Gravity Lessons

I am REALLY in the mood for some Road Runner cartoons. Wile E. Coyote is my favorite cartoon character ever. I am truly inspired by his creative perseverance, not to mention his reflection of some fascinating quantum physical theories.

Those old Looney Tunes are hilarious. Why aren't they still on the air? Yesterday morning I must have had a personal time warp or something because I got my breakfast ready and flipped on the boob tube expecting to see some good old fashioned Saturday morning cartoons on. But no. I must have still been dreaming. Maybe I need to re-create the circumstances of my childhood cartoon watching a little better: a bowl of cheerios, some pop tarts, footie PJ's... or maybe I should just head to Amazon and ensure the desired result for my next lazy morning, whenever that will be.

Hopefully not very soon because climbing season is pretty much here. Is anyone motivated yet? C'mon c'mon. Don't make me buy my own car and start rope soloing. I don't remember enough of my knots for that.

Brrrr. No matter how bright and sunny and warm-ish it is during the day here in San Francisco it seems like the Pacific never fails to pull a blanket of cold fog over us at bedtime. But at least it is beautiful. Say what you will about light pollution, but a glowing fog monstrous fluffing itself over the populated hills of this city at night is gorgeous; dreamy bizarre gorgeous.

Today was gorgeous in the traditional sunshiny birds-chirping blossoms-blossoming sense. I went with my consort for a little field trip over the bridge (the pretty one) and enjoyed a very California-y feeling. We were discussing how California is, very sensibly, the kind of place you can't see a good reason to ever leave. Whereas where I grew up... well the rest of the world seemed extremely enticing. It boggles my mind that so many of my elementary/high school classmates still live a stones throw from the town where we grew up. Not that it's not beautiful. It is. It's just... where we STARTED. If you believe that life is a journey, then you have to start GOING somewhere. It doesn't matter where. Just pick a point and go, and while you're getting there you find yourself journeying and that's the point. Maybe they all think of this more metaphorically than I do. Maybe I'm too literal. I can't fault them, really. Maybe they're more at home with themselves so that they didn't have to go looking for a place that felt more like home than where they showed up on the scene. What do I know?
What do I know besides New England is where the settlers from Europe landed and stuck with because they were too exhausted and sick to go any further? Maybe I don't even know that. History is faulty. But still, there's just something so... puritan about New England still. California though... it took another couple generations of wilder ones to set out for the west. Now THAT appeals to me. Weird black hats and big shoe buckles aren't the proper attire for that sort of adventure. More like wide-brimmed hats and a lust for shiny rocks. Oh nevermind, I don't know what I'm talking about. All that mythology aside, I'm happy I live here now. That's all I wanted to say. I love you, California. Good night.

Mo betta.

Welcome to the "cooking tips" installment of my blog. It's called "Mo Feta, Mo Betta!(TM)" The concept is simple and comes from a recent realization of mine.
Is your meal bland and tasteless? Would you rather be eating anything than this? Do you need a healthy solution to your boring unimaginative cooking? Do you want to know the secret to making any meal 100% scrumdiddlyumptious? It's FETA! Mo feta, mo betta!(TM). Salad? Feta! Beans? Feta! Kitty litter? Feta! Feta? More feta!!
Unfortunately I've had no realizations beyond that. But here is the real recipe for what I had for dinner and despite its simple and improvisational nature, I was yumming with approval of each savory bite.

1 can garbanzo beans
2 big handfulls fresh spinach
1-2 tbs butter
1 1/2 tbs seasoned dehydrated onion (i.e. an onion dip base seasoning packet. Mine, from VT naturally, had dried onions, leeks, green onions, parsley etc. You get the idea)
And umm... oh yeah. FETA. In my case, sheep's milk. Mmmmm...

First, melt your big pad o'butta in a skillet on low heat so it's melting all slooooow and bubbly.
Add the onion and spices and saute in the butter for a couple minutes. Low heat, mind you. Let the flavors peak their little heads out in safety. Bubble bubble.
Chuck in your can o'beans and get them nice and coated in the buttery oniony deliciousness.
Turn up the heat a tad and add the fresh spinach. Keep stirring until it's all coated and the spinach is thoroughly wilted.
Little salt. Little pepper. Hold the kitty litter. LOTS of feta.

Yum. Truly.

"The Moon is My Headlamp"

As I left Courtney's this evening I walked home in the moon's spotlight. Tonight's moon is certainly not shy -- all up in our faces. Tomorrow before midnight pacific time it will be full, and this March full moon is what the Native American Delaware tribe called "Moon when Juice Drips from the Trees." Less poetically I dubbed it my "headlamp." Amazingly I just found the sentence in the book I finished last week which reminds me of my pathetic comparison: "Poor modern man, amazed by the wonders of nature, can only describe these by comparing them with the monsters of our mechanical age!" (Thanks, Felice Benuzzi.) Yep, it seems difficult to describe a powerfully moving natural image/event without somehow reducing it and comparing it to a feeble bastardized attempt at its replication from the opposable thumbs of a monkey-mind. Headlamp? Sheesh. What an insult. All headlamps will be but ashes while this full moon is still juicing the trees and everything else under its beams.

And while we're on the subject of cultured stupidity, I have two words: daylight savings. This is just to mess people up. Maybe I'm missing something but I do not see the relevance for the times we're currently living in. As some unknown Native American is credited as saying in regards to daylight savings "Only a white man would believe you could make a blanket longer by cutting off the top and sewing it onto the bottom." And, as the story goes, his wife then added "For real, suckaz."

My arms are like limp noodles. I am glad, because it means I worked them hard enough but not too much. I am amazed that I can do a pull-up at all, let alone a total of 30, the majority of which were finger pull-ups. For most of my life I couldn't even do one. Stronger? Indeed. Focused? Definitely. A good afternoon at the faux-crag.
Yesterday I went through my cupboard and fridge and threw away all that food that doesn't contribute to optimum health. It was sad to see those chocolate-covered pretzels go, but I feel good about the decision. It's hard to remember in the midst of my bad habits that eating only super healthy food actually feels really good. And in the long run feels better, in fact, than those fleeting indulgent moments of cupcake eating. Oh cupcakes... I was on quite a run there, but I needed that reminder when I ate two super sugary delicious cupcakes in one day (Friday) and felt two not-so delicious super sugary crashes and just wanted to curl up in a ball and bury myself by evening. Ugh. Cupcakes are so crafty because you really can't taste the evil.
You should, however, taste the power of jam.

Doing something about it.

Okay. I realized the problem. I now know why I have been a whiny little bitch lately, delinquent on my talents and creativity. Here it is. Ready? Okay. Cuz this is it. Comin’ atcha: I have neglected to harness the power of my inspirations.

You see, I walk around constantly inspired by this and that and him and her. There is no apparent lack of beautiful, hilarious, mojo-filled goodness in the reality I perceive. For instance, there is this unbelievably green patch of grass between these perfectly spaced tall narrow trees in the Presidio. As my bus passes that grove every day at around 5 o’clock WHAM! I am hit with unadulterated green inspiration! I mean, it is GREEN. And let me tell you: I love green. And this is green. Some days tears fill my eyes seeing this particularly cosmic shade of earth. Wow. That heaping helping of inspiration then continues to ride the bus home and walk three blocks to my home and walk up the stairs and open my door and… ooh, this episode of Seinfeld is a good one.

Where was I? Oh yes. My inspirations. There is absolutely no lack. But where do these jolts of positive juicy worldliness go? I’ve been allowing most of them evaporate and tossing the rest into spurts of physical exertion of the climbing variety. As fun as gym-climbing with my buddies is, there is only so much vim and vigor you can stuff into two or three nights a week on fake rock. Up and up and ooh! The view of that familiar blue carpet is … wow. Worth it. Worth this completely un-epic grueling session of crimping on glorified stucco. With a ceiling.

But not even that. Even climbing outside might not be able to transform me from my head-achey jaw-clenching gotta-get-outta-here self lately. I think I have been majorly overlooking my love of the written word and of music. I am so inspired by the writing of my friends and of climbers I look up to. I am inspired when I hear of what the people I know and respect are doing creatively. I am inspired by my hilarious friends who give me delicious doses of loud sudden laughter. I am inspired by documentaries of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. I am inspired by music-making of many sorts. And yet… I don’t get in on any of this action, really. I complain about my job I’m getting burnt out on, and think of all the great things I want to do when I can afford not to work and do whatever I want… but I’m currently suffering a self-inflicted lapse in doing all of those things I think I like to do. Such as making music, taking road trips, being publicly goofy, and writing, for instance.

So that’s why I’m writing – Now. And I’ll be holding myself to it by beginning this blog, and writing for many of the Nows to come. I hope it reminds me of the outlets that are available to express my glowing reviews of Life As We Know It; that writing here regularly will jumpstart my dormant creativity in the other areas of my life and make use of the heaps of inspiration I have been continually greeting with a shrug of my shoulders.