~ Adventures In L.A. ~ Part One

It’s been 115 degrees in the valley this past week and from the looks of things, it won’t be cooling down any time soon. I don’t mind the heat but now and then, I enjoy going someplace where the temps are a little cooler. Say, 100 to 105.

On Saturday, KJ and I decided to get out of the heat and drive to Santa Monica with a few stops along the way......LA/Rodeo Drive/Hollywood.

The California wildfires are all over the news today and as we were driving into LA, you could immediately see the smoke billowing out from the mountains as you looked off to the right of the I-10.

I immediately grabbed my camera and started taking pictures. It was fascinating, in a disturbing sort of way to see all that smoke, knowing that not that far away, fires were raging across the mountains. If you’re from the midwest, the last thing you expect to see as you’re driving into a huge metropolitan area like LA is smoke billowing in front of you like Hiroshima.

I’ve posted some of the pictures that I took as we were driving into LA of the smoke from the fires and a few other shots. Notice the billboard add for Verizon ~ obviously we were driving through one of the Asian sections of LA and admittedly, I was surprised at the number of Asian television stations and newspaper buildings. But the billboard had me cracking up.

The last two pictures were taken as we were leaving LA that night. The quality isn’t as good as I had hoped because we were driving down the 10 and it was difficult to get a good shot out of the front windshield. But, if you look really close, the orange spots you can see are fires.

Next stop . . . Rodeo Drive

~ Chicken Fajitas

Since moving out here, I’ve tried to do a lot more cooking. Obviously I have more time on my hands so I need to do something, right? Cooking allows me to get creative in the kitchen and gives me a good excuse to drink wine, and lots of it, while I’m at it.

Tonight, with KJ napping on that really comfy couch and my Murphy zonked out on the floor, I got busy in the kitchen and made chicken fajitas for dinner. And they were, if I say so myself, simply fabulous!

When I decide on a meal I want to try, I scour all over trying to find the perfect recipe. I go online to the cooking sites that I have bookmarked, check the Food Network site and their magazine I get. Today, no single recipe really tripped my trigger. So what I did was take what I liked about the ones that I found, combined this with that and then winged it on my own. I did the same thing not too long ago and got a great Black Bean Salad that I’ll share another time.

All the recipes that I found called for chicken breasts, cut into strips and then browned with seasoning. But, I had ‘prepared’ chicken strips for fajitas that I bought from Costco so I doctored them up with seasoning and a ‘secret ingredient’.

Chicken Fajitas

4 boneless skinless chicken breasts (or the pre-packaged chicken breasts)

Mrs Dash (whichever flavor you like best)

1 green bell pepper

1 medium sized onion

1/4 cup brown sugar (the secret ingredient)

1/4 stick butter

tortillas

Condiments:

sour cream

pico de gallo

guacamole

shredded cheese

Cut chicken breasts into strips and season with Mrs. Dash seasoning. Place in a skillet with half of the butter and cook until done and lightly browned. When the chicken strips are browned, add a small amount of water and the brown sugar. Cook until the chicken is caramelized.

Cut the green pepper and onion into strips and saute in a separate pan using the remaining butter. Saute until the onions are caramelized and the peppers are tender with crispy edges.

Serve with warm tortillas and the above condements and enjoy!!

The entire meal took me about 30 minutes to prepare and get on the table. Quick, easy and delicious!!

~ Sending My Thoughts & Prayers

One of the Pipettes lost her mother this week and is putting her to rest today.

Sending you all my love ~ you're in my thoughts and as always, in my heart.

~ A Birthday Wish

Yesterday was Donna’s birthday. Donna is my sister in law and has been married to my older brother David since 1978. She turned 49 and while I’d love nothing better than to be the wise-ass I can sometimes be and rag her about being a year, which is only 365 days, from the big 5-0, I can’t. I’ll be 49 myself in a few weeks and you know, tit for tat and all that. Besides, I’m not quite sure how I’m going to take being 49. So, I’ll have to keep all age comments to myself this year.

Anyway, if you did the math, you figured out that she and my brother have been married a long ass time. They’ll celebrate their 31st anniversary next month, meaning she got married at the tender age of 18. Uh huh, with the ink barely dry on our high school diplomas, she found herself floating down the aisle and saying “I do.” Thus embarking on the road to marital bliss.

Donna and I met when we were 15 and have been a part of each others lives for 34 years. Snorts, that’s longer than most marriages! My family had just moved to Ft. Worth and I was, well, I was pissed and more than likely had a pretty big chip on my shoulder. We moved from Wichita where I was just getting settled into my new high school and the new friends that I had made. Moving during high school is hard enough ~ now, in the middle of my sophomore year, we moved again and once again, I had to start all over. It wasn’t easy. Matter of fact, it sucked. It was hard fitting in when the kids there had been friends since junior high or longer and cliques had been formed long ago.

Donna’s mom was the Avon lady and after meeting my mom and discovering that she had a daughter at home my age, she immediately sent Donna around the corner to meet me. Didn’t go well at all. I mean seriously, at 15, do we really want our mother’s telling us to go make nice with the new kid?

Because she lived just around the corner, at the end of the school year, we became closer. We were only 15 and neither of us could drive....lol. We did, however have a great summer. We were 15 ~ young and carefree and at that age where really, friendships could come and go on a whim. As it was, she met my brother before we moved back to Wichita at the end of that summer and the rest, as they say, is hisotry.

As the years went by, we shared many life experiences. We went through high school together via long distance. I cried to her about my boyfriends - or lack thereof, and we talked and laughed as girls that age are wont to do. She and my brother got married and four years later, I was saying “I do” myself. We were even lucky to be pregnant at the same time ~ Lynsay and my nephew Corey are only 3 months apart.

Interesting odd fact about us ~ all of our kids were either born on the 21st or the 25th of the month. I know!! Weird!

Anyway, this is just my way of telling Donna Happy Birthday. Of letting her know how much she means to me and how I treasure the woman that she is. Our friendship, as you can see, didn't come and go on a whim. Instead, it's thrived out of love and mutual respect for the past 34 years.

As families, especially those who have thousands of miles separating them, we don’t always talk as often as we should. Getting together in the flesh is even worse. Life, family and jobs get in the way of getting together. Admittedly, I don’t always make the effort that I should but I hope that she knows that I love her. I admire her. I respect her. She is a true yellow rose of Texas. And, one of the strongest women that I know.

Happy Birthday, Donna ~

I love you ~

~ Heaven On Earth

Close your eyes and imagine if you will . . . blue skies and warm temperatures. Now, picture yourself in a beach chair, an unbrella stuck in the sand behind you, a good book resting in your lap, your toes buried in the sand and the vast ocean spread out before you while that perfume of tangy salt air is begging to permeate your skin. This is what I experienced a few months ago and I have to tell you, it was nothing short of heavenly.

Growing up in Oklahoma City and then in Omaha, Nebraska, I wasn’t anywhere close to the beach or the ocean. Years and years ago, the closest I came to living near the beach was in Omaha. There was a park called Peony Park and inside, nestled among the thrilling rides, the noisy midway, and the sweet smell of the cotton candy stalls, was a man-made beach. It was fabulous! I remember how my friends and I were there daily during the summers before it closed ~ lying there in the sand, our bodies glistening from an over abundance mixture of baby oil & iodine and the sun turning our skin a deep shade of golden brown, leaving me with a healthy smattering of freckles. There we were, without a care in the world, surrounded by boys and blaring music, and we thought we were in heaven. Being 17-18 years old, we were in our own heaven.

It’s funny to me that not growing up near a beach, it’s the beach that holds the power to settle and soothe me. The instant I smell that ocean air and the balmy breeze hits my face, the second I can hear those powerful waves crashing on shore, I can slowly feel my body begin to breathe and relax.

From where I am, the beach is, give or take a few minutes, a 2 hour drive. This certain beach trip had us heading to Carlsbad. We got on the 10 (early) and headed west. Now, I hate the 10. Actually, I hate all the freeways in California. People drive like bats out of hell, weaving in and out 4-5 lanes of traffic at 85 mph while texting or talking on their cell phones and basically, not paying attention to what might be going on around them. We weren’t even out of the valley when we came upon an accident in the east bound lanes of the 10. Five fire trucks, 9 highway patrol cars and Lifeflight. And yes, I counted. Traffic was at a complete standstill. People were actually out of their cars, milling around in the median, talking on their phones or trying to see what was going on up ahead. My first thought was that I hoped no one had died but with Lifeflight there, you know that more than likely, someone has some serious injuries. My next thought, after seeing traffic at a complete standstill was, “Now, that would suck if you had to go pee!” A mile and a half up the road, traffic was still at a standstill. Welcome to California! *shakes my head*

Two hours and 10 minutes later, we hit our destination ~ Carlsbad State Beach. Like all the beach towns in California, traffic was unbelievable. You move at a snails pace along the main boulevard as pedestrians run in and out of traffic. Bicycles are weaving in and out of lanes that are bumper to bumper and you’re keeping your eyes peeled for a parking space. We were actually quite lucky ~ we came upon a parking spot on the main boulevard......an old VW hippie bus was pulling out and we zoomed in. Now, standing outside, I searched for the closest bathroom so I could put my suit on. The closest one didn’t look all that close and I thought that by the time I got there, changed and got back, I would have wasted a good 30 minutes that could easily have been spent on the beach.

So, putting KJ on perv patrol, I climbed into the backseat of his SUV, pulled those little sunshade thingees down on the windows and changed. I will say this...it’s much easier to get ‘undressed’ in a car than it is to get ‘dressed’. Anyway, 3 minutes later, I’m out of the car and we’re heading down to the beach. In record time, the chairs are set up, the umbrella is in the sand, I’ve got my shades on, my book in my lap and I sigh. Pure heaven, I say. The only thing missing was an adult beverage being delivered by a smokin' hot cabana boy. *smirks*

Funny thing, I didn’t read much of my book. I was too busy watching the surfers as they bobbed up and down in the water, waiting for that perfect wave. I was like a kid, clapping my hands in glee whenever I’d see the dolphins playfully jumping in and out of the water. And when I wasn’t lounging in my chair, I was walking along the waters edge, looking for seashells, getting my feet wet or drawing my name in the sand.

As the sun began to set and the temperature slowly dropped, we packed up our beach gear and grudgingly headed back to the car where once again, I put KJ on perv patrol while I changed clothes in the back of his SUV. Did I mention that it’s much easier undressing than it is dressing in a car? We stopped for dinner before heading home and while drinking my mango margarita, I realized that I could easily be a beach bum. There is nothing more relaxing to me than a day at the beach. Laying there with your toes buried in the sand, the smell of the ocean filling your nostils ~ for at least an afternoon, you can forget your troubles ~ if you just breathe in and then breathe out, release some stress and just ‘let go’ of any extra baggage in your life that you no longer need to carry around with you.

And that’s exactly what I did . . . I breathed in, I breathed out . . . . and I let it all go.

~ The Little Things

"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

~ Robert Brault

some of the little things . . .

the warmth of the sun on your face

a child's belly laughter

face licks from the puppy

the voice of your child on the other end of the phone saying, "Hi mom, whatcha doing?"

Saturday morning coffee with your significant other

lazy Sundays

~ On A Clear Day . . . .

....you can't always see forever. The picture on the bottom is how I usually see the mountains when I look out my back door ~ on a beautiful clear day the mountains are gorgeous and majestic. There's rarely a cloud in the sky and even more rarely does anything block this spectacular view.

However, this is wild fire season and last week, there were a total of 4 major wild fires burning in the state of California. The picture on the top is my view when the wild fires are burning. We eventually get the smoke, making it very hazy outside. So hazy, that you can barely make out even the outline of the mountains. We can actually smell the smoke in the air, but I'm sure it's not nearly as strong as it is where the fires actually are.

Personally, I prefer the picture on the left ~ beautiful and clear. They're even more beautiful when the first snow comes and the tops are blanketed in white. If I stand out on the patio long enough, I can almost smell that crisp fall air, almost feel the chill from that new blanket of snow.

Close enough for me to enjoy the beauty of it but just far enough away that I don't have to deal with the bone chilling cold.

Perfect!

~ Take Too Many Pictures

If I had just one piece of advice to give to my kids, my nieces and my nephews, and all the other kids in my life, it would be this . . . .

“As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn’t supposed to ever let us down, probably will. You’ll have your heart broken and you’ll break others’ hearts. You’ll fight with your best friend or maybe even fall in love with them, and you’ll cry because time is flying by. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, forgive freely, and love like you’ve never been hurt. Life comes with no guarantees, no time outs, no second chances. you just have to live life to the fullest, tell someone what they mean to you and tell someone off, speak out, dance in the pouring rain, hold someone’s hand, comfort a friend, fall asleep watching the sun come up, stay up late, be a flirt, and smile until your face hurts. Don’t be afraid to take chances or fall in love and most of all, live in the moment because every second you spend angry or upset is a second of happiness you can never get back.”

~ unknown

~ And It Tasted Like Sawdust

Every now and then I run across something that throws me back to the days of my childhood. The other day I was looking at a site that I enjoy browsing through and came across this picture of the Easy Bake Oven. God, I think this was one of my most favorite toys when I was younger. It was like magic ~ a little light bulb in the belly of this play oven could magically turn watery batter into something totally inedible.

I’m fairly certain the one I had looked just like this blue one. If I try really hard, I can conjure up pictures in my mind of it sitting on the kitchen counter, the light bulb flickering on and off in its belly so the inside could get hot enough to bake a minuscule cake or teeny tiny cookies.

I’m also fairly certain that every thing that I pulled out of it tasted like sawdust. But, God bless my mom, she ate it anyway. All the cakes that were the size of silver dollars and flat as pancakes, the cookies that were the size of quarters...she ate every bite without batting an eye. Needless to say, the charm of the Easy Bake oven did not turn me into Martha Stewart.

Oh, my baking skills have improved over the years. My mom told me I bake the best Snickerdoodle cookies and homemade brownies she’s ever tasted. Once I got married and the kids came along, baking took a back seat to the kids, the job, basic family life. My baked goods came out of a box or a tube. KJ jokes that our grandkids will tell everyone that their grandma makes the best boxed brownies ever. Something every grandma wants to be remembered for ~ her boxed brownies.

In any case, the Easy Bake oven was one of those toys of yesteryear that brought hours and hours of fun to girls of all ages.

Hours and hours, or at least until the lightbulb burned out. Which, for my mom, probably wasn’t soon enough.

~ Never Forgotten

Growing up, I had a love of two things ~ books and music. The love of books came from my mom and the love of music, from my dad. When I was in Oklahoma City in June, I told my mom that I have 4,000 songs in my iTunes library and I blame my dad for the fact that I'm a music whore.

I had many 'loves' where music was concerned. I loved Donny Osmond and thought that every time he sang "Puppy Love", he was singing to me and me only. I remember the year I wanted the purple bedroom, my tribute to Donny. But my favorite of all time ~ Elvis. Seriously, how could a girl not love Elvis? The voice, the eyes, the hips and the way he moved them......

One Christmas, my gift from my parents were tickets to see Elvis in concert ~ December 27, 1976 in Wichita, Kansas. I was 16 years old and a junior in high school and to this day, that is the gift that I treasure the most. Yeah, I still have my concert ticket stub, along with a bunch of other Elvis mementos.

Listening to Elvis or watching his movies is one thing. Watching him in person, on a stage, is something entirely different. Remember seeing clips of the Beatles and the way the girls would scream, cry and swoon? That was me with Elvis. I screamed 'til I was hoarse. I cried for the pure joy of being there. And I swear I damn near fainted when he sang, "Fever." Admittedly, he wasn't the Elvis of days gone by. He was overweight and probably high as a kite on drugs. But you know what? I didn't care. Nobody cared. We were there, listening to a legend croon, listening to him mesmerize a crowd and watching him wiggle those hips. And let me just say that even then, the man could still move.

Like most people, I still remember the day I found out Elvis died. I remember where I was and who told me (thanks, mom) and like most people, I'll probably never forget. I couldn't believe that I had seen him on stage just 8 months before and now he was dead. I was 16 and at the time, had a hard time wrapping my head around that one.

Thanks to my parents, I have a gift that will last me a lifetime ~ the gift and pure exhilaration of seeing him in concert.

Elvis Aaron Presley ~ January 8th, 1935 - August 16th, 1977

~ Don't Ask Me To Exercise, I Might Spill My Drink

It goes without saying that I HATE to exercise. There. I put it in bold letters, ever stressing that I truly hate to exercise. Everyone who knows me knows this is a true statement.

I did fairly well at keeping my weight on an even keel before moving out west. A few years ago, I followed the Weight Watchers diet and did pretty damn good on it. I did, however, have help. A bunch of us walked at school. We’d gather after school and walk the hallways. We were sorta like those old ‘mall walkers’ you see racing through the mall at a fast paced clip. They walked through the mall, we walked the halls at school.

Starting out, we all had good intentions. Nancy and I even walked on breaks, using the time to do our ‘dime diving’ (stories for another blog..lol). Eventually, the after school group started dwindling until there were only a couple of us left. It wasn’t long until the only walking I did was either on breaks with Nancy or to and from the car across the parking lot of Target or school.

The good thing was, I worked. I was always going here and there, rarely staying in one place long enough to let those extra bags of cellulite gather on my legs. At home, I was cleaning or doing laundry. During the summers, I’d mow the lawn but even that chore soon left my hands and was handed over to it's rightful owner. Because I was seemingly always on the go, my weight pretty much stayed even.

Until I moved here. I’m not working and I’m rarely on the go. These two factors equal one thing ~ the gathering of the cellulite. So, last fall I started hitting the treadmill. Because hell, I can’t swim every day and well, my swimming quickly turns to lazy floating on my raft.

Now, at one point, the treadmill was in the extra bedroom but when it became apparent that that space needed to be used as it was intended, the treadmill was relegated to the garage. Last fall I started hitting the treadmill. As I hit a momentum, I found myself out there on a regular schedule. I did great ~ the legs started to slim down, the butt started to go back to it’s normal shape and size and I was cussing the treadmill out on a daily basis. Life was good.

During all this, I forgot one small detail. I forgot that once summer arrived and the temperature outside hit anywhere from 105 to 120, that meant that the temperature in the garage would be a comfortable 102-108. Not exactly my idea of a nice brisk walk on the treadmill. Hey, I don’t mind breaking a sweat but I don’t want to bathe in it. Besides, summer is when the spiders are out and we all know how I feel about the spiders. One thing I’m not going to do is take a stroll with one of those bad boys that seem to get off on sending me screaming like a little girl back into the house.

The treadmill has become one of those things I’ve given up during the summer months. I mean, seriously, can you picture yourself walking at a brisk, heart racing clip in an unventilated room where the temperature is at least 105? Nope, me either.

So, I look at it as something like Lent. During Lent, I give up chocolate. Kinda. During the summer, I give up the treadmill. Totally.

I know, hell of a sacrifice but somebody has to do it.

~ The Power of Pink

"There is one pain I often feel, which you'll never know ~ it's caused by the absence of you.

~ Ashleigh Brilliant

When I lived in Omaha and was working at Papio, I was very fortunate to be surrounded by a loving and supportive group of friends. We started out as 5 and went down to 4 when one transferred to the new high school. That group of 4 soon grew to a group of 9 and we’d try to meet at least once a month at one of our homes. These evenings were always filled with laughter, food, wine and an abundance of friendship. I can’t even begin to describe how much I miss this group of women in my life.

Monday night, one of these women passed away after a long battle with breast cancer. My heart hurts. For her family, her loved ones and the women whose lives were so lucky to have been touched by her.

My life, like many, has been touched by breast cancer more times than I care to remember. I lost my favorite aunt to the disease in 1996. I lost one of my closest and oldest friends last year. One of my Pipettes is a breast cancer survivor. And on Monday night, another beautiful soul was taken.

When Sally died last year, I ranted and raved. I didn’t understand how a woman who had enriched so many lives, had so much to live for, had 3 sons whom she adored, a husband, and an army of friends who loved her could be taken from us. I don’t understand how there are people like her who want so badly to live and are taken from us, while there are others who have literally been at deaths door only to be miraculously saved and then not appreciate the second chance at life that they’ve been given. It’s something that will always baffle, confuse and sadden me.

When we lose someone who has been such an integral part of our lives, the pain and emptiness of that loss is overwhelming. We need to remember that life is short and while we’re here, we need to remember to dance, to play, to love and to appreciate.