Saturday Night Dinner and a Movie in San Diego

Woody Allen - what makes him funny? I find him annoying. And yet last night I sat in a dark movie theater, ten dollars lighter, and the gentleman behind me started laughing the minute Woody Allen appeared. He wasn't funny. There was no reason to be laughing at this stage of the movie Scoop. Maybe since I am not an avid Woody fan, there were allusions to jokes from previous movies? I don't know, but found myself being angry at this guy behind me. It was like he wanted us to laugh with him because it was a Woody Allen film - not because it was funny. The movie Scoop wasn't that bad. Woody annoyed me, but overall the movie was harmless. It is one that I wouldn't recommend to friends, but one that I wouldn't denounce either. Hugh Jackman is gorgeous, if somewhat unmotivated. The entire plot is unbelievable and the actors do a decent job if you get over the fact that they have no motivation.

Leaving the movie Scoop with my two friends, who were raving about it we decided to head out to Hillcrest for dinner. Unbeknownst to us it was Gay Pride weekend. The first inkling that we had left conservative Republican San Diego was the near naked man walking along the sidewalk. We had taken a back road route to get into Hillcrest; so I thought that maybe this was a singular incident. Hillcrest is known as a gay neighborhood, but is not known for being outrageously so. It is also known as having some amazing restaurants so onward we drove. Once in the heart of town it became clear that "near-naked man" was not going to be a unique sight. Also every restaurant and store was showing their rainbow colors with flags and balloons. Michele was talking intently with her mom. Heather and I were trying to decide whether we were up for this intense people watching experience. I decided against dinner in Hillcrest in the desire to not be on the nightly news with three women. Cowardly - perhaps.

Michele was still on the phone. Lisa is planning her wedding so there is much to discuss, and since I was driving, I decided to head to a neighborhood that I was more demographically comfortable with, La Jolla. I gave Heather the choice of Mexican or Moroccan. Heather decided to be adventurous; so off to Marrakesh we headed.

We followed the belly dancer into the plush darkened interior of the restaurant. The restaurant was relatively empty. Heather and I chose the bolstered sofa. Michele sat on a chair exposed to the possible antics of the belly dancer. Saturday night is a fixed prix dinner with 5-6 courses. This was Heather and Michele's first time eating Moroccan. The hand washing and towel napkins set the mood for a different dining experience. I ordered vegetarian, while Michele and Heather ordered lamb and chicken for the main course. The tomato soup was refreshing and the bread amazing. Then came my favorite item the salad made of cucumber, carrots and eggplant. It was delicious. Next came a savory dish. Mine was rice fried into a cake covered with cinnamon and sugar. Michele and Heather had a fried cake filled with chicken and decorated with a cinnamon camel also covered in sugar. The main meal consisted of couscous and vegetables for me and couscous and meat for everybody else. By this time the belly dancer had appeared and the restaurant started to fill with patrons. The table next to us was filled with two couples. I would guess that the men were Egyptian or at least middle-Eastern. They danced with the belly dancer. I was now stuffed and having drunk over eight glasses of water with lemon was in need of a restroom. Sadly - the restaurant was having plumbing problems; so had to cross the street to Sammy's to use the facilities. Upon returning there was a yummy mint tea and baklava.

It was a fun women's weekend. I would have had better stories had I stayed in Hillcrest, but think I had more fun in La Jolla.

Completely Clueless Pampered Chef Participant

I am not known as a domestic diva. I hadn't boiled water in over three years until last week since I am now subletting in a place that has a real kitchen. So what in the world am I doing in my friend Michele's living room holding a 3 month old baby in my lap, listening to Kristy speak glowingly about kitchen products that I didn't even know existed? And why is Kristy asking for my kitchen stories? I don't cook. I am scared of my gas cooktop that is in this condo. I buy bags of vegetables and pop them in the microwave to cook, I buy bags of rice to cook in the microwave, I do take-out, I am not your ideal pampered chef patron. I don't need a pizza stone. And yet I manage to dole out $80.00.

What am I getting when at my real house I don't have a kitchen? I am getting an avocado peeler, some chip bag closey things, two knives, a measuring spoon, and a microwave vegetable steamer. How many of these products will see the light of day? That is the real mystery. And yet there were six grown women at this event and most of them owned all this stuff and actually used it. Am I a defective woman? Did I miss some critical life skill gene? My sister loves to cook. My mom is a food pusher. My dad is even decent at the barbeque, but me - I prefer restaurants. I can't imagine a worse fate than having to throw a dinner party for my friends with me actually cooking. There must be more like me because there is a booming catering business. Besides I am vegan and what I like to eat fits into very few people's idea of what a meal is.

So I go to bed tonight wondering what I will do with my avocado peeler when it shows up in 10 days. I may not ever be invited back to a pampered chef party, but the camaraderie of all these married women who have, or are raising families was amazing. A slice of a different life that I have not chosen for myself.

The Gypsy has Landed

The air mattress is inflated, the cable router is installed, water and soy milk in the fridge, and Puppy, my blue betta fish is in the kitchen - this must be home. Well at least my home for the next two months. I can hear the military ordinance blowing up at Camp Pendleton.
I have landed in Oceanside. It sounds like a glamorous town, but is in fact a bit rougher. It is a weird collage of the really old living in the mobile home parks, the young defiant Marines, and the slightly seedy criminal element all combined uncomfortably in this town. I am subletting a condominium. It has some features that are truly domestic compared to my beach bungalow. I have a washer/dryer, and I have a full gas stove and oven. I boiled water for the first time in three years last night and have done at least four loads of laundry. I'm not quite a domestic diva and have been somewhat spoiled with fluff and fold service from the dry cleaners, and cooking has never been my thing. This is my first gas stove and I see myself going up in one big whoosh of flame or at least getting my hair on fire. There seems something inherently unsafe about an open flame. My first word as a baby was "hot" - coincidence - I think not.

Now that I have a place to login, I will perahps be more apt to blog about my new town and experiences. And why is it that you have to fight for a parking space in your own condiminium complex? How many cars do these people own?