Ride for the Feast

Howdy, friends and fans!

I have been lax in my posting because, well, I have little to report. Adventures have been more of the boring domestic variety (I did some laundry), and news is the same old, same old. Ian is still solving world health issues, and I am still looking for a job.

So, instead of boring you with my non-news, I am going to excite you with somebody else's worthwhile project.

Here's the deal - my dear buddy from college, Mike Yengling, is riding in the Ride for the Feast. Movable Feast is an amazing organization that feeds folks in poverty who are living with HIV/AIDS or Breast Cancer. Their organization runs with very little overhead, and does a whole lot with very little. Mike does the ride every year with his team, Team Atomic, and I like to sponsor him.

My little day-dream is that YOU, yes YOU, would like to cough up a few bucks to sponsor Mike in his ride and donate to Movable Feast, too.

Yes, the economy sucks. Yes, there is uncertainty. WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY WE SHOULD HELP OUT! Somebody has it worse than you, and sponsoring Mike on this bike ride is a way to make a real change for somebody.

SPONSOR MIKE YENGLING IN RIDE FOR THE FEAST, PLEASE.

http://rideforthefeast.kintera.org/faf/search/searchParticipants.asp?ievent=291786&lis=1&kntae291786=BF0CDD148232415F9BA33808FE360D13

The organizers of the ride ask that folks who want to send words of encouragement to the riders on day 2 of the ride send an email to RFTFsupport@gmail.com. Go ahead and send an email if you like. Mike is a friendly and hilarious guy. He would love to hear from you.

This is a copy of my email to Mike (fyi - "pump it big in front and small in back" is bike jargon for "go really fast". It refers to using the biggest chainring in the front, and the smallest in back.)



Boneshaker Mikey Y in da house!!

watcha gonna do? FEED SOME PEOPLE, that's what.

WORD.

Tired? Good! That's what we paid you do. I didn't sponsor you so you could feel like you spent a day at the spa, dude. I paid you to get on your velocipede and create social change.

Your ride today may have been grueling and soul crushing, you may have been gnawing on your handlebars climbing the hills, and you might smell like a goat, but today's ride fed somebody. And, truth be known, you always kinda smell like a goat.

Armpits and donkey butt aside, an inspiring alchemy is happening. You and your bicycling posse, through burning a gajillion calories, are providing a million gajillion calories for somebody. Those calories are fueling the bodies of the folks who will now get a good nutritious meal, but the really amazing alchemy is that those calories end up feeding all of our souls, too. The process of caring, and of helping, and of inspiring, and of connecting, ends up giving all of us something we need. All this is to say good job, and thank you. Thank you for feeding my soul.

Now, little buddy, hop on that saddle tomorrow with the blessings and the energy of the well fed pushing you along for the entire rest of the ride. Pump it big in front, small in back, and kick it on in. Ride like a banshee at midnight on the full moon, a retired greyhound after the squirrel, a two-year-old liberated from diapers. Ride like all things inspired and driven forward in the sheer joy of willing, motivated, brilliant and exuberant motion.

Rock on, Brother Mike. Don't crash.

Love,

J Monkeypants A Go Go
(now of the wierd SoCal locale)

Somali Food

Our settling in and exploration of our new digs continues. . .

The latest food adventure and cultural outing took us to "African Spice Restaurant", a mecca of deliciousness tucked into a busy market in a slightly run-down shopping center.

The largest business in this shopping center is the County Health and Human Services office, but all the action is happening at the Safari Market. Safari Market used to be a big grocery store, and now a busy East African cultural hub, full of separate stalls selling hijabs, sports team T-shirts, incense, spices and soaps, travel agencies specializing in travel to Somalia and Ethiopia, visa services, and our new favourite restaurant.

There was no printed menu. We asked what they recommend, they said the fish, because they were all out of goat. Damn. We ordered the fish.

What we got was a pile of perfectly crisp and plump sambussas (like a samosas) full of the tangy spicy goodness. I don't know what all was contained in their flaky goldenness, but they were totally amazing. The green onion and the fish were easy to distinguish, but the rest of the ingredients were a mystery to me. A yummy, yummy mystery.

After our frolic in sambussa heaven, we were brought a plate of gorgeous saffron rice topped with roasted red pepper, green bean, pea and sweet potato matchsticks. This was garnished with a coconut and jalapeno chutney that balanced the earthy low notes of the rice dish amazingly well. It was gorgeous, and stunning. The rice served as accompaniment for an absolutely lovely pan-fried white fish in a delicate saffron and mystery spice sauce. It was expertly cooked - not too tough, not overdone, not too spicy, just exactly perfect. On the side was a green jalapeno salsa and a tomato salsa that added a nice kick and acidic punch to the dish. My oh my it was good.

To top it all off, a banana. I don't usually think to pair a banana with my fish and rice dinner, but it was, like everything else with this meal, perfect. Yum!

After stuffing ourselves into dystentia, we strolled around the former grocery store now East African market and bazaar. In the very back of the building, there still hung the cartoon pork-shop shaped sign for the meat department. The counter and refrigerators and equipment for the former meat department are long gone, but the faucets and low tile basins remain. Lined up in front of these basins were men who were taking polite turns at the faucets. They removed their shoes, washed their feet well, and gave their faces and hands a good scrub. They then would give up their spot at the basin, set their shoes neatly by a door, and disappear into the room on the other side of the door. It turns out that the former grocery is not only where one could get goat meat and travel reservations, but there is mosque back behind where the bakery used to be. One-stop shopping at its best!

If you are interested in checking out this amazing deliciousness, or in getting some incense or going to temple, check out Safari Market:

4348 54th St
(between El Cajon Blvd & Trojan Ave)
San Diego, CA 92115

Occam's Razor/ Happy Easter

The most simple explanation is usually the correct answer.

Walking on water = surfing.

Jumping off a Cliff

Right next to the Salk Institute, where Ian spends his days finding cures for the diseases that send us to congested and phlegmy deaths, there is a wide open field bordered on one side by a dirt parking lot, and bordered on the other side by a cliff. The cliff drops down roughly 350 feet to a narrow, stony beach, upon which the cold and merciless waves of the Pacific pummel whomever goes too long in their run for the Hail Mary pass, and tumbles down to that cold and hard stopping point at the bottom. Into these cliffs blow ceaseless westerly winds, which hit the cliff and are pushed up, creating a unique opportunity for the adventurous.

That unique opportunity is known as paragliding. A paraglider is basically a parafoil, a cross between a big kite and a parachute. The flyer-person hangs seated in a cradle and steers by pulling the ropes attached to different vents. (I imagine that the pilots in our FF/DH posse will be interested in how this all works. Rather than bastardize and oversimplify a perfectly good explanation, I will instead direct the interested parties to the Wikipedia page explaining paragliding . )

On breezy days, which means most days, folks gather at the Torrey Pines Gliderport, buckle in to their rigs, and just walk right off the cliff. It is amazing! They then glide back and forth in the updraft along the cliff, straying a bit out to sea and a bit inland, and then they come back in to land on the same breezy bluff from which they stepped off in the first place. Brilliant!! How cool is that?

It turns out that the current adventurers are not the only ones who found the unique topography and consistent breezes of the Torrey Pines Cliffs worthwhile. On my birthday (Feb 24th- write it down) in 1930, Charles Lindbergh flew in the Torrey Pines uplift from Mount Soledad (right there by the cliff) up to Del Mar; this 9 mile flight was a regional distance record at the time.

Starting in the '30's, and continuing until today, little motorless planes, called glider planes, get towed off the cliff to ride the steady wind by the cliff. The cliff has also been the testing ground for many aeronautics greats including John Robinson and his variometer, a precursor to a flight altimeter; Harland Ross and his first spoiler air brakes; and Bob Fronius with his parachute safety innovations.

Currently, an outfit called Torrey Pines Gliderport runs the show there on the cliff. They offer classes, tandem flights, certifications, and quite a show for those of us just watching.

For those gentle readers who know the author of this post, I know what you are wondering. The answer is, "No. Not yet." I plan to sell Ian on the idea that we should go paragliding for our anniversary in June. What better analogy for marriage than jumping off a cliff into what seems like a treacherous and dangerous pit, but instead proves to be gorgeous wide-open sun-shiny space, where the serendipitous combination of several obdurate elements produces exactly what we need to be not just supported, but uplifted, and consistently delivered safe and sound, inspired and transformed, back to steady ground?

Check out the little movies we made of paragliding, and also check the video posted on the Torrey Pines Gliderport site. One of our videos shows a little single-man glider plane (and some guy's butt who walked into the frame). Another clip shows a take-off, and one shows a landing for a tandem ride. The tandem rider was a kid who was probably about 8 or 10. Quite a ride, no? Enjoy!

As seen in San Diego

Why aren't all signs this cute?

Trophy Fern

Welcome back to the FF/DH San Diego Postings!

Despite many a mailed-out resume, I still do not have a job. -Other than packing Ian's lunch, of course. Although my days are typically filled with job hunting and lunch packing, my routine recently got mixed up a bit by MK, one of my fabulous homegirls from the cabaret days (plug for RubyRico's latest production - http://www.rubyrico.com/ ) who got me down to Balboa Park for some exploring and sight seeing.

We went to the botanical gardens, which, magically, were full of tropical plants! Tropical plants, the likes of which I have recently seen IN THE TROPICS! (see previous FF/DH postings)

The botanical garden was lush and wonderful, and on the walls they had some ferns mounted on boards. Live ferns, mounted on boards like a hunting trophies, sans glass eyes. If I ever live in a chateau with a huge mantel, I am going to hang up one of these ferns in the place of a 12 point buck.









The gardens also had a lovely "touch and smell" section. The most striking plant was the "Mrs. Taylor Geranium". Does this geranium smell just like Mrs. Taylor??

I refused to touch or smell this plant. I have never met Mrs. Taylor, and touching or smelling just didn't seem appropriate.

Outside the garden, MK and I found a nice bench, as shown in the photo. Notice how well MK demonstrates proper bench usage, and highlights the lovely ornamental work of the bench.


The really outstanding part of this bench was its plaque on a nearby wall. It isn't just a bench, it is a Courtyard Furnishing, donated by the Thursday Club. I thought, "What the hell is the Thursday Club, and why are they named after a day of the week? Are they handing out benches? Can I get one?"

Turns out, the Thursday Club is still alive and going strong, and we just missed their rummage sale.
Bummer. At least I still get to sit on the bench.

Joan Jett + Drag Queen = Glamorous

Since I can't be bothered to make decisions about my hair, I, as a rule, tell whomever is cutting my hair to do whatever they want. I typically end up with a totally stylish, somewhat edgy, multi-colored 'do. (Maybe it is because Havalah Winslow is the best stylist known to humankind. She is in Austin, TX - let me know if you want her number. She is a miracle worker.)

I am now in SoCal. I found a gal to cut my hair, told her to do whatever she wanted, and I now have a Joan Jett kind of a cut. -which is fine.

The new hair gal (who is no Havi, that's for damn sure) is updating her portfolio, and asked if I would come in for a photo shoot. Even though my schedule is packed to the gills with surfing and making lunch for my husband, I thought I could squeeze in some time for a picture. They also said they would have snacks, and I'm a sucker for a cheese ball and crackers.

After 45 min in the make-up and primping chair, I had on more make-up than all the cast members of Days of Our Lives combined, and totally looked like a drag queen with Joan Jett hair. The photographer told me, in a very serious tone, to "look into the camera like you know a secret". The only thing that achieved was me snickering and smiling to the point that my many coats of primer, foundation, bondo, and powder collected in cruddy conglomerations in the smile lines at the sides of my mouth.

Once home, the cleaning process proved to take almost as long as the application. We decided to just throw that washcloth out. There's no saving it from the pounds of Smashbox embedded in its formerly snowy white Egyptian cotton.

But, you know what? I do know a secret. I'm never wearing that much make-up again. Ever.

New Standards for Topiaries

to⋅pi⋅ar⋅y

/ˈtoʊpiˌɛri/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [toh-pee-er-ee] Show IPA adjective, noun, plural -ar⋅ies. Horticulture

–adjective

1.	(of a plant) clipped or trimmed into fantastic shapes.

2.	of or pertaining to such trimming.

–noun

3.	topiary work; the topiary art.

4.	a garden containing such work.

---

Origin:
1585–95; < class="ital-inline">topiārius pertaining to landscape-gardening or to ornamental gardens, equiv. to topi(a) (pl.) artificial landscape (< class="ital-inline">tópia (sing. topion), dim. of tópos place) + -ārius -ary

ob⋅ses⋅sion

Show IPA

–noun

1.	the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.

2.	the idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself.

3.	the state of being obsessed.

4.	the act of obsessing.

---

Origin:
1505–15; < class="ital-inline">obsessiōn- (s. of obsessiō) blockade, siege, equiv. to obsess(us) (see obsess ) + -iōn- -ion

A picture is worth 1,000 words. There is nothing I can say that will do the front yard of this private San Diego residence justice.

Come visit. I'll take you to see it live, in person.

Where is that cord???

You know, that one cord? The gray one? The one that connects that one thing to the other gizmo? Not that cord, that one is for that other thing. I need the gray one! The one that connects the camera to the computer!! Yah! THAT one! Have you seen it?

FF/DH posts have been on a bit of a hiatus, because I have misplaced that one cord. Have you seen it?

So, here is a boring, non-picture, just news, no good stories with pictures, plain old update. Once we find the gray cord, I will update WITH pictures.

Update 1) I am still looking for a job. I know I will find something that is a perfect fit; I just don't know what it is yet.

Update 2) We got a surfboard, and I am surfing everyday, when I am not looking for a job. Maybe I should say I am looking for a job when the surf is not pumping. The break is closer to our house here than the break in Panama was to our apartment there. Ha!

Update 3) My Panama beauty regimen of saltwater and direct, harsh sun gave split ends to my split ends. It all had to be cut off. I now have a haircut that makes me look like a little boy from the neck up. The rest of my figure indicates the contrary, so there is no real danger of confusion.

Update 4) We found out the one (yes, ONE, as in one and ONLY) Physical Therapy program in San Diego is ridiculously expensive. It is $11,550 per trimester. For that price, they should do all our housework, cater all our meals, do my schoolwork for me, and guarantee me at least a 6 figure salary within moments of graduation.

Since none of those things are part of their program, we are looking at plans B and C. Plan B is that I take all my pre-reqs here in San D, and then go to school in Long Beach. Plan C is that I take all my re-reqs here, and we look at moving somewhere else for me to do PT school after Ian finishes his Post-Doc. Either way, I am starting my pre-reqs.

Update 5) I am still volunteering at a PT clinic and it is fabulous!! They are knowledgeable, and compassionate, and really help people feel better.

I do the PT's bidding, including getting them towels or looking up client files or keeping the clients company while they go through their excercises. I love being there, and am the luckiest lackey of all time. I want to bake them all cookies every week, but that is not very professional. I instead just try to anticipate their needs and stay out of the way while I absorb every single thing they are doing, and not yell, "THAT IS SO COOL! DID YOU SEE HER HIP JUST GO BACK INTO ALIGNMENT?? THAT IS SO COOL!".

Update 6) There is a fabulous Iyengar Center in our 'hood. Hell yah. Nuff said.

Update 7) The Ross Dress for Less carries Channel sandals. Even the Ross is fancy here.

Update 8) I will soon find the camera cord, and post pictures of the cool adventures we have been up to here.

I Stand Corrected

In a previous post, I commented on how the plural of "Y'all" is "All Y'all".

A true Texan and native speaker, JW, has corrected me.

Singular: Y'all
Plural: All Y'alls

example-
Singular: Y'all can kiss my ass.
plural: All of Y'alls can kiss my asses.


Please update your files accordingly.

I can totally do that.

Our San Diego/La Jolla/Encinitas Days are taking form. I have found that I need to go inland for all basic needs (cleaning supplies, groceries, Elmer's glue, potting soil, shoelaces, etc.), have found the post office AND the public library, and can now reliably find my way home with zero wrong turns.

Ian is Salking each weekday, and is really stepping up his work to match this higher tier of sciencing.

I am starting my next phase of awesomeness, as well. It is called "Jessica Becomes a PT". To set the stage for this accomplishment that will culminate up as Ian finishes up his Post-Doc, I have some pre-reqs to take care of, I need to take the GRE again, I need to actually get into the school I want to get into, and I need to volunteer at a PT clinic.

Since I don't have a job yet, I have started volunteering and observing at 2 different PT clinics. I have been watching folks with different injuries and conditions go through their rehab excercises, and one thought keeps coming to the front and center of my my mind:

Dude. I can totally do that.

I am impressed with lots of the gadgetry and whizbangery of the PT clinic. I am impressed with the PT's grasp of how bodies work, and am also super impressed with the confidence and expertise these PTs radiate.

I am shocked and a little dismayed at the total lack of integration and alignment of the client's bodies. To be more precise, I am shocked and dismayed that the clients are not being taught to align and integrate their bodies. Why are they not being taught how to stand evenly, before working on how to walk evenly? Why are they not plugging in their shoulders? Why do they have locked knees and "forward-head" and "rib-pokey-out-y" syndromes? To that, I say, DUDE. . .I can totally teach you, nice client, to fix that.

So, I am feeling much more confident that I can jump through the hoops of several years of school, and come out on the other side a competent and effective helper of folks with physical imbalances, teacher of uneducated and unintegrated appendages, and kick-ass Yogi PT.

How do you like them apples?

Amazing Roller Coaster

San Diego is home to one of the only original seaside boardwalk wooden roller coasters on the West Coast, the Giant Dipper (another classic wooden coaster is the other Giant Dipper in Santa Cruz, upon which I have a personal record of 8 rides in a row).

The picture of us together was taken before the ride. Gotta love the bad hat-head I am sportin'.

The picture of me is from right after the ride.

For the same price as a fancy cup of Starbucks, we got an adrenalin rush, increased heart-rate, a vibrant and fully alive feeling, and a great view of the boardwalk from the top of the ride directly before we went screeching down the first terrifying drop. The coffee shop doesn't have a view like that.

Are you OK? Are you OK? HELP! IT'S CPR Saturday!

Welcome back to FF/DH - the San Diego Chapters! Ian and I are feeling quite civically responsible this week.

San Diego is not only gorgeous, but progressive. Given the history of wildfires, earthquakes, and other disasters of varying styles and flavors, San Diego Red Cross is on a mission to make San Diego the most prepared community in the US. Go, Red Cross.

On Saturday morning, at 8am, we showed up at the Convention Center in downtown SD for CPR SATURDAY! It is a totally huge CPR class, given by the Red Cross, for FREE. Yes, boys and girls, this basic CPR class is free, free, free to area residents.

We were shocked and thrilled with the turnout. Look at all these folks who are giving up their Saturday morning to go to 3 hour CPR class! We watched a video, took a written test, and practiced in small groups with our Red Cross CPR Trainers. Our small practice group was full of 8 folks from a Harley club, in addition to me and Ian. Our lack of leather, denim, and gray hair really made us stand out from our other group members. Ian commented that it is good that they are learning CPR, as they will probably need it after one of those old guys has a heart attack and lays down their bike. Always the optimist, that guy.

Ian and I now know how to assist someone who is choking, someone who is not breathing, and someone who needs CPR. We have the card to prove it.

And what did YOU do with your weekend??

If you want to learn more about CPR Saturday, check this link .

If you want to make a contribution to the Red Cross, check out this link .