Is it just me...

or are 4 day work weeks longer than normal work weeks?

Dreaming

So I have been having an awful lot of strange dreams lately, no surprise there. What’s interesting is they are so vivid, I can actually remember what they were about when I wake up. Saturday night I had a dream that I was making breakfast. I’d made cream cheese and raspberry jam sandwiches on brioche then I cut off the crusts, cut them into strips and coated them in an egg wash and fried them up French toast style. Not sure if this would be good or not, but it sounds interesting enough to try to make. Then again, a lot of food items sound good to me right now that are questionable.
The dream I had last night was even more bizarre. I dreamt I was in a production of Jesus Christ Superstar, also starring the cast of Mad Men. Peggy was Mary, Pete Campbell was Judas, Roger was Pontius Pilate and Don was Jesus (of course). I think I was just chorus. Joan was the stage manager. She had a clipboard and everything. I frequently have these dreams where it is opening night of a play and I haven’t really been paying attention to the rehearsal process. But this one wasn’t a stress dream as usual, since I have actually been in that show twice. Sure it was 20 years ago, but if you’re like me, those damn songs NEVER get out of your head. The really interesting part of the dream happened at intermission. Apparently the theater we were performing in was in Japan, because as I shuffled outside with the audience the haunting lilt of flute music reached my ears. I went out to the balcony and there were 50 Japanese aerialists in grey and red jumpsuits about to perform a “Kabuki” rendition of Hamlet. There were no words, just dancing in patterns (think Beijing opening ceremonies 2008) to the music. Then, a tiny girl in a red jumpsuit jumped off the 7 story balcony right next to me. We all gasped as she plummeted toward the concrete courtyard. When she was just a spec of her former size, her compatriot caught her and the show ended. It was so beautiful I started crying.
Seriously. Strange stuff.

Strange but true.

I think my belly button is shrinking.

As are all my pants.

Putting it together

As Ry loves to remind me, Facebook can often be a vacuous narcissistic waste of time. But I do enjoy the reconnections it has afforded me.  Last night I got together with an eclectic group of friend from high school to go to the Magic Castle.  I used to go there as a kid with my folks.  It almost lived up to the nostalgia hype in my mind.  It was neat to get to see some old pals though.  Jana, a middle school science teacher. Caitlin, a previous buyer for Borders, recently transplanted back to LA and trying to decide what she wants to be when she grows up. Carolyn and her fiance David, both lawyers that met on match.com. Forrest and his girlfriend Michelle, world class ballroom dancers. And little old me. Rather a casting mash up of Gilligan's Island proportions.  The "magic" shows ended up being more about juggling. Sadly nothing as good as this. It was this guy and his wife.  But we did see some amazing card tricks.  

I will say the most frustrating thing about the evening was the drive.  I drove 96 miles in an hour and a half, then it took me another 30 minutes to drive 10 miles. Ahh, L.A. I don't care what Randy Newman says. Not worth it. How could you live there?  I just don't get it.  Still and all, trying to get out of the house now. While I can.  

Ryan appreciated it too I think. He went to see High on Fire unmolested by me.

Fine. Are you happy now?

Tired of getting my weekly ration for not updating the blog.  What do you want me to say?    I have no time for blogging what with this dog walking regime I am a slave to now.  

Actually got a respite from that today because my mom and I had tickets to see Wicked at the civic center.  Pretty good stuff. If you go for that kind of thing.  Which I do.  It's not easy being green.  I'll try to make it back before October.  Stay classy San Diego.

Welcome to the family.

We'd been talking about getting a dog for a while now and yesterday we went to Whole Foods and there was a booth set up by the Friends of Humane Society de Tijuana
They also had a couple of dogs available for adoption. Maggie was one of them. She was rescued from Tijuana. She's a little shy, but very clever and so sweet. They think she's a lab/ terrier mix. Ryan had a black lab named Maggie when he was a kid, so it just seemed like destiny. We thought about it last night and called Michelle from FHSTJ this morning. We arranged to go and see her again today. We took her for a walk and decided we loved her. Went to Petco and got some supplies. She seems to be adapting well. I'm sure this is not the last you'll hear from me about her.

Taking care of business

Ah, spring. The time of year when a young man's fancy turns to love.  The flowers are blooming, the birds are chirping... well let's just stop right there. One of the nice things about living where we live is the abundance of wildlife and their noises. Owls, doves, frogs, crickets, osprey, raccoons,and of course, the song birds.  For the last couple of weeks, Ry and I have been serenaded every night by a mockingbird.  This clever little fella enjoys parking himself in the tree right by our woefully uninsulated window and run through his 180 minute repertoire.   He features his interpretations of various sounds he's heard such as other birds, rock wren,  barking dog, and of course, my personal favorite: car alarm.

Needless to say, while Ry and I may have enjoyed his show one or two times, enough was enough.  A couple of nights ago, Ry lost his cool a 3:30 am, threw on some shorts and went rooting through the garage for his flashlight and his bb gun. I tried quoting Harper Lee: "Remember, it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."- Atticus Finch But Ryan would have none of it. 

"Pfft! pfft!",  the shots rang off the stucco. That shut him up for a while. (The bird, not Ryan.)

But then he was back at it. Seemingly with a vengeance.

 I tried a more pragmatic approach.  Went to CVS and bought some earplugs yesterday. Me? I slept through the night.

I take comfort in the fact that there were 30 pairs in the box!

Cardiff Kook

I came home to an empty house since Ryan and his friend Scott the bartender from Las Olas decided to take the Firebird for an illicit drunken spin around the block. Jazzed from his joyride, Ry wanted to celebrate by putting on wetsuits and grabbing snorkel gear and heading down to the reef. I resisted. Surfline estimated the water temperature from 53-55f. "No thanks", I thought. But Ryan was insistent that since it is right down the street, why not take advantage of it? So he talked me into it. We tried taking some pictures with the little camera in it's waterproof casing. Not bad. Even if all the sweepers were out.
But it was a little cold. Even in the wetsuit.

push ups.

I want one of these.  Reminds me of the good old days. were they always called "Push-Ems"?

Chasing Tail

My buddy Jeff occasionally drums for a band called The Tailchasers. I kept meaning to go to one of their gigs to show my support, but never posted.  They played the Belly Up this afternoon, so I talked Ry into going . I thought he could have some cocktails and I could practice taking indoor pictures without a flash.  I took a bunch, but only liked a couple. Here are some I liked...

Ah, youth.

So today I’m sitting at my desk listening to my boss Jack's ipod which is now routed through the stereo system. (We got rid of the digital music when the recession hit.) A song that keeps coming up is “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N' Roses.  I mention it because it was the theme song, if you will, of my senior prom.  I remember it coming on and we all made a BEELINE for the dance floor.  Danced our little hearts out.  The picture above is right after we got off the floor. Glistening with sweat and very pleased with ourselves.  I have to say in retrospect that the album Appetite For Destruction was disturbing if only for it's controversial cover art.  But dork that I am, I always want to rock out to that song when it comes on.

When I think back to being a kid and listening to my mom’s “Oldies” music of the 50’s & 60’s, I remember thinking that I’d never listen to anything nearly as embarrassing when with my kids. I also thought I’d never be “too tired to play”, and that I would always carry my kid if they asked me to.  Geez. I don’t even have kids tyet and they are already tiring me out.

 

Run run run!

We were in Denver for the nieces birthdays this weekend. We went up to Red Rocks for brunch on Sunday and came across a bunch of highly (heh!) inspired folks running goddamned wind sprints.  Some kind of crazed boot camp drill sergeant hollered as to when each group should start.  Maybe that's unfair, he seemed OK.  I'm just down on coaches in general right now because of this guy.

Now speaking as someone who was winded just walking up the one flight of stairs from the parking lot, I have to say I was fairly impressed with the running, crab walking, stair lunging group of them.  And maybe even slightly inspired.  Apparently, sitting around on the couch eating bon-bons isn't doing my ass any favors. So with the added bonus of longer days with Daylight Saving Time upon us, I have decided to start an exercise regime.  Tomorrow.  Really.

Tough Times

As much as I prefer the term "frugal", I've certainly been accused of being a cheapskate on more than one occasion. (Candace.) But in today's financial climate I feel inclined to revel in my frugality.  We just had some layoffs at work,  and for me that really hit home as to the state of the economy.  (As if Ryan getting his pink slip in December wasn't bad enough.)  I know there are a lot of things I could be doing to save even more money, but it is difficult to make the sacrifice sometimes.   Here is a great article I found addressing the situation.

You can call me Al...

Satchmo is an old nickname bestowed on me by my college buddies.  It gained initial fame as a nickname as Louis Armstrong's nickname due to his embouchure.  While I do have a big mouth, I'd like to think the reason I got mine was more because "Satchmo" was a riff on my actual name, Sacha.

Later on through a series of events I ended up with my most recent nickname, Ken Pants.  My buddy Shane would call me Sachie- Pants, was then just shortened to Pants.  Then one day in Las Vegas, we were lounging around the pool and Jamie was urging all of us to come up with our Napoleon Dynamite names as she really liked the concept of Ligers.  We decided that I was a koala since I loved hugs, and a hen since I tended to "mother" everyone. Koala + Hen= Ken.  So Ken Pants it is.  And that's why.  Just in case you were wondering.

Dear Kitty,

So first I had MySpace and got rid of it because I thought it was creepy that Rupert Murdoch could track what I liked and what I was doing.  Then I got on the Facebook which seemed better than MySpace in that you couldn't put stupid music or scrolling pictures all over it. Also the kids were all doing it and it was hip.  My tech savvy sister turned me on to the Facebook, and I really embraced it.  People hardly ever want to play games with me in real life, but all of a sudden I could play them on Facebook. From Scrabulous to Texas Hold Em Poker, I could play as much as I wanted in "ladder mode" and indirectly compete with all my "friends" based on our all time high score point values.  

I hate to admit it, but I have a tendency to be pretty competitive.  (I blame that on my parents as well as my inability to floss consistently. But that is another post.) I amassed over 300 "friends" on Facebook over the past year that I've been on it.  How many of those people are actual friends versus how many are people I once went to school with or knew that I'm just nosy enough to want to know what they are up to with out actually interacting with them?  The ratio is certainly skewed on the latter side. And you can do that quite easily on Facebook.  And now it seems that Facebook has been taken over by us old fogies.  I believe the harbinger of the end of Facebook's hipness was for me my best friend's mom asking me to be her friend. I hesitated.  Not that I was wanting to post all my drunken party pictures, but Facebook innately has the potential for showing the world all your embarrassing past. All it takes is an old friend with a scanner and a vindictive tagging streak.  I realized that all those people I "friended" so I could voyeuristically catch up on their lives will be informed of all kinds of random things I've been up to on Facebook regardless  of if I want them to or not.  And then I worry that Facebook is interrupting my life.  I do have a tendency to get OCD on stuff like that, but more troubling is the fact that I feel less social than I used to. We went to a party last night and it took me a bit to get into the mode of actual human interaction. Once I delved in I was fine, but it takes more effort in person and I've realized that social networking sites are easier for a pseudo misanthrope like me.  So I need to make more effort to actually call my friends and hang out with them in person.  I thought about deleting the Facebook account, but it seems that is impossible anyway, so the best choice I have is to severely restrict my privacy settings and find another outlet.

Which brings me to blogging. It seems to me that it is the new "everyone else is doing it so why can't we" activity.   But a blog is really a diary.  Blogspot being another faction of Google does not ease my mind that there are any less privacy concerns, but I guess I can just self censor as needed.  I'll give it a try for a bit and see how it suits me. I guess it's just another way to record the journey.

What do I want to be when I grow up? Older. That's a pretty safe bet.