LoriLoo

Budapest by Night

October 18, 2011

Travel

When I landed, I wanted more than anything else to do the one thing you shouldn’t do when trying to ward off jet lag: sleep. Just a short nap. It wouldn’t do me any harm, right? As much as I wanted to sleep, I knew that if I did, I would be paying for it dearly for the next week. So I walked. I walked down one of the main streets, across the bridge, and back along the waterway. Budapest is beautiful by night.

Castle view from the bridge

The banks of Buda from the bridge

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Grounded

October 10, 2011

Tales of San Francisco
- Wake up at 5:30 am. Check.
- Sign waiver and safety form. Check.
- Drive to launch site. Check.
- Watch balloons get blown up with flames and super strong fans. Check.
- Prepare to climb into basket. Check.
This is where we deviate from the pre-flight checklist. As we were preparing to climb into the basket, walkie talkies were brought to mouths, words were exchanged, and announcements were made. There would be no flying today. The weather patterns had shifted and conditions were no longer favorable.

I looked at my friend. Really? This wasn’t what we planned. I had won an evening at a Napa Valley spa and hotel coupled with a hot air balloon ride for two at a charity auction last year. We had been looking forward to our day in the sky. Instead, we were grounded.
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Preparing to Fly

October 10, 2011

Uncategorized

Blowing up the balloons.

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Indian Dinner in Two Parts

October 9, 2011

Tales of San Francisco

Part One
1994. I was newly married and my husband was a consultant at a Big Four consulting firm. One evening, he came home and told me he had invited his team over for dinner at our house the following Monday. Knowing they were all from out-of-town, I was excited to cook them a homemade meal. Until. Until my husband said, “I told them you’d make them a homemade Indian dinner.” I had my back to him when he said that. I slowly turned around. “You told them what?” “I told them you’d make them a homemade Indian dinner.” “Why on earth would you ever say such a thing? I’ve never cooked Indian food in my life.” “But you’re such a good cook, and I bought you that spice set with the cookbook. I’m sure you’ll pull it together.”

I fretted. I don’t take entertaining lightly. I have my own version of America’s test kitchen. He assured me that he’d help me grocery shop, prep, etc., and we’d be fine. I reluctantly agreed. The weekend came and we had multiple social events. Several times I mentioned we needed to get to the grocery store and he assured me we still had time. Up until we arrived home on Sunday evening at 11 pm. He was confident I could whip something up, no problem. I appreciated his confidence in me, but…

He left for work on Monday as I was still getting ready. I knew what I had to do. I flipped through the yellow pages, found the best ad for an Indian restaurant, and jotted down the phone number. On my lunch hour I called and placed a massive order. I picked up two boxes of food on my way home from work and emptied the contents into pots on the stove. I threw away all the take out containers and set the table. He arrived home. “I knew you’d pull something together, honey.” His team said they had never had Indian food before, never realized how delicious it was, and wondered if I would teach their wives how to cook. Why, of course I would.

Part Two
2011. A colleague from Room to Read invited me and three other women to her house to cook a homemade Indian meal, since we had all traveled/lived in India. She encouraged us to bring our favorite Indian cookbooks. The plan was to grocery shop then cook an amazing meal together. When I received the invitation, I was excited, mainly for the social aspect of the evening. Hanging out, cooking a meal with four women I admire. Before leaving the house, I scanned the cookbooks on my bookshelf. To my surprise, I had a small, paperback, picture-less Indian cookbook. I wondered where it came from and remembered my ex-husband giving it to me years ago, and me never using it. How had it survived six moves in the past 17 years and not been purged?

I threw it in my bag and headed to my friend’s house. We retired to the backyard, glasses of Chardonnay in hand, surveying cookbooks and deciding what to make. Surprisingly, my small picture-less cookbook had some great recipes. We chose several and started the process. A couple of hours later, we sat down to an amazing dinner. I finally had made my delicious, homemade Indian dinner.

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Easy Rider, on the Bike

October 4, 2011

Tales of San Francisco

This weekend I spent my mornings, from 6:30 am until noon, learning to ride a motorcycle. Why might I do this, you might ask? Since I’ve moved to San Francisco, I’ve seen many people scooting around on Vespas. I always think, “They look cute. That’s a great way to get around.” So when a friend invited me to take a motorcycle safety course, I jumped at the opportunity.

I approached Saturday morning with a bit of trepidation. I pictured myself on a Harley, a hunk of metal that would crush me if I fell over. Luckily, that wasn’t the case. The first exercise, however, didn’t go so well. I followed the instructor’s directions literally, intent on every word, every instruction. After a few minutes, he walked over to me. “Lori. You’re supposed to be sitting on your motorcycle, not standing over it. How are you going to ride like that?” I looked around. Everyone else had somehow understood they should be sitting. I sat.

We started a drill where we were to slowly advance across the parking lot. Each time I attempted to move forward, my motorcycle, a tiny Kawasaki (that most likely would not crush me), shut off. Well, it shut off because I let out the clutch too quickly. I took a few deep breaths and reassured myself that I could do this. I could. Right?

I could and I did. By the end of day two I was weaving in and out of cones (and not knocking them over), taking corners, and making u-turns. The instructor’s consistent advice to me? Speed up. I told him that I drive the speed limit when I drive a car. He dubbed me Driving Miss Daisy for the remainder of the class.

At the end of the class came the moment for evaluation. If we passed, we wouldn’t have to take the driving portion of the motorcycle license test at the DMV. I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. As I prepared to complete the first portion of the test, u-turns and swerves, I tried to psyche myself up by thinking, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” I thought for a few moments and then an answer came to me. “I could confuse the clutch and the throttle, rev the engine when I mean to brake, enter a turn, and flip the bike and go flying off.” I sat with that thought a moment and decided that wasn’t the best course of action. I completed the test, albeit slowly, and waited for the results.

Our instructor, LA, called us over to him one by one. I waited for my name. As I sat down beside him, he asked me how I was doing. I looked at him and attempted a smile. “You’re fine! You passed!” I was both relieved and surprised. I do not have the skills to take a motorcycle out in public. But maybe with a little more practice…

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Easy Riders

September 29, 2011

Tales of San Francisco

Vespas hold a certain intrigue for me. They convey an image. Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Hipsters zipping around town, more often than not stylish women in stilettos. And it’s kind of practical. I live in a city where a parking space costs a third of your monthly rent. Scooters, just park that baby anywhere.

My desire to ride a scooter contradicts my desire to be safe. I don’t ride fast down hills on my bike for fear of crashing. I drive the speed limit. My snowboarding pace could more aptly be described as sauntering, rather than shredding.

A friend mentioned she wanted to take a motorcycle safety class. Aha! If I learned more about motorcycles, then maybe I wouldn’t fear riding on them. Or scooters. We signed up.

The first part of the course was a five-hour (yes, FIVE!) evening paperwork course. Picture this: we are grouped in groups of four, given study guides, and the evening commences, a potpourri of finding answers on our own, discussion with group members, videos, and whole-group discussion. We first have to name our group. We stare at each other. We eventually introduce ourselves. We stare at our booklets. The four of us couldn’t have been more incongruous. My friend Danielle and I, mature professional women. Viva and Joseph, two something-teen year old college students who could have easily been extras in The Fast and the Furious. Somehow we came up with the name Easy Riders. Class commences.

As class progresses, we make our way through the different sections of the manual: types of motorcycles, preparing to ride, street strategies. As discussion ensues, both Danielle and I furiously take notes, writing in margins and highlighting with multiple colors of highlighters. We star; we underline; we mark. We listen; we ask questions; we volunteer. About halfway through the course, Joseph looks at us and dryly comments, “Man, you guys must be good students.”

We glance at their booklets. Neither he nor Viva have written anything. Good students? Or are we simply neurotic?

We pass the written test at the end of the class. All four of us. Next step – the driving portion. Five hours on Saturday morning and five hours on Sunday morning. We can do this.

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Mary Lou

September 22, 2011

Tales of San Francisco

Those of you who know me well know that I love a musical. That I often break out into song, creating the musical of my own life. Picture this. An evening at the Castro Theatre, the most wonderful place to watch a picture show in San Francisco. And a foreign musical, subtitles and all.

We watch Miriam and her son, Meir, dusting the shelves and dancing to the music of Svika Pick in the opening scene. Then Miriam leaves. And Meir fabricates fantastical stories to explain why his mother has left him, and where she is. Over and over again. And eventually he ends up performing as a drag queen, in Tel Aviv, in multitudes of sequins. It’s a heartbreaking, and heartwarming, movie. Well worth the 2 1/2 hours in the theater.

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Snippets of a Great Weekend

September 21, 2011

Travel
I don’t know that I’ve ever indulged in such a treat – surrounding myself with 21 amazing women and not having an agenda, except to get to know each other, relax, and offer support to each other. Here are a few of my favorite moments from the weekend:
- Looking at the schedule for the weekend and noticing each day had “afternoon down time.” Scheduled just perfectly to double as nap time. Coincidence? I think not. Brilliant, organizers, brilliant.
- Having a roommate that I love. The fun of styling each other’s hair, giving advice on outfits, and giggling before falling asleep at night.
- Waking up to sunshine streaming through glass doors, meandering poolside still in my pajamas and a silky bathrobe, and savoring fresh lavender scones and ginger tea. While talking to someone who does roller derby. Roller Derby! Smitten, I say, simply smitten.
- Returning to our room and discovering tiny presents laid on our pillows, each with a simple message: grow; aspire; learn; dream. Little gifts were sprinkled throughout the weekend, which made for many delightful surprises.
- Discovering truths each woman held true. One of my favorites: Love your butt, because it’s always got your back.
- Being photobombed in the most delightful way. This embodies the spirit of Helen Jane!
- Falling asleep to a fire burning in your bedroom (contained, that is). Magical.
- Listening to stories from moms. Adoption can be a beautiful, and heartbreaking, process. Birthing has its moments as well.
- Sitting at a picnic table, at the top of a vineyard, the sun shining through the canopies of ancient oak trees, listening to this group of amazing women share the five things they’re going to tackle in the upcoming year. Grateful for support of newly found friends.
Here are some other attendees’ takes on the weekend:
- Victoria
- Sarah
- Helen Jane
- Pam
- Stacy
Thanks, Maggie and Laura, for creating such a beautiful event.
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Grouper and Piped Mashed Potatoes

September 20, 2011

Food

At The Girl and the Fig in Sonoma

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Radishes and Anchovy Butter

September 20, 2011

Food

Surprisingly delicious! At The Girl and The Fig in Sonoma.

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