Blueberries?

March 24, 2006

I took this picture when I was walking Milo on the trail Friday morning — I wondered if these were blueberries or not. Fast forward to Monday, March 27th — I just now realized I took this picture and posted it. Friday was such a whirlwind of a day at work — just like every other day has been at work for a while now. One day I will leave all of this marketing stuff behind…

I had some thought while looking at the blueberries, but now I have no idea what it was. Now all I can think of is a blueberry banana smoothie from Hobee’s — and a piece of their yummy blueberry coffee cake.

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Walkin’ the Line

March 15, 2006

A month or two ago, the boyfriend and I went to see Walk the Line. Very good movie, I recommend picking it up if you haven’t seen it, even if you don’t care for Cash’s music.

The theater was pretty packed that evening, and something happened that I found very odd. There’s a scene towards the end of the movie where June and her family are trying to help get John off the drugs. They’re holed up in his house with her mom and dad; John is going through withdrawal symptoms; he’s laid up in bed.

Then, the dealer comes by to bring John some more pills. The dad goes up, yelling at the dealer, telling him to get the hell outta here, and waving his shotgun around. The dealer gets back in his car and slams it in reverse as the camera pans back. When the camera pans back, you can see mom standing there as well with her shotgun.

The entire theater erupts in laughter.

It takes me a moment to figure out what they’re laughing at, then I figure out it’s the idea of a woman with a shotgun. That’s not a common sight in California, I guess.

Frankly, I would have found the scene more believable if mom had said, “Get the hell out of here.” to the dealer in a low, menacing voice, with the gun pointed dead on at him. Southern women are strong — I know — I have an entire family of these strong women. Sometimes they’re too strong for their own good. (Plus, the only time I’ve heard the words, “Get down, she’s liable to shoot us.” was in relation some crazy woman an uncle of mine married).

I don’t just mean strong in the physical sense, though they’re that too. My grandmother won’t blink an eye at ripping up the rocks in her foyer to re-grout or getting her hands into a project such as ripping out a wall to expand her house or carrying a park bench into her backyard. It’s why her back goes out so often.

But, I also mean strong in the emotional sense too. When they go through rough patches, (nearly) no one knows it. Buck up; keep moving forward; don’t let it keep you down. They keep their head up to keep their family from coming down to where they are.

The reason I say southern women are too strong for their own good — they don’t allow the men in their life to help them out. They’re running headstrong into the next project or problem, and they’ll tackle it their way. If a man is around and wants to help, well, great, but adhere to what I’m already doing or go away. You end up with some very passive or very unhappy men in this situation. Or, you end up with a man who just doesn’t want to interrupt anymore, which leads to the woman feeling like he never helps do anything and she’s operating on her own in the world.

So, back to Walk the Line. I knew both my mother and my aunt had seen the movie on separate occasions, so I explained the scene and the laughter. I was met with, “Why?”.

I guess the scene wasn’t as funny in the South.

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Hey – Isn’t this some famous building?

March 13, 2006

That’s the question I ask every time I pass the Transamerica Building. I’m always on foot when I pass it, so it’s not like I’m seeing it in the skyline and wondering what the hell it is – it’s more of an “Ooooh! Landmark!”.

Yesterday was a rainy, cold day in Chinatown, but as you can see from the picture, the sun did come out to shine on us for a short while before setting. I think next weekend I need to head back up with my cameras in tow for a picture taking day. However, this means my lazy butt will have to get out of bed early.

I think it will be worth it. Maybe you will have some new pictures to look at in Travels & Meanderings soon. As a side note, this site will be updated *very* soon, so start watching for a new look!

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Sunday Stroll

March 13, 2006


My mind is still very much stuck in a kid’s mentality. Bright colors and shiny objects attract my attention easily.

Yesterday was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the sky was the brilliant color of blue I love (doesn’t rival the southwest desert’s blue, but close enough), big fluffy clouds were hanging in the sky. Everything on land is a brilliant shade due to the rain we’ve been having – flowers are blooming, trees blossoming, grasses are yellow-green. And as a backdrop there are snowcapped mountains — it’s like something out of a book.

Days like this put my mind in a euphoric state and get my creative juices flowing.

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Mafia elves beat me at night

March 6, 2006

I had blood drawn last Thursday. At the time, I thought the doctor did a terrific job — it took a split second, he didn’t beat on my veins like some of the nurses do, it was over in a flash.

Thursday my arm hurt; Friday my arm hurt; Saturday my arm hurt. I thought I was just being a big baby about it, but it really did hurt — I couldn’t straighten my arm out.

Saturday night I take off my shirt and look at my arm, and holy shit — it looked about like the picture above (taken today) only all black and blue shades, no greens and yellows like I have now. I was not being a baby! (Thursday and Friday my arm looked fine, lily white as always.)

Keep in mind this was just from a simple blood draw where nothing went wrong. There were no “I can’t find your veins”, no multiple attempts, just 1, 2, 3, done. But, for some reason, it looks like tiny mafia elves went to town on my arm. I can imagine them: “Oh, you don’t want to pay up, huh?” Thwack! with a tiny baseball bat to my arm. “You better have my money by Monday, or there’ll be more where this came from!” as his cronies kick and beat me while I lay in the fetal position crying.

This shit hurts still.

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