A Girlfriend's Guide to Urban Farming

Step #1: Decide on a whim that you have GOT to plant some veggies in your backyard.  Because life will be incomplete if you don't.  Because all of your friends are reading "Farm City" and planting gardens and getting chickens and beehives these days.  Because you live near Berkeley, CA and as such, if you don't have a garden, you are obviously giving in to The Man and God forbid you pay even a penny more to Big Ag until those assholes stop getting subsidized for feeding us rubbish. 

In my little happy home, we've decided to plant some corn (oh, the irony), zucchini, cilantro, eggplant, basil, onion, and artichoke.  And after we planted the artichoke, we realized that those suckers grow to be about 6 feet tall, so we anticipate having to kill this thing sooner rather than later before it overpowers everything else.  I've also been informed that my zucchini will take over what little space I've already given it and screw the rest of my veggies.  Let this be a lesson to you all: do your research before hitting the store, because the excitement and shoppers high will have you thinking you can fit acres of crops into your one tiny garden plot.  Sadly, that is not the case. 

Step #2: Insult your boyfriends manhood (a delicate euphemism) to such an extreme that he finally decides he's Bob Vila and builds you "that damn garden box" just to shut you up.  This is best done when you're already in Home Depot, and can subtly rag on him for looking so completely out of place in the Maniverse that is the lumber aisle.

To my credit, I started doing this unintentionally.  I grew up with a dad and uncles who could do or fix or build anything.  A porch, a house, a car, dog kennels, and yes, even a garden box.  There were always tools, oil rags, paint cans, shovels, you name it, we had it on hand.  This is what I know.  I'm comfortable in that world -- so much more comfortable there than I am around guys in three piece suits.

But Nate generally doesn't fit this profile, at least not to the eye.  He doesn't have tools, I've never seen him build something (other than a computer), and he's more academic than he is construction worker.  I love that about him, obviously, but it gave me some doubts when it came to this project.

Well, he showed me and now I doubt no more.  See?  I'm growing.  Our relationship is evolving.  We're mature adults now.

A tip from your friendly neighborhood garden box builder: Use redwood.  It is apparently the only wood in the known universe that will never, ever, ever decay. 

Step #3: Build the box, dig the earth, get the compost, and plant the food.  Fence those suckers in so your dog doesn't poop on them or dig them up, too.  Give your boyfriend a thank-you kiss, then tell him you were wrong about his carpentry skillz and that you're now thinking of hiring his manliness out for a little extra cash.  Give him another kiss when he tells you you're crazy and threatens to leave you.

Then take pictures of all your hard work so that you can brag to your friends and anyone else who will listen.

Step #4: Begin calling yourself an Urban Farmer.  Because calling yourself a gardener reminds you too much of that elderly woman from your childhood who killed your rabbit when she fed him more of her fresh cabbage than his little body could stand.  (Whyyyyy, Mrs. Kawasaki?)

Oh, was that just me?

Twiddle your thumbs for weeks while you wait to harvest.  Then invite all your friends over for a garden farm party and eat the fruits of your labor.

Bon appetit!

'Fifty Shades' of Holy $#!& (Not a Book for Prudes)

I'm trying to think of something intelligent to say about E.L. James' "Fifty Shades" trilogy.

But the simple truth is that it really just makes you think of sex ALL THE TIME.  Like, seriously.  All the time.  I think my IQ dropped for the 2 days I spent reading these books.

Some people are calling these books "mommy porn," (which is a dumb name in and of itself because, I mean, are mommies not allowed to watch regular porn?) and I get that -- it's pretty graphic stuff wrapped up in romance and dominance and submission and a hot male lead character and unconditional love and all the other stuff women generally crave in romance novels.  But there are also some funny moments in the books (I smile whenever the heroine's subconscious or inner goddess pops up, and the emails exchanged between our lovebirds kind of make your toes curl), some heartbreaking moments, and yes, some moments where I'm hiding the pages I'm reading from everyone around me because God I'd die if they knew what it said.

There are things in these books that just make you blush.  You won't be able to help it.

They're saying these books are akin to Twilight and I agree and disagree.  I agree because Fifty Shades started out as an alternate universe Twilight fanfic -- and those of us who grew up writing fanfic realize that this is the dream: to get published.  There are similarities, of course: both series are PNW-based, with a rich as sin, troubled guy and young, innocent girl.  Both are written in the first person (and the writing will not score either of these series a place in the halls of great, classic literature).  Both actually feature classic literature as a theme -- though this dies off in Fifty Shades.  And both are pretty addicting.  Like crack, according to a friend of mine who, incidentally, is a mommy.  But these books are also so much more adult than Twilight (mainly because I would seriously question anyone who let someone under 18 read them -- they are definitely rated NC-17).

I also don't want to smack our Fifty Shades heroine (ha.  hahahaha.) the way I wanted to smack Bella half the time.  So that's an improvement.

But with that all said, will I recommend these books to my mother or sisters? No.  Emphatically, no.  I'd rather poke my eyeballs out or have the ground swallow me up in embarrassment.

Would I recommend these books to someone who's looking for something deep, something well-written, something...well, quality?  Probably not. The first 20 pages or so are pretty challenging to get through, even for someone like me, who could care less about writing quality so long as I'm highly entertained.

I will, however, recommend this to my lady friends who are just looking for a lip-biting good time.

Read at your own risk.  Not for the faint of heart of prudes.


[Photo source: http://www.katybooks.com/fifty-shades-grey-series]

Remember That Time I Was on That Popular TV Show?

When we arrive at Cow Palace at 6:30am on audition day, there are already hundreds of people in line.  We're an hour earlier today than we were two days prior when we came to register, and still, there are already hundreds of people in line.  Old people who look tired as they sit on folding chairs they brought with them and listen to their children/grandchildren warm up.  Young people -- who, by the way, are missing their second day of school this week to be a part of this process -- wearing clothes that are a bit too mature for them and talking excitedly with other young school-missers.  People you wouldn't expect to be there, like the nice man in the business suit holding the briefcase (I think maybe he'll sing an opera or something) or the gentle giant, massive enough to be a linebacker for the 49ers with a voice that belongs somewhere in my memories of growing up in Polynesia.  And of course there are people who obviously belong there, if not for their "talent," than definitely for the fact that they look like something out of Alien vs. Predator.  Or a Vegas strip club.  There was one woman who wore a white feather headdress double the size of two beach balls.  We couldn't decide between calling her Chicken Girl or Effie Trinket.  Someone else, a tall, skinny gentleman with dreads, wore a bridal veil, body suit, fishnet stockings and platforms.

We were in amazing company, for sure.

I'm there, not to audition -- the thought of doing so still makes my stomach clench with nerves a little -- but to be company and support for a friend as she takes those first courageous steps towards realizing a dream.  I'm here because this is such a unique experience, a once in a lifetime opportunity.  It really is, because barring even more friends who want to audition (seems unlikely) I'm not actually sure I'll ever do this again. 

This is not for the faint of heart.

We're waiting in line for about 3 hours when a woman (I call her Adele because she has that kind of British accent) finally climbs a ladder, gets on a megaphone, and tells us we'll get inside the arena "in just a second," but first there are some things the camera crew has to film us doing because, after all, "you've got to work for that 5 million dollars, we're not just going to give it to you!"  The first thing we do is cheer and make hand motions (you know the one), then we do some silent screaming (I really can't make this craziness up), then they put on some pop music and make us get in circles and dance.  More silent screaming, more dance circles, then the producers walk through the crowd and have a few people sing for the camera, you know, What's your name, Where are you from, Sing us a little something.  Finally, they drive four black SUVs in front of the crowd, and we're told to "Pretend your favorite judges are in these cars and just GO WILD!  That's right, pretend they're in there!  Scream!  Let them know how much you love them!"

Four hours after Adele begins talking, and we're still in the hot sun, waiting to be let in the arena for auditions.  I think to myself that this is what it must be like to be a glamorous star.  Or maybe not.

When we finally do make it inside, it's a madhouse the likes of which I've only seen a few times before (once was at an NSYNC New Years Eve concert back when I was at the tender age of 17).  There are something like 5,000 people here now, and though there are roughly 30 audition booths through which potential contestants can be ushered, they've only got 8 of them (EIGHT OF THEM) open.  The judges are supposedly a mix of music industry "experts" and producers from the show.  Secretly, I suspect they answered Craigslist ads and just showed up.

It'll be another 4 and a half hours before my friend actually auditions.  We kill the time by figuring out which song she'll sing for her judge, making friends with the people sitting around us (one drove down from Washington state, another was from Florida), and staring at a girl who looked like she just climbed off the set of The X-Men.  Some jerk gets on the megaphone a few times and says jerky things I file away in my brain as the shallow crap industry people in L.A. spew on us lesser beings when they're forced to interact with us.  When she finally does audition, she's put in the line for normal people (as opposed to the line they created for the weirdos), given about 20 seconds to speak and sing, and is then moved along.

What has maybe struck me the most about this entire process (I can't seem to call it anything but a process now), is that it really is a not-so-clever creation of a false narrative that we, as TV watchers and crap consumers, will be spoon-fed once this film is edited and cut and manipulated into the newest season of this show.  What struck me next was that these people could care less about you.  You want to be a singer?  How great for you.  But will you make good TV?  This is not new, it's not surprising.  But it is a little disheartening and, for some, maybe even a little disenchanting. This is not real, this is not even remotely real. 

Am I surprised by what we experienced that day?  Not really.  It makes for a good story, right (funny how the actual truth can make for a good story)?  But it does make me a little sad.  Sad to know that we give in to this sort of thing, that we buy it, consume it, and maybe even sometimes believe them when they call it "reality TV."

As we were leaving the arena, we saw a little girl walking to the parking lot with her mother.  She couldn't have been more than 13 years old.  And she's crying.  Her mother is hugging her, trying to comfort her, and this tiny little girl is just sobbing.  She didn't get through and it just about broke my heart.  I hope someone tells her that this wasn't real, it wasn't the truth, and that there are far better ways to pursue your dreams.

A Love Affair with the PNW

My love affair with the Pacific Northwest, and Seattle in particular, is pretty easy to explain.  Seattle was the first place I moved to after leaving Hawaii.  It's where I went to college (go huskies!).  It's where I found my independence and, in a very real sense, myself.  It's where I was able to be selfish for the first time -- with my time, my dreams, my future -- and have that be perfectly okay.  It's where I fell in love.  And it's where, when I look back, I remember being really deep-down in-the-gut happy.

Sure, Seattle has its pitfalls: it really does rain for 10 straight months of the year.  I never realized how many different shades of gray there are until I lived under the clouds of this city for an extended amount of time.  There isn't as much diversity in the northwest as there is, say, in the San Francisco Bay Area -- but really, that's to be expected, isn't it?  It's cold there in the winter.  A biting, stinging cold that, coming from Hawaii, was hard to bear sometimes.  I remember thinking by the time December came around that I was just about 100% over the cold.  

But none of that really matters to me when it comes down to it.  I love this city, with its mountains and bays and bridges.  And I love who I am in this city.

So in case any of you are planning a trip up north in the near future, here are some things to do and check out:

Take a ferry to the Olympic Peninsula.  Even if you have no idea what to do once you arrive in Bremerton or Bainbridge Island (hint: drive until you get to Port Townsend or the Olympic National Forest or the coast near La Push and Cape Flattery -- all are incredibly beautiful and wild places).  The bonus here is that the ferry leaving from or arriving back to Seattle offers you the best possible views of the city you'll ever get (see the second to the last picture above).  On a clear day, you'll even be able to see the Cascades and the Olympic mountain ranges.  It's breathtaking.  If you want a longer ferry ride, head to the San Juans and Orcas Island.

Visit Kerry Park. That's where I took the first picture featured above.  It's another great view of the city (and yet another can be seen from the free observation deck of the Columbia Tower downtown or Gasworks Park near Wallingford) and the Space Needle in particular.

Go on a tasting at Theo Chocolates in Fremont.  It's chocolate.  It's delicious.  And it's in quirky Fremont.  While you're there wandering through antique malls, used bookstores, and clothing boutiques, check out the statue of Lenin (yes, that Lenin) or the famous Fremont Troll that lives under the bridge (pictured above).

Walk around the University of Washington.  Because, really, why not?  If you're there in the spring, you may even catch the cherry blossoms in full bloom.  There are some good, cheap eats along The Ave which borders campus too.

Go to Pike's Place Market because you have to.  It's a great photo opportunity, but don't buy anything there since things are way overpriced.  Make sure you ask someone to point you towards the gum wall.  I know it sounds awful, but do it anyway.  And if you're in the mood for coffee, steer clear of the first ever Starbucks -- why go there when there are Starbucks on every corner these days? -- and instead head to La Panier and order sables.  Trust me. 

Play whirlyball.  Think basketball, lacrosse and bumper cars.  Now add beer.  Oh, yeah.  When you're done, head to Dick's and get a burger.

Take a tour at Red Hook Brewery if you're into beer and laughs.  It's only a dollar and the tour guides are hilarious.  They also let you sample enough beer to make you feel just fine.  If you need to soak up some of that alcohol before getting behind the wheel, there's an restaurant on-site too.

Check out the nightlife in Ballard.  Sure, there's Belltown, Capital Hill and Pioneer Square, but since we went to Ballard on this visit, that's what I'm going to suggest.  The Matador has a pretty good happy hour.  And speaking of happy hour...if that's your thing, download The Strangers Happy Hour iPhone app before going out.  It's amazing.  Ivar's Salmon House also has a good happy hour and outdoor seating right on Lake Union.

There are obviously other typical spots to check out (the Experience Music Project, the Space Needle, Kurt Cobain's house...), but these are just a few ideas to get you started.

Seattle, I love you.

A Look Back on Intentions

I've been thinking a lot lately about how far I've come in the past year or so.  I've decided to re-start Stratejoy's Joy Juice journal prompts from the beginning and, one of the first questions I'm journaling about asks me to examine the ways in which I'm spending my time.  I already know that the answer to this question is so telling -- how we choose/agree to spend our time says so much about our intentions in our lives and our commitments.  Do we choose to work 24/7, perhaps because we intend to have a very comfortable lifestyle that requires wealth and privilege?  Do we choose to surround ourselves with the great outdoors, maybe because we intend to live as organically and in-tune with the natural world as we can?  There are so many variations of these answers, each as revealing as the next.

A year ago, I was drowning.  I was drowning in my own lack of self-worth, my need for approval, my fear of disappointing the people I cared about.  I was desperate for something, anything, that would get me out of the situation I found myself in and, though I knew it, I was too afraid to act on the fact that all I needed was some courage.  I was spending my time doing something that made a toxic mess of my days.  I was zoning out on TV whenever I could just so I could sit and stare off into space and not have to actively participate in my own life.  I was pulling away from people, going inward, and wondering how I got there in the first place.

When I go back to those first Joy Juice prompts from a year ago, my intention was clear: I intended to suffer through every hour as the responsible, stable, dutiful girlfriend/daughter/sister/employee rather than step up and take charge of my life.

This is one of the reasons I love Stratejoy so much.  Because at the near-lowest I thought I could go, this positive corner of the internet helped me to realize that I wasn't alone, that this wasn't a new feeling, that other young women were experiencing exactly what I was experiencing, and they were making changes.  I realized that it was possible to change without my family, my relationship, my reputation, the world falling apart all around me.

Fast-forward to today.  I can barely think of a single toxic thing in my life right now.  True, I don't have a job, but my days are filled with so much, and that so much is so right, that I find it hard to complain sometimes.  I've found a passion I didn't know I had, made wonderful new friends when I thought I had no idea how to even make friends, and I'm exploring creativity in ways I've always wanted to.  I'm concentrating on my health -- all aspects of it -- and I'm giving attention to Nate and the community we've built together.  What's even better is seeing how my choices have changed, how the primary questions I ask myself now when faced with difficult decisions (like whether or not to apply for a job or take an unpaid internship or invest my time and energy into something) aren't, "How will this look?  What will so-and-so think of me?" but rather, "Is this right for me?  Is this who I am or want to be?  Will this make me happy?"

My intention in this new year was to live a fearlessly authentic life, and I think I'm living up to that well so far.

But I think there's an even greater lesson I've learned from this year of change and reacquainting myself with authenticity, and that's to accept where I've been.  I was ashamed for a long time about the person I was and the choices I made in the past few years.  I thought it showed how weak or flighty or foolish or stubborn (yes, I realize flighty and stubborn are somewhat contradictory) I was.  But I'm just not sure I think that anymore.  Without those moments, those choices, would I have ever gotten to where I am now?  Would I be moving in the right direction today if I hadn't gotten so turned around back then?  Who can really say?

Isn't it just better to acknowledge -- and maybe even celebrate -- the path that lead you to where you are?  Who are we to question the universe?


[Photo source: quote from http://www.tut.com/resources/notes/]

[Girl♥Health]: It's Baaack... (Pun Totally Intended)

If you've been reading my G♥H posts for a while now, you may remember that I've been experiencing some back issues in the past few months.  Truth be told, I'm currently going through my third episode of crazy back pain in the past year.  If I had to describe it, I would say that it feels like a thick band of tension across my lower back, with most of the pain focused on my lower left side, right at my hips.  When I move my legs in certain directions, I'm rewarded with acute pain near my spine.  I can't rotate at the hips or bend toward my left, nor can I straighten my posture -- I'm sort of stuck in a hobbled over position leaning towards the right.  The only time I'm comfortable is when I'm laying down with an ice pack.

I was finally able to see a chiropractor yesterday to get some x-rays and an evaluation.  After talking to me for a few minutes, Dr. Eric thought this seemed like a classic case he's seen many times: I've essentially locked my ilium (hip bones) into a misaligned position to my sacrum (fused lower back vertebra).  This in turn causes inflammation at those joints and, in order to protect itself, my body has me favoring one side (the right) so as to keep weight off the focus of my pain (my left hip joint). 

Then I went in today to go over my x-rays and the story got a little more complicated.  Hey, I'm a complicated girl.

Apparently, on top of this misalignment, I also have a spine anomaly called a lumbosacral transitional vertebra (LSTV).  What this means is that the last vertebra of my spine can't decide whether it wants to be a vertebra or part of the sacrum. Being so indecisive, it has an "accessory articulation," which is a fancy way of saying it looks like a vertebra that's grown wings which sort of mimic the look of the sacrum.  "But don't those wings mean you have extra bones along your spine?" you ask?  Why yes, yes it does.  And these extra bones taking up all that extra space makes it impossible for me to bend or rotate like a normal human being. When I try to, stuff like this happens.

So, in summary, I'm currently suffering from a spinal subluxation (misaligned, pinched nerves) -- probably a result of me not knowing I had an LSTV and trying to do things my spine is unable to do -- which has caused painful, limited range of motion, joint problems, nerve problems, acute muscle spasms, pain at the sight of the subluxation and pain radiating from the sight of subluxation.  Because of all this, I am also in phase 1 of spinal decay, where I'm experiencing a loss of spinal curve,  narrowing of disc spacing (that plastic-y sort of substance between the vertebrae) and impaired turning and bending.

Dr. Eric suggested a treatment plan for me that requires regular chiropractic adjustments, but that's something I'll have to think about.  Being without a job also means I'm currently without health insurance and, in this country, getting back to healthy is not cheap.

Until I do get this straightened out (Hah!  See what I did there?), exercising is definitely on a back burner.  Whatever I decide, I'll post an update here.

Once Upon a Rainy Weekend

Every couple of weekends, Nate and I (and, okay, mostly just me) will get an itch to leave the city.  Maybe it comes from growing up in the country, maybe it's just human nature, but I'll start feeling claustrophobic, closed in, a little on-edge around all the buildings and people and noise and crowds, and I'll know that it's time to get out.  These trips aren't usually a huge deal -- they can be a short drive to a trailhead, or a day trip to Yosemite -- but they go a long way towards restoring balance in my little world.

So, given the craziness of the past month or so and the excitement of Friday night, Nate suggested that we go on a daytime date this past Saturday to Tomales Bay for a nice drive and some fresh oysters.  I said, "Where do I sign up?"  Unfortunately, the weather had other plans for us and, after waking up to the torrential downpour that ended up drenching these parts of Northern California the entire day, we decided to postpone the oysters for another day.  Instead, we pointed the car towards the coast and just drove.

In the end, plan B for our daytime date turned out to be just what we needed.  Because of the weather, there weren't too many people out and about in Point Reyes, so that's where we ended up.  As odd as it sounds, I love beaches in bad weather -- everything becomes so moody and tempestuous and a little romantic too.  Makes you want to curl up with some hot chocolate and spin stories, doesn't it?

We topped the day off with a late lunch at Sol Food, a Puerto Rican restaurant in San Rafael.  The food is really good -- Nate's a huge fan of the habichuelas rosadas (pink beans with Spanish olives) and I had the bistec encebollado (steak with sliced onions) -- but the restaurant itself can be super busy pretty much all of the time.  Still worth it though.

We hung around our neighborhood on Saturday night, caught up with some friends, had some pho, and I finished watching the second season of Downton Abbey at 1 a.m. (I've been using Downton Abbey to keep my mind from obsessing over The Hunger Games, and that would have worked out great if I didn't end up obsessing over Downton Abbey too).

On Sunday morning, as a nice way to end the weekend, we headed to East Ocean Restaurant in Alameda for some dim sum.  Being half Chinese, Nate's fairly picky about his dim sum, and this was the first time we were trying this restaurant.  It definitely did not disappoint.  Friendly staff, huge variety, and the desserts were especially yummy.

Unfortunately, I spent the rest of the day in pain bed dealing with some reoccurring back issues.  I'm seeing the chiropractor later this morning to get a massage, some x-rays and a chiropractic evaluation, so hopefully we can get to the bottom of what's going on because this is just not okay.

I hope you all had a great weekend too!

It's Friday, and May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor

Guess who's seeing The Hunger Games tonight!  THIS GIRL.  

So, a couple of confessions before the curtains go up: 

1. I have been really strangely resistant to reading these books.  I bought the first book about 6 months ago when my book club read it and, for some reason, I couldn't finish it.  I stopped right as Katniss runs out of the Cornucopia at the start of The Games and just couldn't muster the desire to pick it back up again.  Then I tried listening to it on audiobook during my workouts and while on the road trip with my sister, but on audiobook this thing takes like, 11 days to finish or something.  Didn't happen.  But then my friends decided that they were going to see the movie on opening night, and I really wanted to go because the trailers look great, so I pulled the book out on Tuesday night and finished it on Wednesday.  At 3 a.m.  And now I'm wondering what the heck was wrong with me all these months.
2. Are we doing teams for this series as well?  Because if so: Team Peeta.  Everyone else can suck it.
3. Finally, I'm obsessed: The soundtrack for this movie is SO GOOD.  They've completely got the tone of the book down in terms of music.  Folksy, country, sad, intense.  I'm in heaven.

Knowing my personality, I'll be completely destroyed at the end of the movie and will be able to think of little else until I finish the next two books.  It's a cross I bear, getting too emotionally involved with fictional characters.  

Really, you should have seen me after I read Romeo & Juliet for the first time.  I don't think I spoke for three days.  ;)

[Photo source: http://www.thehungergamesmovie.com]

The Last Few Weeks: Part Deux

There's little in the world that's more important to me than my sisters.  They are my best friends, my favorite people, a constant source of fun, support and worry.  I'm the middle child, smack dab in between a sister three years older and another three years younger.  Our big sister is a rock.  She's someone I know I can count on to take care of something if I can't do it.  I can just lay whatever burden I have down at her feet and she'll handle it, no question about it, no problem.  Our little sister is our baby.  She's young and funny (she's always making me laugh) and it's been this insane privilege watching her grow into this responsible young woman who doesn't need us to baby her as much as, perhaps, we need to.

But, of course, we still do.

So when her life took an unexpected turn and she needed to move from Texas to Hawaii earlier this month, I hopped a flight over to San Antonio to take on the first leg of the trip with her.  Our route:  San Antonio, up through El Paso, stop in Albuquerque, head over to the Grand Canyon, stop a night in Lake Havasu City, drive through the endlessly boring Central Valley (I'm sorry if you're from the Central Valley, but you have to know what I mean, amiright?) and end back here in the Bay Area.  At that point, my older sister would fly in and spend a few days with us as we went sight-seeing around Big Sur, and tried to sort out sister, dog and car, then they would all take the next trip -- sans me -- back to Hawaii.

This all happened in a week.  A week of subsisting off of M&M's, Chex Mix, sodas and fast food.  A week of rest stops and driving in a straight line for hours.  A week of realizing my baby sister is all grown up.  And a week of incredible country, most of which I've never seen before.

The thing about the desert is that you think it's all the same.  You do.  I mean, it's brown, right?  Dirt and sand with small shrubbery?  That's it, isn't it?  That's what I thought until I spent so much time staring at it, and until I drove through four states' worth of desert.  As it turns out, it isn't just brown.  It's a million shades of brown and tan and red and orange and white.  It's different in Texas, in New Mexico, in Arizona and California.  And it's beautiful.  I wish I took more pictures, of the desert, the trains, the red rocks in Arizona, the hot air balloons rising above Albuquerque in the early morning light, the Sierra Nevada's.  Of everything.

And the Grand Canyon is...well, humongous.  It's wide and deep and unlike whatever I thought it was going to be in my mind.  It was one of those moments in my life where I felt small, but not in a bad way. I felt small in a kind of awestruck way that was sort of...humbling, and definitely comforting.  It reinforced for me that life is so much bigger than me and whatever I was thinking was a huge deal at the moment (i.e. the fact that I was hungry, that I had to pee, that my legs were cramped in the car, or that I was tired).  No, life is BIG.  So much bigger than me.  And I should try to live it as big is I can as well.

We also saw wolves while at the Grand Canyon.  It made my day.

The Last Few Weeks: Part One

 

About three weeks ago, things started getting busy.  Like, abnormally busy.  I didn't realize it then, but it was going to be a good almost-four-weeks before I could take a breath, let my mind clear and just relax.  I was about to embark on a whirlwind Southwest roadtrip with my sister, spend some mad dervish days here at home preparing that sister for the second leg of her trip, host a birthday party, attend a film festival, throw my back out and, apparently because I was bored?, redesign my blog.

Sigh, c'est la vie.

I'll get to most of that other stuff in the coming days but, for now, I just really wanted to share with you all the beautiful pictures my dear friend Serena took when we went on our first "California Appreciation Day" hike a few weeks ago.  It's days like these, when you can go for a walk in a tank top along the coast in the dead of winter, that make appreciating the Bay Area not too difficult (even if it is because we're destroying our planet through climate change).

Our day started with a drive around the Bolinas Lagoon and estuary, and I'm so sad I didn't take any pictures of it because it really is one of the most peaceful places I've been to.  If you're ever in the area and it's a nice day, I would definitely suggest checking it out!  When we got to the Palomarin Trailhead, after a winding drive along the coast (not loads of fun if you get car sick like me), we headed out on the 4 mile trek to our destination: Alamere Falls.  The trail down to the actual falls, which empties on a beach, is a bit sketchy in some places -- and by "some places" I mean the part where you have to use a rickety old rope to scale some scraggly cliffs -- so my friends and I decided to go down about halfway and stay there, just above the beach.

I can't begin to express how breathtaking this place is.  From our perch, we could see the coastline stretch down the way we had come and up all the way to Point Reyes Station.  We could watch the waves come in and swallow up the beach as the tide rose, and we could listen to the stream bubble it's way into several pools before hitting the falls and the sand below.  While there was a boy scout troop down at the beach while we were there, it was still a really quiet and restful place to be.

A perfect way to spend the day with great friends.  And a very nice start to more California adventures!

[Photos courtesy of Serena Quiroga]