Bad vegetarians.

Stopping by a nice Mexican restaurant last night, we did our usual "stand-by-the-front-door-and-scope-out-the-menu" routine, looking for the meatless fare. Gotta make sure before you sit down, right? Right.

So we noticed quite a few things, eventually, and were seated in the lovely interior room, near an arch window against the darkening blue evening. There were candles, and sparkling lights, and various nice, rustic decor. Waters came, then chips and salsa, which included a second bowl of dip: something white and tangy. It was super delicious and we assumed it was some kind of cheese-based item.

Now, Nat and i always buy rennet-free cheese when we buy it (which is rarely, actually), because we do try and steer away from animal products as much as we can. This is dead simple when you're at the grocery store, but when eating out we often have a "don't ask, don't tell" policy when it comes to things like cheese. Life is just way too short. But when our waiter came, and i asked if i could get the enchiladas without chicken ("we're vegetarian", Nat explained), his eyes got wide and he even backed away a little.

"Oh, gosh- all of our sauces have chicken broth in them. In fact– even that dip has chicken broth in it!" (he points to our yummy bowl of cheesy delight.) After a few more questions, it turned out that every dish, including the "meatless" ones, had a chicken tinge to it. However, he did assure us that "the beans [were] okay".

Great. We'll have two plates of beans, please.


But in all seriousness, we just ended up feeling really bad. The waiter seemed embarrassed (even though we were totally nice about everything!), and rushed off after we decided to leave. Nat felt that we should leave some sort of gratuity, considering that we'd been seated and given water and had munched on a few chips. i only had a one and a five, and while i certainly didn't want to leave five dollars, one seemed almost like a rude gesture. So i left the five. Ugh.

Now, i've always maintained that not all restaurants have to cater to vegetarians (or vegans, or those with gluten allergies, etc. etc.), but this seemed a little crazy. Then it occurred to me: how many times had we unknowingly eaten chicken stock (or some such other) before? i don't remember EVER asking what the ingredients were in the (many) quantities of Spanish rice i've ever eaten. This seemed to be only a problem with Mexican food, and maybe it's because we've always been way more focused on the lard issue.


It can be difficult, because you don't want to simply sit down and announce to the waiter that you're vegetarian. This always feels a bit self-righteous, or high-maintenance, even. So usually we just pick out our dishes, and then ask about those when we order. This time, though, it didn't work out. And we made a solemn promise to ourselves to be more inquisitive about our food in the future. i just hope it doesn't close a whole lot of doors– though if it does, perhaps that would be for the best? The most fattening meals i eat are those when i'm dining out. Guess it's time to get all invested.

Sigh.

i will miss enchiladas, though. That is a FACT.

Artartartartartartartartartartart

So, yesterday we journeyed to Balboa Park to catch the last days of two exhibits: "The DaVinci Experience" at the Air and Space Museum, and a collection of Alexander Calder's jewelry at the Museum of Art.

The first was very engaging, though a bit rocky at first as there was an old man with a staring problem nearby, for almost 5 minutes, probably due to my pink hair and one bloodshot eye from all the crying i'd done during the lovely fight Nat and i'd had on the walk through the park (stupid shit, as usual). Fan-fucking-tastic! i wasn't the only sad one there that day, though– on the bench outside the museum, we were inhaling some almonds and a banana and i noticed a lady sitting all slumped on the bench across from us. She looked so forlorn, with her chin in her hands and her eyes dolefully tracking over the gum stains on the concrete, with no thoughts to anchor them. i really really wanted to offer her some almonds, in a vain attempt to "save the day", but turns out i am way too cowardly to do that (although offering junior mints to an elderly man on the plane next to me this christmas is not too brazen, apparently. Wtf?)

Anyway, they'd managed to actually build a bunch of machines based on DaVinci's sketches. This definitely was not a show based on his paintings, which frankly is what made it mighty interesting. Mechanics and engineering ingenuity were rampant: he designed 'cars' (i would call them 'convoluted conveyances', myself), hang gliders, helicopter blades, and so on and so forth. He was definitely intrigued by the idea of harnessing geometry and gravity to make labor easier for humankind. Pulleys, ball bearings, winches, gears, chains. . . Super cool stuff, and quite a few of them were interactive. There were also (and i never would have guessed this) a number of 'war machines': spine-chilling apparatuses with scythe blades and lots of spikes. Some were designed to disable quadrupeds (read: kill horses), and others were meant to topple incoming armies from their ladders opposite your defensive wall. Of course there were the famous 'water shoes', and lots of things with wings. What a nutter.

Running out of time, we booked it up to the Calder exhibit, where we were told that we only had 24 minutes before museum closing time. Thankfully the exhibit was small (2 rooms), but it was absolutely beautiful. Wire creations, some with found pieces of glass or crockery ensconced within, sat in their boxes and shone for us. Lots of spirals, loops and whorls. Imposing necklaces, intricate cuff bracelets, and large, elegant brooches. . . i was totally in love. You could see all the little remnants of hammering the wire, and the love put into each piece was evident. Nat was upset that there were exactly zero mobiles, so with our last 4 minutes we ran to the adjoining Picasso/Miro/Calder exhibit. We found some quite nice paintings, but only one Calder mobile, which was unfortunately housed under glass and therefore not moving even a whit. Blowing through the glass did nothing, i tried. A nice addition to the jewelry exhibit was this photo of Angelica Houston, wearing "The Jealous Husband" necklace, for the New York Times Magazine in 1979:




. . .Words cannot express!!



TTFN, folks. Time to try and salvage the day.
(things i meant to do today: take a bike ride. mend some clothes. wash the blankets. pay bills. looks like these will all have to wait until after work tomorrow. what? i haven't had a day alone with the internet since before christmas. (sad, ain't i?))

home is wherever i'm with you

Not sure if it's because i adored Charlotte's Web as a child or what, but i have a teensy spider living in my kitchen, on the counter near the sink, next to the knife block*. i noticed him there one day and thought, Hm. What should i do with him? Since i'm not a bug-squasher or a girly screamer, the only option left seemed to be capturing him and relocating him to the out-of-doors. . . But then i leaned in for a closer look, curious as to why a spider would build a web in such a high-traffic, potentially splashy area. Slowly it dawned on me. Of course! The clever little bastard had settled there because of one thing, and one thing only: the nearby proximity of fruit.

Now i know what you're thinking: spiders don't eat fruit, you ignoramus. And you'd be correct. But they DO eat fruit flies, and it just so happens that i always keep lots of fruit on the counter. Don't have a fruit bowl, don't even have the room for one. But i line up my bananas, mangoes, oranges and pears like nobody's business. And from time to time, the abundance gets away from me. Or the garbage doesn't get taken out as much as it should (heh heh). And then, the fruit flies come.

They are probably my least favorite bug. Give me the heebie-jeebies, big time. i'm pretty sure it all stems from a horrifying experience i had as a young teenager, involving a dark cupboard drawer where we kept our potatoes, and lots of time passing before anyone was inspired to actually eat one of those potatoes. . . needless to say, the person who finally decided to look in that foreboding drawer was me, and instead of finding shriveled up, benign husks i was affronted with an awful sour smell and a swarm of fruit flies straight into my face. Eyes, nose, mouth, hell–even my ears. i went bonkers for a minute there, pretty sure. Not good.

So this is where Spidery comes in (no, i haven't given him a name (yet)). i let him stay, and he keeps the fruit fly population in check. Works out great, really. Plus, i really feel as though i have a companion when i'm in the kitchen, bored out of my mind washing dishes or whatnot. And when i see an evil red fruit fly wrapped up nice and tight in a silk cocoon, my heart just swells with pride. Wish we could tiny hi-five.

*Funny thing about that knife block: none of those fuckers even work any more. Nat had them when i met him, ten years ago almost, and they were crappy then. Big, cheap, serrated things, only one of which i ever use: the small one, for when i need to open packing tape on cardboard boxes. So why do we keep the knife block? Just 'cause. (read: extreme dysfunction).

Things i did on vacation.

Discovered a new love for Louis Armstrong (beyond "What a Wonderful World" and "Mack the Knife").

Drove up the California coast and visited elephant seals, including brand new babies and two (huge!) fighting, braying bulls. Fantastic.

Glimpsed Hearts Castle from afar, realized that we should probably go sometime.

Finally saw Big Sur.

Ate way too much chocolate.

Decided that the cheap ticket price on Virgin America ($49!) from SFO to San Diego was not worth it when multiple advertisements were blared at me during takeoff. Not okay. Need to re-think future travel plans. (Hey, remember when movies cost less AND had no ads? Yeah. Those were the days.)

Realized how lucky lucky lucky i am, in more ways than i can count.

Realized how utterly cheeseball i am, a prime example of which is illustrated by the previous sentence.

Now, even though i've always maintained that "time", as we know it, is an arbitrary measure, happy new year to you all. Hope the days ahead are full and mostly devoid of:

-ads
-assholes
-overconsumption
-sickness
-debt
-sadness
-and so on and so forth.

Here's to simpler, happy times.

twirling, whirling.

i truly do not recommend washing your face while you are sobbing quietly. Not only does the bowliness of the sink magnify your pathetically held-back sobs, but you will be rubbing snot all over your face. Trust me on this. On a related note, one day i may begin categorizing the colors of human malady. i have been coughing up some soul-shuddering shades of green lately, and the interest with which i scrutinize these things is beyond me. Why do we study them so? It reminded me of having a bad bruise: what could be more arresting than waking up each day to see what new hue has appeared on your thigh? Magenta, grey, blue-green? And in the seventh grade i used to tie rubber bands around my finger tips to experience the plethora of sensations: cold. numb, colorful. Pointer fingers always turned an angry red, like a schoolmarm. Ring fingers were always meekly pale and jaundiced, while pinkies turned alarming shades of purple, like children holding their breath. There probably wouldn't be much of a market for this type of collection, though. Maybe i'll stick to collage.

In other news: mistletoe has been hung, greens festoon the apartment, the tape and wrapping paper and scissors are lying about. It may be frantic, but it's the happy kind. We even had–wait for it– rain.

Next year we are sending out a photo card with us in christmas sweaters! It will be grand. i'll have to try and give it some sort of seventies photo-finishing effect, plus i need to practice my poses.
Also: i'm thinking of having a buy-nothing holiday next year? Might be nice, you know: only friends, family, games, baked goods, (hopefully) snow, candles, and so on and so forth? No Amazon.com, cardboard boxes, packing slips, removing (or neglecting to remove) price tags. Hmmm. Sounds like a win.

Catch you on the flipside.