Dinnertime!

Check out this pic from the trip to Hong Kong:

Now…you’re probably saying to yourself….why were Rita and McC shopping for pets while they were in Hong Kong??? I thought the same thing…until I found out we were shopping for DINNER. Aaahhhhh! The custom here is to eat seafood so fresh that it was alive before you came along. Aaahhhhhh! The workers stand around in galoshes and you point out which fish/shrimps/clams would look better on a plate. [We’ll take Nemo with a side of lemon?]

Where did I think the seafood came from? Costco. I don’t expect to be involved in its execution.

After we imposed our death sentence, we went inside to the full-service restaurant [I’m going to need a beer after that]. Once again our hosts got creative in their ordering and a plate of sliced 1,000 year-old eggs arrived at the table. [I’ll take another beer.] I don’t think it’s really 1,000 years old…but the fact it could pass for it was worrisome enough. This particular delicacy looks like an Easter egg prep gone horribly awry. The egg “white” is actually a gelatinous forest green and the yolk a deep purple. [I think Dr. Seuss made the appetizer. The incredible, indelible egg?] And you top it off by dipping it in sugar. [Just sugar? Do you have any ketchup?]

This is where Rita decided the “you-should-just-try-it” rule had its limits…but failed to let me in on the dispensation before I tried the psychedelic treat. [I got the “good sport” award that day – not worth it.]

Then Nemo got plunked down on the table and our server started scooping out filets of our recently departed fish. Given my 1,000-year-old-egg street cred, our server singled me out for the fish cheek…”the best part of the fish”. Great – I win the fish lottery. Except my fish cheek also came with a bonus…the little fishy’s eye ball! Aaaahhhhhh! I tried to push it to the side, but it just kept rolling around my plate. Aaaahhhhhh!

I am suddenly less judgmental of those Americans who come all the way to Asia and then eat at pizza hut.

And Dim Some

Eating in Hong Kong is [mostly] amazing. The first day we were here, two business contacts of Rita’s took us for authentic, I-can’t-read-the-Chinese-menu Dim Sum. Dim Sum is a lot like tapas…only with a higher frequency of brain, stomach or tongue. And they wrap the protein in a dumpling, so you’re never quite sure what you’re being served [Dim Sum roulette].

At Dim Sum, each dish is a “snack” with about four pieces of whatever has been ordered. I think the boys who hosted us were surprised that the big girls from America could go through 17 courses [I said it was a snack]. But our Dim Sum lunch IS where we had the unfortunate cow’s-stomach-soup incident [see…only sixteen courses when you exclude the not-very-popular soup]. I knew we were in trouble when one of our hosts laughed as they placed it on the table. A good rule of thumb is to avoid any selection that amuses the people that can actually read the menu.

Now…I’m not very fond of soup in the first place…and even less fond of soup with floaty-brown-sponge things in it. I did, however, think we had to be polite and try everything that our hosts provided [watching Rita – I would later find there were limits to that rule] – so I had a few bites of the floaty brown thingys. It tastes like chicken. Actually, I have no idea how it tastes because Hong Kong is where I have learned to eat without chewing.

The REST of the Dim Sum, of course, was harmless and delicious. But barely prepared us for the seafood dinner later that night…

Hong Kong Sighting

Hong Kong is an amazing place.  I'm still getting acclimated here, but already I have some first impressions:

• The average taxi ride here costs HK$25…which is about $3.00 in US dollars. And no tipping. So your taxi fare across the island is HK$25, but the Starbucks you buy when you get there is HK$31.
• I don’t know if it’s my experiences in San Diego or what, but every time I hear another language, I revert to broken Spanish [WTF]. Imagine the confusion when this tall, white American walks into your shop screaming… “Hola”, “Gracias”, “Por Favor”.   Seriously…I have to reach UP to be a tourist.
• If you are non-black-headed here, you stick out like a sore thumb. The constancy of the jet-black hair is startling [the hair color aisle at Walgreen’s is only 3 colors deep]. There are 7 million people in this city, but I only see a brunette/blonde about twice a day. [And for some reason…I always check to see if I know them.]
• People here randomly wear face masks [like the surgical kind]. I had assumed it was virus protection of some sort. [By the way…which pandemic are we on now? Still swine flu?] But someone said that it had more to do with the air quality than tourist repellant. Does breathing the air through a mask make it better? If so, that doesn’t bode well for my workout.
• The humidity is straight out of the movie Platoon. Yesterday it was 83% humidity…but if there was 17% dryness, I didn’t find it. It rains here “from the ground, UP,” as the saying goes.
• With the exchange rate and how cheap things are…you lose track of real money. Today, we almost got mad at a pedi-cabber for the exorbitant charge of HK$100, until we realized he pedaled the biggest woman he’d ever seen across the island for US$12.

…more tomorrow on the discoveries of dim sum.

Flight of Fancy

“Black Friday” was the day Rita discovered she had lost her status with United Airlines. Which means Rita was unable to upgrade to Business Class at the time we booked the tickets for the decades-long flight to Hong Kong. We’ve been scheming on United points every since…but that’s a different blog. When we were checking in, however, one of us thought she had received a mercy-upgrade at the last minute, while the other one remained in coach. [I guess that would make me Leonardo DiCaprio to her Kate Winslet? Where can I find steerage?]. I told her I was fine as long as rolled a Miller Lite down the aisle every once in a while.

Unfortunately, Rita’s upgrade notification was all a big Business Class tease (!) and we both ended up back in coach. [And I do so hate to see Rita cry.] She got an upgraded seat compared to mine, however, in that she had an operational console. Specifically, she…and Every. Other. Passenger on the plane…had an overhead light and TV sound to use in the completely blacked-out cabin…while I had a bum console and 13 hours of silent darkness. My rucksack of entertainment does me no good if I Have. No. #%@$&. Light. I read by the glow of my laptop until the battery went dead [only 10 more hours to go.] If I had been in a window seat, I would have thrown open the shade and burned the retinas of all the lucky people with their working consoles.

Thankfully, my re-coached girlfriend let me reach across the aisle and plug into her console to watch the movie. Which was all good and well until our stretched-out cord clotheslined half the staff. Honest to god, you would have thought word would have spread amongst the hundred flight attendants about the booby trap in row 19…Instead, it was like a bad episode of the A-Team…with one perky waitress after another hurtling down the aisle until forward progress was violently halted at row 19 [“But since you’re here…can I get another Miller Lite?”]. Of course, those were my ears that the cord was connected to when Suzie the Flight Attendant did her sudden faceplant, so I didn’t come out so great in the deal either.

But Hong Kong was worth the trip...more on that later.

In Flight Entertainment

While I have yet to plan one single thing for the time we are in Hong Kong, I have planned EXTENSIVELY for the flight over there. Have I mentioned that the flight is a tad….long? We leave today at noon and factoring in the time change, we arrive…in June. [Don’t worry – you get it back on the flight home.]

I have EASILY packed more books, magazines and blog ideas than clothes [skorts don’t take up much space]. If I were to read everything I brought with me, I would earn a Ph.D. before I land. A Ph.D. in worthless, non-fiction trivia, mind you – but a Ph.D. nonetheless. [At least as valuable as Rita’s Ph.D. in cooking magazines.]

I went ahead and penciled in a schedule of activities for the flight, so I knew I would keep busy:

Noon to 1 pm:         Happy hour
1 pm to 2 pm:          Blogging [always better after happy hour]
2 pm to 3 pm:          Daily dose of Winston Churchill biographies
3 pm to touchdown: Ambien/snoring/drooling. My apologies to my neighbor in seat 26B. [OMG!..I’m the reason people don’t like middle seats!]

But I have 8 books on my Kindle, just in case. And a John Grisham paperback should we reach Code Red boredom.

Then there’s the food we packed. Chex mix/bananas/mini snickers/etc./etc.. [Bet the bananas make it all the way to Hong Kong. Maybe even Ireland.] Usually, these provisions would represent a week’s worth of calories. Apparently, however, calories during air travel are like gravity on the space shuttle…only 1/6th count. I mean, when was the last time you let yourself buy a bag of mini-snickers?! [Unless you “put it in escrow” by asking someone else to hide it from you]

With all the food we’ve packed, Rita and I we could start our own airborne canteen. If United’s food cart goes empty, I’m going to pay for this vacation with a granola bar liquidation.

Get Skorty

What is it about vacationing with Rita that always includes me buying a skirt?? [See post regarding Rio shopping: http://savemethecall.blogspot.com/2008/03/shopping-for-rio.html.] Honest to god, other than an unfortunate graduation dress or two and the close-as-she’s-ever-gonna-get-to-the-wedding-dress number for 1st communion, I’ve managed to live a skirt-free life. At least until I started vacationing with Rita.

Hong Kong weather calls for something “cool…to compensate for weather that may remind you of the Surface.  Of.  The.  Sun.”  When I checked the Hong Kong weather in February (i.e., the middle of WINTER), it was 97 degrees (!). That may have been Celsius. Preparing for spontaneous combustion involves packing light. I figured shorts and a t-shirt would make me look too much like a tourist. [Because other than the wardrobe…I am pretty sure I will Blend. Right. In. I expect to be the tallest, whitest woman these people see in a generation.]  Anyway…Rita recommended a skirt…I voted capri’s…we settled on a skort. For those who aren’t familiar with a skort my brother, the skort is shorts masquerading as a skirt by attaching a wrap-around panel [made especially for tomboys?]. Besides…it’s just fun to say. So WHAT if I look like a college women’s basketball coach stomping around in my secret-shorts.

While we were shopping for my skort wardrobe…Rita thought she would go all in and suggest a little black dress to wear to her work dinner. “Honey, I don’t care if we are at R.E.I., I’m not buying a dress.” When I told Lo in Nashville that story, she told me I could just wear sliding shorts under the dress… afterall, sliding shorts ARE the original Spanx. At least for some of us. [And if you have to look up “sliding shorts”, I’m probably not talking about you.]

Where ARE my old softball uniforms?

Networking

Even though I am supposed to be on “sabbatical”…I have been working. Spending time networking, that is, in San Diego. After all, I’ve lived in this town for 18 months and I know 8 people, none of whom are likely to give me a job. I probably need to pick up the pace a little.

I spent much of last week (when not in Vegas, that is), meeting and greeting complete strangers – trying to explain in 35 words or less why I am a kick-ass accountant/finance exec/consultant [the blog goes unmentioned]. I had 3 different coffee dates set up on Thursday…probably should have gone with the decaf. By the 3rd meeting, I may have come across as an overly-enthusiastic accountant/finance exec/consultant.

Some of these things can be excruciating. I’ve figured out that “you’ve got a really great resume” is just another way of saying “she’s a good sport” or “bless her heart”.  [Did I mention I can pivot table the phone book and I come with my own help desk?]

And after a couple of these speed-rating sessions – I just want to put certain answers on my business card so we don’t have to cover them again:

• Rhymes with “Dave”
• Nope, not short for anything…It’s Irish
• Why’d I moved out to San Diego? Umm, it’s an accountant’s mecca – you didn’t know that?
• Not that kind of black belt…Six Sigma Black Belt

I’m going to go back to “networking” about the Titans.

 

Continuing Education

I’m in Vegas for some continuing professional education (“CPE”) for my CPA. [I’m barely able to stay on the right side of these rules, but if I can finagle a trip to Vegas out of it – I at least stand a chance of getting the required hours each year.]

I expect these classes to be anything but controversial. Boring, yes. Controversial, no.

Today’s class [innocuously titled Critical Issues for Industry Accountants] is turning out to be a 7 hour political rally. I think the instructor is Sarah Palin’s grandfather. Don’t let the bowtie fool you…this guy is a first class wingnut. He must have mentioned the Twin Towers a dozen times in the introduction. He said it so often I thought he must be trying to activate a Tea Party sleeper cell or something. And I don’t know how you shoehorn “Islamofascism” into an accounting class…but he did.

Thank god we were out playing craps and drinking mimosas during the part comparing our country today to the Weimar republic [and that makes Obama equal to…] Ummmm, seriously….most of the people in this room are Controllers – aren’t we supposed to be in favor of improved controls?? I don’t REALLY think that the Fraud Protection program is the same thing as “getting a computer chip implanted in your neck like a dog.”

I did run up to my room during the first break and put on my Obama t-shirt [I bring it with me on every trip]. But I am definitely going to need an HRC meeting to recover from THIS class.

Oh WAIT! Rice krispie treats for the break. Nevermind, I take it all back – I love this class!

Sabbatical

I’ve been jobless for a whole week now. Several people have asked, what are you doing with yourself?? To be honest – I have no earthly idea, but I seem very, very busy. Here’s a sample of my activities:  

• Looking for shoes. Ever since I started wearing this damn boot – I’ve lost every single left-footed shoe I own.
• Bugging the crap outta Rita. "What are you doing now?" Working. "How about now?" Working.
• Not one single thing around the house. Sabbatical or no, the streak remains unbroken.
• I am going to need you people to step up your facebook activity since I am now checking it on the 8’s….[9:28, 9:38, 9:48…it makes me feel connected].
• My to-do list has gotten significantly less ambitious. I caught myself adding “Check voicemail” as a to-do item.
• Molly’s already charmed life has gotten about three walks a day better.
• I sent a birthday card on time for the first time in my life.
• I spent one regretful hour participating in an on-line discussion regarding the Titan’s best 3rd round draft pick. [It seemed important at the time.  BTW, it's clearly Zach Piller.]
• I suddenly have the attention span of a 3 year old. One airline reservation took me almost two hours to book yesterday…I looked up car deals and the weather and mapquested the location. These are things I usually do at the airport before the flight takes off (if I do them at all).

Good thing I am going to Vegas (for CPA continuing education) on Monday so I can be productive [if standing around a craps table losing money counts as being productive, that is].

Adams Ave.

I’ve lived here for a year and a half and I still have to use Mapquest to get to the grocery store. It’s high time I learn my neighborhood. So one of my sabbatical goals is to visit every establishment on the main drag that runs along our neighborhood. In a 3 mile stretch of Adams Avenue, you can pretty much go around the world [and in some cases…underworld]. Just for illustration, here are some of the targets on my Tour de Hood:

• Mama’s Roots – Traditional and Urban Magic. [Glad to see we can still go old school on our magic. Paging Harry Potter.]
• The Stuff Store [someone did NOT spend much time on their branding]
• Eritrean Community Center [can you still use the Community Center if you have ZERO idea where Eritria is??  Why do I anticipate problems trying to "pass" for Eritrean?]
• Pilgrimage of the Heart Yoga [someone spent too much time on their branding. This combines ALL my favorite transactional events…pilgrimages of the heart, yoga…can’t wait.]
• The Martial Arts Gym [full contact spin class?]

We won’t even include the tattoo parlors since I visited most of them during the unfortunate belly ring incident>>  http://savemethecall.blogspot.com/2008/05/belly-ring.html

Rita already dropped out of this little game right after the trip to the Crown Jewelry and Loan [I LOVE pawn shops]. It’s early in the pursuit, however, and our addiction to $2 popsicles is already paying the rent at Viva Pop [3330 Adams Ave].

One thing I haven’t decided is whether I will just visit these places or do I need to actively engage/purchase/participate? Because while I will be happy to do business with the donut shop or $5 pizza places, it will be tougher to transact with the Philosophy Tree Metaphysical book store or the Cabrillo Academy of the Sword, Theatrical Sword Play [although I WOULD love a school sweatshirt.]

And for the first time ever – I did not make up a single name/location in this whole blog entry - these are all places within 3 miles of our house. My visit to the Cabrillo Academy of the Sword will undoubtedly be its own blog. I wonder if they do birthday parties…

Meanwhile, anyone interested in the AmVets Wednesday night bingo…let me know.

Das Boot

I have been hobbling around with a walking boot since Friday, which happened to be my last day of work. [I lose my job AND my ability to walk unencumbered all on the same day.] Turns out that my use of free time [a/k/a afternoons] over the past month spent training for the SD Half Marathon has resulted in a stress fracture. [Yep – I have been training for a half-marathon. Underemployment is always good for my fitness level. Remember when I had that Sarbanes Oxley “job”? Well…let’s just say it coincided with my marathon training.]

Anyway, despite playing every sport imaginable in my lifetime, I’ve never really had an injury before [primarily because I don’t try very hard], so I’m not sure what went wrong this time [first person that says “you’re getting old” gets a boot to the head]. I’m not even sure it’s a stress fracture cuz I haven’t been to the doctor [lest he tell me to stay off it or some other news I don’t want to hear.] Instead, I have borrowed a walking boot from Rita. [Self diagnosed and now self treated. Who are we kidding…I’ll never take a healthy step again.] My toes hang out a little on Rita’s boot, but I’m sure that’s not messing up any of the important tendons.

And I’m not going to say that Rita is accident prone – but she does have a FINE assortment of orthopedic equipment [elbow sling, left (and right) walking boot, knee brace…I think I will stop now before I have to borrow another one.]

So here I sit on my sabbatical supposed to be staying off my feet, just when I have no need to be at my desk all day. Fabulous.

Molly's Walk-Abouts

It was bound to happen and it did. After almost a year and a half, Molly finally figured out that there is unfettered access between her back yard playground and the front yard of freedom [she’s a blonde]. That there is nothing but her good behavior keeping her from hiking down the driveway and not looking back til she gets her fill of other dogs’ poop. That’s right..she spent 18 well-behaved months tooling around the back yard without ever exploring what lay on the other end of that driveway. Okay, okay, there was that one time she ran around to the front yard & got maced by the postman, but otherwise, she’s never even TRIED it. [Maybe THAT’s been the deterrent all this time?]

Whatever it was, the deterrent has expired – because Molly has recently taken to wee walk-abouts in the neighborhood. The first time she went out for a self-guided walk, she went unnoticed until the phone rang…"Ummm…hi…I have a white dog here with your number on her collar.” Da wha? You mean Molly isn’t in the back yard? [Mother of the year.] The second time we noticed she was gone, we found her collar in the living room while she was out-and-about naked as a jaybird. We spent 20 panicked minutes looking for her before we found her in front of the shitzou-owning neighbor’s big picture window. “Hey neighbor…sorry about your dog scratching the hell out of your window. Our dog doesn’t normally taunt like that.” [Lie]

Rita and I have begun spending part of every day frantically calling out to one another “Have you seen Molly? Where’s Molly? Do you have Molly??” [It’s a good thing her street in California doesn’t have as much traffic as Woodlawn Dr …she’d be a Molly pancake by now. This dog has NOT figured out that in dog vs. car….car wins.]

Which means it’s time for more yard art on Hilldale Road with our very own driveway fence:

[All my crap is keeping Rita from being able to park in the garage anyway…so what the heck.] We could have tried the electronic fence again [see post: http://savemethecall.blogspot.com/2008/11/invisible-fence-part-deux.html, ] but quite frankly, my nerves couldn’t take it. This is probably not the landscaping Rita imagined when she bought the house a couple of years ago, but that precious little white dog is sooooooo worth it, right honey??? Besides, the way I look at it is that it doesn’t keep Molly IN the yard as much as it keeps the skunk OUT of the yard. [Oh dear god, I hope.]

And that baby is secured! We were pretty doggone proud of the job we did bolting that thing into place…until the yard man arrived with his mower to do the back yard, that is.