Jammin

72. follow a rainbow

One of the things I particularly like about my Life List is that I purposely made it so that some of the items can be loosely interpreted. Like number 76: soar. I thought about putting parasailing or hang gliding or skydiving specifically but then I just decided to just put "soar" because then I could try ANY of those or another flying/gliding/wooshing something. When I wrote my list I actually hadn't heard of THIS which is apparently what soaring actually IS but... I'm not too keen on the idea of flying in a plane with no engine?

So the take-home point here is this: my life list is open for interpretation.

With that in mind, take a look at some of my photos from the past two weekends and YOU TELL ME if you think I have sufficiently followed a rainbow.

I'm thinking: yes.

(Also OH HAI I live in the Bay Area. Is it that obvious?)

Go get them!

Every couple of years I start thinking about how lovely it would be to get another kitten/cat. I've held myself back, for the most part. Okay, that's a lie. The first time my roommate at the time told me I couldn't get another cat and the second time I actually did get a kitten but she turned out to be kind of insane and I thought I might be allergic to her so I passed her off to my sister and her kids and now she lives at my parents' house and just last Saturday she caught a rat, a mouse, and a lizard. And the week before my mom found a bunny in the yard, in pieces. So I've pretty much decided that one high-maintenance cat is plenty, for now.

Anyhow. I went to the animal shelter on Sunday, just to LOOK (because we all know what a great idea that is, right?). And, OMG, there was the sweetest dog there. She was this blind pug with her tongue perpetually drooping out of the side of her mouth and I just wanted to scoop her up and take her home with me.

And then there were these....

I think they want to come home with you.

Opinion for which I have no real base

To preface this:
I know that I am a lower-on-the-totem-pole blogger. I am certain that I have written about things that other people would put in their own TMI cagegory. I also have no children. I am very aware that my viewpoints have their limitations. So please take what I am about to say with a grain of salt.

Okay, with that out of the way I'm going to climb way up onto my high horse and give some UNSOLICITED OPINIONS! Here they are:


It bothers me when people write things about their kids that would have embarrassed me at that age. Particularly tweens and teens. And PARTICULARLY when the subjects include first periods, body hair growth, or emotional anguish. Even stories that seem innocuous can make me cringe because, you know what? EVERYTHING was embarrassing at that age. Everything. I would have died if I was 13 and had found out my mom had written a blog and a bunch of strangers and/or friends had read about some door-slammy fight I had with my sister. DIED.

And if any of the kids at my school had read stuff about me? It would have been an invasion of privacy propagated by my OWN MOTHER. The version of myself I carefully chose to show to the world outside my home would have been undermined by an internet personification.

I think that if your kid is old enough to understand what you are doing then you need to ask his or her permission to write about him or her on your blog. And I think that EVEN IF your kid says it is okay you STILL need to really search deeply and think hard about it and examine what you are doing because YOU are the responsible adult, not them. It is your job, not theirs, to know what is safe for you to post about your family and what could be potentially harmful, however innocent it may seem. Because the emotional wounds of the young teenage years are not easily healed. I think we all know THAT, right?

Called it.

Oh man, you guys. You may or may not recall that I wrote a ranty post back in November about how in New Moon Bella was wearing a moonstone ring on her index finger and I was irritated by this because I have been wearing a moonstone ring on MY index finger for six or so years and I thought it might turn into, like, a "Twilight Thing."
Well. LOOK WHAT I FOUND AT THE MALL TODAY.

I knew it. I knew it! I knew something like this would happen. Dammit. At least mine is real moonstone and not "moonstone." But still. I am not pleased.

SENSITIVE? ME?

Step into my office, will you? You'll have to imagine me saying this with big, wide eyes and an eerie, shaky voice that makes you think you're not sure what's about to happen. Am I about to be buried alive? you might wonder.

My birthday is next month. And so it's around this time of year that I think about my life and goals and whatnot. Birthdays are important to me both in terms of partying my socks off and in terms of life achievements. Maybe that's silly, but I never claimed to be otherwise.

Anyhow, my last two birthdays have been sort of, well.... Let's review, SHALL WE?
26- Asshat broke up with me via text message.
27- Spent the evening sobbing alone in my old bedroom at my parents' house. Asshat (we were back together) was down in LA, presumably cheating on me and doing his drug(s?) of choice. And to top it off my entire family was mad at me because they didn't like my tattoo.

In fact I do believe I have a photo that photo accurately depicts both years.

Yep. I'd say that as long as I manage to keep all of my limbs, this birthday will probably wildly surpass the past two years.'

However, that doesn't mean that it is perfect. I can feel many things at once (but we knew that, right? Because I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS).

I can be excited about my upcoming birthday and also sort of wish I didn't have to turn 28 yet.
I can be happy and satisfied with my life right now and also be slightly confused and disappointed that it hasn't gone the way I used to expect that it would.

So, yes, maybe I'm just a touch sensitive about my birthday this year. I'm kind of a snarky bitch and I guess you could say that there are some subjects, including this one, that fall into the category of: Take it, Cannot (see also: Dish it Out, Can Only).

Loopholes

Paying to check a bag: I like to check my bag. I know it's annoying to stand in the longer line and there's always that gamble of whether or not your bag will ACTUALLY be there to meet you on the other side. But I hate maneuvering onto the plane with a biggish bag and I hate fighting people for overhead bin space. Also, this one time I hoisted my mini suitcase up to try and stow it into the bin and it was ever so slightly too big. I nearly had a panic attack as I tried to grapple and shove the bag into the bin with the increasingly impatient LINE OF PEOPLE waiting behind me to get on the plane. Fortunately the flight attendant came to my rescue saying "the bins on this plane are slightly smaller than most, I'll find a space for this." OMG hugegiantsighofrelief.
Anyhow. If you, like me, like to check your bag and if you, like me, hate paying fees for it, try this: Pack all your stuff into a little carry-on sized bag. Go through security. Go to your gate. If the flight is mostly full they will likely run out of bin space and start making announcements BEGGING people to check their bags. So you will not only avoid the $20ish fee but they will actually thank you for checking your bag. I've done this on both Virgin America and Jetblue. Maybe it sounds like more trouble than it is worth but it is worth it to me.

Forever 21 returns: You know how if you buy something at Forever 21, you only get 21 days to exchange it? Well if there isn't anything you want to buy the day you go back to exchange your item, have them put the credit on a gift card. Not as good as getting your money back but doesn't expire so you can forget about the 21 day window.

Okay, that's all I got. What loopholes do you know?

Packing List

I'm going away for the weekend. Hmm, how can I describe this trip to you?

I'm going to be camping and it is kind of Burning Man-esque and hippieish and naturey. And there will be dress up costume parties but there are also going to be regular daytime hours of swimming and hanging out and whatnot. The whole weekend has an ocean theme so any and everything you do/wear/say can or should have something to do with the ocean-- sea creatures, pirates, Neptune, luau, sailors, etc. And the temp is going to be in the 80s during the day and the 40s at night.

Here is the packing list I received:

lounge/ comfy clothes for during the day

warm coat/clothes for nighttime

sleeping bag/sleeping pad

utensils (plate, cup, fork, spoon, coffee mug)

sunglasses/hat

alcohol (your choice of what you will want to drink throughout the weekend), mixer, energy drinks

snacks (breakfast and dinner provided)

advil

ICE- pick this up in town before you get to the campsite

anything hawaiian/tiki bar theme

sunscreen

towel

water bottle

chairs to sit at our camp site

flashlight

camera

pillow

Clothes/accessories/jewelry that you don’t want any more for the swap

Talent for the talent show

shower stuff? there are showers but i think they are cold, you dont HAVE to shower

bathing suit or just go naked for a swim!

COSTUMES especially for nights
glitter

I am also bringing baby wipes, bug repellent, and a book. I feel like I might be forgetting something. Any recommendations or things YOU like to bring camping or on vacation or to a costume party?

Random Photos with Explanations

This? This is what happens when your doctor proposes the concept of reinfecting yourself with Poison Oak and then you wear a skirt and new red bumps appear on your upper thigh and so instead of tearing your hair out you decide it might be best to set fire to wash all of your clothes.

Yeah, Regina Leeds, I know I know I'm supposed to be zenning my laundry area. LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.

I bribed Gabey with a cookie to take a photo with me.

My goodness he's just brown as a little berry isn't he? In contrast, I am white as a SHEET.
And then he tried to go hang out in my bedroom.
"I don't want you to touch my bed with your strawberry hands."
"I don't have strawberry hands."
"What did you just eat?"
"A strawberry."
"So...."
And then he showed us how he could eat the strawberries no-handedly:

You can't tell, but that cutting board is resting on Miss Grace's belly.

Tonight I decided to serve myself some yogurt as my post-workout pre-dinner snack. Then I got out the sour cream because I was going to put some on my dinner. And then I ate a big spoonful of yogurt. And then I was grossed out because it didn't taste like sour cream like I was expecting it to. And then I wondered WHY ON EARTH I thought I was taking a eating a big spoonful of sour cream?

I bought cherries. I like to call them cheeries. Because they bring me cheer. And also I once saw a misspelled sign for them.

You know what I find incredibly relaxing and zen and therapeutic? Staying home for the evening, putting on some background noise like an old sitcom on DVD and making a big pot of soup, preferably with lots of ingredients that need to simmer for a long time.

It started during the fall when I was all stressed out and riddled with anxiety and it was just a nice way to pass the time and help myself relax for the evening.

Well I think that is all I have to tell you about right now. I don't seem to have anything that will tie all of this neatly together so how about a gratuitous hat photo? Check out the shadow.

Park, Boat, Hat, Ducks, Turtles

Even though I live in San Francisco I haven't spent very much time in Golden Gate Park. And I keep accidentally calling it Central Park. Whoops. Anyhow, Saturday! Saturday I went boating in Central Golden Gate Park. In a boat.
This boat, specifically:

There was a 30 minute wait for those paddle boat thingies but if you wanted a leaky old rowboat with one wonky paddle? STEP RIGHT UP. And do you see that shadow? That's me in my NEW HAT. I bought it on Friday and have since become obsessed with it. Also please note how dainty I am with my pinky up.

I rowed for a little while, mostly for entertainment purposes because, well, I have spaghetti arms as you can see here:

Most of the time I did this:

Sat in the boat WITH MY NEW HAT ON!

We saw a family of ducks:

And a LIVE ACTION version of Yertle the Turtle:

"I'm Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me! For I am the ruler of all that I see!"

All in all, a fun adventure in Centr Golden Gate Park!

something very rash

You know what's kind of embarrassing? When you have to have a doctor tell you that you have poison oak.

And you're a nurse.

And you're studying to be a nurse practitioner.

And you just took a final in your Symptoms Management class which included a section on dermatology.

But allow me to convince you that I am NOT a complete moron but am instead a victim of the following:
1. I. am. very. itchy. Being uncomfortably, distractedly itchy makes it HARDER TO THINK.
2. The rash showed up on a random morning after I put on a shirt that I hadn't worn in a month or so, possibly not since I switched detergents, convincing me that it had to be contact dermatitis.
3. The rash is only on the right side of my body, convincing me that it had to be shingles.
4. The rash seemed to be getting worse, convincing me that it had to be impetigo.
5. The rash looked like it was in a linear pattern, convincing me that it had to be SCABIES.
6. I AM ITCHY.

The rash is red and bumpy and goes all the way down the right side of my torso with random patches on my stomach, leg, and tushy. Can you picture it? Now picture me a couple days ago, wearing a skirt and which is wafting in the breeze and therefore brushing against and tickling the rash. Now picture me clenching my teeth and squinting and trying very hard to ignore the tickling/itching and finally reaching a breaking point wherein I forget that anyone is around me, and with a growl of anguish reach down my skirt and groan with relief as I SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH MY BUTT.

Now picture me picking up the phone and finally making an appointment with my doctor. "I need to come in, I have a rash on my tushy."

Ponies

These are for my niece. I bought them a few days ago and I'm going to put them in a box and ship them to her.

I am CERTAINLY NOT considering keeping one for myself. Not, in particular, the little pink one that she probably wouldn't like anyhow.

Dream House Hunting

One of my favorite things to do is to go dream house hunting. By this I mean house hunting in my imagination, not hunting for my dream house. It started when my sister was looking to move to a new neighborhood in San Diego. We would hop in the car and drive up to the housing developments to walk through the model homes. While my mom and sister critiqued the size and layout of the "great room" that all those places seemed to have and bickered over how many bedrooms one actually needs, I would climb up one extravagant staircase after another, descending how I imagined a princess might.

On our drive back, we would talk about the things we liked about the houses, about which floorplan we would choose and how many of the add-ons were really necessary. We would laugh at the silly decorations or the oddly placed furniture. And then we would stop for snacks. These are HAPPY memories.

I still love walking through homes. I like regular open houses and am often tempted to attend the ones that happen in my own building. I also particularly enjoy walking through model homes because the realtor and owner are seldom present and I am free to make snarky comments or just stand in the middle of the echoey space with my mouth open.

I'm not in any kind of position to buy a house right now, nor will I be for severalmany years. But it is fun to dream house hunt.

EXCEPT, this past weekend, I found it. My actual dream house.

It was a sweet little 3 bedroom/2 bath home in the countryside with lots of dark wood paneling and big windows. The rooms themselves weren't that large or impressive and the whole place looked a bit rundown. Actually here's what it looked like: the owner was an old man who had been living there for a few years after his wife died. So there was some clutter and dust and tatteredness. And when he decided to sell the place the realtor had him run a wet washcloth over the hard surfaces, shove the clutter under a bed, and buy some new drapes for the open house. Can you picture it?

Despite all of this I thought the house was adorable. It had character. It had a story. It also had a theater room and an outdoor cooler that had been converted into a bar. And a wraparound porch and a koi pond with three trickling fountains (I love fountains). And 12 acres of fenced land. And a barn. And two sweet old horses that the realtor told me would come with the property if the buyer wanted them.

AND I WANTED THEM. I WANTED IT ALL.

It was a bittersweet experience because I fell in love with the place but I also knew there was absolutely no way it could be mine. Somebody else will buy it and I'll have to wait until I'm out of school and, y'know, financially stable enough to entertain the idea of homeownership. And landownership and koipondownership and convertedfridgebarownsership and oldnaghorseownership.

But I can dream.

Souvenirs

Fort Bragg doesn't seem to "get" that it might be a tourist destination. I mean, we were there on Memorial Day weekend and there was stuff to see-- the quilt show, the flea markets, the botanical gardens, the miles of gorgeous coastline, the pretty trees, etc-- and yet a lot of businesses were closed on Sunday or had weird, early hours every day. So even though all the bed & breakfasts were booked up and the brewery pub was crowded it felt like we were getting the inside view of a sleepy little town.

We hit up the botanical gardens on Sunday. It's beautiful, natch. And the walk takes you all the way to the seaside cliffs.

 
And then we had lunch at a little hot dog restaurant the waitress asked us what we were up to and we said we had been to the botanical gardens. She said "Oh, I haven't been there yet this year. The rhododendrons must be in bloom!"

Were they, ever.

Another thing to see in Fort Bragg, and the main reason I wanted to go there, was the Glass Beach. The story is that back in the 1940s the Fort Bragg coastline was a dump and people who lived there would just toss their trash over the cliffs (because what better way to enhance the fragile California coast than to throw garbage at it?). In the late '60s the dump was moved inland and years and years of waves have, as their web site puts it, "corrected man's mistakes." I don't know if I would go so far as to say THAT because I definitely saw some of Man's Mistakes still present.

"Waterfall!"

Garbage!

More garbage! And my long-legged shadow.

"I can't believe they put a junkyard this close to the ocean."
"Not a junkyard, a DUMP."
"Oh. Right."
"Yeah. We are literally sifting through old garbage."

But the glass.

It was beautiful.
It shone on the beach and glittered in the water. Like treasures. Like gems.

I spent literally hours raking my fingers over the rocks finding interesting and pretty glass fragments. At first I wanted only perfectly rounded opaqued pieces but after awhile I started to appreciate the oddly shaped pieces, the jagged or rough ones, the bits of ceramic and pottery, the scraps where you could still make out writing, the funny little lumps that might have once been a mug handle or bottle base. I was fascinated by the beauty and the surreality.

We even checked out the Sea Glass Museum on Sunday and learned about the rarities of the various stones and how the proprietor takes a kayak to the sea-accessible portion of the original dump where he finds "the really good stuff."

So. My weekend in Fort Bragg was fun, relaxing, and interesting. I came home with some lovely, old-ladyish souvenirs.

Moss from the botanical gardens. (That quarter is to show you how teensy those little flowers are).

Jam from the flea market.

And glass from the beach.

Reunion Outfit Advice?

You guys. YOU GUYS.

My TEN YEAR high school reunion is this Saturday. Yes, THIS Saturday. Yes, THAT high school.

Oh man.

There is apparently, like, a whole weekend's worth of activities including an awards ceremony (for what? I'm not sure), campus tours, and a power point presentation of the school through the ages.
I'm only planning to go to one evening reception thingy for drinking/looking around the school/schmoozing purposes.

Here is my question to you: WHAT DO I WEAR? I think this is the type of event that is dressyish but not, like, cocktail dress dressy, but that jeans might not be dressy enough and I don't really have any other pants that aren't jeans and I want to wear pants because it will probably be cold but I suppose I could wear a skirt and boots but is that TOO dressy? Or not dressy enough? And I do have white pants but are those not evening-appropriate? What about stretch pants with a long top over them? Or should I wear a little black dress since it IS the evening and probably kinda dressy or will I feel too dressed up? Or what about jeans with heels?
It's not so much that I'm worried I won't look CUTE because I think all of those choices would be fine but basically this is the type of event for which I have the HARDEST time figuring out what is appropriate to wear and tend to think myself in circles. Gah.

At least I'll be able to find out if my former classmates are single, married, or have children.

35. sing a karaoke song by myself

Hi there! How was you long weekend? I went on a little mini vacation and it was quite an adventure!

You know how you go to some big destination like New York City or Paris or something and it can be really overwhelming? Like my goodness however shall I do everything? What if I don't see and do all the Important Things one is supposed to see and do here?
Well going to Fort Bragg was kind of... the opposite of that. The big event for the weekend was their annual Quilt Show.

It isn't exactly a bustling metropolis, but it sure is pretty.

In terms of nightlife, the whole town seemed to shut down around nine. Presumably the downtown bars were still open but none of them were that close to the hotel and I was wimpering about the cold so we ended up hanging out at the local bowling alley lounge on Saturday night (we would have actually bowled but the lanes were closed-- see how that works?).

We walked into the lounge. It was quiet and dim and smelled faintly of cigarettes. We sat down on the cracked vinyl barstools and the lady bartender greeted us with a friendly "Hey there, you're not from around here."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I don't know you." There was a sign on the wall: Sorry! We do not accept credit cards or out of town checks. LOCAL CHECKS ONLY.
The place was fairly empty with only four or five other patrons and a great many handlebar mustaches and missing teeth. At around ten, the bartender handed us a binder and said "this should get going pretty soon."
We opened the binder and realized it was full of karaoke music. I looked around the bar and thought: seriously?
YES. These people were serious about their karaoke and anxious for it to start.
A few more customers trickled in and people were getting restless. One old man came in the door and said "the paper said karaoke at nine o'clock! I'm ready la la la LAAAAAA."
Finally the man in charge of the karaoke showed up, shoved the pool table to the edge of the dance floor, and started up the karaoke machine. And let me tell you, these people were INTO IT. One woman even brought her own CDs-- and they must have been karaoke CDs because the words came up on screen so that means she has her own karaoke setup at home.

First we went up together and sang Space Oddity. And then we picked our individual songs because, well, with only a small number of people in the bar everyone was singing four or five songs. I had never gone up by myself before because I've really only been to karaoke places where the people are really, obnoxiously good. Like in LA where they are all trying to get "discovered" or whatever. This place was less intimidating and much more awesome and divey.

Does this give you a good idea of what the place was like?

So then I picked a song. And I was nervous.
"Come on, get up there."
"I'm scared."
"There's like seven other people, you'll be fine."

So I did it.

I sang my little heart out. I may not have a pretty singing voice but MAN am I enthusiastic. I'm on the fence about posting the VIDEO of me singing because my goodness, in my imagination I actually sounded pretty good but in daylight/sobriety/reality it seems as though I may be tone-deaf. Oh all right, fine. Here it is.



Please don't tell me how bad I sound because I ALREADY KNOW. But I did it and it was so fun I'll probably do it again! Lookout world.