That's Punny

Today, I remembered to stop, and smell the buffalo.

Topanga Canyon roadside art

The Perfect Job

It was a beeyouteefull day at the dog beach today. Cloudy. Has been for days, but still a big blue sky and the water felt warm. I guess because the air was a little chilly, and by chilly I mean 67ish degrees, but I was sporting my jean jacket so that means chilly. It was kind of an odd day too though. They’re doing some beach erosion work. Necessary I guess, but lots of heavy, noisy machinery is not really what you’re looking for at the beach. Last week when my pal and I were there, we were talking to a surfer dude, his dog’s name was Marley, didn’t get the surfer dude’s name. Unfortunately. Marley’s dad was telling us the sand level on the beach is lower than they want and they were bringing sand in from other areas and dumping it onto this beach. Or something like that – Surfrider Foundation and erosion and this huge ship the four of us sat and watched maneuver really closely to shore and gathering and dumping and the San Diego bay sand was gross so they were finding new sand and I gotta be honest, he kind of lost me. It’s not that Marley’s dad or the subject was uninteresting, but when I’m sitting on the beach, looking out at the waves and the sky and the birds and the dogs and the surfers, it’s hard for me to keep my mind from wandering. Really wish I had paid closer attention though. A. It would have been much more polite. And B. I would have known what they were doing today!

We also saw two dead seagulls washed up in the surf today. Now, I think seeing one is a pretty unique thing to see, but two? Two seems almost ominous. I didn’t get a photo of either of the dead seagulls. Unfortunately. Wanted to, but my pal kind of wanted to eat them, so I steered clear. I did, however, find the most beautiful shell. There aren’t a lot of shells at the dog beach, almost none actually. Lots of rocks, and I love me some rocks! But just a smattering of mostly broken, mostly average, mostly not interesting enough to bend down and wash off and stick in your pocket type of shells. This one though, caught my eye.

Some seaweed caught my eye too. There’s a lot of seaweed on the west coast, most of it brown and sort of slimy. And when it’s low tide, it’s my pal’s most favorite thing to stop and sniff and pee on. It can sometimes take us fifteen minutes to walk ten feet. This bunch was different though, like a mermaid’s wedding bouquet.

So, what career can I have where I spend all day walking on the beach, playing with the dog, chatting with surfers, taking photos, and collecting rocks? Cause that sounds like a great job to me.

Lost In Transition

Spent this perfectly lazy, rainy day on the sofa with my canine pal, watching movies.

Upside: spent this perfectly lazy, rainy day on the sofa with my pal, watching movies.

Downside: much too much time to think.

And we all know what happens when you have too much time to think. You spend all that time thinking.

Absolutely no good can come of that. Trust me.


“I have to be leaving…but I won’t let that come between us, okay?”

Motel...Yes No

Found myself a little slice of the Big Apple right in downtown LA this afternoon. Pumpkin and I and my canine pal hit up the bi-annual Artwalk at The Brewery Artist Lofts in Lincoln Heights. Really exceptionally cool place, and the Artwalk was a blast, and packed! So much fun wandering in and out of the different studios, everything from hand-painted silk scarves (if I was currently employed, I might own one of those right now) to Steampunk sculpture and rock iconography paintings (would definitely own one of those), and from photography and jewelry to cooking classes. The whole vibe of the event, not to mention the lofts themselves, are so reminiscent of New York City, it made me nostalgic for the eleven years I spent there. So, it was quite the coincidence I got an email with a photo today from my two bff's, K and Bec, who are enjoying themselves a little NYC getaway this weekend. I miss New York. And I miss my girls!

So, here's the plan: rent a loft in The Brewery, which allows me the luxury to spend my time writing some things, and I don't know making cigar box guitars, or taking some photos, or building things with power tools, and then sell these things to pay for the loft in The Brewery which then allows me the luxury to spend my time doing all those things some more. It's a good plan, right?

Out to the universe it goes. Motel...Yes!

artwork by Robert Morgan

Moments of Zen

Seems a little crazy to say I had a stressful morning, and yet, there it was.

My solution was to spend the afternoon at the dog beach with my canine pal. I pretended to be going for him. It was really for me. I didn’t know it would be deserted today. How could I? And yet, there it was. It was the perfect solution.

Breathe, Part Two

Don't want to forget:

Three adorable little girls, all daughters of party celebrants and ranging in ages from about 6 to 11, I'd say. As soon as the sound bath was over, they high-tailed it out of the Integratron. No laying around relaxing for those three. They were super quiet about it, but definitely on a mission. I didn't last long either. Ten minutes after the bowl playing ended I needed to get outdoors too. When I got outside, I saw them all sitting together in a swing. Once they caught sight of me headed their way, one of them yelled to me, "we escaped!" and lots of giggling ensued. With a big smile on my face, I said, "I heard you escape". The one who let the escape cat out of the bag sat up really straight and full of seriousness said, "Is that why you left too"?

It still makes me smile.

Remember To Breathe

A drive out to the high desert is almost always a good idea, but especially so when you’re headed there for a weekend-long dual birthday party, even if you’re only catching the tale end of it.

The people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet in Joshua Tree have been so incredibly gracious. They open their homes and their gatherings not just to their family and friends, but also friends of friends, and I’d venture to say friends of friends of friends. This summer, I met two such people who I honestly don’t think are incidentally married to one another. That time, they threw a last-minute party together, at 10 p.m., in their home, because they could. There was food and drink and warm and friendly conversation. We took advantage of their desert generosity until 4 a.m. and watched the sunrise in Joshua Tree National Park that same morning.

This past weekend they were celebrating their birthdays, 100 years of W&L! There was a music festival happening as well, so the weekend lent itself to some good times, I’m sure. Didn’t make it out in time to catch any of the festival, but caught plenty, just the same. W&L had commissioned an entire campground of sorts for their friends and family for the weekend, Rimrock Ranch. If you find yourself in Joshua Tree, California for any reason, and honestly I don’t know why you wouldn’t some day, check it out. The place is simply awesome.  Sunday night ended up much like the summer party, family, friends, friends of friends, and of friends, food and drink, and music and conversation and s’mores around the fire pit, and all on an unbelievably beautiful and cool, in every sense of that word, desert night. Again, the party slipped into the wee hours of the morning, but the celebrating wasn’t over just because it was now Monday.

Laurie, making s'mores.

Wally, Brad, Bernie, and Steve, making music.

I have two words for you, sound bath. Seriously, one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever done. W&L scheduled a private one on Monday afternoon for again, family, friends, of friends, whoever was still in JT from the weekend and wanted to bathe, basically. I know what you’re thinking, holy cow, SO California! Yeah maybe, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Or a bowl beat. It was really cool. You’re just gonna have to trust me on that. Or get yourself out to Integratron and give it a whirl. I’d recommend the latter.

The last stop on the birthday extravaganza train was lunch. Where else, but at a friend’s home. Not a friend of mine, mind you, but, like I said, it doesn’t matter in the desert. I know someone who they know, so that makes us friends. Quite possibly, the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen, custom-built by the owner, tucked into the desert like a mesa that’s been there for thousands of years, and filled with found treasures from all over the world. More food. More drink. More music. More conversation. Desert people know how to live.

Lunch was gourmet pizzas, made to order by two local chefs. They smelled divine. When the home owner’s son, who I had met about thirty minutes prior, found out I couldn’t eat them, without questioning, without hesitation, and without my knowledge, he went into the house and gathered a plate of fresh veggies and had the chefs grill them up, just for me, because desert people not only know how to live, they treat strangers and one another with such incredible kindness, and they don't have to be reminded to "remember to breathe". That sign is most certainly for the visitors.