Happy Birthday to me

So Friday was my 29th birthday. It's also Bill Clinton's special day. Why the world didn't stop and throw a parade for the two of us, I don't know. I did manage to wrangle 18 or so of my friends to Saha for a birthday feast. Sorry if I didn't invite you, it wasn't intentional, it's just kind of hard for a restaurant to accommodate such large groups.

Saha bills itself as "Arab Fusion" which is about right, what with lamb appearing on the menu as often as tofu or edamame. I chose Saha because they had an extensive menu with meaty dishes (including steak, for those types, seafood, vegetarian and vegan dishes. Anyone can eat there. And everything was quite affordable, especially because of the 30 or so tapas-style small plate dishes. It's also kind of obscure, so it wasn't crowded on a Friday night, which is a good thing in my mind.

Ahh, but the food was an incredible yummy yum. I went prixe fixe; in this case soup of the day, a small plate, and an entree. The soup was carrot-ginger-coconut cream, so it was rich and decadent with a slight spike of spice from the ginger. Next up was the BBQ Mushroom and Tofu small plate, for which I lack the vocabulary to describe its tasty savoryness. My entree was a okra, tofu and quinoa stew. Again, I could never be a food critic because word do no justice to the flavor sensations exploding in my mouth.

Sweet Tar made arrangements for Maggie Mudd to deliver one of their legendary vegan ice cream cakes. Candles were lit, that song was sung, the crowd chanted "speech! speech! speech!" and when I stood up to thank everyone, they yelled "boring!" Half the cake was my favorite, the subtle and delectable lychee-coconut. The other half was Tarmac, a concoction of chocolate, peanut butter and oreo chunks (right?). People were shocked and baffled by the vegan-ry of the cake, because it was so yummy.

Jem showed up with her cousin Pete, which was a pleasant surprise because she went to the Liz Phair show earlier, and you know what happens at rock and roll shows. By the way, Jem's band, Jean Marie, is the best. Please go to all their shows. Or at least listen to their songs on mySpace.

After dinner we walked to the Edinburgh Castle, to occupy the front room. We rolled dice, people bought me shots, Smith showed up, Ryan B. drank too much Jaeger. It was a gay old time. All in all, it was one of my better birthdays. Thanks everyone.

The next day I made a run for the hot sunshine of Ukiah, leaving the cold cold fog of San Francisco behind. Even though he never said actually said it, Mark Twain was on to something when he didn't say the thing about the coldest winter was a summer in San Francisco.

Ukiah is so hot and nice right now. In the evening the coastal breezes roll over the western hills and gently push the hot air around. I've been wearing flip flops and shorts for three days straight now. My toesies are so happy.

On Saturday night I went to a Lu'au fundraiser for the Grace Hudson Museum in Ukiah. Grace Hudson live in Mendocino County around the turn of the century and she documented the native Pomo Indians with beautiful oil paintings. I've lived in Ukiah most of my life, and have been to the museum a few times, but I guess I mature enough or something now to appreciate both the aesthetic and anthropological value of her work.

The Lu'au was kind of junky. It should be said that I have attended many a fine Lu'au this summer, but this one a had a typical catering menu but with Hawaiian music playing in the background and mai-tai's served in plastic cups. And for a fundraiser, it seem liked the 100 or so people in attendance were either on the museum board of directors or already volunteered.

Highlights of evening included an older dude who grew up in Hawaii giving a talk about the slack key guitar music of the islands and it's connection to country western music and the steel pedal slide guitar. I was totally into that, especially when he supplemented his talk by playing some tunes.

After the lu'au, I drove around Ukiah for a bit, hoping to see someone I know wandering the streets or something. I drove by the Forest Club, my old haunt, in the hopes that an old bro of mine might be smoking out front. I should have just gone in, but it's been a long time since I hung out in Ukiah and I just don't know too many people around here. The Forest is kind of rough sometimes too; I've never walked in there alone. It isn't always the most inviting place.

The cops were out in full force, which is pretty typical, but kind of shocking when one is used to the laissez-faire approach the SFPD takes. I was followed twice for tens of blocks by patrol cars. After running up on my bumper for several blocks, a patrol car darted into the next lane and pulled up next to me. I am not a kid anymore and I wasn't doing anything wrong, so I gave the cop a "what the fuck do you want?" look as I am tax paying, speed limit driving citizen. Once he decided I was cool, he dropped a block back and left alone.

I saw two patrol cars parked and surveilling the entrance to the Forest Club, yet another reason to not go in there. Perhaps there's a Fatwa out on the Forest Club and the Ukiah PD was protecting it. It's not like the Ukiah Valley is a police state, but those effing guys get bored and have nothing better to do than to harass those that are out on a Saturday night.

Sunday I had brunch with my family. My dad got bummed when he found out the sausage was vegan. I collected my loot. I did pretty good this year. Tar took me to Chico to see Alfalfa, bought me two shirts, a Dears CD and this killer box set of 80's underground music. Becky and Ian gave me a gift certificate to Millenium and my family gave me a bunch of photography gear including a nice Bogen tripod.

The city of Ukiah sponsors concerts in the park every other Sunday in the Summer time. It's prolly a lot like the Stearn Grove concerts in the City, but without the fog and the Arctic Zephyr wind. So I totally went. There were several thousand people there and I was terrified of running into people I used to know and not remembering their names.

I did run into a few whose names I could never forget, like my old friend Scarb. Scarb showed me his new motorcycle, which was pretty sick, and his two year old boy, Waylon. Waylon had a mohawk. It kind of made me want to have kids, so my boy could have a mohawk and grow up hanging out with Scarb's kids.

I had a several awkward conversations, mostly with old friends that now have kids. It kind of made me crazy and I had to leave. As the sun set, I took the long way back to Hopland, along the scenic East Side Road which winds through pear orchards and grape vines. I almost kept going straight on through to San Francisco, but I decided to stick around for another day.

I spent Monday hanging out a Freedom Skate Shop with Justin and Scarb. It's a good way to spend the day. Freedom recently expanded, so now the skate shop and the neighboring Freedom Girls occupies the whole building. I had sushi with homeowner Scarb and he tried to talk me into buying a house. While that maybe possible in Mendocino County, it's impossible in the absurd Bay Area real estate market, so it took us a while to understand where the other one was coming from.

I could write more, but I should cut it off here. Thanks.

The O-A-K

Last night Tar and I went to the "Least Bay" to see Jean Marie play at Mama Buzz Cafe (23rd and Telegraph) in Oakland. You all should see Jean Marie. Jem and Jasmyn play precious, delicate lullabies that are meant to sooth you to sleep. In fact they are playing tonight at Amnesia Bar in SF.

Jem has a real intimate whispering style of singing. I've said this before, but it's easy to imagine I am sitting cross legged on the floor of her bedroom, while she sits on her bed and tells me all of her secrets. Jasmyn is self taught on drums, so she often throws in refreshing, unconvential rhythms and patterns instead of banging away at 4/4.

After the show, we tried to go to a DIY shop next door called Rock Paper Scissors. Alas they were closed, but we could see people milling about inside. We were about to leave when a happy, friendly crew of people walked passed us and went in. One of them held the door open and asked if we "were getting onion facials?" We responded with confused looks on our faces.

Then the very friendly proprieter invited us in to look around, but told us the cash register was closed. Inside the smell of cooking onions teased our olfactory sensors while we looked at tons of cute and creative hand made, locally produced clothing, jewelry, zines, music, and assorted trinkets. It was pretty rad and inspiring, and the people were warm and inviting.

It seems like East Bay has more of this kind of thing going on. Over the bridge, you get the sense that people are just doing things because they can't help it. It's not a conspiracy to party and get laid like it is in San Francisco. Please, please prove me wrong tho.

Rounding out our East Bay adventure, Tar and I went to Golden Lotus (13th and Franklin) for some yummy dinner. Golden Lotus must be the sister restaurant to Golden Era in San Francisco. They have nearly identical menus and the food is so yummy good. Get the Vegetable Combination Soup, it is truly magical. There tons of mushrooms, cauliflowers, carrots, tofu, and veggie ham in a clear Vietnamese style broth. I could eat it everyday all day.

It's nice evenings like these that make me think I could really enjoy living in the East Bay. Sure, it's not San Francisco, but there's lots of good restaurants, the weather is always warmer, a fella's rent money goes a little bit further, there's all sorts of creativity going off there and life seems to be a bit more mellow and relaxed.

I took a picture of the sun setting in front of Mama Buzz. You can see it at my photoblog. Thanks.

Chico! Wooo-ooooo!

So Tar instant messaged me on Friday afternoon, told me to pack an overnight bag for hot weather, and to be ready to go Saturday morning. She decided we should get out of town to celebrate my birthday, which is this coming Friday, the 19th. I kind of ruined all the fun by making her tell me where we were going, so I could plan the trip according. I am kind of a logistics monster, and I can't help myself.

You see, last Christmas she adopted a goat at Farm Sanctuary on my behalf. Farm Sanctuary rescues animals from factory farms, nurses them back to health, and gives them a nice farm to while out the rest of their days without fear of becoming dinner. They have two farms, one in upstate New York, the other in Orland in California's Sacramento Valley.

The Orland farm is over 300 acres, nestled in the rolling hills of the valley wall near a small mesa, with creek cutting across the cow pasture. It's roughly three and half hours away from San Francisco. That means it's peaceful and rural and idyllic and I could live out there. I've been there a few times now, for their annual "Feed the Turkeys" vegan Thanksgiving dinner. There's an impressive quietude there. It sounds corny, but a fella could really start feeling like one with nature and it's cycles in a place like that.


A cow homey

That's all to say, I really like it out there, so a trip to Farm was a great birthday present. And I got to relive my college days in nearby Chico.

We rolled out of the Bay Area early Saturday morning, like 8 AM. Traffic was light, which is good because Californians do not know how to drive. I've been trying a new thing, what with gas prices so high. I lock the cruise control in at the speed limit. It's really bizzare to have 85% of the traffic going a much faster than I am, but there's less drama and congestion. I don't know, maybe I am getting old... maybe I've had a few too many close calls... maybe I think because in the past 5 years I've driven about 100,000 miles, including two times across the US that my time is up... it's just not safe to speed.

There's something going on in our culture. That's the understatement of the decade, but anyway, just about every car commercial emphasizes power, performance, and Fun FUn FUN. Led Zeppelin soundtracks cars powersliding across wet pavement or blasting through the Utah desert. NASCAR is second only to the NFL in popularity. Most drivers seem to see the freeway as some sort of Indy race that you win by passing close, strategically changing lanes, letting the other guy know he's going to slow by tailgating. The California roads are really dangerous; however I can assure that vast stretches of our great land are asshole free.

We got to the Farm midday, and it was effing gee dee hot. We took a quick tour. In some ways, being there on a random Saturday was better than the crowded Thanksgiving event because the tour guide was able to tell is some of the stories behind the animals. There were less animals out tho, because they were all trying to avoid the blazing hot rock in the sky. I've been a vegan for four years now, so I've heard a lot of the horror stories, seen the movies, and it's always a bummer to hear how cruel us humans can be. But... It's incredibly uplifting to see how happy these animals are now. The cows lie in the sun, the pigs splash around in the pond, a kitty cat naps with the bunny rabbits...Have you ever had a turkey, or any other bird, walk up to you and request a pet like a kitty?


A piggy homey avoiding the sun, smiling from a belly rub


Tar pets a turkey

I met my bro Alfalfa. I may have mentioned that it was really hot, so the goats were keeping it pretty mellow. Alfalfa liked the extra attention, and he seems like the kind of dude I could have as a pet. Goats are great, although we were told they are quite mischevious.


Alfalfa, my special goat homey


A boy and his goat

After broing off with Alfalfa, Tar and I headed to Chico, in search of a motel that was near downtown and had a pool. Chico doesn't really have quality lodging, unless you want to stay on the extreme north or south sides of the college town, and the rooms book up fast. Motel #1 was booked up. #2 only had a smoking room #3 was booked, so we settled for the slightly seedy Thunderbird Lodge. To Ukiah types this name evokes the seediest of all motor lodges out on south South State Street past the airport, where people don't stay so much as they live there, selling drugs or fixing their cars on the motel lawn. To Chico-ans, the Thunderbird is a curious oddity on the edge of downtown; nobody knows anybody that has stayed there and there's just something weird about the place. I am pretty sure they are ownded by the same people, but none of the employees could verify that. Both the Chico and Ukiah Thunderbirds are trad, like they were built in the 1950's, and neither has been renovated since then, I'd wager.

Our room was quiet, mostly because of the cinder block walls. The wall paper was pealing, the bathroom tile linoleum need to be replaced, random screws in the walls suggested that art had once adorned them. The door had been kicked in at one point. But the TV was brand new. And there was a pool.

First, we decided to go on a bike ride to earn our dip in the pool. We were smart and brought our bikes to enjoy Chico's flat landscape. We rode through the empty Chico State campus and I showed Tar all the highlights like the creek running through campus and my old dorm room. Then we rode over to Bidwell Park, which is the nations 2nd largest municipal park (Central Park in NYC is #1). In all the years I lived in Chico, I never once went on a bike ride in Bidwell. I effed up. Bidwell is rad. In fact, a casual afternoon bike ride through Bidwell alone is worth the three hour drive to Chico.

Tired and sweaty, we changed into our swim gear for a dip in the pool. The beer cans and cigarrettes in the poolside ash tray were not encouraging. I dipped my legs in, when Tar saw a used band aid stuck to an inflatable pool toy that was floating by. We skipped the swim and went to dinner instead.

After some yummy pizza, we started our evening out with $3 teas at Panama's. The giant glasses start with shots of vodka, gin, rum, and triple sec like a Long Island Ice Tea but Panama's has a menu with 30 different variations on that theme. Tar and I each had two and we were feeling pretty good walking out of there.

Next stop was Normal Street Bar. I used to live across the street from Normal St. and they were always good to me. It had some punk on the jukebox and the crowd was just swordy enough to be bearable. And they served the "Poor Boy Special" which was a shot of Mad Dog 20/20 fortified wine and a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon for $1.25. I promised Joe I would get a Poor Boy Special on his behalf. Tar and I walked in and it was unreal. It was like every jock, frat boy and meat head in a 250 mile radius crammed into the bar. There was some intense Godsmack/Staind type jock rock farting very loudly from the jukebox. We were totally the oldest people in there, and we're not that old. We stayed long enough to use the bathroom.

Dejected, we walked to Duffy's, a Chico favorite. Duffy's Tavern is like many an Irish pub that you might find in the Inner Richmond, but it's also been a refuge for people like me to escape the people like those at Normal St. The crowd was a bit older. I felt comfortable there, but it was just kind of boring, so we made one more attempt at bar hopping. We went next door to Mr. Lucky's. This place opened up after I left Chico, but I had some great times there cutting a rug with Smith, Fritch, Trevor, Joe, etc. during our many trips up to Chico in the early 2k's. Tonight however, a handful of ugly chicks swayed on the dance floor while a suspiciously underage looking couple made out in the corner. That shit was D-E-D ded, so we called it a night.

Chico was fun, but it made me feel very old. I'd like to go there with posse of homies with bikes so we can go for a nice ride and not feel so old.

I left out a bunch of stuff like the fact that we rode our bikes downtown that night, or the 1965 Mustang that Tar almost bought on the spot, or the good food we ate at Grilla Bites, or the English Bulldog boxers I bought. All in all tho, I had a great trip and Tar is the best for sneaking me out of town.