Fried Onions with Liver and Osama Bin Ladin...Plastic Surgery or Not?

Tonight was a night of discovery in the “big house” on walkamin farm. Dermott who has been here 3 months and counting, showed all the house residents how to keep the shower head (which is on a hose) from falling out of the cradle. So myself Stephanie the English girl and the three Irish boys all crowded into the shower to see the secret trick. The tutorial was excellent but unwarranted and I would feel to stupid explaining it as it is so simple. It's the little things people and having a shower-head continuously fall on you while showering can really rake on your nerves.

Also for the last two weeks I have been itching non-stop, I know I already mentioned this. I am allergic to something here, but now that I have discovered the over the counter anti-histamine I will probably never find out what it is my skin is painfully allergic to. Thank the heavens and dear god now a mosquito bite feels like child’s play (there’s your secret optimist in action) Except apparently you can’t keep taking anti-histamines because they are bad for your liver. I don’t know much about that except tonight our resident Bulgarian Toto cooked liver for dinner with onions and pickles. Dionne his 13 year old son who has the best English in their family of three, initially translated it as black lung, which would be ironic if he smoked…. But he doesn’t and in fact it was liver and despite my half assed whooing and hawing they served me up a full plate. Toto knows I love grilled onions and with the extra serving he gave me he knew I could never turn it down. Maria opened a bottle of sparkling white wine (she won’t drink red for the same reason many of us still can’t look Captain Morgan in the eye) And thus the evening began…with my second dinner - the first of which was a delicious breakfast burrito which I made with pita bread as a tortilla, processed cheese as a vague reminder of “Mexican blend,” some downright spicy El Paseo which I picked up at the store for way too much money but it was totally worth it and scrambled eggs (it still freaks me out that they don’t refrigerate their eggs) –and a lively conversation in half English, half Bulgarian and half mime ensued. Topics ranged from Cattle Farming to Osama Bin Laden and why wouldn't he have plastic surgery to escape and live a free life (Dionne's contribution) to transgender plastic surgery to hangover cures. Miming affords these kinds of transitions I suppose.

Maria moved here from Bulgaria last year, Toto one year prior and while they love Australia they also miss Bulgaria - so during tonight's dinner we revisit some of their previous life, the a small vegetable garden in Maria’s Mother’s home (of whom she may never see again), Maria’s fabulous hairstylist that she misses and hasn’t been able to replace and without knowing it suddenly they are nostalgic for loved ones and their old life yet they never overlook the hospitality and home they have found here and I can’t help thinking for them thank god for Skype, Maria skypes with her parents almost daily. For me it is a reminder that I’m really not gone all that long and I am really not all that far away either. And suddenly I have taken a turn for the sentimental…yet again.

So in an effort to get this posted and overwith before you start shedding tears…let’s just say I write to you a little sentimentally, a little drunk (thanks to Maria) and extremely full. Oh and if you didn’t catch the processed cheese reference earlier let me reassure you, I haven’t changed my ways. I have at least one slice in everything I make….the stuff is genius and delicious and a reminder of home.

Cheers and Nas Drava (Bulgarian, a rough spelling) I’ll see you next week hopefully with some underwater photos from some diving in the great barrier reef.

Insomnia and On Why 3am is a Totally Obvious Time to Turn on the Fire Hydrant Below My Window to Clean the Street

It's 3am and my third to last night in my Nob Hill apartment and I woke up in a panic. At first I thought it was raining and then I thought LM was taking a late night shower and then I realized it was neither and jumped out of bed to confirm that the fire hydrant below my window had burst and call the fire department and save the world with my knowledge - you know a couple of psychologists' did a study in New York about a woman who was killed while 37 people witnessed it but know one called because everyone thought someone else would have already called - I was not going to assume anyone had called. Except actually the fire hydrant had not burst rather a SF City employee had turned it on intentionally I imagine to clean the street or something. So from 3:00 - 3:10 am I got to pretend I lived next to a soothing waterfall which is when I decided the Chinese food in my fridge had probably, with age, gotten better (because it wasn't very good the first night at all).

And late night eating is best done in the dark because then it doesn't count.

I am already feeling a little nostalgic for this place because while these disturbances are irritating once in a while I am going to miss hearing the fog horn and cable car outside my bedroom window. The sound of excited tourists being taken for a ride by the cable car drivers who favor single young women - getting on the cable car in SF is like getting into a club in Vegas if you're cute, and without men they let you on for free even when it is packed - and ring their bell at 11pm all the way up Washington St for no reason at all. Even if I could drown these sounds out by shutting real double pained windows instead of the single paned ones we actually have (that even when shut you can feel a strong gust of wind through) I wouldn't. Silence is glorious but there is something comforting about knowing that the world is going on out there with or without me. If this sounds sentimental that's because A. I am hormonal - which according to Wikipedia, among other things, is responsible for mood swings and food cravings... and B. It is 4am.

It's foggy out there; I know because I can hear the horns blowing. The chinese food wasn't better tonight than it was last night but the waffle I am going to get at Nook tomorrow morning will be delicious.

Good night and good morning all!

Batter Blaster and The Bartender. You Heard it Here First

Team,

I know you were all wondering how it works - Batter Blaster that is. And since KM purchased some for me and left it daintily on my pillow I have decided since no one else would want to admit trying it to try it myself. I had to purchase a new bottle as Batter Blaster needs to be refrigerated at all times (don't be afraid to take notes as what I am about to tell you may shock you) Batter Blaster is better than sliced bread. I was a little embarrassed to go through the checkout line with it but the cashier likely confused it with whipped cream and didn't even look twice at it.

At this moment my brother is cooking me a breakfast feast and we had already forgotten about the Batter Blaster we bought yesterday when perusing the refrigerator he saw it and exclaimed "Oh let's have Pancakes" and two minutes later there he is simply shaking, and squirting and Voila a perfectly burned pancake. 4 squirts later we have the perfect pancake with no effort. I can't believe I am about to say this but Batter Blaster may be the way of the future instead of the end of the world.

I can see Martha on TV now "Just shake, point, blast and shoot"

Kurt's Verdict - If you want pancakes and you are really lazy this will do the job.

Organic Batter Blaster's patent is pending, do you think that is for any and all squirtable foodstuffs? I will be putting my patent in for cocktail blasters, instant Mojitos and margaritas here we come. We will call it "The Bartender" and put it in a chic black container. Each cocktail will come, as salsa does with Mild, Medium and Hot. They will be, "Underage", "Lightweight" and "In it to Win It".

Let me know how your first Batter Blaster experience goes.

*I claim any and all profits that come from the ideas presented above.