You Won’t Belize Where I’ll Be This Weekend!

Oh, man, those Belize puns don’t ever get old.  Well, not to me they don’t.  But if they bother you, don’t worry, they’ll end soon.

Because at about this time tomorrow I’ll be boarding a plane to…Argentina.  Ha!  No, just kidding.  I’ll be boarding a plane to Belize.  Well, actually, that’s not entirely true either.  We’ll be boarding a plane to Miami and from there we’ll board a plane to Belize.  

We just finished packing.  And would someone please tell me how to pack lightly?  I just don’t know how to do it.  Even though I doubt I’ll wear every single article of clothing, I can’t help but pack it.  I like to have the options.  One time I packed one outfit per day and I hated it.  I hated knowing that if I was hot I couldn’t change to something lighter; if I spilled something I couldn’t change to something clean.  I spent all weekend thinking, I knew I should have packed those four extra shirts so now I’ve just decided to give in.  Yes my bag is filled to the brim with things I don’t need, but I’m enjoying my vacation and am able to make necessary (and sometimes not) wardrobe changes, and that, to me, is worth it.

I’ve asked some people to guest post here while I’m away.  My brother, whom I call Ratface but whom you can call Porter.  And my friend Ashley, who may or may not find time in her schedule to make this happen.  If she does, you are all the luckier.  I’ve asked one other person but haven’t been able to confirm, so posting will be light (lighter than if it was just me alone, which is still pretty light).  

When I get back I’ll have some (hopefully) fantastic pictures of all the adventurous things we plan on doing.

I’m fairly certain we’re going to have a swell time (credit to Holly, who is trying to bring that word back – I’m going to help her).

Happy Labor Day and Peace out!

Riddle Me This

This afternoon while driving I saw a Smart Car (which, if you ask me, is just about one of the dumbest cars out there) with the license plate FOR24ME.  Now, this is obviously a personalized license plate – a present for her 24th birthday?  A present for her 40th birthday but for the 24-year-old in her?  Who knows.  I didn’t ask and I don’t much care.

Well, not about her anyway.  I did care about the license plate.  I have a tendency to turn every license plate that starts with a 4 or a 2 into a personalized license plate.  No matter what’s following it.  4XUVJ89?  I can turn that into For Xavier Ulrich Jones who graduated in 1989.  

Does anyone else do this?  I can’t help it.  It’s this compulsion.  And the crazier they are the more compelled I am to give them meaning.  I want poor Xavier Ulrich Jones to have gotten that Honda Accord for graduating almost twenty years ago.   

The flip side of this is when I see plates that actually are personalized.  I don’t care that MB <hearts> SE.  I don’t care that the woman in the Smart Car got it FOR24ME.  I think it’s ridiculous when the plates are real.  I don’t care that your husband bought you a BMW X3.  And I can’t imagine anyone else at the stop light does either.

In high school there were a set of twins who drove around in an older Nissan Sentra (I think) with the customized license plate WEBTWINS.  Obviously this reads “We be twins” but it certainly looks “Web twins” and we never let them forget it.  They hated it, of course, but their parents had paid for the car and the plates came with the car and what teenager is going to argue that?

I wonder if all personalized plates are like that: gifts from other people that drivers have to endure.  

In any event, I’ll keep hoping that aging Xavier is enjoying his graduation present.

Belize Me, It Will All Work Out

We leave for Belize this weekend, stopping in Miami for a connecting flight.  And guess who might keep us in Miami longer than we anticipated or thought?  Gustav.  Hurricane Gustav, that is.  Hopefully he’ll be well out of our way by the time we fly out.

Obviously, there’s always that possibility but I’m not going to freak out about it.  Or really think about it, in hopes that if I pay it no mind it won’t actually happen.

Instead, I’ll focus on the awesome things that we’re going to do.  First and foremost, diving.  I am so unbelievably excited to dive in clear waters (clearer than Catalina, which was pretty fucking clear).  I am so excited that Wes purchased the underwater case for his camera so that we can look back at them later and remember how awesome it was that we were able to do this.

We’re also going to try to go cave tubing, sink hole repelling, zip lining and, of course, visit the Mayan Ruins.  I’m wondering how we’re going to fit this all in in just a week, but I’m sure we’ll find a way.  

I’m looking forward to some romantic dinners with new food that is, hopefully, yummy.  

Mostly I’m just looking forward to getting away from here for a week.  To putting behind this whole find-a-job business and the stress that goes along with that.  When I get back I’m going to have to put some serious time and effort into that and it will be nice to be on a vacation where that doesn’t factor in.  To get away and relax and forget that there are responsibilities that await me back at home.  

Maybe I’ll come back refreshed – mind, body, confidence, all of it – and ready to tackle the job market in a way that I haven’t been since I moved here. 

Or maybe I’ll just come back wishing I was back in Belize and swimming with the fishes.  Either way, it’s going to be a damn good time.

28:32

The time I ran my 5k this morning.  Not bad, I say.  Well, I mean, except for the fact that small children beat me.  But, as my friend so eloquently put it: “…screw kids they weigh like 5lbs.

My thoughts exactly.  they’ll grow out of their fast-runningness.

I think I’m ready for this half marathon.

P.S.  At this time next week we’ll be in Belize!

Retail Therapy

In spite of the fact that I still have yet to find a job, I have done a little retail therapy, hoping that this would be a way to lessen the funk that seems to have settled around me since moving here.  Mostly I’m okay, but every once in a while it hits me that, hey, I have no friends here.  I have no job.  And I don’t when I’ll get either of those things.

So Tuesday morning I managed to shower before noon and hauled myself off to the Apple store.  Several of my friends went in on a gift card to said store so that I could purchase an iPhone of my very own.  Very sweet of all parties involved, considering how expensive those damn things are – and then add on all the extras and the price just keeps rising.

I used a Blackberry at my last job and was so used to having the internet at my fingertips that I was a little worried about going to just a regular old phone.  I mean, yes, of course it can make calls, but it can’t do anything else!  What can I do with a phone like that besides, you know, make calls?  But the price of it just kept putting me off – coupled with the fact that I have no incoming, um, income.  And then I got the gift card and had no choice but to get one.  I mean, what else am I going to spend $200 on at Apple?

Here’s the thing I didn’t count on: I spend a lot of time at home, close to my computer.  So right now the iPhone is utilized as a phone only (imagine that).  And I don’t spend nearly as much time on public transportation as I used to, so that leaves out all of my outside trips.  But I do have a fancy green case for it, which spices things up for me.  And I’m learning how to use it and generally liking it.  Hopefully, when I figure it out I will love it like everyone else does.

On top of the phone, I also spent some time at Etsy buying delicious pouches and totes.  I’m thinking that my fancy black wallet will be out of place in Belize, so I was looking for a small pouch to take with me.  I found about a dozen that I liked, but finally settle on this one, and this one.

I have to say, I’ve never been a huge fan of pouches before, but I love these.  They are so cute and fun and hold my cards and cash and the squirrel one even fits my camera!  They’ll be perfect for Belize and perfect for adding some fun to my purse.

So Retail Therapy, it works.  Sometimes.  Especially when you get things in the mail.

Why Does McDonalds’ want to Hurt my Gym Routine?

I just read this article by Emily Yoffe and let me tell you this: she is right on.  I just had my third session – of four – with a personal trainer (Is it fair at this point to call her my personal trainer?  I feel a little guilty, seeing as how I’m only doing it because it came along with the membership.).  The first session I wanted to scream and cry and then crawl into bed and read.  Or go to sleep.  I am very good at those two things.  For about a week afterward everything hurt. 

The second session was not as awful.  In fact, in the intervening two weeks I was able to prepare a bit for the session.  It worked.  She was complementing me: “You are much stronger than you were last time.”  It erased all that “needs improvement” range from week one.  

So this time I was a little more prepared and had even stepped up my non-personal training sessions at the gym.  And, just like Emily, I have started to see the definition in my arms.  I don’t cringe when she bumps up the weight ten pounds. And when she hands me the weights or pulls out the step stool I don’t want to run and hide. 

Which hopefully will help the race I’m running on Saturday.  It’s only a 5k, but I’ve got to start logging miles if I plan on actually finishing the half marathon in a timely fashion.  Which I do.  

The only thing that could possibly hinder this whole exercise thing are the countless McDonalds’ all along my route home.  Seriously, what is it with them?  They’re everywhere, taunting me with the deliciousness of their Sausage McMuffin with Cheese sandwiches.  Does anything sound better than that after an strenuous activity?  

And, my god, there is one every two blocks in an eight-mile stretch of road.  So I fight off of that urge and come home to do the two things I am very good at: sleep and read.

A Good Weekend (wherein I discover that Dodger Dogs are not all that fancy after all)

 

Fireworks

I don’t know what the big deal is about Dodger Dogs.  I mean, they taste like boiled hot dogs – like every other ball park I’ve been to.  The only difference is that they’re longer than the other ones.  Which was not all that exciting as I like a bit of bread with each bite of the dog.  And you don’t get that with the Dodger Dog without making an effort.  

Also, Dodger fans are intense.  I’ve only been to three MLB games – the A’s and the Giants – and the fans at Dodger stadium were much more into the game than at any other game I’ve been to.  The seats were packed and the cheering was loud.  I mean, really really loud.  They wanted their team to win like no other fans I’ve witnessed.

I wonder how they rank with Yankees and Red Sox fans.

So, yes, my parents were here this weekend and we did manage to fool them into thinking that our apartment is always so neat and tidy.  And the great thing about the thorough cleaning?  Once it’s done you really want to make it last.  Now I find myself putting my shoes away instead of leaving them by the door, making the bed (well, not every morning).  So maybe we were tricking ourselves a little bit too and it’s working.  

Anyway….back to the parents.  They flew in Saturday morning and left Sunday evening (like I said, less than 36 hours), but we did manage to have a good time.  Because here’s the thing about my parents (and family in general): they are a lot of fun.  I think it’s taken me a while to realize how much fun their wackiness is and also to embrace that same wackiness in myself.  In junior high and high school I spent so much time being embarrassed for them because, well, that’s what teenagers do.  They are embarrassed for their parents.  (Please note that I was embarrassed for them, not by them.  Big difference.)  

And then one day I woke up and guess what?  I was doing ridiculous dances in the middle of crowded places.  And I was loving it.  Turns out all those years of embarrassment were for nothing.  They were just having fun.  So maybe they’re the reason that I still insist on taking pictures like this:

 

While standing in the longest line ever for a so-so hot dog.

 

 

Now that they’re free of the children and still young, they get to do pretty much anything they want to do.  A 36-hour trip to Orange County?  Don’t mind if we do.  A motorcycle ride to Utah to have breakfast with the family?  That sounds brilliant.  They do it all.  Just the other night they went to Jackpot for a concert.  Just a night.  And just for a concert.  

I suppose there’s an argument to be made for having kids early and getting it out of the way.  I guess I’ll have to settle for all that travel in my younger years.  (Speaking of travel, Belize in 10 days!).

On Saturday afternoon we walked through Olivera Street in Los Angeles and my mom and I lamented the fact that her dad, who was born in Mexico, didn’t pass on the language to his children so that they could pass it on to their children.  My dad has a fancy new camera that takes gorgeous pictures and I drooled over it all weekend.  If only I were better with a camera (I can never seem to find those fancy shots that he does) I would maybe think about spending money on this beauty:

 

The Camera

 

 

 

The camera, people, not my dad.

Also, check out this shot:

The dog is wearing sunglasses and a sombrero!  Oh how we laughed when we saw this man wheel by in his wheelchair.  And he was so perfectly poised on his owner’s shoulder.  Just hanging out back there and enjoying the sights.  

All in all, a good weekend.

Weekend Preparations

This weekend my parents are coming in for a quick trip – seriously, it’s less than 36 hours – so I’m preparing for the visit.  There’s nothing like an impending parental visit to motivate a good cleaning.  

We are slowly setting up our apartment so that it looks like we actually live here.  Pictures, shelves, mirrors and even bikes are being hung.  We’re hoping to create more space here so that we don’t have random things everywhere you look.  It’ll be a slow progress, but at least we’re starting.  We have some ideas and now we’re just looking for things that fit us, our apartment and our budget.  

Wish us luck.  

In the mean time, I’m trying to get everything cleaned up.  Everything that has a place to be in its place.  Instead of wherever I happened to leave it last time I used it.  

The problem that I’m having, though, is this: I am a perfectionist, of sorts.  And not in that I will do something until it’s perfect sort of way; I’m a perfectionist in the sense that if I can’t get it perfect then I don’t even like to try.  So, while the apartment is still in a state of flux I don’t really care to even try to put it together.  When I get the idea to add something, I want it right now and not in three months after we’ve looked at ever style of dresser/entry table/desk/whatever else we’re looking for.  I mean, obviously I will look until I find something I like.  But when I find it, what’s the point of looking else where?  

Wes, well, he’s not so much like that.  We’ll find something we both like and then a week later he’ll say, “Oh, hey, there’s this furniture place down the street.  Let’s check it out.”  And we’re back to square one.  He likes to take his time to make sure that we get what we want.  And I just want it done. 

But at least right now we’re on the same page with what we want and the look we’re going for.  And until we get that look right, I’ll just keep finding ad-hoc homes for all the stuff in our apartment. 

My parents fly in tomorrow morning and we’ll show them around here: our apartment, our town, the cute towns surrounding ours, etc.  And then in the evening we’re going to see the Dodgers-Brewers Game in Los Angeles.  I’ve never been to Dodger Stadium and I’m really looking forward to the famous hot dogs.  I hear they’re not as great as they’re rumored to be, but I’m still going to try them.  I’m a sucker for a ball game hot dog.  

Before that we’re just going to wander around LA and see the sights and enjoy some family company.  

Ok, back to cleaning.

The Downhill Slope

 

 

Happy Birthday to Me!

That’s me and Wes on our diving adventure from Sunday.  We did our final three dives for Open Water Diver certification and simultaneously celebrated my 26th birthday.  

The past couple of dives have been, um, not as fun as I had anticipated.  My ears refused to equalize in a timely manner and I was always the last one to the bottom.  And not by a second or so.  I’m talking minutes here, easily.  Our instructor and her assistants were constantly signaling “OK?” as we descended and I would have to signal back “OK.”  And, eventually, I would find my way down to join the group.  Still, though, my ears were finicky, and any little thing would set them off and I would have to ascend until the screaming in my ears would stop.  

Flood my mask and then clear it?  No problem.  Except that my ears did have a problem with that and minutes later I was back at the top, yawning and swallowing and wiggling my jaw and plugging my nose and blowing until – finally – my ears popped.  And then I started all over again. 

All of the pictures of me underwater show me trying to equalize.

Trying to equalize

 

 

 

 

 

Also, one time I floated away.  We were all just swimming along and suddenly I was at the surface.  I really need to work on my weight system – I’m thinking ankle weights so that I have more control of my feet while underwater.

Anyway, like I said, I’ve had some trouble equalizing in the pool and in our first ocean dive.  I was really sure that I would never enjoy diving because of that.  But on our second dive it all started to come together and I was suddenly not the last one to the bottom!  I was there with all the rest of them and I got to enjoy the wonders of the ocean.  Like these fancy things:

Fish!

 

Orange Fish!A School of Fishes!

 So that was my exciting birthday.  We woke up at 4:30 in order to get to the boat by 6:00 and we didn’t get home until close to 7:00.  We were exhausted.  A pre-made pizza, a glass of wine and a glimpse of the Olympics and we were ready for bed.  

Not a bad way to start my 26th year.

Two Days Away from Late Twenties

In two days I officially make the transition from mid-twenties to late twenties.  I will be 26 this Sunday.  Normally, Wes and I do BIG things for our birthday, but this year we are spending it on the Cee Ray, completing our final dives in our quest for SCUBA certification to enjoy are trip to Belize in, oh, 21 days!

What that means is that we don’t have time to do anything exciting and BIG for my actual birthday.  The following week my parents come to town for a little less than 48 hours and then the week after that is our last weekend before Belize, so much of those days will be spent preparing for that trip.  Oh, and I’m also running a 5k race in order to prepare for the Half Marathon that’s coming up in October.  So, yeah, the BIG birthday plans are not so much happening.  

Add to that the fact that I’ve just relocated and still have made zero friends (what, reading and laying by the pool all day doesn’t help make friends?  Who would have thought) it doesn’t much feel like my birthday is coming up – especially since Wes has been gone for the last six days so there has been no one to bother with “My birthday is in seven days.”  Sunday feels like just another day. 

Usually, I walk around for the two months prior to my birthday telling people my birthday is x amount of days away.  Last year I wrote in a friend’s date book that my birthday was x months away each 10th day of the month.  I like my birthday.  It’s my birthday and I want it to be fun and special, and the only way to help that along is to get people on board with it: make them as excited about my birthday as I am.  

If you don’t care about your birthday, why should anyone else?

Yes I have received cards and gifts in preparation for the day, but it still doesn’t feel like my day.  

People tell me that birthdays start to mean less and less as you get older, and I’ve always disagreed with that.  But maybe it’s true.  Maybe after a certain point a birthday is just another day.  I mean, what kind of friends are going to put up with a thirty-year-old constantly barraging them with birthday excitement?  It’s endearing in a twenty-five-year-old but less endearing as one becomes older.  

While I sit contemplating that, there is a rather large box that wants opening.  All I’m waiting for is someone to be here with me.  Wes gets home in about two hours and at that point I’m prepared to officially start my Birthday Weekend.  

It’s too soon to grow up.