Jonah Matranga and two new postcards take us into the summer season

Well, this is a blast from the past...

On the back, Rachael only wrote: nostalgia! Indeed, Rachael, indeed!

Remember Jonah Matranga, also known as onlinedrawing, bandleader of New End Original (anagram of onlinedrawing), and member of earlier band Far? No? Here's the wikipedia link, then.* I found the postcard above in the mailbox earlier this week and thought: woah. Rachael must have been hoarding this postcard since, like, 1999. I remember that we got really into his music around that time, and saw him perform at the Troubadour in LA at least twice (oh what fond teenaged memories). The music was important to us then. I think I'll scrounge up those CD ep's of his that I have hiding in CD sleeves (OLD) and give them a listen. Apparently he just came out with a new album! And did you know that he has a twitter?**

A couple of days later I received the postcard below. What is going on in that image?

And on the back, a lovely message (though I do wish that I had the info for whatever's going on on the front of the postcard... perhaps you'll humor me in the comments, Rachael?) You can just barely make out a little text blurb under the sticker Rachael put down to write over, but I don't want to peel it back and ruin the text.

Thank you for being an enthusiastic postcard sender, Rachael! Keep them coming! I'll see you in August (if you don't take a weekend roadtrip to visit us up here first, HINT HINT)!

* Also check out this April 2013 Huffington Post piece with horrendous writing done by Salvatore Bono. 

** All of this information is purely for Rachael's amusement. Unless I start developing weird Jonah Matranga fan base blog traffic to rival my weird Enriqueta Martí serial killer fan base blog traffic. 

Auspicious Visit

It's been a crazy ass week. I had my interview on Monday and suffered through intense angst (ANGST) until I heard back on Wednesday (I got the job, SURPRISE!*), culminating in a total energy crash and strange and unwarranted general malaise the following morning. It's a good thing Lisa and Mark were driving down for a visit from the East Bay -- and that they had thought to surprise me by secretly bringing along Alana, who I hadn't seen in a year? In over a year? In any case: my general malaise disappeared tout de suite.

This super tall silvery, velvety shrub/tree elicited screams. SCREAMS.

What a wonderful, wonderful surprise. I got to celebrate the new job, my birthday (and Lisa's!) with some of my most favorite people. This birthday feels like a milestone for me -- I'm entering a new stage in my teaching career, which is allowing me to save and prepare for some big, "adult" expenses** -- and I can't think of any other people I would rather be spending it with, even if belatedly.

Touched it. 

Friday we drove up to campus, I signed some forms at HR, and we visited the UCSC Arboretum. In all my years affiliated with the university (first as a student, now as a lecturer), I'd never been to the arboretum. What a shame that it's taken me so long to visit; it's absolutely gorgeous. We wandered from garden to garden, talking about politics and power (a conversation started the night before at a taqueria that continued for the entirety of the visit), touching absolutely everything we came across. Every bush, every flower, every tree, every pinecone. We touched everything. And it was worth the $5 entry fee, well worth it. It was even worth the mild sunburn (and corresponding, mild crankiness) I developed later on.

Touching it. 

These are a couple of the few snapshots taken early in our walk. I didn't take down any notes on the plants I photographed, but I do remember that they were all located in the Australia/New Zealand gardens.

We stumbled upon a huge flock? crew? gaggle? of California quail on the way out, but I was too busy watching them roadrun away from us to take out my camera. No reason to become inordinately upset; I have a wonderful Super Cuchi post (of the avian persuasion) to share tomorrow regardless.

***
* Thanks for the woo-woo, by the way. It absolutely worked!
** Okay, I'll tell you: it's a car, I'm saving up for a new car. Don't tell the Little Green Car, it'll become horribly jealous and stop working just to teach me a lesson. You think I kid, how little you know!

Fourth Postcard of the Summer

So this completely terrifying mondo-postcard came in the mail today. 

Why doesn't the Virgin have eyebrows? WHY?? (Isn't it terrible that
the Virgin and Roscoe are looking at you at the same time? )

It was sent by my friend Shulie, you see. She drove up from LA with a friend for a super quick visit a couple of weeks ago, which was wonderful. We ate tacos and drank kosher Spanish wine, and then had brunch the next morning and napped and took a quick drive down Love Creek Road, the most famous road in Ben Lomond.*

Wasn't Jean Paul Gaultier the one who had the super embarrassing drunken, anti-Semitic meltdown at a Paris café?
And was fired from his fashion house and had to go to French court? And looks like a pirate? EXCELLENT. 
UPDATE 8/01/12: NO! It was John Galliano -- thanks for spoiling my fantasy, Shulie! 

Shulie took some photos** at the toy box memorial I alluded to in a previous post, and a couple more further down the creek. She's promised to share them with me (HINT HINT SHULIE), and I'm just dying of curiosity and anticipation.

Thanks for the monstrous Virgin, Shulie! It's already up on the fridge, right next to Eva Perón and Ché!

***

* I'm seriously starting to think that Love Creek Road needs its own tag. Okay, done.
** Did you know that Shulie is a very talented photographer? And that she has a photo blog? Go and see!

Walking with Mr. Coe: Roadside Blackberries

The early mornings have been cool and misty in the Santa Cruz mountains over the past 5 or 6 days, long-sleeves and knit hat weather -- welcome relief from the mega-heat blast we got last Saturday: high 90's, no wind. It was like being in an oven. I prefer this week's weather much more. Roscoe and I have been taking advantage of the morning cool, taking our walks through the neighborhood before the mist and gloom burns off mid-day. 

Ben Lomond is covered in blackberry bushes -- they grow wild along the backroads and even on highway 9 -- and the berries are just now starting to ripen. EXCITIIIING.

Here's an extra enormous blackberry bush along good old Love Creek Road. It's more of a hedge, and runs along the road for quite a bit. Roscoe likes it.

Oh yeah, that's a happy dog.

Mr. Coe has lots of favorite stops he insists that we make throughout town. They're all generally pee-mail stops, of course.

Roscoe, checking his pee-mail at one of his favorite telephone poles.
Note hidden sign in the background.

And now for some more weird and wonderful signage. Above and below, "No Trespassing: Keep Out" signs. 

"Private Property: Keep Out" JUST STATING THE OBVIOUS.

And here's a sad one:

She whistles like: tweet tweew.

I really hope they find their lost cockatiel. Whoever made this sign (and the tens more I found posted all around town) did a great job of covering all pertinent information: Sily doesn't talk, but she does have a distinctive whistle. That's good to know. I hope they find her.

Third Postcard of the Summer

My sister got back from her trip to Iceland late last week. We had a video chat date over the weekend, and when I thanked her again for sending her postcard she said, "Oh, you haven't gotten the second one yet?"

Just got it in the mail. 

I think her message says it all; there really aren't any other words. 

Second Postcard of the Summer

This postcard from my sister came in the mail for me and Jason earlier in the week. 

mmmm Icelandic fleece.

She's in Iceland right now, taking part in a graduate field institute program and scaling glaciers, crawling through lava tubes and ice tunnels, inspecting mineral hot springs, visiting the mid-Atlantic ridge, being interviewed on Iceland's national television news broadcast... you know, totally awesome stuff.

She's been updating us almost daily with photos and emails about her trip, her international cohort of earth science grad students, the group's geothermal research and excursions, etc. and and it sounds amazing. Elena's also been indulging me, personally, with wacky and wonderful anecdotes about "Troll Tours" and the night her group ate a "traditional Viking Dinner" at a place that I imagine to be the Icelandic version of Medieval Times. She said they ate rotten shark, that it's an Icelandic delicacy, and that it was awful. I just laughed and laughed... 

photo taken by my sister, Elena

Elena took this photo for me a couple of days into her trip, in the capital, Reykjavik. We're pretty sure that's a yarn store. I am so pleased by the succession of "wares and attractions" advertised: elves, excursions, trolls, wool, northern lights, ghosts. YOU KNOW, JUST A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS. I really, really love that so much of Iceland's tourism is wrapped up in monsters, ghosts, and folklore. I want to travel to Iceland, just to visit this yarn store and go on a Troll Tour. 

Ever since she started planning for the trip, Elena and I would occasionally sing to each other "Welcome to Icelaaaaaand...", the opening line from the mock-Björk song from that one Kristen Wiig SNL sketch. The more I learn about that country, the more sense Björk makes. Both are equally delightful!

Cuchi Time: Tiniest Spinner

The prettiest, finest, little spider webs have been popping up all around the yard this week. They're so fine, in fact, that I often don't notice them until I'm about to disrupt them somehow -- in the case of the so-fine-its-invisible-to-the-camera web in the above photo, I didn't see it until I was about to walk right through it. Good thing it's teeny tiny maker was there to catch my eye. 

I generally think that spiders are pretty horrible, but this micro-specimen seems harmless enough. It's made itself a pretty web, is staying outside, is too small to be scary... not much more I can ask for. Do your thing, sir. 

Let's see what else is going on in the garden:

 My one Lily of the Nile is about to flower, which is exciting. 

Even better, the spindly little peach tree in the front yard -- that was pretty sickly when we first moved in two years ago -- is gracing us with a mega-load of peaches this year. This is all thanks to my dad, I'm sure. He's like a fruit tree wizard; his pruning skills are magic. Whatever he prunes is super happy through the next year. The tree is so prolific, in fact, that I'm a little worried that all this extra weight is going to snap a limb or two.

The peaches are almost ripe enough to pick from the tree. Maybe in a couple of days. I'm being especially vigilant because I know that the blue jays (my arch nemesi) and squirrels (disgruntled tree nesters) have their eyes on them too. Last year, they got to the one peach the tree produced and I was dismayed. NOT THIS SUMMER, YARD DWELLERS. 

Kitchen (mis)Adventure: Magical Basil Gazpacho

Here it is, my first batch of magical basil gazpacho. OH YEAH. I decided to err on the side of caution this go around, and only made half the quantity of gazpacho as last time. It took me over a week to drink the whole pitcher, after all.  You may or may not be able to tell that I puréed the crap out of it in hopes that the smoother texture would be more pleasing to Jason, but alas, I just don't think he's much of a fan of the idea of cold soups.*

Apart from the magical midsummer basil (both Genovese and spicy Cuban), I gazpacho'd with what I had on hand: sweet baby bell peppers, jarred fire-roasted red pepper, a yellow onion (if I could, I would have used a red onion, a la Sarah T), garlic, Roma tomatoes, and an enormous cucumber (I only used half). I threw in a generous handful of toasted almonds for a little protein, something my mother does because she's a genius, and blended away with slightly less sherry vinegar and olive oil than last time and double the water. Tasty.

I think the gazpacho turned out great. But as I drank it, I suddenly had a craving for cheese. Fresh mozzarella cheese. IT TASTED JUST A LITTLE TOO MUCH LIKE CAPRESE SALAD WHAT HAVE I DONE.


Summer: caprese salads, gazpacho, soda water (yes, I made some after finally potting my magical herbs and feeding the citrus trees this morning), postcards, and the list goes on.

* Speaking of cold soups, TheKitchn highlighted a Mark Bittman New York Times article on cold soup recipes and they look really, really super. Check out the recipes here. 

Summertime is for Postcards

The first postcard of the summer:

It makes me really happy that Sarah T would go to tour an old 19th century operating theater in London, think of me, remember how much I love receiving postcards, and send me one showcasing said operating theater as a surprise.

Is that a sneaky Roscoe photo bomb?

Gothic operating theater hidden in a church tower. Sarah T knows me all too well. Remember that, when I linked to her travel blog, I expressly mentioned how much I enjoyed her post on that operating theater tour! You've already received an email, but, again, thank you, Sarah T.

I love, love, love postcards. I think they're a terrific medium of communication, especially for summertime travels. They're short and sweet and wonderful. A couple of years ago, after moving back to California from NYC, I started carrying around a roll of postcard stamps in my purse. Since then, if I'm out and about, and find a postcard that reminds me of someone I know and love, I can jot down a couple of lines and send it off on any old moment's whim.

Must remember to feed the citrus trees.

I started collecting Santa Cruz/Central Coast postcards a couple of weeks ago for a little postcard/diary/writing project collaboration I'm doing with my super friend Emily C.* She left Santa Cruz for Europe about a month ago and won't be back until September. I'm missing her tons, not only because she's my closest friend in town but because she's also been my most immediate sounding board for books I'm reading, research I'm doing, DEEP THOUGHTS I'm having, etc. This is a nice way to keep a log of the things we're reading/thinking/writing that we want to bookmark for discussion when she gets back into town at the end of the summer. It's kind of like having a phantom dialogue. Spooky and I like it.

BOOM, is that a SodaStream next to my decorative bat house? Yes, I have a decorative bat house.

I got Sarah T's postcard in the mail before leaving the house to run errands with Jason in town. I must have had her subconsciously on the brain when we arrived at Costco and I spied a mondo stack of pleasantly marked-down SodaStream soda makers and lost my miiiind. I shrieked "Sarah T and DB have one! Sarah T and DB have one!"** and started pawing at a box. Jason asked me if I wanted one for my birthday (which is still two months away), and I said "no, no, no, no...", and then he took the box and put it in our cart, and I said something to the effect of "we can just keep it in the cart and wait until we're in line to pay to decide..."***, and next thing we know I've completely rationalized buying the soda maker. For my birthday. In two months.

We immediately set it up upon returning home and indulged in some home-made Dr. Pepper rip-off and it was diviiiiine. I'm going to use it all the time to make lemon juice soda water and it's going to be even betterrrrr.


Summer: postcards, soda water, and gazpacho. Expect a post on magical basil gazpacho soon. Tomorrow?

***


* Check out Emily's fantastic website, If She Draws a Door, here.
** They use their soda maker to carbonate water for dinner, and I'm so impressed every time I stay with them and we have home-made soda water with our meals. Or have soda water by itself. Who needs an excuse for drinking fizzy water?
*** I do this often in places like Costco or Target. It actually works surprisingly well to counteract impulse shopping (except for this time).

Typical Espanish: Gazpachooo

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Claudia, for sending me this fabulous video Sunday. I've listened to it over and over and over. You've ensured that this innocent gazpacho kick explode into a full-blown gazpacho obsession. It's all I can think about, and now, it's all I hear. I sing the song's refrain in my dreams. Jason is living a nightmare.

La Ogra presents her summer hit: "Gazpacho".* It's a year old, but it's new to me, and it's become my summer anthem. Here's to the summer of gazpacho!

As soon as I've finished this first batch (I'm so close), I'm going to make a new, decidedly smaller, batch using some of that fancy Cuban Basil I got on St. John's Eve. Magical, basil gazpacho? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!!!

* Did I buy the single on iTunes? You bet I did.

Noche de San Juan

I've been looking at photographs from last night's celebrations in Spain on "El Huffington Post" (crazy that The Huffington Post is taking over the world... do check out the photos, though) and it sure looked like fun. I celebrated quietly here at home, lit a couple of candles and washed my face after midnight with ritualistic deliberation. Small stuff. 

     

Apart from the fire and water rituals, I did some "gathering of midsummer herbs". And rather than go tromping around in the surrounding hills and hollows up here in the mountains in the middle of the night, risking poison oak, mountain lion attack*, and wolf spider terrors**, just so I could come home with a handful of California sagebrush that, now that I think of it, grows in my own yard, I decided to plant my own batch of cooking herbs. I didn't get a chance to start up the veggie patch this spring, so this little herb collection will have to do for now. The symbolism isn't quite right, but we tend to have long Indian summers and annuals generally thrive with occasional bud pinching through the New Year, no need to start drying herbs now. 

Damn, I forgot to buy the sage!!!

I'm a lazy person, so I haven't transplanted them to the pots next to the kitchen door yet. Tomorrow. I've never grown/eaten/cooked with Cuban basil before; it's supposed to be similar to any sweet basil, but with a spicy flavor. Intriguing! Even better, it's a perennial.

And just in case you thought that I didn't end up having any St. John's magic come my way (or just a stroke of ordinary good luck), I stopped by my next door neighbors' yard sale on the way back from the farm & feed, and ended up leaving with a little treasure:

FANCYYY

Howard gave me a ridiculously good deal. As I gave him the cash for the typewriter, I blurted out, "Up in the Mission District in San Francisco, you wouldn't be able to find one of these for under $100!" SUCH A DUMB THING TO SAY. It needs a new ribbon, but all the keys and doodads seem to work, and it's really just beautiful. I'll post some proper photos once I'm finally able to test it out.

Addendum: I mixed up the two thymes in the photo identifying the midsummer herbs. The Orange Thyme is top center, and the French Thyme is bottom left. OOPSIES.

* There have been sightings of a lone adolescent mountain lion roaming around the neighborhood in the past week -- at dusk and at night, but sometimes during the day. We're hoping s/he's just passing through on the way to discovering new territories.
** Don't even dare do a Google image search -- DON'T YOU DO IT IT'S TOO TERRIBLE. 

Midsummer Love Letter

The summer solstice came and went yesterday without me even stopping to acknowledge it. The day was filled with meetings on campus and long Skype dates with far-flung friends under the oak tree, and after having dinner later on in the evening, I immediately went to bed to snooze it all off.

I've been living here in Ben Lomond for over two years -- how is it that I'm only now taking advantage of the
electrical output under the oak tree? All I need out there now is a small table and I'm all set with a new summer office.

Though last night was officially Midsummer's Eve -- and today the first day of summer -- I'm holding off until Saturday night to celebrate the solstice. I'm celebrating the Spanish way, the witchy way, on St. John's Eve, what I've always known as la noche de San Juan. 

The Spanish version of the original Old Christian/Pagan tradition would call for a bonfire on a beach -- either on the ocean or river bank or lake -- and midnight bathing and bonfire jumping, as well as late night herb collecting, but I think I'll try a more quiet and cozy adaptation of the fire and water rituals from here at home. All my friends are away, and though my trusty Spaghetti Western side-kick Mr. Coe would love nothing more than a midnight adventure for two, lighting bonfires on the dog beach, I think we'll be better off at the house. BECAUSE IT'S GOING TO BE SPOOKY OUT THERE. This noche de San Juan is supposed to be extra special due to the fact that we're currently in a new moon -- the magic is said to be extra strong,  ooh la la! So, those of you looking to avoid witchy influences in your life, stay out of the dark and light a candle or three! And for those of you wanting to embrace the witchiness, take advantage of this most important Witches' Sabbath, your spells and incantations should be exponentially more powerful. I'll report back on my own shenanigans Saturday night.

Speaking of witchy, spooky things, check out my afternoon reading:  

Marina Warner's Phantasmagoria (2006) is of special interest these days.

More on those later. 

Heaven is a hammock and stack of spooky reading on a summer afternoon, indeed. And gazpacho. I still have so, so, so much gazpacho. 

Kitchen (mis)Adventure: Spicy Gazpacho

It's really hot here. Like, so hot that I'm completely useless. Yesterday was up in the 90's, today should be too, and we should be seeing high 80's/low 90's through the rest of the week. Looks like it's going to be a long, hot, and dry summer.

Here's a nice photo of my current laptop workspace in the living room, taken from my seat.
Observe piles of books and papers and knittings. 

In a fit of rage, I made 5 million gallons of gazpacho this morning. I just went whole hog with the Osterizer, making one batch and then two, using up as many veggies as I could. As you can see in the photo above, I pulled out my copy of Teresa Barrenechea's The Cuisines of Spain: Exploring Regional Home Cooking when I started, but only used it to cross reference Sarah T's* tried-and-true gazpacho recipe. Barrenechea tends to over-do it with the olive oil in my opinion, so I generally use her recipes as a starting reference. Here's something interesting: neither Sarah T. nor Barrenechea had any onion in their gazpacho recipes! I know! They only included garlic. Correction: Barrenechea doesn't have any onion in her recipe, only garlic, but Sarah T does include a whole red onion in hers! I've set the record straight! (6/25/2012) I put both into mine (and plenty of it). Because I'm a crazy person, apparently. I like my gazpacho spicy! (I may have also added too liberal a splash [SLOSH] of vinegar... burp.)

I'm drinking a tall glassful of it right now. Jason is so repulsed by the gazpacho that he can't even watch me drink it. I poured him a tiny amount in our little Garfield mug, but I don't think he'll be able to drink it all... Nope, he just gagged trying to get the first mouthful down. MORE FOR MEEEE!!!

* Check out Sarah T's super travel blog, Someday on the Avenue, here. I especially love her latest post on the old operating theater she visited recently. Creepy, gothic, Victoriana, yessss.