random monday moments

Hello darlings. As I write, my darling baby girl is mere hours from her return to the warm cockles of my motherly heart. I've missed that little booger snot! She's had the trip of a lifetime, made memories that will stay with her forever. I can't wait to hear her stories and see her face and squeeze the everliving poo right out of her. Sigh.

In the meantime, let me show you some random photos from my phone's camera, k? K. Here we go, in no particular order. Well, chronological order if you want to be fussy. Except there's a rogue entry at the end.

Summer music has begun! This was Jurassic 5 during our first seasonal outing to the Del Mar races. We arrived at what I though was race 5, so I picked my horsey and placed my bed, realizing only later that it was race 7. I won $20!

My boy and I are on a ramen kick. Yuuuuummmmmm.

We've also been on quite a few Home Depot trips.  I love/hate it there.

Look what I have created! Progress on the playloom. I love having time off to work on home projects.

Next victim!

Guess how much rock-ish stuff is coming to my house on Tuesday? Guess!

This short summer break hasn't been all work, though. Bill and I had a beach date!

Earlier that same day, the seagulls were completely cookoo-nuts. Oh dear, look what I've gone and done to the chronological order.

On another night, my boy and I were invited to partake in a korean bbq celebration

Seemed appropriate, since I'm practically korean myself.

We koreans know how to eat, I tell you what. I see that it looks mildly disgusting in this photo, but please believe me when I tell you that it is not.

I also had a lovely dinner date with my girl Beth, who sat there all innocent and pretty while I was eaten alive by alien predators. LITERALLY.

In conclusion. Guess where we're headed this week? Guess!

Fiction Friday: Feather signs

When she arrived at work, sitting atop her desk in the very center in front of the well-worn keyboard was a delicate feather. A dark grey, it was a tiny wisp of a thing. Delicate and perfect. Actually, there were a few wisps missing at the bottom, but perfect nonetheless.

Where had it come from? What did it mean? Did it, in fact, mean anything?

She pondered this while making her morning tea, the Tazo Cocoa mint maté that she could only find, of all places, at Target.

She even Googled "feathers" and learned, of all things, that they are made up of keratin. She also learned that it wasn't "wisps" that were missing from the bottom of the feather, but instead "barbs" that had pulled away from the "rachi," the central core, the same as in palms.

Not really the information she was seeking; she wanted to know the symbolic meaning, what did finding a feather on her path mean for her? She tried again.

This search was more successful. Commonly feathers are thought to be symbols of higher thought and spiritual expression, also light hardheartedness, enlightenment, progress, truth, and heightened awareness. One site even said that finding a feather in your path could be a sign from a loved one or the Universe/Spirit, a reminder that you are supported and guided. It went on to say that whenever you observe a sign, such as a feather in your path, you should take note of what you were thinking just before it happened.

Shit, she couldn't remember. What was she thinking about? Her common irritation about the fact that the office mini-fridge froze almost everything placed in it? The hair appointment that was scheduled for 5 pm? She was pretty sure she had moved on from her disappointment that her jeans were tighter than they should be at this point in her cycle....

As she twirled the tiny feather in her fingers, so pleased with it's unexpected and seemingly auspicious arrival, it hit her; she had an awful idea, only it wasn't a wonderful, awful idea, like the in The Grinch, it was only awful, as in disappointing.

She realized with complete certainty that it didn't matter what she had been thinking about before spying the wee feather on her desk. It didn't matter one tiny bit. It didn't matter because this feather was nothing but a remnant from the feather duster that the cleaning people had hurriedly waved across her desk the night before. A careless leftover from the most mundane of jobs.

Although disappointing, she had to laugh. So she did so, loudly and with gusto.

Adoration

I adore this kid.

I mean, seriously.

She rocks the block.

Add to her visit an unexpected visit with friends from The Road -- friends we met in the Florida Keys back in The Day, who, they claim, we haven't seen in ten years . . .

. . . ten years!

. . . mix it up altogether with a boatyard in Mystic . . .

. . . and a cool Dad . . .

. . . (a wicked cool dad) . . .

. . . and a trendy -- a worthily trendy -- new place on the water across the Big Bad Bridge . . .

. . . complete with boat slips . . .

. . . and, you know, a boat . . .

. . . and well, we've got ourselves the beginning of a Time here in southeastern Connecticut . . .

. . . a Fabulous Time.

And that was only Day One.

sweet ride

On Tuesday morning, my 15 year old man-child was up and ready to leave the house at 8:20am. This unprecedented arising sliced a good 3-4 hours from his normal summertime beauty sleep regimen, and although it wasn't easy to accomplish, I only had to re-awaken him once. We were off on an adventure! When I had mentioned the idea to him last week, his enthusiasm was immediate and infectious, so I booked it. It was not cheap, but I reminded myself that certain other offspring of mine were enjoying the fruits of ungodly expensive airfare and camps this summer while this boy was sleeping, yes, but also volunteering at a pet care business and doing odd jobs around the house and neighborhood.  So I booked it. We drove about an hour to find our designated meeting spot, then we geared up

and met our sweet rides

The brown one is Tanner, he was my ride. My boy rode the lovely Luna in the background

When our guide said that Tanner had arthritic knees and liked to stop for snacks, I knew we were a match made in heaven.Neither of us had any real experience atop a horse, but our rides were sweet and gentle and forgiving. We set off on the trail through the beautiful Santa Margarita Preserve. It was beautiful and hot and dry, and as we meandered along we got the hang of it, steering gently around obstacles and pausing wherever green things shot up for restorative snacks.

I don't have many photos from the ride, because I was afraid of: a) dropping the camera. b) falling off of the horse, and/or c) whacking my face on low lying branches if I didn't steer around them.

I did get one good action shot, though, in a place where the terrain wasn't quite so dry

Our guide Susie rode Cisco, a big tough looking horse who was equally terrified of stray hikers and microscopic lizards

The river was absolutely spectacular. It felt so good to splash through and cool off. The horses slurped up drinkie poos and munched on greens. Epic happy place.

After a while we stopped to give the horses a rest and have some luncheon in a shady spot by the river. But first

geek alert. (vodka arms)

I loved my view

Step away from the snacks, Tanner

The ride back was exciting, because some boneheaded delinquents set off firecrackers and sparked a wildfire right along the trail! We saw the plume of smoke then people hightailing it out of the area that our guide said was a swimming hole frequented by hikers (rookies). She was calm and focused, led her skittish horse by hand for a minute while we followed close behind until we were safely past the fire and the access road that was soon swarming with emergency responders. My heart was pounding right out of my chest, and my eyes stayed locked on my boy in front of me. Neither of us had a prayer if those horsies took flight, but Susie was right that we were a safe enough distance from danger and it would have been much worse to walk them 2 miles along the highway to get back to her trailer. Whew.

We were sad to get back to the trailhead almost 4 hours after our 90 minute guided ride began. We said our goodbyes and promised to return, and I really hope that we do. It was a sweet day. We had a sweet ride.

ps: screw you, July stupid 23rd.

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?