My front door key is so bad...

How bad is it?

It's so bad that instead of struggling with it to open the door of my apartment building for sometimes upwards of five minutes (admittedly, I'm bad with keys in general), I am calling myself on the apartment security box, answering my own cell phone, pressing the magic key that opens the door, and letting myself in as if I were my own guest.

I hope this doesn't push me over peak minutes this month! I should try and only come home after 9 pm.

Hither, thither

I have had many piquant observations in the last few weeks or so, many of which I have wanted to share. But an overload at work, management of my disappointment at not getting a fancy shmancy fellowship at SoCal U that would have allowed me to hang out in semi-luxury for a year in one of my favorite departments writing my book (alternate status, while better than outright rejection, still boils down to the same thing), and a series of computer problems, only solved last night, have meant not so much time to post. Hopefully I will have nice pictures and anecdotes from my upcoming globetrotting, which is as follows:
April 29: LA
April 30-May 3: Monterey
May 4-6: LA
May 25-26: Philadelphia
May 27-June 3: Mainz, Hamburg
June 5-8: Monterey
June 9-10: SF

People, I'm tired just typing all this up! The good news is that all this is mostly paid for by various work funds. Of course what this means that I will be busy as hell: I'm doing research; being an external examiner for some honors exams at Distinguished Undergraduate Institution -- and their honorarium, after taxes, will be almost exactly what I ended up owing the Feds this year, so that works out nicely; going to/presenting at a good conference; and working on a book chapter I'm co-authoring with a prominent and courtly European scholar who is the epitomal example of the absent-minded professor, the kind of man who accidentally sets his own blazer on fire by placing his still-lit pipe in the pocket (I didn't witness it, but have infinite faith in the man who claims to have seen it himself). Meanwhile, I am also revising an article, co-writing an introduction, and doing other editorial duties for a special issue of a journal that I'm co-editing with a friend who lives on the other side of the continent. Not to mention shopping for a "black-tie optional" dress for Shapiro's June wedding, sure to be filled with super-styley San Francisco types. All this by June 10! Good thing I'm going to communal meditation tonight -- I think the only way I'm going to make it through the next month and a half and retain even a single shred of sanity will be through deep breathing. Every second of every day. I'm doing it right now...

Easter brunch

for DC ladies who brunch is even more delightful when your hostess decides to wear what are possibly the sexiest boots in the world.

Goin' back to Cali

About a month ago, a colleague of mine asked if I'd be interested in joining a project that he's principal investigator f0r -- he was going to need someone to pick up the slack while he was on paternity leave. "You know, you'd have to go to Monterey once a month between now and August," he said, as if this would in some way be a burden. "Um, sure, I'll do it," was my outwardly calm reply, calm in part because the project itself is not so exciting, but inwardly I believe my response was something like "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" I have all kinds of positive associations with the Monterey area -- for one, it's home to N-ka and L-chik, close friends from the Russian expat circle I used to hang with in Oakland who I have barely gotten to see since I moved away. Just a few miles inland (ok, like 40, but in California terms that's nothing) is where I spent one of the best weeks of my life at that zen and yoga retreat last August, which is where I met Zen Boy -- it would have been one of the best weeks of my life even if I hadn't met him there, although pictures like this one, of us on CalTrain last November, do suggest that our time together made me radiantly happy, despite my strong anti-facial hair stance (many of you may never have seen me looking like this, which says a lot, I realize -- and not in a good way).
Always one to maximize, I started my trip with a weekend in San Francisco hanging out with Stovielet, who really is one of my favorite people and possibly would be even if he wasn't my brother. Highlights included an above-my-level half-day yoga workshop that kind of wiped me out, followed by a food run in a fellow yogi's fume-ridden paint van --
--the fumes apparently a bit stronger for those of us riding in back;
lots and lots of tasty food (why is it that when Mexicans immigrate to California, the food they cook is so much tastier than in states east of the Mississippi?); hanging with some East Bay friends from grad school; entertaining (if incomprehensible) graffiti;
and watching pigeons commuting on the BART despite the best efforts of transportation planners.
The city of Monterey is filled with lovely flora,
and maritime vignettes,
and adorable children at play in historic settings,
but it is also home to really quite a lot of tourist tackiness. A-ka, who is nearly 6 now, is still fascinated by the same tacky wharf souvenir shops that she was the last time I saw her, several years ago. N-ka, in general one of my most stylish friends, almost talked me into buying matching outfits,
but I somehow managed to resist. More tempting were sample keychains that had been handled so much that their eyeballs had popped out -- scarier even than little orphan Annie.
Which reminds me, a brief aside here, that I am now a little obsessed with/collecting pictures of scary menu chefs, although I seem to almost never have my camera when I encounter them. Here's one from outside a kosher seafood restaurant in Flatbush -- everything about this guy says "kosher seafood", no? (I highly recommend clicking in on the picture to enlarge it and get the full effect.)
And this guy is outside a chalet-type restaurant that sits in the middle of a Dutch forest -- sadly, I left town a few days before the grand swinging wild diner, but I bet it was great.
Back in Monterey, I found myself frightened by many of the culinary offerings, including this one in particular.
But I found solace from all the madness in early-morning seal watching at the beach just next to the wharf, which looks way less tacky when you can't see storefronts. The seals usually spend much of the day sleeping on the rocks just off the beach that's to the west of the wharf, but in the mornings and evenings they swim awfully close to shore.
(This is the zoomed-in view.)
The last morning I was there was especially gray, and the gray seals looked a bit ghostly set against the gray sky and gray sea.
Look how close they come to shore! Next time I'm going to have to bring binoculars.
I can't wait to go back at the beginning of May.