“Yuck Hwe”, that is.

Today we ate dinner at one of our favorite Bay-Area restaurants, the decidedly low key (one step above “hole in the wall”) Secret Garden Korean restaurant in Santa Clara. Although we hadn't been there in years, the waitress recognized us and immediately guessed correctly that we wanted to order Yuck Hwe (also written in other ways, such as “yukhoe” -- our menu had “Yuck Hwe” -- but in any case, pronounced similar to “YOU-kay”).

Yuck hew is raw marinated beef served very cold, with a raw egg on top, and julienned apple or pear (the beef itself is julienned as well). It's best served very cold (with the beef actually a bit stiff from being frozen), although Secret Garden doesn't serve it quite that cold.

At least one of us gets it every time we go, and particularly after Anthony was born, I'd often stop by for carryout to bring home.

We like Secret Garden because their food is good, and also a good value. You have to be sure to order a small amount, because no matter what dinner you order, you end up getting 8 or more little dishes of extras, both spicy (such as kimchee) and mild (bean sprouts). Anthony's entire meal consisted of portions of the non-spicy contingent from these extra dishes.

In the end, I ate almost none of my broccoli & beef and so we returned home heavily laden with leftovers to enjoy later. Yum.

Can anyone recommend a good preschool near Cupertino, CA (ZIP: 95014) that's open now and has availability through to the end of next month? The phone book is full of them, so we've started checking around, but by the time we get through them the summer will be over.

Besides the basics of clean, safe, caring, blah blah blah, it's important to us that the environment be predominantly Amerian English, since Anthony's English development is one of the reasons we're here. If most of the teachers and kids have thick accents with improper grammar, it wouldn't be the best environment for his English (his English might end up sounding as unrefined as my Japanese, so that would be bad).

We visited one place today that seemed very nice, and while the principal's English was perfect, the speech of the other teachers and kids we talked to was uh, “less standard.”

I want to give a big “thumbs up” to Pro Window & Carpet Cleaning of Mountain View, California (1-888-470-6623). A real-estate agent friend who uses them to give the houses he lists a thorough cleaning recommended them to clean my long-vacant house (full of dust and spiders and cooties).

I met the foreman at my place at 8:00 this morning, and he gave an estimate for cleaning all the floors, counter and furniture surfaces, wiping down the doors and baseboards and moldings, cleaning air vents, and a full workup of the bathrooms and the fridge. For all but one room (which was too full of stuff to bother with) of the 2,500 sq. ft. house, it came to $245, which seemed reasonable. I added a $60 pressure-washing of one of the two tile patios, so Anthony could go out and play without getting to grimy.

An hour later the foreman came back with three guys and went to work. In the mean time, I'd realized just how incredibly dirty the windows and screens were, so I asked them to do that, too. There are something like 35(!) windows, counting the skylights, I think, so that just about doubled the price to a total of $585. The three guys worked pretty solidly from 9:30ish until maybe 4:00pm, with the foreman doing the power washing outside.

They did an excellent job, and really transformed the house into something livable. As a bonus, they did the second patio and the garage gratis.

The only snag was that I didn't know that they don't move furniture unless asked, such as to clean the floor under a sofa. When I asked them to clean under the sofa and some other large furniture, they did without hesitation (but did let me know that they normally don't unless asked, particularly with hardwood floors, since some owners don't like the furniture moved).

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An update from yesterday's post: I never got to sleep again after writing that post, so I was half a zombie all day today. The cable guys from Comcast showed up at 11am with a cablemodem and hooked up my service at the pole. I drove over to the hotel where Fumie and Anthony were still waiting and called Comcast to enable my router, only to find that I needed its MAC address. So, I drove the whole mile or two back to get it, and after another trip to the hotel I had connectivity at home.

Soon after that, I hooked up my Vonage VoIP modem and I had phone service in my house, with the same phone number I've had since 1998. Vonage is cool.

Actually, I already had reasonable wireless connectivity at home, in one case via a WAP called “linksys” (one of my neighbors, I would guess), and one by MetroFi, citywide free WiFi supported by advertisements inserted at the top of web pages.

In the evening, we went back to San Jose airport to swap the huge boat for a more reasonably sized vehicle. They even credited me for the gas and charged only on what I used (albeit at their ridiculous $6.50/gallon rate, but I'd not used much at all so it amount to much).

We got a Nissan Murano mid-sized SUV. It seems quite nice, but the one we got seemed to have some kind of disagreeable smell, at least to me. Fumie didn't notice it. After much discussion with the Hertz people (who, I must say, were very accommodating and understanding -- I was really starting to feel like a pest, but they were nothing but kind), we found another Murano and used that.

It had the same smell -- I guess it's the fabric smell. But as a little bonus, the new car came with Sirus satellite radio.

After finally getting out of there with the much-easier-to-drive Murano, we headed over to the Nijiya Japanese Market in Mountain View to stock up on some groceries and stuff for dinner. With good food in my tummy, hopefully I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Yesterday was another day of travel, as we moved from Ohio to California.

Due to jet lag, I got about three hours of sleep and awoke at 3am. Fumie didn't do much better. Anthony awoke at 7am just as we were starting to drift back to sleep. Oh well, it looks to be a loooooong day ahead.

In the end, we arrived without too much trouble, but it was somewhat of an ordeal at times.

Leaving Ohio

We called the hotel's front desk for luggage assistance (we had a lot) at 11am, but it was a busy time and they had no carts available (as if “morning checkout” should be a surprise? They have 209 rooms and only something like 5 luggage carts). So, I start making trips to the car, although they finally showed up for the last trip (after I noticed an empty cart and reminded them that we'd been waiting for half an hour).

As I said, we had a lot of stuff:

• Three large suitcases
• A large duffel bag
• A backpack heavily laden with electronic equipment we didn't want to check in (my laptop, cameras, VoIP modem, etc.)
• A medium-sized duffel filled with Anthony stuff for the flight (books, toys, change of clothes, diapers)
• Fumie's carry-on small suitcase
• Anthony's small milk cooler pack
• A full-sized baby stroller (which we haven't used with Anthony for a year, but it's very helpful in schlepping luggage about the airport)
• A two-part child car booster seat (base unit and back unit)
• A three-year-old child and his Curious George monkey, and new little bunny friend, “Bunny”

Our car was a Pontiac Grand Prix, which was not bad. It had a huge trunk, and we could fit our vast amount of stuff in the car with a few square inches to spare. We headed off to Cleveland airport.

Thankfully, Hertz had a huge luggage cart at the car-rental return area, so we could move all our stuff to the shuttle bus. The lady driving the shuttle bus had a nice name I'd not seen before: “Verita”.

While I was checking in at the airport, Fumie was dealing with Anthony, who decided that was the time for a total meltdown. Luckily, it was the only one for the trip. I had to move 7 pounds of stuff from one large suitcase to another, to avoid a $50 heavy-bag fee. I'd forgotten that the domestic allowance is a lot less than the international one.

The biggest hassle of going through airports with a stroller and a kid is going through security, because you have to take the kid out of the stroller, and then deal with all the security stuff (emptying pockets and shoes into the bin, taking laptop out, folding stroller, etc.) while still dealing with the kid. This time, while emptying out my pockets, I was surprised to find the keys to the rental car. Ooops! Fumie waited with Anthony while I ran out to the curb and gave them to a passing shuttle-bus driver. For good measure, I called the Hertz rental counter to tell them that the keys were on the way, only to find that they didn't seem to care much. I got the feeling that they figured that the keys would turn up some time or other, or, perhaps not, and in the end, it didn't seem to really matter. Odd.

The first leg of the flight was on a relatively small (70-ish passenger) short-haul commuter jet to Chicago, on America West, apparently in partnership with United Airlines, which I thought I was flying. Because the plane is small in every dimension, an announcement was made that large carry-on bags should be gate-checked. This turned out to be great, as we gate-checked four items (stroller, two-part booster seat, and Fumie's carry-on suitcase) which made getting on and off the flight so much easier.

Chicago O'Hare

After 48 minutes in the air, we arrived at Chicago. The last time we were there we taxied for 25+ minutes to get to the gate, so I was happily surprised when we zipped there directly this time. Unfortunately, it was to Terminal F, which is far away from our connecting flight in Terminal C.

Soon after getting off the plane and collecting all our gate-checked stuff, we came upon a line waiting at a “Shuttle to Terminal C” sign. Beyond the sign was a set of narrow twisty looks-like-it's-emergency-use-only stairs, manned by a United Airlines employee who looked like she' be more comfortable working at a DMV. I asked where the elevator was, and was informed there was none. I asked what do I do with a stroller and a ton of luggage, and without an ounce of compassion, she told me “you carry it”. I asked, not at all aggressively, what would someone in a wheelchair do, and with a look and tone that said “I've had just about enough out of you” she clearly enunciated “Call - Customer - Service”.

So we wait in line and after a while a few people are let down the stairs. After a longer while, we, too, are allowed. With much sweating and grunting and bumping of elbows, we make it down, and then to the little bus where we have to break things down again. We make the drive across the tarmac and repeat the whole series of events in reverse. A young but horribly overweight lady was physically laboring with her luggage and herself with each step up the stairs, so to avoid the impending cardiac arrest, I whisked her luggage up for her, then attended to ours. I think she made it alive.

At the top of the stairs there was a line of people blissfully unaware of what they were about to get into. On the ride across the tarmac, it had seemed that the airport building went around from Terminal F to Terminal C, so I asked the much friendlier lady guarding this entrance if it was not possible to walk it. Sure, you could, if you had the 20 minutes it would take. Well geez, I would have much preferred to stroll for 20 minutes than struggle with the luggage for 20 minutes on the staris+bus+stairs -- why didn't the sign or the uber-unfriendly lady mention this option?

Flight to San Jose

Like our first flight, this one to San Jose, CA, was overbooked and it was a minor madhouse boarding the flight. Our three seats were not together: we had one pair together (window + middle) and one window seat in the row behind, so we thought we'd ask the aisle seatholder if he or she would like to switch for the singleton window seat. As we waited, our hopes were dashed with two very, uh, “plus-sized” people sat in the middle+aisle seats next to our singleton window seat. Ugh, no one will want to swap now. )-:

As I was giving up the idea of asking, another plus-sized lady showed up for that aisle seat next to our pair. I'd been standing at it trying to decide what to do, and a bit flustered at the turn of events, found myself telling her in a somewhat sheepish voice that we'd been thinking of asking for a swap. To my delight and no small amazement, she said “sure” and seemed to immediately click with the plus-sized lady she was about to sit next to. The row behind us became very, very packed, but they chatted like old friends the whole flight, so I hope they got something out of it.

Non-alcoholic drinks are free on the flight, but the rest of the food service was “snacks for sale”. It was a small gesture, but I told the flight attendant that I'd pay for anything the three in the row behind us wanted, but that they should be told that they were today's lucky row, or something -- if they knew it was me paying, they might feel hesitation to order what they wanted. In the end, over the entire flight, as a group they got only one $5 snack box.

I thought for sure that Anthony, up for a long time by now, would sleep during much of the flight, but he played nicely the whole time. He's such a sweet boy. (Usually. Well, sometimes.)

San Jose, California

We arrive in San Jose at 5:30pm local time (8:30pm to us), collect our gate-checked stuff, and head out for the car-rental shuttle bus. The bus that's waiting when we get there is fairly full, and with all our stuff we don't want to try it, so we wait for the next one (which arrives, almost completely empty, 30 seconds later). We get our stuff situated, sit down, and finally breath a “we made it” sigh of relief.

Moments later, I rocket out of my seat, grab our stuff, and as I'm shoving it out the door, I get around to mentioning to Fumie that we neglected to pick up our checked luggage. Oops! The moment we “de-bus”, the driver closes the door and takes off.

It was easy to find which luggage carrousel was ours because the entire flight was waiting -- it was a long time before any bags showed up, and when they did, it was at a snail's pace. After the longest time, we got our four checked bags and headed off to the rental bus again, then to the Hertz counter at the remote car-rental site.

Renting a Car

Fumie watched Anthony while our massive cart of luggage waited in the corner and I waited in the short but unmoving line at the rental counter. When it finally became my turn, the guy asked for my Hertz frequent-renter card (which I don't have). It turns out that the building we were in was for VIP renters, and that we should have been in the neighboring building. Arrgh.

When he saw my luggage and child, he took pity on me and said he'd take care of me, especially when he found out that my reservation was for a mid-sized car that probably wouldn't handle our amount of luggage. It took a while, but he eventually got an SUV-ish something called a “Yukon” for me, at what he said was a steep discount. It still ended up being 2× the cost of my original reservation, but for substantially larger vehicle.

I didn't know what a Yukon was, so when I got out to the lot and saw it, my jaw just dropped. It's not that it's the size of the Queen Mary, but that it could carry the Queen Mary inside (and still have room for luggage). I've driven a large flatbed truck before, but the thought of driving this monster scared me. We put our luggage in and still had room for eight adults. I kid you not. Anthony sat in the middle row, and I felt I needed an intercom to talk to him from the front seat. Further back, there was a full row of plush, empty, seats between him and the luggage.

The more I think about it, the more I feel that the Hertz guy that “took pity on me” really took advantage of me. I see on their web site that they have equally large vehicles available at that location today, for half the price I got. (They're more “soccer-mom minivans” than “monster SUV” and so their lower cost makes sense, but he didn't even offer them.) And when it comes down to it, it's way Way WAY more size than we needed. I think he saw how tired I was and took me for a ride, so to speak. I'll take it back tomorrow and exchange for something that makes more sense, even though I'll probably have to bite the $100 I pre-paid for fuel. Poop.

The House

So we launch ourselves in this boat/tank toward Cupertino, and head to our old house. It's been empty for six months, and so was dusty and had spider webs, but it was nice to see. (On the other hand, I see how much work will be needed to dispose of all our stuff we still have, and to clean it up for sale, and I feel dread.)

Sleep

Getting extremely tired, we pick up some food and head to the Cypress Hotel, about two miles from our house, for the evening. Having been up since 3am, I finally lie down at about 10pm local time (1am to me) for some much-needed sleep.

Three hours later, I'm up, wide awake, with jet lag. This sucks. And I have to be at the house at 8am to meet a cleaning guy. Ugh.

[UPDATE: the second half of my next post has an update]

My baby brother Alan got married yesterday (July 14th), to Natalie Raiti. “Baby brother” may be somewhat of a relative term, though, as he turns 35 next week. Natalie, though, was definately worth the wait.

Anthony was a ring bearer, along with a new friend, Kenneth (nephews of the groom and bride, respectively).

The bear that Anthony holds is Tuffy, Alan's best friend prior to meeting Natalie. Notice how Anthony tries to help out Tuffy by covering, with his right (our left) index finger, the ugly plastic bloch on Tuffy's face. (My bear, Tubby, does not have this defect.)

I was way out of my league, photography wise. I don't know my equipment nearly enough, much less do I have the experience needed to take good photos in a wedding situation. So, I took the “carpet bombing” approach, taking 600+ photos. I used the minimal natural light, and no tripod, so I had the ISO pumped up and all the shots turned out grainy. I wish I had my Noise Ninja on my laptop. Luckily, they had a professional photographer.

This next shot is typicial of the grain in my high-ISO shots: