Feeding the Irvine Ducks

A few Saturdays ago, Jude woke up from his nap and we needed to get out of the house.  I don't remember how we arrived at this idea but we found ourselves at the (fake) lake in Irvine, feeding the ducks with almost-dead bread.  As we sat there chucking grains to the geese and ducks, I realized how perfect an activity this was for this exact day, and with the whole newborn thing we could've easily talked ourselves out of it.  I loved taking the kids to the lake I used to go to to feed the ducks as a wee lassie, Jude was obviously beside himself over the ducks being so close and being encouraged to throw food, and got some wiggles out.

Then we stopped off at McDonalds, popped in to say hi to my parents, and went straight from there to our friend Rodney's bday party.  After that it was home again, home again, jiggety jig for our R&R/Graham Time.  A seriously awesome Saturday afternoon; I'm always grateful for a day that accommodates everyone.

Jude threw some of the bread to ducks, but kept stuffing some of it into his own mouth.  Hence the trip to McDonalds afterward.

Ah, the good old Irvine Lake.

Aggressive geese.

Something to Miss:

Living in Huntington Beach

Irvine just feels so far away.

Something NOT to miss:

Working at Veg Prep for BYU Catering. I worked from 6am to 10am and then smelled like mayonnaise all day. No wonder I graduated a spinster.

update o' fun

i'm ready and willing to blog a snibbin again.

- i'm going to go ahead and start the paralegal program in july. i didn't apply with enough time to get some funding, but lucky para mi, UCI is on the quarter system and i don't have to wait as long for a new batch of classes to start.

- my sister sally is in town this weekend. i was going to go taste wedding cakes with them except i was foiled by the fact that 1) it's not the sabbath yet, so i can't be sucking down treats, and 2) when mom and sarah found out how much this french bakery costs, my mom uttered that infamous line, "dollars?? d-dollars???  my first car didn't cost _____ dollars." the cake tasting session was cancelled with something along the lines of a "don't call us, we'll call you."

- i have a plan for the "operation: miss chloe pants, you don't even know it but you're going to pay for the damage you did to my car".  stage I of this plan is to get a bid on the fixing that she doesn't even know for which she's most deservedly going to pay.  mother meri and i went all the way over to the ghetto to the place i went to in 2003 to fix the geo prism, and i suppose the world has not been kind to this place, because it's vanished, aka out of business. foiled again.  until i get another minute to go find another car spa.

- today i saw a bumper sticker that said, "ORDAIN WOMEN TO BE CATHOLIC PRIESTS -- OR STOP BAPTIZING THEM!"  so many things to say about that...which...i'm not going to.  but it's just funny what some people say, and even better, what people say on loop from the metal crust of their mode of transportation.

- irvine always smells good in march.  it smells like star jasmine rubbing shoulders with eucalyptus.  i would wish it on all noses.

maybe i don't want to move out on wednesday.

my parents are unintentionally very very funny. like tonight.

dad: the market giveth, and the market taketh away.

dericious.

you: and meredith, what would newport beach happen to taste like?

me: well, i'll tell you.  newport tastes like creme brulee, spinach stuffed mushrooms, ravioli, butter cake, diet pepsi, and third eye blind.

you: surely not!

me: why yes it does!  

apparently it's been tasting like that regularly for the past two decades, i was just living under a rock all that time, because i never even heard of it until this week.  A TASTE OF NEWPORT is a bit of genius!  the event planners must be former girl scouts, because it savored strongly of "international day."  well, except for the fact that most of the attendees were adults dressed up in their weekend finery instead of grammar school students in matching togas and sarongs.  that was the only difference.  that and instead of inhaling little samples of international cuisine for a dime each, it was a collection of the OCs most neat-o restaurants selling commensurately priced servings of their biggest money makers.  then the wedding singers cleared the stage to make way for THIRD EYE BLIND.  whoa.  like, totally reminded me of like, high school and stuff.  GO IHS VAQUEROS! it was good to get reacquainted with them. 

you:  wow.  third eye blind.  aren't they getting old now?  like, do they have to dye their hair to hide the grays?

me: probably, although from a certain angle the lead singer looked a lot like bono, which he was probably going for.  and even if they are getting old and arthritic, there were some real, true third eye blind junkies there.  one in particular was my absolute favorite.  he did NOT stop dancing for anything, except to maybe puff on his girlfriend's ciggie.  i don't have any beef with someone boogy-ing down when they want/need to, but i was just in awe of how he danced as if it were keeping the universe afloat.  as if the fervent nature of his jig would obliterate every milligram of evil in the world.  i actually took a semi-clandestine video of him, but there's not enough memory left on my laptop at this moment to upload it.  another day, another time.  there were some other groupies whose behavior i'll just not going into describing right now.  i think concerts would be much less interesting in the people watching department if prohibition came back.

so can i get a woot woot for A TASTE OF NEWPORT?

you: totally.

california, california, so much to plunder that i think i'll sleep instead.

i have spent 78% of my life as a california resident. i love it here. i wouldn't be here if i didn't. it's home; i like to think of it as my california with its sunny skies, ample air moisture, and masterful freeway system. however, i have a confession to make which might get me hanged, drawn, and quartered: i have never felt like a real california girl. i will ever claim that i grew up here with glowing pride, i think it's wonderful, but not in the same way or for the same reasons as so many people who want to (and do) or should live here. i think i was supposed to be born in maryland or somewhere over that-a-way. i love turtlenecks and pleated skirts, brick buildings, and government subsidized museums. i embrace the pasty blush of my skin. i really don't like third eye blind, roxy brand clothing, fish tacos and hibiscus flowers. i don't think i wore flip flops more than thrice this last summer. i love the beach, i go to the beach, but i'd never classify myself as a beach bum, and i haven't touched a surf board in 14 years. i'm more of a swim around or boogy board kind o' gal. my california friends NEED the beach. 1 week into fall semester at BYU they'd start to get the shakes and froth at the mouth a bit as their bodies went into beach fix-less shock. i endured twinges of guilt knowing that if we were to go play in the sand and waves, that would be wonderful, but if we didn't, that's wonderful too. guilty, guilty, guilty. i'm not proud of this, it seems disarmingly ungrateful to me. i always worry that i'm going to wind up living in south dakota or something and cringe over the grand california amenity i didn't enjoy as much as i could have. anyway, there. i feel much better having unloaded that. confession is a very important passage to repentance.

there is hope. i moved here exactly 1 month ago. i'm working, i'm moving out and over to huntington beach (knock hard on wood), i'm applying to further my education, i'm bonding, and as of tonight, i will be a surfer in training. for the first time since i was 12 years old i am going to go surfing, apparently on saturday i'm going to be in a surf video, i might go on a surf trip to costa rica in november, and i'm going to hope that the fact that my arms are completely devoid of muscular particles doesn't get in the way.

just call me "blue crush eaton." california, you and i are going to get a lot more cozy.

for the most part, i'm all down and jiggy with CA, but i really am not appreciative of the whole hands free cell phone driving law.  those pesky earpiece items actually hurt my ears. then, as if poking and pinching my head isn't enough, it always FALLS OUT, usually right as i'm receiving some important information (like, if i was the 102nd caller.  just kidding i hate the radio).  thus, instead of holding my phone ever steady to the side of my face, i'm groping around on the floor of my car or around my gear shift for the shifty devil plug, paying less attention to the road.

basically i've just been standing on the dock, watching and waving as the cell phone conversation ship flitters off into the horizon.  i only talk on the phone while driving if i'm really desperate, and if my hair is down and i can super sleuth my phone away into obscurity.  the hands free cord movement is just a no-go in the meredith industry, and i'm pretty sure my phone is too ghetto to support a bluetooth.  the tragic thing of it all is that i used to do my best "keep in touch-ing" on the road.  it's such a convenient time to catch up on chit chat, and now i'm having a hard time risking a chit chat with a ticket-doling copper for an indulgent chit chat with a friend or relative.  basically i've just been listening to a lot of music instead.

anyway, yesterday morning i was driving to work and at a stop light saw something i thought was pretty funny.  a woman with sopping wet hair, a sweatshirt, and heels got out of her car, ran to her popped trunk that was full of boogy boards and other such sea shore instruments, pulled out a water bottle, and slammed the lid shut.  a rogue flip flop, however, had weasled its way to the lip of the trunk and prevented it from closing.  she was back in the driver's seat before she realized it had bounced back up.  with the light turning green, she ran out again, this time only to the side of the car, and, unable to see the sabotaging sandal, slammed it again, this time harder.  i thought the flip flop was going to be decapitated (if flip flops have heads...which they don't, so the flip flop was going to be cut in half.).  one more bounce back from the trunk door and cars were starting with the trumpeting.  at this point she was laughing, went all the way around, and saw the flip flop, stuffed it back in, got in her car and slammed the gas.  i thoroughly enjoyed the show.

my first thought was, "i've got to call elizabeth to tell her."  then, "shoot, where's my ear piece?"  then, "eh, i'll just blog it instead."

there.

just another day in the OC

today during my lunch break i popped into banana republic to peer and wish and hope. i was trying on a dress and heard the sales associate making her rounds through the dressing room hall, asking everyone how they were doing. this is what i hear from the room directly across from me, no add-ons or exaggerations present:

employee: (knocks on the door) hi, how are you doing in there?

customer: uh, you know, these just aren't working.

employee: oh, i'm sorr--

customer: just--just get them out of my sight!

i hear a flop of what i can only assume is large quantities of clothing falling over the dressing room door and onto the floor.

the end

just for the record:

1) i do know that the olympian michael is a PHELPS, i just spelled it with an F in the previous post because i'm so impetuous.  isn't it great?

2) driving in CA is a much bigger headache than driving in vegas.  everyone in vegas drives like a maniac, so it works out great because i'm not a GOOD driver, i just drive like everything's emergent and rushed.  and the coppers just truthfully have bigger fish to fry, so they pull you over about as often as a cactus sings an italian aria.  such was the driving delight of vegas.

irvine's a bit different.  your road neighbors go more erratically slowly.  the red lights have this love affair with my car, or i think they do, because i hit every single one. i just want a reason why i hit every red light, that's the one i'll go with.  and when you're zipping through town rushing to an interview, you're about to go into cardiac arrest.  this seems to be caused by the fact that the car in front of you, to the left of you, to the right of you, and yes, the car behind you, is a porsche, a german something or other, a corvette (blech), and a BMW, so the prospect of smashing one with your scion xA is ten times more terrifying.  i can't remember the details of my insurance policy right now, but i know i pay next to nothing for it so a car accident should just not happen right now.

3) i feel like OMH my life's so perf right now.  EFY CLAP!

it's the little things that get me:

1) arriving in irvine without getting a speeding ticket.

2) tasting mom's freshly conujured engrish toffee.

3) feeling my hair get 3 to 7% poofier for the sudden spike in humidity level.

4) watching the household name MICHAEL FELPS get another crop of gold with my own sleepy little eyeballs.  my olympic curse has been lifted!

5) talking in the hallway with lindsey for approximately 45 minutes when we should have been going to sleep.  i think tired conversation is the best and the worst because everything's funny but then you don't have your wits about you to say, "hey.  going sleep.  night."  you just keep chatting about the non-mysteries of the universe....

6) dumping all my stuff in my room, wanting to vomit over witnessing how much crap i have accumulated, then making a path to my bed and putting all the crap that had previously been deposited on my bed into niece's port-a-crib that's still set up in my room from the end of may when they were here for cam's farewell, sifting through post-haste to find my "interviewee ensemble" for tomorrow.  ah, a bed is made available once again, a responsible looking outfit saved from the wrinkle monster.

ok i'm going to bed.  incoherency imminent.  

p.s. my friend and now-former co-worker made me a "moody and contemplative road trip cd" and it has an acoustic BBC radio version of clocks by coldplay that will change your universe.  ken, you're the bomb to the diggety.