There was a shooting outside of our house the other night. I was settling in at about 11:30, when all of a sudden six gunshots went off right outside of our window. Both Patrick and Birdie were pretty unfazed by it all (very comforting) but I was spooked. I debated calling the cops but eventually convinced myself it wasn't gunshots. I turned on some funny TV show and went to sleep.
The next morning as I walked out with my bike to go to work, there were a few cop cars and a neighbor standing around. Some of the parked car's windows were shattered. The cops asked my a few questions and I felt very cool to be in on the investigation ("It was approximately 11:30 pm officer. There were exactly 6 shots fired. It sounded like a 9mm but really I just made that up.") Then I rode off and never heard more. Until last night when there was another one! Just a single shot this time, and I was the one who was asleep an unfazed. It sure is exciting living in Oakland sometimes.
This reminds me of the time I hit a car a couple months ago. I had never hit anyone before so it was a little stressful for me (did i mention p's car is the size of a boat?). I was pulling out of a parking lot on a Monday evening, turned out of the space too soon, and scraped the rear of the car next to me, right under the brake light.
It was a gold Buick LeSabre from the 90s. There were lots of other scratches on it. But I felt guilty and left a note on a scrap envelope telling them to call me if they wanted to settle it.
The next day I got a call from an unknown number. They didn't leave a message, and I was at work. But they called again and again. I assumed it was the owner of the Buick, but wanted to see where the number was from. I googled it, and clicked on the first link, and well... I had accidentally collided with the vehicle of a female escort. She had a sexy escort name. I guess I should have assumed so much with the gold Buick LeSabre?! She kept insisting I send her cash directly, but we eventually worked something out and she was actually quite nice.
That's the thing about this place. No matter how many shady experiences we have, this is our home and these are our neighbors. And I don't mind it one bit.
I hate that I love you Oakland. But I do. As long as I don't get shot.
We spent Valentine's together at home. Patrick cooked up a de-licious dinner of shrimp and scallops (courtesy of ms. garten) and I was on dessert duty. Luckily my valentine likes things a little tart since I accidentally doubled the lime juice in the key lime pie. Otherwise it went off without a hitch.
I love an excuse to slow down and ignore everything else for a night. And love that valentine of mine.
I didn't get a picture so I borrowed this pretty one from here.
We had some friends over last night for a waffle party, and my mom's sour cream waffles were a huge hit. They are so fluffy and just the perfect amount of sweet, so you can always go back for seconds. The strawberry whipped cream is pretty and pink and is perfect for valentine's day!
While we were on the topic of v-day last night, it came to my attention that some people don't like breakfast in bed, which I hadn't considered before but does make sense. I for one love it, and have also been known to take whatever is for dessert on a weekend straight up to bed. It always feels like a little luxury. Who's for or against it?
Here's the recipe - hope you enjoy!
1 egg yolk
1 cup sour cream
½ cup milk
3 TBL butter, melted
1 cup flour
2 Tsp. sugar
1 Tsp. baking powder
½ Tsp. salt
½ Tsp. baking soda
1 egg white, stiffly beaten
Preheat waffle maker. Put all ingredients except egg white in a large mixer
bowl. Beat on low until moistened. Increase to medium, mix until smooth.
By hand, gently fold in beaten egg white. Pour ½ cup batter in center of
grid. Close waffle maker, bake until golden, 3-3 ½ minutes.