Happy Trails...

It was the third month long absence that finally did it. I guess the third time really is the charm.

It's been a long, convoluted journey from heartbroken California transplant to headstrong, globetrotting Seattlite but here I am. In the last three years this blog has morphed more times than my hair color, settling finally on something I can be proud of. I could say the same of myself.

One of the neatest sea critters I observed in Costa Rica was the hermit crab (observing them is not hard, trust me. There are lots of beaches where you can't take a step without crunching a few. Thank goodness they're quick!) Cool hermit crab fact: These little dudes are constantly moving up in the world, that is, when they grow too large for their shells they simply find a newer, larger model and trade up.

Like the hermit crab it's time for me to "trade up," and move out of these old digs. This blog has served its purpose and instead of asking it to shift again I'm simply moving on. (I'm also joining the migration to WordPress, but that's another story)

If you're interested in following my further (and possibly more pedestrian but far less anonymous) adventures as a continuing traveler and a newbie cellist drop me an email and I'll be happy to oblige you with the appropriate links.

Otherwise, farewell and good luck. Thanks for walking this far with me, I hope the rest of your trip is a blast.


Signing off,

Rosie

Bees buzzing, ladybugs and delicate spider webs

I've been housesitting for a friend with two beautiful raised beds. In her absence, she inisists I help myself to anything that's ripe and right now that includes peas, cherry tomatoes and in a few days maybe a zuccini. All I have to do is turn the automatic waterer (and suppliment with the hose on really hot days which Seattle hasn't been short of lately) and feed her cat.

I'm not sure how my life could get any better at this moment.

I've always wanted to do raised beds and staying here has only confirmed for me that when I finally do get a house of my own again I will definitely be gardening. One of the nicest new-to-me blogs I've been reading lately recently did a little raised bed reconstrution project that has got me salivating.

Who knew I was such a closeted gardener?

A little more Beyonce than Halle Berry...

...that's the verdict after my salon run for a much needed highlights touchup. And yes, I was licking my wounds just a bit after Audi's stunning letdown. Sometimes what a girl needs is a little confidence booster and a mani/pedi just won't cut it. I said I wanted more of the honey/carmel bits. That, apparently meant I wanted to go mostly blondish.

Hmm...I guess I got what I asked for. We toned the color down quite a bit, but it's still a bit MORE, well, Beyonce than Halle Berry (according to the girl in the chair next to me). It's a matter of subtlety. I'm not used to being so flashy. Although, being in the company of either of those gorgeous ladies cannot be a bad thing.

Maybe it's a good change. It certainly will shake things up a bit. I'm trying to roll with it.

Okay I was wrong...

But at least I'm not too proud to admit it.

Traveling is fantastic. Central America was amazing. I mean, I really should have known. At every moment in my life that I've been most terrified to do something that something has turned out to be one of the highlight experiences of my life.

I can now say from experience:

1. Not all volcanos pour lava. Sometimes molten rocks tumble down the sides like confetti with a dull hollow thumping that even miles away sounds ominous.
2. I am the best Shithead player I know. I'm also not bad at Bullshit, Gin Rummy and HorseRace. I still can't play poker to save my life.
3. Dancing till dawn is good for the soul.
4. I don't care what anyone's book says - EVOLUTION rocks, and we did it too. The determining factor: I fed a monkey. I literally looked eye to eye with a little humanoid as it reached out two tiny hands, pried my fingers off a chunk of banana then delicately nibbled it piece by piece while keeping the kind of eye contact that gave me goosebumps.
5. There may not be any activity that brings one closer to the divine than surfing! I love surfing with a passion that knocked me completely out of my proverbial socks. I took the requisite lesson, bought a board, spent the first week paddling without much reward and wondered what the hell was wrong with me that I kept going out. However, the first time I dropped into the open face of a wave, popped to my feet and actually carved the shit out of the damn thing I thought that maybe, magically, I'd died and gone to heaven.
6. Learning to speak a second language is far easier when you don't have a choice. Sink or swim, baby. Nadé como un pescado.
7. Hermit crabs give me the creeps. Srsly.

I'm back home and into the life I left behind. I'm happier and, dare I suggest it, more complete. Time to get back to buisness and the two most pressing issues:

1. Finding a job
2. Keeping my distance from the married man that I managed, inexplicably, to fall in love with.

Gotta keep things interesting.

~Rosie

P.S. My next destination is Andalucía, España where I will study Flamenco and work on my [Spain] Spanish.

A few lists.

Things I should be doing:

1. Going to bed
2. Finishing my laundry
3. Taking out my contacts
4. Packing for Ptown
   
5. Stretching
   

Thing I am doing:

1. Updating my blog
2. Checking my stats (YES, I do care if anyone besides Mitch stops by for a visit - hi Mitch! - I only shout out to Mitch all the time cause the rest of you are so damn quiet)
   
3. Eating Trader Joe's French Truffles right out of the box
4. Surfing for new regular blogs to replace old faves who have retired (I'll miss you, Strange Bird!)
   
5. Looking up possible license plate personalization for my car - unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, all versions of "Sunshine" are taken.
   

Songs I'm really enjoying right now:

1. I'm Yours - Jason Mraz (yeah me and everybody else)
2. If I Were A Bell - Dinah Washington
3. Gravity - Sara Bareillis
4. Everything -Aqualung
5. Milonga Sentimental - Otros Aires

Things I ate today:

1. Homemade Granola Cereal - No I didn't make it, but I ENJOYED it
2. Turkey
3. Taco Salad
4. Did I mention the truffles yet?
5. A banana (didn't make that one either)

Things I thought about today:

1. The economy: how low can you go?
   
2. My finances: oddly good, considering the overall financial state of the country.
   
3. Politics (sensing a theme here?)
4. Handsome Fellah: haven't thought about him in a while, wonder if I'm going to run into him soon.
   
5. The trip: are we there yet? are we there yet? are we there yet?
   

A lifetime in Californa and I don't pick up a surfboard till I get to Washington, what gives?

You heard that right. Considering all my life I have been a CA girl, including the snowboarding and living on the beach for almost 10 years, and I NEVER picked up a surfboard.


Until Saturday. Friends who know about my upcoming trip to Central America decided to give me one more activity to do when I get there (like I'm gonna get bored or something?) So LegalGirrl and her man and I piled into the rig and headed to the Peninsula. Turns out LegalGrrl's man is major surf guy and he's got her so into it she has a spare wetsuit and board for me.

Yes. Wetsuit. Complete with booties and a hood. Which keeps one from the clutches of hypothermia but also makes one look suspiciously like a seal. I couldn't help hoping as we walked out into the waves that there were no hungry sharks cruising the area. Or Orcas. (Although I was relieved reading recently that the local pods are have quite refined palettes: they prefer salmon to seal.)

but, I digress...

Surfboards on the roof isn't exactly subtle. In line for the ferry we met a couple deciding between Neah Bay and La Push. At the gas station LegalBoy struck up a conversation with a fellow surfer. By the time we arrived at the campsite (after stopping for gas and groceries) we had met half the people there somewhere along the way.

What I didn't expect about the surfing scene was the community. And it certainly wasn't the OC crowd. Each one of the characters I met was unique and interesting, running the gamut from weekend warrior professional and his family to one guy who spent six months surfing his way up and down the Pacific Ocean (we had a nice chat about some Central American surf spots). What really struck me was the genuine passion that brought them out on a rainy fall weekend, wetsuits and all. What and the heck was everybody so damn excited about?

Then I had my turn. But first: getting into the wetsuit. Now I know why seals are BORN with that skin, cause getting in and out of the thing is nearly impossible without major assistance. And by assistance I mean Legal Girl pulling as I lean all my weight the opposite direction. It probably didn't help that she's about two inches shorter and 20 lbs lighter than I am. Needless to say, I'm going to have to go up a size when I get my own suit.

There was something terrifying and exciting about walking into the surf the first time. The shock of cold water, combined with the force of waves pushing against my knees, then my hips, and finally my chest, until I was gripping the board and leaping up to clear them and finally belly down and paddling. We spent the first hour or so inside the breaks, with LegalBoy just pushing me into waves as I practiced hoping up into standing position.

Once I actually managed to stay up I discovered the sensation wasn't that much different than snowboarding. The exchange of balance in motion felt quite similar. After I was up a few times we headed out past the breaks. It was much harder to get up - okay so I didn't get up once on my own - but LegalBoy's strategy gave just enough of a taste of that smooth, floating sensation to keep trying. I grew to love the attempt, as much as the actual riding. Just as wonderful was sitting out on the past the waves with the beach and the distance between new and old friends. There's nothing like being balanced on the board and watching rain begin to fall on the water while waiting for that perfect wave.

I only lasted about an hour before one attempt landed me in a bit of a beatdown under my board and the wave, letting me know I was done for the day. Fingers and toes frozen, I still couldn't wipe the grin off my face. The great part of being so cold was that even the tepid shower water felt fantastic as I peeled off the suit and rinsed the salt from my skin. And after the day out there was a campfire and a nice meal, before I crawled into my tent for the best night of sleep I can remember.

Alright Legalkids, you win! I am totally hooked. Only I think I'm going to save my next outing to sunny and warm central America. I could really learn to love that.

What a long strange trip it has been...

About a month ago, someone very close to me died.

I'm not going to euphemism it or get maudlin: He died and his dying changed my life. For the last seven years he was a confidant and partner in crime. And now he's gone. He's not someone you would know about because I never posted about him here: Although he liked reading my zany two cents on everything wasn't a wasn't a big fan of being part of it, and out of respect I never mentioned him.

I think he would forgive me today, because all of this is just by way of explaining - why I've been gone and where I've been. For the last month or so I've just been - getting by. He wouldn't have been pleased. He would have wanted the road trips and beach adventures, and park days to go on. I know all this, but without him, just wasn't doable.

The last time we spoke, there were three promised I made to my friend:

1. Quit being so hard on myself.
2. Travel, Travel, Travel - see EVERYTHING... and
3. Keep writing. Finish the book, write about the travels, keep blogging, whatever...just don't stop telling stories.

So here I am, keeping my promise.

Last weekend I hiked Mt. Si for the first time. It was the hike we always meant to do together when I moved to Seattle but never seemed to be meet up up early enough to avoid the "uphill version of Greenlake" sensation lots of people attribute to the popular trail.

The trail was 4 miles one way, almost entirely uphill. I couldn't help laughing to myself as I rounded the corner of yet another steep switchback headed what felt vertical. THIS is the real reason we never "did the Si." Too damn steep. But when I got to the base of Haystack (aka the novice hiker's summit) the view was breathtaking. From the Olympics, to Rainer and the faintest hint of what may have been Mt. Adams I had that top of the world feeling that reminded me our best moments in being together.

Adios, mi amigo - via con "huevos."*






* Correct phrase is actually "via con dios" - go with god. The "huevos" is a long story that became a bit of an inside joke. Please expect to be looked at like a retard if you actually use the expression "via con huevos" with any spanish speaking individual.

That is all.

I was so stressed out I needed a pedicure...

Thursday afternoon, after four weeks of bouncing between the mechanic and insurance companies, two rental cars, delayed car parts and THE REST OF MY LIFE, I thought I was going to loose my mind.

Actually I'm pretty sure I'd already lost my mind and was finally noticing this. All over $2500 worth of exhaust system damage (start at the catalytic converter and keep adding parts and labor)

On top of it all, I've gotten new responsibilities at work which I inherently love because they involve photography -- but are totally overwhelming at the moment because I've got to learn yet another Tool and skillset. For about two weeks I was literally passing out at 8:30, getting up at 5 and starting the day all over again.

Wednesday I broke down with BBGB (over IM, of course). I'm tired, I'm stressed, I have no time, I am overwhelmed. How much is this going to cost me and when is this going to be over had become the constant litany replacing a usually very fun and interesting daydreaming life. I haven't blogged in WEEKS. Boo hoo me.

There's a reason she's my bestest girl buddy ever. Her solution: get some perspective and a massage.

See, we are Californians, and in California we know there's no mental upheaval that can't be solved with a lil pampering. In fact, I bet this applies to all women, but Cali girls are the first ones that I have ever heard admit it. Out loud. In mixed company. We are not afraid to admit: when the going gets tough, the tough get a rub down. Fellas, take note.

It was my idea to throw in the pedicure. By the time I was sitting under the lamp watching my cute pink toes dry I had a whole new mental frame.

Thank god I have insurance - the repair is covered. I get to cruise around in a sweet rental car (drive it like you stole it, baybee) for two weeks. When all of this is over, I'll have no problem getting my car to pass Washington emissions because I will have an almost entirely brand new exhaust system. And i have cute little flowers painted on my big toes.

So while I'm not going to thank any part stealing junk heads anytime soon, I really have nothing to complain about. Just need to grow some patience, and start blogging again.

101 ways to maul yourself

AKA. How to Operate a Chainsaw

This weekend HF and I went to help clear trees off his brother's property. Bro and his wife are building a house on their property - their first - and this was sort of a "family" event. Wife was out shopping so I hung out on the couch to get some writing done. I was doing really well. Of course, the short attention spanned master of procrastination has other ideas. Attracted by the sound of powertools, I headed outside to see what the boys were "up to."

The boys were doing very cool things with very scary chainsaws. They also found good use for an extra set of hands and before I knew it I was helping to pull down said alders in the desired direction. Which was kind of like playing chicken with a falling tree. Fun. Not content with just dodging trees, I decided I needed MORE danger.

So I asked to learn to run the chainsaw. I can't exactly explain the appeal to you, except for to say its the kind of thing you crave when you grow up in a house full of intellectuals. I mean I have READ about chainsaws, but I can't say I've actually been close enough to one to see the blade. HF OWNS his own chainsaw. WOW.

To his credit, HF didn't even hesitate when I asked. Outfitted in gloves, goggles and a stern lecture on how "carelessness with the chainsaw can kill you," he pointed me at the nearest fallen trees and proceeded to teach a course in "Chainsaw operation 101."

Which amounted to "101 ways to maul yourself if you don't pay attention to what your doing with a motor operated saw."

Good times. Before each new bit of the lesson I got a worst case scenario explanation of exactly HOW I could maul myself if I didn't do it right. Which is probably why the final lesson was how to start the thing, as the wrong sequence of action can land you a saw blade in the schnoz - and though the blade wouldn't be running it would still probably hurt like a mother f*Cker.

So. Each alder I was allowed to work on was only about 4-8 inches thick, but apparently in all the pictures I have a very intense expression on my face as I maneuver the saw through trunks. Yes, you heard that right. Some people will naked pictures circling the internet - me? In mine, I am fully clothed and holding a chainsaw while massacring some fallen baby trees. God forbid I ever run for office.

I have to say HF is a pretty good teacher. He was patient, grave, but still let me have at it for as long as I wanted to, and didn't complain when I retreated back to my computer with a trembling arm. Of course, you'd be a good teacher to if you could spend part of the afternoon drinking beer while supervising your girlfriend sharpening your chainsaw blade.

Suffice it to say, my desire to run a 'saw is completely satisfied. Now I will have something interesting to add to a character's traits when I need an outdoorsy rural type. That's the great thing about being a writer: Everything is research.