Three weeks in Wyoming

I recently took a break from my surprisingly stressful life (considering that i do not have a job, house, pet, or significant other and all i really do is travel through Latin America) and visited my family in the states. The first stop? Home... well, as close to home as any place can get these days anyway: Wyoming.

My fabulous mother was having a birthday, and my father (whose spouse had arranged my flight) thought it was a good idea to send me to see her first. The only problem? I had become increasingly lonely over the previous weeks by myself, slowing wasting away to an unknown illness, and my mother had a plan to take her spouse to climb the Teton Mountains for their fifth anniversary (which also happened to be on her birthday). So that meant that i was flying home to an empty house... in the middle of summer in Wyoming...

But as it turns out, my mother and i had a few days together before she left, and one of the first things we did? Go to her local asian nail salon and get my year-and-three-months-traveling feet addressed. As we walked in, and everyone greeted my mother warmly, she stage whispers that my feet are in pretty bad shape (which is very true) and gives a conspiratorial wink to the poor woman who will be in charge of making them presentable.

After much soaking, filing, shaving, and scrubbing my feet looked like they belonged to someone else!

(Just as long as you ignore the open wounds from mosquito bite scratching... I have little to no self-control)

Did i mention that my mother's birthday/wedding anniversary also happens to fall on my beautiful nation's Independence Day (she is a scientist and finds it very logical to celebrate everything at once)? So we both got fancy flag designs on our new toes! And as an additional safe guard to my sanity, my mother had her father come up to keep me company while she was gone. And let me just say, my grandfather is AWESOME!

My grandmother has already relocated up to my hometown of Casper in an assisted living apartment in order to be closer to her doctors (there aren't doctors in the town they live in that's about 3 hours away... in fact just about the only things in that town are a post office, a bar, and a really good Mexican restaurant) and have help with her depreciating sight and hearing. But she and i have a tenuous relationship in the best of times, so having my grandfather as a buffer was very appreciated.

Granddad showed up, took one look at my fancy toes, and decided that we should probably pack up the old lady (his words) and take those toes out to the Municipal band's concert in the park.

Taking my toes out to enjoy the Municipal Band

Other than that i experimented in cooking meat for the grandparents (it turned out edible), giggled and wrestled with my grandfather, and watched some fireworks with a glass of scotch and water. The best moments of Wyoming are always saying something that surprises or amuses my soft spoken grandfather, watching him raise his wild eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead, big eyes peeking over his spectacles, while he says oh, really? And then his whole belly shakes with his little chuckles as his eyes squint into well-worn crows feet while a hand either taps me on the shoulder or pushes his glasses back up his nose. He is so precious to me it literally hurts my chest!

Mostly, we enjoyed each other's company in quiet, watching the clouds or listening to the many birds sing from the trees that were once no bigger than i am but now stretch up over all the homes in the neighborhood. The place has changed quite a lot since i lived there nearly 15 years ago, with houses filling in most of the fields we used to run through. There is still one at the end of my mother's street, clearing the view to the mountains at the south of town.

The only field left...

Oh! And we also went down to the Humane Society and adopted a dog for my grandfather to have company in his now empty house. Her name is Lady and like all shelter dogs i have met, she will claim your heart in ten minutes or less.

The two of them are getting along quite well from what i hear. They go on adventures, have conversations throughout the days, and enjoy the same old movies on television at night.

But as the title says, i spent more than one weekend in Wyoming with my mother. For three weeks i kicked about the house, working on my TEFL certification, baking from time to time, and drinking wine. The best thing i tried to bake up? Strawberry Pizza inspired by this blog.

Strawberry Pizza

I can't follow directions properly, and i couldn't find the mixer for a while, but that's the general idea. Mine turned out wonderful! Also, i used the sugar cookie recipe from here for the crust because in my lazy browsing i did not come across the crust in the first blog. Again, keep in mind that i can't follow a recipe to save my life, but other than being a little thicker than the ideal in my head, using it as inspiration was a good choice.

The more appropriate view of what i'm doing each day

Both the wine and the pizzas were delicious!

Of course while i was in town i had to take in the Central Wyoming Fair and Rodeo. It was less controversial for me than i remember (maybe something to do with the bull fights and animal treatment in Latin America...), and i LOVED when they plopped little cowkids onto the back of sheep and tell them to hold on as long as they can... so adorable!

At the end they let the horses run free around the entire complex a few times and then around the arena until we all leave.

They were beautiful.

Also, mum and i took part in a 5k glow run/walk, which encourages the best costumes to come and exercise to benefit Safe Kids. So we went to Target, found anything that glows at night... Which for mum turned out to be an adorable butterfly outfit while i crafted a glow in the dark lake with these adorable ducks i found.

Yep, those are glow in the dark fishes hanging down

It turned out well. And the exercise bit was fun too (who would have ever thought to hear me say that!)!

And then I packed up myself, put Clifford into Bitty's little yellow car, and moved along to visit friends before I landed at my father's house for his birthday.

Overall, not only did i survive the heat, i had a very pleasant visit with my family... Until next time, Wyoming!

Exploring my future options

I have been seeing various discussions on what it means to be a Gen Y, a Millennial, who falls into what category, and how this generation should do this thing or that thing, how we are unhappy, how we are disappointing our country, etc. etc. Honestly, i mostly ignore all of this information because, when you group all of the young adults into categories, how in the world are we supposed to take you seriously? We are not all tech-savvy, were are not all unhappy, some of us love working for the same company for years and investing in our retirement, some are activists, some are lost, and most likely do not care about your statistics about our lives. Personally i think you're right, i was raised to think were are all pretty damn special and unique, just as every other individual in a generation has been and will be.

Were all Baby Boomers hippies? My mother definitely wasn't. In fact, if i remember my history lesson correctly, the silent majority wasn't involved in the free-loving, war-protesting, hippy movement. I would be willing to say that in my home state of Wyoming and many others there likely wasn't so much free-loving, war-protesting movements outside in the streets where everyone could see. My father had the gorgeous long hair and fabulous bell bottom pants, and i sometimes ask him what it was like to see the television reports over dinner and know people being drafted. Scary.

What's more? As i encounter people or children of people who were involved in these country-changing movements, often they have stories that largely circle around the drugs, sex, and self-involved spiritual quests to find oneself, not the idealized pictures i have held up in my mind of what that movement came to represent for me. Disappointing, really. And these people, the ones i meet or their children, guess what the majority of them do? The same thing everyone does. They went to work at some random business, gave up living off the grid in the dream of their activism, and kept their heads down. It breaks my heart to see this generation of broken activists. The war in Vietnam ended, and then they got down to business to earn money, raise their family, and survive. As simple as that. So i guess the question they are asking (or at least i feel the pressure to ask myself) is why, as a generation, are we having such a hard time doing the same?

Of course i don't know. There's no way i could know this. Just like there's no way to really explain how it could have been possible to give it up and go work for some firm and invest in retirement. All i know is that i have not found this an easy path to follow. And, at least in my head, i gave it a few tries. There are a lot of things that are both wrong and right in the world (and the business world in particular), and while i don't have any idea on how to fix or support them, i do know that i can't seem to find a reason to just accept the way things are and do what society tells me is the next step. I am fully aware that i am nearly 30, unemployed, habitually single, with little to no direction in my life, without health care but with some serious medical questions, and have friends and family strung around the world. But you know what? I am happy every single day. And how many of the people we know doing what we are supposed to do next can say that? It seems ridiculous, but honestly, even when i've been mugged, when i'm desperately missing my people, and when communication with the outside world seems impossible; every single day i am happy.

I was not able to say this when i had a 40 hour a week job back in the States... But there is one huge thing i miss desperately: having a home. Some little place in the world that felt right, where i could settle into my skin and just exist. This general malaise has recently made me question that while life is hands-down far exceeding what i expected, i am not sure how long i can maintain this path i've chosen. Can someone really be happy without a home? For how long? And what would i need to feel that again after 15 years?

So far i've come to three things i personally need to maintain my happy life indefinitely:
1.) a job that i love, that gives me some end product to feel accomplished at the end of the day.
2.) a location that i love, where i can feel myself and free.
3.) a person that i love, who supports me fully and will always be there for me.

Number one has thus far proved elusive. Things that i love, and then have to work ridiculous hours at have a tendency to turn sour to me. Those few things that i am still passionate about (travel, baking, reading...) i have held off from exploring as a job because they are so precious i worry about loosing my love for them too (plus, who would pay me to do those things? No, really... is there someone?). It feels like if i were able to find this job, i would be able to live anywhere... but as it is an untried theory i can't be certain.

Number two is the most exciting for me. Right now, I am considering a) Yellowstone National Park, b) the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, and c) anyplace near to my dear friends and family (such as the Big Island of Hawai'i). I think that if i was around my favorite places in the world i could do anything for work as long as i was still free enough to enjoy my surroundings. Rent out rooms in the house i would own (my own little oven and library!), work at some small local job to meet people, and maybe get some income online... I've learned to live on basically nothing, and found myself to be much happier for it. So with enough to own my personal space, i think i could make life work.

And number three is very dependent on an unpredictable variable. I have been traveling with my cherished younger sister for a year and a half, and in that time i felt that i could do anything, anywhere. The problem is that this last one makes me lose the independence that i have loved over the past 15 years. If my happiness requires me to stick near this other person, be it my sister, a friend, or (as unlikely as it may be) a mate, what do i do when this person wants to settle into some place i don't want to be and then doesn't have time to give me anymore? From both past and recent experience, i found that this is the most difficult question to be posed. It turns out, i leave... because i am not only high maintenance, but also not nearly as supportive as i would like my other to be.

Having a Latin boyfriend

My last Lent post! (And, true to form from years of procrastination, it is late)

I have many things in this little side blog that I will eventually talk about. Quite a few things, really. But instead I am going to sit down and type out all the nonsense that I have been dragging myself through recently. Because at some point during the past three months, I decided to have a Latin boyfriend.

Not just saying yes to having some gentleman caller, or agreeing to see someone exclusively. I went ahead and got myself entangled in some strange inter-cultural relationship where we are seemingly playing roles from a telenovella. I went from a relatively placid life of travel with the most dramatic moments when Clifford would get entangled with Betty or some other luggage arguments.

Now I can be seen literally yelling about how ridiculous this is in some combination of Spanish/French/English on the streets of Cali while my jealous Latin boyfriend interrupts me constantly and gestures wildly outside my favorite salsa club. We spit fire at each other about as often as he grabs me into giant hugs (I know, someone feels comfortable enough to wrap me up in a hug. It freaks me out, too), and it doesn't matter if we are standing in front of our friends, complete strangers, or alone in front of the bathroom mirror.

We hold hands when we walk, and he needs almost all of my attention when we are in the same space. I feel both incredibly suffocated by all of this, and also strangely drawn to staying in it. We both seem to be caught in this strange pull to just throw up our hands and say it's not worth all the stress it creates that balances all the laughter and fun we have when things are going well.

We have more problems with communication than I thought possible, even with the language barrier we both knew existed when we entered into this madness. We are both uncomfortable with the intense differences in our respective cultures: I cannot understand the over-protective, jealous, possessive tendencies; he is confused by my fierce independence over even the smallest things (like walking to the bathroom), my strange need to complete everything that I commit myself to (including working for a slightly inappropriate boss while I am not even living at the hostel any longer) while I cannot commit to even the most loose plans for the next day, and most of all how I can get so upset when he interrupts me while I am trying to talk.

We are so very different. But we are also fundamentally similar people. We love to laugh at ourselves, and both have dangerously lazy habits at times. We both keep track of all of the members of our group, almost obsessively (even though I often have to remind him to let B make her own decisions and run about freely, just as long as we know where she is). We are stubborn, and dislike being wrong so much it makes us physically uncomfortable. He will run in the sand and play in the water with me, and I love to go out dancing with him.

Last night he told me that he doesn't want to be with someone who doesn't need him and who doesn't consult him in their plans. I told him that I don't want any more of the drama or arguing or feeling suffocated and trapped. We argue about arguing. We make each other cry from anger or being unsure of what exactly is going on. We still don't really know.

But he's right, I don't need him. I have traveled for a year, both through some rough, turbulent times and peaceful, happy ones. And I am still here, and I am positive that I could make it as far as B and I want to go, just the two of us. But maybe, I want him around. Even with all the drama, all the tears, and all the frustrations. And for me, isn't that more important?

To one of the greatest teachers I have ever had the pleasure of knowing!

Hello again Professor!

I cannot believe that it has been one year since I left to go explore Latin America.  What is even more surprising is that I cannot believe it has taken me this long to write this letter to you.  Within the first week of my new life down here I came to realize just how much you had prepared me for all that I had no idea to expect!  I am incredibly grateful for all that you taught me not only in regards to Spanish, but about life, how we live it, and how to learn to have confidence and faith in myself and my choices.

Firstly, I am able to actually survive and nearly thrive down here because of the year we spent making sure my brain would have at least some Spanish stored for my access.  A lot has come back to me as we go, as the stress and surprise of all these new accents and particular words are being thrown my way has lessened. You will not believe how many of the people that I run into down here compliment my ability to understand, and then speak Spanish.  I am not always understood, and I seem to still insist upon throwing out French words, but really, I have friends, make and understand jokes, and have an entire life down here in Spanish!  All of which, I owe to your patience and dedication two years ago (crazy how quickly time passed!).

Every day I have at least one moment where I can sit and admire the life I have now.  I often reflect on our discussions (both the ones in Spanish and those in English) about life, decisions, and enjoying what comes.  I hope that I would do those discussions proud, and still admire the fact that we have made so many of the same choices and happiness.  I appreciate knowing that we are kindred spirits and I am excited to be able to come back and share some of those with you some day.

But mostly I am incredibly grateful for the confidence in myself that you helped me plant.  I would have believed all the friends and family that asked me if I was crazy when I told them of our plans had it not been the blind faith you had in me from our first discussions.  I am a better person, more assured in my life and my path, and I for once in a long time I believe that I may actually one day find what I want to do with myself. At least, hopefully.  It's still a work in progress I guess, but at least it's moving in the right direction now thanks to your guidance.

Thank you for all that you did for me, thank you for your support and friendship, and most of all, thank you for all your help in giving me the way to enjoy this life I have chosen.  I can only hope that you also are as happy.
alison 

Clifford

As all of you may already know, I have been spending the last year with B traveling Latin America. What only the few of you who have joined us on this trip may know, we could not have done any of this alone.

This is why it is long overdue that I introduce my best friend and ex-boyfriend, Clifford. Don't worry, those of you who knew us while we were together, we are still just as close as we once were, there was just a mutual agreement to pursue others.

The problem for me is how could I find anyone who could compare to my Cliff? He is so supportive, we fit together so well, he's always got my back, he manages to deal so well with all of my baggage, he is a great listener and has never betrayed my trust, he's fairly independent and doesn't mind when I go out without him, he is great at making friends, he is interested in trekking but understands if I need to take a break and go without him, he's organized, and he's adorable.

We seem to have been losing weight together over the past year, which we are both very happy about. He's been great at keeping me in shape while on the road, and I make sure to moderate what he takes in so he stays trim. He's been growing a bit of black stubble recently, and I've been thinking about making him clean up a bit and he's been tugging at my hair a bit to let me know it's time for a trim.

The worst rough patch we hit was back in the beginning in Costa Rica. Gissy was coming to visit, and I think with all the stress of making a good impression he may have caught a bit of travel illness. We were staying in the beach in Montezuma and early in the morning he vomited all over the sand and then peed himself right in front of her. He'll never live that one down... Good news is he's a good sport about the jokes!

He gets along with both of my sisters, a feat no boyfriend has ever been able to manage before! He can be a bit clingy at times, which can be really heavy to deal with. But he's a fantastic hugger, and when we are stuck waiting on transport he lets me lean against him to rest.

So this is for you Cliffy, I love you dearly and appreciate all you do for me!

Cliff flirting with another mariposa

Cliff and I waiting for a bus

Blue, B, me and Cliff after a tough hike

Cliff posing for the camera

Me and Cliff resting after a long travel day

Close quarters on one of our first bus rides together

A little cuddle time

Cliff, blue, and B hanging out together on transportation

Not always getting along, but we make a cute awkward couple!

Happy hiking family

To the amazing librarians out there

Dear Librarians in general (and in particular those found in the Monterey Public Library):

Thank you so much for understanding me. Really, I do not know what would have become of me on this ridiculous trip had I no longer access to the Northern California Digital Library.  Also, the recent updates to the site took a little getting used to, but they are quite an improvement. Nicely done!

Here is a (slightly edited for privacy) copy of our interaction, so I can prove how wonderful you all are to myself (and the 3 people who read this blog (love you family)) later if I happen to ever forget.

On Thu, Jan 24, 2013 at 7:41 AM, A wrote:
Hello!

I recently have misplaced my library card. Actually, the truth is I am traveling through Latin America and use the card frequently to borrow ebooks on my iPad, which is amazing! What is not amazing is that I loaned this iPad to my sister on a bus so she could read, and then she promptly left it behind when we arrived.

The problem is not the now-lost iPad (even though it breaks my heart a little to lose my ereader), it is that I kept my library card with the iPad, and now I cannot access the digital library at all, even if I purchase a new reader. Is there any way to find that number in your systems? I would keep it safe this time!!

Thank you for any help you can provide!
Alison


On 24 Jan 2013, at 16:11, LibCheck Libcheck wrote:
Hi Alison,

We can look up your account number for you, but you need to be at the library in person with identification for that.


--
Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance.

Circulation Desk
Monterey Public Library


On Thu, Jan 24, 2013 at 3:48 PM, A wrote:
Oh dear. Well, I am still in South America and do not foresee a return trip north for at least 3 to 6 months.  Is there no other option?  Can I maybe send a photo of my ID and/or call?

Any help would be greatly appreciated!
Alison


On 26 Jan 2013, at 10:43, LibCheck Libcheck wrote:
Alison,

Unfortunately we need you to be at the library in person with photo identification to look up your library card number, for security reasons.


--
Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance.

Circulation Desk
Monterey Public Library


On Thu, Jan 26, 2013 at 5:32 PM, A wrote:
Ok. What if I send you my friend's (who currently is in Monterey) photo identification information and a copy of mine and have her come in and ask for my card number?  Or, if I have someone who looks like me, or knows a lot of my personal information, or any combination thereof? I'm sure I could find a passable body double if I put my mind to it. 

I don't know if I can survive without access to inexpensive reading (but no pressure, I honestly understand your job is more important than my library card number)!
Alison

On 4 Feb 2013, at 15:19, LibCheck Libcheck wrote:

Alison,

Sorry for the late response. I will go ahead and make an exception for you since you are out of the country and likely never going to give up. Your account number is ___.


--
Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance.

Circulation Desk
Monterey Public Library


On Thu, Jan 26, 2013 at 5:32 PM, A wrote:
Thank you so very extremely much!! Have a fantastic day!



Librarians are the absolute best! Thank you for understanding me, thank you for always knowing the most interesting things, thank you for your patience (especially for people who demand the same thing over and over), and thank you for all the work you do without my knowing of it.

Yours,
alison

The best way to be robbed, ever

Yesterday was intense my friends. We have been having some serious travel-life lessons here in Ecuador, and yesterday was undoubtably the most intense so far.

That said, it was still a very good day. Our life is complex, I suppose.

A little background, Saturday was an awkward day for me. We were trying to get from Tena to a small town in the Amazon and everything felt wrong to me. I was vibrating on uncomfortable and anxious, unable to shake the feeling that I had slipped into the wrong skin that morning. I was clumsier than usual: knocking things off shelves, walking into stationary objects at eye level, and unable to string a sentence together in Spanish or English.

I was so wound up Bitty was being affected by my mood. Well, she had been a bit spacey honestly, which is usually my cup of tea. We did not end up finding the correct bus that day, because life in Ecuador insists on being difficult.

So Sunday we get out earlier and go find our bus stop. And then waited close to two hours (these buses are meant to come hourly) while horrible off-key religious music played loudly nearby without stop. Torture.

We transferred to our waterfall hike in the jungle with a rotating grip of children laying in various poses against my seat and/or myself, two little punks even fumbling through some of the girls' bags while they looked the other way.

But we arrived and paid $2.00 per person to hike up a slippery, muddy puddle of a path until we came to slime-covered boulders along the river. While I was debating which precarious path would be easiest managed a friendly wasp/bee decided to welcome me to the area with a love tap from his ass to my spine. I did myself proud by whining loudly until I could force Bitty to take a look and pity me. "Yep, it's red and very swollen." Disappointing.

But here is where Bitty's incredibly unbalanced grocery bag-purse decided to throw her off the slippy top of a boulder and into the river. Good news is she has instincts like a cat and was able to save her camera from any harm. The bad news? Her head and body got smashed.


We settle under the waterfall, Bitty unpacking her important stuff from her bag to let it dry out, and we go for a dip in the base of the falls. I am still slightly ill-at-ease and don't get into the water, preferring to stay at the edge of the water.

We munch on cookies and chat about human morality (is it natural or engrained by society?) when I see some movement out of the corner of my eye. I yelp and rush to check Bitty's sun-drying items as another young hooligan takes off running with the grocery bag and my rainbow wrap flying behind him.

The above photo is just moments before B's grocery bag was taken for a run. See, those boulders even look super slippy! I jumped up and looked at the rock featured in the foreground of the above photo, and Bitty's camera case is empty! I immediately take off running after the punk and just as I tumble off my own boulder (it was really slippery people!) the grocery bag throws the runner off balance. I roll up to my feet immediately and continue my pursuit, when Bitty calls me back because everything precious had been removed from the bags to dry out. All the little thief had was a pair of dirty underwear, my torn rainbow wrap, a guidebook, and our other package of cookies.

We were saddened, but mostly by the loss of our cookies. We mourned our losses, packed up, and headed back down the trail. Then some small kid comes up the path towards me with the grocery bag. I point at the little bastard and give him the come-here finger wiggle.

He tries to give me some story about how he stopped the much larger and older thief and got our bag back for us, and then puts his hand out for a reward. Bitty laughs at him as I look through the bag, the cookies are intact!

I give him my best withering look, pass the bag back to Bitty and say "gracias". Because when someone steals and then finds your sentimental belongings worthless, I suppose you should thank them for not just throwing it away. A larger kid appears from the side to ask again for a reward as we pass along the trail, so we said our "buenas tardes" and passed by. 

It was really too good to be true. And yet, we have become part of the 50% of tourists we know who get robbed in Ecuador, at yet we didn't actually loose anything. The worst thing is that now Bitty's grocery bag undoubtedly has a complex since it threw her off a rock, got taken on a run by a young latin suitor, and then unceremoniously returned to us without so much as even a goodbye from the pack of boys. We think it is still working out some Stockholm Syndrome issues. 

We spent the evening watching a tribe of monkeys who run the town of Misahuallí interact with tourists and one another on the beach in the jungle. Bitty had a headache for hours (she smacked her head pretty hard) and I felt like someone had beaten me with a bat, but otherwise we sipped coconut water calmly in the shade.

Another good day!

Lesson learned? Hopefully!

**UPDATE**

Bitty definitely was concussed. She had a hard time putting thoughts in order and remembering things, so the next day we played the fun game of make B in charge of directions and see how confused and lost we can get.  It was a good time.

How I finally married my friends!

This post is long overdue. It is from June 2012, but this Lent I decided to dedicate myself to writing for both blogs rather than just focusing on the travel one. That means that all the side stories and random thoughts that I have meant to include here may, in fact, get included over the next 40 days.

And to appease the small voice in my head that is in shock and horror at the idea of 2 blogs while I am trying to survive day to day down south... Yep, this is going to be intense. But two posts a week will not kill us, and it's only 40 days!

You know what today is? Valentine's Day, which as you can tell from one of my only posts last year, is one of my favorite holidays. What better way to write about a holiday to celebrate love than by reminiscing about the last time I saw it in action, right?

Ashley and Scott are so much in love with one another it just makes me happy to be in the same room with them. Which is good, because they let my broke bum crash on their sofa for the entirety of my stay in Seattle for their wedding! And it is not as awkward as I would have thought to stay in a newlyweds' apartment (but thankfully I dropped them off at their hotel room the night of the wedding), maybe because I am such a heavy sleeper?

The days/minutes up to the wedding were as stressful as one would imagine, since we wrote their ceremonies and vows literally the night before. But as expected, everything went wonderfully. I cried my eyes out with happiness, drank my weight in booze on multiple occasions,

including all of the pre-festivities (thanks to the to-go Sangria from our favorite Mexican restaurant), was sober enough to deliver the ceremony with no huge mistakes (except maybe holding the mic too close when I was talking a little harshly of a fellow wedding party attendant during the rehearsal (which was honestly a little intentional)), laughed and danced with my friend-date from California, and basked in the glow of their love.

We looked damn good (largely because we did one another's hair)! I also learned that it is no wonder that people meet at weddings, that kind of glowing affection between the couple mixed with serious booze and people in suits and dresses? Yes please, adorable red haired venue assistant!

But I was well behaved, made sure that Ashley kept up with me on our champaign consumption (just like the old roommate days)

and then made it to the hotel with her new husband (and out of the complicated dress she had chosen for herself)!

The wedding was decorated largely by Ashley's thrift store-crafting addiction, flowers provided by a friend, photos by a ridiculously talented friend, and me, the friend-officiant. Such a smart woman with impeccable taste in the entire ceremony and her friends!

Scott was there for the decisions, the endless crafting, the crying and the laughing. He was her rock and cheerleader to stand up for what she wanted and such the hero of the day!

I love you both dearly. I think you will make a fantastic example for me of how life can work out, how two people can be happy together as they are, and how sometimes I am really not loosing a best friend to her new husband, but gaining another person to watch horrible reality TV with at night!

You two are the best, and I can't wait to come sleep on your couch again soon (I'm still broke as sin!!). Thanks for the pics via Facebook Rene Banks Photography, Jami, and Erin. Oh! and thanks Jami for being the best date ever, couldn't have done it without you!

To the very understanding police officer who probably should have given me a sobriety test

Friday, February 24, 2012

Dear Police Officer:

First of all, thank you for not arresting me.  In hindsight, i really seem to have given you as much reason as i possibly could have to not only give me a sobriety test, but to also consider me to be a danger to myself or others on the road.  There is an explanation of all of my behavior, i promise you, and this is the exact reason i am writing to you.

I promise you i was not lying when i said that i wasn't texting while driving.  I'm well aware that i am not even coordinated enough to jog, much less operate a vehicle while attempting to send a coherent message on my old-school phone.  I was attempting to force my ancient hunk of phone to silence itself so that i could calmly listen to the end of All Things Considered on NPR.  This is not always an easy task when you have a phone as old as mine.  Let me backtrack and give you some information on what i was doing today before you had to pull me over:

I recently realized that there is not much time let to me before i have to have my life in order so i can travel for an indefinite period of time through Latin America.  Today was not a busy afternoon at work by any standards.  This left quite a lot of time to have a mini panic attack, which always leads me to try to organize details into color-coordinated lists with time deadlines.  So my desk at work is covered in mini post-it notes of varying shades scattered in particular over my desk calendar on the deadlines i have self-imposed.  

But post-it notes cannot jump up of their own accord and come track me down to ensure i am sticking to this schedule.  My solution: to enter in a list of things i needed to do this weekend into my cell phone, and since i was most likely leaving on time today from work (as it was sooo slow) it would go off as i was pulling up to my house, around 530.  Good plan, right?

No.  Not really.  As it turns out, i ended up having a little talk with a co-worker before i left for the day, which carried past 5.  This put me on the road and driving when my cell phone started screaming at me to accomplish the tasks i had just recently set for myself.  Yes, you are right there are buttons on the side of the phone that should, in theory, silence this phone without much more than a little push.  But these small buttons on a (minimum, i really do not remember when i first purchased this thing) 5 year old phone do not work consistently, and this was one of those days it was not working.

So i would have to find another way to silence this thing.  Yes, I probably should have pulled over.  But i knew that i would soon be approaching the stop light on Munras & Fremont that is ALWAYS red.  Even though i would be turning right, there would be no way, i thought, that i wouldn't have to stop for a bit and wait to merge into traffic.  Good plan, right?

No.  Surprise!  The light was green.  I know, crazy right?  It is NEVER green.  Not once.  And i have driven this thing countless times.  So here i am, phone ringing incessantly and sitting in my hand on the steering wheel driving on Fremont.  It's loud, and i really just want to know what they are talking about on NPR.  So yes, i am a bit distracted.  Good news is that the light at the end of Fremont to get onto Highway 1 is coming up, and i ALWAYS have to sit through 2 reds before i can jump on that onramp (they should really have longer green lights to accommodate all the traffic on Fremont).

I imagine this is where you saw me.  I open up the flip portion of my phone to get to the calendar properly, because i did not simply want to delete the entire message of what this weekend had in store for me.  And then the stupid light changed.  So here i am, open phone that is screaming its little head off, and now i'm pulling up to nearly the front of the line to get onto the freeway.  I manage to get the phone silenced, and i place it between my knees instead of trying to maneuver it back into it's little pocket in my purse.  Perfect, i'm done.

Except, this is when i saw you sitting one car in front of me to the right.  And i panic.  Because it is evening-ish time and one of the bulbs in the front of my car are out.  And my lights are the type that are always on.  Many people, and i mean many, have repeatedly reminded me to replace those bulbs.  Often.  For a month.  And then reminded me that it is illegal to drive around without having it fixed.  But i am leaving the country in a month, and i have been known to say "it's only a little bit of time, and light bulbs are expensive.  Why replace it now when it's just going to be parked forever?"

So i panicked.  I was sure you were going to ticket me for my headlight, so i lurched forward to turn on my brights.  Maybe you hadn't noticed that the light was out, and it's not dark enough yet to make the brights really blinding for onlookers.  In my awkward haste to flip those bad boys on, my cell phone slipped from between my knees and onto the floor.  But maybe i was safe.  Maybe you hadn't seen my lights.  And then the light changed, and you pulled me over.

As you sauntered up to my open window, i was cursing myself for not having replaced that light.  You introduced yourself, and very politely asked me if i knew why you had pulled me over.

"Um... Why?"  Thinking i absolutely knew the reason.

"For texting while driving"

And then i bust up laughing.  I know that one is NEVER supposed to laugh at a serious cop.  I know this!  And yet, i was so surprised at the response i couldn't help myself.  I stopped abruptly and responded as seriously as i was able "Oh, I wasn't texting while driving.  I was turning off my alarm"

We then had the discussion about how operating a phone at all without hands free is not allowed while also operating a vehicle, which i had not realized, i thought it was only talking/texting, and you mentioned how it seemed that i have a flip phone and asked if you could see it.  So I agreed happily and went to reach for it under my chair.  This is when i noticed you staring not at my face but into my car somewhere (in hindsight, you were probably looking at the floor to see where i was reaching to make sure i wasn't going to shoot you or something) and i immediately assumed that you were looking at my console, where it clearly shows that my brights are on and i'm missing a headlight (yes there is a light that reminds me constantly to replace that light).

"You threw your cell phone on the floor?" (with heavy disbelief in my innocence of knowing i can't turn off my alarm while driving, or possibly that i wasn't texting at all)

"Oh no it fell."

"It fell?  What were you doing?"

"Turning on my lights... cause you know... it's getting dark, and i like to be careful and such.  See, this is what i was doing with my calendar."

Your doubt was written all over your face as you asked for my license and registration.  I had the ID handy and then started digging through my glove box, so i didn't seem the quite the idiot i usually do when i hand any officer the entire contents of that little compartment since i have no idea what you actually want.

"Are you still at River Street in Santa Cruz?"

"Oh, no i live down here now"

"What's your current address?"

"Oh, it's like 140 or 180 Erik or Aaron or some name in Marina.  But you can send mail to the Santa Cruz address, it all gets forwarded to me in Marina"

"You don't know where you live?"

"Um... i guess not.  I'm only there for like a month so i didn't memorize it.  I know how to get there, though.  Is this the registration?"

"Yes...  So you're a blonde?"

Now please note that i am well aware how awkward and halting my responses have been.  I am trying to conceal my burnt-out headlight from a police officer, and i'm an awkward person to begin with.  So your random question threw and, honestly, offended me.  Were you calling me slow?  "NO!!  I'm a brunette!  Doesn't it say that on there?  I ALWAYS put that i have brown hair.  Here, see i'll show you my other ID, it says my hair's brown."

And then i handed you my Wyoming driver's license.  No, i wasn't thinking that it's illegal (but i did know that) to have two driver's licenses.  I was trying to prove that i wasn't a blonde.

"You have two driver's licenses?"

"See, brown hair."  Because even in the picture on this ID my hair is brown.

"M'am.  Will you please take off you sunglasses?"

"Oh, right.  Of course."  And as you walked away and i listened to NPR (which i had not taken the time to turn down, so it was blaring) i began to think this entire situation over a little bit.  Who blasts NPR in their car?  I realized that being in a rush to turn on my headlights (and in particular my brights) while my sunglasses were still on might have come off as ridiculous.  And i'm a wimp when it comes to being outside without the sunglasses, so i could only squint up at you.  I laughed at you about my "texting" (out of relief and the sheer idea that i, of all uncoordinated people, would even try it).  My phone had been on the floor, and i jerked down to grab it like a psycho.  I didn't know where i live.  I couldn't remember that the photo on my CA ID has blonde hair, and i happen to have a second driver's license.  Wow.

I  was surprised you hadn't made me get out of the car.  I was going to have to be really normal when you came back up here.

"M'am i've written you a citation for texting while driving"

"Oh, i wasn't texting.  I was... Oh right, sorry carry on please."

"This isn't an omission of guilt, but it's a citation for texting while driving.  Please sign on the line.  The paperwork will come in a few weeks."  

"Oh, a few weeks?  That's not....  Ok!"

"Do you have any questions?"

"Um... no?"  I totally did, but I didn't know if that was normal.  "Should i?"

"Really?"

"No.  No i don't have any questions."  I was sure that i wasn't supposed to have questions.  And there was a handy phone number on my yellow paper since i did.  I would ask them if we could expedite this process since i'm leaving.  But i didn't want to add any stuff to the already long list of reasons why i seem like a dangerous person (like i'm fleeing the country with no forwarding address) and giving you any more reason to arrest me.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"Thank you for your time."  And then you gave me the strangest look.  "Well, i'm not going to thank you for the ticket."

You didn't just drive away immediately.  You sat there in your car while i put everything away and watched me.  This was the first time that had ever happened to me when pulled over, and i was nervous.  Were you waiting to pull me over again for the headlight and possible intoxicated driving?  I tried to seem as normal as possible as i neurotically put everything back (i hate to lose things in my purse) where it belongs.

I promise you, i wasn't texting.  And i'm not as crazy as i may have seemed.  But thank you for not arresting me.  And for giving me both my IDs back.  And for either not noticing my headlight, or choosing to ignore it for my sake.

Hopefully at least this will make a decent "this one time, i pulled over a crazy person and let her go" story.

alison

How Can Anyone Truly HATE Valentine's Day? (yes, sister, this one is for you)

Today is Valentine's Day!  Yes, I am one of those people who loves any holiday for no particular reason other than it's a fantastic reason to celebrate something.  And who doesn't like when an large portion of the population (ok, not so large on this particular day) will ban together and all wear similar colors, eat sweets in interesting shapes, have a particular meal, call their friends/family, drink alcoholic beverages (often with unusual decoration), and/or spend the day at the beach (this seems to be the way to celebrate any holiday in California, as far as I can tell).


This day could be like a literal pinko revolution every year if we let it!  Can you imagine, masses of people in varying shades of red and pink all moving about their day eating heart-shaped items (which, now that I write this, seems a bit barbaric), drinking pink martinis, and sharing little signs of affection with one another (in my simple mind, this extends to holding hands, friendly hugs, and little pecks on the cheek; keep your dirty business like making out, sharing the same seat, and rubbing against one another to dimly-lit high school dances, please)?


It's not.  We all know it.  For all the pink, squishy promise Valentine's Day offers every year we fall short.


I understand that there are people out there who hate Valentine's Day, and I know this because I am related to one (please mind that this relative is also someone who makes gagging sounds during the end of romantic comedies, even in public (luf you Gissy!)).  I even understand the dislike of how commercial this holiday in particular has gotten, that it's annoying to feel like you absolutely need to get your significant other a gift (and the accompanying pressure to make sure it's something that goes above and beyond the typical commercial-ness of this holiday), or that everywhere you go people are loosing their minds buying chocolates in stores, making out on street corners, and generally making the rest of us non-attached fools aware of how lonely being single really is.


I don't blame these people for the failings of Valentine's Day (ok, maybe I do... just a little).  But really?  How can one dislike making an effort to be even a little romantic once a year?  Because you know what, you're right: you could celebrate your significant other on another day if you wanted... you really could.  But you don't.  Nope, in fact I'm betting that you've become so comfortable you sometimes (possibly often?) forget to even think of them as a romantic-type relationship.  You know what would help you remember?  A holiday once a year where a large portion of the population dresses in pink & red and puts pressure on each other to appreciate relationships.  Wait...


For those of you in my boat (you know the one... where we're padding down an angry river alone in a little canoe with no sign of anyone willing to jump in and pick up the extra paddle anytime soon), you're right, it hurts my heart a little each time I see people so excessively happy with one another that they can't stop smiling.  As a friend tells me, it's "Singles Awareness Day", or SAD for short (she's very clever, this one).  But here's the thing, I'm going to go out an get a drink with this friend...  we're going to have a good time, and we're going to wear pink.


Because I still have hope for a mass of squishy pink people...