So long, SoCal...

Well, it's officially official. I'm currently sitting on a bed in a lovely little inn in Park City, UT (home of Sundance and the 2002 [... or was it 3?] Winter Olympics [ok, so that may have been Salt Lake City, but Park City is close enough. they at least both have the word 'city' in their names). My car made the Day 1 600 mi. nearly-vertical climb (it really was a complete upward trek from LA to Park City), despite the nausea-inducing highways and despite being packed to maximum capacity with unnecessary items like shower curtain rings and marshmallows (which will, in fact, come in handy as an evening treat tomorrow night when we go camping in random wyoming).
So, now that I've had time to reflect on life, here are some things I've realized:
1. Drinking margaritas on a nearly-empty stomach the night prior to a road trip is never a good decision, especially when the night ends with you puking in some shady alleyway.
2. There is no better feeling than beating the LA rush-hour traffic.
3. Starbucks makes an assortment of delicious pastries.
4. There are some true assholes on the road (mostly SUV drivers who don't believe in sharing the road).
4b. I'm also one of those assholes.
5. High altitudes really mess up one's digestive system. i won't go into that any further.
6. Nik now hates me because I am completely and utterly anal about my vehicle.
7. Frijoles = beans.
8. Utah is more than just mormons and polygamy. It's also 12-passenger vans carting 2 adults + 10 screaming children driving in front of you, along 75 mph roads... oh wait. Mormons and polygamy. That's it.
9. I kid, i kid. Utah is beautiful, with placid lakes and towering red mountain ranges.
10. I may have to move to Park City, UT one day, rather than to a farm in the midwest. Let's be honest; mountains and hot cider > cowpies. Agreed.

Really, then it seems that the realization hasn't hit that San Diego/LA is no longer home. Perhaps Day 2's 200 mi. trip to Wyoming will make me reflect on life in socal...
Maybe if I stopped drinking margaritas. that might also help. putting down the glass riiiight now.

NyQuil nightmares and DayQuil daymares

I used to never get sick.

I'm serious. I think it was because my mom force-fed me whole milk until I turned 12 and realized I was actually obese.

I was the kid who didn't know what was so great about cherry and grape flavored Dimetapp (although, out of jealous curiosity, I once convinced my mom that I had a sore throat, and, not realizing I had magical powers, i.e. childhood immunity against viruses, she bought me a bottle of grape deliciousness that was Dimetapp. which, I chugged straight out of the bottle. What? I'm an only child, so who else was going to be taking children's cough syrup?), or how being sick actually really kind of, well, is awful.

Hard to believe I really didn't get sick, ever? Well I'll prove it. with a story. which, you may or may not choose to believe. So, I never missed a day of middle school or high school. My school was weird and gave out awards for strange accomplishments like, not missing a day of school since 1996. So, that award was supposed to go to me. and boy, would I have loved getting that plaque! But, instead of attending the awards assembly, I, along with the rest of our senior class, was attending a different type of function involving roller coasters and hot dogs. We were partaking in our unofficial senior cut day, at Six Flags in the great state of NJ. So, I never got to experience that plaque with my name on it, stating that I had never missed a day of school. Because, in fact, I had missed a day of school-- the most important day for me to NOT have missed school-- the day I was to be acknowledged as the only kid in high school... to have never missed a day of school. How ironic.

Anyway, I digress.

I started getting the oh-so-common cold once I started college. Although, really, what kind of super-human doesn't catch a cold in below-zero Michigan winters? I guess though, seasons don't particularly matter, since: a) it's currently the beginning of June and I have a lovely cold, and b) what actually causes colds to get passed around is population density. So, I guess it was inevitable that, in the dorms I eventually caught whatever nasty bug everyone else already had. And, so here I am, now, as your average 20-something adult, lacking my super-immune-system, and still pining for my glory days where having a plaque to celebrate my immune system seemed like a petty and trite event that i just brushed it off. Little did I know that without it would come my downfall.

Dun-Dun-Duuuun.

Please excuse me. I'm high on DayQuil.

Albuquerque, really?

So, as the obsessive planner that I am, I've begun my hunt for freebie boxes. For my move, in... 2 months. (Advice: don't get banana boxes. Unless you really enjoy the aroma of squished banana matter and bug carcasses.) Furthermore, I've google-mapped San Diego to Bloomington, although apparently google wants me to go through Albuquerque, NM (which I barely can spell-- and you know how I feel about places I can't spell. Do you? Answer: indifferent! got you!). Actually, weird thing about google wanting to take me through weird states like NM-- when I was thinking about places to apply to school, I actually did fill out this pretty intense online quiz that gives you your top however many cities/towns you'd be likely to not run away from. One of my top 5? Albuquerque. Yup. Although, I swear it was spelled differently. And, in the little description of Albie, I was informed that they have an annual hot-air balloon event that apparently rocks everyone's socks off. So, I'm sold. Perhaps I'll mosey on over in my then over-heated car, and marvel at those balloons. And, possibly get stuck in one of my supposed top-5 cities. and never make it to indiana. i mean, bloomington never made it to my top 5. but then again, none of the places i ever lived in did. so, have i just been miserably out-of-place my whole life? ......oh, internet. how i love you so.

best website, ever.

You seriously need to check this out. It's AMAZING.

www.littledirector.com

you can animate your own drawings! how adorable?!

Goal of the year: Make the washing machine sheep story into a MOVIE. yes. you kind of peed in excitement, i understand.

why can't every day be free-cone day?

When my mom came to visit a week ago, we went to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch one day. When it came to cheesecake-time, instead of the cakes decked with chocolate cookie crumbs and goops of peanut butter, we split a tasteful lemon raspberry cheesecake. Now, I admit, I'm kind of a sucker for decadent cakes. I won't settle for any old chocolate cake; it has to be the intimidatingly named death by chocolate 7-layer black forest cake. However, this particular day, I felt like a light and fruity number. At first bite, I was truly in love. I kid you not. Madly in love. with a slice of cheesy heaven. It made me realize how I've simply forgotten how things are supposed to taste. Cheesecake is supposed to taste like cheesecake, with a slight lemon zest, not like a chocolate chip cookie. If you wanted a chocolate chip cookie, eat a chocolate chip cookie, not a cheesecake that sort of resembles the flavor of a c.c.c. What other things stopped tasting like what they ought to? I'm glad you asked.

1. popcorn. (cheddar? caramel? chocolate? seriously?) (ok, caramel corn is superb. but, still.)
2. have you noticed that vegetables now just taste like garlic? and butter?
3. graham crackers (cinnamon? chocolate? what's the point?!)
4. coffee + coffee creamers + hot chocolate + virtually every hot beverage
5. cream cheese. listen, i love cream cheese + lox on my bagels on occasion, but who seriously gets smoked salmon flavored packaged cream cheese?
6. ......

ok, so when i started this list i envisioned a list of, oh, 20 or so items. i've realized i actually like all the things that don't taste like what they're (naturally) supposed to. also, it occurred to me (frighteningly), just now, that you can season anything to taste like virtually anything. like.... hey, if you're craving something vanilla-y, and you happen to be cooking up a mean burger on the grill... you *could* end up with a vanilla hamburger. (which, i bet is on the secret menu at in and out). or, or, or.... you accidentally reach for the paprika instead of the cinnamon so you end up with a muy caliente (please tell me that's "very hot" in spanish. the only word i know in spanish is abuela) pumpkin pie.

which brings me to free cone-day (i guess there's no good segway from paprika pumpkin pie). ice cream is something i'm truly grateful that the flavors surpassed the neopolitan trio of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. what would you do without a pint of Half-Baked or Phish Food?

on a different note, have you ever taken the time to meander through the ben and jerry's website (http://www.benjerry.com/)? Um-- it's well worth the time and effort. Especially the flavor generator (when they had that up... maybe they don't have it anymore? not that... i've been checking out their website for years or anything. or that i'm a registered chunk spelunker. or that i get the ben and jerry's newsletter every month). but seriously, great company. did you know that they're really into saving the planet *while* making people happy (and deliciously obese? not to put a damper on things, but we really do have to do something about the obesity rate in the U.S. i say this as i write approx. 2 pages on cheesecake and ice cream. nice.)

The thing about birthdays

Today is someone's birthday. Facebook and myspace both haven't alerted me that it's a friend's birthday, but it's bound to be someone's, right?

The thing about birthdays is that you age. You get one year older every year. When you're 5 you can't wait to be 6. That's one year closer to a double-digit birthday, which makes you really mature and responsible. By the age of 10, you probably stopped wetting your bed, had your first playground kiss, and have felt old enough to stop ordering from the kid's menu (at least I did. But then again, I was an obese child whose appetite couldn't be satiated by a dinky kid-friendly serving of chicken tenders. Come to think of it, I order kid's menu meals more now, as a 23-year old, than when I was 10).

So, aging is exciting when you're still in your single-digits. Actually, even in the double-digits (at least early on), aging is great. Even when you're 10, you still have your teens to look forward to. As a teen, you start fantasizing about how old you're going to be when you marry your then-boyfriend. At least, teenaged girls do. At least, teenaged girls on Long Island who have nothing better to do, do. So, as a teen, you look forward to 24, which is the precise age you want to get married to your then-boyfriend. when you're a bored teen on Long Island. Oh, but before 24, there's the oh-so-important, magical age of 21.

To be honest, I didn't really look forward to turning 21. At least, not to the extent of many of my fellow dorm-buddies. Perhaps it was the fake ID + the cashiers at all the campus beer-huts willing to overlook my obvious under-21-ness. Perhaps it was the shamefully low tolerance I had for alcohol. Perhaps it was my perpetually empty wallet. I was perfectly content throwing back a $3 bottle of Boone's Farms, bought around the corner at the shady-mart with my fake ID, instead of glamming up for a night on the town.

Anyway, birthdays. At what point do you just start wanting to turn a year younger, rather than older? Is there nothing to look forward to after 25? Is it too early for me to start thinking that? Can you still want to be 22 next year while wishing you were ready for more responsibilities (like adopting a pet? like buying a home?)?

Am I having a quarter-life crisis?

Yes.