March New Food: UTC Kebab Cafe

We were hoping to eat Afghan food for March, but the month closed before we were prepared. Instead of potentially delectable Afghan food, we ended up in the UTC food court looking at fairly Americanized Doner Kebab courtesy of Kebab Cafe. Technically, I've eaten Doner Kebab before. However, I was in Germany, a teenager, and a vegetarian. This Doner Kebab was nothing like what I remember. I remember a saucy, cabbagey goodness.  Don't get me wrong, this was good, but it was more like Greek Gyros in a slightly different bread. And, the cabbage was suspiciously missing. Oh, and there was the fact that this Doner had meat in it. That fact is how I justified Doner Kebab as a new food. The gyro flavored Doner made me doubt the validity of this month's new food. However, a scarcity of remaining days in March made me accept Jen's assertion that Doner counts. The final verdict: worth eating as long as you avoid the dirt-flavored hummus.

And.... we are having a hard time finding foods that I have not eaten. It turns out, I've been and adventurous eater for years now. We are revising the B.L.L. to include eating at new, local restaurants or eating a new food once a month.

Snowboarding: Snow Valley

Logan tossed a sippy cup of milk on the floor, it rolled under the seat, and was forgotten. Sealed tight, the milk could have been there for a month. Then, it rolled back out from under the seat, a sunny day built pressure inside of the cup, and KABAM--putrid milk explosion in the Jeep a few days before a planned three hour drive to the mountains. Scott swore to me the smell was out. He scrubbed, and scrubbed, and was confident the Jeep was safe. Here's the thing, though: I have a habit of sticking poor Matt into moldy smelling cars. Just Matt. Not sure why. So, when Matt climbed into putrid milk car, we should have known the smell was going to come back with a vengeance. Within five minutes, the smell attacked, and we drove from San Diego to Snow Valley with the windows down. Unfortunately, Jen, who needed the window open the most, was stuck on the side of the Jeep with the broken window. Somehow, we arrived at Snow Valley in one piece.

When we stepped out of the car, we were hit by a wall of heat. It was unusually warm and we quickly realized we would be snowboarding sans jackets. The snow was slushy, but my heel-side turns were looking nice right out of the gate. Then... in typical fashion, I forgot to get off of the lift. I just didn't stand up in time and when I realized I was about to ride back down the hill, I flung myself off the lift and onto the ground. Obviously, I was prepared to jump! Snow Valley has a great beginner area for practicing jumps, and we headed over to that side of the lower mountain. 

So.... when we wrote "land a jump on a snowboard" on the B.L.L. list, we didn't specify what constitutes landing a jump. That, my friends, is good news for me. After several attempts, I managed to throw myself into the air, getting a lot of height, but consistently "landing" my jumps on my back and sliding down the hill on my butt. Jen, on the other hand, managed this little beauty before we left for the day.

Scott's day ended early when another boarder took him out on the hill. The guy hit a jump without checking the bottom, saw another guy under the jump at the last minute, flung himself to the left to avoid the guy on the ground, and hit Scott squarely in the back of the knees. As if in slow motion, Scott crumpled backwards onto the snow. I've never seen a takedown quite like this one on the mountain. Scott, sporting black and blue legs, decided to hang in the Jeep for the rest of the day. That, unfortunately, seems to be a developing trend in our adventures.

After a while on the practice hill, I wanted to head up higher and work on linking my turns. I love that instructor in Minnesota because I am officially able to board well on both my heels and my toes, can now link my turns, and rarely fall unless I intend to. Snowboarding is so much easier when you can use both edges of the board. 

Oh, and on the way home I got stuck in the stinky seat. After nearly vomiting for three hours, you better believe I found a way to get rid of that smell as soon as we got home. 

Badasses Don't Carry Umbrellas... (Up Mt. Woodson)

[This entry was written in my journal, mid-class. The dates are now far from correct, but I am leaving the entry as it was originally written]

Jen and I are San Diego born and bred. I'm sure that when we travel we carry a scent, something that identifies us as belonging to this border city. When it rains for more than an hour, we get cabin fever. When it snows.... well, that doesn't happen often so it isn't worth exploring. Or, is it?

Winter came to town two weekends ago, and we panicked. Then, the weather forecasters predicted snow down to 1000 feet. We cheered. 1000 feet meant Cowles Mountain or Mt. Woodson could see snow flurries. My sister and I spent a while planning how we could trick mother nature and be on top of one of these peaks when this mythical snowfall happened. After a few ideas (anyone up for a midnight hike?) we gave up on that effort and went to sleep.

The next morning arrived, and with it came a rain fueled lake in my backyard. My sister's brilliance dawned with the slow-moving Saturday morning sun when she suggested we brave the elements (yes, a rainstorm counts as the elements when you are a San Diego native) and hike Mt. Woodson in the rain. Well, Mt. Woodson is paved. I'll give her that. I promptly called her an idiot, to which she retorted, "not idiots, badasses!" Notice, I insult her, she assumes I'm still coming along for the ride. Point taken dear sister, I'll hike that beast as long as we follow a few key rules:
1. Dress Appropriately
2. Don't Hug the Poles on Top of the Mountain (Lightening and the possibility of electrocution terrify me)
3. Don't climb on the Potato Chip/Leaf Rock in the Middle of 40 MPH Winds

Always a firm believer in writing things down to make sure I adhere to them, we jotted these rules down (permanent marker on plastic so they would survive the storm) and took off.

RULE 1: DRESS APPROPRIATELY

CHECK OUT THOSE SKI PANTS!

Immediately, Jen broke the first rule. She wore skiing pants. Notice the simple syntax of that sentence? In the middle of a blog full of overused commas splices and abundant modifiers, simple syntax draws attention to the statement itself. Notice how ludicrous that statement is? Jen wore skiing pants to hike up Mt. Woodson. In Ramona. Really, Jen? After mercilessly mocking her fashion choices, I promised to deem her "Queen of the Mountain" if those pants became appropriate.

Then, we saw these people. They were also breaking rule #1. Badasses most definitely do not carry umbrellas up Mt. Woodson. Badasses dance in the rain. Or, they wear ski pants. But umbrellas? No way!

I, however, was dressed appropriately. Once a Girl Scout, always prepared! I was dressed in layers. After a couple of minutes, the layers came off and the sun came out. We followed the paved road, meandering up and around the mountain. As we neared the top, we stumbled into mist. The mist soon gave way to rain, and our sweaters went back on.

A few minutes later, I watched a piece of hail bounce off my hand. Jen shrieked in pain as an angry hail ball attempted to impale her. I have this theory: San Diego rain is friendly. It might flood our streets and claim our cars on occasion, but the generally gentle plop of globes of water just makes me happy. Snow is the same way. Fluttering flurries drift downward. Drift is a gentle word. Fluttering makes me think of dancing. Snow, like rain, is friendly. Hail, on the other hand, is full of mal intent. It calculates its trajectory and aims to inflict the most harm possible. If its first victim is not damaged, it recalculates its trajectory until it finds an easy target. Jen was the easy target that day.

RULE #2: DO NOT HUG THE POLES ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN

My sister, ever the clever one, felt as if a hail storm was the perfect time to break the second rule. A couple of minutes after she made me worry about electrocution, our luck changed and the snow joined us. Fifteen minutes ago I was wearing a tank top. Now, I was layering on jackets to keep out the snow, yes, the snow. In RAMONA! We danced, we swore, and we broke our last rule...

RULE #3: DO NOT CLIMB ON THE POTATO CHIP/LEAF ROCK IN THE MIDDLE OF 40 MPH WINDS

Isn't that rock awesome? I may have cried before I climbed onto it, but eventually I made it there. Oh, and I had to call Jen "Queen of the Mountain" because those darned ski pants came in handy.

Wait, did you all process the fact that it snowed on us at the top of Mt. Woodson? Fifteen minutes after I was wearing a tanktop? That, my friends, is a once in a lifetime event.

JEN DANCING IN THE SNOW

Oh, and on the way back down we encountered more umbrellas. Their carriers mocked our bedraggled, damp clothes, saying "wouldn't an umbrella be handy?" We responded in unison: "Basasses don't carry umbrellas!"

Survival Mode

I have officially been in survival mode for the last few months. Student teaching started and blogging stopped. Oh wait, not just blogging, living, breathing, eating real food, seeing the sun.... yeah, that all stopped when student teaching started up again. Instead of breathing I've been gasping, little bubbles of life escaping as I drown in the experience of being terrible at something. Instead of living, I've barely been existing. So on, and so forth. Somehow, in the midst of this, I have attempted a jump on a snowboard, hiked in a freak San Diego snowstorm, tried a few new foods, and made some changes to the B.L.L. (hey, we've all got to evolve when life throws us curveballs, just because I've memorialized the B.L.L. in blog form does not mean it is set in stone!). Now that I am on Spring Break and I've officially bagged my final T.P.A., expect an update a day until Student Teaching resumes its vice like grip on my life on April 25th.

Check back tomorrow for the once-in-a-lifetime (unless global warming continues!) event of hiking Mt. Woodson in the snow.