Where's Wino?

No sooner did we get back from our trip when I got a call from a friend from England (Isle of Wight) saying she was here, at last. Hooray! I haven't seen Helen since we met her on our trip to Denmark three years ago, but we've been in touch electronically ever since. Helen and her friend from Arizona, Alicia, spent Saturday night through yesterday with us. Playing SB tour guide for new people is one of my favorite things to do (See my Big List O' Links - it has an entire Santa Barbara section, in case you ever visit). I was all for making a big day out of Sunday, but we didn't want to push the girls, so we had a nice lunch with friends after our regular services and got a late start to wine tasting.

Being from Arizona and England, the girls had no idea of what awaited them -the drive up over the mountains behind town and into the Santa Ynez valley has some of the most beautiful views you'll see. They couldn't get enough of the vistas that stretch east and west and out over the ocean....but than again, I can't either. I feel incredibly blessed by the sheer accident of being born here in this little slice of unique California coastline. Despite being stolen from its' original caretakers, built on, fought over, shaken by earthquakes, drowned in tidal waves, burnt, smothered in landslides and (now) overpopulated....it is still a place of incredible natural beauty as well as having some great human additions.


Enough about that, though...we were headed for the bottoms of our glasses. I mean, the tasting rooms - first Kalyra, where I got to give the "How to taste wine in four simple steps" speech (Swirl, See, Sniff and Slurp) to our vineyard virgins. Not surprisingly, they loved the sweet/white wines - most people don't start drinking big, strong-flavored wines that are heavy on tannins right away. The girls were lovely guests, oohing and ahhing over the view, the wine, keeping their glasses, hic! the wine, the dogs that wander around freely around the property and the day in general. Kalyra happens to make excellent dessert wines - an Orange Muscat a Tawny Port and a rich, raisin-y Syrah Port. I am not a white wine drinker, as a rule, but their Gewurtztraminer (Ger-VERt-tra-meen-er) and their Viognier are both superb. My favorite taste was the Old Vines Zinfandel - the fruit was deep, rich and jammy and balanced with some tannins, not enough for that puckery feeling after you swallow.

Next we did Sunstone (my favorite and a great wedding location, too!)

Since it was Valentines' weekend, there were loads of chocolate pairings with the wines. We did the "library taste" (read: more wine) - which explains why I didn't have a clear single favorite here...to much chocolate. On a happy/hippy note - all Sunstone's wines are organically grown, so if you've got allergies, sensitivities or are just not a fan of damaging the environment for a little wine, this is the vineyard for you.

The afternoon wound down with a stop in Solvang (since we met in Denmark, going to a large Danish town was a natural choice), a pitstop at Cold Springs Tavern. The evening started with dinner at The Palace* a quick nightcap at Blue Agave and stretched on to include watching the Grammy award show. The Dixie Chicks are not near good enough for five Grammies, sorry. Can we say politically motivated much? On the plus side, Scott has a new artist to play for cocktail hour. We had a late Monday morning breakfast and toured the girls around downtown before they hit the road to San Francisco - they'll be back on Thursday and I've got a ton of work to do, so I'm 'checking out' for probably a week. So....that's what I've been up to - what have you all been doing?

*If you ever get the chance, take a Brit out for a Cajun dinner. Suggest they sample the crawfish pasta lafitte, gumbo, jalepeno corn muffins, and blackened ahi. Mmmmm spiiiicy.

The Opal - For the foodie in you

Last night we were lounging around the house for the thousandth time, purposeless and without plans for the evening. For whatever reason (I hate winter, even though we don't have 'real' winter here, contemplation of enduring the whole useless crave/cramp/misery cycle of woe for absolutely no reason...for twenty more years, January twenty-fourth, the troll infestation and poor spelling of Santa Barbara Craigslist, take your pick) I've been a bit down in the mouth lately.

The prospect of an evening perusing my TiFaux options (Rear Window, Ugly Betty, Lakers, 24) and continuing to return my eleventy-billion emails (Actual count of email I missed, sent and still need to catch up on as penance for going to Vegas: 1,427) was not attractive. Having already spent the better part of the week cleaning, I was not about to find a useful project, and it was too cold for a walk. "Cleaning" in this case means doing smoke-saturated laundry*, obsessing over precisely which bin Scott could be allowed to drop his clothes in without destroying the new, zen-like order of my bedroom. *Some by hand! In the bathtub! Like a...person without a washer! Enter our buddy Scott (we call him Scotty) and his wife. These two are true-blue - the first people to offer to pitch in, barbecue, clean up or have fun, they always come on The Walk with us and are really 'our' friends, made as a couple. He rang up to see if we wanted to go to "the opal" with them - their treat. I do not need to be asked twice to go to The Opal (really, it should be called The Opal) and made all possible haste to get ready.

Since there was a symphony at the Arlington, there was a bit of a wait to get seated, so we retired to our living room with some martinis (twist of tangerine, please) and chatted for a while. Once downtown, we had a seat at the 'action bar' (watch the sous-chefs prepare hand-made pizzas and throw them in the wood-burning oven - now that's some action!) and started with my favorite starter*, drinks**, the killer homemade bread (always two kinds!) and Black-Pepper Crusted Seared Ahi 'chip', and the - This sounds fairly simple (isn't seared ahi so...1999?), but they do a fine-chopped Japanese salad with crisp-tender cucumbers, and homemade won-ton rounds for crunch. The pepper crust 'bit' well with the tender ahi and crunchy won-tonwasabi cream sauce bounces off the cucumbers just....right.

*Shredded Phyllo Wrapped Tiger Prawns - Flash-fried phyllo (say that ten times!) around prawns would be a lovely bite on its own, but when you add the curry dipping sauce, killer 'Napa-style' salad, tangerines and almonds and a tangy vinaigrette...Heaven.

"Drinks" - They have hundreds of wonderful wines on their ever-changing list, including the famous '87 Opus One, a huge premium bar and great beer on tap as well. The bartenders are some of the best in town and always have a smile and a new suggestion for you. This night, we sipped: My first love, their Rosemary Lemon Drop (not too sweet, not too lemony), The Flirtini (vodka, peach schnapps, pineapple and a tot of bubbly) - to me, a Blondie with a peachy kick, but I didn't think it required the cherry...a bit too sweet, plus I don't like anything bigger than a twist taking up the room in my glass - better suited for those who like 'girly' drinks. Sour Apple Martinis aren't my thing (again, too girly and they usually taste like a Jolly Rancher) but I heard the one they served Scotty was "excellent".

Our dinner menu:

-Diane had the Sauteed Chicken on penne pasta with a homemade chipotle cream, caramelized onions, tomatoes, roasted red peppers, sweet basil and fresh parmigiano reggiano. I tried this and really couldn't find a thing I didn't like about it - satisfying and savory.

-Scotty loved the Basil fettuccine with sauteed tiger prawns tossed with homemade pesto, tomatoes, roasted peppers and a smoked mozzarella cream sauce. I didn't try this and thought the pasta was a pesto pasta, but Scott did and he said it was really interesting. (In a good way!)

- I tried the Grilled Chicken Scallopini - Rolled with goat cheese and pesto on a salad of baby Arugula and watercress with avocado, tomatoes, herb vinaigrette. They also have this one on the lunch menu (same price - a reasonable $10.95) and even though I gave some to everyone, I didn't finish. The pesto isn't overwhelming, just a seasoning, the four good-sized portions of chicken was perfectly done, not dry, and the huge pile of slightly bitter arugula goes great with goat cheese and those perfect tomato 'fillets'.

- Spicy Filet Mignon Pizza Smoked Mozzarella and a chipotle glaze, tomatoes, red onions and fresh cilantro was Scotts' dinner - he's had this one before and always looks for it on the changing menu every time. Put it this way - for about the price of a good regular pizza, you can be delighted for dinner and lunch the next day.

Just when we thought we couldn't eat a...single...bite...more, out came a beautiful plate with "Enjoy" piped in luscious chocolate on the rim. Floating on a sea of raspberry coulis (not too sweet! hooray! I hate it when dessert tastes like jam!) was a chocolate-shelled something... which turned out to be the "Like Water for Chocolate" Surprise. Belgian Callebaut Dark Chocolate is your friend, and that's all I'm sayin'. You'll have to eat there to discover the surprise bit. The real sweet bit, though, was the generousity of our friends. You can bet my thank-you card is already in the mail.

Fiesta del Norte

How do I love my job? Let me count the ways.....Well, let's not be here all night - but let me say this: No matter how many weddings I'm currently planning/thinking about/recovering from, I still get excited about having, helping with, or attending a party.

This week, I'm particularly excited to be visiting the Sight Speed guy and his luverly wife up north (finally!) - I may be posting from the Bay area, so stay tuned. I'm told there may be a little party, which, naturally puts me in a froth over what to pack and wear. I always forget that Northern California has noticeable changes in season - as in: Actual fall and Winter - a t-shirt will definitely not fit the bill. Plus...think of all the witty, erudite hipsters up there who will surely, most definitely, absolutely a) know eight million bands that I've never heard of b) internally roll their eyes when they hear I'm in such a (pick a word: wasteful, excessive, frivolous) industry c) think 'aaaiiirhead' when they hear I'm a Southern California girl.

Undoubtedly, I will end up perched in the corner, sipping (gulping) wine, nodding and smiling at someone talking about something I am completely unaware of. My teeth will be lightly stained with Shiraz, there will be something on my shirt, and Scott will be deeply ensconsced with tales of the Good Old Days or the bands I know nothing about with someone he's known for twenty years. I will try to avoid talking too much (or not enough) and periodically, we'll glance at each other across the room; he will wink or smile at me. At some point in the evening, musical instruments may make an appearance, in which case I will happily assume the role of adoring (non-singing) fan. I can't wait. Nor-Cal, here we come!

I'm guessing Martha Stewart would call these a "Bad Thing" for a dinner party

The Good Part of my weekend, via the magic of a list.

How to have a lovely dinner party, in Sixteen Simple Steps:

1. Infuse two bottles of vodka with fresh ginger, rosemary for a week. Mmmmm
2. Purchase gorgeous (cream brocade= tablecloth), (chocolate brown velvet = runner, other items), (champagne satin = napkins) and other fabrics at a couple of discount stores.
3. Set the table with the good silver and china, lavendar tucked in the napkins, magenta dahlias floating in a pretty dish.
4. Make ginger and nectarine/grapefruit simple syrups, cool in the freezer and store in pretty labeled bottles.
5. Purchase champagne, salad and split-pea soup makings and dessert bites at Trader Joe's, quiches at Costco.
6. Spend far, far to long doing the following: Making oversized namecards for you and eight of your friends (attached with velvet to chairs, natch), perfecting your Rosemary Lemon Drop/Ginger Nip mixology (sampling results), teaching your friend to how to do a pocket fold* with a napkin.
7. Add a heavy dose of candles (different kinds on every surface). Bonus points for not showing any irritation/comforting child when your friends' kid smashes the hell out of a candle/container on an outside stairway. Drink champagne to self-soothe when friends' husband shows you the enormous tarantula he caught at work. The one he was keeping in the bathroom in an open topped five-gallon bucket with live crickets.... until an hour prior to the party, without your knowledge. Where you dried your hair and applied your makeup.
8. Re-style bathroom, furniture, pictures, etc everywhere that shows to good advantage. Drink champagne to cool down.
9. Take seven minute shower, rub makeup and eyeliner on, apply Little Black Dress and heels, 'brush' hair. Sample martini.
10. Quickly pan-sear garlic, large shrimp (stuffed with red peppers and herbed goat cheese) and wrap in proscuitto. Sip martini, mix drinks for guests. Glance outside nervously in the direction of G.T.
11. Greet guests, offer excellent appetizers, ply them with drinks (sip yours), accept accolades on appearance of house. Note that enormous tarantula is being handled by a six year old. Scan for ice packs, spider bite kit.
12. Be married to/friends with someone who plays guitar quite well. Make sure they bring their amp. and new 'dj light', as well as iPod Nano/speaker-things. (This is key, of course. Without this ingredient, you may as well bring out the board games.)
13. Serve soup (homemade), accept lavish praise. Same with salad (candied pecans, onions, green apple, baby herbs *NOT SPINACH!!* Stilton, dried cherries) and quiche (Costco special). Sip martini. Tell witty wedding-related anecdote.
14. Retire to living room with your drink and friends, be entertained by singing/playing of Entertainment d' Nuit. Notice that male guests are quite enraptured with Giant Tarantula, go outside to see what the fuss is about. Timidly stroke G.T., suppress a shudder.
15. Make Entertainment Person continue to play songs on guitar and 'DJ" for you, sip drinks, dance with friends, serve dessert. Completely block Giant Taruantula from your mind.
16. Oh, yeah, here's the other key tip: Have said Dinner Party at your friends' house. Success is yours.

How to do a Pocket Fold: (I realize you have like, totally known that since, like, second graaade, duuhhhhhhh! but figured, just in case there was one of you out there....well, here you go.)

• Start with a square-ish napkin spread out flat.
• Fold top about four inches down (A to B)
  
• Fold bottom up (C to D) so there is a generous edge that laps over the outside edge that came from the top (A)
  
• Fold "D" edge (bottom that came up) over/down about an inch. Repeat. You should now be looking at two approximately equal-sized folded 'flaps' with a little inch-wide strip going across the middle of them. There should not be any top/bottom edges showing.
  
• Holding the 'middle roll' firmly so it doesn't unfold, flip the entire thing over, fold it in thirds.
  
• You should now be able to slip a flower/silverware/Small Tarantula into your 'pocket'. Now go practice. The first one's always sloppy.
  

A Decade or More Ago...

This is too funny, you guys. Go read Chiada's "How we met" story. Keep in mind this was more than ten years ago...One Enchanted....(not) evening.. . Also: Wish her best of things on her real estate tests and a happy (belated) seventh anniversary. She's just the best, I tell ya!

Additionally: Please also visit over here here for "How Not to Act on J-Date" - this one is really, really funny. Worth the read-through, I didn't listen to much of the audio, but...what a JERK!

Red Shoe Diaries

Whew! Well, that was quite a weekend - I won't say it was fun, because going to a memorial service for someone your own age can be categorically dismissed as "Mostly Depressing". However, there were lots of other things this weekend that did not involve quantities of grown men crying, thank heavens. Some of those things:

• S. getting to see a whole bunch of his old friends, many of whom had never even met me, six years later. Said friends treated him like the returning rock star of the Peninsula that he is.
  
• Hardly predictable, but at least I could channel "sad" into "teeth-grittingly irritated": Answering The Question approximately an additional 423 times in the 36 hours we were there.
• The masses of adorable little "Smalls" (sprogs of the Questioneers) running around. And around, and around, and around, until I was forced to remove their tiny little legs and stack them neatly in a pile.
  
• Handing one of said "smalls" over to her father with her third loaded diaper in fifteen minutes. Laughing loudly and mercilessly at his look of, "You're not going to offer to change my adorable daughters' poopy bum?" dismay.
• Blueberry, strawberry and pecan pancakes and chicken-apple sausage at Tarpy's
• Watching the look on little M.C.'s (our neice) face as she tried to figure out the Great Mystery that is grass under her fingers.
• Following The Sightspeed Guys' advice and going to a National Park.
• Hiking barefoot in 85 degree weather over rocks and lava-like clay-ey sand in order to avoid getting blisters from my sensible shoes, purchased for tooling comfortably around town. Look! Do those look like instruments of torture, compared with the rest of my shoes?
• Seeing a little teeny baby bunny (he was about the size of a grapefruit), a large lizard, and best of all, the car, on the trail.
  
• Spontaneously stopping by Chiada's house and hanging out with her and her lovely should-be-a-chef hubby, E.
• About E: He made us Jabenero jerked pork and killer curried rice, anyone? Coming right up!). Plus, their dogs, Chloe and Rayna. Ever have a Dalmation sit on your lap?
• In-car manicure and pedicure.
  
• Getting back home to Fynn and Edie and the froglings, the new Martha Stewart wedding magazine, and Oatmeal Cookie Ice Cream. Mmmmmm
  

Reese's Pieces of Me

A Quick Thanks to Craig: Yesssss! Got a tenant - she's perfect (read: will pay rent, can move now, doesn't smoke,) and even picked up on the subtleties of one of my emails. Also: She brought us Costa Rican coffee when she came back over. Even though I don't drink coffee, the gesture alone confirmed my earlier notion that she's a perfect match for us. Yessssss!

First of all, you should go right now and see Nacho Libre. By "right now" I mean "as soon as you get to the end of this entry," because ....well, I'd like someone, anyone who blogs/does diary entries/online journals to please stand up and say, "No, really, I don't care who reads this, or if anyone reads it at all, seriously... I'm just doing this because __________." By the way, if anyone does sack up and actually say this, they are a) blogging for work - and please, if you are blogging for work, can I get that job? b) completely delusional. Back to the movie, though: Our man Jack Black and his "steeetchy paants" works his best angles (grandiose gesturing, mad air guitar, improvised songs, arching eyebrows, perfectly round Buddha-belly). Add 70's style filming, an over-saturated palette, great soundtrack and dead-eyed Mexican child actors and I think its a real recipe for those huge snaaaaaarks! of laughter.

We were seated about a third of the way up, in the middle of the theater, so pretty much in the middle of a bunch of people who were approximately one-third my husbands' age. Not a subtle bunch, let me tell you. About mid-way through the previews, (something with cow-like, udder-y creatures that had distinctly male voices, something else with ..... jellybeans? I seem to recall jellybeans) Scott leaned over and asked, "Babe, is this a kids' movie?"

Ding-ding-ding! We have a winnnnaaaah!

I freely admit that we did both want to see the picture - and that having a nine-year-old girl for the weekend made it even more fun. So I give you, in bullet points, keys to having a fantastic weekend:

• Start your weekend on a Friday. This is key. Proceed directly to the beach, take your friends and one of their little girls kayaking.
  
• Move the "beach party" to a nearby house that is handily equipped with a pool and hot tub, order pizza and make a few drinks.
• Give a pack of ten kids instructions on how to swim from one of the pool to the other, float on their backs, play "Shark", Marco Polo, and the new & improved Silent Marco Polo. Watch them go crazy, recieve mad props from happy moms and neighbors.
  
• Buy ice cream, pop corn, and return home with one a nine year old girl. Allow her to stay up until one-forty-five am eating said treats and watching Eight Below. Ask if she'd like to meet the star of the movie, dissolve into hysterical laughter when she says she'd rather meet the dogs.
  
• Day Two: Get up late, make strawberry pancakes.
  
• Go to a new and different beach, take the kid boogie-boarding until you are both blue-lipped and raisin-fingered.
• Inform her that you'll be keeping for another evening and that you'll be going to the movies as soon as she showers. Purchase dinner and absurd amounts of candy for her, smuggle them into the theater with twinkly-eyed aplomb.
• Allow her to select her own box of "breakfast cereal", new sketchbook and wear your (smallest) clothes. Stay up late, again and spend time learning about the fascinating world of Neopets.
• Day Three: Awake at ten, eat "cereal"and fruit salad out of fancy china, wrapped in fancy sheets, discuss Neopets and The Proud Family.
• Walk to a local museum and spend the afternoon sketching various peices.
• Buy her a couple of books, write her a Summer Reading list, send her home with a "book deal" - Every time she does a book report (turn in a five-sentence book review via phone, email or other medium) she gets five dollars.



Get a huge, huge hug and million big smiles, and the sense that you have Made an Impression. Yeah!

Where the Wild Things Are

Strange things are afoot in Santa Barbara. I went with Christie, Bella and her little charge, Rya to Oak Park this morning. The girls were adorable, but antagonizing each other the way only kids who are together every single day can - every five minutes or so Rya* would break out in enormous, heaving, opera-worthy sobs because Bella was either a) touching/not touching her b) not sharing c) dumping sand on her d) breathing to hard on her e) requesting our attention.
*Rya is unfairly equipped, at not-quite-two, with eyelashes as long as a camel, huge dark brown eyes and wisps of brown hair that curl cutely over her head. I've noticed that people ("people" = me) tend to scoop her up and kiss her instead of telling her, "Aaaaah, shut yer gob, ya little Drama Queen!" as much as would be good for her when she brings out the tears.

The charm of sitting at the park sewing my new napkins (yes, by hand...apparently I turned eighty last week and the year is 1900, no?) wore off when the temperature dropped, so we opted for food to try and soothe the savages. Pierre Lafond has this great, pigeon-infested patio for kids to run around on, plus: multiple varieties of quiche! Farm Cakes! Teeny-tiny chicken salad sandwiches! Salads loaded with things like wontons and sesame seeds! There is also the option of endless people and dog-watching. One could be forgiven for rhapsodizing and possibly allowing the kids to chase the pigeons, right?

We tooled down State Street (I'm on a mission to try and find tomato-red thread. Despite the fact that we've got a Starbucks every three blocks, I cannot find a blessed store at which to buy thread.) and through the "Dollar" Store, aka the scene of the crime. I was under the mistaken impression that things at the "dollar" store are supposed to cost a dollar. About the crime bit: Rya accidentally shoplifted a teddy bear that cost $4.99. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents, meaning five dollars and thirty-seven cents, at the DOLLAR STORE.

We celebrated our sucessful navigation of Urban Outfitters (Definition of a "Sucessful" shopping trip with two children under five: If you make it through the store and the children have not broken, smeared with one or more bodily fluids, or shoplifted anything, you get a calorie-free latte!) by returning the bear to his home at the "Dollar" store. There was an improvised Britney Spears (barefoot, not half-naked) dance number backed by a sitar-like instrument and a tambourine. Yeah! Dancing barefoot on the street! You cannot get much more joyful and spontaneous than that, really.

Today I had a startling ephiphany: Three year old people should really be attired in head-to-toe football kit (drop seats for emergencies) and protective headgear for their own safety. To my knowledge, no one has yet figured out how to make this suit comfortable, attractive and affordable for all. When Bella refused to put her sandals and subsequently split her toe wide open with very much blood, drama and anguish, I immediately saw my future in marketing the kiddy protective suit. No, I'm kidding... I whipped out a Band-Aid, cut it half with my embroidery scissors, bandaged the toe, and we retreated to Starbucks. The advantage of having a Starbucks every three blocks: Available bathrooms, large cushy chairs and hot chocolate with cups of extra whipped cream. Entire cups filled with sweet, thick, cool whipped cream that bring smiles to the faces of children everywhere - even when said children are covered in a greenish residual glaze of bran/carrot muffin, lollipop, snot and dirt.

Now about the Wild Thing portion of this episode: You've got to picture the scene first, though. Outside the Starbucks (State and Cota) we took refuge in, there is a 12-sided (dodecahedral, if you'd like the three dollar word version) fountain that I've always loved. Maybe eighteen inches tall with a soft dome-shaped top, the water just burbles up and falls softly down the arcing shape of the dome and into the star-shaped pool. Most people walk right by it and never give it a second thought. Christy, Bella, Rya and I were sipping our drinks when we saw a man walk up to the fountain carrying a newspaper. He started to gently unfurl the sheets of newspaper, like one pulls tissue from a box, and laid it all over the fountain. It looked like he was attempting to hide the fountain under a pile of news. Not one person attempted to stop him, said anything, or even stared hard at him for all of his craziness. Santa Barbara....Where the Crazy People Don't Take Their Medicine, and Everyone Else Pretends They Don't Notice.

Peace, Love and Dim Sum

Well, all is smilies and flowers in the Meepers/Mooshi household - The Lakers have just won against the Suns! Not that I care at all, but when one is married to a man who's (whose? whos'? help Spelling Police!) Final Act as a Single Man was to tape the Laker game....and who, it must be said, checked on said game from the bridal suite...one finds that life is much richer when "The Team" is winning.

Other Good Things Lately include:

-Going to a (The, S. would say) custom knife show up in Solvang today. Many bright, shiny, expensive, sharp things there. The makers pretty much always seem happy to see us and some of them remember us from year to year, so we get to catch up a bit. I'm not the knife collector in this family; I actually was just along for the ride and so S. would have more than one entry into a couple of drawings. Mind you, these drawings don't result in any merchandise being given away; no, they are merely chances to purchase the knives from the Master Craftspeople who make them. Most of them are more artists than metalworkers, and they are generally regarded as The Top 100 Makers in the "knife world". The great things about this show besides seeing all the amazing work are: It is only about a half hour from our front door and some of the knives sell for double or even triple what we can buy them for at the show.

-Running into Noah Wyle at the show with his adorable, tow-headed little son on his shoulders. Actually, I was looking at the kid and actually said aloud, "Ohhh! What a cute little boy!" before I actually realized that Mr. W. likely thought I was trying to talk to him. Which, in fact, I was not - I was never a big ER fan, truth be told. Now my sister (Pamby, the "baby") is another story... she went crazy when I called her later on and told her about it. David Crosby was there, as he always is. Noah Wyle sported a fashionable half-inch of dark stubble, deliberate, but not over-mussed hair and a leather/sheepswool jacket; his little son, (I'm told by The Google that he's called Owen) looked adorably bed-headed, slumped over his dads' shoulders.

My parents, Mama and Papa de Meepers, will be in town tomorrow evening. Naturally, since I told them last month that I'd be up to my eyeballs with a wedding this Friday. Thus is the way of all parents, I think. When I came back from Costa Rica the first time (and when S. and I went together) and told them how much they'd love it, that it was inexpensive and easy to get to, pretty and relatively unspoiled etc... and that we wanted to go on a family trip.. what happened? They nodded, smiled, and immediately informed us that they thought it would be more fun to make it a 30-person tour*. This from people who, due to no fault of their own, have never left the country.

Truly, I love and respect them, but they simply do not comprehend the fact that it is a Bad Idea to make your first trip to a place like that a giant convention of braying tourists. Period. Despite our best reasonings, they completely and entirely side-stepped the possibility of doing something with just our family. We had our first "family trip" the week my grandmother died (Let me tell you: Northeastern Oregon in January + Sudden passing of a relative + A full house of 'memories" and a town of less then 400 people and almost no wine to be had = Good Times, baby, good. times! More fun than exploratory surgery!) The second was this past January, in Colorado in the snow. I don't do snow, really, I won't need to see snow for another fifteen or twenty or fifty years.

Like Molly, sometimes I think they just do not hear me when I am talking. It is entirely possibly that when I talk, they are envisioning the six-year-old me, in braids and a nightgown, hopping up and down, playfully bossing them in her tiny-woman voice. Even though I've been in or around the wedding business since I was sixteen years old (meaning: No summer holidays of any length), they've not quite managed to catch on to this fact yet. Usually my dad genially admonishes me to, "just blow it off," (riiight... a wedding-related item...not going to happen withot a darned good reason) and too "come to the beeeach, come outside for once," as though I cloister myself in the house for fun. Generally what happens when they come out is this: They arrive, and the weather goes down the tube. They grimly lament our coastal fogs (summer) or say through shivers "how waaarm it was at home!" (spring, fall) or a week prior to the trip, try to re-schedule for a "full moon" (when I'm trying to have a surprise party for them). If I suggest a quiet family dinner for the four of us, they will invariably invite six or eight of our/their friends and the friends' kids. It isn't that we don't all love each other to bits - they just don't hear me (or S.) when we speak to them. Allow me to re-iterate: I'm really, really happy they are coming!

Third: I may be taking a girls' weekend with my girlfriend up to the City. Cannot wait! Chinatown! Sourdough breadbowls! Berkeley! This guy and his lovely wife! (time permitting) Martinis without children asking for "just a siiip, pleeease!" The Stinking Rose! Streetcars! Art! More exclamation marks, please! Unfortunately, without Ruby, there will be no pictures... but I promise to try and do a re-cap when I recover. I mean, return.



Peace, love and dim sum to you!

When Chinese Food Attacks

The result of the deeee-licious Chinese food we ate this evening: The List Monster struck. Also the Recipe Monster. So, to soothe the savage Monsters (not beasts), I give you Todays' Ten Things:

Ten: Number of bright pink, (extra orange flowers on big toes) Scrumptious coconut-mint scented and exfoliated toes that Chiada is now sporting. I didn't mention it, but I really should moonlight as a pedicure/massage therapist. For some reason, I don't do hands and nails nearly as well as feet/toes.
Nine: Number of complete (as in: all the way through) songs that have been played so far this evening.
Eight: How many Ginger Kisses* + glasses of wine + Red Tail ales have been consumed. So far.
Seven: Amount of dirty jokes that have been made. See: The Worst Joke Ever. Oh wait a minute. Plus one!
Six: Number of Jimmy Buffet songs we listened to on my Ghetto Blaster before any alcohol was consumed. This in honor of the fact that they are headed down to the Jimmy Buffet/Parrothead parking lot party in Irvine tomorrow. These are pictures from last years' lei-making/pre-party efforts.

Five: How many bar chords S. will teach Chiada this evening.
Four: The amount of extra seconds it would have taken to grab the orchids for the lei's at the first Trader Joe's we visited. Incidentally, also the number of people who screamed in the parking lot, in response to strangers who looked like the guy(s) from Rat Race
Three: Number of stops we made before we got to the correct Chinese food place and had the. best. Chinese. food. I've. ever. had. Since Chiada, S, her husband and I hadn't been to Ming Dynasty, and the food was excellent. Menu as follows:

Ming Dynasty Menu
Ginger Kisses (enjoyed at home) *
Won-ton Soup, chile sauce/Egg-Drop Soup
Egg Rolls, spicy mustard, sweet n' sour sauce
Paper-wrapped Chicken (feathers)
Fried Rice/Steamed Rice
Mongolian Lamb, onions (fur)
Almond Chicken with watercress, ginger, garlic (feathers again)
Stewed Beef, bamboo shoots, garlic and hot mustard (four feet)
Shrimp in Lobster Sauce (fish)
Dessert:
Fortune Cookies - Fortunes included: "Your passions often take over", "Your work enables you to use your creativity", and the Antacid/Digestive Aid of your choice.

Two: Number of feet I jumped backwards when I saw the GINORMOUS Black Widow (maybe) hovering right where I had my hand in the darkness of the garage. Bleeauuaahhhhh!
One: Number of Jimmy Buffet/teen/spoof movies we tried and failed to rent.
Seven Million: Amount of flakes falling off my chin per second.

*Ginger Kisses by Meepers
-Bacardi Black
-Ginger ale
-Fresh strawberries
-sugar
Rim glasses with strawberries, sugar, fill with ice.
2 parts rum
1 chopped strawberry
1 part Ginger ale
Mix roughly and serve.

Worst Joke Ever? Dude, I have a secret fear that my Mom might some day, learn how to use the computer, look me up, read this, and be completely offended. Email me if you really want to hear it.

File Under: lists

Inside Voices

Last night, I got finished with a client meeting and Christie rang me to say that they (Jer, the kids, ... the Family) were all down at Pascucci. (For those of you not familiar - here's my favorite review of the place:

Pascucci's...mmmm

The great thing about Pascucci's for those with kids (read: 98% of our friends) is the noise. The place is cavernous, with high arched ceilings, little brick enclaves, private, velvet-lined booths for parties of two and larger tables and booths for bigger parties. The kitchen opens up to the one of the two bars, and on Saturday nights there's a modern flamenco (like Gypsy Kings) band. Everything from the tables (mosiac tiled with wrought-iron or copper-wrapped edges) to the breadbaskets to the chandeliers are solid and weighty. Should you visit without children, these details might be appreciated for their aesthetic value....but bring a couple of the under-seven set with you and then you'll be singing the praises of the designers.

We sat down to my favorite table in the whole place - its a tile-covered oval that cozies up to a half-booth. If you look up, you see an arched brick ceiling with a chimney style skylight. Seated in the middle of the place, so you're surrounded by all the noise of everyone in the place.

This detail was really wonderful when little Bella looked at me, flipped upside down, dove under the booth with Chad, and munched contentedly on the cheese (alone) from her pizza. The big kids, I mean, the adults, laughed at their antics while trying to keep them from setting the garlic bread on fire or climbing up the back of the booth and diving onto the table.
However, it proved even more useful when she looked at me and shouted in her tiny-loud voice, "You tooted!" and dissolved into giggles. Just for the record - I did not toot. We sipped our Sangiovese and munched our garlic bread, Insalada Pascucci, manacotti while attempting to keep the kids in the upright position. "Attempted" being the key word, here.

A couple minutes after I took these pictures, S. joined our party, just in time for a deeply sinful wedge of flourless chocolate cake and raspberry coulis (four forks, please!). Just prior to his arrival, Bella dove back down into the cushions and returned triumphantly grasping something small and brown.
She held it up, waved it at me and said, "Dis is fer...youuu!" across the table.

"Thank you, Bella...its a guitar pick - wow, are you going to give it to Scott?"

"YEAAAHHHH!" (top of lungs)

"Wow! How nice of you to think of him - do you want him to play the guitar for you later on?"

"YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" (enthusiasm such as should really be saved for football matches, Olympic time trials and Lottery wins) I don't remember if she's ever actually seen him play, but she's certainly made the connection that S. = Music.

S. arrived and I slid into the booth with Christy and the kids and she gave me a sticky-faced smile and reminded me that, "dis is fer your old dad."

Really, that one alone was enough to make me sing the praises of Pascucci's.

Something had to cover my howls after that one!

Happy Day!

See? Told ya!

I recieved these lovelies from an old co-worker of mine. No reason, as the card says, just because. To me, this is the best kind of gift - plus these are some of my favorite kinds: Dahlias, Cymbidium orchids, roses and anenomes. Low and full, modern without being minimalist. These are seriously the best non-husband present I've ever gotten in. my. life.


In a stunning two-fer, I also got a loverly package of vitamins, supplements and other Healthy Stuff from my sister, the lovely

Chilly Kitty

. Good thing she also sent along detailed instructions on how to use them -- I took a bit of the De-Stress Formula" and now have (drumroll)... a sore throat. Coincidence? I think not. Ha! Just kidding, Roni! Again, three times for emphasis. Gorgeous!

Ok, I'm STILL not over this. Bear with me - florists and ex-florists never, ever, EV-VER get flowers. This is SO awesome!


This I just captured a couple of days ago during a break in the rain. I've been trying to carry my camera with me most places so I can take pictures every day. Not photography, just snaps. S' band name was Sakura, which means "Cherry Blossom" in Japanese.

My current project, the tabletop. As you can see, she's not done and the background and final coloration are rough, but I'm not dis-satisfied. Remember, I was talking about it before? Back here.. The question is: What nice thing would a rather elderly, almost-immobile (frail) shy, man like? Please, no bottles of wine, he's a Manhattan drinker. Suggestions?

Check back tomorrow for a family recipe I've just resurrected. Mmmmm!

Scenes from a day out

As part of Santa Barbara's newest "festival", I present to you, My Tax Dollars at work:


A man who was on a mission. Spatulas! Oddly enough, S. also bought a spatula, since he now does (some of) the cooking.

Pretty!

(Put on Steve Irwin's accent) "Now, this little beauty is about ready to shed - see how she's got that blueish look to her eye? She's called a Rosy Python- and they grow to be twenty feet long and eat small children. You beauty, you!"

Some of the THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of almost-useless but V. cute items in Sur la Table.

And yeah, verily, the travelers walked amongst the natives, and look! They saw and it was Good.

Mad Libs + Drinks =

Father Goose Rhymes
Old Mother Hubbard went to the Tiara
To get her Sparkly Chinos a bone.
When she got there, the khakis was soft
And so her bobbly dog had none.

Jack and Jill went up the remote
to fetch a/an cube of water.
Jack fell down and broke his bottle,
And Jill came tumbling after.
There was a little girl and she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her curtain.
And when she was billowy, she was very, very congested,
And when she was bad, she was scrubby.

There was a quick woman
who went in a shoe.
She had so many bobsleds
She didn't know what to do.

Amusement Parks
An amusement park is always fun to visit on a hot summer
frame. When you get there, you can rent a
shorts and go for a swim. And there are lots of
cold things to eat. You can start off with a hot dog on
a/an drapes with mustard, relish, and blueberries
on it. Then you can have a buttered ear of contacts with a
nice gassy slice of watermelon and a big bottle of
cold champagne. When you are full, it's time to go on the
roller coaster, which should settle your farts.
Other amusement park rides are the Dodge-Em which has little
butts, that you drive and run into other heads,
and the Merry-Go-Round where you can sit on a big door
and try to grab the gold lightswitch as you ride past.

Four hundred years ago people knew little about our
Dark universe. They thought that the earth was the
center of the entire star and that the sun and all of the
boots revolved around it. But then a/an
Hungarian named Copernicus discovered the truth.
The earth revolves around the beachball
12.343 milion times a year.
Copernicus, whose last name was Van Halen, was born
in Warsaw, and he used one of the first clumsily
telescopes, which was invented by Scott.
This primitive telescope was little more than two pieces of
ice cream stuck on each end of a/an ski.
In 1600 an Italian men's slalom named Galileo
expanded Copernicus's roughly theories, but during the
Inquisition in Italy he was superbly arrested. After
singing for six months in jail, Galileo was
forced to traverse.

Create(d) Our Own Adventure;

"Wow! !" said Maya , "I forgot to tell Ciara where I live! I hope she/he can find the way!" But it was too late. Ciara was already lost deep in the bold forest. "What do I do?" Ciara questioned out-loud. But only a/an cat on a stump nearby seemed to answer. It made a loud whisper and Ciara trusted . It was growing dark, and Maya was growing scared. When all of a sudden, from behind a tree came a sound like tigers attacking ! It was the elephant that lived under Maya 's porch eating its curry ! Ciara cleverly decided to follow the elephant back home. Later, Ciara said, "If it wasn't for the elephant , I would still be burping around in the woods!".

Tale of Discovery:

While in Africa a few years ago searching for the rare gray mule . Erik Miller , a world-renown wildlife film-maker, came across a great discovery -- the mule uses its Thorax for chasing banannas ! Capturing this on film was difficult. At first, the mule was very fast . One day, Miller approached the mule with some banannas . The mule ran away with the banannas in its Thorax! " Hoy Frijoles!! ! I must get that on film!" cried Miller , who went to get the movie camera from the tent. When Miller returned, the mule had crappedq the banannas ! Before Miller had a chance to film anything, this creature had used its Thorax to wafted the banannas straight into the lens of the camera! Creatures do the most stench things! It's a good thing Erik Miller kept trying -- now the world can see it for themselves!

See why you shouldn't drink champagne, eat Thai food, and post???

Glutton for Punishment

Yesterday was a very, very special treat all round - I'll tell you why:

Got to spend actual Time with my good friend Christie (no kids this week! Yeah for grandparents!) doing grown-up things. To wit: Shopping extravaganza (by which I mean, perusing, commenting and at times making fun of clothing, not actually BUYing it.) Drinking tea whilst it was hot, with breaks for ... absolutely nothing. More shopping, also (I can't QUITE recall...) a scandalous mid-week, mid-day martini. We had a brief break for my trip out to Costco to see Exactly How much More Blind I am this year than last year. Answer: More! Blind! ... and did you know that I can now read the labels on the items at the back of Costco from the front door? Now you do.

To celebrate their blissfully child-free state (temporarily, any rate) we walked down to

Opal

(see below for review) and met Christie and Jeremy. Naturally, I still had to wear three inch plus! strappy, thin heels, because ... truly feel that wearing cute shoes and a nice-ish shirt makes up for the fact I wear jeans everywhere. (Silly me!) Fortunately, no foot pain/sprains to report since one of my few maddd skilllz is the ability to more or less hike in the most ridiculously innapropriate footwear.

Dinner was Scrumdiddlyumptiosly good and included some or all of the following:

-Ginger/mandarin martini, large steak and killer sauce, veggies, etc
-Rosemary-infused lemon drop (I've made these at home to great applause) Phyllo-wrapped tiger prawns with curry sauce
-Bubbly, Paella including scallops, mussels, clams, andoulaisse sausage, chicken and possible light case of food poisoning. Yummy!
-Vino - Filet mignon with New York peppercorn sauce (extra sauce requested as it was so, so, so delicious) and taties, steamed veggies.
-Dessert: Two creme brulees, one a Jack Daniels chocolate (SO! Good!) and the other vanilla with berries. MMMMM!

I leave you to guess who got what. I'd go back there and have it all over again in a SECOND. Just not the after-effects, thankyouverymuch.

Some people just don't learn. Apparently, I am one of them.

Review Says:
Opal is big with the pre-theater and post-concert crowds in Santa Barbara’s diverse, colorful theater district, offering a varied and original bistro-style menu heavy on wine-friendly foods with eye-opening flavors. We love to start with the rich oba fish wrapped in prosciutto, served on a bed of soft purple potatoes, red and yellow cherry tomatoes and crab meat; or tiger prawns wrapped in shredded phyllo dough and served with a silken coconut curry dipping sauce and a salad of napa cabbage, Mandarin oranges and toasted almonds, an inspired experiment originally developed to celebrate Julia Child's 90th birthday. Among the gourmet pizzas baked in a wood-burning oven, we recommend the version topped with prosciutto, goat cheese, garlic and spinach. The main course lineup features the best-selling lemongrass-crusted fresh salmon filet, served with apple-and-orange-zest jasmine rice and a Thai curry sauce; and filet mignon prepared two ways, chile-crusted or herb-grilled. The wine list is one of the most impressive in town, with 300 served by the bottle and 40 poured by the glass. And the full bar features a long list of inventive cosmos and specialty grappas.

It actually IS that good, and the prices and portions are very decent. How nice!


Today's bonus: I saw six horribly squeeee!-inducing baby puppies (long soft hair Chihuahuas, NOT the horrid little bug-eyed vibrating kind) and a kitten (darling snub-nosed Persian) in posh pet shop in Montecito today, however was able to reason that paying $200.00 per pound for puppy is not an economical choice. We should all rejoice over that one!

Just a Small-Town Girl...

I've been thinking, really I should properly introduce myself to the world of the blogosphere, and how best to do that. Thus far, no clear solution has presented itself, so I thought I'd just go ahead and share a bit of Where I Come From, and some random stories from my childhood/growing up.

I was born at home, and lived in the same house until I was about 14. At which point my family (Mom, Dad, two little sisters) moved all the way around the corner. We lived in the same small, southern California beach "village" or "hamlet" -whatever cute term you'd like to use - all my life. I'm used to a sort of modern-day Andy of Mayberry existence, in which everyone knows EVERYTHING about everyone else, and that can be both wonderful (ie. I went to school K-12 with some of the same people, so we are still friends) and really invasive and incestous-feeling. Case in point: I could never really go out with any of my friends that were guys - I'd known them so long they felt (feel!) like my brothers. Not that my (very strict!) parents would ever have allowed me to casually date anyone to begin with.

I guess you could say I'm sort of a lapsed beach bum. What I mean is, as someone who's parents took me to the beach and put me in the ocean when I was three days old (in late November! They say it was really warm and nice out), the beach feels like part of me, not a nice area of the town I live in. However, in the interest of time (busy!) and people to go with (no one! they are all busy, or have moved away) and not wanting to look like a catcher's mitt when I'm 35, I don't really go that often anymore. Swimming in the cool Pacific ocean is more natural to me than walking. Here's what I used to look like, basically year-round: (note: I'm the one in the bikini)


Nowadays when I go to the beach, its SPF 30 or more, re-apply every couple of hours and try to avoid peak hours. You know, because the idea of getting BOTULISM injected into my face...not so much something I look forward to with relish. Or ketchup. Or any other condiment. So more like this: (Note the pale pasty-ness that is my skin. Icky, but oh well)


I've always had a great love for animals (cockroaches and possums excepted) and a passion for traveling, art, and music. I'm married to S, who is a great friend of mine as well as being my husband. I'll tell that story some other time, its' too long for now. He shares most of my interests (not so much with the beach thing, but that is ok by me) and plays guitar. Which is good, because I have Absolutely No Musical Talent Whatsoever and also because he really has broadened my taste in music the last five and a half years or so. He's twelve years older than I am, and I mention that only because it is relevant in some of my rants (ie the kid/no kid decision) and also because he seems younger than that to me. He collects knives and watches and boy/man type "toys" and gadgety things and loves more Baroque art than I do. We talk about art and creative mediums often, and are working on a small but good collection of modern artists. His family is small but they drive me crazy (batty old uncle, b**chy manipulative sister) and I'll probably talk more about that at some point. Or not. Here is an ultra-dorky picture of us in downtown Helsinki a couple years ago. Because I am embarassed, I'd like to point out that I've lost weight since than, thank goodness!


We have one kitty, Fynn, who you will see a ton of pictures of (like you haven't already). He is very, very spoiled (see entry titled "Kitten of Dubai") and we plan for him to remain that way. My wedding "present" was our poor, dearly departed kitty, Moss, who was feral and untameable and REFUSED to stay inside, and sadly was recently hit and killed. No, I don't want to get into the whole indoor/outdoor cat debacle. I've had cats literally all my life, and the great majority of them were indoor/outdoor. Sometimes it really is about quality (read: not going crazy in the house) of life, and not quantity. About animals: I've also had/cared for the following animals at various times in my life: Dogs (dying to get one now) Angora rabbits, kept and raised for their fur (you COMB it out, not rip it from their poor little lifeless bodies, FYI) chickens (seriously fresh eggs) Mallard ducks (Donald and Daisy, natch) and the usual run of mice, mini-hamsters and fish that most kids have at one time or another. I'm aware that this picture is not a mallard - seriously when am I going to have a chance to post it?

So... a story about growing up...hmmmm... Ok. See the picture of me, circa 1992 or 93? The girl to the right of me is my girl Dani who could tell you some stories about us. Some of which I cannot share with.. anyone because blogs have a way of gettiing to The Wrong People and I really charish our little inside jokes. The girl to the left of me is our friend Courtney (moved to Oregon, was back for a summer visit) and the gal to the far right is our friend Joleen, who shortly after this picture was taken moved to Texas. Any rate, the house I grew up in had two stories and the stairway was one of the ones that go down seven steps, have two large square landings, and wrap back around the other way going down. I'm sure there is a concise way to explain that, but it is eluding me at present. I love chocolate (that is relavant, trust me) and the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was/is one of my favorite movies. One day, since I lived convienently close to a 7-11 growing up (sounds great till you factor in my health-food crazed mom who could seriously SMELL when we were chewing Hubba-Bubba.) Dani, Courtney and I decided we would beg my mom to go to 7-11 and get chocolate, and than watch the movie. All went well till it was over, and we were possibly a little high on sugar and also just being Crazy Girls, as my mom would say.

Being the late 80's/early 90's, I had a lovely pink-glitter filled baton (which I could never twirl more than two times without hitting myself in the head with). The three of us decided to "play Willy Wonka", obviously as a direct result of the crack, erm, chocolate we'd ingested and it being Summertime. Now, you have to have seen this movie for the following to make ANY sense at all, but here goes: You know the part where W.W. is bringing all the kids down the stairs and into the Chocolate Room? And he takes two steps forward and one step back and goes WHACK! with his cane when one of the kids (I believe it was Mike Teevee) tries to go past him? Yeah - that was the particular scene we decided to act out. I played W.W. and Dani and Courtney were the "kids". So down the stairs we went and WHACK! down came my pink baton. Dani stopped so suddenly that she flipped HEAD OVER HEELS and LANDED ON HER BACK, looking up at us, stunned.

My life as The Girl Who Crippled her Friend and was Hated Forever By Everyone flashed before my eyes. I could see it all - my family trying to pay the medical bills, me visiting her in the hospital, the looks of recrimination, the whole thing. And just than, I heard the greatest sound in the world:

Laughter. Hysterical, wonderful, laughter. Not hurt a bit, Dani was just lying on the (thankfully large) landing, cracking up.

To this day, all I have to say is "Willy Wonka" and no matter when/where we are, we can crack the hell up.