Category: spring fever

When being thrifty throws you into the wayback machine

So I was at Target the other day, picking up many items on my household list.

You know, toilet paper, dish soap, etc.

On my list was a need for some new razors. You know, the weather is warming up a bit, might need to take a weed whacker to the ol’ winter legs…

TMI, I know.

So anyhow…razors are expensive! Dang expensive. So being a child of depression era parents, I did what any overly fiscally conservative girl would do.

I grabbed a pack of razors from the clearance bin.

Hey, they are Schick Xtreme 3! That’s a good brand!

So tonight, I decided to take a long soak in a bath after a chilly rainy day, and I broke out one of my new razors to get some smooth skin happenin’.

Suddenly, my bathroom smells like Louie’s Backyard on South Padre Island at the high tide of Spring Break.

You know, that odd chemically tropical combination of Malibu spiced rum and way too much Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil?

Yeah.

That’s weird.

Why does my bathroom smell like that?

Turns out the clearance rack razors come with “Scented Handles by Hawaiian Tropic”.

Ew.

Apparently I’m not the only one that thinks a scented handle on my razor is weird. Hence the very deep discount in the clearance bin. Schick’s weird marketing idea is my gain!

With three, count them, three blades, my legs are super smooth.

Spotty memories are but a small down payment on the steep price of beauty.

Question is, which sort of person are you?

Last night, The Good Man and I went to the home opener for the San Jose Giants single A baseball team.

I do love minor league baseball. Just thought I’d throw that in.

We got to our seats, got settled in and soon heard, “ladies and gentleman, please rise and remove your caps as we present our national anthem.”

It’s how every baseball game begins. It is ritual.

So quickly this adorable young lady (maybe all of fourteen years old) came out of the home dugout and hit her mark and dived right into the oh-say-can-you-see part of our show.

As she does, I notice that three rows ahead, a gruff man with a gray beard, a Bud in hand, and a mustard stained sweatshirt is singing along. The years of cigarette smoking have made his voice less than melodic, but he doesn’t lack enthusiasm.

Fair enough. He’s the kind of guy who likes to sing along.

At the seventh inning stretch, Colonel Mustard with a Budweiser also belted out a hearty rendition of “God Bless America” which then let him straight to an even more enthusiastic singing of, “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”

Hey, you know, it’s all a part of the experience.

Some guys like to sing along. Some guys don’t.

Me, I usually let the Star Spangled go by. I can’t hit those notes. Sometimes, if I’m feeling especially patriotic, I’ll get into a version of “God Bless America”.

But I always, always sing “Take Me Out…” For me, it’s mandatory.

No, I don’t understand that logic either.

Anyhow, so last night as I sang along, out of tune, I got to thinking about folks at the yard. Seems to me, there are two kinds. Them that sing along, and them that don’t.

Question is…which sort of person are you?

I guess I’d be called a partial singer-alonger.

Anyhoo, when all was said and done last night, after battling from an 8-0 deficit, the hometown nine still lost 9-7. Boo. Go get ’em next time, boys.

As an aside: This year we sat in a different section than usual. In our regular seats, there is a gentleman we know well who also likes to sing along to the Star Spangled. The thing is, he’s part of a local men’s choir and has the voice of an angel. It’s always rather nice to hear him sing. And I’m rather intimidated to try to sing along with him, to be honest.

I felt much better harmonizing with the guy who was six beers and four hotdogs into the night.

(Man, I couldn’t be more excited to use this photo again.)



Image is of Latvian mezzo-soprano Elina Garanca and a pretty extensive web search could not net me the attribution on this photo. I found photos from that same event on the European Commission page which allows for the use of photos with attribution.



Ya Just Can’t Take a Bad Picture

There are certain places in the world where, seriously, other than utter camera failure (or utter user-of-the-camera failure) you just can’t take a bad photo.

Yosemite seems to be one of those places. I’ve not been myself, but I’ve seen plenty of friend’s shots and damn, each was gorgeous!

The Grand Canyon is the same. Here’s a link to shot that blogger friend NewMexiKen took on Friday with his iPhone. And it’s beautiful!!

I know that there are plenty of similar examples.

On Saturday, I visited one of those “can’t take a bad photograph” places. The Good Man and I needed to get out and enjoy the sun, so we took one of my favorite walks along the Marina Green, through Crissy Field and ending up at Fort Point, the Civil War era Army fort located right smack under the Golden Gate Bridge.

No matter how many years I live here, I still think the Golden Gate Bridge is one of the most awe inspiring man made items ever constructed. It’s truly breathtaking.

And so yes, I brought my new-to-me camera along for the walk so I could learn how it works, and I snapped away.

Here’s the thing…there have been millions upon millions of photographs taken of the bridge, professional and amateur alike. We’ve all seen it from all of its angles. It’s all been done, and so it’s damn near impossible to get a new and different shot.

But it doesn’t matter. The bridge is stunning, and the photos taken, regardless of photographer, are always worth seeing.

So here we go, this was taken from the pier outside of the Warming Hut at Crissy Field:

It’s not an especially different or unique view of the bridge…but it’s still cool!

So then I try to add some artistic and photographic flair!

Ooooh! The big boat tie-off thingy in the foreground! And a fishing rod! I’m so artistic!

But what does your eye naturally want to see? The glimmering bridge in the background. With the sailboats underneath, it really makes the shot.

And then there’s this one:

We’ve all seen that view. Doesn’t matter. It’s still stunning! And that clear blue sky! Whoa!

By the by, it turns out the bridge isn’t only pretty up on top with the art deco towers and the graceful support cables.

The bridge is even beautiful underneath:

A man made work of art!

And even this…a terribly composed photograph, but it’s still fascinating.

This is the tower on the San Francisco side. It seems to be showing some breakdown and rust. This worries me! I understand that the bridge is constantly being painted to keep it sealed and also looking good. So I’m hoping that cutbacks haven’t caused a lack of care of our beautiful landmark.

Anyhow, I adore our orange bridge. Completed in 1937 it still stands proud and useful. I wish those yahoolios who are over budget and failing miserably on the rebuild of the Bay Bridge would take some lessons!

All our modern knowledge and technology still can’t beat what they made 73 years ago!

Ah, Spring

In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

– Alfred Lord Tennyson

Yes, yes, it’s inevitable that the famous Tennyson quote will be trotted out when the weather turns warm. Especially after the winter we’ve had.

But is that true? Does a young man’s fancy lightly turn to thoughts of love?

Is it love? Or more like “damn, baby, it’s been a long cold winter.”

And if young men turn to thoughts of love, what about the thoughts of young ladies?

Well, I may not be young and I’m no lady, so what do my thoughts lightly turn to?

Well. Those cute little strappy sandals. You know the ones, with the heel, not to high, but high enough to make my legs look nice?

Oh, and if I’m wearing those, then I totally need a mani-pedi.

*ahem* Excuse me. Totally girled out there for a minute. Bringing it back to center….

My thoughts lightly turn to…

Margaritas on the patio of my favorite restaurant while nomming guacamole and hearing light mariachi music in the background.

Iced tea. Preferably made by the sun.

Liberating my legs from the tyranny of pants. (oops, better shave ’em. It *has* been a long winter!)

Apricots ripening in the side yard.

Farmer’s Markets with all of the rest of the produce that arrives with spring including nectarines, peaches and artichokes.

Daffodils on the dining room table. Followed by tulips. Followed by a cacophony of all the flowers of Spring and Summer.

Achoo! Sneezes. Because god knows all those fabulous flowers bring not so fabulous pollen.

Longer days and fabulous sunsets.

Riding my bike! (getting it tuned up today!)

Stepping outside and turning my face to the sun like an over ripened sunflower because oh-my-am-I happy to have that big fireball back in the sky where it’s visible. My vitamin D-cell batteries are running low!

Photo from: Kimberly Clark… time out, tired of Flickr!‘s photo stream.

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Evaporation!

Everywhere you turn….

Ok, I suppose some things are hard coded into my system. Cellular level and all.

Today promises to be a very warm day where I live. I woke up this morning and it was already getting hot, and so my mind thought, “hmm, wonder if it is too early to think about getting the swamp cooler set up.”

And then I remembered…I don’t live in the desert anymore.

Oh and by the way, evaporative cooling doesn’t work worth a damn where it’s humid.

Oh yeah. Whoops.

This all reminded me of when I looked for my first apartment in Northern California.

In Albuquerque I’d lived in a very large one-bedroom apartment up on the east end of Menaul. I was on the fourth floor and had a rocking view of the Sandias. Many of my utilities were taken care of, and I paid $550.

I was now looking at spending $1200 a month on a teeny tiny dark apartment in a crap neighborhood. And pay for it out of a salary that was only $5k more than I was making in Albuquerque.

Yeah. That was bad. But what I remember most was touring a pretty nice place that was in my price range (less than $1000 a month). It was clean, smallish, but suitable. It was a warm day down in the South Bay, and I inquired, “where is the air conditioner?”

The landlord responded that there wasn’t one.

NO AIR CONDITIONER!?!?! WHAT!?!?!?

I mean, to a girl from New Mexico, this is certain death! You don’t NOT have an air conditioner!!!

The landlord further explained that really, it’s not necessary. The really hot days are few and the wind off the Bay and the ocean keeps it cool.

I was skeptical.

Thirteen years later, I’ve still never lived in a place that had an air conditioner. Admittedly, there have been some still, hot days where I yearned for the simple beauty of a swamp cooler. On those days, I stay longer at work to soak up their climate control.

So while my home is a/c free, my car does have cooling. I won’t own a car that doesn’t, though I have friends who saved a few bucks by leaving that off. No way.

I have a vague feeling this is going to be a long, hot summer in the Bay Area where the tunnel of fans The Good Man sets up won’t quite be enough.

But then, when it gets that hot, the next day the fog rolls in over the hills and dampens the whole day and you freeze your tukhus off.

Ah…summer in the Bay Area. Swamp Coolers not required.