Wednesday, June 03, 2009

Blab-grag: Gleanings of a Fervid Blogger Without a Real Post to Share

In the mold (or “mould") of one of my favorite political blogs, here’s a blunderbuss-worth of mini-ideas that wouldn’t qualify for a post by themselves but I might as well stick them together and see if I can make a mobile or something out of them:

Kitchen lore, continued (from prior post): Two things I’ve discovered lately that you ought to know: Mangos are amazing.  Well, you already knew that I knew that, and if you don’t actually know it yourself you’re doing yourself a cruel disservice.  However, I really figured, with mango, more is better.  It was true with Mongo, from Blazing Saddles, so why not here too?  Oh, but of course, generalization leads to degeneration, and not in the fun “degenerate” way.  There are regular mangos, big regular mangos, and “manilla mangos.” These are the smaller, all-yellow ones.  For years I thought that they were just mini-mangos, that much more full of pit and less full of fruit.  Turns out, they’re just amazingly succulent and delicious.  They have consistency like custard and flavor like nobody’s business.  They are the mango supreme.  Don’t be fooled - sometimes the good stuff really does come in smaller packages. 

Alsoly, regarding the kitchen, and custardy consistencies: I’ve been making tapioca pudding lately, using rice milk and fake eggs (but real tapioca, because otherwise what is the freaking point).  At first I followed the recipe for flavorings, but vanilla gets a little tired after a while - so now I’m making them with half a teaspoon of cinnamon while cooking (don’t just dump it in; put it in a tiny cup and then soak it down with a little liquid first so it incorporates smoothly) and two tablespoons of chocolate syrup once it comes off the stove.  Mexican chocolate tapioca pudding - good enough that Zach asks for it week after week.  That’s one pudding I’d tapioca.  If that even makes sense.

Tangentially, off the kitchen: we were shopping a few days ago at the new grocery down Geary and I found myself in line in front of the guy I never speak to.  He was also stocking up for a week’s worth of household needs.  Seeing him there I smiled and said hello; as usual, he smiled broadly and returned the greeting.  Then I went crazy and took it up a notch: I introduced myself.  With an even broader and now-knowing grin, he told me his name and we shook hands.  Whereupon he advised me that he’s moving out of the neighborhood - not too far away, but far enough that I won’t be seeing him cross my path nearly so often anymore.  I can’t assume that my introduction prospectively forced him to move away, but the coincidence is enough to make me laugh a little.  But quietly, to myself. 

More about the neighborhood: A week or so ago I put together a list of the women who ignore me when I’m at the local playground with Jesse.  It’s a very cozy space and people tend to interact - the kids play together, and moms or nannies or whoever cluster up in little conversational knots to shoot the breeze while the chillin’s chill out in the sandpit or on the slides.  There are a bunch of russian moms - they don’t talk to me.  There are latina nannies - they don’t talk to me either.  (Nor does the subset of Brazilian nannies, who are distinct and distinctive.) The day-care staffers with their quad-strollers and their industrial diaper changing pads also avoid my conversation.  The blonde moms who spend their days with their kids talking on cell phones to decorators and caterers, as well as to each other about decorators and caterers - they have not had much to say to me either.  And of course, the elderly Chinese grannies do not engage me in conversation or respond to my gambits.  However, I am pleased to report that, lately, progress has been made.  A Korean mom with two nice kids has deigned to chat me up a few times when our munchkins are playing together - all stuff about naptimes and play patterns and developmental issues, but it’s a nice change from the typical silence.  But the real development was when J went to play near the swings where the german au pairs were hanging out with the kids in their charge - two teutonic maidens with long legs and long hair and icy eyes, beautifully classic and classicly beautiful.  They are imposing individually and a bit much to take when they stand together and rattle off their bavarian jive at each other.  I’ve seen plenty of dads meander up to make conversation and then within a few minutes meander away again, totally shot down.  These women don’t even talk to the other nannies.  I have kept my distance.  But this time J was pulling me right into their orbit and we wound up standing around talking for several minutes.  Turns out they’re nice.  The corner has been turned, and around it I have found… chat, IRL.  It’s kind of cool, in a “doing what people have been doing since time began” sort of way.  Which still seems new to me. 

Additional coolness in my typical haunts:  I was sorry to see that the giant spider sculpture has been removed from the waterfront of Pier 14, near my office.  It’s been around for more than a year and I’d really grown used to it.  I’d say it had grown on me but that sounds unpleasantly parasitic.  After all, it was just a twenty-five-foot bronze spider.  What’s to worry about?  Well, it’s gone now, so the answer there is “nothing.” But at my favorite little urban “garden” (that’s what it’s called in my new guide to Privately Owned Public Spaces, though I’d sooner call it a “planter plaza"), there are several new sculptures that have been installed which rather make up for the absence of my erstwhile arachnid buddy.  Because, if you can’t have a realistic bronze spider, what better to have instead than four cast-bronze sculptures of horses cobbled together out of driftwood and rocks?  I know, you’re having trouble visualizing it.  Here’s a few shots to reduce confusion, though the camera-phone is hardly the best way to show you how cool these things are:

I think that will be enough for now.  If you think I’m wrong, the comment section is open - feel free to fill in what I left out.  HA!  Not so easy as it sounds, is it, buddy?  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to share a mango with the german au pairs.  And a merry tapioca to the driftwood horse you rode in on, too.  That’ll teach you to move out on me.