Bones

I've been looking at this website's homemade domino project for a few months now, longing to pull the materials together to make my own set. I finally got around to kicking the project off this weekend. Jon sawed the 3 inch pieces of wood for me and I sanded them. There are 28 dominoes in a set - each one's dots are made with black marker and the back sides have pieces of paint swatches that I picked up (rather liberally) at my local Home Depot. In the middle of the paint swatches are drawings from various vintage books I've found at the Salvation Army. Apply a few coats of Mod Podge to both sides, and Voila! Are you ready for a round of bones??

This Aint no Foo Foo Camp

I learned about Outback Expeditions from my brother who went to camp a year before I did. The company was owned by a guy named Scottie. An "extreme skier" who spent Winters in Colorado and Summers working at the YMCA in San Diego. When he decided to branch out on his own, he sent brochures to the kids that had taken his trips at the YMCA - Cody being one. The other counselor was Janette, another twenty-something YMCA graduate that was always in on the jokes.

The day we picked my brother up from his trip, all the kids seemed like they had had the best time of their lives. They were so different from the group we saw on the drop-off day. Friends now. Dirty, happy, laughing, Friends. I remember telling my mom "You know, I would really like to do something like that."

So the next year she signed me up. I didn't really know what I was in for, but I knew that the two counselors that owned and ran the camp were young and cool. Everyone thought they were cool. They could have dragged us through Death Valley by our heels and we would have said "Awesome". After my first trip, Summer camp became the highlight of my whole year and continued to be for a few years after that.

The beginning of every trip involved a grocery store visit to gather last minute supplies that didn't make it on the van for whatever reason. Usually before we were allowed to get out we got a speech that sounded something like this:

LISTEN UP FRUITCAKES!

We gotta go into the store to get a few things-
It's 11:40 right now - you guys be back here at Noon or I'm tellin ya we'll leave ya.

You can do whatever you can to get kicked out of the store - within reason - ok? But if you do that, we don't know you.

Getting kicked out of a store could involve any number of things. I personally stuck with simple things. Running a muck with the bouncy balls they had on display, opening every freezer door and writing a message in the frost - you know, stuff like that. Once a fellow camper convinced us to take a more peaceful approach, so we sat in a circle in the middle of a random aisle, taking up the whole thing and reading the available books. And on that occasion the store manager asked us to get up, but then gave us all free cookies from the bakery!

After the first few nights at a campground we would pack backpacks and bear cans of food and head out to hike for a week or more. We never slept at "campsites" because there weren't any and we didn't use tents unless it rained. On more than one occasion a hike turned into an all day peak-climbing experience - including Mt. Banner. (Not my photo)

Even though they were young, carefree and silly, in situations that called for seriousness, I always felt safe with Scottie and Janette. And when I didn't, I reminded myself that my Mom would sue the shit out of them if something happened.

We always saw bears on our trips, and not from far away, they would wander through our campground trying to find human-food left around by careless campers. One rainy day in Yosemite we spent the afternoon in tents, resting, snacking - out and out chillin'. I stumbled out of my tent and was literally 5 feet away from one and looking straight at it. I should have scared it away, but simply stated I was too scared. Another time a bear put four big k9 holes in my unbreakable water bottle, though I didn't witness it. We were climbing half-dome. (Also not my photo)


We climbed half-dome late in the day so that we could see the sunset from the top. It was gorgeous, awesome, awe-inspiring and I wish I had the photos with me here in San Francisco. Climbing for sunset meant descending in the dark and once we were back on the trail we turned off our headlamps and hiked in the dark having been told that "our eyes would adapt". (Debateable)

And friend, I'll admit, we even sang songs around the campfire.

Most of the time the guitar came out late at night when everybody was tired and staring wide-eyed at the fire. But it wasn't Kumbayah or If I had a Hammer - I remember a Violet Femms song and a few songs from the Live album. But most of the time they were songs that were pieced together on various trips. The two songs that come to mind are, coincidentally, both about farting. (Bare with me this is going to be as uncomfortable to read as it is to write.)

One song was simply called "Farted" a song that I could not do justice explaining if I tried. And the other was a song called "Festering Fart". Festering Fart went to the tune of the theme song for Gilligan's Island. I will tell you that one line said "The Ford was a mighty big 'ol van, the driver full of prunes" and another claimed that "Monica almost blew chunks" but I think I'll leave it at that.

But the camp, probably because it was male dominated, focused a great deal of attention on farting. The campiest thing we did (aside from singing at the campfire) was earn beads for various accomplishments. We put the beads on a necklace. One of the beads was called "the Foof bead" for individuals that exhibited talent in the passing of gas. Another was the "What are you?" bead, for campers that did random ass shit with no good explanation. You could get mind, body (for physical accomplishments) and soul beads, or the bead that indicated you had gotten all three. An Earth bead for being environmentally friendly, a bead for being funny.

One bead called the "peeno" bead was never defined. It was purple, simple, and it's meaning was secret. I only saw a few people get it, but I was one of them and I'm not bragging about that. To this day I have no idea what it meant, it could very well have been the "you suck and haven't gotten any other beads" bead, or the "take a hike" bead. Who knows.

Every trip ended the same. Long, quiet drives back to San Diego to the same place we met on the first day. Our parents waiting, everyone smelling like dirt and ready to go home. We took home t-shirts with the camp's slogan on the back: "This Aint no Foo Foo Camp."

Though we got along, we rarely kept in touch throughout the school year and when we all grew out of it, the company stopped doing trips altogether. Or maybe they just grew out of it too.

So many years later it seems like a strange thing to blog about, and I certainly see it differently now than I did then. But what I know is that twelve years ago today, if I wasn't camping, I was counting down.

We've all got a Role

(Baseball on the television)

Jon: I would have been a great pitcher

Me: Yeah.

Jon: No, I mean when I played baseball I was good.

Me: Yeah. I played soccer as a kid but was never very good. That's about it.

Jon: I was never good at soccer.

Me: I'm just not in to, like, having to run into people and shit to get to what I'm trying to do.

Jon: Well it's not about that. It's just, "I've got to get there, and I've got to do what I've got to do to do it."

Me: I'm not saying its about that, I'm just saying that that part, I don't like. Not into it. Let me hit a ball at a worthy adversary. Watch them struggle from afar.

Jon: Yeah. You'd be a good right fielder.

Photo Op

When we were in Truckee a few weekends ago, we went outside to let the dogs get some fresh air. I looked down and saw this leaf that had a perfectly straight line of perfectly arranged water droplets. I ran inside to get my camera, thankful that it came with an awesome close up lens.

It was one of those photographic moments that only comes around once every handful of months...

A letter to my boyfriend's mother

Dear Pat,
I'm sorry to have to do this, but I've roped you into a lie.

You may or may not remember Jon's very dirty, very stained, unrecoverable gray sweatshirt that he was wearing at your cabin the weekend before last (and every other day in between). You may have even made a comment on it's state.

Well, he lost track of it (I happen to know that it is lost at the bottom of a very large laundry basket) and when he asked me the other day if I had seen it I told him wholeheartedly that his mother and I threw it away in Auburn.

Somehow involving you not only made it a cute story of cooperation but one that could not be questioned or second guessed - as only a mother's guidance could be. Though he compared the loss of his sweatshirt to that of a child's blankie I'll bet he is able to move on with his life eventually.

I'm sure you understand, and I assure you its for the better, but if he mentions it to you feel free to set the record straight.....

or don't, up to you :)

Hugs,
Allie

Reunited and it Feels so Good

On our last day at the old office I visited my most favorite restaurant for the last time: The taco truck. I was a little melancholy about the whole thing - I mean its been my most reliable food source for about a year now, and the guy that takes my order was just so lovely and the tacos, well, I've told you about the tacos. Anyway- my ass is not thanking me for having fried, floury folders of steak everyday and so while it was a sad farewell, it was most likely for the best.

We got to our new building Monday and after settling in a bit I visited my boss in her new shiny office. It has windows that look out on the parking lot and the benches where all the smokers congregate. Just over the grassy hill I noticed something - a familiar something - something that looked like the pop-up vents of a taco truck rooftop.

Could it be? I thought. Are those? Is that…? I composed my thoughts: DUDE there is TOTALLY a taco truck at the new office and it is even closer than the last one. But perhaps most importantly: When this taco truck drives up it's horn honks the music to "Tequilla" - Completely eliminating the need for any guesswork as to when it might show up and where it might be.

How the bad economy scored me a half-day at work (and what I did with it)

It's been almost a year since we first realized that our company was suffering along with the economy. Well, at least since we the employees realized it... Management may have known for awhile - you know, seen the writing on the walls as it were. But in July of last year our company saw lay-offs.

And then it was quiet. Employees whispered fearful theories and listened intently at the weekly company meetings. We had fewer clients, fewer workers and our morale was lower.

I never heard "everything is going to be just fine, we'll pull it together". It was more like one fateful day we stopped getting snacks and drinks provided for us and we hunkered down to weather the economic storm.

But eventually our company was acquired by another larger company that has been around since 1896 and was at one point in history, a household name. We lost our CEO, Vice president, CFO and a good chunk of our sales force. It was a substantial change but in the end I think we all had a sense that maybe, juuuust maybe, we'd be able to ride the bad economy out and make it to the other side.

As a then 24, now 25 year old I have to say I was naively along for the ride. Yes, I need my job, but the severity of the situation really wouldn't have hit me until I lost it. This is all to say that the entire year at a marketing company enduring the woes of the current economic climate ultimately culminated in me being able to have a half day at work on Friday. Because as part of our final act as a recently acquired company, we are moving offices. The movers showed up at about 1:30 on Friday afternoon.

Seriously, it was the most directly beneficial situation for me throughout the entire year and I have to say that I thought about those extra afternoon hours and planned around them more than any unemployment threat.

So with my afternoon off I convinced Jon to go see Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian in IMAX with me. Ordinarily we download all of our movies - going to the theater is just SO expensive these days. It's one of the few things about which I can say "In my day it cost four bucks, insane how they rob you, the thieves."

But I work with Fandango occasionally and had gift cards good for two tickets so the movies would be close to free. Of course IMAX was extra but I could pony up the ten bucks with the $30 discount on tickets.

So after going to the wrong movie theater - proving that once again we are mere tourists in our own city - we crossed the street to the Metreon. I offered up the Fandango gift cards to the kid behind the counter who looked confused by them. "Oh, they're just Visas" I told him, as my Rep had assured me. The kid swiped the first one and said condescendingly "Aaand that one doesn't work." Swiped the next card: "Aaand neither does that one. Your total is $38.00."

Thirty eight dollars to see a movie? What does IMAX really mean anyway? The actors better reach out from the screen and slap me in the face, but okay kid, we'll still pay. I assume my debit card will work just fine.

We made our way up three or four floors. Again, "In my day it was Adam's family pinball and two racing games if you were lucky." But the Metreon is like a shopping center, food court, arcade wonderland that also happens to have an IMAX movie theater and another 16 theaters to boot.

We bought one thing of popcorn and a coke and it set us back the equivalent of my monthly student loan payment. We entered the movie theater and there were maybe 25 other people there and about a million available seats. The movie started a few minutes later and it was immediately obvious that IMAX simply meant really BIG and obscenely LOUD.

But not loud enough to block the chatter of the people that sat right next to us in the virtually empty theater. I could have overlooked the close proximity but the man in the family was translating the entire movie to his mother who either did not speak English or had an incredibly short attention span.

The movie was good though and it ended just as I was ready to be out of the big dark room. We made our way down the various levels with that quintessential post-movie-theater grog, a little more entertained, a little more broke and a little more grateful for the silver lining of the bad economy: A Friday afternoon hall pass.

Oot and Aboot

I have never considered Canada a vacation destination, save for perhaps a whimsical Winter weekend at Whistler. But Canada's board of tourism has got me re-thinking all of that with their 15 second, user generated "explore Canada" commercials...

Have a look-see and then please notify my boss that I will be out for the rest of the month. Kay thanks.

Gone Fishin'

Cumulative hours of fishing: One

Number of lures lost: Four

Total number of lures purchased: Four

Total number of slugs caught: One

Total number of fish caught: Zero

Score: Donner Lake-1 Schumanator-0

On Donner Pond

We drove up to Lake Donner today to stay at Pat's cabin for a long weekend. There are supposed to be thunderstorms all weekend and on our way up we went through a few ourselves.

Our main goal this weekend is to catch some fish...I'm not sure why, but all of the sudden the fishing bug has caught me and I will not leave this mountainous setting until I catch a big one.

Jon's mom has a little guest book on the coffee table that has been signed and filled with photographs of visitors since December of 2000. We felt the need to leave our mark in a poetic fashion...

We came up to the cabin on a
Stormy day of Thurs -

Driving through the Summit
with hailing storms endured.

Dogs in tow
and Funds were low
Our energy maintaining

We arrived upon the cabin's door
just knowing the fish were waiting.