palace of winds

Momentous occasion: Wednesday night, I went to the grocery store. Okay, that’s not so momentous (I love the grocery store, particularly the banana section), BUT: when I got home, I cooked! Just a simple throw-stuff-in-a-pot soup and some pan-fried tofu, but it’s a start, and now my fridge is stuffed with leftover soup, and the beginnings of horiatiki and a Mexican skillet.

I’m trying not to hate February just because it’s February. Deep in the long grind of winter, no end in sight. Lately I’m dreaming hard of far-off places. (Well, not precisely: I’ve actually been having strange, troubling dreams since the end of December; topic for another day, though!) The Boy and I are going somewhere this year, and here’s the dilemma (the wonderful, overwhelming dilemma): where?

First constraint: time. When I went to Peru in 2007, I took 2 1/2 weeks off work, and — how to put this? — it was less than appreciated by my boss. I was basically told that would never be happening again. But everyone survived, I’m very good at what I do, and — well. Let’s call it a week and a half, no problem. (I’ve already taken, or will be taking, 7 of my vacation/sick days — and can I just take a moment to thank my last-August-self for knowing I’d really, really appreciate 6 days in St. Louis in January? Because I totally needed it. Anyway, leaves me 9 for the rest of the year.)

Second constraint: location. I really want to go somewhere neither of us has been before. The Boy is adorable and pretty fantastic all around, actually, so I’ve decided to forgive him for this, but: he’s been basically everywhere. All around South America (Peru, Bolivia, Colombia, etc), the Middle East (Egypt, Morocco, Turkey, etc), India, Thailand, China, Japan, etc etc. To be fair, this is MY restriction; and also, the world? Big place.

Third constraint: money (of course). I’ve been researching in a dreamy, haphazard sort of way the last few days, and have come up with lots of places that would be wonderful: Bhutan! Vanuatu! Outer space! (I’ve been informed that they’re not actually sending people to the moon — just into outer space.) But they’re rather expensive to get to and/or be in. All part of the balancing act; I have some money to go somewhere fabulous, but I’d also like to, you know, retire one day (and I have that small, not-inexpensive horse habit). And once you’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money and time getting somewhere awesome, what’s the point if you can only stay for a week or so?

And then it’s trying to figure out the time of year, because, confession: I want to be somewhere right now. I hate February here. Okay, so today it’s all Look at me, I’m a bright fluffy beautiful snow globe! But mostly there’s the wrath of EIGHTY-SEVEN BELOW and YOUR CAR GOES SIDEWAYS NOW! and riding outside is some far, impossible dream, and no one can remember what green looks like anymore.

So what I really want, right this second, is to be somewhere hot. I want SUN and I want to be baked alive. But I also don’t want to wait a whole year to go, so I have to temper that with knowing I won’t still feel this way next fall. Mostly, I want somewhere that’s going to take my breath away.

(And alas, I’ve gotten utterly distracted by work for hours and hours now. So I’m going to just post this, abruptly and as-is, or I know I never will.)

I’m not one for big New Years Resolutions. Let’s face it: I’m going to do what I want, regardless of having (or not having) a defined goal. Even I can’t make myself do something I really don’t want to (so, those of you who know me, rest assured: it’s not just you).

Anyhow, I feel like I can have a few modest goals for the year. Not Resolutions; just goals.

• Post more than last year. This one should be pretty easy; apparently I only had 16 posts in 2009. Shame on me.
• Read more; keep track of it. Can’t compare this one to 2009 since I have NO idea how much reading I did. So, this year, let’s say: 24 books. Two a month. That seems do-able. I won’t even cheat and count the one I finished at the very end of 2009. (Though it was really really good! The Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood. You should all run out and get it and Oryx & Crake and read them — Oryx & Crake first.)
• Take more pictures. I have a nice camera and like using it. So I guess this is more a reminder than a real goal.
• Travel. This is a little bit of a cheat, I guess, because I already know I’m going to be traveling this year. But I like checking things off lists (hi future self!), so I’m putting it here anyway. I really need to get started figuring out where I’m going to go — doing masses of research to prepare is a big part of the fun for me.
• Start cooking again. I’ve totally fallen off the cooking-at-home bandwagon in the last year or so, and that’s sad. I love to cook, and it’s tastier and cheaper than eating out. I just need to balance it with riding, and I know exactly how to do that: PLAN. I need to start making weekly menu plans again.

So, there we go. That seems like enough to be going on for now. Well — that and this, which is the list of stuff-I’d-like-to-do-but-probably-won’t:

• Website facelift. I like coding, I do, but the thought of updating WordPress and re-learning their whole system (and anything new) just makes me want to go lie down for a nice little nap.
• Write about Peru. I have this sort of fantasy (tied in with the WordPress upgrade above) about making a travel subdomain, or just one for Peru, separate from this main part of the site. And I would lift stuff from the journal I kept, and spiff up some of my pictures, and finally have a nice online recap for your viewing pleasure.
• Write fiction. DO NOT GET EXCITED. There’s a reason this is in this category and not the one above. Or, rather, many reasons; lack of time and discipline chief among them.

Okay, there we go for real this time. Happy 2010, y’all. My real hope for my own is that it’ll be better than the last third of 2009; shouldn’t be hard.

The things that went wrong:

In Denver, a plane bound for Minneapolis had mechanical trouble. And then someone had a heart attack. And then someone(s) had to be forcibly removed — the story there begins with intoxication and the rest is is up to you to imagine. So the plane, coming to Minneapolis, is an hour or so late. It turns around to go back to Denver, but is newly scheduled to land 7 minutes after my connection to San Francisco leaves. Before leaving Minneapolis I get myself switched to a flight from Denver to San Jose, which they have promised to hold the 5 minutes or so needed for us to make it — which doesn’t fall into the “things that went right” category because they do not, in fact, wait the 5 minutes.

I am less than thrilled with Frontier. Very less than thrilled.

After giving us hotel vouchers we are directed through the main terminal to the east side pick-up, where we stand in the cold waiting for the hotel shuttle. And waiting. And waiting. The hotel staff have stopped answering the phone, but only after we discover they’ve been sending all their shuttles to the west side. We climb into a private van at $5 each; as it pulls out, the hotel shuttle arrives.

The hotel, it does not have toothpaste.

In the morning, the hotel, it does not have bananas.

The airport restaurants, the coffee shops, the convenience stores, they do not have bananas.

The bookshop, it will not take my meal voucher for books.

The Frontier Customer Screwage desk, it does not have toothpaste.

The baby two rows up on my flight to San Francisco, twelve long hours later, it wails. And wails.

Frontier, I hate you. Drunk Denver people, I hate you.

Things that went right:

This happened on a four day visit instead of a quick weekend. If I had to get back on a Frontier flight tomorrow, I’m not sure I could stop from being a very ugly, unhappy person.

I am, at any rate, sitting on a plane to San Francisco, and that is always right.

The bed in my hotel room, it must be emperor-sized. I lie on my back and stretch both arms out and, freakishly long though they are, I can’t touch both sides of the bed at once. It is, I think, as wide across as my twin bed at home is long. I have five pillows. (And yet I sleep curled in one spot int he middle of this giant yacht of a bed all night.)

I have a $150 voucher for a future flight — which belongs in the other category right now because Frontier, have I mentioned how much I hate you right now? Still, $150.

(Oh god — addendum to the “wrong” category — I just heard the baby vomit everywhere.)

I have not seen anyone so far in a spandex jumpsuit; the people sitting in my aisle haven’t verbally assaulted me.

(God, the baby reeks.)

I can finally claim a worse airport experience than the time I showed up for a flight a day late. That ended after a few hours in delicious jam. Granted this current never-ending odyssey will end in Bryce, and, for the record, he is even better than your very own tiny pot of jam in first class.

I have great faith in the universe, and so believe that my mom will probably never read this article or another like it. Because I really want to go to Gilf al-Kebir on my Egypt trip (tentatively scheduled for 2010 — just don’t tell my boss).

Must start researching.

I am, sadly, back from Maui, and hoping to get some time this weekend to gather pictures and videos to share, so we can all mourn together that we aren’t ankle-deep in white sand, snorkeling with fishies and turtles, or cavorting after guava in the rainforest. I’m a bit of a maverick vacationer and without just these right circumstances (an unbelievable deal on the condo, thanks to Bryce; my mom’s life-long dream) I probably never would’ve made it to Hawaii, and I would have totally missed out. It was another dream trip, another once-in-a-lifetime, and I feel so blessed to have shared this time with my family (among whose number we all count you, Bryce, in case you haven’t realized).

While I was away, autumn evicted the last traces of summer here in Minnesota. It’s been a tough week to return to, all chilly and grey, early dark, and I’ve found myself feeling a little surly about a season I usually love. But last night I was seized by this sudden need to cook, to make something hearty, something spicy, and I pulled out a bag of dried beans and my favorite Indian cookbook. A little while later I stood over the sink plucking steamy kidney beans out of the colander, fresh from the pressure cooker, and I resolved once again to ban canned beans from my cupboard. If you’ve never made your own beans, you’re missing out! They are a different creature entirely, so creamy and delicious, so themselves; you don’t know it now but canned beans have this edge of can-taste, this cloying sweet chemically hint, and after having fresh(-from-dried) beans you will always be a little sad about the taste of canned. (Of course I’ve made this resolution a dozen times at least and I always end up using canned sometimes because, I know, it’s just so easy! Especially in dishes where they’re not the main component, or where they’re masked by delicious chili-taste. But if you like beans in your salads, and you should because mmm, take the extra time to treat yourself.)

Er — so I ended up making this curried kidney bean dish, with lots of spice (dried red pepper, cumin, coriander, etc) and ginger and tomato, and it was completely delicious, which is good because I have more, a lot more, in my fridge, along with the rice I made to go alongside it. I almost never make rice at home (I’m usually too lazy for rice) and dude, rice fresh out of the pan? So. Good. I kept snacking on bits of the cooling leftovers.

Anyway! When I started this post it was not to tease you about my vacation, or ramble on about dinner, but rather to share this funny and spot-on bit from an article about Johnny Depp’s newest film (it’s animated, to put it in context, though feel free to imagine it aaany way you like):

The movie will realize the dreams of thousands (nay, millions) of women worldwide as it casts Depp in the role of household pet. He’ll go on an adventure to discover his true self — which, I think, involves discovering he is Johnny Depp, commander of women.