Let All Who Pass Here Know

So let's say you and the spouse are talking, and you say "Hey honey, why don't we gather up the kids and make a trip to that happenin' place, San Francisco, Californey."

Why, it's an end-of-summer vacation destination.

And so you book the airline and find a hotel and plan your visit.

On behalf of the Bay Area, there's a few things we'd like you to know.

1) First, thank you. We are happy to have you come and visit! Please, spend your hard earned dollars in our economy. We could use the help.

2) We have some of the best food anywhere. Please stay away from the chain restaurants and try a local place. You'll be glad you did.

3) Everyone appreciates how difficult it is to navigate our geographically limited city located at the end of a peninsula, so don't be a'feared to ask for directions. Most locals have been lost here a few times too.

4) No one calls it "Frisco." Maybe a few people call it "San Fran." You could probably get by with an "S.F." Refer to San Francisco as "The City" and you'll be doing just fine.

5) Bring your camera and don't be shy about taking snaps. It's hard to take a bad photo.

6) Oh, and lastly and most importantly, this is what the weather is like in August:

Just for reference, the exif data on this photograph reports it was taken at 12:08:14 pm on Sunday, August 8, 2010. In case you can't tell, that's part of the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge.

I'm just sayin'.

Don't pack your shorts, tshirts and a pair of flip-flops for a trip to "sunny California." Pack pants, socks and a jacket. You'll be glad you did.

Also, know this...San Francisco is one of the most beautiful cities you'll ever know.

Come on out ya'll! Enjoy! We're happy to have ya!

Photos by Karen Fayeth taken from the Marin side of the bridge. Many, many tourists were endured in the making of these and many other photographs.

(What all this language below means is that I took and I own the photographs posted here. If you'd like to borrow them, you have to do me the favor of giving me credit for the photo and posting a link back to this page. That's all. Fair enough? I think so.)

Word and images in this blog post titled "Let All Who Pass Here Know" by Karen Fayeth is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Soot of a Most Sorrowful Kind

Over the weekend, I read on "Only in New Mexico that there had been a fire on the highest trestle bridge of the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad.

A Google search netting me an article in the Denver Post with a photograph of the fire on the Lobato Trestle that is both beautiful and heartbreaking.

The sadness immediately hit me in the heart. The Cumbres & Toltec railroad, billed as "America's Highest & Longest Narrow Gauge Scenic Railroad," holds a special place in my heart.

In fact, I did a post about my memories of the Cumbres & Toltec back in 2007. Looking back to that post, I rather enjoyed reading what I wrote, and I was filled with melancholy at the idea that the railroad won't be running this summer due to the damage.

I believe that either New Mexico or Colorado, or both, will fix the bridge because the railroad is a big tourist draw. However, times are tough and money is tight. So who knows how long it might take before the Cumbres & Toltec is up and running again?

On his blog, Jim Baca was kind enough to post a couple family shots from his adventures on the Cumbres & Toltec.

Having recently semi-reorganized my rather vast pile of family photo albums, I did a dive into the memories and dug up a few photos of my own. There was a family trip back in August 1978, and I found a couple photos worth sharing.

As mentioned in my 2007 post, Captain Type A, also know as my dad, rousted us all early from our beds in the Apache pop up trailer we'd camped in the night before. I'm unclear why we were up so early, but it was, ostensibly, to go and catch the train.

Chama sits at 8,203 feet, so even on a nice day the mornings are rather chilly. Getting out of bed wasn't the easiest of tasks that day.

I recall my dad being pretty excited and the rest of the family being...well. Um. Fairly excited?

Look at this happy group! (I'm the shortest one in the front.)

Man, is that a spouse and three kids that are LOVING the head of the household right now?

And also...helllooooooo seventies! How much denim is in that photo?

This is the station where the journey begins on the Chama side. That little figure huddled off to the right sitting on the wagon under the Chama sign is me.

Cold. Cranky. Waiting.

But I suppose there was a payoff. Once the sun came out and it warmed up and the train actually got moving...well heck, look at that face!

I'm diggin' it!

I remember really having a lot of fun once we were actually on the train. The end point of the trip, Antonito, was a charming little tourist town. I thought it was big fun since I'm a longtime lover of souvenir and tchotchke shops!

We ended the day covered in soot and ash, tired but happy. It ended up being worth it, a fun family trip, even if the beginning was a little rough.

I'd like to think that the Cumbres & Toltec will get up and running again, because there are whole legions of children who haven't yet been tortured by their early rising father at an elevation of eight thousand feet.

Ya Just Can't Take a Bad Picture

There are certain places in the world where, seriously, other than utter camera failure (or utter user-of-the-camera failure) you just can't take a bad photo.

Yosemite seems to be one of those places. I've not been myself, but I've seen plenty of friend's shots and damn, each was gorgeous!

The Grand Canyon is the same. Here's a link to shot that blogger friend NewMexiKen took on Friday with his iPhone. And it's beautiful!!

I know that there are plenty of similar examples.

On Saturday, I visited one of those "can't take a bad photograph" places. The Good Man and I needed to get out and enjoy the sun, so we took one of my favorite walks along the Marina Green, through Crissy Field and ending up at Fort Point, the Civil War era Army fort located right smack under the Golden Gate Bridge.

No matter how many years I live here, I still think the Golden Gate Bridge is one of the most awe inspiring man made items ever constructed. It's truly breathtaking.

And so yes, I brought my new-to-me camera along for the walk so I could learn how it works, and I snapped away.

Here's the thing...there have been millions upon millions of photographs taken of the bridge, professional and amateur alike. We've all seen it from all of its angles. It's all been done, and so it's damn near impossible to get a new and different shot.

But it doesn't matter. The bridge is stunning, and the photos taken, regardless of photographer, are always worth seeing.

So here we go, this was taken from the pier outside of the Warming Hut at Crissy Field:

It's not an especially different or unique view of the bridge...but it's still cool!

So then I try to add some artistic and photographic flair!

Ooooh! The big boat tie-off thingy in the foreground! And a fishing rod! I'm so artistic!

But what does your eye naturally want to see? The glimmering bridge in the background. With the sailboats underneath, it really makes the shot.

And then there's this one:

We've all seen that view. Doesn't matter. It's still stunning! And that clear blue sky! Whoa!

By the by, it turns out the bridge isn't only pretty up on top with the art deco towers and the graceful support cables.

The bridge is even beautiful underneath:

A man made work of art!

And even this...a terribly composed photograph, but it's still fascinating.

This is the tower on the San Francisco side. It seems to be showing some breakdown and rust. This worries me! I understand that the bridge is constantly being painted to keep it sealed and also looking good. So I'm hoping that cutbacks haven't caused a lack of care of our beautiful landmark.

Anyhow, I adore our orange bridge. Completed in 1937 it still stands proud and useful. I wish those yahoolios who are over budget and failing miserably on the rebuild of the Bay Bridge would take some lessons!

All our modern knowledge and technology still can't beat what they made 73 years ago!

So one day, you're walking down Vegas Boulevard and...

Oh man, I can't *believe* I forgot to blog about this... I think I Tweeted, but 140 characters does this no justice.

So picture it if you will. Las Vegas Boulevard just a week or so ago.

I'm over at the Mirage because I was hungry and wanted the fare offered at the Carnegie Deli***.

I swear, I am a New York Jewish girl, because I gotta have their chopped liver salad. Just *gotta* have it!

So after finishing my meal and losing a few bucks to the slots, I decided to walk.

I always have to take some time to walk Vegas Blvd to see how it has changed. Plus, you get a whooole different view of The Strip at street level.

There I am walking north on the strip headed toward Fashion Show Mall with a destination of the Trump Hotel nestled in behind the mall, when I see a little alcove-like thing in the wall around the Mirage.

People are lined up there and I figure, well, it's some Vegas thing, a mostly naked show girl, an "amazing double" dressed up as Michael Jackson (only I just saw him a couple hours ago back at the Bellagio) or a Three Card Monte game, who knows.

I was not prepared for what I saw.

Not. Prepared.

I come around the bend and see this lush green inset in the wall with a railing.

Ok, you know when you go to a cathedral or a really large Catholic church and they have the Virgin Mary Grotto? With the statue and the railing and the somber tones?

Yeah. It was like that.

Only the statue people were worshiping was this (click for full size):

If the imagery isn't immediately clear to you, that's a golden rendition of Sigfried and Roy and a white tiger, festooned with fakey shards of crystals shooting out of the cement moorings.

Oh man, everyone was snapping photos like the red carpet. They'd put the kids in front of this thing, or the lady would get in front and the guy would take the photo then the guy would get up there and the lady would snap away, and then the whole family would crowd in there.

People were beside themselves to get photos with this statue.

In a non-ironic way.

Well, I found a break in the crowd and grabbed a couple iPhone photos so I could show The Good Man and we could look at this later and ponder just WTF.

I have no answers.

Other than that's Vegas, I suppose...

***Not intentionally, but we ended up having an "old home" week in Las Vegas. We went to Garduños to fulfill longing for the food of my youth, then later I took The Good Man, a Brooklyn boy, back to the Carnegie for a monster Reuben (corned beef, if you please).

Verbal-Foo Skillz...I has them

: cue the wavy lines and smoke :

Yes, we’re in the wayback machine, set to "semi-wayback"

Lo, these many years ago when I'd first moved to California, I started dating a guy who was (and is) a musician.

A blues musician, which means he played a lot of dark and, well let's go with "gritty," bars in the San Francisco and greater Bay Area.

So, being young and a fairly naïve rube from New Mexico, I used to get all dressed up in cute clothes and impossibly high heels, then head out, by myself, to these bars and clubs to see if I could get the musician to notice me.

So being a young, naïve girl all gussied up to go out, it stands to reason that I used to get hit on by the other patrons of the bars I attended.

A lot.

I mean, *a lot*.

Not because I'm exceptionally pretty, though I'm not a mud fence either. But mainly because I was a girl. Alone. In a bar.

Sort of a siren call for the drunk and lonely.

I have pretty much heard every pickup line in the book. And some from books that no one has written and never should.

Oh yes, I've heard 'em all...twice.

When I was feeling convivial, I'd play with the drunk, slurring sportos like a cat plays with a dying mouse. I'd bat them around a little bit before slamming down the paw.

If I wasn't feeling convivial, I'd get out my acid tongue, a genetic gift from a rather acerbic aunt in my family tree, and burn them on the spot.

One of my favorites is still a late night when all the lights had come up in the bar. The guy I was dating was through working and before he began packing up his stuff, he came over to hang out with me for a minute.

Some very drunk fellow, sensing that the lights were up, began scrambling around to find a warm body, ANY body, to take home.

And of course, since I'm the freak magnet (it's true, been observed by many a friend and even a family member or two), the slobbering drunk made a beeline for me.

His opening gamble was something slurred and incoherent. Honestly, I don’t remember what he said. I do remember his glassy eyed look as he slurred out something and waggled his eyebrows at me.

Weary with a night of fending off such fellows, I looked him square in the eye and asked, loudly, "Are you hitting on me?"

He slurred in return..."um...well, yes. Is it working?"

I replied, "Let me get this straight...you are hitting on me. And *that's* your opening line? That's the best you can do?"

Not to be deterred, he nodded and asked again, "It is working?"

"No," I said very caustically, "And have you met my boyfriend?" who had been standing next to me the whole time.

Thankfully the very large and take-no-prisoners bartender then placed a beefy hand roughly on the drunk's shoulder and shouted, "Get out!"

I relate all of this to place a context on the story that follows. So that you understand that, basically, I have learned how to handle myself.

However...

I stopped going to those sorts of clubs and bars a very, very long time ago. And I don’t miss them, honestly. Well, I miss the amazing music that the San Francisco blues musicians pump out, because there is some amazing untapped talent in that City.

But the clubs...I don't miss them.

Which means, in my now suburban lifestyle, I don't really get hit on like that anymore.

And you'd think my skills in handling the weirdos might have slipped.

Turns out, I still got it.

So there I was...down on Fremont street in Las Vegas with my trusty camera and the goal to shoot many of the restored old Vegas signs that the Neon Museum installed in the area.

It was about 10:00 in the morning, so that was probably my first mistake. Second, I was alone. Third, I was behind the camera and really in creative head.

All of this mixed together meant the moths came dashing over to knock themselves against my flame...so to speak.

At 10:00 in the morning, the tourists aren't really out, so it was me and the, ahem, locals.

I got a lot of "heeey...wanna take *my* picture?"

Um, no.

"Heeey, what's *your* name?" (my least fave opening line, btw)

But the best interaction went like this....

"Hey! Hey? HEY!?!?"

And so I finally turned to see who was bellowing at me.

"You are a big girl! I saw you walking by and I said to myself, I said, you know, big girls need loving too..."

Yep. That was his opening line. He called me fat and then decided I was so lonely cuz I'm such a big girl that I needed his, what would it be...pity? Charity? Selfless giving?

I said, "Uh huh."

"Say baby, what's your name?" he said, turning on ALL the charm.

"Lucy," I replied (using my Nom de Bebida) followed by, "And my husband's name is David."

My suitor then sharply spun on one heel and walked away.

The rest of the morning was not just photography, but a continual improv show in which I was the only performer.

I was Lucy, I was a photography student at UNLV, my teacher had given me the assignment to shoot the signs, and ONLY the signs (in answer to the continual request to "take my picture!"), I was a local, I lived with an aunt and uncle, I'd been living here for a while, no I don’t have any spare change and by god I have a husband and don't need your affections.

It was exhausting.

The final straw was the guy smoking a spliff who came up carrying a Wal-Mart plastic bag which he held out to me. "Wanna buy a Coach purse?" he offered.

And with that, I was done. I caught a cab back to my hotel and stayed inside the rest of the day.

I still got it, but mostly, I just don't want to have to use it anymore.

Alternate spelling, alternate universe

You may recall from a post a while back that I use my secret agent 007 stealth first name when I order coffee and they ask for a name to write on the cup.

My secret agent name is Lucy. I use that name because it's:

1) easy to pronounce

2) easy to spell

3) heard clearly over the whooosh whooosh sounds of an espresso machine

I copied this from a friend (who has my same real first name), even borrowing her own made up nom de bebida, because of the ease of use.

Until this past week at the Honolulu airport.

They asked my name. I said Lucy. They nodded and wrote the name. I got my beverage and it wasn't until I was on the plane that I noticed.

You can't make this stuff up.

Defies words

I had a day today that defies all possible words.

Started out with a road trip down south of Kona to the very end southernmost of the Big Island of Hawaii.

My destination was Punalu'u Black Sand Beach.

I had stumbled across this gem online while looking for actual beaches. Kona is the newest of the islands and as such, doesn't have fabulous sand beaches. It has stunning lava coastline, but no happy sandy beach to lay about and catch some sun...or even walk on and put your toes in the water.

So not only is Punalu'u an actual sandy beach complete with watery toes....it comes with sea turtles!

Yes, actual sea turtles!

I was lucky enough to see five today on the small stretch of sand that comprises this amazing, glorious, gorgeous beach.

Then, after I'd spent several hours with the turtles, full of a turtle induced I, I decided to move on to the Volcanos National Park.

Both Kilauea and Mauna Loa were visible and AMAZING.

I took about three hundred photos today, and I'm sorting them out. The volcanos put a muted light haze on the day which my photographer friends will know is KILLER light for taking photos.

So here's a few to start, more to come:

All photos by Karen Fayeth

Doin' pretty fine

Lava rock means not a lot of sandy beaches. But it sure is pretty.

For my New Mexico friends, parts of Kona I have seen so far (the non-ocean part) reminds me of The Valley of Fire in New Mexico. Black, stark, and really beautiful.

Humid. Obscenely so. But warm.

The morning vog (volcanic fog) has moved on and it promises to be a gorgeous day.

Irrefutable evidence

That there is my actual hand putting my actual absentee ballot into the actual mailbox.

I will be in Hawaii for Election Day, or rather will be traveling home from Hawaii, so I won't really be able to keep an eye on the results.

Either way, it will be newsworthy.

But there you have it. I voted.

Now it's your turn.

I won't tussle over your opinion versus mine. All I ask is that you make your opinion known.

Vote.

Something to look forward to

I believe in life it's always important to have something you are looking forward to. Something that helps get your heinie out of bed in the morning so you can slog through another day.

A reason to prevail.

It can be just about anything. Heck, some folks are looking to the weekend. Others to seeing their kids at the end of the day. Everyday stuff is good, no doubt, but I'm talking the big stuff. The "ohmygoshIcanhardlywait" kind of stuff.

For me this year, it was about the wedding. Yeah, that was a doozy. A real big something to look forward to, and man did it deliver.

I remember walking on the beach with my fresh-out-of-the-package husband on the evening after our morning wedding, and I said to him "you know, we need to find something new to look forward to."

He told me to shush up and enjoy our wedding day, and I did. Soon enough, though, he was saying it too, "we need a new something to look forward to."

Well, we got one. Yup. Two weeks. Hawaii.

Bam! (said with all the Emeril flair I can muster)

I have never been and it's almost like a fairy tale to this New Mexico kid to even think about going.

Sure, yeah, economic crisis, yipes, and all of that. But hey, I'm doing MY part for the economy.

The weather in the Bay Area is starting to turn decidedly frosty. The usually standoffish Feline has taken to cuddling *right* on up with her heat-producing humans. Blankets have come out of closets.

And in just two weeks, I'll be where it's 80 degrees and in an island state of mind.

Oh. Yeah.

And I'll come back just in time to start my new job at a new company.

All that added up…not a terrible "something to look forward to."

Fuming

I'm still fuming a bit from something I encountered while in Albuquerque about a week ago.

Having been raised in New Mexico, I've always been a fan of beautifully crafted silver and turquoise jewelry.

I had the privilege of living near some of the finest Native American craftsmen who create works of art, and I've never taken that for granted.

Over the years, I've always been on my guard and tried to buy from reputable people where I know the jewelry was not only handmade by Native American people, but the gems were real and unique.

So while in Albuquerque near Old Town, I had occasion to visit one of my favorite stores where I know the pieces are always legitimate and beautiful. That place is called Casa de Avila and it's been a place where a lot of my paychecks have gone over the years.

The real stuff, the good stuff, isn't always the least expensive stuff.

So after buying a couple items there, we wandered out onto the plaza. I saw the row of people selling their wares on blankets laid out on the sidewalk and yes, it took me back a lot of years. Even as a kid I knew how to get in there, find something nice, and work with the artisan on a fair price.

Seeing this again, I was fired up to take a look.

For quite a while I've been looking for a particular necklace. A real turquoise graduated bead necklace, like this only longer and in blue turquoise.

That necklace, made by hand (meaning hand shaped round stones) with hand matched beads is VERY expensive, but really a masterpiece.

You can find some like it that are machine matched, shaped and strung, sure.

I'd like a handcrafted piece. Let me just say this....VERY expensive.

So as I strolled along the row of merchants there on the sidewalk, I spotted a really nice looking necklace. I looked at the gentleman who was selling the works, a Native American man, and thought "maybe this is the one".

I walked past his stand to look at what else was out there, told The Good Man "I may be about to spend a very lot of money" and went back to place where'd I'd spotted that necklace.

I kneeled down and picked up the piece that had caught my eye.

Immediately, I knew something wasn't right. For a long necklace made out of turquoise, it was really light. And it didn't have that sleek cool-to-the-touch feel in my hands.

Hmm.

I remember over the years a lot of articles and conversations about how to tell if turquoise is fake.

Something I read once said hold a lighter up to the piece. If it's plastic turquoise, obviously, it will melt.

Not having a lighter on me, I tried another trick. I took one of the beads in my fingers and pushed my thumbnail into it. On that warm Albuquerque day after sitting in the sun, it felt sort of...soft. My nail sunk in a bit, just the tiniest amount, but enough to tell me this was a genuine Native American-made piece crafted of incredibly fake stones.

I put the necklace down and walked away reeling. I told TGM what had happened and he gave the guy the benefit of the doubt, "Maybe he needs to sell a piece like that so he can buy real turquoise". Maybe. Yeah.

But the tag on it said "genuine turquoise". It's a lie.

I didn't actually price the item (it wasn't on the tag) and maybe should have. If he's selling it for $20, then fine. I have a feeling that's not the case.

I'm not naïve, yes, I know this kind of thing still goes on, and the caveat "buyer beware" is still very much in effect.

I was just mad at first...then later sad. I'd hate to think that someone visiting my fair New Mexico would get swindled. But yes, I know it happens and I can't save the world...

By the way...I support Southwest Indian Foundation. They work to help folks in trouble through sales and also via donations.

And they have a beautiful selection of genuine pieces at reasonable rates.

Soon

The table is set.

Sangria on the right for me.

Dos Eqius on the left for the good man.

Chips and salsa in the middle.

Order is placed.

Oh yes.....

If still water runs the deepest…

…then what does Clearwater do?

Sits there and shimmers like the jewel of the Gulf that it is…

(This is not my photo but this is right where I was)

Gorgeous!

I was astounded that the white sand at Sand Key Beach was literally FILLED with seashells, mostly tiny scallop shells. Now, the bottoms of my feet are pretty well beat up from walking on all the jagged edges, but the effect, running hands through sand and finding shell after shell after shell was so very cool.

That's the kick about warm, fairly calm water. Not only shells, INTACT shells.

If you'll excuse the crappy quality of this iPhone photo…look at THESE little beauties! I personally snagged them from the floor of the ocean.

I think my eyes bugged out of my head when I saw them bouncing around in the sand. My cheap but effective goggles kept my eyes in my head as I paddled down to the bottom of the shallow sea floor and scooped them up. There were thousands of them down there!

These are coming home with me, a love gift for a certain wonderful man.

I'll say this, the Gulf wasn't as warm as I remember from my last visit at South Padre Island. It was pretty cold, actually. Much colder than the Atlantic. Though nowhere near as cold as the Pacific.

Oh, which reminds me…in the course of less than one week, I've visited three oceans.

Sunday, I was at Half Moon Bay, gazing at the beautiful but tumultuous Pacific. Tuesday I was at Cocoa Beach, at peace with the Atlantic and today, Friday, it was Clearwater Beach and the Gulf.

Cool, huh?

Clearwater was recommended to me by four separate locals, so that's why I chose to run out there today. The choice of Sand Key Beach was because it was public and it was away from the main drag of hotels and restaurants. There were a LOT of Spring Breakers out, so that wasn't fun.

All said, I prefer Cocoa Beach. It is just a lot more mellow and easy. But today's journey to the west coast of Florida was truly amazing. A day to remember.

I didn't end up taking many photos, sorry. This one will live on in my mind. Another happy place to escape to when work meetings drag on too long.

And now, to pack. While I had fun, I'm glad the week is over. I miss The Good Man and I miss the cranky feline too.

So tomorrow, with noise cancelling headphones in place, I hop a westbound plane and go back to the life I love. I'll be happy to snuggle down in my own bed and sleep contentedly with those I love the most.

There is nothing wrong with Cocoa Beach

If you've known me for a while, you've heard me say this phrase.

A lot.

If you are new to the obsessive compulsive wonders that are Karen, then let me explain.

About ten years ago, I was sent to Orlando on business. I worked for Lockheed back then and we were sent out to have a love fest with the Orlando folks. We were all supposed to be getting along like one big happy corporate family, but we weren't. The Lockheed and Martin merger was…tricky, to say the least.

So on that last trip, me a timid little New Mexico girl, I had some spare time on my hands and I quaveringly looked at the Florida map and planned a drive. An easy drive out of Orlando. About an hour all on one road. Albeit a toll road, which added to the stress.

So I went to Cocoa Beach. Yes, it's all very I Dream of Jeannie, but it had a familiar ring and it was coastal.

While there, I stumbled onto something great. Well, first I went to Ron Jon Surf Shop. As a NM girl, surfing isn't exactly something I know much about. But one day at work I'd found a coffee mug that looked cool and it was from Ron Jon in Cocoa Beach. So I was happy to explore this strange place.

I was stunned by how utterly cool the store was. I timidly tried on bathing suits (two piece, ooh la la) from their endless racks of suits. I ended up boldly purchasing an orange two piece, put it on, then sashayed down the block from the shop and out onto the beach.

It. Was. Awesome. As soon as I got over my timidity, that is. That was the first two piece I'd ever owned. I felt…naked.

Soon enough I was splashing in the warm Atlantic and having one hell of a good time. The people were nice. The people watching was fun and that was one of those days that lives in my memory. A happy place, if you will.

And upon my return, I told anyone who would listen: "There is *nothing* wrong with Cocoa Beach. It is perfect!"

So here I am, once again sent on business to Orlando. And today I got a chance to go once more eastbound on SR-528. I was no less nervous this time, but more prepared. I had a film canister full of quarters for the toll-booths and I knew where I was going. I drove a little more confidently as I have ten extra years of livin' to go along for the ride.

Upon rolling into Cocoa Beach, I was disappointed. It's grown a LOT in ten years. What I liked about it back then was that there wasn't much to the town. Mostly locals and a few tourists. This time there are A LOT of tourists and stores everywhere. The upside, they built a parking structure. Parking was a bear last time.

I went to Ron Jon again. And once again, I shopped for swimming suits. Yes, two pieces, but the more modest tankini's this time. They still have endless racks of really cool suits. And I still had great success there, purchasing not one but two. Yay!

I didn't put one on, tho, it was actually not all that warm today (low sixties with a cool wind). But I still hauled my cookies down the block and out onto the beach.

And as this photo will show, I found everything to be juuuuuuust fine:

Yes, those are my toes in the foreground. And that is the Atlantic ocean in the background.

It's still warm. Or at least one hell of a lot warmer (and calmer) than the Pacific. I picked at shells on the beach, not taking any, just looking. The Pacific is so rough no shell makes it to the shore intact.

Once again, I found NOTHING wrong with Cocoa Beach. It is a little slice of heaven.

Except for this Portuguese little fella. A Man O' War they call it.

And these two yahoolios.

Think the friend will pee on the guy who will soon have stinging hands? (as they say uric acid will help the burn…I don't know if that's actually true……)

But even with stinging fish and brainiacs on Spring Break, it was still a perfect day.

Tomorrow, it's game face. Start at 7:00 and sit all day in a hotel conference room. But that's ok…when the attention span wanders, I'll go again to my happy place. This time I have photos!

East bound and down…

…loaded up and truckin'

Yes, I just quoted the theme from "Smokey and the Bandit" and I'm not sorry.

Ok, maybe a little sorry. But I'd do it again.

I'm in kind-of-panicked but mostly excited mode because I have some travel coming up next week.

In the many long years I've worked at The Company, I've only traveled a scant three times. This will be my fourth trip on the company dime.

I get to go to Northern Florida. For a conference.

There's not a lot going on in the Northern half of Florida. But that's ok. I got that "anywhere but here" thing going. I haven't traveled in a REALLY long time and I'm anxious to get going. I do love to go places.

There are some downsides.

1) It's Florida. And still Spring Break season. I may have to pimp slap some drunk college kids. I'll do it too.

2) I'm not going for fun. I'm going to work. True, a conference isn't exactly *work*, but it involves sitting indoors, eating conference chicken and being over air conditioned to within an inch of my life.

3) It is one long ass plane ride to get from the left coast to the right one. Yeah, shaddup all you "oh, but to fly to Australia is WAY longer" or whatever. I'm just saying… Mama gets restless on a plane. Five hours plus three time zones is just long enough to piss me off, not long enough to get anywhere really good…like London or something.

4) Disney. God I hate Disney. And there is little else to do BUT freakin' Disney where I'm going. Gaaaaah! I Googled "fun non-Disney things to do" and found…well, not much.

Oh well. It's a trip. That I'm not paying for. It will be warm. I won't have to sit at my desk. And the Atlantic is warm.

So there you have it.

I keep thinking "oh, I should pack goggles" then remind myself "WORK! This is work!"

I am taking the camera tho…I'll share any interesting shots. (nod to Avelino on this)

Weekend round up!

With photos!

I have a little Sony Cybershot camera (an older version of this one). It's about five years old and the battery doesn't hold a charge like it should, but I carry it around in my purse in case photographic opportunities arise. Let me tell you, this little point and shoot has served me well.

I originally bought it to go to Spring Training because it has a zoom feature on it. A little zoom helps get the better shots at something like Spring Training (I now have a 75-300 lens for my big boy camera. Now that's some zoom!). Over the years I've pushed the bounds of what this little silver wonder was made to do, and it's always stepped up. It does get a little grainy when I zoom all the way out. And doesn't always zoom as far as I want it to, but that's ok.

So on Sunday, we had a *gorgeous* Bay Area day, so The Good Man and I met up with some friends in San Francisco's Marina for some lunch and then a walk in the sun.

We ended up following the path that leads to the Warming Hut at Crissy Field and ends at Fort Point under the Golden Gate Bridge.

As this area is stunningly beautiful, I, of course, brought my trusty little silver friend. Thing is, I've already taken a lot of shots in this area, and also, I was feeling like an oddball (which, if you know me, isn't all that rare) and wanted to take some different shots. Plus, as the youngest of three kids with older siblings who were closer in age, I learned how to entertain my ownself early on.

Herewith, Karen's self-entertainment for a sunny Sunday:

Here are the four of us taking a break at the Warming Hut. As you know, most people aren't interested in having their picture taken outright, so this was my sly attempt to capture the group. That's me on the right. The lazy tired sitting one and we were only about a quarter of the way into our walk…

And while we were there drinking water and coffee, there was another gaggle having their own gathering. "Hey, you got something to eat? A brotha sure is hungry……"

Since they were in shadow, the color is a little off, but you get the idea.

Then we moved along. I pried my heiny off the wall and the walk continued on to Fort Point.

Proof of the truly gorgeous day we had…

And again, like the yahoolio I am, the "grownups" were having conversation and what was I doing? Dorking around with my camera.

Here is a self-portrait. I like it. I think my hair looks cool. Plus, I'm gratified to see that my nose-grooming regimen appears to be working. It seems to be "all clear" up there…

Then after we were kicked out of Fort Point (they were closing for the day) on the walk back we found this handsome guy. He's a heron and was standing there posing for us like a supermodel. I got a couple shots mainly for my mom who I know is a bird person. Here ya go:

And I then moved slowly to the other side of him and got this one:

The day ended at Liverpool Lil's with some more good eats and a tasty (and warming) glass of wine.

And more of me goofing around with my camera.

See, the restrooms had this really amazing warm yellow light. And it also had mirrors on opposing walls and I've always loved that tunnel effect it makes.

Like, whoa, duuude....

All in, it was a good day. I realize that none of these shots are very illuminating, but they are very me and also remind me of a fun day with good friends. It's the kind of Sunday we should always have. Easy. Slow. Good eats. Friends.

Ah well, back to the sleep-deprived workday. I do love Daylight Savings but it's always such an adjustment.

But I was psyched that there was still light at 7:45 last night. Yes!

Same planet, different world

Today I'm shamelessly ripping off something found over at the awesome blog Duke City Fix.

Read a brief story today 'bout them crazy Londoners…..road closures and evacuations because a Thai restaurant was cooking up some spicy chiles. Called out the fire brigade and the chemical response team, they did.

Best line in the story: "firefighters smashed down the door of the Thai Cottage restaurant and seized extra-hot bird's eye chilies"

Here's hoping they didn't seize them barehanded then later seize something while in the loo. Ouch.

Heh. They'd think Sept/Oct in New Mexico was all out warfare! Don't go to the grocery store, mate. You'll be a goner for sure! :)

Oh Fair New Mexico, 5000 miles away from London, and yet a world apart.

Happy Friday!

Uh oh, she's back in the wayback machine

My friend and resident of Albuquerque told me that the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is well nigh….

Yup, starts October 6.

Let's start with this query…how in the utter $#*&!!! did it get to be October already?

So I was telling my mom I'm considering going to ABQ for the fun and staying with my friend as she lives near the right part of town.

Then I said "of course, anymore it's a complete pain in the ass to go to the fiesta"

That kicked off a step right into the wayback machine.

She said "yeah, remember how it used to just be in a big empty field and we'd go and get right up close, your dad would talk to the balloonists and before you know it, we'd all be holding a corner of cloth, helping them inflate it? That doesn't happen anymore."

No, it sure doesn't.

Remember when the Balloon Fiesta didn't have sponsors? It was just a bunch of ballooning guys getting together for some fun and competition.

Remember when they flew out of Cutter Field? Yeah, that flight path used to take them over our house in the northeast heights (somewheres around Montgomery and San Pedro). I used to dash out to the backyard and wave and try to talk to the balloonists. They were always nice, good for a wave at least if they were low enough.

I remember drinking scalding hot chocolate out of that battered green Coleman thermos, trying to warm my hands and frozen nose, bundled up against a cold October morning at like, oh-dark-thirty.

We'd help some guy my dad just met (my dad never met a guy he didn't know) get his balloon off the ground, then we'd leap into our battered blue and white Chevy Blazer and help chase.

Ya can't do that anymore. Insurance and progress and all that rot, I suppose.

I also remember when I used to work for Honeywell back in 1993. That's when the balloons had already moved to their new location, the Balloon Fiesta Park, which is catty corner to Honeywell. It was HELL getting to work, but I'd go inside, get a cup of coffee, then go back outside with all my coworkers and watch the morning show. Special shapes day was always the best.

When it gets to be this time of year when the nights and mornings are cold but the days warm up nicely, I still look to the sky hoping to see ornaments hanging there, listening for the whoosh of propane. The conditions aren't right here in the Bay Area. Sometimes I sure miss a sky hung with colorful balloons. Nothing like it in the world.

What I did on my summer vacation.

By Karen Fayeth

:)

Man oh man….back at work today after a most luverly week off. It took me three days to just relax enough to realize HOW MUCH I needed a vacation.

'Course it took me three hours back at work to *forget* I ever had a vacation.

By 11:00 I'd already nervously eaten my packed lunch (I do tend toward emotional eating…something I did a lot less of last week when slings and arrows weren't flying at me from all directions).

By noon I already had to ask someone to stop yelling at me. You know for one full week I never once had to ask someone to cease yelling at me? (Unless you count the meowling four-legged one who does get snippy when the bowl is empty…but that's justified, IMHO.)

We'd originally planned a fairly elaborate road trip, which would have been wonderful, but at the last minute, my partner talked me into bagging the road trip and having a vacation at home. I was not thrilled about this at first, but he ended up being right (ssshhhh, don't tell him, okay?)

We managed to get to "those things" on the home list that need to get done but never do. You know what I mean, little improvements to the living space that would be nice, but by the time the weekend rolls around everyone is too exhausted and running errands to even think about it? Right.

So we go those done.

We had a nice sit down breakfast every day.

Bikes were ridden.

Lots of good food was eaten….(I believe I've name checked Sodini's here before….)

Sleep was had. Oh glorious lovely, beautiful, nourishing sleep!

We even played tourists a couple days. In the ten years I've lived here do you know I still hadn't gotten around to walking on the Golden Gate Bridge? Driven over it a zillion times. Been to the fort below the bridge. Been on the Marin side and looked back and took photos, but never once actually walked over the bridge. So we did that. (Crappy iPhone photo at the bottom).

And I read…a bunch. Just for the joy of it. No contracts. No vast emails. Just, books, fiction, enjoyable. Watched some movies.

And mostly I reconnected with my partner. He and I have been running too far too fast. It was nice to just be together. To remember how nice it is to just be with each other. He's still my favorite person to spend a day doin' nothing with. For just the pleasure of his smile alone, it's worth it all.

He took care of some much needed correspondence, I sent off some photos for a contest, and we let the days pace slowly by. God, it was wonderful.

Today I got stuck in a traffic jam on 101. Got to work and was set upon by my over caffeinated program manager, got buried in a mound of papers, and got yelled at.

*sigh*

Here we go again……..

Why I love New Mexico so much, continues....

As chronicled here in the past weeks, I'm *over* the hype around Paris and prison and the iFrapping phone-that-costs-too-much, and I'm weary of sad news from the world of over-hyped media.

I've been making it a point to look for odd, quirky and feel good stories.

And boy, have I got one today.

Shockingly, it comes to us from my old source of snarkiness, ABQjournal columnist Polly Summar. She's been minding her manners lately and writing some pretty good lifestyle pieces. I give it up for Polly, she's got a good sort of Midwestern sensibility about the quirkiness she encounters in Santa Fe. Go Polly!

Today she brings to us a piece about Forrest "Rusty" Rutherford. Not being from Santa Fe myself, I'd not heard of the so called "Sombrero Man".

It is guys like this that make a town great. San Francisco has it's "Bush Man" (among others), Chicago has Woo-Woo Man, New York has the guitar playing guy in his underbritches. It's the kind of stuff of legendary tourist lore. It's something that can bind people together, make a visitor feel like they are "in on the joke".

Santa Fe has Sombrero Man (among others). Seems that Sombrero Man has been collecting sombreros and related gear and gadgets for several years. He's built up quite a collection and is often seen about town wearing 'em. Sombrero Man has a regular everyday job (but that's boring, please, let's talk about who the man *really* is!), but spends his time and resources donning sombreros and making people smile.

And as I struggle with my own cosmic agony, fighting against my silly office job that is causing me to hover on the edge of utter breakdown, crying out into the dark night that "this is not who I AM! THIS IS NOT WHAT I WAS MEANT TO BE!!" I am heartened to see someone "doing it".

Go on Sombrero Man! You wear your stuff with pride! You show the world who you are! Live your dream!

For those in the area, Sombrero Man makes his first "official" appearance of the season at the Fourth of July Pancake Breakfast on the Plaza. If you see him, tell him that a little gal in California thinks he rocks.