A Vast Supply of Time

My horoscope today:
Caution is mixed with anticipation, making you uncertain about your weekend plans. Even if you know what you want, you may be afraid that there's not enough time to do everything -- and you are right. Instead of settling for less, don't try to do it all this weekend. Even if it feels as if your time is running out, there is actually a vast supply of it ahead.

This morning I woke up with a radical thought: What if I just allowed myself to be happy, in the midst of all this planning and packing and anxious "What am I forgetting?"

Tomorrow we set off on an adventure, and along the way there will be reunions with friends I haven't seen for a year or more. Maybe even people I've corresponded with for more than a year but never met. I'll spend time in some of my favorite places: La Cruz, Barra de Navidad, Melaque... and explore some new places I've never seen. I'll have plenty of time to do the editing work I've committed to, curled up with my laptop in the V-berth while we're pounding through the seas, my best pals snuggled up by my side. There'll be whales, dolphins, sea turtles, boobies, and creatures I've never seen, and my camera will get a good workout.

Preparing for this journey of at least two months, I will undoubtedly forget something important that will cause some frustration down the road. Leaving home is always a wrenching experience. my Cancerian homebody soul has been wallowing in anguish. But suppose I just pack away my fears and uncertainty and focus on all there is to look forward to? What could it hurt?

More Tube Updates

No body told me that "Hell's Kitchen" had started already, darn I missed the first episode. Memo to me, remember to set it up on the DVR, I need me a doze of Chef Ramsey. I wonder what the difference is between cooking because you love to cook as mi chica or my mom do and to cook because you have to. Mi chica can come home tired from a long work day and yet make a quick transition into the kitchen where instead of her being pressured because she has to cook she actually used the time cooking to relax and unwind.

A huge difference in the two styles is the fact that a chef must have recipes, and rely on measured amounts of ingredients, my mom and mi chica rely on their memory and their mood at the time of cooking to add or withhold ingredients, and they too can cook for two or twenty with no problem. Anyway, I hope I don't forget to watch it next week. Umm, I wonder how Christina is doing?

So, in a mixture of scenes from New York to Puerto Rico and back the last of the American Idol auditions episode finally aired. Since all this is prerecorded the Internet has leaked a lot of the Hollywood losers and winners. Me, I rather wait to see it when it airs, otherwise what is the point. Some people do have the need to know in advance what's happening. The first kid from Puerto Rico sang in Spanish and then he was asked if he could sing in English. I think he did pretty good, Kara said you sounded more convincing in your Spanish song, but the English one I could sense an accent. Well duh! Simon rapidly said, we are here in Puerto Rico of course we expect an accent. If we didn't want the accent we would have had the auditions in Omaha. Well said Simon.

Simon finally showed who's boss in the show. This girl in the Puerto Rico audition took her little brother and he actually stood by her while she auditioned. At 16 years of age I thought she did pretty good but Randy gave her a no, and Paula gave her a no, Kara said yes and Simon just said I am going to give you a second chance, and awarded her the gold ticket.

What? "Ugly Betty" is getting axed. Well now ABC denies it and says they are only rumors. Are you kiddin', Ugly Betty is like an as kicking show that is till watched by millions, I just hope that when they finally decide to shelf the show they plan carefully her transformation. In the meantime I am bummed because my DVR did not pick up last night's episode. Can anybody share what happened?

Randy Jackson's "America's Best Dance Crew" now on its third season continues to entertain the heck out of me. In a totally different league than "So you think you can dance" this show showcases group dancing in a way no other show has ever done. These kids take dancing and choreography to a whole different level. I am sure this show captures a younger audience but there are a few of us old timers that really enjoy it too. The competition is super tight and there just may be an all girl crew taking the top honors this year.

I am sure I'll be picking up some more shows along the way, when that happens I'll give you an update. Until then, good night.

What Kind of Tree Would You Be?

Want a solar house and a gas-free car?
Maybe that dream's not so very far...
Now engineers have discovered, at MIT
Energy of the future could be free
All you gotta do is make like a tree!

Road Warriors

After three months of going no farther than the 20-minute run to Guaymas, this is a week of long-distance travel, both north and south. First, a two-day run to Arizona to get several pounds of mail and clear our stuff out of the disabled RV we've had stored in Amado for at least five years. Since our goal is to only visit the States every six months, it seemed extravagant to pay monthly storage on a rig we'd only use four days a year and never drive again. We were expecting to have it hauled away to wherever old RVs go to die, but the park managers said they'd take it, maybe give it to their handyman, who currently camps out on the property in this freezing weather.

We arrived in Arizona just as the sunset lit up the mountains
in hues of pink, gold and purple

Last night we arrived back in San Carlos, unpacked the van, showered and crawled into bed. In two days we'll re-pack the van and hit the road again, at "0-dark-30", south to Banderas Bay, about a two-day drive.

The VW Westfalia, having had extensive tweaking, performed marvelously except for one dead battery incident which happened happily at the Hermosillo tollbooth. The Capt hailed a nearby mechanic to get us a jump start. When the motor turned over again I cried "Musica!" and the mechanic grinned. When you use the toll roads in Sonora, you get free towing and other emergency assistance, with a little propina (tip) to the mechanic.

Chica had the passenger seat and the special dog seat to herself,

but she crept into the Capt's lap at every opportunity

The best thing about using the Westy is that I could stretch out in the back with Sofia, while the Capt drove, with the Chica in the passenger's seat. Very comfortable for everyone.

Highway 15 from Nogales to Empalme just south of Guaymas is designated a "hassle free zone" which means at checkpoints there is little or no notice of your vehicle and no papers requested. They only seem interested in whether we owe duty. However, the "hassle free" aspect doesn't apply to freight trucks, and the truck drivers seem to be taking exception to the discrimination. Going north, we were several miles from the military checkpoint when traffic came to a complete standstill. Usually the trucks line up in the right-hand lane for inspection, while the cars get the left, but this time hundreds of trucks were in both lanes. Since a truck inspection can take over an hour, you could sit in line and watch grass grow on the hillside. I had visions of us still stranded on the highway as night fell, stuck between freight trucks, our engine overheating and the gas gauge at Empty. No way to turn around, nowhere to run. Uzi-waving bandidos holding us up. "Never drive in Mexico at night," warned my inner Nervous Nellie. It was only about 1pm, but Nellie is always looking ahead. Luckily a jeep loaded with camo-garbed soldiers roared up on the verge and forced the trucks to divert into the proper lane. Whether or not they were brandishing rifles, I couldn't say.

The Fence at the border...your tax dollars at work

At the border, I looked out at the FedFence. (There's a controversial article on Wikipedia about the FedFence's impact on illegal immigration, wildlife and your tax dollars.) I was reminded of Cristo's Running Fence project in Sonoma County back in the 70s...glistening white nylon that billowed in the breeze and snaked over the rolling hills for 24 miles but couldn't stop a determined dog. Cristo satisfied all arguments about environmental impact and what remained was an ongoing flap about whether the project was "art." Cristo dismantled his fence as promised, and went on to erect pink umbrellas in Paris, rose-colored aprons around islands in Biscayne Bay, golden "gates" in Central Park and an orange curtain in Rifle, CO.

A nostalgic look at Cristo's Fence

Coming back, the van fully loaded with stuff from the RV, we stopped to declare a few items we'd bought at Walmart, and a lovely señorita from the aduana office peeked in to make a quick visual inspection. Otherwise, we got green lights at every stop and other than the little battery incident the trip was uneventful, especially for me, dozing in the back. We did spot more black and white Federal Police cars than we'd ever seen before, parked in clusters and racing up and down the highway, looking officious. Miscreants beware!

Shandy’s Café

Tucked into a strip center between a gas station and a Spec’s sits Shandy’s, a comfy, cozy café near Memorial Park. The place is tiny and parking is semi-scarce, but don’t let that scare you away... It may not look like much, but Shandy’s is an absolute jewel.


Shandy, herself, does much of the serving, and she’s a pistol. She runs the place with an iron fist and stern eye, cranking out orders with efficiency and flair. For those of you who worship at the house of bacon, you’ll find no better BLT in Houston. Served warm on whole wheat toast, this version features chipotle mayo to spice up the crispy bacon, sheets of lettuce, and fresh tomatoes. I’ve sampled my way through much of the menu, but the BLT is a beacon, forever guiding me into its arms of potable joy.


Burgers are plump, juicy, and made to order, and the fries are beautifully crisp. The chicken salad sandwich, served on warm Ciabatta bread, is a lover; try it with the uniquely Shandy side of roasted artichokes and cherry tomatoes.


The menu is varied: Tarts, salads, hummus, and pasta. And the only major flaw I can find is that the dang place is closed on Sundays.

Hmpf.

Shandy’s Café - 5814 Memorial Drive (near Westcott)

Great Big Glutton Goes to New Orleans

Before heading to New Orleans last weekend, I sought the restaurant advice of a few trusted advisors. My friend Elizabeth passed on her list, adding: “If you don’t come back from New Orleans feeling fat and disgusting, then you haven't done NOLA right.”

Well. I do like my ribbons blue.

We kicked the weekend off right, spending Friday night at John Besh’s deluxe restaurant, August. Everything there -- save the attitude -- was fantastic. The gold star goes to the roast duckling, which came with mounded squirts of buttery foie gras, creamy grits, and smooth quince jelly.


Saturday’s winner was the shrimp po’ boy at Johnny’s: Piles of perfectly crisp fried shrimp with lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles atop a heavenly pillow of French bread. Add a little bit of Louisiana’s “perfect” hot sauce, and I can feel my blood turning Creole.


The rest of the weekend turned into a progressive eat-a-thon: Grilled oysters at Acme, outrageous cheeseburgers at Port of Call, sugared beignets at Café du Monde, seafood gumbo and bourbon bread pudding at Lüke, spicy jambalaya at The Gumbo Shop, pecan pralines at Southern Candymakers, toasted muffaletta at Napolean House, and everything with a side of Abita beer, sazerac, or absinthe. I give quiet thanks that New Orleans is a walking town. *Burp*


I wondered beforehand how the city would look, now several years post-Katrina, and I think it’s safe to say that the New Orleans food traditions are alive and well. The beignets are as wonderful as ever, the po’ boys are as filling as ever, and the bread pudding is still as devastatingly rich.

As directed, I am feeling fat and disgusting. And also? Gloriously content.

Where the Whales Are

Banderas Bay, where the whales are

OK, that does it. I was waffling about whether to go south with the Capt or stay here with my library, dance classes and singing. Then I saw today's post from "Meerkat," and now I'm ready to go sailing. Especially since the Capt has decided he wants to make some progress on our project boat, "The Green Flash," here in San Carlos, so we'll make this a shorter trip and I can be back home in March.

Entering Banderas Bay (where our boat is waiting for us) "Meerkat" captured the most outstanding series of whalewatching photos I've ever seen, even in National Geographic. I haven't had many whale encounters and I tend to get hugely excited at the merest glimpse of a fluke. But for "Meerkat" they were leaping out of the water and slapping the water with their tails. "Hey, look at me!" Now I can't wait!

Other things to look forward to: spending time in La Cruz with my friends Wendy and Mark on "Sol Mate," a visit with my friend Linda who lives close to the Marina, open mics at Anna Bananas and Philo's. Exploring some inland areas in the Westfalia, particularly the city of Colima. A few days at one of my favorite towns, Barra de Navidad, and Melaque, though I'll be there too early to meet Steve, who's not moving there until April.

Along the way I won't be bored: I have two books to edit, a few hours' linking work to do on our website and, with a little luck, some whales to photograph! Dolphins, too!

A Moment of Relief and Optimism

It's 5:30 am and the Capt, down in La Cruz, is packed and ready to catch a bus to the Puerto Vallarta airport. At noon I'll pick up my friend Ale in Guaymas and we'll drive to Hermosillo to meet the Capt at the airport. The boat stays behind in a slip at La Cruz marina.

I haven't watched a presidential inauguration since Clinton, but yesterday I made a point of witnessing Obama's swearing-in and watching him dance to "At Last" with Michelle in her white gown (organza covered with little roses, politely scorned by the fashion commentators) at the first of ten inaugural balls. I hope she was wearing comfortable shoes. We don't have HDTV and the photos I shot off the screen are pretty grainy, but I couldn't resist capturing this occasion. Broad smiles all around, except among the Bush crowd, who were looking pretty grim.

Moments that stayed with me: the CNN anchors making much of the fact that the Capitol and the White House were both built by slaves, who were kept in pens like cattle. Aretha Franklin in an amazing hat singing "My Country Tis of Thee." A carpet of humanity screaming for joy. Obama's references to "our patchwork heritage." Michelle presenting Laura with a gift-wrapped box before they entered the White House for a morning coffee...bagels? scones? a homemade coffeecake? I'd love to have been a fly on the wall for that coffee conversation.

Eons ago when the Clintons and Gores danced around the stage to "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" after his acceptance speech, I had a poignant moment of hope that, in retrospect, I'm almost embarrassed about now. But when Obama took office yesterday, there it was again: that stubborn flicker of optimism, borne on a wave of relief at seeing the last of the Bush crowd. Change was the theme of the day, picked up by the corporate advertisers who cashed in on the biggest worldwide TV show in history. Starbucks...Pepsi...Blackberry...

I felt a little like Linus, running to kick Lucy's football once again. Wouldn't it be wonderful if, this time, we didn't fall flat on our faces?

Hot Pot at Sichuan Cuisine

Last week I met a few Chowhounds for a night of Hot Pot at Sichuan Cuisine, a mad-authentic hole in the wall in the heart of Houston’s Chinatown.

At a basic level, hot pot is Chinese fondue: you order a hot pot of broth, which is kept simmering on your table, plus various meats and vegetables to cook inside. I was admittedly torn on the debate between “this is awesome” and “I’m at a restaurant, but doing all the work myself,” but vowed to have a good time regardless.


Our group, which featured novices and experts alike, ordered a pot split between spicy and mild broths. My biggest rookie mistake (and there were many) was thinking I could handle the chili-laden soup. But even just a half-spoon of the intensely hot substance lit my insides with a Joan-of-Arc-like fire. Holy crap! My eyes teared up, my face reddened, and I quietly prayed for peace in the Middle East. Pride be damned, I’ll switch to the mild, thankyouverymuch.


Onward. We went all out -- lamb, shrimp, beef, crab, fish, chicken, squid, tofu, spinach, noodles, wontons, mushrooms, and more. The nearly unanimous table favorite was? The lamb. Mmmmm! But I’ll throw in votes for the tofu, wontons, and mushrooms, too.


While hot pot is much cheaper than traditional fondue, I have to conclude that food is just better when someone else makes it for you. But who cares. In the end, hot pot is a group of friends, sitting around a steaming broth, talking, laughing, joking, and sweating, not caring about the weather, the economy, or everyday stress. zhù nǐ hǎoyùn!

Sichuan Cuisine -- 9114 Bellaire Boulevard

The Impossible Dream

Now here's a worthwhile pet trick, if you have a spare bathroom and an indoor cat.

The next logical step: tie a ribbon with a bell on it to the flush handle, train the cat to pull it when he's done!

Photo and instructions from Wiki-How.

A Lovefest of a Day

It wasn't my birthday. No fireworks. Nobody came to my door with a million-dollar check. No one handed me the keys to a Ferrari. But I would have to say that yesterday was one of those perfect days.

Up before dawn, I took both dogs for a walk to the marina as the sky was turning rosy, and for a change they both kept pace with me. Sofia usually balks, while Chica pulls ahead, making for an awkward pace, but this time we moved like a team, and I felt like the Dog Whisperer. Now, where are my skates?

I had signed up for a writer's workshop yesterday, and after a couple hours with three other women in various stages of giving birth to their own books, it was clear to me that while writing is a solitary process, I tend to work best when I can compare notes now and then. I'm a strange contradiction, a shy people person. By lunchtime, we all felt as though we had known each other for years and were making plans to continue working together after the workshop ends.

At lunchtime I went home to sit in the sun and scarf quesadillas made of soy chorizo, cheese and onions, and tossed the ball for Chica. Then G. came by with his little sidekick Alberto, who was happy to take over the ball-tossing.

In the afternoon, the workshop created "mind maps," a process familiar to anyone who's read Drawing From the Right Side of the Brain. I kept coming up with more little balloons to add and drawing more lines connecting the balloons until my map became quite a maze.

The vest

By four I was home, my brain a little weary from all the unaccustomed exercise, so I curled up for a naplet with the dogs. Corresponded with a few friends online and then, as the stars came out, I pulled on some velvet jeans and an embroidered vest and strolled down to Evie's where Omar the pianist had invited me to sing. There wasn't much of an audience and no microphone but the room is small and the acoustics are pretty good, so it went well. Then Martin the owner brought out his accordion and the three of us did "Piel Canela" together! I'd never heard Martin sing before and I was pleasantly surprised.

I stopped in at the Captain's Club on the way home to see if Francisco was playing. We had a couple of new songs we wanted to practice, and since the audience there was also sparse it looked like a good time. So we broke out Donovan's "Mellow Yellow" and Procol Harum's "Whiter Shade of Pale." For one of the waitresses we tried to translate the title "Whiter Shade" into Spanish. Un mas blanco sombrear de pálido? Hmmm, not as catchy as the English.

We were both about to leave when my favorite wandering minstrels Enrico and Angel, sauntered in wearing snowy white dinner jackets, their shoes gleaming, hair slicked back. "Muy guapo!" I gushed. And we taught them "Gracias a La Vida!" with me singing the verses and all of us chiming in on the chorus. ¡Qué divertismo!

I didn't spend or earn a peso all day. The workshop was a trade for editing work. Martin wouldn't let me pay for the glass of red wine I had at Evie's and Malena insisted on treating me to a limonada at the CC. Home in bed, I dozed off with fantasies of morphing into an itinerant cantante.

Synchronicity, serendipity, happy coincidence. A charmed day. I can't expect them all to be like that, but I can recognize and celebrate them when they occur. And try to remember them on those other days.

No-Pants Brrrrrrrravado

What the cool crowd is doing in New York City: January 10 was the Annual No-Pants Subway Ride. Great time to show off favorite skivvies and acres of goosebumps. I love their nonchalant expressions, like this is no big deal, they do this every day.

Widening Horizons a Centimeter or Two

Funny that the Capt and I, hundreds of miles apart, were both doing the same thing last night. In La Cruz he stopped by Philo's for open mic night and Kak was there with a harmonica player. Kak and I sang together here a few times at the Captain's Club before she sailed south.

I went to Bananas' open mic and sang a couple of songs with my friend F. I'd hoped to sing with Los Cuates but I wasn't pushy enough and although they knew I was there waiting they didn't call on me. A little like being the good little schoolgirl with her hand up, waiting to give her answer. But there will be other Thursday nights. Alma la Doctora walked in just as F and I started our first song, and that was gratifying. We did the old Buffalo Springfield song, "For What It's Worth," and I sang "The Rose." Nobody got up and danced, but Alma was generous with her praise. We talked for a while, over the din, and then Ale and Ulisses came in and I was able to introduce them. They seemed to hit it off immediately, though it was impossible to tell what they talked about in Spanish over the noise.

The dancefloor was crowded all night. Two songs were for mujeres only, no partners required, and I kept asking myself why I wasn't out there with them. Early in the evening the dancers were mostly older gringos, but Mexicans always arrive later and stay later, so we stuck around to watch their much livelier and more accomplished moves. They formed circles and pushed people into the middle and made them perform. They formed snake lines (Ulisses called them cadenas) and frolicked all over the room, and spun in dizzying whirls. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and they changed partners often. And there I sat like a stone, watching wistfully. Again, there will be other Thursdays.

Ale amazed me by walking up to the band like a visiting celebrity between songs and asking the band to play a song for her. She did well, even though the key was too low for her and her mic needed to be turned up.

The best part of the evening was after the band closed down and F started playing where we sat. Ale and I sang some Spanish songs together. My heart was full of affection for my friends who showed up to support me in doing something new and a little scary, and regret that I let them down by not being more assertive with Los Cuates. (I wonder, too, if the songs I was asking the band to do are just too boring and dated, so they weren't enthusiastic about them...their priority, after all, is pleasing the audience.)

Ale, who comes from a whole family of musicians in Hermosillo, is getting serious about her music, with singing and guitar classes five days a week at the Cultural Center in Guaymas. I'm envious of that opportunity, but I don't feel ready for classes conducted entirely in Spanish. Another bold step waiting to be taken. And meanwhile, the days dwindle down to a precious few...

Look What’s Lurking Around the Corner... VD!

I will refrain calling this post “Valentine’s Day for Dummies” because 1) that would be fairly banal on my part, and 2) I’m a dummy in that area, myself. However, the main point, here, is that Valentine’s Day is one month from today... and it’s on a Saturday. That means getting a reservation anywhere will be damn-near-impossible. Consider this an official heads-up.

Looking to impress? If it’s a fun and fancy dinner you’re looking for, best to lower your expectations now. I hate the pressures (for restaurants and patrons alike) that go along with the day. However, the ever-fabulous Textile is accepting reservations for the big day, and I think Divino is another ideal spot. You can always do as my sister does and celebrate the day before.

Or try something lower-key... Go for a lap at Memorial Park and then dine at the Beck’s Prime right there. Grab a glass of wine at Oporto Cafe before a movie. Order a Bada Bing from Pink’s Pizza. Go ice skating at the new Discovery Green and then grab a late lunch at The Grove. Sign up for the afternoon Chocolate Desserts cooking class at Central Market -- or for the Couples Cook class that night.

And you could always host a progressive take-out meal of personal favorites... Mine would be something like spring rolls from Les Givral’s, cheese soup from The Black Lab, a green papaya salad from Nidda Thai, macaroni and cheese from t’afia, and Tres Leches from La Guadalupana. Does it have any kind of flow, overlap, or consistency? Nope, none. But who cares -- I get all my favorite stuff!

Hizzah.

The Sweet and Bittersweet

After several slow news days, everything broke loose yesterday, most of it sweet, a little of it bittersweet.

Chica, Sofia and I had a stroll along the malecon while we waited for Cesareo the lock whisperer to open so I could duplicate my house key. It was a spectacular morning, more like April than January. Cesareo never showed up, but I was in such a good mood I didn't care.

Back home, the email was flowing steadily, interspersed with messages from the Capt on the chat line. Julie the book facilitator had referred me to a writer looking for editing, so I was back and forth with them, and offered a free sample of my editing work on a chapter. By the end of the day I had received the chapter, but the author was trying to decide whether to let her daughter do the job for free instead. You get what you pay for, I told myself.

Julie offered me a place at the writers' workshop this weekend, in exchange for some editing on her already-published book. Chances are I'll meet some other writers who could use a gentle, red-pencil-wielding hand.

My friends Cynthia and Mike had invited Brenda and me over to get us up to date on their plans and say our goodbyes. They've already located a place to stay in Salem, OR and Cyn has been busy sending out her resume, so I feel reassured that even though they're heading into a region plagued by awful weather, and Mike's health is fragile, they're going to be OK. She's such a take-charge woman, a real inspiration. I'm going to miss her, but thanks to the magic of blogging I'll be able to keep in touch.

Brenda and I then went next door to Lolita's for the Spanish conversation class, which now numbers five gringos, making for a lively hour of chatter about everything from ladrones to mercerias to ostiones.

My friend Francisco dropped by soon after I got home to alert me that a skipper was trying to reach me to talk about renting our vacant mooring. We strolled down to the Captain's Club to talk to Craig, who's living on his boat out in the anchorage. I think Craig was hoping for free rent but it was nice to spend some time with him and his first mate Debbie. Then I had more goodbyes (two in one day!) with Dave and Brian, who are headed back to the States. Dave will be in Australia for a couple of months. Brian said the sweetest thing: "You're welcome in our world anytime." I found out the reason they're always adorned with gorgeous jewelry is because they are gem collectors, with emphasis on opals.

The plan is for me to drive to Hermosillo airport Monday to pick up the Capt at the airport. Then within a few days we will drive the Westfalia south to La Cruz in Banderas Bay. I am so not ready, but at least my summer beach dresses have been washed, and I'm down a pound. Four to go.

Salad City

It’s still early enough in January that you might not have broken *all* of your New Year’s resolutions... So where do you go to pick up a good salad?

My go-to to-go place is none other than Mission Burrito, where I fawn over the Que Mas salad. For non-natives, “que mas” means “what more,” and the salad is truly a Cuisinart of stuff: greens, potato, corn, roasted red peppers, jicama, tortilla strips, cheese, and the meat of your choice. Hearty, healthy, and gooood. Especially with the Cilantro Ranch dressing. Which makes it decidedly less healthy. Hmpf.

Guadalajara’s Caribbean Chicken salad is another favorite: Mixed greens, grilled chicken, corn tortilla strips, pineapple, and mango. Goode Company Taqueria actually has a great Grilled Chicken Salad, too, with tomato, avocado, corn, black beans, jicama, and cheese.

On the traditional side, Backstreet Café wins the award for best Cobb: chicken, avocado, bleu cheese, hard boiled egg, bacon, tomato, watercress, and butter lettuce with a red pepper vinaigrette. Most people love the Big Salad (romaine, tomatoes, cucumbers, celery, carrots, mushrooms, avocado, and feta) at Paulie’s, but I prefer the conventional Spinach. Or, run next door to pick up a Grilled Chicken Salad at Be’Witched: greens with grilled chicken, dried cranberries, walnuts, and goat cheese. Mmmmm!

The Confetti Salad at Dharma Café tastes like perfection, with walnuts, red onion, mango, dried currants, and bleu cheese over greens. Then there’s the Ruggles famous Toasted Almond and Goat Cheese salad, topped with Granny Smith apples in a sun-dried tomato vinaigrette. You all know and love the Chinese Chicken Salad at Barnaby’s, and Chatter’s updates the traditional Greek with a fantastic Mediterranean Salad (gyro slices, tomatoes, cucumbers, chickpeas, feta, kalamata olives, and stuffed grape leaves).

If nothing here tickles your fancy, head to Bowl, where you can design your own salad from what seems like hundreds of possible toppings.

Any more recs?

Toward More Colorful Language

My favorite word recognition gizmo of the day, received when I commented on my soon-to-depart friend Cynthia's blog post:

bangst

Definition: the sound of a distraught person slamming a door

Literary Lightbulbs on a Gray Day

Leaden skies loomed over the anchorage this morning as I drove over the hill to the swap meet at Marine Mart. These days mornings look like your standard-issue U.S. January, not much like a Mexico January, although later the sun makes a guest appearance.

Last year at this time, the swap meet was at our house and there were so many swappers meeting in our sun-splashed front yard--selling everything from life preservers and dinghies to a Mustang convertible, a small powerboat and a camper--that the local policia showed up and we got nervous. In contrast, the first swap meet of this year was a bust: only two people showed up with items for sale.

All the same, I glad I went. Some literary lightbulbs lit up for me when I ran into:

• Jinx, mystery novelist whose self-published first book has been parlayed into an successful, award-winning series,
  
• Julie, also a published writer and world traveler who coaches and gives workshops on self-publishing, and
• Sue, who with her husband has two unpublished books-in-progress, one of which I helped copy-edit a couple of years ago.

Hmmmm, where is the Cosmic Finger of Fate trying to point me now? Julie and Sue and I talked for a while and agreed to get together soon at my house to talk books.

In the right brain: If novels in progress can be regarded as unborn children, my two are looking like spontaneous abortions. But unlike human fetuses, books can be resuscitated, or so I'm told. Julie tells me nonfiction is actually easier to publish and market these days, and I reply that my stories are so autobiographical, they might as well be nonfiction. But the thought of writing a memoir (who, me?) is so daunting. I mean, I'm nobody famous, so who'd care?

In the left brain: Maybe Julie can make some suggestions on getting editing work for other writers. "I was born with a red pencil behind my ear," I told her.

Here's Julie's book, describing her sailing and traveling exploits around the world, including 35 days at sea, three months on a desert island and what it's like to be homeless, jobless and penniless in the Far East.

And here's Jinx's latest book, just nominated as a finalist for last year's Eppy Awards and soon to be available, along with the two others in the series, as a book-on-tape.

By coincidence I just finished re-reading Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions. Anne's writing never fails to switch on my lights.

"...if I reclaimed all the minutes, hours and days I've sacrificed to worry and fear, I'd add years to my life."

Jan. 10 reading,
Courage to Change

An Abrupt and Audacious Change in Plans

Apologies are in order. The Capt, who has been charged with felony abandonment for sailing away the day before Christmas Eve, with no hint of when he'd be back, is only guilty of misdemeanor miscommunication.

Yesterday, true to his predictable unpredictability, he called from La Cruz in Banderas Bay to ask if I was "ready to go cruising." After two weeks of singlehanding, he wants to take on crew: a first mate and two furry little swabs.


I have at most a week to get ready for a four-month voyage. Caramba!

The plan is that he will come home sometime after the weekend, and we will drive our VW Westfalia camper back down south to La Cruz where the boat's anchored, for some inland exploration. Beyond that, plans are a little sketchy, but apparently include sailing back up to Baja in late April in time to rehearse for LoretoFest. The theme for this year's Fest is The Fifties, and I'm already looking up song from that era...early Elvis, Bobby Darin, Bill Haley and the Comets, Pat Boone, Patti Page. Naaah. Peggy Lee? Yes!

A pelican's eye view of the anchorage at Escondido, site of LoretoFest, from the Baja Insider website.

He'll take a bus back down to retrieve the van after we get home. The mind boggles, but I've resolved to take it one day at a time.

Twenty-four hours ago, I was thinking I was going to be home alone for the next four months. Or accept the invitation from my sister-in-law to travel to New York, dogs and all, stay in her Greenwich Village apartment, maybe even hop the pond for a few weeks in Europe. She made it all sound so easy.

But like a loyal first mate, I've resolved to go sailing.

My only stipulation is that I won't leave before next Thursday night, when I get to perform at Bananas with Los Cuates (The Twins), the most popular Mexican band in town. Bananas has an open mic every Thursday and Los Cuates will generously back up any singer with the nerve to get up there and do a song or two with them.

From what I've been told, Los Cuates includes TWO sets of fraternal twins, and then there's another pair of twins in the family as well. Weird. The two older generations are accomplished musicians and although they speak very little English, they sing gringo as well as Spanish songs. Last night during their break I talked to Ephraim, one of the twins, mentioned some Spanish tunes I know and asked if we could do them together.

His eyes lit up. "Si, los conocemos," he said (or something to that effect.) He was ready to have a go right then, but I explained I'm getting over a cold and want to try NEXT Thursday. My guitarist friend Francisco will also do some of his songs and we will sing a couple together.

So now I'm busy memorizing lyrics and digging out summer clothes. And wondering if I can shed five pounds before I get into my bathing suit again.

Eleven Things on My New Year’s Wish List

Out with the old, and in with the new! Here are *eleven* things I’d like to see happen in 2009.

1) New takes on old styles. For example, I like tuna tartare as much as the next gal, but? It. Is. Everywhere. Try something new! Perhaps, like Randy Rucker, you could do a scallop tartare. Mmmm!

2) Tap water, please. Does anyone actually elect to have highfalutin water like Evian instead of tap? Don’t make me feel cheap by giving me the option.

3) Better food education. I am a teacher, and my students know jack squat about nutrition. Let’s teach cooking in schools. Revitalize school lunch programs. Plant more school gardens. And start early.

4) Family focus. I grew up eating dinner (a meat, a vegetable, a salad, and bread) with my family every night. With the economy as it is, restaurants should forego the fancy-schmancy and entice families with wholesome, affordable meals.

5) A broader range of ethnic food. I want Mexican food that goes beyond tacos. Indian that’s not chicken tikka masala. Thai food that puts Pad Thai to shame. And diners willing to take chances.

6) Environmental aid. Another wish is for the entire food services industry to pay more attention to environmental concerns and waste reduction. A girl can dream...

7) Fun and flavorful drinks. Mix it up! I love giving bartenders carte blanche to create the perfect drink. Mixologists at Bedford, Benjy’s, and Beaver’s are quite adept. Now. Let’s all try it!

8) More BYO joints while I’m on the drinking topic. Oh, and more affordable wine lists! And lower corkage fees. Hizzah.

9) Banana pudding. Oh, Banana Pudding, I miss you so much. Especially when you have Nilla Wafers hidden in your depths. I hope one day a pastry chef will miss you as much as I do and add you to a menu.

10) Regular prices. I’ve had my last $5 cupcake. It was delicious, and I savored every bite. But next time I’ll get a second sandwich and save it for dinner.

11) Old-school manners. “Food” is both a hobby and a career. So be grateful and gracious. Place your utensils on the plate when you’re finished so the server knows you’re done. If there are people waiting, don’t linger. Keep it simple, sane, and straightforward.

Am I asking too much? Happy new year to all!

A Posh Place for Pups

I'd seen just about everyone I know suffer from The Cold From Hell, secretly hiding a smug feeling I must be doing something right to have escaped it. Then New Year's Eve (during a round of hugs?), or New Year's Day the bug caught up with me and last night at a small housewarming party in the new apartment of my English teacher friend Richard, the full effects descended on my sinuses, my throat, my head. Rayos!

This means I will have to postpone my evolution in vegetarianism, due to the fact that I believe in the curative powers of chicken soup. Feeling a little guilty, I went out today to buy chicken breasts (only the best), onions and celery, to which I will add brown rice (again, only the best).
Getting outside caused me to feel a little better, and since I had Chica and Sofia with me, I decided to stop at Dog Daze to have a look and inquire about boarding rates.

Yes, folks, this is a playground for dogs

You don't just walk right into this store, you ring the doorbell because there are often a number of canines wandering free. Kristin Knerr, the owner, hurried to open up for me, gently moving aside a German Shepherd, a Shar Pei, a couple of doe-eyed Mexican shorthair mutts and three puppies.

Dog Daze is comprised of a two-room shop full of dog fripperies and necessities, a fenced playground divided for big and little dogs, and a pleasant yard out back surrounded with mural-splashed walls. In terms of cleanliness and attractiveness, it far surpasses a lot of kiddy daycare facilities I've seen. Shiny tile floors, fresh paint all around, murals and other creative touches everywhere. Kristin runs the shop with the help of her daughter and son, and the rest of her relatives have contributed in various ways, financial and otherwise. One of them even bakes dog cookies! It's a true family effort.

Kristin with a few of her fans

Boarding rates are $20 for the first dog, with a 20% discount on the second in any family. Dogs are walked twice a day, and rather than being caged they are allowed to roam free unless the owner specifies otherwise. (Sorry, I forgot to ask how much for grooming, but that's available too.) A cat room is being planned, but for now the dogs have it to themselves.


Like anyone in San Carlos known for loving dogs, Kristin has been the recipient of a few street dogs, dumped overnight with their puppies. So far she has been fortunate in finding homes for them, but "I have to remember I'm boarding dogs, not running a shelter," she said. So, regretfully, she won't accept any more foundlings.

If you're bringing a dog to San Carlos and want boarding or grooming, call Dog Daze at 622-226-0926 or view her website at dogdaze.com

Chica was enjoying the socializing and would have stuck around, but Sofia mistook the shop for a vet's office and headed for the door. Silly girl.

On my way home I stopped at Tony's vegetable stand for my soup ingredients and finally got the shot I've been meaning to get for a couple of years. Tony has taken the street veggie truck to a whole new level, with a covered and concrete-floored space with its own parking lot where you can buy meat and fish, eggs, bread, cheese...you name it. Not the cheapest place in town, but the best.

Not a bad afternoon for somebody who woke up thinking she was at death's door.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Strip Club: Rainbow Lodge

The Men’s Club had an all-you-can-eat King Crab lunch special every Tuesday for $14.95, so a few friends and I decided to pony up. I mean, ALL YOU CAN EAT CRAB. FOR $14.95!! Only when we called ahead, we learned that the special is over. Curses.

So instead of crabs, poles, and legs, we hit the opposite end of the restaurant spectrum and visited chef Randy Rucker at the Rainbow Lodge. Rucker wins props as one of the best and most creative chefs in Houston, and we were aglow to see what he could do in his new space. He did *not* disappoint.

The amuse bouche was a poached shrimp forked nicely with tangerine leaves and a cocktail sauce gelée. The shrimp was nice and light, and the gelée added an interesting texture to the mix.


The first course was a sliced raw scallop marinated in miso, soy, and sesame oil. The scallop was topped with a creamy miso vinaigrette, thai chilies, dill, and radish. This was -- hands down -- my favorite dish of the day. The softness of the scallop played beautifully with both the spice of the chili and the crunch of the radish, and the marinade was creamy-delicious.


Second was a LaBelle Farms foie gras torchon, cured in armagnac and cooked sous-vide. The foie gras arrived on a crisp toast alongside candied bacon, BLiS maple syrup, and flowers from the Rainbow Lodge’s own garden.


Next came a bowl with a rabbit rillette and romanesco to which chef Rucker added an apple cider cream soup. The rabbit, itself, was melty, tender, and flavorful, and matched perfectly with the richness of the soup.


Our fourth course was berkshire pork belly cooked sous-vide for 48 hours and then flash fried prior to serving. it was accompanied by cauliflower mushrooms, leeks a la plancha, blackeyed peas, and more greens from the garden.


Dessert was a warm liquid pumpkin pie. The pumpkin shined with spice and just a tiny bit of sweetness. It was a light end to a fabulous meal.


I hadn’t been to the Rainbow Lodge before, but Rucker’s presence now seals its spot as a top venue in Houston. According to Jenny Never Full, Rucker’s new menu makes its debut on January 6. Be sure to check it out!

Rainbow Lodge - 2011 Ella Blvd (at TC Jester)

Say What?

Word recognition favorites of the day, with possible definitions, found while commenting on posts.

erfull

...adjective to describe a particularly inarticulate speaker's oration.

clopinog

...the unique experience of dancing in a puddle of spilled eggnog.

Dancing and Deseos

I can't remember the last time I actually celebrated on New Year's Eve. With the silly hats, the streamers and horns, the ooohing and aaahing of the fireworks, even a margarita grande with a close friend (just one!) But that's what I did last night, and my face still hurts from grinning.

The Captain's Club, where we've been playing open mic every Sunday for months, has begun to feel very much like our little version of "Cheers." All the usual suspects were there, even a table full of my amigos from AA and Al-Anon who sipped limonadas and Cokes and went home to bed early.

Francisco and I did "Gracias a La Vida," (thanks to life, which has given me so much...), a perfect New Year's song, as well as "The Rose," which also fit pretty well:

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes a chance
It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.

I talked with my friends Charlie and Alma (Charlie in English, Alma in Spanish) about deseos (desires) for 2009. First off, I lamented that I had been in Guaymas yesterday and completely forgot to buy red and yellow underwear! Red for love, yellow for prosperity. I did have the uvas (grapes) stashed at home in the fridge for the 12 deseos, though I'd be making them after midnight. Hope it still counts.

Alma and I have one item in common on our lists: to go dancing. She and I will go to Tequila's, a place so close to my house on Saturday nights I can name that tune from my bathroom, and dance the night away. While talking about dancing and dancing venues I looked up and my Aussie friend Dave was beckoning me...to dance! Francisco had turned "The Little Drummer Boy" (of all things) into a rockin' danceable song and I kicked off my shoes and boogied. Oh, joy! Talk about instant gratification!

Dave wants to go out dancing with me again, before he heads back to Australia to visit family, and I can go enjoy myself guilt-free because he's part of a gay couple but his partner, like mine, is not a dancer. No, Jolea, he doesn't sweat glitter, in fact he was married 33 years, but he does wear amazing jewelry.

My favorite moment: at midnight we all crowded out onto the porch with glasses of sickeningly sweet Mexican champagne, wearing our paper hats, blowing our cardboard horns and waving sparklers, watching someone set off fireworks in the parking lot, and hugging everyone in sight.

My other desires for 2009:

• Make mucho progress with my Spanish so I can chat with Alma and my other Mexican friends all night without having to paste that phony "suuuuure, I understand every word you're saying" expression on my face.
• Take on every possible opportunity to sing. This means memorizing more songs so I don't have to carry my music folder with me everywhere I go. But that's good for the brain, right?
• See more of Mexico even if not by boat. I could even take a bus, like my dear departed friend Andee used to do. Maybe I'll make stops to meet my fellow bloggers, who are scattered all over Mexico!
• Wrestle that novel in my computer into submission and whip it into shape.
• Become a true frugalista (as Mexico Bob puts it) and improve my financial outlook no matter how much of a mess the economy is in.
• Go vegetarian. Just veggies, TVP, maybe some dairy and eggs. Not even seafood.
  

I have a tradition that I try to follow, mas o menos, every New Year: to take the dogs and go walking on the beach. This time, maybe I'll take my little notebook with me. After all, I only have seven deseos so far, I have five more to dream up!

Here's the beach where I'm going. Look close, you can see a sailboat on the horizon. The Capt is somewhere out there, heading for La Paz. Happy New Year, cariño, wherever you are.