The Bees

The Bees act strangely here in Sacramento.

A few weeks ago, I was walking along the sidewalk when I came upon this:

It was so odd. There, in the middle of the sidewalk, for no apparent reason, a pile of bees. There wasn't a sweet spot they were collecting around, like flies, or a nest underground. There was nothing there, but they were busy buzzing in circle, congregated and flying around the spot and trailing off a bit. 

I came back later and found the bees gone. There were a few dead ones on the ground, squashed, probably from the local business owner, but other than that, no trace. Nothing on the ground to suggest why the bees acted like that. 

So, a few weeks later, today, I'm walking back to my apartment and as I approach the intersection, I see a swarm of bees flying around the intersection. Bizarre. There were masses of them, a great cloud concentrated in the middle of the intersection, being hit by cars and buzzing around. There was no place you could see them flying out of, no nest that had been disturbed, just bees - everywhere! People had to cross the intersection right through the swarm, it's amazing no one was stung. 

I ran to my apartment, grabbed my camera and ran back to the site. By then, just a few minutes later, the swarm had moved up, away from the cars, creating a cloud just above the intersection, with a few low-flyers.  Here's what it looked like:

See the intersection...

And the bees!

Masses of them. 

It was very Alfred Hitchcock, with insects.

When I Grow Up

"When I grow up, I want to be a _________"

Do you remember saying that? I do. The "What do you want to be when you grow up?" is a standard question asked in almost every school in America to children of every age. It is a question derived from the gospel of the American dream, based on the foundations of the country we live in - in America, you can be anything you want to be. It's a question that allows children to dream, and dream big.

Children's answers are, of course, varied but confident. From Astronauts to Doctors to Bee Keepers, Rock Stars and Moms, a child will be able to tell you very specifically, with a glimmer in his eye, what it is that he wants to do when he grows up, without doubt or hesitation. His answer may change over the years, of course, but it isn't that the beauty of it? You can be whatever you want to be, and good teachers, parents and mentors will encourage and inspire children to follow their dream.

So what happens when children "grow up"?

When I was 7 years old, I decided with confidence that when I grew up, I wanted to be a nurse who delivered babies. I held on to that dream for years and years, fascinated with the concept of bringing new life into the world. I would jump at the chance to hold any baby within a few feet of me, and took to nurturing animals in the absence of young-ins.

Am I a nurse now? Nope. Like a lot of kids, I matured and found a few things about the profession that I really didn't like. People mature, of course. They learn they are too nearsighted to be a pilot/astronaut, or have a deadly allergy to bees, or can't handle the sight of blood. They learn they are limited and move on.

They find new passions and interests as they grow. They develop priorities they are unwilling to sacrifice in the name of a potential career. They choose family over the 80-hour work week their original dream would have required, or health over a extreme stress-producing position.

Outside factors influence their dreams. They can't afford school, they find themselves in a situation where family comes first, or settle for a weekly paycheck to covers life's expenses. After all, health insurance beats no health insurance any day. I totally get that.

I'm just struck walking by the many government building in Sacramento by all the career paths and positions so foreign to childlike dreams. I've never heard a child say, "when I grow up, I want to fill in forms for such and so" or " when I grow up, I want to process purchase orders".

Does being grown up mean we lose the chance to dream and pursue those dreams to success?

Please understand, I'm not bashing any type of work. Many people who truly are happy where they are, working in less dramatic positions than "Astronaut" or "Rock Star". In fact, there are lots of people in those dramatic positions that wish they were doing something else. Ultimately, we need people in all positions of life, offices, cubicles and work spaces. There needs to be someone who does payroll, another who does human resources and yet another who files papers. There needs to be a customer service representative and a doctor and a trash man. Unless it's illegal, your work is noble. It lifts, nurtures and advances the human race. It feeds your family. It develops your skill set and character.

I just don't want to forget that childlike wonder and determination I felt when my career possibilities were endless. I don't want to forget that I can do anything I want when I grow up, and I am growing up every day. The American dream doesn't end for me when I have a mortgage and a couple of kids, or because I'm jobless in Sacramento and lacking the skill set I need to do what I truly want to do (become a nutritionist). To let my dreams and hopes for a grand career die slowly seems cruel. I live in a country that was founded on impossible dreams, a country that was established by people in the pursuit of something better.

This doesn't mean I will be resurrecting my original goal to be a nurse. I've since seen a birth, and I can tell you that I'm emotionally and physically ill-equipped to handle it. It's not about holding onto those careers I dreamed about as a kid, it's the fact that I can hope, dream and pursue to success whatever dream I have. I don't have to be stuck in a position in life that I don't like.

Sure, it takes hard work, sacrifice and priority-shifting. Anyone with a fulfilled dream will tell you it takes all of that and more. It's painful at times, boring at others, and a roller-coaster of despair, joy, sweat and tears. No one said it would be easy.

But it's possible.

When I grow up, I want to be a Registered Dietician. It will take a lot of hard work, time and investment, but it's possible. And it's worth it.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A Tale of Two (or three) BIG Trees and a Snowstorm

Thursday night, Bob and I decided to spend our upcoming Saturday at Yosemite National Park.

I wanted to see the Mariposa Grove. Our last trip to Yosemite was cut short due to Bob's work schedule, and we missed seeing the giant sequoia redwood trees. I've wanted to see those trees for years, so much so that I added it to my life list of goals. We live only a few hours drive from those growing giants, and it would be a waste not to seize the opportunity. Besides, I'm not one for the concrete jungle. The urban experience of Sacramento has proven to me over and over that I'm made for a garden, not an office building.

So, Saturday morning we hopped in our car around 8 AM and drove four hours to Yosemite National Park. Back once again to the mountains and the beautiful river foraging through the valley. Back to a place we could now call familiar. We saw Yosemite Falls once again, and lamented the fact that we were only there for the day. Camping was out of the question, all the sites were full. There were twice the number of people milling around the visitor's center as our trip prior, and I can only imagine what it will look like next weekend. Memorial's Day weekend is a big money-maker for the National Park.

We stopped in Yosemite Valley for lunch, and is was then that I noticed something - a chill in the air. Actually, more than a chill. It was cold. All around me, people were wearing their winter coats and columbia jackets, hats and gloves. I was in an outfit appropriate for hiking in 60-ish degree weather - a tank top and a thin sports jacket, the kind you wear for running. Very non-insulated. We ate a quick lunch outside, and I shivered. "Surely when the sun comes out later on our hike through the Sequoias, it will be warmer" I surmised.

I'm not very good at surmising.

We drove another hour to Wawona, climbing thousands of feet in elevation, and as we did, the sky became darker, and cloudier, and all of a sudden...

"Bob...is that snow?"

Pause.

"Looks like it."

Something was falling from the sky, but it didn't look like rain. It was lighter, softer, white. Oh yes, it was snow. Just a few flurries, but snow non-the-less. NOTE: I haven't seen snow fall from the sky in ages. It's sad, but true. I hardly recognized it. It eventually stopped.

We arrived at Wawona, parked the car and waited for the shuttle to pick us up and drive us to the grove. It was freezing, literally, and I was wholly unprepared for this trip. I opened up the trunk of our car and found a fleece blanket. I decided I could take it with me to the grove, just in case the cold was unbearable. I could wear it like a shawl. I could pretend I was a pioneer. And if I ended up being warmer than I thought, I could carry it easily enough.

Am I ever glad I did. Bob and I jumped on the shuttle and continued up the mountain. Higher and higher we climbed, the shuttle easing it's way up the mountain, when the driver announced, "Hey folks, it's snowing!"

Yes, it was. We arrived at the Mariposa Grove, and it continued to snow. Big flakes, snow pellets, dropping at a steady rate, then increasing to snowstorm speeds. I wrapped that blanket around me, and Bob and I trekked through the grove, a place that looked more and more like a scene out of Narnia. I was finally able to stand next to those ginormous trees, trees that were estimated to be 1,800 years old.

I have wanted to see the sequoias for years. I couldn't have planned how I saw them if I tried, in the midst of a late-spring snowstorm. It was truly amazing. If you ever want to feel small, stand next to a sequoia. No ego can withstand it.

Here are a few pictures from our experience:

My camera caught a few of those flakes in action

Looks like Christmas...

It was snowing pretty hard by the time we found the tunnel tree...

Bob, communing with the tree...

Actually, the bark felt spongy.

Looking for Mr. Tumnus in Narnia...

We did a lot of looking up. 

In fact, the sequoias are generally taller than the Statue of Liberty. 

The tiny man to the left is Bob.

We ended our hike covered in snow and happy as clams. There was only one more thing to see - Inspiration Point.

On our drive to the Mariposa Grove, we passed a spot covered in photographers, tourists and the like. Here's why:

No, that's not a backdrop or a photoshopped picture. That was the view. That's inspiration point. You can see El Capitan to the left of the picture, and Bridalveil Falls to the right. Stunning, huh?

So, check that life goal off the list! It was pretty amazing. 

And the Winner is...

The Miss USA pageant is always a great source of strange happenings and random quotes. It's a live pageant, and despite every precaution taken to keep slip ups to a minimum, it can't be helped. After all, you're trotting out 51 gorgeous, nervous, distracted women onto a stage in a few scanty pieces of fabric, paired with a couple of hosts who, usually, have never hosted a pageant before. Strange things are bound to be said. It's a strange situation to begin with.

There were oodles of strange, awkward moments and lots of slip-ups, but my favorite moment of the evening was, without a doubt, the crowning moment. 5 ladies stood there and one by one, the runners up graciously stepped away, took their flowers and were whisked off the stage. Two ladies remained - Oklahoma and Michigan. Oh the moment was drawn out for as long as the producers could allow it. "Who will it be? They've wanted this their entire life, etc, etc." Finally, after pomp and circumstance, the first runner up is...MISS OKLAHOMA!

MISS MICHIGAN IS MISS USA 2010! The flowers are shoved into her hands, she's smiling, tears of joy are welling up, she can't see straight, the confetti is flying, her family is jumping up and down, the crowd is going wild, and just as she barely has the crown on, Curtis says, "We're all dying to know, how do you feel?"

Miss Michigan pauses, grabs the mic and says, "I'll let you know after I've had some pizza!"

And curtain?

What's in Your Closet?

I've never been a prime example of fashion.

I'm not completely proud of that fact, but in my opinion, style changes way too frequently anyway. Did you know that in the 'ol Roman days, the fashion wouldn't change for centuries at a time? Women would pass on their dresses to their daughters, and men would hand down their armor to their sons. I can only imagine how long it would take them to put together a piece of clothing anyway. They would have to grow the elements to create a textile, then create the textile, then figure out the pattern, then sew it together...etc. As a casual sewer, I can tell you it's time consuming enough to walk into a JoAnn Fabrics and pick out a bolt of fabric and a pattern without having to grow and create that fabric myself. Shoot, it's even easier to walk into Old Navy during a sale and leave with a shirt cheaper and better made than something I could have put together. No wonder those Romans didn't change the standard dress code, who would want to go through the hassle?

Nowadays, every season brings a style change. Different collars, shirt sleeve length, cut, color. If you buy a shirt on sale, you're probably buying last season's model, which means you're already out of style. And the more confounding thing is fashion availability - Fall's fashions hit the stores before summer is barely out of the gate. Winter's fashions appear while we're still wearing tank tops for that late summer heat. Sorry, but a turtleneck doesn't really appeal when it's 90 degrees out, and by the time I will want to buy that turtleneck, I'll have to weed through the sale racks, since spring's tank tops will have prime floor space at GAP. Ridiculous.

All of this doesn't excuse my severe lack of fashion sense, however. It started young. In elementary school, when girls were dressing up in their best dresses for school, I was in jeans with a jean shirt, or bright pink silk shorts, resembling a circus tent on each of my skinny legs, with a long t-shirt that almost cleared my knees. Nope, not kidding. My favorite outfit was a pear of gray sweatpants and a gray t-shirt with a penguin on it.

Middle school was my pinnacle of fashion faux pas. In the time of life when most of my friends were getting into fashion and dressing up, I was blissfully ignorant of anything of the sort. I went to a school with a dress code (dresses or skirts were required for girls), and redefined that code. I loved my flannel dresses. I had two, one in red and one in green, and wore white keds with them. I had butt-long hair that I didn't really even know I had, it just sort of hung there. The school allowed girls to wear biker shorts under their skirts since we were still kids and they didn't want gym to be awkward. I thought this was the coolest thing ever (I'm wearing shorts under my skirt, how neat is that?!) and took the opportunity to enjoy the novelty of it by doing a can-can dance in between serves during a gym volleyball class.

Since I really didn't know how to shop, I didn't. I wore whatever my mom picked up for me, or, more often, just wore what my sister had in her closet. NOTE: my sister is 4 1/2 years older than me. She was a tall, athletic high schooler when I was in middle school. I was tiny and scrawny, 80 pounds soaking wet, and unaware that her clothes didn't fit me. She looked so beautiful in them, I thought I looked the same.

She had this one shirt I adored. It was a jean (I had a thing with jean shirts) peasant shirt. It looked like something out of a Shakespeare costume shop - long, billowy puffed sleeves, a rounded collar and pearl buttons. I thought it was just beautiful. I stuffed it into my waist-high pleated khaki pants, oblivious that the extra fabric left a huge bunch around my middle. Do you remember when it was cool to stuff your shirt in, then pull some of it out, creating a nice little ledge of fabric around you? Well, I un-tucked accordingly, pulling yards of fabric out, fluffing and straightening until I felt like prime fashion stuff. Oh, I felt cool. I moved through the halls of school that day confident and proud, when in truth I was practically billowing my way from class to class like a ship with it's sail full and open, the extra fabric bunched around my middle, my sleeves catching drafts in the hall and making me look like someone in those blow-up sumo wrestler costumes.

I wish I could say it got better in high school. That would be a lie. In fact, it was worse. At least in middle school I wasn't aware of my lack of fashion sense. In high school, not only was I keenly aware of how poorly in tune with fashion I was, but I still didn't have the skills to change it.

My sister had left for college, taking her closet with her, and I was on my own (although I kept a few mementos. Note the shirt my sister is wearing in the picture above, and the shirt I'm wearing in the picture to the left...along with overalls, socks and Mary Janes. Eeesh). Shopping was an experience. I would purchase something, take it to school and realize that I still didn't look like the rest of my classmates. I found a few items I just loved - black velvet pants, to name one. Did you know that black velvet crushes is you sit on it? I walked around school with white butt marks on my pants for a long time unawares.

Eventually I got some sort of hang of it, and by college I had it figured out. Jean shirts are not cool. The right jacket can make any outfit look good. Wear clothes that fit. But I also learned that there's more to it than just that. There's something deeper about fashion that goes beyond the Paris runway or New York boutiques.

I've learned that clothes are just as telling of who you are as your hobbies, your friendships, your job and your favorite food. What you wear expresses to the world who you are and what you believe. Think not? Try this on for size.

Why do you wear a baggy shirt vs. a tight shirt? Is it more comfortable, or are you uncomfortable with yourself and don't wish to show anything off to the world? Why do you wear dresses more than jeans? Or tennis shoes more than heels? Some would say "I'm just more comfortable that way." To which I say, exactly. You are a comfortable person, you're relaxed and chill, and you reflect that in your fashion choices.

This is not a bad thing, it was just a revelation to me that I expressed who I was by what I wore.  You may have realized this long before I did, but it's newer to me. It makes me look at my closet and my nearby GAP store in a whole new light. There are still fashion standards, of course. I'm not going to tack on a corset and gussy myself up in the latest fashions of the 1800's. Looking at some of dresses in the civil war era, I'm not sure I could fit through a modern door with the hoop skirts they donned.

Within the confines of today's basic styles, though, it's almost therapeutic to approach my closet each day with a different intent. I'm not just putting on clothing, I'm expressing who I am to the world. I'm not just adding accessories, I'm adding to a non-verbal expression of my personality and beliefs. I have the chance to define and redefine myself every day, and express my beliefs about myself and others to the world. It's quite lovely, actually. It makes fashion something fun, non-intimidating and something I can own rather than dread.

So, what's in your closet?

My 5 Favorites of the Week

1. The Backknobber II

I don't know what happened with the backknobber I. I can only assume it was a sub-par prototype that eventually evolved into the incredible Back Knobber II. S-shaped, made of near-unbreakable material and easy to travel with, this blessed invention is a gift to anyone in need of a massage. Long have I searched for a home massage remedy that doesn't cost $5,000 and can actually dig deep into my back to work out those baseball-sized knots. You can buy it for $30 on Amazon, and it is absolutely worth it.

2. Larabars

If you've not tasted a Larabar yet, you are in for a treat. Completely natural, Larabars are a combination of nuts, dates and spices and...that's it. Really. No preservatives, no emulsifiers, no additives. Just pure deliciousness in an easy snack. There are dozens of flavors. I recommend Apple Pie and Coconut Cream Pie.

3. Miquelrius Notebooks

The best notebooks in the world! And I was saying this before I found out that was their tag line. They offer the perfect sizes, the perfect paper (slightly heavy with light lines, colors, a title box), and a sturdy cover to protect your thoughts. If you're persnickety about your paper, try one out, you won't be disappointed. 

4. Hulu

Bob and I don't have a TV, but we are still able to watch all of our favorite shows online. How? Hulu! Hooray! Go to www.hulu.com and you'll find old TV shows, regular favorites and limited commercials. Love, love love. 

5. Anne Taintor

I'm sure you've seen these designs in stores at some point, but if you haven't let me introduce you to a favorite artist of mine. Anne Taintor draws and finds pictures from the 50's and 60's and gives them a funny commentary, typically something snarky and feministic. Here are a few of my favorites: