Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver Trapped in a Chinese Bakery - Book Reviews

When I was a kid we had a cabin in Big Bear. I usually liked going, but also sometimes found it boring. In my opinion, the cabin was really far away from the "cool part" of Big Bear (is there a cool part?) We didn't have a TV. We didn't have a phone. The closest store was about 2 miles away. We had an 8-track player and 4 tapes that I can remember: The Best of Bread, The Best of Seals and Crofts, The Best of ELO and Chipmunk Punk. There was also a bookshelf filled with Reader's Digest, every shelf was Reader's Digest and Reader's Digest condensed novels. But hidden among them were two books that influenced my life. 

Help I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery by Alan King and Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver by Jack Douglas, published in 1960 and 1961, respectively.  At the time I had no idea who either of the authors were, and to this day, I only know them by name, and not by their bodies of work, save for these books, and Alan King's role as Steven Reign, the bad guy in Rush Hour 2.  I loved these books. They were so weird, so unlike anything I had ever read, with humor that my 10yo self didn't quite understand, other than it was supposed to be funny, and probably had something to do with sex. 

When I was about 18 or 19 years old I went to The Cabin for what would be the last time, and stole them. I still have them.

Over the years, the glue in the paperback books has disintegrated, all the pages falling out. Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver can barely be held together by a rubber-band. I tried taping the pages, reinforcing the spine, but the book's pages just crumbled. Help, I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery survived, but the pages turned super dark (and gosh-darn-it, that type is tiny). 

Anyhow, for my recent birthday I bought myself a copy of Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver. I have yet to re-read it. I wonder if it will still be funny. I read a few chapters of Help I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery and it was just some old guy complaining how good things used to be. It wasn't very funny. My guess is that when I start reading Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver, and continue with Help I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery, I'll find a host of outdated humor, thinly veiled racism and a lot of male chauvinism. 

I'll let you know if the books hold up.

Strawberries - a dream

I don't really like strawberries.  They're OK, I guess. I'll never choose a strawberry laden food, but I probably won't pick them out if I'm served something. I will however, flat out refuse a chocolate covered strawberry. I don't really seem to get the point of them. There are a few very specific exceptions to my feelings of meh concerning the strawberry. When I was a kid we used to dip giant strawberries in sour cream and brown sugar. I liked that, but I think I liked it because of the tangy slurry that was created with the strawberry juice, sour cream and brown sugar. Also, at the Marin County Fair I usually make time to enjoy a Tiger's Blood shave ice. With the addition of watermelon and coconut, the strawberry becomes refreshing on a hot day. And finally, a favorite of my youngest is a quick jam made from boiling together strawberries, sugar, lime juice and a pinch of salt. It's a nice addition to waffles. Two baskets of strawberries will cook down to fill an 8oz mason jar. It's pretty tasty. 

This morning I woke up to a dream about strawberries. 

I had two baskets of strawberries. One was the conventional kind in the green plastic basket. The other basket was a clamshell container filled with strawberries that had to be stored in the freezer. They were very special strawberries that needed to be kept at a very low temperature to remain fresh. They could withstand the freezing temperatures, while never freezing. They were like the Tardigrade of Strawberries. They didn't even taste really cold when you ate them. 

Step It Up - An Open Letter to Bob's (Sketchers)

Dear Bob's Slippers,

When I was a kid, one of the "big ticket" items we'd get in our stockings at Christmas was Totes Socks. I loved getting them. I loved the non-stick bumpy bits at the bottom, preferring a speedbump or zigzag pattern over a Botts Dots one. As much as I loved receiving them, I only loved wearing them once or twice. After that, the original comfy cushion and fuzz is dulled, and all the socks do is make my feet hot. Sure I'd bring them out and wear them on cold nights, but when I woke up in the morning, I was no longer wearing them. I would take them off in my sleep and forget about them, only to rediscover them when I changed my sheets and saw a week's worth of mismatched socks and totes under the sheets.  It still holds true to today; I go to bed with socks on, take them off in my sleep, then wake up barefoot, none the wiser until I change my sheets and find half a dozen mismatched socks.

Not unlike this Earth over the last billion years (give or take), I am not above evolving. This pandemic has changed me. No, I haven't spent all my money on Totes, but I have been spending time with its cousin, the slipper. My thinking and my experiences changed when I embraced the slipper. Because of the slipper, I no longer have errant socks milling about at the foot of my bed under the covers. 

It started a few Christmases ago. Captain Awesome wanted a pair of slippers. I got him some but they sent the wrong size. In my laziness to return them, I decided I would like to keep them and wear them. And wear them I did, into the ground. I wore them so much they turned into but a shell of what a slipper should be. They lasted almost 2 years. 

When they wore out, I bought a pair at Walgreens. They were awesome the first time I wore them, but after about a week of wear, they were no longer comfortable. The squishy had gone away and the fuzzy became scratchy. 

I gave up slipper wearing and went back to my former sock-wearing behavior. 

Then the SIP order came. 

I dug out my failed Christmas gift slippers, quickly realized I should have just thrown them away (so I did). I got out my Walgreens slippers, wore them for a day and realized they weren't going to cut it. I went to Amazon and found some Bob's Slippers by Sketchers. I thought hey, I have Bob's shoes that I bought at Costco on a whim, and they turned out to be really comfy shoes, why don't I give their slippers a try?

Try I did. They were awesome. They stayed awesome from March until this week. This week they officially turned to the uncomfy and on the crunchy side. I have to admit, I did throw them through the wash once a few months ago. Captain Awesome and I were house-sitting for some friends. Knowing I would want to wear slippers at their house, I threw my trusty Bob slippers in the washer and dryer so I could wear "fresh" slippers at their place and not track in any germs from my house or outside. They came out a little shrunken, but stretched out easy enough after a few hours of wear. 

With this pandemic and everyone needing to stay home more, my guess is that slipper wearing is on the rise. And with all that slipper wearing, there is the accelerated slipper wearing-out-ing. Our need for slippers is exceeding the life of the slipper. 

Oh Bob's, comfy slipper maker extraordinaire, slippers aren't just for after work anymore, they are for work. America's slipper needs are changing. We need a more durable slipper. Please help. 

Thank you,

Andrea

P.S. I am not a crackpot

Call Me When You Have No Class

Been watching my share of TV lately. The TV is on more than it is off these days. I've been on a "movie I've seen a bajillion times" kick. I watched Moonstruck, Silence of the Lambs, That Darn Cat, Demolition Man, About a Boy, to name a few, some more embarrassing than the others. 

Anywhoozle, today I watched Back To School. I made my 12yo son watch it with me. It was fun to point out Johnny from Cobra Kai, Dax from DS9, and the best one, Iron Man. "That's not Tony Stark," he insisted. 

When we got to the part were Thornton throws a party and Oingo Boingo is playing, I remembered the following three things:

#1 - When I was 18, the keyboard player (Mike Bacich) used to play in the house-band at The Reef, a restaurant I worked at in Long Beach. They played songs like "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay," "You Send Me," "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll."

# 2 - In the 11th grade I spent a few months in Junior Achievement and the product we made was 45rpm records turned into a clock. I had to make clocks using the 45s of the Dead Man's Party single.

#3 - When I was in 10th grade, I (along with all the other students at my high school, and all the surrounding high schools) spent a good month filling out and sending postcards to local radio station KIIS FM so Oingo Boingo would play a live show at our school. Whichever school sent in the most postcards got a free show. We spent entire class periods filling addressing post cards.  We lost. A school in Fountain Valley won. They sent 1/2 a million post cards to the radio station and they won.  And if I'm doing my math half right, they kicked ass. 4 million cards were sent in, and Fountain Valley High School sent in 500,000 cards. That's 12%. 12% of the cards sent in were from one school. When I was 20 and doing school stuff in Cambridge England, I met a girl who told me it was her high school who won. "Oh, you're from Southern California?" she said.  "Me too. My high school won the Oingo Boingo contest." Through today's lens, I think what a weird thing it was for her to say in the first minute of us meeting, but it must not have been because I distinctly remember being a little bit jealous of her. Still am. 

On Food Security

 

When Pua was about 3 years old I was fresh from filing for divorce and in its initial aftermath of all that horrible-ness, I lost my job and subsequently, spent FOR FREAKING EVER trying to find a new job over the next two years. Every Friday we would go to the playground. There was a pop-up food bank. While Pua insisted on climbing the structures way higher than she was able to get down from on her own, I would watch the food distribution line that was happening across the quad. There was a pop up tent, a few bags on tables, and a lady with a clip board. The people in line were mostly seniors. I never took advantage of this food bank. I thought that although the free fruits and vegetables wouldn't go uneaten or unappreciated in my home, there were certainly people who needed it more than I did.  I felt a bit weird about it. Shortly thereafter, I did find it hard to provide for my family and I did find it hard to feed them. I realized that although there were people worse off than me, I needed help with securing food. I started going to food banks and I got myself a SNAP card. Let me tell you, that was the very best decision to make for my kids and me. With all the worries I was facing, having food for my kids was a worry I no longer hand to endure. Food Stamps and Food Pantries saved me.

Of course I found myself back on my feet, full time job and all, and I stopped going to the food pantry and when it came time to reapply for SNAP, I let my enrollment lapse. I no longer needed food stamps to feed my kids.

Fast forward a few years later to today, I find myself again without a job, this time during a pandemic. I find myself once again on unemployment and using EBT.  (and to top it off, I'm also on MediCal) I visit the SF/Marin Food Bank pick up site near me once a week and I pick up school lunches for the week from SFUSD. More than a few times I got a food bag from a friend of mine. (Another post for another time about how this friend showed my kids and me immeasurable kindness. She truly was/is an angel.) I have to say that as much as I'd rather be working and paying my own way, I'm not at all ashamed for using these valuable resources. It's not wrong to accept help when offered. It's not wrong to ask for help when needed. Unemployment in no way covers anyone's average living expenses. In providing a resource for food, EBT, the food bank, a friend's kindness all fill a needed gap and keep at least one worry at bay. 

The point I'm trying to make is that regular hard working people fall on irregular hard times. It's OK and there is no shame in accepting help, be it from the government or your friends. 

There is help out there. 

Take it.  

Bigfoot and Big Eyes - a dream

Sheltering in place is not all it's cracked up to be. I'm getting a little stir-crazy, as to be expected I guess. I want to leave the house, but the moment I do, even if it's just to walk down to the beach and back, having no contact with anyone save for the smile or shaka to a passing stranger, I want to go back home. We're being responsible, we're trying to stay sane, but dang it if it isn't really freaking boring sometimes.

Anyhoozle, it's no surprise we've been watching a lot of TV. Of course I've been dabbling with Tiger King, but it isn't a series for all of the eyes and ears in my house, and by the time everyone goes to bed, I figure I'll go to bed as well and so the perfect time to watch the show is wasted in favor of my beauty rest. This week we've been going back and forth between Master Chef and Finding Bigfoot. I was never into Master Chef until recently, so I've been getting caught up. I'm on season 4 now. Finding Bigfoot, on the other hand, was appointment television. We watched it all the time when it was first run. Now that it's on Amazon, The Boy has been watching it nonstop.

To that end, I had a dream . . . . . .

I was at a Bigfoot street fair on Oak St. just east of the Panhandle. It was the last day and people were packing up and heading back to the woods. The Finding Bigfoot people were there. I ran into Rene as she was packing up her stuff so I went up to her to say goodbye. She had the sweetest tour bus, trailer-bus type contraption. It was three car lengths. The third car was a tiny airstream no bigger than a tiny u-haul trailer. The middle car was a platform with a jeep on it, like a cross between Lorelai Gilmore's car and the kind you see on  the TV show M*A*S*H, and the first car was a self-driving wood paneled square bus with  bright, crystal clear picture windows all around. Inside was wood paneling kind of like an old F-train. There were shag area rugs and beanbag chairs on the floor and pictures of Big Eye Kids on the interior walls. There were bench seats along the sides, but no seatbelts. We went for a drive down Oak St towards the old freeway entrance, because in my dream it still existed. We had to take a super sharp turn. the middle car with the Jeep and the airstream u-haul hit the side rail and made sparks as we took the turn. She looked at me and said "happens all the time."

Stay safe everybody. Make sure to connect with your friends and family over the phone; skype, duo, zoom, facetime, all that stuff. When you encounter someone, maintain a safe distance, smile and give them a shaka. Shaka spreads only love and aloha, not coronavirus.

Responsibility vs. Karma

You know that sound, the air filled, coffee misted gurgle/hiss of the last bits of coffee in an airpot.

Last week at work I heard the sound.  I heard it because it was me who caused it. I took the last bit of coffee from the pot. Man, all I wanted was one long pull? push? draw? (let's call it draw) one last draw on the airpot. It fills about 2/3 of the coffee cup; the perfect amount of coffee for the amount of cream I like. Dang. Responsibility rings (or gurgles and hisses). My only option was to make a new pot. There was no other next step. Make coffee.

It is your responsibility to make coffee. The next person is depending on it and often times, you are the next person.

There's only one exception to making another pot of coffee. What time is it?
If it were 11:30am and I had just taken the last bit of coffee, I probably wouldn't make another pot. By that time, people are all coffee'd up. They most likely won't have another cup until the afternoon, or if you're like me, you've long switched over to diet coke or black tea. I wouldn't make a new pot at 11:30 am so it could sit around until 2pm. The 2pm people deserve to have fresh coffee just as much as the 9am coffee drinkers.

This morning I carefully avoided the responsibility of having to make a new pot and karma bit me in the ass. My coffee mug was about 1/2 filled and I heard the slight beginnings of a gurgle. I "decided" I had enough coffee in my cup, even though I knew I didn't, poured in some cream and went to my desk. But wouldn't you know it, that 1/2 cup of coffee didn't take and I found myself needing more. I went back to the coffee to get myself a proper cup, figuring surely someone else had made a new pot by now. I was totally wrong. When I pushed down on the pump to draw out the coffee, all I got was luke warm coffee spatter. Dang it.

I told myself "I told you so" and made a fresh pot.

Laughing Without Smiling

I lost a friend just before Christmas.  His name was Ian and I'm going to miss him. I spoke at his memorial yesterday. I felt honored that I was able to speak about my friend. And I was humbled that the group who came to say goodbye listened to what I had to say.

Ian and I became friends in 1991 when he and I, along with two other friends moved into a flat in the Richmond. We lived together in a mostly imperfect harmony for about 5 years. We called ourselves The Bubble Family. It was at that flat where we learned to live together, how to be adults, and how to navigate our new lives in a new city.  Getting to know our new city, and each other, we used to drive to a part of The City we had never been to, park, and then walk around until we couldn’t remember how to get back to his car. We would walk around seemingly aimlessly, getting to know each other, searching for his car. We’d finally find the car, and on our drive home, swear we’d never do that again, and then do it all over again a few days later. I always suspected he knew where we were the whole time and it was me who was the lost one, and Ohmagosh, he had the scariest car. It didn't have a 2nd gear; San Francisco hills, no second gear.

My friend was the most kind-hearted and an unabashedly genuine force. My children loved him. I feel so blessed that he was a presence in their lives.  My little ones loved when he would come to our home to babysit. With Ian, my kids knew they would be allowed to stay up as late as they wanted, eat whatever they wanted, and play video games and watch movies together. I was completely at ease with this, because also with Ian, I knew my kids would be safe, warm, and happy. 

Ian infuriated me just as much as he made me love him and come to think of him as one of my closest friends. He held opinions like no other. Sometimes he would make up an opinion on the spot to argue, just to stay sharp; it wouldn’t matter if he believed it or not.  To that end, Ian and I had a lot of conversations, discussions, arguments, disagreements.  Most of the time these discussions and arguments had to do with Star Trek, comic books, and other nerdy stuff we enjoyed. Sometimes they were of more substance; books we’d read, local news stories, moral concepts.  

One of the things we often talked and argued about was God.  We held a number of opposing viewpoints on the subject. Does He exist? Does He have a purpose? What was that purpose? Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes and Who is this God Person Anyway?   (yes, I stole from Douglas Adams there)

But through it all, and despite the disagreements, I always believed Ian was a man of great faith; a kind of faith that science would approve of.  He knew (if I may steal from and paraphrase Richard Feynman) that there are two piles in life, a large pile of unknown and a much smaller pile of known. As life’s mysteries are solved, questions answered, we take from the unknown pile and add it to the known pile. Just as people before us chipped away at that big pile, and just as we ourselves chip away at it today, long after we’ve left earth, that pile of unknown will continue to shrink, someone else will continue the work. We don’t and won’t know everything, but Ian had faith that people would still keep searching. He had faith that this unraveling of facts before us would be continued after his departure. He had faith that that pile would continue to shrink. 

Ian loved Science Fiction and Fantasy. Perhaps he loved it because it is the praxis of this faith, a faith that in spite of the negative things we see around us, there is always someone trying to make things better, there is always something to aspire to. There is always hope for a future that was better than what we have today. 

I will miss Ian. I missed him yesterday. After the memorial we went to our friend's house, ate some food, told some stories, and I'm told, after I left, sang some karaoke. I wish he could have been there He would have really like that. 

Lychees - A True Yet Pointless Story

I saw this article yesterday that there are now seedless lychees. I would like to give them a try. I have a feeling though, that they are going to be just as yummy as a seedless watermelon, in that they will still be good, but something will be missing. Although the seeds do get in the way, they seem to encourage the production of better flavor within the fruit, a necessary evil perhaps.

Anyhooozle, when I think of Lychees I think of this woman I used to work with many moons ago at a company that specialized in selling 6' tall wooden giraffes and had a wall of sample sized foreign snacks. She grew up in China. She said she and her brother would pick bags and bags full of lychees and then their mom would throw them in the freezer and they would have lychees all year round. She had lychees every day. Lychees eaten plain. Frozen lychees. Lychees fresh from the tree. Lychees thawed out. Lychee in bread. Lychee in stir fry. Lychee in dessert. Lychee sherbet. Lychee jello (now *that* sounds really freaking refreshing). OOOH! Lychee Agua Fresca sounds delicious.

If given the opportunity to taste a seedless lychee, I totally would. Until that time comes, however, I will stick to the regular kind with little to no complaint.

My Friend's Potatoes

There are plenty of foods I don't like. (I'm looking at you, Dolmas) That said, I'm pretty adventurous when it comes to eating and will try most anything. I may not like what I'm tasting, but I'm willing to give new things a try. There's a lot of food out there. I'll never get to taste all, so when something new is offered, I'm usually game. I'm a big fan of trying foreign candy and cookies. Today I tried a Matcha Kit Kat from Japan. It was yucky, but I tried it, without hesitation. Now I know that I'm not fond of Matcha Kit Kat and I will politely pass next time it comes around. Another time I tried wasabi Kit Kat. It was foul as well, but still, I tried it.
There was a time, however when my eating habits took a rather snooty turn and I would only eat homemade, nothing from a mix or a box, nothing unnatural, nothing conventional, only organic, and I would try to convince everyone to eat like me, but I admit, in a kind of condescending way. That got old.
Looking back, I could tell my family had it "up to here" with my pinkies-out self. I liken my behavior to how people who follow Paleo, Keto or GFV diets, or Atheists and Cross-fit enthusiasts who always work their eating habits, beliefs and physical activities into every single conversation, even before asked, usually within the first 5 minutes. (I admit, I could count myself among these folks in days past. For that, I apologize.)
Once I was able recognize the eye-rolling I was receiving, and once my pocketbook started taking a hit, I relaxed my pinky and started eating and grocery shopping like a normal person.  I still love my fancy food made with expensive ingredients, but I've mellowed out a bit. Don't get me wrong, I'll eat a brick of fancy pate with overpriced crackers and tiny pickles any day of the week, but I have come to enjoy and appreciate food for what it is, nutrition for my body, enjoyment for my palate and most importantly, the opportunity to sit with a group of people and share a meal with them. I've expanded my palate too, and much to my happiness and betterment. While I draw the line at hot pockets, I make cake from a box, use frozen fruit, serve my kids pop-tarts, buy Costco catering platters, use pasta sauce from a jar and serve it with frozen ravioli and let my kids eat Maruchan Instant Lunch and chicken nuggets. Sometimes I even go to Walgreens to buy a 4 pack of Sutter Home Cab. Needless to say, my eating habits and my view of food has evolved into something everyone can enjoy not hearing about.

That said, I tried something new on Christmas and it was so delicious, I had to make it at home. Captain Awesome and I joined a few friends at another friend's house to celebrate and share a meal. While we all contributed to the delicious menu (brussels sprouts, fancy cheese, sparkling wine, etc.), there was one clear star of the show -- The Potatoes.

They were super simple, really. Red potatoes chopped up into 2-bite pieces, tossed with olive oil and a packet of Instant Ranch Powder, thrown in the oven until someone says "I think I smell something" or "Weren't we making potatoes?" Take them out of the oven and set on the stove to cool.
Serve and enjoy.

I thought the potatoes were so yummy I bought the ingredients to make it this week. I chopped up my potatoes into bite sized pieces, tossed with some Instant Ranch Powder and olive oil. I realized my ratio of Instant Ranch and Olive Oil Slurry to bite-sized potato pieces seemed to be on the overly-seasoned side, so I quartered some mushrooms and tossed them in. Once the slurry to vegetable ratio looked good to me, I threw them on a cookie sheet and in the oven at 400F and let them roast for an hour, taking a moment about 1/2 way through to give them a good turn.

I served it with some tomato soup (my kids LOVE tomato soup, and if I make it from scratch, I can ensure it has lots of veggies in it, because I can't get them to eat veggies save for salad most of the time, so I serve it a few times a week). I also made some really yummy chicken legs, marinated in a slurry (sure, let's keep using that word) of olive oil, garlic, tomato paste, oregano, cumin, lime juice, and threw them in the oven for about 30 minutes.

Oh my gosh, they were so good.

But wait, there's more.

The next day I had about a serving of potatoes left over. I took that, plus the meat from the leftover chicken legs and tossed in a pan until it was all hot and yummy, then fried an egg to put on top, and let the yolk get all oozy over the potatoes. So super yummy.

A quick search of "ranch dressing potatoes" comes up with a whole host of Ranch dressing themed recipes. In my 19 second search for the perfect recipe, I found this one. You should try it.