Owl Watch 2008, by M

So one night we were all in a good mood, sitting around outside and contemplating nature. I get this email from National Geographic about a BioBlitz. Which you know scientists combing the hill, collecting data.... sounds awesome. So we signed up cuz we're weird like that. When we got there it was slightly lackluster- like we were the bastard site for the real exciting stuff going on closer to the coast. Tipped over Welcome sign. No t-shirts or balloons... and ourselves were like the rebels of the owl group- we didn't quite look the part- not in khaki, not carrying binoculars, but mom and I are pretty into birds and CA nature. Obvi. But Amber and I are downright well, dangerously, full of attitude. And had about 5 valid criticisms of the event within 2 minutes. But we held it together for mom. There was an ecology major doing it for credit, and asked us what our majors were. We slyly implied that we were "done with that"... and then the two fanatical birdists, which you have to be to go out night after night and try and observe owls and get this stupid grin every time you hear the black phoebe flycatcher or the wren call from here or there or everywhere... who knows, and be president of the LA Autobahn society. And then tell us how they met, which was on a birding cruise, and that there's no use in not marrying someone who's not "into" birding. They were admittedly sweet. But the problem was the following: inability to engage field participants into scientific observation of subjects or lack there of, ignorance of area- as the experts were better practiced in the San Gabriel mountains and didn't know how high traffic Griffith park actually is... which is a lot. And then tell us 3 hours into the event around 11pm, saying that because its nesting season they may not be provoked to come and explore possible intruders. WTF? Don't tell your few beleaguered troops that this entire expedition was for naught- minute1.

But anyway we saw 2 coyotes and 1 creepy runner guy, who sometime around 9pm went running thru a fenced area, thru a trail and disappeared, only to be spotted later, standing like a statue at the edge of the road for more that a few minutes. CReePY. Oh, and the Dwight Shrute of the BioBlitz- the batting team. Yes, actually looking for bats. Full utility belts, head lamps and a very intense attitude of CBB. on a MISSION.

But anyway I don't know why I'm telling you all this- I should've made it a story- given you the sense that we heard our quiet steps up the trails and treading thru sand. That we stared up in the warm night and saw stars and the still shadows of the trees and heard the scurries of creatures- all of us gazing out and waiting for something that never came, and the hours passed and we walked and talked and continued to keep looking out and into the night, hoping against all contrary signs, to see something. Because we knew, it just had to be there.

Oh 32 where are You, by M

There's scant information on how to live life in your 30's and I'm too lazy to turn to television- you know there was that one show 30something and then SintC but no. I was googling GenX too and that seemed even more doubtful, though I proudly count myself in that category of disenfranchised foolish youth... like until a couple years ago. I still however hold to my fav flannel wearing, docmartin(still have mine), grunge ways as a special and nostalgic time of especial angst and melancholy. That transition time from DepecheMode and OingoBoingo/Morrissey to PearlJam /Nirvana/Soundgarden and onto REM, Radiohead and possibly ending with Moby much later. I can't decide. Giving way from Blacks/NavyBlues and baggy clothing to formfitting and colorful. Anyway,

I was surprised how different being in your 30's really felt. Though I still don't know where I'm going, or what I'm going to do about it, I'm much more sure about it. There's this Confucius quote- one of the only things I took away from Thoreau's Walden (which I read at 17) was, to know what you know, and to not know what you do not know- that's true knowledge. And there's a certain humility, i guess, at knowing for sure your strengths and weaknesses, purposely testing them or not, and deciding how to proceed from there. And being honest about it. Especially with the idea that even if your conception of yourself hasn't aligned with reality that there's no reason to put your life on hold and wait for it. I just get on with things better.

There's little differences too as my habits and social ideas concertize... I certainly am not as socially needy- still needy, yes, but the breadth of what I'm will to experiment with has diminished into disinterest. My boredom is much more narrowly defined and the solutions aren't so much relegated to a big party, an all-nighter, petty theft, rampant candle-incense burning sessions or repeating the same refrain of music all night while writing poetry. But that's just me. I still repeat songs over and over while I write, but the tone is completely different.

I like to repeat the phrase, Ah, fuck it. Alot. Sometimes you deduce things to worse case scenarios- thinking, what's the worst that can happen, and when faced with that I feel a lot better. Like, oh, I can grapple with that, conquer that- also start dealing with your mortality NOW. Aging, NOW. It will hit you like a ton of bricks if you don't start the mental churning now. Not in a oh, woe's me to wilting of my salad days, but just a realistic look at the fact that we all have to die and we're going to get wrinkly and beautifully interesting while we do it- and all that with stereotypical pains. But that doesn't mean you go gently into that goodnight! Age isn't a GAME OVER warning light. But a proceed with caution and a good amount of pep. Because you rock and your worth it. I think the biggest chinks that could bring me to a crestfallen 32 would be if I ignore my vanity and pride... as in what am I vain and proud about- in little ways- my hair, my teeth, my strength, my words, my wit... and imagine those being given the blows of the body and mind aging. And one must be okay with that but not complacent. That redchip is blinking after all.

Ah, I digress! 32 is going to be a good year.

Positives: I'm alive, going to central america, a good home, a mom, and animals and a lovely yard, I'm learning french and am going to accomplish various things on my 'to-do' list, and my awesome car lolly, amazing and strange friends...

Negatives: Debt (possible terminal condition)

Neutrals: Singleness (not quite as negative as i sometimes think it might be), weight (whether which way I'll be be me while doing it.), my job (oh it comes and it goes and one day maybe it will come aground to a magical island called content) and as long as i don't freak myself out in the inbetween times again. That was awful.

Visuals: Up from the dark, amazonian river to the rocky outcrop- blonde wheat colored side of a mountain. The wind is blowing and the sky is blue and clear.

Hmm, anyway, a little more rambley than warm and fuzzy but ah well, themsthebreakskid.

shirts recently purchased, by pen

I needed some new shirts (that actually fit? unbelievable concept, I know), and happened on a coupon on EW Mag for 80stees.com. It's a rad site. Here is the coupon, if you are so inclined!

I know, by M

If we had a 'blog more list' I would need to be on it. It's been a lackluster May. No warm fuzzy thoughts on 32. No glib quips about traffic or the new Extra BerryPearry Gum, and how I absolutely must have 2 sticks at once.

The goings on of me are simple: went camping. finished french. and am almost at the 6month waiting mark for "the TRIP"... also my poor pup Zeppelin has cataracts and the HOUSE is actually being built... foundation first. Also BBQ sunflowerseeds are the best and so is precious stringcheese.

I make the following vow (s):
To post about: the forest, maybe the french final presentation, 32 and per penelope's request my obsession with all things trip related- including intial packing lists, vaccinations and camera quandaries.

Bientot, Blogging World. Till tomorrow. I promise.
M.

Weird Facts Wednesday

Mules are smarter than horses. And apparently mule racing is popular in Brazil and all over the southwest... some mules run faster than arabians and thoroughbreds. They are however, usually sterile but are the result of a mare breeding with a donkey /"jack".

Who knew...

PSA: Gossip Girl

For those of you who share my summer goal of catching up on Gossip Girl, the CW is airing the pilot on Sunday night, and then the following episode on Monday night, so I imagine they will then air the entire season over the course of the summer. Starting at the very beginning. On TV, instead of the stop-start, small-screened jumpiness of online viewing.

Clearly the program schedulers have read our blog and set it all up, just for me. Program those DVRs! and discuss with me.

In related news, the Summer of Books is also well underway, as I spent the better part of this weekend "lolling out in the yard, watching the children play," with a book in hand, or a magazine, whichever. Of course it's going to be scorching hot before you know it, but until them, I'm soaking it up. It's idyllic. It's kind of heaven, letting your mind and self just "be."

Penelope out.

hey, let's try something new!

Mentioned in the StoryCorps book, this quote:
I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition.
-Martha Washington

Yes, but Martha, I initially argued in my mind, aren't you born with your disposition? Aren't some people naturally inclined, through that disposition, to be prickly or brooding or otherwise melancholy? Then I thought about it a little more, thought about the scope of my own life, and I reached a different conclusion.

I feel like, regardless of circumstance, I am uncomfortable... just being alive? Maybe everyone is, to some extent. As m and I recently discussed, in the absence of tension, you crave it. But there will always be tension, I'm not saying you can or should ignore tension. I'm just saying that overall, looking at each period of my life: childhood, junior high, high school, college, the fateful London/Paris trip, Chicago, grad school, real-world employment, and now kids, I always feel this unmistakeable itch. Like there was and is always something to kind of brood on. Like I'm on my way to solving some "problem" and once I get there, once I get past "this," then I will feel good.

Except that, once I do get past "this" (and you always, eventually, get past it), I jump right into some other vague state of discontentment, brooding on an all new "this." It's just the way I operate.

So I'm trying something new. I'm going to actually, for once, enjoy "this." Sure, there are little (and big) everyday problems and sources of stress. Tension. That's totally fine. But geez, I've got these two small people in my life, and this pretty fantastic marriage, and a cool house that I love to fix up and switch up and just plain live in. I need to be hung up on that. So I am. I am, inspired by Martha Washington, choosing a new disposition.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Three Things On My Doorstep I Could Do Without, by pen

1. The door-to-door salesman named Creepy McCreeperson. He and his cohorts have been touring our neighborhood this week, and they are the unfortunate, spinny-eyed breed of salesmen who have one spiel and only one spiel, and just. Keep. Repeating. It. Over and over, unblinking, regardless of what you say. The first time he came to the door, I answered it while on the phone, with two barking dogs and a screaming toddler underfoot, and told him Not a Good Time, Come Back Later, meaning Not at All, Never, Don't Even Think About It. But he didn't take the hint. He just kept on talking, even after I walked away from the door. So the next time he rang the doorbell, I sat on the couch, hidden from view, and just watched Bender snarl at him all aggressively, her hackles raised, until he went away. Is that bad?

He went to my neighbor's house twice as well, and she being smarter than I didn't answer the door, but the second time it was like he knew she was in there and pounded on the door for 20 minutes. Pounded. Creepy. I heard from another neighbor that he was selling children's books, but whatEVer. No thank you, go away.

2. Fancy-Smancy Health Information from BCBSNC. Such as: A heavy-duty binder filled with facts and information re: stress management, losing weight, etc. A little book about counting calories. And most recently, a stress management/yoga CD and a BCBSNC pedometer housed in a metal case. I mean, really? I just feel like some of the resources that went toward producing this extra landfill could have been fueled into projects such as, I don't know, not fucking up so many of our insurance claims that we have to call them on a regular basis to fix them? Because if we didn't, we would end up paying hundreds of dollars more than we're supposed to? Just a thought. But I don't think there's a health insurance company out there that actually does the job right, so what are you going to do.

3. Dying, dead, and deader than dead plants. Which, totally my fault. But sight of the crispy little structures are starting to depress me. To the trash can we must go, or I wonder if some of that soil's reusable, so I could plant some more things and kill them, too? That might be fun.

Summer Goals, by M

Oh Shenanigans.

A Summer Goals List:

1. Obsess about the TRIP
2. Think about ways to earn money for the TRIP
3. Think about ways to stay employed bcs of the TRIP
4. Start buying things for the TRIP
5. Continue to be irritated for the $1000+ I have to pay for registration and car insurance in July.
   

Normally I would obsess about things like:

1. Go Whale Watching for the great blue whale.
2. Go kayaking in La Jolla Cove
3. Go sailing on a replica of an 1847 Schooner
4. Go swimming
5. Go seaweed collecting
6. Go to the beach more... it's like a nautical summer.
   
7. Read at least 2 books aloud to mom outside in the garden.
8. Take conversational french despite my utter reluctance.
   

And then if I want to go hard core:

1. Stitch together quilt
2. Make summer dress from last year
3. Finish tear drop walkway
4. Create walkway for front house.
5. Figure out a way to go to Seattle to visit Matt and visit Pen in NC. Both also in nautical oriented locations.
   

You see how the summer could go a couple ways here. Utter fixation on funds and or lack there of in anticipation of the trip, consumed with arduous tasks that yield long term results, or brief flings that also cost money or.... sitting in my yard and trying to do as little as possible since we still don't have air conditioning. I don't know. I just don't. Though I have a feeling it's going to be a good one. Let's hope.

Weird Facts Wednesday

What Bird has the Most Feathers:

The Whistling Swan, Cygnus columbianus. In winter it can have as many as 25000.

Did you know that antlers are made of bone? They grow rapidly because they are nourished by a thing called "Velvet"- which is a velvety growth which has a patchwork of blood vessels that feed it. When the season for growth is over the blood flow is cut off at the base of the antler and the velvet is shed. In addition the antlers and their size are an indication of the bucks health because they need so much calcium and food resources in order to support such a system of antlers, the bigger the healthier. They shed them because there's no way they could survive winter having to support both their bodies and their racks.