Land o lakes

My last two weekends have been devoted to lake funtime. Two weekends ago (the one that was so hot that I thought the Rapture had come), I escaped the heat by heading up to an alpine lake about 7000 feet high up in the mountains. I'm not going to tell you where this lake is because it was already crowded enough there, and I don't want any more people "discovering" it. Dammit people, stay out of my unspoiled wilderness! Here, you can see why:



Anyway, even up at 7000 feet, it was still a toasty 87 degrees, but the water was mighty fine. I went with a friend whose name will also not be revealed because I don't want to share him with all y'all either. That's just the greedy kind of girl I am. Anyway, what is it about swimming in a lake that is so freakin nice? I absolutely love it. I get that dumbass dreamy look on my face and don't have a care in the world and all that crap.

Turned out that the next weekend was the big houseboating weekend that some friends had been planning for a while. So I drove up to Shasta Lake on Friday afternoon with Shantal and another girl. This lake experience was a bit different, as it involved 12 people on a houseboat with a hot tub, a water slide, ridiculous amounts of food and drink, an enormous stereo system, and a full-fledged flip cup competition on the second night. Which of course my team (me and two other girls) won. Let me tell you, the guys on that boat were put to shame. Here's the deck where the magic happened:



I think we're going to make this an annual event. And hopefully an annual flip cup ass-whupping. So let me know if you want to come along. On the Shasta trip only - you don't get to come to the other lake.

The REAL way to use olallieberries

Apparently this is what you're really supposed to do with Olallieberries:


In case you can't tell from my awesome photo, it's a jar of black liquid, with a big pile of soggy berries at the bottom. So when Paul (a coworker) initially gave it to me, I was understandably skeptical. Turns out that it is actually Olallieberry brandy, a concoction of berries, brandy and sugar, all marinating together for my enjoyment. Mmmmm. Apparently Paul's roomie is related to the owners of the olallieberry farm that I went to a couple of weekends ago, so he is the beneficiary of about a metric ton of olallieberries every year. He doesn't waste his time making them into pies - he makes costco amounts of brandy. When it comes to olallieberries, this is a man in the know, so I am going to take a wild guess that this stuff is pretty damn good. He recommends first sipping the brandy and then when you're good and toasted, dumping a bunch of the berry mush over ice cream. Sounds like a swell time to me. Thanks Paul and Paul's roomie! You kick ass.

What the hell is an olallieberry?

About a week ago, I dragged some friends along to Pescadero to pick Olallieberries. I totally stole this idea off of The Restaurant Whore . But hey, imitation is the greatest form of flattery, right? Plus, the berries are only $2 a pound if you pick them yourself! Basically, I went to town picking berries - crouching down to get underneath the branches, reaching in through the thorns to pick those hard-to-get-at berries - while my friends leisurely picked off the tops of the vines. About an hour later, I had 6 pounds of berries and everyone else had one or two. And half of Regina's berries weren't ripe because she didn't know that black = ripe, whereas red = sour.

Here's a picture of Shantal and David showing off their pickings, while I am bitching about how little they picked:


The sad news is that I didn't use up the berries fast enough, and most of them molded within a week. Even though they were in the fridge! Lame. Next time I will have to pick the berries on a Saturday so that I have all day Sunday to whip up yummy berry treats. Let that be a lesson to you all.

4th of July is about fireworks

There's something really satisfying about spending the day at the beach. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but when it came time to decide where to watch the 4th of July fireworks, there was no question that I wanted to watch from the beach. Luckily I was in LA where the the beach is slightly more hospitable than the frigid northern California coastline. A simple sweater (instead of a space suit) was all that was needed to keep comfortable on the Santa Monica sand. We saw several firework shows off in the distance, and Shantal sang patriotic songs (I'm sorry, but I just had to tell on her!). After already stuffing my face with all kinds of food at our lovely little beach picnic, I went home and ate about a gallon of different ben and jerry's ice creams. America really is the land of plenty.

Here's the Santa Monica Pier at night:


Full pics here: http://picasaweb.google.com/juliej/Santa_monica_july2006

It's always 72* in San Diego

I'm in San Diego for a convention where I am working in the Google booth. It's really quite amazing how hard it is to stand around and talk to people for 5 hours. Although in my defense, the Google booth is so popular that we are harangued by mobs of visitors all day long. Luckily the weather is great, and I have been able to enjoy a few free hours here and there around town. Last night I had dinner in the Gaslamp district and today I hit up a beach in La Jolla. It was possibly my shortest beach visit ever though - the tide was really high, and only a few minutes after I had set down my towel, a big wave came right up to the edge of it. I was already up against the cliffs, so I couldn't go any further from the water. Time to pack it up and head back to the hotel where I plan to go swimming in the pool and lay on a deck chair like a civilized person. Take that, ocean!

BTW, I saw more celebrities when I was in LA this weekend than any other time I've been there. (And I've been there a lot.) Apparently, they all come out in droves during the 4th of July weekend. Saw Meg Ryan and her baby at Fred Segal in Santa Monica, and saw Michael Vartan at the swanky pool bar at the Mondrian hotel in Hollywood. Nice! Both of them were incredibly skinny, so Michael V. definitely violated the "little man" rule (if he can fit into my pants, he can't get into my pants - btw, thanks to Jessica for introducing me to this which is now one of my most favorite sayings).

Also, some of the girls that I was with made us eat lunch at the Ivy, which in my opinion was the most boring and overrated place ever. Plus I felt like a total tool waiting out front for our table. And who in their right mind pays $23 for a burger? It better be made with lettuce hand-picked by Brad Pitt himself for that price.

Anyway, I do have a soft spot for beach towns, so I have to admit that I'm enjoying myself this week, even if it is in SoCal. Now the only thing I need to make this vacation complete is to bump into George Clooney and have him fall madly in love with me and live together forever and make lots of little Clooney babies. Which could totally happen, just you wait.