Maybe Baby.

I was playing pool at a bar and feeding money into the jukebox. My song came on, “Maybe Baby” by Buddy Holly. My pool partner commented that it was a good song to pick. And a stranger, an older man, came up to me astounded and asked, “Did you pick this song?” “Do you like this music?” “This is the stuff I’ve been waiting for!” He was really excited. I think I earned my generation a couple extra points in his book. That’s right. We can have good music taste.

On food.

I’m reading a book right now, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver about her family’s one-year experiment in eating only local food. It’s really very interesting, and also has recipes and helpful tips and links interspersed throughout. But I just read this passage yesterday about the importance of food in the family life, “When I’m cooking, I find myself inhabiting the emotional companionship of the person who taught me how to make a particular dish, or with whom I used to cook it.”

I’ve been thinking about this…and tonight was presented with an odd realization. Food is in fact a very important part of my life. I take pride in what I eat and what I cook and I strive to make most of my food from scratch and buy as close to local produce and meats as I can. But tonight I was eating Chile con Carne, which I made myself from scratch and thought about it in reference to this quote. It was my ex-boyfriend who taught me how to make it. We must have made it together dozens and dozens of times. It was one of our staples. And indeed, when I make those foods that he taught me to make I do think of him. I thought how strange it was that I was eating his food still; despite being so far removed form his and his family’s life, I am eating his grandmother’s chile. How odd it is to retain that connection to someone.

I thought about it further and realized that I don’t have those memories from my childhood. Food and cooking was never the centerpiece of my family. Until I met my ex I didn’t think I could cook. I thought I was terrible at it. Then I found out I just hadn’t ever learned. The extent of my cooking as a child was to chop the tomatoes to put on the salad, or to slice the pickles for the hamburgers, or dump the cranberry sauce out of the jar. Thanksgivings as a teen I was given the job of making the green bean casserole. But that was really the extent of it. When I started getting into cooking from scratch my mom and my grandmother would always balk at me and say, “You know you can buy that already made. You don’t have to make it from scratch.”

It was my ex who taught me how to cook. He taught me to love doing things the long way, in all aspects of my life. To walk or bike instead of driving, to chop with an axe, to plant things and watch them grow, to tend a garden, to start a fire, to make beer from scratch, he pushed me to learn to bake with my hands. And he is also the person who has hands down hurt me the most in my life. I will still break down and cry if I think about it. And it’s been years. And I have to admit I am very bittersweet about always having to remember him when I make guacamole, enchiladas, chile, fry an egg, make hash browns, or even just sauté garlic and onion.

*This is not chile con carne. I think it is French Lentil Soup. But it's good either way!

Parking.

This guy parked behind me today. I guess if you drive a bug you can get away with sneaking into small spaces.

Marathoning.

It's the Portland Marathon today. It's been raining heavy all day. Poor runners. I had forgotten that it was going today until I came out for a cup of coffee. Turns out the coffee shop I picked is on the route. So, I'm sitting here watching all the marathon walkers go by (the runners passed hours ago, no doubt). Some look like death. Some look pretty spry. I just checked the map, and I am sitting at about Mile 23. Unfortunately I don't have my camera and can't take a picture of all the haggard marathoners. I'll stick to my 5k's, thank you.

bugs.

I saw a ladybug on a peach at the grocery store today. That’s got to be a good sign, right?

I want my two dollars!

So there I was…sitting in the window seat in aisle 27 of a full flight, duration 3 and a half hours. There was a woman in the aisle seat reading a book, but no one had taken the middle seat yet. It was just a matter of time. As the plane starts to fill a man comes lumbering down the aisle and says loudly, “I bet you thought you had it made.” Referencing the empty middle seat. In his hands he carries a personal pizza in a box, a bag of Doritos and a 24 oz soda in a Styrofoam cup. He sits down between us and fumbles until he can get all his food onto his tiny tray. He starts to eat the chips. Crunch…chew...chew, Crunch…chew…chew. And it all smells of nacho cheese. He starts to scarf down his pizza, as the plane is almost full and we are nearing time for push-off. Now, plus the food and the smells his legs are too long so they splay out in a “V” and one knee goes into my space and one knee goes into the girl on the aisle’s space.

Just then a petite, young blonde woman walks down the aisle and looks confusedly at the man in the middle seat. She is supposed to be sitting there. He is supposed to be in the middle seat on the other side of the aisle. But, seeing as how he has an entire dinner spread precariously balanced on the tiny tray she says it doesn’t matter and she will just sit in the middle seat across the aisle that is supposed to belong to him. Curses!!

Then middle seat man makes a call on his phone. He calls none other than his bookie. He places a two-dollar bet. Yes. Two dollars. Then he calls his friend to coordinate bets with him. I think they thought they had a system going. Then he promptly tries to check the scores on his phone as the flight attendant comes down the aisle to ensure everyone has stopped using their phones. She has to tell him to stop….he keeps going…says he’s almost done. Has…to…check…one…more…score!

I spend the next three and a half hours with his knee in my space. It’s highly uncomfortable. When we land in Portland the first thing he does is turn on his phone and check the scores. He shakes his head. I think he lost two dollars. He tries to call a friend, or maybe his bookie, no answer. Then he calls his wife and apologizes that he wasn’t able to call in Houston. He had to run from one gate to the next plane and there just wasn’t time (After he stopped for pizza, chips, placed a bet, called his friend and checked the scores). I fear one day that I will rank in someone’s life below friends, gambling and pizza.

It's all about photons.

Secret vacations are the best vacations. I just got back from one and I had a great time. I went to a music festival, which frankly isn’t really my scene. I don’t like large crowds, I don’t get off on music when it’s 100 yards away and being projected through giant speakers and giant screens. It just doesn’t do it for me. It also doesn’t help when you are outside in Texas in September. Thankfully it wasn’t the height of summer. It was only about 95 every day instead of 105; but the lack of rain all summer made for a dusty occasion.
I went to the ACL Fest in Austin. I went with a good friend of mine, who lives in LA, so it was a nice little gathering to meet in Austin. Plus, I got to show someone around my hometown who had never been there, which I love to do. And it just gave me excuses to talk about all the random facts I have on that town. And it’s a good thing he came too – we were without a car and those I knew with cars, frankly, weren’t very reliable or helpful about picking us up or taking us anywhere, so I was really glad to have someone to walk across town in sweltering heat with so that I didn’t have to do it alone. Plus we got sno-cones. There were certain points though where the sun and heat were just too much to bear. Day 2:The highlight of the festival for me was Conor Oberst, otherwise known as Bright Eyes. He just put out a solo album. I know what you’re thinking, “But Bright Eyes is just him anyway, how can he put out a solo album?” Frankly, I don’t know. I would say it’s because his musical style is different, which it is from where he started. It’s much more folky, driven at times. But his last Bright Eyes album went into the same arena as well, so I don’t know, maybe it’s for a tax break. He really is a great performer live. I saw him here in Portland last year at the Crystal Ballroom and it was a great show, certainly one of the best I saw last year, and now this is one of the best I have seen this year. Way to go Bright Eyes – I mean Conor.

Other notables were Hot Chip, MGMT and Louis XIV. Apparently Louis XIV is “like so two years ago”. But they’re new to me, and they put on a good show, so whatever.Another highlight was watching people in headbands. I got a nice little spot in the shade at the MGMT show and took the liberty of snapping some shots of the many headbands walking around Zilker Park. I guess it’s all the rage with the kids these days, but I don’t really get it. And as was so astutely pointed out to me, they are all going to have headband tanlines after this weekend. Which I think is hi-larious.

I spent the majority of the festival texting people and trying to meet up with them. This rarely happened. In fact, I only found people twice. It was a madhouse. Seriously. Look at all these freaking people.So, it was a great time. I highly recommend secret vacations. Or really just vacations in general. Next on the list will have to be either San Francisco or Seattle. I’ve been to both for 1 day each, but nothing more. And they are right up and down the coast from me. I don’t have any good reason not to go other than I don’t have anyone to wander around the cities with, and even that probably isn’t reason enough.