Sunday, September 24, 2006

Why It’s Okay that Monday Is Next

I really needed that weekend, from the delightful Rosh Hashona repast Kel had ready for me when I stomped in late and tense on Friday afternoon, to the many incredible moments during services when Zak really seemed to “get” it - playing with the other kids, or the other grown-ups, or just on his own, when he seemed to perk up, start watching the singing and dancing going on around him, and joined in with a sturdy jig of a dance, regular clapping of hands (in perfect time), and a quiet cooing of a song I’ve never heard from him before....  Glorious, all around.  Then home for some more apple tart from Schubert’s (really it’s to die for) and some hard, deep sleep, and then more of the supernal spirit the next morning, and then some great indian food, and then some aggravating driving right into a huge crowd of football fans leaving a game, and then to the Paiges’ for Kaleb’s “family” birthday celebration, with pizza and chow mein and all manner of colored cupcakes, plus rice krispy treats and plenty of Belgian-style beer.... we got home late and it was a good day all around. 

Sunday, then, we celebrated Kel’s birthday (one day early, in case you’re casting her charts or something).  We started off with Alton Brown-style french toast (and a bit of strawberry-blueberry simmered in butter and maple syrup, so it shouldn’t be a total loss), and then got out for a day in Marin enjoying the Pt Reyes peninsula.  It was a gorgeous day as we left the city:

Our first stop was in Pt Reyes Station, a small town with some really good food (Cafe Reyes, I’m looking at you) and some really photogenic scenery:

Stuffed with pork (and I mean that in the nicest way), we then proceeded to the top of the park and McClure Beach, where we were told tidepools awaited us.  And truly they did, but under a whole mess of moving water and plenty of cold low clouds:

(that one’s a three-photo panorama, so I’M SORRY that the edges don’t square up.... it’s for documentary, not aesthetic purposes, you jamoke.... okay, here’s a nice clean single shot of the access to the beach.  I hope this satisfies your rectilinear jones, Mr and Mrs Rectilinear Rectitude....)

We got tired of the cold wind and submerged tourist attractions so we moved on to another hike, which turned out to be way the hell out and gone at the west end of the peninsula.  We had a great drive, past elk and watery bits like this -

and then we finally wound up at a nice cafe in Inverness where Z could get some delicious cold cowjuice and some tasty angelfood cake, and K and I could drink some good cheap vino blanco (dang they know how to fill up a wineglass there!) and we could all traipse and frolic in Plant Park, where the blackberries were ripe and the tramampoline was irresistable and the overall vibe was calming and delightful....

...which got us in the right mood to get the hell back home, more than an hour’s drive away, through some of the most beautiful country and parkland in the state and of course also past the freaky burned-out shack that made me pull over and take this photo:

... and thence, home.  And wouldn’t you think that’s enough for any natural man?  Well it is, you’re right, but it was sunday and that meant I also got to watch Amazing Race.  If you don’t care for it, good day to you and devil take the hindmost.  For the rest of you right-thinking folk, I offer the following notes, written as the show progressed, and then subsequently blogged to your very self (in the extended entry): 

so, I am not much of a real-time blogger, since I don’t have wireless and I’m not shlepping the desktop computer to the living room just so you can have updates as they happen.  I frankly don’t expect anyone to read this anyway so I’m not sure why I’m so anxious to make sure this is posted by tomorrow, but I guess I just take this whole internet thing way too seriously or something.  Anyway, my first few notes are not in good order but then my antispasmodics kicked in and the rest should be pretty much properly sequenced (not sequins’d, which is Project Runway, which is coming up soon enough, my pretties):

Phil keeps mentioning “mongolian nomads.” I think he should shorten it to “Mongonads.”

The mongolian street sign they keep showing us looked to me like a stick figure saluting, with an erection.  I want to draw a couple of little hats on it.

It’s great that the coalminer couple are getting along so well with their limited experience and exposure.  “I’ve never seen an asian… I’ve never seen a gay… but I like’em!” Well, somebody get this lady a gaysian and let’s watch the fireworks!  George Takai, where are you when coalminers in Mongolia need you?  Are we going to have to canvas the steppes for Homongonads?

Meanwhile, Tom is doing an impression of a “man on a horse,” so to speak, which would probably have been subject to misinterpretation at the Folsom Street Fair but in Mongolia is so bizarre and unintelligible that I suspect the toll taker who was subjected to that little dance probably let them get on their way without paying.  Anything to keep those freaks on the move.  Slap that bootie, Tom - you know that’s how the homongonads ride it!

Meanwhile, whatshername and whozits have the good fortune to run into a random republican on the streets of Ulan Bataar.  “Just drive east, and remember, their ruler is not a dictator since he’s letting us suck out his crude.  It only sounds dirty when democrats hear it.”

Mongolian license plates have a little “MNG” between the first and last parts of the letters and numbers.  I imagine that Ming the Merciless must be righteously pissed.  What does he put on his license plates, then? 

I love how that woman can “switch out her foot.” However, what kind of boyfriend would have her performing like a goddamn monkey, running up and down steps while her hydraulic knee is leaking?  And then he pathetically asks for money, from people who live on the steppes in tents and are used to seeing much worse and less-treated disabilities than she had?  This guy is creeping me out.  If I were her I’d switch out my foot and plant it in that prick’s butt.

Yes, blondie, you’re “mongolian now” that you’re wearing one of their furry hats.  You’re indistinguishable from all the other six-foot-tall, size 3, blonde beauty queen mongols that literally litter the steppes.  It’s why Ghengis had to go maurading.  Where was he supposed to find a nice dumpy brunette in a land so choked with barbies?  (Note to self: “Choked with Barbies” may be an important novel, film or hit song at some point.  This theme needs further development.  Maybe with a big fuzzy hat?)

Phil tells us that “teams with the right packing skills can finish quickly.” I am ashamed that this makes me giggle.

Yeah, the dude with the woman with the prosthethis is really bumming me out.  Clapping his hands and shouting that she has to focus on her task?  Damn I want to see him fail at something.  YES, he will fail with the flaming arrows.  GODDAMN he didn’t.  Now he’ll be even more self-righteous.  I’m glad that woman is seeing him for what he is.  He acts like a dog trainer, and it would be easy for her to act like the dog he expects her to be.  Stand up for yourself, woman! 

I like how that dude who can’t keep up with his yak says, as it runs away from him, “that thing has fire in its eyes.” A bit of a yak anatomy lesson for you there - that’s not it’s eye you’re looking up, and if there’s fire in it I suggest you let him run ahead a little. 

The interview with the black women is hilarious.  Lyn is saying “we need to work on our communication.” Her friend is sitting silently, grinding her teeth, eyes bugging with rage.  Communicate this, bitch - I’m gonna cut you if you speak to me again today.  I love how the game draws people closer… so they can really work the kidneys and lower ribs....

Phil, did you really ask the woman with the artificial shin and foot how she feels about doing so well “two legs into the race?” And when that little person was on a team a few seasons ago, did you ask her when she lost why she came up short? 

I’m disappointed that the actual BFFs are getting eliminated.  They were fun to watch, seemed to keep a good attitude for as long as they could.  As did I.  But it’s late and I’m gonna call this done.  Have a good week.  I’ll try to meet you half-way.