Please Don't Go

A magazine (that shall remain nameless, but note that it is not one of the titles published by the media company for whom I work) keeps sending me emails saying "Shari, we want you back!"

On its own, it's quite a flattering statement (especially with the emphatic exclamation point adding just that extra bit of well, emphasis about how much they want me back) and when I opened up the email, the line that immediately jumped out at me (because it was bolded) was "we want another chance".

What woman doesn't have at least one young man in her past whom she wished would have sent an email, text message, card, or letter by carrier pigeon with those words emotionally scrawled across the page (or screen)? And I think that's exactly the sentiment that our little periodical friends are trying to tap into. What better feeling than having the upper hand, even if just for a few moments, to fold your arms across your chest, scrunitize the suitor and make him sweat while you contemplate (for real or just for show) his worthiness.

The only flaw in their logic is the one teeny, tiny detail that they never had me in the first place. That's right, I've never even had a subscription to this particular publication. So how can they "want me back"? How can I give them another chance when I'd never even given them a first one?

And why would I want to be with somebody who clearly has me confused with someone else?

An Evening with the Masters

This past Saturday night, Special K and went to see the renowned Pageant of the Masters in Laguna Beach (thanks, LLW, for the tickets!!). The Pageant bills itself as a place "where art comes to life" and this couldn't be further from the truth.

The show is a series of "tableaux vivants" (or living pictures) each representing a distinct piece of art such as a well-known painting or sculpture. This summer, the theme was "The Muse", a tribute to those forces, places and individuals who inspire an artist to create his best, most moving work.

If you have never seen the Pageant, I highly recommend it -- it really is unlike anything you've ever experienced. Actual cast members recreate each and every work of art -- the paintings and sculptures in the show all feature real people, in makeup and costume, holding stock still for up to a couple of minutes at a time while the narrator weaves an interesting and engaging story about what you're currently seeing on stage.

It's so hard to explain, but you will be absolutely awed. At one point about 20 minutes into the show, they bring up the house lights and actually deconstruct how the tableaux are put together. Even when you see this, you still cannot fathom how realistic each piece looks when presented to the audience -- a real testament to the power of lighting.

Add The Pageant of the Masters to your "must-see" list the next time a summer trip brings you to Orange County. And don't forget to take in any (or all) of the three art festivals happening at the same time!

The Future of Comfort Food

A few months ago, I wrote a post describing how books are my mashed potatoes, my mac & cheese, my triple chocolate layered upside down cake (wha?)... in short, they are my comfort food. I have loved to read since I, well, learned to read. I belonged to my first book club before I even started elementary school. One constant in my life is that I can always lose myself in a bookstore and it's hard for me to visit one (or Target or Costco) and not leave with arms full of books and a big smile on my face. The launch of Amazon.com was a nearly orgasmic experience. ("You mean I can have books delivered directly to me with one-click??")

Well, comfort food has just been taken to the next level!

My wonderful husband surprised me with the new Amazon Kindle for my birthday and while I was initially skeptical about the whole electronic reader thing, I am happy to report that I am now completely sold. The device is gorgeous - so sleek, slim and lightweight. The reading experience is much better than I would have expected and I LOVE the built-in dictionary feature where you can hover over a word and immediately see its definition at the bottom of the "page".

I downloaded two full novels in about one minute and I devoured both of those books within about one week. The Kindle is perfect for a travel-heavy schedule because it's so easy to pack and it can literally be dozens of books in one. (Knowing my addiction to the printed word, you will understand how happy this makes me!)

The only slight downside is that the e-books are still rather spendy, with many coming in around the $10 mark. Hmmmm... a little hard to stomach when there isn't a physical item that will find its way to my already-full bookshelf for the rest of its foreseeable existence.

And now, when I read in bed at night before lights out, Special K giggles every time I "click" to turn a page... which is about every 30 seconds. Hey, he enabled my addiction in the first place. And I love him for it!

Stark Raving Mad!

I posted this on my Kaboodle blog as well (and on Facebook), so apologies if you've seen this already!

Per my earlier admission of my obsession with Mad Men (just scroll down the page if you haven't read that entry already), I have now entered AMC's Mad Men Casting Call contest for a chance to win a walk-on role on the show (and the $1000 gift card for Banana Republic wouldn't be so bad either!)

The semi-finalists are chosen by how many votes they get, so go ahead and click through and give me a bit of love -- the contest (and voting) ends on August 11.

And I promise I will stop talking SOOOOO much about the endlessly interesting folks at Sterling Cooper.

(Don't forget -- new season starts on August 16!)

Hide and Sikh

In early 2008, California was the latest state to pass legislation that prohibits the use of cell phones in cars -- you're now only allowed to chat if you can operate the phone in a hands-free manner. I generally don't like earpieces, so I'm fortunate because I can actually program my phone to work through the speakers inside my car. (Fair warning: if you call me when I'm driving, you'll be on speaker phone!)

Even though this law was widely publicized before it was enacted and even though it was admended early in 2009 to also ban text messaging while driving, it's still common to see people trying to sneak in a quick conversation, phones held to their ears, old-school style.

On Thursday evening, Special K and I were in a cab, headed for the San Jose airport when he pointed out two other drivers on the 101 freeway who were openly and shamelessy gabbing away on their cell phones, without using any sort of hands-free device.

Then our cab driver's cell phone rang. I was seated directly behind him and couldn't really see what was happening, but soon, Special K started to chuckle and asked me in a low voice, "Do you see what's going on up there?" I couldn't, but just assumed that our driver was probably also breaking the law.

When we arrived at the airport, Special K told me what he had actually seen. Our driver was Indian and was wearing the full beard and iconic turban of his Sikh religion. And very cleverly, when he answered his phone, he simply tucked the device under the edge of the snugly wound fabric next to his ear, leaving him completely free to have both hands on the wheel while he chatted animatedly with whoever was on the other line.

Brilliant. I predict a whole new line of cell phone accessories coming to market!

Mad About, Well.... Men

And who wouldn't be??

I openly admit it -- I'm obsessed with the AMC darling "Mad Men", the series that chronicles the personal and professional trials and tribulations of a group of advertising men (and women) on Madison Avenue during the 1950's and 60's.

And don't think for a moment that my dedication to this TV show is because of any little (and I mean tiny), completely harmless (silly, really), itsy-bitsy crush on leading man Don Draper. I mean, come on -- I've been in advertising and publishing myself now for a number of years, so my interest in the show and in Mr. Draper is strictly professional. It's really much more like a history lesson. Truly.

So, when Sarah forwarded a link to "Mad Men Yourself", I was all over it like a dirty martini. Yes, it's true, you can now create your very own Mad Men avatar and even insert him/her into scenes reminiscent of the show. If you're a Mad fan, this is a brilliant diversion -- I've already spent WAY too much time defining the 1962 version of me.

Look out Don Draper -- there's a new mad woman in town!

Keep it Down Up There!

Many of you know that in my NoCal apartment, I live on the ground floor. The major pro is that I have a huge patio and I don't have to cart my luggage up and down the stairs every time I travel (which, as you also know, is frequently). The major con is that within the last couple of months, a new family of grizzly bears has moved in directly above me. Seriously - the noise that comes from this unit is unreal. And it's not even like they're having rowdy parties or anything -- they're just simply noisy. Every seemingly normal, mundane action (like walking down the hall) is amplified about 1000 times to the point where my walls reverberate, my doors rattle in their frames and my books shimmy on their shelves. And it happens continuously. (Don't these people ever just sit down??)

It's gotten to the point now where I am just downright curious about what's going on up there because there is no way that people make this much noise just going about their normal day-to-day tasks.

Here are my best guests:

• They have opened a gym in order to make some extra cash and I'm the only one of my neighbours who isn't up there, heaving around weights and medicine balls.
• The San Francisco 49er's have relocated their existing Santa Clara practice facility.
• There are ongoing African dance (and drum circle!) lessons and events going on ... all with admittedly terrible rhythm.
• Hippo racing has finally caught on.
• They just bought an interest in a winery, the only catch being that they actually have to stomp the grapes themselves -- old school!
• Mickey Rourke is holding classes and demonstrations on wrestling moves in order to make some cash just in case this "comeback" thing doesn't quite pan out.
• The UFC, WWF, MMA and any other acronym that basically stands for "way too much testosterone (and steroids)" has set up new headquarters.

Honestly, I think I'm going to start leaving DVD's of VERY long mini-series and movies on their front door step just to see if I can get them to be still for a couple of hours.

iPhone Speak Revisited

A few months ago, I posted about my iPhone's handy auto-correct feature and its tendency to turn my text messages, emails and Twitter posts into a sort of semi-familiar code language that uses real words, but puts them in a completely bizarre context.


Well, it's still up to its old tricks, plus a few new ones which I thought I'd share:


It turns "oink oink" into "pink pink", as in "I just ate way too much! Pink, pink!" (I think even Webster recognizes "oink" -- why is Apple such a snob about it?)


It edits "hee hee" into "her her".... (Her who? and why are you being so emphatic about it??")


And it STILL has not adopted "whoo hoo" into its repetoire, but has moved on from interesting substitutions like "shoe goo" and now repeatedly serves up "whip hop".


Now, "whip hop" actually sounds like it could be an exclamation of happiness, excitement or triumph. Try it on for size: "I just closed a huge 7-figure deal! Whip hop!" or "These Jimmy Choo's are 90% off! Whip hop!"


Too bad the URL is already taken by a wallpaper company. ("Let's decorate the walls! Whip hop!!")

Rekindling a an Old Love Affair

When I'm away from New York for a while, I start to forget all the reasons why I adore that city so much. But being back in the hustle and bustle for a few days quickly reminds me what I'm missing (and also why I couldn't sustain the lifestyle for very long without either having a heart attack, going broke, or both).

This past trip coincided with Restaurant Week and while NYC is always home to lots of great eats, Restaurant Week usually encourages chefs to include new items on the week's special menu and to bundle items into a prix fixe structure that is often a pretty good deal.

I was lucky enough to dine at a number of fantastic restaurants on this trip:

-- Sakagura: A Japanese eatery and sake bar hidden away in the basement of a midtown office building. Excellent menu of mostly non-sushi items (loved the fluke and the mashed potatoes coated in donut batter (yes!) in particular) and a sake list boasting over 200 varieties. (Finally, some sake that I actually liked!)

-- Blue Ribbon Brasserie: Located on Sullivan street in SoHo, this is a member of the family of restaurants that also boasts Blue Ribbon Sushi. Very small and quaint place, with a menu of both American and international items, all with a bit of an eclectic twist. Erika and I split paella and salmon dishes and both were excellent.

-- Quality Meats: Another midtown classic, I've been before for dinner, but had lunch there this time instead. Sacrilege I know, but I opted for a salad instead of steak because I'd had two big, rich meals the two nights prior and my body was screaming for something simple and ideally, vegetarian. The Restaurant Week menu did boast sorbet, however, so I definitely had to partake in that. Kate and I both ordered the Orange Creamsicle Dream and it came in a perfect little take-away container as if they already knew we wouldn't be able to finish the whole thing.

-- Hudson Cafeteria: I've also been here before and the food has been good (not great), but it is a kind of fun place to hang out with some friends, so this was my Friday night outing. I ordered lobster mac & cheese and could not finish it (even with the help of four friends) because it was so rich. Everyone actually really enjoyed their meals, but the fact that we had to send our bill back three times because they had over-charged us for drinks kind of put a damper on the experience.

-- 11 Madison Park: Just one word: heaven. This has got to be the absolute best dining experience I've ever had. From the servers who seemingly pop out of nowhere to help you out of your chair when you get up to the elegant decor to the perfectly choreographed delivery of every single course, this is what all "dining out" should aspire to. Aside from the items that we actually ordered, chef Daniel Humm also sent us a number of amuse-bouche treats throughout the evening, a bottle of Cognac at the end of the meal and sent the ladies home with a tiny box of sugared fruit candies.

It was a few days chock-full of fantastic restaurant experiences, but I had to come home and detox with salads, water and plain old grilled chicken. Coincidentally, during the trip I was reading Ruth Riechl's book "Garlic and Sapphires" which chronicles her tenure as the food critic at The New York Times and I just can't imagine how anyone in her role is able to eat that much [rich food] that often and not be a walking advert for Lipitor.

After just five days, I was saying "poke a fork in me, I'm done!" (But I'll definitely be back for more!)

Bad (aka Stupid) Things Happen in Three's

I am not a clumsy person. Honestly. But if you'd been following me around with a hidden camera today, you would have thought that I was Inspector Clouseau's next of kin.

Stupid thing #1 happened on my bright and early flight to New York City. And actually, it wasn't even because of anything that I did, but lookers-on thought for sure that I was the culprit, based on their pursed lips and disapproving glances. I was in an aisle seat and when my neighbour in the middle seat (very nice lady, but had a lot going on with her backpack, all sorts of food, beverages etc) asked if she could get up because she wasn't feeling very well, I immediately hopped up to make way. As she attempted to shift her bag, food and beverages, she very neatly dumped a full glass of water squarely on my seat. (This is the one time when the optimist actually wishes for a half empty glass.) Since the flight was full, I couldn't switch seats, so was resigned to mopping up as much as I could and then folding up a blanket and sitting on that for the remaining three and a half hours of the journey. As an upside, I did make friends with my seat mate upon her return and we're now connected on random social networks.

Stupid thing #2 happened within about 15 minutes of me arriving at my hotel, and again, wasn't strictly anything that I did, but I sure got the payback for something! As I was getting ready to meet my team for dinner, I noticed that the toilet had still not yet stopped running from when I had flushed it a few minutes before. I immediately opted for a very complex, sophisticated solution and tried jiggling the handle. No dice. I've "fixed" toilets before when the little chain has just gotten caught inside, not allowing the water valve to seal, so I figured I would probably be able to do the same here. When I lifted the lid from the tank, however, I was greeted by a loose hose that had popped out of one of the pipes and was now waving wildly from side to side, spraying water all over me and the bathroom. Trying to use the tank lid as a shield (a very small, ineffectual one), I managed to wrestle the hose back into the pipe and jam the lid back into place. And then I had to completely change my outfit before heading out to dinner.

I'd like to say that Stupid thing #3 was also not really directly my fault, but unfortunately, there's no way around this one. At dinner that night (at a very hip Japanese restaurant), I was regaling my colleagues with my stories of the day and one of them laughingly moved all the water glasses away from in front of me, lest I knock them all over in the spirit of the events of the preceding 10 or so hours. But no matter, with one dramatic wave of the hand, I managed to completely upend the little jar of house-made soy sauce and spill it all over the table.

More disapproving looks, this time from our server, and I thought I'd try to lighten the mood with a french accented "Monsieur, don't try to be funnayy with me!" but I didn't think she'd appreciate it.

I Do, I Do, I Do

As many of you know, Special K and I have been a fairly non-traditional couple for most of the time we've been together. We've done the long-distance thing between LA and NY and then between NoCal and SoCal (the latter being MUCH better and easier to manage -- duh!). In fact, we've been living in different zip codes (and often different time zones) for longer than we've actually been in the same place.

We carried on this tradition of NON-tradition in our decision to get married, planning the wedding in only about four weeks. That's right, FOUR weeks. (And can I just say that this is DEFINITELY the way to go... A short "engagement" means much less stress and it really keeps you focused on what's truly important... you know, like the fabric you should use for the custom-made napkins that you want at dinner.)

From the words "of course I'll marry you, silly!", we both knew that we didn't want a big, formal traditional wedding. We're casual, fun (well, at least he is), and yes, often quite silly, and we wanted our Big Day to reflect who we really are and how we got that way. (Could have been dangerous, I know!)

So, here are a few things we did to make the day extra meaningful to us. First and foremost, our very dear, dear friends, Craig and Dannie offered up their home as the location for the wedding. Craig and Dannie are my "American family" and to have our wedding at their beautiful home created so many wonderful memories that we'll cherish forever. And every time we go back to visit, we'll get goosebumps all over again!

My dress and shoes were pretty simple (ordered online!) and while I wasn't worried about the "something old, something new" thing, I did want to wear something that had a bit of history, so I borrowed a gorgeous necklace from my mom... that my dad had given to her. It was perfect.

Our caterer was absolutely marvelous and helped us create an eclectic menu with an international flair to reflect our individual backgrounds. During the cocktail hour and for dinner, we had a delicious melange of dishes including samosas (in honor of my Indian heritage), brisket (all hail Alberta AND Texas!), pizza with exotic mushrooms and truffle oil (just because we are both always on a quest for good pizza!) and an artisanal cheese display that was to die for. (I adore cheese... maybe even just as much as chocolate.)

For dessert, we busted out the chocolate pudding in memory of Special K's wonderful Dad and we decided to forego the wedding cake in favor of cupcakes. This was a brilliant decision on our part (if I do say so myself) because the cupcakes were incredible and our fabulous caterer surprised us with some very fun decorations!

As for drinks, we kept the selection to mostly beer, wine and champagne. The wine was all from California-based wineries and the beer was a combination of Iron City (and Iron City Light) from Pittsburgh and Molson Canadian. ("I AM Canadian!!")

On the music front, Special K and I spent a fun Saturday evening a couple of weeks before the wedding perusing through CD's and iTunes libraries to create our musical line-up for the evening. The final playlist included Indian music, Irish music, lots of well-known (and not so well-known American artists), a few rockin' Canadians thrown in for good measure, and of course, a couple of Special K originals!

We sent our guests home with a little gift bag of random tongue-in-cheek goodies including a tiny bottle of Heinz ketchup (yay Pittsburgh!), a lapel pin with the Canadian and American flags joined in unity, a foil-wrapped chocolate maple leaf and a variety of Canadian chocolate bars that you can't buy here in the states. (The chocolate was imported directly from Canada via my mom and dad's suitcases a couple of days before the wedding.)

And finally, in honor of my honorary status as a "greencard bride", you will note that the use of green on the gift bags and floral arrangements was NOT a coincidence. Nor were the green socks that Joe and Linda gave me that night.

Count Me In!

The government is after me. (No, not like THAT -- I'm transitioning from legit visa holder to legit greencard holder as we speak!) The government is after me to fill out a 28 page form that I believe is technically for the census, but it's actually cleverly called "The American Community Survey" -- cozy, huh?

Truth be told, I actually don't mind filling out forms like this. Having once been a census-taker for a summer job in Canada (funny stories there for another time), I definitely empathize with how difficult it is to get people to complete these forms. Also, having a background in business/marketing/strategy, I understand the value of survey data and how it can be used to help make important decisions.

(And mostly, since I'm not a citizen and don't get to vote, I figure this is the closest I'll get to having some input on things for a while!)

The Census Bureau sent me a nice letter a couple of weeks ago informing me that I would soon be receiving a package in the mail and that it was very important that I answer the questions and send back the survey in a timely manner. Then as promised, a few days later, the survey package arrived in the mail. (The government actually keeping its word? Alert the press!) And now they are peppering me with little post cards, reminding me to fill out the survey and please send it back promptly. (Someone paid attention in Communications 101 class when the professor outlined the key rules in communicating: "Tell them what you're going to tell them; then tell them; then tell them what you told them.")

So, I've completed the survey and I will do my duty as a (nearly) permanent resident of the United States (who still can't vote, but who can pay taxes like she's the government's petty cash account) and I will send it back tomorrow.

But before I do, I had to share a few questions that I wish had the option of a write-in answer instead of just the "yes" and "no" boxes:

-- Because of a physical, mental or emotional condition, does this person have serious difficulty concentrating, remembering or making decisions?

I'm sorry, what was the question again?

-- Does this person have serious difficulty walking or climbing stairs?

Why do you think I live on the first floor?? And I must not, under any circumstance, be allowed to chew gum while attempting either of these two activities.

-- Does this person have difficulty dressing or bathing?

Bathing -- once a fortnight whether I need it or not. (Is soap a requirement?)
Dressing -- I'm going through an "inside out" phase right now, but no one gets close enough to really realize it due to the "bathing" point above.

John heeft een foto van jou getagd op Facebook

Imagine how perplexed I was to see dozens of these kinds of messages in my email inbox when I logged in at an internet cafe in Dublin a couple of weeks ago. At first I thought it was some aggressive spam, but then it dawned on me... it was Dutch! Yes, a language that I speak absolutely NONE of, but the names referenced in the subject lines were names of real friends on Facebook, and words like "foto" lent some credibility to the fact that these were, in fact, bona fide emails.

About 6 days earlier, Special K and I had been in Amsterdam, waiting for our connection to Dublin. Because we had a few hours to kill, we installed ourselves in the KLM lounge and lo and behold if there wasn't free internet access.

We both checked our email, and I updated both Facebook and Twitter.

And because of the 4 hours I was in the Netherlands, Facebook decided that I was most probably fluent in Dutch by then and that I would be happiest with my entire Facebook profile in Dutch as well. Never mind that I've been using Facebook in ENGLISH for the past two and a half years.

In any event, I did manage to get everything switched back to English, but not without canvasing the internet cafe with the question "Does anyone know how to say 'preferences' in Dutch???"

Expansion in the Blogosphere!

I told you I was back to blogging! Well, not only am I aiming to keep this blog regularly updated, but I've also (finally) launched another blog at Kaboodle, the awesome social shopping site where I work.

Since Kaboodle is all about shopping, my Kaboodle blog is mostly product and shopping focused. We have a really fun area called "What I'm Wearing Today", so I'm also trying to post the occasional entry there.

Check it out here. Happy Kaboodling!

Mawwied?? Yes, Mawwied!!

As I mentioned, on June 6 Special K and I pledged we'd love each other for eternity (or at least until football season starts -- just kidding, you can't really be a "football widow" when you love it, too!) The wedding was hosted at the lovely home of our very dear friends, Craig and Dannie, in Encinitas, CA. We had a very small, intimate ceremony and dinner with our families and a few friends -- the day was absolutely perfect and a couple of days later, we were off to Ireland for our honeymoon. Spectacular.

Now, I know this is kind of cheating, but Special K wrote a great email to our wedding guests to recap some of the highlights of the day and of our trip to the Emerald Isle. So, I hereby annoint Special K as my guest blogger and invite you to enjoy his marvelous way with words and sense of humour. (I just may turn the whole blog over to him!)

Here goes:

“Hey, we just flew in from Dublin and – boy - our arms are tired!”
(bah-dah-bing!)

Wanted to send one final note to our wedding posse and share some quick post-ceremony behind the scenes tid-bits and honeymoon highlights:

Betcha didn’t know that Shari’s Dad and Craig had to make two runs to the store to pick up some ice minutes before the party bus pulled into the circular driveway!

Father Peter is actually the Bishop of California’s Catholic Ecumenical Church – and no, he is not one of the co-stars of the current box office hit “The Hangover.”

Pittsburgh Johnny was warming up in the bullpen with his Internet-certified minister certificate in case Father Peter got stuck on the 5 freeway.

In a close vote, Aunt Kathy’s cookies edged out the custom cupcakes and pudding to win the “best dessert” award.

Cincy Bob had a beautiful speech prepared about the bride and groom but was wise enough to recognize that NO ONE – not even Elvis-back-from-the-grave! - could follow Shari’s “red nose” improvisation.

Special thanks to Craig and Dannie McLaughlin for opening their home to us for our special night! As Aunt Audrey said, “This is like one of those places you see on those fancy home and garden cable TV shows!”

IRELAND Honeymoon facts:

Over / under on how long it takes an Irishman to praise Obama as “the second coming”: 47 seconds.

Would you believe: There are more cabs in Dublin than NYC! (look it up!)

What is on TV in Ireland as the Penguins were hoisting the Stanley Cup and the Lakers winning the NBA Championship?...Hurling! (seriously…)

Special K scorecard from piloting a right-hand-drive Hyundai across Ireland?
-1 popped curb speeding thru a roundabout
-2 pissed-off Irishmen from driving head-on into the wrong lane
-3 attempts to enter the car from the wrong side
-4 bruises on his left arm from his wife’s “encouragement” from the passenger seat
-5 maps used navigate across Ireland but – when we pulled back into Dublin we spent an hour trying to find our rental car return location – gave up – and paid $10 Euro to a cab driver to let us follow him there.

Average time the sun would set during our trip: 10pm!

Zero! (the number of clock radios found in our 6 different hotel rooms.)

True or False: The green card bride spent some time in jail during her honeymoon.

TRUE: http://www.kilmainham-gaol.com/

True or False: Special K enjoyed a Galway Hooker during his honeymoon!

TRUE! http://www.galwayhooker.ie/
(it’s a beer, people!)

Thanks again, everyone! And to those who have shared their photos, thank you & stand by – Shari will create “something” with the official wedding and honeymoon photos and forward a link.

Love & Laughs-
-K&S

Did Ya Miss Me??

Didn't even know I was gone, did ya? Well, after an extremely prolonged absence, I am indeed back! Special K and I got hitched on Saturday, June 6 -- if you didn't know, we only set the date in May, so we were busy bees for most of May, juggling crazy work schedules, wedding planning and of course, HONEYMOON planning!

We just got back from our honeymoon in Ireland a few days ago, and now that we're back and life is back to its only semi-frenetic pace, consider Signature Shari officially resurrected!

Ah, it's good to be back!

Alive and Kicking!

No, I haven't fallen off the edge of the earth... and no, I haven't run off and joined the circus (unless you're speaking about my day-to-day job).... and no, I haven't suddenly lost my interest in writing and forgotten how to type....

No, the reason for my absence is MUCH more exciting, wonderful and silly smile-inducing! Ready for the big news?

Special K and I have decided to make it official and tie the knot! We decided just a few short weeks ago and we are getting hitched in ten days. TEN DAYS. WHOOOOOO!!!

So, as you can appreciate, I've been quite occupied with planning fun details for our very small and intimate ceremony and wedding dinner.

I have definitely been missing my blog and I will aim to post a couple of updates between now and the big day, but I promise I'll get back on track once we are blissfully wed. (I get butterflies every time I think about it!)

It's Not Kidnapping if He Comes Along Willingly

A while back, I introduced my team at work to Wahoo's, bringing a little slice of one of my fave SoCal institutions up here to the land of granola, Priuses and organic ... everything. It was an immediate hit with the girls and so we will occasionally make the trek (all 10 minutes of it) to Cupertino where the closest Wahoo's is located. (As an aside, I think Wahoo's makes the best quick-serve cheese enchiladas EVER.)

As we gathered our wallets and sunglasses, we polled the rest of the office to see if anyone else wanted to join us... but alas, no takers. Down in the parking lot, as I backed out of my spot, I spied our principal scientist coming out the front door of the office building and I rolled down the window, leaning across Jessica in the passenger seat to yell "Hey, Magnus! Get in the car!"

The girls giggled. And Magnus squinted to see who it was and then did come over and get in the car. (Brave guy!)

With our hijacked scientist in the backseat, we were off in pursuit of mexi-goods. When Magnus found out there would be fish tacos at our destination, he relaxed.

And yes, we brought him back safely, although in retrospect, I'm sure we could have commanded a pretty decent ransom.

The Opposite of Lent

Big congratulations to all my wonderful Catholic friends who made commitments to give up certain habits, vices, food and various other things for Lent. I always find it fascinating to hear what folks have decided to forego for that 40 day period preceding Easter.

I know at least a couple of people who have committed to staying off Facebook for Lent. (Is that really a sacrifice?) One of my co-workers gave up shopping... but just for clothes and shoes. (What a glorious loophole allowing you to carve out your own Lenten parameters. Clothes and shoes may be off the list, but handbags and jewelry are totally fair game!) Another friend of mine gave up meat for all of Lent (not just on Fridays) a few years ago and she hasn't actually eaten meat since. Impressive!

This year, my former altar boy, Special K, gave up sweets for the holy fasting period. And he took it really seriously, not even having regular soda nor his regular morning mochaccino nor sugar in a cup of tea. In a moment of solidarity (or insanity), I actually thought, "You know, I'll give up sweets, too. It will be healthier, it will be supportive and it will be something we can do together!"

Yeah, that lasted about 6 hours.

What Special K accomplished in his pious efforts to make a meaningful sacrifice, I MORE than made up for on the other side. I went straight for gluttony, swinging around a full 180 degrees as if a meeting between Lent and my personal willpower was like trying to push together the North ends of two magnets. Not gonna happen.

They say timing is everything and it just so happened that during those 40 days at the office, we had cupcakes (multiple times, thanks to all the March/April birthdays), donuts, an ice cream social and pounds of chocolate and other goodies delivered from Costco. Not even a fair fight.

Now that Lent is over, however, I am back to yogurt, bananas, granola bars and carrot sticks.

Final score:
Lent: 40
Shari: 0 (but with a couple of darn good red velvet cupcakes!)

That ain't so bad!

I'm Sorry, But I Just Don't Care

Am I the only one who thinks that the whole concept of "defensive indifference" in baseball is ridiculous? I just learned about this notion the other day when Special K and I were watching a game and as a runner stole a base, the announcer said that it wouldn't count in that player's stats and he noted "defensive indifference" as the reason.

Special K explained that if the defense (ie. the pitcher and the catcher) make no attempt to put the baserunner out, then that play is scored as "defensive indifference" and no stolen base is credited to the runner.


Excuse me?


Correct me if I'm wrong, but if the pitcher and the catcher aren't even paying attention, isn't that even more reason to credit a stolen base to the runner? Heck, if he can make that move without attracting the offense's attention, perhaps he should even get twice the credit. I don't know of any other sport where the defense can just sit back and say that a play or scoring doesn't count just simply because they weren't paying attention.


I wish I had known about that rule when playing sports in high school.


"Oh, that goal doesn't count because frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."


Perhaps I'll adopt this philosophy in my day-to-day life now. Imagine:


In business (to my boss): "Oh, I'm sorry that I totally missed my revenue numbers this quarter. Since I wasn't even really paying attention to the business, I'm allowed to claim 'professional indifference.'"


To my friends: "Yeah, I'm sorry I missed your birthday, but because of "personal indifference", your birthday didn't even really exist for me."


To the cashier at the movie theatre: "I'm not planning to actually pay attention to the movie, so I shouldn't have to pay for my ticket. It's called "Hollywood indifference". Thanks for understanding."

Tourist in My Own Town -- Part III

-- Sunday morning and we are up and at 'em for dim sum! We arranged to meet Chris and Sharon at a place in Millbrae where none of us had been before. With a name like "The Kitchen", we were skeptical about the dim sum part. "Sounds like Denny's", I remarked to Chrissy, but we headed out anyway, excited to see Chris and Sharon (whom we had randomly tracked down in Sevilla, Spain a couple of years earlier and whom Chrissy hadn't seen since).

-- (As an aside, it cracks me up that two pairs of friends named Shari and Chrissy... and Sharon and Chris are hanging out together. Confusing much?)

-- As it turned out, we needn't have worried about whether The Kitchen served dim sum or not. We walked into a huge open restaurant with zillions of tables and every single one of those tables filled with laughing, eating, chatting groups of people.

-- I smiled at the hostess and before I could even open my mouth to say "Hi, we're meeting some friends here", she quickly jerked her head to the left and said "Over there. Around corner."

-- Sure enough, there's Sharon and Chris, tucked away at a small table for four, hidden behind a wall and jammed into a corner. We look around and see that we are literally the only table of non-Asian diners. We laugh as it becomes crystal clear how the hostess immediately knew which table we belonged to.

-- The food was excellent and we ate way too much... When the bill came, Chris picked it up and said, it's $45. I handed her three twenties and she looked at me and laughed, "No, $45 for ALL of us!" Sweet! Given how much we ate, I couldn't believe this, but I wasn't going to argue.

-- The girls gave us some suggestions of what to do in the city that afternoon, so we jumped back in the car after dim sum and headed back to SF. Parking at the Civic Center Garage, we wandered through Hayes Valley and enjoyed all the small shops and the fun architecture.

-- We stopped at Blue Bottle Coffee since it had been highly recommended by our brunch mates and I had a hot cocoa while Chrissy had the real deal. Both were delicious. On to Miette (gorgeous sweets shop) where we were good and just window-shopped... no purchases!

-- Outside one store, we stopped to talk to a guy who was pulling a wagon with two Daschunds. As Chrissy photographed the two docile subjects, our buddy told us the story of how he rescued Vinnie and Guido (no joke) and explained how they get a sponge bath every morning and they either ride in the wagon, in the basket on his bicycle or in his old school Cadillac. Vinnie, Guido and their Dad were all execptionally sweet.

-- We then walked down to the Haight where I wanted to stop in at the cafe "Love 'n Haight", but I honestly couldn't come up with another excuse to eat yet again.

-- We headed home around 6:00, made pasta for dinner and then .... yep, you guessed it, went out for ice cream! (You thought we'd broken the Golden Rule, didn't ya?)

The next morning, I dropped Chrissy at the airport and we agreed to do another girls' weekend before too long... I wonder where our next destination will be....

Tourist in My Own Town -- Part II

Today is the day for some exercise! (As if hiking up and down SF hills on Friday for 10 hours wasn't a decent calorie-burner.) We decide to head to Half Moon Bay for a lovely walk along the coast:

-- First things first... off to Target to buy a new knapsack (where in the world is my old knapsack?? I think it's been lost in the shuffle from SoCal to NYC and back to NoCal) and provisions (ie. snacks) for the trip.

-- We head up the 101 and exit at the Half Moon Bay exit, admiring the beautiful scenery as we wind our way towards the beach and find a parking spot. We're lucky that it's another absolutely gorgeous day and the marine layer has almost lifted already.

-- We set out on the path and complete a full 5 mile loop, chatting about everything and nothing and taking photos of anything interesting that appears. We pass many other walkers, runners, bikers and a TON of people on horseback. I love how freindly everyone is when out walking on a sunny, Saturday morning.

-- As we approach the turnaround point, we catch a whiff of something absolutely putrid just as a girl comes running up from the beach, doubled over and wretching as she goes. After a few more steps, we deduce that there must be a dead animal on the beach and we don't bother going any further (or else we'd BOTH be wretching, too!)

-- On the drive in, we had spotted a promising looking Mexican restaurant on Highway 1, so after trekking back to the car, we took our now famished selves to "Tres Amigos" and pigged out on enchiladas, tortilla chips and salsa. Yum!! It was still packed at 2:00 in the afternoon, so it must be a local fave.

-- We drive back down south and hit "Sugar, Butter, Flour" in Sunnyvale for a long overdue cupckake! (See, I told you that every day on our travels had to be punctuated with something sweet at some point!)

-- As we completed our treats, we looked at each other, thinking the same thing... time for a nap! So, off we went back home where we grabbed a few z's and then roused ourselves for giant salads at The Prolific Oven for dinner. (Our trade-off for the cupcakes earlier in the afternoon!)

Tourist in My Own Town -- Part I

This weekend, my good friend Chrissy came up to the Bay Area for a visit and for some long overdue girl time. I was excited to spend some time with her, not only because we're great friends and it's been too long, but also because Chrissy and I have traveled together in Europe (a couple of times now) and it's always just so easy and so much fun. We are born travel buddies for sure.

I took Friday off from work and here's how our day panned out:

-- After a last minute conference call in the morning, we struck out for the city and even managed to find our destination parkade without too much fanfare. We trekked up Grant Avenue through Chinatown, poking around in various little shops and making our way to North Beach and Telegraph Hill.

-- Get a Facebook notice from Chet that he will be in town "for one night only!" and are we free to grab a drink in the evening. Yay! Another long lost friend descends upon the Bay Area! We make tentative plans to meet up and agree to update each other via FB or texts as the day unfolds.

-- Grab lunch at North Beach Pizza (yes, again!), this time having the vegetarian special. Just as good as the carnivore extravaganza from a few weeks ago.

-- Set off again, up over the hill and down towards Bay Street where we can cut over to Pier 33 where we can...

-- Visit Alcatraz! Chrissy had the foresight to book us tickets in advance (see, I told you I love traveling with this girl!) and we spent a good chunk of the afternoon cruising around a formal federal penitentiary. If you go to Alcatraz, I highly recommend the audio tour. It takes about 45 minutes and it's done extremely well with the voices of old inmates and guards telling the story of The Rock. At one point, the audio guide invites you to step into one of the isolation cells ("The Hole") and close your eyes in the darkness while he explains the feeling of living in darkness and solitary confinement for days on end. Creepy-dot-org for sure.

-- After Alcatraz, we walked down The Embarcadero to the Ferry Building where we indulged in some incredible gelato. (When Chrissy and I travel, we ALWAYS get ice cream or something sweet at some point in the day -- It is our Golden Rule of International Roaming and shall never be broken.)

-- Next stop, shopping! We poked around in a bunch of stores in the Westfield Mall and elsewhere until we worked up an appetite and then ended up at Cafe de la Presse for a glass of wine and filling french dinner.

-- I text messaged Chet and let him know we were running behind and that we were still in the city. He was running behind, too, so we agreed to meet at Lavande in Palo Alto around 11:00 or so for a quick drink and for the opportunity to hear Chet's fun (but sometimes rather gross) stories about what latest "delicacy" he had to eat on a business trip to Taiwan. (Cow eyeballs, anyone? Careful with your fork, they're slippery little suckers!)

-- We said our good-byes, headed home and fell into bed, happily tired from a fun-filled and busy day.

Things are Looking Upward

After a roll of really bad movies and bad luck even with live theatre, I think Special K and I may finally be clawing our way back to some level of palatability and respectability as far as our cultural endeavours go. (At this point, anything that doesn't focus on any part of male anatomy, either real OR fake, would be an improvement.)

This past weekend, I made a quick 48-hour trip down to Orange County and on Saturday night, we hopped in the car and headed to North Hollywood in search of some culture (minus the petri dish).

After an unsuccessful attempt to talk our way into one play (Special K: "I know my assistant made the reservations last week"), we went next door and were happy to see that this particular theatre was featuring a Ray Bradbury play, entitled "Falling Upward".

I do the mental math: Well-known playwright/author with a good track record. Check. I've actually read stuff that he's written. Check. Well-known indie theatre in the entertainment capital of the world. Check. Available seats 5 minutes before curtain. Check check check. It all adds up to me.

As we buy our tickets, the agent says, "I have two tickets left in the front row.... you'll be sitting just a few seats away from Mr. Bradbury."

Do what now, y'all?

I'm still processing this last bit of info as Special K tugs my arm and leads me into the theatre. And sure enough, there is Ray Bradbury sitting at the end of our row, in a wheelchair, accompanied by a couple of folks.

Completely star struck, I am thrilled when he introduces the play himself and describes how the time he spent in Ireland (while writing the screen play for "Moby Dick") generated the humanistic observations that allowed him to write the three short plays that were ultimately fused to create "Falling Upward".

The play takes place in Heeber Finn's pub (a real place that Bradbury frequented) and you immediately get the gist of the environment when you see the sign on the pub wall, "No women, no fighting, no swearing". And indeed, this is the watering hole, gathering place and sanctuary for a diverse group of Irishmen. One of the key characters (and narrator) is played by Pat Harrington -- I did not recognize him until Special K said something about "Schneider" and then it all came rushing back to me. Harrington played the building sup on "One Day at a Time" way back in the day. What a trip to see the swarthy, macho Schneider as a soft-spoken, elderly Irishman.

While the play didn't exactly have a solid plot line, the characters were likeable and fun, the dialogue was clever and the situations were authentic and believable as part of this motley crew's day to day routine. (Think of British films like "The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain" or "Waking Ned Devine" and you'll have a sense of the quirky nature of the characters and the overall situations.)

And of course, I introduced myself to Mr. Bradbury at the intermission and imposed upon him for an autograph.

And now the fire has been fanned once again and I am jonesing for a trip to Ireland. (Get ready for some Guinness, Special K!)

Exit Stage Left.... Please!!

As I mentioned in the previous post, Special K and I managed to take in a bit of culture in SF while he was last here... and if you're thinking bacteria in a petri dish when you read "culture", you wouldn't be that far off.

After some serious scouring of both online and print sources, we finally found a play in a small, independent theatre that had boasted a number of pretty positive reviews in various media. No matter that the theatre itself was in the shadiest part of San Francisco -- it's the low rent that attracted the starving artists, right?

We always know that any performance can be a dud and that the Dud Quotient rises substantially as you get into the 49 and 99 seat theatres, but with some positive feedback actually published about this particular play, we were feeling pretty confident that this would be a good one. (And we've been on a bit of a bad roll lately with films and performances, so we also figured that the universe owed us a favour.)

But alas, the universe felt it fitting to punish us just a little bit longer.

We spent far too long watching three desperate Hollywood wanna-be characters (and one mostly unconscious character) throw each other around a stage, roll around in fake vomit (which sure looked real) and Funyuns (just as gross as the fake vomit) and generally torture each other both physically and emotionally. And then there were the strap-ons. (Sorry, Mom!) That's right, I used the plural form.... not just one, but TWO... generally not visible, but rather used to make a, um, point about the efficacy of viagra mixed with a cocktail of illicit drugs.

The play has indeed garnered some positive reviews, for instance "astonishly witty dialogue and riotous situations" from a pretty well-known media outlet, so I won't skewer too much here, but leave it at the fact that Special K and I were checking our watches surreptitiously (hopefully) fairly frequently after intermission (and before, if you must know). We could have stayed out on the streets of the Tenderloin and probably seen pretty much the same show.

(The show's run ended just after we saw it, but if you want to know what it was, shoot me an email.)

Tender is the Night

A couple of weeks ago, Special K managed to swing a bit of an extended visit to my NoCal pied-a-terre and while the weather was decent (i.e. no rain) on Saturday, we decided to head up to San Francisco and enjoy the city.

The only concrete plan we had was to visit North Beach Pizza for lunch (again with the pizza!). Special K had been many years ago and loved it and I had heard from countless people over the past few months that it was indeed 'za bomb. We were definitely not disappointed. We were seated along one of the windows where we had a great view of the top of Coit Tower and so we ordered the "Coit Tower Special" just because (no vegetarians in this duo) . In a word? Amazing. (We had lunch around 2:00 and still weren't hungry at 10:00 pm that evening.)

After pizza, we hiked (you don't merely "walk" on those steep streets) around the hills of North Beach and Telegraph Hill, made it to the Coit Tower lookout and then walked down the stairs towards the Embarcadero where we visited the Ferry Building (a must-see for SF visitors!) and then on to Hotel Griffon for a glass of wine. We had the vague notion of wanting to see some theatre that evening, so while sipping on our vino, we put my iPhone through the paces, trying to find a local theatre with a show that sounded good, but that wasn't a broadway epic style musical. (As an aside, it was nearly impossible to find good, reliable, up-to-date theatre info either online or even in the local freebie arts newspaper.)

We finally found something that sounded interesting and hopped in a cab to head over the box office. From my iPhone's map application, I gave the driver the cross streets of our destination.

He looked up at me in his rearview mirror. "You sure that's where you want to go?"

"Yes, definitely -- the theatre is in that block."

He sighed. "Ok.... "

A few minutes later, we jumped out of the cab and turned the corner to head towards the theatre, and that's when I realized that I had unwittingly requested that we be dropped off in the heart of the Tenderloin.

The Tenderloin is a small, dense neighbourhood in downtown San Francisco that, in spite of its rich history and recent revitalization efforts, still remains an area of squalid conditions, homelessness, crime, drug sales (and abuse) and prostitution. And we walked right smack into the middle of ALL of that. We picked our way around the homeless and those under the influence and once we checked in at the theatre box office, we hustled down towards Market Street to kill some time in the shops before curtain.

After the play, we spilled back out onto the street and while the neighourhood hadn't seemed THAT bad in the daylight, the darkness brought out the most sinister, shady and sleazy elements, and made you not want to linger on the street discussing the show you just saw. (There were also other reasons you might not want to discuss that particular show, but I'll save those for another blog post.)

As I instinctively reached for Special K and hissed "Hold my hand!!", two grubby men seated on the sidewalk repeatedly nattered "Yeah, you BETTA hold her hand! You BETTA hang onto that one!"

You BETTA believe he will! And if he won't, I most certainly will!

Facebook -- Time Travel for the Rest of Us

All of us are well acquainted with Facebook's ability to teleport us into the past as we reconnect with high school and college buddies, former colleagues from long-forgotten jobs (and companies) and and other random people you thought you'd never see again.

But tonight, Facebook has also managed to transport me into the future.... three hours into the future to be precise! I posted a comment to a Group wall and Facebook tagged it as posted "at 1:48 am tomorrow". (Peep at the screen shot.)

Holy cats! Call Doc Brown and Marty McFly!

I wish I'd had the time advantage LAST week when I was picking my bloody brackets for March Madness.

What a fun little situation when your computer's clock is still set on Eastern time (even though you moved from NYC about six months ago), but you're connected to the internet via an IP address in the Pacific time zone.

The Facebook Theory of Relativity. A whole different space-time construct.

Bracketology -- I Need a New Area of Study

Latest updates:

- Siena, Cleveland State and Arizona were big bracket busters for me, beating Ohio State, Wake Forest (!) and Utah respectively.

- My irrational emotional attachment to my alma mater cost me valuable pool points. (Darn it, you Bruins!)

- Looks like Syracuse is about to cost me more valuable points.

- At least my Final Four are still in tact, but there's no way my total number of possible available points is enough to put me back in the lead at any point.

At least I had the foresight to capture the screen shot that showed me in the lead for one brief, glorious moment!

Bracketology

The month of March has a lot going for it. It's home to the first official day of spring (on which, incidentally, it snowed in NYC this year as Mother Nature's firm reminder that no matter what the calendar says, she's still in charge), and in fact, it's really the key transition month from winter to spring (the whole "in like a lion, out like a lamb" thing). It's also a BIG month for birthdays as my dad, Special K's brother and half the Kaboodle office can attest.

AND it is the calendar home to the perennially exciting NCAA men's basketball championship tournament. (And when you think about it, it could ONLY be called March Madness -- February Fever or April Action just don't pack the same punch.)

This year, in support of the madness, we set up an office pool and all made our picks across all the various brackets the day before the tourney kicked off and we've been closely following the 1st round progress over the past two days. (Ready for 2nd round to begin today!)

While I have always enjoyed college basketball, I am now feverishly following each game, even to the point of having the Siena/Ohio State game on mute on JetBlue last night. (Darn it, O-H-ten, you guys cost me a point!! Good thing I didn't bet on you to get any further than the 2nd round!)
And because I know this moment is fleeting and short-lived (the game by game shifts in bracketology are swift and dramatic), I just had to post a screen shot showing that at one point in time yesterday, I was actually leading the pool with 21 out of 24 correct picks! (And then Ohio State, Utah and Wake Forest all crumbled... and now Mad Mamma's Ballers have eclipsed me!)

Stay tuned for more updates!

(Special thanks to Special K who debated the picks with me, discussing who's hot, who's on a roll and who would be a killer upset. What a team we make! On and off the court!) ;-)

That's What I Meant to Say

Does your cell phone have an auto correct feature? And does it sometimes wreak havoc on what you're trying to say to someone via a text message, an email or a Twitter post? Yep, mine too.

And the funny thing is that my iPhone seems to learn certain words, but retains a solid mental block against learning others -- as if it can passively bully me into adapting the vocabulary it wants me to use.

Often at the end of my texts to Special K, I'll sign off with "xo", but if I'm not paying attention, the phone will correct it to "so". And since my attempt at "xo" generally comes at the end of the text, Special K will often reply with "so what?", wondering why I didn't finish my thought.

I tried posting something to Twitter once, starting with "whoo hoo" and my two first attempts were met with iPhone edits of "shop hop" and "shoe goo". "Shoe goo"? Without a correction, my post would have read something like "Shoe goo!! We just closed a huge advertising deal!! Shop hop!!" Not exactly the effect I was going for.

Special K does not have an iPhone, but his device does have an auto correct feature and it seems to actually lose its memory over time and then has to be retrained. The best example is when it comes time for the NFL season to start again. Between the playoffs and the start of the following season, Special K's phone seemingly forgets the very important word "Steelers". So, for the first couple games of the season, Special K's phone tries to send text messages that exclaim "Go Puddles!!" instead of "Go Steelers!!" Again, not exactly the impact we're looking for.

(As an aside, the first time he told me about "puddles", I almost blew Coca-Cola out my nose, I was laughing so hard..... "Go Puddles!! Shoe goo!!")

And finally, tonight while I was waiting for a friend to show up at a restaurant in Palo Alto, I tried texting Special K "Hi hottie!" and it auto corrected to "Hi hogtie!" THAT just about made me choke on my red wine. I actually left it like that when I sent the text, figuring that Special K would either chuckle or write it off to my glass of Pinot Noir.

Buon Appetito!

There's just about nothing better than good Italian food. Am I right?? (Unfortunately, it's also way too easy to stumble across mediocre or even downright bad Italian food. As a general principle, I stay away from those family-style Italian places where the servings are HUGE but every dish is some banal version of pasta with an acidic marinara sauce. Not mentioning any names, but you know who you are, Buca... di... well, you know.)

I was delighted to discover that there is an excellent Italian place literally just down the road from my office. I was first at Il Postale in Sunnyvale for a business lunch a couple of months ago and was pretty happy with the 4-cheese ravioli I ordered. In fact, I liked it so much that I dragged Special K there for dinner one night a couple of weeks after my inaugural lunch. We had another excellent meal and then just last week, I arranged to meet Ginger there for dinner after work. We were very strategic in our ordering, splitting a bruschetta starter and then also splitting our salmon and rigatoni entrees so we could try as many different things as possible.

So, at this point, I'm 3 for 3 -- can't complain!

And on this last visit, I made friends with Joe, the owner, who was wonderful and very helpful with his menu and wine suggestions.

Aside from the food, Il Postale is absolutely adorable as a restaurant -- it is located in the original Sunnyvale post office building ("post office" sounds SO much better in Italian, doesn't it?) with a fairly intimate indoor dining area and a quaint outdoor patio. You can also get the full menu at the bar (which is exactly where Joe set Ginger and I up, so he could take care of us all evening).

I highly recommend Il Postale. And if you're questioning my tastes based upon previous posts about pizza and barbeque, you should know that CitySearch.com voted Il Postale Silicon Valley's best Italian restaurant for 7 out of the past 8 years.

Il Postale is located at 127 W. Washington Avenue in Sunnyvale.

Pub Crawl

Ok, it wasn't really a pub crawl... it was more of a wine bar crawl.... and it actually only involved two bona fide wine bars and then one A-mazing dessert place (which may have had wine in the back room, but we didn't think to ask once we had laid eyes on the cupcakes).

On my last trip to New York, I met up with Sia on a Saturday night for some good girl time and some great gastronomic fun. Sia is a gourmet and epicure extraordinaire, so I always know I'm in for top-notch eats and vino when I'm with her.

We started at Bar Veloce in Chelsea. We settled in and caught up over a diverse spectrum of Italian wine and great tapas-style dishes. Veloce is modeled after a European "fast bar", so it's meant to be a place where you pop in with friends for a drink and good bite to eat and then move on. While there are cocktail height tables as well as the actual bar, there is no wait staff, only bartenders. That means that if you are seated at a table (as we were), you had to push your way over to the bar and flag down a harried bartender in order to place an order for anything -- beverage or food. It was quaint, but not easy since the bar itself was jam-packed with a person at every seat.

Next stop was in the West Village. Warmed from our first glasses of wine, we headed off down 7th Avenue for a nice brisk walk on a cool February night and finally burst in through the doors of another quaint wine bar on Greenwich Avenue, Gottino. We installed ourselves at the bar this time, made friends with the bartender/sommelier, Kevin, and ordered a couple of glasses of his recommendations. We also sampled more food (of course!) and in a true New York moment, we started chatting with the couple next to us. She was a singer-songwriter and he was her best friend whom she'd tried to pick up 12 years ago in a bar -- until he informed her that he was gay and they've been BFF's ever since. (I LOVE the random encounters that happen in NYC -- no other city is quite the same way.)

Finally, after exchanging hugs and email addresses with our new friends, Sia asked if I was interested in dessert. Have we met?? She knew a place just a couple of blocks away that she promised would be perfect.

Batch did turn out to be perfect. It's a tiny place run and owned by renowned chef Pichet Ong. Pichet's specialty is pastries and desserts and now I know why. We each ordered a cupcake (both were to die for) and then Pichet (whom Sia knows personally) gave us a complimentary chocolate chip cookie. Which sounds like not a big deal, but let me tell you about this cookie! Even though it had been baked earlier in the day, the chocolate chunks were still gooey (made with special Valhrona chocolate) and Sia and I both thought we'd entered a new dimension after the first bite. (For all you foodies out there, Pichet has worked in the kitchens at Jean Georges and Tabla in NYC and Olives in Boston -- he is the real deal with many accolades and many, many three-star reviews over the course of his career. And to top it all of, he was just a nice, down-to-earth guy who kept trying to give us more free desserts.)

After our cupcakes and cookies, we waddled back outside and up to Greenwich Avenue to catch a cab and I headed back to my hotel where I'm sure I dreamt about even MORE food.

In the Eye of the Beholder

On a bit of a whim today, I decided to go to the San Jose Museum of Art downtown. My Fodor's guide to NoCal uses a star to indicate that it's one of their recommended picks and suggests that the SJ Museum doesn't try to compete with the larger art museums in San Francisco, but rather that it "does its own thing".

I lucked into an Andy Warhol exhibit -- the soup cans and repeating Marilyn Monroe's still intrigue me. There was also a photo essay tribute to Frida Kahlo and it was fascinating to learn a bit more about her back story.

And then I entered the gallery where the permanent collection was housed.

The very first exhibit was a little bit difficult to make out as I approached from across the open landing. But even at a distance, it had the distinct flavour of a barnyard animal. A dirty barnyard animal.

Standing in front of it with my head cocked to the side, I figured it was most definitely a pig. A very muddy pig. Draped over a stool. And it looked like real mud. (Dried by now, of course.)

I looked over at the wall and read the card that described the piece of art and listed the artist and her details. Under "Materials", it read: "Stuffed animals, mud, furry bathrobes, and wood stool."

I kid you not.

I read a bit further to find out that the dried mud-covered object had indeed once been a pastel-colored stuffed animal pig. He had then been wrapped in fuzzy bathrobes so that his shape as a pig was now only barely discernible. Then he had been liberally coated in mud, left to dry and then propped up on a wood stool for the San Jose Museum of Art.

According to the artist, the use of the bathrobes was important because they suggest a connection with the human body and may evoke feelings of comfort. (Even when coated in mud??)

The last line of the description said that the artist's use of those particular materials "calls into question our definition of art."

I'll say it does.

Because Everyone in Canada Lives in Igloos

(Thanks to Cathy K who sent me this in an email earlier today which had me LMAO in the office. You Canadians will think it funnier than anyone else. Obviously.)

Now that Vancouver has won the chance to host the 2010 Winter Olympics, these are some questions people from all over the world are asking. Believe it or not these questions about Canada were posted on an International Tourism Website. Obviously the answers are a joke; but the questions were really asked!

Q: I have never seen it warm on Canadian TV, so how do the plants grow? (England)
A. We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around and watch them die.

Q: Will I be able to see Polar Bears in the street? (USA)
A: Depends on how much you've been drinking.

Q: I want to walk from Vancouver to Toronto - can I follow the Railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only four thousand miles, take lots of water.

Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in Canada? (Sweden)
A: So it's true what they say about Swedes.

Q: Are there any ATM's (cash machines) in Canada? Can you send me a list of them in Toronto, Vancouver, Edmonton and Halifax? (England)
A: What, did your last slave die?

Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Canada? (USA)
A: A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe ... Ca-na-da is that big country to your North...oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Calgary. Come naked.

Q: Which direction is North in Canada? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.

Q: Can I bring cutlery into Canada? (England)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
A : Aus-t-ri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is...oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Vancouver and in Calgary, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.

Q: Do you have perfume in Canada? (Germany)
A: No, WE don't stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Where can I sell it in Canada? (USA)
A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.

Q: Can you tell me the regions in British Columbia where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
A: Yes, gay nightclubs.

Q: Do you celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada? (USA)
A: Only at Thanksgiving.

Q: Are there supermarkets in Toronto and is milk available all year round? (Germany)
A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of Vegan hunter/gathers. Milk is illegal.

Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Canada, but I forget its name. It's a kind of big horse with horns. (USA)
A: It's called a Moose. They are tall and very violent, eating the brains of anyone walking close to them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.

Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you will have to learn it first.

Thank goodness Canadians are blessed with an excellent sense of humour. (Not humor.)

BBQ 4 U

You already know a little bit about my eating habits. You know, for instance, that I'm a sucker for a great slice of pizza and that while I enjoy a fine meal, I'm often just as happy with something down home (did I just say "down home"?) and basic. Special K is much the same way and one of his semi-regular cravings is good barbeque.

Note that I qualify barbeque with "good" because there is plenty of "bad" out there and having spent many of his formative years in Texas, Special K knows his ribs, tri-tip, brisket and links.

For months now, he has had his eye on a little hole-in-the-wall kind of place just down the street from my office and we finally decided to go check it out a couple of weekends back.

I could tell he was excited by the extra spring in his step as we made our way from the car across the tiny parking lot and as he flung open the door and stepped aside to let me into the place first. Now, I am not such a huge BBQ fan simply because I don't really like BBQ sauce all that much. However, I do like items that have been cooked ON a barbeque. (Heck, I grew up in the Texas of Canada, so I BETTER like it!) In spite of my fair-weather barbeque tendencies, even I could sense that something was amiss after one quick, cursory glance at the giant menu on the wall behind the counter.

Lots of burgers.

And more burgers.

Huh. And that's about it.

Special K wrinkled his nose and asked the guy behind the counter about the REAL barbeque stuff. With that, the guy gestured towards the grill top where another guy was flipping burgers.

"But what about brisket? Chicken? Sausage? Tri-tip?"

"Burgers" came the bored reply.

So we ordered burgers and called it a meal. Sort of.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks.

Last Friday night, we were driving down one of the main streets in Santa Clara when Special K's eagle eyes spotted the sign: "Andy's Bar-B-Que" in large neon lights. In a flash, I was in the right lane, turning into the parking lot.

As we walked into the place, I could feel Special K relax. "Ah, yeah.... this looks right... it SMELLS right." And sure enough, amidst the wood-panelled walls and pleather-seated booths, we were treated to REAL barbeque, Texas-style. Piles of chicken, tri-tip, pork ribs, and giant baked potatoes with the works. (When the waiter asked me "Do you want sour cream, butter, cheese, or chives on your potato?", I just replied with "Yes, please." He laughed.)

And I bet I'm the first person to eat a meal there and never (not ONCE) even dip into the barbeque sauce.

(Andy's Bar-B-Que is located at 2367 El Camino Real in Santa Clara. Go. And get the blue cheese dressing on the salad. A-mazing.)

Drama in the Valley

In the last 24 hours:

- I have been awoken by my neighbours screaming at each other at the tops of their lungs at 1:30 in the morning. AND their baby was screaming in the background. (Poor child.)

- A small child was screaming (sensing a theme here?) at 7:30 this morning and carried on for 15 minutes or more. I heard adult voices, so I didn't go investigate, but I think he may have fallen down the stairs or something. (Again... poor child.)

- As I was driving home from work tonight, I had to stand on my brakes in order to avoid the car in front of me who had stopped suddenly in the lane that peeled off onto the freeway on-ramp. As we got everything sorted out, I saw that a guy had jumped out of his Honda Accord and was beating on the passenger side window of an Audi A4 behind him, as the Audi driver threw his car into reverse in an attempt to flee the assault. Road rage, Sunnyvale style.

Don't let anyone tell ya that Silicon Valley is sleepy and suburban.

There's Something About Mary

I was determined, while in New York this last time, to see a show on Broadway since I would be there over a weekend and presumably have time to squeeze that in. One of the things I miss most about New York is the regular and frequent access to all sorts of culture, whether it's live music, Broadway, off-Broadway or even WAY off-Broadway.

While living in the Big Apple, I was a regular patron of the TKTS kiosk in Times Square and could often pick up a ticket to a great show for 50% off. And what's more, I could often even get a seat in an excellent location at the last minute because there would sometimes be single tickets left in prime orchestra section rows while finding two or three tickets together was much more difficult and could quickly put you in the upper balconies near the back.

On my Sunday in the city, I wandered up to the TKTS booth and was a bit surprised to see a more limited selection of available shows. I needed to go to an early show because I was meant to be at Mercury Bar between 4:00 and 4:30 for Super Bowl. There was a showing at 2:00 for "Pal Joey", but the only ticket left in the place was in the very last row of the top mezzanine.

I looked back at the ticker of available shows and saw that there was only one show at 1:00... which would be plenty of time to make it to the gathering for The Big Game. The only problem was that I wasn't sure I even really wanted to SEE the show that was at 1:00 .... I looked at the TKTS agent and asked "What do you have left for that 1:00 show?" She replied "I have a single in the 8th row center orchestra."

I took a deep breath and said, "Well, then.... one for Mary Poppins, please", and I parted with my $40.00.

As I made my way over to the New Amsterdam theatre on 42nd Street, I hoped that I hadn't made a mistake. I found my seat, and as you would expect, I was surrounded by kids under ten, many clutching stuffed animals and blankies along with their Playbills.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. From the moment the curtain went up, the stage production of Mary Poppins was fabulous from every possible perspective. The cast was excellent, the sets were beautiful, Mary's little moments of "magic" were portrayed brilliantly for a live audience and the whole show was capped off by Mary disappearing out over the audience, drifting away with her signature umbrella in hand.

It was.... hmmm... what's that word....

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?

Ah yes, that's the very word.

Nerd Humour

I have a bit of a quirky sense of humour. (Starting with the fact that I still insist on spelling “humour” with a “u” despite having lived in the US for over a decade.) As a result, I enjoy anything witty and clever and I particularly appreciate plays on words.

When I was recently in New York, I saw the funniest t-shirt slogan I’d seen in a long time:

“Talk Nerdy to Me!” (accompanied by a line drawing of a computer, natch!)

Geek (or is that “nerd”?) that I am, I thought “I bet ‘talk nerdy to me’ is just the tip of the iceberg.” And lo and behold, after a couple of quick searches on both Kaboodle and Google, I found these t-shirt slogans:

“I logged off Second Life for this??”

“It’s not that I can’t explain it – it’s just that you wouldn’t understand”

“Alcohol and calculus don’t mix – don’t drink and derive”

“Ctrl + Alt + Delete is ALWAYS an option”

And my personal favourite:

< >
That’s a great idea.
< / sarcasm >

And here’s one I know my Dad will appreciate:

“If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate”

(Chemist humour!)

PS (I started a t-shirt list on my Kaboodle profile.)

Forgive me, Father...

... for I have sinned... it has been over two weeks since my last blog entry.

And as a result, I'm seriously backblogged.

Honestly, where does the time go? I have made myself notes about many, many things to blog about, but I have not been able to siphon off even a half hour of late to chat about something random and unimportant.

Time to reprioritize! After all, the world needs more inane blogs about even more inane and random topics. :-)

Super Sunday!

As you all know, I've been fully adopted into the phenomenon that is Steeler Nation and as such, I am now a huge Pittsburgh Steelers fan of my own accord. (It's kind of amusing to think that if Special K decided to break up with me, I would still follow those darn Men of Steel on my own... and LIKE it.)

Special K and I watched the AFC Championship together in a couple of sports bars near my place in NoCal and as Super Sunday drew nearer, Special K was able to wrangle his way to Tampa and managed to secure a couple of tickets to the Big Game for himself and good buddy (and fellow Pittsburgh native), PJ.

Meanwhile, I was in NYC that weekend and had gathered with a bunch of friends at Mercury Bar on 9th Avenue to watch the game (and yes, I was wearing my Steelers t-shirt!) For those of you who watched the game, you'll know that the fourth quarter was absolutely exhausting with the Cardinals coming from behind to score a touchdown with only a couple of minutes left on the clock.

In the last 35 seconds, Steelers QB, Big Ben, threw a pass into the end zone to Santonio Holmes -- he caught it, but it was unclear in the moment whether he was actually in bounds or not.

My biggest personal contribution to Super Bowl XLIII was being able to send Special K a text message at that point in the game, while the play was under review and the stadium did not have the benefit of television's gift of instant replay, and jubilantly tell Speciak K that "He's totally in! Both feet!!"

Special K was then able to share that with his entire section before the official ruling on the field was announced.

Gotta love technology! And ring #6 for the Steelers!