The weekend before last yet another friend came to stay with me--this time for 5 days. I'm still recovering, which has resulted in a temporary delay of blog posting, among other slacker behaviors such as not watering my failing aloe plant (it requires me to stand on a chair that I carry in from another room, which seems like so much effort at the moment). Since this particular guest wouldn't want to be profiled on any blogs other than those exploring sustainable pig farming or perhaps the art of the meat casserole, I'll keep the recount to highlights only:
- Sharing a moment about the utter splendor of cottage cheese and how unfair it is that it costs so much to add it to your cardboard take-out box at salad bars. As if it makes any sense that red peppers are less expensive just cause they weigh less--seriously. Knowing that he truly understands my struggle with this ongoing situation, I feel less alone on this earth, less lost.
- Eating breakfast at Mission Pie one day before work--that means we had to be up and out of my apartment by 7:30 a.m. which had us feeling quite pleased with ourselves which gave us [read: me] less guilt about eating peach cobbler with whipped cream for breakfast. Anyway, this place rules. It's at 25th and Mission and it's connected to an educational farm (called Pie Ranch) where the pie ingredients come from. They grow wheat for pie crusts and all sorts of berries for filling. They also raise goats for milk, chickens for eggs...and if you're not charmed yet, get this: they keep their own bees for honey! The best part about all of this is that Mission Pies delivers their home-made pies via bicycle throughout the neighborhood. Next time I go to one of Mickey's So You Think You Can Dance gatherings, I'm gonna test out the service. Then if Sabra gets kicked off, I'll have a reason to pull myself out of the fetal position since there's no way I'm going to miss the delivery boy who I imagine will be a wholesome farmer-type sporting a button down gingham shirt and weathered cowboy boots. The image of him riding past the smokers outside of Badlands on a red bicycle with a banana cream pie in the basket is nothing short of heart warming.
- Heading up to Sonoma where we had planned a peaceful stay at "a family-owned hotel in the heart of Wine Country." The hotel promised "gracious rooms, attractive grounds, and attentive service"...and we were ready. But when we rolled in after a long day of wine tasting, we were greeted at the front desk by a scantily clad teenage girl who appeared to have taken several bong hits just minutes before our arrival. She took a break from her cell phone call just long enough to offer us Halloween candy from a cracked plastic bowl. We tore through the individually sized Reece's Peanut Butter Cups and Nestle Crunch bars while said teenager was busy laughing at the drunk, rowdy guests causing a scene from their low rider parked right outside. She finally directed us to our room which looked out on the "attractive grounds" where a host of intoxicated people were making out in the community hot tub as cars whizzed by at mach speeds on the other side of the ivy covered fence. Turns out, it's way more exciting to stay at trashy motels than stuffy B&Bs where you have to pretend you're really interested to hear which highway routes the other guests took to get there. From now on, I'll be pairing my wine with snack-sized Snickers bars...at 3 a.m.
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