What dreams may come

It could have been the mix of seafood, pasta, 2 bottles of wine and some soy ice cream that made for the interesting dream last night, but more so, it's the current search for happiness lately in my consciousness that manifested itself into a dream.

The first part was mostly irrelevant except for the appearance of my childhood friends. Dirty Ryan and Doug made a cameo appearance in a house before I needed to leave. ( As to remind me of where I came from)

I entered another building. It was dark inside and very,very busy. Imagine the busiest office space conceivable, cubicles everywhere, people rushing around frantically, all the while only lit up with computer screens and tiny Christmas lights.

With all the dimly lit rooms and cubicles...enter my mind.

The people running around stressed out & frantically trying to get work done...my thoughts and feelings.

In the middle of this mess, I found my way to a private office where a tall, skinny, middle aged man was waiting for me. He had a thinned face with a black mustache, and medium length tightly curled jet black hair-as if a mini Afro got stuck on a white guy. Dressed in a tight black shirt and slacks that thinned his look even more. He was soft spoken, with a gentle manner about him which put you at ease and relaxed you as he talked to you.

Say hello to my subconscious self.

It was the setting of a counselors or therapists office. I told him that I wasn't happy and I wanted to change a lot of things, only I don't know how to do any of it. He unfortunately couldn't help me. He said that personal happiness was not his area of specialty, but there was someone that I could go see that would be able to give me what I seek.

He drew up a map for me to find this "classroom" where your teacher can make you happy. He said that the class setting wasn't desks, but kitchen counters and living rooms. He asked a favor of me by suggesting that I don't sit in the back of the class and find a kitchen close to the front.

There will be a green light above the door to the classroom.

The map was utterly useless in this crowded building of my mind. It was to have me walking all around, double backing and getting lost. I ditched the map and decided to let my gut lead the way. I knew the general direction and tried to work my way there.

After stumbling around in my mind for a while, I looked up and saw a green light above a door.

I opened the door and saw kitchen counters in front and living room recliners in the back. I heard the teacher's voice talking to his class.

As I entered the room, his voice faded and I woke up.

Once again, finding myself eluded me.

I fell back asleep and dreamed about driving around in a new black mustang convertible, driving in circles around a strip mall blasting music, trying to impress friends, ex girlfriends and my regular bar customers.

A Dennis Leary day of air combat, lawn furniture, hot dogs and vino.

The next installment of Thursday Solo day entailed a mix of shit that was unplanned. I was in a shitty mood last night. Real shitty. Like, I really was ready to drop my bottle opener, declare open bar and get the fuck out. I stuck through it though. The downside of working nights is that you can't exactly wake up early and head out for a day's events. What I wanted to do was head down to Kartchner Caverns in southeast Arizona and do some cave exploring. it's a 3 hour drive there, another 3 hours of cave exploring and another 3 hour drive back. After working all night and getting no sleep, there would be no way to enjoy it outside of crack cocaine. I nixed the idea and decided to see what was available for one day road trips when I got home. I researched a ton of cool stuff, from ghost towns, to natural preserves, monuments, sites...unfortunately I can't visit them until October, when it finally dips below 100. The rest of the stuff is more than a 4 hour drive and not time efficient. Great....Well, I said hell with it and went to bed. Got up around 12, showered, dominated in the crapper, and head out. My destination was the Commemorative Air Force Museum at Falcon field in Mesa. A bunch of old warbirds and displays from times past. I got there at 2:30. The place closed at 3. I quickly dropped my $7 and hurried my way through the displays. A WWII Mitchell bomber, F4 Phantom fighter from Vietnam, and a P-47 thunderbolt from WWII..among others...

































This P-47 was 1/5 the size of the Phantom behind it....tiny...yet effective.
At closing time I met a docent/guard that was starting to close down the museum. I didn't get his name. He was about my late uncle Gus' age, in his 70's, with cloud white billowy hair and a cleft lip. He made me jealous by telling me that the WWII B-17 bomber that was stationed there called the Sentimental Journey, which I have seen, was on tour in the Midwest. He had just gotten back from flying on tour with them and had flown in the bombardiers seat in front as they flew over Yellowstone park.
I left quick and headed off to Tempe. I had gotten a call from my bro Chris that his brother was in his last throngs of packing for a last minute move to the east coast and needed to get rid of some things. I took home a few deck chairs, a portable fireplace, a bike and some random what nots. I also helped him move his brother's TV center to his apartment. On the way back, he and I hit up Ted's hot dogs for a foot long, hand battered O rings and a root beer. Quite tasty, and definitely defibrillator worthy.

















After offering my help outside of what was asked of me, I bid them Godspeed and headed home.
As for now, I went to Trader Joe's, got some groceries and vino, then headed home to make up some steamed mussels and pasta. the mussels were steamed in a bath of lemon, olive oil, garlic and wine. The pasta was soaked in a mix of red marinara and white Alfredo sauce. for desert, oven baked Acorn squash embedded with brown sugar, cinnamon, allspice and butter.

Combine that with a bottle or two of Sebeka Cabernet pintonage and believe me, right now, I am in happyland.

Unfortunately that solo happyland is intertwined with a mix of self solace and soul searching that as of yet, isn't as productive....

Well that leaves me to say that, as I've been typing and adventuring, I've been getting slowly stewed on vino...playing repeats of Cracker's "low"

"Be with you girl, is like being low, like being stoned...don't you wanna go down...like some disgraced cosmonaut?" and Dennis Leary's " Asshole"

"You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible. HOT PINK! With whaleskin hubcaps and all leather cow interior and big round baby seal eyes for headlights, YEAH! And I'm gonna drive around in that baby at 115 mph, gettin 1 mile per gallon, suckin down quarter pounder cheeseburgers from McDonalds in the old fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers, and when I'm done suckin down those greaseball burgers I'm gonna wipe my mouth with the American flag, and then I'm gonna toss the styrofoam containers RIGHT out the side and there aint a GODDAMN thing anyone can do about it. You know why? Cuz we got the bombs okay!!! Two words, okay..Nuclear fucking weapons!...

John Wayne's not dead, he's frozen! And as soon as we find a cure for cancer, we're gonna thaw out the Duke and he's gonna be pretty pissed off. You know why? Ever take a cold shower? Well multiply that by fifteen million times, that's how pissed off the Duke's gonna be. I'm gonna get the Duke, John Casavetties, Lee Marvin, and Sam Peckinforth, a case a whiskey and drive down to Texas. Cuz I'm an asshole...eo...eo..eoleo..."

Eat it!!!! Cuz I'm solo, an asshole and happy about it right now......and proud of it.

The pursuit of happiness

I know currently that there are two things that are for certain going on in my life right now. One is that I've been on a queasy roller coaster ride of ups and downs of highs and funks for close to the past year now regarding anything and everything, from my family life, my personal life, my job, my mental stability, physical fitness and habits and my financial life. Added all together, they affect my mood on a daily basis. Usually one at a time on separate days, and sometimes tag teaming on the same day. The end result is most days I start out after a bad nights sleep to a lethargic days beginning of listed tasks or chores that I have no motivation of doing, or I start out in a positive direction, head to work or to accomplish something and end the day in a worse mood.

Secondly, everyone I know has given me the same advice, in literally the same sentence- Do what makes you happy, or make yourself happy first. I took it as just friendly advice from my peers and friends around me, but it finally hit home a bit deeper when I heard it from a source I wasn't expecting. To hear those words out of my fathers mouth caught me off guard first, and then sunk in farther than even the most personal conversations that I'd ever had with my closest friends.

Make yourself happy.

Seems simple enough doesn't enough? If it was only that easy.

I've set onto myself a goal. To make myself a happy person, no matter what the cost. If it costs me money, so be it. If people get in the way, sorry. If I isolate others, sorry. Why?

Because I can't make others happy if I'm not happy with myself first. Otherwise it's just an empty shell that tries to appease others while at the same time hollowing myself out further.

A truly happy person doesn't have to try to please others, it's effortless and others will wish to be a part of that person's life for the sake of just being there with them. Because of that, I've been selling myself short.

Most of my life has been a service to others. A catering process that involves taking care of other people in order to try and make myself feel good, while ignoring my own needs and wants.

Eventually all those needs and wants build and become too overwhelming to ignore anymore. Usually by then it's too late.

Throwing BBQ's, parties, picking up bar tabs, tipping overly excessively, oversupplying camping trips, etc...while the intentions are not to "buy" my friends and family, since I know they would be there for me regardless, the need to do it surpasses my common judgement. It's possible that my subconscious has been trying to make up for the lack of attention and friends I wanted but didn't have in my earlier years by overdoing it now in a grasping attempt to meet that goal.

It's been a self destructive process from the inside, an internal undermining and corporate takeover by the ego and id to overthrow my personal being and soul.

So what do I need to do?

Find myself?

Take a personal journey?

Forget the things that relatively useless for me to care about?

Or something else?

Maybe a combination of all the above.

What I do know is that my current desire for spending time by myself or time on myself has been increasing, and when I do have that time, I have been cherishing it, and actually have been somewhat productive with it. Whether it be going to a museum, on a drive, watching educational tv, walking the dog or reading a book, it all has been feeling good. Hell, even a bottle of wine and a quick dinner by myself feels good from time to time.

It still does nothing to fill a void however, and I still have no idea of what will. An empty beach and an endless sunset may be a good start on a soul search. If I'm good at it, and it turns out well, I may even have a new hit TV show on Fox...America's Next Great Soul Search...complete with...you guessed it, the soul train dancers and Ed McMahon announcing.

Here's to getting your happy on.

The week in review...sponsored by Gato Negro merlot..

Sooooo....a week ago Saturday my other bartender asked to work my shift. that meant that I had sat, sun and pretty much Monday off. I wake up Saturday, do a bunch of errands and chores, then start to enjoy a quiet Saturday evening at home watching Dirty Jobs and Survivorman on the Discovery network...both my new favorite shows...ever....
I say fuck it and have a bottle of wine while I cook up some mussels, ahi tuna and grilled veggies on the BBQ. As expected...the vino took over after an hour or so and Hasselhoff came out, solo.
Hasselhoff takes a shower, and guess what....walks over to Salty Senorita up the block. Slow night, I chat with my barkeep Brian, do some shots and drinks, get a tab for $8, tip like $30...which is why my tab is always $8.
I close out last call, and start stumbling home. I walk through the back of the neighborhood strip mall and I guess since its dark, and I'm sneaking through the back alleyway, Hasselhoff goes into covert ops Baywatch nights mode....
I hug a barrier wall through a dirt field and arrive at a walled and barred school grounds. Covert Hoff scans for surveillance cams and radios to base of his situation...(ie..i drunk text my friends telling them that my spy name is Steve Woodman from Yakima Washington if I get caught). I continue to infiltrate, but set on getting home I leave, not before diving into a few bushes to hide from a few oncoming cars.
I get home and decide on a whim that I'm going camping. I text whoever I feel and Crystal shows up at 5am. What usually takes me a week to organize and pack for a trip, I do drunkenly in an hour. All I forgot was a click lighter...so that's pretty fucking good for being wasted. We finally leave at 530 and I pass out on the truck ride up as Crystal drives. Wake up in Payson for a few supplies and I drive the rest of the way to camp. Arrive at 7am, set up, crack a beer and just sit to enjoy this typical view from our usual campsite.


























I'm tired...dog tired now. We decide to try and sleep. Stripped down, it's warm outside. 80 degrees, which, in a tent transforms to 120. I was slow roasting and basting myself with the alcohol soaked juices flowing freely from my sweaty ass. After a few hours of playing hide and seek with clouds and the rare breeze, I was about to pass out when I hear a car door close...
Now, if you're camping out in the sticks, even though it is public land, would you just randomly walk through someone's camp?
No...but these people did. A middle aged...and fugly couple parked their spotless white jeep off to the side and then just strolled through the middle of our camp while we were laying in the tent, pretty much nekkid. I get up, hand on my sidearm and start to try and get dressed while I am trying to control a very pissed off and barking Jenny.
One of those situations where it was so rude and unbelievable that you were left speechless.
They left after a minute of checking out the "view" and left me awake, amped up and pissy.




















Set up the fire while Crystal dozed, ate, drank and partied most of the night with her til 1130.
Got up in the morning to cool weather, good breakfast and talk radio only to drive home at noon to 110 degrees.
Worked Mon-Weds...nothing special.

Thursday we once again had a weekly meeting of the ABTEV (Amature beer tasters of the East Valley) at my house. One of our members was on call as the meeting progressed, so no drinking for him. I made up the slack. I did cook up a ton of good food though...oil and herb infused steamed mussels and clams, steaks, veggies and corn cobs and mesquite smoked turkey legs and pork spare ribs. So delicious...these ribs just fell apart...



















Ate and drank myself sober...passed out on the couch....it was a good night.
Friday worked....slow
Saturday worked and got my ass handed to us....schools back....
Oh, finally got my lawnmower back from the repair shop. It's mowing damn good now...the only problem is that I still have a 1/4 acre lawn to mow now where the grass likes to grow a inch a day during monsoon season.....grrr! That's the week!

Dinosaurs and coffee

A sane person would think that dinosaurs and coffee would NOT be a way to relax, but I somehow found a way. Ever since I got back from California, I've been a ball of stress. Working straight through without a day off, plus all the BS drama around the house, I needed to recharge. It was time to shut the engines down and coast in neutral for a little. Thursday I could have easily beat my head against the wall some more in continuing to rescue my computer or tackle more home projects, but I said screw it, I need out.
After work Wednesday, I crashed hard and slept in until 1pm. Got up, took a shower and headed out to downtown Mesa. I had thought about heading to the PHX art museum, but it was closed Thursdays. So I opted for Mesa instead and their arts center...which, on my arrival, was also closed. Oh well. I just walked around Mesa and literally stumbled onto the Mesa southwest museum.
It's been years since I've been in a natural history museum, so I dished out the $8 and wandered around the place for almost 2 hours. It was nice because they had like 10 different areas and galleries, all of which, including myself, had like 12 people wandering at most. It was like I was in the museum after hours for a private show.

























The Mesa museum only showcases natural history and art relating to the southwest, from the creation of the deserts, local dinosaur activity, native american life, art, cowboys & modern history, even the local movie industry in Arizona.
Believe it or not, at one time, Arizona was once mostly underwater and a lush tropical paradise. What the fuck happened to piss the gods off to make it a foul stench-hole of a desert??
At least it still gives us some beautiful things to look at. There was a art gallery displaying works by the Arizona Highways magazine showing photographs from various parts in the state. I stared at this photo for like 15 minutes. It's of a small pool of water in a sandstone canyon reflecting the surrounding cliffs in northern Arizona near Utah.


























After a few hours of wandering and visiting the gift shop, I left. It felt nice to relax and feel a weight lifted off my back. I walked back to the truck and then headed over to Office Max, got a new financial program to replace the one that got erased off my computer and then made a leisurely drive to Scottsdale to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf for a iced coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. I sat in their comfy leather chair facing the window, enjoying my bagel and coffee, reading the paper, watching the oncoming dust storm for over an hour. It was comforting and slow paced. I could have easily dozed off in the chair, despite the influx of espresso in my system.
From there I headed back homeways, and decided on a whim to stop off at Cost Plus and Borders books in Mesa. I got a wine decanter and some espresso cups and a bottle of white Portuguese vinho. I walked next door to Borders and just browsed for a while before leaving to head home.
Doug got a hold of me and felt like hanging out on the clock while he worked, so he cruised over at 930. I had a couple beers and chatted before the inevitable happened and Doug got a call. Off to work he went at 1130. I was still in the mood to unwind, so I got dressed and headed up to Scottsdale again and had a few drinks at work. Buddy and Joe were there having a couple drinks, and we left to hit up Mickey's and DJ's.
A few more rounds later, I sauntered back to work, bought some sandwiches for the crew from across the street, ate mine and then split for home.
It was a well deserved day, of which, I need to do more of. Everyone I know has been telling me lately (including my Dad, ironically) that I need to start making myself happy and doing things for me. After Thursday, I see what they mean a little bit clearer. Thursday was a happy solo day, wherein the only person affecting my decisions was myself. I've been living for a long time now always being concerned about what others would like that I've ridiculously been ignoring my own needs and wants, and because of that, I've unknowingly been dumping on more stress and depression onto myself. I need to take stock in my own well being more, otherwise, the cost at the end would be too much of a loss to live with myself.
Peace out from my own private sanctuary.

Dude..ease up off me.

Grrr....this past week, everything that can go wrong did.
I had a crew from Southwest gas come out and examine the house due to an oddly high gas bill in the middle of summer. Turns out that a underground pipe that ran under my lawn eroded away and was flooding my yard with gas. At some spots in the dirt, the gas was over 50% saturated. So they dug up my yard and detoxed it all day 8 days ago.
I brought in my lawnmower to get repaired after attempting to rebuild the sputtering engine. It didn't work, so I bring it in and they tell me 2 weeks to get it repaired. Turns out that it's lawnmower season. Obviously, seeing that in the monsoon season, my grass grows an inch in like 3 days. I needed to rent a mower before the two week time frame. Day after day they were rented out, and finally, after 3 days, I found one. $12 later, the lawn was mowed.
Just in time for me to see that either due to southwest gas' digging process or the pressure change from removing the natural gas that saturated the ground, that a water pipe was now leaking. I'll have to take care of that later.
So, after I mowed the lawn on Thursday, I had extra time to bring my truck back into the shop because after the $700 of work that was done to it before my California trip, the new belt that they installed was constantly squealing.
They said that it was the tension pulley. Once again, my neighbor told me it would probably be that. I hate it when he's right. So, after 2 hours and another $160, the truck is finally working perfect.
So, Sunday rolls around. I invite some peeps over to party with after I ran a bunch of errands seeing that since I got back from Cali, it's my first day off in 7 days. I grill and smoke up a shit ton of food.
Apparently a hot day and a smoke flooded patio with the screen door open a good amount of the time makes every single fly seek shelter inside the house. I must have a hundred flies in the house. I've been killing 10 a day every day since the initial invasion.
God faced Sunday night, and that was fun.
What was not fun was Monday.
When the day starts with puking up on the carpet in the morning I knew that
I was going to be at wits end Monday night.
Ok, so, my new cell phone has a flaw. It keeps shutting itself off at random times. In the middle of a text or phone call, whenever...Supposedly it's a bad battery. So now I have a semi-reliable phone that needs fixing. Whatever, I'll just bring it in and they'll tell me to call someone...and then they will tell me to call someone, who will then tell me to go talk to the tech guy at the store which was where I'll be in the first time. Can't wait to deal with that.
The main bullshit on Monday was this-I hate my computer. Immensely...
My computer is like 3 years old, a relic in tech years. Over the years of use and porn, it got bugs, that were fixed, files went missing or corrupted and it got to the point where applications, windows explorer or the Internet browser would shut down for no reason. So, after attempts at various fix-up software programs and tinkering, I decided to use the computer's restore system.
Strike 1-the computer is 3+ years old and the restore system brings everything back to the factory settings while leaving your current files and other things you have done to it (supposedly)
Strike 2-I did not make a backup of important items and files.
Strike 3-The system restore lied.
So, after "restoring" it, I wiped out all my addresses,forms,passwords,email files, Internet settings, antivirus software, financial files...everything. All gone.
So guess what I did yesterday? Reloaded all my erased programs that I could, redid up my email accounts (still missing addresses), reloaded all my Internet settings and am in the process of regathering all the important things I did to my system for 3 years.
On the plus side, no programs are randomly shutting down anymore....
I still don't have an anti-virus/Internet security firewall program anymore and well, my financial records are thrown back to the stone age (you know, writing checks and balancing your accounts via carbon copy paper...)
Can't wait to see what other bad luck I get this week.

Welcome to the Hotel California, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

I really didn't want to wake up today. I was home, the bed was comfortable, the weather outside was perfect for sleeping in, or well, anything for that matter, and my family was here. I wished that I could just have Mom write a note to my boss telling him that I was sick and couldn't go to work, anymore...especially in Arizona.
I forced myself to get up and immediately went to finish packing up the truck. Everyone else started to get up, and after two hours of purposely delaying myself, the truck was packed, including raiding my Dad's garden for grapes, apples, tomatoes and apricots. I could relax a little now and just enjoy being in my home.



















I once thought that leaving home would get easier each time you did it, instead I found out that it's the complete opposite. This time felt really hard. Yet I needed to do what I had to do. Doug would get a ride to the airport from mom and dad as we were driving out in the truck. I reluctantly said my extended goodbyes to my parents, got in the truck and again, forcefully delayed myself in the driveway until I found a good song to leave on. Ironically it was Purple Rain.
To alleviate my current depression, Crystal mentioned we should get Prima Deli for the road trip after we gas up. Sounded good to me. Sandwiches icing in the cooler, we left my neighborhood, the the city, then the county and finally the Bay Area once again. It was a nasty 13 hour drive home that started at noon and ended at 1am in Phoenix. Plagued by hot, swamp-ass heat, 5 mph and 2 hr delayed traffic in Los Angeles, cramping muscles and weary eyes, I took it all as my penance for once again leaving home.
I was "home" in the sense of the word, and that was all. In the meantime, my mattress gave me some comfort.

The final day

I'm pretty sure that we all woke up with some form of discomfort this Thursday. Crystal and Doug being a little hungover, and my stomach still a bit distended. Easy fixes, water and coffee for the crew and a trip to the crapper for me. It was a definite sleep in day, so I think we got motivated around 11 after I started to pack up some things for the next day's long trip.
The past few days had been pleasantly overcast or foggy, but as this was the last day here, of course, the weather broke. Clear skies, 80 degrees with a slight breeze. Even the coast was clear of clouds and fog when we drove out there.
Yet, it was still bittersweet due to Jenny. Jenny had been to the beach once before, 4-5 years ago when she was a young pup. She had reacted good to the beach then, but I was unaware at how she would react this time. This time, more beaches were banning dogs.
We ended up only being able to head back to Bean Hollow, which did allow dogs, but only on a leash.
Last time, it was a heartwarming sight to see a young Jenny unbound on the sand and rocks, in the shore break chasing me and exploring her world. This time she was restrained at a crowded beach. She was afraid of the water and the waves, even as Crystal and I were knee deep in wading for shells. Instead she barked angrily at me when I left her in Doug's hands as I shell hunted, only 15 feet away from her.




















We left the beach after a few hours and headed back to Half Moon Bay to explore their small downtown. Jenny slept in the car as we wandered around the various shops for an hour or so.
I bought a nice sculpture at a shop tucked away off the street. It needed some super glue on a part to attach it permanently to it's base, so the shopkeeper knocked off ten bucks for me.
Honestly, the lady that owned the shop was one of those very few people that within the first few words, you know that they are genuinely good people. We easily could have all sat there and chatted with her for hours. I can't imagine the stories that she may have had to tell from her 60+ years of life.
We had to leave though, we had family commitments to attend to. We said goodbye to the coast and headed back to home. On the way back, I wanted to stop by my old neighborhood market, the B & W and see if they still carried a yummy ice cream treat called an It's It sandwich.
I hadn't been in that market since early high school, and I had hoped that it didn't change much.
To my disappointment, it did. Now owned by a turban wearing middle eastern man playing his native music, the insides were gutted, flipped around, confining and utterly unrecognizable. It was transformed from the small town market it once was to a stripped down and junky version of a 7-11. Yet, I was able to find a handful of my ice cream treats. We snapped some up and quickly left, hoping that I'll never have to return there again, instead leaving me with my memories of penny and nickel candy, baseball cards, ice cream and warm summer days as a kid.
We got back home, relaxed,showered and headed down to my Godparent's home for a last family dinner before we left town. They made a special dinner for the whole family. Roasted quail, salads, these indescribable tasty spicy red potatoes and tuna steaks that they caught themselves. That was good seafood right there. I went back easily for seconds.
The wine was flowing really smooth and we all had a long night chatting with each other, remembering times past, stupid things we did, good times we shared and stories we had to tell.
It was a family, no arguments what so ever about it.



















Later, after most of the family left, the remaining ones of us went into my Godfather's game room and went to town on his Foosball table. I got owned. Respect your elders and everything....
We talked seriously about my parents for a while after, which added to my current thoughts on the situation. I'll address that in another topic.
We said our goodbyes and got home at a early hour. The rest of the night was spent chatting in my parent's living room, before I excused myself to head to bed early in readiness for a long drive the following day.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face, not because of the quantities of wine I imbibed in, but from the comforting sense of welcome and acceptance that only family can give to you.

Part 5 Chowdering Mo'Fo's & I hate the Haight.

Bound and determined to have a better day than the previous one, we got up at the leisurely time of 10 and got on the road to SF by 11. To ensure that we were to start on a good note, we declined breakfast at home and opted for an early lunch at my old neighborhood Prima Deli. I was denied the dutch crunch bread last time during Christmas, but not this time. A huge sandwich on the sweet crunchy bread consisting of honey turkey,swiss,avocado,onion,lettuce,pickle,tomato and mustard & mayo. So good, so indescribable, so...you wouldn't understand. Made on the thighs of virgins or some shit. Your loss.
So we get on the road and in SF we hit up Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf (or a part of it...2 hr parking meters and all...). We browsed and shopped through the shops and stalls on the pier, got some cool trinkets and like 2 lbs of salt water taffy.
Stomachs readily processing the sandwich from a few hours ago, Doug and I were in the mood for a cup of clam chowder, since well, you can't get much fresher than on the pier.
Yes, touristy and made in large batches which nixes the quality a bit, but it was still a damn tasty treat, as Douglas approves.
























Bellies a bit fuller, we hit up the end of the pier and visit the Sea Lions basking on the sunny docks, barking at each other and displaying dominance by playing king of the mountain.




















Time almost up, we decide to head back to the car before I get yet another parking ticket from the parking Nazi. We hopped on the electric trolley and zipped down about a mile to the car.




















We get in the car when Doug remarks," Hey, anyone feel like a pint?" Well gee, it's 1:30 pm, we're on vacation, and that sounds like a great idea. Doug directs us to The Thirsty Bear, a brewery and tapas bar a block from the stadium. An hour later and bellies further distended with flavorful and icy beer flavors and savory appetizers, we zip out and head west through the city. We ended up heading down Geary Blvd again, the same road as the day before. Along the way we made a 20 minute spiritual pilgrimage inside Grace Cathedral for a momentary piece of inner solace and beauty before hopping back in the car, driving by the location (former location) of the elusive Lord of the Balls lounge and wouldn't you know it...the Pig and Whistle pub again. This time I mentioned the option of having a pint, so we stopped for two. While there, we decided to try another appetizer, curried fries and an order of chicken nuggets. The nuggets were nostalgic enough and I'm sure they were the same premade, frozen, partially made with chicken lips and asshole goodness that was given to me during cafeteria days in elementary school...in other words tasty.
The fries were interesting indeed. Last time I can remember having curry was in Tempe, living in my duplex with Dirty Ryan over a summer as he decided to try making curried chicken. Talk about stink. These didn't though. They were sweet, inundated with a mix of savory spices, and definitely addictive.
Bellies near capacity, we leave and I was well, coerced into driving the other two back to the Haight Ashbury for "shopping".
Ok, I saw it once, and that was good enough for me. Not that I let personal opinions dominate my prejudices, but the areas lifestyle definitely clashes with mine. Let alone being harassed on EVERY corner by some transient asking for cash, which some days they make more than I do...all for being lazy. Anyways, I tell them 20 minutes, which they turn into 45 minutes, and then an hour. I'm pissy and bored, and finally they are done, so we split for the coast.
Highway one south on the coast. The day's events take their toll on the two and soon Doug and Crystal are passed out on the car ride to half Moon Bay.
We get to Half Moon Bay, and to further punish our stomachs more at now, dinner time, we go to Barbara's fish trap, which is quite simply the best seafood around.
One more cup of chowder please to curb my fixation....
Main course I get the combo platter of fish,shrimp,scallops,calamari and rice. I literally had to perform emergency surgery to install a second stomach. Worth every bite though.
After dinner, a quick walk around the waterfront, then into the car to home, which with all the added food weight, I noticed the car struggling up the hills a little.
We get home, crash for a few hours until about 10pm. Bellies processing food and a little emptier, we head out for cocktails.
The plan originally was to have either of them drive so I can get buzzed this night and not the next so I won't have to make a 12 hr drive to Arizona hungover. Well, that plan never materialized, since the way they poured the drinks at our first stop, the Saddle Room on Woodside rd. All jack and little coke. Crystal was buzzing, so no driving for her.
We leave the somewhat young, clicky bar for more laid back surroundings and head further west up the road to the Pioneer bar . Live music, stiff ass drinks, interesting natives and wouldn't you know it, Foosball!
One busted player and some balls missing, but we still put a ton of quarters in that thing. Doug is now buzzed, Crystal is now wasted. I'm stone sober. Thank you 10 lbs of food still residing in my gullet...at least the clam chowder got drunk.
Highlight event at the pioneer? A drunk Crystal straddles me on a bench in front of the Foosball table, announced that she is DRuuuNNk! Almost gives me a headbutt in saying so, so I retort by teasing her by using the same motion and telling her that she is DruuUnnK! Which then she tries to comment back, but somehow only succeeds in slurring the word she was trying to say and summoning a mouthful of spit and phlem which flew out of her mouth instead of said word...and right onto my entire face and open mouth.
My girlfriend just pseudo-snowballed me. I wipe off the slime and give her a ton of shit (in a good humored way).
Doug then convinces me to take them down to Hanky Panky...Redwood City's only strip club, which was, at 1am, closed. No titties for us.
Second best option? The Carlos Club in San Carlos...just a bar, but a very..eclectic one. Also closed. Last option....the Orchid Room, right behind it, where we were the other night. Always open, so I escort their drunken asses inside. We have one, and finish off last call.
Drunken Crystal and Doug desire foodstuff sustenance, so we head down to Carl's Jr for a late night burger. Just when my stomach thought it was done...psych!
Damn tasty burger though...as it better be for a $6 burger. I fed the drunken masses and then put em to bed after a long, worthwhile, if not stomach displacing day.
Next day...part 6, last beach day and a time for family.

This is NOT the San Francisco treat & where is the Lord of the balls?Part 4

This was going to be a very long day. More so than I anticipated. Tuesday was supposed to be a scheduled trip up to Sonoma and the wine country for a birthday present to Mom, but health conditions persisted and she was unable to stand or walk for more than a few minutes, so that all got cancelled. We decided to bump up the planned day in San Francisco and then spread it over two days to give us more time.
So, bright eyed and bushy tailed (somewhat), we got up, grabbed toast and coffee and headed on the road for the short trip north to the city. Unfortunately, to cram as much stuff as possible into the 1 1/2 days, this was going to be a bit of a rushed trip.
First stop, the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. Yummy teas and snacks in a very serene (except for the tourists) environment.

We left there after a bit and headed across the Golden gate and a very windy and foggy view. Still awe inspiring though and photogenic.

This is where stuff started going wrong. We headed to Ghiradelli square to tour the factory, but well, the building was closed for remodeling. Strike one.

Okay, head up the street and try to catch a ride on a cable car.

Firstly, anyone that has been or lived here knows that parking is a ruthless bitch. We had to park up the street...literally, Hyde street ascends like 500 ft in 5 blocks...at a 2 hour pay meter.

We try to get on a car, which is impossible. Even though its early in the day, in the middle of the week, its summertime...tourist season. It would be an hour wait to buy a ticket to get on.

Strike two.

We decide to possibly try tomorrow and head back to the car. Where there is a parking ticket waiting for me. Wheels curbed the wrong way up hill.

$35 and strike three.

We left there, took a quick, traffic clogged ride down Lombard Street (the "crookedest street") and said ok, hell with it. Lets head off to Chinatown and North Beach (little Italy). We find cheap parking and then the coffees all hit us and we HAVE to pee. We walk around Chinatown with pinched bladders until we find a hole in the wall bar called Red's Place. It's a hole, but we buy a round of drinks and then descend, literally below the street to use the bathrooms. There really was a small grated vent above the men's toilet where I could see people walking. At least it was clean enough.

Bladders empty, we head through various shops and bodegas and work our way to North Beach for food. Walking around looking for a place to eat, we finally settle on a pizza place called Viva.

Walking and riving around all day without fruition made this little slice of heaven all more delicious. We then left and headed back to the car, which was in back of the cop shop...

Just kidding, it was a staged picture. I was playing phone tag with my cousin Jen who was back in town at her house in SF and she wanted us to cruise by. We told her that we'd stop by Japantown on the way. It was late afternoon and most shops were closed or closing.We walked around anyways and saw a guiding beacon that we just had to visit...the Lord of Balls lounge.

We walked through the whole area and the Lord eluded us. We determined after an hour of looking that the Lord of Balls was in the hotel we were circling. We went in and Crystal bit the bullet in asking the concierge where we could find "The Lord of Balls".

Once again the Lord eluded our pursuit because the desk clerk told us that the lounge closed years ago.

Dammit! Strike four!

I'm pissy now. We leave and continue down the main drag in Jen's house's direction. Along the way we spot a English pub called the Pig and Whistle. A nice pint of Guinness tasted really good at this point of a fruitless day.

We left quick and headed through the Haight Ashbury district for a quick hippie shopping tour. We made the rounds, saw some cool shops and got repeatedly harassed by homeless people. This would aggravate me more in part 5.

We left the quick tour of the Haight and tried to head up to the top of Twin Peaks, the highest point in the city. Well, if we were able to see anything. The fog coming up was so think tat I had to drive 10 mph and could only see 10 ft in front. No twin peaks, plus some ass in a Hummer was riding me with high beams on.

Strike 5.

Then we got turned around and lost trying to find the highway. A simple 20 minute trip to Jen's house from where we were at turned into an hour.

Strike 6.

Finally, when we got there, I parked and bolted out of the car and cursed the life out of all the no left turn and no U turn signs that impeded my progress.

A hug from Jen and a cool beer in my hand quickly relaxed me though. Along with her turning me on to a new obsession...Foosball. I am truly addicted now. She had one in her garage and we played a long game on it.

After waking up her roommates with the incessant racket of whacking a Foosball around, we stopped and then tried to use her laptop to see about booking tickets to Alcatraz the next day.

Nothing available or far too expensive due to last minute buying.

Strike 7.

We chatted for a while, and eventually headed home after a long day of well, relatively unaccomplished goals, determined to start anew in the morning.

Hungover rollercoasters part 3

As if being a hungover Hasselhoff the day after my Mom's party wasn't bad enough, it was time for the "touristy" part of the vacation to commence. Not that I have anything wrong against being a tourist in my hometown, or should I say a tour guide, I just need the extra coffee today.

Waking up to no pressure or deadlines to meet was a definite bonus. We all crawled out of bed at a reasonable hour, around 10. Got our coffee and breakfast on before packing up the car with sweaters and our lumbering lethargic asses still oozing the toxicity from the night before.

Doug had a rental car to return, so we drove by the San Jose airport on the way to Santa Cruz for a day of coastal fun.

At 11am, it was simply refreshing and chillingly sobering to drive to the coast in fog and 57 degrees, seeing that back here in Phoenix, it was already 100 before noon. I took full advantage of my tank top and shorts today, and still managed to get a sunburn through the clouds.

We got to an early, relatively empty boardwalk, bought some ride tickets and a fresh made corndog for lunch.

We were flooded all day by the sights, sounds and smells of carefreeness and childhood fun. Cotton candy, hot dogs, popcorn. The sounds of kids giddily screaming on rides, the views of the beach from the worn wooden planks of the boardwalk that gave oh so little on each step.

Ramming speed ahead, a personal favorite, the bumpercars. Doug and I ravaged young kids, women and each other on occasion in this demolition derby free for all.

We walked down to the far end, got some hand made salt water taffy and started to head back up the other way.

Let me state, that I do NOT like roller coasters. They don't feel right to me, and I don't enjoy the rush. Let alone when Doug and Crystal convinced me to go on the Giant Dipper (the big white wooden coaster associated with the boardwalk), I barely fit in the car. The attendant had to shove on the restraint bar across my legs and cram me in there. Not a good sign. Anyways, I suffered through it, G forces and all and fulfilled my once a decade ride in a coaster. Last one ridden...May 1994, so I'm good for another 10 years.

As a semi-forced payback, I made them ride the log ride. I love water, it is my friend, and today it will be my weapon of vengeance. We get in the log, ascend the flume and take the leisurely snaking course atop the boardwalk to the inevitable 50 ft drop and splashdown. Ok...I'm 234 lbs. Doug is damn close, and Crystal is a good sized woman as well. Add in the weight of the boat and the speed generated my the sum of all and well...that's a lot of water displacement, which led to my ultimate triumph of photographic insinuations....said log ride/impromptu porn pic which will live in stories of false glory and high fives....

Ram it home Marc, ram it home!

Wet, sunburned and fulfilled, we left the boardwalk to head downtown for walking and shopping.

I found a cool restaurant supply shop called Chefworks, http://www.chefworks.com/ , and got some long sought and elusive kitchen gadgets.
After stopping by a Irish pub for a pint (and some crappy bar food), we headed back home via highway 1 along the coast. Driving through and past massive sandstone cliffs, redwood trees, eucalyptus groves and coastal farmland, we stopped at Sandy Beach just to get our feet wet and enjoy a little taste of solitude on a empty beach.

Halfway home we stopped at Pigeon point Lighthouse to enjoy the sights and to do a quick tour of the lighthouse grounds themselves, which all dated back to the obviously non-PC whaling days of the late 1800's.

Further up the coast we stopped at my old stomping grounds at Bean Hollow State Beach. Even though it was overcast this day, we still did our share of romping through the tide pools and enjoying the soothing sounds of the ocean

We must be moving on however. We headed home via La Honda road, through the redwood forests of the coast and back into home for another family dinner at mom n dads house. Leftovers was the menu for this day. My godmother took the leftover mussels and created a very tasty jambalaya like dish. It was evident that the previous day's debauchery took its toll on all of us. My uncles didn't have any drinks, and I think I only had one beer.

Tired, skin salty from the sea and bellies full, we all relaxed for a bit before the three of us headed out for a bit during the night. We zipped over to the orchid room in nearby San Carlos for cocktails. We had a couple and around 1am munchies were in order. Open facilities? Denny's, Jack in the Box, Chucks Donuts and Taquerilla el Gruellense. Reluctantly, we chose the latter.

Imagine Filibertos, only of a dubiously lesser quality. We all got the same thing (I think secretively so as if one got sick, we know what it was), numero 12, carne asada wet burrito in red sauce. The damn thing was huge, and about 3 lbs...and utterly tasteless. I got one knuckle in it (crunchy cartilage), and it left me with a filled void of scared gassy anticipation for the toilet. Thankfully, to me, it was only gas. Sleepy time, big day for part 4.

Going back to California Part 1 & 2

I am finally able to get started on writing of my travels last week after getting re-situated in this foul stench-hole of a state upon my return. Basis premises of the trip-my mom was turning 70 and I wanted to throw a party for her and the rest of the family. The logistical problem-catering a 26 person party and transporting it 730 miles to San Fransisco within a 32 hour span and pull off a seamless party.
I had been prepping what I could the week before, making desserts, sides, marinading meats, packing and getting as much stuff ready as I could outside of cooking so all I really had to do was throw things on serving plates/chaffing dishes, serve and enjoy.
So, during a full work week of my regular job, I had taken on a daunting task. Friday was D-Day.
I worked a closing shift on Friday night. I took crystal's car to work because I had pre-packed the truck with everything-cooler,disassembled grill,chaffing dishes, mini-bar, tools, pans,dry foods, luggage and assorted necessities to throw this dam thing. I got off of work and headed home only having to throw the cold food in the cooler and then get out.
Snag number one-I get home and realized that I took the register keys home by accident. That led to a hastened packing, a 40 minute side trip back to work and added stress, which led to ...
Snag number two-forgotten items in the freezer, which were two key appetizers of salsa and cheese balls. I eventually remembered that I forgot them...about 400 miles into the trip as I was following a tomato truck, a onion truck and a pepper truck....salsa anyone??? Oh CRAP! I forgot the salsa!!!
So after being up for 36 hours, a 12 hour truck drive, 6 redbulls and assorted vitamins and stimulants, I pull into home to have to assemble a grill, set up the tables and THEN make more appetizers. Like some drunken, sleep deprived sailor, Doug and Crystal mention at my 36th hour of consciousness that we should go and get some grub. Quickest eats? Freggin chucks donuts of course! 9pm, glazed donut in hand, atop of Canada college's lookout point over the bay area, I knew I was home.
Next day, after a glorious 58 degree night sleep in my old bed, I woke up early to dad making breakfast. The smells of bacon, linguica and veggies invaded my nose with utter pleasure.
I grab 2 cups of coffee and start working in and around the house, prepping serving tables, bar set up, dining tables, chaffing dishes and start crock potting the ribs for their 5 hour delicious journey.
At 11, Doug, Crystal and I headed to get the cake and ice in Menlo Park. We stroll into a closed cold stone creamery to see we have 40 minutes to kill before opening. How convenient is that? In terms of Cafe Borrone is right across the street having frosted mochas calling me that is. 40 mins later, rich icy mocha goodness and one Madeleine cookie in my belly, we head back and pick up the ice cream cake. Head back, iced the beer and wine in the coolers and then started putting out apps and cooking.
BTW-the catered menu for 20-30 people.
mango salsa, goat cheese and nut balls with grilled onions, peppers and garlic on toasted baguettes, cheeses and veggies, 16 lbs of peel and eat shrimp, one case of chioppino style mussels, BBQ ribs, chipotle wings, cole slaw, pasta salad,mocha cheesecake and ice cream cake.
By 2, people started coming by and the festivities went into full swing. All I had to do now was grill wings and get tanked.
At this point I could breathe again and concentrate on having a good time. Well, the bottle of vino helped me relax too. We all ate, talked, laughed, drank, laughed more, celebrated Mom's day, drank, drank and drank. When we stopped drinking, well, we drank some more. Between myself, my uncle frank and my designated photographer Crystal, about 500 pictures of the day were taken.
Casualties of the day? About 2 cases of wine, 2 cases of beer, 5 bottles of hard booze. The staggering thing about it was about only 10 of the 26 people there drank. I definitely was one of them.
All the food except 5 lbs of shrimp and mussels was consumed. that would be for a leftover family dinner the next day.
After all was said and done, Doug, Crystal and I took a nostalgic, drunken walk up the block to my old elementary school and sat on the jungle gym talking. We followed that up with a walk across the street from there to my old park, Red Morton. The grassy hills aside of the soccer fields were converted into a skate park, so we climbed into one of the concrete bowls and laid there chatting until it was time to head back to our beds.
Next-part 2 Santa Cruz and why hangovers and roller coasters don't mix.

Mom and Dad during a happy birthday moment.