everything is coming up roses

I am violently opposed to roses.

Two thousand years ago I had a blind date who showed up at my front door with a single red rose. I recognized it as a sweet, albeit clichéd gesture and then challenged him to a duel. Well, that’s what I did on the inside. Momma didn’t raise no rude fool, so I thanked him and felt guilty for wanting to get combative with him. I mean, I couldn’t exactly blame him for not knowing I wasn’t a single-red-rose-type-of-girl.

(If “The Bachelor” ever gave me a rose, I would throw it on the ground and jump up and down on it while simultaneously laughing my head off. This will make good TV. Wait. Why am I on “The Bachelor”?? Let me speak to my agent…)

My blind date proceeded to take me to a Kenny G concert, which didn’t help his cause. Perhaps this is what soured me even more on roses. And blind dates.

One time, my ex returned from a backpacking trip with a small bunch of wilted wildflowers that he picked for me. I thought this was incredibly romantic, thus cementing the idea that every man should have the time and inclination to do this. However, there was this other time when he gave me a bouquet of roses the day after he was kinda horrible to me. Strike two, Roses.

But this spring, they’re everywhere. The damn things are haltingly beautiful and incredibly photogenic.

A good friend of mine has been growing a variety of roses and I looked at them with a new appreciation.

pink thorns

those thorns…

pink

this one is hypnotizing…it asked for my credit card and I immediately handed it over…

I still feel like stomping on that perfect, fragrance-less, long-stemmed rose. I still want wildflowers. But the beauty of the garden rose cannot be denied. I know you don’t need more convincing, but I’m going to leave you with Cherry Parfait (below). Stunned? Thought so.

By the way, can I borrow your credit card?

cherry parfait

 

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get lost!

traffic jam

I hate getting lost.

It’s guaranteed to happen when I go somewhere for the first time (or the ninth). I’ve moved to a new town but am slightly familiar with the area, which means I will only get lost 75.6% of the time as opposed to 88.2%. These numbers are based on a highly statistical study of numerical and epic proportions.

That’s why GPS is my BFF. Sure, it directs me to dirt landing strips and businesses that sell hot dogs AND spare auto parts. Yes, sometimes it tells me to continually keep making u-turns. To my credit, I only listen for the first hour then realize it’s a practical joke. Oh BFF…you so crazy.

But get me in the woods? Getting lost has never been so good.

Russian Gulch State Park, Mendocino, CA

Russian Gulch State Park, Mendocino, CA

In fact, I prefer not to be found for hours. So if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I’d tell you where I’m going, but then I’d have to find you and not kill you, but tickle your love handles. (I know you’re kinda sensitive about them.) Or I will shout the word “Eureka!!” over and over again, even though I haven’t discovered anything of importance. The choice is yours.

I’m losing time explaining my torture techniques. I’ve already said too much.

Getting lost now…

Hendy Woods State Park, Philo, CA

 

it’s an ephemeral life

into the fog

“When you open yourself to the continually changing, impermanent, dynamic nature of your own being and of reality, you increase your capacity to love and care about other people and your capacity to not be afraid. You’re able to keep your eyes open, your heart open, and your mind open.”

~ Pema Chödrön

When I discovered that Friday’s WordPress photo challenge was the word ephemeral, I knew I wanted to post some cool photos I took one foggy day. Then I started to think about fleeting moments. Then impermanence. Which led to the pondering of Buddhist concepts. And finally, my head burst into flames.

(My head is always doing strange and unpredictable things, like the time it fell off and rolled around on the ground. Well, I don’t need my head to write this post. Truth be told, I was barely using it for my previous posts anyways.)

I don’t consider myself a Buddhist. I believe and don’t believe in a lot of things. I simply decide what feels right and then try to apply it to my life. Intellectually, I get the ideas within Buddhism, but they can be difficult to practice for someone who likes permanence. When Joy enters the room, I want her to stay awhile. I ply her with wine and chocolate and the gyoza she likes from Trader Joe’s. But she always has somewhere else to be. She has a very busy schedule, that Joy.

i heart fog

Enter, Gratitude.

Photography is a wonderful way to practice gratitude. If you’re like me (oh, lucky you! the sweet realization!), you capture these moments in time and then – everything changes. You feel gratitude because what you saw and experienced will likely never happen the same way again. And if you’re like me (oh, dear. poor you.), you get secretly giddy over the fact that while you were living in the moment, you captured it and made it permanent. Take that, Buddhism!

In case you’re wondering, Buddhism can take this kind of ironic taunting.

Joy, pain, gratitude, disappointment…they flow in and out, in constant motion, and sometimes they are tangled up together. I suppose that’s what happens when you stay open – you allow more of everything to enter. It definitely helps to keep your sense of humor and perspective intact. So that’s why I’m going to end with the photo below, because photography also causes you to notice things in a different way, which is, like, totally awesome, Dude.

If you’re like me – twisted, easy (…careful…), head falling off all of the time but knowing how to play it off, and willing to laugh at yourself, then…Joy!! I proclaim that we can be friends!! Because honestly, this has all been a test of our potential friendship. Okay, okay…here’s the photo:

when trees photobomb each other

when trees photobomb each other

 

re(fresh)ed


wisteria

Spring is springing.

My WordPress friend Lola Jane encouraged me to participate in this week’s WP photo challenge for the word fresh. I haven’t taken part in a WP weekly photo challenge in a while, using the excuse of “I’m still settling from my move (whine, whine).” My poor boyfriend, Camera, is a little peeved at me because I haven’t taken him out. Instead, I’ve been using my iPhone to capture the amazing flowers I’ve come across in the past few weeks.

The warm weather in Sonoma County has caused an explosion of flowers and colors. I’m mesmerized. Beauty is everywhere.

nature's bouquet

Because I’m new to all of these different pollens, I’m crossing my fingers that my allergies won’t be too bad this spring. Or summer. I might as well throw fall in there, too. More than anything else, I’d like to spare others from my incredibly loud sneezes. I sooo wish I could be one of those people who sneezes like a cat. So delicate! So dainty!: choo.

Instead, this is me: WA-WA-WAAAATCHOOOOO!!!!

jasmine

But it would be worth it, you know? I want to have fresh flowers in my place all of the time. I decided to buy/find them for myself since I don’t have a thoughtful boyfriend that picks wildflowers for me (whine, whine). Camera’s excuse is that he doesn’t have legs, arms or hands. Whatever.

Everyone deserves to surround themselves with whatever they find beautiful to them. Unless you have a tooth collection. I’m very open-minded, but ew.

Spring is a beautiful time of year. I hope that you get fresh with it any way you see fit.

don’t judge a princess by her tiara

 

Isn't this a pretty sunset? *this is a blatant attempt to lure you into this post.

Isn’t this a pretty sunset? *this is a blatant attempt to lure you into this post.

I recently had a medical procedure – wait! don’t go anywhere yet. I promise you, this post will not contain any gross details. Unless you love disgusting and putrid information. In that case, Louis, my personal bouncer, will show you the way out. He lives for PX90 and eats metal for breakfast. Louis!!! 

Okay, back to my exciting medical procedure.

It’s always been difficult to get a blood pressure reading from me using those arm floatie things. I used to tell technicians about my history of arm-floatie-failure, but they never took me seriously so I stopped saying anything.

This time they gave it a good go using both arms, twice on each arm. Nothing. All four times, the cuff strangled my arms until they couldn’t breathe. If it weren’t for the good meat on these bones I’m sure my arms would’ve passed out and been rendered useless for writing this post. Wouldn’t that have been a shame?

I SAID, WOULDN’T THAT HAVE BEEN A SHAME????

Okay, back to my exciting medical procedure.

Look! Another beautiful sunset. *and another despicable attempt to keep you here.

Look! Another beautiful sunset. *and another despicable attempt to keep you here.

The technician wisely decided to get the manual cuff and the reading was a success.

More staff arrived for the next part of the procedure.

Nurse (peering at me): “What happened to your arms?”
Both upper arms were marked with dark red, vertical lines.
Me: “Oh, those are from the blood pressure cuff.”
Nurse: “Well, aren’t you a precious little Princess.”

I consider myself pretty quick with the comebacks, but that line was like a kick to the head. All of my fancy, funny words fell to floor, stunned into unconsciousness.

Half the people reading this post know me. That’s two of you. And you guys know the irony of that statement. (Unless it’s a truth you’ve been keeping to yourselves, fearing I would go mental on you if you said it out loud.)

I don’t mean to diss any real-life precious princesses, but I think what she said is hilarious. I consider myself way too sensible and sarcastic to be a princess. I am not girly. Hell, my voice is lower than most men’s voices.

But I do have a fluffy, dreamy side to me. Sometimes I’m dainty. I can be bossy. I own 33 tiaras…damn…maybe I…

one of my loyal subjects bowing down to me

One of my loyal subjects bowing down to me.

...like the idea of being royalty.

But the label “Princess” makes me want to kick someone’s ass. Or their calves, since I’m too short to reach their ass. If I were a violent person, I could cause a lot of damage to a lot of legs. But since I’m not…

Louis!!!

I’ll sit for a moment and give this entire topic a bit more thought…

I wish I weren't wearing flip flops in this photo. I'm pretty sure royalty don't wear them. Darn my love of comfortable footwear!!