Peace, Love & Pictures

Trying something a little different...

2007-08-21T17:30:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a break from this blog to try out a new format. You can find me here.

I love the way bigfolio displays the photos. And since this is becoming a mostly photo blog... well, I figured it would be worth the investigation.

Stop on by!

I love:

2007-08-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

Photos of Ferris wheels, Old cameras, Lots of color,
Old music, New music, Soft textiles, Experience,
Rain, Thunderstorms, Grapefruit perfume, House parties,
The ocean, Big cities, History, Herstory,
Old Victorian houses, Small Houses,
A little weathered house, Small children,
Animals, The desert at sunrise, Road trips, Mix tapes,
The thought of owning an artist’s loft,
The thought of owning a farm,
Books, Interior design, A greener shade of blue,
Openness, Haircuts, Well-groomed eyebrows,
Honing my craft, Hardwood floors, Saltillo Tile,
Memories, Strong coffee, Cultural differences,
Pottery, Microbrews, Hook & Ladder Gewurtztaminer,
Confidence, Down comforters, Spring, Fall,
Photography, Spare time, The internet,
Connectivity, Bare feet, Ferns, Overcast mornings,
Peeling paint, Cheesecake, Farmers markets,
The Pacific Northwest, Dreams, Wine labels,
Wisdom, Girls’ night out, Solitude, A room of my own,
Magazines, Change, Light, Airports, Making a difference,
Small businesses, Foreign Languages, Opportunity,
Love,
Independence.

And Baby Makes Three

2007-08-12T23:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a bit... for all you know, I'm still somewhere in the wilds of Wyoming... or Colorado. (I think that's where I left off, anyway.) Well, I'm definitely back home and hope to soon catch up on posting. I've been busy reconnecting with old friends and shooting lots of photos, so I definitely have lots of fun stuff going on right now.

First up is a session I was really excited to do. I asked a few friends last spring if they would be interested in helping me build my portfolio. Thom and his wife, Jen, wrote back and said they were interested, but I'd have to wait. You see, they found out Jen was pregnant with their first child and is due in early September. Being that they wrote me in early spring, I knew it would be hard to wait so many months.

Besides being all-around cool people, I've known Thom since my high school days. He used to run in the same crowd as me and knew a lot of the same people. We lost touch after high school until the wonders of MySpace put us back in touch. It's been really great getting to know him and Jenn again and ended up spending the first half of the shoot reminiscing about the "old days." I had so much fun in this session - Thom and Jenn are so at ease in front of the camera and their sweet affection is so genuine. I only hope I am able to translate some of that into photos! So, without further ado, here's a sneak peak at some of the photos from the Hofman session...

And because everyone has a favorite taco shop... (At least in SoCal)

Thanks again for the hospitality guys - dinner was fantastic!

Clearly, I lean to the west....

2007-08-06T12:18:00.000-07:00

create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourCalifornia travel guide

Most of my travel within the US consists of places that can be reached by car in a day or two. Administrative assistants don't have many perks with their jobs, including month-long vacations. So, a week at a time, once or twice a year, finds me in the car and tooling up some highway, driving as far as I can in a few days. I have to keep in mind that I eventually have to drive back, so I try not to get too carried away by my sense of adventure on the open road.

I guess I need to start racking up the frequent flyer miles if I'm ever going to see the rest of this place.

DB's Big Adventure - Day 3

2007-07-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

Or "The day the Gods smiled upon me, got me back to Civilization and gave me a Starbucks."

Day 3 dawned shiny and new, mostly because there was a Starbucks within walking distance of our motel. Mike swears Marisa and I can sniff out a Starbucks from 50 miles away. I just know how wonderful it is to have coffee-flavored caffeine flowing through my veins. On long trips, some people count license plates... I find Starbucks.

No, no! Thank YOU!

We rolled into the Estes Park YMCA around 3:30pm. The last time I stayed in a camp like this was in 6th grade, so it all felt like alternate universe. In addition to rooms with bunk beds and a cafeteria and baskets with single servings of bug spray, there were all kinds of camp activities. Remember arts & crafts? Making picture frames from popsicle sticks? Learning how to read a compass? Identifying poison oak and poison ivy so at least you knew which one you had rolled in before being sent to the camp nurse? It was exactly like that.

Since we were here for a family reunion, the first night at the Y we had reserved a fire pit for a family campfire. Since I'm a newbie and didn't really know anyone, I became self-designated photographer. No one really seemed to mind.

This baby won't learn to walk until he's about 5, with all the people vying to hold him

His forehead got hot while roasting the "mallows"

There were actually a lot of people at the campfire, but after I got done chasing the kids around, it was pretty dark and I didn't want to scare these nice people off with my monster flash after I had just met them. I figured I would save that for the next day.

DB's Big Adventure - Day 2

2007-07-25T22:04:00.000-07:00

My brother and his wife are the ultimate hosts. Not only did they feed us, loan us fluffy towels, and take us to Cabela's* (the ultimate redneck's paradise), they also gave their toddler a foam sword to whap us with whenever she pleased. Is that heaven, or what?

* Cabela's was pretty noteworthy in it's monstrous size, scope of hunting/fishing/outdoor gear, and the amount of dead, taxidermied animals that one store could house. It was both awesome and depressing.

My nephew, Jackson. I went in to pick up a crying baby and ended up snapping a couple photos before I actually finished what I went in there to do. Don't worry, no babies were harmed in the making of these photos.

Caitlin has more energy than an ant colony in full swing. This is one of the few I got where she was sitting still... without being bribed by Cheetos.

Since there was so much driving involved, there was a lot of scenery to contemplate.

When I visit places outside of my home, I often wonder what it could offer me if I were to move to that place. How is it better than where I currently live? Since I've never been a true "California Girl", I feel like I am able to look at this more objectively than some. I'm not lured by the constant sunshine, the moderate weather 568 days out of the year. Instead, I see those places with inclement weather, wide open spaces, or bustling urban areas and imagine myself there. How would I fare on my own in a strange, new place? Because the landscape outside my car window was ever-changing, there was a lot to contemplate. Here are a few of the highlights:

The theme I encountered in Utah that carried over into the other states was referred to as "monsoon season." It was most prominent in Colorado, but all the states we drove through had huge fluffly clouds that would roll in sometime in the afternoon, thunder and lightning for a bit, and then sprinkle for 10 minutes or so. I wished for more rain, but only New Mexico delivered in that dept. It was all still very cool though.

See? It doesn't take much rain to make me smile....

We drove through part of Wyoming on this day, looking for a good place to stop for the night. Although we drove through Kemmerer and didn't stay too long (all the bars were closed), it's noteworthy to mention as the home of the original JC Penney store. If not for this place, I don't think I would have been clothed as a child.

JC Penney's "Mother" store

This place would have been a lot more fun if it were, maybe... open?

The Victory Theater. I love the girl pulling her brother along to try and get out of the picture.

We drove a bit farther and ended up stopping for the night shortly after these were taken. And this concludes Day 2.

DB's Big Adventure

2007-07-24T23:22:00.000-07:00

Otherwise known as "Making it to Utah and not being struck down by lightning on my first night there."

We left Temecula on Saturday morning... errr, afternoon, about 4 hours later than we had planned. Since none of us had packed until that morning, we were destined to be stressed out and running around like crazy, throwing things into suitcases all willy-nilly. It's just how I roll, y'know? Anyway, we only had to go back to the house for forgotten items on 3 separate occasions. Not bad, the way I see it.

Commercial-free tunes for the road

Keeping myself occupied (and distracted from motion-sickness)

The first day spent on the road was a doozy. We tooled up the 15N, through Barstow, gassing up in Vegas, and then on to Utah, where we were going to stay with my my ultra-conservative Mormon brother. I wonder what his neighbors thought of his harboring of us heathens?

Speaking of heathens, a picture of a church in Vegas

Mountainous Utah

We made it up to my brother's house around 9:30pm - tired, hot and dusty. He didn't seem to mind much.

My niece and SIL - very unconcerned at the prospect of providing refuge to the dangerous heathens

I had a few other pictures of the scrub brush and (lack of) scenery along the highway in Vegas and it's surrounding areas, but it's not much to see. No really, trust me on this one...

To Be Continued....

So in love...

2007-07-23T23:44:00.001-07:00

with this portrait:

I'm finally back from my whirlwind trip across the Cowboy State and all the other states I just really don't fit in, but I'm saving the stories for when I actually get some photos proofed.

I just really couldn't help myself and had to post this one, though.

One of my favorite traditions on the 4th of July...

2007-07-04T13:14:00.000-07:00

... the other is fireworks, but it's a little early to be posting pictures of those.

Happy 4th of July!

Luna luna lunita lunera

2007-07-02T00:20:00.001-07:00

I'm a bit behind. You see, when I shoot a lot at one time, I tend to prioritize only by which ones are needed first... or which ones I'll get in trouble over if I procrastinate on. It's not a very good system and my personal pictures suffer as well as the ones for my friends when we're goofing off. How odd is it that the photographer of the group is the worst when it comes to "developing" the pictures of the latest get-together? {sigh} Blame it on my sign, my lack of organization, genetics... it is what it is. However, since I haven't shot much as of late (been working on the latest website update) my procrastination means that I still have something new to share. :)

That something new is the newest addition to my extended family - in a word, I'm a brand-new fairy dogmother to Luna, the new frenchie pup of one of my best friends. In May I took a trip up to see her and got to spend a couple of days documenting one of the worlds cutest dogs:

Stuck behind the baby gate & not very happy about it

How can you not help but pick her up and give a little squeeze?

Mom! You crack me up with your funny faces!

Love the loose lip....

As much of a profile as you get with a smashed-in nose

We even got some family shots in:

C'mon guys! Get a room!

If I give you the puppy eyes, will you let me in?

The fabulous Luna! Performing in a town near you!

I think this one is my fave. I love the colors and her expression.

Sit Luna!

Grrrrrr....

Frenchie butt:

Hope everyone enjoyed their weekend!

My teeny tiny world

2007-06-30T13:10:00.000-07:00

There is a lens called a Tilt-Shift that is used by architectural photographers. They use it to get the lines of convergence right - or to make the building look like it's supposed to instead of looking giant on the bottom and little on top. Or like it's curving. (There's lots of math involved too and to be honest, it's kind of making my brain hurt.) Canon describes it thusly:

"These lenses expand photographic possibilities. Tilt movements allow you to obtain a wide depth of field even at the maximum aperture and still keep the entire subject in focus. Shift movements correct the trapezoidal effect seen in pictures taken of tall objects, so as not to distort the subject."

They say it much better than I ever could.

Unfortunately, these tilt-shift lenses are pretty expensive. And while it's nice to have good glass in your arsenal, I'm still a year or so away from paying off the gear I just bought. So, I'm going to have to stick with renting or ... Photoshop Magic.

Photographers have found a neat byproduct of the tilt-shift lenses. It's the optical illusion in the depth of field that tends to have a "miniaturization" effect. When the technique is applied to aerial photos of cityscapes, for example, it takes on the look and feel of the mockup of a tiny city. I love this effect and have spent some time this last week finding tutorials on how to "fake it".

A couple years ago I took a trip to Manhattan and took the tour up the Empire State building. The photos of the city below me were alright, but I thought they would be perfect candidates to try out my new trick. I'll include a couple of the originals and "mini'd" versions so you can judge for yourself if I acheived the intended effect.

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

Here's a couple more that I played with:

I must have an affinity for itty bitty things... It makes me long for the days of Micro Machines....

Something to warm the cold cockles of your heart (part II)

2007-06-22T16:06:00.000-07:00

The first day of my brothers visit, we just hung out. The kids played, the adults gabbed and caught up and I took a bazillion pictures between the two. Also in attendance was my grandmother who was able to fly down from Portland on a day's notice. Huzzah!

I always enjoy a full house. At my own home, I like a bit of peace and quiet every now and then and get irritable when I don't get that time to myself. But on family occasions - birthdays, holidays, barbecues - I adopt "the more the merrier" approach. It reminds me of growing up with my brothers and all their friends - always someone to talk to or play with. It's the way holidays are supposed to be.

Anyway, on the last day the baby was blessed and since both extended families were together, we got a chance to take some formal shots. I'll spare you most of those, but damn! Babies are cute.

I absolutely love this one! It reminds me that kids all have their own personalities and when they're done - they're done!

Cousins

Great-Grandma

My mom has a way with all kids - they all gravitate to her - and her own grandkids are no exception. I only hope I'll be as good a mom to my kids as she's been to me and my brothers. It looks like Jackson already knows this about her.

Maternal Grandmother

Love this one too - it's better bigger.

Can you believe she's a quarter Mexican?

My favorite shot of Jackson.

I've never photographed newborns before, but I've been wanting to for a while. I didn't have any fancy backdrops or anything, so we laid my brother's black suit jacket on the couch. We're so McGyver.

Hope you've enjoyed being a part of the most recent family affair!

Something to warm the cold cockles of your heart (part I)

2007-06-22T16:05:00.000-07:00

My little brother brought his family and came to visit a couple weeks ago. It was a treat since I only get to see him once a year - usually around Christmas time. When I was a kid, if someone had told me I would only get to see my brothers once a year, I'd have laughed... and then probably kicked them in the shins. (I was mean like that.) I was always fiercely protective of my brothers, honing my "mother hen" skills at a young age. My brothers grew tired of me bossing them around - and then they grew bigger than me and pretty much put an end to me telling them what to do. But in spite of that, we've always been close and the distance that is currently between us is sometimes hard to bear.

So Jared came in to town, family in tow. The reason for the out-of-season get-together was a new nephew - his 2 week old son, Jackson. I was so happy to meet him and got the opportunity to pretty much document the whole weekend. There are a lot of pictures, so I'll probably make this a two-part series.

I apologise in advance for all the rugrats shots. Don't OD on the cuteness, okay?

Brand new parents... for the 2nd time....

...also high school sweethearts.

Big sister

Trying to figure out the whole bubble thing...

...Dad steps in until he realizes the whole thing is just foam anyway.

Stay tuned for part II...

Getting acclimated, but hopefully not losing my edge.

2007-06-20T23:43:00.001-07:00

I assisted on my third wedding last weekend. On a side note, I was also in the doghouse as Father's Day was Sunday and so was the wedding and I have tragically not figured out how to be in two places at once. Nor have I realized I should definitely check the calendar before I commit to things.

So, back to the wedding. For the second time, the wedding was located at Ponte Winery. While the winery's grounds are beautiful and I would be happy just to hang out at such an attractive spot, their "intimate" reception room is a barrel room. Not just a clever name, mind you. It's a room with high ceilings and three out of four walls lined top to bottom with giant wine barrels. The entry way on the fourth wall is a massive door - a fancy, heavy wood affair that is reminiscent of something in a medieval castle. I open the door and find myself disappointed that there is no moat.

The room itself is nice, but with all the barrels and lack of windows - it's downright dark in there. Keep in mind that when getting your picture taken, the best kind of light is natural light. Artificial light - aka flash - is the worst kind of light. Ugghh. What's worse is that I really have no idea what I'm doing with it.

But, besides that drawback, the wedding was very nice. Once again, the couple was happy, in love, and very laidback - making my job very easy indeed. Since I'm the backup photographer, I usually have a little more leeway in regards to my subject matter. This particular wedding featured a few kids that definitely stole the show. Enjoy the photos!

To appease the Shoe Gods, of course

Can the light here get any more heavenly??

Love this one - is very "Secret Garden-ish" to me

I love all the motion in this one!

I know these are a little more conventional than the last wedding shots I posted. Don't think I'm going soft on you, now. Just trying to keep you on your toes.

"Goin' to the Chapel and I'm gonna get maaaa-ried!"

2007-06-04T22:19:00.000-07:00

NO! Not me sillies!

I have tentatively ventured out of the realm of comfortable, small, intimate, portrait shoots and into the crazy, exhausting, but somewhat rewarding realm of wedding photography. I've only assisted on a couple, but I've had fun as a second shooter, assisting an established photographer. It's been nice to be able to add something new to my portfolio - this year is all about experimentation and finding out what works, I think. Anyway, I thought I would share a few from the second wedding I helped cover:

I took many, many pictures at this wedding - 8 hours worth. I even had to borrow a couple CF cards from the photographer I was assisting because I ran out. How embarassing!

Anyway, since I started this photography gig, everyone asks if I'm going to get into the wedding business. I hear it's good money and you can really make a name for yourself that way. But I'm starting to experience some of the pitfalls: (mostly) crazy bridezillas, family that doesn't get along, horrible lighting conditions, and a lot of stress due to blink-and-you-miss-it moments. There are no do-overs when the couple says "I do." You either get the shot or you don't. And if you don't... well, heaven help you when you have to tell the bride that her daddy/daughter dance didn't turn out.

I really am finding that I prefer the intimacy a regular portrait shoot provides. It's a much more manageable hour or two and I really get to know the small group of people that I'm photographing.
But I'm glad for this experience. It's really opened my eyes to a new venue and given me a taste of something else that's out there. I'm not completely ruling it out, but let's just say it's not my new favorite.

Next up on the agenda: Band Photography!

Hanging out at the WAP

2007-06-03T23:50:00.000-07:00

I am the first to admit that I am not a wildlife photographer. I just don't have the patience to sit and wait for the little beasties to do what I want. They have minds of their own and they are only going to do what they want and when they want... and that usually doesn't coincide with my desires. A woman in my photography class loved to photograph wildlife and it showed. Among many wonderful pictures in her portfolio was this piece about bears in Alaska. She pulled a "Northern Exposure" and went to a place only accessible by tiny planes on water-skis. Then she sat and wait and waited and waited for one of them to sneeze. Or catch a fish. Whatever it is that bears do. And they were amazing. And it only reinforces that wildlife photography is not my passion because everyone who knows me knows I hate waiting.

{ahem}

That's not to say that every time I go to the Wild Animal Park, I leave my camera at home. Quite the contrary! I make sure to bring it along and take many mediocre pictures in hopes for a few like these:

And just so you don't think it was a complete bird-watching trip, a few other species made an appearance:

And definitely most wild of them all, the elusive well-behaved teenager:

Hope everyone had a good weekend!

The Salton Sea

2007-05-25T14:27:00.000-07:00

My photo class for this semester is finally coming to an end. I've loved it - my teacher, my classmates, and the growth I've achieved in during the course. My printing has never been better and I have a renewed enthusiasm for film. I'll never leave digital because that's where the future (and my business) lay (lies?), however, I have renewed a love for vintage cameras. I'm currently looking for a Rolleiflex - made sometime in the mid-1900's and is in medium format (the negatives are bigger and square as opposed to tiny little 35mm rectangles). If anyone has any advice on how to get my hands on one - let me know.

I've been doing a lot of shooting - some digital, but mostly not. The bit of digital I have done is only now being addressed due to time constraints. My final project for class was done in film, but the place was so cool, I made sure to take my digital camera along so I would be sure to "develop" more than just a couple key images.

For my project, I thought it would be cool to check out the Salton Sea. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, it's in the desert, near Indio. It's very hot and dry; on the day I went it was 95 degrees. In the 50's, the area was a very popular resort. Celebrities and families alike went there to vacation, to waterski, to "summer". In the 70's, the area faced severe flooding. Over time, water that used to feed into the Salton Sea was diverted to Los Angeles and San Diego's water supply. The water is now so salty only the tilapia can survive. What is now left is mudflats, covered with a layer of crackly salt. Ghost towns with homes and beach resorts still intact, although slowly decaying with time and elements. Some people still live out there and it is fascinating to see children playing in their front yard while next door is an abandoned shell of a former home. The water is so blue because it reflects off the vivid sky. Up close, the water is yellow-brown and muddy.

I loved my first 2 excursions out to this area and I hope to revisit it many more times. I believe that the images on film captured this place perfectly. I only hope my digital images will convey some of that haunting beauty.

If you'd like to see the rest of the set, click here.

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

2007-05-25T14:22:00.001-07:00

Marisa and I got home early the other night, which was a nice change. Since I carpool with someone that works late, I usually end up going to the gym or the bookstore and wasting time until it's time to go home. This means that I normally don't get home after work until 8:30 or 9:00 at night. Considering that I left the house at 7:00 that morning.. let's just say it makes for a long day.

So it was a special treat when I got home around 6:45 the other night. Marisa was already there and I conned her into helping me with a few things so the rest of the night would run smoothly. Since we both like the same kind of music, I graciously offered to let her DJ the Ipod and introduce me to her current playlist of favorites. (Really, it's the best way to keep up with the popular stuff out there. Luckily she listens to a lot of folky-indie type stuff and very little rap and whatever else is popular for god only knows why.) Me, Marisa, and all 3 dogs in our little tiny kitchen, plus the tunes blasting at full volume could make even the hardiest of souls claustrophic, but we managed to turn it into a party. You can see a few scenes from the evening below:

Rocking out to Mika:

Smooches from Sasha, the Spaniel Ambassador:

The fastest tongue in the West! (You should have seen some of the outtakes...)

Chillin... Oh Yeah.

Just so you know, we only eat pasta that matches our outfits. It's all about accessorizing:

Hope your dinners are this much fun!

Sarah, Gene & Noe

2007-04-28T19:37:00.000-07:00

A couple months back, my Fabulous Ultra-cool hairdresser Sarah inquired how my photography was going. I told her it was great and gave her my website address so she could see for herself how things were going. A couple days later she called me and told me she thought the photos were fabulous and would I be interested in trading haircuts for a session with her family? How do I respond to a trade like that? With a resounding, "Hell, YES!" of course.

Busy schedules pushed the session date back a bit, but we finally met up in Balboa Park last weekend. Sarah's little family is so gorgeous - how could the pictures be anything but? Noe was a blast - a real fireball who refused to sit still. Oh, he's also a Jedi in training, although his favorite is Darth Vader. His parents kept telling him my big lens was Darth Vader's eye so he would look at the camera. Worked every time....

I have so many favorites from this session, but here is a glimpse:

Can you tell I loved this session? There was no way I could limit myself to posting just one or two.

If you'd like to see the rest of the set, you can go here.

The Badlands

2007-04-16T23:16:00.001-07:00

We went out to the desert last weekend. It was a spur of the moment trip - one of those long car rides you take just because you feel like driving and singing along to whatever the Ipod serves up. Mike received a new gadget for his birthday: a GPS system. It was Marisa's idea actually, to test it out. We drove out as far as we could, trying to get lost, trusting technology to find our breadcrumbs and steer us back home.

After the scenic stuff, I took advantage of my willing muse and snapped a few portraits.

{sigh} So loving my new lens.

Oh Baby!

2007-04-16T00:29:00.000-07:00

I've been shooting a lot of film lately for class. Not only does this mean that my photographic process is very different (and less prolific), I am horrible at remembering to scan the prints I do make. Thus, it seems like I have fallen off the face of earth, while in reality, I am shooting my ass off. The good news is, I am beginning to get more requests for portraits and I've got my first corporate gig coming up this week. I'm scared to death, but I'm trying not to think about it too much, beyond the necessary prep.

But back to the portraits. I did my first maternity shoot about a month ago (yes, I am way behind in posting!) and got all the proofs done in about 3 weeks (only a week later than I said I would! Also, I told her I would wait to post anything until she had a chance to look at them first - it's only fair.). Working full-time and going to school part-time tends to make my time-lines a little drawn out. (Speaking of work, my job as I know it will be ending in 2 weeks - the last Thursday of April. While I'm more than a little nervous, I should get a decent severance package that should help keep me afloat for a bit. I'm trying to hold out for something decent in the photographic field (what better time to jump the career ship but now??) but as time goes by, my field is starting to broaden a bit. As long as I don't settle back into the admin world solely for the paycheck, I'll be happy.)
I did the shoot as a bridal shower gift for my friend. Although I was only able to use one lens and limited backdrops, I think this first session went well.

So, I'm hoping with my upcoming free time, I'll be able to get more photo-time. Also? It's incentive to get my act together (business-wise) and maybe put off the inevitable return to cubicle-land.

2007-04-03T22:34:00.000-07:00

I know you don't owe me anything, Internet & Co. You probably felt abandoned, left out in the cold, neglected, and a lot like chopped liver. And I understand if you want to give me the cold treatment too. But, it's not like I did it on purpose. It's not like I didn't think of all y'all over this 2+ week hiatus. It's not like I didn't miss you or anything. It's just that everything had been all over the place lately. What with the school, and the relationship, and the work or the lack thereof due to my imminent lay-off.... So much uncertainty and not enough words to make sense of it, or even convey how I feel about it.

And so, instead of sitting on my keester, and facing it like a woman with cajones, I am going to take a road trip, and hightail it to San Francisco for the weekend.

I've never been to San Francisco. I've heard a lot about it; a lot of, "OMG! You would love it!!!! It's so YOU!!! It's HELLA YOU!!!!!" And it's been nothing short of frustrating to nod and smile and not be jealous because dammit, they didn't even send me a postcard. I've always known I would go there, I've always known I would like it.. it's north and on the western coast, right? What is there not to like? I already have memories attached to the place... letters written from hotel rooms by a high school boyfriend... the beginnings of a short story that starred yours truly packing up all my posessions and leaving for SF.... and a halfway point - a neutral ground - for a reunion in my imagination. How is it then, that I've never been there?

But, enough of the ramblings. It's not like I pictured, but I'm going and I'll be there for 3 days and 2 nights and then in Monterey for 2 days and a night.

My question is this: According to all y'all, where do I have to go? What can I absolutely not miss? Between me and Frommer's, we've come up with Chinatown and the Ferry Building. But after that, I'm kind of at a loss. And short of wandering around with my camera, which I will probably do anyway, it would be nice to have some kind of a plan. So, any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I promise to show oodles of pictures when I get home.

Speaking of pictures, since no post is complete without them, one of the highlights of last weekend was decorating easter eggs with my niece and nephew. It's something my family has been doing for years and years. My brothers don't participate so much anymore, but every year, my mom gamely pulls out her box of crafts and martha stewart magic and calls me, ensuring I will fill my daughterly duty as assistant craftician. Since we usually end up coloring about 12 eggs a piece, it was nice to have the help of the kidlets this year.

After the decorating, we all gathered around and proceeded to be awed again (and again and again... they're that age) by "Happy Feet."

I'll be checking e-mail while I'm gone, so feel free to send suggestions!

The little sister I never knew I always wanted

2007-03-15T14:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when her plans fall through or her friends are all paired off and she doesn't feel like being the third wheel, Mike's daughter hangs out with us. It's kind of a big deal since she is 17 and practically a high school senior and is waaaaay to cool to be hanging out with people who are old, like ~~Mike~~ us. So what if she's just being generous and allowing us to relive our youth for a bit and be seen in public with her? I feel so freaking cool that I find myself checking out all the hot Temecula teenage boys and wondering which one has a Mrs. Robinson complex. Anyway... Sometimes this happens because she's bored and she wants to be entertained. Being that her father and I make a heck of a lot more money than all of her pizza-parlor working friends put together, she figures that she is not only going to be entertained, but lavishly entertained. Like going to Magic Mountain during the day, getting all hopped up on sugar and caffeine and then coming home to go Midnight Bowling and finishing off the day with a soak in the jacuzzi tub while eating pizza and watching movies. And don't even mention going to breakfast the next morning.

But I have to admit that I love it when this happens. Her dad frequently asks if he has to separate the two of us because all of the estrogen-fueled giggling fits are way too much for him to handle. Put all three of us in the car and it is assured that given first crack at seating, he will opt for the back and let the two of us girls man our Ipods and sing every song word for word. She's the girl who won't take no for an answer, asking me every three minutes if I want to watch the latest Will Ferrell movie with her until I finally say yes. She's the girl who loved, LOVED staying up with the "big kids" on New Years and was delighted that you can be a grown-up and still indulge a craving for cheeseburgers and fries at 3:00 in the morning. This is the girl who would rather drive a Jeep than a sports car and when she grows up and gets her own house, she wants to rescue a dog in every color and size. And I think the main reason I've taken such a shine to her, is that this girl reminds me a lot of me. We talk quite a bit, going out to the local coffee shop to get out of the house for a bit. We talk about school and boys - the normal stuff that seems to be on every girl's mind. But we also get into the prickly subjects: how do you remain friends with someone that all your other friends hate? What do you say when they make fun of her? How will I know when I've met THE ONE? What if it happened tomorrow? Do you think I'm too young to realize it for what it would be? And sometimes, like last week, she had a lot going on in her head, but didn't want to talk. So, with her at the wheel and me as the designated DJ, the two of us went for a drive up into Wine Country. We didn't know where we were going or why we were driving aimlessly, but we didn't care. About 20 minutes in, I remembered I had the camera in the back of the car. I've been envisioning a couple different shots lately and figured if we could find the right backdrop, I could try it out. She was game and suddenly the mood changed - we had a mission.

I made her pull off the road and onto a narrow shoulder and then told her to go traipsing around in the tall grass. Nevermind the snake holes and roadside detritus that littered our every step. And don't worry if there is no trail or path - we'll make our own. Three times I made her pull over and each time she was game, up for whatever I asked her to do with minimal complaining. These are what we came up with....

You can see the rest of the set here.

Going through all these pictures made me realize how great she is. She's got her little quirks and rough spots that can sometimes drive me crazy, but we all go through times when we're oh-so-less than perfect. But I want her to know what a beautiful person she is, inside and out. That she's wise beyond her years as well as naive and overprotected. She worries so much about the world and the future and her place in them, but she's so optimistic that it's contagious. She's got a great sense of humor and a near photographic memory and an awesome smile and I just want her to know that everything will work out for her one day... just like it's supposed to. And it will be fan-fucking-tastic.

Dog Days

2007-03-03T12:28:00.000-08:00

There is this really cool empty lot at the end of my street. I think it is slated to be the grounds for a new church or something like that, but in the two years I've lived up here, nothing has happened. The lot leads to a preserve, the home of the Temecula River (I think). But anyone who grew up in Santee and knows what the area behind Big Rock Park looks like, knows what I'm talking about. (Although I've never checked for crawdads back there.) For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, it's a place where mostly teenagers go when they don't want to be caught doing something. There are some trails, a lot of brush, broken glass and grafitti. Yesterday, I found a shopping cart and a full-sized hide-a-bed, with the bed extended. Although who would even lie down on it fully clothed is beyond me.

Anyway, I took the camera out with the initial intent to photograph this really cool naked tree. Unfortunately, I'm no Ansel Adams and get bored with the run of the mill nature photography, despite all my good intentions. I quickly focused on photographing my dogs who were loving the vast expanse of uncharted territory. Although they were loathe to sit still, I got a few good ones from the afternoon. Despite the fact that I forgot to check my camera settings and shot the whole thing at 1600 ISO. Ugh. Always something like that to remind me I'm an amateur.

To see the rest of the set, go here.

Does this post really have to have a topic?

2007-03-02T11:44:00.000-08:00

Because two pints of Smithwicks and a piece of hot pizza burning my mouth tends to distract a girl from a specific theme.

I went to work today knowing that by 7:00pm, I would be presenting my first photo assignment of the year. It's just class as City College, and after all my years of public speaking, shouldn't be a big deal. But somehow it always is. As 7:00pm grew closer, everytime I thought about getting up in front of the class, the more I wanted to skip it. In the end, I made it. But the sentiment was there until about 8:30pm.

After class, I thought I knew what I wanted to do. Go home and proof pictures until midnight, like I do nearly every night. Instead, to even my surprise, I drove past my street and kept going about a mile until I got to the local pub. It's a little Irish-themed place that seems like a cross between a really hip little dive bar and a Claim Jumpers. Yeah, think chain restaurant with a band on a tiny little stage. That's about it. I probably wouldn't frequent it as much as I do, except that there really is nothing to do in Temecula and my spirit isn't broken enough to go hang out at the casinos.

So I went to the pub and ordered a beer. Smithwicks is generally pretty good and tonight did not disappoint. I had no idea there was going to be a band, but I recognized the lead singer as the one from the Disco Pimps and I knew that it wouldn't be THAT bad. (Afterwards, I decided that yes, they really were that bad. But, I laughed at the crowd while drinking beer, so it was still worth it.) Anyway, I ordered my beer, was given a raffle ticket (I still have no idea what the prize was), and settled down behind a bunch of middle-aged men who could have sworn they were at a frat reunion. At one point I pulled the waitress aside, one of my favorite waitresses - we have a rapport - and said that they were cracking me up with all of their crazy drunken dancing and brash comments. She rolled her eyes in agreement.

After the intermission, the band started really getting into it; leaving out all the disco (they are the disco pimps, remember?) and playing top 40 standards from 'jammin' Z90, three years ago. And then, the lead singer said the thing that's been sticking in my head all night. "Let me hear all the ladies in the crowd! This place is full of hot, Temecula, divorced women!"

Yes, he has a way with words. And after that, there wasn't much to do but finish my beer and head home.

Let's pretend I'm not me for awhile.

2007-02-28T22:46:00.000-08:00

I don't know about everyone else, but sometimes it is so cool not to be myself. To feel like I'm someone else with someone else's responsbilities. Or not. Sometimes, to be someone else means no responsibilities at all. Being someone else means a shy person can be the biggest, most brazen flirt around. Or the one who cares what other people think of them, can suddenly be free as a bird. Sometimes all it takes to be someone else is a new shirt or some make-up. Or a wig.

I know for me, being someone else is a freeing experience. Sometimes I end up doing things I shouldn't... things I might regret later if I were experiencing it as myself. But, isn't life all about experiencing things and gaining those memories?

To Infinity & Beyond....

2007-02-28T11:30:00.000-08:00

I was asked recently why I haven't been talking much about my personal life. I can yap for hours on end about classes I'm taking, portrait shoots, and career goals, but I have left out all the little details (as of late) that actually make up a person's life. Maybe this will shed a little light on that.

2006 was a big year in a lot of ways. It brought me the numbers 28, 5, and 2. (My age, number of classes I've completed since I went back to school, and the number of years Mike and I have been together.) It was the year I realized how much I love graphic design... and how much more I love photography. After months of mulling over career choices and the educational path one must take after deciding on one, it ultimately boiled down to money vs. love. I took a quick detour toward money, but in the end, love won out and I went with photography. After all the confusion, I knew it was the right choice when my brain was suddenly clear and my heart was happy and at peace. And because I don't want to completely give up on having a career and getting out of a dead-end corporate job I hate solely because I am in love with creating art, I decided to take things one step further and go into business for myself. These choices made in 2006 are my reality in 2007. I'm building my portfolio, beginning to take on clients, and learning the ins and outs of what it takes to be a successful artist and business owner in my classes. I have the beginnings of a promising plan for my financial future.

I was able to research all this and really focus on it because I have had such a stable home life. My boyfriend of two+ years is my champion, best friend, confidante, cheerleader, drinking buddy and lover all rolled into one. How lucky I am to have found such a person. One who can see me at my best and hold me close, proud to be with me. One who can see me at my worst and most vulnerable and hold me closer to protect me. Even writing this now makes me teary-eyed; I do know how awesome life can be because we are in this together.

But toward the end of 2006, things changed. One conversation snowballed into every aspect of my life, coloring my perspective of just about everything. Suddenly, things weren't so stable. What I had seen as domesticity, was something else entirely to my partner. Our inside jokes, our "CLP" acronym for each other no longer seemed to apply. How could we talk about forever or say anything was "for life" when we weren't sure if we would make it through another year? At first, I took it really hard. It was a blow to my self-esteem to hear doubts from someone who's opinion I so valued. Was I unwanted? Unloved? Was something about me that undesirable? And then I was confused. How can we talk like this - talk that made it sound like our whole world was being tipped on it's head - and act normal, with nothing changing in our everyday lives? When I say that conversation snowballed, it did. From that one night and every conversation after, I became a woman obsessed, going over every detail both in my head and aloud, trying to find the 'glitch in the matrix' that would make it all right again.

After a few weeks of making us both crazy, I realized there wasn't just one thing. There was no secret ingredient that would fix everything. No magic word that would give me back that same blissful ignorance that came with taking the solid foundation of my relationship for granted. I had to face that I might not ever feel that way again. While the insecurity I feel in the face of such turmoil is undesirable, maybe not being able to go back to the time where I was just floating along isn't so bad.

If it were solely up to me, my future would hold a successful photography business, a little house or loft in the city with a ton of history and character, giggling children of my own, and a devoted, adoring partner - one who will love me for me and not for the hopes that I will someday realize some 'potential.' But isn't this every girl's dream?

In the face of all this, a part of me has distanced myself from my personal life, so to speak. I've had to bring back a part of just "Deann" instead of living all the time in "DeannandMike". As a mechanism of self-preservation, I've had to. I'm sad that part of me is no longer able to say "I Love You" as easily as breathing. I'm sad that I feel I sometimes have to hide my more vulnerable parts until they are a little less raw and exposed. I'm sad that I feel like this skin of my existence is a little too confining at times, no longer able to completely enjoy what once was so easy and free. And I'm sad that my brain just won't turn off and let me feel, instead interfering with thoughts of what-if and how and why. But I also think about the apartment I want to get and the studio space I long for. I think about re-establishing my relationships with my girlfriends, craving the natural bond that comes with being women with a shared history. I am looking forward to moving closer to the city - my city - where there is life, and vibrance, and a general urban-ness that I have dearly missed. I especially look forward to reclaiming a piece of me, the one I put on hold to be with the person I love. I just hope that when I am able to get back those missing pieces, he will see me again for who I am and decide he wants to reclaim this - us - too.

So, back to why I haven't been sharing much. I guess I've been censoring myself. I've been confused as to what's been going on and what will happen in the future. Not wanting to be hurt any more than I already have, I've been writing less on what matters to me personally and more on fluff and filler. (Oh, and some pretty pictures too.) Not that everything has been that 'light', but for the most part... I figure I dwell on it enough in my brain; why have to look at it in print too? But, maybe I've been going overboard. Maybe, just maybe, it needs to get out into the open fresh air and have the world take a look.

I heart coffee

2007-02-27T23:45:00.000-08:00

Because I was such a good little Mormon girl growing up and was taught that coffee was Satan's nectar and also a gateway drug, I did not start drinking it until way into my 20's. I had tasted coffee-flavored things, like coffee ice cream. I had walked through the coffee aisle in the grocery store a million times, just because I loved the sweet smell. I used to make it for my grandfather, with a teaspoon of cafe vienna because he liked it sweet.

The first time I tried it, I had every intention of going to the Jamba Juice near my house. Instead, I guess I was feeling a little rebellious, and went into the cafe next door and entered the dark, seedy world of the coffee bean. The first time I tried it, I had something sweet - mostly chocolate with a little bit of coffee and a lot of sugar. Over time, I began to appreciate the flavors and preferred it dark and strong. Now, several years later, I take my coffee black and my espresso plain or with a little bit of hazelnut syrup.

But, it's not just about the coffee anymore. It's about comfort and warmth. It's about decadent desserts in a cup. It's about wanting to sit and read a book or visit with a friend somewhere other than home. Starbucks will do in a pinch, but I actually prefer the independent cafes and little mom & pop places. Influx, Krakatoa, and The Living Room all hold a million little memories for me. And each time I get a whiff of that steamy brewed goodness, it reminds me of those times.

In light of this love affair I have with my java, why is it that I never date men who drink the stuff?

Slow as molassssssssessssss

2007-02-26T21:52:00.000-08:00

Although I can think of several things I should've done, I did absolutely nothing this weekend. Oh sure, I staged a mini-shoot in my bedroom for 'moi', even going so far as to get dressed up for.. uh.. myself. Then I sat on the couch and watched 3 movies back to back. One chick flick and 2 animated kids films. Oy. Sunday was a little better but not much. At least I went out for some human to human contact.

Oh, I also downloaded a bunch of music, including the new Shins album. Really digging on that right now.

Normally I think I would be a little harder on myself, wasting time like I did. But I think everyone is entitled to a little (or a lot) of downtime every now and then. Right? Right?

I love a rainy night, it's such a beautiful sight, I love to feel the rain on my face...

2007-02-22T23:31:00.000-08:00

Five gold stars to whoever can tell me the title of the song. Ten if you can tell me the name of the person who sings it. Because if you're willing to admit that, you deserve a bunch of gold stars. (Obviously I can't make too much fun of you since I not only know who it is, but also every, single, word.)

I did something last night that I have never done before. I continued to do it this afternoon, as I took a quick cat-nap in my car before class.

I dreamt about photography. This is not good.

I tend to get a little obsessive about things I am really interested in. Eye on the prize and that sort of thing. Even things I'm not necessarily interested in, but maybe stressed about, tend to be constantly worried over. Somehow, though, I feel like I can count on myself to tell me when enough is enough. To give me that break from everything and finally have a moment's peace. That, my friends, is what my dreams are for. I leave all the bull-shit behind to fly or have all my teeth fall out or run forever, or suddenly find myself able to speak fluent Spanish. Because, boy, do I have some crazy dreams sometimes.

But last night, I dreamt photography. I dreamt of websites, and photo album layouts and business cards and equipment. And then I woke up and kept thinking about it. The last thing I want to do is get burned out on all this, before I even get to go anywhere with it. Maybe it's time to tone down the business side of things and just enjoy shooting again. At least until my dreams go back to their regularly scheduled programming.

It's a small world after all

2007-02-21T13:13:00.000-08:00

Now that the song is permanently seared into your brain right now, I have been reflecting on how small the internet world really is. I run into more people that I "know" on-line than in the grocery store near my house. Like today, I checked on the Tara Whitney blog (I'm waiting for her to get her photo website up - I've become a bit obsessive on everybody's unique designs for their on-line homes) and while reading the comments to her latest post, I see this girl. (Her husband is someone who I was friends with in high school.) I tend to read her blog as well. This morning, I posted a big, long, honkin' entry (with pics) and this girl left me a comment. I thought it was very cool considering I had already bookmarked her site as a photographer who's work I admired. I'm constantly running into people who visit the same blogs I do - dooce, for instance. (But she's so popular so it's not too unheard of.) This person is someone I read on a regular basis before she joined myspace (where I have a blog). I still read her posts but she now reads mine as well. And in a case where virtual reality and real reality intermingle, I heard a few days ago that this fellow, one of my photographer idols, is speaking in the Inland Empire tonight, about 30 minutes away from where I live.

It's like seeing all my friends at the virtual neighborhood 7-11.

Sunday Hijinks in Old Town, San Diego

2007-02-21T09:55:00.000-08:00

A week or so ago I had implored my friend, Devlynn, and her boyfriend, Chris, to let me use them as guinea pigs for my portfolio. Besides being able to showcase a wider range of people besides my immediate family, I want to learn how to better interface with people I am not related to. I want to be more comfortable in directing a shoot and learning how to relax people in front of a camera. I also would like to break out of traditional poses and use more non-traditional approaches to protrait photography. One of my biggest influences is "The Image is Found." They are so successful at making every session they have seem so fresh and full of new creative ideas.

Anyway, as I made my way down from Temecula to Old Town, San Diego, I started feeling a little uneasy. The sunshine filled skies of Riverside County turned ominously dark and grey the further south I drove. Couple that with pretty strong winds and a 4:00pm meet-up time and I was starting to get worried that we would have enough light and fair weather to even do this at all. Luckily, the skies held and the light was nice and diffused, if not a little grey. Devlynn & Chris were a pleasure to work with and were completely willing to try out my ideas, no matter how silly they seemed.

Thanks, guys!

To see the entire slideshow, click here!

Getting Serious

2007-02-21T09:25:00.001-08:00

This semester I am taking a class called, "Photo Operations." Essentially, it is a business class geared toward those who would like to eventually be self-employed. The nice thing about this particular class is that it talks specifically about starting your own photography business. I'm sure it's good advice for anyone wanting to strike out on their own, but I like that it deals with exactly what I am up against.

Since the class is just starting I can't tell you all the invaluable things I have learned just yet. But I can say that one of the things addressed at the very first class was, as I'm going to call it, "getting out there."

The teacher asked, assuming that we are all taking the class with hopes of starting our own phototography businesses, what we have done so far that would put us on that track. Do we have a website? Business cards? Where have we shown our work? Who have we told and how did we do it? What is our focus? What was discovered is that a lot of us love photography - no doubt about it. But we tend to take pictures of whatever interests us at the time, develop/proof them, and then put them away, never to be seen again. Prints get put into archival boxes and stored. Digital negatives get archived onto a cd and stored. How is this helping us at all?

So, my goal has been to ramp up what I have been doing. If I like a print I've done, I'm going to have it printed and put it up at home. I am going to friend's parties and lugging my camera along, posting the images on flickr and getting the word out about what I do and how I do it. I'm soliciting friends to "sit" for me, helping me build my portfolio and my confidence in exchange for some family portraits. I finally got a website up. Next up is business cards.

The focus in the class is that in 1-3 years, we should be making money at this. I'm shooting for a year. I'm already ahead of a lot of the people in my class, as far as getting this off the ground. I have a focus. I'm doing some self-promotion. And I have people interested in my service. It's a good start, if you ask me.

A few requests/solicitations have resulted in small photoshoots. As they start to trickle in, I'll showcase them on the blog. If you're interested in checking out what I do, how I do it, and what the end result may be, stay tuned.

Finding that happy place

2007-02-20T00:21:00.000-08:00

Anyone who chooses to live in one place for an extended period of time does so for a reason. They may complain to anyone who'll listen about the terrible weather, the annoying people, the suffocating, small-town atmosphere - but if it was THAT bad, you know they would've found a way out by now. I am one of those people.

I have long talked about leaving california and finding my rightful home, somewhere amongst all the greenery that makes up the Pacific Northwest. I mean, the girl from Alaska? How does she adapt to the so-cal summer heat?

I guess over the years my blood has thinned because the opportunities to leave this southern region have presented themselves time and again and I keep refusing to heed the call. Part of it is a teensy fear of change. The other part? Because there are actually places here that I like.

One of those places is Balboa Park. When I moved from La Mesa, I decided to forgo the beach as the end-all be-all ultimate new home locale and instead move to within a 30-minute walk of Balboa Park. I've spent many afternoons exploring the museums, watching the dogs in the dog park, lolling on the grass with my book, and taking pottery classes in the Spanish Village. The zoo is there, with it's niche of ferns and waterfalls that I love. The buildings are old and the festivals are fun. Why wouldn't I want to be there?

It's one of the places I really get to missing, living an hour away. Since starting a new school semester, I've found myself in close proximity again. On an evening I knew I would have some time before class, I remembered to bring my camera and tripod and spent it happily snapping photos in the park.

If you get a chance to drop in, I highly recommend it.

Monday, Monday... {la la la da da da}

2007-02-19T11:05:00.000-08:00

I got ready for work this morning in the middle of a downpour - the kind not usually seen by southern california folk who are accustomed to living in the land of never-ending sunshine. Throughout my morning routine I heard the steady drip drop of the rain outside my window (left open a sliver so I could hear and smell all the stormy goodness!) and the white noise that is the water wooshing through the gutters and into the storm drains. I love when it rains - the scent, the sound, the sense of renewal that it brings. I love it more when it rains and I get to stay home.

Today is not one of those days.

Since I stayed out late the night before (note to self: next time you are invited out on a Sunday evening, remember how much you don't like partying on a 'school night'.) I stopped at the Starbucks to get the requisite cup of help-me-through-this-hellish-too-early-monday-morning with an extra shot of espresso. As I pulled up to the window to pay for my beverage (yes, I drove through... it was raining, remember??) the window opens and my favorite barista hands me my coffee, saying, "This one's on us." Puzzled, I tried again to give her the money. She shook her head and said, "Coffee gets expensive... we're helping your budget." Who knew you could get financial advice and a latte at the same place? Besides giving me free coffee and a welcome smile, this girl is my favorite barista because she has a quick wit and remembers not only what I order, but what I say. At this point (I'm a fairly frequent customer) she remembers jokes we've made, that neither of us like too-sweet coffee, and that I'm lamenting the ages it will take to bring back the pumpkin spice latte (on hiatus until next fall). She's friendly and nice and so genuine... I look forward to seeing her in the mornings. This morning, as I drove off to sit in the rain and traffic, I reflected about this girl and how if I ever win the lottery? I would totally give her a check for a cool million. Probably put into a little Starbucks giftcard envelope and passed through the drive-through window.

It's here! It's here!!

2007-02-09T12:41:00.000-08:00

Wow... can't believe I finally got my website up! It's only taken, oh... months upon months. I've had to rely on my flickr stream to show people my style and my portfolio. I've felt so unprofessional and lacking because of it. How could I be serious about something like this, trying transition from hobbyist to professional, without web presence? I mean, I don't even patronize companies without websites!

So, it's simple. It's clean. It may still be a bit buggy... what can I say? I'm more focused on my pictures these days than learning more about html, css, and proper cross-platform standards. (Which are, seriously, a pain in the a**. Now I am more sure than ever that I'm not interested in web design. It would take lifetimes to figure all that stuff out.) But it's up for your viewing pleasure. And all my info (should you need to contact me) is all in one handy-dandy little place! Tell your friends!

deann b. photography

C'mon, tomorrow's Friday...

2007-02-09T00:09:00.000-08:00

Have a little fun!

Imagination will Solve what Intellect Cannot

2007-02-07T23:22:00.000-08:00

"Imagination will solve what intellect cannot. So those flights of fancy you take this afternoon? Well, they're more lucrative and productive than any number of errands you could run." - the horoscope for Cancer on 2/7/07, according to the Union Tribune.

Though I had planned on a turkey sandwich at Influx after dropping Mike off at the airport, the call of Krakatoa, it's 3 Fingered Jack and the tastiest red potato salad around was too tempting to resist. Why do I always make the excuse to spend a little extra time in Golden Hills? There are plenty of nice little hole-in-the-wall cafes in San Diego - why do I always make my beeline to places like Krakatoa or Influx for lunch and dinner when I am in the downtown area?

It's because, when I'm in Golden Hills, I feel like I'm returning home after an absence way too long. Despite some of the hardships surrounding my brief residency in the neighborhood, for a brief year, I felt like myself. Golden Hills is a throwback to an era somewhere in the 1920's with it's mix of ornate and stately Victorians and boxy Spanish casitas. It's coffee shops where lingering over your Iced Vietnamese and Powerbook (or newspaper for you Luddites) is overlooked, if not encouraged. It's Mexican markets that sell exotic produce, liquor stores where the proprietor calls you "Sweetie", and divey bars that don't start jumpin' until way after 10:00pm. The people here are young: DINKS, college kids, new graduates, newlyweds, and those who are struggling with the transition from carefree youth to the inevitable responsibility of family and suburbia. They are liberal, independent, artistic and think they can change the world. Thier wardrobes are thrifted, handmade, altered, and swapped. They prefer not to drive, as skateboarding, walking, and bicycling are preferred methods of transportation. They knit on the bus and buy organic foods. They are hipsters, punk rockers, rockabilly-ers... anything but mainstream. English vies with Spanish as the most predominant language spoken in the area. The girl who works at the best taco shop around smiles when you come in, affectionately calling you "Guera."

I love the diversity of Golden Hills and it's proximity to everywhere I need to go. And now that I am *officially* apartment hunting, it's not surprise that it's the first place I'm looking. (Since I've been day-dreaming all day about finding the perfect place, maybe my horoscope is onto something here....)

Lullaby...

2007-02-01T23:52:00.000-08:00

It's getting late. I have so much to do.. things that pop into my head throughout the day, waiting only until I am done with the daily grind and can head home to be on my own time. And what happens? I am right back on the computer, working on pictures. Tonight I set up a mini photo-session, inspired by some of the SP's by my flickr contacts. Not the same as theirs, but a little different... and I'm okay with that. If you guys could see some of the ways I jerry-rig to get my camera to point and focus where it's supposed to... This one is propped up on the corner of my frog tank, precariously perched on the very edge so the lens can still auto-focus. {sigh} The things we do for our art. Since I was laying on my bed in the picture, I started thinking about bed-related things to talk about. Well, besides the obvious anyway... I googled the word, "lullaby" and one of the results that came back was the song, "Lullaby" by Billy Joel.

Anyone who knows me, or at least has driven with me, knows how much I like to sing. Out loud. I was in choir in high school and really enjoyed it. I learned how to sight-read music a little bit, but other than that it was a great way to make friends with a bunch of fairly open-minded kids. A rarity in adolescence for sure. But it takes guts to get on-stage and sing a song... I think we all had more self-confidence than we were supposed to at that age. Besides the choir thing, I have been a big "Piano Man" fan since day 1. My mom had every one of his tapes and while in the car, we would listen to them instead of the radio. Since my dad was over-saturated with his music by this time, it was really the only chance she got to immerse herself in something she loved. Luckily, my brothers and I enjoyed it as well. The lyrics to nearly every one of his songs are deeply embedded in my brain and probably always will be there. Like this "Lullaby" song.

The thing is, while I sing for myself, I rarely sing to anyone else. I did it a long time ago - including this one song - but it's never really felt the same since.

Rapunzel

2007-01-31T23:09:00.000-08:00

I've often used my hair as a means of expression. Growing up, it was even used as a tool in the rebellion against the religion-based patriarchal oppression in my house. (That's what I'm calling it now, anyway. It just means my dad and I didn't get along very well.) I've chopped it off and dyed it different colors. I've changed it for shock value and as a way to cut ties with the past. It's funny that one can be so attached and detached to/from their hair at the same time.

I've recently thought about cutting it again. It's not that I don't like it long. In fact, I like it very much, thanks to this person:

sarah @ hairdrezzers on fire!

(Seriously, if you're in the market for a haircut, she's great. And if you need anything else hair-related, she can totally hook you up.)

Anyway, because of Sarah, I really like my hair long. I do. But I don't know if it's me. I read once that woman with long hair tend to hide behind it. Their personalities adapt to being the woman behind this mane of hair. I was an introvert for a long time - I have no desire to go back there. In addition to that sentiment, it would be a good time for change this summer. Along with everything else that's going on around that time, a makeover might be a part of that process.

Inclement Weather

2007-01-31T00:15:00.000-08:00

This is the color of my bedroom walls.. well, two of them anyway. I searched for months for that perfect shade of blue-green - this is called "Mermaid." It reminds me of the ocean, which in turn reminds me of pretty much everything I love.

The sun is from Chiapas, brought back by Ci who brings me some kind of souvenir wherever she may roam. "She went to some tropical island and all I got was this lousy postcard..." Just kidding. Wherever I am living at the time, I make sure to hang up some of the little trinkets she picked out for me. It never fails to make my surroundings feel a little more like home.

I went to bed last night listening to the sound of the rain... and woke up this morning to the same sound. God, it's wonderful. It's fairly rare to get any *real* rainstorms here in SoCal. Usually it's just a passing cloud who accidently sprinkles the sidewalk with a few precious drops before realizing that he's at the wrong place. I remember one time, though, I was living in La Mesa and there was this amazing electrical storm. Lightning would flash across the sky, followed by a crack of thunder that shook my window panes and thrilled me to no end. I remember climbing up onto my dresser to sit in the windowsill, staying there until the storm was over. Today's showers weren't quite as spectacular, but the sound of the water rushing through the gutters and the drip-dropping from the eaves were enough to bring a smile to my face.

My head.. it hurts

2007-01-29T20:19:00.000-08:00

If you've never before experienced a migraine, you will have no idea what this post is about. If you're one of those people who think it's psychological, please stop reading and kindly exit stage left. If you've never seen the spots in your peripheral vision, never felt that excruciating jack-hammer pounding that starts at your temples and resonates throughout your skull, never felt like your vision and your stomach must have a direct path to each other because since your vision is all wonky? so is your stomach... if you have never felt these things, you cannot empathize with me.

Around lunchtime I started seeing the tell-tale spots. I blinked a few times before realizing what was actually upon me... those first warning signs of a migraine. I quickly downed a few extra-strength Excedrin, to no avail. Once here, it's hard to fend off. I left early and headed home, yearning for a dark, silent room and cool sheets.

More ibuprofen and a couple hours later I feel better. Not 100%, but better.

Thanks for asking.

Crossing my Fingers!

2007-01-27T11:52:00.000-08:00

Possible big, big news coming soon that I really want to talk about it, but don't want to jinx. Send good vibes and good luck anyway. All I can say is that it has to do with a photography job that was pretty much written for me and if she doesn't pick me I am going to be so so majorly bummed, mostly because I am convinced that I am absolutely the best candidate possible. Also? Because if I get the job, I get to upgrade to a new camera that I never dreamed would be within my reach so soon. IhopeIhopeIhope!

And if I don't get it? Well, we're not going to go there right now...

Early Morning

2007-01-24T22:30:00.000-08:00

When I lived in San Diego, I used to wake up at 6:30, leave the house around 7:10, and most mornings, arrive at work around 7:30. I grumbled that I wasn't one of the lucky ones who could just walk or bicycle to work. Ugh - the 10 minutes of traffic on the 163N!

In the past two years I've lived in Temecula, not a day has gone by when I haven't missed that 20 minute commute. These days, getting up at 6:00, leaving by 7:00, and arriving to work at 8:00 consist of a good morning. Bad days mean I won't get to work until 9:00 or so. Ugh.

I've been inspired by some of the early morning pictures posted on Flickr. While I don't have enough time to actually post anything in the AM, when I have a few spare minutes (and am feeling inspired) I can put the early morning light to use. It give my pictures a whole different tone.

Or maybe it's just because I'm still half asleep.

Wonder Twins, Unite!

2007-01-22T23:27:00.000-08:00

Nice idea, but I just don't think the world is ready for two of me.

Catching up with the Dogcatcher

2007-01-21T18:55:00.001-08:00

I spent the evening in LA last night, hanging out with Ciara and her posse. We went to a birthday party for someone I didn't know (always fun), but I ended up having a good time because everyone was just so darn nice. After the party, we went back to her apartment and just crashed... mostly because we are old.

The next morning, we got up early(ish) and had coffee and just talked as old friends are able to do. When our rumbling tummies finally got the better of us, she took me to this amazing deli that pretty much makes the best food I have ever tasted. As we pulled into a parking space, I realized I had parked next to my hero:

I couldn't resist taking a few pictures - at one point catching the attention of one of the waitstaff, out on a break. He revealed that the car belonged to one of the cooks and that it always got attention. I don't know how many people have whipped out their cameras though.

(For those of you curious about my interest - besides the obvious - I am an avid collector of "Homies". This is a spin-off of the original Homies series called "The Dogpound."

The Rainbow Scarf Project

2007-01-19T22:47:00.000-08:00

A couple Christmas' ago, I asked for a scarf. I hate when wind or rain gets under my coat collar and runs down my neck. I get chilled and uncomfortable and I have to go around all day looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame sporting the Elvis Collar. Not my favorite look.

So I asked for the scarf thinking it would be someone's easy slam-dunk kind of Christmas present. I specified that I wanted something bold, and bright and with an assortment of stripes. What I had in mind was a rainbow scarf, but I kinda thought that was going overboard with the specs. I figured I would leave it to the gift-giver to pick one out that they really liked.

I didn't get my scarf that year. Instead I got a book on how to knit and another one on how to crochet. Maybe that was a hint to get off my butt and find my own damn scarf.

The next year I made the same request and got exactly what I had envisioned. A beautiful rainbow stripey scarf that is super soft and keeps my neck warm and chill-free. It's awesome and I wear it everywhere.

After the umpteenth time of getting ready for work in the morning, slinging my scarf around my neck and checking the mirror for one last look before I left (making sure I had no cheerios in my teeth or bats in the belfry, if you know what I mean) I admired my scarf. I thought about what an eye-catching prop it would be in a portrait. And voila! The scarf project was born. I played around with it and took a few test shots the first time around. After posting them and getting positive feedback (thanks Rick!) I decided to make it official. Here are a couple I like from tonight's session:

These are my favorites, but I have a couple more. Here's the link to the rest of the set. It'll be an on-going project, at least until the summer when it gets to hot. Feel free to check back for updates.

Picture of the day: Tiptoe

2007-01-19T12:09:00.000-08:00

Usually anything I shoot during the week is done at night. With factors like a long commute, long days at work, an upcoming busy school schedule three days a week, and an ability to stay up late over waking up early, it's nearly impossible to use natural light in any of my weekday pictures. It makes for creative lighting situations when trying to achieve my daily picture challenge. I tend to use a fast lens, a high ISO (which increases the grain, but sometimes that is okay), and turn on as many lights as possible. It also means that I shoot alot in my bathroom and dining room as they are the brightest rooms in the house. I received a very nice flash for Christmas and am learning to use that. But sometimes, when it's really late, I'd rather use the tried and true techniques over trying to experiment with something new.

I'd also like to try and work on being a little more conceptual. One of the qualities of a successful photographer is being able to see things in a way that others don't. I'm not a really conceptual person - intuitively - but I think I have just enough in me to develop it. I guess I have a few more pictures this year to try that out.

These are a few of my favorite things...

2007-01-17T23:52:00.001-08:00

As a kid, I was a complete tomboy. I refused to wear pink until I was in my mid 20's. I could hit a baseball, climb a tree, and make the 3 pointer at the buzzer about as well as any of my male peers at the time. In high school, the natural progression for my excess energy was to participate in organized sports. I made the basketball team right off the bat. I loved playing basketball and had played at the park near my house for several years. I played AYSO soccer and was really into that for a while. One sport I was not so into, but participated in anyway (mainly because of a certain boy and my parents' no-dating-until-you're-16 rule) was track and field. I mainly stuck to the track part of things. Once my coach realized I had no real talent (speed was not a part of my vocabulary) but enough conditioning to have some decent endurance, he put me on all the long-distance events. Everything from the 400 meters to the 2 mile. Blah. As a friend of mine says, "You're going running? And no one is chasing you?" In the end, I won a couple relay medals and have a lot of good memories from the whole experience. I also made a few friends through the team, one of whom gave me this necklace. It was a serious score at the thrift store and how she could part with it, I'll never know.

Winter in SoCal

2007-01-17T07:29:00.000-08:00

It's been cold! The pipes have been frozen for the last 3 mornings, so I've had to shower at night. I brush my teeth with bottled water and flush only once. I will be so glad when it starts warming up again. El Nino was nothing compared to this.

"Lucy - I'm hoooome!"

2007-01-15T22:29:00.000-08:00

My new plant - "Lucy". I have two other plants in two similar, but unmatching ceramic pots. I went to Home Depot today to pick up one more similar-yet-different white pot for this plant. Instead, I found this beautiful mermaid-green planter and I fell in love. I *heart* this color.

Drunk & Feeling Low. Maybe not the best time to post.

2007-01-14T23:45:00.000-08:00

So I'll leave you with this instead.

Sweet Tooth

2007-01-13T20:00:00.000-08:00

I usually prefer dark chocolate when jonesing for a sweet fix, but I have a soft spot for these vintage gumball machines. I've had two over the years - the first received from a sweet boyfriend who had a knack for giving the perfect gift. Unfortunately, a former alleycat I had adopted from the shelter was tearing through my tiny apartment one day and took a flying leap off the top of it. As it is not the sturdiest of objects, the machine tipped over, shattering the globe all over my kitchen floor. I was heartbroken and immediately started the search for another one. Although it wouldn't be the same, it would remind me of the sweet sentiments behind the first. Strangely enough, I was helping my ex-MIL go through her garage and I found this one in the corner. Not exactly the same, but similar enough. I was happy to get it and she was happy to gift it to someone who appreciated it. What strange things one will find in the forgotten corners of a garage.

Meet Chuck

2007-01-12T23:47:00.000-08:00

Like most girls, I *heart* shoes. Shoe shopping runs deep enough in my blood to convince me that long ago, in caveman days even, it was a survival skill. Cave-mama made sure her family was well-shod in sturdy, yet fashionable footwear, in order to flee predatory animals that would like nothing more than a cave-baby snack. Or something like that. But something I love even more than shoes (how is this possible?!) is being able to express myself through many mediums. And when I can do this through my shoes... well, does it really get any better than that?

Pre-high school, in the summer before each school year started, I picked out whatever tickled my adolescent fancy in the aisles of Payless Shoes. I remember wearing navy blue and cream saddle shoes during the fifth grade. Another year I wore rainbow striped Vans with leopard spots. Yet another year I wore plain white Keds. But when I got to high school, insecurity made me second guess my previous sneaker selections. Because anyone who was *anyone* wore Converse.

The day I picked up my own pair of Chuck Taylors, I was ecstatic. Finally, I was going to be cool and angsty and fit in with my peers. That lasted about a week until I realized that no one but me really cared what was on my feet. Soon after, my white high tops featured all sorts of personalized grafitti.

These days, the shoe is a little different. Black and low-top, they are the kitten heel to those high school shoes. But man, you gotta love them Chuck Taylors.

The best table at "Chez Deann"

2007-01-11T22:28:00.000-08:00

Mike has been working late into the evening this past week, way longer than my clock-watching little self is ever required to stay. Faced with a third evening of internet-surfing while waiting for the boy, we decided not to carpool. (Oh the money-saving perks of working at the same place!) Anyhoo, 5:30 on the dot, I was out of the office and given the choice of sitting in traffic or going to Trader Joes, I decided to do a little shopping.

One of my (many) resolutions for the year has been to cook more. To prescribe to more of a "slow food" movement and actually enjoy my food. I'm still making pretty easy entrees, the kind where I can just chop up a bunch of stuff and throw them all together, but hey! it's better than that McDonald's cheeseburger and fries I was craving earlier. (Yes, I was able to resist temptation with a Cinnamon Dolce latte - non-fat, natch! - and some roasted almonds.)

I found myself relaxing during the cooking process (or was it the wine?) and really enjoying going through the artistic, culinary motions. By the time dinner was ready, I was completely at ease in my universe.

BTW... it tasted great.

I swear I'm not a crazy cat lady

2007-01-10T23:28:00.000-08:00

... but some things just beg to be photographed.

Word of the year

2007-01-09T23:26:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about this a lot lately... what kind of year I'm going to have ... which has lead to thoughts of what kind of life I want to have. Thirty is approaching quickly and I don't want it all to pass me by. More later.

A little bit noir

2007-01-09T00:19:00.000-08:00

Feeling drowsy with a belly full of asparagus, ham and cheese sandwiches and cheap(ish) pinot noir. Almost didn't post tonight, but as I caught myself looking through the archives, I felt a bit sheepish. How can I let myself cheat only a week into this project of mine?

{sigh}

Unlike my New Year's diets, I plan to stick to this one.

Sea Critters

2007-01-07T23:01:00.000-08:00

Checked out the tidepools today at the Cove and everyone, including Mr. Anemone here, was out in full force. It reminded me of when my grade school classes used to go here on field trips. I wonder how many marine biologists those trips actually spawned.

01.06.07: "Dolores"

2007-01-06T20:15:00.000-08:00

She's a little diva of a dog.

The spiteful little girl and the quarter of destiny

2007-01-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

As a little girl, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. One of our first interactions (which my mom enjoys recounting) is when, giving me a bath as a slippery toddler, she tried to drown me. As she tried to flee the scene (she called it going home for the evening) I wailed my little heart out, wanting only to be in granny's dangerous embrace once more. As her namesake (my middle name is Bethine - pronounced "beth-eeeeeeen") and her only granddaughter, and her only daughter's only daughter, I was destined to be spoiled by this special lady.

My family moved to California when I was eight years old, in part due to Alaska's spiraling economy and in part because we would be closer to my grandma and grandpa. My parents thought it was a great idea to have ~~built-in babysitters~~ a strong support network living so close, and took advantage of it during the summers. My mom would rush us out the door and dump us, sleepy-eyed and bed-headed at my grandparents' house, where we would run around all day, hiking in the hills behind their house and drinking all of my grandpa's Dr. Peppers.

On one of these occasions, I was watching my grandma get ready for the day. She was dressed and was just putting on her jewelry when I spied a quarter in her jewelry box.

"That's a weird looking quarter, Grandma."
"It's a bicentennial quarter, sweetie. A special edition from 1976."
"Cool! Can I have it?"
"No, you'll spend it."

No? NO ? She never told me NO. It was preposterous - unheard of. Although my relationship with my grandmother is still good - we e-mail and talk on the phone quite frequently - I have never forgotten that forbidden quarter. Since that time, I have collected every bicentennial quarter I've come across and put them in a piggy bank. Only once have I spent one (laundry was really important and I felt guilty about it for days) and I've amassed more than $10 worth of these little babies. I have no idea what I'm going to do with them, but someday, I'll let her in on my little secret.

You said I was going to spend them, Grandma. Well... HA!

Home is where the Cat is

2007-01-04T09:42:00.000-08:00

When I was a brand spankin' new divorcee (or nearly there anyway), I thought I had everything I wanted. I had a cute little apartment with wood floors and a breakfast nook, I had good friends who helped me get through the end of my marriage, I had the support of my family and I had an optimistic outlook on life once again. (I also had no money and a mountain of debt, but we won't talk about that.) Late at night I would curl up in my IKEA bed and fall asleep to the Amelie DVD playing on my computer (I am in love with the accordion on that soundtrack) and think there was no way it could be any better than this.

But soon, as is wont to happen, I began to get restless. I missed my big, ole alleycat, Bachelor, whom I had adopted from the animal shelter a few years back. I missed the warm weight of a purring feline in my lap as I sat reading a book or on my feet as I drifted off to sleep. Since my apartment didn't allow dogs, I knew that was out of the question, but darn it, I really wanted a cat.I started checking around at my local animal shelters and humane societies. I scanned the websites. I had interviews with rescue groups so that I could be clear to adopt when I found a cat I really connected with. I knew I wanted a Siamese, but after months of looking at every shape and size the breed had to offer, I was getting discouraged that I wouldn't be able to find *MY* cat.

Then one day, I checked the local humane society page as usual and I found the most beautiful, graceful, alien-looking creature I had ever seen. I called to make sure he was still available and I left work, sure that someone would beat me to the punch. I walked into the facility and was directed to the cattery, and there he was, even better in real life. I played with him, connected, and talked adoption with the volunteers there. But there was a catch. I couldn't adopt this beautiful cat unless I was willing to take on his buddy as well - a pretty little tabby colorpoint that was scared of everything. I told them not to worry - my heart was already set on taking the Siamese home. Time would heal everything and I had faith the little scaredy cat would eventually come around.

Three years later, that damn tabby is still scared of everything.

Rememberies

2007-01-04T09:40:00.000-08:00

One of my resolutions for the new year was to embark on a "Picture-a-day" project. I had come across several suggestions on how to approach this: Some people took a picture of whatever interested them that day. Others took only self portraits. One person who (wo-)mans a blog I read (a beautiful and artistic soul) is starting a project with a friend where they are taking a picture of every morning for the next year. While that is admirable, I think mine would be a lot of last minute toothbrushing pictures before I fly out the door. (Hmm... that might actually be interesting... anyway..) Some people are rigging their computer cameras to take their photo everytime they log in. I think I might get tired of over-exposed pictures of my face after awhile, though. So I decided to go the least specific of all these routes. As long as I take one picture a day, I'm happy.

This is actually from day two (I'm counting my "Dusty Buddha" as 01.01.06), but as I was looking around my home, this caught my eye. It's been sitting up on my dresser for the past year or so, as it has sat up on a number of dressers in my various domiciles for a number of years. Back before all my digital endeavors, here is a roll of film I actually developed.(Don't ask how many are still sitting in boxes in the garage that will never see the light of day.) I can't remember how old we were here, maybe high school seniors - so that would put us at about 17. That is the same bedroom set I had used since my tenth birthday and it was the same set my mother used as a little girl. The walls (and ceiling) were my pride and joy - an on-going project of found words and images. There is a giant chalkboard that my dad brought home from a job site at some point. Later, he brought home a giant box of chalk of nearly every color imaginable. Besides love notes from my friends, it also held a list of every song on the radio I heard and liked enough to want to buy the cassette tape. Ciara's Superman antics? I have no idea where that came from.

We met in the summer before our junior year of high school. I had hired on as a clerk in the local pet store. My job? Cleaning the fish tanks in the hottest part of the store during a sizzling Santee summer. She waltzed in a couple weeks later, batted those eyes, flipped that hair, and manned the front register from day one. I thought she was cool, but resented the fact that the new low man on the totem pole actually sat a lot higher than myself. On her behalf, she said I was pretty, but too sarcastic for her taste. So, we basically didn't like each other. A couple weeks later, we found ourselves in the same AP English class and the rest is history, (err, English?). Although cliche, opposites do attract, as they certainly did in our case. Somehow, we found in each other the missing pieces of ourselves and that has become the glue that binds us together.

Fast forward 12 years... We live 100+ miles apart and in completely different worlds from that hodge-podge bedroom in Santee. But somehow, on New Year's Eve, we found ourselves ensconced in her new home, drinking Champagne and reminiscing about that old chalkboard

Revelations

2006-12-15T10:33:00.000-08:00

I came... I saw... I conquered Boston. It was, as I had envisioned, a spectacular time. I got in late last night and was only able to proof a few photos, but the one above is one of my favorites from the aquarium that I went to on the last day. Believe you me, there will be a photo extravaganza when I get through the rest of them. It will be as much fun as sitting through a presentation of someone's vacation slides can possibly be. (No, you can't leave yet! There's more!!)
So, I wanted to let all y'all know I was back and I had a great time. I highly recommend taking a few days off every now and then and go explore unfamiliar cities, armed only with Frommer's maps and a good pair of sneakers. And a camera, of course. But in spite of all my good tidings and cheer brought back from the East Coast, I have come back unsettled.
A couple nights ago Mike and I sat at John Brewer's Tavern ("Brewah's" to all you Boston locals out there. Oh! Did I forget to mention that Mike was in Boston for work and that was why I had the opportunity to go out there at all?) and had a late night dinner of sandwiches and beer. Our usual conversation and banter turned serious and we started talking about 'us'. I made a joke about 'sowing wild oats' and instead of coming back with a witty retort, he said that from time to time, he regretted missing out on the chance to do that between his divorce and starting his relationship with me.
What?
This new train of thought brought up a whole host of issues. That things have been different lately.. more separate. That despite all of our similarities, we may have some fundamental issues that we may not be able to overcome. I know I've reflected on thoughts of my own place, my independence, and returning to a time when I was happiest with myself and my place in the world. But I had no idea he was so... unsure about things. We've talked about buying a house together and where we would like to move. We've talked about futures. We've bought two cars and a dog together. We've shared a home for nearly two years. And all of the sudden, he's telling me he's unsure? I asked him how long he would expect me to wait for time to assuage his fears. Five years? Ten? He said it wouldn't be fair to either of us to post-pone our lives for that long.
I thought it might be the beer talking that night, so I didn't bring it up again until this morning, when on our way to work, he asked me what I was thinking. I told him I had been reflecting on our conversation the other night and felt like the rug had kind of been pulled out from under me.
"You've never had any doubts about us - about this?" he asks.
And of course I have, but I had never been faced with the reality of it all. Nor did I know he was feeling similarly. "It's not that I haven't, it's just that I didn't know YOU were feeling that way."
I told him that I no longer felt comfortable or safe in 'us.' That with this conversation, we had lost something that defined that haven of our relationship. That I can't talk about the future or entertain thoughts of house-buying, or pretend we're still a family without thinking of this rift we've created.
It's not like we've talked about breaking up or me moving out or making any drastic decisions as of yet. But I also can't make-believe everything is A-okay. I'm not the type of person who longs to be in a long-term relationship without some type of "future." It's not for everyone, but I've found that I want the kids and the commitment and the weathered house and everything that goes along with that. I've wanted it for a long time and it's taken this to realize I refuse to compromise that part of myself. I love this person and I have a deep affection for him - something I haven't felt in a long, long time. But I can't keep my life in a holding pattern because, after nearly three years, he's unsure of his future with me.
So what do I do? Do I start looking for apartments? Do I wait for him? Do I make that long-awaited break for it and move to P-Town?
Something is breaking...

This really irks me...

2006-12-07T09:59:00.000-08:00

"Just because you can conceive a child outside a one-woman, one-man marriage doesn't mean it's a good idea," Earll said. "Love can't replace a mother and a father."

- Carrie Gordon Earll, a policy analyst for the conservative Christian ministry Focus on the Family

My response to her opinion:

Why not???

Why isn't love and committment to raising a healthy, happy, confident child the most important thing? Why is it so important to make sure that a man AND a woman make up the traditional set of parents? Heck, whole societies have been based on children being raised by women, while the men's role is only to provide the means to do it. I applaud today's standards that have begun to break down this "mother is the best nurturer" stereotype, saying that it is okay to be a house-husband, while your wife goes out and makes the dough. But what makes a good parent? What is the foundation to basic parenting skills? The fact that you can provide for a child's emotional and physical needs? The fact that you are ready to be a parent and have have the desire to start a family? Or the fact that you are of the right gender?

I think Joe Solmonese, President of the Human Rights Campaign, got it right:

"Mary and Heather's decision to have a child is an example that families in America come in all different shapes and sizes," he said. "The bottom line is that a family is made up of love and commitment."

Take off the labels that society uses to define us and see all of us for what we are: PEOPLE. HUMAN BEINGS. We are all capable of incredible and amazing things, no matter who we love.

The Princess and the Bounce House

2006-11-20T13:51:00.000-08:00

The highlight of my weekend was going to my niece's 3rd birthday party.

I managed to do other things in the two days I didn't have to go into the office at an ungodly hour. I slept in until 7:30 (!), I helped put our house back into some semblance of order after last week's wood floor extravaganza, I went to IKEA and found a great desk - one that accomodates a small room AND has plenty of storage AND hides the clutter (Woohoo!), went out to dinner and splurged on steak and a passionfruit layercake - but not at the same time. I also worked my tail off sitting at the computer, proofing photos. (I had a long talk with Mike about this one and it seems I need to become a little less obsessed with this and more into, uh, daily interaction with my family, maybe?) I thought about quilting, one of my Christmas present projects, but am fully enjoying the suspense that serious procrastination gives way to (kids - DO NOT try this at home). On a rare organizational note, I also brainstormed for Christmas gift ideas and came up with some real doozies. Here is to being optimistic about non-stressful holidays!

Coming full circle after the above laundry list of weekend activities, I went to my niece's princess and Barbie-themed birthday party. When I got the invite in the mail, I think I audibly groaned. Barbie? Ugh.. Even that particular shade of pink gets on my nerves. I know I played with Barbies when I was a kid, but mine were cool. And fairly illicit, but that's another story....

So I winced at Barbie, but knew I would enjoy this most girly-girl of occasions. Mostly because I knew they were balancing out all the pink & purple with a bounce house. I actually thought that I would have a good time IN it, but once at the party, I never really made it inside. It was so much fun taking pictures of everyone having a really good time.

The best part was watching my niece. Since she was a baby, she's always been one of the most solemn kids I've ever met. It's not easy to get her to crack a smile and when you do, it's blink-and-you'll-miss-it quick. At the party she's surrounded by presents, balloons, party favors, and cupcakes. But like a moth to a bug-zapper, all she wanted to do was bounce. And bounce. And bounce. She even stopped mid-present-opening to run over to the bounce house and pull off her shoes. I loved the single-mindedness of it all.

Come to think of it, I think she's got it right. I am SO getting a bounce house for my next party.

A few more of my favorites from the afternoon:

You can see the rest of the set here.

Over the River and Through the Woods

2006-11-07T09:45:00.000-08:00

Spent a whirlwind weekend in Gresham - about 20 minutes away from Portland, Oregon. The weather was perfect at 50 degrees and steady showers. I felt rehydrated, like a frog's first dip after a long dry spell. And then I come back to hot, dry perpetual summer of SoCal. {Sigh} I'm in the wrong city. But back to Gresham...

When I go up north, I always try to take some time to walk around with my camera. I have hordes of family up there and it seems someone is always calling up to hang out or have dinner or visit. It's fun being the popular girl for a time, but it gets exhausting. Sometimes I'd rather just go for a walk or curl up with a book. Relatives don't always understand that. Anyway, I was able to escape for a bit and took a walk around my grandmother's neighborhood. It was pretty much the same as any neighborhood around here except for the rain-slicked streets and brilliant fall colors.

You can see the original set in it's entirety here. (If you're interested, some of them are better at their original size.)

Hope you're enjoying your cozy quilts, pumpkin lattes, and spiced ciders as much as I am!

Decisions, decisions, decisions

2006-09-11T12:17:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought things were going according to plan, I decide to second guess myself. You see, I really like having a plan. I like having goals and little boxes I can check off along the way that show me I am getting closer to my intended purpose. I like being able to say, "I only have 1 more year to go in The Plan and then I'll be done." When I don't have a plan, I feel like I'm just floating along. I'm picking up life experience, for sure. But a plethora of life experience does not pay the bills. Nor does it necessarily make one happy. I've done enough swimming to last a lifetime, and was barely able to keep my head above water. Yessir, I like my plans.

I also think the fact that I've had a plan or two in the past couple years is the reason I've been so happy. My life is
more organized and I feel in control of my destiny. It may not be as romantic as Fate or Kismet, but I'm ready to hand that off to someone else for awhile. My two on-going, peaceful mind-inducing goals at the moment have been (1) paying off all my outstanding debts; and (2)attending school to get that little piece of paper, also known as a degree. The bill part is coming along fine. It's the other that concerns me at the moment.

Six months ago, I decided to quit waffling between the two artistic endeavors that seemingly pulled me this way and that and make a choice as to what studies I was going to pursue. Graphic Design won out since it seemed to be the fast-track to a career. All things pointed to it being the more responsible of the two because writing and layout and computers seem to be the way to go. It was also the more versatile as I could go into print or web or whatever fell in between those two forms of media. But in the past week or two, as I've been reading Photoshop tutorials almost as quickly as I can download them, I am finding a real creative joy in what I'm doing. I'm relaxed, I'm happy and the hours fly by as I click and tone and mask and see my photos really become what I see in my mind's eye. I've found myself missing the hours in the old photo lab, anticipation building as I uncover a roll of negatives ripe with found imagery. I find, as much as I love words, I am in love with my camera and the craft of photography. And now, my formerly unsinkable plan is now the Titanic.

So, for my new plan... I don't know, yet. I'm taking two graphic design classes this semester - both of which started
only last week. I have 3 months to figure out what I want to pursue between now and the end of January, when the next semester begins. So far, I'm looking at a lighting class and maybe Large Format? or Portraiture? I don't know. It bothers me that this is all going to take me longer than I thought (what do you want to be when you grow up? A professional student.) but the decision to go back to photography is already making me get those happy butterflies.

A definite good sign.

My Malleable Mane

2006-08-10T17:33:00.000-07:00

I was recently taken to task a couple posts back when I talked about all sorts of change in my life over the last 12 years. "Not once," he said, "did you mention all your different hairstyles." Believe you me, my friends, some of them were shocking indeed.

So, in light of this terribly overlooked issue, this post is dedicated to William. Thanks for pointing this out.

I had long hair until I was 15 years old. It was my mom's pride and joy.

Even at this young age, 5 minutes post-womb, I had long hair. (And no, I am not part Eskimo.)

Here's my mom, trying to braid my hair for the day. I think I'm 3 or 4 here and it's down to my waist. She also had 2 other kids at this time, under the age of 4. Why she didn't cut it, I don't know. Masochist.

Couple more cute kid, long hair pictures. Enjoy 'em while you can.

The long hair continued into my tween years, although I started experimenting a little bit here and there.

As a child of the late eighties and early nineties, I was so excited to get my first spiral perm. Unfortunately, I seem to have burned all my big "wave-bang" pictures from the same time period.

As high school started, I stayed innocent for the first year or so. Yes, freshmen really are fresh meat. Long hair still abounds. (God, how boring was I???)

Okay, now things get interesting.

Every kid goes through a period, usually high school, where they want to set themselves apart from the rest of their peers. In the early 80's, it was safety pins and punk rock, the 70's had their "who has the biggest bells on their bell bottoms", and now there are those rebellious teenaged guys who grow their hair out long and share skinny jeans with their girlfriends. For me, it was my hair.

Why hair? Because if it turned out bad, I could always grow it back out. To me, it was a temporary way to make a statement. (Although what statement is made with pink hair, I don't know.) Others were shocked as they pictured their own perfect coiffes in funky colors or sheared off. It just wasn't important to me to keep up that appearance.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I asked my mom to make the ultimate sacrifice - cut my hair. She wouldn't do it at first. This is the woman who took care of it when I was a little kid, dragging my pigtails through the mud and the muck of the Alaskan wilderness, curled it before every school dance, combed out the tangles after my bath, and sat for hours with the hair dryer and brush to straighten it. The hardest thing for her was remembering how in the 3rd grade, our whole class got headlice from one of our classmates and instead of cutting off my locks, she sat for hours and combed it all out with one of those teeny little fine-toothed combs. (Even today, she brings that one up.) But finally, I convinced her to do it.

The before shot, for posterity. The during shot to show my anxiety (look at how my fists are balled up. I ended up plugging my ears too.).

This Final picture is to show the big Texas hair.

It took me a while to get ahold of the short hair thing. But then I was off and running!

A little bit shorter now...

My folks called me Gina Lollobrigida.

GI Jane

Geek-Chic

And then there were all the colors: Burgundy, pink, red and...

Punky Colors: Blue (and you thought mullets were never hot) and my quest to be a platinum blonde.

So there you have it. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

And for those of you who are worried you won't be able to introduce me to dear ole mom, so far my hair is dark brown and wavy, just as Allah/God/Flying Spaghetti Monster/Mother Nature intended.

Bits and bobs and summer rain

2006-08-03T10:39:00.000-07:00

I drove to work this morning with the driver's side car window rolled all the way down. Somehow, even the exhaust from my stop and go rush hour traffic tango smelled better. Wet smog smells better than dry smog? Who knew? I didn't get very wet since the rain was more "spit" than shower, but that smell puts a smile on my face every time. (The rain part, not the smog part.)

Less than 3 weeks until I take leave of sultry San Diego and hightail it up to P-town. Can't wait. Of course it's only temporary, as I have to come back home after a week and a half. But still... my cousins and I are scheming every which way how to maximize the fun in this trip. I bought my camera last year in time for that Portland vacation - I can only wonder at what difference a year will have wrought in my photographs this time around.

I'm going car shopping today. Ugh. The new car part, that's okay. But the whole haggling with car salesmen. On top of that, the car-buying process for someone with sketchy credit is even worse than the usual rigamorole. I'll have butterflies (not the good kind) in my stomach all afternoon.

I've finally decided to stop procrastinating on my website upgrade while all the cool media jobs pass me by. I finally settled on a domain name and registered it this week. Then I went into my old site and in one fell swoop, deleted every single page. I've slowly started to build it back up again - put in a few links and the bare bones of my photography gallery. It'll probably take about a month or so, but seeing it develop is so exciting.

One final note - I joined a book group. Last night was the first meeting I was able to attend and I was nervous. I kept trying to picture myself back in Schaffer's class and how much I enjoyed discussing the texts we read, but that was 10 years ago and it's not like academia has been a huge aspect of my life in the past several years. But as the discussion started, I found myself being drawn in and soon I was posing questions and trying to understand the significance of the underlying themes with the best of them. It was so refreshing, being able to sit in a coffeeshop with a group of 20/30- something like-minded people. The conversation was intelligent and the wit was sharp. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and as I drove home, I was aware of a sense of posession. This was an activity that was mine and not something I wanted to share with my partner. There are so many things we do together, but this one... this one I want to claim for my own. Is that wrong? Anyway, if anyone has any book suggestions for the next read (Thom, I'm looking at you), please let me know, as we're supposed to vote on the next one by Friday. (To give you an example of the kinds of stuff we read, the last book was Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. And if you're interested in joining, I can send details.)

Enjoy the rain!!

Map of my life

2006-08-02T11:58:00.000-07:00

Although I grew up in a fairly religious environment, none of it really seemed to stick. My brothers and parents are all firmly on the Mormon bandwagon while I do my own thing. At family gatherings, we steer clear of politics and religion lest I end up on the losing side of a "them vs. me" kind of battle. So you can imagine their reaction when, at 19 or 20, I told them I was interested in getting a tattoo someday. (I think at the time, my dad - mostly jokingly - tackled me and pinned me on the ground and threatened to take a pink pearl eraser to my skin if I got one.)

Over the years, I searched for that perfect design. I wanted it to reflect me, an experience of my life, a facet of my personality. For a long time, I wanted a sea turtle. And then a sketch from one of the Gryphon and Sabine books. For some reason, I kept putting it off - perfection is so elusive. And after years of hearing people - my peers even, say, "Can you live with that forever? Do you know what that will look like when you're 60?", I became a little intimidated. But when my life went through some serious upheaval, I really thought about the reasons I wanted one. And I decided I could answer yes. I didn't want one to keep up with a trend or because all of my friends had one. It was because I wanted to remember.

I've always had a mediocre memory. I can't remember what I did last weekend or what I had for breakfast that morning. I can't remember what type of deodorant I buy at the store, even though I've used the same brand for over 8 years. I love my camera phone because it makes it easy to bring along with me the exact picture of what I want, just so I won't second guess myself when I get there. I write and I photograph because I want to remember. So why wouldn't I want to remember those big, life-changing events in such an intimate way? I once heard someone describe their tattoos as a roadmap of their life - what they had been through and even sometimes, when they had done it. All these years later, that idealogy stuck with me.

A close friend told me about a tattoo artist she was dating and I stopped thinking/overanalyzing/being scared and I went in to check out his portfolio and see what he could do for me. I went in wanting a bird design and he worked with me and sketched out a few things before I picked out the one I liked. He reworked the sketch over the next week and when I came back in, it had gone from rough draft to final and was in full color. I loved it.

Nothing can really prepare you for an experience like this - you just have to do it. Sure there are things that hurt and can probably help you gauge what your tolerance for pain is: a piercing, a brazilian bikini wax, childbirth. But until you actually have someone put ink into your flesh with a needle, it's really hard to empathize with someone who's done it.

I went into the shop and my artist got me prepped. I was scrubbed down and shaved, like I was being taken into surgery. When I get nervous, I get quiet. I get cold and clammy and sweaty. I make sarcastic jokes, but don't smile. I was glad a friend was there - I definitely appreciated the moral support. Mike came about 1/2 of the way through. The outline was the worst. Egads. But when he started on the color, it was too light, not the vibrant, bright blue we had talked about. He switched to a better blue, but warned me it would probably need to be touched up in a few weeks. After that, there were no more problems.

Mando, My artist

The first cut - Yeow!

Halfway there!

About 3 hours after I first sat down in the chair and felt that sharp sting of the outline begin, I was done. I was pleased with the outcome. I was ready to be done. But I also realized, it was something I could do again.

I'm already working on my next design.

The beginning of the Up-side (Part 3: 9th Grade)

2006-06-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

Freshman year, 1992.

After two years of whining and complaining to my mom about how awful it was being in junior high and how snobby and mean-spirited the girls could be and two years of my mom reassuring me that in high school I would finally find people with whom I could fit in, after two years of waiting for that horrible right of passage to be over, I entered the ninth grade.

This was the year they decided to go high-tech and put digital photos on our ID’s. It made us all look like we had run around with black Sharpies in our noses right before pictures were taken.

And you know what? My mom was right. Sure, there were still those mean girls trying to rule the roost and be self-important, but for every one of them, there were 15 kids that didn’t care about them at all. I hung out with kids who went to the same church as me. I met kids in my honors classes that cared about academics as much as I did. I joined clubs and met people with similar interests. I played basketball and ran track and made friends with people who even had the same schedule as me. I finally did find a niche that I fit into and people who not only accepted me for me, but were also a lot like me.

Midway through my ninth grade year, I met Ryan. A girlfriend of mine was actually the one interested in him, so I perpetuated typical freshman behavior and ran over and let him know oh-so-subtly (like a Mack truck) that my friend liked him. It turns out, he didn’t so much care for my friend as he did talking to me. Looking back, maybe this wasn’t such a great “friend” move on my part, but I continued to talk to him and we got to know each other over the next few weeks. He was a junior to my freshman, a self-assured 16 year old to my innocent and meek 14. (Yeah, at 14, innocent still fit.) At first blush, I wasn’t so into him being that he had this long hair that had earned him the nickname, “Jesus.” But in getting to know him, it became part of who he was – the boy who would soon hold the title of “my first boyfriend”. After those first few weeks, we were inseparable.

And that’s it. To sum up, freshman year was a time for me to realize that just because you’re different (me = the poster child for different) doesn’t mean you’re going to be alone the rest of your life. Oh, and that boys, specifically one boy, really rocked.

It gets worse before it gets better (Part 2: 8th Grade)

2006-05-19T08:56:00.000-07:00

This is probably my most unfortunate school picture. As you can tell in all of my other portraits, school photo or no, I have no problem with smiling. I really like to smile. At the time, my 3 years of braces had only been over a short while and my teeth were still smooth and shiny and seemingly new. My parents and grandparents constantly harped, "Smile! We paid for those teeth! We own your mouth! You owe us a lot of smiles for years to come!" But this particular photographer decided I didn't smile enough. No, he had to try extra hard to make sure I smiled. Maybe he was new. Maybe if he knew me better, he would have known I was an affable type who aimed to please. But he had to go and crack jokes and make me laugh. One flash of the camera and it was all over - no do-overs in case I blinked or anything. That's what picture make-up day (a few weeks later) was for.

A few weeks later, right before the picture make-up day that I was determined to attend (I will smile but not laugh - they cannot make me laugh!) we got a phone call that my mom's father was dying. He had cancer, the type you get when you spend years in the Navy handling asbestos without gloves, before they knew how awful it was for a person and what exposure to it did to their body. We knew he had this cancer, but we didn't know how long it would take for it to take him away from us. The last time my mom had visited her father, he had transformed from the robust, lively person he always was to a feeble, old man who had to wear suspenders on his pants just to keep them up. When we got the phone call, we knew he didn't have much time left.

I decided to live with the bad school picture and accompany my mom and my grandmother up to see my grandfather. 3 generations of women: My maternal grandmother (whom I was named after), my mother and me. My grandmother was once married to this grandfather - they were high school sweethearts. But 3 children, an affair, and an alleged pregnant mistress (a hoax) later, the union ended in divorce. My grandparents had made an uneasy peace since then... mostly when my grandfather admitted he had made a huge mistake. My mom (a daddy's girl) had a really hard time with the split, dealing with abandonment issues. Not only did her parents divorce, but while her two older brothers remained with their father, she and her mom moved to Alaska - several states away. I had grown up separate from all of this extended family drama, but we still visited these people on family vacations. I knew my grandfather from week-long summer and winter holidays and through birthday cards in the mail, with $5 or $10 stuck inside the envelope. I wasn't particularly close to him, but I had fond memories.

It was October when we made the drive up to Portland, OR from San Diego. I remember sitting in the back seat of an 80's model Toyota Celica hatchback snuggled under a blanket, glad I didn't have to go to school for the week. I also remember having to put chains on the tires when going through the snow in the mountains, my waist-length hair dragging through the dirty brown water and slush in the gutters as I was under the car putting the chains on and later untangling them from the axle.

The week was a blur. I remember visiting with a lot of relatives as they came through the house to see my grandfather one last time. I remember quiet talks as my mom or my grandmother huddled over his skeletal form - making peace, I guess. I remember all the women relatives saying they needed a break from the stress of the situation and going to the mall for the afternoon. As we were in JCPenney or Sears or some big department store, my grandmother called home to check in and got the news that he had just died. She crumpled into my aunt's arms, my mom hugged me tightly, everybody crying. Before we left, my mom bought the two of us matching bracelets with our initials on them, tying us to each other and to that moment.

The funeral was the next day. I remember that I didn't have any black clothes, so I borrowed my an aunt's black dress and shoes. I got them muddy playing with my cousins, but no one seemed to mind. The adults talked and laughed and reminisced and as the evening wore on, I heard so many different stories of my grandfather - things I never knew.

By the end of the trip, I was so much closer to all of these people that I had previously only known from a distance. I have cousins and aunts and uncles who have all kept in touch and with whom I have grown closer over the years. I guess I have my grandfather to thank, one last time.

By the way, my mom never did order school pictures again.

Nostalgia - My school years (Part 1: 7th Grade)

2006-05-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

With my high school reunion only a couple months away and a plethora of schoolmates coming out of the woodwork, I dug through some pictures and brought a few in to share. (This was also inspired by Adam's school picture show and tell.)

Things I ~~could barely tolerate~~ remember about 7th Grade:

I schlepped computer stuff for my grandfather's computer repair business all summer to earn money for school clothes. My brothers did not work that summer AND still were outfitted with new duds by the time September rolled around.

I played basketball at the park near my grandparent’s house in my free time. I was 14 years old, a girl, and was good enough to not be picked last. Happiness is...

I got my braces off this year.

Somehow, (I say somehow because I was not one of the popular kids) I was not only nominated, but also selected as one of the princesses for the Valentine’s Dance “court”. Those popular kids recognized I didn’t belong and were as puzzled as I by the fluke that had allowed my presence. My “prince” escort refused to walk up to the front of the room with me until he came up with a Plan B – to rush me up there as fast as he could to show that he really didn’t want to be there and just wanted to get it over with.

I got good grades and was “teacher’s pet” in most of my classes. (Probably one of the reasons I was not a popular kid.) I hated when some of my fellow classmates rebelled and made our substitute teachers cry. Usually when the regular teacher came back, we were all punished.

Our school colors were yellow and black and our mascot was a… bumblebee? Hornet? Wasp? Some insect with a stinger.

My P.E. teacher had a round shape and skinny legs; she looked just like a bumblebee when dressed in our gym uniform.

I had a small group of close friends made up of both boys and girls. At the end of the year, one of those friends signed my yearbook saying, “[He] would have liked me as more than a friend if only I had bigger tits.”

We learned how to deep-fry donuts in home ec, use bandsaws in shop, and balance a checkbook in math class.

On rainy days, I painted a lot of abstract watercolors when P.E. was held inside.

I was tormented a lot by the popular girls' leader and her henchmen. Trying to fit in, I left the house in one knee-length skirt and changed into a short, tight, mini-skirt when I got to school. This queen bee and her cronies came up and surrounded me, asking why I had changed and that she thought it looked terrible. Ughh. (Self-esteem? What's that?)

My math teacher's name was Garr and he had hair like Elvis. Old Elvis.

Cat-itude

2006-04-24T10:43:00.000-07:00

As anyone who's read my blog for any length of time knows, I'm a "dog person." I've wanted a dog since I was a kid - every Christmas, every adolescent birthday wish - was for a puppy. I'm pro-pitbull (Judge the Deed, Not the Breed) and break my own heart every time I go to the pound and see all those soulful eyes pleading with me to take them home. Unfortunately, I've never been in a position to do just that very thing, what with my landlords' rules and all or, in my current situation, the resident canine demanding the place all to himself. So, I took the stereotypical single girls' route and became a crazy* cat lady.

A couple years ago, I went to the Humane Society and adopted a couple of lithe, bat-eared Siamese kitties. One of them is practically a dog, as he will fetch for hours and follows me around like a little shadow. (Of course, this will probably be the death of me as he tends to follow and lead at the same time. This attempt at anticipating my every move has resulted in more than a few trips and spills in my efforts not to squash his little body.) The other is scared of pretty much everything, including her own shadow. You look at her cross-eyed and she is running and diving under the bed, her little heart ready to bust at all the imagined attempts on her life. When you ignore her, she's alright and will try to go about her own business. She's very bonded to the other cat (the reason I adopted both of them in the first place) and when it's just the two of them, they're really sweet with each other. The only time she'll let herself relax in the vicinity of a person is when you're asleep. Then, the two cats will curl up in the crook of my knees and sleep until morning. I don't kid myself about this - I know they're only in it for the body heat.
Anyway, the only reason I bring all this up is that lately (after 2+ years!) she seems to be mellowing out a bit. Enough to let me take up-close-and-personal pictures of her that are not from under the bed, peeking from behind a closet door, or from 10 feet away. But, judging from the expression on her face, I don't think she liked it much.

(* Crazy is most likely a pre-existing condition and didn't have much to do with the cats.)

The Solution to all of your problems

2006-04-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

So, I regularly read this brilliant blog named Dooce. And by regularly, I mean everyday, sometimes refreshing 2 or 3 times a day just to see if she's posted again. Anyhoo, she has come up with what she calls "the Oh My God Our Plumbings Fucked Cookie."

But really, I think this would work in pretty much any problematic instance.

........

Let's think globally here, people. How many of these would we have to ship out for World Peace?

Zapateria!

2006-04-20T16:50:00.000-07:00

Got ready for work this morning and for once, didn't worry about my feet being cold. I for-went the socks and slipped on a pair of sandals with my jeans and peasant blouse. Slid into my car, put on my new shades and headed out to work, not sad to be up and about on this glorious spring morning. The sun is warm but the breeze is cool and it's one of those perfect days in San Diego's blink-and-you'll- miss-it springtime. Once I got to the office, my mood dampened at having to be closeted indoors and I was restless and bored until lunchtime, which I spent walking around in the plaza by my work. Lunch was a smoothie and salad paired with the warm sun on my bare arms. It even makes this sun-cynical girl smile. My favorite part of spring is getting to shed all of our winter layers. So-Cal winters are weird in that the mornings and nights are damp and cold but the days are anyone's guess. Rain, sun, wind... even the weatherman can't predict what's in store for the afternoon. So, we dress in layers to ward off the chill. Thin-skinned me tends to be too lazy to shed her sweater to acclimate during the day so I end up being overly-warm or too cold for months at a time. But now! Now everyone is all about easter egg colors and white and earth tones and bare legs and arms and shedding those layers because we don't have to worry about being too cold. Too hot, maybe. But getting nekkid is ever so much more fun than putting more clothes on.

Yesterday, with my tax return burning a hole in my pocket, I went to Target on my lunch hour to update my working-girl wardrobe. I lucked out on a pair of black, flat-front trousers, and an ocean-blue button-up blouse. But the shoes! I fell in love with a pair of shoes that teased me with 2 sizes too big and one size too small. I've been in love with these since I first saw them, but I'm the girl who thinks shoes with a nine west label are considered designer. So when I saw these at Target for a mere $23.00, I figured it was Destiny at work! Apparently, Destiny called everyone else with the same sized feet as me last week, because after trying 3 Targets (and trying to squeeze my feet into shoes a size too small) I gave up and ordered them on-line. Sometimes, you just have to take matters into your own hands.

Plans for the weekend include wine-tasting with Devlynn and her crew, picking up my camera tonight (Hoorahh!) and frantically finishing Photoshop work for both my on-line class and my in-class classes.

Meanwhile, I'll be waiting for those shoes....

A dingo ate her baby!

2006-04-07T16:02:00.000-07:00

I just left mine with a strange man who said he would give it back in two weeks.

Give or take.

What kind of mother am I?

Okay, okay. So the "baby" in question is actually my camera. I took it in, got the metering problem diagnosed and then got a quote for 200 bucks. Then they said I could get around that if my warranty wasn't expired. I took my camera and left the store, meaning to check my receipt after work, but then turned around and went back in the store and had them check it. Lucky, lucky me - can you believe we bought it 11 months ago (meaning the warranty is still good for another 30 days)? So, dropped my camera off with the promise that it will be returned to me good as new... in 2 weeks.

2 WEEKS!

I hate waiting.

The camera... she is sick

2006-04-07T15:54:00.000-07:00

Its been raining for the past two days. None of this sprinkling nonsense, but real, delicious, torrential downpours. Except for the 30-60 minutes it adds to my morning commute, I love it.

I took pictures this past weekend as I went on a neighborhood stroll. Mike and I leashed up the dog and walked over to the Home Depot a couple blocks away. The sun was out and the temperature was just right and the weather even made this grumpy girl smile. I took about 60 pictures - some of the dog, prancing in his poodle way, some of the flowers in front of the Garden Center while waiting for Mike. Some of the plum trees that dot our Temeculean sidewalks (and are as close to cherry blossoms as I get but you know what they still look like spring to me). I was really pleased with the compositions and excited to return home and start the camera downloading. Unfortunately, once home, I did not have a charged battery. So, had to wait until the next day. I started it before work and when I came home, I was eager to see the fruits of my labor. And that's when I realized my camera has a calibration issue.

I shot everything in manual mode with the white balance set to sunny. The meter was right on before I snapped each picture and I didn't foresee any problems. But when I opened the folder and looked at each one, they were all so dark... a lot of color noise, big grain {sigh}. What a bummer. I might try and salvage one or two, but after consulting the Magic 8 Ball - "Outlook is bleak."

So, the camera is sick. Taking it to the shop this weekend where it will hopefully be a quick, and easy (and cheap!) fix. Then maybe I can start taking pictures that dont go straight to my "round file".

Culinary Cultivation

2006-02-22T11:20:00.000-08:00

So I've been teaching myself how to cook. Actually, my "Sunset Quick Weekday Meals" cookbook has been teaching me how to cook, but he just sits there while I do all the work. I've always proclaimed (loudly) that I've hated cooking. I don't like to get all hot and sweaty while baking... It's like I'm trying to make SoCal hotter than it already is. I don't like having to follow all the instructions, but I don't know enough to improvise. I don't like people getting in my way when I'm attempting to do something that is clearly out of my comfort zone. Nevertheless...

I'm tired of eating Hamburger Helper and frozen dinners.

(Sorry.. got a little carried away, there.)

So, I bought my cookbook and tried my hand at creating edible art. And art it is. My first project was Turkey Enchilada Casserole. I felt a little more comfortable on the second, Shrimp Linguine, and ended up substiuting the shrimp for chicken breast. I faked it for a couple days and made a Chicken Caesar Salad and then Grilled Chicken Quesadillas with veggies. (See a pattern emerging?) But then last night? Wooowee! I made Seared Tuna Steaks with Papaya Salsa and asparagus on the side. It actually turned out okay. The asparagus were a little oversteamed, but in snooty restaurants, they make you pay extra for that. The tuna was seared well - even my non-fish eating BF said it tasted pretty good - and the salsa was sweet and spiiiiiiiiicy! The only thing I don't have down is my timing... Sunset swears this only takes 15 minutes.. an hour later I had finally gotten the table set and was able to pour myself a G&T. (A whole hour! If we had had wine in the house, I woulda been drinkin' that shit throughout this whole creative process...)

Anyway, so it's been going well. Mike (usually) does the dishes when I'm done, so that's my incentive to do the cooking, I guess. That and it feels cozy and domestic and I want to learn to cook something other than pastas and pizzas (which are super easy - noodles and any veggie you want or dough and any veggies you want). Since I'm trying to cut down on the breads, it's making me have to actually plan my meals and shop for them and... it hasn't been too bad. Partly because Mike knows to leave me alone until I say it's ready. I can crank up my music, sip my drink and saute away!

Bon apetit!

Losing Buckaroo Banzai

2006-01-19T09:42:00.000-08:00

My mom just called me with the news. I should have known something bad was on its way, since she was the bearer. FOr some reason, my mom has this uncanny knack of retaining the saddest, most ragic stories of the world and community events. Tales of bright futures cut short, horrific child abuse, and heartbreaking animal neglect are the ones she chooses to share with me. Why does she do this? To remind me of my mortality? To unburden herself by sharing her knowledge of such terrible things? Everybody knows misery loves company. It's not like she takes pleasure in telling me these things, in seeing me saddened by her words... she just does. So when she called me today with that catch in her voice, I should have known that what she was about to tell me was not going to be good.

"Aric just called me and told me Walter Ludlow was killed this morning. I think it was some kind of car wreck." Instantly my mind flashes back to this morning's traffic report.

"A sigalert is in affect on the 52 in Santee. Officers are at the scene of a fatality crash between a motorcycle and a semi." Even then, before I knew who was involved, I winced. The motorcycle guy never had a chance.

But that motorcycle guy isn't some random person in a faceless sea of the San Diego County population. He was my friend. As my mom keeps talking, I log onto the Union Trib website, still having a hard time believing that what she says is true. She must have made a mistake. People Iknow aren't the ones who are killed in traffic accidents.

The article isn't hard to find.

"A 26-year old El Cajon man dies today... Walter Scott Ludlow fell off his motorcycle and was struck... Officials don't know what caused the bike to crash..." There it is in black and white. It's so jarring to see his name next to the word death... like someone spelling your name wrong. You see it and you know it isn't right. But here it is. It can't be avoided or denied.

I get off the phone with my mom who reminds me to drive safe and that she loves me. "I love you too, Mom."

There are so many thoughts swirling around in my brain right now - it's hard to grasp even one. So many memories... so many times our paths crossed, each one making an indelible impression.

Buck was the kind of person everyone said was unique... and probably the one person of whom it was actually true. His real name was Walter, but he started going by Buck sometime in jr. high or high school to distinguish himself from his father, also a Walter. He was 1 of 5 close-knit siblings, all of them freckle-faced and impish, nearly carbon copies of each other in physical description. In his teenaged years, his divorced mother married a man who had 5 children of his own. I started referring to them as the Brady Bunch. After a period of adjustment, they referred to their combined Ludlow/Woodward family as "The Woodlows."

I was friends with Buck's older sister (by 1 year) first. She was my age and we were in the same grade at school. I met her at a summer camp hosted by our church and we became fast friends. I started hanging out at her house, during the summers and after school. You couldn't help but like Buck, right from the get-go. He was wholesome (being a Mormon kid) but was warm and friendly and funny and could always make you laugh. When swingdancing was big, he was one of the guys who would twirl me around the dance floor. He grew his curly orange hair out into a giant, Ronald McDonald-esque 'fro and then used clippers to style himself a new 'do every week, starting at the mohawk and finishing with a buzzcut. He was an artist - one of the best cartoonists I knew. His birthday was the same exact day as mine - just one year after. We used to joke that it was our destiny to get married, just so our families would be related. At one point, I started hanging out with Buck and his friends when Sharlyn wasn't around. We would pile into his Geo Metro at 3:00am and tear around our local 24-hr Wal-Mart before heading over to Dunkin' Donuts for a sugar boost. We shopped in thrift stores, trying to find the most outlandish things to wear. One of Buck's favorite outfits was a grew sweater vest and red bowtie. Another was a pair of slacks, button-up shirts and yellow power ranger suspenders. They were way too small, but that didn't matter - they were too cool to pass up. He liked to wear his get-ups to church and shock all the conservatives. He had this crazy laugh that would send everyone into giggles when they heard his "hoo-hoo-hoo-haaaaa" except for his teachers who would turn around and glare at him. This only made us laugh more. He became good friends with my brothers and the group of us would go to dances together or play capture the flag in the local park at midnight.

When he was older, he served his mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Australia, learning a new language in the process. This gave him the distinction of being of one the few pale, freckle-faced carrot-top fluent Mandarin Chinese speakers in the world, I think. When he came home, he created a life for himeself, getting a job, a car. Living near his family. Getting married and have one and then two children. One looks just like him. Today, the oldest is not quite 3 years old.

The last time I saw Buck was right after Thanksgiving at my niece's 2nd birthday party. He was there with his kids and wife. I hugged him and introduced him to Mike. I enjoyed the party, relishing the friends and family were who there, still friends after so many years. Sharlyn and I used to talk about our "rocking chair" futures... that years and years out of high school, we would be able to sit on our front porches and reminisce. It seemed like we were on our way there.

Mortality and time are funny things. I can go home and open up my yearbook and read his crazy entry, all crooked lines and funny doodles surrounding the text - his tribute to that previous high school year. But in reading, the little voice in the back of my mind will be reminding me that this person is no longer here. It's hard to picture this vibrant and colorful person without the life in him, like someone turned off this lightbulb inside of him and now all is dark and cold and... dead. What of his friends and family? His brothers and sisters and wife and children? How does Rachel tell her son that Daddy's not coming home? And how does she handle a crisis like this? One minute her husband is home getting ready for work, kissing her goodbye before he goes out the door... and the next she gets the news that she will never see him again.

How do you handle tragedy when it hits this close to home?

Hotstickysweet Summertime

2006-01-18T16:03:00.000-08:00

I love the fall season. I love the colors. I love soft, cozy sweaters. I love rain and the weather that consists of something other than harsh, glaring sunshine. I love the coffee and steaming mugs of apple cider. I love the smell and the cooler temperatures. I love that the holidays are just around the corner and family and days off from work will soon be plentiful. I love the lights and the general feeling of goodwill (as long as you are away from the mall) that the season generates. I really do love the fall.

But then the late winter months roll through and man-oh-man, am I ready for summer. Seems like other people are too. Thom's blog today talked about his plans and aspirations for the upcoming summer months. At lunch today, I was dreaming out loud, explaining to Mike what it was about summer that I was craving so much...

Beach days, where you wake up in the morning, throw on your swimsuit and shorts and have no other plans than to pack a picnic lunch and drive to the beach. Sunglasses, check. sunscreen, check. Towel, journal, reading material, pen, music, checkcheckcheckcheckcheck. The sky is a glorious, clear blue and even in La Jolla it is warm and perfect. Summer is the time of year where everyone gets as naked as possible without getting arrested. Flimsy sundresses, flip flops, short shorts and micro tank tops all reveal bare, tanned or freckled skin basking in the warm caresses of sunshine on shoulders and backs of necks. Hair is pulled up in messy knots, sea breezes help escaping tendrils fall into our faces. Laying out on the beach, baking in the summer heat, relieved only by rushing into the cool Pacific Ocean water for revival. And summer is a perfect time for lovers, flirtations, romance. Who can resist a soft kiss on the shoulder? The neck? Hotstickysweatysweet... At the end of the day, home is waiting. The coolness of the indoors and a refreshing shower help relax the tired, aching, happy muscles and rinse sea salt and sand from the body and hair. Then the after-beach margaritas and the gathering with friends for stories of the perfect wave, the perfect girl, the perfect day.

Sometimes it just doesn't get any better than that.

Living Amongst the Dead or NYC Post Number 1

2006-01-17T12:17:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I haven't talked about my New York trip until now. It's not like it hasn't affected me... I've wanted to go to the Big Apple for as long as I've been interested in the arts. I tend to associate it with the hub of American Society and Culture - there is so much diversity in the way of fashion, media, music, ethnicity and the like. I was always a little afraid of a place embodied on so many of the crime and punishment style tv shows, but I was drawn to both the light and the dark that the city represented to me.

I think my hesitance to talk about it all stems from the fact that it's ALL I talked about for awhile. After I got home, I spent 2 weeks going over and editing photos... I was kind of mentally exhausted and overwhelmed by all the New York-iness. Once I put the pictures up on-line, I put it to bed for awhile so I could actually dream/live/breathe something local for a bit.

For the first several days of the trip, I was in what New Yorkers refer to as the Southern Tier. How do I know this? Because every time I said Western or Northern New York, I was mocked and corrected with lightning speed. The Southern Tier includes Buffalo, Rochester, Batavia and Niagara Falls - all of which I either spent time in or drove through.

One of my favorite parts of these first few days was the Mount Hope cemetary in downtown Rochester. Mike's dad (after learning he had terminal cancer) requested to be buried in the old part of the cemetary. Old, like "olde." There were gravestones there dating back to the 1600 & 1700's. Frederick Douglass was buried there. I thought it was beautiful. In the new part of the cemetary, while still neat to see, things were more organized and planned. Headstones were in neat rows and in a fairly good state of repair. It was respectful and solemn and everything a good cemetary should be. The "olde" part of the cemetary was all shades of Poe and Rice and Hester Prynne. The crosses were old and ornate. Some of the engraved dates on the headstones had eroded away. There were large angels, seemingly menacing or peaceful depending on the way the light played over their carved faces. There were olde churches and icy crypts. It was one part macabre, one part poetry and all very... peaceful. Which was surprising to me given my view of the supernatural. Which is that I believe in it.

I was the kid who watched a couple of scary movies and could never shake the images of gore and violence from my brain. I didn't like Scream or any of the popular thriller-type movies because I don't like to feel like I'm going to be grabbed or stalked by every shadow. I'm the one with the over-active imagination, the one who can't keep hollywood special effects in perspective. I'm the one who slept with a nightlight until I was 12 and practically pole vaulted into my bed every night because I was sure something was going to grab my ankle. I'm the one who got kicked out of our neighborhood halloween house as a kid because I turned around and whacked the hell out of some vampire character with my pillowcase chock full of sweetarts.

I believe in all that stuff - the made-up stuff that makes you scream and the Marston House kind of creepy phenomena that can't be explained away. We are not alone.

In light of all this, I was convinced at the end of my trip to the cemetary that I could live there. I would be a groundskeeper. I would take long, solitary walks at night. I would commune with whatever wandering spirit wanted to while the time away under a full moon.

It was just that cool.

Slowly turning my brain to mush

2006-01-17T11:51:00.000-08:00

We watched last night’s Golden Globes with the kids… I don’t know why we sat in front of the idiot box all night. Marisa had it on when we got home and we just kind of got sucked into it, I guess. (I have a nasty habit of doing that. If it’s off, I’m more than happy. But I’m like a moth to a bug-zapper… I can’t help but be drawn in by the flashy lights.) As each award was presented, I would expound on all the things I knew about the presenters or award recipients from the drawer in my brain labeled,” Mindless Tabloid Gossip About Famous People.”

“She’s been married to that guy for 4 years and they have 2 kids even though they still look like teenagers themselves.”
“He cheated on her with that other actress and left her when she was 7 months pregnant with his child.”
“His previous wife died and he married her and now she’s raising his kids.”
“She just got sued by her former manager for reneging on a film about tater tots.”

Okay, so I made the last one up. But looking back on last night, I swear I could have been Steven Cocojaru giving the red carpet rundown on all the stars… except without the kidney problems and bad hair and twice the cattiness.*

Some of the awards I thought were well deserved. One of those went to Felicity Huffman for her portrayal of a transgendered person in TransAmerica. In her acceptance speech, she “salute[d] the men and women who brave ostracism and life on the margins to become who they are.” At this, Mike nudged me.

“That’s kind of how I see you.”

What? I think the comparison is a little exaggerated, being that I know nothing about the “ostracism and life on the margins” that a transgendered person goes through, but I thought about why he seems to have this opinion of me. Many times, he has told me he admires the way I live my life. He likes the fact that I don’t try and live by other people’s standards. He likes how I treat people and how they seem to gravitate toward me because I make them feel good. As I struggle through working full-time at a job I find mind-numbing, going back to school to pursue my dream career, clawing my way out of financial distress and dealing with people who try to label and categorize me, he is proud of who I am and how I deal with things. And I like who I am. I like that I’m an independent person. I like that I am at a stage in my life where I know who I am and I like myself and that assuredness makes me confident and unafraid of what life may through my way. I don’t know about braving exile and loneliness, but I guess we all face our own personal firing squads to become the person we can look at in the mirror and be satisfied with – damn what everyone else thinks.

Although hearing Mike say he’s proud of me did give me warm fuzzies.

*I swear I have a lot more important info rattling around in this head o’mine. The red-carpet half truths are a result of having unlimited internet access for 8 hours a day.

Peachy Keen

2006-01-13T09:37:00.000-08:00

When I was in second grade, my school held an elocution contest. I think my K-6 grade school made a school assignment out of it for each class, requiring every student to memorize and recite a poem, verse, monologue or whatever. I remember one of my second grade buddies recited a Shel Silverstein poem about being eaten by a boa constrictor. Her mom, ever the crafty homemaker, designed a brown sheath that my friend kept pulling up over her legs, abdomen, and finally head as she moved on to what the snake was eating next. What an over-achiever.

Once all the students had performed their piece for their classmates, the teachers picked some of the better ones (Snake-girl and I both made the cut) and a big school production was made out of it. We elocuted our little hearts out on the stage in front of parents, siblings, peers and various school administrators. What else is there to do in the winter of Alaska??

I have no idea where I got my poem, I think one of my teachers found it for me, but I always had fond memories of it. I think I was so enamored of it, maybe it triggered my life-long fascination with words. I lost the written text soon after the contest (where I received second place for the second grade) but I remembered bits and pieces of it for a long time. In one of my random internet searches the other day, I came across this site for poems about poems. And there it was:

How to Eat a Poem -

by Eve Merriam

may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.

You do not need a knife or fork or spoon
or plate or napkin or tablecloth.

For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away.

*Peach picture and more by deb.

Lost in a sea of leotards and butt-floss

2006-01-12T10:59:00.000-08:00

As part of my new year's resolution, I joined a gym. Now, there are a couple things you need to know about me (if you don't already). One, I pretty much have the same new year's rezzy's every year, one of them involving fitness and health in some way or another. It just seems that if I re-state it in different words, maybe one of these years, it will actually stick. Also, I've wanted to join a gym since last, oh, April or so. Why did I not become a card-carrying aerobics nut until now? I kept being put off by the price tag, mostly. I researched all kinds of gyms - small, large, independent, trendy, coed, women-only... pretty much, I kept coming back to 24 hour fitness. They had most of everything I wanted - location being a biggie. But also, most of my friends are members of this gym and if I ever need a kick in the pants to stay motivated, I already have a built-in buddy system. See? I am already planning out my strategies on how to sabotage my inner saboteur.

Onwards and upwards.... I went to the gym for the first time last night. I've been to gyms before. I've worked out on a semi-regular basis. I was an athlete in high school and pretty much know my way around these places and what to do to fit in and get the job done. But last night, instead of staying in my "safe place," I decided to conquer one of my fears head on. I decided to go to a "class."

The class I chose was Turbo Kickboxing. I've always wanted to take a kickboxing class, jabbing and round-housing my way to a tight butt and killer abs. However, I did not think about the fact that there may be a beginner's class I could take to ease me into this kind of thing. Having never taken any kind of aerobic's class before, I had no idea what to even expect. I just went and did and hoped for the best. Unfortunately, the "best" was pretty much everyone's worst nightmare. The only way to make it worse would be if I had shown up naked. In the future, if anyone wants some tips before taking a class like this, here is some advice:

1. Have a very sure knowledge of your left and right. When the instructor says to touch your right knee to your nose and jab with your left hand, there is no time to make the "L" signs to figure out which is which.

2. Be able to speak French or some other foreign language. I have no idea what the instructor was saying half the time, but I'm sure it was a mixture of English, French and something she just made up.

3. If you are not impossibly thin and have a perfect body, don't hang out in the front row. (Luckily, I already knew this one.)

4. If possible, do not stand in front of the glass windows that show the class off to the rest of the gym. At best, you will be branded for life as the girl with no rhythm; worst, the girl who cannot tell her left from her right.

5. And finally, if taking any kind of kickboxing class, make sure you have enough room around you so as not to kick your neighbor in the chest.

I think tonight I'll just stick to the free weights. (Especially after reading up on this site.*)

* I think I got this link from you, Nina. Thanks!

A New Approach

2006-01-04T10:05:00.000-08:00

I was reading this website the other day of this girl who is so nice and talented and sweet and pretty, you almost want to hate her, but you really just can't. And she was talking about how, in previous years, her attempts at new year resolutions failed because all of her goals involved giving something up. "I'm going to stop over-spending, stop eating fattening desserts, give up some of my free time to go to the gym, etc..." How can one really succeed at something when, from the get-go, it is viewed as punishment and sacrifice? Once the momentary motivation wears off, what is there to keep you going? It's not fun anymore.. and then you regress back to those old ways.

This all rang so true for me. It seems I can only "stay on the wagon" for a short time before I am falling off at every bump and pothole and eventually left behind for good. Maybe I am subconsciously setting myself up for failure because deprivation is never a very attractive option to me.

So in light of this, I made a few lists. Lists that made me reflect on my past year and lists that make me want to run into this new year with open arms and dive right in.

10 Things I Learned in 2005:
1. That Mike loves me.
2. How to manually take pictures on a fully-automated digital camera.
3. That New York City is not the scary place TV makes it out to be.
4. That although I miss the city like crazy, I can survive suburban life in T-mec and still be happy.
5. That art also makes me happy.
6. That professionally, graphic design is the path I want to take. For once in my life, I feel sure about "what I want to do when I grow up."
7. Although I used to think Portland or Seattle was my dream city, I could see myself as an East Coast girl someday.
8. That as much I love being back in school and feeling like I am no longer spinning my wheels, some days, ditching class is the only answer.
9. That conceptual art is tough for me, but the finished product is worth it.
10. That I no longer feel like I am searching for someone or that something is missing in my relationship. The peace I find in Mike is a new feeling for me... and I think I like it.

10 Things I am Grateful for:
1. The seemingly endless supply of encouragement, love and support I get from my partner.
2. My camera
3. A computer with the software I need to be able to work at home.
4. My nieces and nephew
5. My tenacity
6. My creativity
7. My family and the knowledge that they will always be there
8. My independence
9. My memories
10. My openness and acceptance that allows me to experience new people and things and not be closed-minded

10 Things I Intend to Create in my Life in 2006:
1. A stronger sense of financial responsibility and independence
2. Self-promotion of my design abilities
3. To take more pictures of people and apply my photographic knowledge to formal portraiture
4. To learn how to cook simple, healthful meals from scratch (and expand our current nightly menu of frozen dinners)
5. To become more of a morning person
6. To set aside time for friends, with and without Mike.
7. To complete a 5K or the Muddy Buddy Run.
8. To stretch myself conceptually in my art work
9. To assert my tastes and make my current residence more of my home.
10. To keep the sense of peace I feel in my relationship and to put the past in the past - and keep it there.

I know this has been somewhat long-winded, but it's been a long year that we've just ended and another long year is ahead of us. I feel like I've learned a lot and I've grown a lot and I'm looking forward to the experiences that will affect me this year.

Happy New Year to each of you!

Deconstruction

2005-11-14T16:57:00.000-08:00

To Be Revealed

I was reading a blog today about what the author termed "gender dysmorphic pansexual[ity]." Biologically, she was female, but she never felt female. She identified with the stereotypical male persona in many ways, but it didn't feel exactly right. She could label herself as bisexual, but hated the black and white extreme issue it made out of her feelings and preferences. She read, she did research, she reflected.... and she came up with an expression that she was comfortable with, that fit who she felt she was and always had been. Also important to her, it gave her a way to tell her friends and family how she viewed herself. It's so hard trying to dissect one's own feelings, much less try to get others to understand them. With this, she felt stronger and more honest with herself and those around her. The funny thing was that, in spite of this revelation, this "coming out," it didn't change anything. It didn't change any of her behaviors. It didn't change her relationship with her husband. People didn't get it. Why make this revelation at all? They didn't realize her proclamation was more for her than for them.

I had a conversation or two (a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away) about how there was no way anyone but you could ever know the real you. There is no other person in the world who not only went through all the same experiences you did, but also interpreted them and reacted to them in the exact same way. So many different aspects are at work as we shape our personalities: genetics, environment, learned behaviors, those around us.. even down to the music we like or the food we crave.

But if we are all so wonderfully unique from one another, why does society and the world in general try to put us all into our "proper" niches? If we are so diversified, why do there have to be names like Gay, Straight, Bi, Geek, Dork, Jock, Diva, Alpha, Submissive, Black, White, Yellow, Punk, Goth, Mod, Redneck... So many different labels in this world. How do I know if I'm being classified correctly? How does a general consensus know enough of my intimate details to tell me where I belong and what type of personality I have? I can't just stroll on over to Blogthings and take a quiz that will put me in the right category. As much as we like to identify with them and say they are "spot on", they're just for fun.

There was no one in my head the first time I kissed a girl, taking notes about how I felt about the whole thing. Hell, I didn't even know how I felt about it.

There was no one around the first time I had an alcoholic drink or smoked my first whatever to survey me afterward about what I thought.

There was no one there but me when I decided I couldn't be in my marriage any longer.

And mostly, there is no one in this world who has read all of my journal entries, past and present, to even begin to understand what I've gone through in my life to get to this point. There are a million of these experiences we all have gone through, putting a pet to sleep, having a child fall asleep in your arms, eating a favorite dish, throwing up after drinking too much, falling in love, regretting a moment, a conversation, a month... the common thread here is that we've all gone through something similar, but after that.. whoa nelly! The way I've reacted to these things, what I've taken away from them and what I've learned is so different from everybody else.

I don't know what I mean by all this... Sometimes it's so important for me to be known. To be loved for myself. To not come home at the end of the night and be completely exhausted beause I felt compelled to be "on" all night. Maybe it was just that woman's account of letting other's know of her refusing to be defined by pre-existing labels, that touched me somehow.

Alright, time to get off my soapbox. I'll save the rest of the camping stories for another day...

Regret

2005-11-10T12:32:00.000-08:00

Today I was listening to a cd, one I picked up at Starbucks called the "XM Sessions" or something like that. On it is a song by Tracy Chapman that I have heard before (the cd is on repeat) but never really paid attention to the lyrics. It was always a part of my mandatory background music. But, for whatever reason, the volume must have been jostled or something as I moved some things around on my desk, I was able to pick up on the chorus and then the rest of the words.

The song expressed a sentiment I've felt hundreds of times before when thinking about a certain person from my past...

Baby Can I Hold You –
Tracy Chapman

Sorry
Is all that you can’t say
Years gone by and still
Words don’t come easily
Like sorry like sorry

Forgive me
Is all that you can’t say
Years gone by and still
Words don’t come easily
Like forgive me forgive me

But you can say baby
Baby can I hold you tonight
Maybe if I told you the right words
At the right time you’d be mine

I love you
Is all that you can’t say
Years gone by and still
Words don’t come easily
Like I love you I love you

I've always been able to express myself better through my writing - Lord knows sometimes I don't talk so good - but when I think about this person, even my brain gets tongue-tied. It's always seemed to me that if I could just say what I needed to say, to be able to use all the perfect words, everything would be seen in a different light. Voila! We would have a breakthrough! But, for whatever reason(s) - mostly mine - it's never happened. Once I fucked it all up, there were no "do-overs".. no matter how much I regretted it.

Camptown Races

2005-11-08T14:07:00.000-08:00

Silhouetted Sunrise

Went camping this past weekend... hence all the new outdoors-y pictures.

It was fun. Headed out to Culp Valley (outside of Santa Ysabel) around 7:30 or so. Very dark. Makes it hard to see a turn-off to a campsite. Yes, indeed it does. After going 20 minutes out of our way, we finally found the road that leads into the desert - the windy road that would pummel my little Jetta on our way to our camping destiny.

When we finally got there (there being the spot that was almost level, wasn't pockmarked with small critter burrows, and was far enough away from the other campers to not hear them snoring) we unloaded the car. Since this was going to be a star-gazing trip, we didn't have much to unpack - just the stuff to make a comfy bed and a cooler with the wine and glasses (gotta have the necessities). I also had my camera and tripod, but once I got it all set up, I realized I had no idea how to program my digital camera for a 1/2 hour exposure time. Drats!

I figured I would forgo the picture thing until the following day and just enjoy my evening. We sat, sipping our wine, trying to stay warm, while pointing out different constellations and planets. Mars was bright and huge in the sky. When I see all those stars out there, away from the pollution of the ever present streetlamps that illuminate the sidewalks at night, I am amazed at how overwhelmed I become. The fact that in the scheme of things, I am a teeny, tiny speck. What a way for Mother Nature to put me back in my place.

Anyway, finally crawled into bed and was surprisingly warm. It was fairly easy to drift off to sleep, lulled by the desert sounds of birds and crickets doing their night-noise thing. A couple hours of peaceful slumber go by when suddenly I am awakened by scampering of little, but surprisingly sturdy feet, ACROSS MY FACE. I sit up with a shriek, clawing at my face and my hair, hoping that whomever it was that galloped across my personage was now gone. Egads! I don't wish that feeling on anyone.

Fortunately, I was able to get back to sleep and nothing else disturbed me for the rest of the night, with the exception of 3 small mosquitoes. But I'm counting those as minor casualties.

Next morning we got up early. I took pictures of the sunrise over the mountain and then took a hike and documented our trek through the desert flora. It was beautiful in the morning... all yellows and golds. It warmed up fast and before too long, I was ready to leave the sultry heat of the morning for cooler climates.

We stopped in Santa Ysabel and had breakfast at a local apple-themed restaurant before stopping at the Pie Shop and then heading home.

Running Wild

2005-11-02T10:04:00.000-08:00

By: Rolnitzky

I've started a running program.

No, really. You can stop laughing now.

I've been running, albeit sporadically, for a couple months now. I'd A) go for a jog, then B) do nothing for a couple weeks. C) Repeat. It was just enough to keep my body remembering how torturous running can be and how sore I get in the following two days. It would always take me a couple weeks to talk myself into doing it again. And there you have it, folks. A step by step guide to creating a vicious cycle.

I have a friend who is preparing to run the New York Marathon in the next week or two. He's been so disciplined in his running, his training, and being able to say no to more than one beer. Recently, I snagged an old copy of Runner's World magazine off his desk and proceeded to flip through it, catching an article here or a tagline there. One thing that caught my eye was an article about the rise of women marathoners. Women - Girls - my age are training for marathons after injuries, kids, or just a plain ol' change of heart. Women who have never run before are suddenly deciding that running a marathon is a goal they want to achieve. And here I am, thinking I would be satisfied with getting through a whole 5K without stopping. I found it really inspirational. (I know, quell the gag reflex.) The other thing I found noteworthy in the magazine was a small article discussing motivation. Instead of trying to get yourself excited about your run, it's easier for some people to just not allow themselves any excuses. Sometimes when you're sore or tired or just not in the general mood to get your butt in gear, it's easy to say, "I'm out of time," or "I'll workout tomorrow." Whatever. Just don't allow yourself the excuse. "I'm gonna 'git'r'done' and when I'm done it will be over and I will feel good about myself, so shut up with the whining." Yeah, I talk to myself. So shoot me.

Anyway, the last thing that has gotten me going on my kick (and yes, I believe sticking to my schedule for 1 1/2 weeks qualifies as a 'kick') is Mike's dog. Normally, we take him for a 20 minute walk around the block and as we meander, he sniffs and pees on pretty much everything in sight and when we got home, he would be just as energetic as before. The nice thing about taking him out while I'm running is that A) I feel safer - it's dark in the evenings now and B) He's too tired to jump around and get in my face when we're done. A tired dog is a happy dog.

I've only been running 2 or 3 times a week, trying to work up to 4 or 5. On the days that I don't run, I walk with a friend at work on my lunchbreak. Then there's the whole parking off-campus and walking to class because I'm too cheap to get a parking permit. That's got to count for something. And I went shopping for myself last week - granola and yogurt and raw almonds and spinach and oranges. All those things that you are supposed to eat but usually don't.

The result of all this? I feel good. I feel more energetic, more confident and more proud (prouder?) of myself. I envision a metamorphosis of sorts with the me on the inside matching the me of my outside. Who knows if my 'kick' will turn out to be habit forming... All's I know is I'm wearing heels and a pencil skirt today and I feel good.

The Old Apartment

2005-10-26T11:56:00.000-07:00

Under the Neon
More pictures by d.b. blas

I've been car-pooling with a friend of mine on Tuesdays and Thursdays- the same friend who's been renting my old apartment from me for a few months. Yesterday, he tells me, "We have to talk." Now, when someone says this to you, no good can come of it since (in my experience) this phrase is most used when your significant other wants to breakup with you. Egads!

My brain starts racing to figure out what I've done wrong. I can't think of a single time I've spoken badly about this person or crossed paths with him. I am stumped.

So, we get to the car and proceed down the freeway. The silence is deafening. Well, that or the ambient sound of the car engine is causing my hearing loss. Either way, it's uncomfortable to be sitting there, not talking. So, with my usual social grace, I abruptly tell him, "Out with it."

Seems that my friend was unexpectedly laid off. Bummer for him. In fact, lotsa bummer for him. He didn't even see it coming. In fact, he thought things were on their way to getting much, much better.

As the effects from this single event start to trickle down, he tries to give me a heads-up. To the point: he may need to be out of the apartment by December 1 (ie. not able to pay rent) unless he fins another IT job, pronto.

Now, I know I've been yammering on and on about how much I miss San Diego, how I can't wait to move back, and how much I miss my little apartment. All of this is still true. However, with my finances the way they are (on the road to recovery), I was hoping to delay this otherwise wonderful moment until June or July of 2006. That way I'd, you know, actually be able to afford it.

So, I'm wrestling with this decision. Do I move back in and live part time in SD and part time in T-mec, taking advantage of the proximity to school and such, but also living as a pauper? Or do I move out of the apartment altogether, because Mike has ties that don't allow him to take up residence in SD for another 2 years anyway?

These are the days of my life....

Been a long time, been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely time

2005-10-24T16:27:00.000-07:00

You know, the silly thing about these long absences of mine, is that I've been writing. What about, you might ask? Some personal stuff; like so personal and/or dark and/or whatever that if it came to light that I was writing about it, someone might take it the wrong way or {egads!} get hurt feelings that perhaps their privacy was just a teensy, tinsey bit too invaded. The other stuff? I guess I'm just too lazy to post it on-line. Maybe I'm not the blogging kind of girl. Maybe I'm a Luddite through and through.

But, nope, here I am. At least for today. And here's what I gots for yous guys:

The start of another glorious week. Been working on my assignment for Graphic Design class. It's been fun and has whizzed by. I'll probably redo some things as more ideas come to be - it's nice to get more creative as I warm up and keep doing logos. (That's the topic of the assignment - logos and body copy.) That's usually how my creative process goes though. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to do this assignment outside the lab at school, but I've downloaded so many fonts over the years, that my work computer is okay. (editor's note: It's good enough to give shape to my ideas, but they're not always as polished as I would like since I don't have all the correct tools. Damn adobe for making their products so expensive yet essential!)

Saw my mom for the first time since the last family birthday in August. I'm such a slacker sometimes - we only live about an hour away. But with school and everything else going on, sometimes (most of the time) Santee is the last place I want to spend my time (and gas money) driving to. Anyway, Mike went with me and we talked about how her and my dad's Hawai'i trip went. My dad had gotten 3 hours of sleep, so was napping when we went over. It was good to talk to her and fun to look at pictures of my Tongan relatives (who now reside in Hawai'i).

In another month or so (less, even!) there will be a houseful of relatives for my folks to contend with. Aaron will be home after 2 years on his mission. Jared will be accompanied by Tanya and Caitlin. Aric and Brenda will have Cole and Emma in tow. My grandmother and her husband, Hershey will be down from Portland, OR. And then there are my mom and dad, me, Mike and possibly his kids. For the first time in 4 years, all of the Barrera kids will be together. Mom is arranging for family pictures to be taken. I'll be sure to bring the digital camera and take candids like I did at Cole's Blessing. It will be weird to have everyone around again. After all the initial excitement, I am anxious to see how Aaron will re-settle into the family house and life in general - as a "civilian". I hope all will go fairly smooth for him.

I was surprised to think about my niece, Emma, the other day and realize how much I have missed her. I haven't seen her for awhile and I wonder if she'll have completely forgotten me. For while, she would come to me and hang out. It's such a rewarding feeling when you feel wanted by a child and you realize that a bond has been formed between the two of you.

Mike and I went to the Wild Animal Park yesterday before his daughter's soccer game. In the hour or so we walked around there, I took about 125 pictures. A few came out really good - a small herd of elephants, a lionness, a couple of birds grooming their feathers, and a few macro shots of some plants. I'm most excited about the elephants, though. I can't wait to go home and play, I mean edit them. (editor's note: See, I delivered! Just, not all 125.)

Anyway, that's it. I'll post the photos later, tomorrow hopefully. Maybe I'll even write again soon, okay?

Updates

2005-09-29T12:33:00.000-07:00

Remember when I used to be fun and have a life?? (A few of you would make some snarky comment that it was before I moved to T-mec, but I'm choosing to ignore the sarcasm here... You know who you are.) Anyway, all that ended about the time I started school. Sure I still go to the occasional happy hour or downtown beerfest, but more often than not, I'm saying, "No, I have class tonight." Or, "I gotta do homework." Something along those lines. When my friends used to try and pull that with me when I wanted to go out, I used to laugh it off and drag them out anyway. Here's karma coming around, I guess. The things I do in excess nowadays are: Drive, Do Homework, and Drink Coffee. (That last one is so I can keep doing the other two.)

As much as I complain though, things are going well. The classes are going well - keeping me busy - but I'm also learning new things. I'm trying to incorporate some of the stuff I'm picking up in school into my new web page (you can click on the above picture for the link). I took quite a bit of time with it and am pretty proud of the overall effect. I'm sure in a couple months I'll think it's shi-ite, but whatever. I kind of look at it as living room furniture - it always needs to be rearranged every few weeks.

Besides that, not much going on (aka. I really have no other kind of life anymore). Going to see The Corpse Bride with Mike and the kids this weekend. I've been dying to see it since last spring when I first heard another Tim Burton stop animation film was in the works. I can't believe I've had to wait 3 weeks after its release date to see it! (And yes, I really am 27 years old...)

Been taking pictures like crazy again. Anyone who wants an informal (FREE!) portrait session, feel free to look me up. I'll give you a set of prints and you'll help me get more experience. Sound fair?

Okay, tummy's rumbling - time for lunch.

Later, gators!

Here we go again...

2005-08-31T15:25:00.000-07:00

Room 165 by Todd Klassey

Okay, I know... it's been like 2 weeks. Although between you and me, I don't think anyone is standing by with bated breath, waiting for my next post.

Biggest change here to date? I'm in school again. Yep, the fall semester at City College. And, I've changed my major. When I got out of high school, I swore I was going to be a renown journalist (not famous - I want nothing to do with paparazzi) but respected in the community for being a good writer. I envisioned myself documenting a journey down the Nile River for National Geographic. Or penning an article about my trip to London and my stay at the Zetter Hotel. Or sharing all the juicy details about going backstage and having intimate conversations with that minute's hottest band a la Cameron Crowe, courtesy of Rolling Stone. Unfortunately for me, at the time I wasn't too keen on having to deal with people. Add that to the realization that it's a cutthroat world out there and jobs like that don't fall into some girl's lap right out of college... well, I decided that maybe Journalism wasn't my calling right at that moment.

So, I switched gears and decided to just get my degree in English. It was broad, general and vague enough to pretty much cover all sorts of bases. I would be qualified to be a writer if I wanted to or work in some kind of communications-type job. But then I got to thinking that English might be TOO vague and TOO general.

So, I spent some time trying to figure out what it is I really love. What I really want to do. Here I am, almost 30, and I'm thinking about what I want to be when I grow up. My thoughts kept going back to the artistic side of things. I'm always happiest when taking a picture, editing the photograph, writing a story, sculpting, painting, drawing, quilting, decopauging. Making a mosiac, a collage, a shelf, a layout. I'm happiest when I create. I'm also happiest when I get to work alone and late into the night. So, with all this in mind, I've taken my love of art and mashed it into my love of order and Voila! I'm going to major in Graphic Design. Should be a pretty good fit, right? I'll let you know when I'm burned out and still have 3 weeks to go in the semester...

A Salute to Eddie's Birthday

2005-08-15T17:29:00.000-07:00

So, I know I should post about Eddie's birthday, but I'm kinda short on time right now. And I want to do it right the first time, with pictures and all. So, here is a small taste of how the extravaganza began...

1. Drinking the Shot, 2. Umm... Is that supposed to taste good?, 3. I don't like "Red-Headed Sluts"

badge

2005-08-11T00:27:00.000-07:00

badge,
originally uploaded by Darling Clementine.

Now I'm legit with my bona fide badge. This qualifies, right?

Tales of a Suburban House-frau

2005-08-02T09:34:00.000-07:00

Vebate on Flickr

So very tired this morning.... so very tired every morning, seems like. Spent all weekend at a soccer tournament - 5 games in all on Sunday and Saturday. I know Marisa is the one (who played) who should be most tired, but she's on summer vacay and has no job. No rest for the weary, I tell ya!

Also, since I am such a night owl (hoot! hoot!) I tend to be exhausted in the mornings and then forget how tired I was by around 5:00 or so in the evening. Which means that I picked up working on my quilt project last night around 10:00, took a break and went with Mike to walk the dogs, came back to the house around 11:15 and said I had only 10 more minutes... then got caught up in it again and didn't stop until 12:30 or so. He tried to blame me for keeping him up, but I pointed out that I didn't chain him to the couch in front of the tv and force him to watch 8 Legged Freaks, now did I? What was my fault was going up to bed and then persuading him to join me in a little ill-timed hanky panky. Later, Indie apparently wanted in on the action since he decided to wait for Mike to fall asleep before tearing into the room and up onto the bed - making a slumbering Mike part of his personal Indy 500 (Indie's 500?). That or playing freeze tag by jumping up, sinking his claws into his side and then running away. Tag! You're it! Gotcha with my sharp claws! 'Round 2:00, after much cursing and threatening of bodily harm of aforementioned ill-mannered feline, I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be awoke (awoken? awaked? woke up?) by the alarm a mere 4 hours later... at least he let me sleep in.

This morning, I dragged my sleep-sodden body out of bed, got ready for work, slipping on a button-up shirt and a pair of jeans. That's office attire, right? I knitted on the way to the office while Mike navigated our way through the usual mess of traffic. We've been listening to the DaVinci Code on tape - one of Mike's coworkers let him borrow it. I was against it at first, being that the only other book on tape I slept to, I mean listened to, was when he was interested in hearing a George Washington biography. Snooooze! This one isn't so bad though. Not as good as reading the book myself, but on the upside, at least I don't get carsick.

So now I'm at work... previously mentioned button up shirt keeps popping open at the top button, making me an unwitting sexpot at the least appropriate times. Couldn't endure a 9 hour day on my dulled senses alone, so I ran out and got a supersized coffee, full of carmelly (and extra caffeineted (sp?) espresso-y) goodness. Was going to round out that breakfast of champions with something that resembled meat, cheese, egg and heart attack on a bun (can I get hash browns with that?) but was tired of driving and settled for a slice of pumpkin bread instead. Huzzah!

So, that's my morning. At least I still had a parking spot when I got back from the coffee shop. It's the little things that I look forward to in my day...

I can't cram anything else in here!

2005-08-01T16:55:00.000-07:00

I had an extremely busy weekend... I just didn't do much. That doesn't really make sense, I guess. How about, 'there wasn't much variety'? That's more like it.

Mike told me last week that M had a soccer tournament this weekend. The plus side? It was going to be held at a soccer park on Coronado. Yay! Weekend at the beach! I visualized myself getting a nice golden tan, swimming in the sparkling blue water and sipping mai tais with the jellyfish. Then reality kicks in: There were 2 games scheduled for Saturday and 1 game for sure on Sunday, with the potential for another 2. Tell me again where I signed up for this??

Usually, when I know we're going to be in San Diego, I try and catch up with my San Diego Crew. They gave me so much shit when they found out I was moving to T-Mec, mostly because I was the one who put together a lot of the happy hours and parties and the like. And I had a place downtown, within walking distance to the bars. And a great view. (Tell me again why I moved?)

Anyway, I dropped my party girl persona when I moved to the suburbs (the party-girl and I, we have occasional reunions every now and then) and became a soccer-mom, er, soccer-potential-step-mom? (I have a hard time with this, every now and then. This whole idea of inheriting kids. Not just kids, mind you, but inheriting teenagers. I missed out on all the cute baby/little kid stuff. And having never had any of my own, I treat them more as my pals and let the adult/child relationship kind of fall by the wayside.) Sorry, got side-tracked. So, since I knew we were going to be down south, I tried to be efficient and squeeeeeeeze every last drop of quality time out of this trip and make plans with a couple of friends in between games. Note to self: This strategy does not make for a relaxing weekend.

The first game we went to was early on Saturday morning. Way too early. Like, up-by-6:00-on-a-Saturday-morning too early. I was tired - I think the girls were too. We ended up losing, 2-4. Seemed like the parents were more competitive than their kids at this point. There were a few we had to tie to their chairs just so they wouldn't run out onto the field and kick for their kids.

After the game, Mike, the kid-let and I, went north to La Jolla Shores to meet up with a girlfriend of mine I had lost touch with. (Backstory: We met at girls' camp when we were 12, introduced by a mutual friend. In high school, bound by both honors classes and religious affiliation, we hung out a lot - at parties, school, etc... After we graduated, we drifted apart, but when I moved into the apartment complex she was managing, we became thick as thieves. I was out with her when she went on her first date with her future husband. I visited her in the hospital when both of her sons were born. We talked over relationship problems. We celebrated successes in our lives. We offered each other advice and a listening ear. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. Then I got divorced. And while my "X" stayed in the apartment complex, I moved out. I guess part of the divorce settlement was that he got to keep most of my friends. This friend and I made promises to keep in touch, but those fell by the wayside. Outta sight, outta mind, I guess. She was busy with kids and family while I was busy with new boyfriends and then a new life in a house an hour away. We sporadically e-mailed and then she invited me to a picnic held last Saturday.) I went early, so as the avoid the X-factor, and we took an hour or two to catch up. We have a shared history, so we had things to talk about, but it's hard to re-establish a close connection in such a short amount of time. I took some pictures of her twins - born only a few weeks ago - and we promised again to take some time and get together. Hopefully we'll follow through this time.

The rest of the weekend went something like this:

Saturday
Soccer - Win
Party @ Mike's co-worker's house
Sunday
Soccer - Win
Lunch
Soccer - (Semi-finals) Win
Breathe, Pee
Soccer - (Finals) Tie game, go into over-time with penalty kicks, head to head in penalty kicks until after 3 or 4 girls, we lose. Boo.

Got home Sunday night - walked the dog, got aloe for my sunburn (ouch!) and collapsed in a heap on my bed. Didn't move until the alarm went off too early on Monday morning.

There you have it folks! My weekend extravaganza!

Ego Boost Compliments of the DMV

2005-07-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

Don't know who out there is reading this, but there is a possibility you don't know me very well. I guess there is a chance we could know each other but just don't see each other/talk on a regular basis. Today's post is dedicated to that just that reason - that people change when you don't see them much.

I got my renewed license from the DMV today in the mail. I dread having my picture taken at the DMV - do they every turn out good? - but then I figure this picture can't POSSIBLY be worst than the last. I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the envelope and out pops my new photo ID. And it wasn't too bad. Not bad at all.

So, I got out my old ID and compared the two. I had no idea I had changed so much. No wonder the bouncers at the door made me jump through all those hoops: in addition to showing them my ID, I have been asked to smile, to show proof of other self on other forms of ID and to have my friends vouch for me. Now I see why.

Without further ado, here are my old and new DMV pics: