Chicken Empanada (Chicken Pie)

I baked this yesterday for snacks and then packed them as we went walking along Mason Street where our North Beach Library is. These tasted good with a flaky crust and yummy chicken filling! But honestly, am not fond of chicken pies. I only did this to try out the flaky recipe I have and improvised on the filling which was delicious, BTW!

Blueberry Lattice Pie, Plum Jam & French Genoise White Cake

I baked the above last night and made my first ever plum jam! The blueberry lattice pie was my first time to bake it as well whereas the genoise was my second time. I tell you. Am getting better at baking!

BTW, my in-laws from Portland, Oregon are coming today for a visit! They are coming from San Jose where both of them (Jim and Glenda) attended an advance course in alchemy-hypno therapy. Ciao!

The Golden Gate Bridge

Photos taken Tuesday this week on our way to Mendocino county- that fateful day I got so sick that while on the very zigzag road approaching Stinson Beach, husband had to drive me back home to rest. Here are some photos taken from inside our van as we approached San Francisco's icon, The Golden Gate Bridge.

*Click photos to enlarge*



It was foggy...the quintessential characteristic that makes San Francisco quite unique!






This was around noontime yet it looked like morning time. Overcast. The clouds and the fog interlocked. Awesome!

Lattice Apple Pie

Now that berries are off season, I was back to baking apple pie. When cherries were available, husband and I snubbed eating apples then apples became the easily available fruit for all seasons and I just went back to baking apple pies once more. This was baked two weeks ago. See- look! I have become an expert in making lattice pie- considering the fact that I only started baking pies and bread last November 2005. Not bad!

Rosermary & Garlic Foccacia

Baked this on Thursday evening this week. This is much better than the first time I made one last month. The crust is very crunchy! I placed a bowl of hot water while the oven was pre-heated for 425 degrees F for 30 minutes. Before I baked the foccacia, I removed the pan. That helped in putting moisture in the oven!

When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

Anonymously written...

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped infront of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of thecar in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy.I was a strong and happy bridegroom.This was the scene ten years ago.The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money.

When the assets weresteadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was acivil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost atthe same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was morelikely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life. It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me frombehind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This wasthe apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her wordssuddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, "Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls." Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn't help doing so.

I moved Dew's hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.?I've got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, becauseI had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be somethingimpossible to me. However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matterhow mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner.I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then wewatched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizingDew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, whatwill you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparentlyshe believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn'timagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide somethingwhile talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiledat my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes. Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I've got something totell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurtin her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to lether know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topiccalmly.She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly,why? I'm serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew shewanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glancedat it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The womanwho had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. ButI could not take back what I had said.Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected tosee. To me her cry was actually a kind of release.

The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw herwriting something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I foundshe was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me,but I was supposed to give her one month s time before divorce, and in themonth's time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason wassimple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and shedidn't want him to see our marriage was broken. She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day? This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember. You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce.

From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning. I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished toend her marriage romantically.I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly andthought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feeluncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clappedbehind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a senseof pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walkedover ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly,Let us start from today, don't tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhatupset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I droveto the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on mychest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. Irealized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a longtime. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles onher face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is beingdemolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, whereshe put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn't tell Dew about this. I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a fewbut could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, "all my dresses have grown bigger. " I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger.

I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it's time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential partof his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the lastminute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly andnaturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day.But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in yourarms until we are old.I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn't notice that our lifelacked intimacy. I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision.

I walked upstairs. Dew opened thedoor. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious.She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got nofever. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I canonly say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boringprobably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because wedidn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her untilI am old. So I have to say sorry to you.

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammedthe door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wifewhich was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until we are old."

SURVIVORS MOVING AND STORAGE: This Company Stinks- READ ON!

(taken from http://www.ripoffreport.com/reports/ripoff178693.htm)

Category: Moving Companies
Submitted: 3/1/2006 6:42:28 AM
Modified: 3/1/2006 6:42:00 AM

Survivors Moving & Storage, Using AAA Relocation Services, delayed the move, damaged the goods, and a month later still hasnt delivered them or helped us San Jose California

Company: Survivors Moving & Storage, AAA Relocation Services

Address:1988 Hartog DriveSan Jose California 95131U.S.A.Phone Number:800-546-9460 Fax:

My daughter Anne phoned me in tears last week because her moving company, Survivors Moving & Storage, had just hung up on her, again. They took her possessions in San Francisco four and a half weeks ago. She is sleeping on the floor of her new house in Portland, but Survivors will tell her only that the van tipped over and damaged her goods, which are now in their warehouse in San Jose. She asks Survivors where the accident occurred. The co-owner of Survivors, just back from the scene of the accident, says Sacramento and guesses that the driver fell asleep (“what else happens at 5 a.m. when there is no traffic?” he offers) and they'll get back to her. They don't.

She phones, asks questions, is now told that the accident happened in Red Bluff, 130 miles west of Sacramento. Anne tries the Red Bluff highway patrol, who can't find any such accident report and ask if she knows the driver's name? Batted like a shuttlecock now, Anne re-calls Survivors. No, they don't have a driver's name. The man with the Survivors contract on moving day works for a different moving company they use when their own trucks are unavailable. The company's name? They don't have it handy.

Further phone calls to beg the name. What does the princess want them to do, Survivors jeers at her, drive up to Portland themselves, buy her a mattress, and tuck her in? At some point they are able to discover the company is AAA Relocation Services in Los Angeles. Anne checks Google; no such company found. No directory assistance listing for Los Angeles. Whack, the racket sends her flying back across the net to Survivors. Survivors finds it does have a phone number for AAA. Whack. Anne phones; it is a private cell number. Her call is never returned. Whack. Whack. When will she see her goods?

Survivors asserts that the accident voided her contract, whack, they no longer have an obligation to deliver her goods by any set time, and she must await the insurance company's release of her goods. The insurer's name? she asks, or phone number? Survivors whack doesn't whacking know. Anne is to wait a week for her claim number by phone call or mail. The week comes. And goes. Anne now phones me for help. Richard picks up my call at Survivors. "Hello," I begin in my best business tone. "I'm Andrew K-, Anne's father." Silence. "Anne K--, one of your customers." Pause, then with nonchalence: "I don't know an Anne K-." My professional tone starts its irreversible slide into outraged father's tone at this lie: "Anne K--. You know her. You have her damaged things in your warehouse. You hung up on her this morning." The conversation degrades quickly into his declaration that he can no longer talk to me without my daughter's written permission. A day later Anne phones Survivors again and this time Richard manages to find the insurer's name and number, but has some pressing errand, will email it. A day later, she phones again. "S---, I'll send it today." The e-mail never arrives. We finally discovered the insurance company's name through a web site on scams, which has some discussion of both Survivors and the company they used for this haul, AAA Relocation Services.

Meanwhile, per Richard at Survivors the accident has drifted again, this time 31 miles north to Redding.We have asked repeatedly for an accident report. It has not been provided. The insurance company has not seen an accident report.Survivors is a 7-minute drive from AAA Relocation Services.AndrewMaplewood, New JerseyU.S.A.

MOVING EXPERIENCE: From Bad To Good

NOTE: After painstakingly searching for the right moving company since June 18th (after we moved here in North Beach from Ripon) I finally found an excellent one that I could recommend here in my blog: www.shamrockmovingstorage.com Our moving company was SURVIVORS MOVING of San Jose and we barely survived their strategy to move our things from the suburbs to the city.

And at last- my upright piano has been moved from the ground floor of our flat to our second floor haven! I am delighted and since Saturday morning last week, have been brushing up with my Beethoven sonatas and Bach prelude and fugues on the piano. I missed this so much! Now I feel that our home is complete!

Here's my story...

I went online and found SHAMROCK MOVING AND STORING INC. After reading their website, I was positive about it. So I jotted down their phone number in San Francisco and called.

SHAMROCK's contact person was Jillian. I called her on the phone in her Third Street office address on Market, (financial district of San Francisco). This was Monday last week. I asked about the estimate and cost to move our piano from the garage to one flight of stairs (second floor). She gave me the details then followed up my queries with succeeding emails. I responded back then I got a call from their estimator, Jose Cervantes last Friday morning, around 8.30ish. It was quite early (moi husband thought so) since we were still asleep when he called but I thought it was all right. He said he would be coming soon~ to look at our place. After all, my piano has long been silent and has been sleeping in our landlord’s domain for three months now for which I wasn’t comfortable with. I never like asking favors but in this case, the space was offered to us out of our landlord's kindness. I thought it was time to move it~ after three months of waiting, after our moving company had failed us- this SURVIVORS MOVING.

So I said YES to Jose that Friday morning. “Sure, Jose, you could come.” Meanwhile, I gave him the name of the main street that leads to our place so he could come without easily getting lost in North Beach. Jose came half an hour later. It was chilly that Friday morning (55 degrees F). Husband and I were impressed in the way he presented himself - well dressed, neat, confident and very professional. He checked out the space where we live, the distance to bring the piano upstairs from the ground floor level. We questioned him, “Shall we need a crane?” He answered, “No. The crane alone would cost you $600. That is not necessary. We could have the piano brought to your flat passing through the stairs. The narrow passage won’t be a problem. We can do it." Wow, we couldn’t believe what we were hearing! The fee was a flat rate of $600.00 in cash, which we didn’t mind at all. For our piano to be moved from Ripon to North Beach last June, we had already paid SURVIVORS MOVING an extra sum for this service. Despite the extra payment dolled out in our pockets~they didn't do the job as expected. We were deeply disappointed and frustrated with SURVIVORS MOVING. Why? Because they have a lot of “hidden charges” that were revealed only on the moving day itself~ which was quite annoying plus- the crew was 2 hours late! How about that for a starter? Bad impression was what they have given us! Moreover, we were asked to sign a second waiver that stipulated that they won’t be responsible in case our piano gets damaged in the process of moving it. Mamamia! SHAMROCK MOVING AND STORAGE INC. was nothing like that. Of course, we were told the banister and wall might have scratches but they were said nicely and didn't sound offensive at all to our ears that husband said, “It’s okay. We’d be responsible for that. Our movers have already done a damage so far (*sigh*).”

Saturday came and by 8 AM sharp, Jose and his crew arrived on time. Husband and Jose went downstairs to the garage and back to our living quarters for the last minute details. Before I knew it, Jose’s crew was counting, “UNO, DOS, TRES!” By this time, Jose had left and said his crew can do it without his close supervision. And he was right! On the third count, they lifted the piano each step of the way up to the last step of the stairways leading to our home. They were very synchronized and organized. I was smiling and kept help saying, "I AM SO IMPRESSED WITH THIS CREW!"

As for the SURVIVORS MOVING, it was torture to watch them do it because they were pushing the piano and were not carrying it! Can you imagine that? Ayayay! Whereas, SHAMROCK had five young men in their mid and late 20s and did the job well. SURVIVORS MOVING had four men and still didn't do it right and didn't do it in the final event of things. SHAMROCK 's crew was composed of five young men who are slim in built-who I thought at first might not be strong enough- to carry the upright piano we have! But boy, was I wrong! They did it fast and sweet! In less than 25 minutes they were done! Afterwards, the leader of the group talked to moi husband and asked him to sign the papers then husband paid him (Adan was his name, I remember now) and then it was finished. What a breeze!

In retrospect, husband said, we should have hired a moving company in SAN FRANCISCO and not from Ripon, Manteca or San Jose. Why? Movers based in the city are quite familiar with the architectural designs of apartments in San Francisco, they are well exposed to apartments located on the hilly part (like ours) and the narrow spaces along the hallways and staircase. Well, nonetheless, we learned our lesson the hard way, with extra expenditures on our part.

FYI dear readers, SURVIVORS MOVING lead crew who does not know how to speak in modulation and respect. The moment we asked him questions regarding the moving process, he answered in a very harsh manner that was quite offensive. His body language was repulsive as well. Two months after our move here in San Francisco, we were finally able to make them to drive to the city from San Jose to move our piano, which we were charged extra for, on the moving date itself- on June 18th. We were not told initially about this. Next, a second crew of four was sent to us last August. All this Israeli man could say were these:

1. “We cannot do this. This is hard."

2. "The stairway is narrow."

3. "The veranda is small. The sliding door won’t accommodate your piano."

4. "If you permit us to move your piano, we might damage it. You need to sign a waiver.”

Well, he had lots of bullshit to drag us on. At that moment when this second creature came to our place, I flared up. He started up with complains. Hello? Like I was responsible for the architectural design of our rented apartment???? Tired and exasperated, I yelled at this outrageous monster who said nothing positive about moving our piano. I lost my grace, yes-indeed, as I was in combative mood! I was so sick and damned tired of him- of them, his crew, his company! Darn! I need my piano! I am a pianist you see! I haven’t touched the piano since June 18 and that was hard for me. Anyhow, I was happy husband drove back (after 2 hours on a business trip, he was obliged to come home as I raised hell with this Israeli man and his crew). Husband knew the hell’s door was opened wide and it would be a riot (laughs).

Anyhow, we were happy with the SHAMROCK crew. They were fast, very professional, sweet and kind, too. If you are moving from San Francisco, within San Francisco or elsewhere in the USA, try SHAMROCK MOVING AND STORAGE, INC. it’s worth every penny you pay to move with ease and comfort!

PLEASE: Never avail the services of SURVIVORS MOVING and beware of this company! They’d rip you off your pocket!

Mendocino County Trip Via Highway 1 North Of SFO

I am sick today. Husband brought me home from Muir Woods where Stinson Beach* can be seen from this mountain drive. The Stinson Beach* is located on Highway One, just north of San Francisco, California. The scenic highway is just one of the great reasons to visit Stinson Beach. We were heading to be at a hotel in Mendocino County (the place where Parducci wines are grown) at around 5 PM but that didn't push through. He drove me back to our place @ North Beach. At half past one, we were driving back and by 3 PM, we were home. He was urged to do it as the drive was 4 hours more and was unthinkable for me to be with him since I am already quite sick. But despite the 1 ½ hour’s drive back from the mountainside (along Stinson Beach) to San Francisco, he drove back without batting an eyelash so I could rest and be in my own bed while I recuperate, he said. Once we reached our flat, I walked past the stairs and dropped dead in bed; eyes closed and tried to sleep. Minutes later, husband was in front of me by the night table. He said, “good bye and take care.” Later, I heard him moving the stuff from the parking downstairs into our kitchen on the second floor. He carried them all as fast as he could~ my suitcase, the cooler, picnic basket and comforter (we bring our own). I know how stressful it is for him and tiring, too- to drive all the way back and forth. He was limited by time and space. I felt sorry for him, indeed. But the drive back was inevitable.

On the road, I threw up three times inside the van. The road was zigzag (worse than the roads to Capri, Italy). Along Highway 1, the curves were too deep; I could feel my intestines swaying back and forth in a multitude of beats as I was seated in front of the van. My head was swinging inside me and the pang of pain was in a fast motion. I was so shaken, ultra sick and was just wishing I were back home and resting in bed. At this moment the dizzy spell came through. I puked in a speed of lighting! And it happened fast: I threw up in the plastic bag. Luckily I was able to grab it nearby and I was able to take off its content- as fast as I could, before it happened. The second time- I was able to get the plastic bag husband has handed me over earlier~taken from the back of the van (we stopped for a while at Muir Woods); the third time, I finally used his gigantic drinking/pitcher cup which he offered since we ran out of plastic bags to use (*sigh*).
I was very, very sick and was throwing up. I was in excruciating pain. I was wailing in silence. My body felt weak; the vertigo was coming in a second and it did then I just felt lifeless Later, tears were coming out from my eyes like waters from the tap. I felt so very sick. Husband stopped several times so I could have some time to breathe new oxygen again.

This afternoon I woke up at past 5 PM. And wondered why I still smell the faint scent of my vomit? It's weird coming back to me like a ghost. I checked myself and saw the dried strands of hair on my right and that told me where the scent was coming from. All at once, I ran to the kitchen sink and washed it with the available soap in it- glycerin. After a while, I smelled it and it smelled good.

Am still sick. As I write this entry, our flat is quiet with the absence of moi husband. I miss him.That Little Boy...

The stand lamp in the sitting room is on and he left it just the way we did it before in Ripon- each time we were traveling together, we leave it on to reflect seemingly that there is someone in the house even if there is no one there at all...

Today was supposed to be a nice day for us like a lovers' date since it was my first trip outside of the city since our relocation here last June. But things don’t always come as planned. One day you are healthy, and the next thing you know it, you are sick as a kitten in the tree. So now I feel like a baby crawling back to time and wishing I were with my Little Boy. Yikes!

Fast Lane

When I was young it felt like my world was spinning so slow like a dead end of the night- when all is suspended because of some clause of a magical delight. Decades later, I realized the older I get, the faster comes the resounding rhythm of my clock. One day my hair was straight- when I was about eight; then in high school, my hair became freezy- due to some nature’s wand. I grew it long, cut it short, had it re-grown; and then in my 20s I submitted myself to having my hair stretched every quarter so I’d look “in” and acceptable since society dictates that women with straight hair have more edge compared to those who were borne with curly strands like moi. In my 30s I started coloring my hair tolighten it for vanity’s sake. Now, in my 40s, I color my hair basically to camouflage the gray hair that grows as fast as the beansprout in the grocer. What is this? Nothing more than my entry to the ripe age of middle years where women go through heaves of bodily changes due to the force of gravity that says, “Hey you- you are not a spring chicken anymore! Wake up!” Geez. And I realize it yes, I am old but still feel young then when I was young I wish I were old so I could do anything I want to do since old people are privileged to be like that. Right? Now I am old but I wish I were young again. And never mind not doing what old people do- can, would, and are able to. Ha! Irony. Of life. Its mystery transcends day in and day out.

-Pizzicatto in North Beach
Copy right~ September 13, 2006
San Francisco, CA, U.S.A.

September 11: Happy Birthday Tito!

Cheers!

USPS Experience

It's been a while- yes, since my last entry here. Been sick with allergies due to pollen and then I have congestion, headache, skin irritation, puffy eyes- eeks! Count them all, I got them...wahhhhhhhh!!! Let them stop, stop, stop!!! I am sick, sick, SICK!!! Okay, so here I am- taking my time these days staying in bed, watching foodnetwork on cable TV in between reading in bed and tossing left and right to try to put myself to sleep (sigh).


Labor Day came by and I was just sick (*sulk*). Husband was here up until half past eight in the evening of Monday this week and later, left shortly- for his usual trips akin to his work. Ayayay! Feels like am an orphan for three days now (*sigh*) and moi- don't like it because I don't sleep well when Little Boy is out. Call it separation anxiety (or whatever), I am used to his snoring and with his feet passing through the boarder line of our matrimonial bed (*laughs*). He will be home~ though~ tonight. Oohlala!

The past days while the Boy Blue is out, have given me sometime to do what I like most-tinkering with my sewing machine! I used it and made some inventions here and there and up until last night i have made two sets of slipcover for our dining set chairs. They are old (with character) and have scratches all over them as they have been aged by time, traveled far and near so now they need a little “make over" and some TLC. After planning things in my mind for weeks and weeks, I reckon on creating something easy to do to basically improve their look. Using my innate charm (*wink*wink*) to outwit moi husband I urged him to bid for me- in my behalf, several yards of textile at Ebay. Why Ebay? Because it's more reasonable in terms of cost to purchase just about anything at Ebay. Payment was via paypal and a reasonable price is stuck to the merchandise (piece of cake).

The first set of yellow cotton and polyester fabric came couple of days ago and was delivered at home (meaning our flat in SFO). But the Chinese USPS man was a pain in the butt. Eeks! He left the parcel by the door on ground floor~ we live on the second level! I almost passed out to see it (but thrilled~ nonetheless~ that it came earlier than I have predicted). But after arriving from Chinatown at mid day, it was a welcome rejoice to see it but- to see it left out by the glass door is another thing (*heart pumping all sorts of beats*)! Honestly, I wondered why the dumb Chinese mailman just left it there? FYI, anyone could have taken it. Why on earth was he thinking leaving it there in the open? True enough, our central location in North Beach is peaceful but still- you can never tell- a thief by any other name is still a thief! You see, I was out and went to church (after two weeks in absentia) then returned the books of Alton Brown in our North Beach Library; proceeded to Chinatown for some nectarine, pechay, onions and lousy red tomatoes (that turned out to be tasteless when cooked. Ah! Damn)! On another angle, I thought I’d be able to make a real good pasta sauce with them but they turned out to be red only in color and nothing more--- yeah, as in useless tomatoes they turned out to be~red, as in bloody red on the outside that looked perfect, all right, but after cooking them, they were a tasteless bunch and bland)! So I learned another lesson once more:

"Never judge a tomato by its color! You can never really tell how it’s going to taste like once cut into dimes or cooked into a sauce!"

I was busy shopping that’s why I was a way for three hours! And yes, in the final hour of my sauntering, I ended up in Chinatown. My, my, my...and this USPS man really pissed me off. Scram!If the parcel was lost- it cannot be replaced- he won't pay for it or he would just proclaim it as:

1. Item lost in the mail... or worse...
2. Parcel delivered, owner cannot be found at delivery date.

Now, relative to this incident, I printed out a notice to all deliverymen for them not to leave stuff by the door- if after they tried to buzz in, we- (moi/ husband)- are out- to please leave a note of information regarding the sutff. Yes, city life is different. It's wonderful, colorful- full of life and rhythm but when it comes to security, one has to be alert and vigilant!!! You just can’t leave parcels by the door. Mamamia!!! It is too public out here in San Francisco!!! And of course, there is always the temptation of stealing!

In the suburbs neighborhood folks is at a glance for security check within the parameter where they live and where we used to live in *Ripon* (2 1/2 hours from North Beach), our neighbors, especially Mark and Julie Berryman are ever considerate about our home, mails, garbage bins when we are away. They take care of them even if we don't ask them to do it. It's just a gesture they do for us as good neighbors since we do the same for them in their absence. Here, it is nothing like that. So I condemn the mailman!

BTW, I baked my first “Peach Pie” with almond streusel. Husband liked it. It was fairly good but the yellow peaches would have tasted better baked into a pie. The only thing that made my white peach pie forgivable is because the almond made it all crispy- and the filling had almond flavor....of course, the crust was perfect- flaky with a kick after a bite! Ciao!