California Here We Come

I bought and I’m pretty excited about that. The snow has STOPPED, it rained yesterday. I can see a little bit of the actual ground. This is amazing. I cannot even express it…

You know that song Boston by Augustana? Every time I listen to it, I wish he was singing the other way around. I absolutely love Boston, but I wish that song had the sentiments of leaving. I wish it sang about wanting to see the sunset, about going to California, instead. (Does anyone find it ironic that he sings about going to Boston where “no one knows my name” when the exact opposite was the theme song of Cheers, the TV show that took place in Boston?)

I’ve been missing California a lot lately. There are two places I am homesick for: California and Italy. The last time I was in either place was in the summer of 2007, and I’m finding myself at a loss as why I am not back at either place right now. But California and I have a much deeper relationship than what I have with Italy. In California there are people to miss, friendships I’ve lost touch with, relatives who live there. I miss simple little things like pesto bagels and In N Out signs. I miss the sunshine and that fact that I felt like I could breathe there. I miss driving by hills and watching cows grazing on the sides. There are so many parts of California I never got to explore, and just as many that I want to see again.

I want to take a road trip down the 101, listen to Phantom Planet and drink smoothies while wearing sunglasses and singing loudly. I want to see San Diego and spend more time on the beaches. I want to go to all of the places Francesca Lia Block talks about in all of her novels. I’d design my own FLB field trip. Take pictures of everything. I want to go to Santa Monica and sing Savage Garden while I ride the ferris wheel. I want to make my way through Hollywood, put my hands inside hand prints of stars. I want to drive up up up until I’m in San Fransisco. I want to eat ice cream at Ghiradelli and drive over the Golden Gate bridge, through the rainbow tunnel into Sonoma County where I lived for almost a year. But that’s not all, I want to keep going. Up along the coast, down the scary roads that are on the sides of cliffs that over look the ocean.

I want. I want. I want. But I am here right now. So you might be subjects to tales of wander lust, picture posts and lots of… me.

I’m working on writing more. I know this is my blog and there’s no need to apologize for anything I say or don’t say in here. But promising to write makes me feel a little more accountable, like there’s enough people out there reading who are excited to see my posts.


Winter: Waiting to be Reborn.



It’s been snowing for years. There’s three feet of dirty hard snow covering our lawns, piles that reach higher than your head up against the road because there is no place for it to go. Can you imagine the world turning into a river if spring ever comes? We’d make rafts of our sleds and close our eyes, holding on to the sides and laughing while gliding away, away, away… One night I made a snowman by the light of my headlights. It was full of pieces of grass and bits of dirt. It’s snowed five times since then, washing out the snowman in a sea of angry white. We can’t get by with just one of anything, snow shoes do not equal work shoes, layers of clothing to keep us warm. Maybe there hasn’t been a sun in months, I wouldn’t really know. People are wrapping themselves around telephone poles because they hit the breaks too fast, buildings are collapsing into themselves because of the weight of three feet of snow. And nothing has melting, no. Not until today it rained for a while before turning to ice. Our streets turned into frozen rivers, our puddles teasing with the hard layer that sits on top. Geese try to hide their faces from the brutal winds, but the water is too cold to offer release. The children are going to attend school well into the summer, melting with humidity and yearning for freedom. We delight in the delays, but it takes just that much longer to heat up the car, clear off the snow, find that spare glove. Did you know you can get pulled over for having snow on your roof? No kidding? Tonight I drove home with ice beads pinned to my wind shield. There have been days when I’ve driven with my hand clutching the door closed. First the door is frozen closed, then the latch it frozen and it won’t stay. I locked myself out of my running car because the lock stopped working, when I thought I was unlocking it, I really locked it up. My brother has been working for approximately four weeks straight. Snow plows can’t make any more room, snow blowers keep aiming snow right into the streets. Our gloves are wet and our skin dry from the cruel games this weather plays.

A few years back I unintentionally started my own tradition to begin the spring countdown on the first day of the year. I could go without January and February and think nothing of it. I miss living in California, the warmth of the sun during the day, the complete lack of snow. I miss not feeling like I may never see the sun, ever again. I miss green and life. These are the burning days of the pheonix, waiting to be reborn.