Geeky Bliss and Sunshine

Trampoline Dodgeball!!!!

2012-02-16T14:45:00.000-08:00

So, when was the last time you did something that was "ridiculously awesome fun"???

For Valentines a friend of mine organized a trip to SkyHigh Sports in Camarillo, a sports facility that is nothing short of a mega ninja hopping trampoline paradise! I have been wanting to go to forever but had never bothered organizing anything. There was a special 2-for-1 deal for couples, and I was stoked at the chance to play trampoline dodgeball. I have to admit I had very high expectations as to how fun this would be, and my expectations were utterly blown away. I had an absurdly good time. We played for two hours (a whopping $20 per couple) and everything I was wearing was drenched!

The dodgeball pit was pretty simple, roughly 8 or so trampolines per side, squishy colorful kickballs being lobbed around, and a ref to make sure people weren't cheating too bad. There were inevitably some little kids (and a couple guys that took the game waaaay too seriously) but all in all it was an excellent group. I got nailed in the face a couple times ... that stung a little... I think they should use something more punishing for us next time...haha!

There were other pits in the area, one that was big and open and another one where you could jump into a huge pile of foam for a soft landing. The foam was really hard to climb back out of, but it was fun to go flying into it!

BOYS!

LADIES!

In summary the evening was simply labeled a complete success. I want to go back (as do most of us) for more. They teach an "Airobics" class that I'm afraid I'm going to have to test out ASAP.

Floors, Part I: DESTROY!

2012-01-30T09:34:00.000-08:00

We had an interesting weekend, actually turned out quite fun. We have been wanting to tear out the nasty carpet in our condo for a long time (dog pittle stains? ew?), and it's finally happening! Wood floors are coming in a few weeks, and in order to save a wee bit of monies we decided to tear everything out ourselves. I honestly feel blessed by the coolest friends ever who are so eager to come and help out when stuff like this comes up. It was hard work, but many hands made it go by so quickly!

Armed with all sorts of tools and breakfast burritos from a bakery down the street, the slave labor began bright and early. There was quite a bit of tile downstairs, but SMASH! CRASH! Eddie and Chris were having a little too much fun... It seemed to be obliterated in seconds. My ears were ringing for a while afterwards. Then there was the carpet ... eeewww full of my nemesis, dust! Nails, staples, glue, ick! We have some studly friends who smiled and grunted through the work and I could not have been more excited or grateful.

Not only did it take only one afternoon, we did more than we even expected. All of downstairs, our staircase, and half of upstairs are all bare now. The floors are LOUD when you walk on them, and the cats are totally flipping out. New smells, nowhere to hide... Everything is covered in dust, but I think it will be more than worth it in the end. (Plus maybe I'll actually finish "Dance with Dragons" finally this week!)

Thank you so much again to everyone who helped out ... it is very much appreciated. :)

My First Ever Pro Massage

2012-01-25T16:18:00.000-08:00

**Note: This post is old. I wrote it back in September, and totally forgot to publish it!

A little fact about myself you probably didn’t know: theidea of getting a massage gives me the heebie-jeebies. (Scientific term.)

I think this feeling is largely due to my long privateChristian school upbringing, in which a massage was more or less the equivalent(in my mind) of getting laid. Okay,maybe not quite that, but it was certainly an over utilized tool in the game oftween seduction. When a boy walked up behind you and gave youa neck massage, he was totally wishing he could tap that. If a girl did the same to a guy, she was hustlingfor a homecoming date invitation.

So basically unless I am really attracted to the person, my first instinct when someone reaches for my shoulders is "Don't TOUCH meh." (I had to really stifle this feeling when girlfriends did this to be sweet and I didn't want to hurt their feelings. Awwwwwwwkward.)

After our long outrigger race in Oxnard I felt okay, but that night my backbegan to clench like an iron fist. BySunday morning, it took a long time for me to roll out of bed, and even walkingaround the house was a tedious and delicate task. I armed myself with a heating pad, an icepack, and watched an entire season of TheSons of Anarchy. I felt betterMonday, but “better” is a very relative term. Sitting at my desk was a little torturous unless I kept perfectposture. I needed something else, and asports massage seemed to make the most logical sense.

I have thought about getting a massage before several times,and I have always chickened out of actually making an appointment. Several friends have invited me along andvolunteered to “show me the ropes” when it comes to massages, but I could nevercommit. This time, however, it feltnecessary, and I was willing to try anything – the pain was just too much.

To the internets I went, hunting down a massage therapist Iwould have the courage to see. There aredozens of spas near my office, but visiting their websites gave me that grossfeeling of being sent to an orgy farm. Strangers touching me … girly smells … mindless salon style chatter… eeeeeeh… no thank you. I needed to find a male, and I needed to not feel uber creeped out.

At long last I found a fellow with soaring praises fromprofessional athletes who worked close to my office. His site seemed very professional andserene. I didn’t get that horriblecreepy vibe and there wasn’t a statue of a fat bellied Buddha anywhere. So, I dialed his number, and when he answeredthe phone I promptly hung up on him. Oh, yes. Full on, high school stalker style, hung up on the guy because I couldn’tmuster up the courage to actually say anything. Ridiculous.

It took me two more tries in the span of an hour to make afreaking appointment, and that only happened because my office chair wasaggravating my back muscles so much. Every time I picked up a file, I cringed and thought about how silly Iam.

So, call I did. Italked to the guy and made my appointment. I penciled it into my calendar, I Googled his address. Little did I know I was going to the guyspersonal residence. Of course, of courseI have to go to some stanger’s housewithout a bodyguard.

I had a mantra as I opened the gate. “It won’t be creepy. It won’t be creepy. It won’t be creepy.”

As I opened the gate, a lush garden welcomed me, as well asan adorable curly haired doggy. Irelaxed a little. The man came out togreet me. He was short but muscled,dressed like a surfer beach bum. Therewas pleasant music playing in the house as he lead me to the back where aseparate shed sat. It was like a littleshrine with an oddly shaped bed.

The guy instructed me to undress, and he would be backin a few minutes. Shutting the doorbehind him, feelings of panic returned. How much do I take off? I wondered. I had not thought to research that … do I get buck nekked?? If that’snot what you’re supposed to do, would he think I was a looney? If that is whatyou’re supposed to do and I keep my undies on, will he think I’m an utterprude? I fretted over it for a long timebut finally settled with panties on, bra off. I tucked myself gingerly beneath the covers and let the serene silencetake over.

I wasn't sure how to say This is my first time without it sounding ridiculous, so I decided he could do all the talking.

He came back and proceeded to grease me up, talkingpleasantly about the weather, what sports I do, why I was there, and what mybody was telling me. Turns out severalof his clients were outrigger paddlers, so he was familiar with the sport aswell as the upcoming Catalina race. His handswere disturbingly strong, I had to clench my teeth several times to keepscreams of pain inside my throat. It was also a little alarming to think, If I had to fight this guy for some reason in an attempt to escape, I bet I'd be pretty beat up in the process.

It took a while, and there were lots of "whooooa there..." moments, but I made it through. He gave me some of his cards and told me to come back after the Catalina race. I don't think I will ... but I'll keep him in mind.

TIP: No one told me you had to plan a shower after these encounters. Back to work I went, greasy and gross. Thankfully no clients showed up, and I did feel more relaxed.

Mission accomplished.

Runners Bliss

2012-01-23T16:13:00.000-08:00

No matter where I have lived, there is always somewhere fun to go for a run nearby. Granted, I have never taken up residence in the busy inner city - I think that would be the most challenging location. I am also grateful beyond words that a "harsh winter" is non-existent around these parts.

There are days where I can almost literally hear the road calling me. My legs feels anxious at rest. My shoes dance for me slightly with excitement. Are we going out today? Where? For how long? I enjoy not knowing. I also recently have been remembering how much fun it is to explore new routes. Living in the same place for a while gets me rutted in old habits quicker than I like to think about. I had three loops around Carpinteria that I would usually take, which I simply called my long loop, my short loop, and my scenic loop. I would splash in a little variety here and there, but for the most part those were my usual paths.

Tee hee! Dolphins on the ranch gate!

Yesterday, feeling adventurous, I went in the complete opposite direction as my usual course. I dared a beautiful mountain road that lead me sailing over hilly roads past farms and ranches, eventually finding the local polo club and a bit beyond. It was exhilarating and fun, not to mention beautiful. I also have to admit that having a phone that takes pictures which instantly upload themselves online is awesome. I couldn't locate my trusty iPod before my trip, so I decided to try radio via my newly acquired hand-me-down Droid. It worked nicely, and I was able to snap photos on a whim. Pretty cool!

Mountains on one side, beach on the other. Surrounded by happy!

Protesters!

2012-01-19T11:58:00.000-08:00

So, one of the attorneys in my office is part of this big labor dispute and there are actually people outside our office today PICKETING him!! We went out as a big group and took a picture. So funny!!!! (Sadly the attorney himself is not in the office today so he was not able to protest himself.) Smile for the camera! The folks out there were really nice about it, I think they were highly entertained that our entire building emptied for the event.

Why I Hate Baking

2012-01-17T16:23:00.000-08:00

So, a few friends of mine started doing something called "Supper Club" a while back that I only recently have been a part of. I decided to host the January chapter, in which I thought it would be fun to have a New York themed dinner, since we just celebrated the new year. Accordingly, all the food is roughly New York related, and I decided I would tackle something that terrifies me: baking. Not only baking, but baking Chris' favorite delight, cheesecake. (New York style, of course.)

The day of baking started off poorly when I ruined one of my favorite snacks, baked sweet potatoes. (Though technically this is baking since it involves an oven, I have been told it's not traditional baking.) The delights are incredibly simple to do, and I snack on them with great fervor. However, I left the house to pick up a special pan for the cheesecake and didn't make it back in time... when I opened the garage, the house was full of smoke and the alarm was going bonkers. The cats were terrified as Chris darted upstairs with a ladder, and there were my beloved sweet potatoes ... ruined!

I ate half the tray anyway.

This was the worst way for me to dive into a project that already had me irritated. Let me first explain the reasons I hate 'traditional' baking.

1. It's messy. Not only does every typical ingredient get everywhere, but they are usually sticky and get all over me. Plus you always use a crap ton of dishes in order to do anything.

2. You have to follow the directions. LAME. Everyone knows I hate rules and directions.

3. If you don't have a million specialty gizmos, most of the work is a pain in the rear. Manual everything in baking is tedious and frustrating. (And extra messy.)

4. When you're finally done, all you have created is something poisonous you shouldn't eat. If you share it with others, all you're doing is poisoning your friends.

I had to literally buy every ingredient on the list for my cheesecake since we were low on milk and eggs. (The rest of the items I either never buy or they had been sitting at the bottom of the cubbard for 4+ years.) I got the smallest box of sugar possible - the recipe called for more than half the container! Disgusting.

The graham cracker crust had me frazzled since it was very unspecific as to how much graham was required. Chris and I mashed a giant bowl of graham crackers until our arms ached, only to then realize it was way too much. (The crust filled half the pie pan when we poured it in.) I totally forgot to grease the edges and had to take the crust back out anyway once I had it level. By that time I was pretty annoyed, my kitchen was a mess, and I still had to deal with cream cheese and sour cream. (SO NASTY!!) I was told to give the pan a "bath" so that it wouldn't crack. Personally I didn't really care if it cracked or not, but lo and behold of course the one thing I don't care about turns out to be utter perfection.

I'm not eating any of this thing after knowing what is in it ... but I can't have anyone try it until our dinner party on Friday. Hopefully everyone likes it ... I guess with an entire bowl of sugar who can resist? I was almost angry that it came out so pretty looking ... I'm not sure why, but I think deep down I wanted it to have an attitude with me when it came out of the oven like, "Mwahahaha! See this? Screw you! You can't bake!" Instead it came out looking basically perfect. I have nothing to be mad about. I've already been told "See? Baking is easy!" by a few people. Ugh. I don't care if it's easy ... I don't think it's fun, and that is that. I think this was my own way of double checking that fact. So now instead of telling people "I can't bake" I will instead inform them that "I despise the activity of baking treats."

So there.

Hiatus Over - Viva 2012!

2012-01-13T11:54:00.000-08:00

Oh my, it has been months since I last posted. Hello, everyone! This is a good indicator of how nutty it has been lately. BetweenNaNoWriMo, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, gym dedication, family, races,paintball, and work … yeah I kind of forgot I even had a blog. Oops! Things are slowing down, the winds are calming, but I fearit is the silence before a new storm. Ijust finished my first week back in Paralegal classes, my LAST QUARTER. (Yay!) I have been running, surfing, paddling, weight training, hip-hopdancing, swimming, and all sorts of other fun activities.

Hip-Hop Classes

The hip-hop classes were a Grouponopportunity that I simply couldn’t resist – the sessions are incredibly hard,but super fun. I am the awkward dunce inthe class, but that doesn’t bother me too much. (It’s good to be utterly humbled every once in a while.) I have picked up some cool new moves, and surprised myself at times with how quickly some of the trickier motions come. I don't think I'll be able to afford to keep going once my "one month unlimited" runs out, but I like knowing that I can go back if I ever feel the urge.

Movies/TV

Every once in a while, I discover some entertainment in the world that I simply must gush over for a moment. Two movies recently made my day, "Tucker & Dale Vs. Evil," and "Lesbian Vampire Killers." (Just "Vampire Killers" in the USA ...) I know what you are thinking ... by the titles alone you are wondering if you will be seeing them listed as nominees for the upcoming Oscars. Well just trust me, they are worth streaming or renting from Netflix. A funny story about L.V.K. is I had never heard of it until the theme song started playing on one of my soundtrack radio stations. I loved the theme song so much I had to research what movie it was from, and then of course had to rent said awesome sounding film. :)

The TV shows Chris and I have been mowing through lately are "Shark," "Sons of Anarchy," and (Oh, and P.S. to Mr. Petty, we are finally getting into "Psyche.")

Misc.

-Paintball is going to be a much more frequent event in our house, since both Chris and I invested in new paintball guns, masks, etc. We have a new field opening up in Oxnard, and have rediscovered how fun the activity is. Nerdy My Little Pony

-Droid does. I now have a Smart Phone! And I think it's a little smarter than me sometimes.... huh. I resisted the smart phone movement for a looooong time. It's a hand-me-down, like most of my phones are, but it keeps me from getting lost, lets me read my email before I even get out of bed, and upload photos to my online accounts. All in all, I'm a big fan.

-My Little Pony? I just really wanted to post this picture because I liked it so much. :) I have rekindled a love for exploring what artists all over the world are doing in their spare time. This modern day has made it so easy to see and explore little projects, from videos to artwork to jewelry, with etsy and youtube and the wonders of the modern world ... so cool.

-Wood Flooring will be added to our condo at the end of the month. I'm not really looking forward to the process, but I'm very excited about the end result!

- NaNoWriMo is over, but my story is not. I know many of you have been asking for it, but it's simply not ready for "other eyes." I am working on it when I can, I promise!

More to come, more to come. I am "buckling down" to train for the TOUGH MUDDER in February. I don't want to get my ass handed to me and misrepresent my outnumbered sex. OORAH!!

Sucker for Mud

2011-11-10T12:22:00.000-08:00

So after running the Mud Mash last year, I knew I had started something. I had so much fun, not only did I want to do it again this year, I started looking for any and all muddy races I could find locally. In the process I found the Muddy Buddy and the Tough Mudder, which I promptly signed up for.

The Mud Mash was just as fun (and just as hard) as I remembered, though it has grown more popular (nearly twice as many people attended this year).

The Muddy Buddy was last week, and I had a blast. It was cold, wet and rainy that morning, but everyone at the race was in good spirits. The race is unique in that it is a duathalon, and you "leap frog" with a partner between obstacles. (One starts on the bike, then switches at each obstacle stop.) The hills were slippery and slimy so it was hard to keep your footing when you were running, and the rain had everyone soaked head to toe. The bike was a lot of fun, though some of those down hill courses were SUPER scary, especially since I was taking them like a screaming banshee, trying to recall everything I learned long ago in my mountain biking course so that I could keep up with my blazing fast teammate, Bruno. I was so grateful for all the technical biking skills I learned in my Westmont class, I'm pretty sure that's the main reason we came in as the first place co-ed team in our division. (Yay!)

The most entertaining obstacle stop, in my opinion, was an enormous inflatable slide. You had to climb a cargo net up the backside, nearly straight up, and then toss yourself off the other side. It was a STEEP slope, and with the added wet rains I flew to the bottom and landed with a squeel and a THUD at the bottom. I must have been grinning like an utter fool the entire race. It was over before I knew it... only about 6 miles and when you are swapping between running and biking it was insane how quickly the hour went by.

The Tough Mudder is coming up in February, and that one is designed by British special forces or something totally insane like that. (One of the obstacles apparently is a field of electric wires that shock you!) Sounds like fun.

Sometimes I forget how much I love running when I'm in the blindingly fun whirl of paddling season, but I think in the long run (ha, bad pun...) the sport I never want to stop doing is just good old fashioned running. I love that in the morning if I want to go for a jog all I really need are shoes and a bra. I can go anywhere for as long as I want and I can rock out to great tunes or just take in the scenery around me.

I have been surfing a bit more as well in the off season, which has been great despite the frigid waters up here. Almost done with my Paralegal program, too! Winter quarter I think is my last ... that will be nice to finally be through. But until then, more races await.

NaNoWriMo III

2011-10-31T15:59:00.000-07:00

For the third year in a row, I am going to dive head first (and with reservations) into National Novel Writing Month. This year I can honestly confess that I am completely and utterly unprepared. You see, I have failed utterly in diving back into the story I created last year. I made the 50,000 word mark, but there was a great deal of story left to tell. I thought maybe I would have the discipline to keep writing after November, but I did not. I feel like I have let folks down who took the time to read my little starter novel - they have been hanging in suspense, waiting for me to finish, and I have not done so.

Heck, I haven't even been keeping up with my blog writing. Sorry!

Thus, this year I think I am going to revisit that story and try to actually finish it. However, my lack of prep has me worried... yet at the same time, I'm a little excited. The past couple years I have cheated a wee bit and started writing early, but this year I have not started a single paragraph. I have re-read last year's story and poured over some notes, but that's about it.

I have also made myself a couple of character bios. I thought those of you who read last year's beginning might like to see some of the pictures I picked out to temporarily "embody" a few of my main characters. Doing this kind of thing helps me visualize my story as well as how my characters interact with one another, and it's kind of a fun way to give them some depth for my own reference, as well as keep everyone straight in my head.

Althea Anders

Felix

(Uncle) Hendrick Anders

Erica Page

Thank you again to everyone SO MUCH who read my story last year. It means more than you know. I loved the feedback and am encouraged by all of your words. I also thank those of you who have been and will be socially shunned when I take up a perch in the local coffee shops to crank out some words in this busy time of year.

Good luck to everyone who is undertaking the November challenge! I am here to help you out of the "stuck" spots and expect you all to do the same for me. :)

Letter from Prince Kitteh

2011-09-23T15:47:00.000-07:00

Deer Paddler Hoomans:

Thnx so much for halp pooping out mah fav snuggler/chew toy, the grate bringerz of fudz. Caterday iz so very much fun when she falls zzzzzzz on the softs and I can haz naps on her faces!

C? She not so prettyz when snorze.

She luvs meh. Not ever gets enuffs.

Ooooohhhh she must kanu far today. Happeh!

KThnxBai!

- Prince Imriel

Catalina 2011

2011-09-16T15:10:00.000-07:00

The 2011 outrigger season is over, and I have to admit I am more down about it than I ever would have imagined I would be. It's strange how something can take up such a huge amount of your time and energy to the point you think you'll be so happy once it is all over, but when it's gone there is a gaping void in your core that leaves you feeling stripped and empty. I know I'll adjust soon enough, but right now it's just strange. Folks in my office keep reminding me that "there is always next season!" but what they don't understand is that no two seasons are ever alike. People move on as life carries them away, new people come and add fresh elements. So no, this season is over, and it will never be quite like this one again.

On a sunnier note, I am very much looking forward to seeing ignored friends, running and surfing again, as well as getting back into my gym routine and having time to write, vlog, and cook. I have already made myself several new omelet recipes for dinner, am sore in new places, and have signed up for a couple winter races.

Thank goodness we had a more or less a hassle free return trip from Catalina island, which is an utterly different story than last year. Our co-ed race over was fantastic; it began with an epic storm of thunder, lightening, hail and a downpour that delayed the start for an hour. The Ka Nai'a ladies literally huddled inside a bathroom on Newport for warmth and shelter since we were strictly forbidden to return to our support boat for our jackets since lightening was striking. Given our teams previous wins this season, pressure and expectations were incredibly high. We had a great race, but in the end did not place (results put us at 6 and 10 out of 21) which is of course in many ways disappointing, but at the same time I am incredibly proud of our performance and efforts and in the end our coaches were pleased. (Not to mention the club that placed #1 and 2 were from Hawaii, and came to rumble!)

The water was rough and we were, quite frankly, under-trained for that. The spirit and enthusiasm of the team was high, and everyone performed well. Our novice team, which took up 99% of the second boat, did incredibly well. It turned into a fun weekend, making it hard to say goodbye to everyone, especially those who we have known for some time will not be returning.

And just like that, normal life kicks back in. I am starting up paralegal classes once again, and will become a National Notary next week! Oh, the responsibility ... bleh... but it will help out my boss, who I can imagine is going to be thrilled that I'm not running out the door at 4 in my booty shorts and paddle anymore. She will, however, have to deal with my "post gym hair" fashion in the mornings. The Mud Run is on once again, and maybe a few other treats to come.

The Fear Factor

2011-08-10T16:58:00.000-07:00

It is officially change season. (It has been too long since I drew a comic!)

What is change season, you ask? If you have read my blog since the beginning, you probably have a good idea, though I’ll direct those of you who do not to this video for an example. Essentially, it’s a race where you get to take a few short breaks; a support boat follows your outrigger team with 3 extra paddlers, who jump in to replace teammates as the race progresses.

Now, when I first describe change racing to people, the reaction is almost always something along the lines of “that sounds really scary” and "you are really hard core." And you know what? Yeah, it kind of is scary – but only if you allow yourself to think about it. The 'Fear Factor' of change racing, to me, makes it exceptionally exciting and fun. However, there are moments both in practice and in races where every paddler has asked themselves, what the frak am I doing?

Cheering on your teammates from the frigid safety of the support boat can sometimes become quite comfortable. Then you feel a hard tap on your shoulder as coach mutters, “Get ready. You’re going in.” You remove the drenched jacket or towel that you had draped across your shoulders and take one last swig of fresh water. (You never know which hit is going to be your last.) You step up to the side of the boat and try not to look down at the frothing ocean water rushing by inches below your toes. You spot your comrades out in the canoe, some of them so exhausted they can hardly lift their paddle to take another stroke.

Your chest fills with courage and pride as you wait patiently for the boat to intersect their course line, then “GO, GO, GO!” rings in your ears and you leap over the side. The rush of bubbles and salt water fill your ears and nose as you inhale deeply after breaking the surface from the shock of the cold water. The adrenaline is pumping your heart out of your chest as you call out your seat assignment, blinking the sting from your eyes and swimming to get in line.

Sometimes you enter the water alone. That’s the moment when sinister, unwanted thoughts have the most power. They creep into your mind like spiders.

There, bobbing in the dark waters you wait, a pathetic excuse for a land creature pretending you’re hot stuff in the vast sea. The sparkling surface of the tide that surrounds you becomes suddenly hostile and unwelcoming, you are not the merfolk you used to dream about, you are not a Navy Seal armed with a knife strapped to you leg, you aren’t even wearing plastic flippers or a snorkel.

You are nothing.

You are helpless.

And you look delicious.

Panic never helps anyone, and I have to admit I have had to choke it down a couple times. It is around then when I take rare comfort in numbers and statistics, hearing a C-3PO type voice in my head tell me that the odds of a tentacle demon grabbing hold of my leg and sucking me into the deeps are [insert astronomical number]:1.

As the team canoe approaches, a new set of problems flood your mind. Sometimes you have to adjust and swim so that you don't miss the boat entirely, sometimes you have to lunge your arms out to grab the right place, you have to keep your wits about you. If the surf is choppy, you have to make sure the canoe or the amma don't smack you in the head. When the water is especially cold your fingers go numb and you have a hard time holding onto anything. Other times, you are trying to pee as fast as possible because it may be your last chance for a potty break, but the last thing your lower half wants to do is relax. Once you have a good hold on the canoe, you still have to pull yourself in and start paddling as hard and as fast as you can, not knowing if you'll even get a break again.

So yeah. I think that's pretty hard core. I do apologize if any of you folks who kayak, surf, etc. ever feel like "those outrigger people" are looking down their noses at you. Because well, sometimes we probably are ... but seriously, I feel like we have earned that right. (Said in love. I think. Mostly.)

Ooodalali, I sure do love change season!

Life and Loss

2011-08-02T10:47:00.000-07:00

Today, all my good thoughts and prayers are for my dear friends Rachel and Zak. Today their son Gabriel enters the world for an unknown amount of time - I hope they have the chance to hold him in their arms.

I offer up to you both and your little one my favorite of the daily Anglican prayers; it's actually an evening prayer, but for some reason it has always been my favorite.

"Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by they great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of they only Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen."

Chris and I love you both very much!

4 Years Ago ...

2011-07-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

Four years ago this lady killer and I had a very fun day with friends and family.

We took an adventure to the mighty wilds of Alaska.

(We both were reading the final Harry Potter book on the tour bus, and just saw the final movie last week.)

Chris was forged a pocket knife made from a railroad spike. (He still has this knife on his person daily.)

It doesn't feel like very long ago. (But I still feel like I'm looking at little kids in some of the old photos ...)

Life changes ... yet some things don't change at all.

Goobers forevah!

Summer Fun!

2011-07-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

Oh summer, how I love thee! It is so jam packed with adventures and good times … I realized suddenly that I had quite a bit of things to document.

Outrigger Iron Championships

First, a few weeks ago Ka Nai’a was in San Diego for the Iron Championship race, in which the Co-Ed crew took 1^st place! This was the second “big” race of the season where the heavy hitters were able to paddle together, and it was a blast. The sun was out baking us while we waiting impatiently on the line, our nerves on edge but our confidence and expectations were high. We had a great start, but were followed the entire race by another team that was just on our tail. We never really shook them, either … they were a local San Diego team and when we hit the harbor mouth on the way to the finish, we could hear them rally. “THEY WANT YOU!” our coach was telling us from the back, and we knew it was true. A chorus of “This is OUR water!” could be heard echoing off the shoreline, and a dire sense of urgency surged through our muscles. It was a true race to the line, their canoe finishing only 10 seconds behind us. (We were about 8 minutes ahead of the 3^rd place finishers.)

Such an amazing feeling to come out on top, to know we had earned it, and I’ve never seen Coach Mike so happy to see us! Folks are often turned off by his generally zealous attitude, but you can't deny that our coaches care about us with their very souls. After making the team "smoothies from heaven" my dad was able to video and witness our victorious finish, which made it all the sweeter.

Anglican Youth Retreat

The day after the race, I flew out of LAX to Sacramento for the Anglican Summer Youth Retreat, which was a success once again. For a while we thought we were going to have to cancel this year due to crazy schedules, but in the end it all came together. We had about 20 students, all of them absolute gems. It was great to reconnect with old friends, and it was great to see the way the students welcomed new faces into the fold within hours of arrival. I felt very spoiled this year because we changed facilities last minute and the new location was fancy. There were not only big comfy beds, there was a pool table, ping pong, nice grassy fields, and amazing food. (After that long hard race, I ate way more than my share at the buffet line every night that week!)

We discussed the story of Martha and Mary, and the challenges we must face in balancing schedules, friends, and life in general with “activities” and spiritual disciplines. I love every single one of those young ladies and gentlemen more than I can describe. I was able to make a quick video of the fun, and there are other videos from students popping up as well for your entertainment. (I was just told to add that you should especially keep an eye out for 3:18 of that second link ... sigh.)

Santa Cruz Island

After driving home with Eric, I was up the very next morning bright and early for our very first change practice of the outrigger season. (Change racing involves a support where paddlers jump into the open ocean and get picked up by the canoe to give other paddlers a chance to rest and rehydrate.) It was a wonky day, but we had to get it done because the very next weekend was our annual training trip to Santa Cruz Island.

For those of you who read my post from last year, you are familiar with the crazy ordeal this is: 60 miles of ocean covered in 3 days of paddling!

The journey this year was rife with adversity, since the ocean was FAR from flat and the wind didn't want to stay calm. However, our novice members have TRUE GRIT and I love them for their great enthusiasm and spunk. We left at 5:35 AM on Friday morning and landed 4.5 hours later at Scorpion Harbor, where we unloaded the support boat and set up camp. We went hiking, and I finally got the hang of stand up paddle boarding. (I wish they weren't so dang expensive!) The sun came out on Saturday and it was much warmer than it was last year. We had great food and great company, and a pile of island foxes skittering around stealthily looking for food.

The return trip was long, but the crews all felt great. We have a few new members who are scared of sharks, some who are bad swimmers, many who are apt to sea sickness and others who have a number of logical fears. All of these things were overcome throughout the day, and it was indeed a feast of bliss to crack raid the leftover peanut butter and jelly jars on the boat dock afterwards. I had my annual two sips of beer, and could not have been prouder of my teammates.

One crazy bunch of burly bitches! :)

"Light Bulb" Moments in Nutrition

2011-06-22T14:17:00.000-07:00

I have deleted and re-typed this silly post half a dozen times, for a baker's dozen reasons. Boring, repetitive, obvious... what can I say? I find the topic of nutrition and general healthy living habits fascinating, but those are both broad topics and there isn't really much I can do to uniquely add to the conversation here...

...Unless I take a very personal route in doing so.

Unlike what sometimes feels like everyone else, I never "struggled" with my weight as a youth. Thanks to my parents, I have always been an ~~abnormally~~ happy, confident and "comfortable in my own skin" girl, even when I was undoubtedly heavier than the rest of my classmates in middle school. With my body type, I knew I was never going to be "willowy" but I also knew, deep down, that my chipmunk cheeks and muffin top waist were due to my lack of discipline (and a consistent overconsumption of chips with guacamole). I didn't blame my genes, metabolism, my other jeans, or television - I don't remember having an epiphany about it or anything, but at some point I decided to start running (like my marathoner father) and doing sit-ups in my room. The results to my body were pretty minimal since I often made up for any physical activity with a reward of a burger and a milkshake.

In the back of my mind I was worried that if I actually tried to "lose weight" I would inevitably become obsessed with the idea and do it in an unhealthy way. My mother often told me horror stories of the years she would "yo-yo" up and down the scale, moving from one fad diet to the next, and I've always been a very skilled vicarious learner. To this day, I still do not own a scale for this reason (and others). I was also not too keen on "rules" when it came to food. My eating habits were mostly based around the philosophy that ignorance is bliss, don't ask don't tell. I didn't read labels, I didn't measure any of my portions, and my body suffered because of that. Being athletic and playing basketball in high school saved me from ever crossing into "clinically obese" territory. I also started cutting out soda and fast food before I left for college. My knowledge about what I ate and how it effected me, however, was minimal.

My fascination with nutrition switched on after I went through a kickboxing program called KUT with a friend. Part of the program was basic nutrition, which included a little question/answer meeting where we learned some basics about eating healthy, and I’ve been hooked on the subject ever since. I have realized over time that there is an overwhelming amount of information out there, and sadly for me most of it has to do with science and numbers. (Ick.) However, there have been many "light bulb" moments that have helped me along the way to strive to put good, healthy fuel in my body in hopes that it will run for many years to come.

Light Bulb 1: Food Values

One day the phrase "not all calories are created equal" came to life.

Observe.

What do these two pictures have in common? You guessed it. Each picture is worth about 1,000 calories. Or maybe you didn't guess that. Whatever. Oh, did I say two? I meant three, though this third one is many pictures jammed into one, it's still worth 1,000 calories.

The spendthrift in me loves the idea of my daily calories needs being my body’s daily “budget.” Some foods are expensive, while others are very budget friendly.

Cherry Garcia Ice Cream

1 pint = 1,000 calories

How did I feel after eating it? Sick, guilty, gross.

"Megan, that’s obvious. Everyone knows ice cream isn’t good for you." Yes, yes. That’s not the point I’m trying to make.

Okay, lets buy something else with our 1,000 calories - a burrito with chicken, black beans, rice, salsa, cheese and guacamole. A very satisfying 980 calories.

What I began to realize was how expensive some food really was. Even the typical hero of health food salad can actually be a time bomb ready to go off. (Red Robin "Fiesta" chicken salad, pictured, is 1,200 calories.)

What else could I "buy" with those calories? How about all the healthy food I eat during the day while I’m at work these days? What does all that cost? Banana with peanut butter, an apple, an English muffin, a hard boiled egg, some turkey, a sweet potato, a smoothie, hot chocolate .. in total roughly 1,300.

I realized it was pretty crazy how much more "bang for my calorie" I could get out of food by simply making more intentional choices. When I eat good food, my body rewards me by feeling energized, strong, and lean. I finally stopped fighting with my body over what I thought it wanted - my stomach was like a spoiled child whining for sugar, but when my stomach was denied these things it adjusted with a surprisingly pleasant attitude.

As time went on, I simply stopped wanting to feed myself things I knew my body didn't really want.

Light Bulb 2: The Grocery List

It may seem obvious, but at some point I realized that when I remove something from my usual list of "go to" foods, I have to add something in their place. First, I cut out soda and fast food. Next went most cheese, then white sugar and white bread. For a while this made me feel deprived (especially when chips were off limits) until I began seeking out more protein and things like fish, chicken, shrimp, eggs and Greek yogurt. Fruit became my favorite desert, and oats my go-to grain. There were so many unprocessed foods in the world I had simply forgotten existed! I rekindled my love of stir-fry vegetables, canned salmon and the exotic mango, along the way discovering quinoa, edamame and lentils. Bell peppers and apples became "clean while typing" snacks at work instead of granola bars and sugary yogurt cups.

I think when people hear the word "diet" they tend to focus on restrictions, they see the list of things they can't have and give up. However when I started thinking about the list of foods I should eat every day (spinach, chicken, almonds, yogurt, salmon, oats, blueberries and more) I quickly realized it would in fact take me all day to get around to filling up with all of it. I am now convinced anyone "dieting" who is starving is doing something wrong.

Light Bulb 3: Cooking at Home

When I got married, the responsibility for all meals became mine and mine alone. Chris, I'm convinced, could live for years on nothing but Honey Nut Cheerios. I have actually been asked by employees at Costco if I run a daycare center. ~~I finally started saying yes~~. At the same time, I am very proud to say that after almost four years of exposure to my "rabbit food" habits his own diet has grown into something I can honestly label "balanced" and "quite healthy."

We don't eat out all that often, mostly I think because we are too lazy to leave the house, but also because I quickly developed a keen interest in being in control of my food. We all know that restaurants pack on the salt, the butter, the sugar, the whatever to make their food delicious, but the extent to which that is true is a bit alarming to me at times.

I also came to enjoy cooking in a way I never in a million years thought I would. I have to admit that a big part of this was because I realized that eating healthy usually meant 1) less ingredients and 2) less steps. It seems to me that all the really complicated recipes (and don't get me started on the evil of baking) aren't very healthy, especially when you compare it to say, a salad, which doesn't even involve heat! (Always a plus in my book.)

In Santa Barbara I am lucky enough to be surrounded by enough "health nuts" that there are tons of local restaurants that strive to be fresh and healthy. (Not to mention we have the best smoothie chain in the world!)

Light Bulb 4: HARD F*CKING WORK

This hot lady in the picture below is named Zuzana Light, and she's my "at home" trainer. (Some of you may have heard me refer to her as the "fitness porn" chick.) I have been following her workout videos on the internet for a couple of years now, and lately her website (www.bodyrock.tv) has become incredibly polished and fun. (Yes, her boobs are fake in case you were wondering.) Zuzana and her man Freddy film her workout routines every couple of days, in which she challenges her followers to beat her repetitions and push themselves as hard as they can.

If you had shown me a picture of Zuzana five years ago and asked me, "What does it take to look like her?" I would have replied with something super snarky like "having Athena for a mom" or "the money to pay for liposuction and a personal chef." I have come to realize, however, that folks who looks like Ms. Light have worked their fraking asses off, and earned it hard. I'm not talking about photo shopped models or string beans, I'm talking about your average person who is dedicated to pushing their bodies to the total limit. Be it a movie star or that chiseled beach guy who just stole my wave, those bodies are earned. (Anyone who has seen one of the workout montages on the Biggest Loser knows what I'm talking about.)

There was a time in my life when I would have loved to hate people like Zuzana, but after watching her sweat and growl and dig and push day after day, I can't help but respect and admire her. She is very open about her struggles to eat healthy consistently, as well as knew ways to push herself. I visit her website daily for motivation and new ideas, as well as read stories about people all around the world who have decided to push themselves into action.

In this crazy culture of misinformation, convenient food and self indulgent habits, never let anyone tell you healthy living is easy - but at the same time when all is said and done, don't be tempted for a moment to believe it's not worth it.

Avila Beach Race

2011-06-20T11:12:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I gave my alarm quite a grumble when it started buzzing at 4 A.M., the day turned out to be well worth the effort.

For KaNai'a, it was a fun weekend to rock the short course up in Avila Beach for their Pineapple Express iron race. This week the team numbers worked out to do something a little fun and different, racing the novice distance with open paddlers. Last week the women's boat had a rough time, finishing dead last in our category, so we were ready to prove ourselves better than that - a chance to reclaim our honor!

All novice and short course paddlers had the same start time, so at first it was a bit of a hairy mess. As the packs began to separate, however, we realized we were leading the pack of women around the first turn. (And even got to pass a trailing men's boat on the way.) The energy was great as we chased down the trailing mens teams - the water was glassy, and the true grit of our ladies had a chance to shine. We took a very proud 2nd place, and our rugged men took 1st.

Rock on!

Trashketball!

2011-05-31T10:28:00.000-07:00

My office holds a trashketball tournament every year after March Madness. (This is actually the 3rd year they have done so, after the game became an 'official' office sport, complete with written rules and a committee.) This year we had a 32 person bracket, ripe with upsets, shut-outs, and glorious "sudden death" finishes!

This year the "Champ" title was bestowed upon a true dark horse, our new clerk Stephen. Many of the power house players fell early in their brackets (including myself) and most of them were torn up by Stephen himself. (Who gained the nickname "Buzz-saw.") He faced a great foe in the final game, the notorious W.E.D. - a man known not only for his trash talk, but also his last minute victories.

I have been wanting to post a video of the game for a very long time, but this was the first year where I remembered to bring my camera along for all the fun. Enjoy!

Rig Run 2011

2011-05-23T09:26:00.000-07:00

Nothing can ever compare to the Rig Run from last year, which was epic ... except maybe this year.

For those of you who not know, the Rig Run is the race of the outrigger year hosted by my team, Ka Nai'a. This year we were stationed down at East Beach, and I could not have been more excited. So far this season has been a little on the rough side, and this being our 3rd race, many of us knew it was "our day to shine." And shine we did!

Our novice crew took 2nd place in co-ed, and our "beast boat" from last year's Catalina run was partially reunited to charge the field in the open co-ed category. The races so far have been about 10 miles, and little did we know this one would be extended out to 14. But it was our home water, and we were chomping at the bit to take over. The shore break gave a couple of us a good lashing as we took off, knocking the senses out of our dear stroker and sending us sputtering and bailing to the line. The start, however, was beautiful.

A masters team from Tahiti showed their colors by taking an early lead and dusting the pack, but that pack was lead by us. It was an incredible rush, akin to being chased down by hungry wolves for 14 miles with no trees or caves in site. Our coach, Linda, was steering us like the pro she is, shouting reminders as the rest of us fought to keep our form and our power up to snuff. The unity of the experience is close to indescribable. It is hard to say what happens when you are in a canoe full of not only capable fellow athletes, but friends that you literally trust with your lives.

Our hard work in the off season paid off as we came around the final turn to the straight away, lighting to water on fire as we crossed the finish line to claim 1st place. What a day! (Fun pictures here posted by my friend Kathy!)

I love my team. :)

Failures and Successes

2011-04-21T11:13:00.000-07:00

I failed pretty badly in my Lent ambitions to free write every day. I did not think about how challenging it would be to remember to do something proactive for 40 days straight. The worst part is that free writing is something any kind of decent writer really should be doing anyway every day. Hmmm, apparently I have a very long way to go.

In spite of that failure, life has had many successes lately. One out of the two classes I was taking this quarter is over, which has been a huge relief since it was by far the most frustrating (and time consuming) course I’ve taken so far in the program. (Not to mention sitting through a 3 hour lecture in crazy uncomfortable lab chairs when you are nauseous and battling bowel issues is flat out torture.) Friends are doing well/better, family is hanging tough, and the sun is shining once again. Chris had his second degree black belt test in Soo Bahk Doh last weekend which he passed with flying colors. He had been training so hard for it I was thrilled to see his radiant, glowing face of pride when he came home.

I’m getting really excited about the outrigger race season as well. It is exciting to finally be nearing the “moment of truth” to put all the years’ hard work and training to the test.

Oh, and in case anyone is interested, I have been enjoying a “lollipop” book I gobbled up recently called “Ex-Heroes” which is a genre blend novel that takes place in a world that is full of super heroes (like the Marvel universe) but after the world is smacked down by the zombie apocalypse. Very fun and light, with some unique twists on the typical zombie lore.

Dark Times

2011-04-05T14:57:00.000-07:00

It's funny how sometimes life really can just snowball you. I've been having a rough week, not so much because of any one thing but a pile of little tiny things (and not so tiny things) that have just piled up. My prayer request "inbox" has been filled recently with some heavy stuff. Between friends doing missionary work in far off lands, folks dealing with some very serious decisions in their lives, and others that are just generally stressed out, overtaxed, working hard, whatever - I have been feeling their burdens on my heart recently. On top of that, there was a death in my family last night, and I have been juggling what is beginning to look like too many projects. Some gears are changing at work, paddling is going into mega crunch time full swing, Spring quarter in paralegal classes will be taking up a hefty chunk of time, and my schedule just feels squeezed.

So far, everything is balancing out okay but I am going to have to remember this week that I can't do everything and I can't please everyone. I hate feeling like I am letting people down almost as much as I hate admitting I'm human.

In the meantime, I've realized it's important for me to identify what things I'm doing because I love them, what things I'm doing because I feel obligated, and what things I should always keep in top priority. For some reason thinking this way helps me remember when I can relax and when I need to be "on the ball." Paddling today, for example, is something I really love. I don't want to go to practice simply because I know coach will yell at me if I skip, I want to go because I know I'll feel so much better afterwards and it will lift my spirits to see my teammates. It's a sunny, lovely day and even though I am aware the crap is going to be kicked out of me, I will feel all the better for it.

The rest, as they say, is in God's hands.

Weird Things I'm Eating

2011-04-04T10:03:00.000-07:00

Cherimoyas

Pretty much no one knows what a cherimoya is when I talk about them. They are only available from March - June, and are deemed a "labor intensive" crop so they aren't exactly a bargain either. You have to love them to seek them out. This is a very polarizing fruit, that is, you either love it or you hate it. It's kind of an ugly Betty as well, since it totally looks like a dinosaur egg and smells about that way as well.

The taste, however, I love. They are hard to get in many parts of the country since they really only grow in South America, but here in Santa Barbara several people have these bushes that they raise so they are available in local markets. I think they taste a little like a strange pear, but I mostly refer to them as "the mystery flavor" of dum-dums. You have to wait until they are a little soft, and you can scoop out the white fleshy part in the center. The big chocolate colored seeds are easy to spit out, and the entire thing makes a fun breakfast. (As long as you can handle the stares from co-workers.)

Baked Seaweed

This is a new obsession. They were having a sale at Trader Joe's of this stuff, you could get a little packet of them for $1. I bought about five, and gobbled them up over the weekend, much to Chris' horror. They are crispy and salted, quite tasty I think and reminds me how much I miss eating sushi on a regular basis. It's a little bit strange when it comes to texture because it kind of melts in your mouth in a gross way, morphing from a crispy sheet to a gooey sea veggie. The salt is good though and obviously more healthy than a bag of chips.

I know, I know. My tastes are not for everyone. But I still thought it was fun to share. :)

The Four Phases of the Post-Paddle

2011-03-23T13:14:00.000-07:00

Phase I: “The Hunger”

Phase I often begins immediately upon termination of the workout, though in some paddlers the effect can be delayed. There have also been cases observed in which the Hunger will begin over the course of a strenuous workout. The Hunger descends with great fury, a primordial drive that terminates all logic, and can remove ones very identity. The empty husk that remains is a desperate creature, fueled solely by the need to eat everything and anything within reach.

On a more positive note, spouses and roommates attest that the Hunger is an excellent way of getting rid of leftovers in the fridge or fruit on the verge of spoiling.

Phase II: “The Bliss”

For a moment in time, carbohydrates and proteins make peace with one another, and fats, salts and sugars of all varieties are welcomed to the table of even the pickiest eater with gusto. Only a miracle of heaven can be compared to the sensation of full life being restored to the body through food. The sensation of unalloyed joy consumes the once hollow body; the spirit returns to the eyes and soul. Just as the Israelites were led out of the wilderness, one may feel that they have been freed from the bondage of hunger and into the paradise of milk and honey. (Or both milk AND honey, on top of large crusty rolls of bread, dipped in yogurt with fresh fruit, a whole chicken, and a stack of peanut butter pancakes on the side …with hot chocolate and horchata.)

Phase III: “Denial”

Riding the wave of Bliss, there is a moment, ever so brief, where a paddler may think for a time that their day can continue on as normal, like any other human being. In this phase, as one relishes the color that has returned to their cheeks, they may begin to plan doing chores, attending events, or mapping out projects which have yet to be accomplished for the rest of the day. One may even begin to exert themselves in large social gatherings in complete ignorance of there own limitations.

This phase is often short lived.

Phase IV: “The Crash”

Once the body obtains that which it needed so desperately, the crash may begin with a sometimes violent, sudden, and unexplainably powerful wave. It is recommended that paddlers be watched by loved ones prior to this phase; in case there is need to set up a soft landing space for their impending collapse. Like C3PO, the body shuts down with an electronic “biiieeeeewwww” and hums happily in the healing cocoon of sleep.

(Phase IV: Guest comic thanks to Matthew "Chumie" Ochocinco)

Wash. Rinse. Repeat next Saturday.

Shantaram

2011-03-21T15:13:00.000-07:00

As I said before, I've been trying to write a bit every day for Lent. (I've missed a few days, but have been generally good about this.) Some of it is, as to be expected, utter rubbish. This one, however, I thought I'd share because I like the inspirational quote so much.

__________

This is a passage from the novel I am currently reading, Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts. I highly recommend it to pretty much anyone; the story is beautifully written, dark and at times quite challenging. There have been several passages I have dog-eared or jotted down, but of them all I think this one so far has struck me the hardest.

“One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.”

At one point or another, every human being has been lonely or felt completely alone. It’s incredible how terrifying that feeling can be, especially when it is unexpected. There are times in my life, too many times, where I managed to delude myself into thinking and believing that I didn’t need anyone or anything else, that if I had to go it alone in the world I would be able to survive.

Being alone makes you face things that creep up in the silence, the stillness. We have an incredible stockpile of noise and distractions we use to combat the reality of our dark hearts, our petty needs, our twisted thoughts and deeds. Facing our flawed reflections can crush our spirits, but can also indeed be cured with love; the overflowing forgiveness and unconditional covering that is the grace of charity.

Love fuels the effort we sacrifice in the belief that we can be better than what we are, and gives us the continued opportunity to become the person some believe us to be already.

Free Writing for Lent

2011-03-09T08:13:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I thought I was going to skip celebrating Lent this year because I couldn’t come up with anything good to give up. The past five years or so I have given up simple sugars and white bread, but with outrigger training I have pretty much eliminated those things from my diet anyway so it wouldn’t be much of a struggle.

My beloved old roomie Hilary used to take it upon herself to write a journal entry every day for Lent. I decided today I am stealing her idea – though I’m going to call them “free writes” instead of journals because for some reason the idea of “journaling” always makes me think I have to write about my feelings, whereas “free writes” are, well, self explanatory.

Some of these writings will likely turn into blog entries, many will probably be poorly formed story ideas, and who knows what else. I think I’m looking forward to it.

Happy Ash Wednesday!

Imriel de la Phillips

2011-03-07T08:42:00.000-08:00

Meet our new kitty, Imriel! ("Imri" for short.) On Friday, Chris and I adopted this little snuggle bug from 2nd Chance Cats. He is named after the character Imriel de la Courcel, from one of our favorite book series' Kushiel's Dart by Jaqueline Carey. (Yes, I have mentioned these books before and will continue to do so until more people read them!)

Our little Imri is 10 months old and scrawny little string bean. He is incredibly affectionate and has one of the loudest motor boat purrs I have ever heard. He has been having some tummy trouble but other than that seems to be adjusting nicely.

Inara, our other cat, currently hates him and resents his introduction to the house. (Hopefully that will change soon.) She is certainly curious about him, but keeps hissing whenever they make eye contact. Last night we made them both sleep with us in our room, and this morning I had Inara under the covers at my right side, Imri under the covers on my left. When I started rousing at 5:30 to get to the gym, Inara gave Imri a growl and a hiss good morning and he promptly ignored her completely. We'll see how this developes - especially since today will be their first day alone together.

As usual the hardest thing about having a new fuzz-ball in the house is I don't want to be at work! I just want to go home and play with him. :)

A Quick Defense for Valentines Day

2011-02-14T09:23:00.000-08:00

I know what you're thinking. "Am I reading the right blog? Megan, you don't even celebrate Valentine's Day."

Correct, I myself do not do anything out of the ordinary on February 14. In part this is because I have always found romantic gestures generally suspicious, plus I'm a ~~cheap~~ thrifty person who becomes irritated when money is wasted on frivolous things I don't need (or even want). Also, I'm lazy and not a fan of feeling forced to do ... well, anything.

But hear me out. Though I roll my eyes and groan at contrived diamond commercials, though I throw up in my mouth a little when women gush and coo over so and so's bouquet, cheap chocolates, tacky cards, etc. - what I'm always taken back by are the hoards of nay-sayers. What gives, haters?

Sure, I remember in grade school when there were always a couple gloating kids with hoards of candy and cards on their desks, usually sitting right next to the poor schmo who had one or two. I know it's frustrating to "be reminded" that some people are happier than you. (Or so they would like to have you believe.)
"Megan, you just don't get it. You're happily married. Once a year us poor oppressed single people are left like starving puppies out in the rejected rains and sorrowful sleet storms while being forced to gaze inside warm homes where attractive couples are cozied up in eternal bliss that we have never known!" PUH-LEEZ.

If you're single, my guess is someone out there loves you. It may be your Mom or your AA sponsor, but someone cares. I promise all those 'perfect happy couples' aren't going to get together and stare at you from the corners of their eyes wondering if you are a secret carrier of leprosy. There is really no excuse to knock a holiday that only aims to celebrate love. Plus, quite frankly I'm a little tired of being made to feel guilty for having a +1. As for it being a "fake" holiday, these days V-day is really no more commercialized than say, Christmas or Easter. There's candy, there's a lame mascot, a color scheme, the works. It has all the working of a legit holiday as we've come to expect in America. You are free to choose your own degree of obligations and traditions (or lack there of).

Valentine's Day is quite simply whatever you make of it. If there is pressure on you as a guy in a relationship, I'm all for you sucking up the whopping 10 minutes of effort to do something cute for what is basically a guaranteed happy ending. I mean seriously, if you can't bother to make or buy your special lady a little something you know she is going to appreciate, you should do her a favor and just kick yourself out. (Meanwhile ladies, some of ya'll need to calm ~~the frak~~ down.)

I for one will continue to shrug and shake my head when asked "So what are you guys doing for Valentine's Day?" - but I'm simple like that, and I know not everyone feels the same way. Who am I to judge what makes others happy? I don't care if you have made a date with your sofa, a bad movie and a pound of pink and red candy corn (wtf?), but pretty please, you don't have to tell the world about it. (That goes for all the intimate mushy stuff that I've seen popping up too ... wisely mitigate your over share!)

All that to say, I would like to simply encourage everyone to show some love today - to someone, anyone, in a gesture grand or small. Yeah, maybe we should do that everyday, but lets face it, sometimes we could all use a good a kick in the pants.

<3

The Call to Adventure

2011-01-26T12:04:00.000-08:00

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” – Bilbo Baggins

A dear friend of mine recently boarded a plane and literally knowing nothing about what he was doing, jetted off to

Romania

. (Kudos again, mi amigo.) Several of his first stories involving packing, airline hassles, and pre-journey jitters brought back a flood of memories from my own excursions in far off lands. That whiff of a thrill, that mysterious beyond; it made me recall how much I love and miss it.

I can’t help but believe that everyone needs to find a way to keep that sense of adventure in their life. For true adrenaline junkies, the thrill may come from extreme sports and the occasional skydiving trip. For others, maybe buying different fat contented milk is all the variety in life they need.

“The call to adventure” is usually the first phase of any good hero story. Something happens, be it a tragedy, a given quest, or a simple idea run amok, inevitably in any good tale something occurs that wakes a character out of their daily stupor and calls them to something grander. If you are like me, you maybe wonder your entire life when your adventure is going to find you. And again if you are impatient like me, sometimes you make your own adventure.

I don’t want to say that I intentionally seek out trouble (though it happens occasionally anyway) and I don’t want to say that ho-hum happy life leaves me discontent. There is, however, something about the daily grind, the blah expectations in behavior and mannerisms that I simply can’t stand and often feel obligated to reject. Some of these rejections are subtle; pushing the rules slightly here, tweaking this stereotype just a bit, removing this or that old habit completely - it all makes me feel like life is worth the effort.

The appeals of stability are undeniable, but I can't help but think that sometimes the thrills of instability are their own reward. Not so much seeking out hardship as much as giving yourself a new challenge, a consistent inability to get too relaxed and lazy.

As a child I longed for nothing more than my own adventure story, but when I really take a moment to think about it, this is a terrible desire! Frodo Baggins, for example, faced death, misery, pain and suffering at every turn of his long journey to destroy the ring of power. He was hunted, constantly hungry, cold, lost, and weary. Why would this seem so appealing to me as a reader? You hear over and over again that all Frodo wants to do is go back home to his pipe and fluffy bed. But something between all that still hooks me – there is appeal and horror in the thought of my character being tested, my resolve stretched wafer thin, my foundations challenged. There is excitement in that sense of purpose, that frightening call to something so much bigger than myself. I know that is a huge part of why I love fantasy books and epic video games and movies.

The 'great outdoors' deserves its own chapter in this discussion. The power of nature and humility that comes in putting our own small selves in perspective with the world as a whole and the abundant miracles on the planet are staggering. I have recently tried to 'get out there' more often, and the results have been refreshing and rejuvenating in so many ways.

Is adventure what modern cushy American life attempts to constantly strip away? Or is it present in such small ways that we miss it? It is all too tempting to stay in our homes, not talk to our neighbors, shut our eyes and ears to opportunities that are constantly knocking. Maybe I will do this or that someday. Next year. Next week. Not now, I'm tired from my long day of sitting. At least for me, there is always that call ... a whisper in the wind beckoning me outside, to try something new, to risk my heart in love, to have faith in flawed people who don't deserve my trust, to test my strength and resolve in sports and good habits, to challenge myself to be better, stronger. A little spontaneity goes a long way.

Can it be boiled down to a pursuit of novelty? Or what Chris might call the need to have a "project"? Are we obsessed with novelty as a part of our culture? A study on Rhesus monkeys gave chimps an option between assured reward and gambling for their meals. Time and time again, the animals preferred risk over regulation. The primates preferred to gamble, and the unreliable result provided constant novelty. I'm honestly not sure what decision I would make in such a case, but I find it interesting.

What I do know is I want to feel ALIVE. What does that mean to you? Maybe it changes - sometimes all I want is to feel like the things I do matter; other days I want my breath taken away in wonder. People face chances to take more risk every day, be it financial, emotional, physical, or creative. Whatever the case, it seems to me that it's an essential part of a healthy life. So don’t be surprised if the next time you step outside your front door you find adventure is sitting there waiting for you, wagging its tail.

When the call to adventure comes, will you go?

Web Master

2011-01-25T10:06:00.000-08:00

On the sojourn back from Catalina (oh yes, you remember that epic tale, don't you?) before all hell broke loose, my coach asked if I would be willing to take over the outrigger team's website. She had seen a few of my videos, which in her mind meant that I knew everything that could ever be known about electronics, computers, and the universe. I knew (and currently still know) little to nothing about creating a website, but lucky lucky me that technology has progressed in recent years in my favor. Making a new website is not only easy, but pretty fun. If you have any interest at all in checking out the new Ka Nai'a webpage, you can click here. Still some kinks to work out, but I'm pleased with it.

Curtains Close on 2010

2010-12-31T11:09:00.000-08:00

Despite how packed my schedule felt this summer, fall turned out to be just as cluttered with activity between off-season outrigger workout commitments and paralegal school. I took two classes this quarter, Business Law and Civil Litigation (got A's in both - yay!) and am signed up for two more starting next week, Legal Writing and Real Estate Law. Should be fun...?

I have been getting up consistently at 5:30 AM to hit the gym. One year ago I would have balked at that idea, but oddly enough it hasn't been nearly as rough as I thought it would be. A big part of it, I think, is doing it every day. Plus, the results are addicting!

Update on the pull-up goal: just about there. I had set the goal of 3 pull-ups for myself by Christmas, and I'm proud of what I have done. (You can see a bit of the success at the tail end of my most recent video.) At the end of the paddling season, despite how ~~uber~~ strong I believed myself to be, I could not even do ONE measly little pull-up. I started by doing negatives, that is, jumping up to the bar then lowering myself down slowly. That eventually made it possible for me to do 1. I then invested in a pull-up bar for the house, which soon resulted in a squeaking, squealing, painful but legit 2 on a good day. As of now, I can do what I am calling 3 "cheater" pull-ups - that is, I don't quite go ALL the way down on the return, but hey - I'm happy with the progress so far! In the meantime my maximum bench press went up 15 lbs as well, so hurray for hard work paying off! I'm so grateful for the encouragement of my teammates, who are superstars.

I ran my first ever half marathon. It wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but you can put a check next to it anyway! (In case you are wondering, a full marathon is also NOT on said list.) My goal was to finish in 2 hours, and I was pretty dang close with a finishing time of 2:00:44. My Dad ran it with me (always my hero!) and the weather could not have been more beautiful. The course was along the Silver Strand from Coronado to Imperial Beach; the ocean was literally glittering in the November sunlight, not a cloud in the sky.

I am also now an honored godmother to baby Katie, daughter of my beloved BFF Becca and her studly hubby Luis. She was baptized the day after Christmas (pictured) and it was a wonderful thing to witness. Christmas was the usual mayhem of climbing the gift mountain with Chris' family. There was a ton of food and many laughs. It is always a delight to see the clan and my little niece, Kylie, who recently turned 1, and is developing an addictively spunky personality. I was doted upon generously, though I did receive one gift that was NOT on my list: poison oak! It has been something of a struggle dealing with that for the past week, but I think the steroids are helping. Just in time for a New Years Resolution 10k tomorrow. Yay!

Speaking of resolutions, this is the first year in a very long time where I have one. I am going to try and intentionally save a chunk of our household income every month consistently this year. I have kind of been doing that anyway, but I was not keeping track of it and I think I can do more than what I originally thought. We'll see how that goes.

Overall I'm excited to see what 2011 has to offer. My video making and blogging will hopefully fall back into routine, as well as maybe my cooking experiments and writing. (Yes, I WILL finish my NaNo story!) In the meantime, I love you all and hope you have a fantastic New Years!

NaNoWriMo 2010

2010-12-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

It was fun, it was ridiculous, it was so rewarding.

What am I talking about? National Novel Writing Month, which I participated in once again and am again victorious, by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin. It was a much busier month for me than last year, and I really had to crank at the end. Not only did I bring my laptop along with me over the Thanksgiving holiday, I stayed up almost exactly until midnight last night making sure my words were up to snuff.

And now, I have half a story.

Half? What? Yeah, that’s what happens sometimes. I got going and realized the novel had a life of its own, taking me crazy places I had not anticipated, and am still a wee bit unsure of where exactly they will lead.

I am, however, very proud of what I have, and am even confident enough to share the first part with whoever would like a sneak peak. (Just let me know and I will email it to you.) The title is under construction, though currently it is called "The Scent of Sincerity" and is a fantasy story set both in modern day and a fictional world (think Narnia / Harry Potter) about a young girl named Althea who can smell lies.

Thank you all for your loving support and enthusiastic feedback! It is much appreciated.

Epic Mud Pics

2010-11-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

Finally, got some good race shots posted. So fun!

The Mud Mash 10k

2010-11-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

For those of you who do not remember the circumstances surrounding my last 10k, you may want to catch up on your history here. If you don’t want to read that saga, you should at least know that the last time I ran a 10k, I didn’t even finish. Yeah…

That little fact, however, wasn’t about to stop me from attempting a new and exciting challenge, the San Luis Obispo Mud Mash that took place on Halloween morning. Eric caught a last minute cold from his lab mates and was unable to participate, but the mighty legend Bruno and my office side-kick Matthew made the trip. Quite honestly, I had no clue what I was getting into.

I had seen the course map and read the descriptions of the obstacles, but the reality was something entirely different. The loop was 3 miles long, so 5k runners only had to do it once, but 10k runners had to complete it twice. (I hope the real pictures get loaded soon, but in the meantime here are some weird stills from my video camera, thanks to Danielle for her efforts in capturing the day.)

Despite the fact that costumes were highly encouraged, we didn’t want anything to be unnecessarily cumbersome. The morning weather was lovely, an almost perfect fall day complete with shining sun and a cool breeze.

The Water Walk

Not even a quarter mile from the start line, we veered from the perfectly pleasant paved bath directly into Laguna Lake. This, my friends, was not puddle jumping. No, no. This was a waist deep wade through lake water. If there had been any sort of lingering hope in anyone’s mind that they may be able to walk away from this race with minimum wetness, those hopes were dashed immediately here. Slogging through the chilly water, many were likely already wondering what they were getting themselves into.

The Rope Crawl

Once you get through the waist deep wade, runners were directed under a bridge to another section of lake that was laced with ropes to help pull yourself across. I made the decision to go for it, and used only my arms for this section. The strategy paid off, despite the fact that I was now head to toe soaked. I flew past a couple of the guys who were trying to trudge it ahead of me.

We excited the muddy bank for a brief, squishy trail bit, until we hit…

The Swamp Stomp

Back into the water we went, but this section was much more bog-like. I leapt in to avoid the hazardous looking slope down, but soon regretted the decision as I felt my shoes sink into the ooey-gooey muck at the bottom. I quickly chose to simply swim, freestyle at first then breaststroke later, simultaneously hoping to kick out some of the pebbles that had found their way into my shoes.

Exiting that bank brought us into a small forest of tall reeds. Taller than me, that is, and very dense; a narrow path had been tromped out for us to make our way throught.

At long last, we reached open field. It felt good to actually be able to just run for a bit, thought my shoes were making that horrible “squish squish” noise and weight about 10lbs each.

Low Wall (about 6 ft.)

Our next obstacle was a fence that was easy enough to hope over. The volunteers on this course were incredibly cheerful and encouraging, and I tried to thank them between gasps for their support.

Over Unders

These were literally spike pits, which were supposed to make it very obvious which parts were for over and which parts were for under. (“Avoid death at all costs, please!”) Some of the under bits were really low, and the volunteers got super excited when folks would do a “full body roll” for them through the mud at the bottom. I complied happily enough.

Apparently these were more of a challenge for the men than the ladies, since straddling a small pole poses a unique threat to their anatomy.

Cargo Net

Keep in mind that by the time we reached the Cargo Net, we had probably barely gone more than a mile. This part proved a unique challenge to some, but I have always had a talent for cargo nets (which I attribute to many years of training at the pirate playground at Sea World). This net went up a good 12 feet into the air, and some folks had mild panic attacks at the top. I more or less recklessly tumbled down the back side and moved on.

High Wall

This, sadly, was the one obstacle that defeated me. It was a 12 foot wall which you were supposed to use a rope to climb up and over, but the rope had no knots and was wet from previous slimy racers who had used it. I gave it a good attempt, but slid half way down and gave my hands a wee bit of a rope burn. I got scared that I was potentially going to fall and hurt my back or my leg, so I decided to go around the obstacle.

Hay Bail Hurdles

Thus began the steady incline. It began pleasant enough, following a narrow rocky trail towards the mountains, but said pleasant trail quickly turned steep and uncomfortable. I sadly was unprepared for this portion, having done pretty much no hill training. On the first very steep bit came a series of four large hay bales which runners had to climb over.

I admit, I walked quite a bit on this section. It was a brisk, long stride dignified walk, but a walk all the same. My breath was coming in short supply, and I had to place my hands on my hips for support. I still managed to smile at the fact that there was candy all over the hay bales so runners could “trick or treat” as we went. The bales themselves weren’t difficult, and actually something of a nice break to distract me from the cursed incline.

Next came the mountain trail, which was by far the most difficult. It was not listed as an obstacle, but I was amazed at how much I struggled on the hike the top of the peak. Yes, I think it qualifies to be called a peak. Up, up, up it went, and once I thought I was at the top I realized there was yet another hill to mount. The view was beautiful, and it was a good feeling to know you were coming to the end of the evil hill.

The trail down was incredibly treacherous, and though I tried to keep my pace up I was terrified at any moment I was going to do a full on face plant. As I tried my fancy footwork among the boulders, you could hear the song of a bagpiper atop one of the nearby ridges.

This may seem incredibly nerdy, but I completely felt like William Wallace prancing down to my awaiting army of Scots. The bagpipe song put a new spring in my step, and though my hips began to ache with the impact of my momentum, I was eager to be rid of that mountain.

Once I hit the bottom, it felt incredible to be on flat ground again. My legs felt alive again to be doing the motion they had been trained for: flat road!

The Mud Pit

Just behind the starting line and in front of the announcers booth was the mighty mud pit. It was probably about 20 feed wide and 30 feet long, and they had lines of flags across the surface which you had to go beneath, and you couldn’t touch them (or the announcer would mock you ceaselessly). The point of course being that you had to basically dive face first into the mud pit in order to cross it.

Face first I went; with great enthusiasm. (Yeah, that's me in the picture going under the last flag of the pit...) I have to admit this part was incredibly fun, if nothing else because it was so ridiculous. Rocks scraped my elbows and knees, I couldn’t see a dang thing, and I could feel a hunk of sludge take up residence in my sports bra.

Awesome.

But what was even better? The fact that I was now only done with my 1^st lap, and I now had to do it ALL OVER AGAIN.

The second lap actually went much smoother. I relished the lake section in which I was able to wash off the majority of the mud, and I knew roughly where all the obstacles were up ahead. I zipped through them all, ignoring my still very heavy shoes and nasty dripping hair.

I also got a charge when one of the volunteers called out to me saying “You’re the 4^th place girl! Keep it up!”

A couple more ladies passed me when I got back to that crazy fraking hill, but at that point I didn’t care. I was doing my best, and having a blast. The overall challenge had been unexpected, and the joyful spirit of the event was contagious.

Blazer the Viking

As one final obstacle, after the runners went through our second splurge into the mud pit, we were faced with defeating two gladiator Vikings who stood between us and the finish line. Armed with plushy maces, they took out knees, the gut checked stomachs, they pummeled and battered the run down, muddy runners as one last insult to injury. (They were noticeably nicer to the lady runners, though that didn’t stop me from slinging as much mud as I could carry at them.) I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but that's Bruno charging for the finish line past the helmed beast.

The results came in, and soon Bruno and I accepted our first place awards for our age divisions. (Bruno was also the 4^th overall finisher, I ended up as the 6^th female finisher.)

Of course, once it was all over I realized just how much fun it had been. I would certainly do it again, and am excited that I have no officially finished a 10k race. Next time I'll be sure to add some hill training into my regime, and never again will I take for granted dry, fluffy socks.

New Doodle

2010-10-29T14:37:00.000-07:00

I can't take full credit for this little guy. I was looking at stencils to prep for a Pumpkin Carving Party I'm attending tonight, and came across something very similar to what you see here. I decided to take it and morph it a little into my own thing. The original is on blue paper with dark blue ink.

I like him. :)

Paintball

2010-10-25T10:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, you read that right ladies and gentlemen: paintball. Saturday was not only the first time we Santa Barbarians saw a full day of sunlight in a few weeks; it was also a day I have been looking forward to for months.

My one and only paintball experience was many years ago when I sweet talked my way into an invitation to a “boys only” birthday party in high school. At the time I had no clue what I was getting into, but I never forgot the experience. It came to my attention this summer that many of my friends had never played the unique sport, and I wanted to change that.

To Lompoc we went, armed with only our courage and curiosity. The paintball facilities in Lompoc are modest, with 2 optional fields to play on: speedball and scenario. The day started off on a high note as Brian took a hit to his left butt cheek and my left leg took a serious beating. (The welts are currently turning into some gnarly bruises.)

Bruno, after raising his hands diligently to indicate his “death” in the game, took an additional two to the back for the quintessential insult to injury.

The body count only went up from there, from pink head shots to high-pressured rib assaults, upon departure we felt like warriors. At one point one of the "pros" wanted to take on our entire group of 9 by himself. (Thankfully, he was not victorious.) Later, however, we played a game of 4 on 12, and we had our humble asses handed to us. Granted we were bereft of a strategy, not to mention armed with rental guns while they sported hair triggers and kevlar. Whatever. Generally it seems the folks who are into paintball are incredibly good natured and laid back; I started describing them as "action nerds."

We had an excellent turnout of hodgepodge friends from many circles of life, and from what I’ve heard everyone had a good time. Many of us are looking forward to trying out some of the other larger fields in Southern Cali sometime in the upcoming year.

Oh yes, the adventure is just beginning. Hopefully I don't give into the urge to go out and buy myself a full set of my own equipment, but then again who could really blame me?

Paintball. It takes a lot of balls. :)

Artwork

2010-10-15T08:44:00.000-07:00

Recent drawing I did for a friend. She requested something "girly."

Happy Birthday, Ava! :)

Pull-Ups

2010-10-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

Look! A quest!

Yes indeed, I have a new quest. At the end of our paddling season, Coach mentioned at that one of the simplest fitness tests is the almighty pull-up. (She may have even mentioned that 12 (!!) reps was a good number to shoot for.)

Ladies and gentleman, even after that fabulous season of paddling, I have never once in my life been able to do a pull-up. I realized, however, that I had also never intentionally tried to change that fact.

Thus, my mission was clear, and many of my teammates have enthusiastically accepted the challenge. I have given myself the personal goal of being able to do 3 pull-ups by Christmas.

For the past month or so I have been walking from my place of employment to a local park, where my foe awaits me: the bar. I guess technically it’s a set of monkey bars, but they do the trick none the less.

The first week, no matter how hard I strained, squeaked, or ached - no matter how enthusiastically the toddlers scurrying about the playground cheered, I left in defeat.

That is, until today.

It took about a month, but my silly chinny-chin-chin can finally crest that metallic threshold.

Once.

With great effort.

As of this weekend, I am also armed with a bar of my own. We set it up in our office doorway, so before I take a shower, after I take a shower, any time I feed the cat, or anytime I’m home and think about it, I can try my luck with our own personal torture unit. Chris has been getting some good use out of it as well, which has been fun to see.

I will keep everyone posted on my progress.

(Someone mentioned my last cartoon was not up to date on my hairstyle. Hopefully Captain Accuracy is happy now.)

Donut Day

2010-09-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the lavish ways of my office, there is a tradition known as “Donut Day” that is marked on the calendars of every employee here at my firm. This carb festival takes place on or close to the 15^th of every month in our luxurious kitchen, and is complete with many boxes of bagels, muffins, pastries, donuts and the occasional assortment of other baked options. (During the first two months of the year there is also the welcome addition of fruit and yogurt to help the handful of folks who have resolved to avoid treats during the year, but such resolutions are nowhere to be seen by March.)

I do not usually indulge much on Donut Day since I’m not particularly fond of such treats, (I'd prefer something like nachos) though I will have the occasional bagel, especially if I have some turkey in the fridge with which to transform it into a most excellent (free) sandwich.

In any case, I have learned over time to avoid the kitchen when it is occupied by other souls, since I am constantly mocked, belittled, scoffed, scorned or occasionally overly praised for my non-donut food selections.

I pose this question to all: what is this crazy culture that attempts to guilt folks for making good choices?

Catalina & The Longest Day

2010-09-14T09:07:00.000-07:00

Find a gratuitously comfy chair, because this is an obscenely lengthy story, broken into two parts for your reading convenience.

PART 1: THE CATALINA CROSSING RACE

The finale to the Ka Nai’a outrigger canoe racing season could not have been more unexpected or adventurous. I was already in love with my teammates, who are some of the most diverse, laid back, caring, tough, generous, and fun people I have had the pleasure of knowing. We have been looking forward to and preparing for the National Championship Catalina Crossing for a long time; a race which begins in Newport Harbor and ends in Avalon, Catalina. It’s a 27 mile race across the open ocean with a team of 9; 6 in the canoe at a time with 3 paddlers in a support boat that change places during the race.

Saturday morning the women and co-ed crews paddled out to Catalina, and then Sunday morning the men’s crews paddled back. We are a small club, and happily able to tweak our logistics out so that we could have 2 co-ed crews paddle out, leaving the team free to relax and celebrate as a group Saturday night.

The race itself was delightful, and in many ways everything we had all been hoping for. In the prior two change races, we had gone gender since the numbers worked best that way. Our co-ed line-up, however, was very strong. We jokingly referred to one match-up as “the beast boat” which felt like we had grease lightening beneath the canoe. I was deeply honored to be a part of that starting line-up, and our expectations were high that morning.

"Ka Nai'a, Ka Nai'a, Ka Nai'a, do it, do it, do it!" We roared from our boats.

The women’s boats left 20 minutes before co-ed, leaving us time to chomp our bits and paw the ground at the starting line in eager anticipation. It was incredibly difficult to keep my excitement in check; I dare say sitting in the canoe stretching my neck and feeling bolts of energy run through my skin was a special kind of torture. We were like a pack of chained wolfhounds catching the scent of live game, nearly twitching to dive into the task at hand, for this was it: the race we had all been training for. Not only was I feeling confident that morning in my own ability and conditioning, I was even more confident in the abilities of my team.

The start played out like a dream.

Not the kind of dream where you’re quaffing a stack of buttery pancakes, but rather the daylight variety that dance through your mind the week prior over and over again and make you sigh thinking, “Now wouldn’t that be nice?” When the flag waved, we shot out instantly to lead the pack off the line snarling and grinning, reaching out into the vast blue wasteland before us with unforgettable spirit. It was a long road ahead, but the conditions were ideal. We were caught by another team who is well known for their excellence, and paced them for the first couple of hours. Feeling energized and invigorated, tongues lolling with the thrill of the chase. The wind was actually whistling in my ears as we charged across the water, a sensation I won't soon forget.

As fatigue began to set in over the third hour, we lost some ground and began fighting with two other canoes who were steadily gaining. It was a hard battle, and I can’t express how proud I was of our men who were left in the canoe for more than their fair share of time. When at last we could make out the form of Catalina Island in the distant fog, the bulk of the pack was miles behind us, but we began to wane and slid into 4^th as we caught and passed the majority of the women’s boats who had left before us.

In the end, we placed 4^th overall in the co-ed open division, an accomplishment of which we are all incredibly proud; not to mention the fact that this qualified us for a pretty take-home trophy! (Though awesome, I must note that nothing will ever compare to The Rig Run, which I think is etched forever in history as my favorite race. 4/6 of that novice crew was a part of the top Catalina crew.) The other co-ed boat also did very well, and once everyone found land we hoisted our gear to a rented house where we would be staying for the evening.

I had not been to Catalina since I was very young, and I dare say the place is nothing like I remember. Shops left and right, food everywhere, implanted sandy beaches and an eclectic pile of tourists were suddenly overwhelmed by an onslaught of outrigger teams high on post-race euphoria. Outside nearly every café were rows of wooden paddles, swimming gear, and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy.

We proudly accepted our medals at the award ceremony, and quickly our thoughts had turned to more important things: FOOD. The team gathered at a small pizzeria restaurant and crowded together merrily to celebrate the conclusion of the season. We raised our glasses and toasted everything from coach’s dog to the large stuffed buffalo head on the wall and delightfully recounted stories of races past and histories of the club.

That night we danced, we ate, we laughed, we shared, we slept and we were very merry.

We had no clue what was coming.

PART 2: “THE LONGEST DAY”

I will not go into a play by play of each blow we suffered throughout the course of the next day, for in truth it would be tedious to recall and likely depressing to read, but I’ll try to keep the juicy stuff.

When my alarm chirped happily at 6 AM Sunday morning, no one could have known what kind of special hell was in store for us. Since the men’s race was leaving at 10, there was a sizable amount of work to be accomplished early in preparation. Many team members decided to beat the breakfast rush by rising with the sunlight so we could praise the incoming waffle calories with relaxed grins and cheers, laughing over events from the prior evening’s excursions and relishing the fact that we didn’t have to paddle back to the mainland.

Oh, how stupid and naive those hours had been.

As part of a deal to curry favor with the racing association, our team volunteered to assist the Sunday racers with loading their boats onto the water. Though we were happy to help, none of us had expected quite the challenge we ended up facing. Literally carrying canoe after canoe on our shoulders, fighting with wheels and straining our sore, stiff muscles, it wasn’t long before we were all thoroughly hot, sweaty, and tired. The other teams were grateful for our assistance, but by 9 AM it felt like our breakfast had already worn off.

No one could have known our next meal would be long after sunset.

The original plan heading home had been to tow the two canoes we had used in our race with us back to Newport. This number had increased to four by Saturday, which was doable. However, by the time we were done loading boats, we reluctantly agreed to take an additional two unclaimed canoes. That’s right, we were originally prepared to tow 2 canoes with our two support boats, and in reality we had 6 canoes under our care for the ride home. (3 canoes trailing each support boat.)

We had hoped to watch the start of the men’s race, but that did not happen. It took over an hour of discombobulation to rig up 3 canoes to each support boat, mostly due to the fact that only one guy, Eddie, knew how to do it all correctly. He was the super hero of the day, donning his swimming fins and giving orders to the lot of us who didn’t know the first thing about boats. He managed to exhaust himself early, but was optimistic about the set-up and remained cautiously optimistic.

The problems began early.

We were hardly a mile away from Catalina when one of the canoes lines came undone. Soon after that was fixed, another canoe flipped over and was swamped with water. Each time something went wrong, paddlers in the support boats had to jump into the ocean to see what they could do. We had packed each support boat haphazardly, which made the challenges especially tricky, since a person’s luggage wasn’t necessarily packed on their boat.

I, for example, didn’t have my duffle bag and was not wearing my swimsuit. However, when half the team was fighting sea sickness and the other half was huddled under sopping wet towels to stave off the chill from the rising winds, I was frankly happy to jump into the sea with my street clothes in order to help. This, however, posed a tricky issue for when I returned to the boat with little to nothing dry to change into.

Later in the day, a line broke completely. At one point we had to get out of the way of an enormous cargo frigate en route to Long Beach. We didn’t have much food on either boat, save a few power bars that had been gobbled up many hours before and a jar of peanut butter that had been squirreled away here and there which we ended up dipping into with our fingers.

To complicate matters further, each time we stopped it took nearly an hour before we were making forward progress again. With each bump and jolt of the sea, more and more of us became ill or queasy, and before we knew it we were losing daylight.

There is nothing so desperately monotonous as the sea, and I no longer wonder at the cruelty of pirates.
-James Russell Lowell

Despite what you may think about folks who are into outrigger canoeing, a surprising majority of them become easily sea sick. If I were to guess of the top of my head, I would say at least a quarter of our team “fed the turtles” at one point or another, some many times over, while another half certainly acquired sea related headaches. The few of us who were left standing did what we could on empty stomachs and limited water as we made excruciatingly slow progress across the channel.

If you noticed the race results I linked above, you may have seen that our lead canoe raced across the channel in roughly 4 hours and 30 minutes.

Our return journey took 10 hours.

It must be remembered that the sea is a great breeder of friendship. Two men who have known each other for twenty years find that twenty days at sea bring them nearer than ever they were before, or else estrange them.
-Gilbert Parker

There is, I think, nothing that compares to bonding in the face of great adversity. As cheesy at it feels to say, I can’t overstate the heart, the courage, the tenacity, and the spirit of every individual on those two boats during that long sojourn home. To the souls who were fighting a war of wills with their stomachs, I salute you. I have never had motion sickness and can’t imagine what it must be to deal with, but each and every one of them were troopers. To the boys, who I think at one point or another all had to jump into the ocean for one task or another, many of them multiple times, your sacrifice did not go unnoticed. To Eddie, who at times was too tired to even fully express his frustration, summoned up an endless pit of patience and generosity, diving again and again into the frigid waters to tie knots, bark orders and yet managed to keep the safety and well being of his passengers a priority.

One of the canoes swamped again while we were still roughly 18 miles off the coast of Newport when the sun began to set in full. Bobbing up and down in the water with the fading yellow glow of the day on our faces, feeling like drowned rats and most of our teeth chattering, I wanted to hug everyone. Not once did I hear anyone lash out cruelly against another, not once did an act of kindness go without a returned gesture of gratitude. Not once did anyone start blaming someone else or fall into the pit of self pity, and not one resource went unshared. Despite feeling half starved, sun burned, and dehydrated, the company was excellent at all times.

As darkness crept over the waters, we were at long last aided by one of the race support boats who removed our sunken vessel from our tail, and left us free to make haste to the port. Pummeling over large swells, the lot of us were jostled, tossed, flounced, and beaten against the boat and against each other. We all had the look of terrified gnomes beneath our hoods and soaked sweatshirts, but that wasn’t what mattered. Everyone was safe, everyone was accounted for, and we were all going to make it home.

When we finally made it into the blessed harbor, it was fully dark. The water was black and glassy as we slowed our speed, and the tranquility that settled upon us was surreal. The lights of the city docks were dazzling, especially since the moon was a mere sliver among the stars. Passing large cruise boats filled with folks in tuxedos and fancy dresses, we began scoffing them to one another wondering what they had done that day that could possibly compare to our adventures.

We were welcomed on shore by a pair of immensely grateful race officials, who began promising us our own fiefdoms for all our hard work. Their grandiose gestures of wealth and riches were met with a simple chorus of “Please just feed us!”

In my soaking wet khaki shorts and cotton tank top, all I could think about was finding my duffle bag and putting on dry clothes. I was not alone in my sentiment, as another teammate sighed with relief as he donned his first piece of dry clothing in several hours. Others could feel still their legs and heads rocking as they took to the shore, while some seemed to struggle with simply opening their eyes. It’s amazing how the simplest things that make a world of difference.

Since it was nearly 9:30 PM by the time I made it to the car, our next challenge was indeed finding a restaurant that was still open. Good old Denny’s didn’t let us down. There were five of us at the table, but we placed an order that would have serviced an army. Pancakes, skillets, burgers, onion rings, chicken strips, hot chocolate – the scene played out like something from Hook. I could actually feel my body reacting with animated appreciation from within, and the influx of sustenance was followed by a very strong urge to sleep. The Denny's manager nearly bowed to kiss our feet as we left; not a scrap of leftovers to clean from our plates.

Satisfied and happy, the day wasn’t over, for we still had over two hours of driving to do. Though sleep took one of our passengers, I couldn’t abandon my driver and managed to keep us both entertained for the final leg back to Santa Barbara. (Kawika, you’re a rare gem indeed!)

When I at last said my goodbyes and dropped my duffle bag like a zombie in the hallway of my home, it was 1 AM. The pillowy goodness of my own bed never felt so soft, so dry, so deeply wanted. I only had five hours to sleep before rising again for work, but it was one of the deepest five hours of rest I’ve had in a long time.

The next day an email went out from the race officials to the rest of the teams singing our praises, and Ka Nai'a was awarded the "Catalina Crossing Most Inspirational Crew Award."

Damn straight.

It may not have been a "high note" on which to end the season, but it was certainly not an experience any of us will ever forget, and I personally will cherish.

Did it, did it, did it!

Loss

2010-09-08T10:33:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, our beloved tabby cat Sake Bomb departed this life yesterday. I will be honest and say the loss hit Chris and I pretty hard, partially because it was so sudden, though I’m very grateful for all the happy years he spent with us.

Chris brought Sake to the Jesmary house five years ago when he was the definition of “itty bitty.” Selected from a litter of free kittens, the residents of the Jesmary house eagerly adopted him, and fed him more than his fare share. Sake grew and grew and grew, despite infamous “exercising” chase routines around the house. He never learned to jump and was altogether not a very activity driven creature, but he loved being scratched and lounging in the sunshine. The vets always praised his handsome full features, and I will miss the way he would head-butt me to request attention. Though his demeanor could usually be described as quite grumpy, we all knew it was merely a clever front.

His death was entirely unexpected. I currently cling to the idea that he went peacefully, since he was not sick and had shown no signs the previous day of discomfort. Though I hate not knowing what happened, I am grateful I didn’t have to make the decision to put him down, as I don’t think I would have handled that well. Inara, our other cat, so far seems to be her usual adorable self and was a great comfort. Folks have been asking if we’ll get another cat, and I think that decision will rest almost entirely on Inara’s perceivable loneliness.

Making a short video in loving memory of Sake was incredibly helpful to Chris and I, as well as talking about some of our favorite memories as we attempted to fall asleep. I found the process somewhat fascinating, and took note of the way my ache and sorrow slowly transformed into a warm, pleasant set of memories, neatly packaged for my referential comfort. I have not had to face much loss in my life like many others have. For some reason I always believed I would handle it coldly, stoically – which I suppose I could have tried, but there is something about allowing myself to mourn, to hurt, that is a necessary part of the process.

You were a good kitty, Sake – loved by all. Your legend will not fade.

Faith Musings

2010-08-31T10:40:00.000-07:00

“I’m kind of searching.”

“I don’t really think about that stuff.”

“I’m a ‘spiritual person’ – not religious.”

Oh yes – time for another essay.

As a child, I was a curious, open minded mind who continuously absorbed information from school, parents, friends, friend’s parents, neighbors, and so on. Slowly my mind began to fill with images, sensations and experiences; the world around me began to take form and meaning.

When it came to faith and religion, I gobbled up everything I was taught as fact by my school and household. The Bible is true. The Bible has all the answers. God loves me. Jesus died for me to void all the bad stuff I do. Every word from every mouth was true, true, true. I didn’t understand when my friends struggled with their faith, and I didn’t know how to help them “see the light.” I didn’t understand the appeal of Hedonism. I had never read the Koran, and I didn’t know what made Allah any different from Adonai.

Instead of embracing my ignorance, I became very curious … but quickly discovered very few people in my immediate circle had much information on other religions or religious texts, or at least few were willing to share. I got the impression that other faiths and their writings were in some way bad, and that by reading them I would taint my spirit somehow or that my Christian identity would be marred by the stains of their dark and evil powers. As in the Garden of Eden, the tree of knowledge seemed to be forbidden.

My mind was quickly filled with simplified derogative summaries of those other people. Mormons were crazy and wanted to be aliens. Muslims were also nuts and felt obligated to kill people. Jews were bitter because they missed the boat. Buddhists and Hindus were uneducated and had no logic in their philosophies. New Agers were basically leftover hippies. For a long time I felt as though I was taught to pity these poor “other” people who had rejected the message of Christ. Lucky for me I was going to heaven, but how sad that they were all going to burn, burn, burn. This mentality was thankfully short lived. As my own faith deepened and matured as I grew up, my curiosity expanded and matured as well.

Traveling to Thailand, I saw what it was like to live the life of a Buddhist in a culture where Buddhism was standard. I had the opportunity to teach English to a class of monks and serve a small orphanage. I saw that these people were not stupid, and I noticed things in their faith that were beautiful; their teachings were basic, but they tried to answer similar questions; what is this life, and how are we to live it? I was in Thailand as a missionary for Christ. My goal, as I understood it, was to enlighten the people I met with the good news of the gospel. In the time I spent there, however, I found myself changed and influenced deeply by the faith of Buddhists, Christians, and even Atheists. I drank in the beauty of the land, people, and culture and widened my own life perspective and reality in a breathtaking way.

Much later, I traveled to Jordan and Israel and encountered Jews, Muslims, and Christians in the Middle East. The majority were lovely people, searching like me for answers in a broken world, taking hope in their faith and traditions, some with vastly more devotion and love than I had ever before encountered.

"Seek first to understand, then to be understood." - Stephen R. Covey

(Who is this Covey guy? A Christian, right? Nope, he’s a Mormon.) I wish with all my heart that people followed this principle; an attitude like this embodies such humility, such respect, such love – it could easily bring me to tears if I allowed it. In recent years I feel as though I find the most ‘Christian’ things in non-Christian places, and like many for a long while I was disgusted and angry with organized religion as a whole. (Why is it fury is so much more comforting than sadness and despair?) It is a challenge not to choke and suffocate on the failures of the church as an institution; it is a daily struggle to keep my enthusiastic inner cynic quiet.

Not to mention the painful friction of evangelism I am still learning to embrace. On one hand, I believe I have this gift, this faith, this beautiful knowledge that I want everyone to share with me. When people don’t want that gift, I feel obligated to somehow sell them on it, like one might sell insurance on a DirecTV dish. (Convince them it’s useful, they need it, and they’ll regret not taking it later.) But then I remember that faith is not for sale, and I’m not trying to earn a twisted spiritual commission for padding church numbers. It is free to accept and free to reject, and there is peace to be found in that fact.

“Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” – attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi

In the end, it all boils down to a choice; one which leads to a lifetime of choices. I choose to believe the gospels; I choose to alter my behavior in accordance with the teachings of the church. I freely admit that this choice is part logic, part emotion, and part hope. I know and accept that I could be wrong, and acknowledge the pitiful holes in my understanding. My prayer is to love others in the way we have been called, to be a living witness to the hope I have accepted, and always be quick to listen first.

NaNoWriMo

2010-08-20T09:28:00.000-07:00

This post may seem a little early, but I figured I'd get people excited well before the grand event. What is National Novel Writing Month? Well, it is madness, chaos, pain, sweat, tears, agony – and it’s glorious! If you have ever thought about someday writing a novel (or even if not), this is the most exciting kick in the pants ever. Thousands of people all around the world participate each year, accepting the challenge to write 50,000 words in one month. (That month being November.)

Last year I “won” with flying colors, finishing at around 71,000 words by the last day. (Though I must admit I kind of jumped the gun and cheated by starting a couple days early since I was so excited.) I have yet to go back to that rough tome I pounded out for editing, but I know it’s there waiting for me. I struggle to put into words just how proud I am of what I did, and how incredible it feels to watch the little word counter click upwards bit by bit. At the end of the month, though the frustration can be incredibly burdensome, you have produced something many have never managed: a fully loaded rough draft.

I have started my outline for this year's story already, thinking through characters and plot twists, arming myself for the frenzy. Last year I wrote an adventure story which took place in Australia that vaguely resembled a fanciful trip I took there when I was in high school. This year I'm planning on doing a more blatant fantasy/sci-fi style story that is so far turning into a freak hybrid of Heroes and Narnia that follows a girl who has the ability to smell lies. Should be interesting!

If any of you fellow writers think all this sounds exciting or fun in any way, I highly encourage you to sign up and join the madness when the time rolls around. Let me cheer you on, or join us for a late night keyboard mashing party. You won’t regret it.

Santa Cruz Island

2010-08-16T15:15:00.000-07:00

3 Days. 60 miles. Fracking awesome. (Video here.)

This weekend Ka Nai'a outrigger embarked on an epic journey that many of us have been looking forward to all season: paddling out to Santa Cruz Island. (A training run for our upcoming race to Catalina.) For you non-locals, the Channel Islands are a lovely little chain that you can see on clear days off the coast of Santa Barbara. Roughly 30 miles of open ocean separate Scorpion Harbor (our destination) from our home harbor of Santa Barbara. (Below, I added a nice little line to this photo to demonstrate our approximate route.)

Questioning our sanity, we awoke obscenely early Friday morning to be on the beach ready to go at 5 AM. Chris was gracious enough to get up as well and drop me off, with a simple command to have fun and be safe. The sun was not quite out yet as we excitedly slid the canoes onto the black, still ocean waters. The harbor was wrapped in mist and fog, giving an eerie glow to the pier and dock lights as our voyage began in full. Co-workers and "friends" had tried to ~~scare~~ warn many of us in the days prior of recent shark activity in the area, but we were undaunted. Numbering 17 brave souls in total, 6 in each of our two canoes and 5 in the support boat that lead the way, our excitement far outweighed our collective nerves.

Half way across the channel the wind picked up, and steadily got worse as we approached the island, which loomed illusively in the distance. It took a little under 5 hours, but we made it across with no problems. The whoops of joy and pride echoed from the boats into the hills as we came into the harbor, greeted by awestruck kayak tourists who had been ferried out that morning. (It was hard not to judge them, but I managed to keep my prideful smugness at bay despite their ~~dorky~~ bright yellow helmets and life jackets.)

Our campsite was a small trek from the loading dock, and we forced our aching bodies to haul our double bagged possessions for the weekend over. We made ourselves at home with tents and a small feeding frenzy of power bars, relishing our accomplishment. The local red foxes eyed our food greedily, darting in and out of our campsite with catlike agility and little to no hints of intimidation.

After hydrating thoroughly, the day was still young so a few of us took an 8 mile hike into the hills of the island. The views were lovely, and peering back at the mainland was invigorating. "Can you believe we
just paddled across that channel this morning?" we kept asking one another in mild disbelief. The feeling was indeed quite unique and incredible. Collectively we had done something that few others will ever even think to do, and we could not have done it alone. (At least, I wouldn't want to try.)

One of the paddlers had taken it upon himself to be the weekend chef, and our bellies were never in want. From breakfast burritos to home-made salsa and granola, it was a heavenly feast. I slept well both Friday and Saturday night despite a torrent of wind that swept through the canyons, and relished the company of teammates and the beauty of our surroundings. There was swimming, laughing, toenail painting, stretching, sleeping, eating, more eating, and good company.

Before we knew it, the time had come to do it all over again.

The return sojourn had some unique surprises in store. To begin with, the wind picked up early so the first hour of paddling away from the island could have easily been featured in some kind of I-Max film, or at least accompanied by Indiana Jones theme music. The waves were cresting as I was stationed in seat 1 of the canoe, taking full hits of white water to the face and whooping like crazed cowboy; feeling very much alive and grinning like a fool. It was a tough run back, and the mainland was encased in a thick cloud of fog which made it incredibly difficult to figure out exactly how far away we were. Tired, hungry, and low on energy, it was an sensational moment to recognize "the red bell buoy" straight ahead. Spirits soared and we dug in hard for the last leg, cheered on by a smattering of tourists along the pier.

Incredibly enough, we all had plenty of energy left over to put the canoes away and haul ourselves back to the launch ramp of the harbor to sort out our gear. Happily, there was also a pile of leftover food to greet us on which we feasted while slapping one another on the backs with gusto, so happy to be home. What started as an already tight team resulted in something else, something special. I'm not sure what that bond is exactly, but it's good. Almost as good as the hot shower I took when I got home.

Gratitude as Virtue

2010-08-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

"When asked if my cup is half-full or half-empty my only response is that I am thankful I have a cup." - Sam Lefkowitz

Today I decided to be grateful for several things, the first one being my job. Yesterday was a little rough because it was Monday, which means it was an incredibly slow day. I’m talking snail stepped in bubble gum slow. Lots of folks are out on vacation, and generally there is always a lull in the already pitifully light workload around the office during the summer.

When things are incredibly slow, it’s easy to let myself feel whiny. What am I doing here? Does this work define me as a person? But then I was reminded today how grateful I am to have a job that I honestly do enjoy and allows me to afford an abundance of things, both necessary and frivolous.

"In our daily lives, we must see that it is not happiness that makes us grateful, but the gratefulness that makes us happy." - Albert Clarke

But all that got me thinking, what is gratitude? Is it saying “thank you” when expected or appropriate? Consider the following scenario:

Mom: Eat your peas.

Child: I don’t wanna.

Mom: You should be grateful for the opportunity to eat peas.

Child: I’d be more grateful for some ice cream!

Both child and mother in this case here misuse the term “grateful,” I believe. It is perfectly possible to be grateful for the opportunity to eat peas/ available food and still prefer to not eat it. By not wanting the peas, the child is not necessarily being ungrateful.

Gratitude is not simply a sentimental feeling, much in the same way patience is not a feeling. I think the ability to remember to be grateful is learned, and can be something to strive for. Thus gratitude is more like a virtue that shapes not only emotions and thoughts but actions and deeds as well. In reflecting on this, I decided to do a little research and was struck by some of the things I found.

Apparently, “Grateful people are happier, less depressed, less stressed, and more satisfied with their lives and relationships. Grateful people have more positive ways of coping with the difficulties they experience in life, being more likely to seek support from other people, reinterpreted and grow from the experience, and spend more time planning how to deal with the problem. Grateful people also have less negative coping strategies, being less likely to try to avoid the problem, deny there is a problem, blame themselves, or cope through substance use. Grateful people sleep better. Numerous studies suggest that grateful people are more likely to have higher levels of happiness and lower levels of stress and depression.”

Sounds like something worth pursuing, right?

“Gratitude is not only the greatest of the virtues but the parent of all others.” - Cicero

That’s pretty interesting, when you think about it. Do all other virtues first stem off from the ability to recognize how much you have to be appreciated? Does this often naturally lead one to thank an outside force larger than themselves? God/ the universe/ chance/ fate?

A traditional Islamic saying states that “the first who will be summoned to paradise are those who have praised God in every circumstance.” It was also suggested that profound gratitude is among the signs of true religion.

"Gratitude is the heart's memory." - French proverb

It does ring true that anytime I am tempted to envy a neighbor for x,y,z or wish that my life looked more like ______, a quick list of the things to be grateful for can put it all back into perspective. It seems then that gratitude is a virtue to be practiced at every opportunity, over things both great and small.

This is not about becoming someone who is constantly reminding people to look on the bright side or be thankful for the crappy hand they are dealt, but rather recalling (on some subconscious level) at all times that there is always something good to hold on to. This does not mean, I think, that you have to see the upside to every situation, but rather dwell on the brighter spots instead of the dark ones and keep your priorities in a healthy place.

Know and appreciate what you have before you lose it.

Dear Winter

2010-08-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

I know that there are many other parts of the country that have been melting in the dire, sultry heat this summer, but I assert that those super heated folks are thieves. Yeah, you heard me - thieves!

Summer has completely skipped the majority of So. Cal this year, Santa Barbra especially. Not only has it been windy, it has been down right foggy and frigid. And you know what? We're sick of it! (Especially we paddlers who are out in it at 6AM!)

That is all.

Inara Alarm Clock

2010-07-30T09:32:00.000-07:00

I dare say, there are worse things to wake up to on a Friday.

In Defense of Horror

2010-07-27T08:43:00.000-07:00

“Of all the things thrown at us by the entertainment industry, I think that the horror genre is the only one that has nothing redemptive to offer.”
– some ~~douche~~ guy

When I heard the above statement muttered in my presence, I took a disciplined deep breath and let it go; promising myself I would do the passive aggressive thing later and post my retort via the mighty interwebs. Though I found his statement insulting, it inspired me to undertake this task of composing a humble defense of the misunderstood genre known as horror.

To start, I would like to point out that horror as a general category and style is vast, for it includes an incredibly wide variety of films. It is likely that the ~~ignoramus~~ individual above was thinking of only a very narrow selection of these works, probably in reaction to the influx of movies known commonly as “torture porn” like Hostel or Wolf Creek rather than that of a psychological thriller such as The Silence of the Lambs. (Tip: writing off an entire genre without clarification will always make you sound stupid, especially since the concept of a genre is ever expanding and evolving and a worthy discussion topic of its own.)

For the record, I am not asserting that horror movies are for everyone. I understand that some folks find them traumatic and uncomfortable, especially for movie watchers who are high empathizers. (I experience a similar adverse reaction to most “girly” movies and tend to avoid them accordingly.) On the other hand, I will point out that horror has produced some true masterpieces that are often unfairly overlooked (The Thing, 28 Days Later, and The Shining) both critically for their content as well as the performances of the actors in them. Multitudes of folks have never seen these great works, simply because they are in the horror section of their local Blockbuster.

Yet the question remains: what do people get out of horror? Is there indeed something “redemptive” in it? Indeed, true horror fans tend to watch anything and everything they can get their eyeballs on, despite foreknowledge of the content being utter rubbish. (I do not include myself in this category, though like many I have a weakness for all things zombie.) Obviously, there are enough general horror lovers in the world that Hollywood continues to churn out even the most depraved teen slasher projects regardless of depth, plot, talent or caliber since they consistently rake in piles of money.

So why do we love them? Why are they important? Depending on the content and atmosphere of the particular film, the reasons can be many, but here are some:

Losing control. Our lives can be (happily) bland, routine, and uneventful, but horror movies offer an alternative reality that plays upon our worst fears in a safe environment where we are not required to take any action against it. In many cases, the hero lives to tell the tale, and on some level we hope we’d react with similar heroism if we found ourselves facing the same terrible scenario.
Fear. Seriously folks, who doesn’t like getting a little scared? I don’t believe I’m alone when I say I loved those haunted house walkthroughs that were put together during Halloween as a kid. There’s just something about that “fight or flight” reaction that sends the adrenaline rush pumping through your heart and makes limbs tremble. It possesses you when that masked man wielding a chainsaw in a dark room decides you’re his next victim. Even if you know it’s just some poor schmuck who thought he’d make a career out of playing for the XFL, you scream anyway. Why? Well, because it’s just plain fun.
Shock Value. Just when you thought you'd seen it all, WHAM! Someone pushes the envelope a little further, a little sicker, a little crazier, and the ride starts all over again. Humans appreciate and enjoy creativity, even when it concerns an ugly subject. We get a charge of energy in the face of the unpleasant, and ride the wave as these things stimulate and access pieces of ourselves that often go untouched. At times it is as if writers and directors are playing a twisted game of 'Double Dog Dare' by challenging one another to push the envelope just a little more than before.
Hidden Messages. Horror movies have the potential to pack a political or social punch that would otherwise come off as trite or heavy handed. You have a particularly captivated audience. George A. Romero has demonstrated this with his work, critiquing racism and consumerism through moaning zombies. Guillermo Del Toro, director of Pan's Labyrinth points out: "Horror has such possibilities. Only here can you create the sublime act of art out of such a vile subject matter. I have always found poetic images in the most horrific tales."
Rite of Passage. Are you bold enough to sit through Evil Dead II with your eyes open the entire time? I remember being filled with such pride for being able to view Willow all by myself as a child and not once cover my eyes to peek through my fingers. In many ways being able to face and deal with the realities and nightmares, real or unreal, is a large part of growing up. To again quote Del Toro, "There is always this great tension between the innocence of children and the brutality of the real world. We are always trying to pretend that children live in a perfect world, but in reality many are hurt brutally every day. We must make peace with the dark side."
Memorable Moments. An inept drama or comedy can be painful to endure. An inept horror can pack one moment, one scene, which can prove unforgettable.
Community. Horror is communal. I’d never encourage people talking in a theater, but there is nothing that compares to an involved audience. Suddenly, a standard horror viewing transforms into an event that is shared, experienced and enhanced by those around you. A classic example is when I drug Chris to opening night of Snakes On A Plane! and people would hiss excitedly through the quiet moments of the film.

I will never forget the images that terrified me as a child ... images that followed me to the mailbox at the end of our dark driveway, lurked under my bed and even stalked me at the community pool. (And don't pretend Jaws didn't have the same result on you, too!)

Everyone has their own individual nightmares; my best friend hates ghosts and demons, some people don’t like aliens or guys with knives. As for me, furry creatures with fangs make my skin crawl - I know before seeing any werewolf movie or Kujo that I may want a pillow or a strong hand to hold.

Either way, I can’t quite explain the kind of joy I get out of experiencing such raw emotion through a film - it's not just about "being entertained" - it's being presented with a compelling conflict and having my wits chased and teased by unseemly creatures and mind bending scenarios of depravity and darkness. Part of it is the thrill of exploring territory I would otherwise never discover on my own, while other times it is like a test to see just how far I can allow myself to go before I must retreat back to my world of comfort, safety and sanity.

I have seen a great deal of evidence that the ability to be "unshockable" is incredibly valuable. I have met folks with hard, dark pasts; they have seen and lived through things that I struggle to imagine, but I am rarely shocked. Being able to let them tell their stories, the nightmares which are their reality, and not flinch or shy away brings many comfort. I may not have been in the trenches with them at any time in my own history, but I have put myself in some dark places through films and books, and can grapple in some meager way with the pain in their lives and attempt (even feebly) to be a part of their healing process.

Many horror films also dare to explore the beauty that can be found in the most unusual places. Be it a satiric comedy like Fido or a classic like Frankenstein, there is a powerful lesson in looking into the eyes of a "monster" and finding a creature that is lonely and simply wants to be loved. This ability to look beyond the initial knee-jerk reaction of disgust is tragically rare in people today.

Finally, I hesitate to bust out the "Jesus card" here, but I want to seal the deal. Christ himself descended into hell (whatever that looked like in reality, none can say) and he faced the deepest nightmare of all: he conquered death itself. He was mercilessly tortured, he was unjustly hated, he was hunted down and betrayed.

If that's not a horror story with some serious redemptive value, I don't know what is.

Delights at Reception

2010-07-23T11:56:00.000-07:00

Tres Anos!

2010-07-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

That’s right boys and girls, Chris and I tied the knot three years ago! I hardly feel like that much time has passed since our wedding – it’s a little nuts to think about the way time flies. Here are some big event highlights to help convince everyone (including me) that yes, it really has been that long:

YEAR ONE

- Chris starts at UCSB for his Masters in Computer Science

- Watched all 9 seasons of The X-Files

- Megan starts new job at law firm

- Megan teaches herself to cook

YEAR TWO

- We both got our M class licenses and a motorcycle

- Chris started new job at Cogi

- Obtained our second kitty, Inara

- Bought condo in Carpinteria together

- Watched all 7 seasons of The Shield

- Chris got his black belt in karate

YEAR THREE

- We were made proud Uncle and Aunt

- Megan joined local outrigger canoe team

- Chris started new job with The Trade Desk

- Megan starts up with a Paralegal program at UCSB

- Chris completes his Masters in Computer Science at UCSB

Whew! This year the date kind of snuck up on us. Chris was so busy finishing up school, and me with paddling, it’s no wonder the time has been zooming by.

For fun, I did a Google search on “Power Couples” to see what popped up. I guess I should have known better, but the majority of them were movie star pairs like Brangelina, Tomkat, as well as the lovely Obamas. So then I started thinking of iconic or lesser known couples instead, and thought of what ways Chris are or are not similar. Here are some things I came up with:

Chris has taught me that being “old fashioned” doesn’t have to mean “outdated” – in fact, it can be downright classy and refreshing.

~~Constant denial~~. Good balance - when one of us wants to believe, the other one is always willing to slap a scientific explanation on top of it.

Neither of us are afraid to get our hands a little dirty, nor are we shy about putting spoiled princess whining in its place.

~~Oh, the drama~~! Unlike Wolverine and Rogue here, we knew what we wanted the first time.

Fortunately Chris and I are both substance abuse free - though I can make the argument that you can have too much orange chicken.

Kicking ass and puppy eyes can go hand in hand.

~~Stockholm syndrome?~~ We’re getting good at seeing past the occasional monster morning breath.

Like Brent and Jade here, we’re becoming uncannily good at saying just the right thing.

Is that same old trick still romantic the 3rd time around? Yeah, it is.

I love being continually remind that no, you didn’t “settle” for this one.

Movies of Summer

2010-07-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

This past year Chris and I have become increasingly picky about the movies we are willing to see in theaters; it's expensive and incredibly annoying to be disappointed. We have restricted our film candidates to mostly action movies, where big screens and booming speakers actually add to the experience. (Not to mention the fact that these films are our hands down favorites.)

The following are the movies that made the cut this summer, and I have scaled my reviews in accordance with my own personal preference.

Iron Man 2
I was delighted by this sequel. Why? No, not because the fights were bigger, badder, more bad ass (because they were not) but because unlike many sequels, the characters were given a chance to grow. Their situations had changed, their relationships were strained, and I was delighted to watch it all unfold. The cast is stellar, as usual, and the effects were fun.

Final Grade: A-
Will I buy it? Likely

Robin Hood
In a word: disappointing. This is not the story of Robin Hood, but rather the prequel to what may eventually be the Robin Hood story. Though the cast is top notch, this film morphed into a strange Gladiator/Braveheart historic hybrid that failed at almost everything it was aiming to become. I was entertained (if you forget the last 15 or so minutes of the film) but left unsatisfied.

Final Grade: B-
Will I buy it? No way

Sex and the City 2
Yes, I saw this without Chris. Despite the flack this movie got form critics, I quite enjoyed this. As a fan of the original show, it had all the familiar flair and frivolous fun of the series. It wasn't deep or serious, and it wasn't supposed to be. It remedied the issues I had with the first movie by being short, light, entertaining, and made me laugh out loud - like a lunch with old friends.

Final Grade: B+
Will I buy it? No

Predators
I loved the feel of it, the look of it, the sound of it. This was obviously made by someone who knows and loves the Predator series. I was incredibly pleased with the cast and story, though I wish there had been a little more "holy crap!" action and creatures. Generally a solid flick with great re-watchability.

Final Grade: A-
Will I buy it? Yes

Inception
Beautiful effects accompanied with seamless handling of a decently complex plot. The cast was strong, the action fun and the layers of unique ideas and pseudo philosophy kept the packed theater wide awake.

Final Grade: A-
Will I buy it? Unlikely

Embrace a Geek!

2010-07-13T15:19:00.000-07:00

My friend Mike pointed out that the stars have aligned for me today, because not only is it my birthday, it is also "Embrace Your Geekness Day." Apparently this is copyrighted by Wellcat Holidays, and is for people who are "into dungeon games, comic books and doing vampire dress-up," and those who "spend endless hours going strange places on the internet." It’s also geared to celebrate the “brainy” side of people who love technology.

Some folks apparently embrace the day by communicating via social media rather than talking on the phone or face to face. (Though this may not be anything different than the usual.)

In any case, I think it’s a glorious silly holiday to have on this particularly personal and happy day.

I have been showered with well wishes and am incredibly grateful to have so many fabulous people in my life! Thank you, everyone.

Typical Friday

2010-07-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

St. David's Youth Retreat 2010

2010-06-30T11:41:00.000-07:00

On Friday evening I arrived in Long Beach Airport from an incredible week at St. David's Anglican Summer Youth Retreat. The word "incredible" is used very intentionally, because that's exactly what it was. I have been working with the program there for five years, and after this most recent week I can honestly say I've never been so thrilled by how everything came together.

A few of the students have been attending the retreat as long as I have, and the relationships I have had the opportunity to form form have deepened greatly over the years. Yet all of the "returner" students are so loving that the noobies find themselves immediately welcome and included. The joy is contagious; infecting.

Between games of capture the flag, ultimate frisbee, charades, Bible skits and some serious belly laughs, the students also learned quite a bit. The lessons developed by the good Deacon Faith (Chico), Father Davis (Washington) and Father Mautner (Napa) were easy to access, insightful, and relevant.

Instead of only celebrating Mass in the morning, we also had Mass in the evening a couple times. The area where we set up the altar is literally in the middle of the woods, surrounded on all sides by pine trees and accompanied by a symphony of woodland life. It was beautiful to be out there at dusk taking part in the Eucharist, and on the final morning it even sprinkled a bit. The serenity of it made all the mosquito bites well worth it.

In some ways putting the experience of the Retreat into words potentially cheapens it, but I can't help trying. Quite simply, the Lord answered our prayers by blowing our expectations out of the water. Not only did everyone arrive safely (whew!) but the group gelled together immediately. By the end of the second night, everyone felt comfortable with one another, and I was impressed by the level of attentiveness throughout the lessons as well as the abundant energy and sportsmanship during the games. Even the youngest of attendees had thoughtful questions of all sorts that came up at breakfast and in the cabins.

The lesson theme was "Back to Basics" as we explored the way Christ's sacrifice makes sense when we look back at the traditions of the Hebrew sacrifices to cover sin, as well as the ways in which the Mass brings us to the table of Christ. We also had a chance to explore how the Christian life looks today, as well as how we can make good decisions in the midst of the intense pressure we feel on a daily basis from multiple (usually conflicting) sources.

By the last night, it was clear no one wanted to go home. The Retreat is indeed a special place; free of the worries and stress of daily life, and this year the group experienced what it is like to live in a loving community the way God intends for his people.

I could tell dozens of specific stories, but for the sake of this blog length I have chosen only two.

The first is about a girl who came to the Retreat last year for the first time, sponsored entirely by her local parish. She told me that upon her arrival last year, she didn't know what to make out of all the silly, weird, fun loving folks she had met. This year, however, she learned to embrace her own goofiness and shared that the Retreat was the one place where she honestly felt she could be herself; it was a place free of the influence she receives from her friends to be a certain way. Her spirits lifted by the promise of Christ and the fellowship of friends who love her the way she is, I was able to watch as her tender heart and quick laughter became a blessing and joy to all around her.

The next story is from a young man who was at the Retreat for the first time. He attends a private Christian school and explained that his teachers are constantly telling him about God and referring to God, but the past week was the first time he felt like he really understood who God is and how salvation through Christ works. (Yeah, since I had a similar experience to this when I was younger I totally cried when he started talking about that.)

As we parted ways, the students left encouraged and empowered, as did the staff. Weeks like that are truly the memories on which our lives become shaped and our hearts grow, and I'm so grateful to be a part of it.

Once again, I'll be counting down until next summer. In the meantime and if you are interested, Brenton and I have set up a youtube account where you can catch some of the highlights! (The skits are especially fun, once they all get uploaded...)

Yoda, and the Lie of Black & White Choices

2010-06-16T16:24:00.000-07:00

Recently a small group of friends have been gathering to watch the original Star Wars because one of my poor, neglected, abused paddle teammates had never seen them.

Monday night we watched The Empire Strikes Back, which is my favorite, and it was delightful. The highlights had to be when the above mentioned teammate gasped with a horror filled “No waaaaay!” during the big paternal reveal. (I am still kicking myself for not having the camera rolling for her reactions.) In some ways it’s like watching it for the first time with her, relishing the action sequences, character quirks and C3PO humor with a fresh slate. DELIGHTFUL!

While watching, I was unexpectedly struck by something Yoda says to Luke regarding discernment between the light and dark sides of the Force. Luke inquires as to how he will be able to tell the difference between the two when confronted, and the ancient Jedi master replies, “You will know - when you are calm; at peace. Passive.”

This got my little brain hamster running. Yoda is wise indeed!

How often do people make decisions based on their current strongest emotion? When I’m angry or irritated, the cruelest response often becomes instantaneously the most appealing. However, when you take a deep breath, consider your options and all the possible consequences, or even simply wait it out for a while, it’s amazing how drastically inclinations may change, and the “right” option reveals itself.

Yoda goes on to say that the dark side of the Force is not stronger, but “quicker, easier … more seductive.”

Again, in many respects this makes complete sense. Sometimes in the ho-hum daily routine of life, I forget how effortlessly I can be “seduced” into saying something nasty behind someone’s back; justify all my passive aggressive behavior, or my tendency to be selfish and lazy with my free time.

“The dark side are they!”

On the other hand, Yoda’s wisdom is in many ways far too simplistic for reality. (As in, all those times when you’re not fighting evil incarnate ala The Empire.) Often, good and bad (or light and dark) terms become muddled and unhelpful, despite the fact that ~~politicians~~ folks love to throw those labels around. Instead, things blend together into a complex network of hypothetical scenarios and reactions. Pull one string and a million others may tighten, while others come unraveled.

Too often, there is simply no “right” or “wrong” way to go – there are just choices, and other choices.

Making Good Decisions

So what is one to do when there are no “right” or “wrong” options? Meditation and prayer can’t always determine (though they can certainly help) if you should take or quit this or that job, invest in what stock, settle down in what town, etc. – yet in the end, a decision must be made. Even refusing to make a choice becomes a decision eventually.

Growing up, I thought that there were good choices and there were bad choices, and for the most part it would be quite simple to tell the difference between the two. I strove to continually seek God’s “perfect will for my life,” which (in my mind) was one “right” path at any given time, which (shocker) was an incredibly stressful way of thinking when making decisions. It made potentially choosing the “wrong” thing overwhelming. What if I get off the correct path and deviate into the pagan backwoods? What if God sent me a sign explicitly telling me what to do and I totally missed it?

I eventually came to realize that in some instances there simply are no “right” or “wrong” choices. (There are also sadly no guaranteed methods of making good decisions.) Some folks make pro/con lists, others eat ice cream, some consult friends, others read tea leaves.

For a personal example, I’ll use my decision to marry Chris (since it’s a biggie); a choice I could not make in a vacuum or a science lab. In that case, a pros/cons list seemed … inappropriate. Words of wisdom from friends and family were helpful, but in the end it simply came down to a decision that I could fully own.

Really, it was a united peace with my gut, heart, and mind. It made sense logically and fit comfortably with all the needed factors to ease me into the territory of a confident answer to his proposal.

Choosing one path inevitably closes off others, and you can rarely fully predict the outcome of any given decision. Whatever the tactic, I think the key is often simply being honest about what you want, value, need, can realistically do, and can realistically live with.

“When you cannot make up your mind which of two evenly balanced courses of action you should take - choose the bolder.”

- William Joseph Slim

Almost three years later, I know I made an excellent choice in marriage. Notice that I didn’t say I made the “right” choice. After all, if I had bolted for the hills that would have certainly been different, but not wrong. What that life would look like now, I am at least content to say I will never know.

Anyway, I think taking the time to make decisions with confidence makes it possible to live without regrets. It also reminds us wee mortals to rest in the assurance that God is God, and ultimately in control.

I may not be able to use the Force all the time, but by golly I'll use anything I can to help navigate me through this crazy, crazy world of ours.

Thanks, Yoda.

The Computer Science Master!

2010-06-09T12:06:00.000-07:00

As many of you probably already know, my beloved husband is officially done with his Masters program of Computer Science at UCSB. It has been a long three year haul, especially since he continued to work full time through the entire thing.

Look, even the Big Bang Theory cast are happy for him! (Shhhh I had a slow morning.)

I am thrilled that he will no longer have the cloud of responsibility, obligation, and stress hanging over his head. Gone are the days of old when we were barred from hosting Game Nights; no longer shall our Netflix go unwatched for weeks on end!

I still feel a little bad that all I could do to help out was feed him, but I suppose that's a biggie when you consider most people do that a couple times every day.

To celebrate, Chris is getting lasik surgery on his eyes on Friday. Not only is he over school, he's tired of wearing glasses. I think he has more than earned the reward.

Chris, I'm so proud of you for sticking with it even when you didn't want to, for letting me nag you into taking a break every once in a while, and for being caring, loving, patient and generous through it all.

Paddle Racing Update & Recap

2010-06-08T11:45:00.000-07:00

I have failed utterly in my attempt to gather footage of my last two paddle races, so once again you get the long written versions. I have to admit that I dramatically underestimated the time commitment I was pledging to the outrigger canoe team when I first decided to join the race team. Four weekly practices plus a race ¾ weekends every month for the summer is indeed something of an intense schedule.

I do, however, have the time to spare and so far have found the rewards well worth the effort.

Our winning streak continued at Marina Del Rey two weeks ago.

The sky was clear and the sun was shining, but the wind had come as well. Fortunately for the novice folk like myself, the crazy swells didn’t pick up until later. Just like last week, I was in the co-ed novice boat. The other two girls remained with me as well as our steersman, along with two new high caliber gents. We were all excited to get some butt again.

Feeling confident, we got our blood pumping with some warm-up strokes as we paddled out to the start line in the channel. It was crowded, and our steersman, who had learned his lesson last week, took extra precaution as we negotiated our way through the other boats. The heats for the start of the race had been changed up a bit. Normally, 3 horns are blown for the start of the kid’s race, the men and co-ed, then the women. In this race, however, they were concerned about overcrowding and decided to break it down into 12 starts, one for each category. Our co-ed boat was scheduled to be in the 4th heat, right after our men’s boat.

I’m not sure who was or wasn’t paying attention to what, but the bottom line is when our start horn sounded, we were still at least two boat lengths away from the line. Befuddled, we looked around wondering if we had indeed missed it, and fumbled with our paddles until I finally cried, “That was us! GOOOO!!”

Slightly panicked, we began paddling like hamsters on crack. Happily, the pack wasn’t far away, and we were able to catch them quickly. Negotiating our way forward, we found ourselves battling two other boats for the top spot. We nearly got pinched in, but we decided to take the outside route and once we had space to run, we were gone.

The first turn took us out into the open water, where the swells were waiting. The rolling waves were thankfully easy to predict, but it was hard work keeping the boat from rolling over and trying to maintain our solid lead. At the turn around, the second place boat was right on our tail.

As we took off back to the channel, we gained distance once again and were feeling solid as we went into the final long stretch. Then we started getting tired … you could feel the “ho hum” as we pulsed, growing content that no one could catch us. Then we heard it – a boat closing in on our tail. Slightly panicked, we picked up the pace to try and ward them off, but it was no use; they were going to pass us. To our great relief, it was a boat full of men, and no threat to our first place finish.

Whew! Another win for us! They didn't hand out standard medals for placing at this race, oooh no - instead, they give you beer mugs! Haha, I like this sport ...

Ventura

After a week off and a grueling couple practices, this past weekend we raced in Ventura. The fog was thick, cold, and heavy. I don’t think the sun woke up with us that day, but I was in for a surprise.

Not only was I not racing with my usual co-ed novice team, I was placed with the open women; the big guns! The rock stars! I didn't feel worthy ... and though I was delighted and flattered deep down, upon hearing the announcement my face drained of all color and my stomach fluttered.

The other open ladies were generous in their encouragement, which I greatly appreciated, and in the my initiation was gentle since the weather was cool, the waves were tame, and the distance was actually shortened from 12 miles to 8 due to the visibility. I did my best, and though we didn’t place, I was proud of myself. Check out the action shot!

We have another grueling couple weeks of practice ahead of us, and soon we’ll be heading back down to San Diego for the Ironman State Championship. Oodalali!

Office Encounter of the Day

2010-06-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

This is why I have so many flats.

Actually, you're just short all the time.

Memorial Day Weekend

2010-06-01T12:09:00.000-07:00

This weekend, Eric and Brian battled through LA traffic to stay with us for a highly anticipated visit. What was on the “to do” list, you ask?

Why, Dungeons & Dragons, of course!

Brian has been our impeccable Dungeon Master (DM) for over a year now, and over time the campaign has sucked in our friends Ben and Mike. We don’t get to play very often, so when we do it’s a grand event. I had two grueling paddle practices on Saturday and Sunday morning (during which the sun managed to turn my poor back bright red… oops), so hacking up enemies afterwards was more than welcome.

Our questing was grand – we faced a hearty hobgoblin, a deadly hag, and an enormous mutant pig named Pudding who was on performance enhancing herbs. The Wizard (Chris) tossed bugbears and wolves out open windows like rag dolls, the Barbarian (Ben) hacked at foes with tremendous force and performed an amazing leaping strike from a second story, the Cleric (Mike) was wracked with guilt over abandoning a defenseless princess, the Shaman (Eric) was out of healing faster than we could consume the ginger cookies, and the Warden (me) took one heck of a beating, suffering from blindness, poison, and ultimately conking out in a curtain of darkness.

Monday I had a chance to see Sex and the City 2, which I enjoyed much more than I had anticipated, followed by a quintessential relaxing BBQ on the beach. (Complete with questionable rice crispie treats, which I chose not to taste.)

Tonight is the last day of my Fundamentals for Paralegals course, which is exciting. I think I will continue with the certification program, which means I should be done in about two years. This will not be anywhere near the work Chris has put in to his masters program, which is also in its final week! I’m so proud!

Dear Netflix

2010-05-28T09:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Netflix,
Please back your awesome community features; I miss them ... I have phantom pains. Lost are the days when I could stalk my Netflix Friends, judging them harshly by what they recently watched and how many stars they deemed each film worthy. (I mean, what kind of ~~fool~~ person gives a pooptastic movie like Pearl Harbor more than 1 star? The horror ...)

I took great delight in discovering (sometimes before they did) which DVDs my Friends would shortly be receiving in the mail. You have left me no choice but to communicate with these mortals people directly.

And lets not forget the reviews and notes every Netflix Member could post to aid one another through the vast landscapes of documentaries and series discs. Warnings like "Don't bother with the last one since it's just special features" or "I want my three hours back!" came in handy over and over again.

I do not appreciate being denied these daily interactive pleasures. *sniff* I told Blockbuster to lick a tree for you. Member since 2002 - cha, you know - before anyone else knew about it. God alone knows how many souls I have won for you.

<3,
Netflix Devotee

P.S. – I know you already addressed the above issue in your blog, and I do forgive you – but this little vent on behalf of 2% of your users is a personal necessity.

P.S.S - I love you. Never leave me.

Adult Children

2010-05-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

When I was but a wee thing, I believed kids and adults were wholly different types of beings. Sure, we had some similarities: both needed to eat, both liked hugs, and both liked to play games. (Though it seemed adults liked this far less than children.) In my developing mind, the tall world was an incredible place for it was free of rules and regulations, and everyone treated one another with respect and dignity.

I believed that adults were never petty, needy, or self centered like children. After all, that was what we were being groomed to become; it was why we were taught to learn our responses of “please”, “thank you”, and “excuse me” - so that someday we could magically morph into those super-human beings known as grown-ups.

When that day came, we could become self efficient, responsible, and never fret because we would always remember to look at the bigger life picture.

In elementary school I remember thinking high school kids were so old. They could drive, they could go on dates, and they could even get jobs. They must be so wise, I used to assume, and they must never worry about what other people think about them. They probably aren’t even scared of the dark anymore.

Needless to say, as time passed I was dismayed over and over again by the degree to which it became evident that these thoughts and assumptions were viciously untrue. To be honest, the shock of it still hits me from time to time.

Take this little instance for example:

A few weeks ago I was at the grocery store, minding own business. I was taking a long pause in the dairy section to scrutinize yogurt labels for a comprehensive comparison of sugar and protein contents. (A weekly battle.)

Suddenly, my Spidey senses began tingling as a woman approached the lit row of cultured bacteria in a huff, occupying the space beside me. I assumed at first that she had spotted the “10 for $10” sale on the ~~useless and sugar laden~~ Yoplait single servings, but then I noticed she was reared up before them with her arms crossed like a general before troops preparing to march into the climactic battle of an epic movie.

The rage was radiating off this woman, and my instincts ordered me to skedaddle ASAP. I had not yet, however, managed to decide if I was willing to sacrifice 4 grams of protein for the extra sugar that inevitably accompanies all vanilla flavoring, so I lingered.

A few seconds later, a discombobulated punk musician looking gent came to rage lady’s side.

“What the hell is your problem?” I heard him whisper.
“Don’t speak to me,” she seethed. I could smell the venom of her words wafting through the air. “You have no right to speak to me.”

Well, I sure wasn’t going anywhere now … awkward turtle.

“I don’t get why you’re mad at me,” he whined, oblivious to his imminent peril.
“It was my iced tea,” she hissed.
I schooled my features to neutrality.

“I was thirsty,” he shrugged, placing a daring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll buy you another one. Right now. Whatever you want.”
“Just stop talking,” she huffed, slapping his hand away.

That’s when the proverbial camel’s back broke, and musician guy transformed into a balrog.

“Gawd!” he roared. “You’re such a _________.”
(Blank line = slew of uncreative insults typically aimed at a female.)
As the volume went up and fellow shoppers began turning their heads, I hastily chose the extra sugar and got the heck outta there.

I know what you’re thinking – these two were probably 16, 17, right? Oooooh no. We’re talking late thirties, people. (Maybe you’re not surprised.) And yes, they likely had a sea of bigger, deeper issues over which they were actually fighting (I hope?), but still!

You all probably have your own similar stories to this one; from people screaming at one another over parking spaces during Christmas, co-workers with emotional Richter scales, bosses who whine like babies, family or friends who are “no longer on speaking terms” for [insert pathetic reasoning], etc.

It’s not just that I’m amazed by how immature adults can be – I am dumb founded by how much more childish adults are than I ever was as a child! I was raised to do my very best to treat my elders and peers with sensible courtesy, good manners, and only the occasional glib remark. Yet even the wildest of toddler tantrums can hardly be compared to some of the shamelessly self-centered actions of the adult world. It certainly makes me wonder exactly what sort of depraved environments produced the squirrely nutters who apparently make up the bulk of my peers.

Yet, there is hope. As adults, we are never forced to shed the superior qualities and characteristics of children. I rejoice that like Peter Pan, I never have to grow up and am free to remain a “kid at heart” by continuing to be curious, silly, open minded, adventurous, and innocent in all the ways that distinguished childhood as awesome.

Down with big babies. Long live big kids!

How to Vlog

2010-05-24T15:10:00.000-07:00

What the frak, yo? A vlog blog? Yeah, that’s what I thought too … at first.

I'm no expert, however when I got the inkling to start my vlog, I wanted to do some research first. I found several videos that offered tips and tricks on what to do and what not to do as a vlogger, but I didn’t find anything written out. This was not surprising, but I found it a bit irritating since I love lists.  (Grocery lists, to do lists, best dressed lists, you name it...) I love that they can be referenced and kept in mind as opposed to watching some college kid ramble on with “So, like – uhm, yeah … remember to have good lighting and stuff…”

Ugh.

So this post is for you daring souls who are considering making your own vlog, (or maybe some thoughts for veterans) who love lists as much as me. I decided to make it a nice round list of 10. Here we go!

10 Tips for Creating a Sweet Vlog:

   1. Determine your audience.
Who will likely be watching you? Are you staying connected with friends and family? Do you want to become an internationally recognized internet personality? Are you gearing your topics towards people with a specific hobby or interest? These are very important questions to answer before you begin. Not only will it help keep you focused (or not focused), I find it to be helpful to imagine who I’m addressing while filming. By keeping your audience in mind, you will likely feel more confident in what you are saying and how you choose to edit.

   2. Keep the crappy stuff.
When I shot my first couple of segments with my new camera, I deleted nearly all of them immediately. Upon first review, I would realize with horror that I had a booger in my nose, my hair was a mess, my face was off-center, etc. Other times I just couldn’t tolerate staring at myself – it was bizarre to face my own image as it rambled on about … me! Is that really what I look like? What I sound like? I would automatically assume everything was trash and dump it, only to later wonder why I only had a few minutes of film to work with.

Remember that whenever you record even the most embarrassing of sequences, you ultimately don’t have to publish anything you don’t want to, and you just never know what could turn out to be a little gem in the future. In the end, the video is going to be entirely in your control, so any slips can be easily removed later. (Not to mention that bloopers can be some of the most charming moments in your entire video.)

   3. Never say you’re not interesting!
This more than anything else has become my pet peeve when I watch random vlogs peppered around the internet. The moment someone says “So, I don’t think this is going to be very interesting” or “This will probably be super lame” I stop watching. If you don’t even think you’re interesting, why should I waste my time trying to figure out if you’re right or not? Keep in mind that though your life may seem boring to you (because you live it every day) it’s likely going to be new and interesting to your audience. People love stories of all shapes, sizes, and varieties; you never know what will spark someone’s interest.

For example, I can’t believe how many people have told me how much they loved the fact that I revealed how many shoes I keep under my desk at work. (I never would have thought that would be so entertaining since it’s just something I do and never think about.)

   4. Keep a list of ideas.
If you get a spontaneous idea, make sure you write it down. I have a Google doc dedicated to “Vlog Storming” where I can throw little bits of inspiration for future reference when I don’t have a muse to consult. There is nothing more frustrating than getting a fun idea and forgetting it only a day or two later

   5. Write out your thoughts before filming.
Coat tailing off #4, I am not suggesting that you write a full length script (thought that is certainly an option). I am saying that can be useful to first get your thoughts organized. Sometimes when inspiration hits, you can ramble some great stuff off the cuff, but in my experience my favorite videos tend to be the ones that were obviously organized beforehand. They are easy to follow along, they don’t drag on in the middle, and the pacing doesn’t bottom out.

   6. Glance in the mirror.
Initially walking down the vlog road I thought “I just want to be realistic” and didn’t take any time to primp before I began recording. (Most were promptly deleted simply because I looked laughably sleepy.) I don’t exactly do any excessive primping now, but a quick mirror check to make sure I’m not going to make myself cringe later pays off every now and then.

   7. Watch other vlogs.
In the same way that being a reader makes you a better writer, watching vlogs is a great way to get ideas as well as an excellent way to develop your own list of what does and does not work. Watching a video you enjoyed and analyzing it into parts can be incredibly helpful. Was it the subject matter? The setting? The tone? Was the speaker just really hot? These are all interesting facts to consider which enable you to enhance your own work.

   8. Don’t be scared.
As many of you know, I am a pretty confident individual. That said, putting up my first video online was terrifying. You’re just so “out there” for anyone and everyone to watch, judge, and react to, and you rarely get to see live reactions. In many ways the first few hours after a new vlog is posted are torture. Do people like it? Do they hate it? Do they think it’s stupid or boring? In the end, if you like what you did, then it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Take courage, and don’t worry about the trolls. That said …

9. Just DO IT.

Yup, like Nike. Dive in and just see what happens.

10. Have fun.
Ultimately, you have to make sure you enjoy what you’re doing. You can tell when someone is having fun, especially when you’re looking right at them! Chances are if you are engaged and excited about what you’re saying, your viewers will respond in kind.

In conclusion, I would just like to say I have been blessed and delighted by how many friends I have reconnected with because of my vlogs. I am lucky to have kind and generous friends who have given me rewarding and delightful feedback – even some video responses that simply make my week. Vlogs also have the unexpected side effect of gaining quick friends. For example, a few of the people I paddle with have watched my vlogs and immediately felt like they knew me afterwards. It has been an incredible and surprising way to get over that “initial hump” of discovering the inner workings of new people.

Feeling inspired? Hurray! Now go get your vlog on!

Slow Cooker Chicken Taco Soup

2010-05-19T10:03:00.000-07:00

This week has been unusually chilly for the month of May in lovely Santa Barbara, and my daily craving for a warm bowl of soup has amped up - especially after a long afternoon of paddling.

Generally, I don't think recipe posts will be a common thing here (unless you, dear readers, want it to be), but this little mix was a big hit so I figure there is no harm in sharing. (The can of beer is the key.) I usually refer to my slow cooker as "the magic pot" because, well, it is! There is nothing better than coming home to the sweet greeting of hot food ready for me to nom nom nom.

Enjoy!

Slow Cooker Chicken Taco Soup

Ingredients
1 onion, chopped
3 whole skinless, boneless chicken breasts
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 (16 ounce) can chili beans
1 (15 ounce) can black beans
1 bag frozen whole kernel corn
1 (12 fluid ounce) can or bottle beer
2 cups spicey V-8
2 (10 ounce) cans diced tomatoes with green chilies, undrained
1 package taco seasoning
shredded Cheddar cheese (optional)
crushed tortilla chips (optional)
jalepenos (optional)

Directions
1. Toss the onion, chili beans, black beans, corn, beer, V-8 and diced tomatoes in your "magic pot." Add taco seasoning, and stir. Lay chicken breasts on top of the mixture, pressing down until they are just covered by the other ingredients. Set slow cooker for low heat, cover, and cook for 5 hours.
(If you prefer it to be even more soupy, add more V-8.)

2.Remove chicken breasts from the soup and allow to cool long enough to be handled. Stir the shredded chicken back into the soup, and continue cooking for 2 hours. Serve topped with shredded Cheddar cheese, cilantro, and crushed tortilla chips, as desired.

3. Play this fun game: start watching a scary movie and try not to spill any hot soup on yourself.

The Tale of the Rig Run

2010-05-17T10:23:00.000-07:00

I ignored/forgot about my video camera yesterday at my outrigger race, but realized the tale of it all would make an excellent story and follow-up to my last post, so I'm going to blog about the event instead.

The morning began well; especially since I didn't sleep through my alarm. I felt rested and had plenty of time to lather myself in sunscreen, triple check that I had my paddle in my car, and ate a small bowl of Cheerios. It was still dark outside as I left the house around 5 AM, picking up a teammate on the way to Ledbetter Beach, where the second race of our season was about to take place. My club, Ka Nai'a, was hosting this race so we all had to arrive early enough to help set up the food, raffle, and t-shirt booths. I was happy to see that despite the chill of the thick morning fog, there was no wind.

This was going to be a good day.

Time ran away quickly as I helped tear apart raffle tickets, because suddenly it was time to get in the boats to warm up. I was told that instead of racing with the novice women (like the week prior), I would be a part of the co-ed boat, something we didn't have last time since not enough team members had made it to Mission Bay. 3 girls, 3 guys. We had not worked together before as a boat, but I was delighted by who was on the team: all strong, hard workers.

Then everything went wrong.

And yes, I mean everything. We pushed off over the mild shore break to assume our positions, getting ready to line up for the start. At first we were alone, but as other boats joined us the water became crowded. We were having to dodge canoes left and right and after a while a collision seemed inevitable. We hooked left sharply to avoid an incoming team, but they bumped us hard in the back and broke off a chunk of our tail.

Growling, our steersman stopped quickly and one of the officials sped over to check the integrity of our hull. With a roll of duct tape, they patched our now stubby backside up, saying "You should be okay as long as you don't huli."

The wind went out of our sails as we imagined the things we'd soon be hearing out of our coach's mouth. "It just means that now we have to win!" we said to one another jokingly. "You know, to temper the inevitable storm."

No worse for the wear, we joined the mens team on the start line. There were some jabs and semi-hostile remarks exchanged with nearby boats, as well as a few zingers for our club from the line supervisor with the megaphone. (I think he was making fun of our shirts, but I don't remember exactly.)

They announced 30 seconds, and everything turned serious. We assumed our positions, and when the horn blasted we took off strong. At least, the first couple seconds were strong. Almost immediately, we found ourselves in a tight spot. To our right, our mens team began drifting left, and to our left, another team was drifting right. Our amma was up against the right side team, and soon we were pinched in with nowhere to go. I didn't see what happened next, but eye witnesses report that the team to our left not only touched our amma, but hoisted it up and over.

We never had a chance.

With our amma up, we flipped and were cast into the frigid ocean. I had never huli'd before, and boy what a place to have it happen! The adrenaline from the race start and the shock of the cold water had me gasping for air, and a rock of despair hung in my stomach; this was the last way I expected this race to go. I was still holding onto my paddle, and the rest of my team members were quick to action. We gathered floating equipment and assumed our needed positions for righting the canoe. After we had it up, we clambered in and I started bailing. I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my lower back as I hoisted buckets of water out of our boat. (Doh.) Thankfully it didn't bother me much when I was paddling. We managed to get most of the water out quickly, though we still had 6 or so miles to go before we would be done.

"Let's get this over with," our steersman called. The fog was so dense we could hardly see the rest of the boats up ahead of us.

To say we were "upset" would be a vicious understatement.

We set to work, digging hard and steadily gaining on the stragglers ahead as the passion of pride, fury, and will coursed through our veins. Before we knew it, we were passing boats - lots of them. My heart was thundering as I realized this race was far from over. One after another after another, we were catching up to the pack. The adrenaline kicked in again, and this time it was good. We were tearing the field up from behind! We continued to negotiate our way through the masses, aiming for a visible bulk ahead of us. Again with the fog, we couldn't see the turn around buoy until we were nearly on top of it.

In my previous post, I mentioned "the glide" and how crucial it is to the speed of a team. Folks, we were flying. If Luke Skywalker ever made a hover craft for the water, I think it would feel like we did as we came around the turn and began working with the current.

Before long, I heard one of my teammates cry out, "There's the boat that flipped us!"

Sure enough, a familiar combination of colors was just ahead. I like to think they could feel all 12 of our searing eyes of vengeance on their faces as we passed them. (Since any sort of appropriate hand gesture would have interrupted our paddling.) As coach has told us before, there really are no two sweeter words in outrigger than "See ya!!"

Up and up the ranks we continued to climb, passing club after club, the shore drawing up on us quickly.

I heard our steersman whisper in amazement, "No way ..." Taking a brief glance forward, I realized what he was looking at: our men's crew, dead ahead. "We caught the guys!" I gasped.

I couldn't believe it.

How many boats had we passed? Were we in the lead after all that? I tried not to think about it, and kicked myself into a new gear. Our steersman rounded the final corner splendidly, cutting off a couple boats who had not managed to line themselves up correctly. Heading into the final straight away parallel to the shoreline, we were an arms length behind our mens team. Their steersman spotted us and we ran a delightfully sportsmanlike finish to the end.

What an incredible feeling.

After getting our boat safely ashore, my heart was in my throat and I wore an enormously stupid grin for the rest of the day. I wanted to hug anyone - everyone! Somewhere deep inside all of us, we knew we had done something awesome.

That inkling was confirmed later when the results were printed:

Ka Nai'a - FIRST PLACE COED.

Hell yeah!

(To the left here are Alli, Me, Christy, Bruno, Ari, and Kamika.)

Our spirits continued to soar throughout the day, and I'm guessing the thrill is still with them (because it's still with me) today.

Our coaches were beaming with pride.

At practice the next morning, our head coach Mike pulled me aside and showed me the Ka Nai's "motto" (which I had never noticed before) posted on our gear box.

NEVER QUIT, NEVER GIVE UP.

"You guys lived it out on that course. Way to go." (Fuzzy warm feelings ensued.)

Later on in the raffle give away, a ton of my co-workers took home a pile of the prizes, including the grand prize, a stand-up paddle board! I strapped it to the top of my Wrangler and drove it to my office so I could lay it across the desk of the winner: Rafael.

He was chuffed to bits all morning.

One heck of a fun day!

The Art of the Blend – Thoughts on Conformity

2010-05-13T15:36:00.000-07:00

No, this isn’t going to be a post about my ongoing infatuation with smoothies. It’s actually going to reference something that struck me during outrigger practice on Tuesday.

“I’ve just had an apostrophe!” “I think you mean an epiphany …” (Name that movie?)

For those of you who are unfamiliar with outrigger canoeing, it’s one of those “simple yet so complicated” type things. The basic building blocks of a successful team are stroke form, power, and timing. Paddlers need these when entering and exiting their blade from the water; pulling hard and together.

It’s that third element that struck me the other day – what is sometimes called “the blend.” When a team is pulling water at the exact same time and way, the canoe actually lifts out of the water and skims the surface; giving it a natural glide that propels it magically forward. You can feel it happen, and it’s an exhilarating sensation.

That elusive glide, however, is also easy to lose.

The moment your focus on the seat ahead of you shifts, or if your mind wanders to check out a baby seal lounging adorably on a nearby dock, the entire house of cards is in jeopardy. It’s kind of mind boggling exactly how much intentional concentration you need to maintain in order to achieve “the blend.”

I have been guilty of being early in my stroke since day one. That is, my paddle tends to enter the water before the paddler in front of me, throwing off the timing. (What can I say? I’ve always been a little bit of a eager beaver - I like to go fast!) I actually nicknamed one steersperson the “Timing Nazi” because she never failed to call me out about it – sometimes by name. I would usually grit my teeth and mumble something like “yeah, yeah” in my mind, but her constant reminders proved invaluable since they forced me to learn to pay attention and conform.

I finally realized that in order to go faster, I had to slow down. (Doesn’t that sound a little profound in a Sphinx kind of way?) Not only did I need to pay attention to what was happening in front of me, I had to respond accordingly and be ready when things changed - regardless of how fast I want to go.

I don’t know about all of you, but this kind of submission does not come naturally to me; it fights against my innate subliminal instinct to not be “just another face in the crowd.” That pull to be special, intriguing, and independent - to go above and beyond the call of duty. This pressure isn’t from any outside source; it simply springs from an inner cry for attention, spurred by a desire for that precious sensation of believing I have something unique to offer the world.

In a canoe, there is simply no place for the overachiever. Your speed lives and dies together, and the ability to work and blend as one will determine your success. I haven't played on an organized team sport since high school basketball, and had almost forgotten that indescribable bond you develope as a team when you know you just couldn't have done it alone.

I suppose I was reflecting on this because of a few situations I have been in recently at work and on other projects where we started with a cohesive vision: something achievable, neat and tidy. Then someone (everyone probably has a "someone" like this in their lives) comes along and decides they can make it bigger, better, awesomer! And what ends up happening?

A befuddled mess.

It was just a good and humbling reminder that life isn’t a one man show, and it's wise to never deny the power of folks working toward common goals. (Even if it means you don't get to be the hero.)

Ode to My D20

2010-05-10T09:13:00.003-07:00

To my little twenty sided die,
Oh, the power that you hold,
The strength over life and death alike,
Through you my story will unfold.

You cost so little yet give so much,
Your worth’s not in your weight,
So smooth and light you are to touch,
Please have mercy on my fate!

One cannot fight on stats alone,
Unless you are a fool,
All power lies in dice and wrist,
You ca be a cruel and fickle tool.

As you toss and bounce across the table top,
My heart begins to beat,
On 2? On 10? Your playful dance
Will determine my next feat.

Be kind to me this day I pray,
For there is much at stake,
The world is full of nasty things,
Of my head, a fine helmet they might make!

Clink, clink, I hear you tumble,
My heart begins swell,
Until I see that horrid number,
Which has doomed me straight hell.

Curse you, plastic Judas!
Single digits burn my eyes.
My hopes are crushed and shattered,
Body slumps and teammates sigh.

Praise be to my party members,
Who can keep me on the track,
They’ll pick me up and dust me off,
Don’t worry, I’ll bounce back!

A Love Affair with Fantasy Novels

2010-05-04T15:17:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I am a fantasy novel junkie. Wait, actually that’s a lie. Let me rephrase: I like to believe I’m a fantasy novel junkie. But in truth, I know a few of those, and as I ponder the label, I don’t think I qualify to as one of them.

Let me explain.

For starters, it takes me a long time (relatively speaking) to actually finish a book. (It’s sad, it’s pathetic, I know.) This is largely due to the fact that my free reading time is squeezed into that precious pre-sleep twilight of evening or perhaps the rare lazy weekend. My “Reading List” shelf is in a constant state of growth, like an untamable fungus, infusing my heart with guilt every time I glance its way. I sometimes find myself forced to select only books which hold an above average promise of greatness, or a twinge of personal obligation a la high recommendations. (Though I hope to never repeat my Twilight mistake… co-workers “favorite books” have now been black listed.)

Sometimes it feels as though fantasy has a tainted reputation among the reading community in general. I often receive quizzical stares from clients who enter my office as I guard the front desk, enjoying The Magicians to pass the time. “Is that any good?” they sometimes ask with a none-too-subtle hint of condescension.

Look buddy, it’s not just for kids!

It is a sad fact that there is an endless smorgasbord of bad fantasy available in the world, peppered amongst the gems, and readers of the genre often learn to become mine field negotiators. We readers arm ourselves against the perils of poorly written fiction by becoming incredibly fickle in our reading selection, save the brave few who can mow a story down in a matter of hours regardless of its quality. (These talented folks are whom I think of when I originally used the term “fantasy junkie.”)

So, why am I so drawn to the genre of science fiction and fantasy in the first place? First, let me quote one of the most talented writers in the business:

“In many ways, science fiction and fantasy readers are the best audience in the world to write for. They’re open-minded and intelligent. They want to think as well as feel, understand as well as dream. Above all, they want to be led into places that no one has ever visited before. It’s a privilege to tell stories to these readers, and an honor when they applaud the tales you tell.”
- Orson Scott Card, How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy

Reading that just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. (Did you feel it?) Mr. Card, please have my blog babies.

Yes, I enjoy fantasy partly because I simply never grew out of a childish love of dragons, magic, and flawed heroes in leather jerkins. I relish large battles, political intrigue, and the idea of being called to something greater than myself. In many ways I also find spiritual renewal in many of the themes, since at its core fantasy is usually about the ongoing struggle between good and evil. The stakes are always high, and the reward is usually paramount.

For me, the hardest part about reading a complete flop is the feeling of betrayal. Sometimes, as I crack open a new novel, I become like a small child; timidly stepping into an unfamiliar house, eyes full of wonder. I have come so far already; I have read the teaser on the back, admired the cover art, studied the map, and bravely taken that first cautious step into the waters of the opening paragraph. By now this is almost a guarantee that I will at least finish the novel, no matter how bad. In my heart of hearts, no matter how rough things get, I will cling to the hope that something in the end will reward me for all my hard work, my tenacity to stick with the protagonist through thick and thin, and my willingness to believe that in the end it will have been worth the time and energy.

Needless to say, when I feel an author has betrayed me, I don’t forget the crime easily. The well that holds my devout love of lore, elves, funny names, and all things mythical does indeed have a bottom. There are several peeves I have that will most likely doom a book (and an author?) to my “rejected” pile forever.

Here are two biggies:

1. Don’t be depressing predictable. Yes, the good guys are likely to triumph in the end, but the journey to the finale should be littered with unique twists and turns full of adventure. The best way to get my heart beating is to make sure I don’t already know what is going to happen. Authors are free to do literally anything in this genre, so there is really no excuse for being flat out boring.

2. Don’t let me believe that everyone is safe. Sure, a handful of characters aren’t likely to bite it because it would kill the story, but seriously – at least pretend that they are facing true danger. (Hats off to George R.R. Martin for his authorial brass balls in this regard.)

A common feature of the fantasy landscape, the epic series, presents me with a unique dilemma. I already have a lengthy track record for impatiently dropping out of several long, tedious, frustrating series’ because first off, they are just too fraking long. Even worse, there are times when a book may be longer than the Great Wall of China and yet the author manages to do nothing with it. (I’m looking at you, Mr. Jordan.) Books generally, upon completion, should leave me feeling as though something has been accomplished. I have no issues with long books or many long books as long as something happens. My poor little sound-bite loving mind is not willing to stick with something for the long haul unless I am rewarded along the way for my efforts.

In many ways, fantasy reading is like pearl diving. You sometimes have to slog through a couple of stories that are “just okay” before you find one that speaks to you from the primordial ooze and carries you to a mythical land of rapture. A diamond in the rough.

Orson Scott Card rambled off a “author reading list” to folks who wanted to experience the buffet table of science fiction and fantasy: Adliss, Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke, Ellison, LeGuin, Norton. Alfred Bester, James Blish, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert Heinlein, Robert Howard, E.E. “Doc” Smith, J.R.R. Tolkien. Larry Niven, Anne McCaffrey, Jack Chalker, C.J. Cherryh, David Drake, Octavia Butler, and Roger Zelazny.

He then aptly added, “Some of the books you won’t care for a bit. Some you’ll admire. Some you’ll love. Some will transform you.”

So here’s a little toast, to my fellow readers: continue seeking out stories worthy of admiration, love, and transformation - no matter what genre you may find them in.

Reading gem I highly recommend:
Kushiel’s Dart (series) by Jacqueline Carey

A Tribute to Xanga

2010-05-03T14:26:00.000-07:00

A recent addition to my friendship circle made a comment a little while back about how it was "adorably old school" that I still blogged on the once popular site known as Xanga. I realized in that moment that indeed, many have left the once fertile land for greener pastures, and I have wondered if my own lack in motivation to blog was greatly due to this fact.

So here I am - moving on.

Hello, new blog!

So why "Geeky Bliss and Sunshine"? Well, I wanted my title to include two things that didn't seem to go together, because that's often the way I see myself. I am in many ways a walking paradox: a loud and confident introvert, a gym addict with little to no vanity, a decently liberal Christian, a female gamer.

I'm inevitably going to be talking about super geeky things like video games and sword fighting, but I also plan on talking about my life, which is inexplicably ungeeky if you were to only peek at it from the outside. Thus, I spliced two opposites together, playing off the idea that you most likely know: all geeks hiss and smoke when they are forced to exit their little caves of safety during the day.

Xanga, you were so good to me and to many. You were my first, and thus will never be forgotten.