tollipop

what i see while driving around :: 4

Is anyone thinking I do a lot of driving, by any chance?

Yeah, well.  It is what it is.  Somehow I have wrangled myself into a life where much of my time is spent in the car.  

On the upside:

I am very grateful for this life.  

I have the most interesting conversations with my girls during these moments.

I see about a million people every day for three seconds and look into their faces and wonder who they are.

But Izzy's music camp is finally over and that will mean a temporary end to criss-crossing the city twice daily.  We've listened to her crazy pop music, cast spells on the traffic lights, talked about life and how we want to live it, and at the end of each day I've listened to her burst with enthusiasm over the music she's learned.  

I'm glad Izzy participated in a volleyball camp earlier this summer.  I think it helped her to appreciate her inclination toward music.  She loves it.  She is getting older and more advanced, visibly maturing in her ability to master difficult compositions.  

I watch her now and realize in some ways she has already left our little nest.  

She will always be my dear, sweet Izzy, but she has ventured beyond where I've guided her and has made a place for herself in a world that seems to resonate with the most ancient part of her soul.  It is quite something, as a mother, to watch the journey.  

I will enjoy our moments in the car for as long as I can have them.

what i see while driving around :: 3

As I mentioned, dear reader, your kind responses to these photo essays may have been too encouraging.  I'm having fun capturing the images I see every day.  

In some ways your surprised reactions are a surprise to me...especially to think I may have unwittingly portrayed myself as some sheltered innocent who drifts exclusively between the untamed desert and manicured lawns.  

Dear me, what other inaccuracies have I promoted?? 

We do know about my inability to keep track of time, right?  The emergency swear vials?  Clumsy small talk?  Lack of sleep?  

My irrational fear of sharks?  They bear grudges, I know they do.

My earnest yet easily sidetracked desire to be more useful in all things physical rather than metaphysical?

My penchant for little old men?  And candy?  And paper?  

My inability to stop wishing for a tiny talking turtle, even though I know they don't exist?  

My suspicion the girls are concealing a hamster farm in their room?

My recalcitrant hair, which is a rude affront to the way I envision myself (flowing tresses, scintillating small talk)?  

My love of solitude yet aversion to loneliness?  

This cluttered desk??

Ok.  Just checking.  

In other news, while I am giving my hamstring a vacation, it does not appear to be getting better.  If anything, it feels like some mad scientist performed an experiment while I was asleep, switching out my hamstring for a rabbit tendon.

If there happens to be a breaking report of a monster on the loose who can run like the wind but is more inclined to stop and admire the scenery, then we'll all know it's true.   

what i see while driving around :: 2

Dear reader, do you know how often I wish I could take a picture of what I see?

About a zillion times a day.  

And I've always been that way, ever since I was a little girl...which is a bit odd because back then a camera was treated like the holy grail and film was doled out like the fountain of youth, drop by precious drop.  So it's not like I would have naturally felt entitled to a camera and yet I remember many times thinking, "I wish I could take a picture of this."

At any rate, your interest in my last scenic tour of Las Vegas was perhaps a bit too encouraging.  I see the craziest, saddest, most heart wrenching, loveliest, most breathtaking, bleakest, starkest, most troubling things all the time.  I am always wishing I could document the images I see.  

Gina left a comment in the last post asking how these scenes affect me.  I would say they stay with me, sometimes resting heavily.  They evoke the exquiste feeling of awareness, the weight of helpless concern, the warm and sometimes aching bond of humanity.  

And dear Mau, yesterday I drove down the Strip just for you!  Because you called Las Vegas exotic and I was all, how could someone from the most exotic place on earth (Malta, of course) find this town so fascinating?!

To be honest, I also find it fascinating.  Then again, I thought my childhood farm in Canada was fascinating. Perhaps I am easily fascinated.

At any rate, I hope you are having a wonderful day.  I hope we do what we can to make the world a better place and then enjoy the beauty of life without getting paralyzed by the seeming endless sorrows around us.  

Lately I've been reminded love is the most powerful thing of all.

what i see while driving around :: 1

angry fries

Dear reader, you know how when you have an arch nemesis you study him closely for signs of weakness?  You look for the element of surprise?  

Well, Heat never saw this coming.

Angry fries: jalapenos, spicy bulgogi, and kimchi tossed together with sweet potato fries and topped with an evil eye of a fried egg.  That's more mojo than Heat could muster even if he traded in his turtleneck for a tight pair of Wranglers.

It's from a place called Buldogis, dear reader, the answer to prayer for anyone who's spent his life loving Korean food and hot dogs and wishing like crazy he didn't have to choose between the two.

We went there last night to celebrate a friend's birthday.  It was fun...I can't say the food was exactly my cup of tea, but that's because I've never worshipped at the altar of hot dogs.  You know?  They kind of gross me out.  Unless you go to Germany, where they serve a version that is poetry in the shape of a sausage.

It really is hot, though.  I can't tell if it's unbearably hot or if I've merely capitulated to the psychological warfare Heat inflicts upon my brain.  

Probably both.  Or maybe just the latter.  Like, if Heat commanded me to recite his manifesto I'd probably do it with a blank stare, wincing only slightly at the part that makes fun of Canadians.

 At any rate, we are doing lots of swimming.  

And playing indoors. 

And as it so happens, Heat has not managed to fully zap my spirits, because I'm still making the girls practice.  

Franchement, it would take more than a mere molten sun to make me surrender that ground. 

heat

The heat has suffered a slight setback in operations today, dear reader.  I'd like to take the credit with yesterday's veiled threats, but it likely has more to do with the cat waiting until Heat rolled over the secret trapdoor before leaping from his lap to land squarely upon the release button.

Still, true villains never die, right?  I have faith Heat will crawl out to the desert and retrieve a horcrux.  He probably has a zillion out there. 

At any rate, we've been combatting the heat by any means possible, including sleepovers with early morning movie parties.  
Please conceal your disapproval, dear reader--I'm at the point where I'll say yes to anything.  

Conjuring up instant little sisters who are so adorable one forgets being cooped up and instead marvels over their tiny toes and the fun of making them smile.  

And pilgrimages to the international market, where one may wander for hours examining salt from seas of every continent, pickles, olives, oils, honeys, mustards, pig livers, carps, frankincense, paprikas, teas, biscuits, fizzy drinks, noodles, seaweeds, chocolate, and sour candies.  

Of course I said yes to the candies.  

You would, too, if Heat beamed his 115 degree death ray in your direction.  

los tacos

It's unbelievably hot these days, dear reader.  The heat is playing hardball.  I always picture it as some bald, turtlenecked villain in a motorized wheelchair stroking a Persian cat, laughing maniacally as he beams his death ray on moving objects.  

One of these days I'll find Heat's lair and burst in, ready to unleash my inner farmgirl, but Heat will push a button and I'll fall through a trap door into a shark tank, and the cat will accidentally wet himself upon realizing what an absolute crackpot he has for an owner.

Oddly enough, none of this pertains to the topic at hand, which is the total nirvana awaiting patrons of my favorite local taco shop, Los Tacos.  The tacos, the shrimp cocktails, the mango frescas...it is all so simple and yummy you will wish you had two stomachs in order to keep eating. 

It's one reason I don't care if the heat gets as obnoxious as casino decor--because when it's too hot to cook, Los Tacos often comes to my rescue.

And to my nemesis: that's not reverse psychology that's for real, you lamentable man with a twitching, sour-faced cat.

samosa factory

Probably my favorite restaurant in all of Las Vegas and certainly my favorite place to spend a dinner date with Roger is the Samosa Factory.

It's hard to narrow down a favorite cuisine, isn't it?  So often it depends on the moment, on one's particular mood.  But for me it may be fair to say the moment and the mood most consistently point to Indian food.

But don't rule out Thai, Vietnamese, Korean, Mexican, Cuban, Puerto Rican, Ethiopian, Greek, Afghani, Italian, Polish, Russian, German, or French because I love to eat! 

At any rate, the Samosa Factory.  Why do I adore it so?

When I step over its threshold of glittering gemstones, I feel as if I've discovered a secret escape from the rest of the world.  There is something different about this place.  It is small, intimate, simple, and yes, a bit magical.

The owner, Rick Aco, is most often serving the food.  His demeanor--calm and centered in the midst of what might typically be considered a hectic situation--transmits itself into the experience. Plus, you can tell he has a passion for the food and that it makes him happy to see you enjoying it.

Rick is easy to talk to and has a nice way of suggesting dishes to complement your meal if you need help making up your mind which, as you may imagine, comes in handy where I am concerned.  That's only if you ask for his help, mind you.  

The food is delicious.  Everything.  The lassis, the kormas, the masalas, the raitas, the paneers, the curries, the saags.  Oh, and the samosas, of course.  Without realizing it, you say mmmm as you're licking your spoon.  You smile.  You hum and sway. 

That's how happy this food will make you.

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p.s.  If you happen to be a local reader and get a chance to dine at the Samosa Factory, it would undoubtedly be good karma to support this small business by liking it on Facebook.