Burning Rubber

I came. I saw. I conquered the 405.

Today I had a doctor appointment at UCLA, scheduled over the lunch hour. When I asked a local friend how much time to allow from the Antelope Valley, she told me 3 hours. 3 hours for an 80 mile trip. Queue anxiety attack. Driving has never been at the top of my list for fun things to do. It's not relaxing, or calming, or any other synonym for stress reduction. My neck gets tight, my butt falls asleep, I mindlessly listen to the same Taylor Swift mix CDs over and over, spill pop all over the cupholders, and then of course, there are the crazy Angelenos. They have an unnerving propensity to weave recklessly in and out of lanes. They never signal. If the speed limit is 65 and you're going 10 over, you may as well be Grandma Delores in her ancient Buick, because everyone else will be running you down.

This morning I gathered my courage, and drove through the mountains into Santa Clarita to greet the massive pile of metal and humanity known as the morning rush on the 405. There was a lot of deep breathing (which led to the oh so pleasant inhalation of tractor trailer fumes), white knuckles, and calling out to various angels and saints, but I got to my appointment 45 minutes early, which was actually just perfect for my first visit since I had to check in and get paperwork done. I was glad I followed my friend's 3 hour rule, or I would have cut it too close. I showed only minimal levels of fear, and I triumphed. And yet, today was the first day I truly wished I could keep up with the Kardashians. Because then I would have a chauffeur, and I would never have to drive again.

Lessons learned today about driving in LA metropolitan area traffic:
1) Stay in the middle lanes as much as possible, it lessens the chance you'll have to swing across multiple lanes of traffic suddenly in case of road construction or an accident.
2) Use a GPS AND print out directions that you've read ahead of time. If your GPS is anything like mine, it sometimes has a mind of its own. It helps if you have a general idea of what turns are coming up in the back of your mind if it goes haywire. Otherwise you'll be driving out of your way while "Sabrina the Navigator" recalculates.
3) Prepare the proper amount of mix CDs. Too many is better than not enough, and radio stinks in the mountains, unless you fancy Travis Tritt.
4) Eat a sufficient breakfast, or prepare to be distracted by the loud gurglings of your own stomach
5) Forget "Minnesota Nice." Be aggressive when necessary and prepare intimidating facial expressions to deploy on fellow drivers. I modeled mine after Mr. Freeze (played by Cali's own Arnold Schwarzenegger) from the movie Batman & Robin. When someone tries to cut you off, shout "You're not sending ME to the Cooler!" in your best Arnold voice and glare. It works.

The best part of my day was coming home to my quiet house in a little town where traffic doesn't exist, to my two goofy dogs who are always excited when mommy comes home.

My Pink Cup

I love my pink cup. It has been with me for most of my life. I received it in 1991 (frighteningly specific photographic memory, I know) as a party favor at my friend Meredith's 8th birthday party. The party was held at the Shoreview Community Center in Minnesota, which had recently put in a waterpark that was all the rage among my peers in the early 90s. Since then, my cup has seen me through a lot. You can bet it has some stories to tell.

The day I received my pink cup, a dozen or so little girls and I were playing in the aforementioned waterpark. I, being the brazen person that I am, fearlessly went down the largest waterslide in the park, screaming with delight as I sped around the sharp curves, finally reaching the end of the slide. Seconds later, I found myself underwater, and suddenly everything went black. In a freak turn of events, I had slipped underneath the current of the slide as I splashed into the pool. I quickly became too disoriented to swim out of it and lost consciousness. A lifeguard spotted me in peril, and pulled me out. Thankfully, I was not harmed, and no lasting damage was done. I walked out of that party with my prized pink cup. Along with a piece of paper stating that I could not swim in the Shoreview Community Center pool again for three years, for liability reasons. But at least I had the cup.

On family movie night when I was a kid, I gulped Tahitian Treat from that cup (soooo much sugar). While cramming for my ACTs, I consumed copious amounts of Mountain Dew from that cup in an effort to function on little to no sleep. The day before I had major surgery, I drank my surgery prep medicine mixed with Crystal Light from that cup (good times). The morning after the infamous night I slammed way too many tequila shots my junior year of college, I attempted to sip and keep down water from that cup. The first time I held hands with the love of my life, I came back to my dorm room afterwards giggly and smiling, and had a bedtime drink from that cup. It has traveled with me across the country, from Minnesota to Ohio to California. It has outlived many pricier glass cups, and the endless parade of free plastic Cousin Vinny's Pizza cups we accumulated when we were living in Dayton. Ironically, my pink cup lived to see me marry a former top collegiate swimmer, who could save me from any waterslide-related foes I may ever face in the future. It is always comforting to sit down with my family, watch some TV or just talk, and sip a favorite beverage from my pink cup.

My sister who is currently visiting was shocked to see the pink cup still thriving. She's right to be surprised, it is old and cracked, and probably leeching chemicals that will someday give me cancer. Nevertheless, it is my own twisted version of a binky, and I won't get rid of it until it breaks into pieces. Even then, I'll probably try to super glue it back together. In the military world, home is wherever your loved ones are (and wherever Uncle Sam damn well says it is). In my case, it is also wherever my pink cup resides.

Let's Cross Over

Six months or so ago, my husband began lobbying for an electronic reader, such as a Nook or Kindle. I protested, as I feared it would ruin the experience of reading for me. The sentimental part of me would surely resent the absence of the pleasant smell of newly printed paper, and the presence of creases and marks on my most loved titles. But, my husband countered with the convenience of the electronic reader, a whole library in one that travels easily and has an impressive battery life. He won. We bought a Nook, and in the months we've had it, I have found myself converted. My ADD personality loves that I can decide in one second I want a book, and instantly download it instead of having to run out to the nearest bookstore. And there is something gloriously lazy about just pushing a button to turn the page. I feel slightly traitorous to the world of print media, but I am definitely hooked on this new technology.

My most recent read was Shania Twain's biography "From This Moment On." It may sound on the surface like a book that might be simply a fluff piece lacking in depth or meaning. Delightfully, it is exactly the opposite. Shania Twain went through all sorts of childhood trauma (death, abuse, malnutrition) and adult trauma (betrayal, divorce, psychological blocks). She speaks candidly of these events and her failure in the moment to process them in a healthy manner. The breakup of her marriage resulted in a serious anxiety problem that led to the temporary loss of her singing voice. Shania had to work through the pain of her past, forgive those who had hurt her, and most of all forgive herself - in order to regain her singing voice and her life.

I can draw a lot of parallels between Twain's biography and the screen adaptation of the novel "Eat Pray Love" which is next on my reading list. I have heard from those who have read the book that the movie did not do it justice. I find the movie to be very uplifting and moving, but I am withholding final judgment until I've read the book. In "Eat Pray Love," Elizabeth Gilbert travels around the globe in the quest to find peace. She is only able to obtain that peace by forgiving herself, and instead of dwelling on those she's hurt, simply "love them, miss them, send them love and light every time you think of them, and then drop it." It's a hard lesson to learn, but an important one I think.

I have a very type A personality, and like most people I have endured failure and have regrets. I've hurt people, made mistakes, lost friends, and certainly haven't always been as good of a wife/daughter/sister/friend/human being as I should be. I've had to work through a lot of guilt over health problems I've had to fight, and the effects they've had on my loved ones. I've had to accept my own limitations, which given my stubborn nature has been a very difficult thing to do. I think that both "From This Moment On" and "Eat Pray Love" teach us that life is short, and we spend way too much of it being bogged down by the past, negative emotions, stress, and worry. My new resolution is to treat every day as a gift, have patience with myself for not being perfect while still working to improve my shortcomings, and be ever thankful for all the wonderful people and things that enrich my life. It is in this way that we can "cross over," (or as Elizabeth Gilbert would say, "attraversiamo") into a more enlightened state of being.

Automobiling Adventures

One of the wonderful things about living in the Mojave is that you are within a few hours of all sorts of hot spots (LA, San Fran, Vegas, San Diego, a bazillion national parks and forests, oceans, mountains, etc). One of the not so wonderful things about living in the Mojave is that you HAVE to drive a few hours to get just about anywhere. I remember when I lived in Minnesota, it seemed like the airport was soooo far away, at a half hour's drive. HA! Any airport here is a minimum of 90 miles away, and one must select from a ride through urban traffic (LAX) or a ride through the Mojave countryside, also known as the 5th dimension (Ontario). I had the lucky chance to hit them both in one weekend.

I started with picking up my sister in Ontario yesterday afternoon. The road there winds through such cosmopolitan features as junk yards, cowboy and Native American themed boutiques (I use the word "boutique" very liberally here), a Hungarian meat deli, and a malt shop where their specialty is fig shakes (you know, to keep you regular). After making it out of the kitschy and oddball Eastern Antelope Valley, I entered the San Bernadino Forest. The mountains take your breath away. They are this wild mix of traditional alpine mountains with tall pines and snowy caps, and desert hills sprouting amazing Joshua trees out of the sand. My sister said it was like nothing she'd ever seen, and I have to agree. I found myself not minding the distance (or the incessant popping of my ears), because the scenery is beautiful and so unique to this area of the country.

This morning, we left at 3:45am to take my dear husband to LAX. Tess & Buster stayed home and went back to sleep. Smart dogs. Luckily the time of day eliminated any traffic, and we made it there in no time. Having said our goodbyes, I had a hard time getting us out of the already gridlocked airport. After uttering a few obscenities and saying a few Hail Marys, we escaped in one piece, and made our way to Venice for a quick visit to the beach. It was cloudy and chilly (sweatshirt weather), but we had the beach to ourselves, just us and the beach zamboni man...yes, there is a truck equivalent to an ice zamboni, that smoothes out the sand and picks up the trash - aptly called "The Beach King." It was a little sad for my sister not to be able to swim (California in July, seriously!?), but I enjoyed the detour nonetheless. There is something very soothing about watching giant foaming waves crashing dramatically into the rocks and sand. It makes you feel small, but in a good way.

Living in the Mojave has its ups and downs, but I will say this - it forces you out of your comfort zone, and teaches you to embrace new adventures. I am always blessed when family and friends come to visit, and I will be more than happy to come get anyone at either airport if it means getting to share this great place with a friendly face (rhyming was unintentional).

On a sadder note, I recently became aware of the death of Marine Sgt. Ian McConnell. When I ran girls cross-country in high school, Ian was a doe-eyed middle schooler already on the boys varsity squad. He was so young, but I could already see what a wonderful man he was going to become. Ian was kind and thoughtful. I haven't been in touch with him for many years, but this news hit me hard, and I hope you will keep him and his family in your thoughts. Hug your loved ones and give thanks for your safety and health, because there are soldiers putting theirs on the line every day, in service of our country. Semper Fi, Ian, we will never forget you.

Jammed...

I hate going out to shop the day before a holiday. Hate it. With a passion. Crowded parking lots, traffic, stupid people who don't know how to push a cart, I could go on and on. Add to that 104 degree desert heat and you can be pretty sure you're actually in one of the outer realms of hell. I deliberately planned out my grocery shopping earlier this week so that I would not have to go out this weekend. And yet, things did not go as planned, per usual. I am the proud parent of two beloved but rambunctious dogs, a golden retriever and a lab mix (Tess and Buster). We keep their food in a large storage bin in the garage. We've used the same bin for years, without incident. This morning, I ventured out to the garage to retrieve breakfast for our beloved canines, only to find a most unwelcome sight. There were large amounts of ants in a long trail, leading from the opposite side of the garage all the way across to the food bin. They had made it into the food bin through a few small ventilation holes in the side of the bin. There was half a bag's worth of dog food in the bin, all ruined, by those darned persistent ants!

Well, a genocide followed. I opened up on the ants with my poison spray, turning their path from the outside into a trail of tears, as I annihilated their merry band of miscreants. I felt slightly vindicated as I swept up their dead soulless bodies, but then it hit me. No dog food. No dog food bin. Shoot! And, to town I went, with my dutiful husband in tow. Trips to Costco, Petsmart, and Target followed. We wrestled our way through the crowds, and made it home again - well supplied with dog food free of ants, an airtight storage container, and Spaceballs on Blu-Ray.

Yes, Spaceballs. Last night I was making homemade peach jam, and the whole time I was giggling, reciting quotes aloud from Spaceballs. If you haven't seen this cinematic masterpiece, it is a parody of Star Wars. In one scene Dark Helmet (Darth Vader)'s radar is "jammed," using a giant jar of actual raspberry jam. Anyway, my husband stared at me with this blank "my wife belongs in a loony bin" gaze, and the truth became shockingly apparent - he had never seen Spaceballs! Unacceptable. As of this afternoon, we have remedied the situation and he is now aware of the power of the "Schwartz," so perhaps something good came out of this debacle. Silly ants.

Now we are in the midst of a relaxing evening with nothing pressing to do except some laundry (barring any further insect outbreaks). Doing laundry does make me sleepy though, as the washer and dryer are located in the garage, where the temperature is currently hovering at approximately 110 degrees. My dear husband made a delicious breakfast-for-dinner, giving me the night off from cooking, and there is some cookies and cream ice cream calling my name for dessert.

Hope everyone is enjoying this rare Sunday where no one has to work the next morning. I am excited for fireworks, friends, and delicious food tomorrow. Happy 4th!