Local Treats

I love oysters. They are one of my favorite foods. I appear to enjoy them so much, that E had to test his theory that he had inherited a family shellfish allergy just to see if he, too, could enjoy them. Thankfully, he can, and we often enjoy oysters together.

And yet, despite our joint enjoyment of the slippery little suckers, for some reason, we'd never been up to the oyster farms near Point Reyes.

So, the day after a mellow Thanksgiving with friends, we set out for the gorgeous drive up Highway 1, north of San Francisco.



This portion of Highway 1 is eerily free of human development. The Highway traces the coast and then threads through the Golden Gate Park National Recreation Center, the Mt. Tamalpais State Park, the Samuel P. Taylor State Park, and the Point Reyes National Seashore. Here and there, grandfathered homes and dairies dot the landscape, but for much of the drive, it is simply the highway and the untouched marshlands.

Our first stop was Tomales Bay Oyster Company.



It was a gorgeous setting, but the groups that were already there, dressed in waders and wearing shucking gloves, were too professional for E and me. For starters, neither of us was in waders, and then, we didn't have a shucking knife. Yes, we could have purchased these items, and tried to figure out what the hell we were supposed to do with them, and perhaps, in a future visit, we will. But there wasn't much time left in the day, so we drove a little further to Hog Island Oyster Company, where they have free valet parking, and an oyster bar that will prepare a platter to your specifications.

On the way in, we walked by tanks of huge oysters, which, coupled with the salty air, started my pavlovian response:





We placed an order and scored the last open picnic table at 4:20 or so, just 10 minutes before they stopped serving.



So, we sat and enjoyed the view.



And, after the professionals shucked and laid 'em out for us, we gleefully put away 24 of the freshest oysters we've ever had.



We had plans in wine country the next day and it was only an hour drive from the oysters to Santa Rosa, where we stayed the night.

Saturday, the first time bay area fun continued with an art tour at Clos Pegase and the tram tour and tasting at Sterling Vineyards. Although both of these are considered wine country institutions, for some reason, neither E nor I had ever made it to either of them.

And finally, we enjoyed a big family-style meal with E's childhood best friend's family at Ad Hoc.



The menu? Bread and butter. Stuffed cabbage with mushroom risotto. The best pork chop of my life with sides of mustard sauce and broiled fennel. Sticky Toffee Pudding.

The service could use a quick lesson in manners, and there is a 2 bottle limit on corkage which is applied per table, even if you have a table of 9, unless you make a fuss. But, the food was amazing, and I'm not kidding, it literally was The. Best. Pork. Chop. Of. My. Life. So, overall, I have to recommend it.

In fact, if you are looking for a great quick bay-area get away, I highly recommend the drive to oysters, followed by the drive to wine country for a delicious dinner (or two) and some wine tasting. The ability to have this experience on a whim is definitely one of the better things about living here.

Word of the Day

Drayage: the transport of goods a short distance.

According to Wikipedia, the term originally meant "to transport by a sideless cart."

You can imagine my confusion upon finding this (unknown to me) term in a commercial software license form.

You know, software. The thing we modern humans transport via bits over the Interwebs?

Needless to say, this is not the typical purchaser/licensee of my client's products and the form needed a *ton* of work.

Turning under

The summer garden is gone, and the winter garden is finally planted.

More detail over at Tech Law Garden.

When Help Isn't

True help is in the form of something offered by a donor and accepted by the receiver.

Ideally, the receiver may have even requested the help in a clear way, with an understanding that there was no obligation for it to be provided.

Unrequested aid is often the opposite of help. It often causes damage, both to the receiver and the person who spent time and effort trying to solve a problem without full understanding.

I just found myself the recipient of some unrequested "help" (that I was not given the opportunity to accept or reject) and now have quite a mess to clean up.

Definitely not helpful in the least bit.

Fun With Hobbies

When my niece was our flower girl, I made up a story called, "The Flower Girl Saves the Day."

She asked me to tell it every time I saw her in the year before the wedding. Once, I sat on the floor and regaled her and 6 of her friends (all boys) with the tale. They all loved it.

Since then, every few months, she'll ask me to tell it again. It's been years since the wedding, but she can't seem to get enough of the story.

After the last visit with her, when she requested it, yet again, I decided to hire an illustrator and self-publish an illustrated children's book of the story for Christmas so that she can read it to herself whenever she likes.

As a bonus, I'm going to make it available via Amazon and Barnes and Noble after I'm done with the gift phase to see if I can turn it into a successful children's book.

So far, I've very much enjoyed this process -- the drafting of the story and the selection of the illustrator from Elance has been the most fun part of my day every day this week.

Dreaming in Color

Last night, I dreamed about mousing over pages on the Internet.

My sleep brain even has ads.

Which is weird because I use Adblock.

Wacky.

America's Pastime

I *hated* baseball growing up. Grandpa Jack and Grandma Mary always had the radio on on the background when we visited. Constant noise.

Daddy played in college. That's how he got the scar that kept him out of 'nam. In hindsight, I should probably have loved the game more than I originally did. But I was a child, so I was just confused as to why my huge father played baseball instead of football, which he preferred as a spectator.

When brother played little league, I had to be a scorekeeper. I had to mark the runs, the errors, the hits, etc. It had its own symbolic language, which was cool, but it required me to pay attention to my younger brother and his friends rather than going off to play with the other kids, which was not cool. Thank goodness E2 was subject to the same scorekeeping duty on behalf of her brother's team (or perhaps they were on the same team, I can't recall) -- but I do think that's where we originally cemented our friendship, between the hits and errors.

Once, when I was small, Dad took me to a Giant's game with our local Indian Princesses group. Frankly, it was scary. Loud. Big people. Lots of Orange and White. I do remember Candlestick Park though. I thought that was a very cool name for a park.

In college, I knew a few baseball players, and I decided it was a solid sport. They worked hard. They were cocky when good, but humble when bad. Overall, I started to develop a soft spot for the sport.

My first employer had season tickets to the Giants and I developed a healthy respect for the game. I even watched a few college players from CAL make their early careers after I graduated. (ASIDE -- HOW COULD CAL HAVE ELIMINATED BASEBALL AS AN NCAA SPORT?)

When the Giants played the Angels in the world series, I got to go to a game with my employer. It was amazing.

And then, the Giants fell off my radar.

I focused on my life and they did their thing.

Until this year.

When my step-dad showed up to drop off his trailer to attend the first NLCS game and brought me back a good-luck hat.

I've been wearing that hat and watching games whenever I can ever since.

I've celebrated Giants wins this year at my Mom's house, Kapp's, home, the Grand Wailea, and McTeague's.

Tonight, amongst the crowd at Kapp's, E and I celebrated the win with an adorable local couple who've had season tickets for 32 years. The number of pins on their hats? Amazing.

And, as it's all progressed, I've finally become a true baseball fan. What a game! I love it -- the numbers, the data, the athleticism, the drama, the americana, and the esoterica. I look forward to next season!

Wonderful Weekend

A beautiful wedding ceremony for The Enforcer in Tilden Park where the rain waited until after the ceremony to fall.

Hours of catching up with old friends at the wedding celebration.

Dim Sum with family and friends.

Wine tasting with girlfriends in Sonoma.

A delicious Portuguese dinner at La Sallette.

A long walk along the San Francisco Bay Trail followed by mediterranean food.

A long chat with a good friend on the phone to catch up.

Watching the Giants win their third World Series Game while handing out candy to witches, goblins, and ghosts.

Is it any surprise that the return to Monday normal is a bit difficult this morning...

Identity

I'll never forget the moment at my grandfather's funeral when the pastor referred to my Uncle's professional feats, and then attributed them to my Dad. He claimed Papa (my grandfather) was so proud of my Dad (who, of course, was actually my uncle, by feats).

The old folks in attendance nodded, some touching the outsides of their eyes with kerchiefs.

I watched as my Dad and my Uncle silently refused to interrupt the ceremony with a correction.

Papa was more to the old folks than either Daddy or Uncle. Daddy and Uncle both knew that. They also both knew that if, at some point in the future, it came up with the old folks, they could gently correct them, and they'd acquiesce, blaming feeble memories. They also knew that all of us young folks understood the mistake (as we squirmed in the extra-awkwardness of the "oh-you're-his granddaughter!" or "oh-you're-his-grandson!" existence).

So Daddy slipped a bit into Uncle and Uncle slipped a bit into Daddy, each giving their permission to share their lives with each other, I suppose as brothers do, on behalf of their father.

Watching, as a daughter of Daddy, I was amazed at the slithering identity snake of this family. When you are your most vulnerable, it bites you.

So, no. I guess it's no surprise that I didn't officially change my last name (yet, if ever).

And there you have it

I'm back from vacation.

My neck no longer hurts, but I'm still very much looking forward to our big, huge, international trip-to-come. Too bad it's not this month. Or even next month. Bummer...

In other news, Penelope Trunk's most recent post explains one of my largest personality flaws as belonging to all folks that have my Meyer's Briggs:


ENTJs (what Penelope is, and depending on the test, what I am, unless I'm an INTJ) have trouble with tact. They lack a sensitivity that many people require in order to listen.

I find this comforting. I'm trying hard not to question what the comfort says about me.

A Perfect First Day of Vacation

After 15 months without a true escape from everyone vacation (visits to family do not count, in my book), E and I spent yesterday relaxing and enjoying the Hawaii in what may be the best first day of vacation I've ever had.

We woke to a 5:15 AM wake up call (yay, time zone change in our favor), took a cab to Diamond Head State Monument and hiked to the top to watch the sunrise.

Then, we hiked back down, and walked the 5 miles or so back to our hotel along the beach, with a stop for the first of many Onigiri snacks for the trip. Mmmm... salmon rice triangle for breakfast.

From there, we checked out chairs and towels and read on the beach 'til it was time for lunch. Thanks to yelp, we found our way to Menchanko Tei for a delicious and filling lunch of Shoyu Ramen for E and Menchanko for me.

The afternoon passed slowly with leisurely souvenir shopping, a trip to the pool to read, a shiatsu massage, and a drink to enjoy the amazing view at House Without a Key.

From there, we walked to a teppanyaki to reminisce of dinners past at Kobe Japanese Steak House. We finished the night with the walk back to our hotel and a drink at the awesomely kitchy Top of Waikiki revolving restaurant, and some final relaxation on our balcony (with another rice triangle for E) to enjoy the night lights and sound of the ocean.

Could I be any more relaxed?

New Favorite Potato Salad

I don't usually love potato salad -- probably because it's typically a lackluster presentation of dense calorie mush without much taste.

But a few nights ago, I cleaned out the fridge and found this concoction to be absolutely delicious:

Dill Pickle Potato Salad

-1/2 pint of home-made dill pickles with cumin and mustard seeds in the brine
-1/2 bunch fresh dill
-2 extra-large russet potatoes, boiled, peeled, and diced to 1-2 cm^3
-1/2 small red onion, diced
-1 cup pickled nopales (with the associated onions and jalapenos)
-1/4 cup capers and their juice
-6 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and diced
-olive oil
-salt and pepper

1. pulse onions, pickles, nopales, and dill until it is a nice relish
2. Mix relish with potatoes, eggs, and capers until evenly mixed
3. Drizzle with olive oil and salt and pepper to taste, mix evenly

Enjoy immediately, or chilled for the next few days.

Trending in the Right Direction

Last week, I put over 38 miles on my feet. That's the first time I've done more than 32 miles in a week this year.

Also, I ran my easy 3-mile loop at faster than the necessary race pace to hit a 2-hour half marathon.

IF (and that's a big if) I can keep this up, I just might be able to do the US Half in under 2 hours.

Wish me luck...

Out and Back

In 2009, I ran 4 half-marathons and a 17K, but none at less than a 9-minute mile pace. In 2010, so far, I've done a hilly but gorgeous local 10K at a 10:23 mile pace and supported a friend through a run-walk of the Seattle Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon.

In truth, I haven't actually truly trained for a race since 2008.

And, as usual, our annual trip to the capital of fried food, has coupled with the blessings brought by barbeque season to give me the gift of more mass than I want to carry.

Oh, and I've taken to listening to Spanish lessons on my runs, which requires me to slow down so I can concentrate (or at least that's what I tell myself).

This is all a very long way of saying:

I'm in the worst cardiovascular shape that I've been in for quite some time.

So, it should be no surprise to me that when E2 and I met up at the Lexington Reservoir for a long run today, I had my work cut out for me. This route is great for training because the way out is mainly downhill and the way back is mostly uphill.

8.79 miles later, I am whooped.

I originally told E2 that I was going to try to break 2 hours at my 5th consecutive participation in the US Half Marathon. I suspect I may need to modify my goal...

Food is Love

After many false starts, Brother has hired two dependable nighttime caregivers who alternate to care for him in the evenings.

One is the wife of a man who owns a taqueria.

The other lives with her mother who makes homemade Mexican food in bulk and sells it as a side business.

Brother has stopped losing weight.

And, tonight, I paid an awesomely reasonable price for hand-delivered home-made pozole.

Like his father before him, my brother is a genius when it comes to people and food.

Spam

It's not pretty.

No one wants it.

And yet, despite requiring approval for comments, my professional blog has become an unwilling target.

Thank goodness for Akismet, who says:


You are using monochrome theme with 0 widgets. This is WordPress version 2.5.1.

Akismet has protected your site from 8,592 spam comments already, but there's nothing in your spam queue at the moment.


Ahhh.... that's relief.

Fraud Alert

Arvay's post on Active.com's fraud is worth reading if you ever register for races with them.

More Southern Snippits

Today, I took a client call from a London client (yay EST instead of PST!!!) for 40 minutes at 9 AM and went for 2.5 mile walk in Grant Park while chatting. I was warm upon my return, but okay. Then, I headed out for 3 miles of a slow running with S and had to call it short at 2.25 miles because my body just really didn't want to go any further in the 90F+ heat with 60%+ humidity.

Late this afternoon, I actually needed to take a nap to recover.

Thankfully, here in the South, they have professional solutions to this problem. Like the super-fancy awesome popsicle man, the King of Pops (I opted for lemon-basil from the King of Pops' selection of dozens of options, how awesome is that?):



and his unfortunate side effects:



At home, this summer, when everything has been cool and calm and chill, I've had no problem busting out 6-9 miles without planning or training or struggle. For we have no king of pops.

Acclimatization is no joke.

Yesterday, I struggled to jog through a rough 4 miles in 89F with 70% humidity in rolling hills and very little shade. Then, after a shower and some work, E and I walked the 1-mile route to Alon's for a delicious French/Israeli-inspired lunch. MMMmmm... We walked home and I was exhausted, ready for another shower followed by a nap. Damn, the heat and humidity here just kills me.

In other Southern news, today's awesome lunch was sandwiches at Star Provisions followed by stocking up on various meats for the labor day weekend gorging gout-inducement feast.

From there, we went to The Dekalb Farmers' Market, which, frankly, is the opposite of what I think of as a farmers' market.

There was a clear landlord, who controlled the check-out, and photography was not allowed, and many imported items were sold on shelves that were stocked, Costco-style. It was huge. Organized. And, amazingly well stocked. A better selection of lentils then I've ever seen in my life in one location. An impressive meat section. A staggering seafood section -- live crabs, clams, lobsters, fish of many varieties with signs warning "children may not handle live seafood" (only children? SWEET!).

Overall, if you had to pick one place to shop for the rest of your life, this would have to be in contention for the number one spot. I mean, the watermelon selection alone was so amazing that I broke the photo rules and took this photo:



The love of food here is something I can't help but support. In fact, if you are interested in molecular gastronomy, our last night's dessert with friends was an epic commitment to science and food that you should enjoy.

Tonight's dinner was a wonderful evening of conversation, drinks, and food at Leon's full service with the folks I love from the first company I successfully counseled to a positive exit as a solo practitioner -- ShootQ.

Overall, the South is treating my quite well, and I cannot complain. I hope your holiday weekend is shaping up accordingly.

Snippits from the South

The bathroom at ATL has Sharps containers. The explanation I received is that the incidence of diabetes is so high in this region that it is a public health necessity.

Yesterday, our lunch was at Waffle House. Today, E brought back Chick-Fil-A. These are the two things he claims to miss the most about the South, so we should be in good shape for a few days.

Yesterday, other than the obligatory Waffle House outing, E and I sat at our computers and silently worked all day in his childhood bedroom. Not too different from a Monday at our home office, actually.

Today, I woke early enough to attend a power yoga class at my favorite Atlanta yoga studio. It was a power yoga, and it was refreshing, in a way, to take a class that was so physical and focused very little on the spiritual, emotional, and mental aspects of yoga where my practice has been focused for the last 6 months.

Sometimes, it's nice just to mix it up. And this class was physically demanding unlike any yoga class I've taken in ages -- I was literally DRIPPING with sweat. At one point, I looked back at the thermostat and it read 102F. YIKES! Power yoga isn't supposed to be as hot as Bikram, but when it's a crowded class and 90F and 68% humidity outside, unless they turn on the air conditioner, I guess that's just what happens.

Interestingly, my last six months of advanced vinyasa once a week at the studio plus whatever I've been able to fit in on my own meant I was in much better shape for this type of practice than the last time I'd done it.

In fact, the instructor only led us through about half of the number of poses that my advanced vinyasa instructor leads us through in the same time period. I was tempted to feel like it was almost easy in comparison because I was able to hold all of the poses without falling out too much or needing to take a break.

But, no. When I finished I realized it wasn't actually easier at all. The exhaustion post class was much more than I'm used to. Probably because, um, my regular studio is typically around 70F. In an un-ecologically friendly non-stereotypically Californian fashion, my Californian yoga studio uses the air conditioner on hot days.

So, today's southern lesson is that a 32F increase in temperature (coupled with increased humidity) approximately halves the physical ability of my body.

Good to know.

Summer Salads

Mmmm...Garden tomatoes, garden onions, garden cucumbers, fresh baked bread, gorgonzola, capers, olive oil, sea salt and pepper.



More mmm...Garden tomatoes, garden onions, baked beets, chevre, lemon-honey vinaigrette.



And the most mmmm...A colorful selection of garden heirloom tomatoes, homemade mozzarella, garden basil, balsamic vinegar, olive oil from vino nocetto, black pepper and fancy salt flakes and coarse salt crystals (an awesome gift from E's sister).