It's the ultimate...(rock-rockin' it)...

Tonight after Wednesday's usual print-deadline chaos, I decided to take advantage of Pacific Sun's event-sponsorship of A Taste of Downtown San Rafael...

There were 32 businesses (retail shops, art galleries and restaurants) participating in the event, offering samplings of either wine or food, so I decided to narrow it down to only restaurants, and only the restaurants offering food AND wine tastings and only the restaurants offering food and wine AND that I had not yet frequented and had a genuine interest in. So I stopped by Vin Antico for a meatball and chianti, then Joe's for caprese, smoked salmon and pinot noir, Il Davide for a mushroom bruschetta and an Italian red, and the West End Cafe for tabouleh, hummus-on-cucumber and cabernet sauvignon...until I hit the expected pinnacle of pretension at Sabor of Spain--which actually had a particularly awesome bacon-wrapped, almond-stuffed date (and from what I heard--cuz I don't do fowl in strange places--a spectacular leg of quail), but whose servers and denizens were oddly and snobbily tense, so I ran out of that haughty hotbox down to a hidden treasure trove of cool, amicable Zen and unexpectedly fresh, flavorful spring rolls with mango salad at Citrus & Spice.

Then I floated over to friendly, fun & funkily artsy Whipper Snapper for a very tasty fried plantain with black bean laced with sour cream, and sangria. At that point--and because more random Marin people had talked to me this evening than the year-and-a-half I've been working in Marin--I was feeling bold enough to hightail it around the corner (5 minutes before my bus) to Cafe Arrivederci for my final tasting, which proved to be the most generous and professional offering: table service with a sommelier explaining each sampling pour, and a full bowl of piping-hot, fresh ravioli stuffed with sausage and heaven in a creamy bed of clouds. (Everything's a bit hazy as I was experiencing mild food-orgasm.)

OK, so an attractive older businessman flirted with me, some cougars pushed me out of their way, some foodie newbies asked me for a lesson on Mediterranean cuisine, a yuppie family poo-pooed me (and I promise, this time I was wearing a non-cleavage baring, dignified-length, very loose--albeit, yeah, somewhat slinky--red dress) and a wayward lesbian hit on me.

All in all, it was pretty cool skipping down the street, trying out a handful of restaurants I'd never been to before, with my pinkie finger firmly wrapped around the stem of the wine glass, catching the shuttle to my (temporary) San Anselmo cute, art-filled cottage in time to write my blog and watch "So You Think You Can Dance." Had I been able to fit in a pilates class and a tryst with my personal trainer, it would've been the ultimate Marin experience.

The mean green machine...

Last week for our "Going Green: Endangered Marin" issue, I wrote about some nearby sea creatures in trouble and I did a Q&A with Hunter Lovins, a woman whose company, Natural Capitalism Solutions, helps big businesses authentically "go green." I enjoyed talking with her about the marketing side of "environmentalism," how green technology can save our economy, and what consumers, corporations and the government needs to be doing--and surprisingly, what Wal-mart is already doing--to take a more proactive approach to sustainability.

It was a solid interview, I thought. However, my editor was disappointed I didn't ask Hunter how she got such a cool porn name.

[PHOTOS: Steller sea lions c/o The Marine Mammal Center; Leatherback sea turtle c/o Turtle Island Restoration Network]

Book-woofs

Serious journalists sometimes have to sacrifice life and limb in the pursuit of a story. And that's how I found myself in the middle of the children's section in the San Anselmo Library a couple Fridays ago, surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty canines and their teeth-baring, pint-sized, vicious cohorts...

Yeah, OK...not really.

My latest story is about a program for children's literacy run by the Marin Humane Society, in which kids practice their skills by reading out loud to adorable pups who're trained for this sort of thing. My editor fully intended it to be a mere "fluff" piece, with the goal of me embarrassing myself by giving the concept a go--except that, instead of the usual happy-doggie children's books, he wanted me to read Old Yeller or Where the Red Fern Grows. He's a nice man--a family man, even--but he can be a rather twisted so-and-so when he wants to be.

When it came time for my turn--and believe me, hordes of cute kids had to be mowed down for the chance--I opted for Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum. I figured the dog would appreciate a little over-wrought intellectualism and mind-twisting philosophizing. As it turns out, she did not. Her trainer had to ply the poor pooch with treats to make her--politely--feign interest.

[PICTURED: Top--"Mitzy"; the rest--"Tigger"]