Food Lovers

The thing about living in San Francisco is you have to pay extra for a kitchen. Since I returned from Spain i was lucky enough to score a room-mate situation for almost $1300 month. The place was great, the kitchen sort of run down but usable. Then the room mate situation got crazy and I was without a kitchen.

Note the ability to irresponsibly wave bottles in the air. 

Then I decided to move en'suite. That is small room, possible bathroom, cheaper price. (My ASS) - Prices have soared in San Francisco. By the time I moved I was paying almost $1500 per month for a room and a shower. NO KITCHEN - that was 3 months, no kitchen. For a person or people who like to cook this is a tragedy. A real tragedy on the scale of 1 to Tragedy.

Since we've departed I'm strangely content to announce that we've been eating with family. This can suffice to say that we've eaten all politely normal things. Normal things that stick to your ribs or just plain warm you from the stomach to the ends of your hair. The one consistency is that we've eaten potato salad and chili at every home we have visited. This is a strange coincidence and, an even stranger happy joy joy to The Legionnaire. Who is madly in love with all things potato salad. We are now planning to judge all potato salad and chili recipes from this day forward.

Our first host always makes wonderful Oregon home cooking. Also in my opinion her chili and potato salad are my favorite. But I think that's because she's my Mom. She also took some time to teach me the beginning basics of making fudge. I know its a tragedy but I'm a cook not, a baker. These two skills are very different and not often are mutually exclusive; Its time I started to learn about fudge.

And as with every word on this blog there in lies the secret to baking and the lesson in life for everything; patience. Wait for the right temperature, wait for it to rise, wait for it, wait for it, wait for it.... take your time - follow the steps and then fucking wait for it a little more. I will yes admit that I am the worst person to wait for anything with exception to The Legionnaire. Watching him try to wait will make me want to swallow a bottle of xanax. Then again, I have fucked up more things just by rushing it than I care to count - who am I to judge. This very character flaw being the reason my sister calls me a bulldozer; not a bulldog. She would never insult me about any possible resemblances to a bulldog. Especially considering my sensitivity to my ever elongated jowels and my newest whisker.

We are continuing the Chili & Potato Salad Tasting Events as we speak.

Things we have seen

We have only been officially on the road for 10 days.. Here are a few highlights from home.

A great tutorial on adjusting curves

http://news.dphotographer.co.uk/tutorials/basic-guide-to-curves/

How to keep your toes warm; Instructional Video

http://cinemagr.am/show/131480704

Wanderer's

When I returned to San Francisco after my sojourn to Spain I gave myself one year. One year to determine what my next direction would be and one year to make something happen or I would move on or, come up with something much more interesting to report. The last year has brought its minor ups and major downs.

I got a job, I made mistakes, I got an apartment with my first room-mates ever and well that was crazy. I got a beautiful boyfriend which ended in disaster then we got back together and went through six months of hard-core therapy. Six months that had its ups and major downs and then major ups again. Things in San Francisco have come to an end. I couldn't get past my stage fright and anxiety to return to stage. The thoughts that ran through my head came out to one solution.

We were leaving San Francisco.

 Over the last few yeas my thoughts had turned to my own needs. Back to my photography, back to my writing, back to my blog. All of these things kept popping into my head in dream-like states. They would linger and create warm fuzzy feelings that would tingle down my back and into my belly. The thoughts of hot summers on the porch and a lot of peace and quiet. These thoughts would slowly become my refuge or my salve after a long day in the office where I felt my skills and my talents were being wasted as I wrote another dictated email.

My thoughts have often returned to the South. I felt like I was being called home, called to wander cemeteries and called to sort out my stories or, called to simply do what it is I was put here to do. We did our research and packed our bags. We became a we in the middle of my decision making process and the he in our we said, " I simply want to be where you are ".

After extensive research and planning that all fell apart when everything went wrong. My email accounts were hacked beyond repair, payments that were owed to us were never received and when all of our plans seemed to be slipping through the cracks and the pressure of our lives together seemed to impossible to launch. As a last resort we bought the train tickets as our carrot. No matter what, this was our date - we were leaving with or without everything being in order. We took the train and headed to Portland on the first stop of a very long journey South.

Expect blog updates, travel reviews, strange stories in strange places as we make our way across the country on a dime, on a whim, on a magic carpet.

So long San Francisco - its been real.