Just a Quickie

This morning I walked with two ladies instead of one, the EC Housewife Mafia is growing…Beware ūüėČ Actually both of the other ladies work, they just have housewife “leanings”. ¬†I got to see Birdie after a week’s absence and got to finally walk with Columbia (yes that is the best nickname I can come up with right now, no it has nothing to do with the country). ¬†I think overall it went well, I was shy and a little slow to bring up subjects to talk about, but eventually the course of conversation continued without too many awkward pauses. ¬†I look forward to more walks and talks with Columbia.

Today I am going to make my second ever meatloaf. ¬†I think I know what made it a preferred meal to prepare for the 50s housewife. ¬†The ingredients are cheap, it’s easy to make, it resembles a hamburger-so kids are more likely to eat it, it smells really good cooking, and it needs an hour to bake. ¬†I particullarly like that last part because so many meals I make are being poked and prodded until the last moment. ¬†That makes it hard for me to make dinner, simultaneously fetch my husband’s slippers and pipe, make a cocktail for him, and touch up my make up-all while wearing heels.

Speaking of which I need to go break up a cat fight, no a real cat fight-Bailey takes hostages when his dinner is late. ¬†Also it’s time to get my hands dirty cooking. ¬†Have a great evening everyone!


Howl if you love City Lights

Over the weekend John and I watch a movie called Howl, it is a film about the obsenity trial surrounding the book Howl and a snippet of the life of Allen Ginsberg.  I loved it, it was interlaced with animations depicting the poem itself and it seemed as though it was a real labor of love project.  I found it truly moving and inspiring, my last post was written after I watched that movie and I found it inspired me to get more descriptive than I usually am in this blogsphere.  It made me really want to go spend a few hours in City Lights Bookstore.

James Franco plays Allen Ginsberg quite well and the movie is sprinkled with cameos throughout, though as far as I know only modern day celebrities-not any from the actual time depicted. ¬†With recently watching Naked Lunch and John reading the book, which one of the characters is based off of Ginsberg, you can imagine our NetFlix streaming list has gotten a little heavy with movies about or during the “beat generation”. As per usual I recommended the film to my father, who has always had that streak of bohemian in him. ¬†Now I know this all happened before my Dad approached teenagehood and the 60s but it was a step in a direction that would begin the counterculture that happened in the 60s. ¬†My Dad has never sugar coated the 60s and never referred to them “as the good ole days”, quite the opposite in fact. ¬†His generation had to attempt to handle so much, a government that thought they were disposable, a culture caught in the middle of a suburban puppet show and rebellion of emancipation, and then a breakdown of the utopia they thought they were going to sustain. ¬†It was inspiring times for artist and thinkers and maybe it was because they had to make it that.

I sometimes wonder how this time in the world will be depicted in films and in books, decades from now. ¬†There could be an amazing counterculture going on (please don’t let it be the modern-day Hipsters ūüėõ ) and I am too insulated to notice it- but it scares me that the films they make about my generation are things like The Social Network. ¬† Which granted ,changed the way we communicate, blah, blah, blah-but I hope my generation can show more than that in our lives and in our (artistic) work. ¬†Or maybe I was just raised by a couple of hippies and my perception of the world is bit off from my generation, who knows? ūüôā

With the story I am writing I am hoping to capture a residual of what the world is like and how it feels in this moment, and maybe a certain optimism that is slowly growing back…we shall see.


On Friday I went towards the coast and got my hair cut at my old stomping grounds, I got about five inches taken off so now my hair stops right at my chin, perfect for the summer. When we headed off to the Zoo yesterday I had to remind myself to put sunblock on the back of my neck because now it’s exposed. ¬†But getting past my hair (which truly, I could devote a whole blog entry to) I had a rare opportunity to lolly-gag around the beach Friday afternoon. ¬†When I drive that far I try to fit in as many social visits as possible, so I had lunch with John, got my hair cut, and then had coffee with The Ladies. ¬†Between the haircut and coffee I had two hours to kill. ¬†I did’t feel like calling up my parents and almost everyone I knew was working so I went to the beaches that I spent countless hours at as a child.

There has been a few changes to the shores of one the beaches since I was knocked around in its waves 20 years ago. ¬†First off they removed the obstacle of rocks that separated the sandy beach form the water. ¬†In the picture you can see light soft sand right past the black top roads, this is where the moms would set up their watch posts when I was a kid. ¬†Armed with a large towel for them to bask upon, a straw beach bag of towels-for the soon to be freezing children, a book (hopefully not of the romance novel nature), a cooler with Sunkist drinks-that always were warm by the time you drank them, cut up oranges that burned your sand shredded skin, and of course a sticky bottle of sunblock. ¬†From this location they would watch their children be beat up by nature’s strictest baby-sitter (and loving ever minute of it). ¬†Right after this haven of hot sand there was a 10-15′ wide belt of gray “smooth” rocks that extended through the shore of the beach, so there was no walking around it you had cross. ¬†It was like a payment in pain you had to pay the ocean gods to induldge in their waves. ¬†Though the rocks were smooth, my small kid feet would always slide in the crevices between them. ¬†No matter how carefully and deliberately you placed your feet, the rocks would either part from your step temporarily and come crashing back, engulfing your foot; ¬†or you would step, slightly loose your balance, your ankle would turn, and the side of your foot would dive into the sand laced rocks emerging with red thread-sized lines of blood across the sides of your feet. ¬†These small cuts made the first moments of walking in the ocean water particularly intense. ¬†But ¬†I loved it, I would stay out in the water for hours because there in the water, I felt best-I never wanted to leave.

Now it is a piece of cake to get the water, no payments of pain required, no sizzling rocks to walk across. ¬†Just soft sand (which I heard was brought in from Arizona) and water. ¬†On Friday I walked down to the¬†shore took pictures, stood in the tide, and let my white skirt get caked with sand. ¬†I didn’t care, sand is forgiving and lets go after a little while. ¬†I use to find sand everywhere when I was a kid, in my bed, in my clothes, in my dresser, and in Barbie’s hair (who never went to the beach, oddly enough). The tide came in and out, sometimes drenching my skirt and sometimes only tickling my toes. ¬†I’m sure the locals thought I was nuts hanging out in the water with a long white skirt-oh well, fuck ’em. ūüôā

After a short while I thought it was the time to go, so walked up the hill that now, even in adulthood seems steep. ¬†Imagine walking up this hill after three hours of being thrown around in the ocean. ¬†You’re cold, your skin stinging from the sand rips that met with the immediate greeting from the ocean water, boogie board drapped over your shoulder, clinging to a towel that keeps on falling of your straight hips, and flip flops sliding off your damp feet and down the walkway. ¬†No wonder I never wanted to get out of the water, I was greeted with how mean the land world could be as soon as I exited.

When I got back to my car I realized only about twenty minutes had passed, so I went to the other beach of my late childhood, about 15 minutes south of where I was. ¬†I say it is the beach of my late childhood because this is where I went in high school. ¬†The beach that I laid on getting tans with girlfriends, the one I ran on for Water Polo practice, the one boys use to take me to so they could kiss me, you know-that one. ¬†I sat and read my book for a while watching the locals walk pass, I forget how different the lingo is out there. ¬†There is nothing like seeing a business-looking guy say “Dude-yeah!” into his iPhone with a surfboard under his arm.

I sat on the beach and read, popping up my head every so often to look at the ocean or get lost in thought or memories. ¬†But this beach had not changed, the shore was still the same place, there was a good ratio of rock to sand placement. ¬†It was comforting and I decided I will go to the beach this summer, I might be wearing a million layers, but I will go. ¬†Since high school I have been in the ocean swimming, a total of two times. ¬†I’m not quite sure what keeps me away, I use to be a fish. ¬†Ocean, pool, hot tub-if it was on the schedule you could expect me to be in the water from the moment we arrived and be the last one out. ¬†I have walked on the beach quite a few times, played in the surf with John but I haven’t been submerged in the water since the days of hanging out with Mr. Big. ¬†I use to say it was the years of Marine Biology that ruined it for me, but I still swam in pools. ¬†Now I don’t even swim in pools. ¬†Swimming use to be my thing, I wasn’t very good at it, but I loved it and want to try it again. ¬†I also don’t go to the beach much considering how close we live to it, but I think it about so much and imagine it so much it feels like I am there all the time. ¬†Once a fish, always a fish?

Right now my car has sand sprinkled around its interior, it is so familiar that it almost seems wrong to vacuum it up. ¬†I will though, but maybe not until later next week. ūüėČ

Slight Summary

A late spring storm has blown into Southern California. ¬†I say that it is late Spring because here summer really begins around mid-May, but since it’s cool right now it doesn’t seem right to call it summer. ¬†It is wonderful outside, I wish I could bottle the smell and take whiffs around late August. ¬†You probably have to live in the southwest to enjoy rain as much we do. ¬†It is so rare compared to the rest of the country we love to revel in it. ¬†Though who knows, maybe if I did move to somewhere with rain and cold weather on a more regular basis I would long for my Southern California heat waves. ¬†My walk was postponed today due to rain and I am going to put together a crock pot meal for dinner, can’t really do yardwork, the house is relatively clean (there is always something to do or scrub), so I am sort-of left to my own devices today. ¬†Which hopefully means lots of writing. ¬†I decided to change the narrative on the book, I think I will be able to paint a better atmosphere if “I” is omitted as much as possible.

Over the weekend Honey and I laid low on Saturday and went to an “Art” Street Fair on Sunday. ¬†I was hoping it would be a lot of painting and various other crafts, but a substantial amount of the booths were just the usual street fair garbage (cheap sunglasses, scary mass produced sweaters, etc.). ¬†But the ultimate WTF was the beer garden (at least to me). ¬†The fair was set up through a main street that had lots of restaurants and bars; plenty for people to experience, but the organizers set up a beer garden that cost $30 a person to participate in, then once you pay for it and get your beer you are trapped in there. ¬†What is the point of going to a Street Fair at that point? ¬†If I am going to spend $30 for beer a person I would go to BevMo and get various 22 oz craft beers to share with friends at home. ¬†I want to walk around and be present at public events, not hide in a gated off area with security guards looming over, getting shitfaced off of foamy beer- call me crazy. ūüėČ ¬†We left about half way through to go get some art supplies (a few booths were inspiring), I think the drunks were just beginning to surface when we left.

We also got to run around the fair with a couple of friends, one being Red.  I am going to miss her when she goes back to her home land of Canada in a few months.  Who will I force to try on dresses when we shop?

“You must never be afraid to go there”

My motivation to do anything today has been missing.  It is one of those hazy days again and I have done nothing with it.  I have come to the conclusion I must be cold-blooded, reptilian woman.  What would happen if I did move to Oregon or Washington?  I would become a slug!

Met with two former co-workers on Thursday and caught up a bit. ¬†I had to leave my writing to go meet them, which sucked because I was on a bit of a roll in Chapter 3 with the skeleton rose bushes. ¬†It was probably because I had plans at a specific time. ¬†Maybe I should start planning to do things in the afternoon instead of getting them done in the morning, then I have a looming end time that makes me feel like I must accomplish something. ¬†Usually I try and get things done in the morning and write, paint, and do other pet projects in the afternoon. ¬†I am self described morning person, but who knows maybe I am wrong and I am a midday person? ¬†I will try my new formula next week, with the exception of Tuesday. ¬†I will be taking my lake walk with someone I haven’t seen since I was 17, but thanks to the social media and blogging world, I have a general picture of her life and she has mine. ¬†Should be interesting, hopefully I do not bore her to death by mile 2.

Yesterday John vetoed my pasta plans (which has been moved to tonight) and we got a pizza. ¬†An evening of odd NetFlix films ensued. ¬†I will just tell you of the two highlights. ¬†First we watched a really weird film called Antichrist, it’s not what you think. ¬†Generally speaking it is a film about a married couple that go to their cabin in the woods to help get over the death of their toddler child who died in a few months earlier by falling out of a window. ¬†This is not an Eric Clapton song. ¬†I will not give away too much, but it is an arty film made by a man who just got out of a mental hospital for depression. ¬†It is hard, uncomfortable, beautiful, haunting movie; it has John and I still talking about it today. ¬†Proceed at your own risk.

After that we watched a documentary of sorts about Harlan Ellison, the writer.  I was blown away by him, he said some very interesting things about writing, writers, social politics, and of course science fiction and fanboys.  When it was filmed he was 72, he looked and acted like he was in his mid 50s.  He has all kinds of quotes posted up where he writes, I am thinking of doing the same thing.  Many of the things he said resignated with me, but here is one that I have been repeating to myself today:

“You must never be afraid to go there.”

Obviously Lars Von Trier, the director of Antichrist believes the same. ¬†When I chewed on that piece of thought for a while I found myself adding onto what I have already written for my “book” (in my mind ūüėČ ). ¬†I tend to self-edit myself a lot, and worry what others will think of the thoughts and beliefs I put into life and stories. ¬†For the first chapter alone I have thought of cutting up a paragraph or two. I am talking about things that most people don’t know I talk about and if they do know, they quietly hum to themselves until I shut up. ¬†It has been very freeing and terrifying to finally write these things down where the intention is for someone to read them someday. ¬†Technically speaking it has also been hard writing it, finding a good substitute for the word vagina that is neither clinical or misogynistic sounding can be a challenge. ¬†An online thesaurus had that their were no results found when I typed in vagina. ¬†And no I am not writing a romance novel. ¬†And I am not writing this for my High School English class, so really I need to just get over it. =P ¬†Also any suggestions for a substitute word are welcome.

Quick Friday Hello


Finally we got a break in the heat today so I decided to do some gardening.  By the way I have finally found the definition for gardening vs yard work.

gardening= less than 1/2 green garbage barrel

yard work= at least one full green garbage barrel

1/2 to less than full garbage barrel is a sign of either non-commintment to yard work, or gardening run awry.

I wore myself out a little more than planned but rallied and still walked down to the Farmer’s Market to visit Birdie for a moment. ¬†Apparently the crazies are out today she had a God freak, a mind reader wanna-be, and apparently a couple more after I left ( not sure if she was including me in her count of 5 crazies ūüôā ). ¬†When I was leaving the Farmer’s market I noticed a cute dog out in someone’s open front yard, all by his lonesome. ¬†He was very interested in me and started walking towards the street to see me. ¬†I grabbed him before he walked onto the pavement, luckily he had a collar with his address on it. ¬†He was in his front yard, I think he had pulled a Houdini. I rang the door bell but no response, so I put him into the gated area of the house where there was an open backdoor. ¬†Poor little guy. ¬†I need all the good karma I can get with dogs, I’m surprised our neighbors will even say hello with how much Kate barks.

Also while I was walking home I noticed something wonderful.  You know how I posted a few weeks back about how I wondered if people ever used the cute little porch set-ups I see in front of their houses or if it is all for show?  Well today I saw a man reading a book on his porch, it made me very happy.

“my pulse has been rising”

Today is going to be a hot one out here in the EC, and most of Southern California for that matter.  I went for a walk around the lake this morning, trying to sneak it in before it got really hot.  It was the first time I have done

it alone, usually I walk with Birdie but she was unable to come today. ¬†It is a much different experience walking alone, I prefer company but I won’t be so hesitant to go alone anymore. ¬†You are more aware of the distance and time that has passed, than when you are involved in a conversation.

Next time I have to be careful of what I listen to on the way to the lake. ¬†I had Puscifer’s Rev 22:20 stuck in my head for the first mile of the walk because it was the last song I heard. ¬†Yeah, not the best of songs ¬†to be hearing while seeing sweaty, shirtless, old men run by-and I do mean old, like 70+. EEK! ¬†Dude put on a shirt and pull those tiny shorts down, I’m seeing the bottom of your bum!

I tried to work out some story ideas in my head, but I was easily distracted by sites around the lake (not the bad sites I just mentioned).  Despite the heat all of the animals ducks, bees, lizards, and other assorted birds scampered around enjoying the sun and the occassioal dip in the water.  I did stop for a moment and took some pictures.  Yes, I am totally obsessed with Hipstamatic right now. =)

I didn’t walk as far as I normally do with Birdie, with the heat and being on my own I thought it was best to lean towards the side of caution. ¬†I went a little farther than the two mile marker, since you cannot walk around the entire lake I had to turn around and walk back the way I came. ¬†After yesterday’s trip to Henry’s and various other errands I think I have walked around 7 miles since yesterday, here I come skinny jeans =P

The heat went up about ten degrees during my walk and I spoiled myself by putting on the a/c on my way home.

Now onto the business of cleaning.  I am going to have two moms here on Sunday and the place needs to sparkle.  Have a wonderful Tuesday everyone!