Disappointing Maya Angelou

This is one of my all-time favorite quotes. It’s a unique blend of understanding, forgiveness, and responsibility.

Most days I can stick to this mantra (unless there is berry chantilly cake, Cadbury mini-eggs, or bourbon involved) and to the 4 agreements.

To paraphrase the Wylie Lama:

When I stick to those agreements, I have really good days.

About 9 months ago, I was scheduled to fly into Monterey (MRY) for an interview and we couldn’t land due to fog and gale force winds.

I almost died, but blogged about it instead (And have since then scheduled all fights out of San Jose.)

It’s a curious fact that 9 months is how long it takes to incubate a baby. And it’s also the same amount of time that it takes for one to forget the horrors of modern air travails (sic).

I was in SF last night for a full moon and an earthquake (Johnny Earthquake and the Moondogs ought to record my songs), but only felt a slight urge to howl like a Wild Thing while standing in the jetway to board a plane for MRY– the second time.

I didn’t wait in a 2 hour line for the airline’s generous offer of a $67 hotel and breakfast voucher. Instead, I shared a taxi ride with 2 other ladies to the airport Holiday Inn, slept for about 3 hours before catching the airbus home.

This morning’s United flight out of MRY was cancelled. Seems they’re short a plane.

Note to self: YOU KNOW BETTER!

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This house has raccoons. And gophers. And possibly some deer in the back yard (I don’t get up to see what’s rustling around out there after dark– I’ve seen those movies).

I’ve slept with the windows open this “summer” and even way up on this hill, I can hear the seals barking in the bay– 2 miles away. The fish in our pond didn’t make all this racket.

Actual footage of me exercising on the beach.

Not to mention the constant riff-off between rival accapella gangs: the Crows and the Gulls.

Theses guys are silent only because the count down to the riff-off has begun.

There aren’t any random gunshots during the night like in BR’s Garden District. Or any random daytime gunshots like when my Old Hwy 6 neighbors would site in a new gun.

Nobody’s burning leaves (or trash) when the weather turns nice. Because (1) the weather’s always nice, (2) it’s illegal (wildfires), and (3) they’d rather burn bud, which is legal.

California is nothing like I thought it’d be. Which goes to show me, to remind me, that assumptions are a dangerous thing.

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You ever share your name with someone? (Not you George, George, or George Foreman, Junior, or T’Boy).

Laura was the 11th most popular name in 1968 (thanks, Dr. Zhivago) and the 14th most popular name in 1985, no doubt thanks to Luke and Laura from General Hospital.

We often share first names with others, which is a big plus when you want a prêt-à-porter personalized tchotchke from Disney.

Lyle won’t be there. We’ve checked.

I was really surprised that Laura Alford was a one-hit wonder in the UK several decades ago (I’m not the pop-star you’re looking for.)

I’d like to be Dr. Laura, but that moniker’s already claimed (I’m not the sex therapist you’re looking for).

The Dalai Laura has some charm (I’m not the guru you’re looking for.) I’m pretty sure it’s only the 40 days of fasting and folding myself into a yogic pretzel keeping me from enlightenment and a Nobel Prize.

So in the meantime, I’ll settle for my students calling me Dr. Ma’am.

Except this dude. He can call me whatever he wants.

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The Call is Coming from Inside the House

It’s coming from the refrigerator, to be specific.

berry chantilly

There’s an intruder in my home. In my fridge. In my head.

If this is what it’s like to be an alcoholic, then thank God I’m not one. I’d be living under a bridge for sure.

What’s the methadone equivalent for sugar?

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Curiousity and Learning

I’m a lifetime learner, but apparently I need some remedial education on curiousity.

Credit: H. A. Rey. George is always curious and this insatiable drive to know more takes him upon many exciting adventures where he is eventually rescued by the man in the yellow hat.

For instance, I never should have tried the sausage burrito sold out of a shack next to my office building.

They have homemade salsa, which creates a perfect storm of proxemity, price, and pretty dang good.

A slice of Berry Chantilly cake at Whole Foods costs about the same and may have a similar calorie count (in my dreams), but is inconveniently located in a micro-store with one of the worst parking lots in town (and that’s including 2 Trader Joe’s).

WF is never not crowded. Even at the crack of opening, employees with pallets piled 5 feet high line the narrow aisles, kickstarting a mild case of claustrophobia I never knew I had.

Once again, I’m beseiged with the First World problems of having access to too much food and enough money to buy it.

Just a reminder: curiousity may kill the cat, but cats have 9 lives.


Post summary: Don’t look, Ethel!

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My Own Private Wormhole


Leah found this “rock” on the Del Monte beach across from my office. This iPhone photo has been altered with the Dramatic Warm filter, which I felt was appropriate for a blog about crazy science aka magic wormholes.

You can’t get there from here.

It’s an old joke, but all too true for me. I’ve visited Jack’s Peak Park at least 6 times, but never by the same route, despite the fact that there’s only 1 road to the top.

The fog in Monterey generates a strong Mists of Avalon vibe, but now that I have a PhD, I’m skeptical of magic.

Ceteris paribus, Occam’s Razor suggests that I’ve stumbled upon a wormhole (gotta love logic).

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I’ve Had Worse

Is there more faint praise than I’ve Had Worse?

It’s only Tuesday at 6:56 am, and that’s this week’s assessment– I’ve had worse. (Way, way, way worse.)  Nothing bad’s happening, just an accumulation of adulting that sucks the joy from the marrow of life.

Passport, oil change, grocery shopping, trash day, laundry, more grocery shopping, farmers’ market shopping. Got a blender, but forgot a coffee pot.  GAH! I need a personal assistant.

The tipping point was this:

PSA: There is no such thing as “Polenta Grits,” I don’t care what Bob says. Pay attention Whole Foods: This! Is! Not! Grits!

Immediately upon scraping this mess into the garbage at 6:30am, I went to the Adluh online store to order some grits and PayPal wouldn’t work. So, I updated the expired credit card & address… and it still wouldn’t work.

So, I went to my best frenemy Amazon and ordered some Palmetto grits and when I clicked, “buy now,” it defaulted to overnight shipping (thanks Prime) and I just spent $20 mailing myself $4.00 worth of grits.

Not to mention my whole day’s eating macros that I planned and shopped for are shot.


And like mosquitoes, these small inconveniences buzz around me, insignificant individually, aggravating in swarms. But the more dangerous problem is mosquito-born diseases, which can be life threatening.

I’ve got to be careful. I can’t allow myself to be infected with ungratefulness by these petty 1st World problems. Things could be so much worse.

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