bag blog

I recently discovered AndyB’s Morse code ringtone generator. Of course I had to try it. I don’t think it will stay on my phone for too long, but it will be fun for a while.

Recently Karen and I took a day off and visited Union Square in San Francisco. It’s fun to play tourist even when you’re (sort of) local.

We went to Williams-Sonoma, one of our favorite stores in the Square, walked through Macy’s then a lovely dinner at The Cheesecake Factory on their top floor. (Yes, we realize that it is very touristy, but we were playing tourist.)

We’re planning to re-decorate Karen’s side of our home office in “Modern Diva,” so we visited Crate & Barrel where she tried out many of their Chaise Longues
.

After a pilgrimage to the Apple Store, we had had enough.

To finish the day took a drive to Vista Point and admired the Golden Gate Bridge, and then it was time to go home. It was a beautiful day, and we had a lovely time.

It’s springtime, and with springtime come singing birds. They like to start early, and we often wake up to their little morning concerts. We have a couple big trees in our yard, and the wee little birds seem to like them.

However, we have one bird that’s a little bit different: a parrot. It squawks. It clicks. It steals nuts from the squirrels. And people stop and stare at it, all day long. You can’t miss it: it’s big, with green feathers and a red beak.

We don’t know where it came from. Apparently it’s here in our neighborhood on some sort of political asylum visa.

A couple years ago someone made a movie, The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. I ordered it, for research.

I like having a parrot for a neighbor. I’d like it to stay around.

I wonder what you feed a parrot?

Today on the drive to work, my carpool buddy Anna was telling me how her horse trailer had recently had a flat tire. Because this is California, she called the auto club to fix it.

I asked her, “Was that Triple-Neigh?”

She laughed.

It was a low-hanging pun. I couldn’t resist.

Recently Karen and I stopped at our local Flying J in Stockton. An announcement on the P.A. System drew my attention to these special edition Reese’s Peanut Butter and Banana Creme Cups. They commemorate the 30th anniversary of Elvis’s death. I think he’s enjoying them himself, ’cause he ain’t really dead now, is he?

Tonight I made White Bean and Pasta Soup. Karen chose the recipe, which is on Page 60 of The Best of Country Cooking 2003, published by Reiman Publications. I used our Le Creuset Oval French Oven, which is wonderful for this kind of cooking.

It turned out well. Preparation was speedy with minimal chopping. I substituted canned white beans for the dry great northern beans to speed up preparation. There were two mishaps: I accidentally added dried cranberries instead of dried currants so the soup ended up with both, and I completely forgot the Parmesan cheese before serving. Despite that, Karen liked it!

White Bean and Pasta Soup

Michelle Harbour, Lebanon, Tennessee

1-1/2 cups dry great northern beans

3/4 pound Italian sausage links, casings removed

1 large onion, chopped

1 large carrot, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

6 cups chicken broth

3 cups water

2 tablespoons dried currants

1 teaspoon dried basil

1 can (14-1/2 ounces) diced tomatoes, undrained

1 cup uncooked small shell pasta

Grated Parmesan cheese

Place beans in a Dutch oven or soup kettle; add water to cover by 2 in. Bring to a boil; boil for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat; cover and let stand for 1 hour. Drain and rinse beans, discarding liquid.

In the same pan, cook the sausage, onion, carrot and garlic over medium heat until the meat is no longer pink; drain. Add the broth, water, currants, basil and beans. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 1-1/2 to 2 hours or until the beans are tender, stirring occasionally.

Add the tomatoes and pasta; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 15 minutes or until pasta is tender. Serve with Parmesan cheese.

Yield: 12 servings (3 quarts)

This evening Karen and I had a lovely dinner with our friend Denis Rouleau. We met at The Cheesecake Factory on Arden, and after a short wait we were seated. It was a quiet evening at the restaurant (it’s often noisy and crowded), and we engaged in some nice chit-chat while we waited for our food to be served. Denis recently moved back to Québec after living here for nearly 7 years, but is here visiting this week. He told us some funny stories from his road trip odyssey, and it was good to laugh. We also carefully asked him “où est la femme?” which he coyly avoided answering. We encouraged Denis to pursue his wonderful gift with photography, and he told us about all the pictures he’s taken lately. Karen had to leave early, but Denis and I stayed to share gossip about the office and reminisce about former co-workers and where they are now. And of course we grumbled about the future of 4D, and inevitably concluded that it has been a good thing for the both of us. It was a wonderful evening, and reminded me of all the things I like about Denis. Viva L’Denis!

Today I’m doing some cleaning around the house, things you don’t do every day or every week. I think of it as Fall Cleaning. The Alaskan notion of Preparing for Winter is hard to shake; even though the weather is beautiful and the temperature is warm, the days are growing shorter and the nights cooler. I feel the need to pull in closer those things that have spread themselves out over the long Northern California summer, things both mental and physical. So today as I clean, I also scheme on how to apply Fall Cleaning to this web site…

I never had occasion to meet Susan Butcher, but I always admired her for her single-mindedness. She embodied the true spirit of Alaska: she moved to the Interior from Outside to pursue a life of solitude and dedication to her passion — she wanted to win the Iditarod! After eight tries she did, in 1986. Then she went on to win three more times. Karen and I watched her start one year, and she was exactly what you’d expect: a red snowsuit full of energy and all business arranging her dogs. We’ll miss her now that she’s gone, but I expect to hear news of her daughters’ exploits soon enough. Her kind of spirit is too big for one generation.

A week ago Sunday I was getting close to the Carquinez Bridge on my way home to West Sacramento from Palo Alto. It was late and I was tired, but I had $2 cash — enough to cover the toll, or so I thought!

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