Category: New Mexico

Oh, here we go again

So the weather has turned a little frosty here in the Bay Area.

And I really do mean frosty, temps dipped into the low 30’s overnight (unusual for us). We had some freezing rain and snow as low as 500 feet.

Fer crimeny’s sakes, you’d think it was winter or something!

Oh. Nevermind.

Anyhoo, you’ll recall in February of this year, I was beset upon by menopausal coworker harpies screeching to me about my lack of a jacket.

This seems to be an *issue* for people. The fact that I don’t like to wear jackets.

So it cropped up again yesterday. Less screeching, less menopausal.

It was the kind concern of my husband. He wasn’t being a harpy, he was looking out for me, which I appreciate. However…

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

And then later.

“Really? You aren’t cold?”

Well, to be honest, yes, I was a skosh cold. For the aggregate of exactly two minutes we were not in the warm car and not yet inside an often too hot building.

For the remaining twenty-three hours and fifty eight minutes of my day, I was in a climate controlled environment with plenty of heaters to keep me toasty. Actually, way too toasty.

So, what I have here, feeling momentary cold, is but a small problem. The big problem, staying warm, is solved.

I can tolerate being cold for about two minutes. (it’s not like I live somewhere where it is SERIOUSLY cold like Canada or Alaska or Switzerland or something!)

I really, truly dislike being inside and dressed too warm and then I have to take layers off and then I’m schlepping around my stuff and worried about leaving a hat or scarf or something somewhere.

I’m forgetful enough with the stuff I do have to carry around, why add to my misery?

I guess I’m the kind of person that will focus on the 98% problem, not the 2% problem.

Or…in this case, two minutes equals .1% of a problem.

So I’m a 99.9% girl, I suppose.

I have no problem with others wearing jackets. I don’t ask people wearing a heavy coat on a summer day “aren’t you hot?”

I suppose if I’m dumb enough to get caught out without a jacket in a really cold situation…well, then my dad was right when he said (only sometimes, when I misbehaved) that I was too dumb to come in out of a rainstorm.

Then again, have you ever frolicked in a really nice New Mexico summer rainstorm? A bit of heaven, I assure you…

But I digress…..

Oh…and as a final thought…the radio stations last night were all warning about outdoor plants freezing and to take precautions. They talked about going to a garden center to buy plant coverings….

I’m sorry, have these people NOT heard of using your sheets and blankets and garbage bags? Do you *really* need to pay big bucks to buy a plant center approved “plant cover”???

What do I expect from a metropolitan area filled with people who will pay someone $100 to put chains on their car when they go skiing.

I believe if you aren’t smart enough to put chains on your car, you shouldn’t be driving in snow.

There. I said it.

This, from the girl who isn’t smart enough to come in out of the rain.

Massive Sinkhole in Carlsbad

To quote Avelino on Twitter, my source for the link, “Oh crap”

Oil industry sinkhole threatens to swallow city

Having lived in Carlsbad for a while, I could make some flippant joke, but I won’t. This is a pretty freaking serious problem.

Carlsbad and the surrounding areas have been pretty well mangled due to oil and potash mining. I believe it was only a matter of time that something like this happened.

Sometimes it takes something huge to create a wake up call.

Got the good town of Carlsbad on my mind today!

My (new) People!

My personal genetic heritage is what The Good Man calls “your typical Heinz 57 pan-European”.

I’m German-Irish-Scottish-French.

And raised in New Mexico, so I have Hispanic roots, too.

The Good Man is Italian-English-Turkish-Lebanese.

Also a Heinz 57, but much different from my own. These are not all cultures I have a lot of background with, so I’m having a ball learning about my new family heritage.

My rock star Mom-in-Law (the Turkish/Lebanese side) has taught me much about delicious Mediterranean food. (I thought I’d had falafel before. I had not. I’d had a poor imitation. There is a HUGE difference).

Man, I can’t believe how long I’ve been missing out on the good stuff!

And of course, I’ve always loved Italian food, but oh I had lots to learn.

Like coffee. Now, I like coffee. Ok, I love coffee. It doesn’t always love me back (acidy!). I try to cut back, but can’t. And it’s not even the caffeine that’s a problem! I drink decaf!

I was holding strong, but then my Mom-in-Law gave us a peculiar little device called a Moka Pot. Ok, she gave it to us a while ago, but I’ve suddenly grown an unnatural attachment to it.

It looks like this.

Big deal, right? Just another way to make coffee?

No.

Oh no, no, no.

It’s just another way to make THE MOST DELICIOUS COFFEE EVER!

It’s way easy to use. Kind of fun, actually, and makes coffee super fast and delicious!

You don’t need some fancy high dollar espresso machine! You need this little pot and a burner. And some coffee to go in there.

Details on how to use it from my Mom-in-Law’s blog, Musing By Moonlight (used with permission).

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What is more delightful than an espresso (that’s eSpresso, not eXpresso) to help move through the day or a caffè correto to end a good dinner and aid digestion? This is an easy-to-learn process using a Bialleti Moka Express, an aluminum stove-top espresso maker. It’s well worth the negligible effort. I prefer the moka pot to a machine because I feel more connected to the process and the product, it takes up less real estate in the kitchen, and it’s budget wise.

Always, we start with the freshest ingredients: water – clear, cold, and filtered – and freshly ground dark-roasted coffee. My coffee of choice is Peet’s Espresso Forte® . Have it ground on #3. Buy it when you know you will use it right away, even if you purchase beans and grind them at home.

The Bialetti Moke Express comes in three parts: the reservoir for water, a coffee filter with funnel for the grounds, and a top piece to capture the espresso as it bubbles up from the bottom. This coffee pot comes in various sizes to make coffee for just two or for up to twelve.

(This is Karen, here’s a photo:

)

Directions:

Fill the reservoir with water to just below the steam valve. Put the coffee filter in place and fill it with grounds, tamping them lightly with the back of the spoon. Screw the top piece in place.

Put the Moka Express on the highest heat. Watch it because it is quickly done. The espresso will gather in the top chamber. Serve immediately. Sweeten if you like. If you care to, you might add either a lemon peel or, for a caffè correto(corrected), a little grappa.

Caffè latte: One shot fresh, hot espresso for each six ounces of steamed dairy, nut, soy or hemp milk, your choice.
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Oh coffee heaven! I like mine with half and half and brown sugar.

I’m starting to like my new genetic heritage! A lot.

(By the by, while I prefer to use Peet’s coffee too, since I’ve been cutting back on expenditures, I’m trying a decaf Italian (water processed) I found at Trader Joe’s. Delicious!)

Every once in a while…

You know, my move to California, lo these many years ago, was really a life changing event for me.

Both a mind blower and a mind stretcher, to be sure.

I never really realized how small my world was until I expanded the reach.

In the first several years I lived here, I explored a lot, and I learned to perfect the face that was outwardly calm, while inside my mind was shouting “HOLY EVER LOVING CRAP, DID YOU **SEE** THAT!?!?!?”

I didn’t want people think I was a rube, so I learned to keep my shock and awe to myself, as much as possible. Though many times, my natural exuberance took over and it all burbled out.

I mean, in my time here in the big ol’ Bay Area, I’ve seen some pretty wild things.

Ok, by way of example in the first six months living here, I saw my first true campy transvestite. At well over 6’5″, she was dressed as Diana Ross. And spectacularly beautiful. And very sweet too, she was lovely to me.

I just didn’t really get to see stuff like that where I grew up.

Over the years, a fantastically beautiful transvestite has become but one of an ever growing list things that has blown my mind.

So, this weekend, I had another occasion to have my mind stretched a bit, again.

On Sunday, I went to an event at a local spiritual bookshop. It was a presentation to be given by a Tibetan Monk.

(Yes, yes, I know transvestite to Tibetan Monk is a wild, weird shift in just the course of the first 280 words of this post. Stick with me.)

Ok, yes, so ok. You went to see a Tibetan Monk, blah, blah, blah, how very new age of you. So what, right?

Well, here’s the thing. It was a very small event. And by a series of fortunate circumstances, I was given a seat in the front row.

For three hours I sat there less than five feet away from a genuine Tibetan Monk wearing red robes and speaking the Tibetan language.

I heard him speak of his personal experience of being imprisoned by the Chinese and brutally tortured for teaching Buddhism.

You can hear and read stories of torture. You can have a generalized knowledge that these things happen in the world.

But then when a real human being sits there before you and generously tells their story and shares their pain…well, ok, *pop* goes my brain pan.

I am not a practitioner of Buddhism, nor am I here to advocate any sort of political or religious agenda.

I’m actually more just talking from the mind of a little girl who grew up in New Mexico.

I was very touched and very moved by the talk given by this man. I also envied his inner peace and vowed to try to find but a molecule of that within myself.

I’ve faced some bumpy roads over the past year of my life. Been holding some anger for some people who have been less than kind to me.

When Phagyab Rinpoche said that compassion is the antidote to anger, I listened.

I don’t have answers, but I do believe that your life is changed by all the people you meet on the road we call life.

That red robed Tibetan monk got me thinking. And thinking is good. Thinking can lead to healing.

I could use some healing.