the lightening to my thunder

we missed each other.
when he tried, I was busy. when I tried, he was busy.

But he made me feel beautiful. And wanted. At a time when I needed those kinds of feelings. When I'd been dragged through a hellacious sand pit of ire and destruction. He came along and rescued my ego and self-esteem.

A sexy musician. Curly hair. Soulful eyes...Bedroom eyes.
When he's on stage, I couldn't help myself but yank off my lady knickers and dance on top of the bar. Screaming his name. Tossing my hair around. Jigging in tall boots and a short skirt.

He's gone now. Just when I get propelled into his direction, he gets vaudeville yanked in an entirely different direction. We can never meet in the middle. His stick never connects me into the corner pocket.



Maybe one day.

the mess around

My family is basically a gang. You mess around with one, you mess around with everyone. My mother will jump in, in a hot second. We don't claim colors. We don't tag freeways. But we do claim glory and tag you out, if we need to.

I learned all my best moves from my mother. She plays to win and she plays to grin. As in, stand over you and smile after she's won. She'll even help you up afterwards. Because she's a good sport.

Somebody is getting all up in my grille. And I let it all air out on Monday night at our Family Night Dinner Ritual that takes place at my grandparents house. Over fried chicken, I told my gang the ridiculous story.

My brother asked "Where does this bitch live?"
My mother said "Don't give in. Stay strong."
My aunt said "We will sue her. No problem. Lets sue her."
My grandfather said "I've never cheated anyone before. It's so wrong to take people down. Just do your best, Melis."
And then my brother asked where the bitch lived again.

I'm no stranger to standing up for myself. Speaking up. When I get wicked, I get WICKED. And this morning I got a little wicked. And the games are over. And the cookie is done crumbling.

If you ever think that nice people are easy targets, you should make sure your nice target isn't surrounded by a family gang. Also . . .

No one will love you harder or more fiercely than me. No one will support you and help you more than me. BUT! If you cross over the line. No one will leave you in the dust F A S T E R to wallow in self-pity faster than me.

I play to win, fool. Best believe.

turophile tuesday: cheese by hand

There is a new road trip book, covering the cheesemakers of the West Coast. Read about the Cheese By Hand project here. I love innovative and engaging people pursuing their interests and following their ideas.

The West Coast is a region of startling diversity in landscape, climate, culture, and artisan cheese production. Cheeses of this region have earned respect nationwide and internationally and are ready for their own, dedicated guidebook.

France, in the summer...

Anyone want to go on a little trip? I'm craving an adventure, a picnic and a new Hermes scarf.

smiling cheshire moons

We danced and danced. The sky changed from light blue to dusky purple to throaty velvet midnight. The moon was along for the ride. We were dancing.

It was 100 degrees outside, never cooling down.

"Doesn't the grass feel great?"

"They should bottle and sell how cool grass feels under bare feet. Can you believe those people over there have shoes on and are missing how incredible this feels?"

Then I all I could think about was the grass and how wonderful life seemed at that very moment. And old friends I've known for many, many moons were swarmed all around me. We were dancing.

Barefoot on grass under the cheshire moon.

Annie are you ok? Are You OK, Annie

Michael Jackson should be a lesson to everyone out to there to NEVER get a nose job. He jumped shark the moment he began effing with his face. While I was growing up, my mom would always sigh and say

"MJ was soooooo cute when I was younger. Now look at him! I used to have his poster on my wall when he was in the Jackson 5. Now LOOK at him."

Look, I love to dance to Billy Jean atop a bar as much as the next gal. I did a routine in High School to Thriller, fully choreographed by one of the biggest MJ lovers in existence. My best friend Ruben.

And as sad as it is. To say goodbye. I wish Michael Jackson sweet relief in the next life (or wherever he's gone to). He seemed crazy, unhappy, odd and unable to reach peace. And it all seemed to start just after he started getting all the nose jobs and skin bleaching.

So learn from MJ.

Love and accept yourself. Because you could possess the most brilliant talents of all time and STILL let it slip through your fingers while friends and family slowly watch your demise in shocked horror. Helpless.

SO get yourselves together, SPREAD some love, ACCEPTANCE is key. 

if you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it

Him: Come over.
Me: Nah. It's late. I'm tired.
Him: You ALWAYS come over late.
Me: I'm tired of coming over late. I'm not coming over late anymore.
Him: Thats all you have time for...
Me: NO! Thats all you think I have time for. I have time for dinner and hang out. Now I'm going to bed. Night.

a coupla weeks later

Him: Hey. Howzit going?
Me: Good. You?
Him: Good. I miss you. There's a new sushi bar by your place. Wanna check it out.
Me: Hmm. Maybe some other time. I'm late for dinner with a friend.
Him. *pause* who's. Ahem. Who's this friend?
Me: No one. Just a friend. I've gotta run. Bye.
Him: *pause* Bye.
Me: in car, in hot dress, en route to dinner with newest man friend.

Fellas. Asking a girl to wait patiently for you to get your shit together is like asking Jaws to just give you a sweet lil hickie. Ain't gonna happen.

I will replace you in minutes.

And, I ALWAYS, spring for an upgrade.

radar love

Sometimes I push things to see how far it can go. See what the threshold is, where the line will be drawn.

Those in the know don't let things get too far. Those not in the know,

never rein a damn thing in ... either to amuse themselves or see how far it can go.

He drove a big powder blue Suburban. It was after a wedding. Radar Love was blaring from the speakers. I was doing flips across the seats from the very, very back to the very, very front seat. I'd land sprawled across laps, giggling hysterically.

Soon everyone was doing flips from front to back and back to front. Everyone was giggling. Flipping. Party dresses flying through the air. Mid-Flip, he stopped me. Grabbed my leg. Kissed me.

Then I flipped all the way over and got lost in the jumble.



This weekend I'm moving to Berkeley. I need to get lost in the crowd this summer. Go to big parties. Meet new people. Teach bigger classes. Start writing food stories again. Get inspired. Flip over a few seats. Kiss a few boys. Sing some songs. Have harmless fun, while toeing the line and pushing a few buttons.

The three of us picked our way amongst the rocks. We stood on different heights, along the ocean's shore. We tandemly opened our arms wide and welcomed life to us.

Inevitably Life means Love.

One is in love with someone far away. And dating another.
One is in love with someone who just can't pull it together and make it happen.
One is not in love, but wants to be.
One is forgetting someone who just won't be forgotten.
One is remembering someone who should be forgotten.
One is in love with several people and in love with none of them at all.

It was early in the morning. Not light, but very dark. We giggled alot. The ocean roared at us. And whispered as it drew back, guided by the moon.

Much later I wiggled my toes and I could still feel the sand.

You can read a different interpretation here.

Terence Trent D'Arby said it best...

Kissing like a bandit
Stealing time
Underneath a sycamore tree
Cupid by the hour sends
Valentines
To my sweet lover and me
Slowly
But surely
Your appetite is more than I knew
Sweetly
Softly
I'm falling in love with you

Wish me love a wishing well
To kiss and tell
A wishing well of butterfly tears
Wish me love a wishing well
To kiss and tell
A wishing well of crocodile cheers