What's The Point?

This morning, while deciding I couldn't ignore the urge anymore to make a vegetarian Shepherd's Pie for dinner, I dispatched myself to the supermarket for ingredients, then decided I'd earned a Starbuck's coffee and a seat by the ocean because, oh my, what a strenuous activity it is buying carrots and potatoes and limes.

I should probably point out that I don't actually put limes in my Shepherd's Pie, but after all that cooking I will want a goddamn cocktail (that's where the limes come in).

On a nice morning I usually head to a place we call "The Point", where there's a glorious view of the ocean and the still snow-capped mountains, where I sit in my ancient car and contemplate life while spilling coffee down the front of my t-shirt, because I haven't mastered how to put a Starbucks lid on properly yet.

[I tried to insert a photo of The Point here for your visual entertainment, but Blogger won't let me]

This morning, while sitting peacefully, drinking in the view and the remains of my dripping Americano, before heading home to work, I witnessed a man in cycling shorts jump out of a Mazda holding a cup of coffee, fart uproariously, stretch, get back in his car and drive off.

Guy, that's not what serene, beautiful places are for, you dirty skank. And just because I laughed for like...fifteen minutes, doesn't mean I condone such blatant exhibitionism. I didn't know whether he was honest and confident and secure in his public flatulence, or just a douchebag with no manners. Then I noticed he was wearing those stupid ass running shoes shaped like feet, with toes and such and I had my answer.

After he drove off, I noticed the three separate seagull shits on my windshield and realized that I really have no right to judge anyone's public appropriateness.

Blast From The Past

Some days you just have nostalgia in your bones and I'm a firm believer that it has to come out.

To get it out of me, I created a rocking nineties playlist and I've been playing it in the car all week while bopping my head around like an idiot, while young people I passed probably thought "what IS that shit?".

Every single song seems to take me back to a time and a place or a person or a memory of being young and free, of meeting odd people, of travelling, and playing in a band, late night recordings and staying up all night dancing and drinking.

To be honest I'm tired just thinking about it.

There's even a U2 song on the list and well...don't tell anyone. I am so ashamed.

Me in the '90s. Man, I loved that 1960s' suede jacket.

Have a fun weekend. :)

I'm A Travelling Man

Summer makes me start to dwell on the things I haven't done  yet, like get a damn Airstream and at least camp in it, if not dwell in it. I live in a mild climate where I could technically do it. Maybe I will, then you can all come round for drinks in my parlour - just so you know, my parlour will be the area outside the Airstream, sort of an outdoor living room full of delicious cocktails, camp fires, sunshine, chips, dips, and joy. Don't I live in a nice world? I believe I do.

For now though, I'm just happy to be here, working on my design stuff and enjoying the shit out of living by the sea. Who doesn't love the smell of the ocean? A moron that's who.

Talking of morons, this was on Martin's site the other day and it made me almost choke to death on my coffee. Understand, I am not calling Martin a moron here... I suspect you knew that.

Recently, I took a trip to the U.S. and in an unprecedented act of unusualness (NOT!), I took some photos. Here are a few of them for your disinterest/enjoyment. Because why not? Please note, these are in no particular order as that would be sensible.

I posted a photo from Joshua Tree a couple of weeks ago. This is another as it's such a stunning place it would just be cruel not to. The little meander around that path there was one of the most pleasant walks ever. So beautiful. Man, I love the desert.

This photo is from a little place called Amboy, in California. It's pretty remote and lies on the old Route 66 on a derelict stretch pretty much neglected when the interstate appeared years ago. Roy's is a famous stop there and has been used for many Hollywood location shoots, including "The Hitcher" in 1986. It's a favourite for horror shoots due to its remoteness. I loved it. The photo is of the Roy's sign and the old, original motel which currently is just a shell.

This is an awesome little sunset in San Francisco, as seen from my hotel room. That's the Golden Gate Bridge silhouetted in the background. I just loved the colours. Apologies to those of you who look at my Instagram feed as you've seen most of this nonsense before only in crappier phone pic form. These are from my camera.

Another of the Golden Gate Bridge, this time from Baker Beach in San Francisco.

Another sunset, this time on the California coast, in Cayucous, near Pismo Beach. Pretty nice drinking an alcoholic beverage and looking at this, on the balcony!

You so purty, California!

In Death Valley there was an almighty sandstorm. This dude, seemed to be celebrating it though... Put your shirt on, guy!

Death Valley still looks like another planet. It's awesome. And this time, it wasn't 130 degrees for a change, just about 96. Pffft! For the record, every time I've been in Death Valley (Three times!) I have taken this exact picture in this exact spot. Why? Who knows?

I went to see (and drive through!) the tunnel from my favourite movie, "Duel" by Steven Spielberg. I was THIS excited! If you've seen the movie, it's the tunnel with the broken down school bus. Gave me the chills.

Death Valley's Ubehebe Crater. Or as I kept calling it, "Heebie Jeebie".

I photographed this old girl last time I was out in Nevada, but she's rusted a lot more since then. Pretty cool.

Here's the inside of that rusty old bucket.

I can't resist the rust!

The large alien outside the "Alien Research Center" near Rachel.

Early morning in Arches National Park in Utah. 

Another from Arches. Thelma and Louise country!

Some ex-nuclear bunkers in Atomic City, Idaho. Now used as barns it seems.

Love some old motels! This sign was in Wallace, Idaho.

Another of Atomic City's old, mostly derelict buildings. They used to house workers from the Nuclear Plant.

If you remember "Northern Exposure" from the 1990s, you'll recall this mural from the opening credits. In Roslyn, Washington.

Another serene day by the ocean in Washington State.

Hope you enjoyed my small, erratic selections. I like to bore people with pictures now and then. You just deal with it! 

Okay, I'm getting back to work now.

Tuesday

This week I finally bit the bullet and bought a new phone. I'd had my trusty old one for four years and loved it to bits. Everyone I know seems to have had about three phones in that period, but not me. I loved my old lady and she was all I needed. However, lately, in her senility, like some sort of rogue robot, she decided to develop a personality.

It was little things at first, things like connecting to WiFi only when she felt like it, refusing to let me talk to The Google, and taking pictures that looked like someone had dropped a camera in a vat of porridge. Gradually, she started to move things around in my cupboards and drink all the wine in the fridge while propositioning all my friends, so I figured maybe it was time to just let her do her thing and retire to some mobile island some place tropical where she could relax on a beach oogling all the hot, naked, little Samsungs and Sonys, while I got myself a new mobile servant.

I forgot what a bitch setting up a new gadget can be. Logging into accounts and authenticating things and re-downloading apps and getting a different sized SIM card and blah di blah. But at least it works on my terms and doesn't turn itself off for no reason when I'm in the middle of something. It also refuses to fit in the pockets in most of my bags because it's the approximate size of an apartment block. It's nice to talk to The Google again too, even if it's just to say, "Okay Google, tell me how much Apple products suck!" Because I'm an Android girl forever, in case that isn't already clear.

In other news, the tree from the restaurant next door keeps leaking all over my car. It looks like it has the measles. Little specks of rusty-coloured, sticky crap everywhere that I cannot shift with any cleaner, even a scouring sponge like you use on the dishes. Every time I go to the supermarket, all the cars in the lot are shiny and clean, and my car looks like it just ran some obstacle course through an apocalypse. Gah. I'm getting there slowly with a slightly winning combination of "Goo Gone", WD-40, car cleaner, a pot scourer, and a pressure washer. Need to get either a car cover or a canopy in the driveway or lose my sanity all together.

This makes a good case, I believe, for wine.

The Returned

I've just returned from a sixteen day vacation to everywhere. I'm pretty sure vacations aren't supposed to be about returning more exhausted than when you left, but somehow I managed. It was worth it, however, due to the amount of stuff I got to see and the surface area covered.

During that time I enjoyed mountains, desert, ocean coastline, forest, cities, desolate highways and a whole lot of roads. A lot. Some of the time I wore sandals and sweated in 100 degree temperatures, others I wore a winter coat and boots.

That's how much distance was covered!

From northern Washington state and Oregon, to Northern California, to Southern California, Nevada, Utah, Idaho and Montana. Crazy!

Now I'm home and a little brain dead trying to get back into the scheme of things. It's like my creative brain took a vacation with me. Need to oil those cogs! For now, until I recover sufficiently to post something that isn't mind numbingly boring, here's my favourite photo from the trip because it makes me so warm and happy on this cloudy day! From Joshua Tree National Park.

See you all later.

Progress

Today I managed two marvellous things. 1) I got a semi decent night's sleep for once, and 2) I made a Tres Leches Cake.

Tres leches might be my favourite cake in the history of cake, but I never attempted my own till now so yippee for me I guess! Haven't tasted it yet, it's in the fridge, but all my extremities are happy knowing it's there waiting... If you've never had tres leches cake and you see it someplace, seriously - try it. Unless you're lactose intolerant or something in which case, it'll probably kill you.

The morning today started off really nicely. I was up early, it was sunny out, I had a drive by the ocean then picked up my cake ingredients on the way home. I grabbed a coffee as well from the evil S. and the second I got home, it rained! Well. I guess it's a four seasons in a day type of day. Now I'm hard at work (well, clearly NOT) so I guess rain's ok. It's so nice to see the million blossom trees everywhere at the moment. Lovely that is, unless you're my poor car which is covered in sticky crap ALL the time. It looks like I just drove through a hedge. Ugh.

What's up for the rest of the day? Work, eating cake and listening to Tom Waits singing his pretty little songs about messed up shit. It's all good.

Insom-maniac

I'm an insomniac by trade.

Well not by trade, although, if I could make money out of it, sure, why not? I'm pretty good at it. Experienced. I could probably get a fancy-assed degree in it. With honours!

Being an insomniac much of the time means I often end up getting up in the night and sitting in the living room staring out at the water or watching the quiet street till I start to feel tired enough that I might actually sleep. Sometimes you get the odd person out wandering or riding a bike at 3 am and you can watch them, sneakily, without their knowledge, as they slink on by the front gate, scratching their butt or picking their nose, happily figuring no one knows. Well I know, fella! But it'll be our little secret.

Last night I winded up watching a creepy old episode of "Supernatural" on Netflix when I couldn't sleep, as TV makes me sleepy. It worked, but ironically, when I climbed back into bed, I still couldn't sleep because every little creak or bump made me sit upright, listening for serial killers or demons to burst through the basement door. Thank goodness I have one of those crappy little chains on there like the ones you slide onto the front door before you open it to a stranger.

Because, yeah, I'm pretty sure those are demon proof...