An Introduction

When I was committed to finding a sunshine EVERY SINGLE DAY, there were definitely cloudy days where I cursed this blog, but I always forced myself to find something semi-shiny. Recently, a good friend suggested I do a "rainy post" every once in awhile and include a little icon to warn people to skip this post if they like.

Not a bad idea.
And it gives me an opportunity to enjoy a little rant every once in awhile.

Ironically enough, I had my rant all set in my head and out of nowhere, a phone call changed my day. It goes like this:

I had a meeting in Beverly Hills and there is something about that city that reaches inside you, pulls out all of your good energy, chews it up and then spits it out on the obnoxiously clean, glistening sidewalk. Clearly, this is why everyone is skinny in Beverly Hills. Even when I sneak in and sneak out, I have a hard time escaping this energy thief.

That afternoon, I drove my cranky self to meet a friend and as I was getting out of my car, my phone rang. A familiar name popped up on the screen, but I was hesitant to answer and not in the mood to talk. I decided to pick it up and on the other end of the line was silence. I said hello a couple times and (in my head) started to curse AT&T and their shady service. Just when I was about to hang up and scream a few naughty words, a teeny little voice said, "Rebecca, I want you to come over."

It was the 3-year-old I speak of so frequently here. And, as usual, that kid made my day.

The Space That Is My Office

We have a pesky little PC at work that has caused us all heartache.

Today, we finally transferred what we needed and got to destroy it (okay, a piece of it). It wasn't nearly as rewarding as kicking a fax machine, but...it's 2010, technology is small [er].

Yea, I'm alright. Thanks.

Hands

I spent my evening acting in puppet shows and debating which character in Princess and the Frog is the funniest. Hands down, it's the bug, Ray. I still haven't seen the movie, but we talked about how his butt lights up and that, "A bug's gotta doooo what a bug's gotta doooo." Which is, apparently, light up his butt.

I was lucky enough to join the evening ritual of story time and as soon as my friend opened the first page of the book, I was suddenly 4 years-old again watching my mother's hands turn every page.

The mom in this room was all of 27 years old, but as moms go, she's amazing. As she reads, she has all the right inflections, pauses and cuddly nooks just waiting to be occupied. And those hands. I caught myself watching her fingers touch every page and slowly reveal the next picture. I realized I was no longer admiring the situation as an outsider; I was a kid anxiously awaiting the next line in the story.

Sometimes smells transport you to the past. Sometimes a noise. But tonight, it was a mom's hands and the comfort and grace they all seem to possess.

Fans and freeways and such

I borrowed our work truck today. An F-250 we affectionately call, Black Beauty.

Riding down the 405 Freeway became a game of sorts and I caught myself laughing all by myself.

First of all, driving a big truck is amazing. Not sure why I don't own one. (Oh, right...the stupid environment) You have a certain respect from people on the road and you can see over everyone's heads...it's great.

And on the 405, with all it's bumpy goodness, I felt like a 6 year old sitting with my face directly in front of a fan [Tommy Boy-style...."Luke....I am your father."].

As I was being thrown around in Black Beauty, I was saying things like, "Who-o-o-o-oa I'm ri-i-i-i-ding in a bi-i-i-i-g bla-a-a-a-ck tru-u-u-ck."

Commence laughter.

26.2

There are all sorts of things that could make the world a better place. However, I'm convinced if we all participated in a race every once in awhile, we all might be a little better off.

My bro kicked some serious ass at the LA Marathon this weekend and I couldn't be more proud. But being at the race wasn't just about him. It's inspiring to watch people cheer for strangers and other runners encouraging each other.

I was on my bike with a sign attached to my back and drivers and passersby even screamed for me. For 26 miles, everyone in LA was friends. It was kind of awesome.

Always improvising

I've decided that I will forever be running late, winging it and/or buying my dress on the way to a wedding. In fact, I won't be surprised if I use a carabiner at my OWN wedding to create a strapless bra.

I wouldn't be me if I didn't.

And here's the girl who would never be running around last minute...and that's why she's absolutely gorgeous.

Precious

HOW TO NOT BE COOL #32
Walk (not dance) around the dance floor with your beer and your fancy scarf and your unlit cigarette in your mouth.

WAYS TO TURN NOT COOL INTO MY SUNSHINE #7
Unlit Cigarette Guy: "Hey, my name is Rudy. Rudy Gold. You have a boyfriend?"
Me: "Gold. Like the color?"
Unlit Cigarette Guy: "No. Like the jewel."

I'm feeling assured.

It's really real.
The Orbitz Price Assurance.
Someone else books a ticket for a cheaper price, and bam, you get a refund.
Crazy.

An evening of laundry and love.

First of all, there is something so great about $20 worth of quarters clanging against the change machine. It reminds me of being 12 years old at Starbucks (our local arcade in Orlando...before the frappucino was invented) and watching the tokens pile up in the machine. Each one representing one more game of skee ball I'd get to play.

Yay, skee ball.

The quick trip back to tokens and prize tickets always makes laundry a little better. But tonight, the little old man who closes up, made my day.

I started laundry a little late and they have a very strict "last dryer run at 10pm" rule. I was pushing my luck as I filled my last load at 10:15, but knew I'd make it.

When I came back to grab my clothes at 10:50, I realized I had forgotten a load in the washer.

Dammit.

I threw them in a dryer hoping to at least get 10 minutes and not completely piss off the little old man. He passed by machine and noticing I had just started, gave me a bit of an evil eye. I assured him I'd take them out before 11.

There was a couple in the laundry mat with me and as soon as they left, I forced open the dryer, knowing I had to finish up.

The little old man came over and grabbed a pair of my jeans, shook his head and said, "Not dry yet. Put 'em back in. Take your time."

I was shocked.

I tried to explain it wasn't a big deal, but he insisted. So he turned up KOST 103.5 FM and we listened to love songs together while my laundry finished.

Ciao.

Once again, at the grocery store.
The guy in front of me paid his bill, grabbed his bag, turned and yelled, "Bye!" as he walked out.

The checkout girl waved and then halfway through saying "Goodbye" realized he wasn't talking to her but to his friend behind me. She sort of grinned and said, "Oh, sorry."

The guy behind me said, "What are you talking about? That was a general goodbye to all of us. Of course you should wave. I mean I'm a little disappointed that she (pointing at me) didn't say goodbye too. Rude."

I love my neighborhood because people actually talk to strangers.

Nights Swimming

Always awesome.

And a pinch of...

Today, I assisted a friend in making guacamole...except I wasn't in charge of chopping tomatoes or squeezing limes. My job was to help him talk about all the things he loved in his life.

This is his secret ingredient (shhh, don't tell him I told you).

There's truth to making something with love, it does taste better. So I pranced around the kitchen as we listed people and moments and ideas that bring joy to his life.

And that guacamole:
Best.

Son of a biscuit farmer

Spent my Friday evening playing a game called Quelf and laughing my ass off. Not only was their a Biscuit Farmer, but also Queen Spatula, Super Ninja Monkey and The Dude. This game had us acting out what a cowboy riding an ostrich might do if he found a beached whale, giving compliments in a malfunctioning robot voice and laughing until we couldn't breathe.

I wanted to keep my facts straight and as I was researching the character names before listing them here, I found this little tidbit about the creators of the game. Wanted to say thanks to these three for letting laughter take over and creating a game that had us all in tears.

A few years back three friends in California worked through a whole lot of pain to try and get a pet project of theirs off the ground. Jeremy Fifer and Robb Earnest had known each other since childhood. Jeremy was a husband and father of two and Robb was a TV and Film writer who had worked on (among other things) South Park. Together with an old college buddy of Robb's, Matthew Rivaldi, they were in the middle of creating a board game that they thought would make all other board games obsolete.

The big secret? It was funny... really, really, really funny, from start to finish. Every aspect burst with imagination and silly insanity. It was simple to play, the background story was rich, the characters were vibrant and the tasks that needed completion in order to win were both straight forward and yet twisted enough that they would cause pause in even the most competitive game player. It was the game that they had always wanted to play and had never found, the one they were sure would be pulled out at every party and never collect dust.

Then things stopped being funny. Fifer came down with skin cancer that spread to the lymph nodes under his arms. Rivaldi's fiance, Heidi, contracted breast cancer and ended up in the hospital. Laughter was in short supply and yet there they were, centering their lives around creating a game that was based solely on laughter. From her hospital bed, Heidi shared with them what energy she had and encouraged them to Quelf, a term that Fifer had used back in his college days and could mean anything from a short bark of laughter to something that was odd or bizarre.

Trust the stars.

It's kind of ridiculous how much I love horoscopes. But somehow, for this Scorpio, they always seem to be right on. Good or bad.

And today, part of mine said:
Spend time with people who take joy in life -- those who eat Laffy Taffy or love thumb wrestling.

Right.
So, basically I could spend time with myself.
Cause I could eat the crap out of some Laffy Taffy.
And then I'll just find someone who will laugh at the jokes and kick my ass in thumb wrestling.

And time spent, will be...perfect.

2nd Generation Sunshine

A friend sent this to me and said she'd thought of me and this little blog.

It makes ME happy that people are on the look out.
It's fun...right?
Sometimes?

Yea, I'll be sore tomorrow, but...

I literally can barely see the screen because the chlorine destroyed my eyes tonight. But it was amazing to be back in the water.

We gathered a rag tag water polo team to scrimmage against the Michigan State girls team. They showed up in their team suits with their big warm up and their younger, faster arms. And we, in true LA-style, showed up late, barely warmed up and joked how we might drown before the game was over.

But you know what? These old ladies killed it. We actually won the game.

So, hey!...you! Don't be nervous to jump back on the court or back on your bike or back on the field. You can take your 30 or 40 or 50 years of wisdom (and even your bad knees) and beat up on college kids. It's rad.

[Insert sigh, head tilt, eye flutter]

I'm pretty sure my heart melted during the Oscars when Ryan Bingham leaned into the microphone to thank his wife and said, "I love you more than rainbows, baby."

I would venture to say that lots of hearts melted last night and I'm just one of many, but I'm OK with that. Words can be powerful. [And girls hearts can be mushy.]

Also, in doing my fact checking, I discovered (holy crap!) Ryan's super cute and there's actually a childrens book called I Love You More Than Rainbows.

I can't wait until I love someone more than rainbows and rice krispy treats and Sunday afternoons.

Oh snap.

Went dancing last night with some lovely ladies and after a few warm up songs, we started to really get down.

I was feeling a little confined in my skirt and wishing I had worn something a little more flexible.

Then I realized Mango knew what they were doing when they designed this skirt. It had snaps on either side at the bottom.

Clearly, they're dancing snaps.
For when you just need to shake it.

See mom? Tattoos are good.

I was going through the checkout line at my favorite little grocery store and the cashier started scanning my items without taking much notice of me. I didn't take offense and started pushing buttons on the credit card machine.

He stopped mid scan and said, "Does your tattoo say breathe?"

I smiled, "Yea, it does."

He softened a bit and said, "I'm really mad right now. I was just thinking I needed a break or a moment to myself. And then I saw your tattoo."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to shake off what was bothering him.

I had no idea my tattoo would be so user friendly.

Boys should just bring kickboards to the bar. It would be so much easier...

I'm following the advice from a friend and typing out all of my journals. From forever. Like, since 8th grade. I decided having Facebook, Twitter and a Blog were clearly not enough resources for talking about myself. I most definitely need a searchable document of all my self-loathing and heartache and life questions and sunshines. And, hey, that's what's in -- Worshiping the Altar of Self. So I'm hip. Duh.

I'm only about 20 entries in and I'm sure there will be many gems, but this one made me smile:

Brian did something today that made me feel a little bit better. It's really stupid but that's okay. When we were walking back from the locker rooms after practice he hit me really hard with a kickboard on the butt. Like I said, really stupid, but a good sign.