Valancy Jane

….. and we kissed.

He’ll call, right?

Since last Weds. we have had a trainee bus driver, who was learning not just the ropes of working for our shuttle service, but also to be available to be a backup to our regular driver, Maria.

And our shuttle service is a bit different from most bus services.  Drop offs are pretty flexible, you get on the bus headed in the direction you want, and they drop you pretty much where ever you need.  It’s a very democratic sort of shuttle, deciding things like on Fridays we get picked up ten minutes early, to catch an earlier train.  Some people only take the train/shuttle on Mon/Weds/Friday, and so the route can vary slightly, depending on the day.  Basically, the new driver doesn’t just have to learn the map of the route, he has to learn all us people. 

And we all try to be extra helpful, hollaring out our stops well in advance.  But today, when B told him that on Mondays we go to the beach, everyone on the bus just went with it.  “Yeah.”  ”That’s the monday route.”  “We always go to the beach on mondays.”

Sadly, he knew us better than that by now.

• Baby cows don’t fit in a Chrysler Seabring. 
• My head is the exact same size as a box of Almond Roca.
• Fish love hot dogs.
• If the flower is big enough to impede your view, don’t put it in your hair.
• Loudly announcing that you’ve lost your flower in the pool can lead to some misunderstandings.
• As can telling a couple in the elevator that you know ways to make their lei last longer.

Oh wait.  *grin*

I’ll be off work for the next two weeks.   This weekend I’m moving to my new digs, in an area near downtown, known as Little Italy.  It’s the polar opposite of the neighborhood I live in now.  My current neighborhood has monster trucks, spit on the sidewalks, and a lot of bail bond offices.  My new neighborhood has bicycles, art sidewalk sales and gelato lounges.  (It’s in my price range because you have to duck everytime a plane flies overhead, the airport being just past my front yard.)

I will have two roommates, and I’ll tell you more about them once I have more than first impressions to share with you.

I’m getting excited about the new place, but considering my bad back and some other heath problems, I am fully aware that all this is going to be very painful.  Yes, I have friends to help me, but even putting books on shelves is going to add up, and moving inevitably involves dust which means rashes and chemical sensitivity flareups.  Not to sound like a whiner, I know everyone hates moving, but it really is worse for me.

Send me some good thoughts on Tuesday and Wendsday, please.  That’s when I meet with folks to find out exactly how screwed I’m going to be by this whole mess. 

It’s gonna be a very rough week for me, in every sense.

And so it’s very good that on Friday, I fly away to Maui, with Rose and Little Nick.  And for one week I will have distance from it all.

I will snorkel and hike and lay in a hamook and read and come back ready to tackle my new life, one challenage at a time.

Back on the 11th.

*blows kisses*

They say a brush with death really clarifies things for you, so it must have been the speed at which Nick was taking us over the dunes that made my vision so clear, that I actually spotted these tiny shells from my perch on the back of the ATV (sitting directly on a sticker that said something to the effect of “don’t sit here, you’ll prolly die” but I didn’t notice that until after I got off.)

Fortunately we got stuck in the sand just past that, so I ran back and started gathering them up.  They appear to be the result of spiral shells being worn down by the rocks, to a flat, penny-like shape.  I think it’s quite obvious that they are magic, but what’s less clear is how exactly they are to be used.

Should I swallow two when I’m having a bad day?

Should I put them in the vending machine and see if I get an energy drink or perhaps a glitterkitten?

Should I plant them and see if a magical vine grows?

Throw them into fountains while making a wish?

Toss one in the air and catch it, like old timey gansters?

Put them in marachas and dance?

Please advise.

….. for why this weekend was all about me.

But then I yawned and decided I didn’t need a reason.

I went down to Ocean Beach and strolled around for a bit, and then! and then! ran into a very dear old friend, John, and his boyfriend Dusty. I invited myself along for breakfast, and we caught up over mimosas. 

“What the fuck, you’re wearing a scarf and it’s almost 70 degrees outside. You’re as bad as all the other ridiculous people here, pretending we have a winter, just because it’s Christmas.”

“No, no, no, exactly. I figured I should take in a lot of what San Diego has to offer before I move, and what’s more San Diegan than to wear a scarf because it should be cold? This is an IRONIC scarf.”

“Oh, ok. That’s ok then.”

And then I took a long stroll down the pier.

I think it’s worth pointing out that not only is my scarf ironic, it’s cute on me. Also, I made it. It’s 18 feet long, not counting the fringe.

If I die and reincarnate as a seagull (and I figure there’s a pretty good chance of the seagull part, if reincarnation happens to be true) I want to live in Ocean Beach. Have you ever seen such fearless, fat, clean looking seagulls?

After that, I felt like taking my scarf ice skating. Now I knw what you’re thinking. How do you ice skate in Southern California? Wouldn’t that just melt on top, leaving two inches of water on top of the ice, and wouldn’t that attract bees and be really uncomfortable if you fell?
Lemme explain how it works.

….. Er, well, ok, it’s kinda exactly like that. It was less like ice skating and more like walking on water. You could waterski in my wake. But that’s just another kind of fun, really.

I didn’t fall. Not even once. I think it was all my twisted facial please-don’t-fall expressions that held me up.
I was so proud of myself, I treated myself to ice cream.

My Weekend of Me continued on Sunday, stay tuned for pictures of Erik Estrada, firetrucks and OMG, ponies!

I’d get one, but it’s just so much easier and cheaper to know someone with a boat, you know?

But someday.

Someday I will have a boat.

Yesterday was the company picnic, and our former CEO brought his boat.  We talked about boats, which is one of the first conversations we’ve ever had outside the topic of work, or the topic of why I just jumped out and yelled Boo! at him.  It was my first successful attempt to make him laugh when I was trying to make him laugh.  I’m not quite as terrified of him anymore.  I love that too.

He sweetly took us around the bay a few times, and I took my favorite seat, right up at the very, very, very, “careful-don’t-fall-off-you’re-making-me-nervous” front of the boat.  I was a figurehead in a past life, I think.

And I spread my arms out and got saltwater and wind in my eyes and squinted until all I could see where the millions of points of light on the waves so it looked like I was flying over a sea of diamonds and I thought to myself how good it was to be alive.

And then I flashed a chuch baptismal group on the shore.

Kidding.

Maybe.