Green Tea Diaries

History Repeats Itself

2010-08-11T07:58:00.001-07:00

It's been awhile since we posted. I say 'we' because it sounds bigger. Just got a phone call informing me that I will once again be teaching: this time history. Try as I might, I seem addicted to school. Catch us in a few as I jet off to San Francisco before school starts, my happy place, so I can once again contemplate my already made decision.

Finding Your Happy Place

2009-08-20T14:57:00.001-07:00

What do you do when your Big Trip to India has been thwarted for the second time?
You head to your Happy Place, that's what you do.
Ask someone where their happy place is and they might say, "Oh, I don't know, in my kitchen, with a nice cup of coffee," and that answer would be bullshit. Your happy place shouldn't be in your house or even near it. It should be within reasonable striking distance, by car.
So after hearing for the second time that my dreams of riding an elephant across the Punjab would again be put on hold, I went for the next best thing. My Happy Place (HP) which is unquestionably San Francisco. My clunky toyota Camry made it the 500 miles or so up the 5, pointed straight for the Bay Area - a place I can always feel the NOW.

More specifically my HP is the Wild Side West, a bar in Bernal Heights where I used to go and spend long hours dreaming of the future I am now living. The Wild Side is a lesbian bar, which is perfect as an HP. There are no barflys stuck to sticky counters asking "What brings you here?" But more of a 'Cheers for Woman' atmosphere, where no one knows your name and nobody cares. The girls behind the bar are surly, just the way I like them, and the back patio is someplace I could see myself being buried, which I guess I have been close to a few times already.
The whole India Drama has been lessened by the awareness that The Wild Side is consistent, it's (usually) always open, the price is cheap (comparatively), they speak the same language, and I don't need a special visa to get in. When in doubt, always head to your Happy Place.
Where is yours?

Hummel Vision observation # 1 - Out of the Closet

2009-03-15T14:49:00.000-07:00

I recently discovered my prom dress languishing in the back of a closet. Dusty but intact, the little black dress got me thinking about one of my obsessions called 'Hummel Vision' or the inability to give something away that we believe has some kind of Nostalgic Value. The prom dress must stay, Hummel Vision tells us, even though I couldn't fit my left thigh into its taffeta torso.
There's also a little black jacket that goes with the dress, one that looks like it was made for a child. Did I really fit into this ensemble at one time? And wouldn't I rather get rid of the dress then face the fact that I have gained like, a million pounds since I was a senior in high school?
I can't, I've got Hummel Vision.

'Hummel Vision' got its name from the tribe of Hummels I inherited from my father, the little figurines that I can't seem to give away, sell, or otherwise dispose of. My dad loved those Hummels and now so too shall I. 'Hummel Vision' happens when we place some kind of mythic value on objects, rather than actions, work ethics, or love and other important things that should take precedence over mere things.

But that's not how we're hard wired, is it?

The little black prom dress was in the pile of 'give aways' until I swooped it up and put it back in the closet where it belongs. I got a better hanger for it and covered it in one of those plastic clothing protectors, the kind for special clothes. The prom dress is there to remind me that life has its cycles, that it moves in one direction, always forward. The dress will continue to sit in the closet until I either A. leave the known world, or B. find the courage to get rid it.

I can already guess which one it's gonna be.

Happy Chinese New Year!

2009-01-26T06:18:00.001-08:00

The Year of the Ox comes at a perfect time. 2009 and beyond will go down in history as the time in which the American people (and the World) learned how to just say 'No.'

We've been on a National/International spending spree for so many years that we're lost if we're not buying things. For some of us, to stop shopping cold turkey is more difficult than quiting smoking. A good activity to keep us busy? Work. The Ox represents strength and tenacity, hard work and dedication; exactly what this planet needs right now. You can't picture the ox out there using an American Express card to purchase more superflous stuff, like say the monkey or the rat does, now can you?

2009 = Work hard, buy what you need, recycle, purchase used items when you can, be nice, good luck.
Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Congratulations America!

2009-01-19T17:18:00.000-08:00

Congratulations America, you've done well!
On this Innuagural Day Eve America has shown the world, and ourselves, that we still have some smarts left in us.

America: It's a Good Place to Be Again

The Claudia Report

2008-12-26T12:50:00.000-08:00

Dear James,

This is Claudia writing to you from "lynn's" computer. I refuse to call her mom because I am at least seventy years older than she is.

I would first like to thank you and bunny kitty for the wonderful doggy snack and come clean about something before "she" tells you about it.
First off, it wasn't my fault. When she opened your package she ooohed and aaahed before setting it down on a small, nose height table and jetting off to an egg nog party down the street. So what was I supposed to think? I saw the package with the gingerbread-dog cookie in it, I saw my name on it, and I smelled how good it would taste. She left, and I sprang as fast as my old hips would let me.
So I ate it, I ate the whole cookie including the plastic. It's christmas, I thought. Why not? I did leave the little red tag that said 'from Cosmo Bunny Kitty' intact and that's what ultimately got me in trouble.
I should have eaten that too.
When she got home (probably drunk) she started in on "Oh my god, how could you? That was for Christmas day!!"
How am I supposed to know when Christmas day is? She's been playing that damn Charlie Brown music for at least a month.
I THOUGHT IT WAS CHRISTMAS! So she's yelling at me about being a 'naughty piggy' and calling me "Little Chrissy" like that John Water's film with the girl who loves sugar? So anyway, I didn't mean it in a bad way, and I sure didn't mean to eat the whole thing in one sitting. I couldn't help myself, you know? So if she asks, tell her it was from you guys FOR ME and not for her perfect little idea of christmas. At least somebody got me a present!

So thank you very much for thinking of me at this special time of baby jesus' birthday. How's Austin? Say hello to Francois, and all the kitties: Emma, Sophie, Skank, and Cosmo bunny kitty for me. I love the holidays and the holidays love us! Just please tell 'her' to back off the Little Chrissy jokes, Ok?

merry christmas and happy new year!
love,
Claudia M. Klopfer

Snow Days

2008-12-20T08:42:00.000-08:00

Winter is here!

In the days before the official 'Winter Solstice,' Running Springs recieves a hefty dose of snow.
"Just like the old days," was heard more than once around the post office, in the bank, and at Little Jensen's.
In the Bus Stop Coffee House people blew on hot drinks, watching the snow fall from inside fogged up windows.

Across the snowy valley, Mt. Baldy looks like Mt. Everest and visions of sugarplums are dancing through everyone's heads. It's amazing to think that just a few months ago we were so worried about the dry winds of autumn and now here we are shoveling bus loads of snow. For the first time since I can remember, the school district called school for 5 whole days, 5 WHOLE DAYS! before the official holiday break began.

The amazing part of a snow day is how it takes you down a notch, how it makes everyone pay a little more atttention to nature. Watching it snow may be the ultimate in meditative practices. To be still and not react to it, to just enjoy it for it's beauty, that's the trick of a snow day.

Why Hello Kitty Matters

2008-11-24T20:01:00.001-08:00

She doesn't even have a mouth! Maybe that's her secret.

In the late 1970's you couldn't cross the street without running over this little white... toy? She's more than a toy, she's a cultural icon! Soft, round, mouthless, a jaunty red bow, and always put together, she has embodied a certain idea of 'cheek' since her stateside beginings in 1976, and I have loved her ever since.

I remember that when my grandma would come to visit us from New Jersey she and I had a special ritual. My mother would drop us off at the mall formally known as Central City in beautiful downtown San Bernardino, and my grandma and I would go straight to the Sanrio store. Like entering another world, the world of Hello Kitty and Her Stationary Factory, you could practically taste the place.
Once there, I proceded to touch and smell every single object in the rows and rows of kitten paraphenalia. I loved the pink smelling erasers, the little note pads perfect for my then tiny fingers, the mini pencils, and the red plastic tissue holder purse that I persuaded my grandma to buy for me. I didn't realize until much, much later the relationship between Hello Kitty and her creators in Japan. How everything about her is Japanese, from her shyness, her size, her work ethic, to her sense of honor and duty. Maybe I'm reading more into it then there really is, maybe not. Hello Kitty came to America about the same time Toyota cars did and we all know that was a good trade for the U.S.A., right?

For some of us, Hello Kitty is as important as...baseball cards. Hello Kitty was the girl version of the obsessive trading of sports cards and at least her stuff was useful. Cabbage Patch kids? Forget about it. For a young girl growing up in California in the 70's, Hello Kitty called across the oceans to me in a way that not many other toys did or could. There is a certain amount of comfort in her beady eyes and soft paws. Yes, there is also a certain overkill to the Sanrio stores that now pepper every mall, but who cares! That excess seems like small pickens now that we see what real 'economic crisis' means. You can't blame this one on the Kitty!

Sometimes I call on my "Inner Hello Kitty" when I see something just as cute that hits the same grandma nostalgia button. Here we see the 'Catskelly' by Indigenous Plush, almost an X-ray version of the Kitty herself, and my crafter friends and their super cute felt lollipops I bought for Xmas gifts.
I wonder if my grandma ever knew how much those trips to the Sanrio store meant to (one of) her favorite little grandchildren? Or, how I would treasure those memories forever?
I sure hope so.

The Huts of Running Springs

2008-10-01T21:10:00.000-07:00

Whatcha got in that hut?

I've been gathering data on huts in Running Springs. Seems there are quite a few of these little architectural wonders out there in the greater Running Springs area.

Why is this?

Running Springs is like a village. A village that has expanded out - but not up. Smaller houses are the norm, leaving little inside space for those human habits we love to aquire. Collections, hobbies, visiting relatives - they all go in the hut.

What makes a hut...special?
The best huts aren't prefab. like the ones huddled in the Home Depot parking lot. The best huts are designed and decorated by their owners; the weird folks of Running Springs. They are weird and if you don't believe me go and check out some of these huts.
But weird in a good way.

There are some real winners out there. After the fires of last year my desire to properly document the huts has grown. Some huts, like this one, survived when their house did not.
This is an 'Orphaned Hut.'

We call this next one "Small World Hut." It has the same fussy little Danish look of the beloved water ride. I expect to hear music coming from inside the stained glass windows of this one, the beads jangling from the rafters, the wooden tulips bouncing up and down.
That would be cool!

Do you have a hut? In Running Springs?

Let us know.

*Stay tuned for 'The Czech Hut', 'Tree Stump Hut', 'Rainbow Hut', and 'Scary Woods Hut.'
Plus: Inside the Hut - the Interviews.

Parkland Retreat House

2008-08-06T21:57:00.000-07:00

Parkland is ready for its close up.

Almost three years in the making, (or remaking) and its time to open the doors at Parkland.
Our first yoga workshop will be Saturday, September 20th with penelope prabha richards, a great local instructor.
From 9 to noon, the class will feature an hour and half yoga/meditation session, a short break and then more
yoga! Light refreshments to follow as you hang out on the cool grounds, eat, and sip green tea, (of course).

Parkland is part Japanese Zendo, part mountain cabin, part bookstore, and all about SPACE.
It's worth a visit just to check out the book hut!
Future classes include writing workshops, more yoga, meditation, and anything else we can find someone to teach us.
Parkland will also offer massage by a local masseuse - cool!

Cost for the one day workshop is $40 per person by Sept. 13th.
*Mention 'green tea diaries' and sign up 2 people for $70.
Such a deal!
**directions will be sent upon sign up. Space is limited!

Paypal accepted or,
Make check payable to:
Lynn Klopfer
P.O. Box 3502
Running Springs, Ca 92382

Be at the first yoga workshop.
Because you know its good for you.

World Wide Washi

2008-07-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

wa = japanese
shi = paper

Au Papier Japonais may be North America's best, and only, all washi shop.

Washi, the handmade Japanese paper that fills Lorraine Pritchard's totally unique Montreal paper store has a tradition longer then the rolls and rolls of washi being displayed all over the cozy store.
You want the best washi your canadian dollar can buy? Head down to the Mile End area, the hippest, most low key of Montreal neighborhoods. Fairmont Street is full of fun, current shops, and Au Papier Japonaise seems to be the neighborhood's Queen Bee.

It's on of those places.

Lorraine's careful attention to detail has created an atmosphere of refined obsessiveness. If you are at all interested in paper - good paper - you better leave before your Amercain Express card catches fire as mine did upon exiting.
Not that her prices aren't great, they are. But the problem lies in the fact that there are too many things you might find yourself needing to have.

Washi, books about washi, calligraphy brushes, beautiful paper umbrellas, more washi, cool little knick knacks for any paper/washi geek, washi, and then in the next room, more washi. In the same way the Japanese love packaging and all it entails, Lorraine's shop is like a Japanese hostess gift; beautiful, well ordered, neat, and heaped with character.

The shop reminds the visitor of a living room fort made of paper (the kind you made as a kid) and you don't want to leave but stay all night under its soothing sheets .

So what is washi?

The Japanese have been making strong, exquisite paper for at least 1300 years. From the workshop pamphlet I picked up in the shop it says this: "In washi, fibre comes from three plants whose inner bark produces naturally longer fibres than trees, and which is laboriously extracted by hand to maintain its length. The three plants are kozo, mitsumata and gampi."

So now we know.

But to get to know washi even more intimately, Au Papier offers workshops from papermaking, to card making, to book binding, to full on painting classes. I just wish there were a satelite campus in California.
Check them out at www.aupapierjaponais.com

There is also a world wide Washi Summit held every year, which would be amazing to attend, I'm sure.

Don't call it rice paper.
It's washi!

The Franco Nippon Connection

2008-07-10T14:09:00.000-07:00

A japonese bistro!
This is the kind of cross cultural eating experience that I always love.
Isakaya, a Japanese restaurant in a French Canadian city, provided my one and only Japanese meal in Montreal. Cheap(er), innovative, and unpretentious, but was it Japanese?

Walking north from dowtown up Rue DuParc, Isakaya is recommended as the only place to eat fresh fish in this area of Montreal. And the meal I had was possibly the weirdest thing I have ever eaten in a sushi restaurant.
Weird in a good way.

I had the "Salade deNouille Sarrasin avec Crevettes Matane" or 'Buckwheat noodle salad with fresh Matane shrimp.'
Buckwheat noodles are terrific and I don't eat nearly enough of them, but I will be trying harder from now on.
They took the buckwheat noodles (cold) and dressed them with seaweed strips, sprouts, avocado, tomatoes, (that's weird, right?), and those crispy kind of noodley crackers, and drizzled it all with a wonderful, savory, hollandaise-like sauce.
It's as if the chef looked into the fridge and said "What do we have in here for tonight's special?" - and boy was it great.
Odd, but great. It was definetly japanese, for the chef's innovative abilities alone.

The only complaint I had was that there wasn't enough. But maybe that's just the American in me, wanting more of what I want.

"Isakaya est un restaurant discret qui offre une cuisine Japonaise authentique" it said in the window.
Translation: Yummy Japanese food in Montreal.

BONSAI !

2008-06-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

This is what I would imagine a forest for gnomes to look like - small, organized, and easy on the eye.
The Huntington Gardens in San Marino remains the best place to view a large collection of bonsai in southern california.
The bonsai sit, respectfully, in the Japanese garden area, right past the amazing zen garden of rock, sand, and stone.

'Bon' means 'shallow', and 'sai' means 'plant' in Japanese, as in 'plants that grow in a shallow container.' The art of training miniature trees to resemble their larger brethern first originated in China and is super complex, just like Asia itself. You need all sorts of fancy tools, none of which I have ever seen at Home Depot. About a thousand years ago, back when Japan looked heavily to China for cultural inspiration, they snatched upon the idea and bonsai has been added to the list of 'Japanese things we recognize,' but its far more than that.

*Terri and Sue-ki Yaki eye the bonsai.

Since 1968 when it first opened to the public, the bonsai garden at the Huntington represents the practice at its finest with over 30 plants.
Trained, twisted, pinched, and plucked, these minature trees and plants are meant to resemble the natural world, only smaller. With most things in our present culture getting bigger and bigger, the movement back to a small, managable scale can best be seen in bonsai plants. Small is beautiful. The striking look of a giant tree in minature reminds us how far we've gotten away from the meaning of the word "beautiful" and that big does not equal great.

Now, if only we coult do the same thing with cars.

Shinto elements seen in the signage as well.

New hobby for the year - bonsai!

Rock and Roll Sushi hits the mountain - go eat some fish!

2008-05-11T12:11:00.001-07:00

We have waited, and waited, and waited for this moment. Good, affordable sushi closer than twenty miles away. It has happened with the opening of Rock -n-Roll Sushi in Lake Arrowhead's charming-ish Village. A chain of sushi joints catering to a young-acting, reggae listening, Coach bag carrying crowd. So was it worth the wait?
Rock and Roll Sushi sits next door to Papaya Bay, the Thai restaurant that has dominated the Asian cuisine scene here on the mountain (which isn't difficult) for a whopping two years.
So it's on now! Japanese versus Thai food. There should be room for both, right? Its probably a good thing the same company owns both restautants. Considering people in the mountains only go out to dinner for birthdays or with visiting relatives, its hard to determine what's what in the restaurant industry up here.
Are people really looking for good food, or just a place to relieve some of the cultural boredom of the mountains? I'm afraid I know the answer.

Let's take a look at the food:
From what we ordered and ate, it looks to be in the "American Sushi" style of rolls smothered in various salty sauces. Not bad tasting at all, but not tasting like much. Good sushi has that fresh, distinctly Japanese flavor. Good sushi is not afraid of itself, nor does it hide behind fancy eel sauces and store bought wasabi. When you can taste the 'special sauce' more than the fish, question this, said grasshopper.
It was my friends Lori and Mike's first time trying sushi - first time! How wonderful, so I was hoping it would be a great experience. I think we enjoyed picking from the 24 beers on tap selection more than the food menu.
We got the Psycho roll, (mike's choice, pretty adventurous for a first timer) the Red Dragon roll, and the Baked Lobster roll.
Tasty, extremely filling, well presented, average priced - but not what you would call "the best sushi I ever had."
How could it be?
They were out of endemame to begin with and the servers had trouble remembering the difference between spicey tuna and baked salmon - but they are trying.
The stainless steel, numerous flat screens pumping sports programming to the mountain masses, and the bright red and green of the interior solidifies Rock and Roll's place as a "California" sushi joint. Well, I suppose we'll take what we can get and be happy. I am looking forward to returning, (which is a good sign) and ordering sashimi and Udon. I will sit in the outdoor seating area and enjoy the lake view while sipping green tea, (which, come to think of it, they didn't offer. What's up with no green tea?).
I'm still waiting for a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop to open in Running Springs. It'll be called 'Little, Little Tokyo.'

Adult Pinatas - good clean fun

2008-05-11T11:41:00.001-07:00

If only you could have been there.
Two birthday boys, both alike in their Tauranian ways. One from the mountains, one from the sea. Each in a celebratory mood, both game for a swing at the ol' bull on a string. Adult pinatas, (sorry, I can't figure out how to put the little squiggle over the n, but I know it should be there). The idea had been swinging around for awhile, and finally it was time to step up to the plate. An ancient tradition of youthful humiliation, what able bodied adult wouldn't want a crack at one?

We bought the pinata at a local "party supplier" but one of my students said that next time I should call his aunt who made "the best pinatas ever." I might call her because taking a swing at that bull on a string was one of the best moments of uncontrollable laughter I've had in a long time.
When's the next birthday?

The trick to an adult pinata is to fill it with "fun" things, things not ordinarily found in a 1st grader's pinata. The dice got a nod from Steve, one of the birthday boys. I believe he said, "I like the dice."
Good enough.
There were a few other bonuses tucked up in the tissue papered belly of the bull as well: lighters, lip gloss, asprin, profilactics, and some candy to round it out. The other birthday boy, Sean, scrambled for a bottle of moisterizing nasal spray and I think Mandy got the Visine drops. The next day I had to go back to the scene to make sure there weren't any 'traces' left strewn about on the forest floor. Surprise neighbors!
But looking back, I'm sure anyone would have joined in the swinging, if they had been invited.

The Bus Stop - Coffee House, Community Cafe

2008-02-01T21:01:00.001-08:00

Finally! Running Springs gets lucky. I first ate at the Bus Stop on St. Patrick's day 2007 when the cafe was in its first week of business. Owner Terri Schauer had corned beef and cabbage, un-Irish potatoes and a hollandaise/mustard sauce you could eat every day until Easter, and we've all been hooked since. Hands down the best 'gourmet' food on the mountain, great coffee, pastries, wi-fi, sprinkle sugar cookies, and a surprise soup du jour selection that never fails. My favorite is the split pea coconut curry.
Visit on the way to or from Big Bear, or if you're just odd enough to stay in Running Springs for the night.

The Book Hut

2008-01-05T14:21:00.001-08:00

hut. noun - “A small single-story building, often made of wood, that is used as a simple house or shelter, or for storage, temporary accommodation, or for leisure activities.”

Sometimes we do crazy things and sometimes those things turn into the best things we ever did. Sometimes.
Case in point: at the end of 2005 when the housing market was taking its first, tentative dives into the deep end, I bought a second house. Not just any house, but a house with a hut. A hut, I found, that has given a much needed home to the enormous book collection that keeps happening, now far out of mine or anyone elses control. The books needed a home and so a hut is what they got.

The house itself was a mess, but the 'book hut', out in back and to the left, was in perfect condition. Perfect size, free standing, concrete floor, a small work stand, a window, and plenty of wall space for shelves. I only needed to remove the sharp objects that the previous owners had left behind - rusty saws, rakes, and weird mountain equipment I've never seen before. I got all that junk out of the hut and reversed any 'shed karma' by putting in all the books, shelving, pictures, and book accessories (yes, there are book accessories).
The Hut houses all the tools needed to start making our ever so popular 'rescued book journals,' journals and sketch books made from old, funky, groovy, book covers.
The book hut also keeps all the book spines that we've saved (about 2,500 of um') for a future project. Any suggestions? Please email.
The Hut has also hosted one small party in June of 2006. Apparently the hut has a magnetic pull, possibly like the ancient menstrual huts women were so fond of, (and I don't blame them one bit) back in the day. Personally, I think the Book Hut would make a perfect menstrual respite, and I bet even the men who found themselves lounging inside the hut on that chilly June night, sipping cocktails by candlelight would agree.
The Book Hut will be featured more prominently in the collection of stories called, "The Huts of Running Springs" currently in the works by yours truly and other people too.
Are you the owner of a hut?
Tell us about it.

California Rolled - Sushi in the Inland Empire

2007-12-16T12:33:00.000-08:00

The desert people of the Inland Empire have been smacking their parched lips together for good Japanese restaurants for a long time. Ten years ago it would have been impossible to review more than a couple of sushi joints in the "greater" (ha ha) Inland Empire, but there seems to be a surge of new Japanese eateries worth a visit in the I.E. Most seem to center around the Redlands area, but we'll try to reach out into the nether regions as well.
We'll take a look at each restaurant for overall food quality, price, and the ever important 'ambiance' that a good Japanese restaurant should emit.
*Please feel free to email us favorites in your area.

1. Ocean Blue, Orange Street, Redlands.

So the first good thing is that the old Redlands train station buildings are still being used for something worthwhile.
The bad thing is that the Krikorians are still reaping high rents for their delapitated buildings. (The bathroom ceilings were leaking during a rainstorm when we visited. BAD landlords!) When "that family" drove out Jazz and Java next door, Ocean Blue was just cutting their teeth and we're glad to see they have stuck it out, (despite the evil landlords) because they have real tasty Japanese food.

My brother told me to get the Baked Lobster Roll ($12.95) and it did the trick - filling, fresh, and rich. I liked the lobster roll with a house salad and the extras they give you when you walk in (miso soup and a teaser of endamame) as a complete
meal, so filling the roll was. My nephew Eric got the BBQ Shrimp Dinner ($12.95 including a bento box of tempura goods). The steaming shrimp plate comes with lots of vegetables, plenty of fresh shrimp, and since it was gone in about 5 minutes (he's a
growing boy, my nephew) I know it was good. The one shrimp I did manage to wrangle off the 12 year old tasted as good
as it should; garlic basted, and grilled just right.

Ocean Blue is the Go To when you want consistency. The best part, I think, is the service and the little extras. Smooth
green tea without asking, several server drive-bys, mochi ice cream at the end of each evening meal, and an overall
atmosphere of polish, (read: more like a traditional restaurant in Japan).
On a friday night they were consistently busy; table empties, table fills. Wax on, wax off. A sure sign of success!
They were also extra nice to my nephew, and I liked that also. Arigato!
www.oceanbluesushi.com

2. Fuji Restaurant, 41025 Big Bear Blvd., Big Bear Lake. 909-866-8108

Sitting in Fuji Restaurant on Big Bear Boulevard, eating sashimi and fresh salmon at 6,000 feet elevation with snow on the
ground outside, I have that 'only in California' feeling. Far from the ocean, waters, or airports necessary to provide the kind
of fish found on Fuji's menu, I'm left wondering where it all came from.
Visiting on a friday night, the locals and visitors were crowding (for Big Bear) Fuji and that's always a good sign. My
cousin Keith was visiting from Portland, Oregon, a place famous for fresh salmon and good Japanese restaurants, so we
thought we'd give Fuji a try.

It was my second visit, (the first time I had Udon noodles, ($7.25 and tasty!) so I thought it best to try the dinner menu.
I ordered tempura again because I just can't get enough and its always a good judge of how greasy a restaurant can get.
Trying to make tempura at home is a battle of the frying pan, often coming out dripping and soggy. So any decent
Japanese restaurnt should have good tempura, correct?

The Fuji Combinations came with miso soup, rice, a japanese salad, and tea, ($13.50) I got choice D. with sashimi and a
California Roll, a true test if there ever was one. Tuna Sashimi; good, fresh. The octopus, or whatever it was makes my
throat itch so I don't usually eat it anyway. The Roll? decent, nothing spectacular.
My cousin seemed to like his tempura Udon bowl right fine, but maybe he was just being nice because he was visiting?

The Big Bear version is one of three Fuji restaurants, so I don't know if that's the reason for the 'flat' atmosphere. Nothing
special in the way of ambiance, it almost looks like a Chinese restaurant, not that there's anything wrong with
that...The folks who run the place are quiet and I'm not sure why that bugs me a little. But maybe they're quiet because
they have to deal with all of the weird, down the hill flatlanders who seem to pepper the place on a friday night like when
we visited. If you have to deal with a bunch of Mr. and Mrs. Tim Broady snowboarders over forty on a continual basis it can
probably get to you after a while.
Next time I think I'll go for Lunch.

3. Cabin Sushi in downtown Riverside - quite possibly the best in the Inland Empire.

4. Yamazato - the Classic on Hospitality Lane

Stealing Buddha

2007-10-31T17:32:00.000-07:00

I was out driving one afternoon when I came across a concrete sculpture garden, the kind of place that pops up unexpectedly on the sides of dusty roads here in the Inland Empire. The kind of place you never stop for.
It wasn't the kind of place you would look for a Buddha, but I found one amidst the St. Francis statues and tiled bird baths. It was a well tarnished boddhisatva, about two feet high, and smiling just the way a Buddha should. I payed for him with my visa, had the guy help me get him into the car, (Buddha was heavy!) seat belted him in, and took off for home. I was planning on years of enjoyment from my Buddha, and the instant gratification of sped up enlightnement was filling my heart with all sorts of happiness.
When I got home, he was so heavy I couldn't get him into the yard, so I left him in the driveway, just for the night I thought.
Big mistake.
The next morning I realized I had tested the universe. Someone had stolen my Buddha. How could this be? I'm sure stealing a Buddha is on par with stealing an Amercican Flag, robbing a church, tipping cows, or any other various sacreligious acts. But it happened. I asked a neighborhood friend, a monk in regular clothes, what I should do and if this stolen Buddha was just an icon, it wasn't the Buddha, right?
Monk friend said: "I don't know."
I struggled as my friend told me that I hadn't bought the Buddha for myself, but rather, I had bought it for someone who needed it more then me.
That's a tough one to wrap you mind around, but isn't Buddhism, my friend reminded me, about objectified notions of reality? About not placing material value on any one thing; the impermanance of nature being more substantial evidence of a 'supreme being.'
Hmmmm. There is a definite bonus to understanding impermanance. You can't buy the Buddha with a visa card, who was I kidding? Besides, the interest rate on a Buddha would be out of this world.
I understand a little better now.
But right now, with the forest singed behind my home, the impermanance of nature glaring at me from below the ashes, and all kinds of emotions welling up inside of me, I kinda wish I had my Buddha back.

Helicopters in My Trees

2007-10-30T12:40:00.000-07:00

Today starts day 9 of mandatory evacuation in Running Springs. How we got back up here before everybody else is a story best left for a campfire (contained), or a pool party. I just got done talking with firefighters (nice young men) patrolling my charred backyard. They're down there putting out hotspots and listening on their radios for comands from the zooming helicopters that have been circling our neighborhood for the last week. The first day back I was alarmed at the sound of helicopters so close, hovering at eye level about 200 feet (maybe?) away from my now singed back deck. Helicopter noise always sounds trouble; escaped convicts, car chases, train wrecks, and forest fires.
I've had 'copters in my dreams for at least the last four nights, but never in a 'James Bond' kind of way, sweeping me and my ball gown from atop some swanky high rise in Monacco. The helicopters in my dreams are more like the ones outside using infared technology to spot fires still hot enough to detect. Then they make a computer generated map showing the neighborhoods (in this case Running Springs, Live Oak area) that still need 'attention.' Then they pass the maps out to the fire scouts, (the nice young men in my backyard). The code name for my neighborhood is "Julia" as in: "Julia is looking good" or "Julia needs immediate attention."
If I just remember that the loud buzzing sound of helicopters, that even my hyper sensitive dog is now used to, indicates that there is a strong fire protection squad in total command of the situation, then maybe I can relax, just a little. And for that sense of calm that I am hoping returns very soon, for that reason I should be thankful for the helicopters in my trees.