Somethin' about nothin'

My baby brother is over six feet tall with a shaved head, tattoos, monster truck, and loves a good party…the big teddy bear. Every time I see him I can’t help but picture the little 4yr. old running through the tall grass fields in Washougal, WA. He was the toe-head of the group, so it was always easy to find him.

We lived at the top of a large hill, with our cousins house on one side and us on the other. At the bottom of this hill, and through many pine trees, was our bus stop.

We always feared this bus stop because of the abandoned bear cave on the other side of the dirt road. It was dark, damp, and the most terrifying sounds would escape through the blackness. Granted, it was only  when the wind whipped through it…but for any young child to hear a dark cave moan and howl is nightmare producing material at best.

We were scared to death of that cave and would often times stay at the top of our favorite tree for hours until we were sure it was safe to run home.

Well, kids will be kids and I very clearly remember my dear baby brother being especially annoying one day, so we quite eagerly told him that we saw the bear/monster and it was by the entrance of the cave. Our description was of course the most gruesome description two 7yr olds and one 6yr old could conjure up.

…and we may have elaborated on how this imaginary bear was going to swallow him whole because he’s small and blonde. (Hey, we were kids…the rationale worked for us.) He climbed the tree as fast as his little body could manage while screaming in his 4yr old way that no bear was capable of catching Spiderman (this was during the time of the oh so fabulous Underoos).

When we were sure that he was close to the top we turned to run back to the house to play…leaving him alone in the tree. We laughed at how easily our devilish plan came together, and for awhile we basked in our brilliance.

After what seemed like a few hours, our mom noticed that he was missing and started to ask questions. This is the point in time where she mutated into something you’d be more apt to see in a Poltergeist movie (without the vomit). Flames began to shoot out of her ears, nose, and mouth. Her head started to spin and her eyes bugged out of her head as she declared that our own heads were going to roll if we continued to remain silent. Let’s just say that we were no longer basking and had a serving of humble pie instead. Darn Moms always spoil the fun.

After mom wrapped up the lesson in humility, obedience, and brotherly love, I was “nominated” by her to be the one to go back out to get him…

(ugh!)

(drat!)

(I dragged my feet as slowly as possible)

(stupid brother, scared by an imaginary bear)

(I checked to make sure that my path was clear from any bears.)

And then I saw him.

Suddenly, this this wave of guilt moved through me. What is this new feeling? Why do I feel so terrible and why won’t it go away?

Tears were streaming down his small face, leaving a trail through the dirt mask he was wearing. My raccoon looking brother was scared and crushed…and my heart began to break. At that moment I swore I’d never leave him stranded in a tree again. Mind you…I was young, so to me this meant that it was entirely acceptable to still continue to pick on him. Leaving him in a tree however was where my line was firmly drawn.

Okay, so the bear scaring thing was off limits too. Besides, he didn’t need any help in that category. We were all scared, and continued to be until we moved away when my sister and I were in the 4th grade. Our move took us to where bear caves and trees no longer existed…but other monsters, even more terrifying than our bear monster, seemed to scream at us from every building we entered. How would I protect my brother from this new beast when we were surrounded by them at all times? They were called slot machines…and that’s another story.

 

It’s a sickness, I know…but what’s a girl to do? Every time I walk into an office supply store I get as wide-eyed as a kid in a candy store. Why? Because I somehow created this need to be extremely organized. Not just somewhat organized, like most people on the planet…extremely organized. The challenge being, this is not a natural part of my personality.  Why then am I plagued with this need? No, wait…it’s not a need so much as a desire. I’m almost embarrassed to say that I long for it.

(sigh)

Two weeks ago I found myself wandering through an office supply store and I couldn’t help myself. I purchased file folders, post-it’s, a file holder, pens. As most of you know, I have a home office, so to make such a purchase is completely normal…to the unknowing that is. My home office was already well stocked. You see, these are “special” file folders. They’re re-usable. They even have a special pen where I can re-label the tabs, and they’re clear so that I can easily see them or use a some form of color coding. I’ve found a system where I can be organized and do my part to save the planet! That’s all the justification this girl needs! I was almost giddy with excitement…ok, not quite giddy…but I was anxious to put my new discovery into action. As soon as I returned home I put my first folder into my laptop bag, and it was used the next day. I loved it.

Now, two weeks later, I walk by the rest of the pile, and like that little Geico character, it’s still staring at me...waiting, and waiting. I want to find organizational nirvana, believe me I do, but my spontaneous side has already moved on to something new and what was once exciting has now turned into a chore. You see, I long to be extremely organized, but I simply do not have the attention span to support such an activity…thus, the sickness.

What can I say? I’m in sales, and just like most other sales reps I have the attention span of a flea. Well, maybe not quite a flea. Maybe a teenager.

 

Is it just me or are the 80’s alive again, for the 10th time this decade? I mean seriously…do we really need to see people running around in 3 ring tube socks, tutu’s, leg warmers, and stretch pants? Didn’t we all get our fill way back when? Is it really necessary to torture our children with it? There must be someone in the fashion world sitting behind his curtain, microphone in hand, booming his altered godlike voice out onto the fashion elite convincing them that the 80’s are alive…all while hitting the mute button every time he starts to laugh. We’re not in Kansas anymore folks.

Sure, I remember being in junior high and high school thinking that things could not get any better than this. Of course I was wrong, and as I matured wisdom did start to creep in. I know better now and cannot help but wonder what happened to the creative genius that grew stronger and stronger as each generation found it’s way into the working world…until lately. Perhaps they were scarred in pre-school? Who knows…but as far as this chick’s concerned. 80’s RIP.

Look out world! It's another cooking attempt by yours truely. Although, I did learn my lesson from the last attempt and conducted my google search before cooking. This time I'm going for something simple...chips and salsa. Can it get any easier than that? I even found a special mango salsa where I'm going to add in a little peach for some extra flavor. Mmmm. Oh...and as an extra bonus, the dog loves tortilla chips so the odd's of her whimpering at the mere thought of having to eat my cooking moves my chances of success completely in my favor.

And so it begins...I pull out the chef's knife and begin to chop and dice. I'm sooo excited to try this recipe and see what the dog thinks of it this time. (My dear love is traveling again and missing all of the excitement.) The piles of onion, cilantro, mango, peach, and tomatoes are all ready to be mixed with a little lemon juice and some spices. Hehe! I'm almost there. I decide to warm some blue corn tortilla chips in the oven before I run over to my googled recipe to confirm which spices are needed.

The laptop I'm using is sitting on the sofa table behind the longest side of the couch. This also happens to now be where our small dog is perched to watch my excellent knife wielding skills, with both ears up and head cocked to the side (and really, can you blame her...I was on fire!). Unfortunately, when I walked towards her to look at the laptop, she thought (or at least hoped) that I was bringing her an edible reward for being such a good and patient little doggy. In her fit of excitement, she inadvertantly jumped all over the laptop keys and lost the recipe I was using. Now, you'd think that I would just be able to go back to the website and pull up the recipe, but I went through so many sites and recipes trying to find something simple that I have no idea where I finally ended up.

Not to worry...I'll just wing it! Let's see, we have Oregano...nah. Mustard seed...nah. Salmon Furikake...what the heck is that...nah. Red Chile Pepper...too hot. Ground Cumin! Now we're talkin'. Cayenne Pepper! Even better! Saffron...mmmm, saffron.  Now that I have my spices, I mix everything together and can hardly wait for the taste test. It smells yummy...and unusually spicey. We're almost ready now. We just need the chips...crap, the chips!  Okay, so they're a wee bit dark, but hey...they're the dogs favorite treat so things are still in my favor. That is, until I tried the salsa. My tongue was on FIRE! Where's the flavor? Wait...maybe a chip will help. ....no, not really. Hmmm. Let's try the dog...it's still her favorite treat so I'm sure to at least have a small victory here. I'll just make sure her water bowl is full ahead of time. She's sooo excited as I put some in her bowl and set it down.

You're probably wondering what happens next. Well, she sniffed it, let out a huff, and then walked away. I called her back to see if she'd at least have some of the chips...but no...apparently our dog is a bit of a food snob and cannot find it within herself to eat a chip that's a bit on the dark and crispy side.  Not quite accepting my defeat, I decide to try it myself one more time. Maybe I just didn't mix it well enough and had a lot of heat in one spot...but I was wrong. My bite was so hot that I couldn't taste anything for the rest of the night. I'm not giving up though...I will cook some day!

I'm taking the dog for a walk!  No more laptop. Fresh air, here I come. We're taking a new route though...down to the park about 3/4 of a mile away. Sounds simple enough, right? I mean seriously...we're walking. My heart rate's up, the dog is sniffing everything as quickly as possible to try to keep up, and I'm feeling good.

We get to the railroad tracks. It's our half way point. We're cruising. The only problem is that I did not notice the light out on the construction area and I trip, fall, and twist my ankle. After a few car horns, 2 chuckles by some passers by, and a frustrated dog looking at me with an impatient look,  I brush myself off and we keep on going. It's only a minor set back.

We're at the park. It's well lit around the edges and several people are at the tennis courts next door for what looks like the end of a tournament. People are lingering and I'm enjoying the walk while doing a little people watching. You never know what type of entertainment is just around the corner. Unfortunately, and much to my own surprise, I was this evenings entertainment.

I was only trying to be nice. A much larger dog was coming our way and I moved to the side to let them pass. Knowing that I was on the corner and thinking that it's clear, I did an about-face. Don't worry, I didn't run in to anyone. What I did do is run into a pole, bounce off the pole, fall into a bush, and land on the other side. I think the chihuahua went airborne, but given the list of events I really can't be sure.

I'm on the ground now and I roll on to my back, stare up at the sky, and start talking outloud to absolutely no one..."does my life really need to resemble a sitcom".  This is when I hear a few more chuckles and realize that about 5 people are standing over me to help. (insert sheepish grin)

They help me up, I brush myself off, thank them all for their help and kindness, and scurry off towards home...only now my scurry looks more like a wounded hunchback. My body aches, my face is throbbing where I'm in the process of getting dental work done, now both ankles hurt instead of just the one from the train-track incident, and the dog stops every 4 ft, looks back, and waits for me to catch up. I guess that's not much of a scurry, but believe me when I say that the mental picture in my mind was scurrying at lightspeed.

We're home now and safe from any more hard metal objects.  I'm headed towards the shower, and I can't help but wonder...Is walking really that difficult? (sigh)

Have you ever watched a wall of fog move towards you? It's as if it swallows everything in it's path and at the same time it's mesmerizing.  If you have the good fortune to see it, look closely. You'll find pieces of fog pushing out ahead of the wall, as if they're small arms reaching out to feel if anything will be in it's way...not that it really matters...it will roll right over the top and swallow them whole.

According to Wikipedia, it's also known as Advection Fog, and it's common along the California Coast. Here in San Francisco, it's a daily event, and part of what makes the area naturally beautiful. As we drive home and get within view of the marine layer coming in, the car turns silent. We're caught in it's trance, and it's beautiful. The arms and fingers are reaching out as the wall starts to feel it's way over the mountain, moving closer and closer to the buildings below. We decide not to head home (which is just below the fog line), and to drive straight towards the wall instead. We want to be part of it, to feel it, to watch it, to breathe it.

As we drive through the fog, we can see it racing by. It seems to be pulling our car, making us feel like we're moving faster and faster while we move deeper and deeper into it's belly. It's a massive beast and we've allowed it to swallow us whole. The moisture is thick, and releases the natural oils in the wild eucalyptus trees.  (It's nature's own humidifier...with scented oils.) The smell is incredible. Now this is aromatherapy!

Hours pass before we realize that it's late and reality starts to sink in. The hold on us is lifting and we begin to make the short drive home. It's been a wonderful evening, in a place where time seems to stand still...that is, until our eyes started burning and we couldn't get a sentence out without yawning.

I so often times hear about people who never leave the San Francisco area. In their minds, everything they need is right here. This concept is foreign to me, but when we're pulled into the fog it gives me a small glimpse as to why. I may never understand it completely, but I'll most certainly enjoy the view!

When I was young I did not have the a-typical view of what my life would be like when I grew up. My sister would describe a beautiful house, family, flowers, a perfect yard, and then go into great detail about what her home would look like inside and out.  Sometimes the color combinations were questionable at best, but we were young and my sister's image of her ideal home matured as she did.  I on the other hand had a much different vision. Sure, I dreamed of my home having flowers, green grass, and being beautiful inside and out...but my flowers were being tended to by the grounds keeper, the green grass was at the local park, and the beauty inside and out was from the building staff polishing the floors and walls until it sparkled.  At my front door was a doorman. He had a sharp, crisp suit and a smile to greet me. This is what I had always visioned.

Yes, my dream home was a high-rise, smack dab in the middle of a large city. I could almost feel the hustle and bustle of this city in my day dreams. What I didn't understand then, but do now, is what the draw was....and I'll tell you, it's the vibe. I love the way a big city feels, the way it moves. Each neighborhood has it own story to tell, and the people...oh, the people.

I'm lucky enough to live with my family in the San Francisco area. A big city different from all others, and one of the most naturally beautiful areas on the West Coast. Sure, every big city has it's ugly side, and let's not forget the traffic. I spent the day up in the Sacramento area for work, and what should have been a 2 hr commute home was almost 4 hours. My dear mom worries about how much time I spend in my car and is baffled as to how I could enjoy spending at times up to 7-8 hrs alone just driving. The answer is two fold.
1 - I enjoy being out and meeting new people, and I find the drive relaxing (yes, even in traffic)
2 - It's the view. It's beautiful in every direction.  (okay, so that was more like 2 1/2)

When I drove over the Bay Bridge today, the sun was shining over San Francisco. Just beyond the tall buildings was the thick marine layer moving in. The Golden Gate Bridge had already been engulfed and it was only a matter of time until the thick blanket would cover the entire city. Couple that with sailboats out on the glistening bay, and the sun starting to set, forming a colorful backdrop to the skyline. We do not have a doorman, but when I see that, I know I'm heading home.