Green machine

So, this happened, I decided to sign up for the Get You Shit Together Cleanse Support Group that my friend from college is hosting/moderating/organizing. She is the none other than the good Dr. Cory (I know! Dr. Cory!)  Dr. Cory (Reddish) is a licensed naturopathic physician who does all manner of things. But one of the things she specializes in are cleanses. (Side note, she also produces Party Pax -- whose tag line is: virtuous vitamins for your vices. Great idea, right? She gets that people are going to overindulge, so why not give your system a break, and treat yourself to one of these, "all-natural highly effective party recovery nutrient formulas"? I've tried the Booze Pax, and they really do help.)

Anyway, the cleanse..... I've never done a cleanse before, and already one week into this group work, I don't know if I ever will.

Wait what? I'm in a cleanse group, but not cleansing? Here's the rub, I'm not good on any type of diet. It gets into my head. I rebel. My mind screams "No way in hell, I'm going to eat X and breakfast, Y at lunch, and Z at dinner. I will not! I will not. I will not. You can't make me!"

And I pretty much can't. It's that primal and that childish.

But, this group is as stated, more of a support group. Each of us is coming at this from a different angle. While some are working on eliminating caffeine and/or sugar, others are cutting out alcohol and other recreational drugs, while still others are focusing more on the consistency of their meditation practice.

Me? I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing. (Shocking, I'm sure.) But the loose structure, back and forth between group members, and  check-ins and "assignments" from Dr. Cory HAS been motivating.

Just look what all those photos of perfect green juice posted by others in the group has inspired me to do.

Yep, I laid down the big bucks.

Then hit OB Peoples for organic swag.
(Although the gorgeous organic orange I plucked right from our tree.)

I guessed as to proportions,

threw it all into the behemoth,

and viola, my very first homemade green juice.

So it may have been heavy on the cilantro and light on the mango. But tomorrow is another day. Another day to work on getting my shit together, which is, obviously, the work of a lifetime.

The Cooler Brigade

There are rules to join the Ocean Beach Cooler Brigade . . .

You've got to be awesome . . .

. . . and you've got to have a cool cooler . . .

. . . or at least an interesting cooler.

. . . or two interesting coolers!

Being a judge of The Cooler Brigade . . .

. . . is a world of awesomeness and delight.

. . . Big . . .

. . . Tall . . .

. . . Short . . .

. . . Small . . .

. . . The Ocean Beach Cooler Brigade . . .

. . . we've got it all.

the gum wall

When we checked in to the hotel in Seattle, we receive a little packet of pages that offered the lay of the land in terms of walkable outings and the weekend agenda. One of the items on the first page directed us to The Gum Wall, and my brother in law had captioned the entry with something to the effect of: "It's gross, but interesting." Naturally, it jumped right to the top of our to do list.

We'd been to the market a bunch of times by the last day, but only then did we make any effort to discover where this mystery hid. With moments to spare before our scheduled late check out time, we found our way down there.

It's interesting. 

It's gross. 

I was talking about it afterwards and someone remarked that you'd expect it to have an odor. All that gum, chewed by all those mouths. Would it smell like bad breath, or hubba bubba bubble gum?

It didn't smell good, per se. It was in a dark damp alley under a fish market. But I don't know that I would have identified it by smell as a gum wall. I'm not sure that my brain could even have fathomed that particular vernacular before that fateful day.

I'm not going to look up the history of the gum wall for you. If you are the kind og person who would click on the link I'd post, you are probably the person who googled Seattle Gum Wall at first mention of it. For the rest of you, all you really need to know is that it's a wall, covered in gum Several walls, really. And a fair amount of floor. It's gross. And interesting!

I'm chewing GUM, see? See how clever?

 

Again with the subtlety.

As if sent from heaven.

I did not create that J, I was unwilling to put my body parts in that proximity to the Wall of Gum. I did, however, spit my own gum with enough force and saliva to securely adhere it to the wall. I left my mark on the gum wall.

And it was good.

My long lost friend may have a gambling problem

He's back! Or at least his post cards are.

Lookie what I received in the mail at work today.

A new postcard from Atlantic City, only it's not really from Atlantic City, it's mailed from right here in San Diego. Just like the Las Vegas post card was back in December.

Can you say creepy?

I may just work from home on August 18th, whaddaya think?

The Fest of the Sail

There is only one thing to do to kick off a Sailfest Saturday Morn properly . . .

. . . grill zucchini for breakfast.

And no, my darling friends, not just any zucchini. Our zucchini. Our big awesome homegrown zucchini.

How big, you ask?

. . . oh, it's big.

And there is only one thing to have for lunch on Sailfest Saturday . . .

. . . a homegrown New London grinder, at Ocean Beach Park.

Ocean Beach was fabulously awesome that day . . .

. . . full of beachgoers . . .

. . . happy, lovely, colorful beachgoers, enjoying our happy, lovely, colorful park.

And after a day soaking up the sand and sun? Rum and pineapples on the Gam, baby . . .

. . . whilst watching the ferries go by . . .

. . . our friends are beginning to feel annoyed by us, because we're annoyed by them, because they don't know which ferries are which by now.

I'm not annoyed, my people. I'm calm. I'm smooth; I'm mellow. That up there is the lovely Cape Henlopen . . .

. . . and that down there is the fabulous MV John H . . . 

. . . Smooth and Mellow, people . . .

Aaaanndddddd . . . back to the Gam!

We are so lucky to know these people.

We have a grandiose time together.

Photo Bomb Alert!

(And back downtown, later that afternoon . . . )

Ice Cream Men Alert!

Oscar Alert!

The bands were fantastic downtown . . .

. . . seriously fantastic . . .

. . . fabulously awesome.

. . . as were the firecrackers:

But nothing -- nothing! -- says Sailfest like planking during the Americana medley.

And then the next day?

Bruncheon!

 There was more planking . . .

 There were bloodies . . .

 . . . Bloodies!

. . . There were lovely friends . . .

. . . and there was, most importantly of all, the obligatory Christmas Tree Conflagration.

Happy 'Fest, my peeps.