There is Hope

To call the weather inconsistent would be an understatement. Leaving the house is often like waiting for someone to drop a bucket of ice cold water on you from a rooftop. The rain falls incessantly for days, at strange angles and varying degrees of velocity, and then the sun comes out for a few hours and everything is Spring and not so much January at all. Yesterday the rain broke for long enough for me to bike up to Marin, dodging tourists on rented bicycles (or tourists without bicycles, idling along the bike lane) all the way. Though I have the odd self-destructive streak, the urge to send a small Asian family of four sailing over the edge, cameras and all, was much greater than the idea of throwing myself into the bay.















To fend off the cabin fever that comes with spending nearly an entire week indoors I have been scouring the house for recipes and wandering the neighborhood in search of dried red chilies, fresh rosemary, saffron and a dozen other things that until just now I had no idea I required. It has been a bit of a gourmet cooking frenzy of sorts. The other night I bought a whole damn trout just because.

















I named him Thomas. After I botched the fillet job and picked out most of the bones by hand I roasted that little bastard in some rosemary, lemon and ginger. It was damn good, but I made a mental note to never leave a fish head in the trash overnight as my kitchen smelled like a hot morgue the following morning.
















I saw this on the door of a Mexican restaurant the other day. I could only begin to describe the images that popped into my head. Sometimes I love the accidental and unintentional humor of a good old language barrier.















In spite of the stormy weather these sunsets are some pretty shit lately.






























I am going to buy some rain gear tomorrow. Maybe start building an ark. Maybe brush up on my snorkeling. I really hope that it stops raining. Seriously.