artykins

So I've come to a few conclusions about different things the last couple days. I've had time to sit and ponder as I listen to the sounds of the Amazonian rainforest come forth from Matt's giant Stonehenge speakers. I find the rhythm of rain soothing. And funnily enough I find it thought-provoking as well.

We'll start with the most recent.

1) Eating things with eyes still attached is murder most foul:

I wanted to make crab sandwiches for dinner tomorrow night since Uncle Arnie and Jeremy are coming over. Matt agreed to it. Thing is, we never agreed to terms.

You see, when I said I wanted to make crab sandwiches, I figured I'd go the market, find a tin or two of the stuff and be done with it. At the worst, I'd have to approach the fish counter and look for pre-packaged, pre-cooked crab meat. At the very worst, I'd have to settle for that stuff that masquerades as crab meat, but really is something unrecognizable and made from things you've never heard of, let alone pronounce without seeming like a four-year-old trying to make sense of a Charles Dickens novel.

Funnily enough, I happen to think that a four-year-old would make sense of William Faulkner's writing, but that's a story for another time.

I digress.

So we're at the market. We don't find the tinned crab (which isn't surprising since our Safeway sucks major eggs) and we're reduced to finding the fishmonger person.

Please note here that the fishmonger person didn't speak English very well.

The pre-packed crab meat is astronomically priced. The imitation crab is cheap. And for a reason. We opt to forego the vacuum-packed chunks tainted with a color you're never see in any natural thing you'd put in your mouth to eat.

This leaves us with either King Crab legs, (whose size makes me shudder to think of every running into a whole specimen in the wild. Seriously, those things must be massive...) or whole Dungeonness crabs.

Fishmonger Man tells us that the King Crab is on sale, so we buy two pounds, only to get to the checkout register to find that they're really not. So back goes Matt to Fishmonger Man to get two Dungeoness crabs and return the King Crab legs. Turns out, returns are done at the front with customer service, so off we went to exchange the monster parts for the little beasties.

It was an ordeal.

It was made even more an ordeal when I found out the crabs still had eyes.

But home again, home again we came! And onto the stove went two pots of water, one plain for our little beasties and one full of lemons cut in half in an attempt to absorb/diminish/destroy any smells that would make me feel like a friendly port to the sailors.

I couldn't bring myself to put the crabs into the boiling water, so Matt did it. I merely took them out after they had cooked and put their rigid little lifeless bodies onto a tray to cool down. Having never had a whole crab in my presence while at home before, I was morbidly fascinated by them and I must admit that I spent a moment or two poking and prodding at them with my trusty pair of tongs.

But it wasn't to last. The slaughter was near.

Matt prepared to shell the beasties, which I secretly named Chop and Block, and I took refuge in the bathroom with a shower to escape the sounds of their demise.

So long story short, I've come to the conclusion that eating things with the eyes still attached is murder most foul and should be frowned upon.

Next time I see those lobsters in a tank, I'm smashing the glass and setting them free. Of course, I could always be like Niles: get drunk, smash the lobster tank, scream for their freedom and then weep uncontrollably when I fail to revive the little plastic diver with CPR.

2) Northern California is becoming Southern California:

There's a whole lot of hoopla going on about global warming. I'm not a person that believes it isn't happening. I actually do believe the world is getting warmer, but I also think it's a natural part of the cycle. Have we learned nothing from history, people? We had 'ice ages,' but there would have to be periods of warming as well. So cool your jets, kids.

Southern California has distinctive weather. It gets warm and then stays balmy throughout the evening.

Northern California, especially the Bay Area, also has distinctive weather. It's foggy in the mornings, it burns off in the afternoon and then about 7ish or so in the evening, the fog rolls back in and the cycle repeats.

Well, we still largely maintain our weather pattern here in the Bay Area, but this summer, more so than in previous ones, I've noticed that when we have our heat waves, they're a lot more like the heat waves in Southern California.

The heat has lingered this year. Instead of one or two days of intense heat, we've had four or five intense days. The evenings are balmy. The smell is the same as Southern California.

I got up this morning and it felt and smelled exactly like it would if I was in Anaheim and going about my business there. It's the weirdest sensation to be going to work, but feel like you should be getting ready to stand in line at the gates to Disneyland.

That said, with the trends I've noticed, I think patterns are shifting north. It's my fervent hope, though, that that delightful layer of visible air (known as the smog of Los Angeles) won't follow.

3) Living out of a cooler sucks, but can be fun:

As many of you know, Matt and I have been having trouble with our fridge as of late. Simply put, it's not working. And it should be working. It needs to be working. Damn it, I want it to work!

Despite the hazards and trials of living out of a 64-gallon ice chest/cooler, it hasn't been as bad as it can be. It's like going camping, except without the bugs, smells or dirt.

So while I certainly don't want to continue on without a working fridge, I'm making do with a cooler full of about 30 pounds of ice and some essential foods.

4) Sleep is underrated:

Sleeping is phenomenal. I don't know why people don't do it more often.

I mean, those Spaniards have it right. Work hard in the morning, have lunch, take a nap and work hard again until dinner. I should really assert my right as a Spaniard to sleep more!

And with that said, I'm going to do just that.

Later Days,
Arty