Zola Açai

Okay, everyone say it with me now! Zola A-Sci-EEEEE!

Now that you know how to pronounce it, let me tell you about the Brazilian power berry juice that we are crazy about. First off, you should know that my husband is the CEO of the small start up beverage company that makes Zola Açaí, and I help out with graphic design projects for the company. For example, here is the brand new 12-pack case package that I designed this summer. Isn't it pretty! It was unveiled last week and was a hit at the food trade show in Washington D.C.

We have been working on Zola for two years now, along with Chris Cuvelier and his wife Jacquie and a handful of other dedicated Açaí fanatics. The drink is becoming popular as more & more people are becoming aware of the health benefits of Zola. The drink is actually made from the pulp of the nut, that is found in a berry, that grows on the top of a palm tree, in the middle of the Amazon jungle. Whew! Say that ten times fast! The açaí pulp is shipped from the Amazon to California where it is mixed into the Zola Power Juice. Just a little guarana is added to the mix to give it a natural, but mild, caffeinated punch.Tastewise, it has an interesting combination of chocolate and blueberry flavors. But, get this, the açaí berry has two times the amount of antioxidents found in blueberries!

We first got involved in the Zola world, when my husband was asked to step in as a consultant and help the company through the pangs of child birth. As it is a start up company, it has suffered the ups and downs, that all new businesses are challenged by, and yet it has succeeded remarkedly well. Originally, Zola Açaí was the brain child of Chris Cuvelier. He is this amazing guy full of carisma, energy and bright ideas. My kids love the drink almost as much as they love Chris. They refer to him as "Buff Fashion Dude" as he exudes a hip and happening energy.

Once when we were all together in Tahoe, we helped Chris sample Zola on the slopes of NorthStar. We set up tables in the middle of the NorthStar village and handed out drinks to all the skiiers coming off the slopes. That winter, Zola was named the official drink of Squaw Valley. Our kids have also done their part to promote Zola. On their own, they have made Zola the official drink of the swim team and the traveling soccer team! The soccer players chant "Zola, Zola, Zola" at half time. They think it is a great energy source to urge them on to victory during the second half!

We are all pretty excited about all the new successes that Zola is starting to have. We are getting a wider distribution, and soon the drink will be available at Costco. You can always get it on line at www.zolaacai.com. (I also did the web site, thank you very much!) Drink! Enjoy! Be healthy! Get some Zola today!

The kissey girls

Ahhh, to be young and in second grade again! Remember those days when boys and girls played on the play ground together; little girls clustered together on one side and little boys on the other? Usually the little girls, bored to sit idely by and swing on swings or slide down slides, would resort to the lowest form of attention grabbing ploys - that of kicking boys in the shins. Such demonstrative actions inevitably would set off the obligatory screaming race around the playground until the bell rang sending them all back to their respective classrooms. Early attempts at flirting and seduction, learned in Playground 101.

My son came home today to tell me that he had formed a club on the playground today. Turns out, quite naturally, that it is an all boys club. He said it was necessary to band together with the "other Kyle, and Brett in order to combine forces to deal with the "Kissey Girls". The "Kissey Girls" I asked. Whoah! Hold on there son! The KISSEY GIRLS! What is this all about. And moreover, where did they come up with a name like that!? Turns out, Kaiela and Tarin and a few others have an all girls group of their own. They send "spies" out to spy on Kyle and his friends during recess. In order to combat this, the boys are closing ranks, circling up the wagons and preparing for... okay, I am at a losss, what!!??!

Give it up little men, your battle is already lost! You haven't the slightest hope of evading the wiles of a female, even if she is only seven years old.

I smell another rat

Well, I caught another rat last night. Now don't go thinking that I live in some kind of run down shack or something. Just ask Charlene! She's been here and knows I don't live in a dump! My husband was the first to notice the tell tail signs (get it!) that there was another mouse in the house. So, I ran out and stocked up on the super size stickey traps and we began to lay them out at night. The first morning, we cautiously approached the the kitchen only to find the invading maurader had skipped out on us. Well, actually, he gnawed his way out of the trap leaving bits of fluff behind. I continued to diligently leave the traps out at night, but would come down to an empty kitchen every morning. Well, I thought. The mouse has flown the coop, (caution! mixing metaphors!) So, seeing as my husband was leaving town for the week, and that I didn't especially want to "deal" with the mouse issue this time AGAIN, all by my little ol' self, I collected all four sticky traps onto a sheet of newspaper and slid them into a corner in the dining room. I wanted to get them out of the way because I knew, just knew, that flaunting them would only excite my youngest and make him want to stick his fingers into the traps...just 'cause! Well, in fact this happened. He came into my office with a sheepish kind of look on his face. I looked at him up and down and then asked...you stuck your finger in the trap didn't you...he kind of hung his head looking very guilty and fessed up to the nasty deed. Then with morbid fascination he pleaded with me, to pleeeeaaaase, let him have a look at the mouse after it has been caught. Big yuck! I thought. There is no way I am going to hold on to a dead mouse so that my seven year old can take a peek at it.

So, a day or so went by. The traps sat in the dining room in the corner....that is until this morning. I came down stairs at 6:15 in the morning and started my coffee brewing. And then, I peeked into the dining room, just to make sure there was no wild life running around in there. Much to my horror there was the big old hairy mousey rat stuck in the middle of a trap that was now close to the middle of the dining room. It had more or less run into all the traps, but the third one was the one that finally nabbed him. Quite the strong ferocious little rodent. Must be well stocked up on steroids back at the nest. To make matters worse, the thing was still twitching and trying to get out of its predicament.

At that point, I had a decision to make. Should I run upstairs and get Kyle out of bed so that he could view this sight. Well, of course I did! He came down the stairs all bleary eyed and full of unbridled curiosity. He then proceeded to sneak ever closer trying to get a better look. He watched as I ungracefully attempted to remove the thing and put it into a garbage bag, only to be halted at a crucial moment when Kyle cried "Wait!" "Wait? Wait for what?", I cried back, as I looked over at him. There he was all big eyes and biting his lower lip, "But, can't we keep him as a pet. We can put him in the old turtle cage!"

Oh dear! I think I need to re-evaluate this whole pet/dog thing. The fish just aren't cutting it any more, if my son now wants to keep a rat for a pet, and one that has been stuck in a sticky trap over night, none-the-less!

Blogspam and false flattery

What is up with blog spamming all of a sudden? Is nothing sacred anymore? The last couple of entries that I have made here on Melissa's Blog have been debauched by yucky spam. To add insult to injury, it comes with a sugary coating of false praise and validation. You have to admit that it is a little exciting to hear the "ding" of your mail program alerting you to the fact that you have new mail. Better still, to see that someone has responded to a blog you have written. You get excited thinking that a friend or unknown passer by has found something interesting in your words and has decided to leave a comment or validate your experience with an interesting story of their own. So, you approach the blog comment filled with anticipation. You preen a little as you begin to read "This is a excellent blog. Keep it going." Well, hey you think, I'm something special, bloggings gift to blogdom. But, then the delusion and disgust set in as you continue to read: "And don't miss visiting this site about how to buy & sell everything, like music on interest free credit; pay whenever you want." You realize that this is not a potential friend or kindred spirit leaving a message, but someone just using your blog to sell something or to further pander a stupid product on-line. I say no more! Go hawk your product somewhere else and leave my journal alone! But, if you want to leave a comment, full of flattery and niceties, those are more than welcome. All I ask is that they be sincere.

Feeling like a fish out of water

Why is it that when men get together, who don't know each other well, and have nothing much in common, they can immediately find common ground by talking sports. Women don't really do that. We stand around, sipping our drinks and mumble polite niceties and ask about children and marital status. I mean, I am not leading off with "how about that Agassi, did you see his great come back over Blake the other night?" Men on the other hand can carry on lively conversations with total strangers within two minutes of meeting each other, as long as they have the common denominator of golf or baseball..."how about those Cubs, anyway?"

We went out last night to a party in San Francisco that I didn't really want to attend. It was a birthday party for a guy that my husband had worked with several years ago and I vaguely know him and his wife. For me, there is no great chemistry with these people. Besides that, we had been up early to attend one soccer game and then driven an hour and a half to attend another. By the time we returned home mid afternoon, my idea of a lovely Saturday evening did not include dressing up, taking the BART and attending a party where I knew absolutely nobody. But, I did it because my husband really felt that we should go. So, tired as I was, I made the effort. I figured it was only fair, seeing as my husband is a good sport and will go just about anywhere with me, including to parties where everyone speaks Italian and he is the only one that doesn't! Turn about is fair play.

We took the BART to reach the city and got off at Civic Center. Looking at the map, to me, it seemed that the place where the party was being held was just a couple of blocks away. So, I suggested that we save the cab fare and hoof it. BIG mistake. What looked like short innocent city blocks, in reality turned out to be LONG menacing city blocks, and up and down hills to boot. San Francisco after all is a HILL town!!! So, there I was in my pointy sequined backless shoes, that while they are comfortable walking across the living room floor, are decidely NOT comfortable traipsing across the city of San Francisco. I started to get a little crabby, but couldn't complain too much, seeing as it had been my idea to walk in the first place.

When we finally got to the party, loud music was blaring and people I had never seen before in my life were milling about. We were greeted with enthusiasm by the host and hostess; but truthfully, I wasn't feeling like investing too much into these people, that I probably would not ever see again. We were starving, and hadn't eaten dinner. However, the appetizer trays, by the time we arrived, were looking pretty shabby. Still, we filled our plates and drank our wine and my husband introduced me to his golfing friends and ex-work mates. The sports stories warmed their blood and they carried on like frat buddies. I smiled politely at the other women, who all seemed to know one another and have history with each other. Interesting to see the workings of a social internet that I am not quite a part of. They say everyone has a story, and if you scratch hard enough you can find amazing things about people that you just never would have suspected by looking at them. I know that. But, I just wasn't in the mood, I guess last night. I was happy to observe. Kind of like watching fish swim around in a fish bowl, with me being the one on the outside looking in.

Together again, one year later

I had a visit from Charlene and Pete yesterday. They were here in the Bay Area for their son's wedding and the day before they returned to Virginia we got together for lunch. Originally my husband and I met Charlene and Pete exactly one year ago this September, when we were traveling in Italy. Specifically, we got to know them in the Cinque Terre, having shared a common living arrangement in one of Giuliano's bungalows, on the side of the steep hillside in Vernazza.

Being that Vernazza is a tiny rustic fishing village, despite the hoardes of tourists that invade its main piazza every season, it still invites intimacy amongst its guests. Therefore it was easy to get to know our fellow travelers, sitting on the rooftop of our cabin drinking a glass of wine as the sun set over the rooftops and the sea every evening in Vernazza. Charlene and Pete however, usually were just setting out to take photographs at that hour. They would wave to us cheerfully, as they headed out to catch the best light of the day and to take stunning photos of the beautiful Italian scene.

But, being that the Cinque Terre is small, as luck would have it, every day we would run into them in Manarola or Monterossa, as we made our tour of the five fishing lands, via the hiking trail or the local train line. We would bump into each other and share a gelato as we talked about our unusual and much gossiped about host Giuliano. Vernazza is small, need I remind you, and the town is full of personalities and stories that make for interesting banter. We would share notes about learning the Italian language and where to find the best Italian magazines - the silly soap opera photo kind with hilarilously funny captions. Back on our rooftop, in the early mornings, before striking off down the twisting trail above the train station to enjoy a caffè and a pastry at the bar run by two Sicilian twins, who never ceased to drip with charm and flattery, we would swap travel stories and offer bits of advice of where to go next time.

It is always lovely, the friendships made while traveling, and even lovelier still when those friendships are maintained after returning home. Charlene and I have a nice way to stay in touch through our Italian chat group Impariamo. And, after meeting Charlene and Pete again after one year's time, all I can say is what a dynamic, interesting, funny, and sensational couple they are. Here's to traveling and meeting excellent people!

vin santo and chocolate chip biscotti

Last night my husband and I celebrated our 21st anniversary. It doesn't seem that we have been married that long. Oh, the interesting things that we have done, in all this time that we have been together. And yet, we still go out and laugh at each others jokes, and tease each other relentlessly and just simply enjoy each other's company. And last night, was no exception. We went to this really fabulous asian fusian restaurant where we dined on satay, avocado shrimp salads and lobster cooked in lemon grass, chili and lime. We ended our meal with Fra Angelico and chocolate chip cookies, the closest thing the restaurant had to offer to vin santo and chocolate chip biscotti.

Last year for our anniversary we were at La Moscadella, in Italy sitting in the room pictured above, enjoying the wonderful hospitality of Gherardo and his wife Roberta. We stayed for three days and three nights at the secluded and recently rennovated farm house in southern Tuscany. We were the only Americans, amongst a handful of German tourists. I found La Moscadella on the internet and corresponded with Gerardo throughout the summer prior to our September trip. He and I had worked out an arrangement whereby he would meet us with his van, at the train station after we had come up from Rome. He drove us back to La Moscadella through the stunning countryside past Pienza and Montepulciano to the tiny remote village of Castelmuzio where La Moscadella is located.

During the day we wandered through the country side, down back roads lined with olive trees and sage. We visited churches and tiny medieval hill towns throughout the surrounding area. We swam in the frigid, but beautiful pool, equipped with a swim up bar and submerged bar stools. We were always slightly bemused to find the bar tended by, what must have been a relative or zio. He would be all by himself waiting to pour a caffè or aparitif to anyone who would swim by. As we sunned ourselves on deck, we would look down into the valley and watched as shepherds moved their flocks to and from their pastures. The clanking of bells, the sounds of the crickets and silence of the countryside were music to our ears.

At night we would brave the ferocious mosquitos and eat dinner on the patio of La Moscadella. The dishes we were servered were "straordinario" out of this word, and delightful. Wonderful flavorful dishes, seasoned with local herbs, sage and thyme. The food tasted like the air smelled around La Moscadella. We would end each meal with Vin santo and biscotti. But, not just ordinary biscotti. These were home made, the largest biscotti I had ever seen, and filled with chunks of chocolate. We toasted our years together with biscotti dripping with vin santo.

Last night, although we were not seated on the patio of La Moscadella, sipping Vin Santo, enveloped by the dark Tuscan night, we still celebrated as we always do, always appreciating and enjoying the fact that we have many more years of adventures and celebrating yet to come.

Good karma

The other day I was standing outside the elementary school, checking out the posted list of teachers and room assignments for the coming school year. I looked up and saw a friend. The first thing she said to me was "You are going to live to be a hundred years old." I wasn't expecting that to come out of her mouth at that particular moment. I thought I hadn't heard correctly and was slightly mystified. "What!" I asked. She explained to me that in India, if you are thinking about someone and that person appears before you, than that person will have a very long life. "Well!" I thought on my way home...It is nice to have encountered some good karma, in addition to working out all the kinks in the car pool schedule. Now THAT is good karma!