So, there I was today, in bumper to bumper traffic, trying to get to work.

The Bay Bridge is closed this weekend for construction, so the traffic patterns in the Bay Area have gone all wonky.

My usual peaceful, easy commute was jammed up. Fine. A fact of life in a highly populated area.

As you may or may not know, in California, it’s legal for motorcycle riders to “split the lanes”, meaning, they can ride in that space between two cars, side by side in their respective lanes.

It took me quite some time to get used to this, but now, especially in a traffic slowdown, I’m quite alert. As a car driver it’s always best to stay the course when a motorcycle comes whipping down between lanes.

This morning, as I sat, fully stopped, I watched the usual parade of motorcycles split the lanes. A Harley rumbled by. A really sweet BMW bike glided through. A couple of those very speedy Japanese bikes that force the rider to stick his rear up (doesn’t seem right to go a 100mph with your ass higher than you head, but what do I know?).

And then, in my rearview, I saw this patchwork bike come wobbling along, looking like something out of the Road Warrior films.

Apparently mismatched parts had been collected from the junk pile. The thin tires looked better suited to off road than asphalt. The fender didn’t match the bumper. It made a sound like a monkey wrench caught in the spin cycle.

But the rider sat tall in the saddle. He was decked in leathers and fully in command of his vehicle, proudly guiding his bike through Bay Area traffic.

And as he passed by, I noted the New Mexico license plate bolted firmly to the back.

As he rode away, out of sight, I held hand to my heart and quietly hummed “O Fair New Mexico”.

“O Fair New Mexico, we love, we love you so….”

Thank you, New Mexico, for keeping it rasquache, even here in the Bay Area.

Oh so ready for the Labor Day Weekend. Happy and safe one, ya’ll!

Whoa, whoa the Fourth of July…whoa!

Man. Can’t believe we’re already into July. Of 2009. Wow.

Been a little quiet here on the blog-o-rama since I was out and about all weekend.

Big fun. Well worth it!

Sure, I thought I could never top last year’s holiday celebration, featuring the viewing of fireworks from a Cessna aeroplane.

But this year went ahead and topped it.

There were fireworks, but not like you think.

This year, The Good Man and I loaded up the car and went on a road trip.

Destination: LA

Reason? My amazing, world-class talented cousin wrote and produced a musical and chose this weekend for a family and friends weekend show.

Now, I had read an early version of the script, so I knew what to expect, but this show blew well past even my own expectations!

It was an amazing night, all around.

So there we were in West Hollywood…my cousin was wise and prescient enough to get us a limo (easy to corral a lot of family that way!).

We all got ourselves dolled up for the show and loaded up. Off we went, cruising the streets of Los Angeles.

So yeah, you know, on the Fourth, I got to emerge from a limo, in LA, on my way to this fabulous new show…

Cuz I roll like that.

Yes, I was able to keep my skirt down as I emerged. Yes, I was also wearing chones. I also roll like that.

No one needs to know that really, rather than “emerge” from the limo, my high heeled foot slipped off the step rail, thus whacking the side of my foot on the way down and causing me to actually tumble out of the limo.

But in my memory, when I retell the story, I emerged gracefully, like an elegant movie star from a bygone era.

It was just all around, an amazing weekend that went by way WAY too fast. I got to be with my cousin, one of my most favorite people in the whole world. I got to be with family, I got to see a killer show, I got to hit a couple Hollywood hot spots, and I got to have another amazing memory to make with my fabulous husband.

I can’t ask for anything better than all that!

And now, here we are at Monday.

This morning, there is a line for the auto-espresso maker.

The light of day in the real world is always a bit of a let down, now in’nit?

Want some cheese to go with that whine?

Lord knows, I’ve been prone to giving over to a deep, hearty kvetch about living here in the Bay Area, and these marine layer weather patterns this Flower of the Desert must face.

Ok, fine, I own it.

However, today, I’m here to say that all the wet weather actually *does* have some benefits. Occasionally even *I* can find a place of gratitude for all of that goddamn rattin’ smattin’ essential rain.

See, The Good Man and I are renters, and as such, aren’t required to take care of our yard. Good thing, too…cuz we’d have grass a mile high.

My landlord and his son do yard work that’s mainly limited to cutting the grass every few weeks and chopping down nice trees that never did nothing to nobody. But that’s another story.

So over on the side of our humble abode, we have this:

It may be hard to see, but that’s a little spindly tree.

I mean…it’s pretty sad. Look at this puny little trunk:

What you should know about that little tree is that no one really does much of anything with it. We don’t water it. We don’t prune it. We hardly look at it. It’s just “that tree” over by where we store the trashcans.

I’ve occasionally photographed the tree when it puts on white flowers, working on my macro skills. But other than that, it goes totally ignored.

Well. This year, the little tree that decided to get noticed.

This year, that son-of-a-gun put on a crapload of fruit. Apricots.

I’ve lived here five years. That tree has never, not once, put on fruit. It would flower, halfheartedly, but that’s it.

For some reason, even in a fairly dry Bay Area winter, that little spindly tree got enough water and sun and nutrients to fill its skinny little boughs with fruit.


And it’s tasty fruit too! VERY delicious. Boy, I do love a good juicy and tart apricot in the summertime.

I remember my college roommate’s mom would put up a fantastic apricot jam…that she’d serve on top of homemade biscuits. Oh my.

So ok, I whine. I jump up and down. I tantrum. I complain that I am a convection-cooled device (a human swamp cooler) finely tuned to the high desert and cannot possibly be expected to properly function in this humidity.

Then I bite into a ripe, juicy apricot and I think, “Hey, all that rain is not so bad!”

Oh Dear!

I believe we have a rogue deer in my part of the world.

How, might you ask, would I know that?

Because, I am a woman of New Mexico, daughter of a hunter and champion poo identifier.

That, my friends, is a healthy, well-fed ruminant.

So normally this wouldn’t bother me, but this little deposit, made Saturday evening, is located less than a foot from my home.

True, I live pretty much in the suburbs, but it’s not THAT suburban. We do have some open land a couple miles away from us, but it’s pretty tight housing and people where I’m at.

Here in California, we are SO anti the mountain lion, one gets spotted at a fair distance and the *freak* out happens. Quickly it’s captured and relocated or killed.

See, if we hadn’t killed all the mountain lions, those stick-legged animals wouldn’t be leaving their leavings in my front yard!

That’s the circle of life, people!

I’d be more than happy to help Bambi the Yard Visitor make his or her way onto my dinner plate, but noooo, California can’t have *that*.

Bambi is cute and doesn’t have sharp paws, so he gets to stick around, ruining fences, gardens and causing havoc but the feline meat eaters get ostracized.


(Note to my readers: oh yes I DID just post a poo photo on my blog! If the award winning Pioneer Woman can do it, well, so can I!)