Year's End

We have a cherished New Years Eve tradition of forgetting to count down the last ten seconds of the year. This year we didn't disappoint.

There's something about ringing in the New Year completely by accident- being so caught up in our conversation and our friends and our card game and our drinks that I can't possibly keep an eye on the clock. When I do check the time- usually the microwave or the oven because analog clocks are terrible timekeepers- I'm either ten minutes too early or 30 minutes too late.

So we're sitting at a dining table, sliding playing cards across the holiday tablecloth and trying to remember the rules to a game only one of us has played before. We're two or three drinks in, we've just finished home-cooking one of the best meals we've ever made (carne asada, homemade Ceasar salad, roasted rosemary and thyme potatoes and carrots in case you were wondering) and the heater has made us completely forget that it is currently 26 degrees outside and snow is on the ground. The dogs are blessedly quiet (though that's not an anomaly for Ripley) and the jazz station we've turned on is cranking out the perfect soundtrack for lulling us to sleep through the year change.

One of us chances to look up and all of a sudden we're screaming. It's 11:59 and we are going to miss it. All the carefully prepared champagne (because if not now, when?) and grapes to symbolize our good months and toasting is going to be late and at least two of the four of us are really only awake for this singular reason.

So Mr. E goes to pop the champagne and Oliver is bringing out yet another flight of glassware and I'm hiding under the counter with my back turned because I have a fear of loud noises (or fear of the anticipation of loud noises, whichever sounds cooler) and in the bustle we missed it.

But it doesn't matter.

Because this year is full of anticipation.

Because this year we have goals.

Because this year is the year we enjoy.

And we're off to a pretty good start- snow on the ground, greasy pizza in town, pre-released movies for Oscar-judging and endless card games in a year-end vacation in the mountains of Idyllwild.

My word for this year is enjoy. What's yours?

Hie Thee to Zion

Zion is apparently an international hotspot.

Is it the stunning views? The trails for hikers of all levels? Perhaps it's the absolute silence and the stunning cascade of heavenly bodies that surround you once the sun sets behind the cliffs. I haven't quite figured out how to take pictures of stars with my iPhone, but if it looked like this during the day...imagine what that looked like by the light of a waxing moon.

For four days there's actually quite a lot to do in Zion. That is, if you are surrounded by nieces and nephews, catching up with sisters-in-law, tending to injuries, cooking any and all meals and/or trying to find a free bathroom for a quick second. Just me?

We biked from the park entrance to the Lodge almost 5 miles away (uphill, both directions, in the snow...).

We hiked a mile along the Virgin River until we dead-ended at the river itself....then we took up walking sticks, double-bagged our valuables and trudged in. Much like the California surf, the water was cold but soon numbed your feet.

We also hiked to see the canyon view- through a tunnel and out the other side, there's a (perilous) staircase, some natural, some not, that deposits you at a cliff edge with a stunning vista of the park. Granted, it was no Angel's Landing (same idea, but a four hour trek and one of the highest points in the park- not suggested for kids. Me. People with a fear of heights.)

We swam for most of the day- hiking was strictly a morning sport as the heat of the day quickly baked everything in the canyon.

My favorite part of the trip? Catching a wide-eyed Mr. E as he spouted geological tidbits, trying to cram every rock and crevice into his memory bank like a kid at a museum. We vowed to hike more often- and actually get out and camp once in a while!

Last Day of Summer

We spent the last day of summer at the LA County Fair. Mr. E and I have gone to the fair almost religiously every year- usually San Diego County, then last year at the Orange County and then we missed BOTH and had to settle for LA. We've determined Del Mar is the best- as OC was incredibly boozy and LA was too spread out.

We sorely missed all of the crazy booths and products. Where were the SHAM-WOWS? The dog brushes and the popsicle-makers? The stained glass and the personalized bracelets? We were impressed with the hanging terrariams (below) and the iron work, but they were small potatoes compared to the fried food.

We're crazy about that fried food. We've tried something crazy every time we go to the fair- because if not then, WHEN? Bacon-wrapped pickles. And deep-fried watermelon. Amazing.

We made it a double date with one of the friends who introduced us to each other (him) and his girlfriend. The best part of the fair this year was our $5/3 cupcake frosting class! Look at these adorable farm animals we created! That's Mr. E's pig down there- despite the fact that I'M the cake decorator in the house!

Goodbye, summer. We had a hard time enjoying you, what with the move and all. But now we're firmly ensconced here in Burbank and we plan to enjoy every pumpkin-flavored confection fall has to offer. Bring on the season of cream cheese.

Movies This Week:
The Crow

The World's End




Major League

Lonely #fiveminutefriday

Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.

Thumping basketballs outside the window and down the street. Leaves swish and clack as the neighborhood dog walkers bustle through on their phones- taking even the most mundane and relatively stress-free activities to a whole new level. 

We're only a mile from the freeway and the constant hum of cars sings us to sleep at night and jars us awake in the morning. People coming and going, working and playing and existing within arms reach. A stone's throw to one of the most densely populated places on the planet.

And I'm here. Eyeballing picture frames (don't tell my husband) and stroking the puppy to sleep, her little pink belly marred and inked by a little blue incision. It's muggy in this apartment because we've closed the windows and the door. We've shut ourselves away from the world and we live content, minute to minute, enjoying the presence of each other after a long day away.

Our Last Disney Trip

Disneyland was the epitome of childhood for me. Other kids got to go to Disneyland, but we didn't have the money. Plus, travel with four children in an F-150 is not fun no matter how you swing it. The first time we went was magical- no shame riding the little kid rides with younger siblings, I learned that I hate roller coasters and drops, and the sheer intake of sugar could power a small planet.


My best friend in high school would regularly skip school (any school administrators here?) to make use of her year passes. Every once in a while I would go too.

It seems that everyone has their fool proof way of making the most out of a Disneyland trip. You would think, since Mr. E and I lived only 4 miles from the park that we would have made more of an effort to go. But we're cheap and fairly broke and we can't even afford a smartphone much less a year pass. But we know how to hit all the high points just the same. 

Now, most of the time we're tried and true Peter-Pan-first-ers. As soon as that park opens you better be in a line in Fantasyland because otherwise that wait will kill you at nine o'clock. Good grief. Teacups, Mr. Toad's, Smallworld, these rides are high priority. This time around, however? Mr. E and I booked it to Indiana Jones- and we weren't disappointed. First ride of the day and we waited less than ten minutes. Seriously. The line looked a little something like this...

It was about here we got a little fastpass happy- the park wasn't all that crowded so fastpass return times were pretty decent. Ideally, the more people buying fastpasses, the farther our your return time. If you have a fastpass swiped already you need to wait until it's return hour has started until you can swipe again. Which can really help or really hinder your experience. All other Disneyland trips that I have gone the cast members have been super accommodating if you're over your fastpass time- I've used fastpasses we got from the morning to use during fireworks. This time, not so. Apparently they are sticking to that time like glitter on a princess. Which was kind of disappointing.

Mr. E and I made sure to tackle all of our favorite rides (minus the Matterhorn because Mr. E thinks he will die): Space Mtn, Indy (thrice), Buzz Astro Blasters, the Haunted Mansion, and the new Cars ride. We also hit up quite a few shows- the new Beauty and the Beast show at Fantasy Faire, Mickey's Magical Map at the Fantasyland Stage, even learning to draw Jack Skellington at the Animation Academy. 

Since this was going to be our last trip for a while, we made sure to hit all the rides we've meant to go on but just never made it to: Nemo's Submarines and World of Color. The last would have been a lot cooler if you didn't have to peek through a forest of baby limbs on parents' shoulders just to see the lights. 

Possibly the best way we ever did Disneyland was with Mr. E's brother and family- they had a huge two-seater stroller that held food for 30 people (oh, only 7? Seemed like 30) and was convenient for the little kids to ride on. Since there were four adults we could switch off for every ride- one or two stay behind with kids who aren't tall enough, the others grab "family passes" from the cast members and fastpasses to ride again later. We spent MAYBE $50 on food for all of us because we packed lunches with chips and brownies, had plenty of candy snacks (dollar store, holla!) and most ice creams or goodies we shared between all of us.

I think a big perk for us is that we routinely go to Downtown Disney for free date night, too, so we weren't feeling the urge to go through any of the shops since we've seen it all before. We're really going to miss listening to those fireworks every night at 9:30pm on the dot! (not.)

LOVED This Week

We burned the dog on Thursday. On accident, of course. Just a little sparkler dust that caught a hair or two- she was so oblivious she didn't even yelp.

I'm constantly surprised by this dog. Most people talk about dogs and fireworks, warning that they're an unhealthy mix. But Ripley, sweet thing, has grown up with fireworks popping in the distance every night at 9:30pm sharp- thanks Disneyland. So when fireworks exploded overhead at Newport Beach, she didn't bat an eye. She may have shivered and shook from all the new people, the other dogs, the whining and the crying, the smells and sounds of a new place at night, but bright explosions over head? No problem.

We let our sentences dangle for her, waiting until she catches on to the unasked question: "Do you want to..." She uses our shins as a springboard, jumping between us, mouth wide in that doggy smile. She loves the car and often lounges over the window one arm down the side and her head resting between the frame and the mirror. We took it one step further on Thursday and bundled her up for a basket-less bike ride. Pedestrians couldn't get enough of her, face sprouting from our neck as she leveraged herself to see where we were going out of her backpack cocoon, without a care in the world.

I took her out before bed last night and marveled at her supreme calm as Angels Stadium lit up, a cacophony of bangs and booms, and she, undisturbed, chased June beetles.

I wish she could share some of that unruffability with me. Just a scoche.

Remember How It Is

Remember the teamwork between the two of you as you travel. The last minute packing, the exhausted anticipation as you drag yourself to the airport and try to check in without coffee in your system. The shyness that overcomes you both as you navigate through gates and trams and baggage claims, holding hands at take-off and smiling all the while. Remember that it was this easy once.

Remember the heat. The wall, the wave of oppression that hits you the moment you open the door. The weight of it suffocates you. Above all it smells warm. Remember the way you enjoyed the stark contrast to home, the way you can live in the moment, briefly, and understand that though harsh, it's seasonal and impermanent.  

 

 Remember homemade breakfasts and lunches to go. The hurdle jumped when you finally left chicken fingers and blue box mac and cheese behind to try chicken parmesean and wheat pancakes with backyard apricot syrup. Don't forget the love that's folded in each slice of bread, each bowl of fresh fruit, each bought soft-serve.

Remember her quiet strength, always present behind eyes searching for the moon and falling stars, fingers dusted with soil and dirt and clay. The way stories always circle back to Him; His strength, His love, His sacrifice. She wants better than the best for you and if she won't settle, you shouldn't either.

Remember the stories, over and over and over again. Your favorites about the family you've never known, the history of the county she grew up in, the puns and play on words. She challenges you, without intending, to think about how you communicate. You came home with new words on the tongue and a bevy of story ideas.

 Remember the thrill of a new trail and the nostalgia of an old one- the smells and sounds of the world. The crunch of sneakers on a trail, the slurp of a water bottle and the wide-eyed stare of startled deer. Remember the bugs, all over, everywhere- wading through spider webs and stepping on ants. Your stomach squirms (just a little) but you're old and wise enough now to know you're bigger and they won't hurt you.

Remember the way your husband falls quiet when he's done with the day. The way he gets subdued, introspective. Remember that he's here for you, because of you, but most of all with you; forgoing his preference for staying at home to cater to your hiking, car-riding, sight-seeing whims. He loves you like crazy and it's all he can do not to grin like a fool when he sees your childhood haunts.

Remember staying up late to play cards, or read, or just to watch the bonfire burn because you can. There's no pressure to entertain or to fill your moments because your vacation is your escape from reality. Do with it as you please since you answer to no one but yourself. No one can take this outlook from you but you had best defend it dearly, all the same. 

Don't forget how it feels to balance your commitments for once. Worry and stress have no place in the mountains and there's nothing you can email or search or apply for when you don't have internet access, so stop the guilt about not multitasking. This is your moment, your peace and your zen. You needed it, you wanted it, you deserve it. 

Relax. And remember.