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    <title>transmogrification</title>
    
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    <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-375716</id>
    <updated>2008-05-24T08:42:42-07:00</updated>
    <subtitle>a search for adventure in the familiar</subtitle>
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        <title>The Best Laid Plans...</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-50350410</id>
        <published>2008-05-24T08:42:42-07:00</published>
        <updated>2008-05-24T08:42:42-07:00</updated>
        <summary>Our erratic weather has a way of interfering with life. All week I have been looking forward to spending my Saturday in the garden up on Piedmont Avenue. It needs a lot of work -- namely someone going nuts at...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Jennifer</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Life in Oakland" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Our erratic weather has a way of interfering with life. All week I have been looking forward to spending my Saturday in the garden up on Piedmont Avenue. It needs a lot of work -- namely someone going nuts at it with a pick-axe. I just woke up to the terrible and wonderful sound of rain. I like nothing more than staying in bed too late with the sound of rain hitting roof ringing in my ears, but it is hardly productive. I am trying to think positive: if it clears up today, my pick-axing will be so much easier tomorrow. Nothing like a good rain to soften up the dirt. </p>

<p>At least it is still May 24, which means tax free day at our local Ikea. I do not make a habit of supporting that god-forsaken place, but I really need a dresser and I am really in love with <a href="http://www.ikea.com/PIAimages/74472_PE191624_S4.jpg">this one</a>. Today might be the day. </p>

<p>Anyhow, I am going to wait about, work on my too slow going translating project, and enjoy this grey day for what it is. </p></div>
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    <feedburner:origLink>http://transmogrification.typepad.com/blog/2008/05/the-best-laid-p.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Anniversary</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-49724798</id>
        <published>2008-05-12T01:18:00-07:00</published>
        <updated>2008-05-12T01:18:00-07:00</updated>
        <summary>May 10 marked our 3 year anniversary. It is so strange to think of how much/little time has gone by. The Doc gave me beautiful roses and a gift certificate to buy that bike helmet I have been whining about...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Jennifer</name>
        </author>
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>May 10 marked our 3 year anniversary. It is so strange to think of how much/little time has gone by. </p>

<p>The Doc gave me beautiful roses and a gift certificate to buy that bike helmet I have been whining about needing for over a year. He is too perfect. I took him out to a fancy dinner that made both of our tummies too full and sick. It was well worth it though. I tried to take pictures of my roses but my digital camera is so sad and old that they didn't come out at all. </p>

<p>I am so lucky to share my little apartment and life with this lovely man who always knows exactly what I want and need. I cannot wait until his semester is over so we can spend time together again on not so special occasions.</p></div>
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    <entry>
        <title>Christmas-time is Here</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-43209804</id>
        <published>2007-12-24T12:15:00-08:00</published>
        <updated>2007-12-24T12:15:00-08:00</updated>
        <summary>My family isn't much into gift-giving. My parents bought us gifts when we were children, and I even went and bought my parents gifts when I was a child. Once my brother and I got to be of an age...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Jennifer</name>
        </author>
        
        
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&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;My family isn't much into gift-giving. My parents bought us gifts when we were children, and I even went and bought my parents gifts when I was a child. Once my brother and I got to be of an age where we had our own money, the gifts stopped. We decorate the tree together and make cookies together a couple of days before Christmas. My mom invites 40 family members and friends over for Christmas Eve, and on Christmas morning just the five of us (Mom, Dad, Brother, The Doc and I)&amp;nbsp; eat cinnamon rolls together. This year because my parents have been up in the mountains remodeling a couple of houses for months, everything is more low key. They brought an umbrella tree in from the garden and put white lights on it, and they canceled the shindig in favor of a smaller dinner. We will still have breakfast together tomorrow, and we will most certainly eat cinnamon rolls. It doesn't feel much like Christmas, though. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The Doc's family loves gift giving. I had never before experienced the kind of mad rush to buy hundreds of dollars worth of gifts until last year.&amp;nbsp; I was out of the country for our first Christmas together, and therefore I was exempt. I will admit that it was somewhat exhilarating to buy all of those gifts, but at the end of it all I mostly was just swearing up and down that I would never do it again. I spent months dreading another Christmas like that. The Doc's parents announced in November that it might be a good idea if we all just drew one name and bought one gift, since The Good Doctor is back in school, as is his sister-in-law, and I work in a non-profit, so I am poor -- oh yeah, and his parents want to buy a new couch, so they can't afford it either. I was stoked, and I think everyone was relieved. The Doc finished his last final on Friday. We had not gotten around to any Christmas stuff. He works on Saturday. We did no Christmas stuff on Saturday.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;That left us Sunday and Monday morning (today). I woke him up at ten on Sunday. He whined and complained, but eventually got out of bed. We walked down the street to the fabulous farmers market. I bought root vegetables, a butternut squash and a bottle of apple cider. We came home and made pancakes. Then we figured we ought to go buy our two gifts. The biggest problem we had was parking. It took us between 5-10 minutes to park at both of the stores we went to. Then we went in, picked out the gifts, and got out without much of a wait in line in either case. It was fabulous. We then stopped by my parents house to pick up a few things. I really wanted to pick up some of my mom's cookie cutters, but of course I forgot them.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;That brings us to today's project -- Christmas cookies. I forgot to charge my camera battery, so you wont get details on this project. I am making Great-Grandma's sugar cookies. The Doc is making chocolate chips according to the tollhouse recipe. I have made my cookie dough, but I am waiting for The Doc to get back with the bounty he went to fetch at the grocery store. Since I forgot the cookie cutters, I asked if he could look for some at the store to add to my paltry collection at the house here. This Christmas it seems we will have cookies in the following shapes: Bell, Ghost, Dog Bone, Martini Glass and Dove. The bell and the dove seem pretty in sync with the season. The ghost -- well I am going to call it the Ghost of Christmas past, if anyone asks. The martini glass... well, if we had actually stressed out shopping, it would make more sense. The dog bone? Oh heck, I don't know. I will paint it red and green and it will make a lot of sense. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I hope The Doc gets home soon, I need to get baking.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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    <entry>
        <title>The Gold House</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-33024954</id>
        <published>2007-04-17T17:29:51-07:00</published>
        <updated>2007-04-17T17:29:51-07:00</updated>
        <summary>Several weeks ago Elaine came to visit us. I set out to take her to Mitchell's Ice Cream. Incidentally, this is among the best ice cream in the Bay Area. On with the story though: I do not have a...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Jennifer</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Life in Oakland" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Ohh Laughter" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>
Several weeks ago Elaine came to visit us. I set out to take her to <a href="http://www.mitchellsicecream.com/">Mitchell's Ice Cream</a>. Incidentally, this is among the best ice cream in the Bay Area. On with the story though: I do not have a very good sense of direction. We walked the wrong way for a long time. We eventually came upon this absolutely gorgeous building on Guerrero. The building is finished with gold details -- this only adds to how stunning it is. Elaine asked "Do you think that is gold leaf or just gold paint?" I said, "I really don't know" and joked that she should ask Tim-Tim/Mapquest -- the love of my life, my personal tour-guide, and bearer of an impressive wealth of "dad-knowledge". We eventually got going the right way, we ate our ice cream and life was good.
</p><p>
Fast forward to this weekend.
</p><p>
My mother spilled a can of coke on her keyboard. She charged me with the task of replacing it. I found a brand new mac keyboard and mouse on <a href="http://www.craigslist.org">Craigslist</a>. Considering that I only wanted the keyboard, the price was a little high -- but I figured there is nothing wrong with keeping an extra mouse around. Also, I am of the opinion that I would rather buy something that already exists in the real world...than go to a store and buy something that would encourage more production of that thing.
</p><p>
I was nearly talked out of buying the <a href="http://www.craigslist.org" target="_blank">Craigslist</a> keyboard -- but general disdain for visiting shopping malls combined with feelings of guilt about calling to cancel 10 minutes before I was scheduled to pick up the keyboard urged me onwards.
</p><p>
Tim and I set out last night to buy that keyboard. As we approached the address Tim suggested that perhaps we would end up at The Gold House. We did. I was delighted. Tim marveled once again at my strange Hunter S. Thompson luck. 
</p><p>
I told the keyboard seller of our obsession with the building she lived in. Tim called Elaine to say, "the answer to your question is: It is gold leaf." Elaine paused to consider what that might mean, and burst out laughing and asking "How did you find out?" My new acquaintance told me that this house was spared by the 1906 earthquake and resulting fires. She also said that the current owner takes great pride in the building and replaces the gold leaf annually.
</p><p>
Today I was trying to find a picture of the house on the internet... for the purpose of this journal entry. I discovered something interesting. The house has a <a href="http://wikimapia.org/707715/">little more historical significance</a> than being merely the object of my fancy.
</p></div>
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    <entry>
        <title>The Tastes and Textures of Mother Earth</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-14030574</id>
        <published>2006-11-10T09:11:59-08:00</published>
        <updated>2006-11-10T09:11:59-08:00</updated>
        <summary>Last Thursday Nathan and I had to cancel our dinner arrangements -- which was a bummer, but probably for the best. We both had stuff going on -- tests and grandmothers at every turn. We rescheduled them for yesterday. I...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Jennifer</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Eateries" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Life in Oakland" />
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://transmogrification.typepad.com/blog/">
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Last Thursday Nathan and I had to cancel our dinner arrangements -- which was a bummer, but probably for the best. We both had stuff going on -- tests and grandmothers at every turn. We rescheduled them for yesterday.
</p>

<p>
<img border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2154/2123584523_033ddd6b45.jpg" alt="463446261_4f7edbdcd8" />
</p>

<p>
I took BART to the 24th and Mission stop. I think the last time I exited there was like... at least two years ago (hey, don’t hate... I was gone for a whole year in the middle of that). I had forgotten that it has the most enormous set of stairs I have ever seen. Well maybe not ever, but a tall set of stairs. I took the escalator up one side while Nathan took the stairs down the other. Eventually, we managed to meet up. From there we walked towards Mission and Sycamore -- in search of some fabled darned good sushi.
</p>

<p>
On the way, we ran in to a very pink clown named "Pinkie" who apparently loves all the children in "an appropriate way". Sometimes I wish I could Tivo real life -- I am not really into the idea of Tivo-ing TV -- but real life, now that would be useful. I love walking through the Mission. All the Spanish makes me feel so homesick, but in a happy way. Finally we arrived at <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/iiGFimKjsvM29pKsVbx6Qg">Country Station Sushi</a>.
</p>

<p>
Knowing me, the name of this place will come to be "Mother Earth Sushi" as that phrase is written on the Menu a million times, and I prefer not to use the real names of restaurants. It gives my life a lot more mystery. For example -- the Chinese place I call "The Pink Place" (mentioned yesterday) has a real name. When The Good Doctor went looking for Hot and Sour Soup to freeze and cart all the way to Chile he looked for a place called "The Pink Place" -- when really he needed to be looking for a pink building. Don’t you see how this is fun? And yes -- he did bring me my Hot and Sour soup because he is amazing.
</p>

<p>
So, to tell you about Mother Earth Sushi -- I love it. The spot is a total hole in the wall, with perfect dive aesthetics. And then they bring you the food. MY GOODNESS. I had the best vegetarian gyoza of my life -- they were filled with leeks and pine nuts and eggplant and all sorts of goodness. Honestly, I could eat only that for a week and be happy. The miso was also very good. Then came the fish -- we ordered Hamachi Maki, Seared Tuna (Tataki) and A Tornado Roll (their delicious version of Avocado &amp; Eel). Everything was great. The tataki disapointed me a little, but only because it wasn’t what I was expecting. Every time I have ordered tataki anywhere else it comes in a little dish with some delicious sauce and all that. This was just some nigiri style sushi. It was good, but it wasn’t what I was hoping for.
</p>

<p>
We had a nice relaxed paced dinner -- taking time to eat, and chat about all sorts of things. We got on the topic of languages again. He studied Japanese for a while, and I am studying Mandarin Chinese. Consensus: They are both very difficult languages.
</p>

<p>
Then it was time to go -- Nathan walked me back to BART, we said good-bye. I went down on to the platform and waited for my train. A Spanish speaking mother was having a difficult time keeping her three adorable (but very active) children out of trouble while still keeping an eye on the baby in a stroller. The littlest girl decided she ought to lie in the middle of the stairs. I shot an amused smile at the mother, and she returned an exasperated, but equally amused look back. I heard her tell the little boy they were waiting for a Richmond train. I mustered up the talking to stranger courage -- and tapped her on the shoulder.
</p>

<p>
"Señora, a esta altura de la noche, no hay trenes para Richmond."
<br />"¿O si?"
<br />"Si, tiene que tomar el tren para Pittsburg"
<br />"¿Puedo tomar éste?" (indicates a Dublin Train)
<br />"Ah -- Si, pero tiene que cambiar trenes."
<br />"Bueno. Gracias." (she runs on train)
</p>

<p>
Then we were approaching Lake Merrit, and she was making no move to transfer. I got up and walked across the train.
</p>

<p>
"Señora, tiene que cambiar trenes aquí."
<br />"O! Gracias! Donde voy?"
<br />"Al otro lado del anden."
<br />"¿Como?"
<br />"Camina para allí"
<br />"¿allí?"
<br />"Si. Allí"
</p>

<p>
So all was well, and I even did a nice thing for someone.
</p>

<p>
Then I got home, and it was cold. The Good Doctor picked me up from BART -- his car already toasty warm for my benefit. I love that boy. After recounting our favorite children’s books to one another, we ended up passing out sprawled on the bed at different angles. At 1:45 in the morning, we both woke up and set things right.
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