2 August 08
1 August 08
1 August 08
Feeding the Googleplex
I visited the mother spider of the Web today. I spent the day down at Google in Mountain View for a meeting about a project I may end up being involved with. I can report that they keep the Google engineers well-fed. The following were free for the taking:
In the visitors’ area in the building we were in (one of the smaller buildings on their campus): at left a refrigerator filled with Naked Juice fruit juices. (Upstairs was the massage lounge).
The snack room had organic milk, soy milk, and rice milk in the fridge, gourmet chocolates in bins, any number of breakfast cereals, and a half-dozen sorts of fresh fruit available. A sign reminded people to wash the fruit.
Among the options at the lunchtime cafeteria were the following:
- curried vegetables with brown rice
- white bean and chorizo soup
- assorted sandwich ingredients, including sliced heirloom tomatoes
- a salad with mixed baby greens, tarragon dressing, and goat cheese
- a barley salad
- sauteed summer squash and zucchini for veggies
- main entree choices of chicken cacciatore, pasta pomodoro, and steamed mussels
- pizza with caramelized onion and talaggio cheese
- pistachio ice cream
Needless to say, we had a good pre-meeting lunch.
30 July 08
Fly, Julia, Soar
Her name was Julia. I remembered. I doubt this will be the last tribute I make to her, either.
30 July 08
Mystery Plant
This plant recently sprouted and grew quickly in one of Pica’s garden plots, which has since been heavily mulched. If anybody has any idea what it is, do let us know.
28 July 08
Summer Doesn't Wait
The beans the earwigs the ground squirrels the almonds the squashed plums the parched lilies the flooded field the half-drowned gophers the bunnies the mockingbird the Swainson’s hawks the moon the swallow brood the laundry the clutter the cooking the pickling the biking the daydreams the not enough sketching.
The nearly August. Gulp.
27 July 08
26 July 08
Korean Mexican Italian
I’ve begun the long journey into learning how to preserve food. Our freezer is humble, so methods that don’t require refrigeration are prized. The garden is starting to produce things in such quantity that if they don’t get eaten or preserved, they’ll end up in the compost.
First, I’ve made my first batch of kimchi. If you don’t know it, it’s a Korean pickled cabbage delight, where the pickling is done entirely with salt and fermentation, not vinegar. It’s not a long process and the kimchi is almost finished, having started the process on Wednesday evening. I couldn’t resist tonight, though, and had a few mouthfuls. (Garlic ginger chilis onions radish cabbage and of course salt: how can you go wrong?) I’m very pleased with it and am hoping it will become a staple in our house, or more precisely in my office, where I’ll go to it at 3:00 pm when I have the munchies.
Second, we roasted a good 25 jalapeño peppers today in the solar cooker. They took on some good charring and will be used in all kinds of things. They’re coming in like gangbusters.
Third, with the oceans of chard and Kathy’s eggs, we made ravioli. From scratch. It’s a long, meditative process. The chard, onions, walnuts, and garlic were from the garden; we opted for tofu over ricotta, mostly because of its texture. Ravioli, we can freeze. I’d forgotten how delicious homemade pasta was… And I’m so grateful I didn’t ditch the hand-cranked pasta roller or devote its energies to Fimo millefiore.
New item for the drawer devoted to the goddess Anoia: a crinkle-cut pasta cutter.
26 July 08
Bike Whisperer
It’s never too late to learn to ride a bike, as this story about a bicycle riding instructor in Somerville, Massachusetts relates.
24 July 08
Letter to a Former Classmate with Down's Syndrome
We sit on chairs
two feet tall, you and I:
pencils in hand
the dust of Castille
sloshed round by
Maria’s swift mop—
Tracing books ready.
Patterns. Sir Alfred’s.
They are lines to worlds
galaxies
words
and, you and I,
we trace them.
My line wobbles but
I clench my fist round
my pencil and,
readysetgo, follow the lines.
Your almond eyes
wander, yet focused, and your
staff
follows unscripted calls,
out of order, explores,
it’s Breaking the
Rules.
A new dance.
Be kind, Teacher said.
Your name is now lost.
But if I could return,
dear friend, and be not
just kind
but
learn
from your uncharted brain
hows and whys of
breaking the rules:
fortysomething years on,
the universe
might hold just a little
more sense.