— पांच हजार एक सौ बयान्वे —
All of my writing time yesterday was dedicated to
my travelogue detailing Shobhit's and my Sunday drive through Whidbey Island and Skagit Valley, which means I still haven't reported on the rest of my weekend. I guess I'll have to do that now.
Shobhit had both Saturday and Sunday off work, a truly rare event where we both have both weekend days off, but he did work on Friday, a later shift until 9 p.m. So, it was a perfect candidate for a movie night over at Alexia's next door. We watched
Moonstruck, which I had been deeply shocked to learn she had never seen. She agreed with me that the movie was utterly delightful.
We also spent a lot of time in fairly complex discussion, as we often do, and some of it had to do with race and prejudice and discrimination. I think she is in some ways a relatively typical white woman, focused on her (real, I have no argument about that) struggles as a woman, often at the cost of focusing on the even more systemic issues of racism in this country—including, broadly speaking, among white women. To her credit, she seems to listen to me without judgment even when I (respectfully, I hope) disagree with some of her stances or assertions. She talked about how great it is that we can talk about things and "agree to disagree" on some stuff, and still pretty easily remain friends.
I'd have to agree that this is key, and there is a delicate balance when talking to people about biases and prejudices. I've had friends, for example, so intent on calling people out on their problematic—whatever the degree—statements or behaviors that they all just wind up alienated. It can be hard to decide whether or not speaking up is more trouble than it's worth, although admittedly I speak from a clear position of privilege as a white man when I say that. I am thinking of a relatively minor example, though, of when Shobhit and I were visiting with Laurie on Whidbey Island on Sunday. I have a lot more to say about that visit with her specifically, but there was one moment when she pointed to a small camper trailer and called it her son's "Gypsy Wagon." The use of the word "gypsy" is increasingly problematic, but to what extent and how widely known is it to be, are lingering questions. Should I have said something to her? I made the choice not to, for multiple reasons, all of them probably easily argued to be bad ones: I don't know her well enough, really; I didn't want to create an alienating moment so early in our visit; this is a woman with so many wild hippie ideas that this concept is likely the tiniest blip on her out-there radar.
Anyway, I digress. Alexia and I chatted quite a while even after the movie ended, until I finally had to say it was time for me to go home; Shobhit was already back from work for a while by then. I had even thought we might have some time to watch an episode or two of a show before going to bed, but that had been assuming I'd be back by around the time he got home. Instead, I was quite tired and wound up in bed by about a quarter after 11.
— पांच हजार एक सौ बयान्वे —
On Saturday I spent the day with Shobhit, and then much of the evening at Sachin's place. We first went out for brunch, though, which means we did two things that, had they been done on separate days, would have garnered Shobhit two Social Review points—but, being on the same day, he just gets one for it.
The brunch was a suggestion of mine, which I came up with while he was still in India:
Zylberschtein's Delicatessen & Bakery. I suggested this because of a meeting Noah and Shelley had with a vendor last month, who brought in bagels and doughnuts from this place. Both were excellent, but especially the doughnuts. Unfortunately, even though we were there by a quarter after 10 a.m., they were already sold out of their doughnuts—probably the best thing they have. We'll have to get there even earlier another time.
Anyway. I'm trying to pinpoint the Seattle neighborhood this place is in. It's northeast of Northgate, but according to Google Maps, it's on a corner where three different neighborhoods meet: Pinehurst, Olympic Hills, and Victory Heights. It looks like most online references say Pinehurst, though.
Shobhit is observing a Hindu-related fasting of eggs, so he wouldn't eat any breakfast items with eggs on them. He's never been religious otherwise in the slightest, so I remain mystified by his couple periods a year in which he abstains from eggs, but, whatever. He made it sound like it has a little to do with his mother, which I suppose somewhat makes sense. In any case, I had the "
Veggie Frankel" on an Everything Bagel, and since it included two eggs, Shobhit didn't eat any of it. It was rather messy, a bit spicy, but very tasty. I think Shobhit would have quite liked it. He ordered the avocado toast for himself, which he liked a lot, especially the thick-sliced bread used. He also ordered "Happy Toast," which rather baffled me as he didn't realize it had almond butter on it. Anything even remotely like peanut butter, he hates.
He also ordered a loaf of sliced bread. I had been expecting to find a place with indoor dining, but they were still only serving at a window and even asked people who came up to the window, outside, to wear masks. They have an outdoor seating area though and we went over there to eat our sandwiches.
— पांच हजार एक सौ बयान्वे —
Our dinner plans on Saturday were something I did not even become aware of until that morning; Sachin was apparently inviting us over, to have dinner largely made by his visiting mother. Kimberly was to come over too, apparently seeing Sachin for the first time in about three months as I guess they've decided just to be friends.
We got to his place on Beacon Hill around 5:45. Shobhit brought two bottles of wine and some snacks to offer. I packed my library book into the bag. Shobhit asked why and I said, "In case I get bored." He said, "That's pretty disrespectful, bringing a book to read." I was like, "You do that
constantly when we go to my family holiday gatherings, so, you can shut up about that."
In retrospect, we were both wrong in that exchange. Truly, he has no place to judge, although I guess to be fair he's been a part of the family for so long that there's nothing formal about a visit—plus, there's a lot more people at a family gathering. And Shobhit pointed out that our days in Olympia for holidays last far longer than a dinner at a friend's house. Although he said "A couple of hours," and I said, "You know as well as I do, we'll be there more than just a couple of hours."
Still, I left the book in the car. I won't lie, there were times I did get
deeply bored, as Shobhit and Sachin inevitably got into long conversations about finances and real estate. But there was never any moment I could have broken off from this group of only five people to sit and read a book without coming off as a lot more rude than Shobhit does when he reads at Dad and Sherri's house. Nevertheless, it's still rude when he does it, and I still see this as yet another of an endless example of him expecting more of me than he does of himself. I was making a false equivalency, though.
Anyway. Sachin's mom did most of the cooking, including a pressure cooker pot of seasoned rice that qualified as the main dish, though that was after filling up on endless snacks. A slightly spicy small plate of chickpea-coated peanuts that I seriously could not stop eating. Sachin's mom made deep fried balls of potato, the name of which I forget; I think it might have been "
batata vada." It was very good, but a bit too spicy for me, although the second and third ones I ate were much easier to get down. Still, after hearing about it being a little too spicy for me, Sachin's mom asked if I like onion rings, and I was like, "Yeah I like onion rings!" Shobhit then chopped a yellow onion into slices, and she proceeded to make what may have been the best onion rings I have ever had in my life, which I had dipped in a homemade tamarind chutney. Oh my god, it was good.
Sachin also made a salad, to which Kimberly added just enough dressing, and it was also delicious. It really was a very, very good dinner, of which I ate entirely too much, and my weight was spiked rather dramatically the next morning.
— पांच हजार एक सौ बयान्वे —
— पांच हजार एक सौ बयान्वे —
Okay, so I have just a few more things to note about the visit to Whidbey Island on Sunday, specifically about Laurie. I'm going to list off some details, hopefully without judgment, and just let you draw your own conclusions.
Well, except I will say this, which I suppose is infused with some measure of judgment. Laurie has worked for PCC for 36 years, thus qualifying as one of the few true "old-timers" left, and she is the
quintessential, old-school hippie PCC person. Like, if there were a reference book that included the cliché of "PCC hippie," it might just feature a photo of her. She's been an employee since 1986 and a member-shopper since 1975. The year before I was born!
That house they have, purchased in 2017, on South Whidbey Island, was purchased from a couple who was divorcing and thus in a hurry to get the process finished. They feel they got a good deal as a result, but felt the conflict in the preceding years gave the place bad energy. They have performed "cleansing rituals" in the house to rid it of that energy.
I was particularly stunned when Laurie said she they had done not one, but
two Ayahuasca ceremonies in the house. Shobhit had never heard of this, and I was like, "It's complicated, I'll tell you about it later." All I could think of was how much vomit must have been involved. I chose not to bring it up.
She talked about other things in rather outlandish ways, but always either casually in a way that suggested a common acceptance or understanding, or outright earnestly (but not especially intensely). For example, she talked about spending a year just observing what the earth does on their couple of acres of land, during which time she "learned to speak psychically to the animals." She also talked at one point about how the fairies in her garden had communicated with her, which she spoke about the same way someone in church might talk about God speaking to them.
Her 35-year-old son, with whom they are trading spaces so he will now live in the upstairs mother-in-law apartment space and Laurie and Carl will now occupy the rest of the house, sells gongs for a living. In the guest room / meditation room at the front of the house, with its
great window view of the front of the large property, is currently packed with gongs. There's also a metal saucer on the floor, with a small rug-like mat in the center for sitting on it. There's a drum like stick that you then use to, I think, run around the saucer's edges, and somehow gain benefit from "the vibrations."
Laurie told us at one point about having had back pains, which she said disappeared after she stood next to one of the gongs and her son hit it several times.
I spent a lot of time effectively smiling and nodding at this stuff. It fascinated me to think of this woman, so consumed with what basically amounts to "being one with the earth," working the POS position at a grocery store for three and a half decades. For a long time now, it has involved extensive use of technology, validating prices with a scanner gun, applying batches (many of them sent by me) with an in-store POS system. It just felt incongruous, this woman so well versed in computerized equipment with the vibe of someone who would prefer sitting at home, sewing coasters out of swatches of fabric. (She did have some of those.)
She orders a lot of stuff from Amazon, too—hence the
boxes being used for mulch out in front of the house. You might expect her to be one of those types of people who insist on Amazon being an Evil Empire that should be avoided at all costs, but instead she told me about how much more cheaply she can get certain seeds from them than the far more expensive ones sold at PCC. I suppose someone who believes in garden fairies is perhaps less concerned with moral nuances than with neutral syncopation with nature.
— पांच हजार एक सौ बयान्वे —
[posted 12:30 pm]
