But, but what does it mean?!

I work online, as I have mentioned several times. My whole professional existence lives in my computer--my classes, my ability to log on to campuses, my teaching files, PowerPoints, old grading information, and on and on. The last time I had actually backed all of this up was when we left Chicago. This proved to be a very bad decision when I awoke Thursday morning in San Francisco at 8am, began working and by 10am the computer locked up. Not a bit deal, a hard shut down usually fixes this. Not this time. Oh no, instead, I received the folder with a question mark icon:

Scott looked at it, fiddled around with it, opened it up. I did research on the internet. The diagnosis: dead hard drive. Noooooo! my little heart cried. Impossible! my brain said. And deep down in the pit of me, I knew it was true. But the ever optimist Sagittarian that I am refused to believe it couldn't be resurrected. Perhaps if we let it die like we do my iPod it will come back to life--at least so I can get my important files. I switched to Scott's computer while he ran out for an ever-so-needed cup of coffee. Even from Starbuck's this cup of coffee was happiness in a cup. Being the ever wise man that he is, Scott left for a day out on the town while I tried to figure out how to tackle my much handicapped day.

Luckily, Scott and Mom both had computers with them. I sent a frantic voicemail to the guy above me explaining that grades would be in late and that I was having some serious technical setbacks; he was quite understanding, which relieved some of the stress and panic I was feeling. However, I still had three lectures that evening, grades still to do, and I had homework due myself (I am currently taking classes for my Master of Online Teaching certification--as one friend, in quite a snarky tone replied, "Of course you are").  Somewhere between working on two computers, I was able to create a new PowerPoint for lecture that I used across all three classes. The first lecture I pulled off beautifully, even if my voice was a bit shrill and shaky after the day. The second lecture failed miserably. I couldn't get the room to open, the internet was no longer cooperating, and once I did get into the room I couldn't share my lecture PowerPoint or my computer screen. I shot out an email to the class explaining that the lecture would be bumped back to 9:30 and would be the full time. Scott ran down to the front desk, let them have it, they comped the week of internet we had been struggling with, called wherever their Tech Support is (not on location), and got it up and running.  I switched computers again in the hopes that it would allow me to share my chats and got the campus open so I could upload my files to a main sharing location for the online campus. That computer did not care for the chat, locked up, and refused to cooperate. Switch computers again. Got the third class going with very few hiccups. Got the last, rescheduled chat going with many apologies and few glitches. Once it was over, I pulled the headset off and slumped into my chair. I was utterly and absolutely exhausted and realized that I had stayed in my pajamas all day.

Scott and Mom had gone out to the tiny, family owned Italian restaurant Il Borgo on a recommendation from a fellow customer at Giant Robot. Scott said they only have house wines; you ask for red, they brings you red.  He and Mom had so thoughtfully returned with lobster ravioli that was simply amazing.  It was food for the soul. Scott had picked up small gifts at Giant Robot for us. I received the Working Stiff vinyl toy from Vinyl Graffiti (we have a smattering of these types of vinyls around the house):

He now sits on my computer and watches me work. I ate and visited for a bit and then returned to work. At 4:50AM, I finally closed the computer, with my grades fully updated, and fell into bed utterly and absolutely exhausted. I had pulled a 21.5 hour work day, with no overtime, time and half, or anything of the sort. Be kind to adjunct instructors; we work hard, we love what we do, but it isn't always kind to us.

If You're Going to San Francisco...

We made a rather impromptu trip down to San Francisco to spend last week with Scott's mom, who was down from Alaska and in town for a week-long conference.

We drove down on Monday, stopping in Salem, OR at Rock-N-Rogers Diner for breakfast, and met her at the Parc 55 Wyndham hotel in downtown San Francisco. I, unfortunately, cannot recommend this hotel to you, dear readers, as it was one of those hotels that tries desperately to pull of posh and falls just shy of its lofty goal, despite its claims of all the "thoughtful amenities" and "thoughtfully appointed rooms". There were clearly some things they forgot to think about. It came equipped with the requisite $5 bottle of oddly size, and thus irreplaceable, bottle of Aquafina, the restaurant and bar where I felt underdressed by not wearing the uniform black, the valet attendants who were convinced we were rather shiesty, and charged $15 per day for internet service.  The internet was a nightmare unto itself, however, and this proved to be quite problematic for one who makes her living on being connected to the internet. The ethernet cord was present but fit into the "Line In" plug; obviously to get the internet into my computer I required a "Line Out" plug.  We were incorrectly under the assumption that there would be a small refrigerator in the room; the lack of this "thoughtful amenity" put us in a bind as we had brought a JaCiva's cheesecake with us from Portland. Ever resourceful, Scott used the cooler we had used to safely transport it in (possibly the reason for the looks from the valets as this particular cooler was painted neon yellow). The gym proved to be questionable as the treadmill Scott was using sounded as though it would fall apart at any moment and insisted on calibrating every few minutes, requiring him to find a new machine mid-run. The house keeping team, though, was terrific.


It was good to see Mom and to be able to spend some time with her when she wasn't in conference and I wasn't working.  On Tuesday we met for lunch at Cafe Mason. The shrimp and crab melt was delicious: Bay shrimp & dungeness crab with monterey jack cheese served on croissant.  I spent the afternoon grading and holding my classes, while Scott traversed San Francisco alone, and finished up early enough to be able to enjoy dinner at Colibri Mexican Bistro. The guacamole was made at our table and was served with three varieties of salsa--red, green, and a sweet yellow--and housemade corn tortillas. The margaritas were excellent, although for those who like them frozen it is not an option here, and I thoroughly enjoyed my Margarita Tezon (Tezon Blanco, bright citrus fruits with hints of honey, vanilla and spice) and Scott enjoyed his Margartia Corzo (Corzo Blanco, flavors of tropical fruit and peppery spice harmoniously blended to create a delicate finish).  The Camarones Ceviche (Prawns in lime and orange juice, onion, garlic, cilantro, tomato, avocado, olive oil, with a tomato chipotle sauce) was absolutely wonderful and my only regret was that I was unable to finish it all. hould you decide to eat here while visiting San Francisco, I recommend making reservations.   Scott surprised us each with a small token from his outing; I am now the happy owner of a pair of Betsey Johnson checkerboard tights and Mom now has a lovely pair of crocheted wrist warmers from Sock Shop on Haight.  


Wednesday provided us with beautiful weather and we met up with a friend we knew from college in Colorado at the HoneyHoney cafe and crepery. It was such a treat to see her and her daughter, who just turned one.  I had frantically been knitting a toboggan hat for her with a self-striping terrifically bright 80s style rainbow yarn.  It was adorable on her although she preferred playing with it as opposed to wearing it on her head.  From HoneyHoney, we met up with Mom and headed out for a tour of San Francisco, courtesy of Scott. We drove to Haight-Ashbury, 


drove down Lombard Street and Hyde Street, which admittedly tested my mettle when I saw the dropoff.


We explored Golden Gate Park, stopping to watch lawn bowling where a player explained the logistics and some history of the game to us, strolling to Hippie Hill, which is "a small hill at the eastern end of Golden Gate Park where the hippies often gathered to smoke marijuana during the Summer of Love and people often gather today" (admittedly from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Gate_Park), and wending our way to the Japanese Tea Gardens . There are pictures that we took of this that deserve their own blog posting.  The gardens were beautiful and I took a lot of pictures of budding flowers and green that Mom could take home with her to the frozen greys and whites of Alaska.  

We found lunch at Jenny's Burgers (with plenty of Forrest Gump imitations on the pronunciation of this place). This tiny little burger joint had a great toppings bar--shredded lettuce and lettuce leaf, spinach, tomatoes, pickles, pepperocinis, banana peppers, olives, beets, green pepper, onion, mayo, mustard, ketchup, barbeque sauce, and more.  Scott ordered the Hawaiian that came with grilled pineapple and teriyaki sauce. Mom and I ordered basic cheeseburgers and I proceeded to dress mine with barbeque, banana peppers, pickles, tomato, lettuce leaf, and onion. Flavored with hunger, these burgers were hard to beat that afternoon.  After this late lunch, Scott drove us over to the Presidio area to look at the fancy homes and look out over the Bay.  I realized just how much I love just driving around unfamiliar cities, turning down roads and not knowing where they will take you, and then trying to find our way back.

We had tickets that night to Yoshi's to see New Monsoon with Scott's mom. We were joined by one of her coworkers. It was an enjoyable night and I found myself particularly liking the song "Alaska" for its sad ballad, and quite appropriate title. 

On warm winter jams

Well, Taste Test #2 is in:


Bad news: the Guinness mustard is finished. Good news: I opened the vanilla caramel pear jam. (In truth, I opened it before I finished then Guinness mustard, despite my promises of going one at a time because, really, jam and mustard fulfill totally different functions.)


When I first opened the jar, the caramel aroma was so strong, I really expected the jam (or jelly? I'll need a lesson from you at some point on the difference) to be sticky like caramel, but it turns out that the caramel taste really takes a backseat to the vanilla bean and pear—it almost ends up just being the flavor that lingers. The vanilla bean & pear (and the lingering caramel flavor) together make this the perfect winter jam. The flavors aren't as bright as I typically expect from jams, and I'm totally appreciative of this in the winter mornings while I'm eating toast and jam with tea for breakfast. The flavors are warm (and my apartment is so cold right now) but not too sweet (it is definitely sweet, but not as overly sweet as I may have expected from a combination of three such sweet flavors). The jam is substantive and soaks into toast so that I've got the crunch and the sweet and the yum all in one amazing bite. In short--delicious again!!!


From Tim: "Two thumbs up. Tell Anna she should go into business making this."


Thanks for the support, guys!


In answer to Naomi's uncertainty about jams, jellies, and, just for the knowledge, preserves:

The difference is in the form that the fruit takes.

• In jelly, the fruit is in the form of fruit juice.
• In jam, the fruit is in the form of fruit pulp or crushed fruit (and is less stiff than jelly as a result).
• In preserves, the fruit is in the form of chunks in a syrup or a jam.

I suppose that my creations are more along the lines of jams or preserves.  I should also mention here that I do not add pectin to mine; I use a two day process that allows the natural pectin in the fruit to set up the spread.  It is not as stiff but I'm okay with that and, apparently, so are the other people enjoying it.