Construction costs.

I just spent two days in the Sierra foothills, in a small town called San Andreas, for a conference on SMARA--- Surface Mining and Reclamation Act. Not nit grit details, just the general gist: If you did a big ol' hole, you are going to have to do something with said hole when you are finished digging. Days were beige. Interesting moments during the conference occurred here and there, but mostly it was long drawn out explanations of regulations where synopsis would have done, and pointless descriptions of how NOT to map. The towns, too, attributed to the visit's non-descript nature; they were slow and rundown and the 'for lease' and empty storefronts were overwhelmingly weighted. The economy has everyone bored and lethargic. Granted, I think I may have been in the meth lab and moonshine capital of the world, so that could also contribute to the... weird vibe of the area (hopeless).

Well. That was an uplifting post. Let me make it even better with some awesome destruction of the environment:

San Rafael Quarry

Red Hill Quarry by Dumbarton Bridge (kapChis on Flickr.com)

Malakoff diggings, ca.

yay team.

Leslies, thy song has come.

raising

Last night, yoga was hot. There were thirty people crammed into a room, staggered so arms and legs would not collide as we half-mooned and triangled. Sweaty and exhausted, we breathed and held our bodies in weird ways and stretched, thinking boy oh boy this is going to be sore tomorrow, but boy oh boy it's almost bathing suit time, oh right I should be breathing and relaxing into it, and om-ing. I stood at the top of my mat and turned...and that's when I saw it.

A tiny raisin. A soft raisin, warm. Sitting in the middle of my mat. It looked like a tiny turd. I pondered the raisin for a brief moment before snatching it up and stowing it near my towel. Om-ing forgotten, I shifted quickly into the newest contortion, wondering how the raisin had arrived there and who could have seen it and omg, did they think it was a tiny turd? I grabbed the arch of my foot and straightened my leg, streeeetch. Wondering.

I had a stowaway raisin, either from the making of rice pudding (with raisins) on Sunday night, or from munching on some trail mix Monday mid-morning. Apparently I carried it with me, tucked somewhere (sleeve? bra?) until it found its way into the middle of my blue yoga mat. A misleading sight.

Oh Om.

mosey

I have been busy being busy and busy being not so busy --- that's just what goes on, right? I returned from Scotland rejuvenated to pursue those interests that had drifted into the background wallpaper. I had not realized how loop-like my world had become --- I was literally watching the same movies over and over --- and am just so freaking thankful I had a chance to break the cycle, zig where there was a curve, turn off the tele and pop in a CD. I was tired of sitting at my desk, smashing gnats from plants.

Last night, I came home to a hot hot apartment. Sun in the city is nice. 95 in the city is painful. Windows, doors open, a shower where I had to wait for the water to cool, and a spinach/salmon salad...I retreated to my roof where my Russian neighbors had placed a bench. The sunset was amazing, and I was in a muumuu drinking a wine spritzer and alternating between reading and looking at the sky colors.

An incredibly sunny San Francisco. Trust playing at the Knockout. New CD folks! Have a listen here.lots of beer. Battlestar Galactpoopa. (thanks Giovanni)

upwards

This is by far the best thing I have seen in a long time. "Britain's Got Talent" contestant Susan Boyle... see for yourself: the youtube clip of wonderment.

movement.

I went to Scotland; I have returned. That semicolon has a lot to say.

Well, what you plan and what takes place ain't ever exactly been similar

I keep having dreams that I am forgetting things, dire -- my toothpaste, my passport, my tights-- or dreams that the timing is wrong -- I thought we were leaving two days later and now we are leaving now and the car is at the door and how will I ever throw things I need into a bag in time --- and then there was the night I watched Highlander before bed and everyone in my dreams had swords that sparked and lazer light shows and men with eyes so close together, they seemed crossed.

I just want to be on the plane.

Also? That was my boot covered in mud last Friday. I walked around for about three hours with feet like that. Like carrying weights on the soles of my shoes.

Ten percent of nuthin' is...let me do the math here...nuthin' into nuthin'...carry the nuthin'...

Overheard by the soda machine at the outlet mall in Gilroy, Ca:

Suit One: It's a lot of trips...
Suit Two: Yeah, well, this is my third one (wife). She knew what she was getting into.
Suit One: Oh?
Suit Two: I've got her trained. She knows the drill
pause...
Suit Two: Her boyfriend likes it best when I'm gone anyway.
mutual laughter.
And then past my table strolled two stout, balding, 50-ish men.

Did he just go crazy and fall asleep? (also known as Camp Connell 2009)

Five by Five

"Do let the sun go down on anger. I had always scrupulously aired every irritation as soon as possible, to make sure I vented all bad feelings before bedtime. Studies show, however, that the notion of anger catharsis is poppycock. Expressing anger related to the minor, fleeting annoyances just amplifies bad feelings, while not expressing anger allows it to dissipate."

-some lady in some magazine.
(I think she might be right)