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Love: FuseBOX, deep in West Oakland, which is currently open only for lunch 3 days a week, but has the feeling of someplace that will become a destination for foodies. Everything was delicious - from the assorted vegetable skewers to the host of housemade kimchees and pickles that accompanied a skirt steak, to a potted cheesecake with corn flake crumbles. Their wings are supposedly out of this world too. I need to get some coworkers to sign up for a Friday lunch excursion.

Like: Sylvie Bednar's Flags of the World book, which is so fun to look through, filled with interesting facts that decode each flag's various symbols, colors and patterns, that I bought one for us and a dozen more to have on hand to give as gifts to all the kids whose birthday parties Stella will inevitably be invited to in the coming year.

Discovery: The Strawberry Alarm pizza from Seattle's Flying Squirrel, which pairs spicy coppa salumi with the sweet fruit, along with goat cheese and toasted walnuts.  Who knew this combination would work so well? Might be worth trying at home before the local strawberries disappear.

Obsession: The perfectly-sized, nicely-weighted spirit glasses Pizzaiolo uses for their negronis. I tracked them down at East Bay Restaurant Supply, a good place to stock up on other things as well, like a commercial ice cream scoop and wood-handled whisks. Oh, and randomly, they have a GIANT taxidermy polar bear by the entrance. Yes!  

Complaint:  That there is no ferry commute option from the Berkeley Marina into San Francisco. I had the occasion to take the ferry roundtrip from Tiburon a few weeks ago, and can't imagine a lovelier way to cross the Bay each day for work (bonus points for walking through the Ferry Building twice a day, for a Blue Bottle coffee in the am, and then to pick up groceries for dinner on the way home.) Googling "ferry from the Berkeley Marina" showed some very promising activity up until 2009 - including site maps and a parking structure plan - but then the trail goes cold.  

List 86

Love: Water Right's Made in America (Oregon's Wilammette Valley, to be precise) garden hose.  It looks and works better than any other hose I've ever tried - strong but thin, light-weight and easy to move around - and it's nice to support a company that describes its mission as: "to make great garden hoses, take exceptional care of our employees and customers, and promote an American standard of quality, safety, and innovation."

Like: Modelo Especial, particularly in the can, as post yard-work refreshment.

Discovery:  Comal, Berkeley's swanky new Mexican joint, has a very cool back courtyard patio where you can wait for your table with a drink by a fire pit.  Surrounded by other buildings, it has that NYC back patio feeling, a rarity here. 

Obsession: Badminton.  I went crazy for it when it was a gym class unit in high school, and couldn't get enough of it when, back in the day, GSP had a badminton court on the 3rd floor of our office.  We finally ordered a set for our backyard where, granted, the width of the play area is likely half of regulation, leading to a doubled-up, ghetto-looking net.  Now I'm counting down the days until our daily evening fog bank gives way to Indian summer for sunny after-work matches.

(Alice Waters-Approved) Complaint:  Deep planting boxes plus kick-ass compost from American Soil = out of control cherry tomato plants.  It's hard to even get in there to water them and pick the ripe tomatoes.  On the bright side, our Meyer Lemon tree, which we had to cut way back a few years ago as it was blocking our view of the Bay, is finally beginning to produce lemons again, with green buds popping up all around its branches. 

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Love: The version of gazpacho created by Verjus, a lovely 3-story restaurant tucked away behind the Palais Royale, run by two ex-pat Americans: Green garden tomato and chili foam, with chunks of heirloom tomatoes and a masa cake.  It was maybe the culinary highlight of our recent Paris trip.

Like: The beautiful children's clothes at the equally beautiful Bonpoint store on Rue de Seine. I only wish they made adult sizes of some of their pieces.

Stella in her Bonpoint shirt

Discovery: The simple, casual pleasure of a warm summer evening picnic along the banks of the Canal St Martin - a bottle of rosé from Le Verre Volé and pizza from Pink Flamingo, who give you a balloon when you order and use it to find you along the canal to deliver your pizza.)

Obsession: The Galerie de Paleontologie et d'Anatomine Comparée and the Galerie d'Evolution in the Jardin des Plantes. Dead animal heaven for those of us into taxidermy and bones.

Complaint:  That my normal, everyday life doesn't involve stopping at Bon Marche's Grand Epicerie de Paris for groceries for dinner, then a quick Metro ride to an apartment in the 6th, complete with big windows and herringbone wood floors. Oh, and Sundays spent in the Luxembourg Gardens watching Stella play.

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Love: My lovely and amazing father, Terence Evans, aka T, who passed away quite suddenly a year ago this Friday.  I've got a pretty big hole in my life and my heart now, and am only just beginning to comprehend the finality of the loss.  The best way to fill the void is to remember, so I love it when my friends who knew him bring T up, and the old stories and memories are trotted out. 

Like: The orange movie theater marquee letter I bought on etsy and keep in our kitchen as a reminder of the great man.

Discovery: My Sopranos- and Green Bay Packers-loving guy's-guy of a dad had a softer side.  One compelling piece of evidence: his deep love of David Lean's epic romance-cum-historical drama Dr. Zhivago. (T might have appreciated The Selby's recent train trip from Paris to Shanghai on behalf of Louis Vuitton, which involved many days in Russia, a more glamourous version of the horrible train ride Zhivago and his family take as they flee Moscow for a cottage in the Urals.)
The Selby Part 1    The Selby Part 2

Obsession: T was a Democrat through and through, but he couldn't help but find constant amusement in Howard Dean's self-destructive 2004 Iowa Caucus election night speech.  Dad bought a novelty "Scream the Dream" bottle opener which plays the meltdown speech every. single. time. you. open. a. bottle. The opener, still going strong, is my fondest inheritance and makes me smile whenever I use it.

Complaint:  With T gone, and my mom moved to Seattle, where my sister lives, I miss Milwaukee. It's strange to no longer have a place or family to return to in the city you grew up in and visited regularly, for decades. 

When will I ever see its (modest) skyline and lovely lakefront?      

When will I walk through Lake Park then down to the lakefront, looking at all the big houses on Terrace, Wahl and Lake Drive along the way?

When will I catch a movie at The Oriental Theater? Bowl and drink next door at Landmark with Admiral Ackbar (David) and Big Sal (Erich)?

Count mullets and mesh shirts in the crowd at Summerfest?

Eat greasy but delicious Mexican at Conejitos or a burger and frozen custard at Kopps?

Go to that antiques store I liked in the Third Ward? 

Spend an afternoon at my beloved Milwaukee Public Museum amidst the dioramas?  

Milwaukee, I sure hope I don't lose you too.