I see your true colors ... isms

People show their true colors in the funniest ways – often when they think others aren’t looking. There are a few types:
The gym guy:
This is the guy you catch eyes with in the mirror (when really you were just scanning the room for the 15 lb free weights) and he seems to inflate by ~10 muscle pounds. When he thinks you’ve looked away (when the hunt for the weights continues) a paunch appears and the inflated look turns lopsided.

The Friday night girl:
This is the type who curls her wavey hair and puts on a pair of jeans or skirt two sizes too small. She giggles at jokes and non-jokes, waddles in the cutest way possible, and is intrigued by all around … when people are watching. When people aren’t watching the muffin top appears (that's why I love spanx), giggle turns to grimace, and hair gets put back into perfect tossled place.

The moderator:
Now panels don’t really allow time for folks to put on a show or put their show on pause. The hood is lifted and true psyche is there for all to see. Today I witnessed a particularly painful panel with one particularly interesting moderator.

Today’s moderator had his own agenda – his own core pitch to share and his own story to flaunt. He did not introduce any of the panelists, nor did he seem to know who was on the panel. After giving his pitch he simply said, “so what do you think?” nodding to guy #1 on the panel.

After all 5 panelists went through and introduced themselves and talked a bit about the topic that was on the agenda, the a question was raised. The moderator swung it straight to the panel as he didn’t seem to know (or even know the acronym the question referred to). After guy #3 bottom lined the proper answer with anecdotes and predictions, the moderator seemed clearly distressed – he was losing the show. He started to hoola, swaying side to side, unknowingly. Then his arms moved with his hips. Pretty soon he was pursing his lips trying to think of a report but by then it was all over – the bald spot on his head started to sweat making his comb-over seem to float up as if on strings. It was a bit sad at first, but then he tried to take back the show arguing with no argument. This came with a forward pelvic thrust (at which point I nearly had to leave the room it was hurting so much to hold in my laughs).

Ah true colors – when they shine through they can be quite vibrant.

Tis the season for great meals

It's my favorite produce season right now which means it's time to get back in the kitchen. Living in Russian Hill we're spoiled with great eats up and down the street - spoiled and tempted filling our stomachs and emptying our accounts. Rather than visit one of our jaunts (don't worry Bar Johnny, Pesce, Aux Delice, and Sushi Groove - we'll be back soon) we visited our kitchen for two dinner to di(n)e for.

Last night:
Sturgeon with mango, red onion, soy sauce
Asparagus with garlic, brown sugar, sea salt glaze
Salad with raspberries and black olives

Tonight:
Chicken in a masala sauce
Asparagus (yes, again)
Crackers
Blue Moon with orange (it seemed to round it all out)

Top chef, here I come. Bam. Wait ... Emeril, here I come.

Martha-ism

I am not a "good wife" (don't take that the wrong way - I'm an excellent wife, just not in the fiction sense - I cook, help remind Matty to clean, yadda yadda), I'm not a party planner extraordinaire, nor am I a Town and Country expo-ite/ism. I'm an Amber - aka ism in some senses.

I'm thrilled to be throwing our good friend Emily a bridal shower - Emily taught me all I know about party planning and throwing - but I goofed up. I guess Martha will never invite me on her show. After sending the needed eVite, I realized I scheduled the party for the same day as the Angel Island 25k (which I've already paid out the foot for). OOF! I think I need to start taking notes at Em's parties and on her planning.

Wheels and reels: to each their own

I’m rarely shocked at what I see in SF anymore. Friday as I was walking to work I dodged a woman who at first I thought was doing Washington Square workout (picture arms and legs widely flailing about) but really she was reeling – (my new polite term for getting sick). Later that day I saw a man (either a homeless man or art student at the Institute of Art) fall asleep and drop a box of crackers – drool reeling down his mouth (either a great dream or remnants of delicious crackers). Later I walked by his spot just as sleeping drooly was waking up – seems he woke up hungry because before sitting up he reached down, picked up a dirty drooled on cracker, and had a snack.

What a terrible segue from the peanut post. I'll grow up ... someday. Speaking of weird things on wheels (get it? Segway? Heh) ...

After a day of dodging nasties, just as I was nearing home I saw a shocking commuter (who I also had to dodge). Some people opt for the bus, others a car, walking for a few (like myself), and for that rare breed of ismnator, a unicycle. The spandex clad cyclist both shocked and awed me as he peddled up Lombard. Keepin’ the streets of San Francisco interesting one wheel at a time.

Peanuts make you fart

“When you eat peanuts they give you gas and then you fart – hahaha.” This coming from the steward (attendant – I’m not sure what to call the nice airplane people anymore) as he handed out peanuts and crackers to the other passengers.

Now I’m all for potty humor – sometimes I wonder if I’m a 5 year old stuck in a 28 year old’s body; really, though I think my humor just hit it’s peak at 5. But really, on a plane? With strangers? After handing out bagged gas-bombs, he went on to tell a row of seemingly uninterested passengers, “You know what’s funny? I was in a restaurant in Kansas, a Max’s, and on their menu it says ‘our chili comes with free gas,’ hahaha.”

Awkward.

That’s enough

I think my bad karma has kicked in from bloggishly complaining about all the airplane criers. I’m on my way home from Orlando and am seated just in front of an opera-wanna be. The baby has turned from white to reddish pink in the matter of minutes and has the lungs of a large singer.

The crying started well before we were all seated – I should have known better before taking this seat, but I just didn’t look. The mother has the baby perched on her lap with two other younguns in the seats next to her. The father is seated across the way and has taken to playing with the babies toys (avoiding taking over for a bit? Dunno).

Instead of the rocking and cooing I always see in movies, I keep hearing “that’s enough” and “go to sleep” - this coming a bit louder than normal because mama-flyer is listening to her iPod.

Crying baby is still in the phase of learning what all the different noises are and what her body could do. She hits a few high notes quite well – then drops to a baritone – the loudest and longest note she can holler. I think she must be watching animal channel or cartoons with creatures because she keeps making animal noises too.

Rad.

The good news for Matt is that I’m not so eager for the pattering of little feet anymore.

Food

I knew we had amazing food in San Francisco based on my travels ... and taste-buds ... and diminishing bank account (from Whole Paycheck - er, Foods - and eating out), but I never knew HOW amazing. After 1-meal in Florida (a beautiful state with wonderful people and nice weather) I'm SO thankful. I do think, though, to save America from itself, we should get rid of all-you-can-eat bars.

At dinner this evening I saw a group of young girls (I'm guessing 17-19 judging by their white tips (hair and nails) and short shorts) enjoy the all-you-can-eat 3 times but only consuming chocolate cake and soft serve. Now I'm all for a sweet now and again, OK, and again, but 3 stops with a plate piled high? Really?

Aside from watching others with a foodie eye, I watched my own table/plate/serving. I went straight to the "healthy" menu which boasted 3-items: steak, halibut, chicken wrap. I chose the steak and asked for medium rare to which I learned "it's already done, it only comes one way." OK. My healthful-starless meal was served grey and with a butter knife and something mashed up on the side. Hm. While enjoying my microwave meal (I'm getting meaner by the minute ... bless my heart ... I apologies) I eaves-dropped on the women next to me who were having a deep discussion about teas, chili, canned soup, and salt. The four food groups.

Organic lettuce? Paso wines? Free range chicken with Chinese broccoli and maybe a side of white peaches with prosciutto? Is that too much to ask? Yes? Thought so.

It's a good thing I'm lucky enough to travel - it opens my eyes. It also makes me not mind the SF rents so much - I thought Marin was a bubble but SF is mounting to be the same lot. Fantastic.