susan boyle

I'm so glad I watched this youtube clip before someone told me what exactly I was in for. So if you are one of the 8 people in the internet connected world who hasn't seen this, click away: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk

half gallon of half and half

so, i'm in the grocery store tonight getting some onions and beer and trying to soak up the easter-eve vibe. Not much easter-eve vibe in the outskirts of La Jolla...until I examine the contents of the guy in front of me in the express check-out line:

3 pounds of strawberries

two gallons of milk

a big ole pre-cooked ham

five pounds of potatoes

and...

drum roll

a half gallon of half and half.

what does one do with a half gallon of half and half?

coffee service for 50 perhaps.

but my money is on a crazy scalloped potato casserole recipe that calls for a butt-load of half and half.

mmmm

easter

before my half gallon of half and half express checkout line encounter, i tried to buy a small bag of Cadbury mini-eggs, just for old-time sake, but they only had 18 ounce bags...and I don't need that much extra candy in my life...

but that does raise the possibility that maybe the dude only needed a small amount of half and half, but all they had was the half gallon....so he went for it...if that's the case, i hope he does something fun with the leftovers...like pouring it in the bathtub and doing a kinky photo shoot.

about that last post: I SO didn't read that

so...on Monday, I posted what I had planned to read at the end of my weekly Tuesday night yoga class in San Diego. Well, by Tuesday afternoon, when I re-read it, I was like "there is no way I'm going to read this."

So, I chose something that I didn't write...and read it almost word-for-word...just inserting "wise man" where the book had "holy man."

I'm all about de-religification of readings for savasana (deep relaxtion at the end of yoga practice). I mean, hello, what is a "holy man" anyway? The only holy man I know is Sponge Bob.

I'll include the text of what I read later.

what I'm reading at the end of tomorrow's yoga class

In the worldly life, one needs money to pay the rent or mortgage, to pay for transportation, insurance, clothes and other necessities. Without money, one cannot get these things.

But, there is a limit to what one can buy. One can buy a fountain pen, but one can't buy the ability to write. This, one has to acquire oneself. This experience cannot be bought.

One may pay for someone's help for just about anything you can imagine, but the help given by friends and family is something different. It is given with feeling. This feeling cannot be paid for with anything. It can only be given.

Likewise, in yoga and meditation, there are books and DVDs to give you knowledge, and knowledge certainly IS valuable. But more and more and more knowledge does not guarantee a deeper, richer or more freeing yoga or meditation practice.

Unless you make it to the path, knowledge of that path is not going to help much.

Instead, it's helpful to couple knowledge with regular attempts to teach the brain to follow the breath. Cultivating a hint of care-free joy within the practice is also helpful -- joy unencumbered by fears of whether a pose is imperfect; joy free from concerns that you are doing certain poses worse than you did them last week, last month or last year.

Joy that is free from any expectations that we put on ourselves, or expectations we imagine others are placing on us.

*adapted from the beginning of chapter 13 of Good Company by Sri Shantanand Saraswati

emailing w/ italian bf

from italian bf who is at a conference in Ohio:

ciao, sexy boy

cos'hai fatto ieri sera? hai dormito bene? io cosi' cosi'

ma ho fatto le mie tasse federali questa mattina e ora vado a mangiuare e poi alla conferenza

un bacio

even the most mundane things are more interesting in another language... "le mie tasse federali" ...sounds like a big italian beer glass emblazoned with a baroque federal symbol from Italy including both a bird of prey and a butch peasant with bulging biceps...but of course, it's just federal taxes.

twitter...really?

One of the inhabitants of the Blue Knob gay trailer park (see comment on last post) suggested I try Twitter...so here I am...now I can hook up my phone and rack up huge text messaging charges just like a 14 year old girl!!!! OMG!!!

http://twitter.com/statuses/friends_timeline/23513195.rss

Cursive is coming next Saturday

Cursive (aka "screaming white men" to certain dutch friends) is playing The Casbah next saturday. Yay! Indie rock on saturday night and a hike to Anza Borrego Desert State Park on Sunday morning with the SD chapter of the CA native plant society. I am spoiled...and I like it.

Local Government Will Rock! Go Amy!!

http://www.electquinn.com/ You go girl!!!

shoe shine

I just shined my shoes. It had been freaking months since I did that job...I also cleaned my yoga mat and italian bf's yoga mat using the cool spray I bought at Margaret's yoga studio.

next step...fire up the digi camera again and start posting pictures again.

Sherry Bottle Cashed

It took 14 months...but my first bottle of sherry is finally finished. And it all went for squash soup.

I am cooking dinner for italian bf and a friend tomorrow night...so I'm making the soup tonight...in hopes that over night, the molecules will all go to night school and learn how to be extra flavorfull.

what else is on the menu?

lasagne made with grass fed nebraska ground beef and italian bf's mama's recipe.

and salad and for dessert...

budino...which is a custard like dessert made from egg yolks, flour, sugar and milk (and a shit load of stirring)

balcony food composting

it's the next step...using worms to compost out on the balcony...am I up for the challenge? I keep thiking about it...and the article in the NYTimes just reminded me that it's something to keep thinking about...it references a magazine about organic recycling...but it doesn't seem particularly aimed at apartment dwellers

xmas letter is coming...

so...i've been doing a lot of writing since i stopped blogging in december...and well...some of it will be printed and mailed...in theory...so...lets hope the post office is still functioning in the next couple of weeks.

i'm back...and my shirts stink

I'm back...not sure where I been...but I'm back nonetheless...

who's up for a little self depricating humor?

i am!!!

great! here goes. Last week, I get to work after the usual 30 minute walk...and I notice I've got some under-arm stink going on...which I just don't understand...I had showered, I had put on deodorant...sure, I walked to school and got a little warm during the walk, but nothing major...I wear a new tshirt every day...what gives?

i'm stumped...until...coincidentally, italian bf asks me if I ever plan on washing my work shirts...and i'm like, yeah, of course I'll wash them...see...italian bf used to wash all the clothes, but since he's been so busy, he hasn't gotten around to it...and well...i hadn't really noticed...and well...you can see where this is going...clean on the inside, and dirty on the outside...that's me...showing up at work all clean and showered except for one little detail...my smelly banana republic sale rack shirts...mmm...smelly banana.

two weeks

we've had a house guest for the last two weeks...and while it was great to have her (italian bf's 4th grade teacher), I'm pleased at the prospect at peeing with the door open again...and not having to find my night clothes before i shower...

but there are a couple of things that maybe I should carry over out of courtesy for italian bf...like double checking to make sure there is no dental debris in the sink after I brush my teeth.

white zin, white trash

In the 80s and 90s, conventional (stereotypic) white middle class wisdom said that only the white trash drink white zin. Bonus points if it came in a box. and then someone decided to re-market white zin to other groups...I got curious and bought a bottle. conclusion: it tastes like bad white grape juice with way too much sugar added.

Tonight, I managed to give, in Italian, my take on white zin's recent marketing history. The glass of the stuff I gulped down on an empty stomach helped a lot with the flow of the verbs. Our italian house guest listened intently and pretended not to mind being served "truzzi wine". (truzzi is white trash in italian).

I also know how to say "I have a hard on" in Italian...but you'll have to ask your local pizza guy for the translation :)

beer for dinner

i should be eating a salad, but I don't feel like washing the lettuce right now. so i'm just having a beer. I had a big lunch, so it's no biggie. I talked to douglas on the phone for almost 90 minutes tonight...it was so nice to catch up with him...and we came up with a sign for his chair, but I think it was a much broader possible usage:

Don't use me as a benchmark of mediocrity.

btw, speaking of beer, benchmarks and mediocrity, did you guys read that Married with Children has gotten so big in Russia that Sony hired back the original writers, to create additional episodes for the Russian market...PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE release the Russian versions in the states, complete with english subtitles

update: I want real food now.

ventura make-your-own hotel waffles

note to self: the self-serve waffle-making station at our Ventura, Ca hotel yields undercooked waffles.

note to self: the 8 hour train ride (due to major delays) from san diego to ventura yields hilarious conversations with nice people on the train.

beepers

remember when beepers were the cutting edge technology only required by doctors and drug dealers? and now...not that far into the future, everyone AND their grandmother has a cell phone that is so so so much more powerful. what the hell is next?

Larriland mentioned in New York Times

I suppose it was inevitable...Larriland Farm mentioned in the New York Times. Sure, the mention was just in passing, but still. Little ole Larriland, the place where hog halves hung from the old barn in the early 1980s, way before local produce was cool (but before it all but disappeared before making a comeback more than a decade later)...little ole Larriland has made it into the New York Times. Larriland is the pick-your-own farm that we visited numerous times per year, to pick strawberries, peaches, nectarines, raspberries (to eat off bush but not buy), apples, spinach, pumpkins and various other fruits and vegetables. The farm has grown exponentially since the early days...and it's a little sad to see how successful they have been...but it's better than the alternative...the McMansions that are popping up all over the surrounding parts of Howard County. Icky.

More Larriland thoughts in another post...but I saw this and had to share...it's also interesting to me that the reference is in a story about Frederick, MD, the new cool "old Maryland town" a frontier of sorts according to the author...this is funny because we grew up visiting a VERY different Frederick. We grew up visiting our dad's parents who retired in the first explosion of siding-clad split levels that attached to old Frederick like a wart attaches to a toe that's been to the locker room one-too-many times.

I don't think douglas was there, but I'll never forget the time granddad took some of us through what was then the current construction site in their neighborhood and down to the Monocacy River. (Every visit to our grandparents split level in "new frederick" seemed to co-incide with the beginning of another siding-centric tract development in the fields that used to surround Frederick.) Grandad walked us through the construction, through a dried-out corn field and down a steep slope to the muddy waters of the Monocacy river just to see it. One of those moments you never forget. Along our walk, we found a bone from some large animal, a horse or cow probably.

sun goes down and the leeks start cooking

sun goes down and the leeks start cooking

it helps to have an italian houseguest who knows her way round the kitchen to help with the leek (porri) soup.