, and one which she really can't get enough of. I poach one prawn in a bit of water, cut it up in very small pieces, and serve her with the delicious dish. She eats a bit at first, and then lets it sit so she can savor it the rest of the evening. And she does...I woke up this morning, only to find that the once 3/4 full dish of shrimpy goodness was now empty.   Of course, I'm not just going to buy two shrimp and call it a day...I usually get something for myself. Yesterday at the fish monger there was a huge variety of salmon: Wild Oregonian King Salmon; Australian King Salmon that, according to FishSource, is sustainably and responsibly raised; farmed Coho Salmon--just a start. So after a brief chat with the fish dude, I settled on a small Aussie King Salmon fillet. With a couple of other purchases done, I went home to show Bella her birthday gift, and to contemplate dinner preparation.   My decision was to go basic and simple: drizzle of olive oil, salt, pepper, and chopped herbs from the garden. I wanted to be able to truly taste the fish, so I wanted something clean. I was going to put it on the gas grill outside, but seeing as how there was no more gas in the tank, well, I nixed that idea. So I settled on a quick pan sear on both sides, 2 minutes per side, and then a 5 minute rest. Squeeze of lemon after cooking.   Um...wow...holy wowzer. This was good! What in the hell was I thinking before? Perfectly cooked--meaning barely cooked in the middle--and buttery. No off-putting flavor whatsoever. Amazing! It's still not going to replace my favorite--albacore and bluefin tuna steaks--but it's a damned good investment. Ok, I've been changed.   Which leads me to wonder...were there years of crappy salmon in my past, or have my taste buds changed? What else needs to be crossed off the relatively short list of foods that I do not like?   (By the way, tripe and most organ meats will continue to be on that list...I keep trying, and I can't stomach them.)

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Morning sun

Saturday morning, 6:40. The feline alarm clock is sounding...creeping up on me like those first few rays at dawn, and then full on. RARRARRARRARRARRARRARRARRARRAR You'd think her food bowl was empty. Oh, right, it is.   Eh, I was due to be up at 7 anyway.   I find myself at peace this morning. Quiet. Calm. I have some potential new clients to see this morning, a coffee date in the afternoon, and who knows what tonight. I have more work to do this weekend than I know what to do with, and while that's neither exciting or adventurous, I'd love to have it all finished by the time I give my first final on Monday. And that's not even counting the list of things that need to get done before I leave for the Motherland in less than 3 weeks.   * * * * * * * Yesterday I found myself to be in a Robbie mood. Yes, it's true, the music of Mr. Williams long ago enchanted me, and for the most part I like the latest CD. I also find that when grading a bunch of stuff, I need to get in the mood, which usually entails some type of music that completely engulfs me in a beat that I can bop to, yet can work to. But yesterday, I dunno, I needed me some Robbie. Call me silly, or whatever else, but we all have our guilty pleasures. C'mon, you all need to admit it. Just own up to it. You'll feel better, I promise.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Burn

In case your local or national news hasn't picked it up, there was a massive explosion of a gas main in San Bruno, which is just south of San Francisco. The explosion was so gigantic that people at first thought that it was a plane crash; people inside their houses still felt the heat. Pacific Gas and Electric, the power company here, just confirmed that the gas main was a huge transfer pipeline, a 24-inch pipe that probably carried 300-pounds of pressure, that blew. A producer for ABC News said that a 20-foot section of pipe was split in two, and the explosion also blew a water main, so putting out the main fire took longer than expected. Really, no one knows at this time (10:30pm PDT) how many homes have been disintegrated, how many people are dead, nor how many more have been injured. Definitely, an entire neighborhood is gone.   And I can't stop watching the news.   I live about 15-20 miles away, and while I don't think I know anyone who lives in that specific neighborhood, I can't pull myself away. Less than 1/2 mile away is Skyline College--I worked there for a year, and it is a sister college to the one I work at. I know that some Skyline students come down to my college for courses, and I can only imagine that some of my former colleagues are directly affected.   The organizer in me wants to do something--anything--in order to help. I want organize drives, or reach out to people...something. But sitting on my couch, I feel like I'm here with my thumb up my arse, completely helpless. So far there haven't been any notices from work on how we can help, but I know that by the time I wake up in the morning my email inbox will be filled. My Facebook connections will provide other information. Most likely there will be a blood drive--our campus nurses are in tight with the blood banks.   I guess the good side of this is how people are connecting to help others, whether they know the person or not. On the news reporters are interviewing people, both to get information as well as to show that John Smith and Jane Brown are fine, and are looking for family and friends. A couple of shopping centers are places where emergency services are having people go to register and get services--and the businesses are opening and helping in any way that they can. It's not about earning money or gaining notoriety; it's about helping your community. What a beautiful thing.   Somehow I have to go to sleep tonight. No idea how that's going to work.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

The coolest ever

I want this on record: I have the coolest students ever.   My Intermediate Spanish class is a unique group. 60% of them are over the age of 50, and are taking this to better their knowledge...no requirements here. The rest are a mix of college-aged and teenaged students, taking the course for credit towards their school or degree. They all knew, like their colleagues in my other classes, that I was gone last week for my dissertation defense. But this class was different.   First, they bombarded me with emails, letting me know that they wished me well, and that they were rooting for me...and that I had better let them know how things turned out. Of course I emailed them with the good news.   Today's class was the first one 'back'...and they had a surprise for me. They all brought out bubbles, and blew bubbles in my honor. They had all signed a card for me. And finally, because I had stated that I was now a PhD, KIA (Know-It-All), they siad that there might be times where I'd be tired of flapping my gums...so they gave me a pair of wind-up chattering teeth!   Honestly, I was absolutely speechless...such a great sense of humor, great level of respect and comraderie. It gives me goosebumps! I'm still speechless!   Earlier this semester I had decided that on the last day I would do a surprise for them...this sealed it. I'm not 100% sure of what I'll do, but guaranteed there will be something in their honor. They have all enriched my lives in a way that no set of students has before...which is saying something, as I have had one great crop of students after another in every institution that I've taught at. But this is even more than what I expected...a true group of friends.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Lazy days

What a feeling...I would have slept in, save for the 10 pound roaring lioness sitting on my chest at 7:05am, wanting to know why I hadn't gotten up 5 minutes earlier like usual (I swear, I need to train Bella on the concept of sleeping in...). But I really had nothing to do today. I finished all of the planning for my Tues/Thurs course, and the other set of courses is all planned--now I just need the contract and other paperwork to get into the system, which would allow me to upload everything and finish some loose ends. Nothing left to do with research; well, that's not entirely true, but I have decided to take a quick break, typical for the very beginning of a semester, and I'll pick it up again in a couple of weeks.   More importantly, I was exhausted. I needed a do-nothing day. A lazy day. And by Jove, I got one!   Started off with a hearty breakfast (God, I love oatmeal), and off to the gym. Since it's only a mile away, I tend to walk there unless I have errands to do later. Did a good workout, and then came home to shower. My brother had brought his car in to the shop earlier, and so 11:30ish I dropped him off to the shop to pick it up. On the way home, I farted around in the local small market--stocked up on fruit (the strawberries right now are pure sugar!) and got a deli sammie (or sarnie, or whatever you're gonna call it) for lunch. Came home, ate, and promptly passed out on the living room floor with Bella, both of us with stomachs full of mesquite-roasted turkey (ok, she only had a nibble...I had the rest).   After a couple of cat naps, I logged onto the computer for a short time, and then started watching my favorite afternoon shows. Oh, and steamed up some artichokes for later. My brother decided he was cooking dinner tonight, so I didn't even have to cook. After a plateful of gnocchi in ragu and a salad, I'm here again, content and full. Relaxed. The only thing keeping me away from alcohol today (and this evening) is the next couple of days...I'll need every ounce of energy tomorrow, and Friday's gonna be busy, too.   Man...this must be what it's like to be rich and have nothing to do!!!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Almost a century of memories

Today is a very special day in my family, as my great aunt turns 99 today.   Yes, 99. And while arthritis has slowed her to the point that tortoises move faster and farther than she does, and while her "forgetter" tends to work more than her "rememberer," this woman is amazing. Yes, there is someone who comes in 4-5 days a week for a few hours a day, and she probably needs to be put in a place where there is 24-hour care, but at the same time when she has a good day you hear about long-lost memories of times gone by, both of personal history and the history of this country.   I called her a little while ago to wish her a happy birthday, after I had just come in from a long bike ride. When I told her this, she relayed a story of how when she was a little girl, she was riding her dad's bicycle in rural Watsonville, going back and forth, feeling the wind run through her blond locks. She hit a sandbar...and, well, how to put this delicately, she landed on the support bar that ran between the yoke of the bike and the column where the seat is situated. "I *still* feel it today!" she cried.   She asked about work, and I told her that it's somewhat tense now, because we know we'll have to make cuts but the when and how much is still being negotiated, well, it's a bit unsettling. At which point we talked about her memories of the Great Depression; she and her new husband married in 1932, and had the first 4 years of their marriage where they luckily had jobs, but had cutbacks to deal with, which cut into their savings. But in 1936 they were able to move down the street from where they first lived, into a 5-room unfurnished flat *and* had the money for furniture. Then, in 1939, they moved to their final place, in the Cow Hollow (and very nice) area of San Francisco, where they have lived ever since. Uncle Bruno died in 1985, but she still soldiers on. The stairs make it so that she really can't go down anymore, but this woman used to walk to the bus stop to go to the store up until a few years ago, well into her 80s. Once she got into her 90s, she has slowed quite a bit, but her mind is quite sharp still. Sure, it's not quite like it used to be, but it's amazing that she's not just sitting in a bed, a vegetable. She has pretty good memories of her childhood and of the major events in her life; it's just her short-term memory that isn't quite working anymore.   But still...she's still here A la vecchiaia! (I promise, that's what she's called herself for years...and I guess she is 'the ancient one'.)   Happy birthday, Mary Petrucci...buon compleanno!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Hello

I know, I know, I haven't been very active on the blogs lately. No, I haven't fallen off into the deep end. Just that I moved to a new apartment, one right on campus to my main employer. This brand-new construction has had some glitches, including the fact that the powers that be forgot to hook it up to the internet and cable grid. So, it might be another week yet before I have internet at home, or tv for that matter. Mildly annoying, and it doesn't fit in with my plans, but what are you going to do?   Therefore, I am relegated to having to walk across the street with my laptop and hook up to the wifi several times a day. Like I said, mildly annoying. And to be honest, I've been bitching about it to a select group of people, who are like minded. Then it dawned on me yesterday...I need to really let this go. I can't do a thing about it. Patience is a virtue, one that I possess at times. I'll just have to take it for now.   Because, in all truthfulness, there is nothing about this place I don't like. It is damned near perfect. I have a view that I haven't had in years, of the Coastal Range; I see the fog pouring over the hills every night, and retreating back every morning. I walk to work, or have a very short drive for the private groups, so I use less than half of the gas as before. The apartment is twice the size, plus a garage, with brand-new everything, and high-efficiency appliances. It's no joke to say that my living situation has improved 100 fold.   Now it's time for me to run along to class. I'll fill you in later with more, and include some pictures in the gallery.

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

 

Recipe of the day: Sarah's Double

Ok, I made that up...but I decided that I was going to do something different the next time that I make a burger. I'd make 2 and stack them!   Before you start wondering about the possible expanding waistline, no, I'm not doubling up on the meat. I usually buy ground chuck in bulk and portion it out to 1/2 lb. chunks, and will have a 1/2 lb. burger. Also, I don't usually have my burger on a bun...never cared for it, really, and I'd rather have more meat and other stuff.   So, plan of attack: make a double burger with the usual 1/2 lb. of meat, but make it different. This ain't your granny's burger!   The meat was prepared as always: a pinch of salt, a few cracks of pepper, and a couple of dashes of worcestershire sauce. I made two patties, maybe only 1/4 inch thick...I wanted them thin, so I could actually eat the darned thing. I usually let the patty (or, in this case, patties) sit for a few minutes to soak up the seasonings, and in the meantime, I turned my attention to the accoutrement.   I have a complete affinity for sauteed onions and mushrooms, and figured that both would be good on the burger. But how would I stack it? Would I use both? Or have one on the side? Decisions, decisions...all of which I made as I sauteed the two in some olive oil.   Then I had it: the onions would go between the patties, along with the slice of cheese (both for taste and as a 'glue'). The mushrooms on the side, to be eaten at my leisure. Genius! One of those so-called 'stuffed burgers', but with the meat actually cooked and done to my liking!   Once the veggies were done, I went to brown up the patties. Not too much...I wanted a 'crust' on the outsides, but a juicy burger inside. When ready, I did the stack: meat, cheese, sauteed onions, meat. YUM!   On the side, I had some 4 bean relish, which really is more like a salad. I made this yesterday, and it has been marinating in the fridge since. I know I won't be able to eat all of the salad before I'm sick of it, but I figure it's a great source of protein and fiber, plus very low in fat...therefore a great side during a week that is supposed to heat up. (By the by, peppadews are a Cajun marinated pepper, much like pepperoncini but there's a hair of sugar in the pickling liquid. If you find them, they'll be in the deli area where one gets olives. The recipe suggests using roasted red peppers if you can't find them, and I'd say do half the amount as the roasted red pepeprs, the other half as pepperoncini.) Oh, and the sauteed mushrooms, of course.   Dessert, you ask? Oh, in a bit I'll have some lemon sorbet, with some cherry preserves that I just made up this afternoon. Tell me that I'm not enjoying my Saturday!

docoflove1974

docoflove1974

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