Not At Burning Man
It’s hard to believe they’re having fun without me.
This is the week I’m normally in the desert at high elevation desperately trying to cool down or sleep or breathe in a white-out. Having fun is the easy part.
I attended Burning Man 10 times, from 1998-2007. Not being there is strange but it’s the choice I made. The experience plateau’d for me and I decided to spend travel time elsewhere (Paris, New Orleans, New Hampshire, Hawaii). I sit here in San Francisco during a rare heat wave, where the hipster haunts have easy parking.
Until an hour ago I’d held off on too much Burning Man media. Floodgates, open. Me, reminiscent. For starters there are the photos, an abbreviated tour of the last 10 years of my life at its loudest.
Here’s an excellent clip shot last week about the people who arrive early to build the event. It’s great to see the artists out there, doing their giant pieces. Also included are bytes with founder Larry Harvey. He says Burning Man is no longer countercultural, it is cultural. I agree.
I’ve written about Burning Man here here here here. Even when I don’t go it seems I write about it.
I am super excited for the people who went out for the first time and got their minds blown about people, community, mankind and art.
It really is the best party. Kisses.
Comments (1)If the Sun’s Out, Sit In It
Enjoying a little summertime in New Hampshire earlier this month. Photo by Ted.
Type S Insanity
This is exactly the kind of thing that gets stuck in my craw and I won’t let it go because I am that old fart who won’t put a 4 ft. tall piece of metal in the trash. Dear readers, I am the insane person who spent an hour of her life tracking down Type S replacement mop heads online and bought 10 of them, shipped directly to the nuthouse.
For months I have been searching for the Type S mop head which means I’ve been swabbing the wood floors with a stanky sponge for some time now. You need to understand that there is nothing wrong with this mop except that I couldn’t find a new spongie for it. It is the mop I use not for sentimental reasons but because it is not broken. Historically, the aforementioned Type S mop head spongie would get gross and I’d replace it. The mop is blue and metal and has hinges. It’s a fucking mop. It shouldn’t be so hard.
For months I looked, staunchly refusing to throw out a perfectly good mop just because it’s not new enough or cool enough. Finally I sat down, I researched, I found the mop heads. I am no less crazy but the floors feel cleaner already.
Recipe: Cowboy Caviar
I make this black eyed pea dip often. It’s a crowd pleaser and extra bonus: it’s vegan. I’m often asked for the recipe. Now I can send a link instead of typing it up each time.
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This makes 2 cups, easy to double or triple the recipe. I use a bit
less less oil when making a double recipe. It’s best made in advance
but is still good thrown together and eaten.
Cowboy Caviar
1 15 oz. can black eyed peas, rinsed and drained
1/4 cup thinly sliced green onions
1/4 cup finely chopped red sweet pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 TB vegetable oil
2 TB cider vinegar
2 fresh jalepenos, seeded and chopped
Cracked black pepper
Dash of salt if needed
Combine ingredients. Cover and chill overnight. Serve with tortilla chips or crackers.
Me And Moxie Celebrating Our Independence
Day 12
I’ve been doing a cleanse. I haven’t written about it because “Let me tell you about this cleanse” is second to “You won’t believe the dream I had last night” on the list of things people don’t want to hear about.
It’s this cleanse. You know, this one. Conscious eating. And I feel pretty dang good. I’ve eaten vegan for the past two weeks as well as abstained from sugar/gluten/caffeine/alcohol/artificial sweeteners. I am more aware of everything I eat.
Luckily I’ve gotten through it without many cravings. It was difficult sometimes, not because I disliked the food I ate (in fact there are vegetables I still haven’t eaten) but because breaking habits is hard. There were days when I was exhausted and couldn’t try to fix that with some simple carbs and coffee. But I didn’t have a late-afternoon crash either.
If this is the kind of thing you’d like to do, I think you should try it. I’m listening to my body more, giving it food for energy but not lacking energy when I’m done eating. Buying a few vegan cookbooks helped me, especially Veganomicon because it includes gluten-free recipes. The vegetarianism was a good lesson and I feel like I’ve reset my tolerance for how much meat I should eat — a lot less.
As for the gluten thing, yeah, I do feel better and I think not eating gluten is a major factor. So I’m going to lay off a lot of flours and bread products. Once I found out I could eat wheat again, I wanted to eat it. Daily. And it makes me feel sluggish, I’m certain.
All that said, I’m looking forward to eating a poached egg. And drinking an Amstel Light. But for now mmm hummus!
Thrilled About Summer
Bay Bridge at sunset, taken at Pier 30 on a warm summer night in San Francisco. Fantastic.
MGL For Dusty ‘08
Ugh. The Dusty Springfield biopic, a movie with several starts and stops that never gets made, is back with a studio. This time it’s Nicole Kidman who’s set to play my No. 1 music idol/hero, Dusty Springfield. I object.
Nicole “Botox” Kidman singing “Son Of A Preacher Man?” Singing [my all-time favorite song ever by anyone] “What Do You Do When Love Dies?” Singing “Tupelo Honey”? Playing later-in-life Dusty, the one with the frizzy hair and cigarette and lived-a-lot-of-tragedy look in her eyes? Dusty the occasional lesbyterian? My head is spinning.
I have a 1960s Dusty promo framed in my dining room (it’s for the single “I Don’t Want To Hear It Anymore” b/w “Windmills Of My Mind”). It used to hang in the hallway of my single-girl apartment. Before that it hung at my music editor job, and at the music editor job before that. It’s impossible for me to take the who’s-playing-Dusty news lightly. Mostly because I always thought it would be me.
Girl better bring it.
Hot day, San Francisco; Innervisions, cocktail
That headline is today’s six-word memoir. A special shout-out to my friends Larry & Piper, with whom we got to kick it the second weekend of Jazz Fest and see Stevie Wonder.
For those of you not living in San Francisco, this is one of the random weeks that is hot along the Barbary Coast. Today = Hot. I’ve been working with wool, of course, sewing on my final project. At 6 p.m. I called off the work, searched the cabinets, created the In A Pinch Rum Cocktail and made a playlist. This is my open-window, sweaty-thigh San Francisco hit list. It’s best played on random with a squeeze of lime. I hope you like it.
Crosby, Stills & Nash - Suite Judy Blue Eyes
Janis Joplin - Mercedes Benz
Joni Mitchell - Big Yellow Taxi
Cat Stevens - Moonshadow
Judy Collins - Both Sides Now
Stevie Wonder - Livin’ For The City
Boz Scaggs - Lido Shuffle
Carly Simon - You’re So Vain
Queen - Fat Bottom Girls
The Carpenters - Superstar
Sonic Youth - Superstar
Flaming Lips - Do You Realize?
Bette Middler - Superstar
Carol King - I Feel The Earth Move
Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart - Elton John & Kiki Dee
What? You didn’t know I was such a softie? I went to Montessori school in the 1970’s, people. Sing-alongs are ingrained in my brain.
Gulf Coast Eats: Where Y’at?
The M.F.K. Fisher in me just can’t help but link places to tastes. New Orleans is a town of rich, spicy and fried. To partake in the food is to partake in the culture and New Orleans loves to share its culture. The camaraderie that goes with eating in the Big Easy makes you eat more. It’s true.
Parasols is my favorite po’boy stop. They also serve a giant basket of the best fried pickles. I practically needed someone to roll me out the door and into the Garden Distrcit after finishing my shwimps sandwich. The leftover pickles came in handy a few hours later after sucking down giant cocktails on the sidewalk at Igor’s, waiting out an afternoon rain.
The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival is known for its food vendors. No two vendors are allowed to sell the same thing and the food is closely curated by the festival organizers. This year’s standouts included the red beans and rice, crawfish etouffee and duck po’boy. Every few hours a beer and food pick-me-up is just what the good doctor ordered at Jazz Fest.
To celebrate our anniversary, Ted and I dined at NOLA, Emeril Lagasse’s French Quarter restaurant. I appreciated the friendly, high end service. The food was spectacular, from the duck gumbo to the ribs to the mint juleps we favored instead of wine. It’s the south, y’all, and I’ve never found a red wine that matched a gumbo. I could have made a meal from the jalepeno cornbread muffins.
In Gulf Shores, Ala., we sampled fried alligator, which tastes like chicken. The Royal Reds were in season and I ordered a pile of these steamed, large shrimp. I love the ceremony of peeling and cleaning as well as the accessories of clamps, picks and shell bucket. As is true with most food eaten in the deep south, these delicasies were paired with a frozen cocktail.
After years of longing and reading Streetcar Named Desire, I got to eat at Galatoire’s. We were lucky enough to join Dr. Lutz, a fine southern host and member of New Orleans society, on our excursion. We got a corner table downstairs and could watch all the goings-on in the mirrors. Jackets are required and there were a handful of straw hats hung on coat hooks around the dining room. I ordered eggs sardou, a dish I discovered in New Orleans 15 years ago (artichoke bottoms covered with creamed spinach and each topped with a poached egg). It’s become the default Christmas breakfast for my family. Enchanting.
Our last afternoon in New Orleans we stopped for a muffuletta. The receipt read “One large muff.” I love a dirty ending.
(Photo by TedR)