So…here is a reminder of the “before” pictures…

After sewing my brains out on roman shades, a new duvet cover, and some pillows, we have matching bedding and window treatments.  And after getting new furniture in our bedroom, we had some spare pieces to move into the guest bedroom.  Lastly, we added a little bit of art work and voila! Still a bit of a work in progress, but much, much better than the before shots.

I love hip hop music and have often fantasized about taking lessons.  But not with Jim.  I have always thought of hip hop dancing as a kind of 1 man operation.  But, it still sounded like something fun to try together.  And so we got a two week trial to the Anteater Recreation Center just as a new set of dance classes were about to start.  The real benefit of the ARC is that once you have paid to become a member, dance classes are very, very cheap.  Something like $45 for a whole semester.  We were pretty excited.

Oh. My. God. About 5 minutes into our first lesson, our level of enthusiasm dropped drastically.  It was SO HARD…and fast!  We mostly just kept flailing our arms around and laughing.  Not the kind of laugh that occurs from sheer amusement.  More like that kind of uncomfortable laugh that occurs when you are forcing yourself to laugh rather than cry.  My fight or flight instincts kicked into over-drive and I wanted nothing more than to run for the door when after several failed attempts to get the first move down (a kind of walking swagger), the teacher started the music, tried the step, then said, “Oh, wait.  That’s not it.  You actually have to take a step in between too.”  Huh?!  Wait…I wasn’t getting it in the first place, and now you are changing it?

This is not our dance class, but if you play it on fast forward, it will give you some idea of how quickly our dance class was going:

We stayed through the whole class, despite my better instincts to jump ship.  After the class, as we were leaving, our teacher Michelle ran after us, “Hey Guys!  You did great.”  <Blank stares from us, followed by the same, uncomfortable laughter> “Seriously, the first class is always so hard, but you made it!  And don’t worry.  If you felt like you weren’t getting it this week, we’ll be doing a totally different routine next week.”

  What!?!  I just spent a freakin’ hour trying to learn what Jim and I later counted to be something like 38 moves in 50 minutes and I am never going to get to practice that dance again because I won’t possibly remember all the steps?!  I smiled and said, “yeah…maybe,” but what I really wanted to do was to punch her square in her smiley little face.  But, that was just projecting my frustration because she was actually really, really sweet and her sheer hopefulness for us made me want to come back.

So, later that week we tried another teacher.  He had only been dancing for about 5 years, unlike our last teacher who had likely been dancing since birth.  He went much slower, but no matter how slow he went, once that music started I pretty much forgot every single step.  We laughed a lot during that class too.  We decided we’d be willing to go back to his class, but then missed the deadline to register because of car troubles that we were taking care of on the last possible day to sign up.  I would have gone through with it, but it was somewhat of a relief.  I know few things in this life can be accomplished without some willingness on my part to practice and just accept that I’m going to be bad at it for a while.  But, for now at least, I feel like I’ve dodged a bullet, and that this old, White lady might better be served by sticking to her yoga classes and relaxing on a couch afterward and watching a younger, abler generation perfect their swaggers.

From: Melissa Jones

What you’ve missed while you were away:
1) A large pile of kitty vomit on the living room floor.  Thank God it was on the hardwoods this time and not a rug or carpet.
2) A large poop, next to, not in, the litter box.  And this did not get kicked out of the box, as it was shiny and litter free.
3) You know how they like to roll around in the decomposed granite?  Well, there is a new favorite past time now.  Rolling around in the cockleburs.  I spent about 20 minutes apiece on each of them this morning as they were covered from head, to belly, to legs, to end of their tails.

So smug

When we moved here I felt like because I work from home and my schedule is more flexible it would be a perfect opportunity to find some ways to get involved and help others.  I was hard pressed to find any comprehensive list of opportunities though.  In Atlanta, Hand on Atlanta mans a site where local organizations can post opportunities based on geography, areas of services, etc.  It’s embarrassingly easy to find those in need.  I couldn’t find anything like that here.  I don’t know if it’s because there are plenty of rich, bored housewives trying to earn their wings or if there is just not a centrally localized venue for this kind of endeavor.  I went to an orientation once for The American Cancer Society since living here, but they had little need for volunteers.  They had so many staff members I almost felt like they should be embarrassed to ask.  The projects they had available couldn’t even work with my flexible schedule.  But I decided I’d try another Google search a few months ago and voila!  http://www.volunteercenter.org/

I expressed interest in one project that would have me working with girls and got a call from Girl’s Inc.  They had me at the tag line: “Inspiring girls to be strong, smart and bold.”  Who better to teach girls the attributes I so clearly embody   And so I went to a couple of orientations, learned a little about the summer programs offered and now I volunteer on Monday evenings with the elementary school girls and Wednesday mornings with the Eureka program (middle school girls) getting them signed in for the day. I am required to put in 3 hours a week, which seemed like a lot at first, but after my first week I’m ready to do more.  Problem is, I’m in sales, my numbers are at an all time low, so I’m stuck at my computer more, not to mention I have to be ready to take calls and meetings whenever anyone calls or want to meet <sigh>.  Anyway, I’ll do what I can for now and hopefully sales will improve and I’ll have more free time again.

I know it’s tiny, but that is me in the middle, holding the sign.  So bold of me!

So far I don’t think I’ve inspired anyone to do anything.  I inspired some swinging on the monkey bars and taught someone to jump rope.  I also helped a girl perfect her free throw.  Which is entirely hilarious because my free throw average is probably something like 30%.  Well, you know what they say…those who can’t do, teach.  Although I don’t normally believe that, it definitely applies here.  But, it is a lot of fun.  I pretty much feel like I still think like a kid a lot, for better or for worse.  So, most days I go there I feel more comfortable than I do being around grown ups.  Maybe I’m not the one who is truly inspiring them, but rather they are truly inspiring me.

My sister was due with her second son on March 29th.  I kept telling her that I likely wouldn’t get to meet Landen until later in the fall because I refused to be in Atlanta during the summer (and for good reason I hear).  The truth was however, I booked my ticket home when she went into labor several weeks earlier.  Perfect timing for a 3 day weekend.  My mission was 4-fold: 1) Meet my new nephew 2) See my Mom’s new house 3) See pregnant Judy and 4) See my company’s new office.

After sitting on the tarmac for an hour and a half watching the sky pour buckets I started wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake.  It was supposed to be the first warm and sunny weekend in Orange County for several weeks and I was having day dreams of lounging on the beach far from Hartsfield.  No sooner did they FINALLY let us off the plane and I picked up my rental car was I on my way to Everybody’s Pizza to meet Judy, Tim, Twain and Cedric.  After a little food and a couple of drinks though thoughts of Hartsfield were far behind me.  At this point, present company and my mom were the only people that knew I was in town.  And the only reason my mom new was that I was going to have to drive 2 hours to see her new house, so I couldn’t risk her not being there.  As predicted, pregnant Judy was a site to behold.

I crashed at Twain’s new bachelor pad and the next morning Judy spiffed up my hair a bit and we went and got pedicures together after I ate brunch at Murphey’s.  Yum!  Then, off to see sis.  I showed up on her doorstep with flowers and a bunch of balloons.  One Thomas the Train balloon for Justice, and several others to welcome Landen.  Drew answered the door and stood there staring at me bewildered for nearly a full minute until he said “What are you doing here?”  Jennifer had just laid down for a nap, so he told me to go in her bedroom and surprise her.  Entering the room was a little disorienting as it was pitch black in there.  I had the flowers in my hand and I couldn’t tell where Jennifer was laying or exactly how she was laying and/or if she was already sleeping or looking at me.  As I got closer to the bed I could see her head and leaned down to whisper “Hey Sister,” in her ear to which she replied, “What. Is. Going. On. Here?”

After having a little time to myself with Drew and Jen and Justice and Landen, Mom and Mike came over to see Landen too.

Drew did a lovely job on the nursery.  And Drew and Jennifer did a lovely job on Landen.  Ain’t he cute?

Please note, those are not real wood planks, just paint.  Pretty impressive, huh?

Mom and rode back to TN in the same car while Mike rode ahead of us.  The ride there  wasn’t much further than Chattanooga, but it takes a while to get from highway to final destination.  It is a gorgeous drive.  And mom’s house is gorgeous as well.

I slept SO well at her house, which is such a rarity for me at all when I switch time zones, that I decided I would stay 2 nights.  The majority of my family still didn’t know I was in town, so I got some r&r in as well as a little exercise.  Mom even joined me on a walk one morning.

Doesn’t she look so happy to be exercising?

Next was a surprise trip to see Granny.  I was talking on the phone with her when she told me to hold on, there was someone ringing her doorbell.  That someone was me, and Granny got quite tickled when she saw me standing there.  At least that is probably how she would describe it.  Here she is equally tickled to be holding Landen:

Surprising Dad was the best part.  My Dad hates nothing more in life than surprises.  Second to surprises he HATES being the last to know anything.  But, he loves “ragger”ating me to no end.  So, seeking payback for the torture of my childhood I had to make sure he was the last to know.  Well, okay…it wasn’t that well thought out of a revenge plot, it just ended up happening that way.  Dad was hosting a BBQ for Jen and Drew and he had invited Granny who declined the offer.  But, I convinced her to go with me to help me pull one over on Dad and she was happy to oblige.  We pulled up in the rental car where I ducked down into the floor board of the driver’s seat.  No small feat on a hot day in the tiniest car I’ve ever seen.  Poor clowns…  Anyway, Granny went to ring the doorbell and when Shannon answered the door, she said my dad was away and asked how Granny got there.  She said she was tired of her unreliable car and went out and bought a new one and came over to show it off.  Shannon, while skeptical, was curious and when she walked out to see the car I jumped out and surprised her.  Thank God we were able to wait inside with AC until Dad got home.  Then I hid in the basement while Granny repeated the same story.  Dad was even more skeptical than Shannon, and while I couldn’t physically see him, I could see him in my mind’s eye, rubbing his head, squinting his eyes and trying to figure out a more logical explanation than my grandmother single-handedly negotiating the purchase of a used car with no one’s knowledge.  About the time he started walking out to see the car, I opened the garage door (which was really throwing him for a loop) and yelled SURPRISE! Now we were all one big happy family again

So, we played in the pool and grilled out and I went home with Granny that night so that I could be into work bright and early the next morning.  I saw our new office, reconnected with everyone (almost everyone) and went to Judy’s for dinner that night.  She made me yummy lentil burgers, a zucchini salad and these delicious pickled grapes.  I know they sound weird, but truly they were a treat.

And so, in the end, mission complete.  Back to more adventures in California.

Well, not entirely different yet.  We do have some pretty gigantic zucchinis again.  Not so much on purpose, although there is something amusing to me about growing state fair contest size squash.

So…nothing’s really changed there.  The big change is in our tomato plants.  This year, we went to a tomato growing seminar at Roger’s Gardens and listened to a seller from Monrovia Farms go over the “dos” and “don’ts” of tomato growing.  We found out that we were doing pretty much everything wrong last year.  So, this year we followed his advice…and…our plants are beautiful and giant.

Not one spot.  No powdery mildew.  Beautiful.  The problem?  Not one damn tomato.  90 days in we are just starting to get little berry sized fruit on our vines.  I’m not sure if this is how the process is supposed to occur.  Last year, our spindly ragged little vines were fruiting…just nothing you’d really want to eat.  This year, I would dare enter our actual plants into a garden show…if they had any tomatoes on them.  <Sigh> All is not lost yet.  However, I’m not really holding my breath for gazpacho this summer either.

This year’s garden experiment is two corn plants I planted.  They have silks now!  Not sure what that means, but I will keep you posted on them.

A few posts back I had started telling you all about my (then) recent trip to San Luis Obispo with Kelly.  I had just finished up writing about the road trip and our stop over in Solvang.  After the road trip portion, we got settled into our hotel room on Pismo Beach.  A very nice little place, despite the millions of bugs in the pool and hot tub (yuck!)

Far better that the room or hotel itself, was our view from the room.

And that, my friends, was my view for the next couple of days as I worked from the hotel room.  Poor Kelly was in a boring ‘ole conference room somewhere learning about city planning during natural disasters, while I worked in my PJs and listened to the soothing sounds of the sea.

During evenings we would go out to dinner and one night went into town.  I was very surprised by how good the restaurants were.  You see, in Orange County, while there are 700 million restaurants, finding a good one is much like finding a needle in a haystack.  Here, with only a couple of handfuls of options, we went 3 for 3 for good eats.  A yummy Italian restaurant, a fun, hip little cafe, and a seafood restaurant that was Deee-lish.  Ugh.  Doesn’t Rachel Ray say dee-lish?  I take it back…it was fabuloso.  That sounds like something lame she’d say too…but you get the point.  The night we went into town and ate at Blue Sky Cafe, we also were able to stop into an adorable little wine shop for a quick tasting.  That was some relief since we had to work days and weren’t able to make it to any of the actual winery tasting rooms because they all close at 5.

Pismo Beach itself was lovely as well.  And it was not crowded at all.  I’m not sure if that is always the case.  Remember tourist season had not yet struck when I was there in April.

By far, though, the most noteworthy site of the whole trip was The Madonna Inn.  Now Kelly kept saying she was going to take me, but not really describing what it was.  Or I should say, in describing things, Kelly tends to dwell on details that don’t interest me…like the history of the place rather than the aesthetic.  The best description I have read so far is directly from the Wikipedia article:

” The Inn is featured in Umberto Eco’s book Travels in Hyperreality (1991). According to Eco, “the poor words with  which natural human speech is provided, cannot suffice to describe the Madonna Inn…Let’s say that Albert Speer, while leafing through a book on Gaudi, swallowed an overgenerous dose of LSD and began to build a nuptial catacomb for Liza Minnelli.”"

My pictures are a little dark, but even in better lighting, I’m not sure a picture could do this place justice.  I literally felt like I was trying to catch my breath the whole time I was walking through it.

My time was brief (3 nights, 2 days), but I made the most of the time I had.  The last morning I was up early and Kelly saw me off to the Amtrak Station before she went back to her training session.  I took the train back home, for 6 long hours.  My Amtrak ride down the California coast was admittedly much more scenic than the trip from Atlanta to New Orleans I took years ago.

Next time I go to San Luis Obispo there will be much more wine tasting involved.  I guarantee it.  Although that probably means fewer pictures and likewise, less coherent narrative.

Isn’t Nature bitter sweet?

Let me first say, I did not ever take a dance classes.  I am sure, certain even, that it is difficult, but this is just awful really.  I have noticed that no one I know that watches So You Think You Can Dance also watches Dancing With the Stars.  I do watch So You Think You Can Dance and I believe that doing so has made Shuffling with the Marginally Famous pretty much intolerable.  Now on SYTYCD, those kids have serious talent.  Some of them have been dancing since birth and the way they twist, turn and soar somehow brings me closer to God.  Watching DwtS makes me want to crawl under my couch.  I’m so embarrassed for them.  It’s like watching a really bad stand up comedian who is bombing.

Now, I know some people would say things like, “at least they are trying.”  Or, “I wish I had the nerve to get out there and do that.”  Do you?  Do you really?  Because you shouldn’t.  Theses people, if they are truly stars already have things they are good at and make a lot of money doing.  So, we are going to contribute to them making even more money to watch them be really bad at something?  I see no logic in this.  Unless…maybe seeing them be bad at something makes other people feel better about themselves?  I’m guessing…I seriously have no idea.

But, to each his own.  I’m just genuinely curious to hear one good argument for this show.  Because from where I’m sitting, it blows.

P.S. Yes, it is “that time of the month” again, but that doesn’t change the fact that Dancing with the Stars is an awful, awful show.

OMG!  So cute!  And much bigger than I expected.  Sadly, we were in no mood to taste wine.  Although I’m sure it would have been a fun experience.  Instead we just walked around, stretching our legs, window shopping.  It is so cute.  All the surrounding houses are adorable too.

We did stop for ice cream, and I was very excited about finding some pictures for our bathroom.  Exactly what I’ve been wanting…cute botanical prints.  And as an added bonus, these are painted on burlap.  I wish I were more artistic, because I’d love to just do an art project like this by myself.

It was definitely a nice little stop over.  I’d love to go back one day when I have more time to walk around and maybe have a meal or do a wine tasting somewhere.  Jim’s parents are coming in July and we plan to take a road trip to Big Sur.  Maybe we can stop in Solvang on the way.