Hallelujah!

wtf to the fourth power

2009-10-05T08:15:00.000-07:00

Steve, the man with the missing teeth, ordered me another bourbon rocks.

I was sitting inside my neighborhood dive bar, alone, listening to Elton John and his Crocodile Rock. Friends were en route. But for just that moment I reveled in sitting like a big girl, nursing a bourbon. Not to quote Simply Red or anything, but I was holding back the tears ...

Every time water leaked from my eyes, Steve the toothless man ordered me another bourbon. It didn't matter if I was done with the last one or not.

I had just been fucking had. AGAIN. by a boy.

This one wrote me long letters and pretty words strung together, that my imagination jinxed and my brain accepted as truth. He was in San Francisco for a few days.
I want to see you.
He said.

Offered to cook him dinner. I wanted to hear about his long trip around world. He was coming at 8 o'clock. So I smoothed, chopped, wiped, brushed, glossed, rinsed and tidied. In anticipation.

And then it was 8:30. Then 9. Then 9:30. Then 10. At 10:30 I was two bourbons deep alongside Steve the toothless man. By 1:30 I was balanced in my kitchen on a ledge. My best man friend was sitting on the white couch in my kitchen. Eating the dinner I'd made for the flake. The dinner I'd cried over a few hours ago. It was around then that I discovered the flake had written me an email, about 45 minutes before he was supposed to have come over.

His friend "needed" him and could we reschedule?

My man friend raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Sock it to him, Mims. Thats bullshit. HE'S bullSHIT!"

So I did.
16 bourbons to the wind. And I composed and sent the following email.

> Not even a phone call to cancel barely an hour before we were to
> meet up? Really?
>
> I just now got this email, after being upset most of the night
> trying to figure out if you'd been hurt or lost on public transit.
> Very inconsiderate.
>
> Have fun in dickland, dick. It's where you belong. Highly recommend
> that you stick to unhappy, ugly girls who don't know any better.
> Those of us in well-adjustedland just get disgusted and furious
> about bad behavior.
>
> Thanks for demonstrating the things I don't want in a man.
>

My bark is alot worse than my bite.
Truly.
But my tears are always genuine.

The bright side?

I found out how many people truly love me and care for me and rally around me. And how many people are willing to break kneecaps for me.

walkin in a spiderweb

2009-09-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

I really like this BLOG. I like the spiderweb photograph alot.

It got me thinking about how intertwined we all are. And connected. And dependant on each other.

How one person's dream or wish might be able to be solved or provided by someone else. How we should be looking, as citizens of the earth, to help each other as much as possible.

So today, for the rest of this week, leave your anonymous wishes. Put your intentions out into the universe and into the hands of other people. You never know what might happen . . .

two-faced bitches

2009-09-29T23:29:00.000-07:00

Be sincere.
Be real.
Be honest.

or BE REMOVED. From my life.
Because I don't have time for he said, she said drama.
I'm busy saving the world over here.

Mmmkay. Thanks.

Turophile Tuesday: Gouda, Gouda, Gouda ... rockin everywhere

2009-09-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

Aaah, Gouda. A traditional cheese that has been reinterpreted the world over. Traditionally a cows milk cheese from Holland ... you can now find it made from goat, sheep and cow from an international collection of dairymen.

what to look for: boeren kaas
why: indicates farmstead cheese literally translates into farmer cheese.

Gouda cheese is named for the Dutch city of Gouda in the province of Zuid-Holland. Gouda is perhaps the most famous Dutch cheese export, with millions of wheels of the cheese being sent all over the world. Gouda is often used on dessert platters, sandwiches, and at wine tastings as a palate cleanser.

Gouda grows sharper as it ages, starting out very creamy and mild. If allowed to age, the cheese will grow more complex, much more astringent, and almost cheddar like. Gouda is a semi firm cheese, and usually comes wrapped in a wax rind.

Without a rind, though, the cheese ages faster and becomes almost Pecorino-like.

The color ranges from white to creamy yellow, with aged cheeses usually being darker, while the flesh of the cheese is sometimes polka dotted with small holes.

Gouda is also often smoked by dairy producers, which complicates the flavor - the way certain fillers in stuffed olives enhance a good martini. Some Gouda producers also make flavored cheeses, adding herbs, pepper, jalapenos, and other ingredients to the cheese while it is being manufactured.

A few really nice Goudas . . .

Beemster L'Amuse Gouda Holland - pasteurized cow's milk.
L'Amuse Gouda commands your attention and won't let go. It's a gorgeous cheese, the color of amber, generously dotted with the pale spots that indicate crunchy protein crystals.

Cheeseland Ewephoria Gouda-Style Holland - pasteurized sheep's milk
Ewephoria is possibly as close as cheese gets to candy. The texture is firm, becoming drier toward the rind, and the flavor intense and sweet, with enough acidity to keep the cheese from being cloying.

Meadow Stone Farm Di Greta Gouda,* Connecticut.
Yellow beeswax coating. A raw milk Gouda from the milk of Jersey cows.

Buckeye Grove Farm Cheese Boeren Kaas Gouda,* Ohio.
Red wax coating. A raw Jersey milk, farmstead Gouda from a closed Jersey herd that is hormone free. The cheese is produced “with minimal environmental impact.”

Winchester Cheese Super Aged Gouda,* California.
No wax coating. This is a raw milk, farmstead Gouda, or boeren kaas. It looks a little like a Parmigiano-Reggiano, with its darker straw-colored paste.

Little Bunny FooFoo Hopping Through the Forest

2009-09-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

Mission Accomplished: 1 Happy Bunny

confidante, confident

2009-09-26T15:47:00.000-07:00

Every year, on her birthday, I write some amazing tribute to my sister. For whom I love so very much. She knows every single thing there is to know about every single thing I do.

There is no one who makes me happier. Or who is capable of causing more anguish than her. We have had many, many adventures together.

It's always the people who love you and you love THE MOST who are capable of causing the most damage and smoothing things over the cleanest. You need THOSE people around. The ones who are allowed inside your walled city.

Cheers to my sister, who not only walks freely inside my walled city. But also re-built some of the walls for me and patrols it's perimeter. With a vengeance.

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” -Rumi

Alotta Hare

2009-09-24T07:35:00.000-07:00

I need some help.
I'm going to be a Burlesque Bunny in a dinner project I work on, sometimes.

These are the ears I'm making.
I need a hilarious stage name.
Rassles, whatcha got fer me?

i'm gettin tired of yer shit - Erykah Badu

2009-09-22T20:09:00.001-07:00

Why is it so hard to slam the door? shut.

The other day, I drank so much bourbon I fell in a hole on Haight Street and my friend Jason put me in a cab. My cab driver started fussing at me on the Bay Bridge. About having to drive me home to Oakland.
And I socked it to him.

Sucky Cab Driver: GARGH! I'm losing money. GAAARGH
Me:(in sing song falsetto)Do you know what I do for a living?
Sucky Cab Driver: No!
Me: I teach wine classes. And when someone hires me to teach a wine class, I suck it up and TEACH THE CLASS.
Sucky Cab Driver:ehm-
Me:-So, YOU! You are a cab driver. So CAB ME THE FUCK HOME.
Sucky Cab Driver:ok, lady.
Me: ok, cab driver.
Sucky Cab Driver: strong lady.

Now I can handle my shit. Except when it comes to love. Then I fall apart. I can't stick to ANYTHING. I flip flop. I change my mind. I try to keep the door as open as possible, no matter how wrong, mean, negative or ugly the situation.

My closest friend. My soul anchor. My lace.
My poor, poor Lace is going through a terrible time.
A really, really selfish man. The kind of man, who is actually a boy.

The kind of boy who treats girls like he treats his tonka trucks in the sandbox.
Carelessly, roughly and mindlessly.

If you hear of a crazy lady being locked up in Los Angeles.
It's just me.

I'm going down there to smack this man in the mouth, with everything I have.
Instead of my hand, I'm gonna use his own ballsack.

See, I figure he likes it rough too.

Turophile Tuesday: Culture Magazine

2009-09-22T09:04:00.000-07:00

I bet you didn't know there is a magazine dedicated to all things cheese.
Culture.
Try some.

It's the Complete Word on Cheese. The articles are well written and interesting. Connecting dots that the rest of us might not ponder or entertain. AND it's not boring.

It's not like your boring finance-guy Uncle trying to get you to read Barrons or something. It's more like your gabby little sister leaving out US Weekly on the counter. But. For like cheese.

RugRats + Outkast = Hiluuuurious

2009-09-21T09:41:00.000-07:00

I was driving the other day. And I totally got the giggles when Outkast came on the radio.

You know, because he's referencing the RugRats in that song.
Because he's all hard.
Watching Nick Jr.

in the midst of a celebration

2009-09-17T21:07:00.000-07:00

"Whoa. Where're YOU girls headed?"
The cashier dude wiggled his eyebrows at us. Suggestively.

We were buying last minute supplies at a grocery store in Davis. Beer, Bacon and Ky.
Thats a funny parade of items on the late night tip on a Sunday.

I was with my soul anchor friend. We were both trying to out brave the other one. But I knew she was scared. So I tried to be the brave, carefree one.

Buying Beer, Bacon and KY relieved the silent, white noise that was clouding our car.

Fear tackling is a difficult, soul-searching business.
Its about honoring yourself.
Its about recognizing your deficiencies.

I fought Burning Man. The dirt scared me. I don't like to be around drugged out druggies. I hate camping. I dislike being hot. Roughing it isn't something I wear well. I'm not a fan of being in situations where I have zero control to remove myself if I so desire.

And then to pay close to $1,000 to top it off?

No thanks, I'd rather be on a beach in Mexico sipping a rum cocktail.

But the art called me. The mystery sang to me. The lure whispered in my ear.

And I was out to prove something. Because I phony it up by being all fearless in public. Isn't it weird how it's hard to admit fear? Like its easier to just be all hard ass about something. Stubborn.

Instead of just standing up and saying.
"Yeah. I'm scared. It scares me."
But I had a GREAT time. It was AWESOME. And MAGICAL.
I loved the people I was there with and the people I met along the way.

If this was Romper Room, I'd be looking into my candy striped mirror and saying "Thank you Jamie. And you too, Be. Lailani, I love you. Jeffie and Keen - you warm my heart. Thanks for playing with me, Skylar and Logan. Robin and Christina and Gregor and Jasmin you four are the best. Elizabeth you are heart and soul."

Here are some photo's. Or as her royal highness, Lailani might say, Faux Toes.

EVOLUTION: It is interesting to contemplate a tangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent upon each other in so complex a manner, have all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the largest sense, being Growth with Reproduction; Inheritance which is almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct action of the conditions of life: a Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a consequence to Natural Selection… There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers… and that, while this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed laws of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and wonderful have been and are being evolved.
— Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species

Turophile Tuesday: Charlie The Magical Unicorn and the Evil Fougerus Fish

2009-09-15T10:48:00.000-07:00

How did this happen?
Wait.
I KNOW how it happened.
A better question? Why didn't it happen SOONER!
GOD BRAIN. WURK ALREADY!

At the same time I was watching (for the 3,000th time) this video about Charlie the Unicorn I was also thinking about what to write about for Turophile Tuesday. Something delicious. Something that would pair nicely with the Sauternes I was sipping. Something that matched well with a bad case of the giggles.

The Fugu Fish spawned this massive linking from a video about a facking unicorn to a beautifully earthy, fungal and minerally brie-style cheese called Fougerus introduced to us by muy famoso maestro de queso:

Robert Rouzaire

Fougerus - $28.95/lb
Made in the heart of the Brie region of France, Fougerus exudes the classic terroir quality of the region. A rich buttery cheese dominated by truffle and mushroom flavors.

Fougerus cheese is a cow's milk cheese which originates in Northern France. The cheese is traditionally made with unpasteurized milk, and it has a dense, creamy texture and flavor which causes it to closely resemble Brie. While not as popularized as Brie, fougerus cheese is quite a respectable cheese, and it can be served at room temperature with crusty breads, spicy white wines, and mild fruits.

Like Brie, fougerus cheese has a soft, creamy interior with a slightly salty, chalky flavor. The thick velvety rind is fully edible and in fact quite flavorful. When served at room temperature, the cheese is soft and very spreadable.

It's a Girl!

2009-09-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

I feel ferklempt, like Linda RICHARDS, trying to express how happy I am for all of my friends welcoming gorgeous, radiant bundles of joy into the world. Liberia and Libya: same continent, different countries. Talk amongst yourselves.
Ok. I'd LOVELOVELOVELOVE to be welcoming in my own bundle of joy. But I sort of love the irresponsibility of my life right now. So having best friends provide you with living dolls to play with, is perfect.

I feel overjoyed for the sisterhood.

So Miriam, Heather, Keri, Tiffany and Cara. For you. The mommies.
I quote the words of the great Arrested Development in their hit single, Everyday People:

my soul was at ease
say WHOOOOOA
say YEAAAAAAH
WHOAYEAHWHOAYEAHWHOAYEAHWHOAYEAH
Iiiiiiii'mmmmmm everyday people

So welcome to the world, Maya and Ashley.
You have been graced with strong, loving, balanced, giving, educated, kind queens to raise you. And you have a swarm of auntie's all around you, that can't wait to spoil you.

gum drops and sugar breezes,
Auntie Mimi

comin home to ya darlin

2009-09-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

I'm obsessed with this song right now.
I love it.
I love it.
I love it.
I lllluuuurrrrrrrrrrvvve it!

I WISH it was only three more days until I got to see him.
*sigh*

vivid dallas reruns

2009-09-10T19:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I imagine walking up to the bar and tossing a stiff martini in someone's face. Flouncing through a department store and flinging hundreds of dresses on the floor. Smirking at people as they clean up in my wake. Taking every cheap shot I can in verbal wars.

Sometimes I imagine bitch slapping stupid faces off people's heads. With a wet hand. And red lipstick on. And a sneer.

Or taking a slingshot out of my poufed sleeves and aiming at the cops on bikes in my town. Or pushing the unicyclist who always hangs out at my local Starbucks. Or kicking dumpsters and lighting them on fire. For funsies.

Then other times I google my name and find some internet lovin.
i heart compliments. Thank you Justin. You just saved lives from being ruined by my temper.

Turophile Tuesday: Do you want cheese on that?

2009-09-08T22:03:00.000-07:00

In reality, it isn't known when cheesemaking was first discovered, but it is an ancient art.

Cheese is a fermented milk product made from the curds produced when milk is coagulated. Usually it is made from cow's milk but there are many varieties made from sheep's milk and goat's milk. Cheese can also be made from the milk of various other animals. Real mozzarella, for example, is made from buffaloes' milk.

In the process of making cheese, milk is acidified to a point where the casein precipitates. This process, called coagulation, produces curds (which eventually become cheese) and whey (the liquid portion that contains water, lactose and serum proteins).

...

Egyptian hieroglyphics depict workmen making cheese. In ancient times, the whey was consumed immediately and the curd was salted and/or dried to preserve it. The Roman Legion was instrumental in spreading the art of cheesemaking throughout Europe and England.

During the Middle Ages, the art of cheesemaking was improved greatly in the monasteries and feudal estates of Europe. The monks became great innovators of cheese and it is to them we owe many of the classic varieties of cheese marketed today.

During the Renaissance period cheese suffered a drop in popularity, being considered unhealthy, but it regained favor by the nineteenth century, the period that saw the start of the move from farm to factory production.

...

Though the American state of Wisconsin has long billed itself as “America’s Dairyland,” California is breathing down the Badger State’s neck even when it comes to Wisconsin’s premier product, cheese.

An October 2006 report by the American Dairy Products Institute indicated that in 2005 California turned out a quarter of the nation’s cheese, some 2.14 billion pounds, threatening to close the gap with Wisconsin, which produced 2.4 billion pounds.

Wisconsin’s cheese makers tend to be smaller; some 1,300 licensed producers make 600 varieties of cheese, as compared to California’s 55 producers with 250 varieties.

After California (which became the top milk producing state in 1993) and Wisconsin, major milk production states are New York, Pennsylvania, Idaho, Minnesota, New Mexico, Michigan, Texas, and Washington. In 2003, American cows produced 19.7 gallons pounds of milk. Many American dairy farms are small; Wisconsin, for example, has 17,800 dairy farms averaging 71 cows each; the California average is a whopping 659 cows.

Tammy Terrell and Marvin Gaye ain't got nothin on us

2009-09-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

I can walk into his house without knocking, flop onto the couch full of clean laundry and start munching the popcorn thats been sitting there for a *few* days. It's 9am. I didn't call before I blazed over. He doesn't feel the need to clean. It's just me.

We both drink beers in the morning. He just hands me one without asking if I want one, because of course I want it. We were on our way to a mutual friends art show opening at a coffee shop.

First we talked 6 million miles a minute about a myriad of subjects. To me, he's the best girlfriend I never had -- the one who likes beer first thing in the morning and has a motorcycle. To him, I'm a great manfriend substitute. I know how to french braid his long hair and I usually pack him lunches to bring to work.

He grilled me on my Burning Man packing job and clucked over me like a mother hen. Handing me costumes, goggles and his own face mask bandana. Then I grilled him about his life. Then he grilled me about all my boyfriends that swirl around everywhere.

And we finally ended it all by laughing about how no one's ball sack can match mine.
Which, when I'm home alone, isn't as funny, but somehow on his couch surrounded by laundry and Burning Man gear was hilarious. Ball Sacks.

Thats a whole 'nother blog post.

(he's a dance dance dance dancin machine)

I can't recall exactly when he and I linked up. It was more than a few years ago. My parents bought a house near him. I was home for the holidays bored, bored, bored and a mutual friend gave me his number.

I will do anything to beat the boring so I invited myself over to his house for dinner. And from that point on - we hung out constantly. He had a small little budding family and they welcomed me with open arms.

He and I learned to play Tai Chi Darts together. We simultaneously burned our tongues on hot pink watermelon salsa. He came into the tow truck office and talked to my mom on the phone when my car got towed in San Francisco. He introduced me to one of his friends that I dated for a bit. Once I got stuck in a city two hours from home after a first date with this friend of his and he was the one to come pick me up and take me home -- and all the way home he lectured me about choosing the RIGHT kind of man to date. We've danced to so many songs on so many dance floors in so many cities I could never recall them all.

He has DJ'ed alot of my culinary classes. And I have come to depend on him alot, since he is one of the rare few who get to see me behind-the-scenes.

He has cooked more dinners, with me, than I can count in all the various kitchens of all of our mutual various houses.
In fact it was with him, that I discovered my talents for making goat nards. A meatloaf/lamb/mint/red onion combination that is DELICIOUS.

I know that one of his favorite cheeses is a full milk fat French Sheep's Milk Feta. I make sure I have some when I know he's coming over.

His laugh is like gold coins jingling in a tweed pocket mixed with rainbows, 3rd grade school assembly clapping, the song 'Rockin Robin', tires peeling out of a parking lot and golden hair swishing in the wind.
It's THAT good.

He is one of the kindest souls to walk the earth. He is more sensitive than most people I come across. In fact his sensitivity rivals mine. And mine runs DEEEEEEEEEEP. We are definitely from the same tribe.

He is my people.

He once convinced me to start playing online space craft video games just so we could both sit across town from each other, head phones donned, late at night, whispering directions to our nerdy partners across the world. Then I realized I'm not cut out for video games. So I convinced him to streak naked downtown with me. But he realized he doesn't like to streak naked downtown.

So we did what we always do.

Crank music and drink beers.

I just realized today how empty my life would be without him. I had tears streaming down my face, driving down the highway, thinking about how far away I live now. I hate it.

So I'm just writing. to say. I. love. you. bryzzle. dyzzle.

This one's for you my love:

Una and Uma

2009-09-06T10:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my dog Uma jumped out of the 2nd story window of my new studio so she could be sure I wasn't going to leave her behind. I started crying because thats how I react in a stressful situation. CRY. I saw blood and started flapping my hands like a crazy person.

Uma is just fine. She's young and spry. And I doubt she'll ever do that again.

The Strange Part: the little neighbor girl came outside just as Uma jumped. The little girl is named Una and she was carrying a Unicorn. And I was standing with Uma holding my Magical Unicorn.

spooky.

Infinite Creativity

2009-08-29T10:16:00.000-07:00

I'm going on a little camping trip with a bunch of lady friends. I hear it's gonna look a little like this...

I'll be back soon with tales of poems, lights, love, songs, dust, friends, wisdom and ideas. Until then, keep tabs on it all by going here.

MWA

2 o'clock this morning

2009-08-26T08:19:00.000-07:00

I know
I think I'll look for a job.
Fall in love.
Move.
Shop & Pack for Burning Man.
Plan two back-to-back birthday parties.
all in the same week.

Brilliant.
Dont'cha Think?

Turophile Tuesday: Buko

2009-08-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

I met a gang of Danes at a disco in Barcelona once. They followed me all around singing the American National Anthem and being ridiculous with gyrating discoteque moves. I miss them. And I miss being 20 years old running around Spain.

In honor of the Danes I bring you: BUKO!

Buko is a soft, flavored cream cheese style fresh cheese.

According to Kraft Foods,the first cream cheese was made in New York in 1872 by an American dairyman William Lawrence. In 1880, ‘Philadelphia’ was adopted as the brand name, after the city that was considered at the time to be the home of top quality food.
Philadelphia is used by some as a generic term for cream cheese, and in Spanish it is translated as Queso Filadelfia.
References to cream cheese in England start from at least 1754 and recipes follow soon after, particularly from Lincolnshire and the southwest of England. There are french references to cream cheese as early as 1651.

Creole cream cheese is a form of farmer cheese that was once common in the New Orleans area, made from skim milk, buttermilk and rennet. By itself, it has a mild, slightly sour taste; frequently, it is mixed with cream, sugar and fruit and served as a dessert. Creole cream cheese is difficult to find today, but is produced by a few dairies in Louisiana.

Cream Cheese aside, to delve into the cuisine of Denmark click here. Explore and have fun. If you run into my dancing Danish boyfriends - make sure you wink at them and maybe offer a little pelvic thrust before you offer them a bagel'n'buko.

See, now they can't say I never did anything for them...

Got to be YOU!

2009-08-24T08:13:00.000-07:00

You shouldn't ever express anything other than who you really are and what you really think and feel. The more open and honest you are, i think, the more deeply people can connect with you.
When we try to hide behind shields of farce no one can relate. Because we all have ups and downs, highs and lows, sad and happy, joyful and shameful. We're human, afterall.

I mean, you all can relate to the fact that I decided to buy a plastic Unicorn and photograph it. And refer to it constantly. Aaah, Magical Unicorn.

In the garden of Good and Sneaky

2009-08-23T09:08:00.000-07:00

She thoughtfully chewed a garbanzo bean that had been deep fried. Then.
Looked at me, through the haze of the dark Peruvian restaurant in Bernal Heights and said
"Meems. The last thing you need is a boyfriend. Last. You are flying high right now. Friends galore. Jobs. Direction. You need to focus. Get yourself somewhere. Go. Really, dahling. The last thing you need is a boyfriend. You are finally yourself again. F-I-N-A-L-L-Y! And none of us are ready to let you go again."

I am good at escaping situations. But I've never been good at escaping affection. I'm addicted to it.
Give me a little attention and I'll be your adoring pet.

As far as getting AWAY goes, what I'm REALLY good at is getting IN.
Sneaking in.

It started with raves in high school.
And it also started with convincing the cashier at our local Quick Stop that I was in fact 26 years old, using a fake i.d. I'd made myself that proclaimed I was one "Miss Honey Cunningham" from Montana.

And sneaking in progressed to. The White House. The MOMA. Any party I've ever wanted to get into, ever. The County Fair. Art & Soul Concert. Snoop Dogg. Montreal Aquatic Center. Some dude's house who lived above the wine bar because I had to go to the bathroom.

I will say that I've never been able to sneak into universities a la Ferris Bueller. But if NYU turns me down for my Phd this Fall, I will change that tune in 4 beats.

I once snuck into the Exotic Erotic Ball. I told the bouncer I was a writer for KDUH (Kay-Dee-Ewe-Ehch) and then pointed at my friend Ruben.
"He's my cameraman!"
And Ruben sheepishly held up his taped together cell phone and lit up the flash on his phone camera.

I am hard to say "NO" to.
It's a magictastic gift.
I fully appreciate it.

As for the fellas? Well, I seem to have a knack for getting where I need to be whether I knew I even wanted to be there or not. I can get in. I guess maybe it's the getting away.
But in this case, I follow the true words of Oakland rap royalty, Too Short.
You Should BE Getttin it while the gettin is good, get it while you can.

Flashback: Sneaking Out of Your House

Remember what time your parents usally go to bed, or if they have to stay up late to finish some paperwork etc, take note of this because this will help you to sneak out and not get caught.
Consider your situation.
If you live on the first floor and have a window, this is much too easy. Take the screen out during the day (when people aren't watching, of course), and get ready.
If you live in a basement, this is even easier! Sneak out through a window (if you have one) or go upstairs, your parents will have a harder time hearing you if you don't let the stairs squeak. You can do this by staying to the side and leaning heavily on the handrail.
If you live on the top-floor of the house, either try to maneuver yourself onto a tree near your window (read how to sneak out of your second story window if there isn't a tree) or go down the stairs quietly. If your parents hear you and think you're a robber, quickly give them a reason why you are downstairs -- you needed water, a CD, getting homework, etc. If you are dressed for going out, they will suspect something, so cover yourself with a bathrobe that you can discard later.

Once your parents go back to bed, take the opportunity to get out of the house and calmly walk to your meeting spot.
If confronted by anyone, have a story ready. Maybe say you heard a loud bang or scream outside and went to investigate. If you're caught far away, say you saw someone and were chasing them. You will still get in some trouble, if not by your parents by the police, for breaking the curfew law or for suspicious activity, but it will be a lot less if you have an alibi.
Another option is to leave all your materials that you will be needing outside but not visible. Walk out the door and wait about 30 minutes. If you get a call from your parents that means they've found your pillow twin in bed. This is okay. Walk back into the house saying you were just looking at the stars. This will sound a lot more convincing if you didn't have a purse or wallet on you. And about the pillow twin make an excuse saying you didn't want them to worry which is why you did that. If no call comes from your parents you are free to go and they did not hear you leaving.

sunrise

2009-08-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

Color of lemon, mango, peach,
These storybook villas
Still dream behind
Shutters, their balconies
Fine as hand-
Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.

Tilting with the winds,
On arrowy stems,
Pineapple-barked,
A green crescent of palms
Sends up its forked
Firework of fronds.

A quartz-clear dawn
Inch by bright inch
Gilds all our Avenue,
And out of the blue drench
Of Angels' Bay
Rises the round red watermelon sun.
-Sylvia Plath

If you haven't woken up early to watch the sunrise with friends, I highly recommend
doing it.
It felt so special to see the cabs show up at my house, people were coming from
parties, from home. Tousled.
Warm. Happy.
We brought champagne and toasted a new day.
Cheers!

C'mon Get Happy

2009-08-20T08:16:00.001-07:00

These days, just a well taken picture makes me happy. One day at a time . . .