The Palm Springs of Washington

Well here it is, day 12 of my new healthy lifestyle:

• Alcohol units consumed in last week: 0

• Red meat consumed in last week: 0

• Walnuts consumed in last week: 44

• Oatmeal consumed in last week: 44 pounds

• Salmons consumed: 3

• Trips to gym: 2

Drum roll please…..

Pounds lost: 10

I am standing in my closet looking at several pairs of pants that are hanging and looking lonely. I have been ignoring them for a long time. It’s nothing personal, they just don’t fit. It’s sad really because all my fat pants are sitting in the dryer right now and if I am going to wear a pair of them today I am going to have to iron. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just grab a pair of pants off a hanger and head out for the day? I would also put on some underwear and a shirt, even some shoes probably, but golly that would sure be nice this morning.

I now weigh 12 pounds less than I did in Paris. I wonder…..well guess what? I can actually button these sporty little cargo pants from Eddie Bauer. Yes, yes, I know that no one has shopped at Eddie Bauer since 1987, but that is not really relevant right now. Hey, they are not all tight either. How motivating is this? No brown sugar in my oatmeal this morning!

This should be an interesting weekend. Taking off mid day to head over to Yakima to visit my family and to take Lynnette to wineries. Not the best timing on this as I’m not drinking right now, but I can be the driver. It also gets Lynnette out town without her mom for a weekend. Not that I would choose to drink wine from Yakima anyway. Nothing personal, old home town. It's not you, it's me. Ever since Italy I just have no ability to drink vile oak tainted American wine. It's not a Yakima Valley or Washington thing. California wine is actually more vile. No, something happened in Europe. I evolved. Yes, I am new type of sapien, Eurovinosnobhomonicus.

Eurovinosnobhomonicus has several characteristics:

• Hates oak

• Loves complex smart wines with mineral qualities

• Is fond of kittens except when they lay on his keyboard or break flat screen HDTVs.

• Is not especially snobbish about the Yakima Valley for several reasons:

      - Mexican polka music radio stations

      - Tamales

      - Dual volcanoes covered in snow

      - Fresh spring asparagus

Oh, the joy of visiting one's family. I can hardly wait to see what drama happens this weekend. They were all fighting with each other last night over who was or was not going to be in town this weekend and who was or was not going to feed a dog this weekend and where we were all going to sleep. They all live within 3 blocks of each other and seem unable to actually talk to each other like normal human beings. I am so good at that, the talking, as you know.

Family visit. Boy did I pick the wrong time to stop drinking.

Focus on the pants that now fit. Focus on the pants.

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You know, poking fun at one’s family is probably not very nice. They aren’t all going to be around forever and someday I will look back on all their….cute little eccentricities fondly, probably. Right now however I’d rather just make fun of them.

So I work until noon and then head to Metropolitan Market to buy stuff for dinner tonight in Yakima. I am cooking Paella in my big ass Paella pan. Mussels, clams, shrimp, chorizo, chicken, etc.

I head over to Mark’s and then Lynnette shows up and we are on the road by 3PM. Mark immediately falls asleep in the car instead of looking at the scenery. Lynnette keeps trying to get me to eat nuts. This will be a theme of the weekend, Mark sleeping and people pushing food at me since I am on a diet.

The drive over is fine. Traffic is good until we get to Yakima. There is actually a decent little traffic jam on the freeway right in front of the Welcome to the Palm Springs of Washington sign.

Before we can even unload the car my father starts bugging me about moving my car into the garage. This is an old button he is pushing. At our old house, the one I moved away from 27 years ago, he always used to have this psycho obsession about getting my car off the street so it would not get damaged by an overnight meteorite or large crack-creating seismic event. Not that anything like this ever happened on 14th Avenue. They have lived in this current house now for 13 years and I have never once parked in the garage. Instead of moving my car I just glare at him and ask if he has gained weight.

When we get unpacked I pull out some appetizers I brought along, Manchego cheese, Marcona almonds, olives, some little loaves of Macrina bread that the checkout clerk at the store complemented me on for buying. No one cares. All my nice appetizers just sit on the table ignored. It hurts me, this ignoring.

I start chopping things for dinner. My sister arrives. She is skinny. She’s lost 20 pounds. I hate her.

They don’t have a gas stove and I have forgotten how to cook on an electric burner. I accidentally set a paper towel on fire. The house fills with smoke and the smoke alarms go off. Drama. But that is not the only source of smoke or drama. You are supposed to get a good burnt crust on the bottom of the Paella, but this electric burner is too hot and centralized so it starts to melt the pan. There is smoking molten metal lubricating all the rice now. I just tell everyone that is how the Spanish like it and that they should embrace ethnic foods as it really broadens your horizon and helps you to grow as a human being. As we are eating Dad turns on the TV and turns up The Weather Channel very loud. My mother seems sensitized to this much like a prisoner of war. We eat silver colored rice and shellfish as we learn it is raining in Oklahoma. If the rice was bad at least the seafood was a hit. There are two huge bowls of empty shells when everyone is done.

My sister has made a big chocolate cake which I asked her not to do as I am on a diet. I get cake pushed at me put I am strong and instead have only a spoonful. I can tell Dad thinks I am being mean to my sister, but it’s not as if I did not tell them I was on a diet.

Dad then starts talking about this egg sausage thing my Mom has made for breakfast. When I say I am eating oatmeal in the morning he glares at me again. They he announces that we will be taking his car down into the valley the next morning. Gently I announce to the room that I am not going to be seen driving around in some piece of shit short squat American car. There is more glaring. I can tell everyone thinks I am just being mean. I am so glad there was metal in their dinner.

After dinner Mark falls asleep. My parents are supposed to go spend the night over at my sister’s house but they won’t leave. I am really tired and I just want to go to bed. The TV is loudly telling us about some thunderstorms in Mississippi. This is just not holding my attention. Dad switches to a Mariners game. I hate hockey or golf of whatever this stupid game is. Grown men hitting balls with sticks. Give me a break. Finally they leave and I head to bed.

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It’s 7AM on Saturday morning and my parents are back. I hear The Weather Channel from the living room. So much for sleeping in this weekend.

For breakfast Mom has made a stratta thing made of Fontina cheese, Jimmy dean sausage, Wonder Bread, heavy cream, more Jimmy Dean sausage, more cream, more Fontina cheese, and lard. You bake this at 350 for 45 minutes and then it’s ready to eat.

As I microwave my oatmeal as Dad turns up The Weather Channel even louder loud so we can hear the news about the volcano in Iceland that is disrupting air traffic. I ask Dad if maybe a news channel would be a better source of news, but he does not agree, The Weather Channel is the fountainhead of all knowledge. Lynnette takes out her hearing aid for the rest of the weekend.

As I am getting dressed my father swings open the door to my bedroom right when I am naked. I yell at him and he closes the door. I can hear him cackling on the other side of the door. He did this three times on the Big Island last year. At least I was not masturbating.

We head out around 10am in my car and do a little tour of the shit hole that is Yakima. We go see the old house that I grew up in, the street I parked my car on, and my high school. So sad looking, my high school. Apparently it is getting torn down and replaced soon. Good. Along with all those self esteem re-enforcing memories of high school.

Dad tries to tell me how to get on the freeway. He has no idea what he is talking about. I get on the freeway the correct way.

We head to down to Prosser for the wineries. Mark sleeps.

The first winery is Andrea McArdle or something like that. Apparently this is a favorite of Michelle. I call her to ask if I can buy anything for her. She does not call back so I buy her a $70 bottle of cab. Five hours later she texts me to stay she must keep her “tummy flat” for Maui. I want to be supportive so I just pour the wine out in the dirt.

We stop at Vintners Village and head to Maison Bleu winery because Jana told us they had that good olive oil from Provence there. They don’t. They have never heard of it. The wine is terrible but the wine pourer boy is gorgeous. I buy wine from him so I can look at him longer. Michelle can have this wine.

We taste some wine at Apex. I used to like this winery – their Chardonnay. It was a long time ago. Mark wakes up long enough to taste it and says, “Well, it’s an American Chardonnay.” Then he picks the oak splinters off his tongue.

The Andrea McArdle people recommended a restaurant in Vintners Village. Surprisingly they don’t mention the exact name of the restaurant, they just say is run by the Brunnel family. Walking in I see a beautiful dining room, waiters in white, a huge open kitchen, and a pizza over. People in the kitchen are making pizza dough by hand. Gourmet’s Diary of a Foodie is on the TV. This place seems great. I am not drinking so I have water. It comes with lemon and cucumber in it. I like this.

Everyone else has a flight of wines. Dad has syrah, Lynnette has various reds, Mark has various whites. These are big pours. I like this.

The food here is really fantastic. Lynnette has pear, bacon, and white cheddar pizza while Dad has salumi with goat cheese and little anise fronds on top. Mark and I both have this amazing seafood salad of baby greens (heavy on watercress which is a nice surprise), a large chunk of halibut, some perfectly cooked scallops, and some potatoes in a light citrus dressing. I like this. Who runs this place, a Eurovinosnobhomonicus?

It’s only later that we learn this amazing restaurant’s name: Wine O’Clock Wine Bar. I know! How sad is that? What a stupid name. What a great place.

We head back up the valley to Silver Lake because I think the view is nice. 

There are tour buses parked in the lot filled with white trash boys wearing baseball caps backwards and their slutty girlfriends. They only want to taste sweet Riesling and they are all drunk. They won’t get the hell out of the way so we can taste wine. Mark and Lynette both start pouting but eventually my dad gets a taste of some syrah and we buy some.

We drive down to Wine Glass Cellars. They are super nice as usual. The Capisimo is great as usual too. I heard it was great, did not try any. It smelled great.

Then we go to Bon Air which I have always thought was stupid. Freaking fake British looking buildings. Now they have a duck pond and a “wine cave”. The wine cave is really cool, all lit up with candles on the barrels. No one is impressed with the wine unfortunately.

At this point everyone is about wined out. We head home where Mark immediately goes to sleep.

I try to watch Julie and Julia on Showtime but my father changes it to The Weather Channel while I am peeing.

When Mark finally wakes up we have dinner of salmon and a pasta salad which is made of heavy cream, cheese, peas, asparagus, and bacon. And lard.

Mom also makes a green curry sauce to go on the salmon. It’s very spicy and tastes great. I ask if the base is coconut milk. No, it’s ranch dressing. 900 grams of cholesterol and 4000 calories.

Oh we also have this large puffy bread with cheese and jalapeño peppers on it.

I have always wondered why everyone one of these people is on cholesterol medicine. Now I know why.

They all have more chocolate cake for dessert.

I open more wine to try and get everyone drunk so that:

1) I can lose more weight than Mark

2) They will get tired and go to bed early

We head to my sister’s to sit in her hot tub. They tell us about a UFO they saw above their hot tub and then my brother in law goes off about the evils of public health care and his support of the Tea Bag Party while he notes he has a doctor appointment to have his cholesterol checked next week paid for by his government provided health care from the Post Office.

There is a nice sunset from the hot tub.

As I lay in bed tonight thinking about what I am going to write in this blog I know that I sound like Frasier Crane – prissy, petty, superficial, mean. I am all this and more. I am a terrible person. Frasier Crane was a Eurovinosnobhomonicus.

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7AM on Sunday morning and I hear The Weather Channel loudly coming from the living room. 

Mt. Adams is out.

Cinnamon rolls are for breakfast. They are made with flour, egg, cream cheese, sugar, and cinnamon. And lard. I have oatmeal again.

We leave around 10am. Hugs and kisses. I do love these people, really. I do not love The Weather Channel. Dad gives me tamales for my birthday. He really does not suck. Then he tells me how to get on the freeway.

We drive around town for a bit, looking at big old churches then we head to West Valley and go to Starbucks and to look at look at the nice houses on the right side of the tracks. We also drive by the strangely named Sundome where Elton John will be performing soon.

How odd.

We are waiting for Los Hernandez Tamales to open before we leave town. I am hoping they will have these mythic asparagus / goat cheese tamales there. This is the stuff of legend, these tamales. They are only made for a few weeks each year when the spring asparagus is thin and youthful. They have them today!!! 

I order some. I…….I..….I am underwhelmed. Boo! I have been waiting for these for years. They have that stupid white Mexican cheese in them instead of goat cheese. Oh my god how Frasier Crane is that? Eurovinosnobhomonicus.

Underwhelming asparagus aside, the pork tamales are fricking amazing as usual. They are made with lard. My first real food in two weeks. I am filled with joy and love. Food will do that to you. Maybe I was a bitch all weekend because I was hungry. I can leave now.

Before Mark falls asleep on the drive back to Seattle he informs me he now understands some of the psychological reasons for why I am such a control freak. Me, a control freak? Then he starts snoring. Lynnette finally puts her hearing aid back in just as I see the skyline from I-90. 






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