Change

I heard a fascinating story on PRI about a Portuguese guy who tried to get a song from his favorite band Deolinda turned into the new national anthem. It' a satireical song bantering about the idea of change. Small world anyone? In the end it's all a joke, said the guy who started it. But for now, it's good song, a hilarious idea, and 3,000 signatures toward a petition for change. Yes we can. No we can't.

10 things I love about my new house

1.) The built in book shelves all throughout the house

2.) The damp smell of Escondido creek foliage that permeates the air

3.) A neighbor's rooster that thinks morning is a continuous state

4.)My new Coventry red and white modern square dishes

5.) The teal chenille area rug from Urban Outfitters that makes me want to lay on the floor all the time

6.) The vintage chandelier above the dinning room table

7.) The kitchen floor that looks like wood but is actually carpet

8.) The door bell that plays about 15 different songs, including "Happy Birthday"

9.) All the fruit trees: Grapefruit, peach, avocado, orange, and pomegranate

10.) The empty garage

brrr!

Homework at the beach is always a good way to fake yourself into thinking you're having a weekend, so I jumped on the Sprinter to head to O'side today. It was a good alternative since I'm sick of driving and am not willing to pay over $3.00 a gallon. But, it was windy and frigid while Escondido was oh so sunny. Stay where the sun is shining. Criminal law always sounds better in the sun.

Check. Check. Check.

My 3x5 card was smashed full of to-do scribbles made with my mini purple sharpie. Every time I was distracted during finals I would pull the little card out of the front of the clear plastic pocket crammed with legal documents, and jot down one more thing to do during my two weeks off. The time is here! Hurray! Here's what I did today:

1.) Made hundreds of espresso beverages.
2.) Read the pros and cons of every prop drafted to save California from its budget deficit
3.) Took my car over to Rick's Muffler for some alignment and repair. And while the car was being fixed I walked around downtown and
4.) Voted
5.) Opened a savings account.
6.)Read an article in TIME and an article in The New Yorker. Then at home I
7.)Set up online bill pay
8.)Found a new dentist and made an appointment
9.)Sorted through all the lovely literature I intend to read in the next two weeks:

Libel per se

8 Hours later.
The researcher is back.
Hopefully not just from the library, but into the blogging world :)

I love my cityscape

Wobbly

As I was driving down the road with a friend on a trip to Julian today we noticed a man riding his bycicle along our narrow two lane road. Now cyclists on this road are always an anoyance because there isn't really room for them, but I do greatly appreciate people who ride their bikes. I think the world would be a better place if more people road a bike instead of driving. But this particular cyclist, despite the gray hair and heavy visage, may have taken his training wheels off for the first time today. He sat demonstratively low and wobbled from side to side with the rotating motion of the pedals. We swerved to avoid him.

Winding up the inclined turns toward Ramona, we spotted yet another cyclist trying to get some equilibrium. He seemed to think that if he jerked his handle bars from side to side he might make it up the hill faster. Instead he ended up looking as if he might turn and tumble down the twisted road and into the Oak trees at any moment.

Are some people just never meant for certain things? Or do all people who are a cyclist, surfer, biker, sky scraper window washer, etc. go through a wobbly period? I would hope that wobbles lead to efficiency but one can never assume. Bike licenses anyone?

Fraudulant years

These are the playmate years, and they are demonstrably fraudulent. The scene is reputed to be acrawl with adorably amoral bunnies to whom sex is a pleasant social favor. The new culture. And they are indeed pleasant and available, in exhausting quantity, but there is a curious tastelessness about them. A woman who does not gaurd and treasure herslelf cannot be of very much value to anyone else. They become a pretty little convienience, like a guest towel . And the cute little things they say, and their daintly little squeels of pleasure and release are as contrived as the embroidered initials on the guest towels. Only a woman of pride, complexity, and emotional tension is genuinely worth the act of love and there are only two ways to get yourself one of them. Either you lie, and stain the relationship with your own sense of guile, or you accept the involvement and the emotional responsibility, the permanance she must by nature crave. I love you can be said only two ways.

-Observations from popular 60's fiction writer, John D. MacDonald