In the mid 1980's I read an article in the Point Reyes Light about roasting chicken. It was a column that ran most weeks, and while I cannot remember the name of the column, I remember the first name of the woman who wrote it: Laura. (I think. I could be wrong.) This particular week she wrote about how her Grandmother roasted a chicken: rubbed it with dijon mustard that had been mixed with herbs (particularly tarragon) and a little oil and some salt and pepper and then the chicken was roasted for 15 minutes on one side, flipped to the other for 15 minutes, then breast down and then up and by then it was done.
I made this chicken over and over and over in the Big White House and it never failed me. I showed my kids how to make it and I taught my brother John how to make it and we all loved this chicken. In the years after the mid 1980's I continued to roast chicken, not always with mustard but always successfully.
Until now. The chicken I roasted tonight was crap. Have I lost the ability to make a good roasted chicken? Am I fussing too much with it? I don't know. The oven in this place is like a furnace, so maybe it's too hot. The sides of the oven get too hot to touch, which is not safe and not good. I will get a thermometer and figure it out, but suffice it to say that the roasted sweet potato was delicious, the chicken was stupid.
Dogs: I am watching little Hannah, Gabe and Annie's dog, for a while. Hannah is very soft, very cute and rather neurotic. (Sorry Gabe and Annie, if you are reading this.) Hannah is like an OCD kid. Things must be the way they must be. There must be no deviation. She can only pee in certain places. And let's not talk about poo. Oh, no, we cannot poop unless the grass (or tan bark) is perfect and not unless we have inspected it for five minutes. And even then, she often walks away, looking for another perfect patch.
I am gone for 8 -10 hours a day. The dogs were home yesterday and today, alone, for all that time. I sort of expected to come home to my mattress shredded and the fake floors ripped up, but they did nothing bad, nothing wrong. They were happy to see me, we went out for a nice walk, they were as good as could be. Yes, Hannah is neurotic but so is Cooper in his way, it's just that I don't see his oddities as clearly because I live with him. But the two of them together are as cute as a pair of sock monkeys.
Now, if I could only get the roasted chicken to be that endearing..... I would settle for a sock monkey chicken, seriously. Sad, bad chicken. Happy, good dogs. Can't have everything, I suppose.
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Friday, October 21, 2016
Sunday, October 16, 2016
And just where does the time go? A week goes by in the snap of two days, a month is gone in what feels like two weeks.
Is it a product of being too busy? Is it a by-product of getting older? Would it be different if I was retired and didn't work five or six days every week? It's a Monday and then a Tuesday and then it seems like it's Friday, without any slot for the Wednesday and Thursday, then the week is over and it goes again and again. What did I do two Fridays ago? I don't know, I have to make notes in my little pocket calendar to even keep track of simple things like having dinner out with friends, getting a pedicure, taking a hike. If I don't write these things down, they get lost in the blurry pace of the everyday. It's not that I forget (or it could be just that) but it's more that the days and the time speed by so quickly that the past is too past.
The perfect example is French class. It takes place on Thursday afternoon from 3:30 to 5:30. Every week I promise myself that I will be diligent and work at least 20 minutes every day on French language. But class is on Thursday. Before I know it, Friday and Saturday have blown by and it is Sunday night, I have worked all weekend and I have done zero homework. Monday and Tuesday nights I usually work and I try and do a little work then, but lately it is so busy at work that I don't get to it. (Yes, I could do the work on Monday or Tuesday day time but one of those days is spent driving to Sacramento and back so that shoots a day and the other is spent running errands and doing laundry, so there goes the other day.) Before you know it, Wednesday rolls around and I have done NOTHING!
And that's how it goes, week after week. The days zip by. My plans are written down on scraps of paper, plans to study French, plans to sweep the back patio, plans to mop the floors, to buy new walking shoes, to pick up books at the library, to make an appointment for a mammogram. Plans, plans, plans and as serious as I am about all of them, it's as if I made those plans on rice paper with disappearing ink. Those plans fade away as quickly as clown tears.
It is now half way through October. It is a month (more or less) until Thanksgiving. What happened to 2016? Will I ever have the time to study French? Will I buy new walking shoes, will I have the time to sweep the back patio or will spring arrive before that happens? I honestly do not know.
But I do know it's time to walk Cooper for his final pee of the day and it's about time for bed for both of us. For that, the time is always right.
.
The perfect example is French class. It takes place on Thursday afternoon from 3:30 to 5:30. Every week I promise myself that I will be diligent and work at least 20 minutes every day on French language. But class is on Thursday. Before I know it, Friday and Saturday have blown by and it is Sunday night, I have worked all weekend and I have done zero homework. Monday and Tuesday nights I usually work and I try and do a little work then, but lately it is so busy at work that I don't get to it. (Yes, I could do the work on Monday or Tuesday day time but one of those days is spent driving to Sacramento and back so that shoots a day and the other is spent running errands and doing laundry, so there goes the other day.) Before you know it, Wednesday rolls around and I have done NOTHING!
And that's how it goes, week after week. The days zip by. My plans are written down on scraps of paper, plans to study French, plans to sweep the back patio, plans to mop the floors, to buy new walking shoes, to pick up books at the library, to make an appointment for a mammogram. Plans, plans, plans and as serious as I am about all of them, it's as if I made those plans on rice paper with disappearing ink. Those plans fade away as quickly as clown tears.
It is now half way through October. It is a month (more or less) until Thanksgiving. What happened to 2016? Will I ever have the time to study French? Will I buy new walking shoes, will I have the time to sweep the back patio or will spring arrive before that happens? I honestly do not know.
But I do know it's time to walk Cooper for his final pee of the day and it's about time for bed for both of us. For that, the time is always right.
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Friday, October 7, 2016
Listening to but not watching baseball.
You can make the game look anyway you want. You can conjure up Buster Posey's face as he strikes out or feel the breeze in Hunter Pence's huge, long, wide swing as he reaches for the ball. You can imagine those apartment houses around Wrigley Field, the ones with bleachers on the roof, full of fans, passing along beer and whiskey, watching the game so intently and then, not so intently as that beer and whiskey becomes more of a focus. And yet, then, back to the game. Back to the noise, the roar, the smack of the bat.
Listening to the Giants vs Cubs game tonight is my evening's entertainment. Yes, I could walk over to Steele and Hops, where I went on Wednesday to watch the Giants win that wild card game. But it's Friday night and it will be even more packed than it was two days ago. So Cooper and I are on the red couch, having a glass of red wine, simply listening to the game on the radio. Eight innings so far, no score. It's a reminder of the simplicity and the linear focus of a baseball game.
Yes, to be honest, I wish I was watching it on TV, but that's partly because we are all intent on action gratification. Listening to it makes you slow down, makes you sit and do nothing except listen. You can't switch channels to see what is on CNN or see who killed who on "Law and Order." You just have to be patient and listen. And imagine, which is the coolest part.
Go Giants, of course. But those Cubs, come on! Haven't won a World Series in more than 100 years! And as far as I can hear, they are playing great baseball tonight. I look forward to hearing more games in the next couple of days.
And at this moment, the Cubs get a home run! One run! The crowd goes nuts, the sound is rocking! It's great! One to nothing, Cubs. Wow.
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Listening to the Giants vs Cubs game tonight is my evening's entertainment. Yes, I could walk over to Steele and Hops, where I went on Wednesday to watch the Giants win that wild card game. But it's Friday night and it will be even more packed than it was two days ago. So Cooper and I are on the red couch, having a glass of red wine, simply listening to the game on the radio. Eight innings so far, no score. It's a reminder of the simplicity and the linear focus of a baseball game.
Yes, to be honest, I wish I was watching it on TV, but that's partly because we are all intent on action gratification. Listening to it makes you slow down, makes you sit and do nothing except listen. You can't switch channels to see what is on CNN or see who killed who on "Law and Order." You just have to be patient and listen. And imagine, which is the coolest part.
Go Giants, of course. But those Cubs, come on! Haven't won a World Series in more than 100 years! And as far as I can hear, they are playing great baseball tonight. I look forward to hearing more games in the next couple of days.
And at this moment, the Cubs get a home run! One run! The crowd goes nuts, the sound is rocking! It's great! One to nothing, Cubs. Wow.
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Thursday, October 6, 2016
Setting your food on fire. A documentary. Streaming.
"Cooked" is narrated by Michael Pollan who can be a bit dogmatic at times. But the first episode (there are only four) is titled "Fire" and it is fascinating. It basically follows the trail that fire has led us in the evolutionary road on which we have wandered. Pollan makes a great statement, that without fire and the advent of cooking that fire presented to early man, we (humans) would not be who we are today. Think about eating only raw foods, chewing and chewing for hours. Think about cooking and how it breaks down those fibers and how our lives changed because of that. Smaller jaws. Less time spent chewing, more time spent hunting and gathering. And on and on.
The episode is full of examples of how fire not only changed how we eat but changed cultures and our society and how fire still is enormous in our cooking and eating habits. Pollan and a friend create a little cooker in their yard where they roast a very small pig. While his pig roasts he visits an old Southern guy who is an accomplished grill master in his own right, in his own backyard. The entire episode is great, engaging and educational and fun.
The second episode is called "Water" but it isn't focused on water as much as on the difference between manufactured food and home cooked food. Why do people rely on prepared food and not cook at home? Pollan delves into the time vs cost vs convenience factors and most of it is clear and concise. There is a bit more "preaching" in this episode but he does make a case for cooking at home instead of eating out, but then he has a rich white guy advantage. And he has a cook helping him do all this home cooking. But it is still a good show.
The next two episodes are "Air" and "Earth" and in those he tackles bread making, gluten, fermentation and microbes in the air. Hmm.... doesn't sound all that lively, at least not as lively as "Fire" but if he gets into making your own sourdough starter for bread, I am all in.
Check it out. I will report back after I watch the last two episodes.
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The episode is full of examples of how fire not only changed how we eat but changed cultures and our society and how fire still is enormous in our cooking and eating habits. Pollan and a friend create a little cooker in their yard where they roast a very small pig. While his pig roasts he visits an old Southern guy who is an accomplished grill master in his own right, in his own backyard. The entire episode is great, engaging and educational and fun.
The second episode is called "Water" but it isn't focused on water as much as on the difference between manufactured food and home cooked food. Why do people rely on prepared food and not cook at home? Pollan delves into the time vs cost vs convenience factors and most of it is clear and concise. There is a bit more "preaching" in this episode but he does make a case for cooking at home instead of eating out, but then he has a rich white guy advantage. And he has a cook helping him do all this home cooking. But it is still a good show.
The next two episodes are "Air" and "Earth" and in those he tackles bread making, gluten, fermentation and microbes in the air. Hmm.... doesn't sound all that lively, at least not as lively as "Fire" but if he gets into making your own sourdough starter for bread, I am all in.
Check it out. I will report back after I watch the last two episodes.
.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Monday night, quick scary psycho on the street
As I do normally, I took Cooper out around the block this evening. We got half way through our normal block walk. There was a guy in front of us, about 30 yards. He was walking slower than us, (we do walk swiftly) so Cooper and I stopped for about 20 seconds to give him some lead time.
It didn't matter. He stopped. He carefully put his small bag down on the ground and he carefully put his drink on the ground as well. Then he stood up rather straight and started yelling very loudly and very aggressively. Cooper and I were about 15 yards behind him at that point and so we simply made an abrupt U-turn and walked back the way we came.
The number of people living on the street in Santa Rosa seems to increase ten-fold every week, and that's just the ones I see. The number of people who talk to themselves, who cry and moan, who ramble around and shuffle, who sleep in the parks where kids play during the day, their numbers are all increasing. I now see used needles in bank parking lots, something I didn't see a year ago. The amount of trash and toilet paper and tossed garbage is probably about 75% more than it was a year ago.
But the biggest problem I see is that the number of truly psychotic people on the street has increased dramatically. Schizophrenia seems to be the norm, people seeing and experiencing alternative realities. They scream out loud to their personal demons, they cry and curse their lives, their reality, all their many different realities. It is frightening to encounter, frightening to hear and scary to know that there is no answer to their fucked up lives.
I have no answers, just the observation.
It didn't matter. He stopped. He carefully put his small bag down on the ground and he carefully put his drink on the ground as well. Then he stood up rather straight and started yelling very loudly and very aggressively. Cooper and I were about 15 yards behind him at that point and so we simply made an abrupt U-turn and walked back the way we came.
The number of people living on the street in Santa Rosa seems to increase ten-fold every week, and that's just the ones I see. The number of people who talk to themselves, who cry and moan, who ramble around and shuffle, who sleep in the parks where kids play during the day, their numbers are all increasing. I now see used needles in bank parking lots, something I didn't see a year ago. The amount of trash and toilet paper and tossed garbage is probably about 75% more than it was a year ago.
But the biggest problem I see is that the number of truly psychotic people on the street has increased dramatically. Schizophrenia seems to be the norm, people seeing and experiencing alternative realities. They scream out loud to their personal demons, they cry and curse their lives, their reality, all their many different realities. It is frightening to encounter, frightening to hear and scary to know that there is no answer to their fucked up lives.
I have no answers, just the observation.
Three Most Excellent Days!
This is why I want to be retired, to have three excellent days in row, more than once every two or three months.
1. Saturday: woke up in Guerneville, at Jenn and Dar's house, under the redwoods, with the dogs. Walked the dogs, made a cup of coffee, read for two hours, had yogurt and fruit. Walked the dogs again. And Giants game is on!!! Watched the game for three plus hours and Giant's won again! (They won on Friday night as well.) Took a nap. Walked the dogs, got Chinese take out which was crappy. Read, went to bed. I talked to no one all day except the take-out guy. A good day. It's nice to be in tall trees and not speak to anyone except dogs who just look at you with either complete understanding or with blank face, and either one works. You be the judge.
2. Woke up early, walked and fed dogs, out of there before 8:00 am. To Santa Rosa, changed clothes, off to SF and Daly City. No traffic, was at Gabe's in time for scrambled eggs. Off to AT&T park for noon start of last Giants game of the season, against the egomaniacal LA Dodgers, which of course we, the Giants, would win to sweep the series. Great day, sunny, not hot, our seats were in the very, very top of the stadium, one row short of the last row. Great view. Scary stairs. Amazing game. Giants won, of course. Walked along Embarcadero, had a drink and some food and some wine.... BART back to DC and then home. A beautiful day, great game, good times.
3. Monday: woke up to light rain. How can I explain how happy that makes me after a summer of heat, heat, heat? Skies were gray all day, drizzly all day, cool all day. Yes, it's one day out of 30, the heat will be back tomorrow and for the next ten days but it was a hint of autumn and winter. It was lovely.
Tomorrow, back to work for the next six days.
To everyone who helped engineer those three days, I thank you. You know who you are. love, love, love.
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1. Saturday: woke up in Guerneville, at Jenn and Dar's house, under the redwoods, with the dogs. Walked the dogs, made a cup of coffee, read for two hours, had yogurt and fruit. Walked the dogs again. And Giants game is on!!! Watched the game for three plus hours and Giant's won again! (They won on Friday night as well.) Took a nap. Walked the dogs, got Chinese take out which was crappy. Read, went to bed. I talked to no one all day except the take-out guy. A good day. It's nice to be in tall trees and not speak to anyone except dogs who just look at you with either complete understanding or with blank face, and either one works. You be the judge.
2. Woke up early, walked and fed dogs, out of there before 8:00 am. To Santa Rosa, changed clothes, off to SF and Daly City. No traffic, was at Gabe's in time for scrambled eggs. Off to AT&T park for noon start of last Giants game of the season, against the egomaniacal LA Dodgers, which of course we, the Giants, would win to sweep the series. Great day, sunny, not hot, our seats were in the very, very top of the stadium, one row short of the last row. Great view. Scary stairs. Amazing game. Giants won, of course. Walked along Embarcadero, had a drink and some food and some wine.... BART back to DC and then home. A beautiful day, great game, good times.
3. Monday: woke up to light rain. How can I explain how happy that makes me after a summer of heat, heat, heat? Skies were gray all day, drizzly all day, cool all day. Yes, it's one day out of 30, the heat will be back tomorrow and for the next ten days but it was a hint of autumn and winter. It was lovely.
Tomorrow, back to work for the next six days.
To everyone who helped engineer those three days, I thank you. You know who you are. love, love, love.
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