The Top Theory

So... here's my theory about sexual tops.  I've met people who claim to be sexologists, dominatrixes, masters... and yet, when it comes to conflict or confrontation in other aspects of their lives, they are bigger bottoms than I am.  I don't get it.  I have more chutzpa and cahones in real life situations than this sort of quasi-roleplaying sexual fantasy scenarios they engage in?

Trip to Tahoe

I am not a long-distance driver. I never developed that skill when I was younger, living in New England, driving off to ski country, down to Florida, or cross-country on my vacations, like my friends. I was pretty much a home-body that didn't care to go far, until after I'd been to college and lived on my own for a while.

Also, I don't own a car. Never have. Always used the parental's cars or shared one briefly with my brother during a year I lived at my Dad's home in Maryland, between quitting Philadelphia College of Art and heading back to Boston. I've always lived in towns with exceptional public transportation, and know how to get around like a pro. I also am a believer in taxis.

I hear horror stories about break-ins and mechanical issues from friends. I have had more than one experience of car theft, including one directly my fault, when I left Jean's car parked at Fruitvale BART while I took the last train home from some event in San Francisco (and which the police found in SF a couple days later). So when people say I should buy a car, I'm all "No thanks!" -- I don't want the financial or emotional issues that come with car ownership.

Instead, I work for City CarShare and as a benefit, I get an employee credit. So, it was with these credits that I braved the wheel and the road for a 3.5 hour drive up to Tahoe. Mind you... I haven't driven since the above car was stolen, and that was about 3 years ago.

Now... the highway between Oakland and Sacramento can be called, at the best, boring. And between Sacramento and Placerville, it doesn't get much better. However, at the gold rush era town of Placerville, which was named "Hangtown" at one time, due to all the hangings, Highway 80 changes into a 2-lane road briefly. At that point, you are well into the foothills of the Sierras and the road begins to both climb, twist, and switchback. Just outside of Placerville and near Kyburz, the ponderosa pines are very evident, and the mountains surround. As you reach an elevation of 7.3K feet, the road whips around the side of a mountain and reveals Tahoe Lake off in the distance.

This was my first visit to Tahoe, and I would definitely love to spend more time there. My Dad and stepmother were in town, to visit my cousin Joel and his wife Eileen, who live in South Lake Tahoe, and are about to give up their newish home, for life on the road in an RV. The altitude just killed me for two days, while I acclimated (had the same issues in Denver and Santa Fe/Taos). At least, what with hanging out with the older generation, we drove mostly everywhere you could go, to sightsee. Truckee, Emerald Bay, North Lake Tahoe, Carson City, Donner Pass... Totally a fun trip. Much of the older towns look pretty similar to what I saw in Amador, Ione, Jackson, Calistoga -- a lot of "western" style architecture. Cowboy towns. Wild wild west.

I'd like to go back sometime, but I'll leave the driving to someone else and enjoy the ride next time.

Birthday Goodness

So, after my favorite Chinese food restaurant for the last three years, began sabotaging their food with MSG, and two mornings of waking up with a pounding headache (thought the first day was a stress headache, ate the leftovers the next night, and then boom), I wasn't much in the mood for birthday celebrating on Saturday morning.

Brandy gave me until noon to see if I felt, better, which I did, but I was still not in the mood for a wild night out, or dressing up and going into the city for dinner at Plouf. Instead, I asked her if she would indulge my need to relive my childhood days of summer on the Cape and east coast. She was pretty game, so off we went.

Live and kicking in a tank, next to one full of dungeness crabs imported from Seattleish (our local crab season doesn't start for two more months), sat some Maine lobsters at the bargain rate of $11 a pound. I consider this good, because I imagine if I bought them in Boston, they would be about $8 a pound, and they are just coming off season. They're only going to get more expensive until next summer. Brandy said to grab two and I asked for 1.5-pounders. She said go bigger. Oy... we picked out two 3-pounders. That's the largest lobster I have ever had. She thought she would still be hungry, so we grabbed a crab at $5.99 per pound, too. Guess what's sitting in my fridge?

Off to Safeway to get some corn on the cob, which I boiled in the brand new stock pot she bought me for my birthday, with the lobsters, and seasoned with a parsley and chili butter. Added the obligatory oven roasted potatoes, and grabbed a loaf of sourdough for sopping up shellfish goodness in our bowls. For dessert, she insisted on chocolate silk pie, I wanted flourless chocolate cake. We got both.

Having watched either Alton Brown or Bobby Flay or someone... maybe even Anthony Bourdain, I saved the lobster heads and the coral (also called tamale) inside, and mixed it up with a stick of softened butter, so I could freeze myself some decadent lobster butter. That'll taste nice over some fresh pasta! Or work well napped over mussels... I'll use it for something.

We were sated, and happy, and both fell asleep watching "No Country for Old Men" on cable.