Holy smokes, Batman, who knew that a bag of fifty fresh oysters, wine, and plenty of sunshine would make for a good Sunday? Tomales Bay Oysters can now be knocked off my bucketlist, even if we didn't have the patience to pop the mollusks onto a grill to try BBQing them. Kumamotos, om nom nom. It did make me hunger for the big clams I had in DC though.
And that night, we finally made it to BrewLab! I'm surprised that pillagin' hipster hordes haven't descended en masse on this event since it has so many hashtagged things going for it. When we showed up to this quiet little house, a friendly lass handed us a mason jar (encouraged donation was $10-20, but it's an All-You-Can-Taste-Drink-Gorge, so...), and then we were in the basement/backyard where two different stations were serving seventeen homebrews. Breakfast in Bed (Oatmeal Maple Stout) stood out for smelling exactly like something you'd want to reduce in a saucepan and then drizzle over pancakes. There was also some flowery beer that tasted like summer or something that a talking rabbit would drink in Redwall Abbey.
There were more chest-length beards than you could shake a maraca/caxixi at, and when the sun finally set, the Kwanzaa lights twinkled on. It was one of those sickly sweet summer days that you just want to stick in a box to look at and remember later.
Kimchi time happened again. This time the means of production were not as robust, but we still pumped out thirteen jars of delicious spicy vegetable matter. I was honored with the task of washing all the little verminous critters before we salted and spiced and puree'd away. Another two days and I'll have bubbly tanginess to throw into anything I happen to be cooking.
And speaking of foodiness, I just published my first article on Spoonwiz on Cantonese consumption!
In more exciting news, I finally can stop trolling Craigslist for housing ads! No more insecure sex workers, techies looking for pot, or bros looking for live-in hos!
In June, I'm moving into an awesome co-op right behind the Grand Lake Theatre. It's right by Lake Merritt, a farmer's market, and Great Western Power Company. For the price of a parking space in San Francisco, I'll have a massive room and a separate study of my own to read/write. This doesn't even include common spaces where I plan to spend most of my time: the garden (so excited about herbs!), dining room, humongous living room, and the sunny reading nook.
I would have never found the place without Talia sending it to me and now she's even supplying me with bed, couch, dresser, and the massive desk I picked up off the street and cleaned hobo poop off of so many years ago. The Universe does indeed provide, but it helps to surround yourself with excellent friends.
Out of all the interviews I've done, this was the only one where I walked out and immediately got my hopes up, already planning out all the awesomeness that was going to occur if I got an offer. Somehow the house folk liked me enough too, so it all worked out in the end!
It's an excellent sign that this past Saturday during the farewell/welcome kegger, a friend brought up how chicken and waffles would be delicious, and bam, suddenly my future housemate was whipping up pumpkin waffles on a hot griddle. Excited to get to know all seven of the scrappy crew that'll co-habit the Randch, and hopefully there will be much climbing/brewing/camping!
And as part of the return to the East Bay, it was a great weekend to hit up the ol' Strawberry Canyon firetrail. I love the side trail after the connector that takes you to the tippy tip of the golden fields to where it looks like you could just dive into the sprawl of the East Bay towards San Francisco.
The shortcut to the trailhead still exists and it's certainly more well-defined. I remember the first time I charged into the underbrush, I was a skinny skinny freshman in college, and I certainly had no idea where the path went, but the idea of getting lost in the dark and wandering in the trees wasn't such a bad one. I definitely slipped and rolled down a hill into decomposing leaves, but emerging dirty and sweaty into the lamplight was pretty effin' triumphant. This time around, in broad daylight, it was just a nice escape into trees and foilage, and it was nice to know that somewhere in muscle memory, I still remember all the little winding roads here.
We'll wrap up with a teddy bear who clearly doesn't understand he's the other woman and that although three points of contact are the most stable, third wheels aren't always welcome, even in TeddyBearlandia.
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