Lucy's Spleen

We're Going

 

See: Presidential Inauguration Committee

and: Obamapalooza

Come out for a visit here

I find Joanna Newsom almost endlessly make-fun-of-able for her singing. I recall mornings cleaning up after big parties cleaning up with the girlfriends and wailing frustratedly back at Joanna about how she was exacerbating my hangover. But even I have to admit there are moments when the girl just gets the job done. One such example being rainy mornings in a wooden house on a tree-blanketed hillside with a bowl of cranberry and toasted-pecan oatmeal, a cup of dandelion tea and a small, sympathetic dog in your lap. I am a modern-day lady of the canyon and Newsom is my indie Joni Mitchell. It's been such a rare feeling lately that I'm caught off guard by my own contentment.

There's a bee's nest under the eucalyptus in the yard at Grace's and Malcolm was stung twice in two days while playing fetch with a tennis ball. Twice by two bees, in case you were wondering. They die afterward because the act of stinging also squishes their guts out. This was no consolation to George, who, in the fear and frenzy after the initial stinging incident ("Get the baking soda! Is his face swelling? What's his breathing like? Check his gums for pinkness!") first and foremost wanted to know what happened to that bee motherfucker, asking me, "Did you kill it?"
     "Well, they die after stinging anyway so I just brushed it off and then I-"
     "But did you kill it?"

Nope. Oops. Wherever that bee is now I hope it gets what it's got coming to it for stinging our little Malcolm.

Anyway twice the yelping/twice the discomfort/twice the trauma has turned into a makeover of routine as I try to keep the little guy exercised and having fun, while not letting on that intentional fun is in the making, as intentional fun leads to bee stings, obviously. Outdoor fetch is off the table- my least attempt has been shunned mightily. Thus we resort to fetch in the house, with the regulations being that I remain seated for the duration of the interaction and that I do not express enthusiasm for the endeavor. In fact it's best if I pretend we're not playing at all, that I turn my attention to other things, stopping at frequent intervals to toss away this pesky ball that somehow keeps making it's way back into my lap again- I declare! How mysterious!

We're endeavoring to make up the hard-running deficit with extra long walks in their stead. Yesterday after we picked up my other boyfriend, Stan (Malcolm loves him- I'm so happy), in San Jose we headed for Santa Cruz's Twin Lakes State Beach where we tore around along the shore and chased crows until we got a bit of the shivers in the foggy weather.

Happily, the sun came out just in time for us to settle in on the patio at Aldo's for lunch, where Malcolm made the most of the warmth by spreading out in the sunshine right on top of our table.

I was enjoying the sun & warmth, too. So much so that I neglected to recall that my fair skin hasn't seen daylight since August and scorched a tidy red square on my back where the neckline of my cut shirt ended. It's all about aloe and serious sunscreen from here on out.

After lunch we walked all the way up the harbor and into Arana Gulch, where we watched Bank Swallows feasting on bugs over the open fields. (We have also seen several types of Junco, Jays, Black Phoebes, hummingbirds and  numerous species we've not yet been able to identify. The birding has been spectacular.) By the time we headed back to Grace's all three of us were totally beat and settled in for a delicious afternoon of this:

This afternoon= more sun and MORE SUNSCREEN. We're off!

I rode on a plane! The moon was out and we passed over Nevada!

When I got off the plane in San Jose, I was overjoyed to see this awaiting me:

Grace popped me in the car and whisked me off for a surprise reunion dinner in Los Gatos with these lovely ladies:

Could they get any more righteous? It was wonderful catching up with them. Jen had her appendix out, like, two days ago and Elke has a new job and a new major project and everybody's traveling and writing in their various capacities and being generally stellar and estimable. It was great seeing them and so fun and easy to be with a group where Web 2.0 is the common language and you never have to preface any statement with the obligatory exposition, "You see, I have this website... where I write, um... about things, and it connects me to a community..." These women are at the core of my web-based community and it was wonderful to see their beautiful real selves and hear the sound of their voices and come to admire them that much more by meeting them again in person. (Of course it was also righteous catching up on some community gossip.) Thanks for hanging, women!

I've come to Santa Cruz to stay at the lovely home of the lovely Grace to look after my other boyfriend, Malcolm, while Grace and her husband are in the UK this week. It was a tricky time for me to get away from work but I've been desperately overdue for some time off so I made it happen somehow and have been looking eagerly forward to reuniting with the sea and the trees and the company of  the sweet little fifteen-pound companion who is sound asleep across my ankles as I type this. Both Santa Cruz and Malcolm recognized me right away and have made me feel welcome and we've all been having a wonderful time getting reacquainted with one another over the past couple of days.

The only thing missing is Stan, who arrives tomorrow morning. I can hardly wait to see him. Malcolm and I are off to bed so we can get up and do the airport retrieval thing. I'll leave you with a preview of what our drive over the hill will look like:

P.S. I've enjoyed your Tweets from London, Grace! Have a wonderful time over there!

Open Letter

Dear Minneapolis,

Dude- would you mind laying off on the snow for a second? I mean, we understand this is peak season for extreme Northmidwestern weather or whatever, but don't you realize there are visiting scholars in you trying to get the lay of your land? And though one particular visiting scholar may be an intrepid explorer (indeed even if such a scholar may be classified as something of an extreme sportsman and is known to be mostly impervious to weather of any type), if your snowfall is such that your major University is completely SHUT DOWN due to white-out conditions then how is a scholar expected to be able to explore campus, check out the facilities and do the whole requisite meet n' greet that was the reason the graduate program invited him to visit you in the first place? Can you answer me THAT, Minneapolis?

What I'm trying to say here is how are we supposed to know whether we want to live in you? Could you please just tidy it up for a day (make that Friday, March 2, if you would) so that the intrepid, scholarly half of this team can do what he came to you to get done?

That'd be terrif.

Thanks in advance,
Emily

P.S. He says he had a pretty rad time there today, by the way. Could be he felt a little isolated as apparently he was the only guy walking around out of doors in this weather, but so far as I can tell from him it sounds like you could be a pretty okay city...

We pronounce it "Ess-kuh-lant"

Remember last weekend? I do, the shock of it ending has resonated with me the rest of the week long. To honor our presidents past (and only past), we did a quick winter desert trip to camp in Escalante, Utah around a place they call Egypt, in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (featured in the March edition of National Geographic mag). We were six folks and a dog, I took bunches of not-good photos, and we had a hell of a time. I've been wishing I were still there since the moment we got home. Pics are on Flickr.

Good morning. What are you doing? I'm drinking Lady Grey tea and eating Eggs Athwart Toast in the kitchen of our beautiful house while watching birds visit the feeder right outside the window (amateur birding being my new consuming passion with which I am boring everyone I know nearly half to death). The other thing I am doing, with deep and abiding pleasure, is typing here at my computer which (after many woes involving bad service and being in an unincorporated area and much other stupidity) is FINALLY, gladly, set up and running and connected to this new-fangled technology I hear they're calling "Internet." This brings us out of the stone ages and back into the world of modern conveniences  such as Listening to Music and Being in Touch with People. It's very novel and already I find myself wondering, "Whatever did we do before music and people became a part of our lives?* Good question.

This final convenience means all is just about perfect in my world, then. This, and the fact that tonight after work the two of us are hopping on a red-eye because Stan is taking me on my first ever trip to NYC. We're taking a quick weekend to explore the phylogenetic organization** of the top floor of the Natural History museum, eat, wander and spend a little time with a couple of very good friends who we don't see often enough. Most of all I am looking forward to being on vacation with my own loving cup.

Like this (only without the dog and in a major hugeantic urban metropolis rather than remote barren wilderness):

Hwre!

* Before= prior to yesterday

** Stan's current consuming passion with which he is politely NOT boring anyone nearly half to death

Goin' Goin' Back Back to Cali Cali

Hello why am I not posting? Because I'm in California! Again! I'm visiting Date Guy! He sent me these flowers for my birthday! See? We must love him!

Wherein I Finally Get Around to Writing About the Rest of My Trip, Mainly to Shame Myself by Mentioning How Embarrassingly Sick I Got

And then...

• It became Friday night! We assembled, with the addition of a rather acerbic fellow I'll refer to as Bill (I was going to call him "Bile," but I'm thinking just "Bill" is a bit nicer), and, because I have a motto dictating that one should Never Arrive Entirely Sober and Sparky's motto is something more like Never Be Entirely Sober At All If You Can Help It, we got a little bit ready to go out at Date Guy's house, and then out we went!
• My three dates took me to a bar where everything was upholstered red and sexy. We took the (red-carpeted) elevator upstairs, which eliminated the whole pass-the-bouncers-get-your-ID-checked-pay-a-cover thing (do you have to pay a cover in California? Who knows? We didn't.), and rather enhanced our flair. The elevator doors opened, we strode out, and it was all happening for us; people were smiling, (red-upholstered) lounge seating was just offered right up, when the place was super crowded and no one should have been able to get a seat, Sparky and Date Guy barely had to jostle for a place at the (illuminated red) bar to procure drinks, while-
• Bill and I got to know each other across the table. It was an unusual conversation in that the topics that most enthused Bill were: Being All Alone in the World, Having No Family or Friends to Speak Of, and Dying Alone- Utterly, Utterly Alone. Yet at the time I found him quite enjoyable! Me and Bill: Best New Pals in Loneliness! Whatever! I was wasted!
• The boys came back with drinks, and then our server appeared. She had short red hair, she had a short red skirt, she had three fine metal circles going down her back in lieu of a complete shirt and she had a pair six-inch diameter thighs hugged in tall black stockings. She had all four of us from the moment we laid eyes on her. She said her name was Austen, after Prefontaine's grandmother or fiance or somebody, and we said let's take Austen along with us everywhere we go. Austen had money piling up on her tip tray in unholy volumes to ensure that she'd be coming back to our table again and again and again. She brought us drinks, she brought us olives, she stopped by just to say hello and probably made about fifty bucks for the effort, she gave us chocolate souffle and some girl came along asking for a bite of it and we gave her a bite and her eyes rolled back in her head cause it was sooo good and we LAUGHED! O the merriment! Have a bite of souffle how delicious of you! Have you seen our waitress? Ho ho here's some money! Give us a bite of your ha ha ha ha ha!
• Austen brought us many waters and then the bar closed and we stumbled out into the night and did not wind up taking her after all.
• We wound up at Sparky's studio where Date Guy performed some mysterious ramblings around in the yard while I put on some hit bossa nova selections and danced with Bill (who is probably better at dancing alone) and Date Guy was still away in the yard so I drank some whiskey and after Date Guy came in for a moment but went back out again (still mysteriously) I danced with Sparky for what seemed like a very long time and then at last came Date Guy really, at which point my memory gets all muddled and I have very little idea of what happened next so suffice it to say sometime somehow we arrived home again.* I'm sure of this because that is where-
• I spent the entirety of the next day vomiting.
• Except for a few episodes of fitful sleeping or laying there quietly moaning into my pillow.
• But you know what? Every time I opened my eyes (or just my one eye, usually), there was Date Guy fretting over me and saying "Sorry we broke you." He didn't leave my side the whole day. That was very nice of him.
• We had been fabulous enough. Once I recovered we spent the rest of my visit in a quieter, more intimate way. We did activities such as Just Hanging Around the House Together and were so relaxed about that and each other that I'd get a little shock from time to time realizing I have known this man for no more than two Hair Phases, which is practically no time at all, yet here we are so relationship-y, and wondering how that came to happen.
• I haven't figured out how yet.
• Per my request to "save something to do in your house so I can leave my mark on it," we shopped for some gear for Date Guy's home; and we went to the movies and out to eat, took a few walks, and drove around the gorgeous forested California hills and had a generally lovely time together, all the while with me thinking, "Wow! I could totally live here!"
• Not that that's in the works, so don't go getting any ideas...

The end.

• Oh yeah- then I came home, and it was hotter here than in California, and I wished to go back immediately.

The end. Really.

* I assume Bill also made it home- utterly, utterly alone.

Wherein I Start to Tell About My Trip to California and Then Discover It's a Bigger Effort than I Expected and Kind of Run Out of Steam and Leave Off After Recounting Only as Far as the Middle of the Second Day

I will tell you about my trip to visit Date Guy!

• I flew to California on Thursday with our (Date Guy's first, now mine, too) friend Sparky, who makes the trip all the time and whisked me through the airport without my having to so much as glance at a gate number. No matter how many times I fly, it's still novel and a bit overwhelming to me, but I couldn't believe how many people on our plane seemed like routine commuter-flier types. Just hop a quick flight! So easy! So breezy! One way in the morning, then head back in the night!
• We got off the plane and immediately went shopping! I'm not a big shopper, but it's a fun game to play with Sparky and Date Guy; they're fast and impulsive and whiz through the store calling out glib appraisal of this and that. Lame items receive no recognition; they are not merely dismissed, but looked over entirely as though they weren't there at all. Fabulous things are awarded varying degrees of homosexuality, as in "That linen shirt is pretty gay, I mean it looks good on you, but if you're only going to go with one thing in this store the tobacco pinstripe suit is just QUEER." This was when I got my first clue that this would be a Consumer Vacation.
• Sparky drove on the trip from the airport (via Nordstrom Rack) so Date Guy and I could sit in the back and hold hands. I kept noticing what I always notice when I go to California: the state IS it's own stereotype. California is so very Californian, which I find both hilarious and charming.
• We got into town and went directly to dine at this really nice wine bar. Our server was knowledgeable and gracious and actually loved her job, the owner was chatting up folks from behind the bar, Date Guy and Sparky were well-acquainted with the place (and it with them) and with barely perceptible nods and pinky waves they and the server would murmur a quick word of accord and delights of food and drink would appear before us; charcuterie and scallops and salmon and gnocchi and I had the duck and fava beans. As to the wines, all I can remember is mmm. There was a pink and a white and a red and another red and I have no idea what any of them were, though I may have known at some point before I started in on my third glass and quit trying to remember things. The meal and the service (and the architecture, while we're at it) and the subtle classy way my two dates attended to everything for me were all amazing, and what's more, the vine art high on the wall looked as though it spelled TITS! Spectacular! I was so romanced I didn't think I could get Date Guy home fast enough, but, suffice it to say, we managed.
• On Friday he and I went to the ocean. The (cold!) water was full of people and we watched the surfers, walked along the shore where I got to check out some of these (you can learn more about them here, but I like Stewf's photo best, and it's the way I witnessed them) and appreciated the water safety signs exclaiming, "can badly injure you!" and some strange graffiti scrawled on the rock face including a message of hope and guidance that is going on the front of one homemade t-shirt immediately that read: WE ARE ALL ONE MAURICE.
• We visited the tiny surf museum located right at the break and learned more than I ever knew I wanted to know about the history of surfing in California. While we were there a couple of older touristy-looking men came in and, watching a black and white circa-1950 film of wetsuitless pioneer surfers riding the famous break below, began saying things like, "Oh there's Ricky on the new board we had just made," and, "That's me dropping in late on that wave." Fully gnarly, bro.
• All this was interspersed with much kissing on the part of me and Date Guy and looking into each other's eyes and so forth and it was sunny and gusty and beautiful and I (exclaiming, "California, it's so- Californian!") felt very happy.
• Later on Date Guy and Sparky did a little surfing themselves and I watched from the clifftop and learned a bit of quirky local history from an old man with a brown sweater and long hair and a telescope. I had been intimidated by the size of the break we'd been watching earlier and opted out of getting wet myself, but after seeing that we'd be dealing with the kiddie end of the pool (and learning that wetsuits make you float! Who knew?) I thought "I will totally do this next time," and you can hold me to it because I WILL.

I finish up telling about it here.