Kaput! Done for. Of course, it no longer says it's snowing outside. And the indoor weather still works. So now I'm stuck watching the widget on my mac, distrusting it. It says it's 82, but how do I know? My porch could be a micro-climate. It could be 83 out there and I wouldn't know. When is the weather widget updated anyways? Is it real time, or is there a delay? I need answers!!
Seems Carmel always provides
the same images with subtle differences. Colder weather = shoes, not sandals. And there's another pair of hands sticking into the picture. Hog's Breath Pub is too good of a place to pass up, though. Even if the scenery is always the same, it's a nice place, and I'm always toasty warm.
We made another trip to the
Musee Mecanique this weekend. This place is awesome. I love the fact how non-politically-correct the amusements from the past are, such as this Uncle Sam that tests your Hotness. If you look real close, you'll see a nice pair of cartoon boobs in the center of the circular part.
Niiice - something you would never see today.
I know Pier 39 is a huge tourist trap, but I can't help myself. It offers great people watching
and sea lions. Watching marine life always makes me wish I hadn't said, "I don't want to immerse myself in 4 years of science, so screw the dream of becoming a Marine Biologist. I'll go to art school instead."
What's that saying? Hindsight's 20/20?
Almost one year in California, and I haven't heard thunder or seen a lightning strike since I've been here. Today, it's rumblin' outside. Not constant, just every once and a while. And it looks nothing like Kansas out there :-)
I can't believe I lived in Tornado Country for 7 years. As a child I was scared of tornados, terrified of them, even though we lived in a place that didn't have them. When it would storm I would hide under the sheets, heart racing, hoping it would be over soon.
This is a major triumph for me. I've turned this orchid over, caught its petals in the screen door, and yet it still survives. I am amazed.
Beautiful day in Santa Cruz at the Aloha Grill. After having a plate lunch there I am craving Hawaiian macaroni salad. I've tried making it, but just can't get it right.
As a child I had a fear that I would end up in a hospital needing an operation. And, that at the precise moment the doctor was getting ready to operate on me, somewhere in the universe and alien would be operated on at the same time, and that would cause a time warp, and I would end up in the space ship, being operated on by the aliens, and the alien would end up here on earth, being operated on by the human doctors.
I have no idea where this fear came from. And it really was a fear - I was scared shitless that this would really happen to me. I had a very active imagination as a child.
Tonight it was candlelight dinner for one, which has just driven home the fact that I'm alone. Even as a kid I felt alone - and I was surrounded by people who cared about me and loved me. I'm a loner; I don't really like people. Or maybe it's just that I'm self-concious around people. I don't like someone looking over my shoulder or watching me do anything, fearing they will critique how I'm doing something - or worse - question
why I'm doing something. It's none of your business! Leave me alone!
I guess I wasn't completely alone - I had the Miles. I should have given him the extra burger I cooked - but I didn't. He's been eating peanut butter fudge for the past few days, so he needs to watch his girlish figure.
I've found that making a soundtrack for my yoga practice helps tremendously. Plus, it's the music that puts me in a relaxed state, not what some fitness instructor or corporation that made a yoga DVD and CD thinks relaxes me. Instead of ocean waves and birds I have classical music, soundtrack songs, Asian pop, and a couple of new-agey things thrown in for good measure. Each piece around the approximate time I need to hold an asana.
So the three songs I've listed above (1 soundtrack, 2 new-agey, all Chilly Willy) are what play as I lay in the final corpse pose, eyes half focused, trying to make my brain stop running. And I see the mobile twirling above me. It's rather surreal when my eyes come back into focus - like a Miro in motion.
Reading an article on my.aptrick.com this morning revived a funny memory - though this anti-climatic story may be one of those "you had to be there" stories.
February - Chicago. To say it's cold is an understatement. It's the kind of weather where you wear wool sweaters over long sleeve shirts, and don your wool trench coat, hat, scarf, and gloves before you head out of the hotel's revolving door. And you still stick your hands in your pockets to keep them warm. You sniffle as you walk the streets because the cold makes your nose run.
We were wondering along Chicago's Magnificent Mile - North Michigan Avenue - wandering in and out of the luxe stores that we know we can't really afford. It's nice to dream...
We head into Hugo Boss and over towards the sweaters. Shopping with gloves on isn't quite as much fun for me. I love to feel the different textures of fabrics, running my hands over everything I walk by in the store. We see a sweater that's nice, and I lean in to see how much it is. As I lean over the sweater - DRIP! I snotted on a $400 Hugo Boss sweater.
Someone probably bought that sweater - and it has my snot on it - which just cracks me up.
When I woke up this morning, my room was still semi-dark. It was gray and overcast outside. The room was slightly chilly, and all I wanted to do was scrooch back beneath the covers where it was warm.
It's 10 am, and my house is still only 69 degrees inside. It's 62 outside, and humid (for here) - 38% humidity. If you can't tell, I'm addicted to my weather station.
The wind is whirring through the living room, causing the mini-blinds to beat against the window, and the blinds themselves to flutter. It's still slightly overcast, and I can see the clouds rolling over the hills.
That's all the signs of fall. It's time to put the down comforter back on the bed and start making soups and chili (mmmm, chili). Time to get out the sweatshirts two sizes too large that swallow me up so I feel cozy while I sit on the couch, drinking beer and watching football.
Pale Ale and yogurt mix on the ferry to Sausalito. Found some great art at the
Sausalito Art Festival. Check out these 3 artists (Pappy, you will appreciate the first two):
Larry Stephonson,
Audrey Heller, and
Emerson Matabele.
