Wednesday, December 23
Pesto Lasagna
Boil 10 lasagna noodles in salted water. Extra al-dente. Run under cold water, pat dry and set aside. (this is for an 8x8 baking dish - perfect for 2 with leftovers, make more for a 9x13)
Next, in a blender add:
In a sauce pan add:
Now taste it. It should be really good - cheesey, pestoey, and yummy. Add salt and pepper to taste.
In a separate bowl, mix
Bake at 350 covered for 30 minutes, then for 20 minutes uncovered. The top should get bubbly and golden brown and delicious.
Let set for at least 15 minutes before serving.
Pair with a good chianti
Next, in a blender add:
- 4 oz fresh basil leaves
- 1 pint milk
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 2 garlic cloves
- 1/4 medium onion
In a sauce pan add:
- 2 tablespoons flour
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/2 cup of grated parmesean cheese - please use cheese from Parma, not the stuff in the green can.
Now taste it. It should be really good - cheesey, pestoey, and yummy. Add salt and pepper to taste.
In a separate bowl, mix
- 10 oz whole milk ricotta cheese (not that skim, part skim, or low fat, or reduced fat stuff - trust me, it makes a difference)
- 1 egg
- salt and pepper
Bake at 350 covered for 30 minutes, then for 20 minutes uncovered. The top should get bubbly and golden brown and delicious.
Let set for at least 15 minutes before serving.
Pair with a good chianti
Thursday, December 10
I'm Buff - and kinda healthy
I went for a physical yesterday. Yeah, you need to do that when you get old.
It turned out that I needed a tetanus shot. The nurse came to administer it. I took off my shirt. She put rubbing alcohol on my shoulder. Then she took the syringe and tried to pinch an inch or so of muscle on my shoulder to stab me. She couldn't grab the muscle. She told me "you need to relax your shoulder muscle."
"It is."
"Oh! Nice muscle tone." she raised her eyebrows.
In other medical related news, my LDL number is 168. Yup, that's dangerous - and I'm only 35. Anyway, my doctor has given me 3 months to clean up my diet and get the number down, or he's putting me on statins. He asked me if I regularly exercise, and then withdrew the question - he said I'm obviously getting a lot of exercise. I'm not fat, in fact he'd like to see me put on some weight. But he says I should not be eating so much saturated fat.
Well, sorry doc, I'm going to keep eating the fat. Give me drugs - I wanted to tell him to not bother with the 3 months. I'm not going to stop eating really good food. A daily dose of lipitor should keep my LDLs under 100, with very few side effects. And I get to keep eating bacon and hollandaise. This is a great country.
My doc says that in 5 years or so there should be a drug that will clean out all the plaque in the arteries. You'll take it once every 5 or 10 years and you'll have the arteries of an olympic athlete - even if you eat half a pound of bacon every morning. I can't wait.
It turned out that I needed a tetanus shot. The nurse came to administer it. I took off my shirt. She put rubbing alcohol on my shoulder. Then she took the syringe and tried to pinch an inch or so of muscle on my shoulder to stab me. She couldn't grab the muscle. She told me "you need to relax your shoulder muscle."
"It is."
"Oh! Nice muscle tone." she raised her eyebrows.
In other medical related news, my LDL number is 168. Yup, that's dangerous - and I'm only 35. Anyway, my doctor has given me 3 months to clean up my diet and get the number down, or he's putting me on statins. He asked me if I regularly exercise, and then withdrew the question - he said I'm obviously getting a lot of exercise. I'm not fat, in fact he'd like to see me put on some weight. But he says I should not be eating so much saturated fat.
Well, sorry doc, I'm going to keep eating the fat. Give me drugs - I wanted to tell him to not bother with the 3 months. I'm not going to stop eating really good food. A daily dose of lipitor should keep my LDLs under 100, with very few side effects. And I get to keep eating bacon and hollandaise. This is a great country.
My doc says that in 5 years or so there should be a drug that will clean out all the plaque in the arteries. You'll take it once every 5 or 10 years and you'll have the arteries of an olympic athlete - even if you eat half a pound of bacon every morning. I can't wait.
Wednesday, December 9
Awkward
So Lynn has invited me to a Christmas party. The company Christmas party where she works. Where Tim and Heidi work, too.
Awkward.
For new readers, Lynn is my new girl buddy, who was my old girl buddy, until she started sleeping with Tim. While she was doing that I started dating Heidi -and eventually we ended up sleeping together. How's that for a soap opera. Lynn, Tim, and Heidi all work in the same office - so I guess Lynn has overcome the awkwardness.
You know, it wouldn't surprise me if Heidi and Tim have dated in the past. There's something about them together.
Uh, yeah, how tangled.
Awkward.
For new readers, Lynn is my new girl buddy, who was my old girl buddy, until she started sleeping with Tim. While she was doing that I started dating Heidi -and eventually we ended up sleeping together. How's that for a soap opera. Lynn, Tim, and Heidi all work in the same office - so I guess Lynn has overcome the awkwardness.
You know, it wouldn't surprise me if Heidi and Tim have dated in the past. There's something about them together.
Uh, yeah, how tangled.
Monday, December 7
Contented Bliss
Hello, peeps. Yes, I've been actually having a life and not blogging about one. Lynn and I have been in a serious state of canoodling for the past week. Yes, a week. About 1/3 of the time of our last romantic encounter. And I must say it is probably the happiest I can remember being. We have been inseparable. Doing everything together - including showering. And the sex is amazing. OK, this is probably TMI and will gross you out, but I so love the taste of a woman. Heidi was fun. But she was very conservative when in comes to sex. Her idea of getting wild was doing it with a candle lit. Nothing but the missionary position for her. And seriously - nothing oral, at all. She said she didn't like it. I told her that was probably because she never had it done well. She agreed, but was never adventurous enough to try it with me. I really missed it. Lynn is - well - amazing and adventurous and - wow.
Tonight we parted, briefly, so I could go home - wash clothes and get another weeks worth. Later (after the last dryer load) I'll be headed back to her apartment in Los Gatos.
I have the key to her apartment again.
Maybe I'll get a drawer or two.
Sigh. (of contentment)
I did go paddling with paddle girl on Sunday morning. This was the only time I paddled in the last week. And I simply cannot keep up with her if I don't some extra mileage in during the week. Need to do something about that.
Anyway, she asked about my love life and I gave her the reader's digest version as we shared a thermos of french roast on the dock after our paddle. College buddy, to drinking buddy, to bed buddy, to cheating bitch, back to bed buddy again (new readers, go read here, here, and here, that's the gist of it).
"Do you trust her?" she asked
"Naw." I replied. "But I lover her."
"She's a lucky girl." She shook her head, "Men are weird."
Tonight we parted, briefly, so I could go home - wash clothes and get another weeks worth. Later (after the last dryer load) I'll be headed back to her apartment in Los Gatos.
I have the key to her apartment again.
Maybe I'll get a drawer or two.
Sigh. (of contentment)
I did go paddling with paddle girl on Sunday morning. This was the only time I paddled in the last week. And I simply cannot keep up with her if I don't some extra mileage in during the week. Need to do something about that.
Anyway, she asked about my love life and I gave her the reader's digest version as we shared a thermos of french roast on the dock after our paddle. College buddy, to drinking buddy, to bed buddy, to cheating bitch, back to bed buddy again (new readers, go read here, here, and here, that's the gist of it).
"Do you trust her?" she asked
"Naw." I replied. "But I lover her."
"She's a lucky girl." She shook her head, "Men are weird."
Monday, November 30
Moth to a flame
I think we all knew this post was inevitable. Yup. I did it.
Wrong. So absolutely wrong. I did it anyway.
Here’s the thing. I wanted it. I really wanted it. I know my friend Kristen said that I should be able to stay away for myself. But that assumes that I want to stay away. I don’t. I so f-ing love her. I always wonder why girls go back to the bad boys. Why do I go running back to the bad girl?
Why does the moth fly into the flame?
You know, I do a lot of things that are bad for me. I eat fatty foods. I mean really fatty food – I eat hollandaise sauce. Which is really just egg yolks and butter whipped up together. These are two of the worst foods on the planet for folks who might develop heart disease. Guess what? I’m an American, in all likelihood going to die of heart disease. I love steak sandwiches slathered with mayonnaise. I love eggs benedict. I drink. I drink a lot. I like the way that alcohol makes me feel. I think nothing of sitting down and drinking a bottle of wine – at one sitting. No point in dying of that heart attack and having a pristine liver.
If it feels good, do it. I’ve made peace with the fact that this philosophy will probably shorten my life substantially. And it will result in hangovers, and all manner of other problems. So be it. Maybe one day I will regret this. But for now, I’m being true to myself.
It was Sunday. I was still recovering from a day on the water with paddle girl - so I wasn't up for any outdoor activity. I had read and re-read all the blogs I follow. Check all manner of e-mail accounts – nothing new here. I was bored. No, I knew what I was thinking. I was alone. She was alone – well I presumed she was alone. Maybe she’s banging her neighbor, or another co-worker. Who knows. I wanted to know. I was so hoping that she was alone.
When I could no longer stand it, I called her.
“Hey” she said answering the phone “it’s been a while.”
“How you doing?”
“Not that bad. You?”
“I’m hungry again.” She knew that that meant.
“Good for you. I knew you’d get there.”
I’m glad you had faith that I wasn’t broken for life. I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know what to say next.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just… I’m…” I sighed. Here goes. Hold on heart. Here we go again. “I’d really like to see you.”
“I’d like to see you, too.” was that a sob I heard on the other end of the phone?
There it was again. Yes, it was a sob. Of shame? Joy? Elation? Remorse? Sorrow? Who knows.
“Come over. I’m home. Whenever you’d like.”
“I’ll be there soon.” I hung up.
I took my car (not the truck) and drove down to Los Gatos. I’m sure that I was speeding all the way. As I pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, I saw her standing in the parking lot. I pulled into one of the visitor parking spaces and she walked up to the car on the driver’s side. I got out and she hugged me tight. We kissed. She started to cry. (I’m just going to assume that these are tears of joy). I cried, too. We stood there in the parking lot for what seemed forever. She pulled back, put her hands on my cheeks, looked me in the eyes, and said “I love you, Rich.” She kissed me again. “I’ve always loved you.” This was like the end of Slumdog millionaire – but without the Indian music and the dancing. You know what I mean.
We hurried to her apartment and stumbled in the door. We hastily undressed each other – leaving a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom. She was wearing that blue camisole that I just love. I stopped momentarily to admire it.
We made the maddest, most passionate love ever. Twice.
We collapsed into each others arms and I drifted blissfully off to sleep.
Wrong. So absolutely wrong. I did it anyway.
Here’s the thing. I wanted it. I really wanted it. I know my friend Kristen said that I should be able to stay away for myself. But that assumes that I want to stay away. I don’t. I so f-ing love her. I always wonder why girls go back to the bad boys. Why do I go running back to the bad girl?
Why does the moth fly into the flame?
You know, I do a lot of things that are bad for me. I eat fatty foods. I mean really fatty food – I eat hollandaise sauce. Which is really just egg yolks and butter whipped up together. These are two of the worst foods on the planet for folks who might develop heart disease. Guess what? I’m an American, in all likelihood going to die of heart disease. I love steak sandwiches slathered with mayonnaise. I love eggs benedict. I drink. I drink a lot. I like the way that alcohol makes me feel. I think nothing of sitting down and drinking a bottle of wine – at one sitting. No point in dying of that heart attack and having a pristine liver.
If it feels good, do it. I’ve made peace with the fact that this philosophy will probably shorten my life substantially. And it will result in hangovers, and all manner of other problems. So be it. Maybe one day I will regret this. But for now, I’m being true to myself.
It was Sunday. I was still recovering from a day on the water with paddle girl - so I wasn't up for any outdoor activity. I had read and re-read all the blogs I follow. Check all manner of e-mail accounts – nothing new here. I was bored. No, I knew what I was thinking. I was alone. She was alone – well I presumed she was alone. Maybe she’s banging her neighbor, or another co-worker. Who knows. I wanted to know. I was so hoping that she was alone.
When I could no longer stand it, I called her.
“Hey” she said answering the phone “it’s been a while.”
“How you doing?”
“Not that bad. You?”
“I’m hungry again.” She knew that that meant.
“Good for you. I knew you’d get there.”
I’m glad you had faith that I wasn’t broken for life. I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know what to say next.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just… I’m…” I sighed. Here goes. Hold on heart. Here we go again. “I’d really like to see you.”
“I’d like to see you, too.” was that a sob I heard on the other end of the phone?
There it was again. Yes, it was a sob. Of shame? Joy? Elation? Remorse? Sorrow? Who knows.
“Come over. I’m home. Whenever you’d like.”
“I’ll be there soon.” I hung up.
I took my car (not the truck) and drove down to Los Gatos. I’m sure that I was speeding all the way. As I pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, I saw her standing in the parking lot. I pulled into one of the visitor parking spaces and she walked up to the car on the driver’s side. I got out and she hugged me tight. We kissed. She started to cry. (I’m just going to assume that these are tears of joy). I cried, too. We stood there in the parking lot for what seemed forever. She pulled back, put her hands on my cheeks, looked me in the eyes, and said “I love you, Rich.” She kissed me again. “I’ve always loved you.” This was like the end of Slumdog millionaire – but without the Indian music and the dancing. You know what I mean.
We hurried to her apartment and stumbled in the door. We hastily undressed each other – leaving a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom. She was wearing that blue camisole that I just love. I stopped momentarily to admire it.
We made the maddest, most passionate love ever. Twice.
We collapsed into each others arms and I drifted blissfully off to sleep.
Sunday, November 29
Your butt is steaming
That's what paddle girl said to me as I got out of my boat on Saturday morning. I usually wear wet-suit pants with a dry-top. But unable to remove the funk from the wet suit, I opted for a better smelling fleece pair of pants. Paddle girl makes me work pretty hard - and I work up a good sweat (hence the funk). My fleece pants were drenched with sweat (sorry if that's TMI) and it was probably 45 degrees out. And it was a funny sentiment.
She then invited me out for breakfast. I agreed to go if she let me use the shower at her house first. Her car is in the shop, so we loaded up the boats onto my truck and headed back to her house. She lives a couple minutes from where we were paddling. I took a shower and changed into fresh smelling clothes. Then she cleaned up. She lives in a 2 bedroom house with 1 small bathroom. She shares it with 3 other girls. She has 4 boats in her garage - including a surf-ski and an olympic racing boat. Cool.
We headed out to a local eatery near campus that caters to college students. While we were waiting for our food, and lingering over coffee, she put her hand on mine. OK, I've been dodging this for a while. Looks like I need to take it head-on.
"Um, I think you're really great, but, I'm not at a point where I can get involved with you." I pulled my hand out from under hers. She looked hurt, and surprised.
"The guys from the paddle club. They talked to you."
"Uh, yeah, they did."
"Bastards. I wish they'd mind their own business. They can't tell me who I can date."
"Before you blame them - first, they didn't tell me not to date you. They told me not to hurt you. There's a pretty big difference. I think they really care about you. At least they mean well."
She shook her head, "Yeah, I guess."
"Even if they didn't talk to me, I couldn't get involved with you, not now."
"Why?"
I might as well come clean. "I'm in love."
"I thought big boobs was gone?"
"No not her."
"Runaway bride?"
I laughed - "Shit, this is complicated. The girl that broke my heart."
"Are you with her?"
"No. But... I don't know. I'm not over her. It wouldn't be fair to you."
She narrowed her eyes. "What? You're going to pass on relationships until you're over her? What about Big Boobs?"
"Big boobs was a bad idea. And I know, it sounds stupid - especially when I'm talking to someone as cute as you. Give me some time. We can paddle together. You'll find some young college stud..."
"You mean immature, poor, boys?"
I laughed. I remember being so unhappy about Lynn being involved with inappropriately older men. Now, that I'm older and wiser, I can see some merit to the arrangement.
She then invited me out for breakfast. I agreed to go if she let me use the shower at her house first. Her car is in the shop, so we loaded up the boats onto my truck and headed back to her house. She lives a couple minutes from where we were paddling. I took a shower and changed into fresh smelling clothes. Then she cleaned up. She lives in a 2 bedroom house with 1 small bathroom. She shares it with 3 other girls. She has 4 boats in her garage - including a surf-ski and an olympic racing boat. Cool.
We headed out to a local eatery near campus that caters to college students. While we were waiting for our food, and lingering over coffee, she put her hand on mine. OK, I've been dodging this for a while. Looks like I need to take it head-on.
"Um, I think you're really great, but, I'm not at a point where I can get involved with you." I pulled my hand out from under hers. She looked hurt, and surprised.
"The guys from the paddle club. They talked to you."
"Uh, yeah, they did."
"Bastards. I wish they'd mind their own business. They can't tell me who I can date."
"Before you blame them - first, they didn't tell me not to date you. They told me not to hurt you. There's a pretty big difference. I think they really care about you. At least they mean well."
She shook her head, "Yeah, I guess."
"Even if they didn't talk to me, I couldn't get involved with you, not now."
"Why?"
I might as well come clean. "I'm in love."
"I thought big boobs was gone?"
"No not her."
"Runaway bride?"
I laughed - "Shit, this is complicated. The girl that broke my heart."
"Are you with her?"
"No. But... I don't know. I'm not over her. It wouldn't be fair to you."
She narrowed her eyes. "What? You're going to pass on relationships until you're over her? What about Big Boobs?"
"Big boobs was a bad idea. And I know, it sounds stupid - especially when I'm talking to someone as cute as you. Give me some time. We can paddle together. You'll find some young college stud..."
"You mean immature, poor, boys?"
I laughed. I remember being so unhappy about Lynn being involved with inappropriately older men. Now, that I'm older and wiser, I can see some merit to the arrangement.
Friday, November 27
Give me all your fries
Today I took paddle-girl on our "date" to the paddle club pot luck. I brought a bunch of my turkey rollups in gravy. These were a resounding success, though I did take a bit of good natured ribbing about them not being proper beach food. It was not a great day for a beach party. The temperature never got much over 50 and it was overcast and threatening to rain, fortunately it didn't.
I picked her up in my car at about 10 in the morning. I had the top down, and the windows up with the heater on. She was waiting for me outside of her house. "This is your car?" she asked, with a bit of disbelief.
"Uh, yeah. I can't haul the boats around on it so it's not really practical - but it's really nice. You want the top up?"
"Naw, keep it down. Wow this thing is great." I had pre-warmed the passenger seat with the seat heater. She got in. "Oh, wow - heated seats. I love this. I thought you were poor. You drive that crappy truck and have a cheap boat. I bet you get a lot a girls with this car."
You know, it's weird. I never thought that girls would pay any attention to cars - I always thought it was a guy thing. But girls really do notice this ride. If I had any idea that driving an expensive car would actually be a chick magnet I would have bought one sooner.
Anyway, paddle girl was bringing jojos (fried potato wedges) as her dish to the potluck, and asked me to stop at the local Safeway to pick them up. We went to the deli counter. She told the guy behind the counter "Gimme all your fries." There must have been 4 pounds of them. We took them on a deli tray with a couple of fist fulls of ketchup packets.
"I though this was supposed to be leftovers?" I asked her "What's you do for Thanksgiving?"
"Cheeseburger." She shrugged.
"Not even a turkey sandwich?"
"Naw, just me and my roomates. We need the time to study, not cook." I had long ago forgotten the pressures of carrying a full load of classes.
We arrived at the potluck just as food tables were being set up. The beauty of this arrangement was soon obvious. There are a bunch of club members who are older and do to whole thanksgiving thing, and have a ton of left overs. And there are bunch who are college athletes, with no money and voratious appetites. The kids get fed and the older folks don't need to eat turkey casserole for a week. Win-win.
Maurizio showed up fashionably late, bringing a couple of cases of beer in a cooler. He put the cooler next to the food table, extracted 2 beers from it and made a bee line for Brad. Looks like the two of them will be a couple, if Maurizio has his way.
Debbie sat down with paddle girl and me and proceeded to gossip about folks that she worked with and folks in the paddle club. She quite acted like she was talking with a couple of the girls, which I found amusing. But paddle girl seemed to be annoyed.
Even though this was not a paddling event, some of the guys brought surf boats and were out playing in the waves after lunch.
The event lasted well into the late afternoon. Paddle girl and I headed out about 4 in the afternoon, as the sky began to darken. She was uncharacteristically quiet as we were headed towards Santa Cruz. She is usually quite cheerful. I though something might be wrong.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Whoops, I thought. During the day there had been nothing "date" like at all about aour outing. While I am truely flattered that a 20 something college girl might be interested in me - a romantic relationship with her is not what I want. "Sure" I replied to her query.
"Are you gay?"
I tried really hard not to laugh - and almost succeeded. She had been talking with Debbie.
"I mean, you told me about big boobs, and your runaway bride - but, I mean you could have been talking about guys."
"Do I seem gay to you?"
"Well, no, but you can't always tell."
"Good point. No, I'm not gay. I've always had a real weakness for women. My buddy Maurizio, however, has always had a weakess for men. Anyway, at the club meeting last week Debbie started talking to me to find out about Maurizio. Sometimes I'll let girls think he's straight - for the occasional humorous outcomes, but I told her he was gay. She just assumed that since I was with him I was gay, too. That it rubs off somehow. I never corrected her."
"Oh, good." She seemed quite relieved at this. "Hey, you want to pull a dawn patrol tomorrow?" I need to get some more hours on the water.
Oh, no. I really don't want to get up that early. "Can we make it morning patrol?"
"Sure. 8:00?"
Much better. "OK."
"My car's still being worked on. Can you pick up me and my boat?"
I do need to keep from getting entangled with this girl.
I picked her up in my car at about 10 in the morning. I had the top down, and the windows up with the heater on. She was waiting for me outside of her house. "This is your car?" she asked, with a bit of disbelief.
"Uh, yeah. I can't haul the boats around on it so it's not really practical - but it's really nice. You want the top up?"
"Naw, keep it down. Wow this thing is great." I had pre-warmed the passenger seat with the seat heater. She got in. "Oh, wow - heated seats. I love this. I thought you were poor. You drive that crappy truck and have a cheap boat. I bet you get a lot a girls with this car."
You know, it's weird. I never thought that girls would pay any attention to cars - I always thought it was a guy thing. But girls really do notice this ride. If I had any idea that driving an expensive car would actually be a chick magnet I would have bought one sooner.
Anyway, paddle girl was bringing jojos (fried potato wedges) as her dish to the potluck, and asked me to stop at the local Safeway to pick them up. We went to the deli counter. She told the guy behind the counter "Gimme all your fries." There must have been 4 pounds of them. We took them on a deli tray with a couple of fist fulls of ketchup packets.
"I though this was supposed to be leftovers?" I asked her "What's you do for Thanksgiving?"
"Cheeseburger." She shrugged.
"Not even a turkey sandwich?"
"Naw, just me and my roomates. We need the time to study, not cook." I had long ago forgotten the pressures of carrying a full load of classes.
We arrived at the potluck just as food tables were being set up. The beauty of this arrangement was soon obvious. There are a bunch of club members who are older and do to whole thanksgiving thing, and have a ton of left overs. And there are bunch who are college athletes, with no money and voratious appetites. The kids get fed and the older folks don't need to eat turkey casserole for a week. Win-win.
Maurizio showed up fashionably late, bringing a couple of cases of beer in a cooler. He put the cooler next to the food table, extracted 2 beers from it and made a bee line for Brad. Looks like the two of them will be a couple, if Maurizio has his way.
Debbie sat down with paddle girl and me and proceeded to gossip about folks that she worked with and folks in the paddle club. She quite acted like she was talking with a couple of the girls, which I found amusing. But paddle girl seemed to be annoyed.
Even though this was not a paddling event, some of the guys brought surf boats and were out playing in the waves after lunch.
The event lasted well into the late afternoon. Paddle girl and I headed out about 4 in the afternoon, as the sky began to darken. She was uncharacteristically quiet as we were headed towards Santa Cruz. She is usually quite cheerful. I though something might be wrong.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Whoops, I thought. During the day there had been nothing "date" like at all about aour outing. While I am truely flattered that a 20 something college girl might be interested in me - a romantic relationship with her is not what I want. "Sure" I replied to her query.
"Are you gay?"
I tried really hard not to laugh - and almost succeeded. She had been talking with Debbie.
"I mean, you told me about big boobs, and your runaway bride - but, I mean you could have been talking about guys."
"Do I seem gay to you?"
"Well, no, but you can't always tell."
"Good point. No, I'm not gay. I've always had a real weakness for women. My buddy Maurizio, however, has always had a weakess for men. Anyway, at the club meeting last week Debbie started talking to me to find out about Maurizio. Sometimes I'll let girls think he's straight - for the occasional humorous outcomes, but I told her he was gay. She just assumed that since I was with him I was gay, too. That it rubs off somehow. I never corrected her."
"Oh, good." She seemed quite relieved at this. "Hey, you want to pull a dawn patrol tomorrow?" I need to get some more hours on the water.
Oh, no. I really don't want to get up that early. "Can we make it morning patrol?"
"Sure. 8:00?"
Much better. "OK."
"My car's still being worked on. Can you pick up me and my boat?"
I do need to keep from getting entangled with this girl.
Tuesday, November 24
Stuffed Turkey Breast
I love roasted turkey. I hate leftovers. After 2 days - turkey goes bad (at least as far as my palate is concerned). So Thanksgiving is a dilemma. Usually I go over to someone else's house. Last year it was a visit to Liz and Tom's. (I just re-read that blog entry - wow has my life changed in the past year.) This year - probably since I'm not hanging out with Lynn - I was not invited to the usual festivities. That sucks.
Anyway Thanksgiving dinner is just me and Jason here at the house. So this year I decided to try these turkey roll-ups - so as not to have gobs and gobs of food that gets thrown out. But still get that great taste of roasted turkey and stuffing.
a 2 pound turkey breast
2 cups fine bread crumbs
2 tablespoon minced onion
3 tablespoon minced celery
1 tablespoon minced fresh sage leaves
1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme leaves
5 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup cream
salt and freshly ground pepper
For the bread crumbs I usually take some stale french or italian bread and run it through the blender. You can use stuffing croutons (but then go light on the sage) but you'll need to crush them for this application.
You can do any of the usual stuffing variations here - add bacon, sausage, use cornbread crumbs, whatever you like. But you need to keep a fairly fine texture.
Some folks don't like celery - you can substitute all onions or add some carrots.
Anyway, just mix all the ingredients up in a bowl. It should form a kind of paste - if it's dry and crumbly you should add an egg yolk or more cream.
Take a turkey breast and slice it into 1/2" to 3/4" thick steaks against the grain. Pound them out to 1/4" to 3/8" thickness. You're looking to make them about 6 or 7 inches long and about 4 or 5 inches wide.
Salt and pepper to taste. Spread on a thin layer of the stuffing - about 1/8" thick and roll it up. Tie with butcher's string.
Brown well in a skillet (not a non stick one - you can't brown it well, and then you can't make a good gravy) then place in an oven proof dish and bake in a 350 degree oven for 20 to 30 minutes until the internal temperature reaches 160.
Use the pan drippings to make a gravy. Serve with mashed potatoes.
Thanksgiving without the leftovers!
Anyway Thanksgiving dinner is just me and Jason here at the house. So this year I decided to try these turkey roll-ups - so as not to have gobs and gobs of food that gets thrown out. But still get that great taste of roasted turkey and stuffing.
a 2 pound turkey breast
2 cups fine bread crumbs
2 tablespoon minced onion
3 tablespoon minced celery
1 tablespoon minced fresh sage leaves
1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme leaves
5 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup cream
salt and freshly ground pepper
For the bread crumbs I usually take some stale french or italian bread and run it through the blender. You can use stuffing croutons (but then go light on the sage) but you'll need to crush them for this application.
You can do any of the usual stuffing variations here - add bacon, sausage, use cornbread crumbs, whatever you like. But you need to keep a fairly fine texture.
Some folks don't like celery - you can substitute all onions or add some carrots.
Anyway, just mix all the ingredients up in a bowl. It should form a kind of paste - if it's dry and crumbly you should add an egg yolk or more cream.
Take a turkey breast and slice it into 1/2" to 3/4" thick steaks against the grain. Pound them out to 1/4" to 3/8" thickness. You're looking to make them about 6 or 7 inches long and about 4 or 5 inches wide.
Salt and pepper to taste. Spread on a thin layer of the stuffing - about 1/8" thick and roll it up. Tie with butcher's string.
Brown well in a skillet (not a non stick one - you can't brown it well, and then you can't make a good gravy) then place in an oven proof dish and bake in a 350 degree oven for 20 to 30 minutes until the internal temperature reaches 160.
Use the pan drippings to make a gravy. Serve with mashed potatoes.
Thanksgiving without the leftovers!
Monday, November 23
Ouch
Every... muscle... in... my... body... hurts...
Every single one. It hurts to type. It has been 3 weeks since I was out paddling. It's amazing how much strength and stamina you can lose when you stop exercising. Even for just a couple of weeks.
I've been sleeping in gloriously late in the mornings. Typical wakeup time last week was about 10 a.m. Getting into the office at around 11 - like most of the other engineers. It is so nice. But since I'm sleeping better than I have in ages, there's no time to paddle. And no anger driving the paddling.
But Sunday, I had agreed with paddle-girl to go on our morning paddle, which is at 5:30 a.m. in Santa Cruz. She calls it "dawn patrol". At that hour the sky is just starting to let through some daylight. We're usually on the water by 6. We can see where we are going, but just barely. We do wear strobes on our pfds so the occasional early morning fisherman can see us (and I can see her when she gets too far ahead of me).
Paddle-girl says she took it easy on me - but I was completely dead by the time we were done with a 90 minute work out. I needed her help to pull my 58 pound boat out of the water.
After I slightly recovered she suggested going for coffee.
Gasping for breath I waved at my clothes "I don't think I can go out in polite society like this."
"There's a place up the road with outdoor tables - you're fine."
Trust me, I've got a lot of funk in my wetsuit. I'm not fine. "Sure." I said.
After we loaded the boats onto our respective vehicles I stripped down to my briefs and hosed myself off on the dock and changed into some spare clothes I had in the truck. I think it helped. And paddle-girl laughed at me while I took a very cold hose shower.
We drove up to the coffee shop and ordered some lattes and muffins and sat outside. It was pretty cold - so we had the outdoor seating to ourselves.
"You look more relaxed than usual. Did you make up with 'big-boobs'?"
"Nope. I haven't heard from Heidi since before I went to on my trip."
"Got a replacement for her?"
Umm, why do you ask? I'm starting to wonder if paddle-girl has designs on me. "Nope, my therapist says I shouldn't be sleeping around."
"You're in therapy?" she seemed slightly alarmed.
"Uh, no, bad joke. I kinda had a bad break-up, and Heidi was the 'rebound-girl' I'm ashamed to say."
"Why are you ashamed to say that? I would think that someone with big boobs would make a good rebound girl."
I laughed. I'm hoping she was joking. "I think I hurt her - and I don't feel good about that. Heidi was really fun, but I couldn't give her what she needed."
"Wow, a guy with a concience." She took a long sip of coffee - she seemed to need to think about this. "Hey, are you going to the 'left-over' potluck on friday?"
"Yeah."
"Can you give me a ride? I'm having this guy do the brakes on my car over the weekend."
"Sure, I can drive you."
"Great, it's a date, then."
Every single one. It hurts to type. It has been 3 weeks since I was out paddling. It's amazing how much strength and stamina you can lose when you stop exercising. Even for just a couple of weeks.
I've been sleeping in gloriously late in the mornings. Typical wakeup time last week was about 10 a.m. Getting into the office at around 11 - like most of the other engineers. It is so nice. But since I'm sleeping better than I have in ages, there's no time to paddle. And no anger driving the paddling.
But Sunday, I had agreed with paddle-girl to go on our morning paddle, which is at 5:30 a.m. in Santa Cruz. She calls it "dawn patrol". At that hour the sky is just starting to let through some daylight. We're usually on the water by 6. We can see where we are going, but just barely. We do wear strobes on our pfds so the occasional early morning fisherman can see us (and I can see her when she gets too far ahead of me).
Paddle-girl says she took it easy on me - but I was completely dead by the time we were done with a 90 minute work out. I needed her help to pull my 58 pound boat out of the water.
After I slightly recovered she suggested going for coffee.
Gasping for breath I waved at my clothes "I don't think I can go out in polite society like this."
"There's a place up the road with outdoor tables - you're fine."
Trust me, I've got a lot of funk in my wetsuit. I'm not fine. "Sure." I said.
After we loaded the boats onto our respective vehicles I stripped down to my briefs and hosed myself off on the dock and changed into some spare clothes I had in the truck. I think it helped. And paddle-girl laughed at me while I took a very cold hose shower.
We drove up to the coffee shop and ordered some lattes and muffins and sat outside. It was pretty cold - so we had the outdoor seating to ourselves.
"You look more relaxed than usual. Did you make up with 'big-boobs'?"
"Nope. I haven't heard from Heidi since before I went to on my trip."
"Got a replacement for her?"
Umm, why do you ask? I'm starting to wonder if paddle-girl has designs on me. "Nope, my therapist says I shouldn't be sleeping around."
"You're in therapy?" she seemed slightly alarmed.
"Uh, no, bad joke. I kinda had a bad break-up, and Heidi was the 'rebound-girl' I'm ashamed to say."
"Why are you ashamed to say that? I would think that someone with big boobs would make a good rebound girl."
I laughed. I'm hoping she was joking. "I think I hurt her - and I don't feel good about that. Heidi was really fun, but I couldn't give her what she needed."
"Wow, a guy with a concience." She took a long sip of coffee - she seemed to need to think about this. "Hey, are you going to the 'left-over' potluck on friday?"
"Yeah."
"Can you give me a ride? I'm having this guy do the brakes on my car over the weekend."
"Sure, I can drive you."
"Great, it's a date, then."
Saturday, November 21
Windsurfing
It's been ages since I have been out windsurfing. When I was looking over my blog I noticed that there was only one entry devoted to windsurfing. That's not enough. So today I grabbed the windsurfer and headed out on the water. I need to find a good windsurfing club. Since I'm not hanging out with Jim anymore, I don't have a windsurfing buddy. And it's dangerous - and stupid - to go out on the water without a buddy looking out for you. But I did it anyway. It was really fun. It was cold and windy today. A good day to be out on the water. I need to wind surf more.
I'll be padding with paddle-girl tomorrow.
I think it will be hard to wake up. I've been sleeping well. And eating well, since Heidi took off. And since Lynn is single again. No more waking up at insane hours of the morning. It's weird. I thought it might have been the jet lag, but I seem to have found peace - for the first time in a long time. It feels so good.
I've been cooking again - for myself. And it's been good. Life is returning to normal.
In a completely unrelated topic, does anyone know how to get the funk out of a wetsuit?
I'll be padding with paddle-girl tomorrow.
I think it will be hard to wake up. I've been sleeping well. And eating well, since Heidi took off. And since Lynn is single again. No more waking up at insane hours of the morning. It's weird. I thought it might have been the jet lag, but I seem to have found peace - for the first time in a long time. It feels so good.
I've been cooking again - for myself. And it's been good. Life is returning to normal.
In a completely unrelated topic, does anyone know how to get the funk out of a wetsuit?
Wednesday, November 18
Paddle Club
Today Maurizio and I went to the paddle club meeting. The club meets in the banquet room of a local restaurant – and bar. There seems to be a social half hour before things get started where everyone gets a beer or two and some food from the bar and settles in. Maurizio and I took a table near the rear, and we were joined by paddle girl. She was wearing retro-hightop basketball shoes, faded jeans and a green hoodie. I realized I had never seen her without a dry suit or paddle wear on. She actually has curves.
The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.
Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.
I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.
“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”
“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”
“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”
The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”
Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”
“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.
Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.
I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”
“Hi, I’m Rich.”
She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.
I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.
“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”
“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.
“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”
“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”
“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.
“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”
Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”
“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.
“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”
It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.
Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.
“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.
“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.
“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”
“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.
“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”
“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”
“Huh?”
I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.
“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”
“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”
“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”
“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”
“How old is she?”
“24.”
“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”
I laughed at him.
“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”
“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “
“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.
Perv.
Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.
The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.
Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.
I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.
“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”
“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”
“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”
The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”
Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”
“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.
Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.
I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”
“Hi, I’m Rich.”
She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.
I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.
“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”
“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.
“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”
“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”
“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.
“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”
Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”
“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.
“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”
It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.
Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.
“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.
“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.
“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”
“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.
“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”
“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”
“Huh?”
I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.
“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”
“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”
“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”
“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”
“How old is she?”
“24.”
“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”
I laughed at him.
“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”
“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “
“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.
Perv.
Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.
Saturday, November 14
China
I’ve never been to China before. It is incredible. The new parts of town are like any major city in the US - but newer and bigger and bolder - wow. Big buildings, wide roads, lots of lights, traffic, hustle and bustle. The old parts are a jumble of old and dirty and traditional and crowded. China is poised to become the second largest economy, anyone who doubts that they will become the first before too long should have a visit.The food is amazing. I like Chinese food, but never thought much of it. But after tasting the food here, I get it. I know what the places in the USA are trying to make. Last night I had a simple pork and noodle dish, but the flavor was just amazing. I know I’ll never be able to replicate it, but I’m going to try. It was awesome.
There is a lot of weird food, too. They eat a lot of organ meat, tendons, fat, and other things I have a hard time with. During one breakfast with my hosts I had a dish which ensures that the eater will advance a station in life - yeah, it was that good.
Now I'm on my way home from Cheng-du, to Beijing, to Tokyo, to San Francisco - 19 hours en route. Fortunately, business class once I get to Beijing.
______________
In other news, I got a text from paddle-girl:
Dawn Patrol? Sunday?
I responded:
Depends on the jet lag
No further calls from Heidi. Hrmph.
_____________
I wrote this in the airport in Cheng-du on Friday - but it failed to post (darn chinese censors!) Anyway, reposting now - san pics. Blogger is being difficult with my travel photos. Grrr.
Sunday, November 8
Heidi called
One of the funny things about Japan is that they use a completely different phone standard than the rest of the world. So I was without cell phone coverage since Monday.
When I turned on my phone here in Shanghai, I got a whole mess of missed calls. I noticed that Heidi called. Once, Thursday afternoon pacific time. She left no message. No text. No other apparent attempt at contact.
Hmmm, what's the protocol here? Do I call her back? I'm thinking not.
When I turned on my phone here in Shanghai, I got a whole mess of missed calls. I noticed that Heidi called. Once, Thursday afternoon pacific time. She left no message. No text. No other apparent attempt at contact.
Hmmm, what's the protocol here? Do I call her back? I'm thinking not.
Saturday, November 7
Ohayo Gozaimasu
Greetings from Osaka.
The last week has been both amazing and hectic.
Arrived in Tokyo on Tuesday afternoon, well rested and ready to go. Man I love business class. They put me up in the Hyatt in Shinjuku. Nice place. Wandered around the neighborhood on Tuesday night after checking in. Turns out east of the train station is, um, the wrong side of the tracks as it were. While I was walking around an elderly well dressed japanese man asked me in impecable english if I was interested in "a nice young japanese girl." When I declined he looked confused - "perhaps a boy?" Again I politely declined. He asked me what I was looking for - I'm pretty sure that, for a price, he would have acquired it for me. I told him that I may have just wandered into the wrong part of town.
Getting up on Wednesday morning, I had a beautiful view of Mt Fuji from my room. Turns out that is a really rare occurrence - Mt. Fuji is visible from Tokyo about 15 days a year. It was quite a treat.
After meetings on Wednesday, the folks I was with invited me out to dinner. Those folks can really drink. First, we went out for sake. We hit a place that had about 150 different sakes. I had never had so many different kinds before. Toward the end things started to get fuzzy, but I do recall some really good and distinct sakes. Then we went to a place for sushi. It was amazing. You can't get sushi like this in America. I really like the tuna, blue fin - although I eat this rarely as it is being fished into extinction - yellow fin, albacore (yes, chicken of the sea - but damn tasty as sushi). However, I cannot stomach the mollusks - squid, octopus, cuttlefish, uni (sea urchin). Once my hosts uncovered this squeamishness they took great delight in trying to get me to eat raw dead squishy things. I did not embarrass myself. Sushi was consumed with many large (about 1 liter) glasses of Asahi beer. After all this, we went to a japanese pub - for yet more drinking. Very cool old japan decor. Lots more beer.
I got back to the hotel near midnight and crashed - hoping I could get up in the morning for yet more work.
Thursday evening I took the Shinkansen for Osaka. Friday was busy with work, but Saturday I had to myself. I visited Osaka-jo - the medieval japanese castle. I was quite disappointed to discover that it was a reconstruction - completed in 1997 and is made of concrete and has elevators and air conditioning. From the outside it looks really amazing and the grounds were wonderful.
I'm off to china.
The last week has been both amazing and hectic.
Arrived in Tokyo on Tuesday afternoon, well rested and ready to go. Man I love business class. They put me up in the Hyatt in Shinjuku. Nice place. Wandered around the neighborhood on Tuesday night after checking in. Turns out east of the train station is, um, the wrong side of the tracks as it were. While I was walking around an elderly well dressed japanese man asked me in impecable english if I was interested in "a nice young japanese girl." When I declined he looked confused - "perhaps a boy?" Again I politely declined. He asked me what I was looking for - I'm pretty sure that, for a price, he would have acquired it for me. I told him that I may have just wandered into the wrong part of town.
Getting up on Wednesday morning, I had a beautiful view of Mt Fuji from my room. Turns out that is a really rare occurrence - Mt. Fuji is visible from Tokyo about 15 days a year. It was quite a treat.
After meetings on Wednesday, the folks I was with invited me out to dinner. Those folks can really drink. First, we went out for sake. We hit a place that had about 150 different sakes. I had never had so many different kinds before. Toward the end things started to get fuzzy, but I do recall some really good and distinct sakes. Then we went to a place for sushi. It was amazing. You can't get sushi like this in America. I really like the tuna, blue fin - although I eat this rarely as it is being fished into extinction - yellow fin, albacore (yes, chicken of the sea - but damn tasty as sushi). However, I cannot stomach the mollusks - squid, octopus, cuttlefish, uni (sea urchin). Once my hosts uncovered this squeamishness they took great delight in trying to get me to eat raw dead squishy things. I did not embarrass myself. Sushi was consumed with many large (about 1 liter) glasses of Asahi beer. After all this, we went to a japanese pub - for yet more drinking. Very cool old japan decor. Lots more beer.
I got back to the hotel near midnight and crashed - hoping I could get up in the morning for yet more work.
Thursday evening I took the Shinkansen for Osaka. Friday was busy with work, but Saturday I had to myself. I visited Osaka-jo - the medieval japanese castle. I was quite disappointed to discover that it was a reconstruction - completed in 1997 and is made of concrete and has elevators and air conditioning. From the outside it looks really amazing and the grounds were wonderful.
I'm off to china.
Tuesday, November 3
My 200th Post
36000 feet up - somewhere over the Pacific ocean. United flight 838 SFO-NRT – Seat 13B. Upper deck 747. Paid business class. This is the way to travel. Seat 13A is empty. The company sent a limo to my house to take me to the airport – it’s cheaper than paying for parking at the airport for 12 days. There’s a 15” flat screen monitor built into the seat. Video on demand. AC power with a standard plug. A seat that reclines to a 6’ 6” flat bed. Noise canceling headphones. A connection for my iPod. They brought me a nice glass of champagne before the flight departed.
It’s an 11 hour flight. I though I would take some of the time to re-read my blog. I write the entries into a word file, and copy them into blogger. So I have the whole thing in one file. Now it’s weighing in at 283 pages. (There are about 40 posts that I did not put up, some too personal, some too x-rated, some too lame) I’ve written a damn novel (it just needs a happy ending). It’s been a bit over a year now. New reader? Start from the beginning – read it in order. As I re-read it, I laughed and I cried.
I could not have made up this story – I’m just not that creative. And everything written here is true – it happened. The details, places, names, and other things have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty. I have taken the occasional literary license to provide comic relief. And I’ve probably over dramatized some things (as Maurizio says, I’m a drama queen). But the gist of the story is god’s honest truth. If I made this up, I’d be better looking, better paid, and I’d get the girl a hell of a lot more often.
My interest in writing this has waxed and waned – but in the end I’m glad I did it. I didn’t know a broken heart could hurt so much. I had no idea. Usually, I don’t keep a record of my life. I just collect random things to remind me – a boarding pass to Sydney, the admission ticket to the casino in Monte Carlo, the receipt for my windsurfer, a box of matches from a restaurant in Paris, a shell from the beach on Maui, the miniature gargoyle that guards my computer, the label from a wine bottle – I pile them in boxes and drawers and scatter then across my house and office. I come upon these things from time to time and they remind me of good times. But there is no commentary. I don’t collect things from the bad times. But these were bad times I want (desperately) to learn from. These days I don’t want to forget. The mind has a way of pushing out those unpleasant memories away – distorting them – turning them inside out.
I’ll keep blogging. I hope you enjoy reading it. Leave a comment from time to time.
-Rich
It’s an 11 hour flight. I though I would take some of the time to re-read my blog. I write the entries into a word file, and copy them into blogger. So I have the whole thing in one file. Now it’s weighing in at 283 pages. (There are about 40 posts that I did not put up, some too personal, some too x-rated, some too lame) I’ve written a damn novel (it just needs a happy ending). It’s been a bit over a year now. New reader? Start from the beginning – read it in order. As I re-read it, I laughed and I cried.
I could not have made up this story – I’m just not that creative. And everything written here is true – it happened. The details, places, names, and other things have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty. I have taken the occasional literary license to provide comic relief. And I’ve probably over dramatized some things (as Maurizio says, I’m a drama queen). But the gist of the story is god’s honest truth. If I made this up, I’d be better looking, better paid, and I’d get the girl a hell of a lot more often.
My interest in writing this has waxed and waned – but in the end I’m glad I did it. I didn’t know a broken heart could hurt so much. I had no idea. Usually, I don’t keep a record of my life. I just collect random things to remind me – a boarding pass to Sydney, the admission ticket to the casino in Monte Carlo, the receipt for my windsurfer, a box of matches from a restaurant in Paris, a shell from the beach on Maui, the miniature gargoyle that guards my computer, the label from a wine bottle – I pile them in boxes and drawers and scatter then across my house and office. I come upon these things from time to time and they remind me of good times. But there is no commentary. I don’t collect things from the bad times. But these were bad times I want (desperately) to learn from. These days I don’t want to forget. The mind has a way of pushing out those unpleasant memories away – distorting them – turning them inside out.
I’ll keep blogging. I hope you enjoy reading it. Leave a comment from time to time.
-Rich
Monday, November 2
Exchange of the left items
“So you’re flower guy?” asked the receptionist at Heidi’s office. I had let her know that I was here to drop off some things for Heidi and pick up a box that she left for me. My flight for Tokyo leaves at 11:30. I asked for the Limo to pick me up at 9:30. I stopped by Heidi’s office a bit before 9 to exchange stuff. Once done I needed to race back home and get driven to SFO. As long as traffic cooperates I might not be late.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”
“What’d you do?”
“I was bad.” I made a face.
“No really, what’d you do? No one ever sent that many flowers. I mean guys have ended up divorced and not put in that much of an effort.” I was kinda shocked that Ms. Receptionist was being so nosey. But I’m neither a customer nor an employee – or anyone else of note. I’m just someone’s ex-boyfriend – and the subject of some office gossip.
“It was…” I shook my head, “nothing.”
“Word is you cheated on her.” Receptionists rule the rumor mill. She was baiting me. I know I should have taken the high road and walked away. But I hated the thought of leaving my good name undefended.
“I had dinner with an old girlfriend.”
“That’s it?” She was disappointed.
“That’s it.” I shrugged.
She looked at me sideways. “So why all the drama?”
“’Cause I really didn’t want to let Heidi get away. But it wasn’t meant to be. Let me get out of your way.” I motioned for the box with my name on it. I left a Crate and Barrel bag with all the things that Heidi had left at my house – there wasn’t much. I did need to get home soon, but I needed to ask. I knew I shouldn’t – but I had to. “What happened between Lynn and Tim? How did it end?” She had to know.
She perked up. “Well,” she looked both ways – but it was early and no one was around. “Tim started dating (office-slut) about 2 weeks before they broke up. (Office-slut) works in marketing for (manager-dude). Anyway, Lynn’s friend (snoopy) was in the women’s locker room taking a shower after her jog at lunchtime. There’s one other shower stall occupied, but there are two sets of feet – and one has hairy ankles – if you know what I mean. Anyway, after a few minutes, (office-slut) is calling out ‘Oh, Tim, Oh, Tim.’ It happens.” She tried to look nonchalant – but it was clear that she lived for this stuff. “So, (snoopy) tells Lynn what she heard. Lynn goes ballistic. She runs all over campus looking for him. She confronts him in the cafeteria. (Cookie), the cafeteria manager almost called security. Folks thought that she was going to Bobbitize him right there.” She paused, “Why the smirk?”
WTF I thought. I’ll throw her a bone, she may come in useful someday. “Lynn was the old girlfriend I had dinner with.” Her eyes went wide with surprise and delight. “Have a nice day.” I said and walked out to my car.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”
“What’d you do?”
“I was bad.” I made a face.
“No really, what’d you do? No one ever sent that many flowers. I mean guys have ended up divorced and not put in that much of an effort.” I was kinda shocked that Ms. Receptionist was being so nosey. But I’m neither a customer nor an employee – or anyone else of note. I’m just someone’s ex-boyfriend – and the subject of some office gossip.
“It was…” I shook my head, “nothing.”
“Word is you cheated on her.” Receptionists rule the rumor mill. She was baiting me. I know I should have taken the high road and walked away. But I hated the thought of leaving my good name undefended.
“I had dinner with an old girlfriend.”
“That’s it?” She was disappointed.
“That’s it.” I shrugged.
She looked at me sideways. “So why all the drama?”
“’Cause I really didn’t want to let Heidi get away. But it wasn’t meant to be. Let me get out of your way.” I motioned for the box with my name on it. I left a Crate and Barrel bag with all the things that Heidi had left at my house – there wasn’t much. I did need to get home soon, but I needed to ask. I knew I shouldn’t – but I had to. “What happened between Lynn and Tim? How did it end?” She had to know.
She perked up. “Well,” she looked both ways – but it was early and no one was around. “Tim started dating (office-slut) about 2 weeks before they broke up. (Office-slut) works in marketing for (manager-dude). Anyway, Lynn’s friend (snoopy) was in the women’s locker room taking a shower after her jog at lunchtime. There’s one other shower stall occupied, but there are two sets of feet – and one has hairy ankles – if you know what I mean. Anyway, after a few minutes, (office-slut) is calling out ‘Oh, Tim, Oh, Tim.’ It happens.” She tried to look nonchalant – but it was clear that she lived for this stuff. “So, (snoopy) tells Lynn what she heard. Lynn goes ballistic. She runs all over campus looking for him. She confronts him in the cafeteria. (Cookie), the cafeteria manager almost called security. Folks thought that she was going to Bobbitize him right there.” She paused, “Why the smirk?”
WTF I thought. I’ll throw her a bone, she may come in useful someday. “Lynn was the old girlfriend I had dinner with.” Her eyes went wide with surprise and delight. “Have a nice day.” I said and walked out to my car.
Sunday, November 1
The Hunger
It was 1 a.m.
I was tossing and turning in bed (alone) unable to sleep. After having lost Heidi I wasn't sure what to expect. Yeah - I'm getting pretty good at being dumped.
There was an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. A yearning I hadn't felt in what seems like years.
I was hungry. Not just able to eat. Not just a biological reaction to low blood sugar. It was a sensuous desire for food. I hadn't felt this since the ugliness.
I wandered over the the refrigerator. There was some left over grilled NY steak. I had some good crusty italian bread. Steak sandwich it is.
One thing that a good sandwich needs is a good mayonaise. I cracked an egg and whipped up the yolk up with canola oil and fresh lemon juice. I put in some fresh grated horseradish and capers. Yes, I really made a horseradish caper mayo from scratch for a midnight snack. I'm that much of a foodie.
Then I heated up my cast iron skillet and toasted two slices of bread, after brushing them with olive oil. Then I sliced the steak as thin as I could. I bunched it up - almost into a burger like form - and gave it a good sear on the outside. There was still lots of juicy medium rare steak in the middle. During the searing process I melted some sharp white vermont cheddar on it.
I topped the meat with some baby arugula, a few slices of tomato, a small splash of balsamic vinegar (from these guys - really good) and some very thinly sliced red onion.
I opened a bottle of Bordeaux and started into my snack. Damn that's good. I haven't enjoyed food this much in such a long time.
_______________________________________
I did drag my sleepy butt out of bed at stupid-o-clock in the morning to go paddling with paddle girl. I missed her party on Friday night, but we still had our standing 5:30 a.m. paddle in Santa Cruz on Sunday morning. I really feel better about this now that I know that she is over 18.
I arrived at the dock and, as usual, there she was stretching.
"Hey"
"Ready for some pain?"
"Yeah - I could use a good workout."
"How's big boobs?"
"Uh, her name's Heidi."
"OK, how's Heidi?"
"She dumped me."
"Man, I'm sorry to hear that. That sucks. What happened?"
"It's complicated." I busied myself with getting the boat set up. "So, why'd you lie?" The irony of that question was not lost on me.
"Huh?"
"Why'd you lie?"
"About what?"
"Being 17."
"Oh. Uh, that. Busted, huh?"
"It doesn't really matter, but I'm just curious. I mean you don't even look 17. I don't care how old you are. So why?"
"I've been paddling since I was 12. Competing since 14. This is a very male dominated sport - lots of testosterone. Paddlers are always hitting on me. Older guys - well the creepy ones - tend to leave me alone if I tell 'em I'm 17. Learned it when I was young - it worked so I kept on doing it. You're right, I'm probably getting too old for that trick."
Uh, yeah, that means I look like one of the creepy ones. "You could try just saying 'not interested'"
"Guys can be really persistent."
I laughed, "This is true."
"How'd you figure it out?" She asked.
"Google - I googled your paddling club to see about the party, saw your records. You paddled at the world championships 2 years ago?"
"Yeah, that was awesome." She regaled me with stories of her competitions - pretty cool. Turns out she just missed making the olympic team in 2008. But the U.S. does not field a very competitive paddling team. The Germans really dominate the sport. The Americans rarely make it to finals.
We paddled for 6 miles and I got a really good workout.
As we were packing up to leave, she asked "Next week?"
"Yeah." And then I remembered. "No, I can't - I'm in Tokyo next weekend." She seemed surprised that I might have a job that would take me to Tokyo. (surprised, mind you - not impressed) "Maybe the weekend after. I'll call you."
Saturday, October 31
Over
Heidi called me Friday afternoon and asked about my plans for the evening. I’m tired. Trying to charm her is exhausting, I’ve been having trouble sleeping and I’ve been getting cranky easily lately. Anyway – for the first time, I lied to her. I told her I was going to work late.
Paddle girl invited me to a party – a pot luck and bon fire for her rowing team on the beach down in Santa Cruz. She assured me that there would be other geezers there - coaches, parents, and the like – but that just didn’t seem like a good idea.
I was planning to head over to HMB brewery and have a few IPAs and then spend the night at motel down the street. I needed to tie one on in the company of my old friends. I was headed to my favorite local watering hole.
I knocked off work at about 6, and headed over to Half Moon Bay – there was a lot of traffic and it took over an hour. Once there I found a few friends and we downed a couple of beers and I ordered dinner.
Laughing and having fun with my drinking buddies, my phone rang. Now, I’m just not experienced enough at sneaking around. I don’t normally screen my calls – and I don’t have distinctive rings for everyone I know, and with loud happy chatter in the background I answered the phone without looking at the called ID. You guessed it, it was Heidi.
“You’re not at work.” She accused.
“Uh, yeah” I said sheepishly.
“I’m outside your office. I saw Pete leaving. He said you left hours ago.”
Oh, crap. “I, uh…” I was searching for an excuse.
“Don’t bother making anything up. I think this tells me everything I need to know.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You” she interrupted “can pick up your jacket, hat, and CDs from the receptionist at my office. I’ll expect my things back on Monday.” I’m on a plane to Tokyo Monday morning, I need to figure this out.
“The CDs were a gift.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want ‘em.”
“OK.”
“And don’t you go off thinking I dumped you. You shit.”
Um, hello, you are dumping me.
She hung up.
Two minutes later the phone rang again. This time I checked the caller ID. It was her. She started yelling at me again.
When she stopped I said. “Heidi, I’m really sorry things didn’t work out. I really appreciate all the things you did for me. I wish you nothing the best.”
“I don’t give a shit what you wish…” she went on yelling. I listened. It seemed rude for me to hang up. She yelled some more. She cried. She hung up. I turned off my phone and ordered some bourbon.
I really didn’t want to end things with her like that. Man, I handled that badly.
I'm really going to miss that wonderful accent.
Paddle girl invited me to a party – a pot luck and bon fire for her rowing team on the beach down in Santa Cruz. She assured me that there would be other geezers there - coaches, parents, and the like – but that just didn’t seem like a good idea.
I was planning to head over to HMB brewery and have a few IPAs and then spend the night at motel down the street. I needed to tie one on in the company of my old friends. I was headed to my favorite local watering hole.
I knocked off work at about 6, and headed over to Half Moon Bay – there was a lot of traffic and it took over an hour. Once there I found a few friends and we downed a couple of beers and I ordered dinner.
Laughing and having fun with my drinking buddies, my phone rang. Now, I’m just not experienced enough at sneaking around. I don’t normally screen my calls – and I don’t have distinctive rings for everyone I know, and with loud happy chatter in the background I answered the phone without looking at the called ID. You guessed it, it was Heidi.
“You’re not at work.” She accused.
“Uh, yeah” I said sheepishly.
“I’m outside your office. I saw Pete leaving. He said you left hours ago.”
Oh, crap. “I, uh…” I was searching for an excuse.
“Don’t bother making anything up. I think this tells me everything I need to know.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You” she interrupted “can pick up your jacket, hat, and CDs from the receptionist at my office. I’ll expect my things back on Monday.” I’m on a plane to Tokyo Monday morning, I need to figure this out.
“The CDs were a gift.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want ‘em.”
“OK.”
“And don’t you go off thinking I dumped you. You shit.”
Um, hello, you are dumping me.
She hung up.
Two minutes later the phone rang again. This time I checked the caller ID. It was her. She started yelling at me again.
When she stopped I said. “Heidi, I’m really sorry things didn’t work out. I really appreciate all the things you did for me. I wish you nothing the best.”
“I don’t give a shit what you wish…” she went on yelling. I listened. It seemed rude for me to hang up. She yelled some more. She cried. She hung up. I turned off my phone and ordered some bourbon.
I really didn’t want to end things with her like that. Man, I handled that badly.
I'm really going to miss that wonderful accent.
Thursday, October 29
Liar, Liar, Yada, Yada
Paddle Girl is a big fat liar!
She invited me to a beach party on Friday night with her paddle club. It sounded interesting, so I decided to google the group and learn a bit about them. They have a website. Looks like a pretty cool club. It’s for really anyone that wants to get out and paddle in the SF bay area, but there is an emphasis on competition. The head of the club is the rowing coach at a local college. I think I’ll join. I could use some coaching and I definitely could use some more paddle buddies. Occasional competition would be good, too. They have folks all over the bay area, so I should be able to get out in a group more often than I do now. I really should not paddle solo as much as I do. Looking at pictures of their past events, most of the membership is guys – but that’s fine, I’m not using it as a dating club.
Anyway for the members that are competitive, there is a database of their results in officially sanctioned events. So I took a look at paddle girl. She’s been in a lot of races with the college team over the past 3 years. Which I found a bit unusual for a 17 year old. One link I looked at has results posted on the USA Canoe and Kayak website. This is the organization that fields US competitors in international competitions – and the Olympics. Thing is they list the ages of the competitors with all the results.
Paddle girl is 24.
I thought she looked older than 17.
A bit more googling and I found that she is an undergrad at the local college, and she is on their paddling team – she is seriously competitive and has raced in an international competition (women’s flatwater K-1 1K sprint, K-1 10K, and a K-4 500). Now I don’t feel so bad that she can out paddle me.
I also feel like less of a perv.
She invited me to a beach party on Friday night with her paddle club. It sounded interesting, so I decided to google the group and learn a bit about them. They have a website. Looks like a pretty cool club. It’s for really anyone that wants to get out and paddle in the SF bay area, but there is an emphasis on competition. The head of the club is the rowing coach at a local college. I think I’ll join. I could use some coaching and I definitely could use some more paddle buddies. Occasional competition would be good, too. They have folks all over the bay area, so I should be able to get out in a group more often than I do now. I really should not paddle solo as much as I do. Looking at pictures of their past events, most of the membership is guys – but that’s fine, I’m not using it as a dating club.
Anyway for the members that are competitive, there is a database of their results in officially sanctioned events. So I took a look at paddle girl. She’s been in a lot of races with the college team over the past 3 years. Which I found a bit unusual for a 17 year old. One link I looked at has results posted on the USA Canoe and Kayak website. This is the organization that fields US competitors in international competitions – and the Olympics. Thing is they list the ages of the competitors with all the results.
Paddle girl is 24.
I thought she looked older than 17.
A bit more googling and I found that she is an undergrad at the local college, and she is on their paddling team – she is seriously competitive and has raced in an international competition (women’s flatwater K-1 1K sprint, K-1 10K, and a K-4 500). Now I don’t feel so bad that she can out paddle me.
I also feel like less of a perv.
Insecurity and Drunkeness
Hello loyal readers - yes both of you. Sorry I've not posted for a while. Life has been hectic. Let me catch you up on the high points.
Next week: Japan and China. Yes, Kristen wrangled me a trip to the far east for a promotional marketing tour for our latest release. Pete's headed for Europe, the CEO to NY, Kristen's taking Silicon Valley and Boston. We are going to spread the word about all the great things we've been doing at work. I leave on Monday for Japan. Two days in Tokyo, one in Osaka. Then on to Shang Hai and some other places I can't pronounce. Should be fun.
On Saturday night Heidi and I dined at MacArthur Park in Palo Alto, a venerable steakhouse. Not my favorite place, but Heidi likes it. Despite a fall chill in the air we took the new ride and left the top down. Valets were suitably impressed and left it right by the door, to create an ambiance of elegance - well that's what Heidi said.
Dinner was good, accompanied by a great bottle of wine. After dinner we took a stroll through downtown Palo Alto and then went back to her place. We sat outside of her cottage by the pool and had some more wine. If she was not going to have me over for the night I would sleep in my car around the corner. I had had too much to be driving.
"Why are you with me?" she asked, after a lull in the conversation - I knew I needed to keep things moving, oh well.
"I've grown rather fond of you. Haven't you noticed."
She scoffed mildly. "Yeah, the secretaries at work are jealous. You kind overdid it with the flowers."
"The two dozen roses were a mistake - I only ordered one."
"Rich, but why me?"
"Why not you? You have an amazing accent that makes me want to just eat you up. You're beautiful and witty and ..."
"So why do I feel so insecure?" she interrupted.
Oh, crap. How do I answer this one? Because you know I'm in love with Lynn. "Because you're silly." Let's hope some wine and that answer do the job.
"Seriously. You have it all. The job, the car, international travel..." I told her about the trip. She sighed. "You're gorgeous and you're hung like a north wood's bear." OK, that cognacs gone to her head. I'm not even sure if bears have big penises - was that an insult or a compliment? "You know that Greg - he respects you. I can tell." Greg is a guy I've known for a while - before he got famous - but if you read Forbes or Wired you've head of him. He is an internet gazzillionare. Heidi and I had dinner with him a few weeks back. "My dad respects you. He has 4000 people working for him. And he respects only about 10 of them. They all make over a million a year." I thought about asking if he had any openings... "My dad has never respected any of my boyfriends." Ah. Now I get it.
I looked her in the eyes. "I am not going to leave you for Lynn. I promise. Guys do a lot of stupid things for girls. But I'm not going to do that. I've been very honest and open with you. I've never given you a reason not to trust me. Please trust me."
She kissed me. Yes, she was drunk, more that I was. She took me into her cottage and then into her bed. "Come here you big bear" she said as she pulled me into her bedroom.
At 3 in the morning, I remembered. I had made arrangements with paddle girl to go paddling on Sunday morning at 5:30. I wanted to text her - "Got lucky Saturday night, go without me - hung over." I never got her number. I could just stand her up. It's not like it's a serious commitment or anything - this is just paddling. But I wanted to go.
I dragged my butt out of bed a bit before 4 (to Heidi's sleepy protests, "Aren't you going to make me breakfast" she whined, "You're going paddling? You're crazy") headed home, took a shower, loaded up the truck with all my paddling gear and headed down to Santa Cruz.
I got there just at about 5:30. Paddle girl was doing her stretching exercises on the dock. I dragged my boat down. "Morning."
She looked up at me. "You look tired."
"I was out late last night."
"Yeah?" She was expecting details. It was hard not to think of her as one of the guys - and this as a locker room.
"I got lucky."
"I thought you were getting over your runaway bride? Now you're sleeping around?"
I was about to say it's complicated. "I'm kinda hung over, too."
"We'll take it easy." She told me. Of course, her taking it easy isn't that easy. "Was she cute?" She was prying for details, like one of the guys.
"Big boobs." The conversation struck me as absurd.
We paddled about 5 miles in an hour and 10, by my watch. When we got back to the harbor, I hurled up my breakfast and coffee - well never mind the details. I did manage to get everything in the water - so there was nothing to clean up.
"Sorry" paddle girl said. "I didn't mean to make you do that."
"Don't worry" I said and rinsed my mouth. "Hell of a night."
We cleaned up the boats and loaded them on the cars. As she was getting into her car she called me over. "Hey - my paddling team - we're having a party on Friday at ---- beach. Bon fire, barbecue, beer. Wanna come?"
"You can't have beer."
"No not me, you know, parents, coaches, old folks from the paddle club. You'll fit right in."
Uh, thanks, yeah, me and the old folks can compare walkers and depends. "I'm not sure. Can I call you?" She gave me her number. "I wanted to call you this morning - and cancel."
"So you could stay in bed with big boobs?"
"Yes, actually."
"The workout was good for you. Sweat out the hangover, that's what I do. See ya." She drove off. 17 years old and she has hangovers??
Next week: Japan and China. Yes, Kristen wrangled me a trip to the far east for a promotional marketing tour for our latest release. Pete's headed for Europe, the CEO to NY, Kristen's taking Silicon Valley and Boston. We are going to spread the word about all the great things we've been doing at work. I leave on Monday for Japan. Two days in Tokyo, one in Osaka. Then on to Shang Hai and some other places I can't pronounce. Should be fun.
On Saturday night Heidi and I dined at MacArthur Park in Palo Alto, a venerable steakhouse. Not my favorite place, but Heidi likes it. Despite a fall chill in the air we took the new ride and left the top down. Valets were suitably impressed and left it right by the door, to create an ambiance of elegance - well that's what Heidi said.
Dinner was good, accompanied by a great bottle of wine. After dinner we took a stroll through downtown Palo Alto and then went back to her place. We sat outside of her cottage by the pool and had some more wine. If she was not going to have me over for the night I would sleep in my car around the corner. I had had too much to be driving.
"Why are you with me?" she asked, after a lull in the conversation - I knew I needed to keep things moving, oh well.
"I've grown rather fond of you. Haven't you noticed."
She scoffed mildly. "Yeah, the secretaries at work are jealous. You kind overdid it with the flowers."
"The two dozen roses were a mistake - I only ordered one."
"Rich, but why me?"
"Why not you? You have an amazing accent that makes me want to just eat you up. You're beautiful and witty and ..."
"So why do I feel so insecure?" she interrupted.
Oh, crap. How do I answer this one? Because you know I'm in love with Lynn. "Because you're silly." Let's hope some wine and that answer do the job.
"Seriously. You have it all. The job, the car, international travel..." I told her about the trip. She sighed. "You're gorgeous and you're hung like a north wood's bear." OK, that cognacs gone to her head. I'm not even sure if bears have big penises - was that an insult or a compliment? "You know that Greg - he respects you. I can tell." Greg is a guy I've known for a while - before he got famous - but if you read Forbes or Wired you've head of him. He is an internet gazzillionare. Heidi and I had dinner with him a few weeks back. "My dad respects you. He has 4000 people working for him. And he respects only about 10 of them. They all make over a million a year." I thought about asking if he had any openings... "My dad has never respected any of my boyfriends." Ah. Now I get it.
I looked her in the eyes. "I am not going to leave you for Lynn. I promise. Guys do a lot of stupid things for girls. But I'm not going to do that. I've been very honest and open with you. I've never given you a reason not to trust me. Please trust me."
She kissed me. Yes, she was drunk, more that I was. She took me into her cottage and then into her bed. "Come here you big bear" she said as she pulled me into her bedroom.
At 3 in the morning, I remembered. I had made arrangements with paddle girl to go paddling on Sunday morning at 5:30. I wanted to text her - "Got lucky Saturday night, go without me - hung over." I never got her number. I could just stand her up. It's not like it's a serious commitment or anything - this is just paddling. But I wanted to go.
I dragged my butt out of bed a bit before 4 (to Heidi's sleepy protests, "Aren't you going to make me breakfast" she whined, "You're going paddling? You're crazy") headed home, took a shower, loaded up the truck with all my paddling gear and headed down to Santa Cruz.
I got there just at about 5:30. Paddle girl was doing her stretching exercises on the dock. I dragged my boat down. "Morning."
She looked up at me. "You look tired."
"I was out late last night."
"Yeah?" She was expecting details. It was hard not to think of her as one of the guys - and this as a locker room.
"I got lucky."
"I thought you were getting over your runaway bride? Now you're sleeping around?"
I was about to say it's complicated. "I'm kinda hung over, too."
"We'll take it easy." She told me. Of course, her taking it easy isn't that easy. "Was she cute?" She was prying for details, like one of the guys.
"Big boobs." The conversation struck me as absurd.
We paddled about 5 miles in an hour and 10, by my watch. When we got back to the harbor, I hurled up my breakfast and coffee - well never mind the details. I did manage to get everything in the water - so there was nothing to clean up.
"Sorry" paddle girl said. "I didn't mean to make you do that."
"Don't worry" I said and rinsed my mouth. "Hell of a night."
We cleaned up the boats and loaded them on the cars. As she was getting into her car she called me over. "Hey - my paddling team - we're having a party on Friday at ---- beach. Bon fire, barbecue, beer. Wanna come?"
"You can't have beer."
"No not me, you know, parents, coaches, old folks from the paddle club. You'll fit right in."
Uh, thanks, yeah, me and the old folks can compare walkers and depends. "I'm not sure. Can I call you?" She gave me her number. "I wanted to call you this morning - and cancel."
"So you could stay in bed with big boobs?"
"Yes, actually."
"The workout was good for you. Sweat out the hangover, that's what I do. See ya." She drove off. 17 years old and she has hangovers??
Tuesday, October 20
Martinis
“I can’t lose her. I just can’t.” I was sharing a martini with Kristen after work. I was referring to my relationship with Heidi, which seems to be on its last legs.
“Why not, you don’t seem like you’re that into her.”
“I’m not” I sighed, “but if I don’t have her, there’s no reason for me not to go back to Lynn. And I really don’t want to go back to Lynn. But damn it, I’m still in love with her.”
I took a long sip of my martini and signaled the barkeep for another.
“Oh, and I’ve got a new paddle buddy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. 17 year old girl from Santa Cruz.”
“Oh Rich.” Kristen gave a good belly laugh. “Keep yourself out of jail.”
“She’s my paddle buddy – not my f-buddy”
“I know, but Rich…” and she laughed and shook her head. Yeah I know, I’m a guy and she’s a 17 year old girl.
“She’s a great paddler – better than I am. You know I could paddle rings around unmitigated beast. But I can barely keep up with this girl.”
“Welcome to getting old, Rich.”
We commiserated over bad relationships for a while and finished our martinis. As we were leaving, Kristen said “So you can stay away from Lynn for Heidi – someone you’re not that into.”
“Yeah” I replied.
“You really ought to be able to stay away from Lynn for you.”
Monday, October 19
Heidi Update
I’ve been obsessively trying to get back into Heidi’s good graces. Extravagant floral arrangements delivered to her office. Out to her favorite restaurants. Even a drinking session with her Dad – it seems to please her that I get along with him. His approval wins me some brownie points somehow. However, I can’t stand her mother, but that’s a different story. And I don't think its a problem.
I’m not sure why I am so afraid of losing her. It’s just irrational. I fear that subconsciously I think losing her might hurt just as much as losing Lynn. Maybe if I lose her I won’t have a reason not to go back to Lynn – and that thought both thrills and terrifies me.
Anyway, on Friday night we went out for a ridiculously expensive dinner in San Francisco. We ended the night at her place, where I was invited to spend the night, but just for cuddling purposes.
She seems to be forgiving me.
I’m not sure why I am so afraid of losing her. It’s just irrational. I fear that subconsciously I think losing her might hurt just as much as losing Lynn. Maybe if I lose her I won’t have a reason not to go back to Lynn – and that thought both thrills and terrifies me.
Anyway, on Friday night we went out for a ridiculously expensive dinner in San Francisco. We ended the night at her place, where I was invited to spend the night, but just for cuddling purposes.
She seems to be forgiving me.
Sunday, October 18
Sunday Paddle
So today I did an early paddle in Santa Cruz
She was on the dock next to her boat doing some stretching exercises. Waiting for me? I pulled down my boat and dragged it over to the dock. “hey”
“Morning. Looks like a good day for a paddle.”
“Where you headed?”
“East, Aptos. Maybe 4 miles out.”
“Looks like a good breeze today, don’t you want a downwind return”
“Nope. I need a challenge. You coming?”
“Yeah. Can’t let you paddle alone.”
“Better stretch.”
I set up my boat and did some stretching exercises. Then we set off. The seas were getting pretty rough. She was in front of me heading out of the harbor where we go past some breakers. She got caught by a wave, and went over. “Oh, shit” I thought to myself. I pulled a few hard strokes to catch up to her so I could do a rescue, and she pops out of the water, in her boat, laughing. She executed a perfect Eskimo roll. If I went down like that I would need a rescue. Wow.
We did 8 miles in less than an hour and a half. It took everything I had to keep up with her. I am going to be a hurtin puppy for a few days.
Once we were back in the harbor she set a slow pace. We leisurely paddled back to the dock. Even with a cool down, I was still out of breath. We threw our boats up on the dock. I took off my dry top and lay down on the dock with my feet in the water. She sat down next to me. “You OK?”
“Yeah, fine, no problem” gasp, gasp.
“You’re a pretty good sport. I’m impressed you can keep up with me. I’ll go easy on you next time.”
I guess there’s going to be a next time. Looks like I have a new paddle buddy. “You know, when you spilled on the way out of the harbor I thought we were done.”
“Don’t know where that wave came from. But I got a bomb-proof roll. You think I’d go out in these conditions with out it? Can’t you roll?” Maybe she’s not as suicidal as I thought. If you have an expert Eskimo roll these conditions are not nearly as dangerous.
“In good conditions.” I replied
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’ll keep a better eye on you.”
OK, I’m humbled. This 17 year old school girl is a way better athlete than I am.
We sat there on the dock talking amiably for about 20 minutes. And then she said “He got me pregnant.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, you are not telling me this. “I’m really sorry to hear that – but, you know, you should not be sharing this with a 30 something guy you met at a dock.”
“You seem pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I am, but this is getting into an inappropriate area.”
“So were you married?”
“No.”
“Commitment phobic?”
“I was engaged.”
“You got cold feet?”
“Nope - she did. 2 days before the wedding. She just disappeared.” I knew I shouldn’t go on, but it was so easy to talk to her. “We had the church booked, the reception paid for, flowers, non refundable plane tickets, the works, and she ran away.”
“Wow, that’s cold.”
“Yeah. I call her the runaway bride. Now I think all women are scum.”
“Hey!”
“But paddlers are cool. And you, next time, birth control. They have pills for that kind of thing.” I stood up. Damn, I’m not getting involved with a teenager. My life is f*cked up enough as it is.
“God, you sound like my mother.”
“Yeah, well your mother sounds pretty smart. And I’m your paddle buddy, not your relationship coach. You want to talk about boys pick on someone your own age. OK?”
She shook her head.
“Next Sunday?” She asked.
“I’ll be here.”
Saturday, October 17
Tomato Sauce
Yeah, it's late Saturday night and I am posting recipes on the internet. Sigh. How sad.
Anyhoo... My usual tomato sauce recipe is from Alton Brown (Good Eats) you can find it here. It's pretty fool proof and I like the way it comes out.
But when I have an abundance of fresh Roma tomatoes I make a filetto sauce. You can't make it with anything other than fresh Romas (or other paste type tomatoes). I tried it once with store bought tomatoes - and it ended up way too watery. And if you cook off all the extra liquid, you lose the fresh tomato taste.
So, here's the recipe:
2 Tablespoons of olive oil
2 cloves of garlic finely minced
Put the garlic and oil in a pan cold, cook over medium low heat until the garlic starts to sizzle. I found that starting with a cold pan and applying the heat slowly extracts a lot more flavor from the garlic.
Once the garlic starts to sizzle (and way before it browns) add:
1 1/2 teaspoons of salt
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon fresh oregano (or 1 teaspoon dried)
Cook until the onions are translucent - about 7 minutes over medium heat. The add:
2 lbs fresh Roma tomatoes, milled
1 teaspoon sugar
some basil leaves sliced fine
Simmer for up to 1/2 hour - no longer.
Before serving add:
1 splash vodka
more basil, salt, and pepper to taste
If it ends up too runny (which happens if the tomatoes were not absolutely fresh) do not try to cook it down, you'll lose the really fresh tomato taste. You can save it by adding a cream bechamel:
In a separate saucepan
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
Cook over medium heat until bubbly
Add 8 ounces heavy cream
Bring to a boil stirring constantly. It will get really thick (but that's the point).
Add to filetto sauce (turning into a tomato vodka cream sauce, which is something completely different - but really good, too). Add some grated parmesan cheese and serve over pasta.
Anyhoo... My usual tomato sauce recipe is from Alton Brown (Good Eats) you can find it here. It's pretty fool proof and I like the way it comes out.
But when I have an abundance of fresh Roma tomatoes I make a filetto sauce. You can't make it with anything other than fresh Romas (or other paste type tomatoes). I tried it once with store bought tomatoes - and it ended up way too watery. And if you cook off all the extra liquid, you lose the fresh tomato taste.
So, here's the recipe:
2 Tablespoons of olive oil
2 cloves of garlic finely minced
Put the garlic and oil in a pan cold, cook over medium low heat until the garlic starts to sizzle. I found that starting with a cold pan and applying the heat slowly extracts a lot more flavor from the garlic.
Once the garlic starts to sizzle (and way before it browns) add:
1 1/2 teaspoons of salt
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon fresh oregano (or 1 teaspoon dried)
Cook until the onions are translucent - about 7 minutes over medium heat. The add:
2 lbs fresh Roma tomatoes, milled
1 teaspoon sugar
some basil leaves sliced fine
Simmer for up to 1/2 hour - no longer.
Before serving add:
1 splash vodka
more basil, salt, and pepper to taste
If it ends up too runny (which happens if the tomatoes were not absolutely fresh) do not try to cook it down, you'll lose the really fresh tomato taste. You can save it by adding a cream bechamel:
In a separate saucepan
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
Cook over medium heat until bubbly
Add 8 ounces heavy cream
Bring to a boil stirring constantly. It will get really thick (but that's the point).
Add to filetto sauce (turning into a tomato vodka cream sauce, which is something completely different - but really good, too). Add some grated parmesan cheese and serve over pasta.
Thursday, October 15
The End of Summer
Today I harvested a bunch of tomatoes. (yeah crappy picture) Despite lots of neglect this year, there's a ton of fruit on my 4 roma bushes.Made tomato sauce.
Delicious. Served over homemade angel hair.
The nights are starting to get cold and that ruins the texture of the tomatoes. I'll probably pull them out in a couple weeks.
Wednesday, October 14
Goodbye, Gourmet
Today I received my last issue of Gourmet magazine. And I just reupped my subscription. They are shutting down and the November issue will be the last.
San Jose Merc reports that foodies (like me) are stunned.
I'm going to miss that magazine. Seems that the advertisers of luxury goods have scaled back too much. Ad revenue was too far down.
I remember one issue that had a centerfold. I can't recall what it was showing, but it was interesting. I was holding the magazine up sideways and staring lustfully at the unfurled centerfold pages. Sarah came into the room and accused me of looking at food porn. Yup, I was. She got a good laugh out of it.
Now I'm going to need to find my food porn on the internet.
San Jose Merc reports that foodies (like me) are stunned.
I'm going to miss that magazine. Seems that the advertisers of luxury goods have scaled back too much. Ad revenue was too far down.
I remember one issue that had a centerfold. I can't recall what it was showing, but it was interesting. I was holding the magazine up sideways and staring lustfully at the unfurled centerfold pages. Sarah came into the room and accused me of looking at food porn. Yup, I was. She got a good laugh out of it.
Now I'm going to need to find my food porn on the internet.
Monday, October 12
I'm sorry, Heidi
Yeah. I said it.
Over and over again. But I’m not sorry. I didn’t do anything wrong. I thought she needed to hear it. She probably did.
It didn’t make a difference.
I’ve spent the last week trying to balance mollifying Heidi and kicking off the next project at work. I’m tired.
Heidi is pissed – understandably so. So, she cut me off (sex wise) which is OK – I probably deserve that. I think we’re sort of falling into the classic definition of “we can still be friends” state – which means we can go out and spend my money, but I will never touch her body ever again.
I don’t know where we are. She comes over, but acts like she doesn’t want to be there. We’ll go out and I’ll get the silent treatment.
So Sunday I decided to ignore her. I woke up at 4 a.m. and my mind was racing the way it used to. Going over the
I thought I was past this. Probably comes from seeing her again.
Of course, when this happens, I know I need to roll out of bed and do something. Otherwise it will never stop and I’ll be depressed for a week. So tired and grumpy, I rolled out of bed. I decide to go paddling. I made a thermos of French roast and grabbed a few granola bars and some fruit and head out to the truck to load up the kayak. I usually paddle in the bay, but the sun wasn't yet up and wouldn’t be for a while, so I decided to go down to
There’s a small dock in the yacht harbor near Aldo’s where folks launch their kayaks. There’s some kayak storage nearby, so occasionally I’ll see another paddler. I was surprised this morning, when at 5:30 someone was out on the dock setting up their boat. The streetlights were still on, it was fairly foggy out, but a dull gray light was starting to make its way through.
I pulled my boat down and hauled it down to the dock and said “hey” to the other paddler. I think I startled her.
“Morning” she says.
“Good day for a paddle”
“Yeah” she snorts. “Whatcha got there, a 16?”
“Yeah, good eye. Zoar sport. Plastic.” I nod at her boat “18?”
“18-5” she says with pride. “Glass” (fiberglass construction, she means) Show-off, I think to myself.
I almost quip “size doesn’t matter” but it seemed too flirty and well, with kayaks, size does matter. The longer the boat the faster you can go. Of course, fiberglass goes faster than plastic.
“Where you going?” I ask her.
“Up past the wharf, past the lighthouse, probably to bridges (beach park). Maybe 3 miles out.”
“Want to paddle together?” I ask.
“You should know, I’m only 17” she has her arms crossed.
Seriously, I was not trying to pick her up. I suddenly realize I’m more than twice her age. OMG, I’m getting damn old. “You look older.” She really does – 25 maybe. Her face is – weathered maybe.
“Yeah, I can get into bars without getting carded.” She smiled (I think for the first time)
“Anyway, there’s no age limit on paddle buddies. You shouldn’t paddle alone.”
“You sound like my mom.”
Feeling even more ancient “Yeah, well, your mom’s right. It’s rough out there and you should have a paddle buddy.” Frankly, under these conditions I was going to stay in the harbor. It’s too rough for me to go out solo.
“Well, I paddle fast. Are you up for a workout?”
“Sure, I think I’ll be able to keep up.” Old man that I am.
She was one hell of a paddler. She set out at a really fast pace and kept if for the whole paddle. We went six miles. Going west, we were against the wind and waves, it was hard and she kept a fast pace. Returning, she settled in between the crest of two waves and surfed back. It was easier, but still took a lot of effort. You have to paddle fast enough to keep up with the waves – but they do give you a bit of a push. The whole time we were too out of breath for small talk. We finished in just over an hour (OK, say Wow! here) My arms were burning as we pulled back into the dock.
“Wow, you’re quite a paddler” I said through gasps for breath.
“Thanks, I’m surprised you could keep up.” old man - I suspect she was thinking this, but was kind enough to leave it off.
At least she was seriously out of breath, too.
“Are you training for the Olympics or something?”
“Or something…” she replied. She pulled off her paddle jacket – her fleece layer was wet with sweat and she was literally steaming in the cold air.
“What the hell are you doing going out in conditions like this solo?” I asked still gasping. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
She looked off toward the surf “No one cares if I live or die.”
“You’re got your whole life ahead of you” but then I remembered writing those same words in my blog. “bad break-up?” I asked. Or was it just suicidal teenaged angst.
She swung her head towards me, surprised. From the expression on her face I knew I was right. Oh, man, how bad can a break-up be at 17? “Yeah.” she admitted.
“And you paddle like hell to dull the pain.”
She nodded slowly “Yeah. It works for me.”
I reassured her that folks do care about her and do care if she lives or dies and that when she looks back on her life she’s going to wonder what all the fuss was about. I regurgitated much of what folks have been telling me – life coach stuff. Funny, I thoroughly believed that what I was saying to her applied to her – but not to me.
“So what are you doing out here so early in the morning?” she asked me.
I scoffed and shook my head “Bad break-up, can’t sleep, paddle like hell to dull the pain.”
“I thought you told me you had a girlfriend or something” I had mentioned Heidi.
I gave her a scowl, “It’s complicated.”
“It always is” she replied. Damn, she’s wise beyond her years.
“Help me with my boat?” I asked. My arms were burning and there was no way I could lift it onto the truck by myself.
She shook her head. “You use your arms too much, you need to get your power from your torso. Here…” she grabbed her paddle and demonstrated a proper forward stroke. “As you come around you’re pulling with your shoulder. Like this. You’ll never get decent speed like that.” She tried to show me where I was doing it wrong. She’s had some serious coaching.
“Got anything left in that thermos?” She asked after helping me load my boat onto my truck.
“You drink coffee?”
“Yeah”
“It’ll stunt your growth.”
“It will not,” she said as I poured her some coffee. “I stopped growing years ago.”
After she gulped down some coffee I helped her load her boat onto a 20 year old Subaru and watched her drive away.
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