Moving on up!

Well, thats the last of it.

I've picked a theme and can't wait to start blogging at the new site.

I still haven't "migrated" my archived embedded video, which means if you want to see old posts with video, you're SOL.

I just kept putting it off and right now I'm so busy with other stuff that I just don't have the time to do it. Anyway, bookmark and rss the new site, I won't be posting at this location any longer.

http://imjesssayin.splitbit.com/

Hurry Up And Wait

... for the new site!

Ok, I swear it's just about ready to go - but good music waits for no one. Last weeks free itunes download was no disappointment. Here's the live/acoustic version of "Car Crash" by Matt Nathanson - he's been on the circuit for some time - I've never heard him or of him; my loss. This guy is one of my new faves.

Olly Olly Oxen Free!

No, I'm not hiding - I'm learning to use WordPress and working on building a site that has more features/functions at another location.

I haven't given up on writing posts, in fact, I can't wait to tell you all about some of the brilliant minutia in my life - like my recently joining a soccer team, considering relocation, finding out my little one needs glasses, etc. etc.

Nothing thrilling, but then, when have I written a thrilling post?

Anyway, keep reading, RSS this page and I promise to let you know in the next week or so when I've officially migrated over to my new site and put all the final touches on it.

Here's a little trivia/minutia for you while you wait ;)

WTH is Olly Olly Oxen Free?

Do you like Pina Coladas?

Gettin' caught in the rain...

Okay, not all of you will remember the lyrics to Rupert Holmes' "Escape" aka "The Pina Colada Song" but check out how his prophetic lyrics played out in a real-life uber modern kind of way.

Couple Divorces over Online Affair - WITH EACH OTHER

Oh, one slight difference... Holmes' version has a happy ending where the couple laughs off their indiscretions. Not so much with the Bosnian couple.

Why'd it have to be a "crackdown?"

Hee hee. Just a lil "funny" that I found today.

Check out the brief CNN Story

Relaxing Raft Ride? I Think Not.

I mentioned in an earlier post the trip we made to the lake late this summer. One of the "fun" things we decided to do was rent one of these rafts to drag behind the boat. We spent hours on the water either leisurely towing the kids or nastily trying to get the other grown up to fly off the raft by gassing the boat and whipping erratically around the lake. The latter, it turns out, is GREAT FUN! Two days later -- not so much.

Surely about to die from the shock my barely-there-muscles underwent, I was unable to lift my arms to feed myself and found that even laughing as I recollected the day was painful. Not as painful, I imagine, as a similar excursion was for some of my good friends on a recent team outting.

Caleb (Left in video) says he's sure he's putting the chiropractor's kids through college, having already been to 4 of 44 visits he'll have to make, no doubt, over the next few months.

Enjoy.

Damn Right I Got the Blues!

Recently in Chicago for an interview - Deb and I got together to spend some time on the town. For years we've met up annually in the windy city to stay on Mag Mile where we'd shop to our heart's content, and spend evenings dancing or hitting the lounges on Rush/Dearborn.

Instead, this year we spent days riding the L to the lake, Chinatown, and to one of the greatest hot dog places I've been in a while (AJ's). Evenings, given that Debbie is still in a walking boot from her unfortunate sledding event in February, were spent modestly and relatively quietly.

One night I managed to convince her that she could have just as much fun on the town in a walking boot as she normally does in heels - we got dressed and headed to Buddy Guy's Legends.

WHAT A GREAT TIME!

The place is literally a legend, having had its share of them play on its stage. Eric Clapton, Willie Dixon, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and recently John Mayer, just to name a few. Anyway, on this random visit we saw John Primer who I met personally and who was generous enough to gift me a free cd (that I love!). He was a fabulous and entertaining talent. In talking to him I learned that he'd played with a number of greats including John Prine, my all time favorite folk singer (Dad used to do covers). In fact, John Primer played with my favorite blues artist too - Muddy Waters. Here's John doing "Hoochie Coochie Man" which was written by Willie Dixon and first performed by Muddy.

If you get a chance to check out Buddy Guy's while in Chicago, I personally think it beats the BIG mainstream House, hands down.

Who knew? Six Man Football

A friend of mine does sports action photography on the side - but he is the real deal (this is one of his pics here). Anyway, he had a gig in Hico, TX recently: Hico Super Six Saturday, and he asked me to help with his booth. 10 teams, 5 games, 1 great day of six man football!

http://www.hicosupersix.com/
(he didn't do the pics that are on their site now, his site is www.endzonephoto.com)

I had no idea there was anything like this out there...six man football? The smaller teams made for an exciting game - lots of action - many players held both offensive and defensive positions. But there were more cheerleaders on the sidelines than there were players on the field! And where is the dance team? I say if they boys can hold dual posts then so can the girls! Cheerleaders put your pom pons down and put on some kicking boots for half time!

The band? Well, most of the teams brought HS band music in on a cd: it piped from the loud speakers to meet their spirited chants in the stands.

Turns out this Super Six Saturday is a big deal for the smaller schools that participate. The first game starts at 11am and the last at 8pm (this meant waking up at 5 to get there by 9am to setup and not getting home til after 1:30am Sunday morning--ARGH!) The event draws a decent sized crowd - lots of visitors from the surrounding area who don't even have kids came in to watch the games.

As usual I met interesting people; who doesn't love small town Texans? Super friendly & real. One of the guys who put together the event is an accomplished marketing genius (even won an Andy award) - I knew I'd like him when he got out of his Lexus in shorts, white socks with crocks, and of course, a cowboy hat. HA!

It was totally worth getting up early on a Saturday morning for -we had a great time and I got to see my first, fifth and likely last six man football game.

Help South Africans: Send Your Kids to Private School

Wow -

So I started to write a manifesto in response to the recent Miss Teen USA debacle. But where to go with it? The state of the public school system? Bimbo stereotypes proven (again)? The nauseating superficiality of pageantry? Any which way, it's too easy.

I laughed so hard I cried after watching this again, and again, and again. Then I realized I was crying, because she's not lying... we need to do SOMETHING about the future, for our children. Jeez.


She is poised for sure; super confident non verbal signals, hands on hips, standing tall, etc. Which is why you go, "Wait? WTH? She LOOKS like she knows what she's saying....it sounds, uh rehearsed, but WHY won't my brain tell me what it means?"

If anyone makes sense of this, please send me the translation. It's like the last word in a crossword puzzle that I just can't get. I may lose sleep trying to figure this one out. Or not. We US Americans have short attention spans.

Toe-ga

Yep. Not only is this for real, but I own a pair. A girlfriend of mine found these little gems online and my toes will never be the same.

Serious gear for the serious metatarsal, these jelly-like accouterments can help resolve the cramping and curling that often accompany flip flops, stilletos, stilletitos, and other non-foot-friendly foot wear.

Probably costing somewhere in the realm of $0.24 to make (not each, but for the set) - these babies retail for $50 (shipping, handling, and gouging included).

"There's a sucker born every minute...and two to take 'em."
- Joseph Bessimer

Lint Licker!!!

Say Hello to My Little Friend in Austin

I spent a few days with some friends in Austin who's 5 year old is a constant source of entertainment. Here's the latest anecdote:

Act 1: Little D
Wrapping up their week, children at an Austin area acting camp put on a show for their parents on closing day. As part of the show the children were asked to perform a line from their favorite movie. One girl sang "The hills are alive..." (parents nod approvingly and clap) another boy said, "Luke, I am your father" (more applause). Little five-year old "D" stepped up for his turn and mortified his parents when he stood tall and exclaimed, "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!!! POW POW POW POW!!!!"

Laura swears he's never seen Scarface, and knowing the kind of parents they are, I believe her. Surely Disney has inconspicuously snuck this line into one of their films. She says gasping parents in the crowd looked at each other in amazement, one asking another "What did he just say?" Nevertheless, while they cowered in embarrassment in that moment, they laughed boisterously at the dinner table (along with me) recounting what will surely be a story told for a long long time.

Need change?

My mom once gave me a card after I'd experienced one of life's tumbles, the cover read:

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

Inside it read:

But when life hands you a load of crap, don't make anything.
Trust me on this one.




Lemonade anyone?

One Nightstand: Uh-Oh SpaghettiOs!

It's finally happened.

After years of restraint and conformity, I've finally bowed to my innermost desires and indulged myself in a raunchy, what-the-heck-was-I-thinking kind of way. I've talked to a number of friends, looking for comfort, who say they've done much worse after a night of drinking -- but this is SO random...so...out of character for me.

I'm thoroughly embarrassed and hope that by journaling here, I can better come to terms with who I have become and embrace my repressed cravings.

Alright already, here's my confession.

Friday night (read: EARLY Saturday morning) I arrived at the apartment after having spent a long (but fun) evening with the gang from work at an open bar function. I remember racing up the stairs, washing my face, and plunging into bed like one of the people in a Nestea commercial.

Waking with the usual long stretch, I roll over and cannot believe what I think I see through my early morning haze: last night's indiscretions, staring back at me, in the unforgiving daylight. Confused, I sit up and scan the apartment from my bed looking for clues as to what might have happened.

My jeans lay on the floor in the doorway, my boots still inside the legs. The rest of my outfit strewn across the floor. Smiling in disbelief, I bring my eyes back to the indisputable evidence of my weakness. There, on my nightstand, was an open can of Spaghettios with Franks, EMPTY except for the fork that leaned to one side.

I felt dirty.

Apparently, my craving for one of my childhood favorites (which I have restricted myself from for at least the last 10 years) got the best of me in a moment of impaired judgment. Those of you who know me well understand the magnitude of an event like this.

One can = 500 calories.

I still shudder when I think about it.

So caught up in the moment, I didn't bother to heat the Spaghettio's. I ravaged the treat straight from the can with a primal appetite. And I have to tell you, I don't regret it.

As these things go, I had to strip and wash the sheets; the tomato based sauce most certainly would have stained if not treated immediately.

And as I reflect - now - upon the evening and my weakness for the saucy delight, trying to make sense of this, why I did this to myself, how I could be so reckless and uninhibited...I've promised myself that I will never ever EVER again wait that long to be free and passionately indulgent again.

Mmm Mmmmmm Good! ;)

Click the Can above to hear the original 70's jingle.

Always A Woman

Something I said today reminded someone of this song. I was hardly a woman when it came out in 1977 - but after having really listened to it for the first time in years tonight, I think it's spot on.

The video isn't great - but thought you might like to hear the song.
She's Always A Woman To Me (Billy Joel)

She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me

She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me

CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind

And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me

CHORUS

She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me

Use It or Lose It

(From the Gallup Management Journal, “Feedback for Real”
Author: John Thackray - online 7/16/07 at http://www.artsusa.org/pdf/events/2005/conv/gallup_q12.pdf

I've been fortunate enough to have gone through a couple of courses put on by The Galllup Management Organization. I'm a firm believer in Strengths Based management philosophies and have seen related methodologies applied to successful end .

I spent a day with Laura this past weekend, who's got years of experience in HR - we had a great discussion around employee engagement (she's got a new and growing business). Having just talked about some of Gallup's methodologies with another friend, it was fresh on the mind - I love this stuff!! Sorry if this one's not as sexy as "Hottie for Hire"... It happens to be one of my favorite topics... besides, if I don't use it, I may lose it!

You can check out the link above for the detailed history of the survey but in a nutshell the survey was developed to help managers accurately assess employee engagement. As Gallup is known to do, they collected and researched data from interviews of employees at all levels within a number of organizations. They found that there were twelve core questions that when answered in the affirmative strongly suggested employee engagement. Why bother? There are a couple of reasons. Most importantly, because engaged workforces are more productive overall. Secondly, a disengaged employee is an active employee - who knowingly or unknowingly tears down the very walls your productive employees build.

The 12 questions are:

1) Do you know what is expected of you at work?
2) Do you have the materials and equipment to do your work
right?
3) At work, do you have the opportunity to do what you do best
every day?
4) In the last seven days, have you received recognition or praise
for doing good work?
5) Does your supervisor, or someone at work, seem to care about
you as a person?
6) Is there someone at work who encourages your development?
7) At work, do your opinions seem to count?
8) Does the mission/purpose of your company make you feel your
job is important?
9) Are your associates (fellow employees) committed to doing
quality work?
10) Do you have a best friend at work?
11) In the last six months, has someone at work talked to you
about your progress?
12) In the last year, have you had opportunities to learn and grow?

The GO collects and arranges an engagement index, too, which is especially helpful when you conduct the Q12 survey with them. They use the index for comparative analysis - putting your individual team and/or company results into some context.

The index has the following designations:
• Engaged employees - work with passion and feel a profound connection to
their company. They drive innovation and move the organization forward.
• Not-Engaged employees - are essentially “checked out.” They are
sleepwalking through their workday. They are putting in time, but not
enough energy or passion into their work.
• Actively Disengaged employees - aren’t just unhappy at work; they’re
busy acting out their unhappiness. Every day, these workers undermine
what their engaged co-workers accomplish.

I've used some of the questions to form the basis of questions I used in my own performance review - (anonymous web based review from direct reports). The responses were insightful and when my official Q12 scores came back there were no surprises.

Thoughts? Comments? Experience?

The Law of Attraction - It's No Secret

My favorite grad school professor turned me on to a fantastic book "Before You Think Another Thought: An Illustrated Guide to Understanding How Your Thoughts and Beliefs Create Your Life" by Bruce Doyle. The book is a primer in understanding the Law of Attraction, a theory attributed to William Atkinson's "Thought Vibration or the Law of Attraction in the Thought World." Notably, however, the principles of the Law of Attraction appear in a number of historic, sometimes sacred, texts -- including the Bible.

Recently spit-shined and glamorized for pop consumption in the book and corresponding DVD "The Secret", the Law of Attraction simply suggests that our lives (reality as we perceive it) are a manifestation of our most predominant thoughts. Essentially it says "You'll see it when you believe it," rather than the converse.

Formed by our past experiences, beliefs are the basis of our thoughts and our thoughts form the basis of our actions. Our actions tell the Universe what we expect to happen and the Universe complies. Why? How? Some quantum physicists say that thoughts have a measurable energy that, as a rule, attracts like energy. If one has a positive thought it can therefore be expected to attract a positive manifestation (outcome).

Ideally, then, we should focus on what we DO want versus what we DON'T want in order to see the most desirable outcome because at the end of the day -- you ARE what you THINK.

If you THINK about drama, scandals and unhappiness , you'll produce them. If you focus on THINKING about rich experiences and happy endings, you'll produce THOSE instead. If you think you won't win - you won't. If you, like The Little Engine that Could, think you can, you will.

Sounds simple enough, but here's the caveat; remember I said that thoughts are derived from our beliefs which are derived from our past experience? Well, imagine for a moment, that before I knew about the Law of Attraction I learned about love from observing my parents' interaction (this is a super-simplified hypothetical example). Say then that my parents divorced and I witnessed their grief over the loss of their marriage/love. I subsequently form a belief that love ends in heartbreak. A belief like this was necessary at the time; it made it possible to understand the observable situation.

Fast forward - assuming I still carry that belief somewhere in my stable of beliefs, my thoughts will continue to be affected as will my subsequent actions and therefore the outcome of my romantic relationships. So, if I continue to think that love always ends in heartbreak, it will.

You can avoid this phenomenon by simply reevaluating your fundamental beliefs every so often taking care to get rid of those you know are limiting or no longer necessary.

It can be a helpful and insightful exercise to list ALL of your beliefs - as many as you can - on paper. You'll be surprised to see just how many are limiting or antiquated!

Bottom line: check out the book by Doyle - it's a quick read. If you're an Oprah fan, she highly recommends checking out The Secret (click on the title in the 2nd paragraph to go to the official site; for $5 you can view the 90 min video online - I did and thought it was worth it). Either way, in what can seem like an out of control existence it's good to be reminded that we ultimately create our reality one thought at a time.

Video Killed the Radio Star

Got this from Mike who said, "Isn't it funny how the skinny little kid gets the big ass instrument and the chunky kid gets the little mandolin." I thought it was great!!! I love to see kids pull this kind of stuff together! It reminds me of a recent performance by E & S - "The Hardest Button to Button" (White Stripes) with E on vocals and S rocking out the electric guitar.

The Hate Game

I try not to use the word "hate." I encourage the kids to use words like, "strongly dislike" "strong distaste for" etc. instead. Its such a serious and strong word. Which is in part why The Hate Game is so much fun.

Essentially an adult tantrum, the game acknowledges the irony in applying a severe word like "hate" to random or trivial things that you genuinely dislike. It can be especially funny when coupled with serious things because you get to decide when someone is serious or joking. Score is kept and tally marks given for each Hateful Statement. The more funny and therapeutically true statements get extra points.

Here's how it got started.

Just around lunch time I had a rough call at work. After hanging up I surprised myself when I mustered under my breath "I HATE my life." Hearing the call and the humor in my unnecessarily severe statement my faithful work companion burst into laughter. The seal was broken and the hate poured out in an instant message to him:

...I hate my life.
I hate biting into a cheeseburger with grizzle.
I hate waking up in the middle of the night feeling like I'm late for work.
I hate to cry when I have fresh makeup on.

I instantly came up with 16 Hate Statements (in as many seconds), some true and others simply melodramatic, and then I ran out of steam. Who knew something so funny could be so therapeutic!? So a few other coworkers, needing to vent and hearing of the game, joined in. Here's a random selection of the results from the inaugural game:

I hate waiting for hot water to come out of the faucet.
I hate when there's no toilet paper in a public restroom.
I hate the way I feel after a one night stand. (This one won huge laughs!!!)
I hate having 4 bottles of shampoo and no conditioner.
I hate finding that I have a pepper in my teeth after lunch with "friends"
I hate bureaucracy.
I hate waiting for a response to a text message.
I hate that a single beer has 150 calories.
I hate making the last box of mac n cheese to find that I undercooked the noodles.
I hate liars.
I hate the way bars wash their drink glasses.
I hate scrubbing the toilet.

And so on.

Wanna play?

My Umbrella (Ella ella eh eh eh)

Altruist or ass? You decide.

Before jumping in the car to head to the grocery store I grab my over sized umbrella from the back of the truck and toss it into the back seat for easy access. It had just begun to rain and I didn't want to have to climb over the backseat to reach it in the event that the rain picked up by the time I made it to the market. And it was a good thing I did... no sooner had I pulled out onto the street than it began to downpour.

As I drove down a main street in my neighborhood I saw a middle-aged couple hunched under a tree with their dog on a leash. Obviously surprised by the sudden and heavy rain while out walking their dog, they were soaked. I drove by them feeling compelled to help, but how?

Instinctively I make a U-turn and pull up alongside them. I roll down my passenger-side window and push my umbrella outside yelling over the pounding rain and traffic, insisting that they take it. The man runs to the car looking relieved. I say that we must be pretty close neighbors and give him my cell number explaining that we can arrange to get the umbrella back to me some other time. Gratefully he accepts the umbrella and runs back to provide shelter to his wife.

As I drove past them a second time, now back en route to the grocery store - it dawns on me that he hesitated at the window when I handed him the umbrella. I KNEW he was thinking "Are you serious?" but I thought he might be thinking "Are you serious? What a nice lady." But what if he was thinking, "Are you serious? You're going to offer me a freakin umbrella instead of a ride?"

He couldn't have expected me to offer them a ride with a wet dog in tow, right? I mean, truth is, it DID cross my mind to offer to take them the presumably short distance to their house. But a wet/muddy dog and beige leather...ahhhhh, I couldn't do it!

Was I a bitch for not offering theirs a ride?

Sexy Sister

This pic is NOT digitially edited. This is a real picture (borrowed from a friends blog) taken at a local outdoor mall near the Apple Store.

Do your thing girl.

Loser

Tricked by the lyrics of "Cats in the Cradle," I thought that Cat Stevens sang the song (at the very least did a remake-- stupid mistake, I know). However, Jay, the King of Obscure Information and avid VH1: I Love the 70s fan, insisted I was wrong. So confident was he that he proposed the following wager: if I were wrong I would have to eat lunch with the crew from work every day for a week -- not so bad, but WAIT there's more... I'd have to hand over my blackbizzle for the duration of lunch (no text messaging/emailing/web surfing) OUCH!!!... AND I'd have to be completely silent -- BRUTAL! That's right - no talking -- for the entire hour.

Go ahead, laugh. For those of you who know me -- you may be laughing at the perceived impossibility of this feat or maybe you know how impossible it would be to get me to actually pay on a bet like that. For those of you who DON'T know me...I'm not gonna lie; it's kinda weird that you're reading my blog.

I'll admit, the wager itself stung a little. Does this mean I'm seen as a blackberry addicted babbler? Either way, I accepted the challenge, blinded by the allure of a win and the hilarious image of JAY NOT texting or talking for an hour. Had I thought long enough about it, I might have seen that I was falling into a common trap. Regretfully, I made haste, and it cost me.

Called out for trying to fake a win (showing them the first google result for Cats in the Cradle lyrics, which erroneously cite Cat Stevens as the singer), I agreed to take my medicine like a big girl. I am, afterall, a woman of my word.

Effective Monday - June 11, no talking and no blackberry from the time we sit to eat to the time the check is signed. Mercifully (and a bit in-your-faceish) Jay bought me a dry erase board with which I communicate during these periods of silence.

Though I refuse to wear it around my neck as intended the board has come in handy. I order my lunch with it, thank the servers, and make some small contribution to the table conversation with short comments or a simple "LOL." I use pictures and words to get my point across and have even cursed on the board.

I have to admit, it's only day 2 and I've already learned alot from this little exercise. On Day 1, true to form, I tried to keep up with the group conversation as much as possible, and carry on side conversations as well (all via dry erase board). Exhausting! By Day 2 I'd started to pick and choose my contributions so as not to wear myself out. Forced to listen more (by virtue of talking less) I realize just how much of an hour's interraction is drivel...

And I miss participating.

All of this makes me wonder, "Does what I say add substance to a dialogue? Do my quick text exchanges add value to my relationships?" In communication terms: "Is my message benefiting the receiver (or sender for that matter) in some way?"

Reminds me of a quote by Jorge Luis Borges, "Don't talk unless you can improve upon silence."

He never met my lunch buddies.


(Video) I know the MP crew can relate to some of these scenes from a BB commercial...funny.


(Music Video) Check out the leg warmers and corded phones!

My New (Para)Normal

Craving entertainment and a little curious (read: alot curious) I went to see a psychic (not psychiatrist, or psychologist, you read it right -- a psychic). I didn't see a carnival psychic nor did I drop coinage into one of those standalone scales you find in the mall that tells you how likely you are to find love or hit the lottery. Nope. I went to see an all out, bonafide clairvoyant (ok, there isnt exactly a certification process).

Referred to him by a friend, I initiated a call to Dwayne and got his voicemail. "Hmmmm, if he's really good," I thought, "he'll KNOW I called or, at the very least he'll see the missed call with my number and know who I am and what I want, right?" Not wanting to waste time or take chances, I left my first name and cell number.

We later talked and setup the appointment for later the same day at a local, little known, bookstore where cats roam the aisles freely. Nope, not kidding. But then, what did you expect? The drive happens without my noticing. I'm too busy making mental lists of questions to ask and of "bad news" that I DON'T want to know (having mostly to do with death or serious illness for myself or others).

I arrive more nervous than most job interviewees. I'm one of perhaps 4 customers in the store. The stout balding man behind the cash register whispers a joke to a tabby on the counter, half waiting for a response. This place is rich and scary all at once. I anxiously wait and scan the room for Dwayne; I can't wait for the comfort of a familiar voice even if it belongs to a member of the occult.

I hear a religious friend's voice play in my head "You're inviting the devil into your house by doing this!" I'm momentarily panicked. Then I remember that I've recently moved and didn't leave a forwarding address. The devil wouldn't even know where to begin to look. Ha!

So Dwayne comes in and gets right to work. Now, I hate to disappoint but there was no crystal ball. Turns out his medium of choice is the tarot card. He lays them out and immediately describes, with spot on accuracy, recent goings on in my life.

His predictions for the future were centered around work and love; great news in both areas (yesssssssss!)!! He explained that the Ace of Swords (shown above) represents triumph in excess and great prosperity. This particular card repeatedly showed up during my reading -- very compelling. I should expect to see triumph and prosperity at work and in love any day now, *sigh*, though a watched pot never boils.

Oh, and it turns out tarot card interpretations are like illnesses -- google them and you'll scare the crap out of yourself. I just looked up the ol' triumph card and learned that if it appears upside down or reversed in the deck it can mean "misery in excess, pregnancy" or mixed with the right (or wrong) combination of cards, "death." The next time I go to see him, I won't be able to look at the cards for fear of seeing a crooked, reversed, or upside down tarot. I'll sit at the little checkers table at the back of the book store with my eyes closed much like I do on rollercoasters when I'm brave (or stupid) enough to get on them.

Oh, and if he ever gives me the lottery numbers, I'll be sure to post them here ;)

Pheeling Philosophical

I may spend more time philosophizing than I do living - that is to say, reflecting upon life as it occurs in pursuit of establishing causal relationships and to glean a more comprehensive or deeper understanding of the truth in reality. (Even as I write this I'm philosophizing over whether the net result of such philosophizing is less or more life lived - e.g. Does the pursuit enhance the quality of life such that it compensates for the time away from living? And so on...ah the joys of logic loops!)

Anyway, I believe that philosophy, like religion, can be a spiritual medium through which man connects himself/herself to something larger and more deep rooted than the experience of his/her own life. And so I indulge myself.

Inspiration for philosophy can come from anywhere. Events, circumstances, situations, religious texts, etc. For me, I'm struck by poignant quotes (love Eleanor Roosevelt for this) and timeless triumphs and struggles (joy, pain, excitement, disappointment, contentment, and heartbreak, etc.).

I'm reading a novel in which the author quotes The Bhagavad Gita (a Sanskrit text considered sacred by the majority of Hindu traditions, I learned).

"It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebodyelse's with perfection."

I won't try to explain how the reference has affected me; just throwing it out there for your consumption. One of my favorites from Eleanor Roosevelt:

"One's philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes."

Hasta la Vez Próxima Costa Rica!

DAYS 4 & 5: Costa Rica

Day 4 (a.m.): Spent time shopping in Jaco for trinkets with Royl. As with most tourist areas all of the shops melted into each other - each store looked like the one before it - inventories and prices only slightly varying. Royl managed to make one stop very exciting - a walking stick was leaned against the wall inside a shop, it fell over knocking a framed something or other off the wall. Glass shattered and customers and clerks alike scanned the room, bewildered, looking for a culprit. But there wasn't anyone near enough to have caused the stick to fall over (it really just kind of slid on its own, I think). Royl, trying to be funny, said to the store clerk, "Haha un fantasma!"

The clerk didn't find this funny at all, in fact, Royl later tells me that she said something under her breath like "A ghost, MY ASS!" (in Spanish of course). Not knowing there'd been this awkward exchange between the two of them I continued to shop around. Royl stepped just outside the front door as I approached the register to pay. Just then the clerk (young Tica - maybe 24ish) walks out the front door and confronts Royl. I hear the exchange because her one foot holds the door slightly ajar. She's raised her voice and is speaking much faster than I can possibly process the language, but my rough translation is, "ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME BY SAYING IT WAS A GHOST? YOU THINK I'M STUPID? WERE YOU LAUGHING AT ME? YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?" Her volume and tone attracted attention and a scene was in the making. Royl, surprised at her brazen confrontation backs off and apologizes, explaining that he only was making light of an awkward situation. Put off by the clerks behavior - I leave the merchandise on the counter and walk out.

Day 4 (p.m.): We had lunch at La Colonia and then met back up with Edwin for more surfing. Unfortunately the red tide rolled in with high tide and the brownish-red water was super salty. I tried to get into it, but the thought of possibly swallowing bacteria, over grown phytoplankton, or remnants of dead sea life psyched me out. We surfed for 45 min or so and called it a day.

Day 5: Departure. Heading home at the end of holiday is sweet sorrow. The drive back through the mountains to San Jose was somber. No Cape Cods, no transportation/security saga. Eddie arrived in the marked van to pick us up right on time from the bungalow. We stopped off at a roadside fruit stand/kitchen that served familiar looking foods - namely empanadas of all kinds and fruit cups. In a momentary binge I grab a large cup of fruit (melon, papaya, mango and pineapple), order a fried plantain and take a diet coke to go (picture top of blog post).

The ride and flight home were uneventful. Half awake I drug my suitcase up the two flights of stairs to my apartment at 1am (making a whole lot of noise). Too tired to dread getting up for work at 7:30 the next morning, I put my head to my familiar pillow and was out.

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The trip was one I won't soon forget. I had the opportunity to rest, to indulge my own interests, to get sun (needed the Vitamin D), and above all, I had the distance I needed to get a better perspective of life back home. I highly recommend a like trip to all my friends -- if you have the chance to travel to Costa Rica - DO IT! It was reasonable, beautiful, and offers plenty to do. I'll definitely be back!

Day 3: Costa Rica

Day 3 had been sort of set aside as a day we'd do the canopy tour which includes hiking and zip lining in the jungle. While this sounded appealing, I'd also decided I wanted to spend at least one more day surfing and I hoped to fish as well; 3 major excursions and only 2 days left. I mentioned my dilemma to Judith (the bungalow manager/concierge) who said that most boats would be booked and full this late in the game but that she thought 2 guys from Florida, coincidentally staying in bungalow 13 (my lucky number), had booked a full day trip (1/2 days are often an option) and that there might be room on the boat. She said she'd talk to them and gauge their interest in letting another guest tag along.

She got back to me later that day and said that they wouldn't mind me joining and that they would split the $550 fee with me. The canopy tour was the cheaper alternative ($65), but never having been sport fishing, I opted for the latter (come to think of it, I've been zip lining and hiking aplenty, but never in a jungle - still, catching dinner for the evening sounded much more rewarding than being eaten alive by mosquitoes --it rains every day in the rain forest, who knew?).

I was fishing with strangers, but didn't care - I scored a fishing trip and life was good. Judith arranged for us to meet the night before (day 2) for drinks at her place before dinner. (Picture: headed to Judith's to meet fishing buddies before night out in Jaco)

Almost immediately after meeting them Rich and Neil insisted that I NOT pay them to come on the trip, offered to have me join them for breakfast at their bungalow, have me ride with them to the marina and later insisted that I get to reel in the first bite. I insisted otherwise; offered to pay for my portion, pay them for the ride out, and gently (only gently here) resisted getting the first catch. All futile efforts. I finally convinced them to let ME cook THEM breakfast in exchange for their generosity - we had a deal.

Before heading out they tried to talk me into taking Dramamine, this being my first time out to sea on a fishing boat; much to my chagrin I refused, thinking sea sickness was merely mind over matter.

We were on the water by 7:45/8am and I'd reeled in the first bite by 10 (10-12lb dolphin aka Mahi Mahi). It wasn't until I'd dropped him so many times and he'd knocked himself silly on the deck that he was settled enough for a picture. The guide said he would have been good eating but that because Mahis get to be up to 50lbs out there it was bad form to take such a little one in. I threw him back, washed my hands and then proceeded to vomit and dry heave over the side of the boat for most of the remaining six hours of the trip.

The guys, seeing how sick I was, offered to cancel the trip and head back to shore, but I refused. I was NOT going to be the stow away GIRL that ruined their fishing trip in Costa Rica. I managed to find a spot to fry, er, lie down on the bow of the boat and waited - pulling from Lamaze to breathe through heaving - praying for time to pass more quickly.

Sadly, there was only one other bite that day thanks to the red tide- an even smaller Mahi that got away. Tough luck guys.

That night we met back up at the grand opening of a nearby yoga retreat/bed n breakfast where I met very trendy Canadians who'd relo'd to CR to jump on the real estate boom. There was cool music complete with live drums and the mojitos were delish.

Lessons/Observations from Day 3:

• Chivalry is not dead.
• Sea sickness: Mind over matter? Not so much.

Perfect Timing

Costa Rica: DAY 2

The principles of surfing are quite simple. Our instructor spent all of 20 minutes going over the basics: 1. Safety - varying pointers on how to avoid colliding with another surfer or being beaten by your own board 2. Survival - How not to be pummelled by the waves while paddling out past them on the board a.k.a "how not to drown" 3. The surfboard - its varying parts (nose, rails, tail, and deck) and proper body placement and last 4. "The Hop" onto your feet and proper stance on the board.

After our crash course we are given boards (the bigger the better for beginners) and walk towards the water. Seven students to 3 instructors - each student likely reciting steps in their head "don't do this, do that, turn, turn, paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle and HOP."
Me - I came to surf. All I'm thinking is "Don't drown," as this would litrally impede my surfing. (Picture: Edwin and I on Night 3 @ Yoga Retreat Grand Opening)

We spread out about 100 yards from the shore and look out on the horizon after a long set of unforgiving waves. Eager beginners turn, turn, turn and paddle into a number of missed waves. I luck out and have Edwin, a Rastafarian style surf king by my side. Edwin and I had earlier agreed that he'd only speak to me in English and I to him in Spanish. Conversation in the water is therefore kept to an absolute minimum. Only what is necessary is spoken and in very basic terms. Edwin is calm and speaks in a cool low voice as each wave in a new set approaches, "This is not your wave, Jessica," he repeats; I begin to think he's mistakenly pegged me for an athlete and is waiting for a mammoth wave or worse, maybe he thinks I'm a sissy and is waiting for something perfectly small and manageable. I read his face and can only tell that he is looking for something very specific in my wave and thus far, he hasn't seen it. He smiles and urges, "Patience."

Finally, a wave swells 25 feet from where I lay on my board - my muscles tighten and my body surges with adrenaline. Edwin says in the same cool and unaffected voice, "This is it. This one is yours." He helps me turn the board and I paddle as though my life depends on it (naturally, it probably did). Paddle-paddle-paddle- waiting for the thrust of the wave to tell me when to stand. When the wave grabs hold of the underside of my board, lifts and pushes me forward with surprising force I know this is my cue. I grab the rails and hoist myself into position and find that I, at long last, am surfing.

Not everyone catches their first wave. I got lucky. In fact, I kept getting lucky. Edwin moved on to other students and I rode the waves into shore and paddled back out a number of times, each time waiting patiently for a wave that looked just like the one he'd picked out for me. Somehow I think this is where the magic happens.

All of the safety and survival details are important, don't get me wrong - but taking the wrong wave or getting the right wave too soon or too late ultimately ends in the same frustrating way - wasted energy. Timing is everything. Patience is key. Such is life.

Lessons/Observations from Day 2:

• Patience is key.
• Dreadlocks, while very cool, cannot possibly be sanitary.
  

Turista

As many of you already know - the trip to CR was muy bueno. As intended, the trip offered much needed respite from attachments and stress. The beaches of Costa Rica were the perfect setting in which to reflect - waves crashing against unsullied black sands, small flocks of Macaws flying overhead, surfers dancing on the water's fury, hot surfers... flocks of hot surfers.. er, what was I saying? Oh yes, introspection, reflection and freedom from attachments. Natrally.

The trip really did offer lots of opportunity for reflection not to mention great story material. So much minutia - so little time -- where to begin?

DAY 1

After booking the trip to Costa Rica I was inundated with grave warnings about crime in the San Jose and Jaco areas. "Hide your purse, don't carry more than $50 cash, don't walk the streets alone, don't wear jewelry, ever, etc." The scariest stories were set in the San Jose Airport; it seemed everyone I met knew someone who knew someone that was mugged or, minimally, accosted at this airport. My brother, having just seen "Turista" and irritated with my naivety in taking a trip to such an obviously dangerous place, only said, "If you're kidnapped, I'm not going to promise to put any money in the pot for your safe return." I rejected these heedings as paranoia and ignorance and didn't, for a minute, let them affect me -- or so I thought.

Upon arrival in San Jose we (Brenda, Royl, and I) were to be greeted by a personal driver, Eddie (prearranged on our behalf -- and for our safety -- by the owner of the bungalow), who would take us in a marked van to Hermosa. We were told he'd meet us near the baggage claim and would be identifiable by the sign he would be holding that should list all 3 of our names. We claimed our bags and scanned the room for Eddie. We found Royl who said he'd made contact with the driver - who was nowhere near the baggage claim area and who, instead, stood OUTSIDE waiting with a sign that only named Brenda. So far, 2 violations of our prearranged security measures - suspicious.

"Enrique" led us to an UNMARKED van in the parking lot where he told us that Eddie's car had broken down (likely story) and that he'd been sent in Eddie's place to take us to the bungalow. Now -- this is where the creative imagination I gain so much entertainment from starts to work against me - just a momentary freeze frame and I had us picking cocoa beans for a Panamanian drug cartel or enslaved in the Nicaraguan jungle working a rice field under the butt of a 13 year-old guerrilla's rifle. I turn to Royl and say, "You ride shotgun."

We drove about an hour into the mountains where our van was forced to stop at a "construction" site - eerily reminiscent of a scene from "Proof of Life." While I was sure my overactive imagination was getting the best of me I suspiciously peered at the construction crew over the top of my Cape Cod (the open container law hasn't made its way to Central America) waiting for them to toss their hard hats and charge the van. Instead, the foreman raised his fist into the air- not to signal an ambush - but rather to wave us on. Now in the clear, my face to the open window, I take in a chestful of mountain air and enjoy the sweetness that only narrowly averted disaster brings.

Needless to say, we arrived in Hermosa on time and unharmed. Exhausted from the trip I napped in the hammock underneath the bungalow (it's on stilts). That night we hooked up with Judith and Paolo (resident managers of the bungalow complex) to patio dine in Jaco at a restaurant called "Los Amigos" followed by a night cap at a pub called "Tabacon" (where they had the Spurs game on the big screen).

Lessons Learned on Day 1:

• There's no good seat in a soon-to-be hijacked van.
  
• Despite having CLEP'd out of 12 hrs of Spanish and making every effort to pull from my Hispanic roots- I don't speak the language.

Gone Surfing

Right Click Here to CUE Music

It's finally HERE - and not a moment too soon. Will post if I can - but definitely when I get back. Good luck Ballers; I'll be thinking of you guys on game night!

A win for the team while on vacation would be "Very Nice!!" {Borat voice}

Pura Vida!

Anyone know where I can buy a break?

I can't seem to catch one.

As I rolled, folded and tucked my belongings into my suitcase and the euphoria of my impending trip set in, I heard the whir of an approaching vehicle followed by the sound of a heavy plastic bouncing on the pavement below my apartment window. Though I'm not sure I've ever heard the sound of a side-view mirror hitting the street - somehow, this is EXACTLY what I thought it was. I ran downstairs to my street-parked car where I found both of my side-view mirrors perfectly intact. I scanned the car (in the dark) for any sign of damage. Not seeing any, I headed back upstairs.

Back to packing.

An hour later I went back downstairs to get my camera cord out of the car and catch a reflection off the street ahead. A SIDE VIEW MIRROR LAY ABOUT 6' FROM MY CAR. Panicked I searched the car for damage and found what appears to be a dent/scratch that runs alongside the entire car in 3 different places; the longest scratch/dent (Exhibit B) about 18" long at the rear fender, the 2nd scratch about 3" on the passenger door and the last scratch about 1"somewhere near the front of the vehicle. I rush into the street to fetch the evidence and stand, in pajamas no less, cussing.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

As quickly as my irritation came, however, it left. I chuckled as I leapt 2 stairs at a time up to the apartment; pretty damn impressed with myself to have identified the sound I'd heard earlier as the sound of a side-view mirror hitting the street. I run inside channeling Marissa Tomei a la My Cousin Vinny.



I phone a friend who suggests I call the police (I wasn't sure what city-living protocol is for an incident of this kind - in the small town I recently came from we'd call the police for everything -- and I mean EVERYTHING. Hondo's finest once came out to help me get a trapped squirrel from out of my kitchen pantry, but that's another story). I dial the non-emergency line and change into something presentable and wait. And wait. And wait.

Growing restless I pop the mirror off the part (and the top off a dos equis), looking for a VIN or other trackable number. I find only half of a replacement part number, the other half presumably still attached to the jerk's car. I run a few google searches and come up with only one close match (Honda Civic).

11:40ish: Officer Talksalot arrives and eventually gets around to taking down my side (the only side) of the story -- though not before hitting every possible small-talk topic. As he writes he shuffles his feet and inadvertently kicks a piece of plastic on the ground - the missing link! The piece contains the remaining part numbers, which I later run through google. Hoping to confirm the Civic theory, I come up short. The only vehicle remotely related to a series of numbers like this is the Chevy Astro; an unlikely suspect based on how low my car was hit. Either way, I'm thrilled to have evidence in my hands which will in all likelihood eventually prove to be, well... useless.

No matter- I plan to run by an auto parts shop - see if they can give me an idea as to what kind of car this mirror was once attached to. Then I plan to do a little neighborhood sleuthing - I'm guessing the perp lives in the area and can't easily hide a missing mirror.

I should probably familiarize myself with the citizens arrest procedure, in the miraculous event I actualy track the loser down. I have to say, I'm just a little excited about the remote possibility of my getting to tackle someone.

Right click to CUE the theme song for the post (natrally!)


*

So Corny I Should Be Canned

There is nothing more humbling than parenting a teenage daughter.

For those of you who don't have one of your own - you'll have to take my word for it. For those who can empathize - Solidarity! For Mikie & Ed who have twin daughters - good luck with that.

I'm a pretty 'cool mom.'

Ok, STOP-

I suppose we should acknowledge the irony in my having made a statement like that before I go on. What legitimately "cool" person ever SAYS that they are? Do they? Clearly not as cool as I thought I was before I started to write this post.

"Cool mom," in the eyes of a typical teenaged girl, is an oxymoron. I've come to accept that convincing my daughter that I'm cool is probably alot like convincing W that global warming is real. In fact, now that I think about it, my teen is alot like W. Neither of them want to believe that they're NOT the center of the universe. Neither want to believe that they don't know everything. And both are prone to sweeping messes under the rug. But I digress.

In parenting a teenage girl your mojo is under constant fire. They have no trouble reminding you of how uncool you are, often just when you are feeling your coolest. For example, you listen to the latest COOL music? Not cool. You DON'T dress like the Church Lady from SNL? Not cool. You have a sense of humor and tend to make other kids laugh? Not cool. You youtube, myspace, IM or blog? OMG! STHU! Soooooo not cool.

I do my best to embarrass my daughter, or so she thinks. I say, "Why not have fun with it?" Afterall, this is one of very few things I manage to do with little effort and great reward. Besides, these "embarrassing moments" are rich memories in the making. She often reminds me of the night my girlfriend and I mortified her and her friend (my friend's daughter) when we blasted JT in the car and "brought sexy back" at a stop light. Their pleas for us to stop dancing fell on deaf ears - literally. We had the music blaring and ate up every second we were able to torture them, all in good fun - of course ;).

The bottom line is this: No matter what we do - a teenage daughter cannot have (or at least cannot ADMIT to having) a cool mom. It simply defies the laws of the universe.

When I told my little bundle of hormonal joy that I was thinking of starting a blog she laughed so hard she cried. She laughed the kind of tummy twisting, breath robbing, cheeks cramping laugh that makes you want to laugh along - that is, until you remember it's YOU she's laughing at. She wiped the tears from her cheeks saying, as she caught her breath, "Mom - you're so corny you should be canned."

And perhaps she's right. Maybe someday I'll look back and see how corny and uncool I've been. For now I'll just try to embrace the juxtaposition of being the cool mom of a teenaged girl.

The Sweetest Thing

{Sorry for the delay in post - this should have posted yesterday, but my connection has been down.}

The pool party has come and gone; and as they always do for me, things worked themselves out nicely. I'm happy to report I ended up not having to hire a date *whew*. My unpaid escort was a friend who kindly agreed to be my "huckleberry" for the evening. He was AWESOME company and rose to the occassion like a champ (taking lots of 'boy toy' comments in stride). AND , after weeks of searching, I found a FABULOUS dress just hours before the function! It was like it was handcrafted for a Cinco de Mayo Pool Party- fantastically embroidered and a perfect fit to boot.

Laura wasn't kidding when she joked that her sister's pool looked like something out of MTV Cribs! It was a beautiful home and the perfect setup for a Summer Party. White linens draped the tables outside where the caterer grilled light fare to order. A well done but casual affair. Great party girls!

Oh, I neglected to mention the fully stocked "top shelf" bar with bartender... I thought this element would earn points with my young friend (did I mention he's 20 something? If I recall correctly, open bars are big in this demographic) but he's the kind of guy that makes his own fun. Of course, the open bar didn't hurt nor did all the attention he gleaned from the ladies. He's a fellow people-watcher: so much material, so little time (we laughed so hard my sides hurt--especially when he got 'sniffed' by a hairdresser).

What else is there to say? It was a great night and I was in great company. We could have ended the night there, but then, that would have been the right thing to do.

*See also: "FYI" (prior post)*

I've been told my life is like a sitcom; a fair (and fun) assessment. This evening, like so many other occassions in my life, had the makings of a great story: rich characters (antagonists/protagonists), humor, an impossible dillema, and catharsis - only lacking the sitcom's hallmark harmonious ending. Should we script it, scenes might be called: The Missed Exit, Oscar's Not a Weiner, A Dirty Doctor, Don't Go THERE, A Dip in the Pool, What Goes Down Must Come Up, and of course, Knockin on Heaven's Door {mind out of the gutter please - this refers to what felt like a near-death experience thanks to prior post}.

Good times.

Thanks Splawnie!
Rt Click here to CUE one from the long ride there

FYI

A League of Our Own

So I hear there's no crying in baseball. Surely that doesn't apply to Wednesday night co-ed softball.

I'm not sure when it happened. That is, I'm not sure when it is that I became a full-fledged athlete (read: sore loser) but tonight's loss hurt. It hurt real bad.

Though we were playing the number 1 team (one of 3 tied for first place) we were ready to unleash Operation Domination in full force. Losing was not an option. That is, of course, until we got spanked in the fourth inning with a 12 run rally (I stopped counting at 12 anyway). I asked the ref for mercy but he said the 10 run rule only came into play AFTER the 5th inning... and as I say, it was the top of the 4th. Natrally.

I think the last time I picked up a bat I was 6 and the game was tee-ball. I know the last time I pouted over a team loss was... well, hmmm, NEVER. I've always thought it was more about the game than the win, that it was the journey and not the destination, that in fun games EVERYONE'S a winner - WTH WAS I THINKING!??? It's TOTALLY about the win. The journey gets tiring and soon enough you wanna know "are we there yet?" Not everyone's a winner. Get over it. If it hurts, I'm sorry. If you're scared - get a dog.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trading in these highlighted locks for a mullet just yet - Hard as I try, I still throw like a girl. I hit like a girl. I run like a girl and yes, I even slide like a girl. But MAN I wanna win.

I suppose if we'd sucked from the start I'd never have gotten my hopes up. But we are actually pretty darn good. We're spirited and play well as a team. We go out there and litrally have a ball. Fun is definitely something we can do. Each Wednesday we meet to warm up at least 2hrs before the game. The rigorous warmup takes place at the park's nearby watering hole. Then of course, there's the post game party. Win or lose - rain or shine - it's on, same place.

In fact, our team captain rallied us all in the dug out after the game to boost our spirits saying, "I'll see you at the bar. LET'S GO DO SOMETHING WE'RE GOOD AT!!!!"*crowd cheers*


"Booze, broads and bullshit. If you got all that, what else do you need?"-Harry Caray

Hottie for Hire

Alright, so now I've done it.

A couple of weeks ago I was invited to attend a "Summer Soire," poolside at a friend's lovely home in Boerne. I accepted the evite, RSVP'ing for 2. My comment read something like, "I'm not sure who the lucky fellow will be that joins me, but we will be there!"

Apparently this has stirred a little discussion among other guests on the evite list and now there's a piqued interest in who it is I'll be bringing - they're all aware of my new "status" and dying to see what I'm capable of wrangling in. And uh...
I got nothin.

Rt click here to CUE THE MUSIC in a new Tab/Window

So now what? Show up with one of the kids? A purse sized Chihuahua dressed to match? Pickup a panhandler on the way there? Or worse... go alone?

I couldn't. Not sure I have it in me to let them down. My arrival would be so, well, anticlimactic. So now I'm thinking what every other recent divorcee thinks - goodbye lonely nights hello hired hottie!

Get your mind out of the gutter, I'm not talking that kind of hired service provider. I'm talking about hiring an actor. This city is full of hopefuls with so few real prospects; surely playing the part of Mr. Right couldn't cost me much.

I'm thinking 20 bux and a six pack ought to bring out the city's finest. RSS subscribers to this blog need not apply.

Dame La Gasolina

I'm not sure if it's because it costs nearly $3/gallon, or if it's because it means touching the community (cespool) pump - but I HATE pumping gas. If a good song comes on the radio just as I pull in to fill up, I'll use that as an excuse to pull right back out onto the street and drive until the yellow "low fuel" warning light catches my attention again.

I won't wait in line for gas. If I have to do any kind of maneuvering to position myself into the only open pump, I'll pass. Pay-at-the-Pump not working? Then I'm not pumping. I will fill the tank at the absolute last possible moment, when the car coughs in desperation - begging for a sip. Until then, we (the car and I) live on the edge. Pushing the limits until... well, you know.

So last Thursday, 2 days after the warning light came on, Liz, B and I were on our way to a lovely picnic lunch. Feeling a little under the weather (bottle flu was making its way thru the office), we head out to grab a sandwich and to cop-a-squat at a not-so-nearby park. A super way to spend our brief lunch hour, we thought; but my desperately dehydrated car had other ideas. We ran out of gas at a busy intersection off the highway just after leaving the office.

Here we go.

My two loyal compadres wasted no time. I suspect the humiliation (for them; by now I'm used to this happening) motivated them to push past their queasy stomachs and pounding headaches to force my car uphill to a less congested area. I will not soon forget the image of the two of them in my rear-view mirror pushing as I steered to safety. Wearing flip-flops they heaved the car in what felt like 100 degree weather. The heat and pain were written into Liz's grimaces - I laugh now (sorry, Liz) just thinking about it.

Needless to say we were rescued by the rest of the office gang in time enough to fill the tank and grab a quick bite at a noisy nearby bbq joint.

Tank of Super Unleaded gas - $47.00
Lunch for your crew - $25.00
The image of 2 hung-over friends pushing your car in flip-flops - Priceless

She's Only Happy in the Sun

To say that life has been stormy the past few months would be a gross understatement. I'm beginning to think I'm surviving something more on par with an emotional El Nino.

As such, I've booked a much-needed, albeit brief, trip to Costa Rica. The agenda is loose but includes learning to surf, hiking, and maybe a little fishing.

Though the trip started off as one I was taking alone - I'm ecstatic that a few of my favorite people will be sharing the experience with me: it promises to be an unforgettable time.

I'd initially planned to go to Santa Teresa after hearing about it from Liz or "Llll" whose friend Jenny lived there for some time. The plan was to surf Mal Pais and stay in a one bedroom "casita" on the beach. It was super small (maybe 400sqft) with a toilet, a bed, a sink, and notably, no AC. It was uber quaint -just my speed- and the hammock on the front porch made it utterly irresistable. The travel there was a lot more complicated than I'd hoped, though - it involved long drives, and/or a flight out of San Jose to another airport, a ferry, and probably a whole lot of headache. With only 5 days there I wanted to keep the travel time to a minimum and hit the beach as quickly as I possibly could. Enter Playa Hermosa (Puntarenas).

The beachfront bungalow on Playa Hermosa is perfect - the house sleeps six and also has the porch with a hammock. Not sure I'll have time for a schweaty nap, but I like to keep my options open. ;) The beach is undeveloped and is the site of the annual Quiksilver surfing contest held near the famous Almendro (Almond) Tree -- famous to well travelled/serious surfers anyway... needless to say, I'd never heard of it.

While Playa Hermosa offers some of the best breaks in the world you won't soon see me out there hanging 10. I've read the breaks are brutal and only pros survive - 'litrally'. Instead, the surf school (pray in a jeep - not a short bus) will pick us up at the bungalow and drive us the short 5 or so miles to Playa Jaco where the breaks are beginner friendly. Jaco also offers shopping (YEAH!), restaurants, and nightlife; I forsee us making the trek between Hermosa and Jaco a few times a day.

Not sure whether we have internet access in the bungalow - ideally I'll have access and post pictures here. I would normally count on using my Blackberry as a modem but won't have coverage; I'm looking at a forced Blackberry detox kind of situation -- I anticipate twitching thumbs and night sweats, 'natrally'.

Good times.