I can't talk about my high school years and not talk about the place that was the single most important and influential place of my life at that time: 3521 Farnham Avenue in the City of Long Beach California.
Between approximately 1977 through 1981, when the parents finally divorced and sold the Old Homestead, 3521 Farnham Avenue was the equivalent of Eric Foreman's basement in That 70's Show. It was THE place to hang out. If the front door was open, and it was ALWAYS open, that meant everyone was welcome to come on in and hang out, stay for dinner or even for a couple of months. Nobody knocked and if someone actually rang the doorbell, we knew it was most likely a saleman or religious organization wanting to spread the Gospel.
Life at 3521 Farnham Avenue during those years was so crazy and active that it can't be described in a single blog entry. No, this will take several to chronicle the Memories of 3521 Farnham Avenue.
Coming soon: Chapter One.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
High School Photos: The Missing Years
Last week, the Hot Topic for several of my favorite blogs was High School/Teenage Memories. And since I do suffer from Writer's Block at times, I would jump on the High School bandwagon.
Since photos are the accessories of any good blog, I knew it was time to dig up photos from my high school days, which turned out to be easier said than done. Sister Tracie has boatloads of family photos so on Sunday I headed to her house to pore through hundreds, if not thousands, of photos that are meticulously archived in paper grocery sacks that are then stuffed into cardboard boxes which were then shoved into a cabinet in the garage.
Both of my sisters high school years were amply represented, from their cheerleading days to Graduation portraits to the fancy Pre-Prom party complete with champagne and hors d'oeuvres that my parents held in their honor. Our house was filled with about 50 formally dressed teens who were getting their pre-game buzz on before driving off to whatever hotel the Prom was being held. Two years later, when I went to my first Prom, not only did I not get a fancy party, I had to wear a borrowed dress, do my own hair and makeup and only my dad was home when I was picked up by my date (Bitter Moment #82).
After going through hundreds, if not thousands, of family photos to find my high school photos, I pretty much came up empty-handed. Oh, I did find a few that I had in my own stash of family photos:
JV Yell my sophomore year. Note the lovely perm.
This was taken the last day of school my sophomore year. I was wearing the latest in Cool Surfer Wear with my OP shirt, Lightning Bolt shorts and I'm pretty sure I had baby-blue Vans. My perm had grown out quite a bit. If you look real close, you can see my most prized piece of jewelry: my sterling silver Lightning Bolt bracelet. I loved that bracelet and wore it until it snapped in two.
I couldn't find a single photo from my Junior year and not one school picture from ANY year other than my senior portrait but I did find a couple from my Senior year including my Varsity Yell portrait. Obviously, this was pre-PhotoShop days and I'm rocking yet another perm. I had a love/hate relationship with perms. I kept getting them and I kept hating how they turned out. It took years before I was strong enough to Just Say No to perms.
Christmas Dance with Tom Colunga, a Younger Man (Junior to my Senior).
Most other schools call it "Winter Formal." Not Artesia High School. It was the "Christmas Dance" and was a Sadie Hawkins dance where the girls ask the guys. Tom was just a friend and I was comfortable with him so I asked him, after I found out another girl was planning on asking him. Uh, I don't think so. I loved that dress. Peach Qiana with a leg slit almost up to the hip. I felt so Sophisticated and Sexy. And Cold. Our Christmas Dance took place at the outdoor restaurant of Movieland Wax Museum, down the street from Knott's Berry Farm. It was December and I froze my ass off but hey, I looked good and that's what was important.
Next to my wedding portrait, my Senior portrait was probably the best picture ever taken of me and either the studio did some major airbrushing or I really was 100% zit-free that day:
That's all I've got. High School photos - The Missing Years.
Since photos are the accessories of any good blog, I knew it was time to dig up photos from my high school days, which turned out to be easier said than done. Sister Tracie has boatloads of family photos so on Sunday I headed to her house to pore through hundreds, if not thousands, of photos that are meticulously archived in paper grocery sacks that are then stuffed into cardboard boxes which were then shoved into a cabinet in the garage.
Both of my sisters high school years were amply represented, from their cheerleading days to Graduation portraits to the fancy Pre-Prom party complete with champagne and hors d'oeuvres that my parents held in their honor. Our house was filled with about 50 formally dressed teens who were getting their pre-game buzz on before driving off to whatever hotel the Prom was being held. Two years later, when I went to my first Prom, not only did I not get a fancy party, I had to wear a borrowed dress, do my own hair and makeup and only my dad was home when I was picked up by my date (Bitter Moment #82).
After going through hundreds, if not thousands, of family photos to find my high school photos, I pretty much came up empty-handed. Oh, I did find a few that I had in my own stash of family photos:
JV Yell my sophomore year. Note the lovely perm.
This was taken the last day of school my sophomore year. I was wearing the latest in Cool Surfer Wear with my OP shirt, Lightning Bolt shorts and I'm pretty sure I had baby-blue Vans. My perm had grown out quite a bit. If you look real close, you can see my most prized piece of jewelry: my sterling silver Lightning Bolt bracelet. I loved that bracelet and wore it until it snapped in two.
I couldn't find a single photo from my Junior year and not one school picture from ANY year other than my senior portrait but I did find a couple from my Senior year including my Varsity Yell portrait. Obviously, this was pre-PhotoShop days and I'm rocking yet another perm. I had a love/hate relationship with perms. I kept getting them and I kept hating how they turned out. It took years before I was strong enough to Just Say No to perms.
Christmas Dance with Tom Colunga, a Younger Man (Junior to my Senior).
Most other schools call it "Winter Formal." Not Artesia High School. It was the "Christmas Dance" and was a Sadie Hawkins dance where the girls ask the guys. Tom was just a friend and I was comfortable with him so I asked him, after I found out another girl was planning on asking him. Uh, I don't think so. I loved that dress. Peach Qiana with a leg slit almost up to the hip. I felt so Sophisticated and Sexy. And Cold. Our Christmas Dance took place at the outdoor restaurant of Movieland Wax Museum, down the street from Knott's Berry Farm. It was December and I froze my ass off but hey, I looked good and that's what was important.
Next to my wedding portrait, my Senior portrait was probably the best picture ever taken of me and either the studio did some major airbrushing or I really was 100% zit-free that day:
That's all I've got. High School photos - The Missing Years.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Wanted: A spine and a new computer
I've always prided myself on not caving in (much) to the demands of my kids. I tell them there is a difference between a Want and a Need. Oh, I'll admit, sometimes a Want can be a kind of Need but I don't go out and buy them whatever the Want O' The Day is. If they want something that isn't a Need, they can either buy it with their own money or wait until Christmas or their birthday. If they have something and then lose it or break it due to their own negligence, they're shit outta luck.
So. With Thing 2 entering high school and Thing 1 going into his Senior Year (I'm SO not ready for this), I realized that there was going to be a Problem with doing homework. Several of their textbooks are on CD-ROM and there will be lots of computer-based homework. Where's the problem, you ask? Well, we have two computers in this household. Computer Number One is my six year old iMac with the non-working disk drive and Swirling Colorwheel of Death. Computer Number Two is a newer Windows laptop that I had to have for District 37 race scoring. With only one fully working computer, homework time is going to get ugly, very ugly.
TheManTheMyth agreed that for the sake of a peaceful household, another computer would be necessary for Thing 2 since Thing 1 has pretty much appropriated my laptop and my beloved iMac is on its last legs and we can't afford the cost of a new Mac computer unless I sell a kidney. Or a child.
So what does this have to do with needing a spine, you ask. I'll tell you. Thing 2 went online and found an all-in-one for the low price of $399, available only online. After adding in sales tax, shipping, a recycling fee and some necessary software, it was closer to $600 than $399.
Here's where it got ugly. *I* (and everyone else) felt it would be more practical, not to mention more affordable, to just go to our local BestBuy and get a laptop. We'd still have to pay California's sky-high sales tax but we would avoid the shipping fee and we'd have our new computer today instead of whenever it gets here some time this month. And it would be portable, unlike the Desktop she wanted. However, Thing 2 didn't agree with me. She (Who? Her. Huh.) didn't want a stupid laptop, she wanted the All-In-One, even though I emphasized that it would not be HER computer but a computer for the family. That's fine, she said, but it didn't change her mind.
We went round and round and up and down and I could feel myself weakening under the onslaught of her arguing. When Kaylyn wants something, she will (metaphorically) sink her teeth into you and shake you until you cry "Uncle!" She doesn't scream or have hysterics; she just wears you down with her pugnacious arguing skills. Thing 2's other nickname is the Pit Bull, for obvious reasons.
I finally offered a compromise. She could get the computer she wanted instead of the more practical laptop IF she was willing to pay the shipping, tax and recycling fee. Anyone who knows Kaylyn knows she "collects" Cash Money and would rather gouge her eyes out with a spork than part with any of her "Collection." She quietly got up and walked away. I was silently congratulating myself on winning this fight when she walked back in, slapped the cash down on my desk and barked, "Order it."
I was so shocked she was parting with her cash that I couldn't think straight and act like the parent and have the final say.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So if anyone has a spine they'd like to send me, feel free.
Game. Set. Match.
So. With Thing 2 entering high school and Thing 1 going into his Senior Year (I'm SO not ready for this), I realized that there was going to be a Problem with doing homework. Several of their textbooks are on CD-ROM and there will be lots of computer-based homework. Where's the problem, you ask? Well, we have two computers in this household. Computer Number One is my six year old iMac with the non-working disk drive and Swirling Colorwheel of Death. Computer Number Two is a newer Windows laptop that I had to have for District 37 race scoring. With only one fully working computer, homework time is going to get ugly, very ugly.
TheManTheMyth agreed that for the sake of a peaceful household, another computer would be necessary for Thing 2 since Thing 1 has pretty much appropriated my laptop and my beloved iMac is on its last legs and we can't afford the cost of a new Mac computer unless I sell a kidney. Or a child.
So what does this have to do with needing a spine, you ask. I'll tell you. Thing 2 went online and found an all-in-one for the low price of $399, available only online. After adding in sales tax, shipping, a recycling fee and some necessary software, it was closer to $600 than $399.
Here's where it got ugly. *I* (and everyone else) felt it would be more practical, not to mention more affordable, to just go to our local BestBuy and get a laptop. We'd still have to pay California's sky-high sales tax but we would avoid the shipping fee and we'd have our new computer today instead of whenever it gets here some time this month. And it would be portable, unlike the Desktop she wanted. However, Thing 2 didn't agree with me. She (Who? Her. Huh.) didn't want a stupid laptop, she wanted the All-In-One, even though I emphasized that it would not be HER computer but a computer for the family. That's fine, she said, but it didn't change her mind.
We went round and round and up and down and I could feel myself weakening under the onslaught of her arguing. When Kaylyn wants something, she will (metaphorically) sink her teeth into you and shake you until you cry "Uncle!" She doesn't scream or have hysterics; she just wears you down with her pugnacious arguing skills. Thing 2's other nickname is the Pit Bull, for obvious reasons.
I finally offered a compromise. She could get the computer she wanted instead of the more practical laptop IF she was willing to pay the shipping, tax and recycling fee. Anyone who knows Kaylyn knows she "collects" Cash Money and would rather gouge her eyes out with a spork than part with any of her "Collection." She quietly got up and walked away. I was silently congratulating myself on winning this fight when she walked back in, slapped the cash down on my desk and barked, "Order it."
I was so shocked she was parting with her cash that I couldn't think straight and act like the parent and have the final say.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So if anyone has a spine they'd like to send me, feel free.
Game. Set. Match.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Adventures in People Watching
I'm a People Watcher. I love to just sit and watch people. Back when I was in high school, my sister Jamie worked at Disneyland and during the summer, we'd go to Disneyland (we got in for FREE!) and pick a spot to just sit and people watch. Oh, sure, we'd go on a couple of rides but mostly we just people watch and laugh our fool heads off.
We could usually guess which part of the world people were from by their clothing. European men seemed to favor short-shorts with tank tops and clogs. Canadians usually wore high-waisted jeans with HUGE legs (this was back in the late '70's). Jamie and I would elbow each other and snicker, "How's it going, eh?" Japanese guests would almost always be in silk suits and ties for the men and silk dresses with pearls and high heels for the ladies.
One family that still sticks out to this day was the family that looked like they had just stepped off the set of "Deliverance." The menfolk were wearing overalls that could not be buttoned at the sides due to the fact that the material did not stretch that far. "Paw" had a "Mountain Man" beard down to his chest. "Maw" and daughter were both large women (and that's putting it kindly) and were wearing what looked like a tent sewed at the sides with head and armholes cut out. They looked terrified at being away from the Appalachians yet thrilled to be at Disneyland!
But I digress. While I was in Colorado last week, sister Jamie asked if I would be interested in going to the Larkspur Renaissance Festival. Would I? Would I? (Peg Leg! Peg Leg!) Some of the best people watching is at Renaissance Fairs/Festivals and I was SO there!
Now I had always assumed that people who "participate" in RenFairs made sure their characters and costumes were historically accurate to Elizabethan England. Hardy har-har and tee-hee-hee. Oh, sure, there were a few characters that were historically accurate in their costumes but for the most part, RenFest was just a chance for people to fly their Freak Flags and live out some fantasy, like Mr. Centaur here:
There were lots of fairies floating around. Nephew Chris says it's because they all had pointy ears leftover from the last Star Trek convention and dammit, they're going to get their money's worth out of them. Some of the fairy costumes were just...odd:
Or maybe she was a jester.
I discovered that if you wear a swimsuit, stuff some tulle in your bottoms and paint whimsical designs on your face, you can consider yourself a fairy:
For women, the costume of choice appeared to be a curious mixture of Goth Gypsy meets Belly Dancer. The more skin showing, the better. Which in many cases was NOT better as the skin that was showing was usually rolls of belly and waist fat:
You'd buy your Goth Gypsy/Belly Dancer attire at this place:
There were many people who mistook fashions from the late 17th century for mid 16th century Renaissance wear. Lots of Captain Jack Sparrows roaming around, along with Nell Gwynne lookalikes. The Pirate (or should I say "Pyrate?") Wench look was big.
I saw about 10 people who were dressed historically accurate for the time period.
Some of the best people watching were the attendees. Yes, she's wearing a bikini top and gold lame' shorts.
His 'n' Hers Beer Bellies!
A Shining Example of American Youth:
Yes, his earlobes ARE stretched that far and yes, that IS a lip disk that makes his bottom lip stick out that far and you can see his nipple piercings through his wife- beater. I'm sure they're very nice people.
Chris and Kaylyn modeling the latest in headwear from the Ghengis Khan Collection:
We did have a lovely time, even with the sudden drenching downpour. Since the food stations were serving up deep fried carnival food, I partook of fried dill pickles and a funnel cake that had sat too long under the heat lamp. Luckily I was able to burn off those empty calories with the trek back to the parking lot. Up hill. In the heat and humidity. It killed me. Dead.
Anyhoo, I learned that Renaissance Festivals and Fairs aren't about being historically accurate; it's about living out your fantasies, accuracy be damned! But mostly, Ren Festivals and Fairs are all about the People Watching!
We could usually guess which part of the world people were from by their clothing. European men seemed to favor short-shorts with tank tops and clogs. Canadians usually wore high-waisted jeans with HUGE legs (this was back in the late '70's). Jamie and I would elbow each other and snicker, "How's it going, eh?" Japanese guests would almost always be in silk suits and ties for the men and silk dresses with pearls and high heels for the ladies.
One family that still sticks out to this day was the family that looked like they had just stepped off the set of "Deliverance." The menfolk were wearing overalls that could not be buttoned at the sides due to the fact that the material did not stretch that far. "Paw" had a "Mountain Man" beard down to his chest. "Maw" and daughter were both large women (and that's putting it kindly) and were wearing what looked like a tent sewed at the sides with head and armholes cut out. They looked terrified at being away from the Appalachians yet thrilled to be at Disneyland!
But I digress. While I was in Colorado last week, sister Jamie asked if I would be interested in going to the Larkspur Renaissance Festival. Would I? Would I? (Peg Leg! Peg Leg!) Some of the best people watching is at Renaissance Fairs/Festivals and I was SO there!
Now I had always assumed that people who "participate" in RenFairs made sure their characters and costumes were historically accurate to Elizabethan England. Hardy har-har and tee-hee-hee. Oh, sure, there were a few characters that were historically accurate in their costumes but for the most part, RenFest was just a chance for people to fly their Freak Flags and live out some fantasy, like Mr. Centaur here:
There were lots of fairies floating around. Nephew Chris says it's because they all had pointy ears leftover from the last Star Trek convention and dammit, they're going to get their money's worth out of them. Some of the fairy costumes were just...odd:
Or maybe she was a jester.
I discovered that if you wear a swimsuit, stuff some tulle in your bottoms and paint whimsical designs on your face, you can consider yourself a fairy:
For women, the costume of choice appeared to be a curious mixture of Goth Gypsy meets Belly Dancer. The more skin showing, the better. Which in many cases was NOT better as the skin that was showing was usually rolls of belly and waist fat:
You'd buy your Goth Gypsy/Belly Dancer attire at this place:
There were many people who mistook fashions from the late 17th century for mid 16th century Renaissance wear. Lots of Captain Jack Sparrows roaming around, along with Nell Gwynne lookalikes. The Pirate (or should I say "Pyrate?") Wench look was big.
I saw about 10 people who were dressed historically accurate for the time period.
Some of the best people watching were the attendees. Yes, she's wearing a bikini top and gold lame' shorts.
His 'n' Hers Beer Bellies!
A Shining Example of American Youth:
Yes, his earlobes ARE stretched that far and yes, that IS a lip disk that makes his bottom lip stick out that far and you can see his nipple piercings through his wife- beater. I'm sure they're very nice people.
Chris and Kaylyn modeling the latest in headwear from the Ghengis Khan Collection:
We did have a lovely time, even with the sudden drenching downpour. Since the food stations were serving up deep fried carnival food, I partook of fried dill pickles and a funnel cake that had sat too long under the heat lamp. Luckily I was able to burn off those empty calories with the trek back to the parking lot. Up hill. In the heat and humidity. It killed me. Dead.
Anyhoo, I learned that Renaissance Festivals and Fairs aren't about being historically accurate; it's about living out your fantasies, accuracy be damned! But mostly, Ren Festivals and Fairs are all about the People Watching!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Seen in the Likker Store
I can't get over the fact that in order to buy booze in Colorado, one must go to a State liquor store. You can't just pick up a fifth of liquor in the supermarket. Well, I'm used to having a nightly cocktail of vodka and Fresca so off we went to the Oh-fish-ul, Sanctioned House o' Booze.
While perusing the Vodka Department, I noticed there was all manner of vodka to choose from. There were single-filtered/distilled vodkas, doubled filtered, triple filtered, filtered through a gym sock, fruit vodkas, pepper vodkas, rotgut vodkas, vanilla vodkas, chocolate vodkas (barf!), and even this:
Sweet Tea Vodka. I'm sorry but that just sounds just plain icky. I don't mind fruit flavors but sweet tea? I'll pass.
While perusing the Vodka Department, I noticed there was all manner of vodka to choose from. There were single-filtered/distilled vodkas, doubled filtered, triple filtered, filtered through a gym sock, fruit vodkas, pepper vodkas, rotgut vodkas, vanilla vodkas, chocolate vodkas (barf!), and even this:
Sweet Tea Vodka. I'm sorry but that just sounds just plain icky. I don't mind fruit flavors but sweet tea? I'll pass.
Rocky Mountain High
For the second time this year, I actually got on one of them new-fangled aero-planes and took a trip out of California. Who'd a thunk it? I tell you, I am just SO adventurous! Especially since my usual destinations are Fontucky for NASCAR races (I'm SO done with THAT!) and the High Desert of California to watch TheManTheMyth and Thing 1 race motorcycles.
I flew out to Colorado for two reasons: to retrieve Thing 2 and to finally see my sister's house that she's lived in for, oh, 7 or 8 years now.
Highlights of my flight on Cattle-Car Airways: not being able to recline my seat, the woman in front of me reclining her seat so far back that I could have performed dental work on her, having my elbow smacked by everyone who walked by (at least I had the aisle seat), discovering that any refreshments other than a few spoonfuls of soda are NOT complimentary and the man in the seat next to me constantly tossing and turning while trying to find a comfortable position. I gave up trying to read because the woman in the seat in front of me got pissed when I rested my book on her nose so I spent the rest of the flight listening to my iPod and playing air-drums because there wasn't enough room to play air-guitar.
I arrive in beautiful Colorado and sister Jamie is right there to carry me off to her lovely home in Monument with so much storage space and closets that I'm positively GREEN with envy! My 1950's California Ranch has itty-bitty closets in each room plus 1 small linen closet and 1 small coat closet. I lost count of how many large walk-in closets are in Jamie's house.
The next day, Jamie, Thing 2 and I headed to Winter Park to spend the day and what a day we had! We took the ski lift up the mountain so we could go down the alpine slide. Everyone who knows me knows that I have a serious fear of heights. Climbing a 6 foot ladder causes my heart to pound so getting on this ski lift was An Ordeal for me. But I did it:
Because I'm a big chicken and only the lift would only seat 2 people, Jamie volunteered to ride by her ownself. You can see her in the chair behind me. This photo was taken not by me turning around (I was too skeered) but by me holding my camera up behind me. It's also a great shot of the alpine slide.
After a couple of runs down the alpine slide, where I kept to the "Beginner Level" slide, we decided to try the maze and then play a round of Miniature Golf, which was quite a hoot and a half. After 18 challenging holes, which Kaylyn won (of course), it was time for lunch. Lunch, sister Jamie informs us, will be enjoyed at the very top of the Mountain (10,700 feet above sea level) and to get to the top of the mountain, we would have to take the chair lift. Oh boy! says the terrified of heights Me. At least this time, the 3 of us could ride together because neither Kaylyn or I wanted to go solo.
So up we go:
My evil daughter kept demanding I turn around and look how high we've gotten but would only smack her in response. Going UP doesn't so much bother me; it's looking DOWN that causes my heart to flutter and not in a good way.
We finally get to the top and it IS gorgeous. There was a BBQ stand at the lodge where I had the best hamburger. There was a group of teenage mountain bikers sitting behind Kaylyn:
Jamie said they were checking out Kaylyn (who replied, "Ewwww") but I know they were actually giving my delicious, juicy hamburger the eye.
Me and Kaylyn:
We walked around the lodge, taking in the sights and getting light-headed before heading back to the chair lift for the steep, scary ride back down the mountain:
Which wasn't really all that bad. When we got back down, we decided to hit the alpine slide a few more times before calling it a day. I was feeling so brave by this time that I actually rode the chairlift to the top of the slide BY MYSELF. That's right, ALONE. Yay me! And for my last run down the alpine slide, I even went on the Expert slide. Yay me, again!
After stopping for pizza on the way home, our Girls Day was concluded and we were 3 very tired but happy gals. I spent the rest of the evening having a cocktail, watching the Rockies/Padres game and talking hockey with brother-in-law Charlie, who I am always excited to spend time with because he is the only family member I can talk hockey with.
Charlie, the day Jamie brought him home to meet the family. Poor guy was doomed from the moment we thrust newborn Thing 1 in his arms for a Kodak Moment, 17 years ago:
On Sunday, we went to the Larkspur Renaissance Festival but THAT deserves an entry all its own.
I flew out to Colorado for two reasons: to retrieve Thing 2 and to finally see my sister's house that she's lived in for, oh, 7 or 8 years now.
Highlights of my flight on Cattle-Car Airways: not being able to recline my seat, the woman in front of me reclining her seat so far back that I could have performed dental work on her, having my elbow smacked by everyone who walked by (at least I had the aisle seat), discovering that any refreshments other than a few spoonfuls of soda are NOT complimentary and the man in the seat next to me constantly tossing and turning while trying to find a comfortable position. I gave up trying to read because the woman in the seat in front of me got pissed when I rested my book on her nose so I spent the rest of the flight listening to my iPod and playing air-drums because there wasn't enough room to play air-guitar.
I arrive in beautiful Colorado and sister Jamie is right there to carry me off to her lovely home in Monument with so much storage space and closets that I'm positively GREEN with envy! My 1950's California Ranch has itty-bitty closets in each room plus 1 small linen closet and 1 small coat closet. I lost count of how many large walk-in closets are in Jamie's house.
The next day, Jamie, Thing 2 and I headed to Winter Park to spend the day and what a day we had! We took the ski lift up the mountain so we could go down the alpine slide. Everyone who knows me knows that I have a serious fear of heights. Climbing a 6 foot ladder causes my heart to pound so getting on this ski lift was An Ordeal for me. But I did it:
Because I'm a big chicken and only the lift would only seat 2 people, Jamie volunteered to ride by her ownself. You can see her in the chair behind me. This photo was taken not by me turning around (I was too skeered) but by me holding my camera up behind me. It's also a great shot of the alpine slide.
After a couple of runs down the alpine slide, where I kept to the "Beginner Level" slide, we decided to try the maze and then play a round of Miniature Golf, which was quite a hoot and a half. After 18 challenging holes, which Kaylyn won (of course), it was time for lunch. Lunch, sister Jamie informs us, will be enjoyed at the very top of the Mountain (10,700 feet above sea level) and to get to the top of the mountain, we would have to take the chair lift. Oh boy! says the terrified of heights Me. At least this time, the 3 of us could ride together because neither Kaylyn or I wanted to go solo.
So up we go:
My evil daughter kept demanding I turn around and look how high we've gotten but would only smack her in response. Going UP doesn't so much bother me; it's looking DOWN that causes my heart to flutter and not in a good way.
We finally get to the top and it IS gorgeous. There was a BBQ stand at the lodge where I had the best hamburger. There was a group of teenage mountain bikers sitting behind Kaylyn:
Jamie said they were checking out Kaylyn (who replied, "Ewwww") but I know they were actually giving my delicious, juicy hamburger the eye.
Me and Kaylyn:
We walked around the lodge, taking in the sights and getting light-headed before heading back to the chair lift for the steep, scary ride back down the mountain:
Which wasn't really all that bad. When we got back down, we decided to hit the alpine slide a few more times before calling it a day. I was feeling so brave by this time that I actually rode the chairlift to the top of the slide BY MYSELF. That's right, ALONE. Yay me! And for my last run down the alpine slide, I even went on the Expert slide. Yay me, again!
After stopping for pizza on the way home, our Girls Day was concluded and we were 3 very tired but happy gals. I spent the rest of the evening having a cocktail, watching the Rockies/Padres game and talking hockey with brother-in-law Charlie, who I am always excited to spend time with because he is the only family member I can talk hockey with.
Charlie, the day Jamie brought him home to meet the family. Poor guy was doomed from the moment we thrust newborn Thing 1 in his arms for a Kodak Moment, 17 years ago:
On Sunday, we went to the Larkspur Renaissance Festival but THAT deserves an entry all its own.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Bicycle, bicycle
As the song from Queen says, "I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike." "Fat Bottom Girls" is the logical follow up to "Bicycle" but we don't wish to discuss THAT.
A couple of years ago I purchased a beach cruiser bicycle from the local Tar-Zhay for riding around the infield at California Speedway NASCAR races. This was back when we were hardcore NASCAR fans. Them days are over but I still kept the bike. Unfortunately, my Schwinn Jaguar 7 speed beach cruiser never really worked right. Something was funky with the derailer so I parked my bike in the garage and waited for someone (TheManTheMyth) to fix it.
Thing 1 has a bad habit of cannibalizing any bike left unattended so over the last few years, we've had about 5 bicycles that were all missing parts but not one bike that was in working condition. The big mystery is what he does with all those parts he swipes. I know he's not selling them because then I wouldn't be hearing, "I need some money" all the time. It's a mystery.
Anyhoo, for the last year I've had a hankering to go for a bike ride but without a working bike, that's a little on the difficult side. So I've been nagging TheManTheMyth to please fix my bike. And since he's been off work for the last few weeks, he's had time to do all those things that need attention. Like fix my bike along with his own as well, both of which were missing several important parts, such as wheels, gear shifts and air in the tires.
So after dragging the two carcasses out of the motorcycle garage, he went to work and voila! Not one but TWO working bicycles.
Mine (I don't ride girly bikes):
If you look closely, you can see cobwebs in the spokes and around the rusted springs of the seat. There used to be a basket but that disappeared along with many of the original parts.
His:
The good news is, I now have a working bicycle. The bad news is, since I nagged for so long to have a working bicycle, I am now obligated to actually RIDE said bicycle.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
A couple of years ago I purchased a beach cruiser bicycle from the local Tar-Zhay for riding around the infield at California Speedway NASCAR races. This was back when we were hardcore NASCAR fans. Them days are over but I still kept the bike. Unfortunately, my Schwinn Jaguar 7 speed beach cruiser never really worked right. Something was funky with the derailer so I parked my bike in the garage and waited for someone (TheManTheMyth) to fix it.
Thing 1 has a bad habit of cannibalizing any bike left unattended so over the last few years, we've had about 5 bicycles that were all missing parts but not one bike that was in working condition. The big mystery is what he does with all those parts he swipes. I know he's not selling them because then I wouldn't be hearing, "I need some money" all the time. It's a mystery.
Anyhoo, for the last year I've had a hankering to go for a bike ride but without a working bike, that's a little on the difficult side. So I've been nagging TheManTheMyth to please fix my bike. And since he's been off work for the last few weeks, he's had time to do all those things that need attention. Like fix my bike along with his own as well, both of which were missing several important parts, such as wheels, gear shifts and air in the tires.
So after dragging the two carcasses out of the motorcycle garage, he went to work and voila! Not one but TWO working bicycles.
Mine (I don't ride girly bikes):
If you look closely, you can see cobwebs in the spokes and around the rusted springs of the seat. There used to be a basket but that disappeared along with many of the original parts.
His:
The good news is, I now have a working bicycle. The bad news is, since I nagged for so long to have a working bicycle, I am now obligated to actually RIDE said bicycle.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
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