I hate easyJet. Hate. Little beads of hate. Hate droplets. HATE.
1. If you have a 24-hr cancellation policy, have a 24-hr way to do it.
2. If you're going to sell tickets to Americans, have a phone number they are able to dial.
3. HATE.
We'll see if I can get the number to work when their call centRE opens. At midnight, my time. In the meantime, "your international call cannot be completed as dialed."
(YES, I looked up the proper codes!)
(HATE!)
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in...
Yay! Girls have hobbies! I signed up for a photography class which started last week. I'm "Learning to Photograph." No, it's not digital, so until I get hold of a scanner you won't be able to see any of my pictures (I say that like people besides Anna read my blog...).
But on Sunday I went on a photography adventure. It was very Berkeley. I got Matt to drive me to the Berkeley marina and I was going to take pictures of the bridge and the bay, but it was kind of hazy. So as we're leaving, we notice a crowd of cars and people milling around the parking lot. That's a crowd of ... all the same car. Parked by color. Yes, we had stumbled upon a meeting of the Berkeley MR2 owners association. Parked by color. With barbeque. We went deep cover (I was wearing my sunglasses) and I managed to take some lovely pictures of identical yellow cars with their skirts up and the long line red cars.
So then we decide to celebrate by going to my favorite restaurant Cesar. But as we're walking there, we notice an event of some sort at Chez Panisse (its next door neighbor) -- the Asian women with ukileles tip us off. Turns out Chez Panisse is hosting a trunk sale of dosa designer clothes to benefit the Edible Schoolyard. And giving away free munchies and free wine to boot! So while I got to see Bobo Berkeley matrons in various states of undress trying on all this designer silk in a cordoned off dining room cum dressing room, Matt stayed entertained with his four glasses of wine. (And I got a lovely purple washed silk slip dress with turquoise pants, sort of Indian inspired.) And I saw Alice Waters! And I took a picture of the Chez Panisse kitchen!
Good day.
But on Sunday I went on a photography adventure. It was very Berkeley. I got Matt to drive me to the Berkeley marina and I was going to take pictures of the bridge and the bay, but it was kind of hazy. So as we're leaving, we notice a crowd of cars and people milling around the parking lot. That's a crowd of ... all the same car. Parked by color. Yes, we had stumbled upon a meeting of the Berkeley MR2 owners association. Parked by color. With barbeque. We went deep cover (I was wearing my sunglasses) and I managed to take some lovely pictures of identical yellow cars with their skirts up and the long line red cars.
So then we decide to celebrate by going to my favorite restaurant Cesar. But as we're walking there, we notice an event of some sort at Chez Panisse (its next door neighbor) -- the Asian women with ukileles tip us off. Turns out Chez Panisse is hosting a trunk sale of dosa designer clothes to benefit the Edible Schoolyard. And giving away free munchies and free wine to boot! So while I got to see Bobo Berkeley matrons in various states of undress trying on all this designer silk in a cordoned off dining room cum dressing room, Matt stayed entertained with his four glasses of wine. (And I got a lovely purple washed silk slip dress with turquoise pants, sort of Indian inspired.) And I saw Alice Waters! And I took a picture of the Chez Panisse kitchen!
Good day.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Crisis averted with mac and cheese
Turns out I was just hungry. You know I get whiny when I'm hungry. :) Yes, I've turned to bourgeois organic mac n' cheese. You know you live in Berkeley when...
Bunny always makes me feel better! 
addendum:
I bet bunny will even make it better that my medieval Latin advisor is rushing off to be the president of a small liberal arts college in massachusetts. Ooh, let's try!
addendum:
I bet bunny will even make it better that my medieval Latin advisor is rushing off to be the president of a small liberal arts college in massachusetts. Ooh, let's try!
Sunday, April 03, 2005
cloves and cranberry vodka
I'm sitting curled up on the couch under a red fuzzy blanket. I'm whining to my boyfriend. It's raining outside and about to get dark. More crisis, following up on my last several postings about my lack personality, uncertainty about my discipline, etc. I inform boyfriend about the phenomenon of the "quarter-life crisis." Boyfriend tries to help. What do I like about academia? I don't know. I don't find it very fulfilling. So don't do it. But what would I do? Whaaaa...
What would I do?
Boyfriend says, put on your shoes. What? says me under red fuzzy blankie. It's cold and wet outside. Put on your shoes. Are we going on a venture? Is it a puddle jump venture? I don't have puddle jumping shoes. Put on shoes. Boyfriend goes off to get ready. I put on extra sweater and thicker jeans, get coat and hat (cold!). Do I need my wallet? He says no.
We get the umbrellas and get in the car. We start driving. First we go to 7-11 - Matt says we need snackies. Cheetos and coke. Back in the car, still driving. Where are we going? Is it far? Can I open the cheetos now? Does the leaving behind of my ID represent my leaving behind of any kind of set identity at this moment of crisis? I've been analyzing literature too long.
Over the highway, towards the Berkeley Marina. The clouds have broken just over the bay and we can see the fading yellow light of the sunset, illuminating the marin hills but the clouds cover the mountain. We park facing the bay.
Boy pulls out pack of cloves and a flask.
Here.
But I've never smoked a cigarette before though - not a whole one. I don't know how to hold it. He offers to split one.
Pause. No... I want my own.
The flask is filled with cranberry vodka from when we went to a concert last fall. We take the cheetos, coke, and cigarettes out of the car and sit on the bench facing the bay, in the rain, under our umbrellas. The sun is hidden; the water is choppy and reflecting light off its peaks. The city lights begin to come to life, buildings dark against the gray sky. The lights of the pier look like they extend right out to the Golden Gate bridge, gray against gray clouds.
We should cut class sometime, he says. Go to the beach.
I've never cut class.
You've never gone out to smoke on the pier before, either.
He has a point.
My lips taste like cheetos, cloves, and cranberry vodka.
What's a girl to do when she hasn't done anything else?
What would I do?
Boyfriend says, put on your shoes. What? says me under red fuzzy blankie. It's cold and wet outside. Put on your shoes. Are we going on a venture? Is it a puddle jump venture? I don't have puddle jumping shoes. Put on shoes. Boyfriend goes off to get ready. I put on extra sweater and thicker jeans, get coat and hat (cold!). Do I need my wallet? He says no.
We get the umbrellas and get in the car. We start driving. First we go to 7-11 - Matt says we need snackies. Cheetos and coke. Back in the car, still driving. Where are we going? Is it far? Can I open the cheetos now? Does the leaving behind of my ID represent my leaving behind of any kind of set identity at this moment of crisis? I've been analyzing literature too long.
Over the highway, towards the Berkeley Marina. The clouds have broken just over the bay and we can see the fading yellow light of the sunset, illuminating the marin hills but the clouds cover the mountain. We park facing the bay.
Boy pulls out pack of cloves and a flask.
Here.
But I've never smoked a cigarette before though - not a whole one. I don't know how to hold it. He offers to split one.
Pause. No... I want my own.
The flask is filled with cranberry vodka from when we went to a concert last fall. We take the cheetos, coke, and cigarettes out of the car and sit on the bench facing the bay, in the rain, under our umbrellas. The sun is hidden; the water is choppy and reflecting light off its peaks. The city lights begin to come to life, buildings dark against the gray sky. The lights of the pier look like they extend right out to the Golden Gate bridge, gray against gray clouds.
We should cut class sometime, he says. Go to the beach.
I've never cut class.
You've never gone out to smoke on the pier before, either.
He has a point.
My lips taste like cheetos, cloves, and cranberry vodka.
What's a girl to do when she hasn't done anything else?
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Friday, March 25, 2005
crisis! and Jesus prefers Chardonnay.
OK.
With my mouth still tasting of sautéed shallots from lunch at Bouchon, I have had a very scary revelation. Perhaps I am still reeling from too much vino – though I don’t think so. So, ok, I was sitting on my futon reading (for the 4th time) Yvain, a French 12th century romance by Chrétien de Troyes. Yvain the knight has gone mad, is running around the forest naked and eating raw game. He runs across a hermit’s house, and the hermit puts out bread and water for Yvain to eat. The text says, approximately: “I don’t think that he had ever tasted bread that was so course or so hard; the flour with which it was made certainly didn’t cost more than 20 sous, because it was more bitter than levain bread” (ll. 2844-48). And I said to Matt, isn’t it funny how different people’s conception of food is now? Whole wheat and other hard grains used to be considered low-class, but now they’re all the rage. White bread with refined flour is out; Acme bakery provides levain bread to all of the fanciest restaurants. And this has just changed in the past 50 years or so. (Not to mention Yvain’s raw meat – carpaccio, sushi, anyone?) And then I got to thinking. And then it hit me.
I want to be a culinary historian. I can study food – the changing attitudes towards food across time; food as a cultural marker. (Has this been done? I don’t know – certainly not more than the Battle of Brunanburgh has been, though, right?) Of course, my first reaction is, “I can’t.” I can’t – I can’t just up and switch disciplines, get new advisors, do “food” seriously, etc. And Matt says I can – I can. (?) I love food. Do I love medieval literature in the same way?
Earlier today during the car ride to Napa, I started wondering what kind of wine Jesus changed the water into at the wedding feast at Cana. I was trying to think what grape varietals are native to the Middle East. It suddenly dawned on me – Jesus probably changed it into white. In all the depictions I think it’s red, but that’s not right. White would resemble the water (especially in the opaque clay jars) and that explains why the wine steward has to taste it to know – he can’t tell by looking (John 2:9). (That, of course, means that the liquid is substantially wine but accidentally resembles water – hellooo Eucharistic connection!)
Was that a premonition? Fuck. Can I change disciplines? [Matt’s a bad person to talk about this; he went from early-modern alchemy in Germany to the Dutch East Indies Company in Indonesia. Not to mention his consulting leanings.]
You know, we’re not going to get jobs anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what I do, does it?
With my mouth still tasting of sautéed shallots from lunch at Bouchon, I have had a very scary revelation. Perhaps I am still reeling from too much vino – though I don’t think so. So, ok, I was sitting on my futon reading (for the 4th time) Yvain, a French 12th century romance by Chrétien de Troyes. Yvain the knight has gone mad, is running around the forest naked and eating raw game. He runs across a hermit’s house, and the hermit puts out bread and water for Yvain to eat. The text says, approximately: “I don’t think that he had ever tasted bread that was so course or so hard; the flour with which it was made certainly didn’t cost more than 20 sous, because it was more bitter than levain bread” (ll. 2844-48). And I said to Matt, isn’t it funny how different people’s conception of food is now? Whole wheat and other hard grains used to be considered low-class, but now they’re all the rage. White bread with refined flour is out; Acme bakery provides levain bread to all of the fanciest restaurants. And this has just changed in the past 50 years or so. (Not to mention Yvain’s raw meat – carpaccio, sushi, anyone?) And then I got to thinking. And then it hit me.
I want to be a culinary historian. I can study food – the changing attitudes towards food across time; food as a cultural marker. (Has this been done? I don’t know – certainly not more than the Battle of Brunanburgh has been, though, right?) Of course, my first reaction is, “I can’t.” I can’t – I can’t just up and switch disciplines, get new advisors, do “food” seriously, etc. And Matt says I can – I can. (?) I love food. Do I love medieval literature in the same way?
Earlier today during the car ride to Napa, I started wondering what kind of wine Jesus changed the water into at the wedding feast at Cana. I was trying to think what grape varietals are native to the Middle East. It suddenly dawned on me – Jesus probably changed it into white. In all the depictions I think it’s red, but that’s not right. White would resemble the water (especially in the opaque clay jars) and that explains why the wine steward has to taste it to know – he can’t tell by looking (John 2:9). (That, of course, means that the liquid is substantially wine but accidentally resembles water – hellooo Eucharistic connection!)
Was that a premonition? Fuck. Can I change disciplines? [Matt’s a bad person to talk about this; he went from early-modern alchemy in Germany to the Dutch East Indies Company in Indonesia. Not to mention his consulting leanings.]
You know, we’re not going to get jobs anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what I do, does it?
yum...ooof.
Today Matt and I went to Napa Valley! Yay!! First we went to the Domaine Carneros winery -- which means we had yummy champagne tastings! and then yummy pinot noir tastings! and then we had lunch reservations at Bouchon, a French bistro-type place which is affiliated with the French Laundry (but cheaper). There we had even more wine, and yummy food. And more wine. And more food. And then we decided not to go to any more wineries.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
kiss me, I'm (now) Irish!
OK, a belated St. Patrick's Day post to be sure, but I wanted to acquire a picture first. In January, I dyed my hair red. Copper red. (It looked HOT! ...until it faded out.) Two weeks ago, upon the threat of my grandmother's 88th birthday gathering, I got my hair redone in more of a strawberry blonde-y red, which astounded all of my relatives. But what was even more of a coup was fooling real live Celticists at the 27th Annual California Celtic Studies Conference the week after.
Me and cousins and Grandma...
Now Sarah doesn't look so out of place!
Grandma cuts it up at 88.
(Restaurant link of the day: I was in charge of catering and the banquet for the conference, which was held at very yummy Cafe de la Paz.)
Me and cousins and Grandma...
Now Sarah doesn't look so out of place!
Grandma cuts it up at 88.
(Restaurant link of the day: I was in charge of catering and the banquet for the conference, which was held at very yummy Cafe de la Paz.)
Monday, March 21, 2005
I think I'm going to find a new personality.
Looking at this month's (April) Vogue makes me wonder why I don't just give it all up and emulate Drew Barrymore (cover, pgs. 308-23) and local Berkeley celebrity Alice Waters (pgs. 374-77). I mean, can't I form my own production company, make fabulous kick-ass girl movies starring my best friends Cameron Diaz and Lucy Liu? Can't I include in my list of dreams writing a short story and making documentaries? Oh, and not to mention fulfill every girl's fantasy by starring in that feminist fairy-tale remake Ever After -- the themes of which are beautifully captured in the Vogue photospread where Drew models gorgeous foofy silk organza gowns (all in shades of pink) in sumptuous fairy-tale tableau shots inspired by Beauty and the Beast (obviously the Cocteau version...)? (Er, not that I ever saw Ever After, because it was waaaay past my princess days ... *cough cough*...!)
Or as for Alice Waters -- can't I single-handedly inaugurate a new national food trend with my four star restaurant, support local farmers and organic produce, pen numerous amazing cookbooks and even publish a children's book (eat your heart out, Madonna!)? Maybe while I'm at it, I can begin to renovate the public school cafeteria system and encourage children to eat good food? In the meantime, I can attend parties and rub shoulders with Arnold and somehow manage to speak with Bill Clinton.
I mean, hell, I managed to make pork chops last night!*
I think Vogue is instilling in the public reader (i.e. me) a real sense of inadequacy. I mean, I get the highbrow ironic allusions in the literary articles. I recognize Cindy Sherman in the Marc Jacobs ad (!). I care about organic produce and Tuscan villas, and I admire the sophistication and design of couture. And yet, I will never, ever, EVER be able to attain even the smallest ounce of any other kind of participation except vicarious in this strange world of Hamptons parties, Hermes scarves, and Chanel. All I can do is occasionally splurge at the makeup counters and buy fake LV and Prada handbags from Senegalese men in Italy.
It only makes it worse that Matt has apparently both attended parties in the Hamptons and danced with Paris Hilton. (for about 8 seconds.)
This is all brought on because it's my Spring Break and and my goal is to read a book a day. (Voicing this to Matt, after hearing me rant about Drew and Alice, he says "maybe that's why you don't have any life experience.") At least the books are about my medieval giants, sex, monsters, marginalia, idol worship, and stuff like that.
~~
*actually, they were pretty good, and involved a sweet onion and dry vermouth cream sauce.
Or as for Alice Waters -- can't I single-handedly inaugurate a new national food trend with my four star restaurant, support local farmers and organic produce, pen numerous amazing cookbooks and even publish a children's book (eat your heart out, Madonna!)? Maybe while I'm at it, I can begin to renovate the public school cafeteria system and encourage children to eat good food? In the meantime, I can attend parties and rub shoulders with Arnold and somehow manage to speak with Bill Clinton.
I mean, hell, I managed to make pork chops last night!*
I think Vogue is instilling in the public reader (i.e. me) a real sense of inadequacy. I mean, I get the highbrow ironic allusions in the literary articles. I recognize Cindy Sherman in the Marc Jacobs ad (!). I care about organic produce and Tuscan villas, and I admire the sophistication and design of couture. And yet, I will never, ever, EVER be able to attain even the smallest ounce of any other kind of participation except vicarious in this strange world of Hamptons parties, Hermes scarves, and Chanel. All I can do is occasionally splurge at the makeup counters and buy fake LV and Prada handbags from Senegalese men in Italy.
It only makes it worse that Matt has apparently both attended parties in the Hamptons and danced with Paris Hilton. (for about 8 seconds.)
This is all brought on because it's my Spring Break and and my goal is to read a book a day. (Voicing this to Matt, after hearing me rant about Drew and Alice, he says "maybe that's why you don't have any life experience.") At least the books are about my medieval giants, sex, monsters, marginalia, idol worship, and stuff like that.
~~
*actually, they were pretty good, and involved a sweet onion and dry vermouth cream sauce.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Animal Sex for Valentine's Day
No kidding.
Now, I can understand the champagne and chocolate -- but a mashed potato bar???
Valentines Sex Tour at the Zoo:
Visit the San Francisco Zoo for an adults-only study on animal reproduction, February 12, 13, 14, and 20, 2005. Tours are at 10AM and 2PM the first 2 days and noon on the 14th and 20th. $55 includes three-hour event, Zoo admission for the entire day, parking, and romantic refreshments including champagne, chocolate, and mashed potato bar. Make your reservation early, go to the calendar of events page on their website.
http://sanfrancisco.about.com/cs/tours/a/sextour.htm
Now, I can understand the champagne and chocolate -- but a mashed potato bar???
Valentines Sex Tour at the Zoo:
Visit the San Francisco Zoo for an adults-only study on animal reproduction, February 12, 13, 14, and 20, 2005. Tours are at 10AM and 2PM the first 2 days and noon on the 14th and 20th. $55 includes three-hour event, Zoo admission for the entire day, parking, and romantic refreshments including champagne, chocolate, and mashed potato bar. Make your reservation early, go to the calendar of events page on their website.
http://sanfrancisco.about.com/cs/tours/a/sextour.htm
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Dear Mom
Hi Mom,
sounds like the gardening class is a ton of fun. Your yard will be the envy of all the cow-keeping neighbors and crazy ladies.
The Thursday before classes started, Matt and I had a dinner party where we made mixed greens salad with goat cheese medallions, mushroom risotto, standing prime rib roast with mustard horseradish crust, and fruit and cheese for dessert. In attendance were: Anne, Juan, Ava, Sam, and Candace. A good time was had by all.
The next day Matt, Candace, and I left for Tahoe to meet up with some lawyer friends of Matt's. Every year they rent a huge cabin in Tahoe to go skiing. We all learned how to snowboard. Candace gave up pretty quickly, but I went the whole day and by the last run I made it down without falling - except intentionally to avoid crashing into people. And that was only twice. Luckily there was a hot tub at the cabin. Two of the group were formerly men, but they looked very nice in their bikinis.
Then classes started, and I bought a new computer, and am taking twice as many classes as the usual grad student schmoe. My favorite class is an undergrad class that I am just sitting it, called Fantasy Film and the Realms of Enchantment. We're tracing fairy tales and film from 1900 +. It is a lot of fun.
I also started yoga, in addition to my pilates class. I go with my friend Karla, but we didn't go this past Thursday because I had a GMB meeting (Graduate Medievalists at Berkeley), which I am in charge of. We are planning for our big conference in April. Also, we get an undergraduate assistant this semester, which I am very excited about, because then I will have less to do.
Randomly, a few days ago, Jason King sent me an email. Do you remember him? He and Jeanine King were friends of ours in elementary school. He saw my friendster page because he was randomly looking up the names of people he used to know. He said in his out-of-the-blue email to me that I might remember him -- that Edward had introduced him to nintendo. I forwarded his email on to edward. He and Jeanine now live in Houston - she manages a restaurant and he is a journalist-aspiring-filmmaker.
Last night matt and I went out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Le Theatre. Only it wasn't as good as usual, and we were a little disappointed.
I'm telling you all this so you can feel like you know your daughter a bit better. And maybe pick out your own Christmas gift for me next year! :)
Love,
Amelia
sounds like the gardening class is a ton of fun. Your yard will be the envy of all the cow-keeping neighbors and crazy ladies.
The Thursday before classes started, Matt and I had a dinner party where we made mixed greens salad with goat cheese medallions, mushroom risotto, standing prime rib roast with mustard horseradish crust, and fruit and cheese for dessert. In attendance were: Anne, Juan, Ava, Sam, and Candace. A good time was had by all.
The next day Matt, Candace, and I left for Tahoe to meet up with some lawyer friends of Matt's. Every year they rent a huge cabin in Tahoe to go skiing. We all learned how to snowboard. Candace gave up pretty quickly, but I went the whole day and by the last run I made it down without falling - except intentionally to avoid crashing into people. And that was only twice. Luckily there was a hot tub at the cabin. Two of the group were formerly men, but they looked very nice in their bikinis.
Then classes started, and I bought a new computer, and am taking twice as many classes as the usual grad student schmoe. My favorite class is an undergrad class that I am just sitting it, called Fantasy Film and the Realms of Enchantment. We're tracing fairy tales and film from 1900 +. It is a lot of fun.
I also started yoga, in addition to my pilates class. I go with my friend Karla, but we didn't go this past Thursday because I had a GMB meeting (Graduate Medievalists at Berkeley), which I am in charge of. We are planning for our big conference in April. Also, we get an undergraduate assistant this semester, which I am very excited about, because then I will have less to do.
Randomly, a few days ago, Jason King sent me an email. Do you remember him? He and Jeanine King were friends of ours in elementary school. He saw my friendster page because he was randomly looking up the names of people he used to know. He said in his out-of-the-blue email to me that I might remember him -- that Edward had introduced him to nintendo. I forwarded his email on to edward. He and Jeanine now live in Houston - she manages a restaurant and he is a journalist-aspiring-filmmaker.
Last night matt and I went out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Le Theatre. Only it wasn't as good as usual, and we were a little disappointed.
I'm telling you all this so you can feel like you know your daughter a bit better. And maybe pick out your own Christmas gift for me next year! :)
Love,
Amelia
Thursday, December 23, 2004
The FUN in dys-FUN-ctional
It's Christmas time. And Christmas time means that, for the one time each year, I head home to Oklahoma. And that one time I head home to Oklahoma, one inevitable thing happens.
The plumbing breaks.
Yes. Three years in a row now (skipping over that year I spent in CA), when I come home to loverly Seminole, OK, the plumbing has backed up. It has happened 1) while I was in the shower (great gobs of blue-y water coming up through the shower drain), 2) before I managed to get a shower (aforementioned blue-y water but without the benefit of clean hair), and 3) while doing MY laundry (blue-y water in the green bathroom; soapy water on the kitchen floor, damp laundry).
Last year we got a hotel room across the street so we could take showers. And pee.
It's two days before Christmas. I am sleeping on a couch because my bedroom no longer contains a bed, the temperature for tonight is -1 F, and I have damp, damp laundry. And let's just say my father is not a "fix-er" kind of person -- when he was informed of the problem as he came in, he muttered something like, "I hate living in this dump" before storming to the bedroom. Upon emerging, he asked me if I'd like to try a Manhattan.
Screw showers -- I'm going to go drown myself in bourbon!
The plumbing breaks.
Yes. Three years in a row now (skipping over that year I spent in CA), when I come home to loverly Seminole, OK, the plumbing has backed up. It has happened 1) while I was in the shower (great gobs of blue-y water coming up through the shower drain), 2) before I managed to get a shower (aforementioned blue-y water but without the benefit of clean hair), and 3) while doing MY laundry (blue-y water in the green bathroom; soapy water on the kitchen floor, damp laundry).
Last year we got a hotel room across the street so we could take showers. And pee.
It's two days before Christmas. I am sleeping on a couch because my bedroom no longer contains a bed, the temperature for tonight is -1 F, and I have damp, damp laundry. And let's just say my father is not a "fix-er" kind of person -- when he was informed of the problem as he came in, he muttered something like, "I hate living in this dump" before storming to the bedroom. Upon emerging, he asked me if I'd like to try a Manhattan.
Screw showers -- I'm going to go drown myself in bourbon!
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