Ireland: Part Three

It's finally time for Part Three of the Irish Adventure! Big ups to CMD for cronicaling his golf and drinking alone shenanigans  In fact, I am pretty sure that I have used the phrase "cologne of booze and bad decisions" in the last few days.

On Day 5, LTD and I followed through on Matthews suggestion to take the Gap of Dunloe and Lakes of Killarney Adventure. A vintage van that reminded me of Mr. Toads Wild Ride picked us up at the hotel and proceeded to drive around town picking up things for the van and a "jacket". We arrive at O'Conners pub to discover that this is where most people begin the tour. The van quickly fills up with tourists who appear to be mostly American and we head out toward Kate's Kottage. Just before the van drops us off, we get a warning message from the driver: Do NOT take horseback or a jaunty through the Gap. It is a fairly easy walk. These services are just trying to scam you. Perhaps in a display of travel ignorance, I begin to get very anxious. All the plans I have made and things I read said DO take a horse cart, horse, or bike through the Gap. That the 7 miles are much to strenuous to walk and make it back to the boat in time for a ride back. I should have known better. LTD and I are kind of known for our epic walks. Sometimes from friends in Colorado would refuse to walk Pax with me because they knew it meant 5+ miles down random paths. I digress. Since LTD and I have already committed our wholes selves into this adventure, we get some water and head for the horses.

"So which one of you is the more experienced rider?" says the burly Irish man with a mischievous grin. "Um. I guess I am." I say. Mom agrees. I get put on a horse (unidentified by name) that seems to be pretty easy to guide. I'm told he/she is the horse that leads the others. Ok! I say. No problem; assuming that means the horse knows the way. I haven't ridden in a while, but its a tourist destination. I should be fine. The horse's owner hands me a stick and says "don't drop this. You're going to need it." Awesome. I think. LTDs horse continues to drop its head and eat along the way. She (Rosie) is the lead horse except that she doesn't like to move. You can imagine how this goes. My horse gallops in front only to slam on the brakes with the appearance of being lost. LTD's horse leads onward until a fresh patch of grass, or another horse, or a stream, or an errant gust of wind distracts her. This is not good. Most of you are thinking "yeah, yeah, yeah. get on with the story. Ain't no big thing." and that is true. Until about halfway, when our "guide" turns to us and says "I have to turn back now, you're on your own. The horse knows the way, but just in case, I will say a prayer for you". Awesome. Not 2 minutes later, my unnamed horse gets spooked and decides to rear back and head in the wrong direction, taking out any pedestrians that are in its way. Yay. I yell at LTD who's only response is to stop her horse. Rosie is cool with that, since it means she can eat again. Thankfully my horse's owner was not far down the path so all was right on the trail in a matter of minutes. Blisters. Sore bums. Ripped jeans. All in a days ride through the Gap of Dunloe. We arrived and order ourselves a well deserved Irish Coffee.


But Wait! There is more! After collapsing on the luscious greens of the Ireland shore, we are told that our "red boat" is almost always late and that we should return to the house for another pint. Another pint sounds amazing, but we were also told that after 2pm, no more boats would be departing and that we would have to traverse the Gap again. WHY is this information not consistent? Happy with effects of the Irish coffee, LTD and I bask in the sun to wait for the boat. When it does arrive (2 hours later) we discover that is it a skiff. A 12 person wooden skiff with three rules: 1. Keep your hands/fingers inside the boat. The trip has seen quite a few lost fingers and it isn't a pretty sight. 2. If someone in your party should fall overboard, DO NOT try to retrieve them. The boat driver will trouble shoot on the fly with the retrieval process. Too many people have been lost in this manner. Oh. Dear. LTD continues to look at me like she is never going to let me plan a single International (or domestic) Adventure again. The boat ride was harrowing but incredibly beautiful. Weather was starting to come in through the mountains resulting in whitecaps on the lake. To such experienced boaters like ourselves, this seems like not a big deal. I turn around to check on LTD and discover that the driver was refueling the vessel while we were still moving. A passenger was dilligently holding the engine/rudder while the boat operator poured fuel from an extra tank into the main fuel tank. He discovers our horror and laughs a bit. He thinks now is a good time to tell us that the reason he'll have to "think on the fly" if someone goes overboard is because he doesn't know how to swim. At all. We hit a rock on our way through a stone bridge. LTD and I hang on for dear life. Other passengers bundle up in their rain gear to avoid the wetness of the waves. All Americans on the boat wonder why we didn't have to sign a liability waiver. One older women gets off the boat at Ross Castle and begs for an "I survived the Lakes of Killarney Adventure". We all echo the sentiment. The Lakes of Killarney really are a must see. The pictures don't do it justice, but obviously I included them anyway.

LTD and I arrived back at the Killarney Park Hotel shortly before RBD2 and CMD. Naturally we ordered a few pints, Irish Coffees, and some snacks. All in a days work. Part Four (and hopefully the conclusion) to come shortly!

Every Rose Has It's Thorn

I seriously believe that I have a restless soul. My brain never stops moving, which is not always a good thing. I toss and turn, continually second guess decisions, and wonder what life would be like if I lived in City A, but maybe City B, or a combination of City A and City B with plenty of room to indulge in what I believe is the glamorous life of a gypsy. Only, without the negative aspects like stealing and living places illegally.

Since I have no idea how long I will be in a particular place, I try to make a serious effort to get out and find my own adventure, to make sure that I really live and indulge in the various activities of my new surroundings. That leads me to the subject of this blog post. One random Sunday, I decided that I was going to get up early, and walk down to the Marina District for a relaxing cup of coffee before hopping on MUNI to the parking lot of the Golden Gate Bridge. I'd take a leisurely stroll across the bridge, catch the MUNI over to Golden Gate Park as the fog rolled in to view the Picasso exhibit before heading home to walk and feed the dog. Sounds like a most perfect day doesn't it?

I should mention that I have a love/hate relationship with MUNI (the bus system). It gets me where I am going, but rarely in a timely, comfortable manner.

New York Times' Best Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe

My morning didn't start out quite like I planned, because I forgot that I needed to make RBD3 some baked goods because LTD and LDL were going to be taking a break due to the impending arrival of MLL. See the previous post of me about my lack of baking equipment. It was quite the experiment. I followed the instructions perfectly, but they didn't tell me that I need to mix the dry ingredients together before mixing into the wet. I don't have a stand mixer, so my forearms had quite the work out. But at least the set-up was neat and tidy!

ALL these people were on my bus.

After messing up my cookies (waaaaay too floury), I walked to Fillmore to catch the sweet view from the top of the hill and grab the bus to the GG bridge. The bus is late. 20 minutes late. But it would be just my luck to head to catch another bus, or start walking, or just go get my car, and then my bus would show up. So me and about 20 foreigners are hanging out, waiting to get to the bridge. Pretty soon it becomes apparent that I live in the city (and I am by myself) so every single party asked me if MUNI was always unreliable. If someone would pick us up soon. We became friends. Good thing too, since when a non-full bus finally arrived (3 full ones passed without stopping) we crammed in like sardines. I took a picture of people exiting so you would have some idea of what the ride was like. OH! I forgot to mention that by the time the bus picked us up (waited for over an hour) the fog had started rolling in, covering bridge views.

After throwing myself out of the bus to prevent trampling, I headed to the bridge to start my walk. With 1,000 of my closest friends. Lucky for me - the Park Service is aware of heavy crowds. To make things even better, the west side of the bridge is closed, meaning that tourists pedestrians, tourist cyclists, leisure cyclists, leisure runners, and crazy people that ride 150 miles a day were all on one 8ft wide piece of concrete suspended in air. Plenty of crisis hot lines were around though. I politely asked the German next to me to take my picture. He took a long time and finally said "Oh. Is it just you?". Yes sir! Just me! Just take the picture already. It's a terrible picture of me. One of those - I shouldn't have to wear sunglasses because there is no sun, and yet I still squint - ugh.

Claustrophobes, turn back now!

Yes, I did this in August and am wearing a sweater.

So I walk the bridge. It gets much better after you make your way past the advertised "vista" where most people stop to shield themselves from the wind, take a picture, and turn around. Truthfully, it was very calming. I couldn't hear much but the tinnitus anyway, so the rush of the cars flying by was soothing. I took a few pictures along the way for your viewing pleasure. Side note: when I take pictures, I move to the side of the "trail" so that the cyclists, runners, and walkers can pass. Not everyone is aware of this piece of travel/picture etiquette. I find that young females are the biggest perpetrators of this rule. They seem to think that every one will think they are cute and funny, lining up their giants bikes across the entire span of the walkway. Yeah. Super cool. Cyclists rang their bells like crazy. Kind of funny.

Lookout for jumpers. Easy to do without fencing. 

Pretty cool right? Even covered in fog.

I enjoyed my walk. I can cross that off the "must do" list. I enjoyed it so much that I was tempted to walk all the way to Sausalito and have a tasty adult beverage (like a hot toddy - in August). But Picasso and his Masterpieces from the Musee National Picasso Paris awaited. So I touched the other side of the bay (to say I completely crossed), turned around, and speed walked back to the parking lot to catch the next MUNI to Golden Gate Park and the  de Young Museum. In hindsight, I should have driven my own car, or ridden my bike but that's 20-20 right? Oh! I forgot to mention, that will I was trying to take a picture of the small window of no fog while waiting for the bus back, people just stepped right in front of me. I just I left too much space between me and the railing. Clearly, totally the fault of me and my personal space.

Really? All up in my "zoom" space

MUNI finally comes to pick me up at 4:00pm. I just discover (via my slow as molasses iPhone) that they stop selling tickets at 4:30 so that the museum can close at 5:30. What? On a week night? But I'm making decent time. I only waited for the bus for 20 minutes, stopped at 10 different places, and finally got off at Fulton. I immediately cross the street and start walking toward the de Young. Except I went the wrong way. I was supposed to be headed toward the Rose Garden and instead I'm headed to the polo fields. GG Park is ginormous.

I missed the last ticket sale. Even the Academy of Sciences had closed at that point. The only food left in the area was Indian (ew) and Blue Bottle Coffee (delicious, but I'm already sleeping funny). The Japanese tea Garden was still open. Everyone and their grandmother was headed over there and it was another entrance fee. So, I called it a day. Missed the 44 - decided to walk to the 1. Rode the bus for 5 minutes until it broke down and we had to transfer to a different bus. Finally got to my home stop, walked inside and discovered that Pax had thrown up in his crate. Awesome. At least I saw the rose garden! In August. Even though it feels like Winter.

If my main goal was to have an adventure in the place I currently call home, then mission accomplished.

The Bells

I love talking to LDL on gchat on an almost daily basis. In fact, when I can't find her online - you know, cause she has other things going on besides sitting at her computer - I find myself in a bad mood with no outlet for my daily stories. She thinks I'm funny and I need that.

In the midst of all our moving, traveling, learning, and adventuring, we are also brainstorming on ways to make our mark in the world outside of our days jobs (mothering & engineering - LDL wins that battle). I, like twenty bazillion other people, would like to one day write a book. Not even a novel and definitely not The Next Great American Novel, but rather a small book of short stories or vignettes based on real-life.

Fast forward to the past couple of months, when my already lackluster hearing has taken a turn for the worst. It's not a funny situation to be in and I am sure there will be posts about the annoyances that occur from that later. But for now, the stories that happen to me because I can't hear much are pretty funny. The following is today's conversation with LDL.

 me:  well - one hilarious thing

do you know that I only have one bowl big enough for mixing?

 ldl:  i did not - seems you should get another bowl

 me:  so I mix dry ingredients in a ziplock and then slowly add them to the wet ones occupying my one bowl

 ldl:  hahahahaha

you should blog about that

 me:  and I use the same ziplock

 ldl:  though it surprises me, being the tree hugger you claim to be

 me:  I know. I have so many stories to tell

 ldl:  oh, that helps

 me:  me:  and I use the same ziplock

 ldl:  got it

i think it is ziploc btw

 me:  so. . . sometimes things have a little baking soda/powder/brown sugar etc and it's not supposed to

patatoe potato

here is what is REALLY hilarious

I was at jamba juice yesterday (after having spent an hour at the post office - but I did make the surly clerk laugh)

and I ordered a strawberry smoothie

the clerk behind the counter then asked me "can I have your number?"

I was SO taken a back

 ldl:  oh my gosh

 me:  aback? one word?

 ldl:  you thought he was asking for your phone number

WAS HE!?

 me:  and I said - "um. no."

 ldl:  no idea, get on with the story

 me:  and he said "well, what else can I get you?"

we are both very confused

turns out he actually said "does that complete your order"

 ldl:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

how did that end up turning out????

i mean, its not funny that you can't hear - but that is stinking hilarious

taylor

 me:  he gave me a survey to fill out - I can win a "buy one get one free" smoothie

Crime to be Broke in America

Today I went down to the ferry building because I forgot to pack my lunch. I spent $11 on a bento box that I didn't enjoy that much just because I couldn't decide what I really wanted. Then, because I have a bit of a sweet tooth, I stopped by the candy shop and spent $7 on a package of chocolate graham wafers. Later in the afternoon I went with a co-worker to grab an afternoon cup of coffee and spent $3.95 on a chai tea latte.

While we were sitting and sipping in the evasive sunshine, an old woman who looked a little worse for the wear approached. "Excuse me, pardon me for interrupting and bothering you but I am wondering if either of you can help me get something to eat" she said. I was taken aback at her demeanor, clearly downtrodden and embarrassed. I wondered what had made her choose me instead of the 25+ other people sitting in the same area. Immediately I knew that I wasn't going to be able to turn her down. "What do you need that you would like me to help with?" I replied. "Just maybe a slice of pizza or a sandwich, doesn't have to be much". Since the city has quite a large (and aggressive) homeless population, it is not unusual for people to ask for money and be upset when you offer them food. This woman seemed genuine. I asked her if she'd like to walk across the street to subway so that she could order her own sandwich. She grinned with an empty mouth and said that sounded just fine and thank you for not being rude. We quietly walked together through the crosswalk and into the shop, engaging in some small talk but unable to hear each other well. There was a lot of smiling and nodding.

The women behind the counter seemed surprised when I directed her attention to the petite woman dressed in sweats, missing some teeth when she asked for my order. My friend was fairly soft spoken, so I needed to be there to relay the requests. "What kind of bread would you like?" the server asked. Your softest kind was the response. Please add turkey and swiss cheese. Do toppings come with or are they extra? She looked at me for approval. "They come with the sandwich", I said. "Please, order what you would like". Tomatoes and a little bit of dressing. I paid the bill of $4.95 as the cashier still looked curious about the situation.

I walked back to work with a little spring in my step. I'm not sure how hungry she was or if anyone else had helped her that day. But I gained a little bit of perspective about the things that I take for granted and hope that I can remember this lesson. Everyone deserves to be shown a little kindness. Regardless of my other charitable contributions, sometimes it just feels right to give in the moment.

It's Raining Men (Every Specimen?) Part Two

I thought I had outgrown the old (and unnecessary) "Leave room for Jesus" warning from various school dance chaperone's and my Dad. Dad taught me the most perfect way to thwart unwanted closeness regardless of respective strength. Try this with me now. Bend your arm so that it it 90 degrees to your hip. Place your elbow directly on your hip bone. Hold steady. Now have a buddy try to push closer while in typical school dance posture. Brilliant right?

Never did I think I would need this move as a 20-something while out dancing and hanging with my friends. Here we go.

THE TOUCHER - "don't give me no lines and keep your hands to yourself"
Even before I moved to San Francisco I had heard that the Mission neighborhood was an awesome place to head out for dinner, but that I probably wouldn't feel "cool enough" to actually live there. After all, even though I own a pair of skinny jeans and have long been a fan of Chuck Taylor's, I very rarely wear them together. I have my sister LDL and her "toothpicks in a bucket" comment to thank for that. But when I got a tweet/text from an old friend from college telling me that she and her bridal/bachelorette party had finished with their tour of Napa and had moved on to 16th street, I put on some shoes, grabbed my Clipper card and headed out the door. Truthfully, I would have gone anywhere for a chance to catch up with JMH.

JMH and her posse of hilariously fun women were hanging out at a small establishment called Double Dutch. It's one of those places where the long and narrow entrance lends itself perfectly to the crowded bar and then dance floor layout (not unlike Roberts' in Nashville). After jamming out for a while the whole group was in need of refreshments. Since I was getting a bit claustropobic on the dance floor, I ventured out to the bar. While trying to purchase a few tasty adult beverages a member of the JMH posse (and a new pal of mine) saunters over and challenges me to see if I can get someone else to pay. This is not my game. I am terrible at this game. I would MUCH rather fork over my hard earned cash than have to pretend to be interested. But I accidentally made eye contact, my new friend was fired up and thus began the slippery slope.

With our ice cold drinks (paid for by me) and followed by two new, eager young men, we head back to the dance floor. Man in the red shirt had a signature move. It's called "let me see if I can grope you without you hitting me". Since this is a family oriented blog, I'll leave it at that. But it was awful and he did it to everyone. At once point, I was sandwiched between him and his collection of eager friends, saved only by my ability to slip through small spaces like I was coated with vaseline. Also, I have a pretty mean right hook. JMH and the posse thought it was pretty hysterical. I'm sure the distraught and exasperated look on my face was awesome. But alas, the night was ending, the bouncer was escorting us out and our new red shirted friend was sticking a little too close for comfort.

And then, JMH reared back, turned to old red shirt and said "YOU need to watch your hands". He recoiled, confused and embarrassed and then reached for my waist to hug me close. +see beginning paragraph for my next move+ Caught off guard by my swift reflexes he tried again, this time from behind me and told JMH "it's what you girls want. It's why you dance." And then FIRE shot out of her eyesockets and she said. . . .

Well, actually, that's Bill Cosby's line. But you get the point. Girlfriends Unite: 1 Red Shirt Posse: negative one billion.

It's Raining Men (Hallelujah?) Part One

First things first: Nothing has changed in my personal life and I definitely am not trying to go all Elizabeth Taylor out here on the West Coast. I've never really been a fan of giant jewelry. That being said, I realized while sharing a few of my most recent stories with LDL that they all involve some kind of bizarro conversation with a strange man. I've done my best to categorize them.

THE GAMBLER - "know when to walk away; know when to run"

Recently I was invited to an event by a member of senior management for my company. It was hosted by the Asian American Society of Architects and Engineers. The event included dinner (Chinese) and a speaker who happened to be the project manager for an upcoming $4.6 billion sewer reconstruction project. The goal was to present a good image about our company. I'm the token "diverse engineer" (as a white female - duh). Anyway, during the meet and greet mingling session everyone jostled for a place between the presenter's table in the front of the room and the bar. Being the crazy observant person that I am (it's not normal to locate an exit immediately?), I spot an unfortunate looking character. He is definitely passed middle age, shorter than 5'8", wearing an old school Texas-style string neck tie, transition glasses midway through transitioning and a hat that is best described as a cross between a cowboy hat and one used by fishermen. Flaps tied up obviously. I've sketched a picture: please remember I am an artist by desire only.

So this man "Walter" saddles up next to my manager, a co-worker and myself and begins selling his trade. Ignoring me. Turns out he is a "private consultant" looking to be paid by the hour for engineering work. It was clear he did not think I was important enough to impress and bypassed me when handing out his business card. As he was leaving, he scooted up behind me and whispered in my right ear. Immediately I am two things: Perturbed and Losing. Because he is speaking into an ear that hasn't worked in 27 years it appears by my body language (turned toward him, neck arched, reading lips) that I am actually interested in what he is saying. What's really happening is that I am listening intently, desperate not to accidentally volunteer for something. What follows is a series of questions that I deem totally inappropriate and so I lie. I lie easily. It's scary how easy it was to make things up. It saved me this time but oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. Self-defense is excusable right?

Gambler: What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? Do you have roommates? What are your favorite places to go? Can I look you up on your firm's website? I notice you aren't wearing a ring - good thing for guys like me. Have you ever been to The Starlight Lounge? I'm there practically every night. I'd love to take you to dinner there. No? Huh. Okay, well if you change your mind or just want to stop by it is located - location conveniently forgotten. Enjoy your evening. Here is my card in case you want to get in touch. Extra long gaze into my eyes and purposeful finger graze. I threw up in my mouth a bit.

It's funny how when he was looking for work he didn't have enough business cards to hand one to me but when he is looking for company at the Starlight Lounge he has plenty. Gross.

So that's it folks. Just another day in the life of a young(ish) engineer, desperate to break free of cubicle land.

Don't Stand So Close To Me

I am reading a deliciously good book; one that has me grinning as I turn the page and wondering what could possibly happen next or when these idiots are going to get caught. I can't help but feel that this is the kind of book that I could write myself, if I had any knowledge of scandalous love affairs in New York City. I'm embarrassed to be enjoying it because it's not a classic or enlightening. So embarrassed in fact that I am thankful it's on my ipad so that I don't have to hide the cover on my bus rides; though I do still shield the screen from wandering eyes. The point of this is to say that on a gloomy, cold, rainy day in San Francisco I was looking forward to eating lunch at my desk and then locating a soft, comfortable reading chair somewhere with a hot tea to lose myself in Rachel and Dex's dramatic lives for what surely be a swift hour.

I try Tulley's coffee right by the office. Their chairs are less comfortable than my desk chair. I try Peet's Coffee and Tea (because it smells divine) only to realize that there are zero places to sit - forget comfortable! So I head to the old reliable Starbucks and resign myself to the fact that I'll have to get comfortable with bench seating next to two men having the typical "can I meet you for coffee to discuss my career" conversation and a woman chatting away into those ubiquitous white iphone headphones. Rachel, Darcy, Hillary and Dex beckon. I settle in with my medium vanilla latte and fire up the ipad.

Dreams squashed. Apparently I am much more approachable than people tell me. A young man, we'll call him Alex (because that's his name) sat down and without so much as a glance from me starting asking me questions. How are you? What do you do? How did you get interested in that? Are you the only girl in the office? Do you have plans this weekend? I promise, to all those readers out there who may be excited for a potential love interest in my life that they would not have entertained this particular option. Honest Promise. How do I exit the conversation gracefully? Here is how that exchange went down:

Me: I'm really interested in this book and only have a few minutes before I get back to work
Alex: Oh how great! An engineer that loves to read!
Me: Yep. (I'm half wanting to tell him that I am engrossed in chick lit but don't want to engage)
Alex: That's just so rare. What are your favorite books?
Me: All of them but maybe the one I'm trying to read now.
Alex: No, really. Pick one. I'll buy you a cupcake if we have the same one.
Me: I don't really want a cupcake but To Kill a Mockingbird or Monkey Wrench Gang
Alex: What are the chances? Me too! Chocolate, vanilla or red velvet?

Lunch time book diversion: Fail. Possible new friend in the city: Fail. Graceful exit: Fail. You can't make that stuff up my friends.