Weekend 2: Tortillas and Stir-Fry

So, back from Austin, tired and full of unhealthy Tex-Mex food, I was planning to spend a quiet weekend.  Everybody keeps suggesting exciting things I should be doing with my spare time, but I can't quite get used to doing things on my own somehow.

Because of the time difference between Austin and California, we got back fairly early on Friday afternoon and didn't go back to the office.  I was planning a quiet swim, but was surprised when I heard a knock at the door and found two Hispanic cleaners carrying more cleaning equipment between them than you could fit in my mother's utility room cupboard.  I had been told the apartment was serviced, but when the letting agent knew nothing about cleaning I'd assumed there was no cleaner.  So I did just what any other middle-class Englishman would do: I told them I was getting dressed to gain 5 minutes and then frantically rushed round tidying up and shoving stuff in drawers.  I was then faced with a further dilemma - how long should I spend at the pool to give them time to clean up?  Truly a "first world problem".

On Saturday the firm had its annual picnic in a local park.  We'd never had an office picnic in Manchester, which is perhaps just as well given the climate.  It was great to meet more colleagues and their families, even if the food was Tex-Mex again.  I discovered we have another European secondee here in Palo Alto, Christian from Cologne.  After the picnic he and I headed into San José to visit the tech museum.  Sadly it was almost closing time by the time we arrived, so we wandered round San José instead and then went for a coffee.

 On Sunday I went to a new church, called PBC.  It seems to be a friendly, evangelical church with a wide range of ages, the preaching was very good, and the music was lively and familiar.  I am going to stick with this one.  It felt very like a St Mary's 9.30 service (if you've never been to St Mary's you will have to take my word for it). However there wasn't the pressure of the strict one hour limit you get at St Mary's, or the 15 minutes of CBeebies style slapstick at the end.  PCB isn't part of the "hands down for coffee" culture, but there were one or two people sticking their hands up during the worship, and I may summon up the courage to join their number next week if the Spirit leads.  I suppose that's the true test of spontaneous worship - being called to do something nobody else is doing.

On Sunday afternoon I went shopping again.  I know, I haven't set foot in San Francisco yet, but I have been to every supermarket in the area, how sad am I?  Thing is, I decided I'd had enough of the noisy tumble dryer, and would treat myself to an airer.  (Still sounds sad!)  I also wanted a spanner to adjust my borrowed bicycle and a cheap wok, as well as some groceries.  So I took myself to the local Ikea (the one they built to create jobs for all the gang members from Michelle Pfeiffer's school).  You might think a Gangster's Paradise would be preferable to a furniture store laid out like Dante's Inferno - I couldn't possibly comment.  I followed my Ikea trip with a visit to Walmart, which is laid out in a far less systematic way than any part of Dante's creation but is no less hellish.

So that was my weekend.  That evening I celebrated my shopping triumphs with some delicious salmon and mushroom pasta, cooked in my new wok, according to my lovely wife's own recipe, and although not as good as hers, it contained no guacamole whatsoever. 

 

On Monday morning I went back to the office, and attended a lunchtime meeting where we were served tortillas and salsa again.