1st International Duck Day - Northern Cyprus edition......

As a testament to the sheer Power of The (Toilet or Otherwise) Duck, the 1st International Duck Day was a truly global affair with participants spanning the length and breadth of the globe.  In one special report, our international correspondent, the one and only star of the Get Lean and Loopyliscious Challenge herself, chronicled a day in the life of a GB Olympian ex-pat duck livin' it large in Northern Cyprus.   So then - let not duck about any more and get this show on the road - roll VT!!

Please note: No ducks were harmed in the making of this iReport.  Teenage nephews, however - likely to still be recovering...  

Starting the 1st International Duck Day with a hearty breakfast.
Fortunately eggs were not on the menu today... 

Thomas on the blocks for the first duck race of the day.
The duck won.
By a beak.

Extreme racing.  Seems was a tad frightened, judging by the bonnet*

Taking a look at the other pond life...at Thomas's school...

Having a paddle on his special day

Enjoying the duck boat tour

Waiting for friends down the local watering hole

Interspecies relations improved on Duck Day

Having a quackingly good time in the sprinklers

So as the 1st International Duck Day enters into the canon of national treasured holidays, what can we learn from such a quacktacular event?  Here are my top 10 musings, from both the Cyprus and San Francisco renditions of the day's events:

10.  Ducks will kick 14yr old nephews asses in the Egg and Spoon race every time.
9.  Not eating eggs for breakfast on International Duck Day is probably a good thing.
8.  Attempting to cycle along the embarcadero with a shoulder bag full of Mr Potato Heads is not an ideal method of plastic vegetable convenyance.
7.  The cat is totally faking it and is just waiting for the camera to point in a different direction.
6. Conducting a Potato Head photo shoot in public on a Duck Tour is a sure-fire way to guarantee you plenty of space in the seats immediately surrounding you.
5.  As is then wrapping your arm in Duck Tape and asking the Captain to rip it off for you.
4.  You need to tip really well after completion of  #5.
3.  If your bike chain sounds crunchy, when cycling home from the Duck Boat tour at Fisherman's Wharf, that's probably not a good sign and shouldn't be ignored.
2.  If you ignore a crunchy sounding bike chain, it will invariably snap and come completely off your bike, thus rendering your mode of transportation completely useless.
1.  It is a bloody long walk back from Fisherman's Wharf.

50 Shades of Duck

And finally, I realized that - after all the trouble I'd gone to to order this damn t-shirt for the International Duck day, that you could barely see it in any of the pics, so here is a self-portrait of your's truly (steady now) adorned in said sartorial masterpiece.  Truly what every girl needs to be wearing when she meets a mildly attractive member of the opposite sex.  I only wish I'd know about this sooner - I'm sure I'dve had much better dating luck by now....

And as a final final post script, today I introduced Puff Ducky to Stuffin P. Stuffinson and they seem to be getting along simply famously.  No feathers flying (as yet) and no beaks out of joint, so hopefully this is the start of a beautiful friendship.  The Pfizer Moose (just slightly out of shot) was rather less impressed, so I'll need to keep an eye on him over the next couple of days...


And this, sadly, concludes this year's coverage of the 1st International Duck Day - but concludes with a challenge to the rest of the world, particularly the UK.  Get your broilers, your hens, your cocks (ooer), your chicks and your ducks in a row- next year's Duck Day will be coming to a town near YOU and you will need to prove you're not all complete BRIT CHICKENS and can take on the Yankee Doodle Ducks and the Cyprus Canards....  You have been warned...... so stay tuned......

* helpful condescending translation for US readers: bonnet = hood

****Just Sitting on the Quack of the Bay***

Quack's off to the 1st International Duck Day!

Huzzah!!  International Duck Day has finally arrived!   After a false start on Wednesday, it was time to get this ducky show on the road and fulfill my long-overdue forfeit from Week 3 of the Get Lean and Loopyliscious Challenge.

As you know (or will when you've read/I've written that blog post), I started the 1st International Duck Day off with a little light succulent education and met Karen in the Mission District where we took a terrarium workshop with Bill and Ted. It was a most excellent adventure and, afterwards, we headed into Paxton Gate - a shop full of curios, oddities and lots of weird things - to buy a few terrarium supplies.  I was rootling around looking for a little white squeezy water bottle and some bug spray to tackle the aphid invasion that's been going on in my foxgloves outside when I saw him.  My perfect companion for the 1st International Duck Day.  May I proudly introduce Puff Ducky.  Yes.  That really is a stuffed duckling.  And yes, I really did buy him.  I'm sure he'll get on fabulously with Stuffin P. Stuffinson, the puffin I brought back from Iceland last year - it'll be fun to introduce them in the office on Monday.

Meet Puff Ducky

Although I guess getting him out of the box to admire him and offer him some green tea probably wasn't the smartest move in a vegan restaurant.

PH's, P of Double D and P.Ducky excited for their day out!

Anyway, after a delightful lunch with Karen and Jeff (her BF with an almost Rainmanian memory for people's faces), it was time to head off home to prepare for the other main event of the day - the Ripping of the Duck Tape.  As you already know, simply affixing a length of duck tape to my arm and ripping it off (as to fulfill the Evil Genius Thomas's forfeit) would be WAAAAY too boring, so instead, I will be performing said forfeit whilst Riding the Ducks and while wearing fabulous duck-themed gear.  As so it came to pass that, on Sunday, I left the house wearing a large maroon t-shirt with a picture of duck taped down with duck tape and the witting caption "Duck Tape" underneath it and my (previously owned) floppy hat from DuckWalk Vineyards in the Hamptons.  And - as you do, I would be also accompanied by a large Potato of Destiny and Despair, filled with forfeits, Mr & Mrs Potato Head, dressed to the nines and in their full splash protective gear as well as a reel of Duck Tape and a pair of scissors.  Just another regular Sunday afternoon.

The P of Double D suddenly becomes aware
 of his arm length

I'd decided to cycle over to Fisherman's Wharf, where the Duck Tours leave from and my tour started at 5pm, so around 4pm, I left the house to casually bike over there.  Because of the somewhat cumbersome nature of my cargo, I'd had to stuff them into my blue gym shoulder bag, rather than the Camelbak rucksack I usually wear when I'm biking.  No problem, I thought, I'll just sling them over my shoulder and away we go.  MISTAKE!!  Lesson 1 - don't ever try and ride a bike while trying to balance a shoulder bag - its almost impossible.  It kept slipping round the front, bashing into my legs and generally being incredibly annoying.  I did have the realization as I struggled my way along the Embarcadero that I was probably the only person ever in history to be cycling along on a Sunday afternoon, fighting with a bag full of Potato Heads, on my way to go and rip Duck Tape off my arm on a Duck Tour.  I also wondered whether instead I really should be seeking medical and psychiatric assistance.   In the end, the bag and I came to a mutual understanding, and so it swung petulantly from my bikes handlebars, only occasionally bashing into the front wheel with a worrying squeak.

The PH's choice of rain wear impedes their driving ability

After 40mins of this nonsense and battling my way through increasingly thick throngs of tourists (don't these people know I'm on a mission here!!  Outta my way!), I arrived at Jefferson and Taylor, right slap bang in the heart of Fisherman's Wharf.  I parked the bike up, locking it round a street sign that I estimated to be tall enough to deter any thieves from trying to pinch it off, and signed in for the tour.

Now, I have actually done this tour before, only about 6 months ago so I consider myself a bit of a Duck Tour aficionado, thus enabling me to talk sagely to the family waiting on line in front of me about the proportion of land time vs aquatic time.  I felt very knowledgeable.

I sat right up front, just behind and to the right of the driver seat.  I had gotten there a little early, so I had plenty of time for an impromptu Potato Head photo shoot, where the P of Double D was all for taking the Duck out on a spin all by himself.   But instead, the rest of the PH's joined him and had a whale of a time playing around in the cabin before Captain John boarded and booted them all out.  But there was time for one last picture, a group shot, before we all had to buckle up and head on out.

Ready for Duck Action!!
Or medication...

After all that excitement, I settled down to enjoy the ride and looked round the Duck to check out my fellow passengers.  Funnily enough, no one else seemed to be accompanied by a bright orange plastic vegetable.  Even more strangely, the Duck was completely full - except for the 2 rows of seats directly behind me.  Hmm.... I wonder why?

Anyway, enough introspection, we were off!!  Our route first took us through Fisherman's Wharf and Ghirardhelli Square (yep, where they make the chocolate!) before heading out into North Beach.  This was almost exactly the same route from yesterday with the Fire Truck Tour (yes, another blog I owe you) and - fun fact of the day - did you know that air conditioning was invented in San Francisco for the express purpose of making chocolate?  Now, I don't know if Captain John was feeding us a line or not (similar to how the punting folk used to tell tourists on the River Cam that St John's College was a pie factory and other nonsense) but it sounded improbable enough to probably be true.  From North Beach, straight into Chinatown where ducks abounded.  All be it with rather less bounding, and rather more turning and spitting.

Our route then took us through the Financial District, down into SOMA and past my house (hello!), before heading out to the water and SPLASHDOWN!!  We were "sailing" or chugging or Ducking in McCovey bay, which is directly behind AT&T Ballpark and where folk in kayaks like to hang out when there's a game on, in case someone literally knocks the ball out of the park - and into the water, where they'd scoop up the ball.  Sounds a bit unlikely, but it has happened about 70 or so times since the stadium was built back in 2000*.   We ducked our way pass a couple of enormous ships - apparently deployed last as supply vessels in Afghanistan back in 2004 and, impressively, apparently ready for action in just four days.  Don't want to think about how much it costs to fill that tank.

Sister Duck quacking along the bay

It was a very pleasant afternoon for tooling around the bay in - the sun was shining, the quackers were quacking, and it was time to take a turn at driving the Duck!  The last time I had been on the duck, it was full of kids and I sheepishly waited until they'd all taken a go before raising my hand and asking if I could take my turn.  Not this time, though.  Who knows where all the kids are at 5pm on a Sunday afternoon in San Francisco, cos there was only one of them on the Duck this time.  She was a reluctant driver with an interesting "hands-free" technique for steering, so afterwards, when Captain John asked who else wanted to drive, my hand was the first to shoot up!  Well, it was only so the P of Double D could take his turn - it wasn't really for me at all.  

Just cruisin'.  Me and my tuber.

After about 20mins Ducking about, it was time to head back. This time, it was a straight shot up the Embarcadero (again passing my house - hello!) and so we were back in no time.  P of Double D got into the music big time on the way back and even broke out the quacker, so i'm sure he'll be totally fried when I get him home later.  You've not lived until you've heard a giant Mr Potato Head quack his way through "Don't Stop Believing".  Truly magical.

Potato and quacker in perfect harmony

But, all too soon, we were back at Duck Central and all there was left to do was finally fulfill my forfeit.  Here's how it went down:

Captain John has a good old rummage in my potato

Before selecting a forfeit and placing it
in An Envelope That Shall Be Sealed

The not-unattractive Captain John sealing Said Envelope

And signing on the back to make sure the envelope remains
 unopened (and no - he's not writing down his number  - alas)

Before the Finale of the Day - the Ripping Off of the Duck Tape 

And, I'm sorry to say, Thomas - the ripping off of the Duck Tape didn't hurt a bit, I'm afraid!  So, Week 3 forfeit is ONE AND DONE.  I'm actually pretty confident about this week's goal as (with the notable exception of Friday which - yes - I will be blogging about SOON), i've been completely Paleo-compliant this week.  So, I'm looking for a big result to get me back on track and save me from whatever danger now lurks inside that envelope.....  But, to conclude both the first ever International Duck Day as well as surviving the forfeit with all my forearm hairs intact, I'm going to let the quacks sing us out....QUACKTASTIC!!

* disclaimer: all facts and figures may not be 100% accurate.  Ensure adequate fact-checking before using said information in the $250,0000 round of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

Magimixing Magic: A Kitchen Appliance Unholy Alliance
Selecting Week 4's Forfeit in the Get Lean and Loopyliscious Challenge
As you all are aware by now, despite some Herculean caloric burning efforts by yours truly last week, I once again failed to hit my (newly-revealed and shouldn't be ALL that hard to achieve) weight loss goal of 1.5lb a week by losing a miserly 0.3lb!  Ridiculousity.

So, even before any forfeits are drawn this week, I decided to follow my trainer Natalie's advice and give the Paleo diet a go for two weeks.  I'll go into the Paleo diet in much more detail in subsequent blogs (I'm sure i will be bitching about it endlessly for the next 14 days) but it essentially means you eat like a caveman (or, I guess, cavelady) and eliminate dairy and grains from your diet.   OK, I thought.  I can do that.  And, if it means getting to my goal next week so I can just once not be in the forfeit zone, it would all be worth it.  Now, I'm not sure whether this shows up in the fossil record or not, but I think i'm pretty sure that all cavemen in Britain still took milk in their tea (they're cavemen, for gods sake, not animals!), so that will be my only exception to the no dairy rule.  With no cereal and no milk to put in smoothies, breakfast should be interesting.

Anyhoo, off I went shopping to stock up on Paleo-compliant supplies - I can tell you this, from just one observation so far - the Paleo diet is a hellava lot more expensive than the Kitchen Store Cupboard Challenge Diet.  $160!!!  My fridge is now stocked with more cow than a Manhattan bar on singles night.  Anyway, I will keep you posted as to my dietary progress - I had a very lovely chopped salad with chicken tonight.  I think I will be having quite a few of those in the next couple of weeks.

But, down to business.  For those of you tuning in for the 1st International Duck Day update, I'm afraid it suffered a set-quack today.  I was waiting for some essential duck-themed items to be delivered today but, alas, they are still en route, apparently somewhere in Ohio.  Duck Day just wouldn't be the same without them, so instead the 1st International Duck Day will now be held this Sunday.   Unfortunately, however, this left me in a bit of a pickle this evening, as the Duck Boat Captain was going to have picked a forfeit out of the Potato of Destiny and Despair for me.  Without said aquatic assistant to do the deed, it was time for plan B.

Activate Plan Blender.

Yes, it was time to see just how far the unholy conspiracy of small domestic appliances had infiltrated the household, and to see if the evil triumvirate of microwave, upstairs scales AND downstairs scales had spread further.  So, tonight, the Magimix blender was called into service (the cats were not available - what did you think - that they were working cats or something???) and asked to join the newly politically active Potato Heads in an exciting photo shoot to select the next forfeit.  Obviously this was a photo shoot fraught with potential dangers and hazards to life and plastic limbs, so all due precautions were taken.   No vegetables were harmed in the making of this photo montage.

The post-it notes, not quite so much....

Setting up the studio for the photo-shoot

Mr PH reassures a nervous Mrs PH that there is nothing
to be afraid of and that its quite safe to approach The Blender

Safety specs in hand, Mr Potato Head explains the inner
workings of the Magimix to an impressed Mrs PH

The Talent is Brought in - Mr and Mrs PH greet the P of Double D
 and introduce him to T.Blender at the pre photo-shoot mixer

P of Double D showing his true political colors
 as Mr and Mrs PH get frisky

After all the preliminaries are over, its time to
 unload the P of Double D into T.Blender

Wearing safety specs for protection, Mr and Mrs PH
watch nervously from the sidelines as the forfeits
 tumble forth into T.Blender 

Finally, the P of Double D is empty, Mr PH puts
 his safety arms on and is ready for action 

He reaches for the Pulse switch.....

And POW!!!  Forfeits are catapulted into the air the
 instant he presses the PULSE button 

About 10 forfeits lie scattered around T.Blender and Mr PH
retrieves the one that traveled the furthest

He hands it to Mrs PH where it is revealed to be.....

ROLLER DISCO FORFEIT!!!

So there you have it.   Loopy's forfeit leapt the furthest out of the blender and into the awaiting plastic green arms of Mr PH.  Well done, Loopy.  Nice to see one of the original forfeits making it through.  And even nicer to see some of the newer ones NOT making it through.  You know who you are...

In summary, another exciting week's forfeit selection process completed without a hitch.  Other than (obviously) the prospect of broken bones, twisted ankles and looking completely like a knob on wheels, I actually don't mind the roller-disco forfeit too much.  I might potentially possibly maybe even have a teeny tiny smidge of fun.   I think the biggest challenge is going to be finding one to go to but I'm sure I'll come up with something.  Even if it means setting up my own roller disco somewhere in town.....

So, onwards and duckwards into Week 5.  Highlights for the coming week to look forward to are a grown-up Penguins and Pyjamas adult sleepover at the California Academy of Science on Friday night,  a terrarium workshop, a Pole Dancing Exhibition (no - not me), the 1st International Duck Day plus a full week of eating like a caveman and exercising like a lunatic.  Just another regular week in San Francisco.....

HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE???  
How could it be I am defying the laws of physics here?  I know energy is a constant and all that, but how can MY energy, expressed in the form of fat, be THIS constant??   WTF?  How can I be in a calorie deficit of over 800 calories a day and only lose 0.3lb for the week?  Come on Einstein, riddle me that!

I am hereby renaming my fat from "nostalgic fat" to "squatter fat".

So, here are the scores on the wibbly-wobbly, still tubtastic and completely perplexed bastard scale doors:

Target weekly weight loss: 1.5lb
"Acheived" weekly weight loss: 0.3lb

So, I can't blog for longer here because - guess what - I'm off to the gym to have another training session.  Given this week's scores, I'm going to suggest we try spending our hour training together sitting on a couch and eating potato chips - who knows, I may lose more weight that way.

And, you know the drill.  All forfeits in by 5pm PST today, please - they will be added to the P of Double D for drawing tonight.  I can't freakin' wait.

Round Up of Week 4 Highlights: Weekly Weight Loss Target Revealed....
Well, as I sit here about to sign up for a bagel-making workshop, Week 4 of the Get Lean and Loopyliscious Challenge is drawing to a close and its time to take stock and review what I've been up to since last week and ponder my chances for tomorrow.  So, since last Wednesday's weigh-in, I've been pretty bloody active, including:

• Three personal training sessions with my kick-ass hard core trainer, Natalie
• Two 45-min squash lessons with George at the Bay Club plus an additional solo 30-min practice session
• Cycled to/from the Bay Club 3 times

I've also been paying close attention to my diet too - below you can see the weekly summary report from my Slacker Tracker (or, more prosaically, Bodymedia FIT), so you can see I haven't been cheating!!!  Over the last week, I've:

• Been 100% on the wagon 
• Consumed a daily average of 1617 calories
• Burnt a daily average of 2491
• Achieved a daily calorie deficit of 874 calories.

SOOOO....according to my faithful slacker tracker, that should mean I am 100% on track to lose 1.5lbs this week.  Yep, folks, that's my weekly target - a mere 1.5lbs.  That's almost do-able with just a good dump, so god only knows why I've been having so much trouble over the last couple of weeks.  Bloody nostalgic fat.

Anyway, so now you know.  And, as I prepare my right forearm for the exquisite experience that will be the 1st International Duck Day tomorrow, I can only hope for a result that adequately reflects the amount of sweat and effort that's been genuinely expended this week.....

Stay tuned - all will be revealed in the morning....

Open the door, Get on the floor

Everybody park the dinosaur...

Ahh... you see it all here in San Francisco.  Tonight's blog will be a short one, more a photo montage, but I wanted to share these crazy-assed pictures with you and ask "Umm.....WTF?"

So, today's adventure was a little excursion into the Mission District to meet my mate Karen for brunch followed by a wander round the shops.   I was rudely awoken earlier than I would have liked (it being a  Sunday and all) by a supremely irritatingly chirpy announcer guy very loudly bellowing into his microphone (dude!! its hooked up to an amplifier - you don't have to shout!) to WELCOME EVERYBODY TO THE GIANTS RUN RIGHT HERE OUTSIDE AT&T PARK!!  ARE YOU ALL PUMPED AND EXCITED TO BE HERE AT 7AM ON A SUNDAY MORNING??

Actually, no.  No, i'm not.  But now that I'm awake, thank you for nothing, I might as well stand outside on my patio, in my slippers and dressing gown, with a nice cup of tea and watch just how many thousands and thousands of crazy people had turned up for this thing.  Apparently, about 14,000 of them!!  5,000 alone doing the 5K race which didn't start til 8am!!  You mean, you woke me up at 7am to babble insane nonsense and play Journey more times in one hour than is either legal or advisable and then have the audacity to fart about for a whole freaking hour??  You wouldn't get that in New York, that's for certain.   You'd make the first welcome announcement at 7am and then, if folk hadn't got their arses over the start line by 7.05am, you'd either be instantly disqualified or have to suffer the humiliatingly pitiful glances of your faster, more nimble, more attractive, more successful, more intelligent, more everything race-mates (not that NYC is competitive mind... and, steady on, Chemistry geeks, i'm not talking about equal amounts of left and right-handed enantiomers of a chiral molecule here...)

But... I digress.  After such a rude awakening, I toyed with the idea of going to the gym and doing an aerobics class of some description but eschewed that idea in favor of catching up on my blog.  (hmm...I wonder if missing the gym to write my blog about my weight loss challenge is linked in some way??).  So I spent a pleasant couple of hours recapping the highlights of last night's Cat Bingo Frenzy before i was time to head out to the Mission District.  

So the Mission District is one of the oldest, most historic neighborhoods in the city and has recently been experiencing a renaissance with lots more great bars, restaurants and funky shops opening up, much to the annoyance of some of the local residents.  If you are interested in the history of the Mission District, why it got its name and the provenance of all the murals on the walls of buildings that its famous for, then click here to read more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mission_District,_San_Francisco

Anyway, so I knew the area I was in was old, but prehistoric??  Come on, now.  Really??   As I was trying to find somewhere to park (hellaciously impossible, btw), I noticed a gap had just opened up and quickly zipped into it, but as i was pulling in, noticed the kerb was an odd color.  Getting out to inspect it more closely (they are absolute gits for tickets and tow-aways in this town), here's what I was faced with:

Umm...anyone, anyone?  My Chevy Equinox is about a year old and
 not all that fast, but it aint no stegosaurus...

The Dinosaur Transportation Authority, I presume? (or it could
 equally be a subtly coded PSA - "Dont Take Acid")

Karen and I really did spend about 10 minutes debating whether or not it was valid to park in a designated Dinosaur Parking spot - in the end we said, sod it and left my non-carnivorous car parked there.  I figured - if I do get towed for parking in a Bronto bay, then that's one ticket I wouldn't mind having to go to court to contest.  Just imagine the blog fodder for that one.  

I was also emboldened by this picture I'd see a friend post on Facebook about the Glaswegian response to traffic infractions, so I figured I had my strategy already sorted out, should I be unlucky enough to get clamped or towed.  It may, ultimately, be a pyrrhic victory, but I'm sure as hell it would feel good at the time....

Gotta love the Glaswegians

So, after more excitement than I should probably try to deal with sober, it was time to head for brunch - we ended up (after intense indecisiveness on my part) at this great little place called Radish, just round the corner from Dino Central.  The food was great but it was really quite loud inside (although I'm more used to the noise than Karen is, given I lived in Manhattan for 7 years), which is a sure sign of advancing years.....  After brunch we happily tooled around a few shops (I bought a fantastic Christmas present for Loopy) - until I was stopped dead in my tracks.  In utter shock and bewilderment.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Since when did my Potato Heads start doing freelance work advertising ice-cream AND become rampant political activists?   Firstly, where are my free ice-cream samples and secondly, what on earth is Proposition 37 and why do my neon-colored potato people feel so strongly about it?

http://www.carighttoknow.org/

So THIS is what they get up to when I'm not at home.
They are, indeed, Political Hot Potatoes....

Well, after doing at least 120 seconds of internet research, I discovered that apparently its all about GMO labeling and that our food should carry the appropriate information as to whether it contains any genetically modified components and that "we have the right to know more about our food".  Which is all terribly admirable and enthusiastically Californian but come now.  MY Mr Potato Heads as the poster children for the non-GMO movement?  They may look adorably cute and friendly but there ain't nuthin' natural about those puppies.... 

SITC People's Choice Awards: Rigoletto in the Park or Cat Bingo? 
Well, hello there Saturday.  What to do?   Today I had failed to find a suitable Groupon, Bloomspot, LivingSocial, Yelp, Goldstar or TravelZoo voucher that would direct me how to spend my day in making things and being crafty, so instead I had to freestyle it.

Well, at least until tonight, where I'd got a voucher to go to a free showing of Rigoletto at AT&T Park for the opening night of SF Opera's season with a big bunch of Brits.  But more on that later.

I got up around 8am, having treated myself to a night on the Tempur-pedic in my spare room.  Ahh.... snoozy bliss.  That mattress is so damned comfortable - I'm sure my guests sleep better than I do!  I had a squash lesson booked for 10am with George at the Bay Club, so about 9am, I start to head out along the Embarcadero via the ferry building, where I very briefly saw my wee Scottish mate who makes the best chutneys on the planet, Alison.

 http://www.mcquadechutneys.com/

She was there with her brother, Roy who was visiting for the day and who had been roped in to help her make chutney - gotta love putting the family to work on visits!  (what, mumsie? what's that? oh...stop yer complaining and git back to work!).  I'm going to be helping her sell her chutneys at Fall Fest - a local artisan foodie fair held in SF every, um, Fall.  It's going to be a lot of fun, its on Oct 13th so come visit us and buy a load of chutney!  http://sffallfest.com/  Who knows, you may even end up making a guest appearance in my blog....

What everyone is wearing this season, dahlink...

However, today alas - in contrast to my usual tradition with Alison - there was no time to stop for champagne at an inappropriately early hour as time and squash lessons wait for no man, so it was back onto the steel pony and head over to the Bay Club.

As you can imagine, my wardrobe of squash-appropriate attire is somewhat limited in scope (I'm not sure they let you play if you're a girl and not wearing a skirt).   All I had to wear was a bright pink Nike tennis (i think) skirt which I'd actually bought for a pole-dancing lesson some years prior.  It actually didn't look too bad - other than, unfortunately, of being the color a 7yr old girl (or stripper) would choose.  So what did I decide to pair said skirt with, to offset the pinkness of it all?  Yep, a slightly darker pink top.  I have no idea what was going through my mind when I threw that in the gym bag this morning - maybe i was hoping to distract George from my atrocious nascent squash skills by dressing like a stick of Hubba Bubba.

Anyhoo, the squash lesson was great (I won't bore you with all the details) and apparently I didn't suck too badly (he said my backhand was actually pretty good), so I have another one booked on Tuesday, so I can consolidate everything I learned before it escapes my vapid brain.  The only question - what the hell am i going to wear??

After my squash lesson and heading home, it was time to indulge in my very latest fad - the chopped salad!  Why am I only just discovering this now?  They are yummy - and sooo easy to make.  Salad?  Check.  Chopping board?  Check. Chop?  Check.  Rockstar chef?  Check.

I did, however, discover that my enthusiastic style of chopped salad-chopping warranted a bigger chopping board so, with only the thinnest of pretenses to cover up an otherwise purely gratuitous trip, off to Bed Bath and Beyond I headed!

I bloody love that place.

Unlike the last time I went to BB&B for some tealights and ended up buying a whole new set of Kate Spade china that was on offer, I was actually pretty restrained this time.  I found the perfect chopping block for only about $30 (rather than the super high-end $300 black walnut ones I'd been drooling over online) plus I bought a new grill pan too that was on offer for about $25, so I managed to leave with my sales check only in the 2-digit range.   Result.  I even managed to resist the Kate Spade crystal glasses that were on special (sense a theme here?), so well done me.

Cool, huh?

Back home again, and all that restraint had fair tuckered me out, so it was time for a very quick snooze before tidying up a bit ready for this evening's fun and games.  As I mentioned earlier, I had managed to get some tickets to go and see the free showing of Rigoletto in the ball park, a simulcast of SF Opera's opening night's performance.   Lori was coming to join me, driving into town after a day in Berkeley, so she was arriving around 6pm or so.  I had also signed up to see the Opera with the Ex-Pat British and Irish Meet-Up group and - as it wasn't a hosted event - had suggested that if anyone did want to meet up beforehand, they could come round to mine as a meeting point.  I'd been trying to go to an Ex-Pat Brit Meet-up event pretty much since I came to SF, but just hadn't quite managed to get to one.  But this time, seeing as it was literally outside my front door, I had no excuse!!   I wasn't sure if anyone was going to come or not, but i stuck a little sign up on my patio and waited to see if anyone turned up!

Now - I should just mention that I hate opera.  It doesn't matter if its one of the best opera companies in the world, but any time I watch opera, I'm reminded of all those bad school plays and musicals I was either in or watched where the over-acting is rampant and the plots impossibly improbable.  In my time, I've given it a fair shot - a couple of years after moving to NYC, I went to go and see La Boheme at the Met.  I'd bought quite an expensive ticket, so that i'd have a great view but - it was no good.  By the half-way intermission, I was bored out of my mind and considering storming the stage to demand that everyone should just get on with it, so I bunked out and went to go and meet my Brit mates in a nearby pub for a drink.  I guess you really need to like continual pointless repetition about inconsequential matters in obscure languages for hours on end to "get" opera - and I got enough of that dating in Manhattan for 7 years.   *sigh*

But - this time, it was free, it was right next door and it had the potential to at least be sociable, if not entertaining, so I figured, why not?  From about 6.30pm onwards, people with accents as peculiar as mine started turning up - first Karen, then Lori, then Laura and Dominic and lastly Jeff.   No-one knew each other (well, obviously I knew Lori!) so it was great to be able to introduce people to each other and get to know some new peeps.  Everyone was really friendly and sociable, so I was glad I'd put the invite out.

Best seats in the house....unless
you wanted to read the subtitles

After gathering together enough pillows, cushions and blankets to keep us all toasty, if needed, as well as lending Lori a stunningly stylish pair of lilac-colored cat socks, we were ready to head out.  We waited til about 7.15pm (even though we had early entry tickets) because the line to get in was bonkers - I felt I should be entitled to a resident's pass and not have to queue at all, dammit.  But, alas, off to stand on line to get our bags checked with the great unwashed.  But, in the end, it didnt take long, so within 15mins we were inside the stadium and searching for that perfect spot with which to take in the magnificent performance.  Unfortunately the field was pretty full by this stage, but we grabbed some seats in the bleachers (that's what they're called, right?) and we were pretty happy with our selection.

Swapping fashion tips at the opera

Until the simulcast started and we realized that we had placed ourselves with a view of the screen such that the first half of the subtitles was completely obscured by the massive speaker in front of it.  Umm... yeah.  YOU try watching opera, from a distance, without your glasses on, trying to read the text AND trying to figure out what the bit was that you missed!!  Completely impossible!   Fortunately, I had a little knowledge of Rigoletto (bizarrely enough from secondary school - I remember it from Mr Lovell's music classes) so I vaguely remembered how much of a depressing story it was and how it all ended tragically (what a surprise) with Rigoletto accidentally murdering his daughter in a sack, rather than the Duke.  (if you want more of a synopsis than that, you'll have to look it up!).  And yes - after about 30 mins of singing about despair, curses, murderous plans and how terrible the price of bread was in Mantua, I was also remembering vividly why I don't like opera.

Count 'em!!  Go on... I dare you to try not to!!!

I kept myself amused by instead counting the number of ridges in Gilda's shiny and expansive brow (the lady in blue in the picture).  There really was quite an impressive, almost Klingonian, array.  I really tried hard not too, but I just couldn't help it.  Rather than getting lost in the emotion of the music and the beauty and poignancy of (half of) the words she was singing, I found myself instead with the almost uncontrollable urge to grab a large block of English cheddar and grate it on her forehead.   While I was thinking about cheese, one of my new found Brit mates, Laura, was obviously having similar troubles staying focused on the plot.  In one of the breaks, after Gilda had been doing lots of "O" mouth shaped singing, Laura made the passing comment that she thought she reminded her of the blow-up doll from one of the episodes of Only Fools and Horses.  I thought that was a little harsh, but she had a point - maybe that explained The Duke's sudden infatuation with her?  ("I feel like we have met before, fine lady...")

Anyway, with Ridge Face Plastic Lady as well as the Duke looking like he'd escaped from an Indiana Jones film, it was probably game over before it'd even started, so Lori and I managed to limp our way through 45mins before the decision of the day presented itself.  Do we stay and run the risk of becoming slightly more cultured but 100% more depressed, or do we bail early, go back to mine for a nice cup of tea and a game of Cat Bingo?

Cat Bingo Deluxe Box Set with free
bingo token dispenser included

No contest.  Cat Bingo it was, then.

For those of you who may have missed the earlier posts, Cat Bingo is a continuation of the legend that began in Yosemite with Wildlife Bingo last month.  It caused quite a stir when Lori and I played at Curry Village to the envy of young and old alike (only slightly ahead of the other gaming sensation of the summer, Bunyaviridae Virus Bingo), so Cat Bingo seemed the natural extension for two single gals on a Saturday night.

Anyway, unlike Wildlife Bingo, this box set came with fully pose-able models included, who were extremely helpful in both the token distribution and playing card chewing tasks.  Dylan found the Russian Blue particularly tasty,  They also provided free refereeing services deciding, with a swish of tail, whether either of us were getting too close to victory for comfort.  Alas, the descriptions on the back of the picture cards were somewhat less informative and interesting than those in the Wildlife Bingo edition (where, amazingly enough, we actually learnt stuff).  I think they must have used up all their research budget on WB - example: Russian Blue description - "this cat is blue in color and originally comes from Russia".  Really?  Wow.  I'dve never figured that one out.  I wonder if Sarah Palin can see it from her window?  Another classic was the "American Shorthair" - I have no idea what the person was smoking who wrote this, but here was the description:

"The American Shorthair is a hardy and independent cat.  It is thought to have arrived on the Mayflower in 1620.  It is a working cat with no extreme features, making it the all-American cat.  It comes in many colors and patterns, the most common pattern being the classic tabby".

Meet Chuck.  He's an All-American cat.
And - apparently - he works.

OK.  Firstly, it sounds more like a political statement than a description of a cat breed.  Secondly, what is an "extreme feature"?  The writer is basically calling the entire breed dull and plain - with less remarkable countenances than our own beloved be-grooved Gilda.  Finally - and this is the most heinous- the person who wrote this has obviously never owned a cat, and may never even have met one in real-life.  Perhaps their experiences have been confined to just reading about them in books or pondering Schrodinger's famous feline paradox.  Because I ask you this - cat owners of the world - have you EVER, even ONCE, in your entire history of feline servitude ever met a "working" cat?   As I sit here and type this and my moggies are hard at it with their 16th continuous hour of synchronized sleeping and shedding, I fear the very appearance of those two words in the same sentence are causing a schism in the fabric of space and time that only one individual in a larger-on-the-inside blue box may be able to fix.    And - pray - if it were true and the American Shorthairs were indeed the unsung working heros of the cat world, in what capacity do they ply their furry trade?   Cat burglers?  Cat-tle ranchers?  Meow-sicians?

Anything, even love, is possible in Cat Bingo...

Fortunately, even for the hardest working cat, there is always time for love, so, Lori and I were delighted to be able to introduce Chuck to Tiffany, helpfully described as a medium-sized cat with a semi-long coat.  Tiffany (on sabbatical from the One Hit Wonders of the 80's Bingo box set) didn't seem to mind Chuck's lack of extreme features and nature seemed to take its furry course.  Aww...kittens (oh - kittens are small baby cats?  really?)

In the meantime, the inaugural Cat Bingo smackdown was reaching its thrilling conclusion with Lori and I neck and neck in our attempts to claim Cat Bingo glory.  In the end, we both needed a single chip (not Chuck) to finish... and we both needed the Burmese!!  So it was that the evening ended in an honorable draw - it was, indeed, the cat's meow.