I Miss You Already, George

I have this great friend named George. He's been my friend for almost 6 years, and he's been there for me through thick and thin. Our relationship started out a little rocky, but he has forgiven me for being reckless and for mistreating him. I'm sorry to say that George is no longer with me.

George is a sympathy plant - I think - and he's supposed to grow those white flowers but he hasn't. Ever. I bought him at IKEA way back in 2003, when I got my first apartment in the city by myself. His long, dark green leaves enticed me as I walked by, as did his $5.99 price tag. I picked up him, I chose him out of all of those other plants at IKEA, and put him in my cart. I hadn't owned a houseplant before this, and I could tell that this was going to be an exciting new adventure for both of us. As I reached over to take him from the checker lady, I hit the bottom of his pot and he flew through the air like Kerry Strug (shout out to Wenis) and landed on the cement floor with a crash. His dirt spilled everywhere and I scrambled to brush it back into the pot and be on my way. The checker lady asked if I wanted to replace him, but you know how huge IKEA is, that's not a quick exchange. I said, no, that's ok, he'll be fine, and George and I went home.

Life has been great for the past almost 6 years - George can go many many many days without water, and if I forget and he looks sad and yellowy, I throw some water in there and within a couple of hours, his leaves are raised to the sky in a welcoming fan of happiness. I haven't been home much at all for the past 4 months, so George has gotten much less attention than he's used to. And, I'm sorry to say it, I went too far. I forgot to water George for WAY too long, and I don't think he'll ever be coming back to me. If anyone out there is a sympathy plant whisperer, I need your services pronto. If not, then there will be a moment of silence for George at 7:01pm tomorrow night.

I'll have to go and find a George the Second soon...wish me luck on my next long term relationship.

Things That Are Rad, Chapter 3

Pickles
Halloween costumes
Candy pumpkins
Cool work projects
Lasagna
Pillbox hats
Unibrows (unless they're on me)
Dr. Pepper
HGTV
Cable & DVR goodness
Soft sheets
Cute shoes

Sitting in Mendo

I have learned today that Bed & Breakfasts are for couples and couples alone. I have a nice room and no one to share it with except my Macbook Pro. Good thing Mr. Pro isn't threatened by the TV because there is no TV. No TV. No TV. Not exactly sure what I'm going to do all weekend in Mendocino without a TV but I can make do. I think. I get a smidge of internet in the room, if I sit in the wingback chair that faces the view of the ocean. Given that smidge of internet access from Abalone Airport wireless, I still decided to head to downtown Mendo and hit up the coffee shop that has wireless. So here I sit, blogging on the coast, relaxing, and happy drinking my uber-strong latte made by two hippies.

Well, I was until 7 tweens walked in....well they could be high schoolers for all I know.....I'm old. Not sure why they're in here...I guess it's a place to hang out where parents don't exist. I'm hearing such wise tidbits like "WOW! CAFE has the same letters as FACE!" and "How do you make an upside down 'O'?" Moms are calling, tweens/high school freshman are running around eating Kettle chips and someone has major BO. "Oh I lie to my mom all the time to get money" "Oh you poor child with an iPhone." "Ew those are like prostitute's underwear." "Or YOUR underwear" Teen laughter ensues. Guess what, Orion and Lucy are dating. Orion? Who names their kid Orion? I really am in Mendocino.

Cheers to random weekends and strangers' conversations!

Diary of the Pink House, Chapter 1.5

A quick note on the Pink House. It's no longer pink. It's a creamy, yellow-y, off-white with dark brown trim. I will still always refer to this house as the Pink House. The goings on over there has not changed, only the color of the house. Oh and of the swamp-cooler-with-wine-barrel-stand: that too is creamy yellow-y off-white. I mean, you can't paint a house and not include the items that are hanging off of it. I get it.

Cheers to the source of eternal stories: the Pink House!

New Things

I have a very long list of things I want to do in my life....more of a very long short term list if you will. This list includes things like learn bass guitar, get forklift certified, visit a new city every year (at least), etc. Things that are on the long-time-life list are see a building implode, drive a big rig, go to Europe...things of that nature.

Not on my short list, but I'm adding it now, is to take random Community Ed classes. Once, a long time ago, Kellogg took me to a surprise event: a balloon making class at SRJC. It was AWESOME. That's right folks, for a small fee, I can come to your birthday party and make balloon animals (like a snake, I'm good at that one) and maybe even a sword. This class was a few years ago so I'm a little rusty, and funny enough, that's my clown name, Rusty. Anyway, we learned how to make a ton of animals actually, and it was pretty fun. It was also extremely perverted and hilarious. The blower-upper thing was very um....long and skinny, and the balloons, well, you get the picture. The commentary from our instructor, a clown in real life of course, was hysterical, and we could barely keep it together.

Fast forward a few years, and tonight was a bit of the same. For her birthday, I gave Wenis a Beginning Blues Harmonica class through the JC. It was awesome, but again, extremely perverted. We learned:
--trills (not perverted)
--chords (not perverted)
--Hohner Pocket Pal (name of the harmonica) (perverted)
--tongueing (perverted)
--blow (perverted)
--tongue slapping (perverted)
--covering 4 holes with your mouth (perverted)
and a ton of other things - it was a rad, crazy, shotgun class - as in, playmesomeharmonicabluesrightnow kind of class.

Wenis and I were cracking up - a lot - to the annoyance of the instructor, who even said "there's no laughing in the blues" or something to that effect. (I actually think that particular sentence is "there's no crying in baseball" but it's the same thing really.) Even now, hours and hours later, "tongueing" and "tongue slapping the holes" are just way. too. funny. Or we're just twelve-year-old boys. The class was filled with some interesting folk...one dude who looked like he was in an 80s hair band, in the 80s, and had bleached his hair, in the 80s, and it was just now growing out. I guess this dude has also taken this particular instructor's class a ton of times, causing the instructor to say "I think he's stalking me." An older woman, probably in her 70s, who couldn't really hear and kept "noodling" with her harmonica when the instructor told us to knock it off (essentially). A lady next to me who was blowing too hard on her harp (that's what we musicians call a harmonica) and it was squeaking so badly...and she blamed it on me.

In all seriousness, it was a super fun class, the two hours flew by, and I really want to learn how to play this thing. It's REALLY difficult. Really, really, really difficult - not what I expected at all. I'm going to find another class and keep this up - I hope to anyway. Hey, invite me over. I'll bust out my C harmonica and play you some blues. It'll be especially helpful if you could provide a back up band and if the guitar player could only play in the key of A, D, or G, you see, those are the only keys where my C harp will sound good. I ain't buyin' another one.

Cheers to learning new things!

Vices

I get cable back on October 17. Yay.

Pathetic, I know, but more than anything, I just want the DVR again...so sick of commercials and bad TV. Oh, and I miss HD.

Tonight, in lieu of bad Monday night TV (I have no ESPN, hence, no MNF), I rented Forgetting Sarah Marshall. I loved it! I don't feel like it got much play, a lot like Thelma on Scooby Doo (what movie does that reference...? Anyone...?), it came and went a lot like movies do these days.

Back in the day when I was young I'm not a kid anymore, I worked at Video Droid. I know I've mentioned this before, but that was one great job. I remember when Laserdiscs came out (remember how I'm old?) and we'd all fight to take home the player because it was "so much better than tapes." And it probably was! I worked there up to when DVDs started arriving...then off I went into corporateland for the next seven years, forgetting all I knew about movies - all I knew about "you know that movie, with that guy, remember that one?" I used to be good at that game.

I also used to be good at Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Good Times, Random Times

Thursday was the Chandon Pink Party and a good time was had by all. That is, until some stupid chick landed on my big left toe with all her weight channeled through a thin, black stilletto heel. Granted, I still had a great time (pics coming...) - champagne, while bad for the brain, is good for getting one through extreme pain in the toe area.

Because of my new injury (I'm a klutz, I have random injuries all the time), I was unable to walk the Bridge to Bridge this morning as planned. Kellogg and I went into the city yesterday morning to help out at the Walk for Hope. We then bummed around all day, checked into the hotel around 5:30, and headed to dinner at Nob Hill Grille, owned by a friend of mine. Yum. Yum. Yum. We shared a bad-for-us-but-super-delicious flatbread topped with mounds of carmelized onions, arugula, and gorgonzola, as well as a bottle of Horseplay red wine from Sonoma. A fantastic combo. The wine lasted us through our entrees - Kellogg with the rreeeeeiiibs smothered in chipotle bbq sauce, homemade mac n cheese, and swiss chard. I relished in my flatiron steak in some sort of yummy reduction, potato croquettes, and sauteed greens. Holy mouth-watering, Batman. Topping it off with a lava cake for fun, we had a great time. My friend was there to make sure all was well and it was all perfecto! Can't wait to head back.

We walked (ok, Kellogg walked, I hobbled) down to Russian Hill-ish area for some fun-times-on-Polk. We hit up S.N.O.B. wine bar first, had a glass, then walked/hobbled around until we ended up in Hamhock (it's really called Hemlock, but I so prefer Hamhock). The crowd was a little punk for our comfort-zone, so we went to Encore which was more our style - karaoke. We didn't take any pics the whole night because we're lame.

All in all, a great weekend, even though it didn't go as planned. Nothing ever really does though, does it?

Cheers to fun times in SF with Kellogg!