it's my blog

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

a slight right

One bad airplane movie, an isle seat built for a 7 year old midget and about 15 minutes of dozing sleep, we made it to opposite side of the country, arriving in Boston, Mass. at 7am (that’s right, I said A.M. people…we all know that’s a curse word in my vocabulary) Friday morning. Straight from the airport we proceeded to wander our way through the unmarked streets and tunnels of Boston’s thoroughly un-planned road system (slight rights and all) only to arrive at Donna’s (a recommendation from our Avis customer agent). Now, this was no ordinary California cuisine atmosphere. No my friends. Apparently Donna was a huge fan of Alladin and The Little Mermaid and she wasn’t scared to admit it. Forget the food, all I could focus on were the amateur paintings on the walls of this diner, plastered with scenes from these ‘90’s Disney animated films (not to mention the pencil marks peeking through the paint that the expert artist miraculously forgot to touch up). Not only was I confronted with the anime of yesteryear at such an ungodly hour, I was welcomed to the city of Boston with the thick, nasal tone of our waitress, who (oddly enough) was named Donna (say it with me, Dawnaah). After a hearty breakfast (and almost ordering my sausage as “sawwsij”), a post-airplane scrub down and a fleeting hour nap (in the most exquisite down beds I have ever met) it was time to make our presence known at Fenway Park. It was pretty amazing to visit such a nostalgic ballpark. The stadium chairs in some areas seamed to even be originals from the various layers of paint one could see peeking through the well worn handles and seats. The Green Monster was all I had hoped….next time that’s where I’m sitting. To top off this baseball-lover girl’s big night, my name went up in lights on the big screen as a Fenway First-Timer. The sox won the game….aaaaah, a perfect evening in the city. Saturday night we attended Liza’s family reunion (While some were decked out with blingin’ chandeliers hanging from their ears and necks, others opted for the cruise director look). After an hour long slide show timed to the tunes of Kenny G., nonetheless, and table-by-table family introductions, it was party time. Me and the girls hit that dance floor like nothin’ you’ve ever seen. It was great. (Kristin, I will never forget our unplanned choreography…scan the room, scan the room…) By Sunday we were ready to do some sight seeing, but Ernesto had other plans. It rained the entire day so we decide to take a trolley tour. Besides the useless information about the 20 lbs of gold on the top of the state building, the herding of our trolley (decked out for a night party with disco ball and fogger included) into another trolley (this time steaming from the ratio of body heat to rain), the rain laden seats and the stopping of our driver Steve to eat his lunch (who was a sick adolescent that couldn’t keep his eyes to himself), it was well worth the $25 fee. We ate lunch at the famous bar that inspired the show “Cheers”, toured the famous Quincy Market, visited the renowned Harvard University and even came upon a little shop that made my entire trip to Boston worth it. It was called The Museum of Useful Things…a little boutique full of things you wouldn’t normally buy until you see how very useful they are and how much greater they would make your life. To top off the Boston visit the grandparents (Avo and Ava) took the family out to a “nice” dinner at the Hilltop Steakhouse (once again, a recommendation from our Marriot concierge). Now, this was no ordinary steakhouse…I mean what kind of a place would it be without a diagram of a cow on the place mat to view the part that you are about to consume? And dress up? I think if you had clothes on at all, you would have been over-dressed. I won’t even go into detail as to the mishaps that occurred that night, let’s just say that meat was fresh, cuz it’s not every day a steakhouse is attached to it’s own butchery/grocery store.
I’m sure there are many more stories I could tell, more accounts of taking rights instead of slight rights, more anecdotes about Boston’s couture and those damn paisley print quilted purse/bags (a fad that should never ever make it to the west coast). Just remember: never take straws from a waitress’ apron that have been in there longer than your stay in Boston, DUNKIN DONUTS owns that city, “we’re bringing sexy back” “Yeah!”, never order Starbucks at the airport, and HOLLER!!!!!!!

Thursday, August 10, 2006


I went to see the movie “You, Me & Dupree” the other night with my favorite gal pals (yeah, I just used the word gal) and can I just say how great it was?! Cuz it was. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t life changing, but it actually held its humor throughout its 1hour and 48 minute duration, not to mention, it was so cute! Oh Owen!
As an exceedingly educated reader, perhaps you’re asking yourself “what was the moral of this highly laughable motion picture?”…the answer my friend, -ness. That’s right, -ness…it’s what makes you you. It encompasses all that you have passion for, that which you inspire others with. It is the hyphenated adjective you add to the end your name to describe the essence of you. It’s catchy. It’s witty. It’s just great. So the next time you’re feeling blue, remind yourself of your –ness and you’ll be ready to tackle the world.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

naan for me, thanks

A slight change of plans, one ride to Sunnyvale and a slightly air conditioned Indian buffet later, it turns out I’m not the Indian cuisine type-of-girl that some may have hoped. I was introduced to the spicy flavors of India’s pallet for the first time yesterday (thanks Steve and Kevin) and well, let’s just say it wasn’t my favorite. Even though I was trying to be polite and keep my couth about it all, I have to admit, it really grossed me out. The spiciness and un-identifiable pieces of chicken are what put me right over the edge. I’m sorry guys. I tried. I think I’ll just keep to my traditional Mexican ways and leave the curry and mint chutney to you two.
Next on my “to try” list: Mongolian…I’ll let you know how it turns out.

hasta be shasta

So we just came home from house boating on Lake Shasta last week. It was catie cate’s first time, my 8th, or 9th or something like that. It was absolutely divine! While some crave five star hotels with six course meals, 4,000 thread count sheets, in-room manis & pedis and the occasional pool side massage, I prefer the simplistic ways out on the lake with my margarita in hand and a raft easily accessible. I live for the bug-infested floating home, staked to the side of a hill, wasting the day away on a flotation device, only to get a few hours sleep in a sleeping bag under the stars until the sun rises and proceeds to burn your flesh as nature’s way of saying “it’s time to get up” even thought it’s still 7 AM! You know life is good when the only question you face that day is whether to go out into the water and float, or to hitch a ride in the ski boat making a trip to the marina to get some ice cream.
After returning this last week from the most awesome Shasta trip ever (Mikes’+ Manta Ray = Major Good Times), I’ve convinced my peers to pitch in for a houseboat next summer. I’ll keep you updated on this…if people will actually commit or bail at the sight of expense. I’m thinking of making t-shirts…too over the top?
Here’s to the Manta Ray (flying never was really in the cards for you), the nightly coffee clique, nicknames galore (Horty, Curly, Catie Cate, Bec Bec, Lumpy, Phoebe & Bear), and finally to the hard core poker players…take a breather!
And C8, we’ve still got three in the front and four in the back of a civic. Don’t forget it.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

forget the game

So we went to the San Jose Giants game last night. Oh my goodness. I think I’ve come to the realization that while baseball is my favorite pass time, it’s the people watching (especially in good on’ San Jose) that intrigues me the most. It’s the short crop tops that the girls wear to get the players’ attention. It’s the “beer batter” fans that maul each other to get half price beer at the expense of a poor visitor’s strikeout. It’s the unsuccessfully outfitted mascot with the uninspired name GIGANTE. It’s the people that get up seven times (once an inning) to buy a hot dog, then fries, then cotton candy, then a churro, then…and have a comment to make after each seating (not to mention, making you fold up like a pretzel in order for them to get by). For crying out loud, “get your ish and sit down!”. It’s the drunk guy who sits in a taken seat and then fights with the friend who’s saving the seats that he will leave once they get back. It’s the cardboard cut-out horse races that never lack in enthusiasm and never fail the audience in letting the orange horse win. It’s the oh-so-cheesy female announcer looking for her big break as the next Katie Currick. It’s the over protective mom that can’t let her child become cold or in want of anything, and has a question to ask the father about every bite he takes and every purchase he made.
It’s the free tickets and a chance to settle in to the bleachers, Philly cheesesteak and garlic fries in hand, sit back and watch those white pants play ball.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

the collision of both

So here I am, thinking what an awful person I am for not “BEING FOR THE WORLD”. It’s something that has been pressed into me for almost two years now (shocking when you think that I’ve been a Christian for nearly twenty-2 years). I always thought I realized the full potential of this idea of being the church and what it looks like to be in the world (but not of it of course…because that is what the Bible says after all). I sit and realize that I have not taken full responsibility. I have not said hi to my classmate because I was tired. I have not engaged in conversation with a customer because I was too busy trying to look busy. So I’ve reevaluated my living recently. However much reevaluation I do, I find myself at a huge crossroads. While I believe God has prepared me to disciple and to become a mentor within the church, I don’t see this “fitting in” to being for the world. Perhaps that’s where I am going wrong. Perhaps this mentorship has NOTHING to do with being for the world. (Should I put one before the other?) That I cannot base my merit on who I lead to a closer relationship with God and then compare it to who I lead to ANY relationship with God. Perhaps, my spiritual gift of administration and leadership is to be left at the door step of the church while I go out and become for the world everyday (then come home and be for the church as I prepare the program folder and make sure everyone who is on for Sunday is really going to be there…). Perhaps it is the idea of being for the world that will lead me to become a better, more mature mentor. Whatever it is, I have yet to discover the answer. For now I vow to live what moments I may for the world. Knowing and believing that God has made me ready for this moment, and this moment only. That this moment will prepare me for the next moment and whatever I do, I will do it because I am being the church therefore I am for the world.

to pump or not to pump? (this one's for you cate)

Why breast feeding in public? Please. Why? I fully comprehend the need to nourish your child, but honestly, since when did it become appropriate to lift one’s shirt up to expose the post-child bearing belly only to go further up the chest cavity to reveal a fully bare breast!!!??? Indecent exposure! Okay, so it’s a necessity for some mothers, I get it…it’s better for the baby, it builds bonding, blah blah blah. But honestly, bring a blanket, buy a Hooter Hider (that’s right, I said Hooter Hider), heck, I’ll buy one for you. Do something to cover yourself and to shield others from the awkward “I see her boob, now what do I do?” moment. And don’t stop there, for crying out loud, sit down! Do NOT feel free to roam about the cabin! Oh and one more thing, stores are for shopping, not breastfeeding your baby to sleep. Since when did the world come to this point of such indecency!?! Have some couth, some respect!
This is all to say that no, I have never had a baby and have not breast fed, but I would like to think that I will have enough common courtesy to do so in private….in a far off land where nursing is a quite, un-publicized moment….not a show for the whole world to see.
Okay, I’m done now.