July 4, 2009

Happy Independence Day, america.  Yesterday, we went to temple and my grandparents hired a new servant.  Both should be discussed.

We are Daoist…but also kind of Buddhist.  I asked my grandmother if she learned what we pray to as a child, and she laughed, “Who learns these things?”  So, I really don’t know who knows, and if I were more adept at reading Chinese, I could probably look up the names of deities written beneathe each figure, but I only know maybe one out of every three characters, if that, so it’s a bit impossible.  In high school, I did a group project about Daoism, but reading about the traditions in English is very different from doing things.  The customs are also so engrained culturally that it can vary from region to region and family to family because it’s how you lead your life, not a separate “religion compartment” that you open up to find an instructional manual.

My paternal grandmother told me to “make wishes,” but I find prayer a complex undertaking.  English?  Mandarin?  Taiwanese?  Does it matter?  Putting my desires and aspirations into words feels false, for these thoughts, not typically verbalized, are ill-fitted to my stilted prose.  So, too, are my aspirations prosaic.  If I ask for one “thing” for each member of my immediate familiy, I feel guilty for neglecting my grandparents’ health.  If I rotate through my relatives, who am I to decide what would most benefit each of their lives?  Then, too, if i am judicious in selecting spiritual boons, shouldn’t I concentrate my summoning powers on starving children and war-torn communities?

The whole experience is smoky, from the incense sticks we light to the god money we burn.  You enter from the right-hand door and exit from the left.  The doorways often have raised thresholds, because the gods can float; they don’t need to step over the panel the way we do.  My family takes a rather agnostic approach; my mother laughs a bit at some of the bizarre attributes we ascribe to our deities, but still teaches us the customs because she respects the institution.

Yesterday also saw the advent of a new servant.  JP once made the odd claim that Mongolia is the Mexico of Asia.  Not true.  I think East Asian nations have a relationship with Southeast Asia similar to the US with Mexico.  My grandmother explained to me that, in the early days, Taiwan hired many Filipino laborers.  The problem was that “they liked to go out on weekends, and they didn’t do work on Sundays because they would go to church.”  The labor force thus shifted to the Vietnamese, and I’m not sure if there was any problem with them.  Lee Papa mentioned that Taiwanese men started marrying Vietnamese women, so perhaps households were loathe to exploit “their own.”  At any rate, most workers now come from Indonesia.

Whether motivated by an intent to prevent exploitation or to protect Taiwanese menial laborers, the government passed laws restricting who could hire workers from Southeast Asia.  Households may only do so if someone is elderly or disabled.  Because my grandmother has been having knee troubles, my grandparents have hired a worker to help out around the house.  Two years ago, they had Anda, who was boisterous and claimed girlfriends all over Taiwan.  she ran away with one of them.  Because of the labor laws, they had to wait 6 months; then, the agent brought Lily.  Lily was very delicate and didn’t last very long.  She suffered from depression and went home.  Anda was my age; Lily, a couple years younger.  Yesterday, the agent brought Dina.

The interview with my uncle and his wife ranged from more understandable questions like, “Are you going to run away?” to odd/preposterous pronouncements from the agent, “She only looks dirty because she’s dark.”  the agent didn’t strike me as particularly genuine, sharing details of Dina’s life about which she was quite mistaken.  She tried to assure my family that this would be a good fit, but it became clear that she didn’t know much about Dina.

The entire system is exploitative, but my grandparents do need the help, and they treat their employees with respect and care.  at the same time, I don’t feel comfortable having Dina do things for me, as I’m neither old nor infirm.  I left all my laundry until today to do, so I was about 3/4 done this morning when Dina took over.  (I’m slow.)  It’s the guilt thing again.

She calls my aunt tai-tai (wife, or the Chinese equivalent of Madame), my grandparents Grandma and Grandpa, and me jie-jie (older sister).  Which is cute, but she’s 27, so she’s older than I am.  On the other hand, everyone in my family calls me jie-jie, because my mom’s younger sister is cute and affectionate, and she started calling me that.  So, I guess it’s not really a subservient thing.

My uncle, aunt, and cousin went to Kaoshiung today.  Before he left, my cousin talked to the fish: “I’m leaving now.  You guys be good!”  So cute!

I don’t think I’ve adequately worked through the power structure thing, but I’ll take a break now to share some pictures.

Here’s what a temple looks like.

TempleI didn’t take pictures inside, but I did take pictures of the god money part.

Burning God MoneyThis was the temple we went to with my maternal grandparents.  My dad’s village is in the mountains, and the temple there is set against this backdrop:

Fu HsinIt’s enough to make you feel spiritual, isn’t it?

Should be writing

As always, I turn to blogging when I should be working.  Don’t worry; it’s all to your benefit.  I bring you…more travel tales!  Youki, I’ll do you one better and include pictures when I post to FIT.  I promise.  Onto Day 3:

We had originally planned to go to Rouen on January 3, but rearranged our itinerary and decided to go to the Picasso Museum instead.  (Oh yes, there was quite a bit of itinerary-changing!)  Not so much French this time around.  I think I was too tired/cold when I was writing!

samedi 3 janvier 2009

Tiff needed a hat, so we started at the mall next door.  Auchan opens at 8h30, but the shops don’t open until 10.  Uhh…H&M finally rolled up the gate at 10h07.  Good job, guys.  Off we went…

We wandered around for awhile, searching for the museum.  Because we got off at Châtelet, we passed by Pompidou, so we went in.  There was a HUGE line in the back…for the bathroom.  (That was originally mis-written, and then crossed out.  That’s how tired I was when I wrote this.  I meant the library!)  Right.  We didn’t have museum passes yet, so we browsed a bit and headed out.  Actually, that’s not completely true.  We had just gotten the passes, an adventure in and of itself.  I knew we could go somewhere in Les Halles, possibly at a store?  The information guy [by the way, my handwriting got very sloppy here; I was definitely nodding off as I wrote!] said no, no passes here, but gave us a couple maps.  (Which I used for the rest of the trip, by the way.  Very handy…and slightly ragged by the end!)  I asked at a telephone store.  “Maybe FNCP???”  Turns out, I was close.  FNAC.  It’s a Virgin-like store.

We walked through the free part of Pompidou, then checked out a blindfolded painter in the courtyard.  Across from this glass monstrosity is an ancient cathedral/cloister; the juxtaposition seems so Paris.

Pompidou

Che

Cloitre

I spotted a crêperie en route to the Musée (ok, that’s not hard to do), so I picked up a Nutella one and finished its gooey awesome-ness just as we arrived.  Both the museum and the artwork were pretty cool; in fact, there was a temporary exhibit going on, and when we asked about it at the end, we found out we had been walking through it the whole time.  A contemporary artist had erected huge mirrors and replaced some of the windows with colored panes.  (Other observations previously noted.)

***

[I interrupt myself to note that no, I have not noted my other observations here for the blog.  So, I will delineate my scribbles and perhaps find supporting Internet evidence for some of my favorite pieces...]

  • pic of Diego Giacometti in Musée Picasso
  • Picasso and ace of clubs-why?
  • <<Le Baiser>> 12 janvier 1931
  • <<La Suplicante>> 18 décembre 1937-wardrobe malfunction, missing shoe
  • retrato = portrait (Sp.)
  • I like <<Retrato de Dora Maar>>

Musee Picasso

***

We then met up with Joyce’s friend David underneath a statue of Danton at a Mètro station.  I think we saw a movie about Danton starring Gérard Depardieu in Barnett’s class.  David took us around the Latin Quarter.  We stopped in at a café whose doors, like many French doors, do not swing shut.  You must push them shut.  Later, Tiff and I had Cuban food.  I think I’m bad at picking cocktails–they’re always too sweet.

Latin Quarter

Day Two

As Tiffany mentioned, we stayed at her mom’s friend’s ex-husband’s place right outside of Paris.  So, for future reference, Shu Shu = uncle and Ah Yi = auntie.  For about the first week, I have actual travel journal stories, so I’m just typing out what I wrote in the lovely journal Michelle gave me for Christmas :)

vendredi 2 janvier 2009

Aujourd’hui, nous nous reveillons à 9h45.  Pour le petit-déjeuner, nos hôtes nous offrent du pain, de la confiture des fraises, et 雞肉醬.  [Today, we awoke at 9:45.  For breakfast, our hosts offered us bread, strawberry jam, and "chicken paste."]  The jar wouldn’t open, though, and when I looked at it, I noticed it was <<de grenouilles.>>  That’s not 雞.  That’s 田雞!  (雞=chicken.  田雞=farm chicken=frog!)

Plus important, il neigeait!  [More important, it snowed!]  As we finished eating, the snow stopped falling, and the sun came out.  Before we left, we saw the snow start to melt.

Neige

Nous partons pour le gare.  Aujourd’hui, c’était un voyage plus facile que lequel d’hier, car nous n’avons pas eu nos bagages aujourd’hui.  Nous avons pris le RER C à Champs de Mars pour rendre visite à la  Tour Eiffel.  À midi, la tour était fermée car il faisait trop froid et, comme un officiel nous dit: <<It’s too icy.>>  Tout de même, il y avait un queue long ne bougeant pas.  [We leave for the station.  Today, it was an easier trip than yesterday's, because we didn't have our luggage today.  We took the RER C to Champs de Mars to visit the Eiffel Tower.  At noon, the tower was closed because it was too cold, and, like an official told us, "It's too icy."  All the same, there was a long line, not moving at all.]

Ainsi, nous nous sommes promenées au parc.  Une femme avec hijab nous a approché: <<Do you speak English?>>  Elle voulait de l’argent.  Nous avons pris de photos, de la tour et au mur de paix.  Nous avons marché plus, en passant l’École Militaire, un chocolatier, une libraire, des autres magasins, et beaucoup de cafés.  [And so, we walked around the park.  A woman in hijab approached us: "Do you speak English?"  She wanted money.  We took pictures--of the tower and of the Wall of Peace.  We walked some more, passing the Military School, a chocolatier, a bookstore, more shops, and many cafés.]

Paix

Les immeubles de la rue sont dans un style classique, avec des portes merveilleux.  J’aime bien ces portes.  [The apartment buildings in the street were in a classical style, with marvelous doors.  I really like those doors.]

Immeuble

En retournant à la tour, nous l’avons découverte ouverte, avec des queues tellement longs!  [On returning to the tower, we found it open, with so very long lines!]  There was a pair of girls in front of us around our age from some sort of place with white people that did not speak English, Spanish, or Italian.  They didn’t talk enough for me to figure out what language they were using.  In front of them was an American family; behind us were 3 Midwestern college students, possibly?  (Definitely American, maybe Midwestern.  Sidebar: while in the park, there were 2 little British girls “cantering” around yelling, “Giddy-up!”  Also, many cute little doggies.  Adorable.)

To climb the tower, it costs 3,10 € and many steps.  With the wind blowing, it was quite easy to become short of breath, although the stairs were pretty manageable in height-length ratio.

Gorgeous views of course.  Upon descent, we headed south and walked along Avenue de Suffren, which was mostly residential.  In search of lunch and the métro, we turned onto Motte-Picquet.

Pain au chocolat. Win.  Public telephone.  Lose.  We peered into the booth (3 stuck together in a triangle) and spied no coinslots; only a card slot.  I tried inserting my ATM card, to no avail.

We had to ask the lady at a desk of a hotel for help twice.  The calling card didn’t work.  The guys at a phone shop told us to buy a carte téléphonique at le tabac, which we hadn’t been able to find, but it was INSIDE the café!

Finally, we could call David, but he was on his way to his uncle’s for tea, so we decided to just stick around the area and browse.

Monoprix- amazing!  First floor: clothing, household items, boulanger, pâtisserie.  2nd: grocery store.  Coke is made with sugar, not high fructose corn syrup.

McDonald’s- really popular!?  Many kinds of coffee, breakfast sandwich: bacon & egg sandwich.

We meandered down the street (Commerce), which had many cute shops, at least three Asian buffets, and lights arching over the street.  There was a church at the end.

Eglise

Asian Buffet

We headed back to the métro stop and got home just in time for dinner at 7h30.

*Random observation of the day: Placard on side of l’École Militaire in memory of 743 Jews sent to Auschwitz was rather non-descript.

***

Alright, now for some meta-commentary.  Here are some “dumb American” things on my part: the lady in a hijab?  All the ladies in hijab that I thought were Muslim?  Were probably gypsies.  I never did end up trying the frog paste, even after it was opened (but Tiffany did, so maybe she’ll tell you about it), but I did have snails, ok?

Oh, and David is Joyce’s friend from Princeton who is parisien and was nice enough to show us around (later in the trip).

I’ll post pictures of things at some point.  They have been uploaded to the Internet, but I’m not sure if I want to insert them in blog posts or not.  Anyway, Ashley had greatly recommended Monoprix to me, so I was super excited to check it out (continuously throughout the trip), and since it was across from McDonald’s, we looked at its menu, too.  Also, I believe buffet in the French sense is like “smorgasbord,” or “spread,” rather than “all-you-can-eat.”

I’m visiting Davis this weekend, though, and Allie is lying in bed yelling at me/talking to Sichen, so I should excuse myself.  À bientôt!

The Brooklyn Museum

is very fun. My friend works there and got us in for free on Saturday :) . Stuff I love there includes everything by Gilbert and George, which subset includes stuff like “Life” from the series “Death Hope Life Fear”

Also, I thought “Southern Landscape” by Eldzier Cortor was beautiful:

Happy Election Day y’all!

Well, that was quick

I’m back already (as though this were synchronous communication, like instant messenger…)!  I left a voicemail.  I know, I know.  That’s kind of anticlimactic.  We’ll see how that goes.

Sidenote about anticlimactic:
I went to see BJ Novak perform stand-up at Cobb’s Comedy Club earlier this year.  Because I was sitting on the balcony (great view!), I couldn’t hear everything the people on the floor were saying.  At one point, though, he stopped and said, “What?  That was anticlimactic?  Man, I have the smartest hecklers.  That wasn’t a ‘You suck!’ no…*puts hand on chin* ‘That was anticlimactic.’”  As Joyce would say, hee!

cimg4145

At any rate, this was only intended to be a brief update on the Professorial Phone-Call.  I should really do something productive with the rest of my morning (I have class at 11).  This is the beauty of Daylight Savings Time–or, at least, Fall Back.  (I typically think like the tonal quality of “autumn,” you can’t exactly “autumn back,” can you?)  The first couple days after, you feel rejuvenated, and don’t mind getting up early-ish.

This is nothing like last week, when Joyce woke me up at SEVEN IN THE MORNING (I don’t care if you’re on the East Coast; you should know what time it is in California) to ask me how to play mah-jongg.

Are you a food person?

I’ve mentioned before that my motto in life is…Fattie: It’s not a size, it’s a lifestyle. (Subtext: It’s my lifestyle.) I see fattie-dom as embracing life (and food) with vigor, and I try to lead my life with as much vigor sans physical exertion as possible. (The one exception is that I’m a fast walker.) I love to eat. I’m not a gourmand and I don’t pretend to be a good cook (I’m a much better baker), but I do try to incorporate nice things into my diet and utilize the techniques I observed when I eschewed normal-people TV for three years and only watched Food Network. Nice? Read: fresh produce and potent spices.

Another mobile phone picture I wanted to share involved some not-so-fresh ingredients, though. (Don’t judge!) My former roommate, Christina, had some turkey dogs that were about to expire. Despite my assurances that they put so many nitrates in there it would be difficult for them to actually expire, she was worried (and much more conscious than I), so I agreed to help her use them up while she was busy writing a paper. Luckily, her housemate had some rice leftover from the day before. Let me tell you–slightly old (cooked) rice is spectacular for fried rice! I learned how to fry rice from my mother, although she is usually not in charge of this dish at home. My dad is, because they do share cooking duties, and fried rice is something he can handle. (Especially because Jon wouldn’t let them put anything besides eggs in there–not even green onion–so it was extra simple!)

Ingredients (for this particular iteration; this really is a kitchen sink dish)

  • Refrigerated cooked rice-break it up with a fork or a pair of chopsticks so that there are no clumps; good fresh rice is a little moist, whereas rice that’s prime for frying is a little bit drier
  • Cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
  • Black bean in garlic chili paste
  • Turkey dogs, chopped up
  • Eggs

Protocol

  1. Drizzle some oil in the pan, then scoop about a tablespoon of the black bean paste; push it around a bit so that it’s runnier and less gooey.
  2. Saute the turkey dogs in the black bean paste; remove from pan and set aside.
  3. Scramble eggs in the now-seasoned pan, but leave them slightly wet; remove from pan and set aside.
  4. Add a bit more oil to the pan, then dump in the rice. Use a saute-ing motion with the spatula to make sure every rice kernel get heated up and coated in oil. Add the turkey dogs back in, fry a bit, and put in the eggs and tomatoes. Toss everything together a bit and serve.

I know you want a picture!

This is yet another photo taken with my camera phone.

Now, some explanation.  Usually, fried rice is made with soy sauce, but when there isn’t any available, you need another sodium source, which is why I used the black bean in garlic chili paste.  (There was some soy sauce in there.)  Here is my “usual” recipe, using ingredients I typically have at home.

Ingredients

  • 2-day old rice
  • eggs beaten with a dash of salt
  • chopped onion (and/or other aromatics, such as scallions, garlic, shallots, &c.)
  • protein (cubed ham, turkey dogs, I don’t put tofu in fried rice, but you can!)
  • frozen corn (and/or other veggies)
  • cooking oil (usually vegetable or olive oil)
  • sesame oil
  • soy sauce

Protocol

  1. Heat some oil in a wide-ish pan that’s at least 2 inches high (a wok is ideal)
  2. Throw in the onions; saute until just starting to caramelize (the done-ness is a matter of taste).  If you have meat (chopped deli meat is fine!), you can also cook it now.
  3. Remove the onions; then scramble the eggs in the same oil.  When still slightly moist, remove from pan.
  4. Add more oil to the pan and toss in the rice.  As it starts to fry, drizzle a bit of soy sauce around the edges, then push the rice around.  A splash of sesame oil goes a long way to add delicious aroma, too!  Then, throw in the eggs, onions, and veggies, make sure the veggies are cooked/warmed through, and serve.

I’m baking a cocoa chai cake right now, though, so I’ll just end here.  So.  Delicious.  HAPPY HALLOWEEN!  (Pictures to come.)

Some visuals

I’ve got two types of visuals for y’all.  (a) a screen shot, and (b) two mobile phone pictures.

(a) The last post was number 88.  Pretty cool, right?  This is auspicious in Chinese-speaking communities because the number eight sounds like the word for prosper.  Check it.

(b) This past weekend, I decided to paint my nails, something that doesn’t happen very often.  Since it was Halloween, I thought I should be festive.  Unfortunately, the nail polish combination I chose didn’t turn out as orange as I would have liked.  (I wasn’t going for a bright orange; more like and orange-y amber with jewel overtones.  Or something.)  Clearly, the situation could be improved by glitter.  Clearly, I only have nail polish from years ago.  At any rate, I took pictures of my hand and my nail so that the world at large could appreciate the “childish” glitter, as Michelle pointed out.  I guess it’s a little middle school to have glittery nail polish…but maybe my friends are just as judgmental as I am!  My fine motor skills have not been honed in the area of nail polish, so the first day I paint my nails, the surrounding skin is often dabbed with color, as well.  My nails always look good a day or two later, after the skin has been denuded of polish, but before the nails start chipping.  Et, voila…

So maybe I’m not going to be a hand model.  Also, my nails are kind of short.  Not in the sense that they were recently clipped (though they were), but that well…the nail bed isn’t very…deep?  I’m not sure how to describe it.

And, a close-up.  Picture taken with the Samsung A737 mobile phone camera against a backdrop of…my couch.  For those who care, here is a description of the polish I used (I don’t know specific names, and the bottles aren’t near me right now):

  1. GAP white
  2. dot of Lancome reddish-pinkish, then mixed/spread with
  3. Wet ‘n Wild terra cotta [It's kind of ugly.  It was a present and unfortunately, not very well-suited to me]
  4. Shattered [I don't know if that's a brand; it's silver dot glitter and blue bar glitter--kind of like describing bacterial shapes!  Ha.  I'm such a nerd!]
  5. clear top coat

Campus Renovations

The state of California has no money.  This should come as no surprise to Americans, given the sad state of the economy these days, but we kind of haven’t had money for a long time.  My perspective is that of a student at a public university; I sometimes grow wistful when I hear tell of my friends at private schools and the economic benefits thereof.  But, that is neither here nor there, and I’ve had a great experience at Cal.  Besides, plenty of college students are broke, right?  I did talk to my parents last night about finances.  My mother does not believe this topic to be a matter of public consumption, and I think I agree–with the exception of college, and possibly post-college life.  College students who do have money to spread around tend to be spreading the largesse of their parents (yes, massive generalization), and post-college, there are even fewer people living off their family, leading to a higher incidence of financial straits.  I think.  We’ll see.

At any rate, there are a lot of renovations going on around campus, and I’m not sure where all the money originated to fund these projects.  The stadium, for instance, has already cost an exorbitant sum based on legal fees alone!  I will voice my opinion here briefly, as I keep referencing the controversy obliquely without expounding.  This is a news release from 2005 (my first semester as a Golden Bear) announcing the project plan–boy, did things go awry.  Various groups opposed development; some are just against development in general; others spoke out against the destruction of an oak grove at the project site.  Here’s my take.  The construction is necessary and not uni-purpose (i.e., focused only on the football team).  I’ve seen the field hockey team change at the side of the field, facing the street, because they don’t have their own locker room.  In addition, a famous stop on the tour of Memorial Stadium involves visiting the fault line.  The Hayward Fault Line is the most dangerous in America (I won’t cite any studies on this because I’m running late, but Mik recently told me so, and she is a credible source.  Gold star for anyone who can name the possible logical fallacy in my argument here.), and you can see an actual rift in our bleachers, right under one of the alumni sections.  It would be a tragic way to go.  Second, trees are important, but the trees in question were not…well…polar bears.  They were planted when the stadium was built, so they did not pre-date UC construction.  Furthermore, the proposal indicated that three trees would be planted for every tree cut down.  (Again, my credible source is a friend–an Architecture major.)  Lastly, protests are important; civil disobedience is important.  The caveat, of course, is that causes should be worthwhile.  If there were people willing to go so far as to sit in trees for 21 months, they surely had energy to um…solve world hunger, or cure cancer.  It is my opinion that their passion was wasted on trivia, and they in turn wasted resources the university could have used on ME!  The arguments I’ve presented here have been tossed around ad nauseum by others and are not novel in the least.  I’m simply typing them out here because I should finally explain the past references.

This brings me to my actual purpose.  Another iconic Berkeley monument is undergoing renovation, and this time, I do know where the money originated!  The class of 1950 helped raise funds to give Sather Gate a facelift.  That press release explains many of the reasons why Sather Gate is so special; I should also point out that it is one of the scenes that was actually filmed on our campus in The Graduate, which I have yet to see.  That’s another half-post in itself, though.  I took a couple pictures on the mobile and sent them to my email from my phone (!), which isn’t particularly advanced for anyone else, but is a huge step on my part in embracing technology, ok?

This one is the day before construction began:

And this is the first day of construction (aww…):

Not bad, huh?

Pushing Daisies

I really like this show. Oh, right. Pushing Daisies was a reference to the television program on ABC, not er…death in real life. Ha. The colors and narration of the show remind me of Amélie, which, incidentally, I first saw in theaters with my mother. Let’s digress for a moment and explore how awkward this might have been. The film came out in 2001, so I would have been in eighth or ninth grade. Clearly not old enough to see an R-rated movie by myself (although I still get carded at the movies, at the ripe old age of 20), so I dragged my mother along, too. Lee Mama is nowhere near as inappropriate as I am, and I was pretty subdued in those days, too. Yeah, a tad awkward. BUT. It was probably not as awkward as when my dad and my maternal grandfather went to see Lust, Caution together. We, the Taiwanese people (no…we, examples of the Taiwanese people), are fans of Ang Lee. I can’t imagine that it’s an easy movie to watch with your father-in-law, though.

Back to today. I learned from the awesome Pop Candy that “Pushing Daisies” promoters would be handing out free pie across the country in anticipation of its season premiere in October. Hello. FREE! PIE! Also, “Pushing Daisies,” a show I adore. Here are several more digressions.

  • I love pie. I don’t like apples (that does not make me un-American!), but I love pie enough that I will con someone else into eating the apples, and I will take over the crust of their apple pie.
  • It is my duty as a college student to embrace free food. This is my number one piece of advice to incoming college students. Number two is: shower shoes.
  • The “Pushing Daisies” people made their San Francisco stop at the Ghirardelli Square Chocolate Festival. Brilliant. I’ve been to it once before. NB: Ghirardelli Square is on North Point, the street (accessible by MUNI lines 30 and 47–others, too, I think, but those are the two that I’ve personally taken). When I last went to the Chocolate Festival, at least 4 years ago (don’t worry, I’ve been to the Square many other times!), I confused North Point with North Beach–it was a hilly walk. Anyway, the chocolate festival was spectacular. Gorgeous weather. The Bay has undergone a heat wave, making Pleasanton and even Berkeley unbearably hot, to the point that it ought to be socially acceptable to be naked, but this just means that the San Francisco weather is perfect. The point of this is that a) I like “Pushing Daisies,” b) I love Ghirardelli Square, and c) this was a great combination of the two.

Sights from the excursion:

1. Mobile Pie Hole! The Pie Hole is the cheeky name of the pie bakery in the show. The mobile Pie Hole was parked across from the Square all morning, teasing me with its promises of pie. I forgot to bring my camera today, so I took a picture with my phone. Jon, being awesome, is going to help me transfer the picture from the phone to the computer. I hope.  [Edit: There's this thing...it's called Bluetooth.  Jon got the picture onto the computer for me.  Hurray!]

2. Box. Hm, what? Oh yes. The [free] pie came in a cute little white box with a snazzy “Pushing Daisies” label around it.
3. The pie! It was nestled in lime green tissue paper, as though Chuck (the undead heroine) had placed it in there herself. Note, please, the lattice-top, and cute single-serving (don’t worry, I shared with Lee Mama). I got peach, one of the flavors offered at The Pie Hole. (I’m not sure if they were handing out any other flavors.) It was cute and quite yummy, but I’m sure that if Ned, Chuck, and Olive baked me a pie themselves, it would be even more scrumptious and could, in fact, raise the dead. Ha.

Ok, so that was not the end of the giveaways, but that is the end of my photography, such as it were.  One of the Promo Girls told me they would be handing out different souvenirs throughout the day; I also picked up a Pushing Daisies magnet (the middle is detachable from a frame, so I guess that means I can also make a refrigerator magnet out of my own “Pushing Daisies”-inspired scene) and a little Pushing Daisies spatula.  Spectacular.

Letting Anger Go

I must let go of my anger.  The anger of the previous post, I mean.  I am far from an expert on karma, and don’t presume to be able to solve the world’s problems, but I am trying to put forth some good feelings into our world.

-Please, let me direct your attention to those impacted by Hurricane Gustav.  Be wary of the scam emails, and go directly to websites like The American Red Cross to find out how you can help.

-Here is a picture of adorable polar bears, which, by the way, are listed as a threatened species.

Yes, the above was a bit of a politically charged statement.  Go here to learn more.

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