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April 20, 2008
Me Wants Wok 'n' Roll
We are usually pretty picky about what I eat. We shop mostly organic and try to avoid frozen food. We don't own a microwave, and the fridge is usually half empty (cause we can't eat fast enough through a full fridge before things start to go bad). Starbucks isn't an option for us when we need a caffeine dose, and we almost never eat at fast food chains. We rarely do takeouts.
Except, I am secretly in love with fast food. The Asian kind, especially.
My favorite food from Japan is ramen (no, not the 'oodles of noodles' kind), and I have weakness for all things that comes on sticks or sold on the streets. (And I do frequent a certain Vietnamese noodle chain quite a bit, but I am in denial about it being fast food; 'it can't be fast food when you get free desert and wait service, right? and there are more than 25 items on the menu.')
Usually, I am pretty good at suppressing the urge. And as we don't shop at malls with food court, the temptations are never that nearby.
Until, you are traveling. More specifically, flying somewhere domestic.
The American airport food choices have always been pretty dismal and overpriced, but lately the food courts in airports are getting bigger and bigger. I guess with all the airlines offering no meals and their flights perpetually being delayed, airports see obvious profit opportunities there. The prices are still outrageous ($10 deli sandwiches, anyone?), but the choices are diversifying.
So, there's this chain (or is it? I couldn't confirm it) that I noticed during my last few travels called "Wok -N- Roll." I don't know why, but when I am at the airport, I am overtaken by the desire to try the bad Chinese food. It's really not a wise choice before climbing onto a jet, for various reasons, but I admit I've succumbed to this a few times.
Is it just me?
Turns out, the pros are into the Airport Chinese, too (from New York Magazine):
Why Wok and Roll? “Chinese is the best bet at airports,” the JetBlue captain said. “Those steam trays turn over fast.”
Ha. Maybe I should ask them what they put in their food...
Posted by Akira at 11:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 12, 2008
We got tagged, yo.
So, the other day our house/office door gets a special treatment courtesy of "Basey." I kind of recognize the signature, so I assume he/she lives around here.
Sharpie on glass:
The speech bobble is ours, from the decoration of our open house a couple of months ago. It used to say "yes!" I guess that was sort of an invitation, to the tagger.
We are enjoying this actually, kind of like having a conversation (the bubbles help). Does anyone know who Basey is?
Posted by Akira at 6:26 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 11, 2008
Spring, or, "a Bowl of Cherries"
Spring is finally here in Seattle. This was taken about ten days ago, when the Cherries in front of our house first bloomed. It's starting to warm up now, though we still use our heater...
Posted by Akira at 5:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 9, 2008
Many lines from Adrienne Rich
Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,
Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by.
This is the leave we never really take.
If you were dead or gone to live in China
The event might draw your stature in my mind.
I should be forced to look upon you whole
The way we look upon the things we lose.
We see each other daily and in segments;
Parting might make us meet anew, entire.
You asked me once, and I could give no answer,
How far dare we throw off the daily ruse,
Official treacheries of face and name,
Have out our true identity? I could hazard
An answer now, if you are asking still.
We are a small and lonely human race
Showing no sign of mastering solitude
Out on this stony planet that we farm.
The most that we can do for one another
Is let our blunders and our blind mischances
Argue a certain brusque abrupt compassion.
We might as well be truthful. I should say
They're luckiest who know they're not unique;
But only art or common interchange
Can teach that kindest truth. And even art
Can only hint at what disturbed a Melville
Or calmed a Mahler's frenzy; you and I
Still look from separate windows every morning
Upon the same white daylight in the square.
And when we come into each other's rooms
Once in awhile, encumbered and self-conscious,
We hover awkwardly about the threshold
And usually regret the visit later.
Perhaps the harshest fact is, only lovers--
And once in a while two with the grace of lovers--
Unlearn that clumsiness of rare intrusion
And let each other freely come and go.
Most of us shut too quickly into cupboards
The margin-scribbled books, the dried geranium,
The penny horoscope, letters never mailed.
The door may open, but the room is altered;
Not the same room we look from night and day.
It takes a late and slowly blooming wisdom
To learn that those we marked infallible
Are tragi-comic stumblers like ourselves.
The knowledge breeds reserve. We walk on tiptoe,
Demanding more than we know how to render.
Two-edged discovery hunts us finally down;
The human act will make us real again,
And then perhaps we come to know each other.
Let us return to imperfection's school.
No longer wandering after Plato's ghost,
Seeking the garden where all fruit is flawless,
We must at last renounce that ultimate blue
And take a walk in other kinds of weather.
The sourest apple makes its wry announcement
That imperfection has a certain tang.
Maybe we shouldn't turn our pockets out
To the last crumb or lingering bit of fluff,
But all we can confess of what we are
Has in it the defeat of isolation--
If not our own, then someone's, anyway.
So I come back to saying this good-by,
A sort of ceremony of my own,
This stepping backward for another glance.
Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,
Because we know each other, crack and flaw,
Like two irregular stones that fit together.
Yet still good-by, because we live by inches
And only sometimes see the full dimension.
Your stature's one I want to memorize--
Your whole level of being, to impose
On any other comers, man or woman.
I'd ask them that they carry what they are
With your particular bearing, as you wear
The flaws that make you both yourself and human.
Posted by Dipika at 10:54 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 3, 2008
"Hoarfrost" and Non-Nuclear Explosions
I learned a new word.
"Hoarfrost."
Which looks like this:
I always learn new words when I reconnect with a friend who's very into description and accuracy in talking about lots of things. That's because he's a radio reporter.
Some time back we wrote about one of his stories on salmon, which those of you on the East Coast may not know are pretty endangered here. I wrote about salmon like once a week or something for two years for a Seattle paper, so I can tell you a LOT about it if you have 46 hours of free time.
Anyway, another of J's stories hits the airwaves this Saturday.
Here's the scoop:
J: KUOW informs me they'll play my "Ripple Rock Meets its Doom" story again this Saturday afternoon during Weekend America. Sometime between noon and 2pm on 94.9fm. (Or anytime at PRX.org.)
D: What is the story about?
J: a VERY FUN 4.5-minute story on one of the world's largest non-nuclear explosions, and the Canadians who breathlessly described it on live TV from a bunker on Vancouver Island, 50 years ago this Saturday.
D: Cool. I'll stay tuned.
Posted by Dipika at 10:04 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack