tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347777202024-03-14T00:29:12.819-07:00La Vida DesconocidaElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.comBlogger204125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-71258894305121994772013-04-14T09:00:00.000-07:002013-04-14T09:00:08.868-07:00The Life No Longer Unknown "La Vida Desconocida" means "the life unknown" in Spanish. I started this blog in 2007 when I moved to Chile, and since then have used it to document my adventures around the country and the globe. Now that I've settled down in one place, my life is a little bit more "known" and it feels like time for a change.<br />
<br />
Today, I officially retire My Unknown Life. It's been a wonderful outlet for my thoughts and photos, and I'm so glad I have it as a lasting record of the last six years.<br />
<br />
But, as they say... onward! If you want to follow what I'm up to now, you can find me over at <a href="http://myukiah.wordpress.com/">My Ukiah</a>.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading.<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
Elizabeth<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4khiukgd7lQ/UWijyujgoRI/AAAAAAAAHCY/_1tw1BTxx9Q/s1600/cheers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4khiukgd7lQ/UWijyujgoRI/AAAAAAAAHCY/_1tw1BTxx9Q/s320/cheers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-61379236313328589202013-04-12T11:30:00.000-07:002013-04-12T11:59:48.254-07:00Philadelphia, this time last yearI lived in Philadelphia on and off from 2005-2008, and I have made an annual spring trip to Philadelphia ever since, sometimes for as long as a month but never fewer than 10 days. This will be the first year I don't make the pilgrimage, so I thought I'd pay homage to my one-time home by writing about last year's trip (which I never got around to doing before) and my awesome friends back east. Today, April 12, was the first day of my eleven-day trip last year (just two days after I got back from my three-week road trip through California during which I decided to come back to Ukiah. I had no idea then that I'd stay here forever).<br />
<br />
<b>Adam and Lydia</b><br />
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;">Every year I stay with Adam and Lydia. At first it was the spare room in their Rittenhouse Square apartment on Pine street, then there was one year in the spare room in their row house in south Philly on Montrose, then two years in their industrial loft on Washington street. This year I would have gotten the guest bedroom in the house they recently bought near Passyunk Square. The good news is I will get to see them at their wedding in Seattle on June 1.</span></div>
<br />
Every year, we go out to at least one fancy dinner. Last year they took me to their favorite restaurant, a chic spot called Fond that serves haute cuisine without the haute attitude. They know the chef and he came out and chatted with us several times. We had course after course of incredible eats. Here's a picture of us at some point during the meal:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zY1nlV5nYGM/UUn5ME_sZuI/AAAAAAAAG-I/fOkoVoQrDU8/s1600/Adam+Lydia+Fond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zY1nlV5nYGM/UUn5ME_sZuI/AAAAAAAAG-I/fOkoVoQrDU8/s320/Adam+Lydia+Fond.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A short while after I left town, Adam took Lydia to Fond and proposed!<br />
<br />
I can't fully express my gratitude to Adam and Lydia for letting me stay, year after year. Some of my favorite memories are Sunday nights on their couch, eating take-out or something yummy that Lydia made, watching HBO or Showtime originals. A close second? Long, lazy, hot afternoons in the backyard of the Jamaican Jerk Hut, drinking booze from a tub of ice, listening to live music, playing board games, and waiting an hour or more for our food to arrive.<br />
<br />
I know that if and when I make my way back east, they'll throw open their doors for me.<br />
<br />
<b>Matt and Katharine</b><br />
<br />
Like everyone other than Adam and Lydia (and Apex coworkers), I met these two in the free poker league that was all the rage in 2005. Their steadfastness is reassuring - they've lived in the same house since I met them, even after a fire required them to temporarily relocate across the street while repairs were made. Every time I visit they throw me a party, and they love cooking and eating and entertaining as much as I do.<br />
<br />
Katharine's work schedule usually means I only see her at night, but Matt has always had a lot of flexibility that allows him to pick me up from and drop me off at the airport, for which I always repay him via one of Phila's infamous sandwiches. Last year it was Paesano's in the Italian Market, and it was so good the first time that we ate it on our way back to the airport eleven days later:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TsTYw-tkzvk/UUn5dpU6XOI/AAAAAAAAHAA/o5i8s5LeJbk/s1600/Matt+Paesano's.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TsTYw-tkzvk/UUn5dpU6XOI/AAAAAAAAHAA/o5i8s5LeJbk/s320/Matt+Paesano's.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scrumptious</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We also tend to go on mini adventures around the area. Last year we trekked out to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delaware_Water_Gap">Delaware Water Gap</a> (which is not in Delaware) on a particularly hot day. Matt took pictures and I went swimming.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_zr-SIjjuk/UUn5j00ddAI/AAAAAAAAHAw/a2mmI639R_o/s1600/Water+Gap+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_zr-SIjjuk/UUn5j00ddAI/AAAAAAAAHAw/a2mmI639R_o/s320/Water+Gap+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuDH035ZiQU/UUn5qyrpT3I/AAAAAAAAHBU/nlHTF7cBgcc/s1600/water+gap+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuDH035ZiQU/UUn5qyrpT3I/AAAAAAAAHBU/nlHTF7cBgcc/s320/water+gap+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5szu6tcyvGs/UUn5n84ON7I/AAAAAAAAHBA/GBXCVWDOuBA/s1600/Water+gap+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5szu6tcyvGs/UUn5n84ON7I/AAAAAAAAHBA/GBXCVWDOuBA/s320/Water+gap+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the closest I'll ever get to doing the Appalachian trail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I remember at one point along the river there were dozens of frogs mating. We watched that for awhile until I decided we were invading their privacy.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XdWEKx1O_cc/UUn5nikEkoI/AAAAAAAAHA4/Vs0XSvLQgBg/s1600/Water+gap+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XdWEKx1O_cc/UUn5nikEkoI/AAAAAAAAHA4/Vs0XSvLQgBg/s320/Water+gap+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Matt among the frogs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Water Gap area is huge, so we drove around to some different spots for pictures and sight-seeing. The last place we went was a swimming hole under a waterfall. There were some local teens there jumping off a rock into a narrow but deep pool (at least they weren't drinking). Once they left Matt and I spent a few serene minutes there enjoying the quiet rush of water before driving back to the city.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b78ScjZcz00/UUn5q2ArjuI/AAAAAAAAHBQ/VSf9dS_i6Y8/s1600/Water+gap+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b78ScjZcz00/UUn5q2ArjuI/AAAAAAAAHBQ/VSf9dS_i6Y8/s320/Water+gap+6.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone had made quite a few of these piles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--G9NQQ6BUfg/UUn5pDhl9BI/AAAAAAAAHBI/cUf3qAp_shs/s1600/Water+gap+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--G9NQQ6BUfg/UUn5pDhl9BI/AAAAAAAAHBI/cUf3qAp_shs/s320/Water+gap+5.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teens enjoy the swimming hole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As my trip was coming to a close, Matt and Katharine had a dinner party in my honor.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vWDCcHkQJeE/UUn5blvQhgI/AAAAAAAAG_4/dVKssQjHNs0/s1600/Matt+Katharine+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vWDCcHkQJeE/UUn5blvQhgI/AAAAAAAAG_4/dVKssQjHNs0/s320/Matt+Katharine+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Making their famous pork dumplings</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XY1SRkqjJxo/UUn5Zq8IdrI/AAAAAAAAG_o/iXTIgxpASC8/s1600/Matt+Katharine+party+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XY1SRkqjJxo/UUn5Zq8IdrI/AAAAAAAAG_o/iXTIgxpASC8/s320/Matt+Katharine+party+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left: Han, Matt, Tim, Katharine, and Tim's brother Matt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2M14XBGeWOo/UUn5ahFnDzI/AAAAAAAAG_w/WWYzbrKM6sg/s1600/Matt+Katharine+party+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2M14XBGeWOo/UUn5ahFnDzI/AAAAAAAAG_w/WWYzbrKM6sg/s320/Matt+Katharine+party+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rita, Nick, Lydia being an adorable dork, and Adam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Many heartfelt thanks to my dear West Philadelphia friends for always being so genuinely enthusiastic about my visits, and for feeding me on a regular basis.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Millar (and now, Chrissie!)</b><br />
<br />
Mike, or "Millar" as we more affectionately call him, was also part of the poker gang. His is a strong personality, but what else would you expect from a NY-raised city boy? At his core he's a puppy, and I was blessed to spend several evenings with him and his girlfriend Chrissie who I met for the first time during last year's trip.<br />
<br />
Millar and I always organize a baseball outing, and it ALWAYS includes at least one and often two giant subs from Primo's hoagies (conveniently located on the same block as their new house). We had a great group - Millar and Chrissie, Matt and Katharine, Lydia and me. We usually get pretty nice weather and this year was no exception. I can't tell you if we won or lost but I do remember having a great time. For some reason I always particularly enjoy riding the subway there and back - three cheers for public transportation!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l89cV1JvtBs/UUn5Q5ks-0I/AAAAAAAAG-o/_NolHsaTDCs/s1600/Eli+baseball+game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l89cV1JvtBs/UUn5Q5ks-0I/AAAAAAAAG-o/_NolHsaTDCs/s320/Eli+baseball+game.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proudly holding the giant subs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zGv3qdSFZzM/UUn5e0_rU2I/AAAAAAAAHAQ/DP-vTZjP4jI/s1600/Millar+Chrissie+game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zGv3qdSFZzM/UUn5e0_rU2I/AAAAAAAAHAQ/DP-vTZjP4jI/s320/Millar+Chrissie+game.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Millar sports the subs while Chrissie smiles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In addition to the baseball game I spent an overnight at their south Philly rowhouse which involved late-night ping pong and diner breakfast the next day. I really hit it off with Chrissie and I couldn't be happier that my friend has found such a great gal.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mW_9jivrZY0/UUn5ebEchjI/AAAAAAAAHAI/32f24vGs4es/s1600/Millar+Chrissie+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mW_9jivrZY0/UUn5ebEchjI/AAAAAAAAHAI/32f24vGs4es/s320/Millar+Chrissie+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chrissie is one badass chick (yes, that's her bike)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Erica and Ben</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Ben was one of the original poker crew too, but unfortunately he finally finished his PhD and moved back to London. This was the first year he wasn't around and his absence was sorely noted.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FKP9GmZbpAI/UWZUri_WcjI/AAAAAAAAHCA/VYQg-Szheds/s1600/Ben+and+Katharine+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FKP9GmZbpAI/UWZUri_WcjI/AAAAAAAAHCA/VYQg-Szheds/s320/Ben+and+Katharine+2010.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben and Katharine dyeing Easter eggs <br />
during my 2011 trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Erica is also a poker friend and a girl who likes to have organized fun as much as I do, so that we always manage to spend a little time together during my visit even though her schedule is packed. She was key in orchestrating my first (and only) Six Flags experience in 2010.<br />
<br />
Last year she agreed to meet me for a tour of the Masonic Temple. This is something I'd wanted to do every single year, and I intuitively understood this would be my last opportunity for who knows how long. It was another hot day (I lucked out with the weather - April is usually lovely but can be iffy) and it was nice and cool inside the lodge. Built in 1873, it's one of the most famous Masonic temples in the world. It's also huge - the cornerstone alone weighs 10 tons!<span id="goog_411825847"></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--4g1J_e53-I/UUn5UGGRp3I/AAAAAAAAG_A/mJcGh8J-Qfs/s1600/Masonic+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--4g1J_e53-I/UUn5UGGRp3I/AAAAAAAAG_A/mJcGh8J-Qfs/s320/Masonic+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Masonic Temple facade</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There are seven "decorative" rooms that are used for various meetings and ceremonies, all with a specific cultural theme. I especially liked the Oriental hall, which was copied from a place burned in my memory: the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. The most impressive element of the whole building was that every detail was carved out of plaster! It looked like real wood, real marble, real you name it, but odds are, if it's a decorative detail, it's plaster. Those crazy freemasons sure know how to use a trowel.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rNKV6gwpJlQ/UUn5WM4d1UI/AAAAAAAAG_Q/CZv7Pgii5pI/s1600/Masonic+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rNKV6gwpJlQ/UUn5WM4d1UI/AAAAAAAAG_Q/CZv7Pgii5pI/s320/Masonic+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oriental hall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YJVPlV5zR2Y/UUn5XslavGI/AAAAAAAAG_Y/TycpCpkVgcw/s1600/Masonic+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YJVPlV5zR2Y/UUn5XslavGI/AAAAAAAAG_Y/TycpCpkVgcw/s320/Masonic+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Egyptian room?? It's been awhile so my memory is bad...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8943C4QJ-NA/UUn5Y1T1lwI/AAAAAAAAG_g/laybiLlyozA/s1600/Masonic+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8943C4QJ-NA/UUn5Y1T1lwI/AAAAAAAAG_g/laybiLlyozA/s320/Masonic+4.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Erica admires the room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
From there we walked through Love Park...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv7HuiWer4M/UUn5UhBa9NI/AAAAAAAAG_I/ClrWSa41e54/s1600/Love+Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv7HuiWer4M/UUn5UhBa9NI/AAAAAAAAG_I/ClrWSa41e54/s320/Love+Park.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
...down the Avenue of the Arts, through Logan Square (my favorite of all the fountains), and to the art museum itself. We were thinking about seeing the Van Gogh exhibit because Erica had some free passes, but 1) the passes didn't apply to the exhibit and 2) the next available time was two or three hours away. So we skipped it and I'm pretty sure went out for drinks instead...<br />
<br />
Thanks Erica for being a friend and one of my blog's biggest fans!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ufAxkYhQB0/UUn5NXvPgbI/AAAAAAAAG-U/C2aDinbCCKI/s1600/Eli+Erica+art+museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ufAxkYhQB0/UUn5NXvPgbI/AAAAAAAAG-U/C2aDinbCCKI/s320/Eli+Erica+art+museum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are our "boo Van Gogh" faces.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMtHz8ur-hY/UUn5RGUJrNI/AAAAAAAAG-s/MRmYdRLMVCU/s1600/Eli+statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMtHz8ur-hY/UUn5RGUJrNI/AAAAAAAAG-s/MRmYdRLMVCU/s320/Eli+statue.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on a bear, because... why not?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>NYC Crew</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Of the four people from Argentina I still keep in contact with, two of them live in New York City: Beth and Kim. I always make the 2-3 hour trek via bus to NYC for one or two days to see these gals. Beth graciously lets me sleep on her comfy couch and generally humors my whims, and the three of us always go to a nice meal with a bottle or two of Argentinean wine. To them I am and always will be Eli (pronounced Elly), and I love that we have remained friends - in addition to being wonderful people, they're a connection to a strange and significant part of my past. I think we're all that for each other, actually; there's something about living abroad together that creates lasting bonds. Les amo, chichis.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l_5N9YQSStY/UUn5N64IdRI/AAAAAAAAG-c/xmeqypZsg1Y/s1600/Beth+Kim+NYC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l_5N9YQSStY/UUn5N64IdRI/AAAAAAAAG-c/xmeqypZsg1Y/s320/Beth+Kim+NYC.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Also in NYC is the first person I ever interviewed and subsequently hired to work for me, 9 years ago at Apex. Jacob has always made time to see me when I'm in his adoptive city, despite the natural distance that has come between us in our busy lives. I'm grateful that he is the kind of friend who I can spend an easy and enjoyable few hours with once a year, almost always over soup dumplings in Chinatown, without either of us worrying about the next time we'll see each other or making hollow promises about keeping in touch. Just knowing he's out there in the world doing his thing makes me smile, and that's enough for me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RytYukY1adg/UUn5RUeXRiI/AAAAAAAAG-0/reCf9Eis_IA/s1600/Jacob+NYC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RytYukY1adg/UUn5RUeXRiI/AAAAAAAAG-0/reCf9Eis_IA/s320/Jacob+NYC.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A terrible picture... Sorry, Jacob, but it illustrates the<br />
scene so well!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Other Favorite Memories</b><br />
<br />
No Philadelphia trip is complete without at least one visit to Reading Terminal Market. I eat wonton soup from Sang Kee, a soft, buttery pretzel from Miller's Twist, a cannoli from Termini brothers, or a turkey sandwich from the Dutch Eating Place (love the Amish). I have on at least one occasion eaten all four of those foods in a single day. But sometimes I go just to wander, people watch, smell local soaps, taste jams and pickles, and hopefully catch the sounds of a sweet old lady at the common-area piano.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cmH48xR8aEk/UUn5ih3KBrI/AAAAAAAAHAg/g0NN_37UaNI/s1600/Reading+Terminal+Market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cmH48xR8aEk/UUn5ih3KBrI/AAAAAAAAHAg/g0NN_37UaNI/s320/Reading+Terminal+Market.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U7PCc8DZTo4/UUn5ijq8IMI/AAAAAAAAHAk/5VOXRTZ89_I/s1600/Reading+pianist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U7PCc8DZTo4/UUn5ijq8IMI/AAAAAAAAHAk/5VOXRTZ89_I/s320/Reading+pianist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A more recent tradition is pizza and wine with Millar and Katharine at Zavino. We always manage to snag one of the outdoor tables, the service is impeccable, the pizza divine, and the price tag totally reasonable. I can always count on my Philadelphia friends to be ready at the drop of a hat to get a drink, grab a bite, or pull up some grass in a park - the enthusiastic social scene is one of my favorite things about the city.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I_Rdh32nSAc/UUn5hC6jewI/AAAAAAAAHAY/37S0ry7LsWw/s1600/Millar+Katharine+Zavino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I_Rdh32nSAc/UUn5hC6jewI/AAAAAAAAHAY/37S0ry7LsWw/s320/Millar+Katharine+Zavino.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I know in my 11 days I did more and saw more people (including former Apex coworkers and other poker crew originals) but I feel like I got the essence of this trip - and really, all my trips - down. For now my life is taking me in directions other than a spring visit to Philadelphia, but I'm sure I'll make it back to my east coast home one of these years.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Thank you again to everyone who made my time there so memorable. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h0eNgELFnMs/UUn5NWqp-xI/AAAAAAAAG-Q/Dg0AjbMBdxY/s1600/City+Hall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h0eNgELFnMs/UUn5NWqp-xI/AAAAAAAAG-Q/Dg0AjbMBdxY/s320/City+Hall.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first and always favorite site.<br />
City Hall, one day I shall see you again.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-47727243645212785492013-03-23T13:23:00.000-07:002013-03-23T13:23:00.063-07:00Learning to Ski for FreeIn early February, Carson and I had the opportunity of a lifetime - an all-expenses paid trip to Aspen, Colorado. For nine days we lived like the rich and famous. I write for a company that operates ski tours, and we went as hosts for a large (500+) group. Basically we helped check them in on the first day and then helped throw parties after that. We stayed with another couple who were there as hosts plus the owner of the company in a three bedroom condo that was literally on the slope of Snowmass mountain (the ski area of Aspen has four mountains). It was a little strange having people ski past our windows, but totally luxurious - we all had our own bathrooms for heaven's sake!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QI-99ZC9c84/UUkHCKOzv1I/AAAAAAAAG8A/k4EHB16RjDQ/s1600/Carson+train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QI-99ZC9c84/UUkHCKOzv1I/AAAAAAAAG8A/k4EHB16RjDQ/s320/Carson+train.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare sight - Carson on public transportation! (Riding<br />
BART from Meagan's place in Oakland to SFO).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WujfeiHjVbU/UUkHCAej18I/AAAAAAAAG78/jBzWvMcZRHs/s1600/Condo+skiers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WujfeiHjVbU/UUkHCAej18I/AAAAAAAAG78/jBzWvMcZRHs/s320/Condo+skiers.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took terrible photos of our condo, but you can see<br />
some skiers outside the window here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We stayed at Snowmass, one of Aspen's four mountains. Colorado is GORGEOUS, y'all! Though I was surprised there wasn't more snow. I guess there was less than average, but I still expected all the hills to be covered.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AcGjcBNPD1A/UUkHJQD-KdI/AAAAAAAAG8s/azqI8ZTdOrQ/s1600/Snowmass+base.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AcGjcBNPD1A/UUkHJQD-KdI/AAAAAAAAG8s/azqI8ZTdOrQ/s320/Snowmass+base.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowmass base village</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We were invited on the trip because I didn't know how to ski, and the owner decided I could write more fluently about the ski world if I had participated in it. So on our second day there, Carson and I got outfitted with rentals and rode the gondola to the beginner area of the mountain. He hit the slopes with his snowboard (my one strict rule was that we NOT INTERACT while I was skiing, knowing that boyfriends and learning a frustrating sport are not a good match), and I signed up for my first lesson.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-inw1AWDLhnc/UUkHJvBKogI/AAAAAAAAG80/Lsixm37SrL8/s1600/first+day+lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-inw1AWDLhnc/UUkHJvBKogI/AAAAAAAAG80/Lsixm37SrL8/s320/first+day+lift.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The gondola ride to my first lesson (do I look scared?)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I wasn't particularly excited about skiing, and the first day was rough. It went considerably better once the group split into two and I got the non-condescending teacher, but I still fell down a lot and got frustrated and hated wearing the equipment and was too tired to finish out the day (a five hour lesson, holy hell!) so I stopped about 30 minutes shy of the full day and retreated to the condo to soak in the hot tub.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-align: center;">The next day I woke up not nearly as sore as I expected (knowing it would hit me the day after). We took a break from the mountain and headed into the town of Aspen to poke around before the Superbowl party we were helping to throw. Unlike Vail, Aspen was a town before it was a ski town, so it has a lot of personality (I didn't get any good pictures that demonstrate this, though). Unfortunately a lot of the stores were closed on Sunday, including the thrift store I wanted to check out, but we ate a good lunch at a local spot called Little Annie's. The public transportation around Aspen is incredible - free buses all over the place! That night the Superbowl party was a blast, and the game itself even turned around in the second half with San Francisco making it a less embarrassing loss to Baltimore. </span><br />
<br />
On Monday I woke up sore (as expected) and actually fell back onto the bed the first time I tried to use my legs. It took a lot of coercing on Carson's part to get met out of bed, let alone to my second lesson (which I was pretty much refusing to attend at first). But I would have felt like a schmuck passing up a free lesson on a trip that I was invited to strictly to learn to ski, so... I got my ass out of bed, put on my gear (thanks to my awesome family's thoughtful ski-based birthday presents, I fit right in), and rode the gondola to day two.<br />
<br />
I was very lucky to get placed in a semi-private group with an incredible instructor and a middle aged Indian couple would could not have been nicer. Day two was actually pretty fun. By the end of the day I was riding the (super slow beginner's) lift with confidence, gaining speed, and turning well enough to complete a mini slalom course made up of pine branches on the ground. When Carson met me for lunch I was in a much better mood than when he'd met me on day one, and I managed to make it through the full five hours. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B8XhTBJj3UI/UUkHFm2uwwI/AAAAAAAAG8c/s6auZSz_HZg/s1600/Eli+skis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B8XhTBJj3UI/UUkHFm2uwwI/AAAAAAAAG8c/s6auZSz_HZg/s320/Eli+skis.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A happier me during lesson two.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TX1RhUmPEBM/UUkHIw_wDGI/AAAAAAAAG8k/B2j-LByKo3Y/s1600/beginner+hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TX1RhUmPEBM/UUkHIw_wDGI/AAAAAAAAG8k/B2j-LByKo3Y/s320/beginner+hill.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the beginner hill about halfway down, <br />
with the lift to the right and the main building <br />
at the bottom. Not much snow pack.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The next day we took an overnight trip to Beaver Creek and Vail so I could familiarize myself with the area. While Carson snowboarded, I took property tours - eight hours of looking at hotels and condos, some of which went for as much as 10k a night. Yikes. That night we went out for a "fancy" dinner in Vail, my one request being that we blew some money on a nice meal. Vail is like Disneyland - it's lovely, everything is in its place, and it's completely fake. We had dinner at an Italian restaurant called Campo Fiori. Carson's dish was good, but mine was something that the lowliest Italian kitchen in Philadelphia would have been embarrassed to send out - too-thick ravioli in a bowl of oil (this is not an exaggeration - the "sage brown butter" was a half inch of grease). Had I felt more comfortable in my surroundings I would have sent it back immediately, but feeling like a middle class girl out of her element, I ate it. It was an uncomfortable experience that revealed how easily my confidence can be shaken; looking back now, it's a good reminder that I am not only more comfortable in my middle class life, but unspeakably more happy.<br />
<br />
After the disappointing meal we went for dessert at the Alpenrose. I'd read about their cheesecake and it certainly delivered. The drunk women at the bar were another reminder of what money can do to your life - they were well outfitted but fairly pathetic, wasted on a Tuesday night and giving off a desperate gold digger vibe. Yuck. I enjoyed my dessert all the more looking at my solid and wonderful country boy, remembering the great life waiting for us at the other end of this trip.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g9fYtbvPqyk/UUkHCPtl-CI/AAAAAAAAG7w/R7h-UHQNJYI/s1600/Alpenrose+dessert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g9fYtbvPqyk/UUkHCPtl-CI/AAAAAAAAG7w/R7h-UHQNJYI/s320/Alpenrose+dessert.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We spent the night at a lovely hotel (comped, so awesome) and drove back the next day (I may always regret passing up the chance to go to the <a href="http://www.yampahspa.com/caves">Yampah caves</a> on the way back). They day after that was Thursday, and I was gearing up for a day in my sweat pants on my laptop getting some work done, watching skiers scoot past the windows, and possibly taking a nap. No dice: I was informed that now that my ski lessons were over, it was time to ski on my own. Sigh.<br />
<br />
Carson and I rode the shuttle down to the base to get outfitted with more rentals (comped, as well as our lift tickets - a real extravagance that we were really grateful for) and I rode the gondola back up to where I'd skied for two days. I was the first person of the day on the beginner lift (which I guess is something people care about?) and I skied down the hill I'd become familiar with. There hadn't been any new snowfall recently and the groomed trails were icy, but it was a gentle enough slope that I was okay. I decided it was time to rip off the band-aid and try the next easiest beginner's hill. It scared me and I fell at the bottom, which shook my confidence.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, at this point it was time to meet up with the others to help facilitate some races that the various participating ski clubs were having (we were hosting an annual trip attended by west coast ski clubs). For those of you who don't ski, let me tell you something: many ski resort mountains are HUGE, and Snowmass is definitely one of the big ones. Lifts, quads, and gondolas crisscross the mountain from front to back, with a cat's cradle of paths and trails connecting them together. While I tried to figure out how to get where I needed to be, several pieces of misinformation and bad advice resulted in the following series of events in which I:<br />
<ol>
<li>Rode the quad lift to the middle of the mountain, only to discover that I should have ridden it all the way.</li>
<li>Had to ski a gentle but highly trafficked path, which I did without falling, to get to the next lift which would take me to the top.</li>
<li>Rode the next lift to the top of the mountain, where I was instructed I would find a slope so gentle "it barely counts as a beginner run" which would take me right to the race starting point.</li>
<li>Got on the "gentle slope" which was actually an intermediate hill jam-packed with people whizzing by me at top speed.</li>
<li>Panicked and crashed in front of an instructor giving advanced nine-year-olds a snowboard lesson. She asked me if I needed help getting down the mountain, and I realized I did. She offered to help me down and told me to follow her closely, with the kids trailing behind me.</li>
<li>Made a few successful turns but then crashed again, at which point the instructor told me she didn't feel she could safely get me down the mountain and was going to call ski patrol.</li>
<li>Begged her not to. Began to cry. Sullenly gave in to her reassurances that I'd done really well for my third day of skiing, I'd gotten bad information, it wasn't my fault, this happens several times each day, etc. Weakly thanked her for her help as she and the kids rode away like the experts they were. </li>
<li>Trudged to the side of the mountain to await ski patrol, during which time no fewer than five people stopped to scold me (you can't stand there! you have to cross your skiis in an X! you should have known better!) and check on me (are you ok? do you need help??), all of which made my cheeks burn with the flame of a thousand fires (which turns out were just hot tears on a cold face).</li>
<li>Provided the 20-year-old advance member of the ski patrol team with my basic information. When he tried to move on to casual conversation I managed to eek out a whispered "I don't really feel like talking" without collapsing in my own pathetic sobs, which earned me an aggressive "well FINE" response. Wished for the hundredth time that I was anywhere but there.</li>
<li>Climbed onto the toboggan being dragged by the next ski patrol dude to arrive, mercifully older and less douchey than his coworker. Managed to make a weak joke of some nature as I got myself settled. He assured me we'd go "nice and slow." I assured HIM that I wasn't afraid, just incapable, and that he could go as fast as he wanted. "Cool!" he said.</li>
<li>FLEW DOWN THE MOUNTAIN AT INCREDIBLE SPEEDS. Snow shot out from my savior's skis like water from a hose, covering me head to toe as he took us off-piste on what must have literally been the fastest way down. This was by far the highlight of my day.</li>
<li>Sheepishly climbed off the toboggan, thanked him for the ride, and avoided the curious stares of the hundred people who saw him pull up with me in tow. </li>
<li>Caught the shuttle back to the condo. Considered turning in my two-day rental gear immediately, but didn't. Considered locking myself in our room and avoiding all human contact for as long as possible, but didn't.</li>
<li>Summoned the will to put on my regular snow boots, find out how the "walkers" were getting to the race (mostly wives of skiers who wanted to watch the races but don't ski), and rode the correct lift to the base of the races where I managed to take some pictures for the company's website and have lunch with Carson and Jason and Monica, the other host couple. They congratulated me on having regained composure so quickly and shared their own rescue stories.</li>
<li>Managed to feel okay about myself for the first time all day. </li>
</ol>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jRM09M6fSQQ/UUkHK7m58SI/AAAAAAAAG88/ie-Nx6BRKjk/s1600/lift+panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jRM09M6fSQQ/UUkHK7m58SI/AAAAAAAAG88/ie-Nx6BRKjk/s320/lift+panorama.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have to admit, riding the lifts was pretty fun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
You'd think after day three of skiing I'd be done, but noooo. The prevailing logic was that I couldn't let that be my last ski experience or I'd never ski again (fine by me). But I strapped on all that ridiculous gear AGAIN, taking advantage of our ski-in/ski-out location for the first and only time. Monica (an experienced snowboarder) offered to hang with me on the beginner slope, telling me it's way more fun with a buddy and assuring me it wouldn't be boring for her. She helped me down the slope outside our condo and then we rode the lift to the second easiest slope (the one I skied once and then decided I was ready to go to the top of the mountain). Of course, on my third day of skiing and my first day on my own I should have done nothing BUT that slope, over and over and over again, which is exactly what we did. I'll admit that I did have fun. I got pretty good at parallel turns and she told me I have a natural stance and excellent balance. By the end of our few hours together (I had pressing work that couldn't wait any longer) I was feeling better about myself and what I had learned, and certainly grateful to her for her time and friendship. But I still wasn't sold on skiing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's why: the ski culture, to me, is wasteful (i.e. all that electricity to run lifts and heat uncovered hot tubs 24 hours a day). It clear-cuts mountains and covers nature with elaborate structures, and restricts access to some of the most beautiful places in the world to only those who can afford it (I actually read an article in Aspen magazine that the millionaires were being pushed out by the billionaires - no joke). It's also just kind of silly -the equipment you have to wear is insane, both in terms of expense (high) and comfort (nonexistent). If I wanted to spend hundreds of dollars every year to get cramps in my feet and legs, I'd buy economy class tickets to remote parts of the world. But even if I could get past all that, the payoff isn't <i>that </i>great. Is going sort of fast down an ice chute kind of fun? Sure. But for me, it was just that - kind of fun. There are much more fun things that I can do for way less money and with way less inconvenience than skiing (gardening, for instance; reading a good book; going on the swings or down the slide at my local park). What can I say? I've never been one for adrenaline-pumping activities, even when they're free.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel like the opportunity was sort of squandered on me when so many people would have enjoyed it so much more, but I did get a lot out of the trip. I got to see Colorado for the first time, which is as beautiful as everyone says it is. I got to go on a vacation with my wonderful boyfriend that neither of us could have afforded, and we got to spend time with really cool people. And, in the end, I did get a very valuable sense of the ski world that will directly translate into how I write about it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dPJk2P316Fo/UUkHFGPYKsI/AAAAAAAAG8Q/h0Kjr2R-05o/s1600/Mardi+gras+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dPJk2P316Fo/UUkHFGPYKsI/AAAAAAAAG8Q/h0Kjr2R-05o/s320/Mardi+gras+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the farewell gala, which was mardi gras themed. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the sport itself, I do want to mention the superior staff at Snowmass. With the exception of one slightly condescending instructor (to him, being an adult who couldn't ski was akin to having a first grader's intelligence) and the ski patrol dude who was just young and dumb, every single person I interacted with who worked in some way on the mountain was awesome. This ranges from the shuttle and bus drivers to the rental equipment employees to the ski instructors to the servers at restaurants. I was blown away by their quality of service and authentically positive attitudes, and I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that all of these people live and work there because they love it. They crave proximity to the snow and they form a very tight-knit community. Even though it's not my particular bag, I'm thrilled for those who can find a place to do exactly what they want to be doing. (I also want to mention that the skiers themselves on the trip were by and large down-to-earth, fun-loving folks who were very grateful for our services and didn't act like monied snobs at all.)<br />
<br />
So that was our Colorado vacation, the third vacation in one winter (Carson might kill me if I try to get him to take any more time off this year). Anyone else want to share their "I was rescued by ski patrol" story?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mq-pqWGnJv8/UUkHFapdM4I/AAAAAAAAG8Y/wqng7rO-G7w/s1600/Eli+base.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mq-pqWGnJv8/UUkHFapdM4I/AAAAAAAAG8Y/wqng7rO-G7w/s320/Eli+base.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy with my awesome new boots <br />
on, feet firmly planted on the ground.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-30107269541349708842013-03-21T13:08:00.001-07:002013-03-21T13:47:40.690-07:00It's never, EVER okay<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't often write about "issues," but I feel compelled to share this disturbing graphic created by the organization UltraViolet. When it comes to rape and sexual violence, we need to be able to put aside our political views and ethnic/cultural backgrounds. This is NOT a partisan issue; it is NOT a cultural divide. Rape is a horrifying reality that is swept under the carpet, with rapists going unpunished (and sometimes even getting rewarded) every hour of every day. We need to change that. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It starts with awareness.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What is rape culture? From UltraViolet<span style="font-family: inherit;">: <span style="background-color: white;"><i>It's a set of attitudes that excuse or tolerate rape. Rape culture is when the media sympathizes with the attackers instead of lifting up the courage of the survivor. Rape culture is when we ask "Why did she drink so much?" or "What was she wearing?" instead of stating clearly that rape is never, ever okay.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
I'm not on Facebook, but a lot of you are. <strong style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://act.weareultraviolet.org/go/582?t=1&akid=355.36112.NDrlVL" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Share this infographic on Facebook.</a><i> </i></strong><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Click the image below to enlarge.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kpNsf2unaqI/UUtw87GhNNI/AAAAAAAAHBw/0uMJeg6bDFg/s1600/rape+culture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kpNsf2unaqI/UUtw87GhNNI/AAAAAAAAHBw/0uMJeg6bDFg/s400/rape+culture.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>
</div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-77267134442089189972013-03-20T11:11:00.000-07:002013-03-20T12:18:28.958-07:00One Day, Two PartiesThis past Saturday I pulled the ultimate in over-achiever hosting by throwing two parties in the same day.<br />
<br />
<b>Swap It Out</b><br />
<br />
I was establishing myself as a clothes-swapping maven among a group of Seattleites who <a href="http://crabandbee.com/2011/07/11/clothes-swappin/">really loved the event</a>, so I decided to carry on the tradition in Mendocino. On Saturday it finally came together in an unexpectedly successful afternoon. Considering I've been here less than a year and I can count my girlfriends on one hand, I was delighted that a baker's dozen of local women appeared on my doorstep with baskets and bags and bins of quality clothes to get rid of. I was hopping with glee when I saw the enthusiasm take hold immediately, with women ripping off their shirts to try things on that hadn't even been taken out of someone else's bag yet (modesty is not a virtue at these events).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H2oUwMEIo8w/UUlNxXgwuaI/AAAAAAAAG9g/ZPRyDT-A6Zk/s1600/swap+mayhem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H2oUwMEIo8w/UUlNxXgwuaI/AAAAAAAAG9g/ZPRyDT-A6Zk/s320/swap+mayhem.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The room buzzed with "new to me" clothes energy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxsXgH_952k/UUlNu005hQI/AAAAAAAAG9Q/p-wcnzk-Ixg/s1600/Swap+spread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxsXgH_952k/UUlNu005hQI/AAAAAAAAG9Q/p-wcnzk-Ixg/s320/Swap+spread.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mimosas are the only comestible guaranteed at my swaps,<br />
but there's always lots of good food too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There were some really quality items that appeared and everyone got at least one major score, with a few gals walking away with entirely new wardrobes. I got three dresses (two with pockets!) and a few tops. Of course, every swap has at least one comedic item, and this time it was Susan's hilarious... what is this, a muumuu? An Afghan? Basically it was a sheet sewn together with a hole cut out for the head:</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hv1lS3uWu_Y/UUlNvdUbDZI/AAAAAAAAG9Y/M1lG1xKOb1U/s1600/Swap+gem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hv1lS3uWu_Y/UUlNvdUbDZI/AAAAAAAAG9Y/M1lG1xKOb1U/s320/Swap+gem.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Hilariously enough, when Susan saw me wearing it with my Diana Ross wig, she actually <i>took it back</i>. Swap-backs are not uncommon but they usually don't extend to the ridiculous. I let her have it on the grounds that we be co-owners if I ever feel the need to wear it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kM8kWmGZPpc/UUoIkJcuROI/AAAAAAAAHBg/vpfP49fUFhM/s1600/wig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kM8kWmGZPpc/UUoIkJcuROI/AAAAAAAAHBg/vpfP49fUFhM/s320/wig.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Once people were focusing more on eating and drinking than trying things on, we relocated to the back yard (it was a sunny 75 degree day) for show and tell. Everyone holds up what they got, and the woman who brought it shares any interesting back story. It's always interesting to see who takes whose clothes, and there's usually a pair of women who ended up taking mostly from each other's items.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-by2MENNK7SU/UUlNz4kR2lI/AAAAAAAAG9w/YFbImPRWGX0/s1600/swap+share+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-by2MENNK7SU/UUlNz4kR2lI/AAAAAAAAG9w/YFbImPRWGX0/s320/swap+share+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QKPnzzdiXwc/UUlN0Vm2o2I/AAAAAAAAG94/LpL80zCpZHI/s1600/swap+share+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QKPnzzdiXwc/UUlN0Vm2o2I/AAAAAAAAG94/LpL80zCpZHI/s320/swap+share+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We took a vote on where to donate all the unclaimed items. We sorted out clothing appropriate for young professionals to donate to the CCCs where Sara used to work (and which is currently experiencing its 15 minutes of fame thanks to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKNhCjA0pdU">this video</a>), and the rest of it went to the local Hospice thrift store.<br />
<br />
I think everyone was surprised by how much fun it was and there's already demand for the next one. Whether I host it or someone else does, I think it's safe to say that quarterly clothing swaps are back in my life.<br />
<br />
<b>Barbecue and Sara's "Gone to Alaska" Party</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
My friend Sara is spending the next six months in Alaska, first WWOOFing on a farm in Skagway and then leading a youth crew to build trails in the remote wilderness. She's pretty hard core. Anyway, as my friend and one-time roommate I felt it only appropriate to throw her a little party before sending her on her way, so the same day as the swap (during which I stole a dress from her, citing her inability to use it in Alaska) we had a barbecue. Unfortunately it was still winter (happy first day of spring!) so the warm afternoon turned into a windy, chilly evening, but the party wasn't any less fun inside and we still got to eat barbecued hamburgers thanks to Carson braving the elements.<br />
<br />
Here's our backyard beforehand - we've been doing quite a bit of weeding and prep for the upcoming growing season, including an extension to the existing strawberry patch, and even got a few seeds and starts in the ground. Note the cute barbecue that our friend Drew picked up on the side of the road and generously donated to us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gbXzkHiJ9lA/UUlNyDJxPkI/AAAAAAAAG9o/Yz7p8Q402YY/s1600/garden+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gbXzkHiJ9lA/UUlNyDJxPkI/AAAAAAAAG9o/Yz7p8Q402YY/s320/garden+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some of our friends from Fort Bragg drove over, Timin came down from the mountains, some girls that I met at the swap came with their boyfriends, and Carson's old neighbors came as well - an interesting collection of folks from around the North Coast. We ate potato chips and sour cream dill dip, grass-fed beef burgers, homemade veggie burgers, and this random wild rice pesto salad I made. We drank beer and wine and fruit-infused vodka that Carson made. Then we played "Celebrity" (sort of like Taboo and charades combined) with full bellies, some of us semi-drunk, followed by the "drawing game" which is quickly becoming mandatory any time there are four or more of us in a room (I have never laughed so hard I cried before last Saturday's game). Basically it's telephone, but instead of whispering the phrase you write it down on a piece of paper, and then on the back of that piece of paper the next person has to draw it, and then the next person has to write a phrase based on that drawing, and so on. I've never met someone whose stomach didn't hurt from laughing after playing, even those who were skeptical at first.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I didn't take many pictures of the party, but this one shows a lot of the people who were there:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r7fN0cTtXo0/UUlNuPW3siI/AAAAAAAAG9I/fFLKVd89xVw/s1600/Party+crowd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r7fN0cTtXo0/UUlNuPW3siI/AAAAAAAAG9I/fFLKVd89xVw/s320/Party+crowd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The most important thing for me was that Sara had fun, which she did. I know she's going to love Alaska but she'll keep Mendo in her heart - see you in the fall, Sara!<br />
<br />ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-43130231977251855212013-03-17T21:31:00.002-07:002013-03-19T14:29:11.364-07:00Winter in Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This winter in inland Mendocino county was probably too good to be true. I'm sure next winter will give me a real kick in the pants, and I do wish we'd gotten more rain, but I have to tell you - this mild, sunny winter was a delight from start to finish. Here are some pictures to illustrate it, in no specific order. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q0Jfg8xlrUI/UTkaUYv2QkI/AAAAAAAAG6w/bi3jWTozqAs/s1600/snow!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q0Jfg8xlrUI/UTkaUYv2QkI/AAAAAAAAG6w/bi3jWTozqAs/s320/snow!.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unexpected snow storm while visiting friends in Trinity<br />
county. It all melted by that afternoon (this was a 7 am<br />
"holy crap it's snowing I better get a picture!" shot).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CqKk6Mjfyng/UTkVZZU9NEI/AAAAAAAAG4E/qIt1kOw_oCo/s1600/Ft+Bragg+Glass+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CqKk6Mjfyng/UTkVZZU9NEI/AAAAAAAAG4E/qIt1kOw_oCo/s320/Ft+Bragg+Glass+Beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glass beach in Fort Bragg (site of an old dump, the only<br />
remnants of which are smooth glass and strange<br />
odds and ends buried under the sand). </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nlAkjqexdow/UTkVbctrpzI/AAAAAAAAG4U/F5YCw0MoyT8/s1600/Ft+Bragg+beach+Joe+and+Melissa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nlAkjqexdow/UTkVbctrpzI/AAAAAAAAG4U/F5YCw0MoyT8/s320/Ft+Bragg+beach+Joe+and+Melissa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Melissa and Joe walk ahead</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ofKfDEb3dQA/UTkVZR8aBVI/AAAAAAAAG4I/yLbM7ZlNJAI/s1600/Ft+Bragg+beach+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ofKfDEb3dQA/UTkVZR8aBVI/AAAAAAAAG4I/yLbM7ZlNJAI/s320/Ft+Bragg+beach+me.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Fort Bragg weather - sunny one minute, <span style="font-size: x-small;">foggy the next. <br />Despite the weather, <st1:place style="text-align: start;" w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Fort</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Bragg</st1:placename></st1:place><span style="text-align: start;"> is one of my favorite places in <br />Mendocino and I could easily see myself living there at some<br />point (if Ukiah's sheen ever starts to dull). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qsKXg3rW4k4/UTkVePkSwsI/AAAAAAAAG4s/uAjS9Mdbg3Q/s1600/Whitney+teen+crabcakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qsKXg3rW4k4/UTkVePkSwsI/AAAAAAAAG4s/uAjS9Mdbg3Q/s320/Whitney+teen+crabcakes.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Helping Whitney and some teens she works<br />
with make crab cakes for a festival in Ft Bragg.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5kZITp5aatc/UTkVhIhsT6I/AAAAAAAAG5A/W_UmqTaziyU/s1600/crab+cakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5kZITp5aatc/UTkVhIhsT6I/AAAAAAAAG5A/W_UmqTaziyU/s320/crab+cakes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">They were muy delicioso (we made 500 of them!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9HlHKUOhSo/UTkVfwxWBVI/AAAAAAAAG40/B7WCzngMTk0/s1600/bedroom+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9HlHKUOhSo/UTkVfwxWBVI/AAAAAAAAG40/B7WCzngMTk0/s320/bedroom+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from my bedroom desk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nOYUn2xjZ_I/UTkWBzV66aI/AAAAAAAAG5g/JwTdT4kjA-k/s1600/pillow+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nOYUn2xjZ_I/UTkWBzV66aI/AAAAAAAAG5g/JwTdT4kjA-k/s320/pillow+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pillow cover I made <span style="font-size: x-small;">with soft flannel. <span style="text-align: start;">Considering my <br />general lifelong crafting failure, it will come as no surprise <br />to those of you who know me well that I was REALLY </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: start;">EXCITED and, I’ll admit it, very proud of myself.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XnmMr7j5bkY/UTkWCYm8qgI/AAAAAAAAG5o/uh-XTvZOqC0/s1600/pillow+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XnmMr7j5bkY/UTkWCYm8qgI/AAAAAAAAG5o/uh-XTvZOqC0/s320/pillow+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front is a gorgeous mola that Mary Anne brought<br />
back from Panama - "early bird gets the worm." It's made<br />
from layers and layers of fabric that are cut out to reveal<br />
each fabric's color in the broader design.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKienDjils8/UTkVcacHBXI/AAAAAAAAG4c/fAwziH82QLc/s1600/Melissa+bowls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKienDjils8/UTkVcacHBXI/AAAAAAAAG4c/fAwziH82QLc/s320/Melissa+bowls.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Bowling with Melissa, Timin, and Carson at Yokayo<br />
bowl. We had a little wager...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lr26rQierys/UTkVkCNmtbI/AAAAAAAAG5U/9tI7iGNjw6I/s1600/tattoos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lr26rQierys/UTkVkCNmtbI/AAAAAAAAG5U/9tI7iGNjw6I/s320/tattoos.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">...the losing team had to affix a temporary tattoo...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M8bs186MaZo/UTkVdeyFNaI/AAAAAAAAG4g/y45nEXNjQaE/s1600/Timin+tattoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M8bs186MaZo/UTkVdeyFNaI/AAAAAAAAG4g/y45nEXNjQaE/s320/Timin+tattoo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">...and Melissa and Timin lost twice, ending up with<br />
two fake tattoos each. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lcidlWHzh4s/UTkaNbasiHI/AAAAAAAAG54/ntphAPfb08U/s1600/convergence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lcidlWHzh4s/UTkaNbasiHI/AAAAAAAAG54/ntphAPfb08U/s320/convergence.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for the Farmers Convergence at Barra winery.<br />
It was perfect weather for a perfect day! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-up0GU-AdbBc/UTkaNy3uVrI/AAAAAAAAG6A/zmMDhDdqC1I/s1600/Chinese+new+year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-up0GU-AdbBc/UTkaNy3uVrI/AAAAAAAAG6A/zmMDhDdqC1I/s320/Chinese+new+year.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese New Year celebration in downtown Ukiah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ECcnsQOA76w/UTkaPBDwpiI/AAAAAAAAG6I/414Lq9IQUN4/s1600/Sara+slide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ECcnsQOA76w/UTkaPBDwpiI/AAAAAAAAG6I/414Lq9IQUN4/s320/Sara+slide.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sara enjoys a rad slide at Todd Grove Park.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MQxUs9nmNlA/UUaUq-wlVSI/AAAAAAAAG7E/ctkcFjMTUpE/s1600/Carson+living+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MQxUs9nmNlA/UUaUq-wlVSI/AAAAAAAAG7E/ctkcFjMTUpE/s320/Carson+living+room.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson makes himself at home. (I never<br />
thought that two futons would work in our<br />
small living room, but magically, they do!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gy2gwLcZh4Y/UUaUtWYB0dI/AAAAAAAAG7c/LkvjwRUMq2k/s1600/shawna+mex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gy2gwLcZh4Y/UUaUtWYB0dI/AAAAAAAAG7c/LkvjwRUMq2k/s320/shawna+mex.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shawna stopped by for a few days on a road trip. This was<br />
one of several delicious meals we shared, not to mention<br />
the good walks and conversation we had.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NjXemBTQ6WE/UUaUqhKRspI/AAAAAAAAG7A/JkyoztpIU6Y/s1600/Black+Oak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NjXemBTQ6WE/UUaUqhKRspI/AAAAAAAAG7A/JkyoztpIU6Y/s320/Black+Oak.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a lavender latte at Black Oak coffee<br />
while live music plays on a Saturday. (Not<br />
pictured - Meagan, who I never manage to<br />
capture via photo when she's here.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Fd4WP4rGNI/UUaUtrGrcMI/AAAAAAAAG7Y/N6lf8fZR6DA/s1600/Thai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Fd4WP4rGNI/UUaUtrGrcMI/AAAAAAAAG7Y/N6lf8fZR6DA/s320/Thai.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson tries Thai food for the first time. I was impressed<br />
by Ukiah's Ruen Thong. (Carson liked it, too!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sYWGae9i4rI/UUaUrjfLwEI/AAAAAAAAG7Q/p1nX6W6BOCo/s1600/Susan+sushi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sYWGae9i4rI/UUaUrjfLwEI/AAAAAAAAG7Q/p1nX6W6BOCo/s320/Susan+sushi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan and I enjoy a sushi feast at Walter cafe. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ofcz4wWL6uM/UTkaQyRgwTI/AAAAAAAAG6Q/qW061csQWNk/s1600/flowering+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ofcz4wWL6uM/UTkaQyRgwTI/AAAAAAAAG6Q/qW061csQWNk/s320/flowering+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Everything started to bloom in late February.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4eoKDAN-IO0/UTkaTHhzBkI/AAAAAAAAG6g/zXlwgK1b7JU/s1600/flowering+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4eoKDAN-IO0/UTkaTHhzBkI/AAAAAAAAG6g/zXlwgK1b7JU/s320/flowering+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">So many beautiful trees in bloom!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KqUumAx9hQU/UTkaTbj6q6I/AAAAAAAAG6k/-GwTJ9OWyY4/s1600/rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KqUumAx9hQU/UTkaTbj6q6I/AAAAAAAAG6k/-GwTJ9OWyY4/s320/rainbow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Even the rain is beautiful when it comes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-70034036273536688612013-03-07T14:24:00.004-08:002013-03-07T14:24:54.576-08:00Where work and play blend together<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, I have pretty much been a blog-writing bum this past two
months. Here's a weak series of excuses for my absence. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>Volunteering</u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>NCO<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve continued my volunteer work with The Gardens Project
and North Coast Opportunities. For months I helped plan the first annual <a href="http://www.gardensproject.org/farmersconvergence2013/">Farmers Convergence</a>,
which was an incredible success. It was last Friday (March 1), which ended up
being a gorgeous 75 degree day (really can't complain about the NorCal
winters), and it was a hit. Lots of people came, met, connected,
shared ideas, and went home feeling inspired. We're already talking about doing
it again next year. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I'm a mentor!<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also joined an exciting mentorship program which exists in
just a few schools in <st1:place w:st="on">California</st1:place>.
Students apply in seventh grade. To qualify they must be high academic
achievers from low-income families. If accepted they are assigned a mentor (who
ideally sticks with them for all six years until they graduate) and a generous
sum of money distributed throughout those 6 years with which to have
experiences and buy items that will ready them for college. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What’s the point? Many low-income students who go to college
and even receive scholarships often end up dropping out anyway because they
feel ostracized, having never been out of their hometown or not knowing how to
use chopsticks, for instance. Together, the student and mentor decide how best
to spend that money to get them ready for college and beyond. It starts with
local things like eating out at restaurants and going to see movies and plays.
As the years progress it gets upped: a weekend in <st1:place w:st="on">San Francisco</st1:place>, a weeklong summer camp, visits
to college campuses, even international trips. Mentors also help students prep
and apply for college (think SAT classes and entrance essay edits). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have two girls, one in seventh and one in eighth grade
whose mentor couldn’t continue, and I couldn’t be more excited about being part
of their lives and helping them achieve their goals. It really is a blessing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>Oh right, work</u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
March 3 was my one-year anniversary of being funemployed. I'm going to keep calling self-employment that since it's essentially like being unemployed; I spend most of my days in sweatpants in my cozy house, drinking tea, baking gluten free muffins, and taking long walks through my neighborhood. (Did I mention how nice the winter weather is here?) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This probably doesn't convince you that I've been too busy to blog, but I swear I have real work. My baking schedule has been interrupted by a string of new clients - February was a month of new work and March and April will be just as busy. I'm approximating a 30 hour work week and feeling quite professional (despite the sweatpants). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>Vacation</u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As part of my new lifestyle I seem to get to spend more time playing than working (if you want to hate me because I'm a lady of leisure, just remember I'm poor). Despite my financial restrictions, I'm still doing ridiculously cool things. Carson and I had the extraordinary opportunity to go to <st1:state w:st="on">Colorado</st1:state> for 9 days in February, almost entirely paid for in exchange for our work as
“hosts” for a ski trip operated by one of my clients. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More on Colorado in its own
dedicated blog. I'm also going to do a photo-only blog soon (with, let's face it, probably some long captions). Because I know how much people love to read long rambling written works with no real direction or purpose...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is anyone else really looking forward to daylight savings kicking in on Sunday? (I'm not looking at you, Indiana - I know how much you hate it.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-33534181385500244682013-01-11T12:36:00.000-08:002013-01-11T12:36:00.145-08:00Whirlyball birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On Saturday, January 5, I turned 31. It's a far cry from turning 30 which caused me to turn my world upside down - quit my job, move to California, fall in love, all that good stuff. Comparatively, 31 feels like a quiet year.</div>
<br />
Tessa spent the night and we watched TV, cooked some food, and gave the dog a bath. We were up at midnight when it officially became my 31st.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UUOYvJj5VNE/UO8kFogzv5I/AAAAAAAAG2g/T0Ic50iDlY4/s1600/Dog+bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UUOYvJj5VNE/UO8kFogzv5I/AAAAAAAAG2g/T0Ic50iDlY4/s320/Dog+bath.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sailor gets a bath to be party-ready.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The next morning, Tessa and I started my birthday at the Korean spa to soak in the tubs and steam in the saunas and relax in all the cool rooms (including charcoal; salt; yellow clay; jade; and our favorite, the snow room). Then we picked up some take n' bake pizzas and went home to prepare for my <a href="http://whirlyballseattle.com/">Whirlyball </a>party. I actually did this for my <a href="http://vidadesconocida.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year-and-happy-birthday-to-me.html">26th birthday</a> and it was such a hit that I organized it again. Like my 26th, my birthday once again fell on a Saturday, and I called it 31-going-on-13 (totally forgetting I'd called it 26-going-on-13 before).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-REq1VEkCNSs/UO8kGnnp3qI/AAAAAAAAG2w/haTiXvHJlzo/s1600/whirlyball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-REq1VEkCNSs/UO8kGnnp3qI/AAAAAAAAG2w/haTiXvHJlzo/s320/whirlyball.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Action shot</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Whirlyball is absurdly expensive but it's probably cheaper than having people meet me at a bar and buy food and drinks, and definitely more fun. Here's a short video - it looks like we're going in slow motion but it doesn't feel quite this slow when you're playing (though some cars were definitely faster than others).<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwT8Y1_nz0mrVyOTtPqJ22jQ-DVKMURsMxUdENTQM1YzA8rslNtUh19KiZYe2FIyF58lN1oAlFD_Tk' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
There were 13 of us so we all got a lot of court time. I played on winning and losing teams, and my own play started strong and gradually weakened until by the end I was just tooling around the court in reverse and ramming into people for the fun of it. Days later I'm still sporting several bruises.<br />
<br />
After that we headed to my parents' house which is nearby. They were out of town but we didn't exactly throw a rager. The older we get the less we drink! All my siblings were there which was really fun, and Anne made the most delicious cheesecake I've ever had. That is not an exaggeration.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kVI56VCA314/UO8kGRG41jI/AAAAAAAAG2s/n77lUt3Ek9k/s1600/siblings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kVI56VCA314/UO8kGRG41jI/AAAAAAAAG2s/n77lUt3Ek9k/s320/siblings.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Archer siblings</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kZ-ei0LHJPg/UO8kFlyHXWI/AAAAAAAAG2k/5XjAh5Le3WM/s1600/birthday+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kZ-ei0LHJPg/UO8kFlyHXWI/AAAAAAAAG2k/5XjAh5Le3WM/s320/birthday+girl.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Incredible mini cheesecakes! The lens<br />is smudged from something sugary,<br />apparently.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After pizza and dessert we played some games, and when the crowd thinned I introduced my new favorite party game which is like telephone and pictionary mashed together. I have never not been sore from laughter while playing this game.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HlkdnAtO-eE/UO8kFhYwWsI/AAAAAAAAG2o/ZX3aSWUMNkY/s1600/Racko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HlkdnAtO-eE/UO8kFhYwWsI/AAAAAAAAG2o/ZX3aSWUMNkY/s320/Racko.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Playing Racko on the floor</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We played Whirlyball in the afternoon and my party was over at 10, which was perfect timing. Tessa cleaned the house, then we watched some TV and went to bed. I had leftover pizza for breakfast the next day, washed down by cheesecake. Last night I took my mom to the symphony for her Christmas and birthday presents and we had a really nice time carrying on this tradition. And tonight (Friday Jan 11) we'll celebrate my birthday and my mom's birthday (which is tomorrow) with family pictures at my brother's studio followed by a nice dinner out. I feel really lucky to have gotten so much quality family time in on this trip.<br />
<br />
So far 31 feels pretty good.ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-54174196827073846812013-01-09T10:33:00.000-08:002013-03-20T12:23:55.036-07:00Home for the holidays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Christmas and New Year's have come and gone. Here's what I did!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Before I left for Seattle I teamed up with Sara to make some homemade presents. We made salt and sugar scrubs with essential oils, three kinds of finishing sea salts (Meyer lemon, tomato, and herbes de provence), and I made a big batch of persimmon marmalade using persimmons and Meyer lemons from the trees in my backyard. This was my first real exposure to persimmons and it turns out they don't taste like much on their own; they're more a blank slate for other flavors, and citrus is a perfect match.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OHOCCjtmak0/UOShoXJ_gjI/AAAAAAAAG04/uuy8l6xHrNI/s320/bath+salts.jpg" style="color: #0000ee; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Body scrub assembly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PIbLOyXTwmw/UOShpwD121I/AAAAAAAAG1I/DJEisA2n-yo/s1600/homemade+Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PIbLOyXTwmw/UOShpwD121I/AAAAAAAAG1I/DJEisA2n-yo/s320/homemade+Christmas.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final products - body scrub, salts,<br />
and marmalade underneath.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Considering the Maya themselves said the world wasn't going to end I wasn't particularly concerned, but Sara, Ian, Carson and I decided to have a little "in case of zombies" dinner anyway. Instead of doing it on winter solstice on Friday (the day the world was to end), we celebrated on Thursday in case the end came at midnight. Carson made some incredible meatballs and I whipped up a red sauce and we washed it all down with red wine and fancy brandy that Ian opened for the occasion. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1NqPT3uNtNU/UOShdQzOBHI/AAAAAAAAGzc/Bur59Ny6bag/s1600/End+of+world+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1NqPT3uNtNU/UOShdQzOBHI/AAAAAAAAGzc/Bur59Ny6bag/s320/End+of+world+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good to the last drop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0z9IWmbXlM/UOShekmxcaI/AAAAAAAAGzk/qPedpCOZNW8/s1600/End+of+world+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0z9IWmbXlM/UOShekmxcaI/AAAAAAAAGzk/qPedpCOZNW8/s320/End+of+world+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson makes a mean meatball</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: start;">
Sara, Ian and I made a very last-minute decision to go to Fort Bragg for an ugly sweater/white elephant party on Friday night thrown by the neighboring houses where Whitney and Melissa live. We didn't get out of Ukiah until about 6 and in the pouring rain it took us an hour and a half to get there, but the party was just getting started. I couldn't find an ugly sweater at such late notice but I did find some horrible pajama pants at the Grocery Outlet for $7. I also wore my fur hat and really old snow boots, and probably won for ugliest look. Here's a partial group shot (I'm on the far left). </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xal9GFDXvdY/UOShuuym1NI/AAAAAAAAG1w/0p-CeBdqdis/s1600/ugly+sweater+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xal9GFDXvdY/UOShuuym1NI/AAAAAAAAG1w/0p-CeBdqdis/s320/ugly+sweater+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The white elephant was pretty funny. Sara brought this popcorn-filled Elvis guitar which becomes a piggy bank once the popcorn is gone (a BigLots find, one of my favorite places in Ukiah), and it was a major hit. Poor Joe had about four gifts stolen!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-178PfEeC1hc/UOShvXXVTGI/AAAAAAAAG14/JJutmLTBoQk/s1600/ugly+sweater+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-178PfEeC1hc/UOShvXXVTGI/AAAAAAAAG14/JJutmLTBoQk/s320/ugly+sweater+2.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
We drove back that same night, also in the pouring rain, and although it was extravagant to drive three hours for a party it was worth it.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Seattle!</b><br />
<br />
The next day Carson drove me an hour south to Santa Rosa for my flight to Seattle. I love that airport - it's teeny tiny! That very night was Adam's annual Ho Ho Hodown so I threw on a dress and headed to SoDo to sit on Santa's lap. Here I am with Morgan and Nathan:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8z90NcZx0ok/UOShfhtP9iI/AAAAAAAAGzs/iS88aWIr3Tk/s1600/Ho+Ho+Hodown+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8z90NcZx0ok/UOShfhtP9iI/AAAAAAAAGzs/iS88aWIr3Tk/s320/Ho+Ho+Hodown+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so short...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UWg47_49MOs/UOShgmh84xI/AAAAAAAAGz0/RiVPIRjZB9Q/s1600/Ho+Ho+Hodown+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UWg47_49MOs/UOShgmh84xI/AAAAAAAAGz0/RiVPIRjZB9Q/s320/Ho+Ho+Hodown+2.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob made this awesome pine cone<br />
cheese ball, filled with bacon and<br />
topped with smoked almonds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9bx2Y5zSOAo/UOShh1IGG9I/AAAAAAAAGz8/4v1I0mRZrIM/s1600/Ho+Ho+Hodown+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9bx2Y5zSOAo/UOShh1IGG9I/AAAAAAAAGz8/4v1I0mRZrIM/s320/Ho+Ho+Hodown+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My second white elephant in two nights!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LyZqWyg_FwI/UOShiqtOV4I/AAAAAAAAG0E/PfLpNmPe-DA/s1600/Ho+Ho+Hodown+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LyZqWyg_FwI/UOShiqtOV4I/AAAAAAAAG0E/PfLpNmPe-DA/s320/Ho+Ho+Hodown+4.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob got my gift, which were sock<br />
slippers with stuffed frogs on the front.<br />
I bought two pair for the two parties.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That night I headed up to my parents' house to settle in for Christmas. The next day I met Robyn for an early breakfast before she drove back to Portland, and the rest of the day my mom and I ran errands and wrapped all the presents I had shipped to their house. I'm a notoriously bad wrapper and she more or less took over the job because it pains her to watch me.<br />
<br />
Carson started driving that day and arrived the next morning, which was Christmas Eve. I've never brought someone home for Christmas so this was a pretty big deal, and he handled it beautifully. Of course my family is awesome and incredibly welcoming, so I had nothing to worry about.<br />
<br />
The next day was Christmas, the biggest day of the year at the Archer household. Us kids aren't allowed in the family room while my parents prepare it, so we gather upstairs in the living room, drink coffee, and wait (more and more patiently as the years go on). Then we get summoned downstairs, empty the contents of our stockings, and start the glorious process of unwrapping the embarrassing number of gifts under the tree. Everyone got Carson something (did I mention how awesome my family is?) and my mom and I got him a stocking, so he was right in there with us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjz5osixCUM/UOShciIrxsI/AAAAAAAAGzU/4JefLxiPpcg/s320/Christmas+1.jpg" style="color: #0000ee; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Christmas with my man and my custom <br />ribbon-in-hair that I do every year.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The rest of the day we laze around, eat a fattening breakfast, watch movies, play with our new gifts, drink hot buttered rum, take naps, play games... I don't think I've ever gotten dressed on Christmas day. So lovely.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next day my brother Eric took Carson to the shooting range (part of his Christmas gift). They bonded over bullets while I tried to get some work done. Once they were done I took Carson on a tour of my childhood, past old places where I worked, past all three of my schools, and into Edmonds where we watched the ferries and ate clam chowder at Anthony's Fish Cafe, a favorite from my high school days. Then we went bowling at Robin Hood Lanes, which is sadly closing. I didn't do too terribly considering I hadn't bowled in years, but Carson destroyed me - he even got a turkey (three strikes in a row). </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A2WB8YdMGS4/UOShpMLKMaI/AAAAAAAAG1A/h4vqKDBpzWk/s1600/bowling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A2WB8YdMGS4/UOShpMLKMaI/AAAAAAAAG1A/h4vqKDBpzWk/s320/bowling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He even bowls well - so annoying!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: left;">The next day Carson, my mom and I went to the outlets in North Bend to a ski shop where Anne got me my <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pb75X2a_cQI/Tyd-OafUqiI/AAAAAAAAFv4/Xec9R__eJ0M/s1600/snoveralls.jpg">snowveralls </a>(aka bibs) last year. Carson needed snow pants and I needed new boots, a ski jacket, and goggles, because we get to go to Aspen in February! More on that later. I would recommend Mt. Si Ski and Skate to anyone! They are so helpful and have consignment as well as new; I got a great jacket for $90 and what looked like brand new North Face boots that fit like a glove for $70.</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d0CAdytFTTE/UOShqkZq0cI/AAAAAAAAG1Q/W-f9-0zPJtc/s1600/ski+outfit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d0CAdytFTTE/UOShqkZq0cI/AAAAAAAAG1Q/W-f9-0zPJtc/s320/ski+outfit.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the ski shop, looking fly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After that we went to the nearby Snoqualmie Falls which were roaring. We didn't stay too long since the combination of rain and spray were soaking us through.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4tz2mYH9XoM/UOShr1PlQHI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/1on1bWKlBug/s1600/snoqualmie+falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4tz2mYH9XoM/UOShr1PlQHI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/1on1bWKlBug/s320/snoqualmie+falls.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Archer women in front of the falls.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That was the end of our tenure at the Archer household, and we headed down to Capitol hill to house sit for my friend Shawna and her cat. The cat wasn't too pleased to see us and kept us up most of the night meowing, but she did calm down after that.<br />
<br />
The next day was sunny and crisp, so we walked downtown to Pike Place market. Carson had never been to Seattle before so I felt like he needed the full tourist experience. He ate a humbow, we got mini donuts, and we even bought a salmon from the fish throwers to take to dinner that night.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fJfeGDhDjY4/UOShngL6Y9I/AAAAAAAAG0w/DPJOYROpLcs/s1600/Seattle+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fJfeGDhDjY4/UOShngL6Y9I/AAAAAAAAG0w/DPJOYROpLcs/s320/Seattle+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson and the Seattle waterfront</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YVTuGnNSzUM/UOShlrLJc3I/AAAAAAAAG0g/IjeNCFcYTF4/s1600/Pike+place.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YVTuGnNSzUM/UOShlrLJc3I/AAAAAAAAG0g/IjeNCFcYTF4/s320/Pike+place.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We were invited to dinner at KMJ's house, and K made the most amazing squash soup, roasted Brussels sprouts, baked salmon (courtesy of the fish throwers), and poached pears for dessert. Then M made a fire outside and we all cozied up around it.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--77K3agrVK4/UOShjuOsDmI/AAAAAAAAG0I/BRYOTzzKWCs/s1600/Katie+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--77K3agrVK4/UOShjuOsDmI/AAAAAAAAG0I/BRYOTzzKWCs/s320/Katie+dinner.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">K cooks up a storm for us</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next day (Saturday December 29 if you've lost track), Carson, Amber and I went snowshoeing off of highway 2. Our destination? Scenic hot springs. It took us about an hour and a half to make the often vertical climb, but once we got there it was totally worth it - we had the hot springs all to ourselves, all day! I packed us a picnic of rosemary bread, cheese, salami, sliced veggies, and homemade tzaziki sauce. We soaked and ate and drank mate and beer, gawked at the weasel that boldly worked its way closer and closer until it popped up right next to us, had some very pleasant conversation, and couldn't believe it when it was already time to hike back down. We had a glimpse of blue sky but after that it fogged over, so it seemed darker than it was and we got out of dodge at 2:45 to avoid getting stuck snowshoeing in the dark. </div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--LGs_LAN3Vw/UOShmjMtTSI/AAAAAAAAG0o/LQIpZlszu1o/s1600/Scenic+hot+springs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--LGs_LAN3Vw/UOShmjMtTSI/AAAAAAAAG0o/LQIpZlszu1o/s320/Scenic+hot+springs.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The hot spring tubs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vA_JH8Doqzc/UOShs4T19QI/AAAAAAAAG1g/8hVK_3SRCew/s1600/snowshoe+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vA_JH8Doqzc/UOShs4T19QI/AAAAAAAAG1g/8hVK_3SRCew/s320/snowshoe+1.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amber and Carson on the way back down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LAAuqlZxP00/UOShtrF0wnI/AAAAAAAAG1o/IX4ebosVXCw/s1600/snowshoe+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LAAuqlZxP00/UOShtrF0wnI/AAAAAAAAG1o/IX4ebosVXCw/s320/snowshoe+2.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amber hiking down a creek bed with<br />
snow walls on each side.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The next day was Sunday - football day! We took a bus down to Pioneer Square since it was a home game, and Carson was blown away by how loud the Seahawks stadium was. Luckily we won (and have since won our first playoff game!) so everyone was in a good mood. We ate gyros at my favorite spot, Main Street Gyros, then popped into J&M Cafe, the New Orleans, and Fuel before finally finding a spot at the bar of McCoy's firehouse. At halftime we relocated to Swannie's, so he definitely got a sampling of Pioneer Square bars.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k3Il3XxT3Wk/UOShcIxjevI/AAAAAAAAGzM/-fauP1lZckw/s1600/Carson+Pioneer+Square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k3Il3XxT3Wk/UOShcIxjevI/AAAAAAAAGzM/-fauP1lZckw/s320/Carson+Pioneer+Square.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson with the famous firefighters.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZeRBu5SyEoY/UOShwKy2R1I/AAAAAAAAG2I/qSMHmB9Y-go/s1600/waterfall+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZeRBu5SyEoY/UOShwKy2R1I/AAAAAAAAG2I/qSMHmB9Y-go/s320/waterfall+park.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Waterfall park (birthplace of<br />
the USPS)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On New Year's Eve we had pho with Casey and then didn't do much of anything. We were both under the weather, particularly Carson, so we laid around Shawna's apartment, took a quick walk to the grocery store, and made a delicious swimming rama for dinner (Carson makes a mean peanut sauce). Amber came over for dinner but left before midnight because she had to work early. Shawna's place has a view of the Space Needle so we watched the show, Carson went downstairs for a cream cheese sausage outside Chop Suey, and then passed out. As someone who doesn't really care about NYE, it was a perfectly fine way to spend the holiday.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ju3WTEp3BnQ/UOShlLSsa5I/AAAAAAAAG0Y/dMOVIrp-GqA/s1600/NYE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ju3WTEp3BnQ/UOShlLSsa5I/AAAAAAAAG0Y/dMOVIrp-GqA/s320/NYE.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Space Needle looked closer than<br />
this picture shows; it was actually an<br />
incredible view and a really fun show.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next day was beautiful (but COLD, brr) so we drove through Fremont on our way to the Ballard locks. I think this was Carson's favorite thing in Seattle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MisoH1TJMII/UOShkGzCMEI/AAAAAAAAG0Q/2jWtvckvkBc/s1600/Locks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MisoH1TJMII/UOShkGzCMEI/AAAAAAAAG0Q/2jWtvckvkBc/s320/Locks.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next day (January 2), Carson left town, my parents left town, and Shawna came home, so I was at the airport twice and ended the day on the couch with my parents' dog. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm in Seattle until this Saturday January 12 so I actually have even MORE home stories to relay, including my birthday. More soon!</div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-7823919415353014412012-12-23T16:31:00.000-08:002012-12-24T01:40:02.231-08:00Mexico! Part IIWhen last I left you we were in Sayulita and I was recovering from food poisoning.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday, December 7 – Melaque<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our last morning in Sayulita. We had breakfast at Rollie’s again, and by “we” I mean “<st1:place w:st="on">Carson</st1:place>.” As is always the case with this bastard bacteria, I had a good day followed by a bad day. As someone who lives to eat, possibly the worst sensation in the world for me is being both starving and nauseous. I watched him eat with envy. I don’t think I was particularly pleasant company.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From there we headed to Melaque, a sleepy beach town about 3.5 hours south at the edge of the state of Jalisco. <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> enjoyed learning to surf but his ribs were bruised and we were both tired of the crowded, overly touristy vibe, so we were both ready to get out of dodge and didn't even mind sitting in the car for a few hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
During the ride, about every 30 minutes I would eat five or six almonds and cashews, feeling totally stuffed after each handful. If you know me you know the hilarity of that scenario, considering I generally manage to out-eat everyone else. Other than having to drive through the madness that is Puerto Vallarta yet again, including a very pot-holey section of highway 200 that was a little like a mine field (which we drove about a dozen times), the ride was uneventful. Once in Melaque we parked and wandered around. All the oceanfront hotels were essentially the same so we picked one with a seaside balcony and the customary hard beds. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K-L3Hl32sYA/UNgQBflfE6I/AAAAAAAAGyg/AywmqSPU_uI/s1600/Melaque+hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K-L3Hl32sYA/UNgQBflfE6I/AAAAAAAAGyg/AywmqSPU_uI/s320/Melaque+hotel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson using the internet at our Melaque hotel,<br />
Puesta del Sol. Everywhere we went had internet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mcKj8meGnTo/UNgQBz6gydI/AAAAAAAAGyo/3J3SzMAlmAo/s1600/Melaque+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mcKj8meGnTo/UNgQBz6gydI/AAAAAAAAGyo/3J3SzMAlmAo/s320/Melaque+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our Melaque balcony. This place was cool<br />
because the kitchen was actually outside on the<br />
balcony (sadly no picture).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It was only 5:00 but we hadn’t eaten lunch, so we headed to a pizza place I’d read about for an early dinner. It was distractingly salty, but I did manage to take down two whole pieces. Then we hit the plaza, just in time for the Guadalupe procession complete with marching band and fireworks.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>December 8 – Barra de Navidad<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melaque is in the same cove as its more famous neighbor, Barra de Navidad. It’s only about a mile away so after a breakfast of leftover pizza we walked there on the sloping beach, admiring skinboarders and stopping for a swim along the way (and just stopping a lot in general since I was still so easily winded - I was pathetic and Carson was patient). The cove has great big waves that crash with a thunderous boom against the shore – I love that sound!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_BSWhlnEYgk/UNgP_XkMvAI/AAAAAAAAGyI/TDWhkDNzDbY/s1600/Eli+Melaque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_BSWhlnEYgk/UNgP_XkMvAI/AAAAAAAAGyI/TDWhkDNzDbY/s320/Eli+Melaque.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a break</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We walked the pier at Barra where we found this beautiful statue. I'm totally obsessed with it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D79oRxGor1s/UNgP-PA256I/AAAAAAAAGx8/yTxqBpbLsnU/s1600/Barra+de+Navidad+statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D79oRxGor1s/UNgP-PA256I/AAAAAAAAGx8/yTxqBpbLsnU/s320/Barra+de+Navidad+statue.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Then we were roped into a private boat tour of the bay, including a populated canal and an expensive hotel with disgustingly large yachts anchored in front.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ENO0K_ev8tA/UNgP9phcmgI/AAAAAAAAGx0/wpzNrMd5Z4o/s1600/Barra+de+Navidad+canal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ENO0K_ev8tA/UNgP9phcmgI/AAAAAAAAGx0/wpzNrMd5Z4o/s320/Barra+de+Navidad+canal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barra de Navidad canal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
From there he asked if we would like to see “just a little bit of the ocean” and I said sure, thinking he’d just pop out and back and include it in the price of the tour. No such thing – he took us on the full “peninsula” tour, trying to talk us into a full-day fishing and snorkeling expedition the next day all the while, and then charged us for both the bay and ocean tours when we declined the fishing trip. It was boring and it was a swindle at $60, but… oh well. I didn’t really feel like arguing about it as I could tell he was desperate for some business (tourism not being what it once was).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--WZwEpW9SlU/UNgQCgMGFzI/AAAAAAAAGy0/GrYhVmpO3O4/s1600/Us+boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--WZwEpW9SlU/UNgQCgMGFzI/AAAAAAAAGy0/GrYhVmpO3O4/s320/Us+boat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our "peninsula" tour (note the Gatorade - still not<br />
fully recovered at this point).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had a nice lunch at a little French bakery – croissants and the first post-sick coffee for me, ham panini for <st1:place w:st="on">Carson</st1:place> – and then took a cab the short distance back to Melaque. We had a pretty uninspired plate of street tacos for dinner and thought we missed the procession that night, though we found out later it was held in a neighboring town (apparently if the towns are small enough they take turns). What we didn’t miss, however, was the most incredible thing I ate the entire trip (tied with tacos al pastor): The BEST CHURROS OF MY LIFE. I consider myself a churro connoisseur, so I do not say this lightly. I was cursing my shrunken stomach for only being able to take down two of the five pieces we got for ONE DOLLAR, but I savored every bite. My mouth is watering right now.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UGkfYatdyJw/UNgQAt85riI/AAAAAAAAGyY/0EYpujvk6nw/s1600/Melaque+churros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UGkfYatdyJw/UNgQAt85riI/AAAAAAAAGyY/0EYpujvk6nw/s320/Melaque+churros.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmm.... churros....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>December 9 – Sunday football</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After breakfast at the local market and a morning walk on the beach, I talked <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> into a lazy day of watching football and playing rummy in our hotel room. We went out for lunch at El Froy’s on the beach where I ate some decent ribs (once I scraped the gallon of gross BBQ sauce off them).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4MUAhDTLCjY/UNgP_7lcc3I/AAAAAAAAGyQ/1bUaXoQ-W3g/s1600/Melaque+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4MUAhDTLCjY/UNgP_7lcc3I/AAAAAAAAGyQ/1bUaXoQ-W3g/s320/Melaque+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson has a beer at El Froy's</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then we swam and lounged for awhile on the beach before going back to our hotel to swim and lounge by the pool. We saw some fruit vendors walking by and beckoned to them, buying a mango and a pineapple filled with watermelon and papaya, all for about $5. We had a lot of fun horsing around in the pool and I suspect the old people staying there (why were we constantly surrounded by old people??) were divided as to whether we were sweet or obnoxious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dinner was, again, uninspired. The whole trip I was disappointed by the food in general (not that food poisoning made anything more appetizing, but usually I eat really great food in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region>). Luckily the churro vendor was out again and I was able to reach sugar nirvana for the second night in a row. More football and rummy before going to bed. I thanked <st1:place w:st="on">Carson</st1:place> for indulging my sports request and in his constant, good-natured way, he just shrugged and said “sure.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday, December 10 – Snakes and crocodiles and an unexpected change in plans<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We woke up early and headed south again, this time to Cuyutlan in the state of Colima. We stopped for breakfast in Manzanillo, one of <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region>’s biggest ports and also a big tourist spot which I almost chose to fly into instead of PV. An hour was enough to see that we weren’t missing much, though I did have a delicious latte. Further down the road we stopped for a coconut, the second of the trip, and while it tasted just like the coconut water I love to drink, <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> was disappointed both times.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sRWnB3FYq-s/UNgP-o5nEsI/AAAAAAAAGyE/Pn_1O_i1YuU/s1600/Coconuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sRWnB3FYq-s/UNgP-o5nEsI/AAAAAAAAGyE/Pn_1O_i1YuU/s320/Coconuts.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Machete-ing coconuts in style (she had on heels).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It wasn’t long before we were in Cuyutlan, specifically at the sanctuary that inspired this destination. Called “el tortugario” (the turtle-arium), it was originally designed to help preserve the 13 species of ocean turtle that come to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico. It </st1:country-region>has since evolved to include crocodiles and iguanas under its protective wing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VPA16O-YRnU/UNgPtGK4NAI/AAAAAAAAGwY/6qn_PSTapOc/s1600/baby+croc+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VPA16O-YRnU/UNgPtGK4NAI/AAAAAAAAGwY/6qn_PSTapOc/s320/baby+croc+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A baby crocodile in captivity (they are<br />
eventually released into the mangroves).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After checking out the turtles and crocs that were housed in a variety of pools, we took a boat tour through the Palo Verde mangroves. This was the highlight of the whole trip for me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BzLhzRsL2fQ/UNgPm4WO5HI/AAAAAAAAGvM/o7JQ4JezJNU/s1600/Mangrove+eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BzLhzRsL2fQ/UNgPm4WO5HI/AAAAAAAAGvM/o7JQ4JezJNU/s320/Mangrove+eli.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Soooo happy right now</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was just the two of us, and even though it was a private tour it only cost 120 pesos (I gave him 200 – best $15 I spent). The mangroves are fiercely protected by the locals and our guide was both knowledgeable and passionate without being preachy. He also had an incredible eye for crocodile heads in the water, birds in the branches, and even camouflaged snakes. After passing by at a good speed, he suddenly reversed and slowly drew up next to a mangrove with a sleeping viper curled up in it. A moment later we came upon this baby alligator taking a nap on the lily pads:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d97DDrRovLM/UNgPtlOKyBI/AAAAAAAAGwg/KzKNnLcE0g0/s1600/baby+croc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d97DDrRovLM/UNgPtlOKyBI/AAAAAAAAGwg/KzKNnLcE0g0/s320/baby+croc.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So tiny! Hard to imagine it ripping you apart.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We also saw tons of birds: blue, green, and white herons, cormorans, falcons, pelicans, and lots more I can’t name.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QpL2fdCx9FE/UNgPvS3C5bI/AAAAAAAAGw0/fHTUramjfpM/s1600/falcon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QpL2fdCx9FE/UNgPvS3C5bI/AAAAAAAAGw0/fHTUramjfpM/s320/falcon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A falcon looking regal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then we went into the mangrove tunnel, which was created by nature but expanded by man with federal permission so they could take boats through.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v0PEhbjFu-E/UNgPwVGZnYI/AAAAAAAAGxE/-qyZx2ulg50/s1600/mangrove+tunnel+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v0PEhbjFu-E/UNgPwVGZnYI/AAAAAAAAGxE/-qyZx2ulg50/s320/mangrove+tunnel+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About to enter the tunnel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EvktJMkCJB4/UNgPw7UWtxI/AAAAAAAAGxM/h4W8KkmpgRY/s1600/mangrove+tunnel+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EvktJMkCJB4/UNgPw7UWtxI/AAAAAAAAGxM/h4W8KkmpgRY/s320/mangrove+tunnel+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caution: low branches and possible snakes!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He warned us to watch out for vipers dropping into the boat, but assured us they don’t bite – they squeeze you to death instead (awesome). He also had something special to show us: a boa sleeping off a meal. It was about 5 feet long, according to our guide, and would stay there for 2-3 days until it was done digesting. Awesome!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SEoBBbVCxVc/UNgPuUnjIVI/AAAAAAAAGwo/CFohPyCxUG4/s1600/boa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SEoBBbVCxVc/UNgPuUnjIVI/AAAAAAAAGwo/CFohPyCxUG4/s320/boa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Digesting boa (this is about half of him)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zoUxhpor7MY/UNgPxbybTuI/AAAAAAAAGxY/P_u4N9qmzZM/s1600/mangrove+tunnel+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zoUxhpor7MY/UNgPxbybTuI/AAAAAAAAGxY/P_u4N9qmzZM/s320/mangrove+tunnel+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mind the hanging roots!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After we got off the boat Carson took this picture of me on the walkway. He took a lot of pictures of my back; I am a fast walker and I guess I left him behind a lot!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-soTVkKPUvWo/UNgPnUYUCkI/AAAAAAAAGvU/rVR26fq_nPs/s1600/Mangrove+walkway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-soTVkKPUvWo/UNgPnUYUCkI/AAAAAAAAGvU/rVR26fq_nPs/s320/Mangrove+walkway.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
All we had left to see were the iguanas, and this big guy was proudly situated at the top of the food pedestal. I guess they're illegal to hunt and semi-endangered, making me feel guilty about having eaten iguana tamales on a past trip (whoops).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7XZYGh-FGhk/UNgPkZeERuI/AAAAAAAAGuo/TEEGWaLscvo/s1600/Iguana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7XZYGh-FGhk/UNgPkZeERuI/AAAAAAAAGuo/TEEGWaLscvo/s320/Iguana.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
After that we headed into Cuyutlan, a truly teeny tiny beach town. I imagine on the weekends it's probably a bit more hopping, but on a Monday it was the definition of dead.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Knyn89TgNe4/UNgPiFW79nI/AAAAAAAAGuI/CACjBecVfLI/s1600/Cuyutlan+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Knyn89TgNe4/UNgPiFW79nI/AAAAAAAAGuI/CACjBecVfLI/s320/Cuyutlan+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Empty main drag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gZ8lN0dyYmo/UNgPjCGAFAI/AAAAAAAAGuY/03sWqKjF3I4/s1600/Cuyutlan+boardwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gZ8lN0dyYmo/UNgPjCGAFAI/AAAAAAAAGuY/03sWqKjF3I4/s320/Cuyutlan+boardwalk.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Empty beach boardwalk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We wandered to the three nearby hotels, one of which was under construction but open (no thanks), one of which was closed, and the other of which was pretty cheap for a pretty gross little room, which we took. Then we walked to the only open food stall and had a torta before hitting the beach. We swam for a bit but the waves were big and the undertow strong, so we walked down the abandoned beach instead.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lniMlYS4j1Q/UNgPin26B9I/AAAAAAAAGuQ/EoCrlIZhdzA/s1600/Cuyutlan+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lniMlYS4j1Q/UNgPin26B9I/AAAAAAAAGuQ/EoCrlIZhdzA/s320/Cuyutlan+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuyutlan is the only beach I'd seen with kiddie pools;<br />
anyone else seen this on a beach anywhere else?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />We stopped a ways down, buried my legs in the sand, let the tide wash them off, and then walked back. By then it was only about 4:30 and we were bored. Hanging in our room was not an option, and there was nothing else to do... so we took a quick shower under the weak trickle (it probably would have been better water pressure if we turned the bathroom sink on and submerged various parts of our bodies), packed our bags back into the car, dropped our room key on the counter without saying anything to the staff, and hightailed it back north on the 100!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MS6LXHFra2U/UNgPjtZ2ScI/AAAAAAAAGug/7Lsfd65rTwE/s1600/Cuyutlan+parrot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MS6LXHFra2U/UNgPjtZ2ScI/AAAAAAAAGug/7Lsfd65rTwE/s320/Cuyutlan+parrot.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best part of our hotel was the<br />
door to the bathroom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We figured we'd drive until we didn't feel like it, stop for the night somewhere, and finish the drive back to Puerto Vallarta the next day. We accidentally got on the toll road which we decided was okay until we discovered it was $10 for only 30 minutes' worth of road! There was no turning back so we paid it, but we were shocked at the price.<br />
<br />
We ended up making the entire five-hour drive in one go, pulling up to a beachfront hotel I'd previously vetted about 20 minutes south of PV at 10 pm. The night clerk was surprised to see us but gladly let us into a room. We were both very happy to not be sleeping in our cheap, dingy Cuyutlan room, and that our long return drive was already behind us.</div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday, Dec 11 - Tequila, Mismaloya, and El Kliff</b><br />
<br />
We woke up and the first thing I did - the first thing I did every single morning, in fact - was scan the ocean for dolphins or whales. They were evasive buggers. Our hotel room at the Mar Sereno had large balcony with a gorgeous view. The room itself was inexplicably large, and the entire hotel was clearly a sight to behold in its glory days (possibly the 1970s), but has since fallen into a state of disrepair.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DOfZwzS6BVI/UNgPp7BMTmI/AAAAAAAAGvw/2qtYJyQCKqA/s1600/Mar+Sereno+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DOfZwzS6BVI/UNgPp7BMTmI/AAAAAAAAGvw/2qtYJyQCKqA/s320/Mar+Sereno+room.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ginormous, mostly empty room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H8004-8czno/UNgPo3pe6FI/AAAAAAAAGvc/5K_PVjtGwUs/s1600/Mar+Sereno+balcony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H8004-8czno/UNgPo3pe6FI/AAAAAAAAGvc/5K_PVjtGwUs/s320/Mar+Sereno+balcony.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful balcony</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There were few guests and fewer employees, and it was rather like staying in an abandoned mansion. It was about six stories tall, with the top of the building at street level and the bottom a sheer drop or some steep stone stairs down to the rocky ocean.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i8QfdbgyC60/UNgPqhZVIEI/AAAAAAAAGv4/dINBoUeiab4/s1600/Mar+Sereno.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i8QfdbgyC60/UNgPqhZVIEI/AAAAAAAAGv4/dINBoUeiab4/s320/Mar+Sereno.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mar Sereno from the beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Someone a long time ago built a little swimming hole where the water comes in at high tide, and at low tide you could walk around it and look at the crabs and little fish stuck in the pools. Everything was overgrown and rusted or eroded away, and I felt like I was in the secret garden, ocean edition.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-us_uTPEGiSE/UNgPpbT2TLI/AAAAAAAAGvk/Y7x0vRnruT0/s1600/Mar+Sereno+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-us_uTPEGiSE/UNgPpbT2TLI/AAAAAAAAGvk/Y7x0vRnruT0/s320/Mar+Sereno+rocks.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson in pursuit of marine life</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The hotel changed hands a few years ago, and I suspect someone who didn't know much about hotels (and the maintenance inherent in oceanfront property) bought it without realizing what it would take to restore. We were glad for the emptiness, though; it was a far cry from our fancy resort.<br />
<br />
We needed gas and I was craving roasted chicken, so we drove into PV to accomplish those two goals. Then we went to a tequila distillery near our hotel where the tastings were free and self-serve; their trick was to get you drunk so you bought more, and from the looks of the people there, it was very effective. The guy who came to help us was already beyond tipsy at 1 pm, often overstepping the boundaries of appropriate with dirty jokes and even a flash of the bag of weed he had in his pocket when we told him we were from Northern California. Luckily his drunkenness worked in our favor as he offered us a steal on a sampler of flavored tequilas (the girl ringing us up called him "Santa Claus," not a little annoyed). I usually hate tequila but this stuff was really good; it's entirely made and sold on premise, all in small batches and none of it exported. It was expensive but we felt like we'd gotten our money's worth.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rnRHvZv_8sE/UNgPyPtKBuI/AAAAAAAAGxg/SX81ddxXDso/s1600/tequila.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rnRHvZv_8sE/UNgPyPtKBuI/AAAAAAAAGxg/SX81ddxXDso/s320/tequila.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson models a fancy bottle while our salesperson<br />
gives us the hard sell.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
From there we drove to nearby Mismaloya beach and lounged next to the ocean, drinking fancy drinks, playing cards, saying no to the many vendors, and trying to ignore the many American tourists surrounding us.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uNew1n56LIY/UNgPrUyfcsI/AAAAAAAAGv8/6yUzwN4egXU/s1600/Mismaloya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uNew1n56LIY/UNgPrUyfcsI/AAAAAAAAGv8/6yUzwN4egXU/s320/Mismaloya.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The Mismaloya river terminates there so the water was much colder to swim in than usual, but we still had a nice final dip before heading back to the hotel to dress for dinner.<br />
<br />
I thought it would be nice if we had a fancy meal on our last night. We tried to go to Chico's Paradise which looked super cool, but it was only open for lunch, so instead we ended up at Le Kliff, one of the most expensive restaurants in the greater PV area which happened to be right next to our hotel. The first thing we noticed was a romantic table for two set up beneath the restaurant; the host told us someone was going to propose there that night, but they showed up after dark and missed the view!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eWRql7SgDZ4/UNgPlXVNPBI/AAAAAAAAGu4/TDlYTmNIwIU/s1600/Le+Kliff+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eWRql7SgDZ4/UNgPlXVNPBI/AAAAAAAAGu4/TDlYTmNIwIU/s320/Le+Kliff+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wedding central</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We were relatively early - a little before 6 - and we were seated at a great table right on the edge of the open-air patio overlooking the ocean. One other party was already there, and soon a group of 40ish women were seated right next to us. It soon became clear these ladies were here to celebrate the end of a meaningful vacation with gusto.<br />
<br />
The service was clumsy and forced; rather than creating their own style, they were clearly trying to emulate the uber fine dining establishments in the U.S., with little success. Our waiter was unimpressive. Rather than offering us menus, he asked what we were drinking and pushed the 'special seafood platter.' I said what, you don't have menus? He begrudgingly supplied a wine list and food menu, and we got a bottle of red that I used to drink in Chile, calamari to start, and steaks for the main course. The calamari was salty and tough and the steaks didn't fare much better, with tough meat and globs of congealed cheese between the slices of semi-raw potato gratin, but neither dish lacked the fussy detail people seem to associate with expensive meals.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPOvoMnG63c/UNgPmWD4FjI/AAAAAAAAGvE/IuISvVf1Wek/s1600/Le+Kliff+meal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPOvoMnG63c/UNgPmWD4FjI/AAAAAAAAGvE/IuISvVf1Wek/s320/Le+Kliff+meal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not great</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Our waiter insisted on addressing every communication to Carson, even though I was always the one to respond to him. Even when he brought the bill and I personally handed him my credit card, he still put it down in front of Carson. I wanted to strangle him, especially when he asked how much tip we wanted to include. "None," I said. "We'll leave cash." And we did, but not as much as he expected I'm sure. So all in all, the food and the service were a bust. But the night was worth its $100+ price tag.<br />
<br />
First... there were the neighbors. A group of coati (cousins of the raccoon) live nearby, and I'm sure no better meal can be found than in an open air restaurant filled with tourists. I noticed them first and cautioned Carson not to feed them since they are notoriously aggressive, at least in Argentina. Then a few minutes later came a scream. Not a little one; a full-blown "OMG" scream, from the older woman at the first table. She had just noticed our dining companions. The waiters lazily shooed them away, but it wasn't long before the same terrified scream was heard. The poor lady was so terrified she actually went to wait in the car while her dining companions hurriedly finished their entrees and her husband spoke harshly to the manager, who looked sympathetic but indicated their surroundings and said, "the restaurant is open and they live in the jungle; there's not much we can do."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EN53AKyOu0Y/UNgPvB3G79I/AAAAAAAAGws/VXaUcMXbMOE/s1600/coati.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EN53AKyOu0Y/UNgPvB3G79I/AAAAAAAAGws/VXaUcMXbMOE/s320/coati.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coati invader - it was hard to get a good<br />
picture of them but they have looong tails.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then there was the group who came next, a three-generation family of 12 led by a bitchy matriarch who, upon seeing Carson and I occupying a table for four at a superior table, asked why we couldn't be moved so they could enjoy our seats instead. I only know this because I watched it go down; to their credit, the wait staff did not indulge her request. After they were seated next to us, they proceeded to do those tourist things I hate the most: mock the menu, the restaurant, and in essence the culture; ask for complicated things in rapid-fire English, like a "sample of wine tastes;" and talk loudly as if they were the only ones present. Luckily I was half a bottle of wine in by then so I was more amused than annoyed. Carson joked about saying something to the woman on our way out, like "you can have our seats now."<br />
<br />
Then there was our favorite group - the 40ish ladies. They were there to have a memorable night, including three courses each, tearful toasts, dozens of flash-happy photos, and best of all... homemade music. One of them brought her guitar, and their elder companion went to each table and asked if we wouldn't mind listening to "one song from our friend who is a wonderful musician." What were we going to say, no? They finally got the manager to turn down the (admittedly awful smooth jazz) music, and then she proceeded to play and sing a song from their table. But that wasn't all, my friends! She then got up and walked to each table, playing private concerts for all of us lucky diners. We were last on her rounds and had actually just paid our bill, but we didn't quite escape.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RGUPxqrE-bs/UNgPl57LObI/AAAAAAAAGu8/2YuIViw1pZs/s1600/Le+Kliff+entertainment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RGUPxqrE-bs/UNgPl57LObI/AAAAAAAAGu8/2YuIViw1pZs/s320/Le+Kliff+entertainment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
She was a pleasant woman and had a sweet enough voice, but she didn't have a trained voice and she didn't play the guitar particularly well; in short, not the kind of person you'd expect to have the balls to treat a restaurant like a house party. We were very polite, however, and did not laugh about any of this until we were safely back in our room. We both agreed the night was worth it, but that the next time we dropped a bill on a meal it would be on killer food and hopefully less tacky dining companions.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b>Wednesday, December 12 - Adios, Mexico</b><br />
<br />
I woke up and made a last hopeful scan of the waters for marine life, only to be disappointed yet again. I wanted to go to one last beach (our flight wasn't until 5), but Carson didn't feel like getting wet and sandy before flying, so instead we packed and headed into PV to see what the final day of the Guadalupe festival looked like. First, traffic was crazy. We finally got through town around 11:00, parked on the other side of everything, and walked back. There were THOUSANDS of people cramming the streets, waiting to get into the Church of Guadalupe. Apparently this would go on all day and all night.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RgdQznbDdv4/UNgPvywC7ZI/AAAAAAAAGw8/mAx15Vgcdh8/s1600/last+Guadalupe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RgdQznbDdv4/UNgPvywC7ZI/AAAAAAAAGw8/mAx15Vgcdh8/s320/last+Guadalupe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This doesn't even capture the madness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We found what we thought was our original al pastor vendor and had a delicious plate of tacos while watching the hordes slowly pass by.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JQ4kcxrHsJY/UNgPriHsI5I/AAAAAAAAGwI/8lg_lOrPmTE/s1600/al+pastor+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JQ4kcxrHsJY/UNgPriHsI5I/AAAAAAAAGwI/8lg_lOrPmTE/s320/al+pastor+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AIWKWZ51saI/UNgPsKW8EFI/AAAAAAAAGwQ/GfAHyPodrp0/s1600/al+pastor+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AIWKWZ51saI/UNgPsKW8EFI/AAAAAAAAGwQ/GfAHyPodrp0/s320/al+pastor+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Then we headed to the Malecon to get a few cheesy souvenirs and an ice cream. We also admired the many performers, including living statues dressed to the nines, a pair of sand-covered chess players, and sandcastle builders. What drives me crazy is American tourists snapping pictures of them like crazy but not giving them a single peso. Tourists of the world, take note! If you take a picture, you should really pay for it.<br />
<br />
I loved this wishing well and threw several peso into it:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AUIHo0RP7TI/UNgPyxCKldI/AAAAAAAAGxo/xpY_utIAzNo/s1600/wishing+well.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AUIHo0RP7TI/UNgPyxCKldI/AAAAAAAAGxo/xpY_utIAzNo/s320/wishing+well.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
<br />
With nothing much left to do, we headed to the rental car agency, turned in our trusty Scala, and had nearly three hours to kill before our flight. We passed them in a generic airport restaurant, eating bar food and playing many rounds of rummy.<br />
<br />
Finally it was time to board and we ended up with a row of three to ourselves. I hogged the computer writing this blog and before I knew it we were in San Francisco. Customs wasn't too bad, our bags came right away, and we walked out right as our shuttle was pulling up - I love perfect timing! We were both pretty hungry so once we got the car I found a nearby Vietnamese restaurant (something you can't get in Ukiah) and introduced Carson to the wonderful world of pho. It was the third best thing I ate on my entire vacation.<br />
<br />
We made it to Ukiah at about midnight, dragged our bags in through the rain, and promptly passed out.<br />
<br />
And that was our successful Mexico vacation!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mx59aX4defs/UNgPk2MqsrI/AAAAAAAAGuw/62C4YG8XHO8/s1600/Le+Kliff+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mx59aX4defs/UNgPk2MqsrI/AAAAAAAAGuw/62C4YG8XHO8/s320/Le+Kliff+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-41255745558854308952012-12-20T14:36:00.001-08:002012-12-20T14:45:55.454-08:00Mexico! Part I<i>I wrote this blog on the plane back from Mexico but am just now getting around to posting it. It was SO LONG that I'm actually breaking it into two. Sheesh.</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: start;">Carson and I are on the plane back from </span><st1:country-region style="text-align: start;" w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region><span style="text-align: start;">. I have three hours to kill so I figured I might as well write what we all know will be an epically long blog about the last 12 days. I cannot emphasize enough that I write this as a personal record for my own memories, and I encourage you to enjoy the pictures and skim the rest since no one else could possibly care about this level of detail.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: start;">
<b>November 30: To <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Mexico</st1:place></st1:country-region> we go!<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: start;">
After spending the night in <st1:city w:st="on">San Francisco</st1:city> we had an easy and uneventful flight to <st1:city w:st="on">Puerto Vallarta</st1:city>. When we got to the rental car place we were in for a bit of a shock – apparently the insurance is as much as the car itself, and we were unable to waive it. We also upgraded to a slightly larger vehicle so our rental ended up costing us 1.5 times as much as we thought – whoops. Luckily the upgraded car was an automatic, a huge blessing since it turns out my aggressive driving and experience in foreign countries made me much better suited to navigating the Mexican roads. I drove about 90% of the time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: start;">
We got to our “fancy” resort (about 10 minutes south of downtown <st1:city w:st="on">Puerto Vallarta</st1:city>) just after sunset. We had to change rooms almost immediately due to a pretty nasty sewage smell, and as I was checking out our second room I got stuck in the elevator. I had to pry the doors open and jump up about a foot to the floor – eek! We changed from a one bedroom suite to a studio room which was surprisingly much nicer – the bedrooms faced the noisy hallway and the living room was uncomfortable, whereas in the huge studio the bed was right next to the ocean-facing balcony. Much nicer to sleep to the sounds of the sea than people in the hall. <br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bpXRQKP-q58/UNOIUCbL8wI/AAAAAAAAGq0/SOA6jF4B98w/s1600/Costa+Sur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bpXRQKP-q58/UNOIUCbL8wI/AAAAAAAAGq0/SOA6jF4B98w/s320/Costa+Sur.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Carson using the computer in our second room.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfxiAT3mIzs/UNOIV9H4B_I/AAAAAAAAGq8/EtJP1_F_ivA/s1600/Costa+sur+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfxiAT3mIzs/UNOIV9H4B_I/AAAAAAAAGq8/EtJP1_F_ivA/s320/Costa+sur+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">The view from our room - admittedly pretty awesome.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aG9ztl36FD8/UNOIyZg8ltI/AAAAAAAAGtM/cfGPLVrwHJg/s1600/costa+sur+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aG9ztl36FD8/UNOIyZg8ltI/AAAAAAAAGtM/cfGPLVrwHJg/s320/costa+sur+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from our balcony</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nVrdfpgNpts/UNOIfwUcZwI/AAAAAAAAGrs/i_UUS7MhMOw/s1600/Oyster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nVrdfpgNpts/UNOIfwUcZwI/AAAAAAAAGrs/i_UUS7MhMOw/s320/Oyster.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fun shell Carson found (I admit we threw it back into the<br />
ocean from our balcony).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The next night we ended up changing rooms again due to ants in the bed – third time was the charm, though I did end up complaining and getting a partial refund due to our treatment. Having to change rooms twice should be cause for some apology from the hotel staff, I think, but instead they acted like I was the problem. In addition to the refund they have offered us a two night complimentary stay in the future, but I doubt we’ll take them up on it. The resort had sort of a strange vibe, partially because we were the youngest people there by decades. My parents would have been young there!<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We ended our first evening with a late swim in the pool and dinner at the bar in our bathing suits – nice way to start a vacation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>December 1 – Gardens and Guadalupe<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A day of false starts. We thought we’d go kayaking, but they only had one and not two person kayaks which didn’t appeal to me. Then we rented snorkels, but the ocean was choppy so we returned them to use at a later time. Finally we decided to drive a few kilometers south to check out the botanical gardens. What a lovely spot! One of the best parts was that the grounds were essentially empty so we had the trails to ourselves. Part of it lay along a river which was nice to wade in.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zc009YVZ3NA/UNOIYGC1ccI/AAAAAAAAGrE/Cj5xkAVDLz0/s1600/Gardens+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zc009YVZ3NA/UNOIYGC1ccI/AAAAAAAAGrE/Cj5xkAVDLz0/s320/Gardens+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main building at botanical gardens.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgogVQpwJ7g/UNOI2t_zTMI/AAAAAAAAGtg/_H9Tus22E9g/s1600/gardens+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgogVQpwJ7g/UNOI2t_zTMI/AAAAAAAAGtg/_H9Tus22E9g/s320/gardens+3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We almost ran smack into these beauties<br />
a few times.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hBMwdhBeGqo/UNOI0OJ20rI/AAAAAAAAGtU/UIHgf41xjfM/s1600/gardens+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hBMwdhBeGqo/UNOI0OJ20rI/AAAAAAAAGtU/UIHgf41xjfM/s320/gardens+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
On the way back we stopped for roadside tacos, then spent an hour at the pool before getting massages at the spa. There was a 2 for 1 promotion going on, but I didn’t realize this meant we would get our massages together – I don’t really understand the appeal of a “couples” massage. Having <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> on the table next to me was more a funny distraction than anything, but it was still a good massage. After that the ocean had calmed down so we used the snorkels, and then we headed into <st1:city w:st="on">Puerto Vallarta</st1:city> for dinner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unbeknownst to us, December 1-12 is the festival of Guadalupe, which happened to be the exact length of our stay. Each night in every city and town across <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region>, people make “pilgrimages” in the form of parades to the local church. A band accompanies them and they carry candles and sing “La Guadalupana,” a song that is now perpetually stuck in my head. They’re also generally accompanied by a young boy who lights loud fireworks in his hands and lets them go at the last minute – a very safe practice. Of course, we didn’t know any of this at the time, but we figured it out soon enough when we were crawling through traffic. We finally found somewhere to park on the dizzying hills behind downtown.<br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wERXGkI7mjo/UNOI4KAA7CI/AAAAAAAAGto/MnQlTj8q6EQ/s1600/hillside+parking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wERXGkI7mjo/UNOI4KAA7CI/AAAAAAAAGto/MnQlTj8q6EQ/s320/hillside+parking.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A slight exaggeration of the camera, but it was pretty crazy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, the benefit of any festival is the availability of street food. That first night we had an elote – a cup filled with fresh corn kernels, cream, lemon juice, and hot sauce – and then several tacos and tamales wrapped in banana leaves, followed by a torta for good measure. After all that eating, plus some wandering of the Malecon (main drag by the beach), we were ready to head back. Trying to get out of <st1:place w:st="on">Puerto Vallarta</st1:place> was a whole other scene and it took me about 20 minutes of harrowingly steep and narrow street driving to finally find a road that wasn’t closed by the processions that would take us back to the highway.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wQvGg8e3AtA/UNOIZTZl8hI/AAAAAAAAGrM/7wH8ZPsVtrM/s1600/Guadalupe+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wQvGg8e3AtA/UNOIZTZl8hI/AAAAAAAAGrM/7wH8ZPsVtrM/s320/Guadalupe+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start of the procession on day 1 of the festival</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fFzJiwBggCM/UNOIa0Ht7TI/AAAAAAAAGrU/DzAjaUxLQ7Y/s1600/Guadalupe+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fFzJiwBggCM/UNOIa0Ht7TI/AAAAAAAAGrU/DzAjaUxLQ7Y/s320/Guadalupe+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adolescent dancers in costume</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7PiycTSWS8o/UNOIc2GQEDI/AAAAAAAAGrc/slpjjU6SG6Y/s1600/Guadalupe+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7PiycTSWS8o/UNOIc2GQEDI/AAAAAAAAGrc/slpjjU6SG6Y/s320/Guadalupe+3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church of Guadalupe, the procession's <br />
destination</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yX03xAgZ4FE/UNOIntuRm_I/AAAAAAAAGsU/cMmoDB30d28/s1600/Us+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yX03xAgZ4FE/UNOIntuRm_I/AAAAAAAAGsU/cMmoDB30d28/s320/Us+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self portrait on the Malecon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>December 2 – Yelapa<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the recommendation of several people including friends in Ukiah, we decided to take a boat to the secluded <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">beach</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Yelapa</st1:placename></st1:place>. Rather than driving in and taking the tourist boat from <st1:city w:st="on">Puerto Vallarta</st1:city>, we spent a fraction of the cost by driving a bit south to Boca de Tomatlan and taking the local water taxi. It was half as much and twice as interesting since it’s a primary form of transportation for locals who live in beach towns that are more easily accessed by boat than car. They load massive coolers, bags and boxes of groceries, and very old ladies into these boats, making for an even more interesting unloading process. For the beaches with piers they would pull up and hastily unload as many things and people as possible between the large waves; for beaches without, they just get as close as they can and then you have to jump out into the water. Yelapa was one of those beaches. We got there around 10 am, long before the tourist boats, and had the place to ourselves. We decided to walk on the main “road” which a path that is only big enough for quads (there are no cars in Yelapa). There were a lot of horses on this path.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mMgBmgWPC1g/UNOI70rX9pI/AAAAAAAAGt4/sAEYmcmAWa8/s1600/yelapa+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mMgBmgWPC1g/UNOI70rX9pI/AAAAAAAAGt4/sAEYmcmAWa8/s320/yelapa+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know your town is tiny when this is the main road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The road follows the river and we walked for about 30 minutes before coming to a nice clearing where I went swimming. Unfortunately this was inhabited by the dreaded “noseeums” and we paid dearly for our lack of bug spray. I got off relatively easy, but <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city>’s legs looked leprous until just a day or two ago. Luckily I had some liquid lidocaine left over from my <st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region> days (which we sadly lost along the way, just before I was attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7xj9MZyrG_A/UNOIrPgbr-I/AAAAAAAAGsk/LNVldnHsZ4I/s1600/Yelapa+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7xj9MZyrG_A/UNOIrPgbr-I/AAAAAAAAGsk/LNVldnHsZ4I/s320/Yelapa+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you find Carson in this picture?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After we’d had our fill of the river we walked back and sat on the beach for hours, drinking pina coladas and people watching. The cove was great for swimming and we spent a lot of time in the water. This was <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city>’s favorite part of the whole trip.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zC8zbiD6bl0/UNOIhTH0auI/AAAAAAAAGr0/o7kZ5sVpi3I/s1600/Pina+coladas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zC8zbiD6bl0/UNOIhTH0auI/AAAAAAAAGr0/o7kZ5sVpi3I/s320/Pina+coladas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ultimate beach vacation photo op.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kI-RQosaReU/UNOIsjjD_3I/AAAAAAAAGss/bYO0jGElSKQ/s1600/Yelapa+panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="70" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kI-RQosaReU/UNOIsjjD_3I/AAAAAAAAGss/bYO0jGElSKQ/s320/Yelapa+panorama.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yelapa panorama (click to enlarge)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: center;">That night we went back into PV to watch the processions and eat more street food. We had the most incredible tacos al pastor – marinated pork that they cut from a huge slab (similar to what you see gyros meat cut from) and served with hunks of pineapple. These tacos tied for best food of the entire vacation.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>December 3 – San Sebastian del Oeste<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our three nights at the fancy resort up, we got in the car and headed inland 2 hours to a tiny Sierra Madre mountain town called San Sebastian del Oeste. It’s principal industry is – or at least once was – mining. Since almost no streets leaving PV were marked, and since we got four or five conflicting directions from Google and various people, it took us quite a while to find the right road. Carson also had the misfortune of a power outage directly in the middle of an ATM transaction so that he only got half of what he was charged for (we’re still working on resolving that one). But eventually we were on the right path, and the road was well paved if not obnoxiously filled with invisible and huge speed bumps. Seriously, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region> – paint those suckers!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had read that the best place to eat was La Lupita, and it was the very first place we saw. We went for lunch which was a fixed price for several courses – fresh squeezed orange juice, a quesadilla, rice and beans, a pork and egg dish called machaca, chicken mole, and the ever-present handmade tortillas. It was the best full meal we had anywhere by a long shot. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7u83P4YdHag/UNOIesFQV4I/AAAAAAAAGrk/-zDoUN0vCxE/s1600/La+Lupita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7u83P4YdHag/UNOIesFQV4I/AAAAAAAAGrk/-zDoUN0vCxE/s320/La+Lupita.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch at La Lupita</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After lunch we moseyed to the main plaza after lunch and found a cheap hotel I’d read was a good value called El Puente. It was definitely cheap and as a 100 year old building had lots of charm, but we were glad it was just for one night since the bathroom was only separated by a swinging door. We went for a walk and found a coffee plantation (delicious coffee that I bought in abundance) and an abandoned rodeo/bullfighting ring. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2qzfsuYo7E/UNOIjovLB_I/AAAAAAAAGr8/NYoBY1kQbzM/s1600/San+Sebastian+rodeo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2qzfsuYo7E/UNOIjovLB_I/AAAAAAAAGr8/NYoBY1kQbzM/s320/San+Sebastian+rodeo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ring was strangely romantic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WFZZaB33XI8/UNOIvJJ-59I/AAAAAAAAGs8/hxscTauLwFU/s1600/coffee+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WFZZaB33XI8/UNOIvJJ-59I/AAAAAAAAGs8/hxscTauLwFU/s320/coffee+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me admiring coffee plants</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mOVj9AGIoxY/UNOIxFpNB9I/AAAAAAAAGtE/AtWNIa07Lr0/s1600/coffee+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mOVj9AGIoxY/UNOIxFpNB9I/AAAAAAAAGtE/AtWNIa07Lr0/s320/coffee+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee in its many stages</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then we drove down two of the narrow cobblestone roads leading out of town, just to see where they went. They all turned from cobblestone to an even narrower dirt path, and we had to turn around both times before we got anywhere (our little Scala was not exactly an off-roading vehicle).</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IHLNJ5_zWrw/UNOIlCk1ckI/AAAAAAAAGsE/QG2neB0i0IQ/s1600/San+Sebastian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IHLNJ5_zWrw/UNOIlCk1ckI/AAAAAAAAGsE/QG2neB0i0IQ/s320/San+Sebastian.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of San Sebastian from one of our off-road trips.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r7jo6DjAha0/UNOI6FpE_LI/AAAAAAAAGtw/mAry6y09Zsk/s1600/san+sebastian+forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r7jo6DjAha0/UNOI6FpE_LI/AAAAAAAAGtw/mAry6y09Zsk/s320/san+sebastian+forest.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the second road; it was getting dark so<br />
we turned back before reaching the tiny town high<br />
in the mountains with incredible views, apparently.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We missed the Guadalupe procession which was, not surprisingly, tiny. For dinner we stumbled across what seemed like an out-of-place Italian restaurant, run by a real Italian. It was delicious! We each had homemade pasta which came with a salad and fresh baked bread, and then the owner brought us a small slice of pizza which made us regret not having ordered a whole one. Seriously impressive for a town with fewer than 1,000 inhabitants.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not much to do after that but go to sleep.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>December 4 – Sayulita
and ceviche (ruined for eternity)</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We woke up early and left without eating breakfast. Our destination was Sayulita, an infamous surf town about 45
minutes north of <st1:city w:st="on">Puerto Vallarta</st1:city>. It was about a three hour drive, and one we arrived we ate some tortas for lunch and then found a hotel I’d read about – Hotel Eden, a block
from the beach and very reasonably priced considering the cable TV, air
conditioning, and rooftop patio. Carson wasn't feeling so hot so we napped in the room for a few hours, finally hitting the beach in the late afternoon. It took us awhile to figure out what time it was. Technically Sayulita (which is in the state of Nayarit) is an hour behind Puerto Vallarta, but to make it easier on everyone the Mexican government recently decreed that Sayulita and several other nearby towns would switch to Puerto Vallarta time (which is in the state of Jalisco).<br />
<br />
Even though it was
4 pm, it didn’t take long for <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> (sufficiently recovered) to find someone to give him a surf lesson right then and there. For $30 he got
an hour and a half lesson and then another hour to use the surfboard by
himself, which he redeemed the next morning. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ASKkp6c-Dc8/UNOISpj32OI/AAAAAAAAGqs/IoXBofLvj4Y/s1600/Carson+surf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ASKkp6c-Dc8/UNOISpj32OI/AAAAAAAAGqs/IoXBofLvj4Y/s320/Carson+surf.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson, his huge board, and his instructor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found a chair and tried to read
my book but couldn’t help watching him from afar – I even took a few pictures,
though I was too far away and didn’t get him in most of the frames. This is the
only one I got with him up on the board, though he got up quite a few times. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-heHRX2rxO58/UNOItV6DWLI/AAAAAAAAGs0/XHrMX6gftN0/s1600/carson+surf+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="127" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-heHRX2rxO58/UNOItV6DWLI/AAAAAAAAGs0/XHrMX6gftN0/s320/carson+surf+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For dinner we went to the main plaza a block from our hotel
and sat down at a restaurant for a front row seat of the Guadalupe processions.
These ones were lively, with tons of loud fireworks including what I called the
“firework head.” Picture this – a young boy, probably 12 or 13, holds a large
hat-like structure over his head which has been fitted with about 2 minutes’
worth of sparking, crackling fireworks. He lights it on fire and then runs
around the plaza chasing people – young kids, old people, terrified tourists –
until the last spark goes out. I was agape.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was on the verge of ordering fajitas when the waiter
casually mentioned that they had ceviche. I don’t like the traditional
Nayarit/Jalisco style of ground fish ceviche, but he told me it was hunks of
fish and shrimp and I was sold. I wish I had ordered the fajitas. My old friend
e coli came to stay for a few days after that. Now that ceviche has made me
sick in two countries (damn you, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Bolivia</st1:country-region>) I’m pretty sure it’s
ruined forever. Even now, the word makes my stomach turn. All I can say is it’s
a good thing that hotel room had a bathroom door that closed an a toilet that
flushed properly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>December 5 – Just… gross<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After assuring him I was fine and even preferred being left
alone, Carson went surfing again and wandered about, coming back to the room
occasionally with Gatorade and Pepto Bismol. I felt decent enough by around 2
to go for a short walk, and I talked a restaurant into making me some mint tea
and uber-salty chicken broth while <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city>
ate real food. I know I needed the fluids and salts but it was an ugly scene
after that and I didn’t bother drinking much of anything until the next
morning. I did watch a lot of Keeping up with the Kardashians, though, so the
day wasn’t an entire waste (note heavy sarcasm). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>December 6 – A Day at
the Beach<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got a good night’s sleep and woke up feeling more or less
human, so we hit a local hot spot called Rollie’s, run by a retired American
high school principal. Rollie himself was our waiter and he was a really sweet
guy who told us he'd just become a grandfather for the first time. I had more mint tea and managed to eat a pancake without incident. After
that we hit the beach, renting lounge chairs from a restaurant for 150 pesos
(about $12) for the whole day. I read while <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> people watched, then I ventured into
the water for a few minutes. It’s always amazing to me how exhausting
everything is after just a day or two of being sick and I tried not to push it,
but I really wanted to play in those awesome Sayulita waves. When we got back
to our chairs the woman next to me asked if my name was Beth and if I was from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Forest
Park</st1:placename></st1:place>. It was Evelyn, my high school best friend’s
mom’s best friend! I’d been on vacation with their two families twice and
remembered her fondly. That’s a small world scenario for you!<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O5JdtBnx8eg/UNOIoxgapfI/AAAAAAAAGsc/lx0fIPklRTU/s1600/Us+sayulita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O5JdtBnx8eg/UNOIoxgapfI/AAAAAAAAGsc/lx0fIPklRTU/s320/Us+sayulita.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lounging (you can see Ev and her husband next to us!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
For lunch, I managed to very slowly eat an entire chicken “milanesa”
(basically a flattened, breaded chicken breast) and some French fries, and I
felt fine.<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">Sayulita is extremely popular with tourists, and is
therefore extremely popular with vendors. I understand these are people trying
to make a living, and we did get some items – I bought a coral bracelet and
Carson bought me a pearl necklace – but it was tiresome having to say “no
gracias” literally every minute or two, and sad to say it to young
children who shouldn’t have to sell crap on the beach in the first place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That night we went back to watch the processions. They were
particularly eventful since instead of the usual pickup truck used to cart
around the live models – young children dressed up as the Virgin Mary and
angels staring adoringly at her – they had outfitted a semi. The problem was
twofold: first, the backdrop they’d built extended much higher than the wires
crisscrossing the streets, resulting in a group of men running in front with
sticks to push the wires up and over the frame (just a few inches from the
exasperated teenager playing Guadalupe); two, the driver was not very adept at navigating the
tiny, twisty roads. Suffice to say it was painful but amusing to watch and I’m
still kicking both of us for forgetting the camera.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We ran into Ev and her husband and chatted for awhile before
looking for dinner. I found a falafel stand and managed to eat about ¼ of a pita
sandwich while talking to the very sweet owners and admiring their adorable
baby, while Carson had some street tacos.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sdm66d69UyM/UNOImkf9r4I/AAAAAAAAGsM/UqM8Vporx5Q/s1600/Sayulita+panorama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="70" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sdm66d69UyM/UNOImkf9r4I/AAAAAAAAGsM/UqM8Vporx5Q/s320/Sayulita+panorama.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panorama of Sayulita from our hotel's rooftop deck -<br />
plaza to the left, ocean to the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And that's the first half of our vacation! I'll post the second half soon.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-79649113924094847162012-11-28T23:41:00.001-08:002012-11-28T23:45:00.530-08:00Let the holiday season begin!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The holidays are here! I've never grown jaded or become "too cool for school" when it comes to the holiday season. I love the overplayed Christmas songs, the cheesy traditions, and ingesting all those empty calories. Fortunately I've found a kindred in my new friend Melissa, who spent the night a few times over the past several weeks on visits from her home in Fort Bragg. On one such night we went to the grocery store for something very sensible, and came home with all the fixings for gingerbread houses.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Getting Our Gingerbread On</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eCf9FOnl9kc/ULcFkjJFe0I/AAAAAAAAGo4/abK2u0H1EO4/s1600/gingerbread+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eCf9FOnl9kc/ULcFkjJFe0I/AAAAAAAAGo4/abK2u0H1EO4/s320/gingerbread+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few of the many things going on here: two cans of<br />
frosting, sour patch kids and dots, gluten-free animal <br />
cookies, persimmon slices, wasabi peas, frito twists, <br />
and a Trader Joe's lager. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wUitEGamY_0/ULcEzMqBqnI/AAAAAAAAGnc/wPx2qO8fi6A/s1600/Eli+gingerbread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wUitEGamY_0/ULcEzMqBqnI/AAAAAAAAGnc/wPx2qO8fi6A/s320/Eli+gingerbread.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I help myself to some frosting...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QYA2Bp0OBEY/ULcE5nGeGLI/AAAAAAAAGnk/Rl-7UY4Q2jk/s1600/Melissa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QYA2Bp0OBEY/ULcE5nGeGLI/AAAAAAAAGnk/Rl-7UY4Q2jk/s320/Melissa.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...while Melissa indulges in some Fritos.<br />
That wig is popular these days!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VB-uXtL9Who/ULcFpUxmS0I/AAAAAAAAGpA/qnVlQd4ZKqU/s1600/gingerbread+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VB-uXtL9Who/ULcFpUxmS0I/AAAAAAAAGpA/qnVlQd4ZKqU/s320/gingerbread+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My house from the front. Notice the bison pet and the<br />
sour patch kids lounging in the cupcake liner hot tub.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rN0kyHgKYbI/ULcFt-tmF1I/AAAAAAAAGpI/62vc1UUuW7E/s1600/gingerbread+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rN0kyHgKYbI/ULcFt-tmF1I/AAAAAAAAGpI/62vc1UUuW7E/s320/gingerbread+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melissa was convinced that hers was much, much better.<br />
I admit that it was, though mine was much, much tidier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Thanksgiving Warm-Up</b><br />
<br />
Later that week, the Road B crew put on their annual massive Thanksgiving, which happens the Sunday before. Carson and I got all gussied up and made a trial sweet potato casserole to bring. Unfortunately no one told us about the 4 hour change in start time, so while we felt fashionably late, we actually showed up to an empty venue. A few drinks and some football later and we were back. The food was incredible! I skipped the long line for the meat table (four turkeys! ribs! a gallon of gravy!) and helped myself to heaps of the amazing vegetarian entrees. Eventually I went back for meat but it almost wasn't necessary. Here's a shot of one of the rooms (yes, there were two rooms of people, though this was the more crowded one).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NTy3Shxmo_Q/ULcE_IB_FII/AAAAAAAAGnw/tVvVDCod9so/s1600/Road+B+Thanksgiving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NTy3Shxmo_Q/ULcE_IB_FII/AAAAAAAAGnw/tVvVDCod9so/s320/Road+B+Thanksgiving.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Thanksgiving, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...</b></div>
<br />
For the actual Thanksgiving day celebration, Mary Anne and Howie were kind enough to invite us to their 20-year-long tradition of co-hosting with another family. This year it was at their house, and I helped Mary Anne menu plan. She wanted to pre-carve the turkeys like she'd seen Julia Child do, and I suggested we recruit Carson for his butchering expertise. He did not disappoint! He even wielded a hatchet when the butcher knife was nowhere to be found. Here he is while Mary Anne and her son Drew (note the incredible Terminator t-shirt) look on:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cf1mRy36EXc/ULcFHXmqXYI/AAAAAAAAGoA/kZiK2uRW7mI/s1600/Thanksgiving+butcher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cf1mRy36EXc/ULcFHXmqXYI/AAAAAAAAGoA/kZiK2uRW7mI/s320/Thanksgiving+butcher.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I made gluten-free cornbread stuffing for the birds, plus regular bread stuffing for general consumption. I also made a Chinese broccoli salad which was really fresh and crisp against all those other rich, mushy dishes, and of course, pies. I'm happy to report they turned out perfectly! I made one pumpkin and one pecan, both delicious. The crusts were a hit. I put them in the freezer before baking so they were as cold as possible per a trick I read online, and it really helped slow their bake time. This is definitely my go-to gluten-free crust from now on. Even two days later it was still tasty.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Af_VrMhHHoc/ULcFTxpTHHI/AAAAAAAAGoY/a_l1jj8Ahsg/s1600/Thanksgiving+pies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: center; float: center; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Af_VrMhHHoc/ULcFTxpTHHI/AAAAAAAAGoY/a_l1jj8Ahsg/s320/Thanksgiving+pies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Carson made version two of the sweet potato casserole, this time swapping goat cheese for heavy whipping cream. That plus thyme and honey made one damn fine dish. We used my new mandolin to make superfine sweet potato slices and it was fun but scary. I can definitely see myself slicing off part of a finger one of these days.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Mary Anne sets a beautiful table, and in this case she set two for the 21 guests. I loaned her my dining table which has three leaves - its full length rarely sees the light of day so it was fun to use. Here's a shot of one of the centerpieces. The persimmons are from my tree:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0_F8CnY7jdQ/ULcFMPzP1AI/AAAAAAAAGoI/0fItQPQwS08/s1600/Thanksgiving+centerpiece.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0_F8CnY7jdQ/ULcFMPzP1AI/AAAAAAAAGoI/0fItQPQwS08/s320/Thanksgiving+centerpiece.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here are Lucy, Carol, and Mary Anne working on stuffing the birds:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oAYbDNqNP28/ULcFP7NOxmI/AAAAAAAAGoQ/wQWyzz0QqF4/s1600/Thanksgiving+matriarchs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oAYbDNqNP28/ULcFP7NOxmI/AAAAAAAAGoQ/wQWyzz0QqF4/s320/Thanksgiving+matriarchs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Thanks to the butchering done the night before in which the backbone, wishbone, and some of the leg bones were removed, the turkey cooked for half as long and was simple to carve. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VyJuz-_go-k/ULcFgrYYuKI/AAAAAAAAGow/jdaGIXomUOc/s1600/Thanksgiving+turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VyJuz-_go-k/ULcFgrYYuKI/AAAAAAAAGow/jdaGIXomUOc/s320/Thanksgiving+turkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The turkey was incredible! Very moist with crispy skin. The cornbread stuffing didn't hold its form at all but it didn't matter - it was delicious.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D5wSl2KbGZ4/ULcFdwDwfoI/AAAAAAAAGoo/AVp4gjL8pxs/s1600/Thanksgiving+turkey+cooked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D5wSl2KbGZ4/ULcFdwDwfoI/AAAAAAAAGoo/AVp4gjL8pxs/s320/Thanksgiving+turkey+cooked.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's the general scene right before eating. It was jovial to say the least. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E8Eywr1OvNo/ULcFXlA-_UI/AAAAAAAAGog/-v_HmofIZ8s/s1600/Thanksgiving+scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E8Eywr1OvNo/ULcFXlA-_UI/AAAAAAAAGog/-v_HmofIZ8s/s320/Thanksgiving+scene.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I remembered to get someone to take a picture of us before the wine, food, and conversation distracted us:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b6Xx1A1iGOY/ULcFDYjtg9I/AAAAAAAAGn4/kUiOiDGXO6g/s1600/Thanksgiving+aww.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b6Xx1A1iGOY/ULcFDYjtg9I/AAAAAAAAGn4/kUiOiDGXO6g/s320/Thanksgiving+aww.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Before dinner we all went around and shared what we were grateful for. It got a little emotional and I was moved and felt so blessed to be a part of this special tradition. I love Thanksgiving and can't imagine having a better place in Mendocino to spend this one.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After dinner, as is their tradition, we played charades. This is not a game often in my repertoire, and certainly not in Carson's, but we were good sports. It got competitive! After playing together for 20 years the regulars know each other and how to write tricky items that are nearly impossible for the other team to guess. I got lucky with my first one - the movie "Lincoln" - but my second one - the song "Anyday" by Eric Clapton - was a no go. Two minutes is an eternity when you're trying to figure out what sounds like 'any' and how to act it out. Carson nailed both of his. Too bad we were on opposite teams! His team won but we all had fun which was all that mattered.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
All in all it was a really special and memorable day.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>More Pie Experimentation</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
To ease myself out of the Thanksgiving spirit, I made one last pie. I had leftover pumpkin filling and wanted to try the cream cheese crust with regular flour. It looks beautiful here, and it tasted good, but for the amount of cream cheese and butter in that sucker it should have made my mouth much happier than it did. The elasticity of gluten is just too much for the cream cheese, and it was more chewy than flaky. Lesson learned! I'll stick to all-butter crusts when using regular flour from now on. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lqI71S1-kFg/ULcFyzNJ2rI/AAAAAAAAGpQ/83qb9Ege4R4/s1600/post+Thanksgiving+pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lqI71S1-kFg/ULcFyzNJ2rI/AAAAAAAAGpQ/83qb9Ege4R4/s320/post+Thanksgiving+pie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>OFF TO MEXICO!</b><br />
<br />
Tomorrow Carson and I go to San Francisco to take advantage of an amazing "park sleep fly" deal in which we get a night in a pretty decent hotel plus 14 days of parking and an airport shuttle for $140 (almost too good to be true). It's a bit strange to live so far from the nearest major airport but that's what I get for moving to the country. Then on Friday morning we fly into Puerto Vallarta to explore the Jalisco coast for 13 days (!!). I will have my computer but we'll see if I manage to blog from there. Carson is dead-set on learning to surf, which fits nicely into my plan to sit on the beach reading one of the four books I'm taking. I can't wait!ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-39290088744118017582012-11-21T11:51:00.000-08:002012-11-21T11:51:00.180-08:00This is not my beautiful lifeHere's what I've been up to since my last update post, mostly in photos.<br />
<br />
<b>No translation needed</b><br />
<br />
I attended a gardening workshop at the Mendocino college on behalf of the Gardens Project in case they needed a translator. They didn't, so instead I just got to enjoy learning about how to build hoop houses.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w_0pNNtXQnU/UKPRWduY8HI/AAAAAAAAGhM/YSwXb0QYjXU/s1600/garden+workshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w_0pNNtXQnU/UKPRWduY8HI/AAAAAAAAGhM/YSwXb0QYjXU/s320/garden+workshop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Not improving my opinion of cats</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Carson's landlady asked us if we would watch her cats while she went out of town. This worked out well since Carson was gone for a few of the days and so was I so we tag-teamed. One of the cats would not leave me alone; every time I sat down it curled up around my neck. Throwing him off was futile. (Most people who know me know that I am not a cat lover, making this particularly annoying to me/funny to everyone else.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rxSIf47-44w/UKPRRomSizI/AAAAAAAAGg0/CYZdlJCIOQI/s1600/Eli+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rxSIf47-44w/UKPRRomSizI/AAAAAAAAGg0/CYZdlJCIOQI/s320/Eli+cat.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Having been raised in the country, Carson is an animal whisperer. He bends them all to his will, and had the cat trained in about 2 minutes to sit nicely BEHIND him:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U8mWl1JKlJQ/UKPRPvYo54I/AAAAAAAAGgk/yzhha-qZBJY/s1600/Carson+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U8mWl1JKlJQ/UKPRPvYo54I/AAAAAAAAGgk/yzhha-qZBJY/s320/Carson+cat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Jerk.<br />
<br />
<b>Eat Local</b><br />
<br />
To celebrate local food day, The Gardens Project hosts a dinner called Farmer's Night Out with the fanciest restaurant in town, Patrona. Anyone can go but farmers eat for free, which is pretty cool. I volunteered so I got in for free, and Carson is a farmer of sorts so we had a very inexpensive date night:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DyD3rmtO3Ko/UKPUiU8hEPI/AAAAAAAAGis/ee7iOKFFSXU/s1600/FNO+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DyD3rmtO3Ko/UKPUiU8hEPI/AAAAAAAAGis/ee7iOKFFSXU/s320/FNO+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is a significantly better picture of me, with my friend and Gardens Project Americorps volunteer Natalie:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PAEX2CJoL_0/UKPUjztlyCI/AAAAAAAAGi0/NDT1foQHMmQ/s1600/FNO+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PAEX2CJoL_0/UKPUjztlyCI/AAAAAAAAGi0/NDT1foQHMmQ/s320/FNO+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Halloween on the Coast </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I went to Fort Bragg to visit Whitney and celebrate Halloween (sort of) with Whit, Sara, and their friend Melissa who is now my friend Melissa. Here's a pic I snapped on my way to the party:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8T8_efO3dao/UKPRYByaJ8I/AAAAAAAAGhU/dl1_3zgaFh8/s1600/ocean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8T8_efO3dao/UKPRYByaJ8I/AAAAAAAAGhU/dl1_3zgaFh8/s320/ocean.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Yes, this is the same costume I <a href="http://vidadesconocida.blogspot.com/2011/11/happy-halloween.html">wore last year</a>, only with much less effort - no makeup, no fake eyelashes, no heels. But we didn't leave Melissa's house so it didn't really matter.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6ytS8hHvH0/UKPRj7-H83I/AAAAAAAAGhc/HWXpCIH4C_0/s1600/Halloween.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6ytS8hHvH0/UKPRj7-H83I/AAAAAAAAGhc/HWXpCIH4C_0/s320/Halloween.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Crabs!</b><br />
<br />
The next weekend I went back to my friend's mountain house. He and his neighbor went crabbing and came back with 20 gorgeous crabs, which we devoured. I wish I'd taken a picture of us eating them because it was a scene, but I was too busy shoving crab into my face (I ate two... yikes). We were all a hot mess by the end of it. Notice the dogs snagged one for themselves:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRWpOmPYPbY/UKPRTF21kqI/AAAAAAAAGg8/C1QTdAFjdzw/s1600/crab+bake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRWpOmPYPbY/UKPRTF21kqI/AAAAAAAAGg8/C1QTdAFjdzw/s320/crab+bake.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Election = Relief</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I spent election day avoiding the news, but hit the local brewery once the election had been called for Obama. The failure of Prop 37 in California about GMO labeling was disappointing, but hey - gay marriage! Legal weed! No asshats who say horrific things about rape representing us! All in all a resounding success for the liberal half of the country, and I really believe for everyone, even if 49% of us don't think so.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You know you're in a small town when you've only lived there for two months but know two separate groups of people at the pub:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-odTupJEKIhc/UKPRUilssXI/AAAAAAAAGhE/aN_DaI044Jg/s1600/election+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-odTupJEKIhc/UKPRUilssXI/AAAAAAAAGhE/aN_DaI044Jg/s320/election+night.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Photo Fail</b><br />
<br />
My friend Meagan and her boyfriend Rob stopped in Ukiah on their way to the coast for her birthday weekend. Sadly I didn't take any photos because we had a really fun time walking around my neighborhood and eating some comfort-food soup I made. They were both blown away by how cute my adoptive town is ("Ukiah - who knew?") and I hope they come back to stay longer in the near future.<br />
<br />
<b>Navel gazing at my good fortune (and eating cookies)</b><br />
<br />
The other day, Carson made cookies. Amazing cookies. He is thoughtful and precise in everything he does, and apparently whipping up a batch of baked goods qualifies as being worth his time and energy to make them perfect. I have never once rolled chocolate chip cookies into uniform balls and gotten uniform cookies as a result. I can tell you who's in charge of the chocolate chips from now on, and it's not me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G3BccxoO5hI/UKPRQ3VyqjI/AAAAAAAAGgs/PPVwflC_uSo/s1600/Carson+cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G3BccxoO5hI/UKPRQ3VyqjI/AAAAAAAAGgs/PPVwflC_uSo/s320/Carson+cookies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Being an adult...</b><br />
<br />
Oh, I've been working too. I have several different freelance jobs with at least one more on the way in December. So, yeah... I'm not a bum anymore! As a result, I've been spending a lot of time at my sweet little desk:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_59G-Ip0Rtk/UKPYpYOdgII/AAAAAAAAGkI/4I2BQ6tp-nw/s1600/desk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_59G-Ip0Rtk/UKPYpYOdgII/AAAAAAAAGkI/4I2BQ6tp-nw/s320/desk.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>...lets you go on vacation</b>!<br />
<br />
It's a good thing I'm working, since Carson and I are going to MEXICO. Woohoo! We leave on November 30 and get back December 12. We'll fly into Puerto Vallarta, only 3.5 hours from San Francisco (it takes almost as long to get to the airport from here), and head south. Last year my friend Jacob and I flew into PV and headed north; I seem to keep scratching off another length of Mexico's coast with each trip. Carson's never been to Mexico and has never really been on a vacation like this, so we're going to ease into it with three nights at a <a href="http://www.costasurpuertovallarta.com/">fancy hotel</a> (with oceanfront terrace, swoon). From there we'll rent a car and hit some of the small towns that make me love Mexico so much.<br />
<br />
Life is magical!ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-27887035967629254202012-11-16T18:54:00.002-08:002012-11-20T19:48:10.360-08:00This is why you make practice piesTonight was my first time trying a gluten-free crust, in anticipation of Thanksgiving. Secret ingredient: cream cheese. Having never made a cream cheese crust, I didn't realize that you just sort of smoosh it into the pie dish instead of actually trying to roll it out. After rolling and separating it from the well-floured counter with a butter knife, it disintegrated as I tried to transport it to the pie tin. There was cursing. I was delighted when I finally looked it up, though; you just smoosh that puppy right into the tin! Pie crusts always crack on me and stress me the hell out, but the cream cheese crust was fun like playdoh to work with. For maybe the third time in the 50+ pies I've cooked in my life, I had a perfect edge:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7GFDhaGhG1A/UKb3mSujUEI/AAAAAAAAGlc/lzAs9mje-o4/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7GFDhaGhG1A/UKb3mSujUEI/AAAAAAAAGlc/lzAs9mje-o4/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The brown flecks are almond meal, which really added to the flavor of the crust.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8vS_OoC7ASc/UKb3nFZ9LcI/AAAAAAAAGlk/vvToz1tjXjw/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8vS_OoC7ASc/UKb3nFZ9LcI/AAAAAAAAGlk/vvToz1tjXjw/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I picked 10 persimmons from my tree, sliced them, blanched them in brown sugar water, and then coated them with lemon juice. I added a jar of the plum mint jam I'd made back in July, plus some gluten free flour to thicken it up.<br />
<br />
Since the dough was way too soft to cut lattice out of, and since I didn't have much left, I smooshed a heart out for the top.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ao6A8Z3DOFE/UKb3nuspoYI/AAAAAAAAGls/lJY57tesgMY/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ao6A8Z3DOFE/UKb3nuspoYI/AAAAAAAAGls/lJY57tesgMY/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Critical error: basing the cook temperature and time on the pie filling, not on the experimental pie crust. D'oh.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UB4sfOC2L6Y/UKb3oQaFyKI/AAAAAAAAGl0/Lj4PNzGL7yU/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UB4sfOC2L6Y/UKb3oQaFyKI/AAAAAAAAGl0/Lj4PNzGL7yU/s320/photo+4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This burned after just 30 minutes!! It was the 375 that killed us; my gut told me that it was too high and I ignored my gut.<br />
<br />
However, the heart is delicious and the bottom crust was pretty good so it's probably a gluten-free winner. It just needs to be cooked "low and slow" (as they say on BBQ Pitmasters, which I have been inexplicably addicted to this week).<br />
<br />
As for the filling, it's good but not amazing. It's my first time cooking with persimmons and the texture of them turned out nicely, so it's not a fail in any way. Just not the best pie filling. I think persimmons will lend themselves better to being totally covered or contained in something, and the flavor should continue to get better as they ripen; right now they're pleasant but fairly bland. Also, I should research the thickening capabilities of gluten-free flour, as it was fairly runny. I doubt 20 more minutes in the oven would have fixed that.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iPmWzB2ETpQ/UKb44hgiPCI/AAAAAAAAGl8/o2pHy8tCuho/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iPmWzB2ETpQ/UKb44hgiPCI/AAAAAAAAGl8/o2pHy8tCuho/s320/photo+5.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Lessons learned: </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
1) Make this gluten free pie crust for Thanksgiving. Save time and stress by not rolling the damn thing out and instead smooshing away. Cook at 300 or 325; check frequently.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
2) Make a pie filling I have mastered for Thanksgiving, probably pumpkin (which should match the crust's temperature and - fingers crossed - cook time).</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3) Even when you burn a pie that has a just okay filling, it's still pretty delicious.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
p.s. I did most of this in my Diana Ross wig.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X0ok_Im62hU/UKb6lN6_YFI/AAAAAAAAGmE/IuEspFkPJH8/s1600/wig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X0ok_Im62hU/UKb6lN6_YFI/AAAAAAAAGmE/IuEspFkPJH8/s320/wig.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-30988771406828231992012-11-14T09:11:00.002-08:002012-11-14T09:11:18.285-08:00Fall photos from around my 'hood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: left;">I've been obsessed with the fall in Mendocino. When I came in June I knew what to expect from the summer: hot and dry days, cool nights. But now we're transitioning into a new season and I'm enthralled by the changes. Turns out, fall in Mendocino is gorgeous. It stays warm well into November. Even though it's gotten cold two or three times, it jumps back up into higher temperatures a few days later. (Case in point: there was frost on the ground three mornings this and last week, but today and tomorrow it will hit 72 degrees.) It has rained - and when it rains it means business - but between the rain it tends to be sunny with poofy clouds. What a concept! I can't wait for a non-grey winter. There are more leaves on the ground than on the trees now, but it's still a lovely time of year.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HPpNK7aPwac/UJ3RpY-Ge7I/AAAAAAAAGcs/9RZOkf5ln-s/s1600/blue+skies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HPpNK7aPwac/UJ3RpY-Ge7I/AAAAAAAAGcs/9RZOkf5ln-s/s320/blue+skies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from in front of my house, November 1.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1oR62uZL_9c/UJ3S3ldn73I/AAAAAAAAGdc/fGqRrSmxiXY/s1600/sunburst.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1oR62uZL_9c/UJ3S3ldn73I/AAAAAAAAGdc/fGqRrSmxiXY/s320/sunburst.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civic center lawn, November 1. (I'm quite<br />
taken with sunburst photos lately.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DgwKXUdTa1o/UJ3SaWr373I/AAAAAAAAGc0/KLVXHfc5dZY/s1600/cloudy+side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DgwKXUdTa1o/UJ3SaWr373I/AAAAAAAAGc0/KLVXHfc5dZY/s320/cloudy+side.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stormy skies, November 9.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ozla1jtgzjA/UJ3S6esXx3I/AAAAAAAAGdk/ECJGBzGbPPs/s1600/sunny+side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ozla1jtgzjA/UJ3S6esXx3I/AAAAAAAAGdk/ECJGBzGbPPs/s320/sunny+side.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing in exactly the same spot as the stormy sky photo<br />
above. This was a great day of storm and sun - I even<br />
saw a nice little rainbow!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sP3ldudl-20/UJ3S0htueSI/AAAAAAAAGdU/r26jZydjhyw/s1600/storm+and+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sP3ldudl-20/UJ3S0htueSI/AAAAAAAAGdU/r26jZydjhyw/s320/storm+and+trees.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Continuing on my walk, November 9. It started pouring<br />
rain the instant I arrived at my destination, where I<br />
curled up on the couch with some tea and helped plan<br />
Thanksgiving dinner.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M7boEu8CHLg/UKPLC6keetI/AAAAAAAAGfE/d8rFqIHKikc/s1600/lake+mendo+fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M7boEu8CHLg/UKPLC6keetI/AAAAAAAAGfE/d8rFqIHKikc/s320/lake+mendo+fog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fog over Lake Mendocino, early morning, November 10.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wo3D4DvfXh8/UKPLEE6CQ9I/AAAAAAAAGfM/vcqbhYhV9_E/s1600/young+vineyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wo3D4DvfXh8/UKPLEE6CQ9I/AAAAAAAAGfM/vcqbhYhV9_E/s320/young+vineyard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun over young vineyard, late afternoon, November 10.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NSQKJeHlQdk/UJ3S-YEA62I/AAAAAAAAGds/s6qle_ptqMk/s1600/tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NSQKJeHlQdk/UJ3S-YEA62I/AAAAAAAAGds/s6qle_ptqMk/s320/tomatoes.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green tomatoes I was planning to pickle<br />
turned mostly into ripe tomatoes for sauce.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BNj3jnWc65o/UJ3Sr20y5EI/AAAAAAAAGdE/Gd8V_Wp4OyI/s1600/dining+scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BNj3jnWc65o/UJ3Sr20y5EI/AAAAAAAAGdE/Gd8V_Wp4OyI/s320/dining+scene.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dining table scene: flowers and chairs <br />
courtesy of my friend/Mendo mom Mary Anne <br />
(at whose house Carson and I will spend<br />
Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FPx1h6dyKBg/UKPQNESfRrI/AAAAAAAAGgc/rbEr2H1lvII/s1600/blue+skies+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FPx1h6dyKBg/UKPQNESfRrI/AAAAAAAAGgc/rbEr2H1lvII/s320/blue+skies+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Same view as first photo, November 14 (taken 1 minute ago <br />
actually). Fewer and duller leaves but still more interesting <br />
than the bare bones we'll have all winter. Of course I'm<br />
sure I'll think those are lovely, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-37960553409507144612012-10-20T12:11:00.003-07:002012-10-28T02:11:34.318-07:00First month as a CalifornianIt's been a little over a month since I arrived in the Golden State and I'm officially a Californian. Having never officially moved to another state before (even when in PA I never changed my license), I had no idea just how involved it would be to switch my identity from WA to CA. I've been to the DMV no fewer than four times. Gone is my favorite license plate number of all time; gone is my sweet WA state driver's license number; instead I have California plates and ID, neither of which I prefer. The CA DMV crops its photos real close, y'all. At least I passed the written test! And, the best thing about my new license plate is it has a Z in it; I hope one day in the not too distant future two kids are battling it out to win at the alphabet game and my car's Z is the victory letter for one of them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-alnoVNG9pMk/UILnAXQ5_TI/AAAAAAAAGXA/oVboNzGezWU/s1600/CA+Matrix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-alnoVNG9pMk/UILnAXQ5_TI/AAAAAAAAGXA/oVboNzGezWU/s320/CA+Matrix.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You didn't think I was going to show my driver's license, did you?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I also had to change my car insurance, renter's insurance, health insurance, and theoretically voter registration but I'm actually going to vote in WA this year (gay marriage needs my vote more than GMO labeling does). I got a local credit union account, and one of these days it would be nice to change my Seattle-area phone number.<br />
<br />
All this is to say, I better stay here for awhile because moving is a real pain in the ass.<br />
<br />
Here's what I've done in the last month.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e99JDQ7yhaw/UILnD48bhTI/AAAAAAAAGXQ/EYnct7OjglU/s1600/Eli+pumpkins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e99JDQ7yhaw/UILnD48bhTI/AAAAAAAAGXQ/EYnct7OjglU/s320/Eli+pumpkins.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stopped by the Giant Pumpkin weigh-off in<br />
the Safeway parking lot.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Farm9mvIGQ/UILnJ_wM_5I/AAAAAAAAGXw/m9vGbwCvsCE/s1600/Whitney+Sara+pumpkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Farm9mvIGQ/UILnJ_wM_5I/AAAAAAAAGXw/m9vGbwCvsCE/s320/Whitney+Sara+pumpkin.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Whitney and Sara at the pumpkin weigh-off. This one weighed<br />
580 pounds! Carson says there's usually one that's 800.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opLQakMu4bU/UILnYDiec8I/AAAAAAAAGY0/Wzp6Xn-Y7dI/s1600/smoothie+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opLQakMu4bU/UILnYDiec8I/AAAAAAAAGY0/Wzp6Xn-Y7dI/s320/smoothie+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Rode the Garden Project's "smoothie bike" at the Co-op's block<br />
party. My buddy Natalie holds it down while this stranger<br />
gives me a hilarious look. (This was across from the pumpkin<br />
weigh-off on the same day; very convenient.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2hEGOlxDQCU/UILnQ6BNPRI/AAAAAAAAGYU/lFwZDnvJJLo/s1600/local+women's+music+festival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2hEGOlxDQCU/UILnQ6BNPRI/AAAAAAAAGYU/lFwZDnvJJLo/s320/local+women's+music+festival.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Attended the Local Women's Music Festival at Nelson<br />
Vineyards in their beautiful Redwood grove. Performing<br />
here is Ede, one of my favorite local "raging grannies."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsa7P0vjqHE/UILnIK8GwWI/AAAAAAAAGXo/ZEjcfdoBBCc/s1600/Saracina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsa7P0vjqHE/UILnIK8GwWI/AAAAAAAAGXo/ZEjcfdoBBCc/s320/Saracina.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Visited the breathtaking Saracina vineyard north of Hopland.<br />
They have caves you can tour! Sent my parents a delicious<br />
bottle of Chardonnay for their 39th wedding anniversary.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7S6kEwNOtLE/UILnGoCgqRI/AAAAAAAAGXg/M2rvMOdPtSY/s1600/Saracina+Eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7S6kEwNOtLE/UILnGoCgqRI/AAAAAAAAGXg/M2rvMOdPtSY/s320/Saracina+Eli.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wine tasting at Saracina. (Sara and Timin nearby.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rA6njIPpZ3M/UILnLWTts2I/AAAAAAAAGX4/1Ilm-5fA2vQ/s1600/cow+mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rA6njIPpZ3M/UILnLWTts2I/AAAAAAAAGX4/1Ilm-5fA2vQ/s320/cow+mountain.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drove up Cow Mountain with Carson to see the remnants of two <br />
fires he was on this summer. You can see Clearlake in the distance.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ua4mCveGURc/UILnFHDpgqI/AAAAAAAAGXY/DLdnoNZOTkk/s1600/Ft+Bragg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ua4mCveGURc/UILnFHDpgqI/AAAAAAAAGXY/DLdnoNZOTkk/s320/Ft+Bragg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Tried to go abalone diving at Fort Bragg, but the cold weather<br />
translated to a picnic on the beach with Sara.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4-iFWjv5-s/UILnNZJBxvI/AAAAAAAAGYA/lNnCnsRO_I4/s1600/garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4-iFWjv5-s/UILnNZJBxvI/AAAAAAAAGYA/lNnCnsRO_I4/s320/garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Planted a winter garden with David and Janet. Brussels<br />
sprouts, broccoli, kale, beets, lettuce, radishes, and carrots.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v9NgZ1PRdps/UILnS6os0PI/AAAAAAAAGYc/MwPY8CuhptA/s1600/persimmons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v9NgZ1PRdps/UILnS6os0PI/AAAAAAAAGYc/MwPY8CuhptA/s320/persimmons.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Our persimmons are starting to change color! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WSyPOeR5aY/UILnO9M1KJI/AAAAAAAAGYI/rgsrHW74gu0/s1600/green+tomato+pickles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WSyPOeR5aY/UILnO9M1KJI/AAAAAAAAGYI/rgsrHW74gu0/s320/green+tomato+pickles.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Made green tomato pickles (and green tomato chutney).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nCCM08Q0_Bc/UILnB86W-zI/AAAAAAAAGXI/o-SceAEnulI/s1600/Doc+birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nCCM08Q0_Bc/UILnB86W-zI/AAAAAAAAGXI/o-SceAEnulI/s320/Doc+birthday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Went to Doc's 92nd birthday party on October 18, a talent show in<br />
which Jay and I performed "Jose and Esmerelda," a running skit<br />
from the summer about a fighting Latino couple.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6u1ab5ZCo3E/UILnU5y-xAI/AAAAAAAAGYk/-DigrNrg1J0/s1600/puzzle+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6u1ab5ZCo3E/UILnU5y-xAI/AAAAAAAAGYk/-DigrNrg1J0/s320/puzzle+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roped Sara and Ian into starting a puzzle with me on Wednesday...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4La5D4lcqbg/UILnWv8XscI/AAAAAAAAGYs/Zub3LPAOE80/s1600/puzzle+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4La5D4lcqbg/UILnWv8XscI/AAAAAAAAGYs/Zub3LPAOE80/s320/puzzle+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and David and Janet into finishing it with me on Friday.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've also been doing lots of volunteer work with The Gardens Project, helping them plan an event on Monday called "Farmer's Night Out" and translating a lot. Today I'm going to be the translator for a garden workshop on hoop houses and row covers at the Mendocino College. I'm also doing "real" (i.e. paid work), officially ending my seven month unemployment streak. The work is fun, though; a variety of writing and editing projects to keep me busy and not bored. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The hot weather stopped yesterday and today we're down to the 70s with the rain predicted to start early next week. However, I just walked to the farmer's market and they had a bounty of strawberries, so it still feels like summer.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l3jwHR9jByE/UILnaHPMchI/AAAAAAAAGY8/LfUZH8j5uHU/s1600/strawberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l3jwHR9jByE/UILnaHPMchI/AAAAAAAAGY8/LfUZH8j5uHU/s320/strawberries.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-32271116229616855342012-10-03T20:44:00.002-07:002012-10-03T20:47:21.710-07:00Nesting in 100+ degree weatherIt's October, a month I usually associate with fall leaves and dipping temperatures. However, Ukiah's atmosphere doesn't share my sentiment since all three days in October have broken 100 degrees (and a few records, apparently). September was equally hot and they're saying it's the hottest fall on record (and by "they" I mean two men in front of me at the bank). The weather here really is pretty crazy. For instance, check out this snapshot of the weather on Monday. It didn't quite hit 106, but it did go from 54 to 100 in a matter of hours.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mWasOQfnoHk/UG0FMOzZQyI/AAAAAAAAGUc/6_gWW2yNnsI/s1600/crazy+weather.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mWasOQfnoHk/UG0FMOzZQyI/AAAAAAAAGUc/6_gWW2yNnsI/s320/crazy+weather.PNG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Luckily my new house stays nice and cool, except when I'm baking, which has happened for the last six consecutive nights. What can I say? It's good to have a kitchen again. Here's a pumpkin pie I made from a pumpkin I got at the farmer's market, which is just one block from my house every Saturday.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qScmODw5ULQ/UG0BKDFzX9I/AAAAAAAAGTw/so-LPbjSIEo/s1600/pumpkin+pie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qScmODw5ULQ/UG0BKDFzX9I/AAAAAAAAGTw/so-LPbjSIEo/s320/pumpkin+pie.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And, since I haven't really shared any details about my new digs, here are three one-minute videos of my house (small enough so I could text message them to my Mom, who was the inspiration for these clips).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/BFJ_390iTkE/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BFJ_390iTkE?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BFJ_390iTkE?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/CMgRQzdFRxc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/QkO-m0DpEno?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I live with a cool dude named David who I met through the farm this summer. Here we are breaking in the backyard, with Whitney giving Janet some bright pink highlights.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ueOfqCUacmI/UG0AVW5PAvI/AAAAAAAAGSU/zrBEhrQpNUk/s1600/backyard+salon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ueOfqCUacmI/UG0AVW5PAvI/AAAAAAAAGSU/zrBEhrQpNUk/s320/backyard+salon.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
One of the many great things about this house is that the backyard is bursting with food! Here is a fraction of the tomatoes I have harvested over the past two weeks. The best part is, the red ones are incredibly good - sometimes even home-grown tomatoes can be mushy or not flavorful, but these ones are mouth watering sliced with a bit of salt. I've also sauced a lot of them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xZ_ATwp7RUc/UG0Aj67xwFI/AAAAAAAAGTY/RlAme9GT_8s/s1600/tomatoes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xZ_ATwp7RUc/UG0Aj67xwFI/AAAAAAAAGTY/RlAme9GT_8s/s320/tomatoes.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Over the course of my adult life I have furnished six homes, and then sold for a fraction of the cost (or just plain given away) nearly everything in that household only to start again within the next few months. It's a bad habit. So, although I had a trailer full of stuff to unpack in Ukiah (three cheers for finding and keeping good kitchen stuff) I had virtually no furniture. For the first four nights I slept in a little nest I made on the floor. I shopped every furniture store, thrift store, consignment store, and garage sale in the greater Ukiah/Willits area, and found absolutely nothing that I wanted in a price range I could afford. So, during one of Carson's off days, I talked him into driving to Santa Rosa so I could buy a bed and one other large piece of furniture; possibly a sofa. Instead I found a sick deal on a great futon, so I came home with two beds; one for me and one that serves as both couch and guest bed. Here's Carson tying it all down; I love that this picture manages to make him look short.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hWts48ZPAwk/UG0AW8rLhCI/AAAAAAAAGSc/iyfyXstQMi0/s1600/furniture+shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hWts48ZPAwk/UG0AW8rLhCI/AAAAAAAAGSc/iyfyXstQMi0/s320/furniture+shopping.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Here are Sara and Whitney breaking in the futon (earlier this night we had four of us comfortably snuggled up on it watching a movie - definitely a good investment).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rdBSAioSAl8/UG0Ah5w5RoI/AAAAAAAAGTE/yzEXZLad9b4/s1600/sleepover.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rdBSAioSAl8/UG0Ah5w5RoI/AAAAAAAAGTE/yzEXZLad9b4/s320/sleepover.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We're still missing dining chairs and I need a desk chair and night stands, but otherwise we're in good shape!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Since arriving back in Ukiah I've wasted no time in getting busy, including volunteering with The Gardens Project. On Sunday I helped them with a 5k at a gorgeous winery down the highway in Hopland called Jaxon Keys. This is their expansive wrap-around porch:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uK2aC5kcm4E/UG0AlHTWn9I/AAAAAAAAGTg/Bg66YLJsczo/s1600/vineyard+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uK2aC5kcm4E/UG0AlHTWn9I/AAAAAAAAGTg/Bg66YLJsczo/s320/vineyard+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Here is a view from one of the vineyards:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jMIQIWZ85L4/UG0AmKCD7HI/AAAAAAAAGTo/gOJmjY_Gkeg/s1600/vineyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jMIQIWZ85L4/UG0AmKCD7HI/AAAAAAAAGTo/gOJmjY_Gkeg/s320/vineyard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I imagine that after a few years of living here the grapes will lose their romance, but for now I'm still infatuated by these juicy orbs:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VSvSQnBxDro/UG0AasnJ5iI/AAAAAAAAGSk/Ekq6lzBuzgU/s1600/grapes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VSvSQnBxDro/UG0AasnJ5iI/AAAAAAAAGSk/Ekq6lzBuzgU/s320/grapes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I also went to a pizza birthday party at the farm, where they made their own dough and cooked them in the beautiful outdoor cob oven. Here's Nick, one of the birthday celebratees, making his own pizza:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8vcXKRUa_6k/UG0FGeNiDEI/AAAAAAAAGUU/CBlR0qd_G6Q/s1600/Nick+pizza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8vcXKRUa_6k/UG0FGeNiDEI/AAAAAAAAGUU/CBlR0qd_G6Q/s320/Nick+pizza.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
Yesterday Carson had some work to do on his hives, so I took a book and sat back while he worked. Here's a picture I snapped while he wasn't looking:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7TWECLk5T48/UG0ATz89nrI/AAAAAAAAGSM/fwbou5Fu5F4/s1600/Carson+and+bees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7TWECLk5T48/UG0ATz89nrI/AAAAAAAAGSM/fwbou5Fu5F4/s320/Carson+and+bees.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And hey, since this post is all over the place, here I am eating Mexican empanadas and a hibiscus-flavored snocone at my new favorite spot:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bjbLmwQ_RiM/UG0AimKTOsI/AAAAAAAAGTQ/hJV1U3hoQcw/s1600/tacos+and+snowcones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bjbLmwQ_RiM/UG0AimKTOsI/AAAAAAAAGTQ/hJV1U3hoQcw/s320/tacos+and+snowcones.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
Until next time!ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-309734541076452572012-09-30T16:46:00.002-07:002012-10-08T13:12:10.323-07:00Seattle to Ukiah in just three blundersAs of September 19, I'm officially a Ukiah resident (Ukian?). I left Seattle on Monday evening with a very well-packed U-haul trailer attached to the Matrix, thanks to my dad's super powers.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-guP8dHsDd1k/UGjWaOFEWMI/AAAAAAAAGRk/rm_Jkcs1PS8/s1600/move+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-guP8dHsDd1k/UGjWaOFEWMI/AAAAAAAAGRk/rm_Jkcs1PS8/s400/move+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zpuIc00lmr8/UGjWcA5tOJI/AAAAAAAAGRs/2EI71kcL740/s1600/move+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zpuIc00lmr8/UGjWcA5tOJI/AAAAAAAAGRs/2EI71kcL740/s400/move+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I was fine until about 30 minutes before it was time to go, and then I got butterflies in my stomach. As I pulled away from my parents and the house I've known my whole life, I realized that I was taking things with me that had never left Seattle. It's the most I've ever committed to a move in my life (and there have been many). I cried until I got on the freeway, called my friend Amber, and then let the monotony of the road guide my thoughts.<br />
<br />
I drove to Portland to see Robyn, my very accommodating buddy on the way to and from Seattle since I started this back and forth in March (I've now done the drive three times). She fed me a bowl of homemade soup we're both obsessed with (her mom's recipe and a childhood throwback) - which she specifically saved and brought back for me from a weekend away, hello Good Friend Award - and then let me pass out on her comfy couch.<br />
<br />
The next morning I drove across town to pick up two gals and their very well-behaved dog to share the ride all the way to Ukiah with me (Craigslist rideshare never lets me down). As we talked we figured out that we had actually had fairly similar summers, knew the same people, and had been at the same events (they made the cool leather wristbands for the Not So Simple fair!). They were excellent driving companions and in general the trip went well. However, there were three rather large snafus during the drive, all of which were my fault.<br />
<br />
1) Pulling away from a gas station in Grants Pass at the end of the I-5 leg, I noticed the "door ajar" light on. We all opened and shut our doors but it stayed on. "Oh, sometimes the back gate doesn't fully shut" I said as I casually pulled over to the side of the road to give it a good slam. Except when I got out of the car, I saw that the back gate was COMPLETELY OPEN. I either a) drove away without shutting it, or b) it was poorly shut and launched open, a sound I attributed to the trailer going over a hump. Either way I had made two left turns like that and driven a quarter of a mile or so, without a single passerby honking or trying in any way to alert us to our plight! Eff you, Grants Pass residents. The real miracle was that not a single thing had fallen our or even shifted in place (including some very dear houseplants). I stood there staring at my companions through the open hatch for a full minute, silently freaking out and then cracking up.<br />
<br />
2) After the semi-trauma of having nearly caused a shower of beloved debris over a busy road, I somehow missed the sign for our next highway, I-199, and got on... I'm not sure what. It was GORGEOUS, one of the most idyllic roads I've ever driven. All three of us commented on how beautiful it was, and I thought to myself, "I don't remember 199 being this nice before." Then we came to a fork in the road. "Uhh.... I don't remember 199 having a fork... do you?" (They had made the drive several times as well.) We sat helplessly at the fork for a moment before a farmer in a pickup slowed to a stop next to us, and confirmed our suspicions that no, we were not on the right road, and worse, the only way back was the way we came, about 20 miles back. Woof. Luckily we were making excellent time so this scenic detour only pushed us back to our estimated arrival time, but it was still a deflating blow (as anyone who has spent 13 hours in the car in a single day can relate to).<br />
<br />
After getting back to devil Grants Pass and finding the 199, we drove to our next stop and freeway - Crescent City and the 101 - that would take us home. Choosing the least evil fast food, we ate at a Subway (the same one I've now patronized on three of the four occasions I've passed through since last spring). I switched to the passenger seat and we set our eyes on Eureka. It's only 84 miles away but it felt like forever for all three of us; somehow those 84 were the slowest miles of the whole trip, and it took over 2 hours since we were towing a trailer. Finally in Eureka, we pulled over to gas up, where I discovered that:<br />
<br />
3) I LEFT MY WALLET IN CRESCENT CITY. Crescent City, now two hours behind us; we're on the home stretch with only three and a half hours to Ukiah and <i>I left my goddamn wallet at a Subway</i>. It took about thirty seconds to decide I wasn't going four hours out of my way for it. I called and confirmed that yes, they had it, thus beginning a complicated week-long but ultimately successful process of getting them to mail my wallet to me in Ukiah. Special thanks to Mary, the employee who made it happen, and the kind folks at FedEx Ukiah who watched me cry to the point I couldn't speak while they competently searched for a solution. When it finally arrived, one of the employees called me instantly (rather than letting the automated call go out to me several hours later) and looked almost as excited as I was when I walked in to retrieve it.<br />
<br />
The rest of the drive was uneventful and we pulled in just after dark at around 8:30. The best part - and admittedly part of why I was so quick to forgo the four-hour round trip to get my wallet - was that I got to see Carson. After 40 consecutive days on the fire line (!!) he was finally home, the first person to officially welcome me to my new hometown. He was moving into his new house as I was driving, and we now we live just eight blocks apart instead of 30 minutes by car.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Stay tuned for details on my rad new house and the all-too-familiar (and expensive) process of furnishing yet another home.ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-81567537703770242732012-09-12T12:55:00.002-07:002012-10-08T13:16:13.761-07:00Seattle and the Not So Simple FairWell, August flew by. All of a sudden it was September 4 and time to leave Mendocino for a return trip to Seattle to be the wedding planner for my first and only official clients of my VERY short-lived event planning business (it didn't take long to figure out that wasn't what I wanted from life). The wedding was on Saturday and it went perfectly, beautiful weather complete with a very short sprinkle - the first rain in 44 days, apparently - which I assured the couple was Mother Nature's benediction. They were the sweetest bride and groom, their vows made me cry, their families and friends were awesome, and I was able to hire Amber to assist me that day so we had a fun time working together. All in all a delightful event!<br />
<br />
Since then I've barely left my parents' couch, except for a foray into Capitol Hill last night which included 45 minutes of traffic and a $53 parking ticket. Ouch. Today I'm off to Amber's to garden and then to catch a ferry to Vashon to spend the night with Dustin and Alan, so I thought I'd better get this posted already.<br />
<br />
<b>Seemed Simple Enough to Me!</b><br />
<br />
When last I left you I had just gotten back from the <a href="http://notsosimple.info/">Not So Simple Living Fair</a> (in late July - I'll write an August catch up soon). We spent days preparing - we were helping to host the hospitality corner so I made six loaves of chocolate zucchini bread and two trays of rice krispy treats. We were camping there too so we also had to feed ourselves; I helped make a giant potato salad and another huge pesto quinoa salad, Whitney made some of the best pasta sauce I've ever had, and there were lots of other treats as well (not to mention the excellent food vendor options). We were awake until 3 am the night before cooking and having a ball. The next morning we loaded up the cars and drove to Boonville, about 45 minutes on the way to the coast. This is the sweetest little town! Once there we chose a spot for our camp, set up the hospitality area, and started reviewing the very comprehensive list of classes offered.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HVY7oUTL-1g/UFDmpwVQrbI/AAAAAAAAGQU/PhmFKUERKtI/s1600/Schedule.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HVY7oUTL-1g/UFDmpwVQrbI/AAAAAAAAGQU/PhmFKUERKtI/s320/Schedule.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is the most fun and useful idea for a fair, EVER: want to know how to live a more sustainable life? Use things found in nature? DIY? This is the spot for you! I took classes on seed saving, greenhouse building, how to forage and use wild plants, harvesting and cooking seaweed, and - by far my favorite - how to tie a variety of knots. At one point I looked up and there was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adrian_Grenier">Adrian Grenier</a> holding a length of rope, trying to mimic the knot. Apparently he was in town shooting a movie. It was a bit surreal seeing him there but he was gone before I could give much thought to whether or not it was fun or invasive. Here I am practicing a square knot - how is it possible I never before knew this simple but amazing knot??<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5RBpQusLVc/UFDmsjgTr8I/AAAAAAAAGQ0/WDUAp-DnDvE/s1600/knots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5RBpQusLVc/UFDmsjgTr8I/AAAAAAAAGQ0/WDUAp-DnDvE/s320/knots.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In between classes you could do woodworking or blacksmithing, ride around on the musical cabaret-mobile, visit the farm animals on display, or just talk to any one of the many interesting people there. There was also the sustainability bit that I really appreciated. Everyone brought their own dishes, and food vendors didn't offer paper products. If you forgot your plates, you could go to the dish table and buy a thrifted plate or bowl for 50 cents. There was a dishwashing station that was kept very clean (no one wants to use dirty dish water), and there's something fun about eating out of your own dish. On Saturday night there was a huge potluck dinner - everyone brought a dish to share and local farmers donated meat, including a pig that was slaughtered and butchered in one of the classes. Here's the barbecue and the potluck line:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u5WDNgiSacc/UFDmtoj32HI/AAAAAAAAGRE/cA1RvJc_JQI/s1600/potluck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u5WDNgiSacc/UFDmtoj32HI/AAAAAAAAGRE/cA1RvJc_JQI/s320/potluck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The meat was delicious and it was so fun seeing looong lines of bowls of food people had made to share. As I was leaving the potluck I walked by the barbecue and noticed a heart on the grill. "Who eats that?" I asked the guy. "You do!" He replied, and sliced a few sections of the pig's heart off for me to eat. It was quite tasty, surprisingly tender and not chewy at all. (If you look closely at the photo above you can see the heart on the grill.) Here are the two slices I ate:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IQfh2g3c1WU/UFDmtMR397I/AAAAAAAAGQ8/XkbBjVrH1IU/s1600/pig+heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IQfh2g3c1WU/UFDmtMR397I/AAAAAAAAGQ8/XkbBjVrH1IU/s320/pig+heart.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
Saturday night a very popular local band named <a href="http://www.dgiin.com/">Dgiin </a>(pronounced "gin" with a soft g) played and we danced our butts off. All in all the weekend was another reminder of why Mendocino County is my perfect place in the world.<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">Jamming out at the camp:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ta5d-5kfAZ8/UFDmrZea5bI/AAAAAAAAGQk/U_5wwhW5nJY/s1600/camp+jam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ta5d-5kfAZ8/UFDmrZea5bI/AAAAAAAAGQk/U_5wwhW5nJY/s320/camp+jam.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Whitney enjoying life:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GdW_YhWmRDc/UFDmqgDA2OI/AAAAAAAAGQc/CEdnCERo6dc/s1600/Whitney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GdW_YhWmRDc/UFDmqgDA2OI/AAAAAAAAGQc/CEdnCERo6dc/s320/Whitney.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Our big fun group:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R77nabmCrIQ/UFDmr7sP1KI/AAAAAAAAGQs/uz4oe48fH-s/s1600/group+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R77nabmCrIQ/UFDmr7sP1KI/AAAAAAAAGQs/uz4oe48fH-s/s320/group+shot.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-70937195201585108382012-08-04T14:58:00.001-07:002012-08-04T15:26:14.373-07:00Two months down, one to goToday marks the two month mark of my tenure here on Road B, and one month from today my internship ends. Here's what's been going on for me.<br />
<br />
1) I love Mendocino county so much I'm convinced it's my forever home. I like driving on empty country roads and going to events where parking isn't a problem. I like that I'm starting to recognize people in town and that I'm becoming a little bit recognizable myself. I also realized that I wasn't looking for the farm life as much as I was the country life; two very different things! (Slaughtering chickens? No thanks, I'm good.) So, for both of those reasons, I let the farm in Petaluma know that I will not be coming in the fall (weeks ago so they had plenty of time to find my replacement; they were very understanding). Instead, I'll find a place to live locally, get involved with some organizations that interest me, and earn a living as a contract writer and editor.<br />
<br />
2) I'll be in Seattle for two-ish weeks starting on September 5. I'll probably drive up and equip my car with a hitch so I can rent a Uhaul trailer to bring what's left of my worldly belongings back to California with me. I'm excited to visit during what is always the best two weeks of summer in Seattle, though I'm hardly deprived of sun - except for the first few days here, there hasn't been one day that it hasn't been shining. Today it cooled off to 93 degrees, down from around 103 all week. I'm pretty tan (for me) but you Seattleites can be the judge of that in a month.<br />
<br />
3) This is Carson:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-93FwrJeEh9c/UB2Zm2Afy9I/AAAAAAAAGPg/81rktQH8eFo/s1600/Carson+and+Eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-93FwrJeEh9c/UB2Zm2Afy9I/AAAAAAAAGPg/81rktQH8eFo/s320/Carson+and+Eli.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
He's pretty rad: beekeeper, firefighter, ranch hand, all-around handyman and great guy. I met him on my third day here at a Mendocino Bee Club meeting, of which he is the chairperson. He knows everything but isn't annoying about it. He makes me smile and laugh so much my face hurts, and he enjoys launching me into the water while swimming in Lake Mendocino (which often results in water up the nose due to aforementioned laughter coinciding with the launch). And yes, he is a full foot taller than I am.<br />
<br />
4) I'll blog again soon about the <a href="http://notsosimple.info/">Not So Simple Living Fair</a> in Boonville that we attended and volunteered for last weekend. It was magical!<br />
<br />
5) You'll see her in the photos below but it bears a special mention that my dear friend Jamie Grace came and spent a week on the farm with us back in early July. She integrated quickly by inviting us to help her paint and doing an interesting exercise called a "spin off" that helps you look at what's going on in your life, and everyone was sad when she left. She did a lot of painting while here, creating many pieces using a tattered sail. Many of us got our own painted sail - mine is a beautiful hummingbird - but she made sure everyone got SOMETHING to remember her by.<br />
<br />
5) Here are some pics and details from the last month. I never realize how much is actually going on until I revisit the photos I've taken (hooray for remembering to take them).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7UcKrCb4HAs/UB2QXBOoGeI/AAAAAAAAGNQ/81KsO3xoKS8/s1600/1+Kelly+lids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7UcKrCb4HAs/UB2QXBOoGeI/AAAAAAAAGNQ/81KsO3xoKS8/s320/1+Kelly+lids.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelly sorting our bottomless collection of lids.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0RokL7XGY5Y/UB2Q1mFpFpI/AAAAAAAAGOI/HsqIo7r7jZI/s1600/2+concert+in+the+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0RokL7XGY5Y/UB2Q1mFpFpI/AAAAAAAAGOI/HsqIo7r7jZI/s320/2+concert+in+the+park.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road B crew with copious food at a free <a href="http://www.cityofukiah.com/pageserver/?page=sundays_park">Concert in the Park</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VJrwImtJjsY/UB2aDm2S3QI/AAAAAAAAGPs/DVmeqBlzN_k/s1600/2.5+4th+of+July+parade" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VJrwImtJjsY/UB2aDm2S3QI/AAAAAAAAGPs/DVmeqBlzN_k/s320/2.5+4th+of+July+parade" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson at the Fourth of July parade in Willits. I love small town<br />
parades! Easy parking and you don't have to stand more than one<br />
deep to get a view. Also, there are a lot more horses than in a city.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xV7Km0XRnfc/UB2Q4kMRsZI/AAAAAAAAGOQ/qE2sFd4D6x4/s1600/3+Stephanie+sparkler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xV7Km0XRnfc/UB2Q4kMRsZI/AAAAAAAAGOQ/qE2sFd4D6x4/s320/3+Stephanie+sparkler.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephanie does her first sparkler EVER at the Frey Vineyard Fourth of July party.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PJPFGWI4SN8/UB2Q9E7IywI/AAAAAAAAGOY/kp1XZqC0ETI/s1600/4+donuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PJPFGWI4SN8/UB2Q9E7IywI/AAAAAAAAGOY/kp1XZqC0ETI/s320/4+donuts.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamie Grace and I after eating several of the <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/school-way-bakery-redwood-valley">Best Donuts in the World</a><br />
after the Frey party. I didn't see or hear a single firework (except sparklers - I was <br />
shocked no one in Mendocino had any M80s to light) but we had a great day anyway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOWbB2tYqeA/UB2RBJV1w1I/AAAAAAAAGOg/A_51bfzyrlc/s1600/5+lake+mendocino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOWbB2tYqeA/UB2RBJV1w1I/AAAAAAAAGOg/A_51bfzyrlc/s320/5+lake+mendocino.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group swim at Lake Mendocino just down the road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zsawgxJoujM/UB2RGJBeUtI/AAAAAAAAGOo/-Q8BRH8Pr-s/s1600/6+paths.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zsawgxJoujM/UB2RGJBeUtI/AAAAAAAAGOo/-Q8BRH8Pr-s/s320/6+paths.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laying anti-weed paths in the garden - wet cardboard followed<br />
by super soft redwood bark.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aS26JB-gVNM/UB2RLBLT3gI/AAAAAAAAGOw/4NknQG2uNnU/s1600/7+sail+painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aS26JB-gVNM/UB2RLBLT3gI/AAAAAAAAGOw/4NknQG2uNnU/s320/7+sail+painting.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janet admiring the sail Jamie Grace painted during her visit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AmlvwrNEgCU/UB2RO1_OZvI/AAAAAAAAGO4/BXnjytijiUE/s1600/8+concert+in+the+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AmlvwrNEgCU/UB2RO1_OZvI/AAAAAAAAGO4/BXnjytijiUE/s320/8+concert+in+the+park.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double fisting cookies at another free Concert in the Park.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZQt8BTysmI/UB2RUOc5CKI/AAAAAAAAGPA/NQ0NZkBphg8/s1600/9+Janet+firefighter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZQt8BTysmI/UB2RUOc5CKI/AAAAAAAAGPA/NQ0NZkBphg8/s320/9+Janet+firefighter.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janet dressed up in Carson's gear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TV9f602vyJ4/UB2QbiBJDDI/AAAAAAAAGNY/e0pSiDZ1OTA/s1600/10+Carson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TV9f602vyJ4/UB2QbiBJDDI/AAAAAAAAGNY/e0pSiDZ1OTA/s320/10+Carson.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carson getting into the dress-up spirit. His<br />
gear fit him much better than Janet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Nm3a95zomCE/UB2QfOxC8VI/AAAAAAAAGNg/xLLk12ol984/s1600/11+me+at+Parducci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Nm3a95zomCE/UB2QfOxC8VI/AAAAAAAAGNg/xLLk12ol984/s320/11+me+at+Parducci.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a nerd at Parducci vineyards.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--pAVIXRN55A/UB2Qiriqq5I/AAAAAAAAGNo/TrEL8adXCwQ/s1600/12+Parducci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--pAVIXRN55A/UB2Qiriqq5I/AAAAAAAAGNo/TrEL8adXCwQ/s320/12+Parducci.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accoustic Cafe concert at Parducci. Dusty Rhodes and Her<br />
Handsome Cowboys folk-rocked out as the beautiful<br />
hills glowed red behind them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eVwn0YvyifA/UB2QnaAt0OI/AAAAAAAAGNw/izShrquwSdA/s1600/13+mime+troupe+food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eVwn0YvyifA/UB2QnaAt0OI/AAAAAAAAGNw/izShrquwSdA/s320/13+mime+troupe+food.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We did hospitality for the <a href="http://www.sfmt.org/index.php">San Francisco Mime Troupe</a> (not actually mimes) when <br />
they played Ukiah last week. The food on this plate: a fig from Doc's garden<br />
with goat cheese from our goats and basil from our garden; lamb stew with<br />
a lamb we raised and butchered; fresh zucchini noodle pasta grown and made by our<br />
friend and neighbor Shannon; the kale salad was the only thing we didn't grow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qMbMn-IcWXs/UB2QsvnkUvI/AAAAAAAAGN4/1r0Un9VowqE/s1600/14+mime+troupe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qMbMn-IcWXs/UB2QsvnkUvI/AAAAAAAAGN4/1r0Un9VowqE/s320/14+mime+troupe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our crew hanging out and eating great food before the Mime Troupe<br />
show started. It was amazing how quickly they set up a whole stage<br />
in a park, and the show was really witty.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AaVl5kp7KcQ/UB2QwSFZRhI/AAAAAAAAGOA/-6R2nNirUU0/s1600/15+thrifting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AaVl5kp7KcQ/UB2QwSFZRhI/AAAAAAAAGOA/-6R2nNirUU0/s320/15+thrifting.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last night was the First Friday Art Walk, and on our way we<br />
stopped to do some thrifting. Stephanie poses in a child's horse<br />
costume while Veronica becomes a snow bunny in August<br />
as Alex looks on in disgust at me snapping photos.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That's just a smattering of the many things that happen here all the time. More to come soon! Until then, enjoy the view of the vineyard across the street just before sunset. This is where we take the dogs for a walk; even they lead a charmed life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-efaR3XptSfQ/UB2azTx0M7I/AAAAAAAAGP0/iFPOsV3XUdE/s1600/vineyard+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-efaR3XptSfQ/UB2azTx0M7I/AAAAAAAAGP0/iFPOsV3XUdE/s320/vineyard+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-51998095905385408192012-07-14T23:30:00.004-07:002012-07-14T23:30:33.300-07:00Community Old and NewI've been doing a lot of thinking about community these last few weeks and especially in the last several days. When I was so miserable living in Chile, <a href="http://vidadesconocida.blogspot.com/2009/10/social-capital-my-love-for-argentina.html">I discovered after the fact</a> that a lot of it was due to a lack of community among Chileans and, much worse for me, between Chileans and other nationalities. It was only then that I grasped the importance of surrounding oneself with loving and supportive people in order to thrive; like the saying goes, no one is an island.<br />
<br />
A few days ago, one of our oldest family friends, Tom Rizzuto, passed (damn you, cancer). Lifelong neighbors, Tom drove my mom to the hospital in a snow storm so I could be born. His wife Barb would accompany me to "special friend" day in elementary school. I still take her flowers every May Day, ring the doorbell, and run away. Their kids babysat us, and when I was older I babysat their grandkids. I can still remember a huge birthday party for Tom where they closed the culdesac to cars and set up barbecues and games and festive lights. All the neighbors opened their homes and us kids wandered in and out and under and over the many diversions in what felt like a backyard carnival. We stayed up late and I remember feeling welcome among the jovial adults. That must have been for his 50th birthday, so I would have been about 6 at the time. It's one of my oldest and fondest memories.<br />
<br />
Tom's memorial service is on Tuesday, and the expected attendance is in the hundreds. My parents belong to a close-knit community that has always banded together during tough times and enjoyed each other during good times. They have Superbowl parties - so much more fun that my friends' Superbowl parties! - and New Years Eve parties and lots of parties in between. They go to each other's kids' weddings and parents' funerals. When someone is sick they <span style="background-color: white;">drive each other to doctor's appointments,</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">go to the hospital, go to the house, make food, pick up prescriptions, water gardens, clean houses, pray for each other. They remember birthdays and anniversaries and sometimes go on vacation together. I am so grateful to have had this community as an example of what friends can and should be, and to be a loved and accepted member of the community despite my wildly differing social and political views.</span><br />
<br />
I won't be there with my community on Tuesday; just writing those words brought tears to my eyes. Instead I'll be in Redwood Valley, with a new community that had a chance to prove itself to me the day I found out Tom had died. At first I sat alone with the news. It wasn't unexpected but it was hard to process, especially since I felt so disconnected from what was going on. Then someone tried to joke with me and I said I'd just lost a family friend. "Oh, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry." I said thanks and that I'd like to be left alone, which he immediately understood and respected. Some time passed and I wandered out to the people working on a big natural building project. "I just lost a dear family friend," I said, tearing up. The three people out there dropped their tools and turned their focus to me. Alex embraced me with his muddy arms and held me tight for a long time without saying or expecting me to do anything. It's very hard for me to stay in a hug like that and I usually pull away but I knew I was safe and I just cried. One man I barely knew - a friend of the family helping with the project - took off his gloves, stroked my hair, and wiped tears from my eyes. Another woman I'd been getting to know stood by my side and managed the impossible: she spoke to me in a way that was truly comforting, not the standard empty phrases that always annoy me when I'm dealing with death. As the day wore on and more people found out what had happened, everyone reached out to me in their own perfect way. I felt so loved and supported, able to navigate the complexities of grief in solitude without feeling alone.<br />
<br />
Tom, you are missed. Thank you for being part of my community.ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-20911669787224890672012-06-30T18:13:00.000-07:002012-10-08T13:21:39.333-07:00Life as a farm girl: "Curiouser and curiouser"<i>Note to readers: after spending several hours over several weeks compiling my long overdue first farm blog, I somehow deleted the whole gd thing, less the first five lines. There was cussing and there would have been crying if there hadn't been a distractingly funny pun-athon going on at the dining table. This one is less poetic and definitely less enthusiastic, but here it is anyway; twice as long, because to misquote Mark Twain, "I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead."</i><br />
<br />
For a long time, I've had an affinity for <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>. Even as an adult I will read it on occasion, and I always appreciate Alice's well-mannered tenacity and courage in a new and marvelous but sometimes scary place.<br />
<br />
After four weeks, the best description I have for my life here is this: this is Wonderland, and I am Alice.<br />
<br />
The landscape is unreal. Straw-colored hills dotted with lichen-covered trees surround the valley, grape vines stretch out as if to grab hold of you, and crops grow at three times the rate I'm used to in temperate Seattle. Stone fruit is in season, cucumbers and peppers are already being harvested, and the tomato plants are heavy with green fruit.<br />
<br />
Every day I meet new and different people: organic farmers, beekeepers, sheep herders, wine makers, natural builders, and musicians of every kind. Everyone seems happy, and the baseline level of attractiveness starts around a 6.<br />
<br />
People wear Carhartts and hats of all kinds and often go barefoot. A truck isn't complete unless there's a dog hanging out an open window, and people wave as they drive by. I talk to plants and animals, and sometimes they talk back. I'm browner and leaner, and my arms and legs are covered in scratches and bruises from blackberries and goat hooves.<br />
<br />
I live in a tiny one-room house surrounded by grape vines and decorated in a multitude of patterns and textures. My light source is a many-colored Medusa lamp. My neighbor is a rooster who crows on no schedule.<br />
<br />
The temperature is different here. In Seattle, an 80 degree day is hot. Here it's been in the high 70s and low 80s for over a week (unseasonably "cold") and I feel a chill in shorts or the shade. When the thermostat hit 105 a few weeks ago I not only bore it, I almost enjoyed it.<br />
<br />
Every morning I wake up not knowing what the day will hold, except that I will work hard, interact with a powerful community, and eat gourmet food one to three times before I lay down tuckered out at the end of the night. The first week I was good about writing a journal each night, but on day 8 I dropped the ball and never picked it back up. I don't even find the time to read, one of my favorite pastimes. There's just too much to do! <span style="background-color: white;">Frankly, I'm overstimulated.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><br />
<br />
It's impossible to describe a day in the life here, so here's a laundry list of some of the things I've done or helped do since arriving, some on a daily basis:<br />
<ul>
<li>Feed, help milk, and generally tend to goats (turns out I'm not as interested in milking as I thought I was, but I do love drinking the raw milk)</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DXv1pbmb_C0/T-6hKUblu-I/AAAAAAAAGK4/fjtomxr6Q7A/s1600/fence+mending.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DXv1pbmb_C0/T-6hKUblu-I/AAAAAAAAGK4/fjtomxr6Q7A/s320/fence+mending.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex mending a fence a baby goat managed to get through while Kelly keeps them occupied and Garth looks on</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NCPFxVypsyg/T-6gvui2L0I/AAAAAAAAGKg/pv8BeDcbD3w/s1600/Honeypot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NCPFxVypsyg/T-6gvui2L0I/AAAAAAAAGKg/pv8BeDcbD3w/s320/Honeypot.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Honeypot, my favorite goat. She's half La Mancha, a bully, a prima donna, and she's always hungry. I love her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Separate kids from their mamas (they didn't cry as much as we expected them to, but we gave them lots of lovin' - they're like pets here)</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N5-errFdnfs/T-6h7v3q8UI/AAAAAAAAGLk/15IuwvQBq3M/s1600/kelly+and+truffle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N5-errFdnfs/T-6h7v3q8UI/AAAAAAAAGLk/15IuwvQBq3M/s320/kelly+and+truffle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelly carrying Truffle, one of Honeypot's kids born on Easter when I was visiting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Help slaughter a goat (possibly a blog post unto itself)</li>
<li>Feed chickens, collect eggs, clean the chicken coop, and wrangle chickens back into the coop when they escape</li>
<li>Feed caged and wild birds; fill bird and bee baths (there are hives EVERYWHERE around here)</li>
<li>Feed, walk, and love the dogs (Chinle and Lucy, two happy girls)</li>
<li>Tend to vegetables, including planting starts and transplanting seedlings; watering and laying drip irrigation; weeding and pruning; trellising and staking; harvesting and eating</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0rNcLTH_P-g/T-6iqejawxI/AAAAAAAAGL8/sYqHTL5-Evc/s1600/snail+and+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0rNcLTH_P-g/T-6iqejawxI/AAAAAAAAGL8/sYqHTL5-Evc/s320/snail+and+garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelly plays with a snail; Dan and Alex strategize pepper cages</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vR41Xrfpb4M/T-6iElCSGAI/AAAAAAAAGLs/botAiP-2r9g/s1600/loquats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vR41Xrfpb4M/T-6iElCSGAI/AAAAAAAAGLs/botAiP-2r9g/s320/loquats.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay harvests from the loquat tree</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>General beautification including weeding, deadheading, and pruning, plus clearing out the many overgrown beds around the property (my favorite job of all - thanks for the ornamental garden skills, Mom!)</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LR95g9JosIE/T-6hlA913MI/AAAAAAAAGLU/p4ijd-ewxKE/s1600/garden+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LR95g9JosIE/T-6hlA913MI/AAAAAAAAGLU/p4ijd-ewxKE/s320/garden+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many views of the garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Help in Doc's gorgeous vegetable garden</li>
<li>Process huge quantities of peaches, nectarines, and apricots (eat; freeze; dry; blend)</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5MqZZz-sQcg/T-6hSuLeRKI/AAAAAAAAGLE/R7RJ2S2q_eo/s1600/fruit+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5MqZZz-sQcg/T-6hSuLeRKI/AAAAAAAAGLE/R7RJ2S2q_eo/s320/fruit+day.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Processing fruit in the outdoor kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Scrub and ready various water receptacles for use (outdoor pool, hot tub, and outdoor soaking tub)</li>
<li>Create art and work on projects (so far I've spray painted two of the fire pit chairs and helped, briefly, with the foundation for a cob building project)</li>
<li>Drive for Meals on Wheels in Ukiah (every Thursday with Doc)</li>
<li>Help Jini plan and throw parties, meals, and events of all kinds</li>
<li>Cook. With a strong crew of chefs, abundant and fresh ingredients, and enthusiastic eaters, every meal here is an occasion.</li>
<li>CLEAN. There is always something to be cleaned around here (a lot of living happens in this house).</li>
<li>Swim. This is a very important job. So far my favorite spot is Lake Mendocino, but I'm looking forward to trying the Eel and Russian Rivers when it gets consistently hotter.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MUrJL0THYRA/T-6j3qVsRXI/AAAAAAAAGNA/zIgA4ou5TNo/s1600/vineyard+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MUrJL0THYRA/T-6j3qVsRXI/AAAAAAAAGNA/zIgA4ou5TNo/s320/vineyard+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of a vineyard from a family friend's swimming pool</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li>Whatever else comes up. (Someone needs a ride into town? A neighbor needs help in the garden? </li>
<li>Grandkids need watching? Trampoline needs to be jumped on? We're on it.)</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WswxEwPp2wM/T-6jvfIkzMI/AAAAAAAAGM0/RJEUwRz92Kg/s1600/trampoline+static.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WswxEwPp2wM/T-6jvfIkzMI/AAAAAAAAGM0/RJEUwRz92Kg/s320/trampoline+static.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephanie demonstrates static electricity on the trampoline</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<br />
And here's a partial list of events I've attended (and sometimes helped throw or host):<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Mendocino Bee Club meeting, where Jini explained the benefits of bee bread, pollen, honey, and even venom (there's nothing bee products can't cure!) and then showed us how to make salve out of </span><span style="background-color: white;">honey, honeycomb, and coconut oil</span></li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q0ZaolasApc/T-6g5uuQFWI/AAAAAAAAGKo/Wm23G1r9tlg/s1600/Road+B+kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q0ZaolasApc/T-6g5uuQFWI/AAAAAAAAGKo/Wm23G1r9tlg/s320/Road+B+kitchen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jini, Alex, and Kelly prep for the bee club meeting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">"Anarchist Cafe" meeting, party, and concert</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Acupuncture and cupping for a wrenched back due to something called "manual labor" (I love you, <a href="http://www.acupunctureukiah.com/">Community Acupuncture Ukiah</a>)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Creek walking with Jini's grandkids to catch water skippers, tadpoles, and baby salmon (after "pimping" Jean's garden, </span>a 97-year-old sheep farmer who lives alone and is a total badass)</li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Garden party for the Mendocino Garden Club at Jean's (I helped host the party and was invited to informally "join" the club - I'll make my own flower arrangement for the July meeting!)</span></li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wpVzclZ1zlY/T-6havd7vFI/AAAAAAAAGLM/x548I_KVWx8/s1600/garden+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wpVzclZ1zlY/T-6havd7vFI/AAAAAAAAGLM/x548I_KVWx8/s320/garden+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower arrangements partly visible in the background</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Taste of Redwood Valley (Designated Drivers ate for free! I haven't been drinking but I do love being surrounded by vineyards and wineries)</span></li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wdoPvsZHBp8/T-6joKG_0wI/AAAAAAAAGMs/pwLsvr0fDSE/s1600/taste+of+RV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wdoPvsZHBp8/T-6joKG_0wI/AAAAAAAAGMs/pwLsvr0fDSE/s320/taste+of+RV.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter enjoys his first sip at the Taste of RV</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NmrgOHyPYtM/T-6jUN94azI/AAAAAAAAGMc/wuPAKWczZ5s/s1600/taste+of+RV+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NmrgOHyPYtM/T-6jUN94azI/AAAAAAAAGMc/wuPAKWczZ5s/s320/taste+of+RV+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelly and I smile big at the Frey vineyard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c7BI9hZg3Xk/T-6jgHXOkoI/AAAAAAAAGMk/1bS9kvdzBDE/s1600/taste+of+RV+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c7BI9hZg3Xk/T-6jgHXOkoI/AAAAAAAAGMk/1bS9kvdzBDE/s320/taste+of+RV+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The group enjoys the Frey vineyard's many selections</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">"Save Hendy Woods" benefit concert and dance at the Grange in Boonville</span></li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U17ixAwNgHg/T-6ihPv54WI/AAAAAAAAGL0/bg5PJ8OJXuI/s1600/road+to+boonville.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U17ixAwNgHg/T-6ihPv54WI/AAAAAAAAGL0/bg5PJ8OJXuI/s320/road+to+boonville.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway 128 on the way to Boonville</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Lobster and champagne brunch at Doc's for Father's Day</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Solstice Celebration at the <a href="http://www.solarliving.org/">Solar Living Institute</a> in Hopland, which Jini helps run. (Charlie, Stephanie, and Alex played live music, which was going swimmingly until the sprinklers came on and soaked the amp and other equipment)</span></li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lbXT4zrYx3I/T-6jA60hmrI/AAAAAAAAGMM/fZoYqLLeISA/s1600/solstice+music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lbXT4zrYx3I/T-6jA60hmrI/AAAAAAAAGMM/fZoYqLLeISA/s320/solstice+music.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay looks on as Charlie, Alex, and Stephanie prep the stage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--3-eKvouaSI/T-6i1BuTp6I/AAAAAAAAGME/7CiNmnDgtjk/s1600/solstice+group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--3-eKvouaSI/T-6i1BuTp6I/AAAAAAAAGME/7CiNmnDgtjk/s320/solstice+group.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephanie and Alex, et al</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qHlWxDC2SY0/T-6jJeS95LI/AAAAAAAAGMU/yDuTj_SI3nA/s1600/solstice+pond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qHlWxDC2SY0/T-6jJeS95LI/AAAAAAAAGMU/yDuTj_SI3nA/s320/solstice+pond.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay, Kelly, and Janet (Jini and Phoenix in the background)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Birthday party for neighbor and beekeeper Eric</span></li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_xBVah31gg/T-6hAYc8_6I/AAAAAAAAGKw/0BlaNyTuL1U/s1600/eric+birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_xBVah31gg/T-6hAYc8_6I/AAAAAAAAGKw/0BlaNyTuL1U/s320/eric+birthday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric at his party with Doc in the background</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<br />
Even though there's always something to do and someone to meet, my favorite times are the nights when it's just the "family" at home having dinner together, playing board games, eating homemade ice cream (courtesy of punster Peter), going in the hot tub, star gazing, laughing. It's not quite downtime, but it's close.<br />
<br />
The last few days I've been under the weather, and in some ways it's been a blessing since it has forced me to stop everything and rest, giving me time to be contemplative (and write this blog - twice). I'm past the hyperactive honeymoon phase, and now I'm going to focus on balancing self-care with productivity. After all, if I'm going to last long in this "land full of wonder, mystery, and danger!" I'm going to need my wits about me. Unlike Alice, I'm in no hurry to leave.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a8g_GJG7tOI/T-6hyMW0cgI/AAAAAAAAGLc/p9vZmz7cn0E/s1600/happy+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a8g_GJG7tOI/T-6hyMW0cgI/AAAAAAAAGLc/p9vZmz7cn0E/s320/happy+me.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy face</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-75785725728020604832012-06-05T12:34:00.000-07:002012-06-05T12:34:00.359-07:00Seattle spring highlightsWell, I'm not in Seattle anymore but here are some fun things I did during my six weeks of spring there.<br />
<br />
*Worked a ton at the Miller Community Center Garden to get it ready for its new managers (the control freak in me is still having a hard time letting go of that one).<br />
<br />
*Helped throw a wedding reception for my cousin Hana (during which I left my iPhone at a Safeway and magically got it back).<br />
<br />
*<a href="http://vidadesconocida.blogspot.com/2012/05/24-hours-on-vashon-island.html">Went to Vashon</a>.<br />
<br />
*Spent a sunny day a-boating with Nick, Jacob, and Abby. We went to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blake_Island">Blake Island</a>, a first for me. It was relatively empty when we got there and we had some privacy laying on the grass near the water. I must have been laying down for a long time because when I popped up we were suddenly surrounded by people who had arrived to camp for the night (some via kayak).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JTukVbYNiWk/T8xX0RgeZ-I/AAAAAAAAGGk/Fx99GysG1_U/s1600/boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JTukVbYNiWk/T8xX0RgeZ-I/AAAAAAAAGGk/Fx99GysG1_U/s320/boat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ysQwJiTgH4/T8xX1kFIqVI/AAAAAAAAGGs/4COUr8j8Ado/s1600/boat+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ysQwJiTgH4/T8xX1kFIqVI/AAAAAAAAGGs/4COUr8j8Ado/s320/boat+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UiU1rxTpJRA/T8xX28cjN2I/AAAAAAAAGG0/aY8oEGm087w/s1600/Blake+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UiU1rxTpJRA/T8xX28cjN2I/AAAAAAAAGG0/aY8oEGm087w/s320/Blake+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-svf7JsLjWiE/T8xX38kjjEI/AAAAAAAAGG8/706jto-4Ouw/s1600/Blake+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-svf7JsLjWiE/T8xX38kjjEI/AAAAAAAAGG8/706jto-4Ouw/s320/Blake+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
*Saw three SIFF movies: <i>King Curling</i> (weird but funny); "FutureWave" shorts (a set of pretty interesting short films whose makers were all under 18); and <i>As Luck Would Have It</i> ("La Chispa de la Vida"), a Spanish flick that was very good but at times hard to suspend belief.<br />
<br />
*Went to a comedy show followed by a random costume party with my sister, who did something cool to my face to make me costume-y:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HO3DBdCrRl4/T8xX9iLgFEI/AAAAAAAAGHE/fWr2V2efHUo/s1600/Tessa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HO3DBdCrRl4/T8xX9iLgFEI/AAAAAAAAGHE/fWr2V2efHUo/s320/Tessa.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
At this party I ran into someone I hadn't seen since high school who wasn't particularly nice to me back then (in a way in which teenage boys excel), who ended up randomly apologizing for not being very nice to me 14 years ago. Unexpected closure!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sEPK4e2OUJs/T8xZx-taG1I/AAAAAAAAGHs/rrQn0O8dJYQ/s1600/party+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sEPK4e2OUJs/T8xZx-taG1I/AAAAAAAAGHs/rrQn0O8dJYQ/s320/party+face.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
*Got my hair whacked off. It was the longest it had been in 10 years. It doesn't look as good as it could have here because it hadn't been brushed in a few days, but regardless, the "tail" definitely had to go:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7IM_7qPoyiE/T8xYCJw2pnI/AAAAAAAAGHM/lysCDyt1ru0/s1600/long+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7IM_7qPoyiE/T8xYCJw2pnI/AAAAAAAAGHM/lysCDyt1ru0/s320/long+hair.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-luG6iquPTQU/T8xYDHAdAmI/AAAAAAAAGHU/X-NefWn5a4I/s1600/short+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-luG6iquPTQU/T8xYDHAdAmI/AAAAAAAAGHU/X-NefWn5a4I/s320/short+hair.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
*Celebrated toddler J's 3rd birthday! I made a photo book in honor of the occasion documenting his "early years." It was a labor of love but definitely worth it. Here he is refusing to let go of his beloved red balloon, even while eating:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6uh-0db79vw/T8xYQF-BpBI/AAAAAAAAGHc/OPZfoEnskgw/s1600/birthday+boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6uh-0db79vw/T8xYQF-BpBI/AAAAAAAAGHc/OPZfoEnskgw/s320/birthday+boy.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
*Spent a lot of time with Amber - special shout out to her, a girl who always finds time to hang out and make mix CDs for friends. One night she made an incredible authentic Korean dinner, drawing on her experiences living in South Korea. We also went to the Greenwood art walk, saw a SIFF film, braved the long wait for Delancey pizza, spent a little time in her garden and <a href="http://amberanda.blogspot.com/2012/05/first-weeks-of-beekeeping.html">admiring her bees</a>, and said goodbye over homemade smoothies. Unfortunately Amber is always taking photos so I never do when we're together. (Amber, can you please send me some so I can post one of you??)<br />
<br />
*Went to Folk Life for the first time in a decade. I was pretty much over it after about 7 minutes inside (so crowded!) but I did hang out for a few hours on the grass outside the festival with some friends:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XegnyhhOsyk/T8xYWTC2b9I/AAAAAAAAGHk/XG9YLZTxdxY/s1600/Folk+life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XegnyhhOsyk/T8xYWTC2b9I/AAAAAAAAGHk/XG9YLZTxdxY/s320/Folk+life.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
(Had a lot of meals with a lot of friends. Practically every day in my calendar is marked by a breakfast, lunch, or dinner, sometimes two in one day. There's nothing like leaving town to feel popular!<br />
<br />
Although Seattle isn't currently where I live, it'll always be home.ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-72111153873166919612012-06-03T22:57:00.000-07:002012-06-03T23:11:16.546-07:00Goodbye Seattle, Hello California (CA road trip revisited)<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I've officially left Seattle. Earlier this evening I drove to Robyn's new apartment in Portland and I'm currently camped out on her awesome leather chair, whining about not wanting to blog. Bug blog I shall! Forgive me in advance if it gets a little muddled; I'm doing about 4 blogs in one here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I always leave Seattle just as something exciting happens. I moved to Philadelphia right after the smoking ban passed, only to go to a city where you could still smoke in the bars (yuck). This time I'm at least leaving a new perk that California already has: liquor in grocery stores! As of June 1, Washington state got out of the booze business. Here I am on the first day (my mom was very good natured, if not a little embarrassed, about taking this picture of me). The checker said they'd already sold 70 bottles and it wasn't even 4:00 pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y9bEkv4FGTM/T8xBtHKiNQI/AAAAAAAAGFI/iAHsP8aQjcc/s1600/liquor!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y9bEkv4FGTM/T8xBtHKiNQI/AAAAAAAAGFI/iAHsP8aQjcc/s320/liquor!.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Tomorrow I'm picking up another farm intern and we'll drive the rest of the way together. The weather in Redwood Valley has been nothing but sun (sometimes VERY HOT SUN) for weeks. In some ways, I find tomorrow's rain forecast - my first day in the state corresponding with its first rain in weeks - a welcoming omen, like "Don't worry, Elizabeth. We'll go easy on you." Have I mentioned I'm a bit worried about the heat? I get hot on 67 degree days. No joke.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zn1WpVDp9IU/T8xBu_f0FaI/AAAAAAAAGFQ/p9UsoPHMnrM/s1600/forecast.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zn1WpVDp9IU/T8xBu_f0FaI/AAAAAAAAGFQ/p9UsoPHMnrM/s320/forecast.PNG" width="213" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
So, since I never actually finished blogging about the road trip that kicked this move off, here's a semi-quick revamp.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Despite my well-laid plans to spend the summer in Seattle, my trip through California and visits to the last two farms on my <i>tour de force</i> revealed to me that I was ready to jump into this new part of my life right away. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<b>Petaluma</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
When I last left you, I think it was a Thursday. On Friday morning (April 6), I headed to a family farm in Petaluma not too far from where Meagan lives. From the first handshake I was in love. It's their first growing year and it will be a very small but dense operation. The wife/mother is the primary farmer and she is full of enthusiasm and determination; the amount she has accomplished in a few short months is amazing. While there I helped shear one of their Angora goats, and before I left we'd agreed that I would be back in September for a three-month internship. Score! I had finally found exactly what I was looking for, a farm to work on in the fall.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<b>San Francisco</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking - or rather driving - on cloud nine, I made my way the 30 minutes southwest to San Francisco to meet Meagan and two of her friends on vacation from a diplomatic posting in Sierra Leone. It was a gorgeous and totally clear day so we headed to Golden Gate Park so Mark could see the cherry blossoms in the Japanese gardens (he insisted he had never seen them before - I guess they don't have cherry trees in France). Here I am with Meagan and some blooms:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DT8s3TI2ZYY/T8xDzp4BDjI/AAAAAAAAGFg/CLw9alRod4Y/s1600/Meagan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DT8s3TI2ZYY/T8xDzp4BDjI/AAAAAAAAGFg/CLw9alRod4Y/s320/Meagan.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
From there we headed to Rob's house to freshen up for dinner, a late-night affair at Don Pisto's in the North Beach neighborhood. It was a long but satisfying day, and I'm not sure I've ever had a better night's sleep on a relative stranger's couch before.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next day I met up with my high school friend Casey, who has lived in SF for several years. He took me to his favorite taqueria in the Mission where we ate these awesome tacos made of a soft shell wrapped around a hard shell. Genius!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was another sunny and clear day (what are the odds of two clear days in a row in SF?) and Casey, being a nature lover and a Parks department employee, took me to Bernal Heights park to enjoy its panoramic vistas:</span></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GtYtDeCZCFg/T8xDylzaavI/AAAAAAAAGFY/dcfc2umpKnU/s1600/Casey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GtYtDeCZCFg/T8xDylzaavI/AAAAAAAAGFY/dcfc2umpKnU/s320/Casey.jpg" width="320" /></a>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Continuing our park tour, we went to see the "Painted Ladies" (as featured in the opening sequence to everyone's favorite childhood show, Full House):</span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UllzaIg8-Dg/T8xFr8JVnpI/AAAAAAAAGFo/VJwfjQWoOww/s320/painted+ladies.JPG" width="320" /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We lazed in the sun for awhile, catching up and trying to think of interesting things to tell each other about people we knew way back when. It was really nice to see him and I'm glad we'll be living near each other soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Redwood Valley</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The very last WWOOF site I visited was on Easter Sunday, a tiny self-sustenance farm in Redwood Valley, about 20 minutes from Ukiah. I had been invited for an Easter party and to spend the night, and I'd drive to Portland the next day to stay with Robyn before heading back to Seattle and flying almost immediately to Philadelphia.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
Redwood Valley is gorgeous, and the farm is magical. While I was there, baby goats were born:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FwefGc8MmWw/T8xHh0OquiI/AAAAAAAAGF4/g3HEnFvdVWs/s1600/goats.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FwefGc8MmWw/T8xHh0OquiI/AAAAAAAAGF4/g3HEnFvdVWs/s320/goats.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
In addition to holding the babies, I helped "spring clean" and then throw a fun party. I met incredible people from the community and harvested edible flowers to add to a homemade iced tea. I took a late-night hot tub with the matriarch of the farm, during which she easily convinced me to come back. So that's where I'm going tomorrow! I won't say too much more about the farm right now but I will definitely be writing dispatches as I'm able.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monday morning I left for Portland, winding through massive redwoods and, in one case, literally through one: </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SHFstIQwauQ/T8xHgM2L0YI/AAAAAAAAGFw/Omt833X1NrM/s1600/drive+through.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SHFstIQwauQ/T8xHgM2L0YI/AAAAAAAAGFw/Omt833X1NrM/s320/drive+through.JPG" width="239" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish I had more time to spend in the forest, but I did stop for a quick jaunt through the trees:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gdP_dRqVY2Y/T8xHjgmnqaI/AAAAAAAAGGA/d_MrwiejM5I/s1600/redwoods.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gdP_dRqVY2Y/T8xHjgmnqaI/AAAAAAAAGGA/d_MrwiejM5I/s320/redwoods.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time I got to Portland, I was hungry, tired, and grouchy from spending all day in the car. Luckily Robyn had pre-purchased a burrito for me and I destroyed it in about two minutes. Then she put me to bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
The next morning we went to Fuller's diner in the Pearl district for a cheap and cheerful breakfast before heading to her office (also in the Pearl) so I could meet her boss and see where she works. It's always nice to see people in their new spaces and I'm happy that she's doing so well down here. I don't have a picture of us in Portland, but while I was in Seattle I spent about 12 hours helping her clear stuff out of her apartment:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tPE_bQyRWm0/T8xN65JL7gI/AAAAAAAAGGU/93riIaVm_xM/s1600/Robyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tPE_bQyRWm0/T8xN65JL7gI/AAAAAAAAGGU/93riIaVm_xM/s320/Robyn.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I was on the road by 10 am and rolled into Seattle before 1 (I made damn good time the whole trip). 2,981 miles later and I was back where I started.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I met Amber for lunch at her new house in Greenwood and then watched her do some gardening, after which I rolled up to LFP where I hung out with my parents and remained prostrate on the couch for about 7 hours. (Who says you can't go home again?) I left for Philadelphia the next day, but that's another blog entirely.</span></div>ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34777720.post-2847066341572289942012-05-21T23:57:00.001-07:002012-05-22T00:05:30.661-07:00Two weeks from today...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This post was originally titled "three weeks from today" but clearly I missed that deadline, and I'm posting it by the skin of my teeth to make it true today. But here goes, my Exciting Announcement at last: </span><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">two weeks from today I'll be a farmer in California! </b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, a farm intern at least.</span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite my well-laid plans to spend the summer in Seattle, my trip through California and visits to two farms in particular - the last two I visited - revealed to me that I was ready to jump into this new part of my life sooner rather than later. I have most of a blog written outlining the rest of my trip through California, including details about the two farms I fell in love with, but here are the particulars:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My summer internship is from June 4 to August 24 at a tiny self-sustenance farm in Redwood Valley near </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ukiah,_California" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ukiah</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. It's owned and run by a woman who has lived there for 30+ years and her family/extended community. I'll stay in a one-room guesthouse at her father-in-law's home just down the road (who everyone calls Grampa and is an awesome 97-year-old). My focus will be on organic vegetable growing, and I'll also apparently get to learn to ride horses!</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My fall internship is from August 27 - Christmas-ish at an also tiny but sells-to-the-public farm in </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petaluma">Petaluma</a>, about 30 minutes north of San Francisco. It's the family's first growing year - two parents and three teenagers. I get a private room in their beautiful house with views of the fields. I'll help with their chickens which provide both eggs and poultry (yep, that means I'll learn how to kill and make them food-ready), as well as care for their Angora goats which provide wool and milk. I'll also work the fields and the farm stand on their property, which includes farm tours for the public. I suspect </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Petaluma is my dream town.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both farms have cell phone reception and internet. I'm not trying to go off the grid here. </span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These farms could not be more different (apart from size and relative proximity) and I've found myself jumping for joy at the prospect of getting to experience both of them.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More details pending!</span></div>ElizaBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16927144442444258540noreply@blogger.com3