where is heidi?

Where IS Heidi?

2012-01-16T22:34:00.000-08:00

Where have I been? I have been happy. I have been learning how to ask and how to listen. I have been trusting my instincts and being pleasantly surprised by the outcome. I have been taking it slow and growing at a rapid pace. I have been laughing and breathing and drinking lots of water. I have been loving and loved. I have also just eaten an entire box of triple ginger snaps. Happy 2012 everyone! May this year bring you knowledge, growth, health, love, and delicious cookies.

Love to Run, Run to Love

2011-09-19T11:32:00.000-07:00

I quit trail running a couple of years ago. I'm sure I had some sort of "logical" reason at the time... shin splints... poison oak... inconvenience... but the truth is, it was hard. It was just hard. Today I woke up and decided that it wasn't hard, and I believe I just went on the best run of my life. It was steep, I was fast (faster than when I used to run this particular trail every day), and I was smiling the whole way. Did I mention I have been drinking a ton and not sleeping this whole wonderful wedding weekend? Oh, and that the snot pouring out of my nose on this run probably indicates that I'm sick? I decided that I am not sick, I have tons of energy, and that I love to run.

There's a tingly feeling I get sometimes when I am doing yoga. It's a lovely mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration and I savor it every time it takes me over. Today I realized I get the same feeling when I run but I have been associating it only with the exhaustion and have been leaving out the exhilaration, because running is supposed to be hard. I let the exhilaration in and it payed off in a big way. Where else have I, you, we been leaving out the exhilaration? Embrace the joy when life has you breathing heavy, cramping up, dripping snot, because that's what we're here to do. I love to run, running is easy, and running is returning the favor by teaching me how to love this life that is supposed to be hard, but can actually be easy if you let yourself feel the joy.

You're Doin' Great!

2011-09-12T16:08:00.000-07:00

Today I feel weird, not weird as in the-full-moon-is-making-everyone-crazy (that was yesterday) and not weird as in I'm-going-to-do-something-extreme-like-the-master-cleanse, more weird as in I'm-going-to-write-my-first-blog-in-months, or weird as in I'm-confused-as-to-why-I-don't-feel-mind-blowingly-awesome. And I guess that's what it comes down to... I don't feel great but I don't feel bad. Maybe that's the point. To remain in a blissful state so that your "down" days are still better than bad. This summer has been supremely satisfying and here is some evidence;

Hearts of Gold

2011-05-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

i can't remember the last time i received as many compliments as i did last night and from so many amazing humans. i also can't think of a better compliment than "you are a giant ball of awesomeness."

thank you thank you my friends, old and new
balls of awesomeness, all of you.

One thing at a time

2011-05-11T23:32:00.000-07:00

I believe I have discovered another after-effect of extended travel. I am only capable of accomplishing one thing per day. Maybe that's not the right way to put it. What I mean is I feel accomplished after doing one thing in a day. Today I called my credit card company and got them to reverse a $20 late fee. The best part is that I was able to do this through their automated system. Never mind that I also wanted to speak to a representative to address the fact that I never received the actual card in the mail and could therefor not set up an automated online payment. I will save that problem for another day! Tomorrow maybe. As soon as I got that confirmation number I was ready for ice cream and beer. I also need to do some laundry so it looks like I will be tied up for a few days as one load counts as a thing to accomplish. This system works great as long as I don't set my goals too high. If I put "Learn Spanish" on my to-do list, I will be enormously disappointed in myself. "Learn Dictionary.com's word of the day" is more reasonable.

Irenic: (adjective) promoting peace.

Done.

Angkor Hot

2011-04-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

It is hot. Really hot. Idiotically hot. Hotter than you can imagine. Go on, imagine it... it is hotter than that. I have expelled at least 3 liters of sweat. This is Scientific Fact. I have consumed 3 liters of water and haven't peed once, not once, not since 7am. It is now 5:30pm. The aforementioned sunburn is blistering as water tries desperately to escape through reluctant skin. At the first temple, Bataey Kdei, I purchased a small traditional Khmer scarf for $1, the purpose of which is to mop up the salty sea bursting forth from my pores. It has never before occurred to me to put on a scarf when I am hot. This kind of heat defies logic. The scarf is alternately used to soak up the beads of perspiration accumulating on my face every 2 seconds, to shield the sun from my face and neck, and as a miniature swamp cooler. Riding my bike creates an artificial breeze and the dampness of the drenched scarf feels good against my skin. My camera is so hot and damp it has trouble focusing, like me. The sun beats coherent thought out of my brain and only a string of profanities remains. The puddle at my back will not dry. It will still be wet later when I toss it into the sink for laundering and I marvel at the great rings of salt marking the sea's outer limits. It was all worth it. The temples of Angkor are indescribable. I'm not even going to try. The pictures will not do it justice. You're going to have to go experience it for yourself.

Bikes? Bikes!

2011-04-17T08:13:00.001-07:00

Excerpt from journal 11.04.2011

Bikes again! This time rented from Mut Mee GH and ridden down to the sculpture park Sala Kaew Ku. The park was constructed over the course of 20 years and the sculptures were cast by a horde of amateurs under the shaman Luang Pu's direction. I'm sorry, did I just limit his title to "shaman"? I meant brahmanic yogi-priest-shaman.

Some children tumble down holes while out playing and maybe break a limb, maybe gain a case of trypophobia (fear of holes, fear of holes... swiss cheese can cause an episode). Other children may climb out unscathed and go on to lead normal lives, whatever that means. Others—well, at least one Luang Pu—tumble down and stumble upon an ascetic named Kaewkoo who reveals the mysteries of the underworld. Luang Pu took his acquired knowledge and created a new religion which blended Hindu and Buddhist beliefs with some of the secular and his sculpture park is an interesting study in their combined iconography. My personal favorite stands at the front of the park, a pack of wild, angry, anthropomorphic dogs driving an elephant out of the garden. The dogs are riding scooters, drinking beers and slinging guns, some sporting enormous erections with nowhere to hide them. This must be why they are so upset. The blushing elephant walks away instead of fighting back, though she could trample the whole lot of debaucherous hounds if she wanted to.

The other fun sculpture was the Wheel of Life. You enter the circle through a giant gaping maw (read: the Jaws of Life) and emerge from the gullet into a walk through the phases of life. We had a handy pamphlet from our GH without which the meaning would be only vaguely discernible. The last statue, representing the final phase of life contained no explanation, only the instructions to consult Julien at Mut Mee. Unfortunately, Julien was in absentia, so we received a brief description of cupid combining two people and shooting your soul's arrow into a new and better life, so begins the circle again. The only way out is to follow the large Buddha who is stepping over the walls and out of the circle. Apparently, Julien's version lasts approximately 2 hours and hopefully leaves the listener with more of an understanding and without questions like "do Hindus and Buddhists have a cupid?"

I wish I had taken more time to ponder each image but at the time I felt the urgent need to rush through the phases of life (which I hope is not symbolic) in order to save my burning red epidermis from an untimely death. I ran to the vendors and became the proud owner of a thin cotton shirt adorned with elephants and bells. If I sweat enough the dyes will bleed onto my skin and make it look as though I am very badly burned. But the damage is easily washed off everywhere except my shoulders and nose which are currently slathered in aloe. No worries, my little Buddhist skin cells die and are reincarnated every moment, though I doubt cupid has anything to do with it.

Boob Tubers

2011-04-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

The bus ride from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng in winding and jittery. Whenever I lay back my head to sleep, we hit a bump and the headrest slams into me as if to say "wake up, woman! Look out the window!" In the haze that comes with the consumption of one beer lao at the rest stop, I oblige. Limestone cliffs loom behind a smoky haze, teasing me with their beauty. If they are this lovely when shrouded in a burning season veil... Quietly I imagine them at their full potential. Sleep eludes me, as always. A few rows up, I enviously watch Ian's relaxed head bobbing with the motion of the bus. At least I have my limestone.

We pull into town and our lazy tuk tuk driver will only take us to the center of town. Our favored guesthouse is just outside of town, so we walk. The street is lined with identical signs, yellow with a large bottle of beer lao plastered down the side, only the text varies from sign to sign. Doesn't really matter, since the restaurants boast seemingly identical menus. The hordes of frat boy tubers I've been warned about are nowhere in sight,but neither is the stunning landscape that supposedly keeps travelers like me coming to a place that has a bad reputation as teenage party central. Then we take a turn and the Nam Song river stretches far in both directions. As we approach our guesthouse, I become sure that we will stay slightly longer than planned. Maylyn GH has adorable little bungalows scattered across a peaceful garden next to a stream. Cows graze in a meadow 100 feet away, their bells tinkling with each movement. We are shown a bungalow with a patio that looks out to rows of jagged cliffs. The sun is low in the sky and everything is shimmering with a golden glow. I can't believe we almost breezed through this town.

At night, I am craving meat–red meat–due to my 14-day-long period, most likely. That was fun. We head to a place in town called Whopping Burger and holy cow! (If cows are holy this burger is surely a deity.) Delicious double-patty garlic mayo goodness. I rarely crave meat, and never a burger (especially in SE Asia) but this puppy is totally worth it. I thank the cows in the meadow.

We walk home through the center of town. There are restaurants where all of the cushions face forward so that every zoned-out teenager has a great view of the friends reruns playing on the television. Always Friends, every restaurant. No, wait, there is Family Guy. This is supply and demand, what the tourists want. Whatever happened to visiting other cultures (question mark not currently available on this Cambodian computer) Rows of shop hawking bikinis and short skirts in an otherwise conservative community. The local women swim fully clothed and I mean fully--I have seen women in jeans and sweatshirts in the river. I wonder what this town was like ten years ago before the bros, buckets and bleached blondes took over. The drunken douche bags hardly notice the scenery and the whiskey-fueled debauchery doesn't lend itself to the surroundings. At least it is amusing to look out onto the street while munching on your dinner and count the number of bandages and crutches that walk by. Ya hear that, kids (insert question mark) Limestone and booze don't mix.

Vilayvahn Guesthouse, Luang Prabang, Laos

2011-04-15T02:33:00.001-07:00

Excerpt from journal 02.04.2011

Luang Prabang, a land where coffee, water and bananas (in order of importance) flow freely. Ain't no Nescafe either, this is bona-fide coffee Lao. Yum. This town is beautiful and in my moments alone, I walk. The first time I stubled upon Wat Xieng Thong it was mid-day and tourists were milling about with their cameras and conversations in many tongues. The second time was yesterday. It was dusk and as I approached the pink and muraled temple grounds my breath slowed, my heart slowed and time slowed. The dusty colors appeared even more serene in the lingering minutes after the golden hour. Not a tourist in sight (aside from my pale self) and the monks were gathered in the temple, their chant floating out the windows, past my ears and continuing their journey across the Mekong. I would have stayed in the embrace of their echos, but the voices came to an end and a novice monk carried an orange and yellow arrangement of flowers out of the Wat's doorway and I pondered where he might place such a lovely offering when he dumped it in the shrine to the gods of rubbish. I took this as my cue to leave and I wandered down the long white steps that lead to the river and catch the final moments of what must have been an incredible sunset.

Meandering through residential streets where Laotian families prepare their dinners with doors flung wide open, massage parlors tempt me with their extensive menus of luxurious treatments at budget prices, and little French-style cafes offer buttery croissants and frothy lattes, I head back to the guesthouse.

This town feels good. I am reluctant to leave.

I tried to drag Ian to Wat Xieng Thong a couple of days later and we were forced to pay a fee even as the temple was closing its doors, and the light wasn't the same and time wasn't the same and the monks were silent and I realized that my moment in Luang Prabang was for me and only me, this peaceful city's small offering, and for this I felt immensely grateful.

This morning I rose at dawn to see the monks' alms procession. It was such a sad display of tourists forgetting that these orange-clad Buddhists are actually humans full of feelings and traditions deserving respect. I watched a whale of a woman in glaring white walk down the row of monks, flashing her camera in their faces as she went and pictured her in a Catholic church, squeezing clumsily down the communion line while taking photos of the metaphorical body and blood of Christ.

By the time I got back to the room it was time for our outing with our lovely Canadian friends Michelle & Greg and Big Brother Mouse. This program is really very cool. Local writers create a children's story, local artists illustrate them, and Big Brother Mouse is the publisher. These books are then distributed to small, sometimes very remote Laos villages in the form of a "book party." (You can sponsor one of these parties from Laos, or from abroad via the internet and should you find yourself in Luang Prabang you may join the organization for one of their outings.) Each student gets to take home their own book of choosing and the school director is given a stack of books so that students can swap theirs out for a different one. Most of these kids have never seen a children's book and they got SO excited during story time. One book had a poem about an animal on one page and the kids were supposed to guess the animal. The room erupted into a chant when our guide was about to turn the page and reveal the animal. It was effing adorable. We played field games and learned a new song about Big Brother Mouse and Michelle made a few friends and learned a few names, I learned how to say "goat"in Laotian ("beh", like the noise it makes) and Ian was given a kitty toy from Thao–the incredibly eloquent kid in class who was teaching himself English. He must have been thrilled that many of the books were printed with both Lao and English translations. It was such an amazing experience to share the day with these kids and I am so thankful for Greg and Michelle, who told us all about the program and offered up a large chunk of the donation.

You Can't Always Get...

2011-03-29T21:18:00.000-07:00

There's this great thing about traveling in Southeast Asia. You never really know what you are going to get. Our friends Deena and Jamie booked an elephant tour through a travel agent. What they asked for was an All Laos tour--a reputable elephant camp with ethics located 7km outside of town. What they got was a 40 minute tuk tuk ride to the middle of nowhere, and one sad little elephant chained to a tree. Presumably, this was the travel agent running a scam with a buddy or two. When our friends complained, the guides' english skills vanished into thin air. Deena had to fake sobs of distress (the sobs were fake, the distress was real) before they were taken back into town.

Much less harrowing but still somewhat humorous was our visit to the spa yesterday. Ian decided on a facial for his birthday, this particular one was 60 minutes long with an added facial massage. Most of this time was spent alone in a room with some tingling concoction on our faces, but at one point they spread what smelled and felt very much like honey onto our skin and proceeded to smack us lightly with their fingers and pull away quickly. At this point I was positive the substance was honey and the sensation didn't even resemble a massage. When we walked away our skin felt softer and we were only out 7 USD so all was well and I felt no need to use the tactic Deena had to employ. Today I may try a pedicure and I really hope they find a way to involve honey again.

Creepy

2011-03-26T18:46:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from travel journal: 25.03.2011

En route to Luang Prabang via slowboat down the Mekong. By far the most pleasant transport yet. Last night there was an earthquake. Big deal. Something else far more shocking happened.

Call me a paranoid tourist, but I ALWAYS have my valuables on my person. This is why it came as a complete and total surprise when I went to pay for my breakfast this morning and all of my little cash stashes were gone (I spread it our it my bag to make it difficult for potential pick-pockets). My mind frantically searched for any moment my bag was not in my possession. Did I leave it unattended during the earthquake? No. Did I leave it in the room when I went to the store? No. It was always on me.

Except... when I... was sleeping...

Even then it was right next to my head. Then the pieces started falling into place; the mysteriously unzipped pockets on my backpack by the window, my missing packet of face wipes, my clothes on the ground when they had been left atop my backpack. Ian tried opening the window, it was smooth and easy, virtually soundless. This is where the creep factor sets in.

Someone climbed INTO our room through the window in the middle of the night.

What I don't understand, but am eternally grateful for, is that the thief took the time to riffle through my things, taking the little pockets of cash while leaving my passport and credit cards.

Alright strange bandit, you only wanted my cash and comodyne face wipes. At a loss of 65 USD, 250,000 K, and 1500 B it could have been worse. So... thank you?

keep on trekkin'

2011-03-23T22:10:00.000-07:00

This is a story about six trusty trekkers, the lady boy song, and why I WILL NEVER DRINK LAO LAO AGAIN.

The facts:
3 days/2 nights trek with green discovery. New trail.
One night jungle camp.
One night tribal village.
$86 USD
Meals included.

The players:
Pon (Lao), Chris (Ireland), Malko (Belgium), J.B. (France), Lise (Norway)

They told us it would be one of the more difficult treks. I flexed my biceps and said "sign me up!" We left Luang Namtha in northern Laos and traveled by sawngthaew (a flatbed truck with two rows of seats in the bed) down a dirt road for about an hour into the Nam Ha National Park Area. The first part of the trek took us through some rice paddy fields and on into the forest. After a couple of hours, we stopped in a shady area for lunch where our local guides fashioned a table for us out of banana leaves, then dumped out little mounds of spicy eggplant, friend green beans, fern, and beef with ginger. We were each handed a leaf-wrapped bundle of sticky rice and we dug in. All of our meals were amazingly delicious, but this would prove to be my favorite of the trip. Especially that spicy eggplant. My first taste of traditional Laos food. Spicy food is a natural mosquito repellent and i have been careful to learn "I like it hot and spicy" in the native tongue (mak phet in Laos). We topped our lunch off with a cute little banana and headed up what would prove to be a very steep mountain, with bricks of scrumptious sticky rice expanding in our bellies.

What goes up, must come down and by the time we reached our jungle camp I was pretty sure I had let my leg muscles know that I mean business. No more fat, lazy, relaxing holiday--we are on an ADVENTURE!

Along the way our trekking company guide Pon pointed out some fun and useful edible plants--sour plant stems for hangovers and cow shit tree bark for diarrhea. Pon proved to be an excellent guide and friend who had a penchant for singing while hiking and also playfully flirting with Lise the Norwegian.

Dinner was AWESOME (and I do mean that literally). I had no idea bamboo could be so versatile. You can eat it and turn it into floors and cutting boards—this I know—but with the use of a machete and some ingenuity, you can boil tea, make sticky rice, construct a water pipe, and build an entire camp out of it, as our local guides proved to us with impressive speed and skill. Pon made J.B. a bamboo shotglass and the Lao Lao was passed around the table. This was my first experience with Lao La, a rice liquor... not too bad... not too good... ok, kind of bad. Pretty bad. Mostly just tastes like rubbing alcohol and they drink it everywhere in Laos.

Lise let us in on the fact that Pon wrote a song about Lady Boys which set off a campaign to get Pon to sing the Lady Boy song. "Not enough Lao Lao," he said.

We retired to our bamboo sleeping quarters relatively early and as I passed out I was convinced I was listening to the "Sounds of the Forest" CD from Target.

DAY TWO. Caffe a letto! My sister and I discovered the bliss that coffee in bed can bring while we were traveling together in Italy. Pon must have known that this is the way to my heart because he brought me my coffee in bed–and in a handmade bamboo cup, no less! Sticky rice with egg was on the menu. Make us strong for a day that Pon described as "Not steep. Mostly flat, but longer than the first day." Lise and I would spend the rest of the day pondering Pon's concept of "steep," but the man hikes these trails in flip-flops so we already knew his level of bad-assedness far exceeded our own.

It wasn't too long of a day and I enjoyed hearing Pon repeating my phrases, trying to master the California accent. It has come to my attention that I say "great" far too often.

I think now is a good time to mention the sheer volume of sweat that we were able to produce on this trek. It was shocking. I've never seen anything like it. When we dragged our salty-browed white asses into the village, we walked straight past all of the ridiculously adorable piglets and chicklets, past the colorful hanging laundry photo-ops and right into the river for a bath.

The Lenten tribe children were splashing about, convincing me beyond all doubt something that Angelina Jolie has known for years, white babies are the ugliest of all babies. My favorite pictures of the trip thus far are of these expressive little cuties. Lise let one of the girls borrow her SLR to take pictures of the girl's family. The results are shaky at best but Lise gained a fast friend. This little girl loved both sides of the camera and shows promise of being Laos' Next Top Model.

That evening we were served a candle-lit dinner with a few of the tribe elders. Perhaps you have heard me refer to myself as an "opportunivore." Staying true to my diet, I could not pass up the opportunity to try duck liver, heart and skin in a spicy raw duck blood concoction. It was the least I could do after witnessing the sacrifice and slow bleeding out of the poor little duck. I'm going to go ahead and say it was tasty. Green pumpkin soup, fried bamboo and sticky rice constituted the rest of our meal. This delicious dinner would make an appearance later.

In Laos it is considered rude to refuse if someone offers you a drink. This becomes a problem of epic proportions when bottle after bottle after yes, bottle (one. two. THREE bottles, 'a 'a 'aaa) of Lao Lao shots are being passed around the table. The good news is that we finally got to hear the Lady Boy song. The bad news is obvious.

If I ever wake up with a hangover again, I will be overjoyed knowing that I do not have to climb a mountain. It is absurd to go trekking hungover, but 4 out of 6 of us have done it. I was so miserable the only way to deal with it was humor and I haven't felt this kind of amusement since that one time I accidentally sold art for the Scientologists.

We made it up and over what Pon teasingly called "Farang Hill" (Farang is Lao and Thai for "tourist", and you hear it A LOT), it was a long hot journey, but the trek remains one of the highlights of the trip and i now know that I AM NEVER DRINKING LAO LAO AGAIN.

lucky lucky lucky

2011-03-20T06:18:00.000-07:00

it is not lost on me that i am blessed to be in one of the most beautiful places on earth. even the bus ride into laos was spectacular. tomorrow i will be heading out on a 3-day trek into the nam ha national park area. the bed i have been sleeping in (and will be joining in less than ten minutes flat) is the most comfortable thus far in southeast asia. it's $4.50 a night. i met a couple today who has been traveling in southeast asia for 5 years. they live on a tight budget, even for here (they each pay $2 a night at their guesthouse) but... 5 YEARS! yes!

Where Am I?

2011-03-18T04:39:00.000-07:00

for a few days it seemed like maybe thailand was just a dream and i'd never left oregon. if it weren't for the delicious sum tam and the cozy guesthouse overlooking the mekong river, i may have forgotten i was on vacation. temperatures dropped to 11 degrees celsius (that's about 52 degrees fahrenheit for us 'mericans). most of the time i was bundled in blankets, drinking beer leo and watching numerous pirated movies with other travelers, which wasn't bad... it just wasn't what i expected. it's been the little joys each day that remind me what a glorious life i am leading. i have been able to sleep in as late as i please, taking little damp bicycle rides into town for the best coffee i've had thus far on the journey (a place called bamboo mexican house in the border town of chiang khong... the owners are very friendly and they bake fresh bread for their sandwiches, make an incredible pumpkin soup and they have a sweet spotted dog named salsa). they didn't at all mind us sitting and playing card games, reading, drawing and journaling for hours until the rain let up enough to head back to the guesthouse.

it's been great to stay in one place for a while, but tomorrow we must say goodbye to baanrimtaling guesthouse and chiang khong for we head to nam ha national park for a trekking adventure, then on to luang prabang for another extended stay.

Thailand

2011-03-15T09:30:00.001-07:00

Notes for Next Time

2011-03-12T23:37:00.000-08:00

(and there will be a next time)

1. more dresses
2. less lotion
3. make note of thai holidays, do not travel on those holidays (especially if your digestion is in a questionable state)
4. you will want to buy everything the hill tribes craft. resist.
5. drink water. then drink more water.

Thailand S01E01

2011-03-10T04:30:00.001-08:00

Excerpt from travel journal:

10.03.11 09:22

Ayutthaya -> Sukhothai

The night before last we ended up in Ayutthaya due to a minor transportation misunderstanding, The Lopburi bus driver told us "no" for reasons the language barrier prevented us from understanding. The Ayutthaya bus driver noticed this and sais "Lopburi" while furiiously nodding his head and pointing to his bus. We, understandably, took this to mean he was headed to Lopburi. A couple of hours later we pulled up in Atutthaya and our driver motioned for us to get off, pointing some distance up the road, again furiously nodding his head and saying "Lopburi." Ohhhhhh... I see... from here we could take out third very sweaty and bumpy bus ride to Lopburi.

Uh uh.

A small amount of searching landed us in Chantana Guesthouse. Quiet, 2 beds, private bathroom, 500 Baht.

Uh huh.

After showering off whatever had made me inexplicably sticky from head to toe, we went on a meandering night walk in search of ancient ruins rumored to be lit up for a couple of hours each night. What we discovered was undeniably gorgeous. Standing near these ruins, nary another tourist in sight, you couldn't help but feel the former greatness embodied in these walls and temples. Ayutthaya was the capital of Siam for over 400 years. Named after Ayudhya (Sanscrit for "unconquerable")it was dubbed by the first Western visitors from Portugal as the "Venice of the East."

Packs of wild dogs (found everywhere in Thailand, these dogs test my ability to refrain from petting everything cute and fuzzy--they do bite) were our only company as we wandered the ancient city and I was grateful for mistakenly ending up there. Happy accidents are part of the journey and so far I adore my journey through Thailand. The people are always willing to offer a smile and the food--oh, the food--sweet, spicy, sour & savory. Always a perfect blend and i love a meal that makes me sweat.

how to...

2010-08-15T01:54:00.000-07:00

The dating scene after 30 sounds a lot like "I'm divorced," or "I have kids," or "I have Herpes," or "I live with my parents," or "I am divorced, I have kids and Herpes and I live with my parents." For now, alone is OK with me.

How I Love You

2010-02-23T09:09:00.000-08:00

photo by Helga

I love you so completely. I take my heart out of my chest and run up to you, smiling brightly, eyes aglow, and I place my heart in your hands, like a child offering you their most prized possession. If I love you, you hold all of my heart, every last beautiful beating bit of it. It may happen that you need to set it down in order to tie your shoe (it would be tragic to trip and fall), and you may ask me to hold onto my heart for a moment, but I don't know how and I fumble and it falls and bruises badly. You might look up to see the tears welling up in my 29-year-old-eyes. It's not your fault, you are simply taking care of yourself. I must learn how to hold my own heart.

Sun Please Shine Again

2010-02-17T22:35:00.001-08:00

From Jolby & Friends

Marilyn

2010-02-17T14:41:00.001-08:00

Rumors

2010-02-17T10:12:00.000-08:00

Last night we watched Fleetwood Mac-Rumors from the Classic Albums series and I have a very new and real appreciation for the band and the album. I think what really sold me was the first soft-focus shot of Stevie Nicks in a peach-colored outfit with the ocean as a backdrop. I can't wait to see all of the other episodes!

Newness

2010-02-11T22:26:00.000-08:00

One of the greatest things about LA (which I miss dearly) is the inspiration I would feel in the presence of talented, beautiful, motivated humans also known as my friends. In an attempt to recreate the feeling here in Eugene a community blog has been started. Scott, Ian and I are constantly searching for beauty, truth, love and (most importantly) humor. We share with each other, and the world, at Touché.

Fitness Happens

2010-02-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

What should have been a 13 mile bike ride turned into a very sweaty 23 mile bike ride. If you plan to run errands on a bike in Eugene, remember to bring a map. Luckily, I had my shiny new bike computer to entertain me!

Total Distance: 23.09 mi
Total Time: 1:52:59
Average Speed: 12.26 mi/hr
Max Speed: 25.13
Bike rides w/ bike computer: 10x more awesome

Color Full

2010-02-08T15:36:00.001-08:00

I was admiring this lovely color combo of pen on dictionary, when I noticed my scarf had the same thing goin' on. Huh. Nice.

Winter Heart

2010-01-06T16:55:00.000-08:00

The endless gray is bringing me down. I don't just mean the clouds stretching across the horizon.

Filmmakers

2009-12-18T12:17:00.000-08:00

Me + Ian + Scott + Tripod =

For Smiles

2009-12-04T22:31:00.000-08:00

When you wake up with bedhead this sweet and you also happen to have slept in a penguin onesie, you just have to share. Also, here are some sharks found by Reed and enjoyed by myself.

Go By Train

2009-11-10T16:59:00.000-08:00

This weekend Chad and I rode the train from San Francisco to Eugene. I haven't ridden the train in years and MAN have I been missing out! Granted, without a spot in the sleeping car it can be difficult to catch some shut-eye, but who wants to sleep when shenanigans are happening at each passing second? I practically ran to and from the stench they call a bathroom, afraid of missing something legendary. It all started with the dude rattling off his obscure celebrity sightings. I wish I could give more detail, but I was trying my best to focus on the intense game of boggle I was involved in. Lucky for you, I can tell you the best part. After and hour or so of this one-sided-semi-star-studded conversation, dude got up and said "It was nice to meet you, man."

Next came the hippie kid (whose stop was obviously going to be the same as ours). He was writing in his journal, and next to him sat a stone that had been pulled from a red velvet satchel that looked like it was made to hold the 12-sided die of a Dungeon Master. Chad had the stroke of genius to inquire about said stone.

"I was in Yosemite and I sat down to have a cigarette. I dropped the butt and it rolled under this one big rock. I didn't think much of it, but the next day I sat down for a cigarette again... and... I'm sorry, I'm really drunk... and, uh... I had the cigarette and it rolled under a rock and I realized it was the SAME ROCK so I looked underneath and I saw something... it was this stone, and I dug it out and the thing that's crazy about it..." He proceeded to make us guess which half of the stone was opaque and which was transparent. Apparently I guessed right, which threw him for a loop, and he held it up to the train light, which threw me for a loop since I saw no difference in the opacity from one side to the other. So awesome. Turns out this rock was a Bad Rock, cursed if you will. A shaman let him know that it had bad energy and needed to be bathed in the sea, so this guy washed it in Lake Tahoe. Note: Lake Tahoe, so it is my belief that this rock is still cursed. I came to this conclusion after I touched the rock and am now interested in undergoing some sort of exorcism. If you know a guy, put me in touch.

The sun rose to the sound of a 19-year-old kid, built like a football player, talking non-stop to a woman it was clear he had just met. I felt bad for this lady until I realized she was egging him on cougar-style. When he busted out his sketch-book she oohed and aahed over his "unique talent." And then this little gem dropped from his lips, "You know what RAP stands for? Retards Attempting Poetry." Offensive on so many levels, right? Our Cougar said "HAHAHAHA. Oh, it's so true! I've never heard that before!" They stayed on the train after we got off, so I'll never know if it ended in a love connection. My guess is no.

My favorite was the dude wandering back and forth through all of the cars for about an hour, sometimes alone, sometimes with some harrowed-looking train staff, but always repeating "I can't find my seat," or "Do you know where my seat is?" or "Hey. Hey, which way did I come from?" Mind you, there were only 4 passenger cars. He did have a sports jersey on, he did not have any shoes on. Chad exchanged some words with him, "Hey man, if you see some shoes on the ground and they are yours, that's probably your seat."

Sweet Arrangement & Sad Derangement

2009-10-10T16:20:00.000-07:00

Two must-see videos for two very different reasons.

My Favorite Sound

2009-09-06T15:43:00.000-07:00

Has your heart been singing? Mine has been oddly silent for months on end. The problem is the absence of melody. What I mean is that my heart reverberates when Jess tells a farm story, when Heather mixes an incredible drink or bakes a baguette, when Reed learned something new and absolutely must share it, when Angel gives a hug, when Noah plays charades, when Michelle busts out in spontaneous dance, when Chris plays just the right album for the moment, when Lesley does something incredibly maternal, when Megan hears a dirty joke, when Noelle sees a stray cat, when Tami instantly makes strangers feel at ease. The list goes on and these small events in a day create the beautiful hum of life. These things have been too far away from me. There is good news. When my new friend Ian laughs, I remember how much I love this life and all that is around me. If your heart is stifled, I have some suggestions:

1. A camping trip. Bring ridiculously good food.
2. Midnight kayaking under a full moon.
3. Late night hot springs.
4. Hiking somewhere you have never been.
5. A fancy dinner party. You must dress up.

Just Ain't Gonna Work Out

2009-08-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

I heart this heart vinyl. Also, if you haven't seen Chris' new column for the LAWeekly, check it out.

Diggin' the Doug

2009-08-12T19:06:00.000-07:00

On my last visit to Crater Lake, I discovered this little gem of knowledge; Ranger Doug has an amazing line of WPA posters, some recreated from the originals, others done in the style of the WPA. I want them all. All of them. (Sidenote: SKL had a remarkably similar posting today)

Two-Nine

2009-08-05T19:25:00.000-07:00

Pretty much sums up the way I welcomed the next year of my existence. Since I do try so very hard to be positive at all times, I won't elaborate. Instead, I will follow up with some photos from my most amazing birthday do-over compliments of my most amazing big sister.

Trailer Livin'

2009-07-21T20:27:00.000-07:00

One by one, my family is moving into trailers. Although the Bohemian Chalet and the Recliner Liner are temporary abodes, I can't help but see the appeal in a mobile home. Cheap rent in whatever city, suburb, township, campground, or parking lot you please.

Scherenschnitte

2009-07-17T06:29:00.000-07:00

That is paper (by Bovey Lee), and I have discovered that papercutting (kirie, sanjhi, scherenschnitte, papel picado) satisfies all of my obsessive compulsive needs.

Oh! You Pretty Things

2009-07-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

When I get bummed out, I wear more black, drink more wine, gain more weight, add more water to my showers, and make more phone calls to my sister to remember more of my blessings. With more maimed ankles, more jogging is out of the question, but I will still focus more on all that is good and lovely and joyous and plan more vacations.

Geminis Gone Templeton

2009-06-24T23:04:00.000-07:00

I realize I frequently talk about my awesome friends and the fact that I miss them so. This time I will simply say that my entire body ached after arriving in Eugene, as though LA were pulling me back with all of its might as I drove away.

More Fun Less Fun

2009-06-17T17:44:00.001-07:00

Still in Eugene. The best thing I can say about this at the moment is that Shellac came through town and I had a lovely day in Portland with my friend Matt. Tomorrow I leave for Templeton and nothing makes me happier than the thought of this coming weekend.

Crush Blush

2009-06-15T00:14:00.001-07:00

Hanging out with my high school crush simultaneously brought to light how much things change after 10 years, and how much things stay the same.

B*tch

2009-06-02T18:06:00.000-07:00

So, I was (don't you just love stories that begin with "so, I was..."?) walking to the bank from my work, waiting to cross the street. A car goes speeding by at a whopping 25 mph or so and from the window I hear a punctuated "Bitch!" which I assumed was directed at yours truly. My immediate reaction was to lift both hands and look down to see what in my posture, outfit or overall vibe could warrant such a cry. Nothing seemed particularly offensive and in fact, the only remarkable thing about me was the ceramic coffee mug I carried in lieu of the usual paper to go cup. Maybe this guy assumed I was quietly calculating the angle at which to throw said mug through his windshield in order to hit him directly in the face, but my math was a bit slow so instead he was able to curse me for my vicious thoughts. This seemed unlikely. Equally unlikely was the probability that a female dog was in my near vicinity and he was loudly exclaiming to the driver what a dog of that gender might be called. I didn't notice a cell phone but what with all the hands free technology flying around, I suppose it is possible (though not probable) that he was having a fight with his girlfriend over his deficiencies as a boyfriend. For a second it dawned on me that maybe it was my face, but I'm not one to sport inadvertent bitch face while standing curbside the way I imagine Rose McGowan, Karen O, or Posh Spice might. In the end I decided to settle my baffled mind with the explanation given to me for most of the offensive behavior in Eugene—they must have driven in from Springfield.

Me, Myself and I

2009-06-01T19:00:00.001-07:00

Really, truly being alone is bittersweet. Sometimes you're grateful for all of the alone time you have, and other times you have to remind yourself that only boring people get bored and invent something magical to do. Sometimes you are proud of yourself for being the best date you could ever ask for and other times you ache to share these experiences with someone you love. Sometimes the freedom is, well, freeing. Other times you wish you could remember what your ring tone sounds like. The things I've done alone since I've been in Eugene include, but aren't limited to:

-Going to a Decemberists concert at the McDonald Theatre
-Hiking Spencer's Butte
-Riding my bicycle along the Willamette
-Grabbing a spontaneous beer at a brew pub
-Weeding the back yard (the perfect gardening task for someone with a black thumb)
-Going to a bicycle shop for the first time in my life
-Dancing in my underwear in the living room
-Trying the coffee at the Wandering Goat
-Searching unsuccessfully for books on tape at the library
-Consuming wood-fired pastries with soy latte from Hideaway Bakery
-Going to a David Sedaris reading

The truth of the matter is that I am, indeed, a fantastic date, but sometimes I wish I wasn't the only person in Eugene to know this.

A River Runs Through It

2009-05-31T20:45:00.000-07:00

In the haze of marijuana smoke and dreadlocks on otherwise adorable people, in the midst of earth-tones, Northface, and students indistinguishable from hobos, I sometimes forget what there is to love about Eugene. I needed a reminder, so I hopped on my badass bicycle (compliments of SKL) and took a trip down the North Shore bike path, stopping for a Ruby Ale (followed by an impromptu Terminator Stout) at McMenamins by the river. Eugene and I are on good terms once again.

When It Rains

2009-05-28T22:37:00.001-07:00

Used for the Greater Good

2009-05-08T11:09:00.000-07:00

I've been blogged. See it here.

My Friends Are Better Than Your Friends

2009-05-06T17:56:00.001-07:00

Happiness can sneak up on you, but if you know the people I know, happiness will pummel you like an avalanche and the rolling laughter will send you down the hillside in a snowball of joy and love. Try to be sad when Randy Newman is blaring over the loudspeakers and you're sitting with Reed in Kemp's spittle, heads fuzzy from Stadium Club martinis. Try to be depressed when JR sings karaoke in an helium-induced octave at the best dive bar in Los Angeles. Try to stay bummed when you see two of your nearest and dearest bonding for eternity under a Palm Springs sun. Just try hating life as you fill your belly and soul with $6,000 of amazing cheese, mint juleps carried in vest pockets, Chris' stinging scorpion saltation, and the revealing of Bianchi's mad harmonica skillz. Try to be downtrodden when you spend over 2 hours dining in a cafe with rotating table guests and Huell Howser, after spending the evening shouting for John Barnacle to join your 5-person amoeba impression. Try to frown when you're drinking from a mason jar, feeding carrots to a tiny horse and leaving deer ornaments in the most beautiful pile of junk. Try to cry when you are unexpectedly handed mixed CDs from two of your oldest (and youngest) friends, spending the day in a tour van consuming anything delicious that pops into your mind. Try to stay sad when you are absolutely positive you are the most blessed person on the face of the earth.

Dissed by the Universe

2009-04-26T21:31:00.000-07:00

According to my calculations, an average of 20 people take their shirts off at shows in Salem, one asshole will stand right behind me and talk through quiet time, 50% of love is returned, and an average of 4 people read this blog on a regular basis. So to you devoted 4, this one blog post will be more personal than I am comfortable with, but it's honest and this is its raison d'être.

Pluto is kicking my ass. Its destructive force moved into my life in the beginning of November. When you dream you are in danger and can't run, your legs are weighted, your mouth is open but no cry comes out, that is Pluto. But I am not dreaming, I'm just hurting and when I open my mouth the cry does emerge. I am not home, I am not with my friends, I am not with my family, I am not in my city and I am not in Love. And there we have the whole point of Pluto. To face defeat and continue on, emerging from the ashes a new and lovelier bird. There is a Sufi saying, "Die many times before you die." I'm being burned alive and it will happen again and that is life. Pluto is with us all. Now is the time for letting go. I will be angry and I will be sad and I will be defeated but I will never take my shirt off just cus everyone else does, I will never be the loud asshole, and I will always love with 100% of my heart.

PHOTO BY JESS REED

Head of a Parrot

2009-04-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

Is it opposites day? I mean, I put at least one article of clothing on backwards or inside out a minimum of once a week, but today I discovered my underwear were on inside out, my leggings on backwards, and I slipped a hoodie over my head to be met with total darkness. I went to a Jake Shimabukuro show and found myself wondering how you can tell if you're the cool kid that happens to be into what your parents would like, or if you've simply turned into your parents? On a day like today I fear the worst. Not that there is anything wrong with my parents, it's just that I'm only 28 years old. I'm not ready for the ability to relate to parrot head jokes. That said, the concert was lovely and the sun came out in the afternoon.

iRape

2009-03-30T23:06:00.001-07:00

Angel, like many others, loves her iPhone. This is the conversation that went down while fabric shopping in downtown LA yesterday:

JB: Is the iPhone expensive?
A: Have you ever been raped?... by a really hot guy?

Showers

2009-03-17T21:56:00.000-07:00

I come from a land where people call in sick when it rains. SPRING BREAK DUUUUUUUDE!

Stroud River Expeditions

2009-03-04T22:21:00.001-08:00

I made this logo for my brother-in-law. American Apparel hoodies, here we come!

Lomography

2009-02-24T23:25:00.000-08:00

I miss film. Kinda. All I have right now is my lovely Lumix. BUT, I also have Photoshop. Instant gratification.

De-Invent

2009-02-23T22:13:00.000-08:00

When I left LA, there was a big hullabaloo over moving to a new place and having the opportunity to reinvent yourself. Hi, My name is Vladia and I've spent the last two years as a mime's apprentice and I am really into collecting teeth and quoting Kierkegaard. Apparently, when you move you're supposed to revel in the ability to be whatever or whoever you want to be. I moved to Eugene, and the only people I know here have been in my life for at least 8 years. In the case of one miss Erin Hampton (Grover), it would be approximately 15 years. Yesterday, we met over a hand-picked flight of Oregon beers (including 2 delicious specialty brews by Shawn Grover himself) and caught up on the old times, the new times, and the missed times. It was good times.

Erin remembers when I had "the Cranberries" and "the Clash" scrawled in white-out on my purple jansport backpack, when I thought I was punk rock even though I was a straight-A student who went to church camp as my way of acting out against my liberal parents, when I was too embarrassed to smile because I was the only girl in high school who still had braces. We got in trouble at youth group for wearing layered slips as clothing, we did an entire month's homework in one night over a pot of black coffee (every month), we made dance videos in Elise's living room, we graduated together, we went to college apart, we moved to Eugene and found ourselves laughing and rehashing the old times over beer and mixed meats.

I've never felt the need to reinvent myself and it's refreshing to be around my oldest friend, as we have a special understanding of what made us who we are, a deep appreciation for who we have become, and an insightful optimism about who we will be.

"Be that self which one truly is." -Soren Kierkegaard

A Joyous Sound

2009-02-16T16:11:00.000-08:00

Heather continues to brighten my days with awesome videos!

Step It Up, Obama

2009-02-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

President's Day is here again. I'm sure miss Libby is celebrating this joyous occasion wrapped in an American flag and exchanging presidential trivia with all who will engage. Without Sara here to show me how to rock this holiday, I've taken it to the internet. In truth, I've let my economy-obsessed father take it to the internet, and have inquired on the fruits of his labor. Today I would like to call attention to FDR, who stepped in as our 32nd president amidst the first Great Depression. Here is a speech he gave after his first term.

"We know now that Government by organized money is just as dangerous as Government by organized mob." -Franklin D. Roosevelt

Faced with a grim economic climate, FDR brought Unemployment Insurance and Social Security to the table. I'm still waiting on my main man Obama to tell the bankers they are all a bunch of hooligans and we are nationalizing our banks. FDR would have.

Love Is Simple

2009-02-13T22:57:00.000-08:00

Heather sent me this video. I can't think of a better Valentine. I, simply, love you.

Forestry Humor

2009-02-10T10:40:00.000-08:00

Captain Fuzzypants

2009-02-08T23:08:00.000-08:00

Does someone with no child-birthing plans still have a biological clock? My feeling of urgency in adopting sara, the 4-year-old heeler found on the highway in 105 degree heat, says yes. Very much so.

Show Poster Post

2009-02-06T11:18:00.001-08:00

Another post about things I like to look at.

Greta Grossman

2009-02-05T19:06:00.001-08:00

These are from an LA Times photo gallery. The Grossman House, 1948. Reaffirms my affinity for stone floors and wood paneling.

Bits of the 'Quin

2009-02-05T11:28:00.000-08:00

Tippet

Darby

A few days ago, I got thumped in the chin by Lyla's skull. Lyla is a gorgeous, sweet, lovable husky. The right side of my lip and my front right tooth had an unfortunate meeting and puffiness ensued. Yesterday, Darby must have decided I looked ridiculous and she gave me a skull thump on the left side of my lip. Now I look gorgeous.

My sister and I went post-holing last week in the snow across the lake. We lost Darby for bit, as she has a deeper love for chasing birds than she has for pleasing her people. Tami thought she was a goner for sure, much like she was convinced my cat had been devoured by an owl when he was hiding in the cupboards for the first 36 hours of his stay in Chiloquin. Darby returned to our feet when she was good and ready, doggy smile plastered to her face. Driving back home, we sang Jimmy Buffett tunes and I remembered that the reason I started playing guitar was to sing "Cheeseburger in Paradise" around the campfire in the Fikstad family tradition.

My first week here, I heard a song Brent had playing on the computer. About whiskey. 4 drinks and 200 songs later, I still haven't figured out which song it was, but Brent and I were up 'till 2am last night, making a good go of it, while increasing our music libraries tenfold. This guy should write a song about whiskey.

Sisterly Love

2009-01-20T10:33:00.001-08:00

You've all heard me say it. I adore my big sister. Big time. She's got a fantastic sense of humor, she's got a wealth of knowledge packed into that head of hers, she is patient, tolerant, and is genuinely interested in those around her. She's got an exceptional sense of adventure and a youthful appreciation of life. She got our dad's big blue eyes and her smile matches her tremendous laugh. She throws chips when she's angry and drinks wine when she's happy. This post is for her—and for Brent, a fellow appreciator of all things Tami.

Beer Bottle Openers, pt. 1

2009-01-14T11:24:00.000-08:00

Brent Can Open A Beer Bottle With Anything pt. 1 from Heidi Fikstad on Vimeo.

Puttin' the Chill in Chiloquin

2009-01-13T17:30:00.000-08:00

Chiloquin, OR is about 1/2 an hour outside of Klamath Falls (South Central Oregon). In the 2000 census the population was 716. According to Tami and Brent, this number is skewed as it does not include the rural area carrying the Chiloquin postmark, but still outside of Chiloquin proper. Their population estimate is closer to 2,000. Coming from Los Angeles, this discrepancy is inconsequential. This is a town which my cell phone has decided does not need technology. My move here also happened to coincide with my departure from Facebook, which was due mostly to the realization that my thoughts were frequently in the form of status updates. Facebook is a language I don't need to speak. The vocabulary I need in Chiloquin includes such terms as yak trax, smart wool, and carhartts. "A toasty 65" is something I had never heard in Los Angeles, but refers to the temperature at which Tami and Brent keep their house. "The Tribe" refers to the Native American population, which lost it's recognition of sovereignty in 1954. Their possession of the land has since been partially restored, but they were the only tribe that actually spent the money given to them by the government in return for the land, and this marks them as outcasts in the Native American population as a whole. Apparently there was a time when new Cadillacs could be found in the woods around Chiloquin. They had been abandoned by Tribesmen when broken down in the snow and a replacement Cadillac would be purchased in lieu of towing and repairs. I wish I had owned a tow truck then. I would have collected Caddys the way present-day Oregonians collect bottles and cans. If you have the patience for long lines and frequently broken machines, recycling can prove quite lucrative in these parts.

I've learned that a cord is a unit of measurement for firewood equal to an 8' x 4' x 4' pile, and that you should never start a fire with the heater on or the smoke will pour out of the stove and into the living room. Also, a cast iron teapot, full of water and perched atop the stove, is a necessary in order to keep the air from drying out from the fire.

Another term that may only be useful in the Stroud household is labeling things as "So Cal." This means that function follows form. I tried to purchase a pair of So Cal snow boots until Brent told me it would be ill-advised. After Tami and I were complimented on our smiles, we found this terminology applies to us in a very specific way. We have So Cal teeth.

My favorite Chiloquin discovery thus far is Melita's. Melita's business card informs us that it is a RESTAURANT-MOTEL-LOUNGE-RV PARK-MINI STORAGE. This is, apparently, the only bar in town. 10 people enter a bar and ask how the bartendress is doing, bartendress says "a lot better before you walked in here." Don't ask for a Hefeweisen, because she will be out, unless you are the lonely guy at the end of the bar who must have dibs on the last 3 pints. If you come into the restaurant for lunch, your menu options include the Redneck Eggs Benedict or the Southern Ore. Burrito complete with 3 meats, salsa AND gravy. Yum. Welcome to Chiloquin. It's cold here, but I love it.

Break Up LA

2008-12-28T17:37:00.000-08:00

Yes, Los Angeles, I broke up with you. You were really really cold to me, you demanded too much of my money, you left me with no place to live, and so I decided to leave you. But lately—as is to be expected—all I've seen is your good side. Good friends, good food, good times. We've had a great couple of weeks together. You've really started to warm up and remind me why I loved you. Mostly, it's these beautiful people you contain. I'm really going to miss them. A lot. A LOT. Los Angeles, just keep trying to convince me that a "break" is all we need, and that you're much better than Portland or San Francisco... it's working.

Hot Toddy

2008-12-22T17:41:00.000-08:00

inventory:
1 bone child
1 bone chomper
2 guinea pigs
2 awkward santas
3 vegetarian shepherds pies
6 friends
8 tiny bites of candy cane
20 tiny bites from marlon
40 tiny hot toddys

The Oregon Trail

2008-12-11T14:06:00.000-08:00

Things I hope to learn in Oregon:

What the hell I'm doing in Oregon
How to tile a bathroom
How to install a hardwood floor
What it's like to care for an entire house
How to grow a plant without killing it
The true meaning of the term "beer-o"
Where to get the best rain coat
How to cook like my parents
That friends stay friends despite location

Stop Thief!

2008-12-09T22:18:00.000-08:00

Dear Diary,
Tonight JR let me win 3 games of slamwich in a row. I thought that was real nice of him. Goodnight!

I Heart Marlon

2008-12-03T22:47:00.000-08:00

Jess sent me this today. Love is...

A Good Laugh, In All Seriousness

2008-12-03T12:59:00.000-08:00

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Dog Whispering

2008-11-20T19:50:00.000-08:00

Cesar Milan is my doggy Jesus. I worship him. This is Marlon Bianchi. He used to pull his leash on his walks, puppy bite in excitement, and jump all over other dogs. Now he walks by my side, licks instead of biting, sits when he sees other dogs, is my furry alarm clock, buys me beer, does the dishes, waters the plants, and tells me I'm beautiful.

PFT

2008-11-15T10:01:00.000-08:00

Just one more reason to love him.

BWE Preview: Lindsey For Web @ Yahoo! Video

Schemes

2008-11-12T00:31:00.000-08:00

My apartment has turned into a craft supply store. I'm my own sweat shop worker, except that I have no guarantee that 20 cents is coming my way for every hour spent. Does anyone know how to get into house sitting? Seeing as I'm jobless, verging on homeless, and enjoy pool-side lounging in the Hollywood Hills, I figure this is the ideal occupation for me. Other prospects include (but are not limited to) entrepreneurship, transcription, "normal person" modeling, bailing out and moving in with my parents, finding a sugar daddy, and hoboing.

Lovely LA

2008-11-09T18:46:00.000-08:00

Don't fool yourself. Someday you may very well wake up on a friend's couch, then brew some tea and snuggle back up under your covers to read comparisons on your life and the life of an alcoholic. It can happen to the best of us. On the up side, you may then find yourself on a bike ride through the city, observing the local art scene, and eventually having a conversation with the owner of one of the most amazing homes you have ever seen. If you don't already have friends that will hang out with you through all of the above, you have a new priority.

H8

2008-11-09T18:28:00.000-08:00

My favorite sign of the night:
When do WE get to vote on YOUR marriage?

Oh, Bama

2008-11-06T22:41:00.000-08:00

"This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we cant, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can." - Barack Obama, United States President Elect

"Ciao Heidi, I'm happy for your new president. America give a lesson to the old world." - Stefano De Matteis, Italy

Highlights of Halloween

2008-11-01T17:38:00.001-07:00

Birthday Monster

2008-10-27T22:35:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday Reed. A birthday monster for you.

B took my first post literally

2008-10-27T14:55:00.000-07:00

I am the Mother Road

2008-10-24T22:14:00.000-07:00

3,729 miles later, i'm home and ready to cut my hair. it's an act of mourning for the road behind and hope for the new roads of the future. new york showed a life perfectly aligned with destiny in the form of one miss kfw, while jm proved that you don't have to know exactly what you're doing to live beautifully. in wilkes-barre, the loss of our boys fades into the backgroud as good beer, friendly phillies fans, and rb's mom's nut-cupping story take center stage. michigan was a magical combination of history, death, fascination, and the lively glow exuding from within skl proving that detroit can, indeed, give life. memphis provided inspiration in the form of stax soul music and the lamplighter lounge, where ten minutes was all it took to fall in love with the dive bar and it's patrons. just a warning; memphis will make you do crazy things like eating a dizzying amont of dry ribs after 10 years of vegetarianism. other fond memories include dunkin deeznuts, tom's (aka chom's) diner, "welcome to budweiser", phantom mustaches, my first new york slice, connecticut's fall colors, annie mcvay's unique eatery, fried macaroni & cheese balls, rust belt beauty, belle isle, detroit's haunted train station, tootsie pops and laffy taffy, ohio rest stops, cafe d'mongo's, the meaning of life and a peanut butter cookie, fort smith friendliness, 500 sodas, baby buffalo hats and melodies, new mexican food, and an eternal gratitude to my traveling companions, jg and b, who should give seminars on adventure, love, sunsets, generosity, photo ops, blackberries, hope, humor, and friendship. they should also give me a haircut as i hold them responsible for my excitement about life and readiness for change.

(for more road trip brilliance, click here)