Saturday, February 20, 2010

Hey, where's Max? Oh, he's vacationing at the beach.

Spent a week in Playa Guiones, Costa Rica and was humbly reminded how pure life can be.

I was slightly disappointed with the amount of Americans/Europeans/English-speaking folk, but quickly realized I was more effected by it then the locals seemed to be.

There is an overwhelming love of life in Costa Rica and smiles for days and days. Sure, the guy from Kentucky selling American BBQ from his Tiki hut with his posted, Disney-esque "No Internet" sign (hilarious, dude) isn't quite what the locals might have created...but they still genuinely smile at him and say, "Pura Vida".

Which is what it sounds like, Pure Life. But I think it means something more like, full of life and represents an appreciation for all it's little details.

Even the K-9 contingency seems to live by this. There appear to be tons of stray dogs on the beach and around town but they seem healthy and friendly. Some even have collars, but no owner in sight. At first, I assumed the owners must be out surfing or strolling the beach, but soon realized there were just dogs everywhere, roaming and chatting with one another.

Come to find out, they do indeed have owners. Most of whom live in Nosara, the town just inland of Play Guiones. But its common for dogs to "vacation" during tourist season. They leave home, head to the beach, hang with the tourists, visit with friends, chow on leftovers and escort people to their accommodations, apparently.

I had a very friendly dog follow me home from a cafe and strangely enough he knew the way home better than I did. People, my route home was literally -- turn at the second telephone pole, climb under three barbed-wire fences, follow the third path to the left. He was a good 5 feet in front of me and lead the way for the entire trip.

We traded info and we're meeting up again next year.
Pura Vida.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Oh, hi.

Sometimes Los Angeles can really wear on you. It's an amazing place, but there are moments that I can't breathe in this city. Moments I want to scream or click my heels and be somewhere else. And, today, when I missed my flight to Costa Rica and was moments from a mental breakdown, all I could think was: GET ME OUT.

So I called a friend, told her to pack a bag and we did just that. We got out. As I fought holiday weekend traffic (not to mention tears) I glanced down at my newly acquired key chain* and giggled at the irony. It seemed to sway back and forth from the ignition in a nanny-nanny-boo-boo sort of way with its pretty colors and deceiving playfulness.

As if to say, "Where else can you live on the edge of everything new and exciting, hop in your car, start driving north and quickly end up in orange groves, beach biking trails and friendly conversations? And PS, where can you do that in February?!"

We hiked Ojai, we biked Ventura and we discovered Doggles (a true necessity in the lives of biking dogs).

And this girl could finally breathe.

*A tree in Agoura ate my keys a few weeks ago and I've been using our guest set.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


I got schooled by a preschooler last night. I can't say that I was ever an expert on dinosaurs to begin with; but are you aware they're changing all the names of the ones we used to know?! Long gone are the Pterodactyl and the Brontosaurus. The correct names are Pterosauros and Apatosaurus.

Um, I'm glad science is expanding and clarifying and making everyone smarter...but how am I supposed to remain cool in front of three-year-olds now? I wish you could have seen his face when I called the long-necked brown guy a Brontosaurus. It was as if I had called the chair we were sitting on a milkshake.

The best part was the belly laugh I got from trying to pronounce Chubutisaurus.
I'll pause and let you try.


My pronunciation quickly turned into both of us pointing at our respective rear ends and repeating, "Is it choo butt or my butt?!...ahahahahahah...Choo butt....hahahah or my butt...hahahah."

For the record, it's CHOO-boot-uh-SAWR-us. Which, had I been reading a dinosaur book to a 30-year-old could also be:

Also, for the record, this child is THREE....Three. Years. Old. And clearly smarter than this childish 30-year-old.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Hello work, I am done with you.

Having a hard time focusing today, so was doing a little of the online chat fest. As I was maintaining my three conversations, I realized their little chat boxes were actually in order of their heights. As if they were all standing in front of me on my computer.

Yea, I'm a nerd. What of it?

Saturday, February 6, 2010

I'll never be famous, I don't have a huge head.

I was in line at Michael's tonight and was slightly annoyed with the lady in front of me. She seemed to be taking eons to finalize her purchase and I stood behind her browsing on my iPhone and feeling a little huffy and puffy.

She finally moved on, I made my purchase and then walked outside with my face still buried in my iPhone.

"Um, escuse me..."
I looked up to see said woman.

"I'm going to tell you somethin', but don't take it da wrong way."
My heart sank a little because I thought she might tell me about youth these days and our short attention spans and our obsession with our phones. I took a deep breath and smiled, "Ok."

"You look exactly like the model who won on Tyra's show last night. But don't get a big head."

I was so relieved she wasn't going to scold me about my phone that I didn't notice she was standing practically nose-to-nose with me. She started motioning her hands tracing the curves of my body and said, "You know. You are like a real women. You have dis (pointing at my hips) and dis." She stopped and sort of hovered over my boobs. "You do they say...voluptuous."

Ok lady. I get it. Thanks, I think. Then she sort of cocked her head and said, "But choo have a tiny head. The rest of your body is all the right size and like a real woman. But you need to get your hair big. If you just make it long and get it to be curly...your head will not be so tiny and you will be beautiful."

Hair appointment scheduled.
Please make my hair big, thanks.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

I misuse words too, but...

At a recent Guerrilla Gardening event I had a woman tell me a very long, drawn out story about the meridian in front of her house and how much it needed weeding. I tried to hide my smile at first and ignore her misuse of vocabulary...but since it was the subject of her story, she must have said it 20 times. "And the meridian is just so ugly." [smirk] "It's the meridian right in front of my house." [please don't laugh, please don't laugh] "Isn't the city supposed to take care of the meridians?" [look away, Rebecca, look away]

And today, I received an email with the subject line: Meridian in front of my house. I finally got to laugh out loud.

We're going to try to help her.
With some gardening and at some point I'll slip in the correct word.