Holiday on the road

We've been driving for a couple of days now headed north, and finally arrived in Seattle yesterday. Drove past Mammoth and around Lake Tahoe after a big snowfall, so everything was covered in white and we saw a few cars that spun out. The Jeep Laredo we rented in LA has snow tires and did very well on slick roads. (I think I'm in love with that car, by the way). Saw lots of little American towns, most of which at least had a bar if nothing else, and if they were any bigger, a taqueria as well. Stayed in small hotels and two nights ago cooked up some noodles, because my parents can't eat too many days of non-Chinese food. But they did like the DQ that I took them to yesterday.

Other travel observations: The pine trees in Oregon grow especially tall and dense - you can't see very far into the forests at all. The Columbia River is so wide, almost like a lake. (The picture on the left is just a small river, not the Columbia.) Mountains are easier to photograph than lakes and rivers, especially if it's not sunny out.

My uncle has a condo in Chinatown and is putting us up here. When we arrived last evening, he broke out the scotch and some black Taiwanese peanuts. It was a nice welcome.

Dream

2 shots of 1800 Silver tequila last night to celebrate the quarter's end + a tired brain = the following dream, which I'll call Armaggedon

There's a strange feeling in the air
It's the holiday season
But I feel that going shopping this evening would be disastrous
So I tell my friend, Don't go
Of course, the very shopping mall where she goes
Is the one where people get massacred
I drive over there later that night
And walk up to the front door
The security girl tells me, You can't come in
An older woman walks by and picks up a magazine from a stack near the door
She says, I just wanted to see, and sobs
I flee back toward home
It's a long path across the desert
And I'm riding a small flying motorcycle, with a lot of other people doing the same
At some point, I flip and take a fall
When I get up, I can't figure out which side of the bike should face forward
I stop and retrace my route
Kohan has gotten off his bike and is holding little pieces of mine in his hands
That he has picked up
Basically, I don't have a useable bike anymore
So I get on the back of Casey's bike for a ride
Joann appears out of nowhere and also hitches a ride with some guy
Later...
The massacre stopped at the door of our school
And it appears to be thanks to all the ghosts that live right between our front gate and the school
The evil (whatever it is) might be afraid of ghosts
So we think we'll use that to our advantage
I hear a little tinny voice coming from where I can't tell
But apparently the Mayor of Evil is specifically coming after me
For something I did to thwart him

Francophile no more

When I was younger, I used to annoy my friends (I imagine) by talking about the few years when I lived in France as a kid. I stayed in love with Paris for a long time, remembering rotisserie chickens and good bread and cheese, gray buildings and cobblestones, and women who dressed themselves simply but with great care. I also loved the precise and sonorous quality of the French language.

As I've gotten older and my French has become rusty and outdated, I've gradually let go of my infatuation with the French tongue. Maybe it's because I majored in English and was a writer for 5 years. But it's finally sunk in. English rocks! It's such a colorful, flexible, always-changing language, and it belongs to the people. Here are some turns of phrase that make me happy to be part of an English-speaking world, in no particular order.

He stole my thunder.
We're not out of the woods yet.
She's a riot.
This is going to knock your socks off.
I need a _____ like I need a hole in the head.
Time to hit the hay.
It's a mile from here as the crow flies.
My eyes were bigger than my stomach.
You're dead to me.

Okay, this is a pretty weak list, and doesn't do justice to my sentiments at all. You know when you set out to do something, and suddenly it becomes really hard? But I'll keep adding to it, so please check back!

Months-old fresh milk

I like the idea of buying food that's grown locally. There's a theory that it's healthiest to eat food that is local and in season, even if it means not being able to put blueberries in your cereal in February. That's one of the reasons I love avocados. When I eat an avocado, the odds are high that it was picked less than 2 hours away, probably somewhere in San Diego County*.

With that in mind, I generally have lots of tomatoes in my diet in the summer and foods like squashes and root vegetables in the winter. (I stuck to this practice the best when I lived in Baltimore and tended a little plot in a community garden. In the summer, I would come home with bags stuffed with soybeans and string beans, tomatoes, giant zucchini, eggplants, and herbs that knocked you out they smelled so good.)

My one exception to this great way of eating is when it comes to milk. I use milk only occasionally: a splash in my tea, or the odd bowl of cereal. But I hate being without it, like I would hate not having olive oil or salt in my cupboard. So I buy milk that is ultra-pasteurized and stays "fresh" in the fridge for months -- and it turns out this kind of milk was probably farmed far away.

A friend whom I recently converted to organic milk asked me whether ultra-pasteurization had any damaging effects on milk. I had no idea, so I did a bit of Internet research and found this: Ultra-pasteurization is a process that sterilizes milk to a temperature way higher than regular pasteurization, then cools it again very rapidly. As a result, you get milk that lasts for 2-3 months in the fridge, instead of the normal 2-3 weeks. Authorities are split on whether this process strips any flavor or nutrients from the milk in a significant way. Personally, I can't tell if there is a difference in taste.

What surprised me was the distance issue, which I had not thought about. I read that ultra-pasteurization has enabled farmers in remote places to reach bigger markets, so some small organic dairy farmer in Wisconsin can now sell milk to me in Santa Monica.

Most of the milk I buy is probably not local, and I guess I'll have to live with the fact that I'm trading off natural eating in favor of convenience. When I do occasionally get regular pasteurized milk, it probably is from some dairy farm here in California. But knowing that it has such a short shelf life kind of stresses me out. My current carton of milk, I bought more than a week ago and only opened today to eat half a bowl of cereal. It expires December 15, which to me seems like a very short time away.

*Fun fact: California produces 90% of the nation's avocado crop, and SD County produces 60% of the state's avocados. I live in avocado land, and I like it.

Anatomy of a long run

Start time: 6:10 am on Saturday

Distance traveled: 18 miles

Length: 3 hours 17 minutes

Bathroom breaks: 2

Water/food stations: 5

Mile 2 - My body feels great. I can't believe I've been running for more than 20 minutes and I am not at all out of breath. And no knee or foot pain to speak of.
Mile 3 - Mentor reminds us to drink water. It's a cold day, so we're not going to feel as thirsty as usual, she says.
Mile 5 - Blisters are starting to form on the insides of my feet. This is despite the athletic tape I carefully wrapped around those areas. Ouch.
Mile 8 or 9 - Blisters have numbed and there is no pain anymore. Parts of my skin that are exposed start to feel chafed from the wind. My ponytail is damp with sweat, so that little beads of moisture occasionally fly off the end.
Mile 11 - Getting hungry. Munch on gummy bears, Oreos, and other goodies at the water stations. I shake out my hands, which are puffy from blood pressure.
Mile 12 - Still hungry! Start eating gummy energy candies (Clif Bloks) that I brought along. During walk breaks, I lift my knees up tin soldier-style to relieve the pressure on them a bit. I notice that others are doing the same.
Mile 14 - Starting to drag a little, as my energy level drops. I start focusing on the ground in front of me. Hips and quads are starting to feel tight and stiff. Feet are kind of burning where the blisters are, but it's not a bad feeling compared to the earlier rubbing pain.
Mile 15 - Woohoo! Only 3 miles left to go. Knowing we're in the final stretch gives me a new burst of energy.
Mile 16 - Eat my very last Clif Blok.
Mile 17.8 - Charge up the final hill (as much as I can "charge" at this point), chugging along slowly but surely. Jog a few extra steps than necessary and come to a glorious stop.
End of the run - As I sit on the grass stretching with the rest of the group, my eyes suddenly start to sting so terribly that I have to squeeze them shut. It dawns on me that they're stinging because of the saltiness of my sweat.