Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Things I learned in the City



  • It does rain there. And it's rather cold.
  • With the advent of smartphones, people now have NO reason to talk, look, walk near you, or acknowledge your existence.
  • If I brought my laptop on the BART, maybe I could write while I thought about the half dozen people falling asleep who clearly have nothing of value on their person, the man with the tie featuring photos of baseballs, the biker trying to fit his road bike and the bike trailer through the doors before they close, and the 17 year old girl who thinks acrylic nails are cool.
  • Dating websites are probably a must. If people can't make eye contact anymore, how can they date
  • Hipsters live on. So do the homeless. Only difference? MacBook Pros.
  • On that note, Portlandia is real. And it's not just in Portland, OR. 
  • There exists essentially no difference between hand cream and foot cream.
  • I saw a woman hock a loogie and nearly miss the public trash can. I didn't learn much from that. Except to forget carefully wrapping my gum in paper before tossing it.
  • Asians take photos of everything. More than fashion bloggers.
  • Cabbage is an acceptable garden plant. Very sustainable, no doubt.
  • The need for vehicles remains rare, thanks to public transportation. Just don't try singing Whitney Houston out loud like you're in a car, when you're not. Unless you have an attractive black percussionist banging away on a 5-gallon bucket next to you.
  • My best writing occurs in my head. As does my best conversations. That's where my best friends live.
  • But really, I love writing, it's just that when I sit down to write, nothing comes out except filthy, filthy sarcasm.
  • Nike high-tops are in for women. Fashionable women. Uggs, I understand. Toms, alright. But gold Nike high-tops? Puuulease. 



  • There are few places downtown to sit by yourself and contemplate life without looking crazy.
  • Baby strollers are a good idea, even if you don't have a baby to put in them.
  • You can visit San Francisco and never see the ocean.
  • Shopping in really "cool" stores only makes you feel bad about yourself.
Forever 21. Floor 1 of 4. Gives new meaning
to "FOREVER."

  • Frozen yogurt is still trendy, THANK GOD.
  • Starbucks, is not.
  • Farmers markets still manage to smell like hippies, even over the lovely produce that they ... produce.
  • One could walk around aimlessly for hours and not go more than 5 blocks.
  • The best feeling in the world remains going home. 

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Love: a tribute


Happy Valentine's Day from the Eastern Sierra!

I'm being driven crazy by the amount of disdain expressed toward a day of love. Yes, I understand that Hallmark decided they needed to sell more greeting cards, and thus we have a huge commercial day. 

However, here in the land of no commercialism, love means a lot more than candy hearts and red lingerie. Moving to an area where life can be a bit harder physically, and simpler in terms of needs, my appreciation for the people and things changed.

And I got hitched.

Photo by Christopher Lawrence



My husband may be the most remarkable example of love I have. Not only does he cook, clean, and clean some more (yes, go ahead ladies, swoon), the amount of patience he somehow exhibits during my many rants, raves, and tears ... quite honestly makes me wonder why he's still around. Luckily he doesn't read my blog, so I have a few years before he figures that out.

Anyway, the comfort that comes from having your best friend with you for the rest of forever means love. End of exhibit A.




Dear Little Becca gets the next shout-out. Yes, she is in my phone as "Little Becca" even though her size is not much less than mine. I have never really had a friend that I needed, and who actually needed me, quite so much. Growing up in a house full of sisters, friends never seemed very important. But I honestly don't think I could live without this intelligent, hilarious, snarky little lady. Every girl should have a bud to have a glass (or bottle) of wine with, while simultaneously mulling over husbands, the latest piece of classical literature you've both been into, and what the hell that bitch was wearing at the bar the other night (sweatpants, probably). Love.
 


Max-dog and Hatchi: who wouldn't love these two crazies? We are Max's third owners, the other two may burn in hell (but thank you for giving him up so we can enjoy him!). You really MUST adopt a shelter dog, as they are the most appreciative, loving, spry animals. When my husband spends much of his summer in the mountains for work, Maxdog and I are inseparable. We walk in the morning, run in the afternoon, I read to him even. And there's the snuggling at night. He's great. 

Then there is Hatch-monster. He belongs to our roommate, but a part of the family no questions asked. With his little under bite, and funny front legs, most people look at him with crooked head. Somehow, he is the boss of Maxdog, and chooses him as a pillow more and more. The two are a strange, scraggly pair, but doesn't the picture above just melt your heart? Maybe I'm weird. But love, regardless.





Our friends. Yes, the end to the craziness looms far in the distance, and that's how I like it. Our wedding last September exemplified the support for us, and the ability to dance on broken class in bare feet in the name of a good party. Occasionally I feel overwhelmed by the amount of visitors we have at our house at any given moment, but in reality, it's lonely without everyone. (*cough* *cough* come visit, everyone! snow's good!).




The Eastern Sierra, finally, holds my heart in a different way. Never have I felt more comfortable, while being challenged. I stopped rock climbing when I moved here - strange - but learned the value of a naturalist education and gained a passion for birds, flowers, shrubs, flowering shrubs, geology, snowpack, and the list goes on. I now understand what John Muir was fluffily gawking over when he wrote about the Sierra. I love good ol' Johnny Muir, and the Eastern Sierra. If I knew where he was buried, I wouldn't put a candy heart on his grave today. A Jeffery pinecone, maybe. I bet he'd like that.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Out 'splorin (part CAVE)

Fletcher broke his hand 3 or 4 weeks prior.

Normally, not relevant to the story at hand (sorry).

Fletcher, hand in-tact,  with Boundary Peak in the background.
Except that Fletcher fell upon an abundance of time, which he utilized mostly on Google Earth, I imagine. Doing what? Looking for caves that another friend of ours told him about, while omitting all locale information save these caves being in Mono County. In case you like numbers: Mono County is 3,131.80 square miles. Much of it Forest Service land. Saying these caves are a needle in a haystack would be an understatement.

So we went looking, anyway.

Needles to say (they do speak), we found no caves. We did enjoy a few hours of 'splorin a new area that I knew nothing of, and the dogs had a splendid time.

Normally I'd wax poetic regarding the benefits of fresh air and exercise. But listen to the photos, instead.

Much of the photo credit goes to Fletch, who owns the superior smartphone. Thank you, sir.

If New York Fashion Week got a hold of these fossils, shit'd go viral.

Hard, crusty flowers, that are also the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? Thank you, Juniper. And Mo'Nature.

My Mommasita used to get this same stare when she was tired. Familial trait.

After wandering through a canyon, we retreated to the car with high hopes of making our normal happy hour at the Double Eagle. Fortunately for our pocketbooks, Fletcher's car is front wheel drive. With a combination snow-mud-boulder-fun, it took 45 minutes+pushing+tire chains to achieve hill-top status. It's just that kind of year. And another day for the books. And life. 

Yeah, life.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Out 'splorin (part 1)

Since college, thanks to the influence of a few good friends, I have found irreplaceable value in spending a day exploring the outdoors.

Growing up in a family that likes to get shit done, I had previously always had a goal for my outdoor activity. Reach the top of the mountain, the top of a climb, walk faster than your sister, etc. 

Letting go. Ah, the feeling. Another part of exploring is not going where Hiker Magazine tells you the 10 best hikes are this year (Yosemite), and instead, paying more attention to that lovely pile of Bishop Tuft on the side of the highway that you've always wondered about. 

*note- highways in the Eastern Sierra are significantly smaller, windier and scenic than the ones I was used to in Denver, but I think my point is still valid.

My buddy Fletcher may be the king of 'sploring. Up there with John Clogg and Johnny O. Seems like there is always one in your group of friends, no matter where you go. They are my favorites. The friends that you can call the morning of, have no idea what you really want to do, pack your bags and a measly attempt at lunch, and go.

I get a text message "What are you doing today?" "Taking the dogs somewhere. Come with!" That's all it really takes. 

Fortunately, Fletcher grew up in the Eastern Sierra, as did his father and grandfather. He is a Local (note the capital "L"). Therefore, he also prefers driving east into the artemisia tridentata and rolling hills, to fighting "crowds" and exploring the sierra range (at least in the winter). 

A small pack, crash pad, climbing shoes, sunglasses, dogs. All in the back of Fletcher's fancy new VW Jetta stationwagon, which is relevant later, promise. 

First stop: random piles of boulders on the side of the Benton Crossing road. On a previous excursion, Fletcher and I joked about developing a bouldering area and writing a guidebook. We still joke, but the bouldering is great fun, pure and simple. True to the area, there were a few folks out shootin' guns a few valleys over, but after Maxdog calmed down, it was a beautifully sunny afternoon of mostly exploratory bouldering. 

The photo above was taken by Fletcher after we both finished this little crack climb. It was a little higher than I'm normally comfortable with, but the rock just felt good today. Sun helps. And the fact that Fletcher climbed it before me, so I figured, "Why not?" 

There is so much amazing rock east of hwy 395 that has not been explored at all. If these areas were in Colorado, I think they would have been covered in chalk years ago. Notice the white marks left of the crack in the photo above? Not chalk. Rodent droppings and snowmelt. Gross. 

Maxdog was made for the out-of-doors. Fletcher pointed out that if he wasn't wearing a red bandana, we probably wouldn't be able to find him - he blends in well. As I finished the climb above, Max was at the top waiting, having found his way around the back side. His spacial awareness is unbeatable. And he's just super cute when he climbs things. Agreed?

After an hour or so in this area, we packed our few things back into the car for the real purpose of today's adventure. The mysterious caves. But that's for part 2.