Whirlwind

Have you ever felt that you've lived a year in two weeks? Or something close to that? The past few weeks have been a whirlwind and the reason why I haven't been posting recently. Here are some of the things that have kept me away from my computer:

Hilo comes to Oakland:
The cheery Libra-Army Horse with the bling, the charming tropical storm, the woman of every hour, the social butterfly with more friends than Oprah, the Tubular One's new best friend, a.k.a. my mom--was here for a visit earlier in November. Her visits are always like protracted slumber parties with Diet Pepsi. Our friends were treated to her colorful stories and infectious laughter. I remember growing up how I always felt that my friends found my mom a lot more fun than me. But thankfully now I can stand back and admire her without anger or jealousy. She has the ability to engage people in a disarming way, can charm anyone, and can probably sell grains of sand to a lifeguard at Banzai Pipeline on the North Shore.

The visit was somewhat bittersweet however. My aunt and her daughter also were in town from Hilo--which is one of the reasons my mom came to Oakland. For as fun as it was, we were also very sad about my aunt's diagnosis of ALS. The good news is that my aunt is now being treated for the early stages and is surrounded by wonderful friends like my mom and her family. What has been amazing is that friends and co-workers have come forward with information I never knew. A co-worker told me that her grandmother was diagnosed with ALS at age 70. My good friend wrote me an email about how she worked for a ALS physician at the University of Chicago. Another friend is going to let me know about the current ALS stem cell research at UCSD. I've been learning so much.

Ayame Kai:
Ayame Kai is the annual Holiday Bazaar at the Buddhist church in Seattle. For over five years, my mom has been peddling her Hawaii-made goods at this fair of sorts. If you've seen her o-musubi towels, you know what I'm talking about. For me, Ayame Kai means heavy lifting at 7.30 a.m. (unloading the truck in the rain), and putting on my happy face from 10 a.m. to 4.30 p.m. Last year, Cappy modelled a dress, which drew a big crowd. Unfortunately, this year Cappy was sidelined after a long business trip in Miami.

What is Ayame Kai like? Imagine swarms of Japanese-American ladies with silver and purple hair reaching and grabbing for towels, t-shirts, and purses. They turn our booth/table into a feeding frenzy--kind of like koi fish at feeding time. The morning hours of 10-12 pass like minutes. We sell and sell, ladies stop to chat with my mom, we trip over each other reaching for the cash box, we help three people at a time... It's a situation. Now here's the unfortunate bit of this year. Usually, the church sells bento boxes--rice, teriyaki chicken wings, and tsukemono. This year, the cooks were on strike due to an inter-church misunderstanding. By the time I went to the food concessions a little after noon, all that was left was mochi, brownies, and snickerdoodles. No spam musubi, no curry rice, no fried saimin. We lunched on Diet Pepsi and crumbly cookies.

Las Vegas
Family members from the Big Island and Kauai crashed into downtown Las Vegas for a long weekend of wedding frivolity. We were stationed at the Main Street hotel. It felt like the lost red light district of Honolulu with saimin and spam musubi. The wedding was in an ultra chic "chapel" at the Mandalay Bay hotel. The reception was at the Venetian. The best part of the downtown Hawaii-Vegas experience was the ability to get portuguese sausage, eggs, and rice for breakfast with side orders of kim chee and poke. And for some reason, I always tend to win big with dealers wearing Aloha shirts.

Beatles Love/Cirque du Soleil
All I can say is "Wow." I got tickets for Cappy and I, and also treated my parents for their birthdays. If you don't know about this show, it might be because it only opened in June of 2006, so it is fairly new. Apparently there are 6500+ speakers in the space that seats 2000.

I've not been a huge Beatles fan in my life. I mean, I've appreciated them and can sing along to many of their popular songs but I never would called myself a fan. Not anymore. I often thought the Beatles were overrated, but I realised that I only thought that because they've been over-exposed. The original recordings snapped and buzzed as if we were right in the recording studio. The version of "Strawberry Fields" and the mash up involving my "A Day in the Life" brought me to tears, literally. It was gorgeous.

We sat in the lower orchestra seats just near the side stage. My dad, who generally sleeps in anything from Shakespeare to weddings was very much awake. He kept pointing and saying, "Hey look there! Look over here! Wow, look at that puppet!" It was very endearing. After the show, my mom told me that the music brought her back to the days when her and my dad were dating. And now 40+ years later, they're still together.

I think the best part about the Beatles Love show was the anticipation. We knew we were in for a treat, but had no idea what to expect. It was really a transformative experience, at least for me. I developed a new love for the music and a creative bug. Or so I wish. At various points during the show, I kept thinking that I'd love to quit my job and concentrate 24/7 on a new skill like the cloud swing or the tissus. How many people concentrate on one skill for years and years?

I've not been able to mention the Bridal Shower or the trip to Chuck E. Cheese with the niece and nephew. Both of these warrent separate entries, for obvious reasons.

I'm off in search of ginger crab for you know who. The effort to dismantle a crustacean is infuriating. So much effort for so little reward.

Hummer

True story:

My brother and sister-in-law took the kids to McDonald's last week. This is not a regular thing, but a once in a while special treat.

All was fine until our nephew Ryan opened up his Happy Meal. He was not too thrilled with the toy. Not at all pleased. You see, his last Happy Meal offered up a 3-inch Hummer. This time he wasn't as "fortunate." On this grisly day, he received an ugly Ronald McDonald doll for his sins.

He wasn't going to take this sitting down. Not this Aries-Dragon boy. Apparently, he then walked up to the counter and pleasantly asked if he could get a Hummer toy instead. "Oh I'm sorry," the young woman at the counter cooed, "We gave out Hummers last month. We have a different prize this month."

Unsatisfied with this response, but anger in check, he then boldly asked, "Can I talk to your manager?" Oh, yeah, have I mentioned that Ryan celebrated his 6th birthday last April?

At this point, my brother noticed that Ryan had been gone for over five minutes. As he walked up to the front counter, he found Ryan was gazing up at a tall man wearing a brown tie. Clearly, the manager. He was calmly explaining the Happy Meal toy policy to a very attentive little boy.

Satisfied with the answer, Ryan smiled politely and said energetically, "Thank you!"

Now, I'm not sure I would have been so bold to ask to talk to a manager of any kind, at age 12, much less six. Ryan has an unapologetic savvy confidence about him that I don't always see in many adults, much less other six year olds! What a funny kid.

And what weekend with kids is complete without a trip to Chuck E. Cheese, a.k.a., Germapalooza? We braved the Pachinko parlor-like bells and whistles, flashing lights, the rodents of unusual size singing and playing air guitar in the "Pizza Time Theater," and kids running all over the place. It was our niece's 9th birthday. Ayu and Ryan loved it.

I was thinking of things that I would loved, if only they came around sooner in my life. Chuck E. Cheese, Toys R Us, a new water slide at the Kona Surf Hotel, and McDonald's Playland came on the scene when I was 12. Though my brother was in heaven, I felt cheated. I was just beyond the age when things like that would have been thrilling.

Actually, my first memory of McDonald's Playland was a bit painful. My grandparents took us to the newly remodeled McDonald's in Kailua-Kona for breakfast. We usually stopped there before our long drive back to Hilo on the other side of the Big Island. I guess I was a bit over zealous and somehow got myself stuck in the "Hamburglar" Tower. Jesus Christ. It took a bit of relaxation, flexibility, and pre-teen meditation to get out of that iron contraption.

Technology brings a whole new world to kids these days. I remember being excited with Intellivision. Black and white Atari asteroids no longer held its appeal. After Intellivision, there was no going back...

Computer games for kids are insane these days. My niece is able to purchase, name, decorate, train, feed, clothe, and jump Arabian horses. Ryan grips a realistic racing steer wheel and races through the desert, city, and highway. It's like their imagination is worked out for them already--all they have to do is go out an experience click and scroll. Well, that's probably not true, but it seems that way.

This past Sunday night, my niece had to create a poster of her heritage. I was shocked and amazed to watch her gather and print out her research in less than 20 minutes. She's amazing and only 9-years old. In no time, things were downloaded, printed, glued, constructed, and colored. Perhaps what she does is the norm for kids these days. It just blew me away.

I can't imagine what it would have been like to have had internet access in elementary school. When I had to do a book report or paper, my mom used to drive my brother and I to the nearby Newport Way public library. We enacted our dewey decimal system skills and located heavy books. Rather than googling an image, I would get my brother to sketch out things for me. I thoroughly loved hunting down information, writing notes, and making copies.

I just wonder what is lost with all the shortcuts to so much information. Maybe kids build other skills? Perhaps instant internet access removes ambiguity tolerance and the virtue of patience. Asking for the manager at McDonalds, anyone?

Kids these days grow up with the confidence that everything and anything is available by simply moving a little mouse on a screen. It's so odd, isn't it?

ALS

Anatomy of a Fatal Neurological Disease:

-Certain fatality within 2-5 years of diagnosis
-Ultimate loss of motor coordination and muscle atrophy
-Loss of voluntary movement
-Retention of basic senses
-Retention of memory, personality, and intelligence
-Difficulty breathing, swallowing, speaking

This is a brief description of ALS (Amytrophic lateral sclerosis) commonly known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. Unfortunately, I've become very familiar with this in the past 72 hours.

My mom's best friend from Hilo flew to the Bay Area this week. After one short hour with a specialist at UCSF, she was diagnosed with ALS and coldly given the worst prognosis anyone could imagine.

I suppose when you dispense death sentences on a regular basis, one probably develops a professional indifference. The specialist at UCSF was terse, cold, and indifferent. But for those who travel across the Pacific Ocean however, a sentence of 2-5 years of life could be a bit warmer, don't you think?

Pisces Thursday

For all those afflicted with a Sun in Pisces, Jonathan Cainer would like to tell you...

If efficiency were the dominant principle in the creation of the universe, all the leaves on all the trees would be the same shade of green. Nature isn't always economical in the way she uses up energy. The cosmos was surely created by some very lavish, extravagant impulse... and if the inhabitants of this earth have big ideas, it is because they too have this same generous spirit keeping them alive. Be led by your heart today. It really does know where it is going.

This is tremendously reassuring, yet unnecessary. I do have a strong vision of where I'm headed. So given that: the democrats are now awake/have awoken others, I've secured two recommendations for my skool application, I've gloriously re-discovered Blue Bell Toll, Britney finally dumped Kevin, and my car is ready for pick up...all is right side up. For the moment.

Transitory

Apparently, the tip of Mauna Kea's 13,796 feet tall volcano mountain will become immersed underwater in 80 million years. I can't even fathom what a million years would feel like, much less 100 years. They say the Big Island sinks one foot every hundred years under the enormous weight of the volcanoes.

So all of the Hawaiian islands have been biding their time on the Pacific plate, while we're presently biding our time over Hayward fault. This is humbling. Saddening, even. Makes my internal snarkiness over annoying trivialities seem like pointless waste of time.

But is it a waste of time? Tiny trivialities annoy me right now. When I'm cut off on the Bay Bridge, my adrenaline level does not register the blessing of time and the big picture.

This recalls the most obvious, bordering on boredom question--why is it so hard to live for the now, when we're striving to live for later?

I mean, why spend the best years of your life avoiding sugar, cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, random acts of debauchery, McDonalds and white flour? If I reach 80, will I feel that my life had achieved some golden status--having avoided the wonderful misdirection of dangerous vices? What would that Golden Girl Scout feeling be?

Hawai'i will disappear. If humans make it that far--they will be living in intelligent homes, mentally transporting themselves to and fro, and will subsit on a mentally guided menu that can be downloaded and invisibly applied to the blood (or cholorphyll) stream. Should we prepare now the annals of island existence?

If 80 million years is so far off, why does it make me sad? And if the little things don't really matter, why have a flurry of little things put me in a bad mood?

Herbal Bistro

One of my favorite things to do here in the States is go out for brunch. Wake up later on a Saturday or Sunday, get dressed, walk the dog, get the paper, and head out to a small cafe. Going out for brunch was not very common in many of the places I lived abroad--and it was the one thing I really missed about the States.

Now I can consult the Zagat San Francisco for tons of amazing breakfast cafes. Some specialize in cornbread pancakes and others in homemade corned beef hash and eggs. In the past four years, Cappy and I have established a nice rotation of great breakfast restaurants.

Last Saturday however, we inadvertently tried something new. Cappy stumbled upon a "Crêperie" not so near our neighborhood. She rang my cell phone and waved at me from across the street, pointing to the place she was walking into. I was in Long's buying Motrin--left the house with a terrible headache.

So I arrived at the "Crêperie." Cappy was waving at me with a giddy and amused look on her face from a table next to a faux brick wall. There were "Parisian" decorations everywhere. The menu was typed in a Mac II font and turkey-ham was listed in every instance of meat.

There should have been washers and dryers in the back room though--if you know what I mean....

Top 10 Signs That You MAY Be Dining in a Pot Storefront:

1. You're one of two patrons at 10:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning

2. Reggae music is blasting at a Saturday night volume

3. It takes nearly 15 minutes for lukewarm cups of coffee to arrive at your table

4. CASH ONLY signs are enthusiastically posted in more than one place

5. One waiter is visibly straining with his whole body to squeeze oranges for an 8 oz. glass of juice

6. There are half empty bottles of wine standing behind the counter. However, the menu only features non-alcoholic beverages.

7. You feel a sudden and unexplainable craving for beef jerky, pizza, and potato chips

8. The two staff people look like they should be fitting you for fins and a dive belt, not frying your eggs

9. One waiter makes 5 very casual trips back and forth to your table (in the space of three or so minutes...) each time, with a very friendly and mellow smile on his face:

1st trip: The food
2nd trip: Forks
3rd trip: The water you asked for 15 minutes ago
4th trip: One Spoon (!?!)
5th trip: Salt

10. Your paid order ticket goes into a special box in the top drawer of the register

Good times.

Dyke Dolls

Have you heard of the site/store called DYKEdolls ? Their aim is to "redefine culture one girl at a time." Whose culture, I wondered to myself?

Anyway, they sell the world's first lesbian action figure dolls. There are even different categories of Dykedolls: the butchie Bobbie dolls, Baby Dyke dolls, So Cal skater chick dolls, etc. You can even accessorize your dyke dolls with a leather harness/dildo or a tanktop and briefs. Unfortunately, there aren't any fanny pack-tie dye-Michigan-women's fest-mullet lesbians. Now that would make a killing, that's what I'd call a lesbian action figure.

Great concept, I say!

And get this, in addition to store locations in NYC, Baltimore, Virginia, and L.A., you can also get your Dyke Doll fix in Iceland, Spain, and Italy.

But get this---as you know, Asian adoptions are getting quite expensive these days. Korean babies seem to top the list, with Chinese babies slowly climbing the charts. So how can you get your own Asian baby for the low price of $11.00?

How about the dolls simply called "mommies?" Feast your eyes on the heartwarming image (just above) of two white mommies, Kelly and Christine, and their precious little Soo Jin. What the fuck!?! Apart from the fact that they resemble a papier mâché figure I made in high school, it's just wrong.

But then I was thinking, why isn't there a DYKEdoll boutique in Seoul? Too bad. How else will the little Soo Jins of Seoul dream of a better life with not one, but count 'em TWO white lesbian mommies in America?

Don't get me wrong, I think the concept of this company is great. Would I buy a dyke doll for myself or anyone else? No, but just like bobblehead dolls and Japanese comic books, I can appreciate the appeal for many.

In the mid-90's I spent a heartwrenching year (and a few months after that in the later 90's) in Seoul, South Korea. My main purpose wasn't to bring English to the Children of Choson, but to do some research on my own adoption.

To make a long story short, what I learned was pretty repulsive. KSS (Korean Social Services) had a pretty tight and greedy hold on anyone trying to conduct any blood relative research. Basically, if you wanted them to open a drawer to begin looking up your records, it was about $25, then for them to browse through some files, you're set back another $25, and so on.

Somehow, and with the help of a good friend/adoptee activist, I was finally able to visit the baby orphanage where I supposedly spent the first 9 months of my life. I was even given a special "tour" that was set up for me.

Imagine a room full of toddlers, boys and girls between the ages of 2-6 frolicking together in a room without furniture. Imagine a few raggedy dolls peering up at you from the floor--looking as sorry as the kids themselves.

The only light came from a large window way above their heads. Painful. Even more so to hear that some of the kids' parents actually lived down the road. Many kids were placed in the "orphanage" for reasons such as: "Their parents already have one girl and didn't want another," or "Her father just lost his job." Hmm. Perfect excuses to kick your kid down to the local orphanage.

I was also introduced to some "special kids" who had a room of their own. These were boys and girls with various handicaps, or downs syndrome. And to shield their special eyes from the light, let's just say this room saved the orphanage a lot on monthly electric bills.

All this for the love of bloodlines. I don't condone white women, or anyone who wants to adopt babies from Korea. But I am sickened by the attachment of Korean adoptees to a really great action figure concept.

What's wrong with white lesbians adopting Korean babies? Nothing. What's wrong with DYKEdolls promoting the Korean "baby mill" in the year 2006? Everything.

Wink

What is it with people (not cats) who wink? I'm not referring to the sassy come hither winks. I'm talking about the business wink. The at-work wink. What IS that? And how does the male corporate wink differ from the female corporate wink? What has brought this on? Let's explore this shall we?

i've been "winked" at by two different people at work. Once by a scruffy older gentleman with a corner office, who despite the immediate mental associations, is actually a cool guy. When I sat down with him in one of the first meetings i had with him, he threw his hands up at a chart and said, "This makes no fucking sense!" Brilliant, because I love people who curse out loud. The second winker is female. I'll get to her in a second...

So the older gentleman wink.... I was emerging from the kitchen with a frothy beverage, and he was headed in the opposite direction. I smiled my usual cubicles-are-not-meant-for-humans-but-I'm-pushing-through-the-pain grin, which was met by a quick and chirpy wink, if winks can be chirpy.

Here are my quick and dirty interpretations:

-"Hey...you're on my radar!"
Possible Meaning: I'm familiar with the work you've been doing, so keep it up?

-"How YOU doin'?"
Possible Meaning: This is how I greet ALL the ladies!

-"Hello there"
Possible Meaning: My bank account frickin' kills, how YOU doin'?

All reasonable guesses, none too offensive. My take on this is sociological. I mean, what's the point of letting that in?

But on to the second aforementioned female winker. The occurances are so random:

Situation 1:
I'm talking with someone and she walks by, and does the passing-by-wink

Situation 2:
We're talking about nonsensical things and she'll say, "so i basically eat an apple every morning.." and then the period-end-of-the-sentence-wink!

Situation 3:
I'm talking to other people, she walks into the room, catches my eye and there it is, another hey-i-see-you-wink!

For some reason, i find her winks to be less predictable, yet with more wacky interpretations. Quite frankly, I find them a bit annoying. They're like shorthand or something. Shorthand, for what? Is it a conspiratorial in-the-trenches thing, a secret club sans club thing, or an unconscious nervous thing? There's no need to decide!

So what would you say? Male winker: possible meaning 1, 2, or 3? Female winker: compulsive tick or hey-you're-my-people?

I really don't think that neither of the male nor female winks are flirty in nature, given the space in which they were delivered. And yes, you never know, but my senses tell me that the corporate wink is one that is part conspiratorial and part revelational.

One can easily keep a lot repressed in a corporate environment--true thoughts, feelings, opinions, attitudes, etc. So maybe the wink is the only harmless and untraceable flag that waves amongst people breathing recycled air? Its message can't be saved into a hard drive, not cc'd to anyone else, nor forwarded via voicemail. A well choreographed wink can simply disappear into the air, silent yet resolute....

Maybe I should stop analysing and start drafting my own wink strategy?

Request

A brief service announcement from Penny:

It has been a while now that I've entered the blogosphere--it's weird to think that I actually have a blog, quite honestly. We're talking of one who works in a high tech company, but is not one who gets overly excited with gadgetry and technology. I know, tell me about it. I feel like the only one working at Dunkin' Donuts who doesn't like pastries.

So now, a little over a year and 100+ blog postings later, I'm happy to be in regular correspondance with a few of my regular reader friends. Thank you for the continued support! Though you don't post your comments online, I do appreciate how your email comments turn into longer email discussions.

But what about the others?

Here's my humble request to other frequent "anonymous" posters and silent readers at pennylane productions. Yes, I'm talking to you! I've seen you here every other week or month or so. You click around, snicker, jeer, and maybe even roll your eyes a bit!? What's up? If you're a friend of mine, you've got my email--so drop a line every now and then! Tell me who you are, what you're up to, and what you really think.

I must say it feels rather odd to to know that regular anonymous comment posters or unidentified readers keep reading without saying hi. It's almost like people wandering through your house, opening drawers and looking at books on my nightstand--then quietly slipping out the back door. I suppose that's the "brilliance" of anonymous viewing--that fantastic and voyeuristic view into people's lives. But I'm no Zach Braff, who seems content with a website and thousands of anonymous readers and comments. Me? I'd like to know who I'm drivelling to.

Identify yourself, silent reader and/or occasional commenter. Cheers.

Lately:

-My quirky and unreliable Samsung phone has been dropped, slammed, and kicked one too many times. A co-worker suggested that I invest in a Sprint phone from Costco--thereby assuring me a phone for life with their return everything anytime policy. She claims a man had successfully returned a $3 bag of potato chips. What might have been the issue there? Too salty? An unreasonable ratio of oil to actual potato? Anyway, I was able to get a swanky ultra thin phone. Now I can treat camera snapshots of the Tubular One with sepia tones and little cartoon stamps. Brilliant--for those who like stuffed animals in cars.

-My venture into the world of academia has taken flight. That is to say, I'm gathering my passport, taking care of innoculations, trying out travel umbrellas, updating my Lonely Planets... Is it like riding a bike? I hope so.

-A few small trips... Cappy and I are looking forward to a family wedding in November. Las Vegas baby! Though, I guess the reception at the Bellagio won't be so bad : ) We also may be headed here for a taste of fall later in October with some friends. Apparently this place is LGBT and dog friendly!

-Latest Lotto fantasies:

1. Soundproof room with a killer drum set
2. Small condo in the city for convenience when I'll be spending more time near a library
3. House in Hawai'i for weekends and holidays (preferably Big Island--Puna or Hakalau)

And lastly, signs that you've got this nasty bug I've acquired:

-you can't get enough sleep
-you've got aches and pains
-you feel that feel you literally can't get out of bed for more than one day
-coffee doesn't taste/smell good

Ugh.

NYC

What can I say about our trip in the East Coast? It was all about the food, or a lot of it was. The best part about dining in NYC is definitely the possibility of 11 pm dinner reservations.

The dining experience was definitely a refreshing departure from the low fat/low cal California cuisine.

Here is a list of the highlights. My top 4:

Carnegie Deli
http://www.carnegiedeli.com
Totally famous and very touristy. Cappy had the "Woody Allen," 1/2 corned beef, 1/2 pastrami, and I had the pastrami. I probably should have had the corned beef as it was absolutely perfect. The sandwiches feature enough meat for a small family, a dish of 5-6 pickles, and crinkle-cut fries.

Now, I don't mean to be a buzzkill on this whole NY deli experience--but I thought it would be great to show the possibility of such a monstrous highly stacked sandwich, but then in actuality, serve something more reasonable. Or allow people to choose something they can actually finish. The highly stacked sandwiches struck me as kind of obscene. But Americans tend to have a soft spot (literally) for the sputtering over-the-top joy of oversized portions. In Tokyo, the "Woody Allen" sandwich could easily feed a family of four.

Unfortunately, we didn't have an appetite for the famous cheesecake, nor a sidedish knish. A knish, I've learned is essentially is a pastry packed potato. In any case, I did wonder--which kind of food is more aligned with heart disease? New York deli food or local Hawai'i lunch plates?

Aquagrill
http://www.aquagrill.com/menuspage.htm

Earlier in the summer I was a bit enthusiastic about our heavenly dinner experience at Aqua. My heart is still with Aqua, but our experience at Aquagrill was also something extraordinary.

We were blown into the front doors (literally, thanks to Ernesto) at 11 pm. The dining room was buzzing with energy as if it were 7.30 pm. I had Alaskan halibut that was as tender as sole with a sauce straight out of a small cafe on the Île-de-France. A light and slightly tangy Dungeness crab and watercress salad was carefully placed on top of the fish. Cappy went for the Diver Sea Scallops and risotto. I can't really comment further on her dish because I was quite wrapped up with the halibut and crab.

We ordered their special dessert, the "Saturday Night Soufflé." It was a lovely hazelnut soufflé with freshly dripped chocolate and kahlua sauce. We're not generally dessert gals, but who could resist? At the end of the night, the host/manager whispered to us that that the dessert chef had made one more soufflé for the staff. She then got us a small plate with a bit of it, which was also shared with the waiters. Nice.

Aquagrill is known for their friendly and laid back atmosphere. People are very real and hospitable. In fact, the biggest shock I had in NYC was seeing how friendly people were in SoHo, Tribeca, the West Village--all over really. People would go out of their way to help you.

In fact, I'm not sure this old NY joke stands anymore, at least not in the West Village area:

Question: How do you ask for the time in New York?
Answer: Do you have the time, or should I just go fuck myself?

Now it's more like...

Question: Do you have the time?
Answer: Sure--oh wait I don't. Let me walk you to a place with a great clock made of spoons and marzipan.


Balthazar
http://www.balthazarny.com/splash.html

A very Parisian experience in SoHo. Great, great great. Though NY is now smoke-free, I could still visualise the secondhand smoke hanging in the air as our cheese platter made it's way to our small table. Apparently, they've got an amazing brunch.

Sunny Palace
http://www.sunnypalace.com
Great dim sum. Chinese-Americans in Jersey. It's actually much better than anything Chinese I've had in the Bay Area or possibly even Vancouver B.C. for that matter.


Hobbit List:
These are places we'd like to have tried, but unfortunately don't have the Hobbit multiple-meal capacity, nor the will to make up for it with extra exercise:

1. Papaya King
http://www.papayaking.com
Hot dogs and a smoothie for under $3. Who could resist? We walked by this place, but we were heading elsewhere for dinner.

2. Degustation
http://events.nytimes.com/2006/06/21/dining/reviews/21rest.html
Check out the menu. I'm still sad we couldn't get to this one.

3. Jane
http://www.janerestaurant.com
Could we somehow airlift this place and plop it right down near Lake Merritt, Oakland?

NYC vs. SF

Food:
SF/NYC (tie, a very close tie)

Vibe:
NYC
For me, it kind of approximates the pre-dot.com SF--less attitude and less pretension from conservative transplants from the Midwest and East. And I may prefer the Korea-like passionate truth heartiness and soul, and creativity and energy.

Transportation:
NYC

Weather:
SF
No contest.

Energy:

SF
Ten years ago, my answer would have been NYC. Though I love the creative bustle of NYC, it now feels something I'd love to visit more frequently, rather than reside in. SF is thankfully far away from the neurotic state lines of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and less about the I-can-trace-my-ancestors-to-the-Mayflower thing. Also, I love being close to nature with the amazement that you couldn't possibly be so close to a major metropolis.

Also, NY feels like a dysfunctional relationship. One that thrills and inspires, but drains and depletes. SF feels like a perpetual crush, less heavy on commitment, but easy to get caught up in for years that seem like weeks.

Place I'd rather live:
SF
Though--a loft in Manhattan to visit for shopping, dining, theater, music, and Christmas wouldn't be bad either.

Santa Barbara

Am writing this from Santa Barbara. Just got back from the East Coast, but had to make a quick work trip to the land of the perpetually tanned and just-out-of-the-spa peeps. Specifically, the township of immaculate shrubbery and exotic cars, a.k.a. Montecito. I'm staying here in a room facing the ocean that I can barely see through the coastal fog.

The last time I was in this "town" (or rather, a resort villa for the rich and famous) I ran into one of the rich and famous, literally. We nearly knocked each other over. See if you can guess who I'm talking about. Think 80's Brat Pack. Male. No, not Emilio Estevez. Not Judd Nelson--(wait--who else was in the Brat Pack anyway?? And why do I have all this useless knowledge in my head??) Need more hints? His brother was recently divorced from a two time Academy Award winner. OK, if you still don't know who I'm talking about, you're probably too young.

A few more clues/observations: he really does have rosy red cheeks, he's just a tad taller than I am, he drives a black Mercedes, and he's very polite. A couple of years ago, I was walking down State Street in a stride faster than my usual local Hawaiian turtle pace. I was looking up at a building on my right, and suddenly felt the side of someone hitting my left shoulder. I turned to my left and uttered a "oh sorry," and heard a familiar voice utter the same. I then heard a woman's voice call "Rob!" I looked up and realised that I ran into Rob Lowe. Woo hoo. Didn't he videotape himself and a few underage girls at a Democratic convention a few years back? Isn't he a total Schwarznegger supporter? Eeew.

So, here I am in Santa Barbara two years later. Once more for a work trip, but with a different company. I haven't run into a celebrity yet. I was too tired after our all day long meeting for any celebrity stalking. My co-worker here from Seoul would love to run into Brad Pitt though. How special.

The only person I'd like to run into today is someone who'd be willing to do a 2-hour Swedish Massage for free.

I'll be posting very soon about our trip to the East Coast. Here's a bit of a preview:

-We realised that the 295 and the 95 are not the New Jersey Turnpike, but totally lead you to it

-We experienced a "Woody Allen" at the Carnegie Deli

-We visited the Hogwartian Bryn Mawr and Mall-like UPenn

-Had some fun late nights in SoHo

-Saw Rent (my first time, Cappy's second...and I LOVED it)

More stories and observations to come. Notably, my case of culture shock and surprised appreciation of the very friendly and chill folks in NYC. It was amazing and quite surprising to have encountered people in NYC that were actually much friendlier than those in the Bay Area. I'm not kidding.

More on that later.

East

My friend Kelly asked me if I ever get culture shock when I'm on the East Coast. Good question. Of all the places I've been in the U.S. (not many compared to Europe/Asia) I thought I would have felt the most culture shock in Greensboro, North Carolina. Apart from the numerous "Praise the Lord," and "REPENT" signs that seemed to appear every 50 yards--I didn't feel so out of place. Odd. Maybe it was because of the company I was in, or that the humidity reminded me of Hawai'i.

There were things I had never seen/experienced before. People talked about "prayer chains" and how entire congregations set up a domino effect of prayer for a little girl who happened to catch a rather brutal flu virus. People had compact three bedroom homes with large trampolines in their grassy backyards. I watched kids stuff down saltine crackers after coating it in ranch dressing. I walked through a super market called "Harris Teeter." I heard Vietnamese women with thick North Carolina accents. I witnessed people actually making the rice you boil in a bag.

But there was something in Greensboro that made me feel less of an alien. What was it? Of course it was the food. There was a passion and heartiness to the food that reminded me of the way people are with food in Hawai'i. Or rather, the preoccupation and deeply felt connection to it.

I discovered Cheerwine (a cherry flavored soda), Brunswick stew, Moravian lemon cookies, hush puppies, NC style bbq, and Crock Pot beef roast, and Chick-Fil-A sandwiches. Even today, I get appreciative and warm smiles from N. Carolina natives when I mention my knowledge and love of Brunswick stew and Cheerwine. I'm certain I'd have a similar reaction if I met someone from Greensboro who professed their love for loco mocos or portuguese sausage eggs and rice.

So about the East Coast--and that was what I intended to write about here. In about 24 hours, Cappy and I will be buying up copies of Us, Vanity Fair, the New Yorker, and In Touch for our flight to Newark Liberty. We'll spend about 6 days wandering about New York City, Long Island, Philadelphia and a bit of New Jersey.

List of things to do:

-Katz's deli. I can't wait to turn through the turnstile with my ticket for a Kosher pastrami sandwich. Pickles. And probably a nap right after.

-Ground Zero. After a bit of deliberation, I've decided that I'd like to visit the memorial. I'm not looking forward to the sellers of 9/11 memorabilia--t-shirts and flip photo albums of the burning twin towers. Reminds me of the lady selling postcards at Auschwitz-Birkenau. Grisly.

-Cappy Landmarks. Would like to see where Cappy went to high school and college. Where she worked on the Pennsylvania Main Line, where she grew up in Long Island, her favorite place for dim sum in Manhattan, etc.

-SoHo and Tribeca. We're staying at a hotel in the downtown area near these neighborhoods. It's been a long while since I've walked through these streets. The last time I was here, I bought an ankh necklace that I've not seen since I bought it. The Hunger was my favorite movie back then.

-A Cheesesteak sandwich in Philadelphia. It is true, Cheese Wiz is an ingredient. I can dig a 4000 calorie sandwich. Jesus.

There is a bit more I'm looking forward to, but I can't get to that right now.

Hawai'i Transplant

A while ago I received a forward called, "You know you're from Hawai'i when..." It was a list of things that only those from Hawai'i would recognise about themselves. It was quite funny and true. My good friend and Oah'u transplant mentioned that it we needed a similar list for Hawai'i transplants. Though I just spent summers in Hilo, I grew up in a mainland community of Kauai and Oah'u transplants.

So here's my list:

You know you're a mainland transplant from Hawai'i when....

-You suffer a lot of awkward silences among those mainland folks who just don't get your jokes with playful racial overtones

-You're the only one clamoring to help do dishes at the ends of dinner parties

-When you notice people leaving a party, you rush to make a plate for them

-You silently scoff at those who actually take home the food they bring to a party but then remind yourself that you're not on an island

-You wince when people ask, "So, is your family Hawaiian?" And you're clearly of Asian origin

-You can turn your pidgin on and off with the greatest of ease. Or, you sometimes forget that you indeed speak another dialect!

-"Care Package" means dried squid, li hing mui, One Ton chips, and packages of poi rather than scented candles, lavender bath salts, and potpourri

-You understand where the song line "...and no go out with Mits Funai" comes from and still laugh out loud about it

-You feel an immediate sense of warmth when you inadvertantly hear pidgin being spoken in a public place

-You gravitate to Hawai'i festivals just for the food--and even if the beef stew is junk, you still feel satisfied

-People always gush, "You're SO generous" when you're just acting naturally

-You want to call your friend's parents "Uncle" and "Auntie"

-You have fun guessing the island of another Hawai'i transplant based on the pidgin slang they use

-To you, a casual dinner means you can wear a t-shirt, shorts, and slippers

-You feel a hint of shame when you tell your non-Hawai'i friends that you actually enjoy eating SPAM

-Everyone around you seems to speed walk in comparison to your easy stroll

-Whenever the topic about Hawai'i comes up you're the "expert" even if it's about a place you've never been to

-When in Las Vegas, you always stop at the California hotel for some good local food

-You've taught people that to make their palms face inward when making the "shaka sign," and not outward like a tourist

-At a potluck, your dish is usually the ugliest, but most satisfying

-It still takes you a second to realise that "flip flops" means slippers

-People think you're "overly obsessed" with food. (...unless they are Chinese)

-You naturally take your shoes off when you enter a house

-You feel that walking on carpet with shoes feels funny

-You have a large shark's tooth hanging down from your rear view mirror

-You stop to smell the papayas at Berkeley Bowl even though you would never buy them at nearly $3 each

I'm homesick. I hear ATA has cheap flights: Oakland-Hilo.

Locked In

My friend/co-worker and I fired back emails today about our favorite 4AD groups. She was listening to the Cure and mentally moping as she claims to have done from ages 14-17. Good times.

I just heard on NPR that our musical tastes are pretty much set between 14-21 and that after the age of 35 it's hard for adults to get into new music. Hmm. I've been emotionally grounded with melancholic electronica from the grey skies of Britain.

Most of my adult musical consciousness was undoubtedly framed by what I listened to between the ages of 14-21. And this was anything and everything British: Duran Duran, Erasure, New Order, Depeche Mode, Cocteau Twins, Talk Talk, The Cure.

Speaking of Depeche Mode...

In high school, Trent and I would drive out to a lakeside park on Mercer Island, smoke cloves and carry on this way: "Isn't strangelove about S&M?" "What is the real emotion expressed if one declares, 'i need to drink more than you seem to think before i'm anyone's...' and "Is Blue Dress about the fact that Martin Gore likes drag queens, or maybe that he likes to wear heels from time to time?" And the ever uplifting, "What do you think is the least painful or preferable way to die?" Trent: drowning (he was a merman) Me: while asleep.

Now i don't feel so bad over the age of 35, unable to connect with new music that you'd think i love but really can't stand.

Summer

I've been missing from the blogosphere for most of this fastly disappearing summer, this is true. I have been doing a mental record of the travels and exploits of Penny, Cappy, and the canine centenarian. Not everything, but a few things thus far...

Russian River:
Who knew water ankle deep in parts could be so much fun? How many women does it take to row a canoe upstream? The answer: 3. Two to paddle/steer, and one to shout out directions--imagine a sundrenched cockswain armed with organic hops and arugula. The Tubular One wasn't too keen on the canoe bit. She was more fascinated by the nearby web footed ones. You could nearly hear the T.O.'s telepathic shouts of glee, "My food source! My food source! Now all I need to do is dig up some sweet potatoes..."

Side note: I really believe that pets should only eat foods that they can feasibly track and kill. I knew a cat who ate a dry mix of lamb and rice. Lamb? This is hilarious to me. Can you imagine a feisty feline attacking a mid-sized lamb for dinner? In my mind, this upsets the natural order of things.

Anyway, at Russian River--snacks, scrabble, and a Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency marathon (!!) guided us through the night before we got back to the river the following day.

We're headed back to Russian River this coming weekend, but with an increase of five more gals. I see more beer, rounds of Texas Hold 'Em, and even more excuses to head to Monte Rio's Sonoma Wine and Cheese shop.

Summer Movies:
Didn't see many this summer. Our best film moments have been courtesy of Netflix. We did see "Scoop" on its opening night. We were the youngest members of the audience. I smirked rather than laughed. All i can say was that the popcorn was really great.

Work:
An upcoming release has taken most of my time. Read: half-eaten lunches at my desk, little time for shoreline walks, and too much time staring at a computer. Apart from the Tahoe retreat, it's been quite engaging. Life fulfilling: low. Career building and good times w/colleagues: high.

Misc:
Fun barbeques and picnics, our Bouillabaisse adventure with Fabrice and Jen, swimming and strawberry/passion fruit tapioca smoothies, great reading, a lot of tennis, and general subdued mayhem.

For those of you know who know and understand my thing with Morten Harket, read on... I've just received the DVD "a-ha Live at Vallhall." The DVD includes footage of the lads hanging out before a concert--being their usual passionate extroverted selves. And the added bonus of a flash created video for "I wish I cared." It has made my top ten list of all-time favorite music videos. Also in my top ten: Duran Duran's "Is there something I should know?" and Madness' "Our House," among others.

I've learned recently about another 4AD darling, "Blonde Redhead." The sound? Kind of like Bjork with a hippie electronic backup band. A vocally careless Japanese singer. The sound is raw and very real. I keep seeing visions of Duran Duran's "Save a Prayer" video whenever I listen to this music. Well, just the song "Elephant Woman." I'm not sure why.

Summer travel will come later for us. We'll be heading out to the E. Coast for real this time. It's high time I visit the tennis courts where Cappy developed her killer backhand, her high school, her childhood home in Long Island, and a NYC hot dog. The last time I was in NY was a very long time ago. At that time, I had this crazy thought that a Smith MSW was something I had to do, and that moving to Seoul w/my French girlfriend was going to keep us together.

This time around I'd like to see what the city (NYC) looks like from a spiritually sober place.

Will it seem as noisy or more so? Will I be able to locate my long lost friend Geno S. in Brooklyn? And where are those big round rocks in Central Park? Is the dim sum in New Jersey as good as Cappy's mom says it is? And lastly, I will finally experience a proper Philadelphia cheesesteak sandwich. Is Cheese Wiz really a main ingredient?

Mass Games

While in Paris a few years ago, Cappy and I happened upon a great documentary about North Korea. I remember furiously translating the French subtitles for her while at the same time, trying to absorb this incredible documentary. We kept saying to ourselves that it would never air in the United States, and how fortunate we were to catch it on French TV.

The documentary is called A State of Mind. It follows one year in the life of two girls in Pyongyang. They were training for the Mass Games--the world's largest choreographed gymnastic performance---read: brainwashing at staggering proportions. It's a monumental event that takes place a few times a year.

The two girls, Hyon Sun Pak and Song Yun Kim are the two girls that speak to the camera with an energy that seemed passionately aloof. They rarely looked directly into the camera. When one confessed that her goal was to perform for the General, she exuded as much enthusiasm as a 17-year old seeing a McDonald's playland for the first time.

One marvels at the mass synchronicity, flexibility and extreme display of unity. It's easy to get swept away in the spectacle and forget that only a chosen and well-nourished few are able to participate in these "games." And that the chosen few of Pyongyang are entitled to one television station for a maximum of five hours a day. The national radio plays in all apartment units. Residents may soften the volume, but they are never allowed to turn it off completely.

Parts of the documentary recalled images from The Wonderful Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl, or Mein Kampf. Quite frankly, it made the Nazi party look like toy soldiers playing line-up in a gymnasium.

In August of last year, I remember seeing free advertising postcards for the Mass Games in Beijing. These colorful postcards were lying on the counter of a coffee shop. This coffee shop was on the first floor of the ultra modern Beijing skyscraper. This is the building where our Beijing team has their headquarters.

I remember how the postcard advertised the Mass Games as some phenomenal spectacle. I also thought it was funny as the coffee shop was off to the side of a Jaguar/BMW dealership.

Go Game

It may be no secret that Cappy and I have been thinking of sending in a video for the Amazing Race. America has not seen a team like us. We're totally unique. Our quirkiness would make for some racuous reality TV, I'd say.

We've even gone so far as establishing who would have the burden of certain tasks. Anything to do with heights: Cappy. Eating bug larvae: Penny. Putting together puzzles: Cappy. Getting on the first flights out of any country: Penny.

The reason I write about this is because I got a taste of what this madness might involve. It had nothing to do with TV actually....

This past week, I spent three days at a resort in Lake Tahoe. Unfortunately, it wasn't with Cappy, who would have loved the pristine tennis courts and close proximity to the lake.

I was up there for an all-company work retreat. Initially, the idea made us all nervous. People from our offices in Asia, South America, Europe, and headquarters would be there, we'd have roommates, not much down time, etc.

So what does this have to do with my Amazing Race aspirations? I participated in a high-tech team building activity called the Go Game.

80 of us were broken up into teams of six. We were given a superhero lunch box containing a text-message phone, an envelope, and a digital camera. The "missions" were creative, mind-boggling, and adventurous.

Missions involved teams creating a 20 second video with themes like "Historical Ballet" where you had to act out a historical event with ballet. Or interact with actors who were planted around the resort. One planted actor was a woman in a white dress. She was crying hysterically. Our mission was to find her, assess what was wrong, and console her. If we were successful, she'd give us a clue.

The game was fast paced and dynamic. Along the way on a particular mission, we'd run by other teams delivering pick up lines to "actors," singing songs in French, or choreographing interepretive dance routines.

My team came in 2nd place out of 12 teams. We were quite pleased with ourselves. The digital photo that may have catapulted us up to the top 5--an engineer posing in his birthday suit as Rodin's "The Thinker."

I've already broken it to Cappy, but I may have found another Amazing Race partner. My team captain and I were a perfect pair. At the end of our game, we agreed to call each other to send in our own Amazing Race audition video. Perhaps one day you'll see us: "Bob and Penny--Co-workers."

Personal Training

John Spencer Ellis. Gunnar Peterson. Bob Green. Do you recognise these names? You might if you were a celebrity, professional athlete, or Janet Jackson. These guys are personal trainers to the Hollywood stars and the rich and famous. OK, so celebrities also get a lot of help with surgery and weekly Zone diet deliveries, but many can afford personal trainers who work with them for months, or even years at a time.

So I've got a personal trainer, but I'm no celebrity. My only 5.5 minutes came ten years ago on a SBS TV special in Seoul, Korea. If I'm being honest, I didn't understand fully what was going on that day in the studio. It seemed to be some national adoptee telethon/orphanage documentary. Cue SBS's sentimental violin soundtrack here...

In any case, I've just completed a grueling ten sessions with a personal trainer of my own! Personal trainers are those perpetually fit men and women you see at the gym. I used to think they were like drill seargents or the captain of the basketball team with a whistle.

Thankfully, I've found a trainer with an impeccable bedside manner, similar to the manner of many IT technicians. You know, those who know a lot but don't make you feel bad for what you don't know or can't do. Billy is exactly that kind of a personal trainer. His clients are all across the board: hefty AC Transit drivers, housewives, boxers, college athletes, and me. He is able to get results with each and every client he has because he knows how to push people without "pushing" them, you know what I mean?

Here's why I decided to sign up with Billy:

As you know, I spend my days in a cube farm. Though I'm fully ergonomic in a Herman Miller Aeron chair, I don't get up and around that much. The last time I invested in exercise was Boot Camp at Lake Merritt. Doing crunches with flanked by geese droppings wasn't really my thing --at 7.15 a.m., no less. Indoor soccer is too frantic and all about conditioning, but not toning. And left to my own devices, I'd run for 35 minutes and lift a few weights here and there and call it a "workout."

I thought it was time to take this fitness thing to a whole new level. Rather than dish out a blow-by-blow account of each session--and the rancor, pain, and obsession of it all--I thought I'd write out a list of the best parts.

Top Ten Reasons Why Personal Training Rocks

1. I could/would never put myself through an hour of what Billy puts me through
2. I had no idea what my "core" was or how important it was to strengthen
3. All the different weight machines used to intimdate me
4. As stated above, I used to think running for 35 min. and crunches was a total "workout"
5. I need TONS of motivation and encouragement. On my own, it just wasn't happening
6. I never thought it possible to have toned arms, especially in six short weeks
7. A good trainer understands how training brings total physical and emotional fitness
8. I've never slept better and I am in a much better mood most of the time
9. The rewards can be immediate and noticeable
10. It gives you an overall foundation of strength, perfect for cross-training

If you live in the Bay Area and would like to know more about personal training with my man Billy W. just let me know!

North Pole

Did anyone else catch the fascinating Fresh Air interview about the North Pole? A NY Times reporter Andrew Revkin talked with Terry Gross about his recent trip to the North Pole.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5484338

Apparently there are companies who've bought the rights to certain commerce channels from Russia to Europe. This is for the future when the ice melts enough to allow that passage.

Great.

Jack

Apparently a highly territorial and declawed Tabby chased this bear up not one--but two trees. Jack the Cat hissed at this bear, sending it straight to the top.

I had no idea New Jersey felines were that gutsy, it must be something in the water?

I know exactly how our Tubular One would react to a black bear. In her cheeky way, she'd skip up to it--tail wagging in her friendly play bow pose. She really doesn't believe any creature is immune to her charms.

Aqua

Cappy and I celebrated our 4-year anniversary with a 2.5 hour culinary love fest at Laurent Manrique's Aqua in the Financial District of San Francisco. I say love fest because we were killed with culinary passion. We indulged ourselves with the Chef's Tasting Menu which included 7-courses of pure ecstasy.

Overall, it was a wonderful night. Each dish topped the last, service was impeccable, and we couldn't stop smiling before/during/after each dish. We walked out feeling the warmth from the waitstaff with their knowing smiles--they deliver food heroin and they know it.

We were killed with love. It felt like being on a roller-coaster. With each dish delivered, it seemed as if we were constantly climbing up the track incline with giddy anticipation, and screaming on each descent--enjoying every tiny bite. And just when we thought the thrills were over, we'd turn a corner and start climbing upwards again...

The chef's tasting menu featured a 7-course barrage of soul satisfying bliss. Here are some of the highlights:

Smoked Sturgeon Cannoli with American Caviar, and Chives
Parmesan-Black Pepper Soufflé with Dungeness Crab, Sea Urchin, and Chive Butter
Gazpacho with Trout, Grapes, and Herbs
Sea Bass with Porcini Mushrooms
Beef with Veal Jus and Potato Gnocci
Yogurt mint lime granita

I may have forgotten a dish or two. Each tasting dish was small, completely satisfying. The wine and champagne menu resembled that of a Thai beach bungalow restaurant. Pages and pages--about 25 to be exact.

The aforementioned service was impeccable. The waitstaff was intuitive and very friendly. I could imagine their employee handbook was borrowed a bit from Disneyland, slightly modified..."treat each guest as if they are a good friend, but keep enthusiasm from being over the top..."

We left the restaurant feeling as if we were ending a short sojourn on a tropical island. We were greeted with half a dozen thank you's, handshakes and French accented greets like, "we hope to see you again soon!" Though I know all that hoopla is part of waitstaff logistics, and totally a part of the 4-star experience, it still felt warm and natural.

If you've ever enjoyed a dinner at Aqua, you know what I'm talking about. If not, I highly recommend it, especially for a romantic anniversary!

Next up for our 5-year: Gary Danko

Yolanda

Here's a windy path upwards on the backside of Mount Tamalpais. This was not taken by me at a section of the Yolanda trail, at Phoenix Lake. This reservoir park is located between the towns of Ross and Kentfield in the Marin.

Cappy, Lorrie, and I did the 4.4 mile loop this past Sunday in the height of sunshine. We met up with some cool mountain breezes, wild strawberries, baby pink roses, and a tree leaf that resembles bay leaves. To me, this leaf in particular smells like a dental office.

There was a slightly terrifying moment. At one point during the hike, we were on a narrow path under low hanging trees. Something huge was flying directly over our heads, expertly making its way through the branches with its 3-foot wingspan. Or at least that's what it seemed like to me. "It's a vulture!" Lorrie cried out. I had this sudden feeling of terror, like we might be crossing paths very soon with a carcass of some sort. It flew over our heads again. Cappy thought she saw another vulture! At a closer look, it seemed that the vulture's head and neck were red. Eewww. I decided that it was a slim flying turkey--which assuaged my fears. Thankfully we didn't see it/them again.

Next weekend we're heading out to the Palace of Fine Arts for San Francisco's 28th Annual Ethnic Dance Festival. We'll be cheering on my friends who will be dancing the P'ungmul, a Korean folk dance. Apparently, it is a dance that is associated with student activism. The only thing I've associated with Korean student activism is tear gas. I've walked through it three times on various occasions near Seoul National University. It will be good to replace this association with one less toxic.

Remote

Thoughts from working from home today:

-A Bose sound dock with ipod blasting throughout is great end of the week therapy
-1001 distractions (not sure actually, if this is a benefit)
-We really need to re-organise our shoe closet
-The Tubular One sleeps/snores a LOT
-I need to put an end to this procrastination

Recently purchased/frequently played songs on i-tunes:

Energy Is You-The Hitman
Reflects an energy and spirit that I must get in touch with very soon. This song reminds me of early 90's techno.

Turn It Around-4 Strings
I love all of their songs. Gorgeous voice. I love soul in non-soul music.

Justified and Ancient-KLF
Everyone has certain songs that immediately bring back vivid memories. This song brings back a very powerful time in my life. A trip to L.A. in the spring of '92 that changed my life...

Close to My Roots-DJ Moule (The Cure/Beastie Boys mashup)
This song puts me in an instant good mood.


OK, no more procrastination....back to writing, editing, and uploading...

Reviews

The Da Vinci Code

I expected that perhaps some of the critics in Cannes might have gone overboard. You know, passing on their love for the American "novelist" who allegedly plagiarized Michael Baigent and Richard Leigh's Holy Blood Holy Grail. Well, I've discovered with my own eyes that the critics were right on target. Here's how I knew: I slept through about 40% of the film. The worst part of the film: Every scene involving Tom Hanks. The best part of the film: Some of the camera work in a few scenes. I can sum it up in two words: major snoozefest. I'd rather endure a three hour animated film or back to back episodes of Dr. Phil. Seriously.

X-Men The Last Stand (spoilers...)

Apparently Halle Berry demanded a bigger and tougher role since Catwoman completely flopped. OK, but did they have to kill Xavier to make that happen? (Do i really care--am not much of an X-Men fan really...) Anyway, lately it seems that the recent trendy equation for film/TV is this: Kill for Credibility! I guess Brett Ratner took that equation one, no, two steps higher. I wish there could be a Hogwartian film just about life at the mutant school. Or a serious mockumentary about mutant life and the various powers they possess. Like, how would one be able to mentally transcribe? Would that be because that mutant had a lot of teachers in the family? As I said, I'm not big X-Men fan, but for the two hours or so that I spent in the theater, I forgot about cube farms, office politics, and the fact that time was carrying me through Memorial weekend at breakneck speed.

Here are a few tidbits from recent Netflix brain candy rentals. Great films for when I don't want to think, which is generally after 6 p.m. these days... If I'm still watching beyond the first ten minutes, it's generally a good sign.

Last Holiday

Queen Latifah needs to come out already! It's getting pretty painful watching her pretend to be smitten with rapper-actors. That said, it was a fun film except for the very unnecessary subplot involving Timothy Hutton's character. Queen Latifah and Gerard Depardieu worked like walnuts and brie--great pairing and therefore the most sincere relationship of the whole film. I've always liked Queen Latifah--she has a whole lot of that Piscean charisma. That said, can someone tell her agent to stop getting her Wal-Mart commercials?

The Family Stone

Hated this film in the first 10 minutes. Why is it that in a Blockbuster film the gay people, people of color, and people with disabilities are all embodied in one or two characters? One gay man is short, white, and deaf. His partner is black and was permanently fixated in the kitchen. Everyone else is "pretty" and "normal." So annoying. Another distracting point--I love Sex in the City, when I saw Sarah JP playing an uptight character, all I saw was "Carrie" having a bad day because of too small Manolo Blanicks. I applaud anyone who actually made it through this film.

Rumor Has It

I expected to actually detest this film as well, but it was surprisingly enjoyable. Don't ask why because it seemed to have everything going against it, namely: Jennifer Aniston and Kevin Costner. Shirley MacLaine's was doing her "I'll put on a pot of bourbon," thing and killed (i mean this in a good way) her lines with her rough and tumble grace. Kevin Costner wasn't as insufferable as I thought he'd be--his character was, so that was enough. Mark Ruffalo's character was appropriate, sincere, and realistic. Generally, the story was interesting for a cheesy premise...it was OK for me. Read: it kept me awake for the whole film.

Race

Cappy and I were corralled by our friends to not only get up at 6.45 a.m. on a Sunday, but also get on the bart and get ready to run by 8 a.m. This is no small feat! For the first time in the six years I've lived in the Bay Area, I participated in San Francisco's traditional Bay to Breakers Race.

I've realised that running on a treadmill four times a week does not afford you the fitness to run concrete streets with inclines and dips a plenty! I was generally the last person of my crew to jog into our frequent pit stops, but it was hard to concentrate on running when there was so much to see.

The Fandangers (pictured above) were my 2nd favorite costumes of the day. (Thanks Chronicle, I couldn't be asked to bring any electronic gadgets with me.) We caught up with these people at mile 6 or 7. My first favorite were four guys dressed all in red with frizzy blue wigs. They had tags on them that said, "Thing #1, "Thing #2, and so on..." We saw them downtown, but not after!

We crossed the finish line at around 10.30 a.m. We skipped the festivities at the Polo fields, and hopped on the extremely packed N-Line. We headed to our favorite breakfast restaurant around 9th and Irving. Egg scrambles, hash browns, and toast never tasted so wonderful. Cappy's NY steak and eggs was well-deserved. This girl ran like there was no tomorrow.

Bay to Breakers was a lot of fun. I had one of those, "I love San Francisco and all the funny people," days. I've not had one of those days in a long while. It was perfect running weather--sunny, yet overcast. Everyone seemed to be in a jovial mood, including myself. Despite Sandra's near fatal tortilla incident, we were thankfully all injury free.

And speaking of all those tortillas, I couldn't help thinking that it was a pigeon dream come true. Whole streets blanketed with mushy maize! There must have been a binge increase of ounces of each pigeon in San Francisco.

So anyway, with the help of something little, orange, and different, I was feeling no pain by the afternoon. One of us had the great idea in the late morning to make reservations at Piedmont Springs. At four o'clock that afternoon, we were happily soaking in an outdoor hot tub.

Favorite announcement of the day, shouted out at the hill section of the race: "All racers please stop to party! Fail to do so, you will be cited!"

Notes to self:

1. Eat more than a banana before attempting to get through a 12K
2. When you're up and moving at 6.45 on a Sunday--3 p.m. can feel like 8 or 9 o'clock at night!
3. Try to wake up earlier on Sundays to get more out of the day
4. Try to remember point #3 in the future
5. Post-race hot tubs greatly reduce muscle cramps
6. Bands shouldn't play songs by the Killers. A bad cover version can interrupt running flow...
7. Remember to use wrist wallet for next year's race! (We'll be back...)

Cuisine

This is not an entry about sushi, just thought this photo was particularly appetizing and colorful. Do you ever have times where you're hungry but really have no idea what you want to eat? I've been in this phase for about a month now. I'm not sure what it is about.

When I lived in Japan, I didn't eat much sushi. Teppanyaki, yes. Curry rice, yes. Tendon, chicken katsu, okonomiyaki, and niku jaga, yes. 7-11 oden and Lawson's spicy chicken nuggets, yes. Dango, Mos Burger (!!), and corn miso ramen, yes. But I can count on my hands the amount of times I ate sushi. Or maybe I've just forgotten.

Here are my top 5 cuisines:

1. Japanese
2. Korean
3. French
4. Thai
5. Algerian/Mexican/North African

You notice that Italian and Chinese didn't make it. Why not Italian? I'm too overwhelmed by the excess of cheese and tomatoes. Though I love pizza and pasta, I'm not in love with the rest. Why not Chinese? Two words: duck and pork. Can't do either--but I do love hot dogs.

And the mention of Algerian? When Cappy and I were in Paris, my ex-took us to the most amazing restaurant near the Oberkampf metro. I think it is called "Les Trois Freres," the three brothers. It was not my first Algerian dining experience, but certainly the best. I love North African/Jewish cuisine. I love couscous as much as kim chee.

But why don't I have much of a specific appetite these days? Perhaps if I had Japanese okazu delivered a few times a week (I'm thinking of my friend Erika in San Diego) I might not worry about this problem.

Well, I'm actually craving something specific right now! Thankfully, Cappy and I have some fun dinner plans tonight. It might involve coconut curry, steamed fish, and garlic green beans. At least, that's what I want to order!

Lately

As of late:

1. Gregoire's take out on Piedmont Avenue. Take-out taken to a brilliant new level.

2. Keren Ann's new CD La Biographie de Luka Philipsen. A lighter version of Carla Bruni, a bit of Dido. Very soothing, and just great music to work to.

3. Oxygen--my indoor soccer team. We surprised ourselves with a 12-4 win last week only to be humbled this week with a devastating 6-0 loss. Winning is so much more fun.

What went wrong? I blame it on the music. Usually the Bladium plays upbeat and energizing music during games. Last night, at the beginning of the second half, Paul Young's "Everytime you go...away..." totally slowed us down. Later, I blamed a missed scoring opportunity on the agonizing guitar solo of a Van Halen song. We played against a team called "The Latinas." They were tough and highly skilled. At minute 35, we actually reverted back to a 3rd grade version of kick and run soccer. Brilliant. Thankfully, this was our last match up with them.

4. Clinique Bonus Time! Recently I spent a few hours at a swanky outdoor shopping mall in Walnut Creek. It's clearly an adult Disneyland--second to the Venetian at Las Vegas. Imagine faux European façades showing off Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma. Lest you be not taken by the McArchitecture, Godfather lite music fills the air. Happy blonde families stroll hand-in-hand. The captain of the local high school lacrosse team snuggled with his cheer bunny near a fountain. Whew. I had flashbacks of the city I grew up in, but thankfully the Italian music reminded me that I'm indeed in the throngs of Nor-Cal. And did i have a good shopping day? You bet. It was a glorious retail experience.

5. Girls weekend in the Pacific Northwest! Cappy and I spent this past weekend kicking it with mom up north. On the agenda for the weekend: dinner at a Caribbean restaurant near SeaTac airport, movies, dim sum, an art/craft fair, iced vanilla lattes, reminiscing, laughing. Bellevue Square and its environs is turning into a mini-Beverly Center. Seriously. I felt like I was in L.A. at times. My high school (Newport) is getting a major facelift. I guess that's what happens when you make a Newsweek list.

6. Personal Training at the Bladium! It's time for Penny to move beyond Pilates, Samba Beat classes, and indoor soccer... Stay tuned for the new adventures of Penny and her new trainer Billy W.

7. Bay to Breakers on May 21st Penny et al. will be starting off early on Sunday morning. Costumes TBA--read: we have no idea what we're wearing. You hear "Go!" then after 15 minutes, the crowds allow you a steady walking shuffle. Now that's a pace I can keep.

And lastly, we're happy to report that the Tubular One has fully recovered from the injuries she sustained last weekend. The T.O.'s usual dogsitter was in Mexico, so we took our little camper to San Francisco's Pet Camp. The vet says she may have hyper extended her knee and shoulder muscles. We attribute this to her overly rambunctious small dog play group. Oops. Next time, it's the Older Gentler Dog playgroup.

Corporate

So i've clearly fallen off the posting wagon--though not for lack of material. I've got tons of content in my head, but have been reluctant to spend more time online than necessary. Unfortunately, that has left little time for posting in the blogosphere.

I've got a bunch of postings in a half-baked state, that have been sitting around since mid-April. I'm cleaning up a bunch of them and putting them out there. Here's the first of them...

For those of you who know me well, you know that my working life up until 2004 was marked by the beginnings and endings of classes.

Though I could have probably made more money bartending or zookeeping rather than teaching, I was rich with perspective. I taught children and adults here in the States and in Asia. And this is a strangely true fact--because of my previous job, I can say that there are photos of me posing w/various students from every city/country in the world including: Oman, Cape Verde, Ghana, Saudi Arabia, Jakarta, Sakahlin, and Macau.

When teaching, I remember coming home at the end of the day, completely exhausted from talking. There was actually a point when students would ask me, "What's your dream job?" And being completely honest, I'd sometimes answer, "This!"

As you may know, for the past two years, my days have been spent in a high tech cube farm.

I have absolutely no regrets, but have been thinking about how different my working life is now, compared to the past 13 years.

For the past two years, I've been talking much less. I have IM conversations with people who sit on the other side of a wall. I overhear engineers speaking in a jargon that I can hardly understand. I recently had an hour long conversation about the differences between Web 1.0 and Web 2.0. And, now, rather than running from class to class, I sit in a cubicle. A great benefit is looking over my shoulder and seeing the nearby Cow Palace, downtown Oakland across the water, and planes continually landing and taking off from SFO.

...Oh and I don't have to pay for coffee every day.

Here are my top 8 corporate truisms that I've observed and heard about in the past two years:

1. Never Underestimate Anyone
At any random company meeting, you could look to the person to the left of you, and to the person to the right of you. Realistically, one of these people could become your manager within one week, one month, or one year.

2. Fairness is an Illusion
There will always be someone in your company who does much less than you, has less education than you, does not have knowledge or skills appropriate to their task--yet makes more money than you.

3. The Bottom Line
You thought this was just a positive all-company mantra. Then before you know it, a corporate brushfire clears out entire sections of cube farms. "The Bottom Line"--believe it, there is no other God.

4. Watch Survivor
This show reflects the very principles that one encounters in the corporate world. Women of color are either ridiculously suspect or exploited for their diligence and reliability. White men protect each other--only if they see themselves reflected or align with someone they hope to be, or hoped to be. Alliances are very real, but ultimately flimsy and worthless. The only immunity idol is a strong tolerance for ambiguity and the ability to walk the walk on a daily basis.

5. War and Poker
Some men really do use these unforgivable themes when discussing business and computer engineering! "We're not holdin' aces, but we're not ready to fold just yet..." Or the abominable, "This gives ammunition to the theory...." Yuck.

6. Indirectly Direct
All important communication is indirectly direct. Read between the lines. The energies you feel through the walls tell you all you need to know.

7. It is About Who You Know, and Who Likes You
Sometimes executives are executive for a reason beyond their qualifications!

8. It's Not Unusual: People in their 30's and 40's Can and Do Act Like Junior High School Kids
When I was young, I thought people over 30's were adult, reasonable, wise, and mature. I still think that, but for a much smaller minority.

In my mind, unleashing yourself in a cube farm on a daily basis means that you accept the known terrors. It's kind of like owning property on or near a major fault line. You know the potential risks, but get in the elevator everyday.

That's all I dare to spill for the moment.

Seattle

Here's a photo of sunny Seattle, Washington taken from the front deck of my parent's house. You can see the gorgeous zigzag of the Cascade mountains, Lake Washington, Mercer Island... and if you look closely, my high school.

The point of this photo today is to show that our weather has indeed gone north. Apparently we've swapped out our blue skies and sunshine for Seattle clouds and rain!

The grey skies are no match for the upcoming Moon in Cancer, however. This will be coming to us at 06.15 GMT. Get some kleenex, call your mother, snuggle up with your pets, and cook up your favorite comfort food....

In the next two weeks, (and beyond) you can find Penny and Cappy here. We've signed up for a club membership to go along with my indoor soccer season. Incredibly, this place is about five minutes away. There's a rollerblade hockey rink, two indoor soccer fields, a climbing wall, exercise machines, basketball, two rooms for aerobics classes, a proper boxing ring, and a restaurant/bar! All in a re-developed airplane hangar in Alameda! Who knew?

Cappy and I will be here--climbing, jogging, and chasing balls on synthetic grass until the sun comes out. And by the way, if you're in the Bay Area and would like a guest pass, give me a call!

Bones

So I was looking for easily digestible no-brainer reading material for early morning bart rides. I recently came across a book called Secrets of the Tomb Skull and Bones, the Ivy League, and the Hidden Paths of Power. Perfect bart reading material. It's totally Star Magazine in book form--it reads like a news article, and no surprise as its author was a former NY Times reporter. Why the hell would i care though? Why can't I just finish Animals in Translation before skipping to another book? What is wrong with me?

Like many people (probably none who read this blog...) I am fascinated with secret societies. Not because I feel I'm missing out, but more for the sociological/psychological aspect. Some of the things I've read in this book reminded me of certain aspects of a quasi-secret "society" I was involved with a long time ago. And when I say quasi-secret, I'm referring to secrets told under oath that aren't worth guarding for life, nor repeating. And it led nowhere near paths of power, paths of homosexuality and other debauchery, but not power. And when I say a long time ago, I mean ancient Penny history. Don't even ask me about this.

About the book: Skull and Bones is the ultimate old boy's club at Yale. It started in the early 1830's by a Yale student who studied in Germany for a year. This student befriended the leader of a secret society that used a skull as it's logo. Apparently this group was an outgrowth of the 18th century Illuminati, but that's another story. So the American student then returns to the States and starts up Skull and Bones at Yale.

A few grisly facts about Skull and Bones:

-Some of the artifacts of the Bones tomb include: Nazi memorabilia, Hitler's silverware, the skull of Geronimo and Pancho Villa, more skulls, coffins, and skeletons

-Members are guaranteed financial security for life and have access to an exclusive island retreat complete with a luxurious mansion and women at their disposal

-Many "Bonesman" have been Supreme Court justices and Presidents (George Sr. and Jr., and John Kerry among others )

-Skull and Bones created the American Psychological Association, the American Historical Association, and the American Economic Association and place their own members as presidents

-They didn't admit women until 1990

-Skull and Bones provided financial backing to Adolf Hitler

-Members founded the law firm that represents the NY Times and control the wealth of the Rockefeller, Carnegie, and Ford families

-Initiation involves mud wrestling and lascivious acts in coffins

I guess one could ask, which American institution is not controlled or influenced by Skull and Bones? It's like the question of Britain, name one country they haven't colonized? They're not so secret are they? And who are the others? I think I may have met a member back in '96 but that's another story...

To find out who may be a Bones member around you, simply call out, "Skull and Bones." Members take oaths to immediately excuse themselves whenever and wherever they hear this.

The Catholic church and the Bones have a lot in common. Both bring few into the inner circle, need to control and possess, have extensive influence, need lavish costumes, and a lifetime of security. Both are completely deluded and equally reprehensible. Gross.

Who are you, recent reader? I can hear your mouse clicking through the blog... What are you thinking of this blog so far? Silent judgement, amusement, disgust, boredom, indifference? And i know what you're thinking, who writes "bulgari" as one of her interests? There's a long story with that one, mate, je te jure!

Anyway, my next possible forage into despicability: Scientology.

Clutter

In general, I hate clutter. When I look around and see mounds of things stacked, piled, and crammed together it makes me feel nauseous. Seriously--when I'm around it, I can be near short of breath. A deep unsettled feeling overtakes me. I don't suffer from OCD, it's more of a phobia. I'm clutterphobic. What's up with that?

Somehow, somewhere along the way I developed a fear of acquisition. Some people are afraid of cockroaches or spiders. With the exception of tiny rodents, the only other thing that frightens me is clutter. Stuff. Lots of it. Mounds of disorganised clutter. Quite frankly, I'd rather see a spider on the wall. Or a cockroach. Really. Well, only if it were very small and wingless.

A major clutter offender was my homestay mother in Japan. The mayor of the town I lived in felt that the town English teacher should spend one month in a homestay before living independently. Since it was the first time I had lived in another country on my own, the idea didn't really bother me. It was actually a wonderful experience. Wonderful, except for the clutter.

The Usuki's had a lovely two story house in the Japanese countryside. It was similar to the house pictured above. Mr. and Mrs. Usuki were in their late 40's, and had one one child called Chess, an 8-year old Shiba Inu. Inside, it was a lovely disaster. I stopped count at 5 calendars in or around the living room area. The room next to the kitchen was stacked high with books and boxes. There were two dish cabinets on the wall. There was actually a leather sofa in the living room area, but it was buried under books, magazines, and small boxes. Despite the heavy clutter however, it wasn't messy. There's a difference between organised clutter and a real mess. After a month, the clutter became invisible. By that point, I was on my way out to my own apartment.

Maybe this clutterphobia started when I was young. There was a clutter disaster in the home I grew up in. Between the kitchen and living room, there was a long counter. My brother and I sat at this counter whenever we had people over and there wasn't room at the big dining room table. This was probably the only time the counter was clear.

Whenever we didn't have company, the counter was a repository for anything and everything: my mom's calendar, packets of pictures from the previous summer, recipes, papers, mail.... I can't even remember what exactly cluttered this counter!? A whole lot of nothing, really. When I tried to clean it, I invariably tossed out something out of importance. It was an endless cycle of frustration.

I've contemplated hiring an interior designer who would create a space that is "masculine in design yet feminine in atmosphere," like this place. Ha! But seriously, I'd love to get some swanky interior designers to "minimalize" our space here, but what I'd really be doing is paying them a shitload of money to throw away our stuff!

Blog topics on the horizon:

-The "PF Chang-ification" of Bay Area restaurants
I've been writing down my thoughts on this. A curious experience in a Mountain View Shanghai restaurant convinced me of this phenomenon. I'm convinced that it is sweeping Chinese-American restaurants in the South Bay. Maybe it's not a new phenomenon, maybe it's completely obvious. Regardless, I must give voice to it once and for all!

-My thoughts on The Obake Files Ghostly Encounters in Supernatural Hawai'i
I picked this up in the Hilo Airport back in January. It was meant for light reading on the plane, but lately I've been reading a story here and there before going to bed. This might explain all the strange dreams I've been having recently...

-Back to School?
Am contemplating a return of a life of quiet hours in libraries, talking to people face-to-face in real time, no more business casual attire, etc. Pros: great reading lists, opportunity, rejuvenation, access to a swimming pool, new communities. Cons: endless reading lists, peanut butter and jelly lunches, and the inevitability of being caught talking to myself in libraries. Current status on this undertaking: Undecided and unsure, yet inspired.

Offline

So I've been MIA in the blogosphere for most of the month of March. I'm still enthusiastic about my little cyber vanity piece, but I can't find the time these days. I'd love to say that I've not posted because i've been stuck in the sand at Anse de Source de l'Argent, but the reality is not that spectacular. Lately, I can't be asked to be online much outside of work.

Currently Reading:
Animals in Translation by Temple Grandin, PhD

Recent film seen:
V for Vendetta

New undertaking:
Indoor Soccer at the Bladium in Alameda

Latest i-tunes purchase:
Anything Box "Worth"

Favorite Mash Ups:
Bizarre Light Triangle by New Donna
Mustang Intergalactic DJ Moule

I'm recovering from the drain my intensive 2-day read-a-thon of Dan "It was a dark and stormy night..." Brown's The Da Vinci Code. Have jumped into Angels and Demons against my will, though the cliffhanging chapters are really getting on my nerves. Angels et al is is great bart reading, if i ever get up early enough to take it. With all the track fires and bomb threats, I'm feeling a bit safer navigating ma petite poubelle over the Bay Bridge.

So i've turned instead to Temple Grandin's Animals in Translation. Ever since I finished the chapter called "How Animals Perceive the World," i've been finding myself identifying contrasts that animals and autistics would notice....shadows, shiny glaring puddles on the sidewalk, and yellow signs...

Shrimp

We recently saw Hustle and Flow on DVD. I thought Terrence Howard was brilliant and could understand why he was nominated for best actor. For a week after the film, that Three 6 Mafia song re-played in my head, over and over. So, I've written up some alternate lyrics. For those of you who know me well, you know very well my propensity for the absurd. I'll share those here and now, though they don't translate too well in the written form. I'd have to sing it for the full effect:

It's hard out here for a pimp
No money to get my hair curled and crimped

It's hard out here for a pimp
No money for juice box and shrimp

It's hard out here for a shrimp
All the big sharks think that I'm a wimp

Am nearly 15 pages from finishing The DaVinci Code, a.k.a. adult Harry Potter. Since the whole world has read the book, i thought i'd buckle down and get it over with. And that i've done, in record time. It's McLiterature crack-- i can't put it down. I woke up in the middle of the night to read about 20 pages, it's dire. In any case, it has been a welcome diversion from language acquisition theory and my work in Beijing. All I can say thus far--it's a surprise that Jesus was a mortal man??

Have you seen Google Earth? Last Friday at work, I was able to drop in on most of the places I've lived. I was even able to spy on the rooftop of my parents' home in Bellevue, Washington. Intriguing and frightening. Is it just me or can Google Earth further enable any stalker or would-be terrorist? If you were one who wanted to inflict mass harm, couldn't you just Google Earth your whole plan? However useful, all I can say is that this new tool left me a bit seasick.

What's next Google? The ability to hear anyone's voice? We'll just type in a phone number and download an audio sample of anyone's 2-minute greeting? Want to know what people are eating? We'll be able to type in a random name and get a live feed of the contents of their refrigerator. How high is your thread-count? Simply type in a number in the 150-1000 range and Google will pinpoint those who slumber with the same amount of softness as you.

Oh, and a co-worker told me that she saw a full recipe for crystal meth in a paper much like the Bay Area's Guardian. It didn't just list the ingredients, it spelled out the exact amounts of each ingredient, as well as why Sudafed was key to the whole recipe. Brilliant!

Happy Near End of the week....