My goodness, where HAVE’NT I been?
Let’s see… what have I done in the past week….
I’ve turned 27.
I went from brunette to really really blonde.
I fell down the stairs.
I threw not one, but two parties.
I taught English to farm workers on four separate occasions.
I planted a vegetable garden in two half wine barrels and a stainless steel trough.
I reverted to carnivorism.
I quickly reverted back to Jennatarianism after feeling so guilty, I almost cried.
I spent the weekend with my parents.
I cooked a yummy (mostly local) mother’s day brunch.
I wrote a 30 page manual on how to taste wine.
I spent a night in Santa Barbara.
I found local olive oil!
This past week has been a hurricane, sweeping me along from one event to the next. My birthday was the whipped cream on top, and my husband’s gift to me was the cherry! I drove home last Thursday to see a strange vehicle parked in our driveway covered in a big red bow. A NEW CAR! Unbelievable.
So, it’s not NEW new… I don’t actually believe in buying a brand new car off the lot. But it is new to me: a 2002 VW Passat wagon.
I’ve been waiting patiently to get my hands on our digital camera so I could post pictures of it, but the waiting continues. Perhaps I should have requested a second digital camera for my birthday. Ah, well. I’ll have to save my pennies for that one. Now that India has been pushed back, I have a few extra pennies to save.
So back to the car in the driveway. Two thoughts ran through my head when I saw it:
1. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s probably not yours.
2. “I don’t have time for this! My party starts in one hour and I still have to…. (huge mental list of food to prepare, wine to chill, make-up to apply, music to choose, etcetera)
In the end, there was time for everything. We took a little drive to Los Osos and back with the sunroof open and the air conditioner on (a working air conditioner! What a concept!), and the seat heaters on (just to see if they work), and most importantly, Kula loves it. When we fold the back seats down, she can stick her snout out the window while still laying down, tail thumping, broken leg resting.
I put Tay to work, chopping and cleaning, shredding the pulled pork, putting out the cutlery and plates. The guests started to arrive just after 7. It was a great party, but about 10 people (who had RSVP’d “yes”) didn’t show, so we had way too much food. So much food that I was able to throw my Remojo the following day at work.
What, you ask, is a Remojo? Well, I’m not really sure. The word means “soaking” in Spanish. At the winery, a Remojo is a party you throw for everyone at work when you buy a new car or a new house or something else equally expensive or extravagant. So basically, the rationale is that once you’ve dropped all your cash on your shiny new item, you have to spend lots of money on all your friends so they can celebrate your new state of financial peril along with you. Can’t argue with that, I suppose.
So, REMOJO! Lunch and cervezas for my coworkers, as we gazed lovingly at my shiny new mom-mobile.
My tutoring is going well. At first I felt like a complete flop, and I felt bad for my four students. Poor guys, I thought. They deserve a better teacher. But now I’m starting to get the hang of it. I’ve got my lessons laid out with worksheets and review exercises, vocabulary lists and discussion items. But the truth is… the English language is a bitch to teach. For every rule, there are countless exceptions. And then you have to teach things like gerunds and dangling participles… It’s a mess. Maybe when the time comes, I can just “graduate” my guys on to a new tutor and bring in some more level 1-2 speakers.
My little garden is coming along nicely. I planted some of my tomato, cucumber, and Serrano seedlings, stuck some garlic cloves in the ground to hopefully sprout some green garlic, planted seeds for summer squash, scallions, and carrots, and planted some red leaf lettuce and a mix of other greens. Then I planted an old wooden nail sorter with an herb garden. Parsley, chives, cilantro, thyme, and basil. So hopefully in the next year, I can eat as local as it gets.
Ashtanga is stagnant. I need a spark to ignite my motivation again. But my knees are feeling pretty good. My biggest hurdle in every practice is getting my arms through in Garbha Pindasana. Someone stole the spray bottle, and I just don’t get sweaty enough practicing on my own in a large room for the arms to slip through my meaty lotus. Backbends are no longer the glory they once were. My back is still locked up from something… maybe stress?
Maybe it’s because my obsessive personality has latched onto food politics instead of yoga. Just can’t stop thinking about food. Finding local foods, big organic vs. sustainable, beyond organic, industrial… I guess I have a one-track mind.
Last weekend at the farmer’s market I found baby leeks at the Cal Poly organics farm stand. I sautéed them in some Los Olivos Olive Oil with garlic, added shitake mushrooms from Arroyo Grande, asparagus from the Huasna Valley, fava beans from San Luis Obispo, thyme from my backyard, vegetable stock from my kitchen, a squeeze of lemon from my neighbor’s backyard, and Sauvignon Blanc from the Edna Valley. Tossed it over some California Whole Wheat Linguine and crumbled in some Cypress Grove chevre.
Eating locally is so tasty!