Local Treats

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

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

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



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

Our first stop was Tomales Bay Oyster Company.



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

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





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



So, we sat and enjoyed the view.



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



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

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

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



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

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

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

Word of the Day

Drayage: the transport of goods a short distance.

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

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

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

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

Turning under

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

More detail over at Tech Law Garden.

When Help Isn't

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

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

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

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

Definitely not helpful in the least bit.

Fun With Hobbies

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dreaming in Color

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

My sleep brain even has ads.

Which is weird because I use Adblock.

Wacky.

America's Pastime

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the Giants fell off my radar.

I focused on my life and they did their thing.

Until this year.

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

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

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

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

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

Wonderful Weekend

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

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

Dim Sum with family and friends.

Wine tasting with girlfriends in Sonoma.

A delicious Portuguese dinner at La Sallette.

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

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

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

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

Identity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there you have it

I'm back from vacation.

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

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


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

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

A Perfect First Day of Vacation

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could I be any more relaxed?

New Favorite Potato Salad

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

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

Dill Pickle Potato Salad

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

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

Enjoy immediately, or chilled for the next few days.

Trending in the Right Direction

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

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

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

Wish me luck...

Out and Back

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

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

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

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

This is all a very long way of saying:

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

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

8.79 miles later, I am whooped.

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

Food is Love

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

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

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

Brother has stopped losing weight.

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

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

Spam

It's not pretty.

No one wants it.

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

Thank goodness for Akismet, who says:


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

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


Ahhh.... that's relief.

Fraud Alert

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

More Southern Snippits

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

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

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



and his unfortunate side effects:



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

Acclimatization is no joke.

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

Snippits from the South

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good to know.

Summer Salads

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



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



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

Woo Hoo!

I finally checked, and confirmed that the remaining 8 eggs in our fridge were not recalled.

Here's to small victories and one more reason I want my own egg-laying chickens!

Thoughts on Food Policy

As you may know, I'm emotionally and logically fascinated by food. Food enjoyment. Food systems. Food culture. Patterns of food consumption. Food politics. All of it, really.

Most of the time, I process it internally. It comes up in conversation and I share my views, what I know, personally, from trying to make the majority of my own food from fresh self- or locally-obtained ingredients, what I've gleaned from reading and travel, and what I recall from the rants of my 3rd-generation small-scale farmer of 80 acres grandfather who eventually terminated his farming operations for economic reasons (selling land to winemakers and leasing the remainder of the land, claiming, there's no living to be made in farming anymore).

E2 sent me a link to a great article today, that had several fascinating statements:

One sociologist calculated that people have ten times as many conversations at the farmers’ market than they do in the supermarket.

--Huh. I wonder what the Harvard Happiness Studies would do with this data. I'm guessing, based on extrapolation from the correlation between the number of neighbor interactions and self-reported happiness (which, by the way, blew me away), the Harvard Happiness studies would probably treat shopping at a farmer's market vs. shopping at a grocery store as a variable that was correlated with increased happiness. Happiness is not very well modeled in modern economics, but I thought it was an interesting point, nonetheless.

In his 2006 book Crunchy Cons, Rod Dreher identifies a strain of libertarian conservatism, often evangelical, that regards fast food as anathema to family values, and has seized on local food as a kind of culinary counterpart to home schooling.

--Holy Crap. Wow. Refusing to eat fast food is as much of a rejection of general social norms as endorsing home schooling? Wow. I had no idea. Is this guy off his rocker?

And on the Slow Food movement, this article dares to ask:

Ever the Italian, Petrini puts pleasure at the center of his politics, which might explain why Slow Food is not always taken as seriously as it deserves to be. For why shouldn’t pleasure figure in the politics of the food movement?

Here. here.

In a challenge to second-wave feminists who urged women to get out of the kitchen, Flammang suggests that by denigrating “foodwork”—everything involved in putting meals on the family table—we have unthinkingly wrecked one of the nurseries of democracy: the family meal.

--This seems outdated to me. Perhaps I live in a sheltered world, but the trend to me seems to be that people (and particularly my female friends and colleagues) are reaching out and adopting ways to re-learn forgotten food cultures of their ancestors, to re-engage with food pleasures, and, in general, these endeavors are seen as lofty goals, admirable, (and something to be capitalized upon by the marketers -- see the Eat Pray Love/Cost Plus partnership).

On the political value of breaking bread:

Flammang attributes some of the loss of civility in Washington to the aftermatch of the 1994 Republican Revolution, when Newt Gingrich, the new Speaker of the House, urged his freshman legislators not to move their families to Washington. Members now returned to their districts every weekend, sacrificing opportunities for socializing across party lines and, in the process, the “reservoirs of good will replenished at dinner parties.” It is much harder to vilify someone with whom you have shared a meal.

--I have experienced first-hand the value of many shared meals. While I am not remotely attached to Washington D.C. or its machinations, this explanation sounds reasonable to me.

Flammang points out that the historical priority of the American labor movement has been to fight for money, while the European labor movement has fought for time, which she suggests may have been the wiser choice.

--Interesting. Certainly, in deciding to start my own law practice, I opted for the latter. Whether I would have considered doing so without having lived in France and Italy, I'll never know. But, a very interesting perspective.

Overall, I appreciated the perspective and the points raised by this article. I may not have agreed with all of them, but I do think we, as a culture, should be discussing them, and I'm happy that they are being raised.

A Good Response

I had my first acupuncture appointment today.

I had 11 points where needles were gently inserted, mainly on my legs and arms, but one on my forehead and one in each ear.

It was quite a strange experience.

Immediately after the acupuncturist left the room and instructed me to try to sleep, I started crying. Hard. For 7 or 10 minutes. I very rarely cry. But I *really* missed my dad and had no choice. So I cried.

And then it was done.

And I was so relieved.

The rest of the 40 minutes was spent with me alternating between checking in with my various body parts and trying to see how they felt and what was going on (tingling? pressure? twitching?), and me realizing I was feeling very intense emotions and then trying to observe the emotions without judgment.

I basically didn't move and tried to breathe and relax and pseudo-meditate for 40 minutes.

The most interesting events where when I recognized I was feeling angry and then literally felt as if the anger was being pulled through the needle in my left foot. It left me too tired to be angry.

10 minutes or so later, I almost fell asleep only to be woken by the sensation of white light coming through my feet to my skull -- it was so strong and overpowering that I opened my eyes and made certain I knew where I was, yup, still at the acupuncturist.

Overall, I can say that I was jittery at the end of the session, and not at all what is the typical response -- relaxed. Oddly, this was a more emotionally charged experience than any psychological therapy session in which I'd ever participated.

My acupuncturist commented that it was normal for people to cry on the drive home, particularly after their first visit. But, that since I'd already cried on the table (which was apparently not super common and that's why she hadn't warned me), she didn't know if the warning was relevant.

I made the drive home without any threat of tears.

And now, after a pleasant chat with Arvay and dinner with E, I've calmed from the session, and I must say, I feel more balanced, calm, and safe than I have in quite some time.

I look forward to continuing this experiment.

Tomatoes!

The latest garden and tomato update is at Tech Law Garden.

I'm running out of shelves to store canned goods, so E is going to build me a storage shelf in the garage.

I consider this a garden victory of sorts.

The Best Kind of Procrastination

I've been light on posting, not because work has been busy. In fact, prior to this Monday, the last two weeks have been relatively slow for the first time since I started the business, which has been wonderful.

In this slow time, I did many things (except blog).

I read several books.

I canned pickles and garden vegetables.

I focused on a very regular work-out schedule (and I finally seem to be gaining some of the fitness benefits that had been evading me).

I've also been very social, first catching up with friends and spending time with E, and then, attending several very cool networking events where I've met some amazing founders, venture capitalists, angel investors, and even a few recognizable faces (you know, silicon valley mini-stars).

But, most importantly, I took the downtime to plan not one, but several vacations. For the first time since Alaska last July, E and I are going to get away. Travel porn -- oh, how I love to read and learn about far away places.

In less than a month, we'll be going to visit E's family for over a week in Atlanta and north Georgia. Then, in October, we'll be going to Honolulu and Maui (I've never been to Maui!) to celebrate 10 years of togetherness and to visit friends, and chill and eat and drink and relax in the sand and surf.

But the biggest vacation, after more than two years of false starts, we're headed to South America in December and January. Argentina New Years, here we come!

Planning travel takes way more time than I remembered. It's only now, two weeks after I've scheduled all of our flights and overnight bus rides, reserved all of our rental apartments, hotels, and/or intentionally left some nights open for driving to small towns and taking what we can find, researched visas between countries, and spent countless hours reading about places to go and things to do that I finally recalled just how long it actually took me to plan our trip to Asia in 2008. I'd forgotten the planning, but have tons of memories from that amazing experience, and I'm hopeful these trips will leave me with similar memories.

So, if you've got suggestions for things we should do (or eat!) in Atlanta, Honolulu, Maui, Buenos Aires, Iguazu, Mendoza, Bariloche, or Punta del Este -- let me know!

Yay!

Homemade Birthday Bounty

This year, my birthday celebration was all about food.

First, on Saturday, E2 and I made mozzarella from scratch, using ingredients from the Cheesemaking Kit I bought myself as a present.

For milk, I splurged on whole cream-topped milk from Straus Family Creamery.



After following the first half of the recipe, I was shocked to see that it looked like we may actually succeed on our first attempt:



The curds stretched, just like they were supposed to.



So we stretched them some more.



Meanwhile gorgeous salted garden tomatoes lay in waiting.



We tasted the cheese and could not believe how rich and creamy it was. So, quickly, before we ate it all, we prepared our first course of caprese made of garden basil, garden tomatoes, homemade mozzarella, California Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar from Modena.



MMMmmmmm... Homemade Birthday Happiness.

Space

One of the concepts I've been working with lately is the idea of living a life with plenty of space. Temporal space. Physical space. Respectful space that allows other people to have their own life experience while protecting me from unwanted invaders in my life experience.

And, most importantly, the practice of patience to allow things to change or transition within the spaces I've created.

One of the areas of my life where I've been looking for a change is the frequency of my workouts. Life has thrown me quite a few curve balls, and I've pitched a few myself in the last 12 months. I dealt with this by taking time and discipline from my workout regime and placing it elsewhere in my life.

For the short term, that worked.

But now, as time goes on, I'm needing the emotional and physical stability that a regular workout schedule provides me. For the last month or so, I've been trying to get back into a more disciplined and regular work-out regime.

Turns out, trying is not the same as doing, and I was not making progress.

Rather than being disappointed with myself for failing to meet the goals I'd set (which is a traditional approach for me) and trying to motivate myself to change. I took a different approach.

I created space for my workouts:

-I joined a gym for the first time since 2006.

-And, I gave myself the time and space and permission to *just walk* instead of run if that's what feels good.

Somehow, without a struggle, in the space I created, I managed to log my first 30+ mile week in 2010 last week. Excellent!

Here's to more space!

Tomatoes!

Latest pics and garden update at Tech Law Garden.

The Devil You Know

I read just about everything that Havi writes and often nod in agreement. Occasionally, I don't like what she's written and I have interesting conversations with myself about why.

Without ever having met me, she teaches me things about myself that I didn't know through her writing.

Her most recent posts on exiting the middle resonated with me.

For the few moments each day when I'm there, being conscious of the moment and acting where action makes sense (and only where action makes sense) is a blissful existence. Each day that goes by, I find myself more grounded and comfortable in the midst of chaos than I used to be. Incrementally, I'm a little bit more able to just act and breathe in the moment.

And yet, every day. I get pulled into drama. I dwell. I get upset. I work myself up.

And then, eventually, I observe this, and try not to judge, but just notice what I'm doing by asking myself questions and giving myself the freedom to be honest. Where am I? Why am I upset? What can I change? What can't I change? What do I want? Why do I want it? Is it a need? Is there something I can give myself to meet that need?

Havi's concept of the middle, where a post-beginner *struggles* to become advanced, or where the hero *struggles* to prevail, where one partner *struggles* to fix the relationship, where each of us *struggles* against the people in our lives we perceive to have harmed us, and most importantly, we *struggle* against who we think we should be -- it is a comfortable place for most of us. It is the devil we know.

Acceptance requires that we abandon the struggle and just act in response to the reality that exists, no matter how different from our ideas, annoying, terrible, unpleasant, distasteful, scary, or boring we may find it to be. If we cannot make the change we want to see, we make a different change, or perhaps accept that no change is available.

As I've written before, my yoga practice has evolved from one where I was seeking great teachers and amazing classes (against which I could struggle) into one where I find a great yoga experience in any class I take or any time I opt to practice, no matter how short it may be.

But unlike a studio-based yoga practice (which provides a supportive calm environment for growth and change) in the real world, actions based in acceptance are guaranteed to cause unpredictable, and potentially uncomfortable, changes.

Most humans, even if supremely unhappy, will always choose the devil they know. This explains why so many of us stay in, as Havi calls it, the "Middle."

How great to be reminded that to exit the middle is as simple as becoming conscious. This is not to say the exit is guaranteed to be pleasant -- it very well may be an unpleasant devil you don't know. But, at a minimum, it will be different, and you will not be *stuck* in the same *struggle*.

Fascinating stuff.

Garden Update

Per the norm, the latest Garden Update is available at Tech Law Garden.

In other news, I'm much too busy with work and life to blog about law over at the professional blog in the last several weeks.

Yet somehow, I make time for the garden.

What does this say...?

Luxury

I'm making my way through Home Cheese Making, and encountered this lovely quote:

A small garden, figs, a little cheese, and, along with this, three or four good friends -- such was luxury to Epicurus.
-- Friedrich Nietzsche

I wholeheartedly agree.

Yeah, Nietzsche was an unapologetic misogynist (My personal favorite? Woman is not yet capable of friendship: women are still cats and birds. Or, at best, cows -- Thus Spoke Zarathustra).

But, ignoring that fault, dude was a fairly decent judge of quality when he focused on males.

Book Review: Farm City -- The Education of an Urban Farmer

Oh, joy!

Novella Carpenter's hilarious book about running an urban farm by squatting on a vacant plot of land near her home in Oakland (aka Ghost Town Farm) is enjoyable from beginning to end.

I loved reading this book after Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. The similarities are obvious, but the differences are amazing.

In particular, I loved to read how the ghetto and Novella's cause co-existed and embraced each other and eventually led her, through her dumpster diving, to a symbiotic relationship with a high-class restaurant from the Chez-Panisse lineage.

It was refreshing to read stories directly conflicting with Barbara's classification of culture wars between city and country. Clearly, the culture conflict that bothers both Barbara and Novella is much more complicated than simple geography or socio-economic status, as the embracing of the farm by some in the inner city and the thoughtless country slaughterhouse story in Novella's book demonstrate.

Of course, I couldn't help but think that in the country, Novella would have no trouble finding someone to kill and butcher her pig. In the city, this was a true conundrum and she ended up driving 3 hours to pay someone to do it in a somewhat heartless way. In the country, hunters who do their own butchering regularly kill and butcher animals significantly larger than her pigs. No doubt, if I had pigs, I could get some books and ask brother to talk me through the more "you-know-it-when-you-see-it" portions of the process, or I could call some of daddy's or brother's friends and they'd do it for me -- one of them (a former electrical lineman and one-time butcher) might even be talked into letting us use his garage with the built-in drain hole where brother and his friends who can't afford professional butcher fees end up slaughtering their deer if I could bribe his wife to put up with it (and I'm guessing Grandma Sherry would let herself be bribed...).

This personal knowledge of the country is what made me side with Barbara, initially. But Novella's tale rings true to my experience in the hoods of Berkeley, Oakland and San Francisco. Yes, I realize, the idea that there is or ever has been a hood where SOMA stands today is a bit difficult to process, but in 2000, I lived on an alley with a tent city. Granted, they were North Face tents. But they were still full of people with lighters under spoons and pipes who informed me that they'd protect my car because I was a nice neighbor.

Farm City is a book stuffed with Californian food history from the last several decades. If you are a bay-area or even Californian food history buff, this book will amuse you with its stories and additional color for things you thought you understood. The author studied for 2 years under Michael Pollan at UC Berkeley's school of Journalism, and yet, her message, story and voice are distinct enough from his that this fact is merely interesting, not an "of course she did."

This book is a gritty, honest, true-to-life tale of someone trying to live sustainably with an urban farm. It showed me that regardless of where you do it, my grandfather's saying was true, "Farming is the hardest business. You go bankrupt or, at best, it doesn't pay well. You only do it if you love it."

A Holiday Weekend

June was a whirlwind month for me.

At the law firm, I had to bill around 180-200 hours in a month before I really started to feel like work was pushing my life out the door.

As a solo, that number is much, much lower. I just totaled my billable hours worked for clients last month and it was a mere 139.5. But it felt like 220 at a law firm.

Business development, invoicing, making referrals, traveling to meet onsite -- all of these things were not required when I was an associate at a law firm, but now they are, and they take time (non-billable time, that is).

I definitely prefer my life as a solo over my life at the law firm, but a big end of quarter month is exhausting in either case.

Thankfully, my country's long weekend to celebrate its independence comes at the end of the fiscal quarter. And I'm off to a great start -- I decided not to attend any social events, and instead I'm sleeping in, gardening, doing chores, picking up our wine club shipment (4 months since we've last been in...), and in general puttering around the house without a schedule. It feels great.

Tomorrow, E & I will spend the fourth of July at home for the first time that either of us can remember in a long time. And, bonus, I get to share the celebration with my brother too!

Time Keeps On Moving...

The inexorable march of the clock keeps going, and it is amazingly powerful.

I am shocked to learn that it has been more than 7 years in our house for E and me, meaning more than 7 years of BBQ season, capped with more than 3 months as a solo practitioner, and no more than 1 hour since my last discussion with a client who needed my help (I have several right now -- the end of the fiscal quarter makes me quite popular)...

I can't help but think I need to spend more time in pause. Breathing. Taking time. Being alive. Before life takes me (as it eventually takes us all).

The end of the fiscal quarter is a good time to look frenetic chasing of time in the face if you are a transactional attorney.

Because... Wow. It turns out, I need very little. So I'm not acting out of need. And yet. If I don't breathe and pay attention -- it sure feels like I need very much.

Happy Solstice!

Summer is here and bringing its usual treats: lots of social stuff.

Last weekend's trip to Sonoma with E's family was gluttonous, relaxing, and wonderful.

A 1999 Barolo we'd been storing was an excellent complement to the meat and dessert courses we shared with E's family for the father's day celebration at Cyrus.

Our wine fridge is restocked, and I have new favorite winery in Sonoma: Passalacqua -- gorgeous grounds, excellent small production wines that you can only buy on site, friendly staff, discounts for wine club membership, and reasonable prices, what's not to like?

Next weekend, I'm off to Seattle to run the rock 'n roll half marathon with a friend I haven't seen in several months. It'll be her first half, and I'm excited to share it with her.

And, of course, the end of the fiscal quarter is doing what it does: burying me with work.

So, I'll probably be fairly quiet on the blogfront until July (when I hope to have ripe tomatoes!).

Book Review: Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

When I called to E to read him yet another passage from this book the other night, he replied with a grin,


You've got a complete girl-crush on Barbara Kingsolver


And it's true. I've sincerely enjoyed all of the other books of hers that I've read. I've heard the complaint that her writing can be a bit preachy, and that may be fair. But since I don't find her gospel particularly offensive, when she slips in that direction, I tend to forgive her. Also, her later writings (such as this one, in 2007) have a much broader perspective and lack the lecturing that may have turned folks off in her earlier works.

But this book was different. This one was autobiographical, so I wasn't just enjoying her writing, I was actually enjoying her life. And, it just so happens that this portion of her life is the story of a rural-rooted urban-educated woman undertaking a food and farm adventure that is squarely after my own heart.

As a gardener and food enthusiast with a desire for scientific and empirical explanations for decisions in those areas, I couldn't wait to turn the pages to see what she'd show me next about the complexities of the food system that feeds us (the local food business, the multinational agribusiness, and the details you learn from growing, tending, harvesting, and preparing the majority of your own food).

On the whole, it was entertaining, educational, and inspirational. I can't wait to apply some of the recipes to my harvest this year.

Plus, her turns of phrase were often so clever and entertaining that I'd grin to myself with pleasure. She chose *that* word to describe *that*? How wonderful!

In short, this book was a joy for me. If you think it may be for you as well, I've included some of my favorite quotes to help you decide whether you'd like to dive in:

Plants have the karmic advantage of creating their own food out of pure air and sunlight, whereas we animals, lacking green chlorophyll in our skin, must eat some formerly living things every single day.

The antipathy in our culture between the urban and the nonurban is so durable, it has its own vocabulary: (A) city slicker, tenderfoot; (B) hick, redneck, hayseed, bumpkin, rube, yokel, clodhopper, hoecake, hillbilly, Dogpatch, Daisy Mae, farmer's daughter, from the provinces, something out of Deliverance. Maybe you see where I'm going with this. The list is lopsided. I don't think there's much doubt on either side, as to which class is winning the culture wars.

Wendell Berry summed it up much better than "blue and red" in one line of dialogue from his novel Jayber Crow, which is peopled by farmers struggling to survive on what the modern, mostly urban market will pay for food. After watching nearly all the farms in the country go bankrupt, one of these men comments: "I've wished sometimes that the sons of bitches would starve. And now I'm getting afraid they actually will."

On Italy:
It's a culture that sweeps you in, sits you down in the kitchen, and feeds you so well you really don't want to leave.

Here's to summer and making good use of the tomato recipes in this book!

Gilroy Delights

For Memorial Day weekend, E and I headed down to Monterey for a weekend away. Along the way, we decided to stop in Gilroy (you know, the Garlic Capital of the World?) for lunch.

Previously, my exposure to Gilroy had been a trip to the outlets to buy clothes for my summer associate gig, and a stop at the The Garlic Shoppe with E2 on one of our drives back from a visit to my gran.

This time, E and I headed to the downtown. I knew there was a Caltrain station, so I figured it had to have an adjacent downtown, just like most of the towns on the peninsula with historic train depots.

We couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. First, it was a gorgeous sunny day, and we enjoyed our walk around the quiet downtown while searching for a lunch spot. Second, we quickly found our way to the The Pet Peddler (how great is that name? E could not stop snickering...) where I exclaimed for the millionth time, I want baby chicks:



They also had adults, to help me understand that baby chicks wouldn't always be this cute:



From there, we found our way to the Lizarran Tapas (Pinxtos) restaurant. It was, quite honestly, some of the best Spanish food I've ever had (including in Spain).

We both opted to start with a bowl of Salmorejo, which the menu described as a cold tomato and bread soup (like gazpacho):



More like gazpacho and an entree of meat and eggs and bread all in the same bowl. But damn... so delicious.

From there, we shared a Spanish charcuterie and cheese plate (which was probably completely unnecessary):



And, as if that wasn't enough, we also shared a dish of grilled octopus over potatoes (E can't help but order Pulpo -- it's his favorite):



We were full after the soup, but we forced ourselves to finish all of the meats, cheeses, and octopus because it was just that good. It didn't hurt that we had the courtyard to ourselves:



While we were slowly finishing the last bites, we enjoyed a tour of the restaurant. It turns out, the building was the original Gilroy City Hall:





Which means the bathroom experience is very unique:





and the wine cellar is the old town safe:



The server asked us where we were from when he saw me taking pictures, and when we told him, he seemed surprised. He asked why we chose to leave the highway and come into the town. And frankly, we didn't have a good answer other than, uhh... because we were hungry and it was on the way to Monterey and we didn't want to eat fast food. But next time, we'll have a much better answer. We'll say that we stopped, on purpose, on our way to Monterey, because this restaurant experience is so good that it is worth the pause on the drive.

Oh, and of course, I have to share gratuitous beach pictures from the trip.

The view from Highway 1, headed into Monterey Bay:



The view from the restaurant in the Best Western in Sand City (highly recommended for a stop on your way out of town):



The beach below the Best Western's retaining wall on the North end of Monterey Bay (looking across you can see the harbor and Pacific Grove):



Entering the beach from the immense protection of the retaining wall:



California is a wonderfully diverse and gorgeous place.

So Busy

But, there's an update on our garden over at Tech Law Garden.

And...

I've got grand plans to post about our Memorial day trip, soon...

Half the year in books

My goal of 20 books for 2010 is looking a little ambitious...So far, I've finished 7 books, and that includes the two I finished this weekend on our Memorial Day getaway (in other words, a few days ago, I was at a mere 5).

But, I think I'm going to try to pick up the pace, as I sincerely enjoyed myself the last few days. I love to read. And, I especially love to read books that my friends send to me.

The most recent thanks goes out to Arvay for her gift of Shanghai Baby and Zorro.

Yes, these are two very different books. But, Arvay knows me well, and I enjoyed both of them.

Shanghai Baby is a crazy tale of a foreign life lived by a young female author in a foreign city. The self-inflicted drama of the majority of the characters is unlike most of my experiences (or even observations), and the culture and backdrop are not my own, yet I found that it was told in a way that felt eerily familiar. It made me want to spend some time in Shanghai.

Zorro is Isabel Allende's mythical lyrical tale of adventure in the early 19th century that explains the origins of Zorro. It combines the Spanish missions in California, Native American magic, gypsies, fencing, pirates, secret societies, unrequited love, prison breaks, travel across the world, and more, all with linguistic flourishes that made me smile. It was a delightful escape.

I heartily recommend both books.

That Feels Great!

I took on an emergency client last weekend. I had to shuffle some family obligations, but it was a friend of a friend who needed some help and it was just the type of thing that I know how to do. We were able to get a good result on a very fast timeline.

Today, I received the following email:


Attached is the press release as promised.

Thanks again for everything, you were a life saver! I look forward to getting your bill :-)


I'm fairly certain it's going to be a long time before someone tells me they look forward to getting my bill again.

So, I'm savoring the moment. In fact, right now, I couldn't be more happy with my decision to become a solo practitioner.

Happy Feet

So, my empirical study continues with a visit to Happy Day Spa in Sacramento.

I took my Mom for a belated Mother's Day treat on Sunday. She thanked me multiple times. Yay!

Much like my experience last week, this visit confirmed that reflexology-based foot massages that are actually full body massages in hiding are still my latest guilty pleasure. If you find one near you, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to combine a visit with you and a test. You know, in the name of scientific research.

My hypothesis: Reflexology-based foot soak massage shops are the most undervalued massage service available in California today.

I shall test as many as I can find to see if perhaps they vary in quality, cleanliness, lack of sketchy-massage-parlorness and that only some are truly undervalued and others are actually not worth the $30 (typical price, including tip) for the hour.

For a control group, I'm using my historical massage experience with traditional massage shops in the bay area. If you think you've got a high value massage service I should include in the test, please send it my way!

As for Happy Day Spa sacramento, the chairs were not as cool as the ones at my local joint, so we had to sit on the footstools for the back and shoulder massage at the end rather than laying flat on our stomachs. But, both Mom's masseuse and mine were very skillful and the open room was relatively quiet with whispers from the masseuses and instrumental musac.

We both left relaxed. Mom bought a 10-pack (which she will use at the new branch opening up closer to her home), which gets the price down to $18 per massage. After I complete my local survey, I suspect I may opt into a similar arrangement.

Latest Guilty Pleasure

So, ever since I discovered the $25 1 hour face, arm, leg, back massage/foot soak/reflexology combo available from our local Chinese Reflexology/Massage Joint, I've been thinking about when I can go back.

But, then I learned there's actually a competitor near 99 Ranch, and I do need to stock up on Asian food.

Clearly, a scientific comparison is in order.

But, in the name of science, why stop with Mountain View? Apparently, there are several options in San Jose, Cupertino, and even, potentially, one in my childhood hometown.

I shall report back.

Sili Valley Week

I had a very stereotypical valley week.

Monday and Tuesday, I woke, worked out, worked for my start-up clients and fit in networking lunches. Monday, after a particularly frustrating morning, I also fit in a pre-lunch visit to Happy Feet in their new Mountain View location (Oh! How awesome are lazy boys interbred with massage tables for you to lay upon while beaten to a relaxed pulp by shiatsu-accupressure-influenced hands until your feet are removed for the hot water bath, treated to reflexology and you are finally turned to your belly for the final 20 minutes of back of the body massage/pressure, all in silent common room? Holy grail of massage value -- I'm telling you. Of course, there's no speaking to the masseuse in anything other than Mandarin, but no need, at least for me.)

Wednesday, I volunteered all day as a broken-Spanish (mine, not theirs) translator for a Puerto Rican team of adorably awesome high-schoolers at the Intel International Science and Engineering Fair, and then we hosted a BBQ for visiting Argentinian students (the PR team had to stay with their chaperons -- apparently, we do not appear trustworthy. [grin]).

Thursday, I worked more and attended the Google Annual Shareholder meeting.

And today, I woke to work for an hour and a half, then I took my favorite Friday yoga class, met with a former colleague for lunch in downtown San Jose, and worked from the Hacker Dojo in the afternoon (because I had too much work to do to attend the PhD defense of a friend at Stanford that E was able to attend).

This weekend? I've got a long run with E2 in Santa Cruz tomorrow AM while E bikes along the coast with J. Then we've got a wine tasting lunch in the Santa Cruz Mountain Wine Region at Beauregard and a 40th birthday party for a good work-friend in Palo Alto in the evening.

In short, I am in awe of the chaos and fast-paced life that we live. But, at the same time, we can do nothing more than appreciate the beauty and balance and lifestyle we can enjoy where we live. And I aim to do just that.

A Sort-of-Hellish Sunday

After Yesterday's Bliss, I should have known I was in for a long day.

But, I had no idea, so I woke at a reasonable hour and put on my workout clothes and tried to lace my new running shoes from Zappos. Alas, the top right eyelet was broken on my left shoe. So, I sat at the computer, printed a return label, packaged up the shoes for return, and put on my old shoes.

Then, it started to rain.

So, instead of the planned workout, I started the day by filing an amendment to our taxes due as a result of receiving a corrected form 1099-Div from Ameritrade. 2 hours and multiple forms later, we were entitled to $8 from the Feds, and $3 from the state. I would have just let them keep the money if I could have kept my 2 hours. Seriously...

In the course of updating our forms, some financial investigations led me to realize that paying quarterly taxes wasn't just a requirement this year (which I knew), but we were *already late*, since I earned money in March, which is Q1, and estimated payments for Q1 were due in April. Good times.

So, I calculated those, printed the vouchers, and had the fun conversation with E about the big check we needed to write, like a month ago, (and the upcoming one of equal value in 5 weeks).

Somewhere in there, I fit in a quick trip to the farmer's market in the rain. Sadly, I confirmed that the good tomatoes are just not available yet.

At least I got some good asparagus spears, delicious strawberries, swiss chard, dill & fresh bread! Oh, and a kumamoto oyster from the fresh shucked-in-front-of-you oyster tent -- I consoled myself from the rain and taxes with the treat and justified it by reminding myself that oyster season would be over soon.

Where was I? Oh, yes, lamenting about my horrid day. Ignore the blissful break of the farmer's market and feel sorrow for me as I returned to my office and sat before the beast of Quickbooks for at least 5 hours. For about 4 weeks (February-ish), I incurred expenses on behalf of the business before I had a business bank account or business credit card. Reconciling and accounting for, and repaying myself for those amounts was the exact opposite of fun, I assure you. I am now very understanding of the reason for ridiculously detailed expense reports. I cannot wait to have enough business to justify handing the bookkeeping back to my bookkeeper.

Anyways, in the grand scheme of things, it really wasn't that bad of a day at all. Taxes are paid, tax payments and future due dates are known (instead of unknown dreads), bookkeeping is current, shoes will be returned and new ones are on their way, and while the run didn't happen, I did manage to fit in a 4 mile walk while chatting with R.

In short, it was a productive day, but nowhere near as cool as yesterday.

Recipe for A Perfect Saturday

Wake early, rested, to perfect weather and a quick enjoyable view of the garden on the way out the door.

Get coffee and head to a beautiful local 10K. See local friends you didn't know would be there, meet their baby, and catch up for half an hour before the race. Run harder than you expected through hills to catch much better views than you realized were available. At the point where you most want to walk up the steps cut in the trail, encounter a mom with a jogging stroller who gives you the perfect excuse to walk and help her carry the stroller up the steps.

Long shower.

Bike downtown with E for a 2-hour outdoor brunch in perfect weather with wine at a local mediterranean food restaurant.

Nap.

Watch a hilariously cheesy movie where English is spoken in hell, Spanish on earth, and French in heaven while shelling fava beans that you harvested from the remaining plants before they were sacrificed for the compost pile (see the tall plants in the front box that are falling over? They are now a memory.)



Continue to shell fava beans while watching an hour of the Ken Burns documentary on the National Parks.

(Good thing favas fix nitrogen into the soil and plant matter for great composting. Because otherwise, the labor necessary to get to the edible portion would not be worth the ridiculous work of shelling and re-shelling. Here's the entire take after about 2.5 hours of lazy work by me, aka post de-podding, but pre-2nd shelling of the skin:)



Prepare an impromptu dinner of angel hair pasta and pesto made from random bits of deliciousness that were hiding in the kitchen (antipasti, croutons, 5 chili preserves, anchovies, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, olive oil, what?).

Eat pasta and continue to enjoy the National Parks documentary. Fall asleep to images of beautiful nature on husband's lap.

Eventually move to the bed. Sleep. Well.

Ahhhh...

Vicarious Adventure

A friend of mine is packing up all of her stuff and moving to Homer, Alaska to work this summer.

I'm going to enjoy reading about her travels, and bet you might too.

So, if you're looking for some entertainment this summer check out Clarke Photo Goes to Alaska.

Whatever You Do, Do It Well

Brother came home with donuts yesterday. Not just any donuts, however, Psycho Donuts:



Yes, those are individually placed and frosted Captain Crunchberries, graham crackers, and oreos.

Apparently, they take their marketing fairly seriously, and they have a padded room.

I pretty much never eat dessert at home. But, I enjoyed a donut for dessert, and it was amazing.

Airship Ventures -- Best Birthday Present Ever!

For E's 30th birthday, we went on a trip on our local Zeppelin.

It was easily an order of magnitude cooler than I expected (and he was thrilled).

The view of any part of the beautiful state of California from 1,000 - 2,000 ft. above is not to be discounted. There were several points during the trip where I was speechless with appreciation for just how gorgeous our state is.

It didn't hurt that we had the airship to ourselves:



(Apparently, these flights are usually booked full, but we lucked out and were treated like a private charter, with 2 pilots and a flight attendant).

Of course, I wouldn't stop working, even though it was E's birthday, so finally, he threatened to throw me out:



Once I understood the importance of the situation, we were able to calmly appreciate the beauty of highway 1:



The Pacific Ocean:



And the size of the ship against the backdrop of the military base where we landed:



I would do it again in a heartbeat.

There are 3 functional Zeppelins in the world. Our trip was piloted by the only female Zeppelin captain in the world, Captain Kate (with back-up from Captain Jim):





If you are looking for an awesome California experience, I cannot recommend them enough. Also, their sister-company in Germany is booked solid 6 months in advance. I suspect, based on the names they dropped about previous passengers that the Californian ship (EUREKA!) is not that far behind.

So, if this is the type of thing that is interesting to you. E and I recommend you go now. It was awesome.

Linguistic Milestone

Apparently, my Spanish is finally good enough that the staff at our local Mexican joint feel free to speak with me entirely in Spanish. It's been a long time coming.

Tonight, one of the servers greeted me with a pat on the shoulder:


Hola. Amiga. Estas muy bonita! Estas esperando bebe, non?



Culturally, this is not something this server would ever say to an English-only customer.

So, I was flattered.

But also, it would appear that I'm not the only one who has noticed the 5 extra pounds I'm carrying...

Good Times.

Adjustments

It turns out, I still work weekends.

Evenings.

Early mornings.

Who knew? I thought when I quit the law firm, by default, I'd bought myself a year or two of lull. You know, time to build up the practice.

I can't complain about being wrong. My practice is busier than I dreamed it would be, and so much earlier than I expected.

But, wow. Unbeknownst to me, I am learning that I secretly dreamed of and pre-enjoyed weekends and mornings and evenings and relaxation.

I'm only now realizing how strong those dreams were while I mourn their loss. This weekend, E and I took a 3 day weekend away. I worked Saturday AM but managed, through guilty herculean efforts, to avoid the computer the entire time until Monday evening. In exchange for that privilege, I had to send many emails from my phone apologizing, promising responses, and fretting about my failure to set an appropriate out-of-office message.

Today, I didn't fit in my run. I woke early, but instead of running, I worked. All day, I cranked away on legal stuff, with "breaks" for networking and meeting with the bookkeeper (Who laughed at my receipts from my first month vis-a-vis my initial estimate of my annual collections -- It would appear I was a bit too conservative...).

As E pointed out, I am personally experiencing the hyper-growth shock that many of my successful startups have experienced. I will need to hire soon. The whole experience is very educational. And I am thankful.

It Gets Harder

Yoga is unlike any *sport* I've ever done.

I've had a pseduo-regular yoga practice for about 10 years. And a pseudo-zen philsophical practice for a little less than 20 years.

In the last 3 years or so, I've tried to step up my commitment to yoga and combine it with my zen practice as well. Recently, as a result of starting my own law practice (I'm practicing quite a bit these days!) and managing my own schedule, I've been able to return to a regular studio-based yoga practice -- which is awesome.

The thing about Yoga that is completely different from any other regular physical activity in which I've engaged is that the longer I practice, the more difficult it becomes.

Not in a bad way.

Quite the opposite.

It's just that with every additional day of practice, I learn more things I can focus on, pay attention to, and isolate in each pose.

As a result, I now find even the most basic class to be very difficult.

When I started, I only sought out advanced classes because it was the only way I could exhaust myself into a state of relaxation. Now, I can take an hour long class for people who have never done yoga that allows for many rest breaks and never deviates from the basic fundamental poses and I'll still find it challenging and rewarding. In fact, sometimes I find myself dripping with sweat in these basic classes even more than in a more advance class, as a result of breathing deep yoga breaths, paying attention to where my mind is, where my eyes are focused, and what the various muscle groups are doing because they hold the poses for so long while allowing the new students to get used to them.

Today, I've found that no matter what type of class I take, if I go to the studio, by the finishing sequence I'm always exhausted and relaxed.

I find it very comforting to realize that this is a practice that I will be able to have for the rest of my life. The well-rounded combination of a mental, spiritual, and physical practice means that even when I am very old or sick I will be able to find some aspect of the practice to challenge me.

I am grateful.

Fruits to Come

Sunday, after a fairly hard-core 9 miles with E2, I came home to garden obsessively alongside E, who built yet another garden box for our yard.

After 8+ hours of labor, we're done (more or less) with the summer garden planting.

Pictures will show up on Tech Law Garden once they are available, but in the meantime, let's celebrate that there are very few things in the world more exhausting than manually turning, shoveling, moving, and amending soil.

In other news, I expect to sleep well this week, and, I think this year's garden may be the best one yet!

Big Monday

A law suit that was filed by a student group when I was a law student is making its way to the United States Supreme Court for oral arguments tomorrow.

The law -- she is slow, at times. As a student, I had thought this was a cut and dried issue. As a lawyer, several years later, I laugh at my confidence back then. I now know that this issue was a fight waiting to happen, and that anyone with the resources to fight it could have taken the opportunity (as the CLS did) to make it a long, difficult, resource-intensive argument, no matter what the outcome.

It's times like these that I wish I lived in Washington DC. I'd love to be in the courtroom tomorrow and hearing the arguments in person. Some day I'll cross that todo off the list...

Roasted Cauliflower with Bacon, Baby Carrots, Leeks, Mustard, and Bread Crumbs

This recipe is currently winning the 2010 unofficial home-based contest for unexpected awesome (and it puts some of the last of the Spring Harvest to use).



-1/4 lb bacon, chopped into 1 inch strips
-2 Leeks, chopped into 1 cm rounds
-1 head cauliflower, chopped into florets of 1 inch X 1 inch X 0.25 inch
-2 T fancy German non-sweet mustard (pick your favorite mustard from a talented friend, if you can)
-1/2 lb. miniature carrots from the garden
-2 C. bread crumbs
-fancy salt flakes (pick your poison)

-Pre-heat oven to 450F.

1. Chop leeks and cauliflower. Scatter throughout pan. Place dry in oven.

2. Sauteé bacon on medium. Cover to preserve liquid in addition to grease. Add chopped leeks after bacon has started to release grease. Add mustard, stir. Cover.

3. Once leeks are completely translucent, layer bacon, leeks, mustard, etc. over slightly browned cauliflower. Return, uncovered, to oven for 20 minutes.

4. Stir all layers to ensure even coating of bacon grease and any other spices that have been added to you taste. Layer baby carrots, salt flakes, bread crumbs, and a sprinkling of olive oil on top. Return to oven for 20 minutes.

5. Remove from oven and serve immediately. Add black pepper and salt flakes for texture to taste.

My Patron Saint: Santa Chiara di Asisi

When I lived in Italy, my language school took weekend cultural excursions every week. And, one weekend, we went to Assisi.

Ordinarily, I paid the fee and visited the relics wherever we went.

But in Assisi, I was overwhelmed by the number of Catholic nuns, many of whom hailed from very poor countries and had saved for years for the privilege of visiting Saint Claire. It just felt wrong for me to get in line with them and try to appreciate the holiness and wonder attributable to her relics when they considered their visit a pilgrimage and mine was a stroke of luck due to a bus that brought me there through no planning or forethought of my own.

Years later, I was sworn in as an attorney at the California Mission of Santa Clara. At the time, I was thankful, emotional, and asked for a blessing on my future career, but I paid no heed to the role of Santa Clara in that day, other than to note that it was the name of the location where the big emotional event occurred.

Today, I found myself back at the Church with time to spare before an event sponsored by the affiliated law school. Much to my surprise, I was compelled to go in, to breathe and cross myself with holy water, to kneel (with my laptop at my side) and say a prayer of thanks for the career blessings I am currently experiencing, and just generally, to say thanks and ask for blessings for life, and love, and the opportunity to grow in the face of everything I've been given, and all of the things that one feels thankful for when in a spontaneous spiritual state.

I left, emotionally buoyant -- as if my trip into the Church was something that was fundamentally correct -- pleased with myself that I had taken the time to do it (an amusing feeling for a self-proclaimed buddhist to feel while walking out of a Catholic Church after performing a Catholic ritual).

And then, on my way out, as I walked to my event, I saw the placard explaining that Mission Santa Clara was the first Californian Mission dedicated to a female saint. All of a sudden, the unexplained reverence and connection I felt in this place felt even more right. I am deeply Californian. My family worked this land for five generations to earn me the right to become a college educated female who didn't have to work the land. And yet, my hobby is the garden. I have found that I am inexorably connected to the land.

The Missions of California are such a part of the story of the California land that it makes sense that I, as a Californian, would feel connected to them. And, to feel a stronger connection to the first female-dedicated mission, well, duh, as a female, that makes sense. But, today, after reading the placard explaining that Mission Santa Clara was the first Mission dedicated to a woman, I finally remembered that I had seen first hand, in her burial grounds, the reverence that Santa Chiara can invoke. And, I recalled that I had so much respect and awe for the love that she invoked, that I abstained in favor of the pilgrims.

So, tonight, I am feeling an indescribable sense of awe for the circle of life and our experiences and how they can weave together to create a wholeness we could not have imagined. Through no planning of my own, I visited her burial grounds long before I knew her Mission would be a part of my career. Upon my return to the US, I opted to live down the street (the El Camino Real) from her Mission. At the beginning of my career, I unknowingly asked for blessings in my career and thanked the powers that be for my luck in a house of worship built in her name. And today, again, when I felt grateful, I walked into that same house of worship and performed ceremonies I haven't felt the need to perform since the last Catholic wedding I attended.

I guess she is my patron saint.

What a great thing to learn.

Losing Your Balance is Contagious

Last night, during our home Yoga practice, E and I both started wobbling in tree pose. Soon enough we were both wobbling more and more and finally, we both fell.

E commented:

Unbalance is contagious

And, in that wacky mind-state that yoga can sometimes produce, I thought

That is true.

Yoga teaches us to focus on our own breath, to maintain our inner calm, and to stay with the yin and yang of our own breath in the midst of the chaos that our mind thinks our body or the outside world is throwing at us.

But, if you are anything like me, you find that it is much easier to focus on your own breath when you are in a room full of other people practicing intently, focusing on their own breath as well, insulated from the madness outside the yoga sanctuary.

Several of my yoga instructors have talked about taking your yoga practice with you, outside the studio, into every day life. And no doubt, that is the ultimate goal -- to breathe and have perspective so you can be calm and peaceful while moving throughout the storm of everyday life.

But, I've also heard many instructors talk about the importance of regularly coming to a class. The importance of giving yourself a supportive community, an instructor, and a space where you feel immediately calm -- where you can focus and breathe and increase the strength of your practice.

E's comment made me realize that these two goals -- 1) to take your yoga practice with you into the chaos; and 2) to seek a supportive peaceful environment where you can deepen your practice -- are not at odds.

Just as unbalance in the yoga studio is contagious, so it is in real life. So yes we can seek to bring our balanced perspective and life with us wherever we go and with whomever we interact. But, it is important to recognize that while we are developing our sense of balance, we need to be mindful of our environment -- we will find it easier to be balanced in a supportive peaceful environment (with supportive, peaceful people). Similarly, we may need to limit our time in unsupportive, chaotic environments if we find that we are "catching" the unbalanced energy that often exists there.

Alright, that's enough new age hippy crap for now.

The Glory of the Unscheduled

This weekend, for the first time in about 6 months, after 5:30 PM on Friday, I had no obligations scheduled until Monday at 9:30 AM.

Sure, E2 and P may stop by on their way through town on Sunday and we may need to celebrate their engagement properly and ooh and ahh over the ring in person, but that's just a maybe and if they don't have time or we aren't here, no big deal.

In short, I can't believe how relaxed I feel. It is a glorious, wonderful feeling. And how have I used this time, you may ask?

Just perfectly, so far!

First, on Friday night, I spoke to R on the phone, uninterrupted for almost 2 hours.

Saturday morning, after waking to ensure brother was in good hands, I cleaned out my email box, cleaned the kitchen a wee bit and headed out for a solid 8.5+ mile run. It was slow, but steady, and not so slow as to be anything other than an obvious step on the return to my former (pre-sciatica) fitness level.

This afternoon? Impromptu lunch with friends followed by lots of todo list crossing off, gardening, and garden planning.

Tonight? Another impromptu meal with friends at a local izakaya (I love living in such an immigrant rich community).

And tomorrow? Perhaps some yoga with B, perhaps not. But definitely a medium/short run and catch up session with B before lunch. Brother, E and I had planned to head to the local farmer's market to shop and plan the week's menu and eat brunch, but given the predicted rain -- it'll likely be just me quickly raiding the farmer's market stalls and a mellow afternoon at home doing more work and personal chores.

Basically, I'm elated to be living such a normal (impossible to be late because there's nothing scheduled) life this weekend.

It has been entirely too long.