Thank you, Olive Garden

You took me in when I was far away from home, a sick stranger in a strip-malled land. When the cheerfully vacant, brightly-smiling waitress, unfazed by my obvious illness and exhaustion, promised to "take care of me," I almost cried in relief. The never-ending soup bowl would have come back replenished, fast and furious, if I had needed it. Your people checked on me every few moments to see if I could tackle more soup or needed a topping off on the cold, life-sustaining water I was sucking down at an alarming rate. The soup itself, that hot, salty nectar of the hearth gods, fulfilled every promise of the first food I had eaten in two days. The buttered breadsticks, waving companionably from their basket, didn't demand attention or project offense when I nibbled disinterestedly on only one bite. The bustling efficiency in the delivery of massive quantities of food swirled around me, lending comfort and normalcy to my nauseous and dizzied self. My waitress' sweetly honest concern, projected throughout the meal, and her well-wishes, tendered before she checked the amount of the tip, buoyed me for the drive back to the hotel and the physical ordeal in the days to come. The line out the door at I left at 6 PM assured me that I had made the right choice, the choice of the people.

Impressions from TJ

The complete lack of zoning is startling to an American eye. The houses are packed on the mountainsides, the streets wind crazily around islands of buildings, the architecture is, for the most part, drab, and simply unpretty. One side of a hill may be the wealthiest section of town, but the other side features a deeply rutted, dirt road dotted with large trash (refrigerators! dead animals!) and tire construction (structures made out of used tires).

We poked at a furry "log" on the beach. It really did look like wood, even if the flies seemed to find it inordinately interesting. Luckily, I wasn't the one who touched it, only to find out that were were harassing a poor, dead, seal.

The color palette is different. Lots of browns and reds and oranges. Very little green, as there are no trees and very little vegetation, except on the golf course. Also, the dust! Is everywhere! Coating everything, including your tongue.

Mexican food in Mexico is good. The variations in the endless tortilla and the salsas are surprisingly satisfying as a table snack and stewed meats can be tasty and delicious.

The prostitutes were surprisingly ordinary. At least in Amsterdam, there is a sort of glamour (or at least, better lighting) in working your own window. Some of the women working the street were dressed rather conservatively, and others were working the same streetcorner, within several feet of each other. I wonder if that leads to catfights? Or if it is better for gossip and passing away the boredom of the day?

Illegal crossing of small children! Guess the lone jeep on border control wasn't as concerned about kite chasing-induced crossings as adults making a break for the border.

Mariachi abounds, from the street bands that approach with business cards in hand while you're driving along the city streets, to the loud blasting from restaurant jukeboxes. Since I don't particularly like this genre, even to the point of finding it difficult to understand why other people do, I find it interesting that bands can sustain themselves by hanging out on street corners much like...day laborers, waiting to be whisked away to play at a party at a moment's notice.

The border beach is beautiful and kind of deserted. There is a boardwalk that is mostly empty of customers, which I find odd on a lovely weekend day. A brief rainstorm comes in from the islands, but blows over quickly, leaving behind gorgeous, sunny weather sparkling on clean, damp sands. The pylons marking the border seem only to serve as a token barrier, and a night swim seems like an easy way to cross the border.

Travel, even day travel, in the company of a child is daunting. A brief glimpse is all it takes to appreciate the fortitude of seasoned parents. On the other hand, sharing the sights with a cute child makes for a ton of picture opportunities and completely changes the experience of site-seeing, often bring it down to a 2-and-a-half-foot level.

A new country!

What's (pretty much) the first thing an American should do once she crosses the border? Visit it and stare longingly across towards home, of course!

I might not have gotten very far from the U.S., never being more than a few miles from the border, but Tijuana is alien enough in layout, composition, color, and...well, flavor, that I would've never confused it with home. The stark noncomprehension of language, the badgering of the street and stall merchants (man, was it great to be shopping back in San Diego!), the order and array of the sights and sounds, all smacked of a foreign experience. I didn't have the inclination or opportunity to go on a "stupid American does the illegal delights of Mexico" tour, I but I got plenty of local grit (literally - dusty!) and color (lots of orange and tan and red) just driving around the city, visiting the border, and going trinket shopping. Also, sleeping in a barred castle on the hill of the very rich added to the overall ambiance of "different."

Which contrasted all the more with the experience inside the house, where the familiar furniture, games, Internet, people, and food (hello, Trader Joe's!) all reassured that nothing had really changed :)

So this is morning

Currently: yawn

You know how, once the fall hits, the bed is utterly delicious and inviting at all times? It's a snuggle den of ultimate comfort and tranquility and sweet, sweet, warmth? Well, that makes it super more wicked difficult to get out of in the morning, particularly if you're accustomed to lolling around until Pacific Coast time.

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The light at this time of day sure is pretty.

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Showering is an interesting technique in trying to wake up, but getting out of the warmth of the shower is worse than climbing out of the haven of the bed because you are All Wet and it is Damn Cold Out There!!!!! I am rather prunelike this morning.

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Huh, you can go fast enough on this road that it needs a speed trap?

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Since I beat a bunch of people into the office when I come in around 10, I think it's going to be pretty gravelike here for awhile...

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Darn, hunger is a function of when I get up, not the time of day :(

The winds of change

Current mood: mixed feelings about copious change

There were only two things I wanted to do when I moved into my house two years ago. No, unpacking wasn't one of them. Obviously. I wanted a curved shower curtain rod and coat hooks for the hall. It took a little while (and no, I haven't moved all the way in yet, so quit yer askin'), but the wind of change recently decided to sweep through the house and there have been some interesting new developments around here:

Worship the new shower rod! I HEART the new shower rod! Even if it is made of crappy plastic and will probably sag and fall down one day with a derisive CRASH while I am in the shower and have just finished getting soapy...I still love it!!!!!! Also, the shower curtain is new and was looooong overdue.

More decorations for the house! Though I like to keep spartan walls, I have to admit that these additions (the plates were mine, but I would never have thought in a zillion years to hang them on the wall, especially in the kitchen. Kitchens don't need decoration, right??!!) are quite pleasing to the eye.

There are suddenly a LOT more games around here. I suppose I'll have to find a place to put them, because Some People seem to think that "around" or "on the floor" or "on the couch" are not appropriate storage areas.

The TV of doom!!! Still not used to this. I keep thinking it will jump off its stand and attack, and I find its looming presence very threatening. In theory, I like the idea of watching TV in bed, but wasn't that the whole point of putting a bed in the living room?

More changes in the kitchen. The spice rack is looking rather full these days, eh? That's because there are now double, and even triple of some of the same spices!!!! Guess some things are universal. New lights! And the crack in the ceiling is gone!! These are unabashed Good Changes. These feelings are at all not hurt by the recent death of the previous kitchen light and the hideousness that is not having light in the kitchen. This toaster oven supersedes my old toaster and the fact that it can make pizza taste new again is reason enough welcome it with an open mouth!

Ah yes, the much-anticipated coat rack. Which is, for the season, a bag rack. Look at all my pretty purses!!! Not really loving the green, but white was too much much of a pain (there are eleventy billion shades of white in my house and matching them is Just Too Hard). It is not set low enough to stab me in the eye or the back of my head. I've checked - many times.

Finally, new animal denizens. These guys keep each other company and are no trouble at all :)

Whew! Long post, right? Pictures notwithstanding? Well, that represents the Very Large amount of change that has taken place in my living space in a Very Short space of time. Since change is not at all my forte, I think I'm handling it well. That is to say, I haven't melted down or imploded - yet.

West Side Story

Dancefighting!!!!!! I could end this post here, because, really, that says it all, but I'll throw in a few more details.

At the time, I was somewhat bemused by what I thought was the cheerfully anachronistic racism. Last weekend, however, watching The Departed (not recommended from a satisfaction-with-the-story perspective, but the acting was excellent), there was a mention about "damn Puerto Ricans." My gut reaction was WTF??!! People seriously think/talk like that??!! But then I think back to my very own household and the obvious answer is that yes, a lot of people still notice and are extremely bothered by the presence, nay, existence, of other races.

Maria was annoying. I hope she is intended to come off that way, much in the style of Les Miserables' Cosette (really, who didn't want to be Eponine? and want her to get Marius?). The actress playing her, while she did look Latina, was enunciating the accent by clipping her words and trilling all the rrrrrrrs. I'm not sure if that was played ironically or earnestly, but either way, it grated on my nerves.

I'd never seen this show before, not even the movie form, though I had played in the symphonic dances reduction of the score. It was fun seeing the setting of the various little ditties. Some of the staging really worked with the music (pretty much every scene with Anita), like the scene at the dance, and Somewhere, but other scenes lost the greatness of the music, which was relegated to the background. I'm glad I finally got to experience it live!!!

Breaking news

The black toe has finally come off!!! Nearly three months to the day after The Stubbing, the purple/black THING that resided on my smallest left toe has finally disappeared. In its place is the Redtoe...

Oh, yeah, and:

HE GOT A JOB!!!!!!!!!!

Behold my dominion

Current mood: sometimes new stuff = whee!

Check it out - shiny new office, with a (too) sunny view of the finest automobile dealerships in the area.

Look upon all my flat space and despair!!!!!! Three, count them, three work stations!!!

Oh, and it's neat. Cleaner and tidier than my office has been in, well, years. Now I just need to do something about my time-warp chair from the 70s...

Unsure

Is it too ironic to watch Office Space at the inaugural "Thursday lunch movie" at work, or is it not ironic enough?

On learning to drive a manual

My nemesis:

(aka the Silver Bullet; a good name for a nemesis, no?)

Three pedals? I have but two feet!

Don't come a'knocking when this car is a'rockin' (i.e., lurching) because I'll be curled into a fetal ball, freaking out about breaking the car.

Hate, hate!! those awful crunching noises.

Driving on a road has never been more...exciting (i.e., STRESSFUL!!!!!!).

On getting schooled

Current mood: drop it, already

I got my first textbook of the season the other day. When I went downstairs to retrieve it from the parcel room, I was excited, so the receptionist's moue of sympathy didn't sit very well. Perhaps I'm a bit oversensitive because I've been hearing nothing but expressions of sadness and non-mock horror whenever I talk about my project, my upcoming classes, my desire to learn, etc. One of my coworker's "You're crazy!!" expostulations has no trace of humor or empathy, and more than a smidge of derision. Grrrrrr.

Documentation for posterity

Or just to remind myself that:

(courtesy of the Interwebs)

doesn't always have to end in weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. For the first time in (forever?) a long time, LOTR Risk didn't suck. Maybe it's because I actually had a shot at winning. Sure, I lost, but I killed a whole lotta evil along the way. Somewhat brilliantly, even. Unfortunately, too much precious green elven blood was spilt. A pox on the dice gods!!!