A September to Remember

Alan and I have a few months of California living under our belts, and now we have successfully had two rounds of visitors out to see us. My mom and Kyle arrived on Thursday after spending a day at Pebble Beach. I took them on a thrilling tour of the apartment and the dog park, and then Alan and I took them out to eat and showed them a bit of campus. Mostly just the creepy parts: the mausoleum, the Angel of Grief and the cactus garden. We saved the big campus tour for Friday, when we went up in the Hoover Tower. This being my third time up, I learned that you can actually seen San Francisco from the tower. We ended up walking miles around campus. It was great.

In the Rodin Sculpture Garden. Mom, putting her hand upon a naked hip; Kyle, palming a head.



After lunch with Alan, we headed up to "the city" to show Kyle the famous Lombard Street and the Golden Gate Bridge. I think I was even more impressed with the bridge this time around. It's truly an amazing feat of engineering.





From the bridge we headed to our Fisherman's Wharf hotel. After a quick "break" (aka dropping off our bags) we headed off to explore the city by foot. We walked around North Beach (SF's Little Italy) and found Chinatown, which we had fun exploring.



Chinatown was pretty much exactly as I had imagined and seen in movies. We even saw two women having a turf war over which corner each one was allowed to pass out her restaurant pamphlets. I couldn't understand a word, yet knew they had to have been yelling Chinese curse words at each other. We continued on from Chinatown and kept walking...and walking...and walking. We definitely got to see a lot of the city, thanks to the young 23-year-old in the group. Old ladies prone to foot problems like my mom and I never would have made it alone.

Happy Birthday Miss Marti!

Two years ago today little Martikins came wriggling into the world. When she was born, Alan and I hadn't gotten married yet and didn't even know we'd be in the market for a little pug that had already been born. To celebrate Marti's special day, I'm going to take her to the dog park for an extra long time, and then maybe take her to Petco to pick out a toy. It'll be huge.

The birthday girl!


Cute little Marti with her hind legs demurely crossed.



Marti and her favorite duck. Notice the gouged-out eyes. That took her one minute to do.



You can't get more precious than this.



And to top off a Marti-filled post, I might as well share this video. I gave Marti broccoli as an experiment one day and she fell in love. It's a fantastic new toy for her. And yes, she does eat it eventually. Funny pug.

A Bed of Pillows

I got on the computer tonight to see if I could upload our whale watching video--I forgot to mention that Alan got the breach on video. But I can't upload it because it's a certain file type that I can't upload. Ah well, I'll just have to do it the old fashioned way: pull it out home-movie style for all of my guests in the future.

Anyway, I felt so unfulfilled and restless because of my failed video-uploading attempt that I had to get out of bed and blog about something. Marti, of course, is my fall back topic of choice.

Sometimes when I'm doing chores and and other various activities around the house, Marti will tire of following me around, watching my every move. I say "tire" because I think I literally exhaust her. When I notice that she's disappeared, I inevitably will go into the bedroom and find her doing something adorable. Tonight it was this:

A Whale of a Time

Alan and I got our first visitors to California this week when his parents came to town. It’s a welcome visit for several reasons: 1) It’s lovely to have people besides Marti to talk to and 2) We get to play host and tour guide, which means seeing our favorite sites and eating at our favorite spots while exploring new places and having adventures with the W clan.

Lar and Shar got to town on Saturday so we had a low-key meal at our favorite pizza joint. We had to make it an early night because on Sunday we had to get up at 5:30 so we could leave for Monterey to catch our whale-watching adventure. Now, I must preface this entry by saying that there is no way, even with my immense talent for writing and description (ha), that I can do justice to the awesomeness of the whales we saw. If you’re ever lucky enough to get to go on a whale-watching trip, I sincerely hope that you are as fortunate as we were.


Doped up on Dramamine and bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt and a jacket, we ventured out on to the open sea. I popped in my minty gum from the get-go to stave off any gnarly sea-sick taste that might occur. I took the advice of a wise sage to hold on to the rails, or bench, to tell my brain that I was OK. I don’t know if it was the Dramamine, the mint, the advice, or divine intervention, but I managed to avoid feeling sick—although I can’t say the same for others on board.

I’m going to say it was divine intervention, though. And here’s why. We cruised out onto the water for what seemed like an hour. At the beginning you’re looking out for otters and sea lions, basically any form of life you can get your eyes on. But after our biologist on board announced that she thought she saw whale spouts a mile and a half up ahead, I pretty much gave up hope that I would see anything on my own. When we reached the whales, we had to wait for them to surface. What happens is that they come up, stay near the surface to take about 5 or 6 breaths, and then dive back down for food for several minutes. They turned out to be humpback whales—and there were two of them. Since they move fairly slowly, it’s easy for the boat to stay with them. When they’re diving, you’re waiting anxiously for them to resurface again to get another glimpse. It was amazing. Then, it got even better.

On about the fifth time they resurfaced, the first whale to surface nearly took out our boat. Whether he was showing off or what, we’ll never know. I missed the action, but I turned and saw a huge splash, literally feet from the back of our boat. They were back up. Alan and I went to the other side of the boat. A couple of seconds later, the other came up and splashed out of the water—a semi-breach. Then, moments later, the other whale came flying out of the water, clearing the water completely, and made a huge splash. I can’t even tell you. I got a little choked up, I’m not gonna lie. To see a 40-50 foot whale, weighing upwards of 70,000 pounds, jump out of the water, doing what it just does naturally, it was amazing. Our biologist was about as shocked as we all were, telling us, “We can pretty much turn around and go home now; it’s not going to get any better than that.” I guess only about 1 in 10 trips get to see a breach. We ended up seeing several.


We stayed with the humpback whales for quite awhile, watching them surface and dive again and again. Then we heard a sighting of a pod of killer whales and headed off to find them. They had the same method as the humpbacks: surface for air for awhile, and then a big dive for food. Killer whales are much faster, so when they came up several minutes later, they could be quite a ways away and you had to speed up to them again. We stayed with them until we had to head back to land.

I was glad to get my feet back on land. And although I lost my sea legs quickly, I have a feeling those whales will hold a place in my memory as the most amazing site I’ve ever seen for much, much longer.

Messy Desk

My desk needs to be cleaned.

Pasta?

There’s a restaurant in downtown Palo Alto called Pasta?

No, that’s not a question. That’s the name: Pasta?

Still looks like I’m asking a question, I realize. But I’m not the one who named the restaurant. Each time Alan and I walked by Pasta-question-mark we’d make jokes and ask each other the same question over and over, while raising our hands in a questioning manner: Pasta?

Pasta?’s name reminds me of that Head-On commercial that plays during Wheel of Fortune (yes, still watching). The group that is collectively watching the woman apply Head-On goes, “Apply directly to the forehead????” and the announcer goes, “Apply directly to the forehead!!” and then the group goes, “Apply directly to the forehead!!” as if they’ve had a Head-On epiphany. That may seem unrelated to Pasta? but my point is this: There is a place and time for punctuation (as an editor I know this) and sometimes unnecessary punctuation only serves to annoy.

We decided to try Pasta? after making fun of it so much. First of all, my ravioli tasted almost exactly like those Weight Watchers Smart Ones I eat for lunch. Which is fine when you’re paying $2.50 for a quick-and-easy low-cal lunch, but not fine when paying $10 and expecting restaurant quality. Alan’s fettucine alfredo was also unappetizing, and he insisted my version is better, which, hello, my fettucine alfredo is tasty so that’s no surprise. Now, when we see Pasta? we say “no-exclamation-point” and keep right on walking.

P.S. Just found a fantastic review on this place, another location, but the comments apply nevertheless: "Pasta? is aptly named. It's shorthand for so many questions that you might have: Is this stuff really pasta? Why did I eat here?" The reviewer also said he usually raises his middle finger when walking past the place. Looks like he says "Pasta? No!" as well.

The Scarlet Letter...of sorts

If people out here in California knew about my previous poo practices, I have no doubt that I would be tarred and feathered, or at the very least branded with a letter P. In California, though, I have been angelic and faithful in cleaning up after Marti. While it's the least glamorous aspect of dog ownership, I never fail. And here's why:



You see, in California, people make a big stink (pun intended) when you fail to pick up after your dog. I'd actually noticed the recalcitrant dog owner not taking care of business, if you will, but I hadn't yet gotten worked up to the point of making a pooping-dog circle-with-a-line-through-it sign yet, let alone three. That's right: There are three of these signs up within 10 feet of each other.

Alan thinks the dog on the signs look kinda like Marti. And it does. But as an eye witness, I can attest that the dog on the sign should be much, much larger.