Wide Open Spaces

The morning started with a drive from American Canyon (let's just call it Vallejo) to Novato then out to Bodega Bay. Bodega is one of those places where I can just...breathe.

Isn't it heaven?

Then I went to Rohnert Park, where Sonoma State University is located. They have Starbucks now -- of course I found it immediately. I went to the bookstore on campus and it still looked exactly the same as it did the first time I went there, almost 20 years ago as a freshman in high school. The rest of the campus looks totally different.

Something is eating Stevenson Hall.

Going back to the hotel I drove through Santa Rosa, Sonoma and Napa. I was out driving for hours and hours. It was a lovely day.

Welcome to Paradise

I never told y'all the final story with my smeller. I've now had a CT scan, an MRI and spent 2 weeks on steroids to take care of the infection in my sinuses that was literally blocking my sense of smell. The steroids seem to have done the trick and I can smell again. It was scary for a few weeks but everything seems to be much better now.

I've also arrived in Northern California and some of the first things I noticed were the smells. My rental car smells like this weird air freshener that I've only smelled at car washes in California. It is not good.

Vallejo smells like, well...Vallejo. It's sort of a diesel-y seaside swampy thing. My french fries from Bud's smelled (and tasted) much greasier than I remembered. If I go back this trip I need to remember they need salt (and I don't put salt on anything).

I was very disoriented driving up to my hotel. I think some of the freeways have moved (is that possible?) and there are definitely lots of new things. Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Learn to Fly

Most days I don't notice just how much the world has changed in the last six years. The aftereffects of 9/11 hasbecome a part of our daily lives and collective history. We are all aware of the changes, but they are not so distressing, especially if you travel often. Stepping out of your shoes, skipping the coffee run on the way to the airport and judging the combined quantity of liquids in your carry-on...it's just what we do now.

As I write this I am on a flight from Dallas to Oakland. I've been planning this trip for months and really looking forward to it for the last week or so. I needed to get away from myself for a while. But sitting here on the airplane, I'm apprehensive and I can't judge if I am overreacting or if I need to be shouting. I think I'm a rational person who tends to look for reasonable explanations for everything. So I will give you my set of circumstances and let you be the judge -- is this normal post-9/11 fear or am I just nuts?

I am sitting near the front of the plane, in the second row of coach in the window seat, with the middle seat empty and a nice older women sitting on the aisle. She mentioned to the flight attendant that she is going to California to visit her daughter and little granddaughter. Normal enough so far, right? Then she asked the flight attendant how many people were in the cockpit and if there were always two people or if sometimes there were three? The flight attendant told her she couldn't discuss security procedures -- Grandma seemed miffed but acquiesced anyway. As soon as the seatbelt light went off she toddled up the restroom in first class (sans shoes) and while the lav in the front is infinitely closer than the one at the back of the plane, it is mere inches from the cockpit and I'm not sure I want her anywhere near it. When she came back she pulled out her cell phone (at you know, 30-something-thousand feet) and tried to make a phone call. Who does that? Is she trying to detonate something she left in the bathroom? Should I say something? Get ready to tackle her if she does anything else suspicious? Or am I completely paranoid?

I'm sure if I was on the ground I would think this was a sweet grandmother who just needed to "go" and didn't want to walk the entire length of the plane, wanted to make sure herself that there was plenty of security up front and as she isn't wearing a watch, was using her cell phone to see what time it was. That is what normal, pre-9/11 me would have thought.

It's really sad and I know it. But just in case, I'm not sleeping the rest of the flight.

Goin Back to Cali

I'm going home tomorrow. Not "where I live my life" home, but "where my heart was born" home. This trip started out as one thing and has turned into something completely different and the closer it gets, the more I know I really, really need it. I'm going to see where little me came to be, where I fell in like (and love) for the first time and places that just make my soul feel at peace. I'm going to see how much it has all changed and grown and see friends that I haven't seen in far too long.

I have this great litte t-shirt from pieces of a girl that I will never be little enough to wear, but I love what it says so it remains in my closet...

"She wasn't afraid to travel down an open road with nothing but horizon to keep her company..."

Kiss From A Rose

I haven't posted anything about it before, but I've been dealing with an usual medical problem. I lost my ability to smell. It was so gradual I didn't really notice it happening. I've always had allergies and figured my inability to smell was being inhibited because of pollen or dust or other gross things I'm going to try to avoid mentioning here. Eventually I had other problems with my ears which led to new allergy medicine and eventually I realized -- I can't smell! Actually, what I realized was that I could smell -- but that it was all wrong. Things that should be lovely, like perfume, smelled like moldy boxes. All milk smelled odd. My dog, who smells like, well, a dog, didn't smell like anything at all. I could put my face in a bunch of flowers and get nothing.

I found a wonderful doctor and tests were run and medicine was taken. I prepared myself to have lost this sense forever -- apparently it's quite common. We were going to rule out all the scary causes and then hope it would come back. Then, suddenly, about a week ago (and only 4 days into a 12 day course of intense pharmaceutical intervention), I smelled something. Something Good. Several Something Good's, actually. Perfume. Barbeque potato chips. Coffee. Wood chips baking in the sun through my open window at a fast-food drive through. My dog. My gym shoes (ok, not all good, but you know what I mean). A basket of muffins. Clean laundry. It has become such a comical experience -- but I need to acknowledge everything I smell. (I sort of feel sorry for my coworkers -- they get an alert every time a scent gets through.)

I am so, so, so lucky. It could have been something much worse. It could have been my sight or my hearing. It could have been something wrong in my head, rather than just my sinuses. My grandmother died from brain cancer and I wasn't aware of it but her first symptom was that she lost the ability to smell. I hadn't told my grandfather any of this until it started to be resolved (I had good news and wanted to share) and I scared him so badly he hung up on me (it's all ok now).

I've started a list of things I really want to smell...rain on the pavement, cinnamon rolls, autumn, a Christmas tree. I don't know if this is something that I'll have to deal with periodically or if it's a one-time-only sort of thing. For now I'm just going to take in everything I can.

Don't Stop Believing

I didn't always love sports. As a kid the only ones I would watch on tv were figure skating and gymnastics. I realized, at age 11, that my dream of competing at the Olympics would never come true. How sad is it to have your dreams dashed at the age of 11 anyway? (Darn that Mary Lou Retton!) Years passed, I grew up and along the way I discovered you can learn to do something just because you like it; you don't have to be the best or brightest and you can settle for less than world domination. Sometimes, it's just fun. For 5 years, starting at age 24, I took figure skating lessons. By the time I stopped I had 5 different jumps. Not good ones, and I didn't exactly get airborne, but if you ever need a demonstration of a salchow or toe loop, I'm your girl.

I think that's what is so magical about the Little League World Series. These are kids who have worked hard but are still having fun. It isn't a job. Someday they will look back and have this great story about something they did when they were 12, but it won't be who they are. I love the research the announcers have on the kids -- favorite players, favorite actors, favorite school subject. Next year I would love to go see Christian play in Williamsport, but really, I'd rather see him play with his friends at home. They grow up too fast as it is.

March Madness is sort of the same thing. Of course there are guys playing who use this as their tryout for the NBA. Those guys are the reason I usually want to change the channel. I watch for the seniors who have never played on tv before, but are getting a shot at the spotlight. They don't even get 15 minutes of fame -- it's more like 15 seconds. They'll go on to be hedge fund managers or dentists who just happen to be really tall.

In a season of scandals, the worst thing that happened in hockey this summer was Eric Staal's bachelor party. A bunch of farm kids getting drunk, being loud and yelling at cars at 4 in the morning (the horror!). This isn't a story about entitled rich brats -- it's just boys being boys and I'm totally OK with it. It sounds like the worst crime committed was that horrible shirt Jordan is wearing in his mug shot. (Seriously, it's like he dressed for jail before the party even started.)

Anyone who has been here before knows I unabashedly love hockey. There is no room for ego on a hockey team. Sure, there are superstars scattered across the league, but only a few are household names. Every guy on the ice is there to support every other one -- there really isn't room for the kind of players you see in football or basketball. At the end of every playoff series, both teams live up to shake hands - no one leaves until it's over. In other sports, the team that loses runs for the locker room (to hide their tears?). Training camp is only a few days away. I can hardly wait.

Celebrity

I was recently doing a little research on Amazon.com for something I needed to buy for work. As usual, I was distracted and wandered into other parts of the site (darn heuristics!). They have a feature that lets people create shopping lists --i.e. If you like John Mayer you'll probably like Jack Johnson, etc. So I started cracking up when I stumbled across this one: 5 Pop Stars You'd Like to Make-Out With (you may use a time machine).

I'm not sure what is funnier, the idea that anyone would sit around and make that specific list (it's rather g-rated), or, the concept that you are allowed to use a time machine. Which you know, doesn't really exist (did I even need to point that out?). Funny.