Memorable, Beautiful, Priceless 20 hour road trip

Ariana and I headed home yesterday at 7:30 in the morning. We went down the Pacific Coast Highway this time, giving ourselves full permission to stop whenever we passed something that just might look cool. With cliffs and ocean to our right, mountains and changing leaves to our left, and a beautiful cloud of fog over all of it, we had a little trouble staying in the car at all. We stopped at Monterey, Carmel by the Sea, a few random Vista Points, saw the elephant seals, ate in San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, and Ventura. It was maybe the most gorgeous drive of my life, and so exciting. And Peaceful. If it's possible to cram those two feelings in at once.
We also stopped in LA and met John's dad, who was so sweet to us and talked to us for like an hour and a half. We had thought it might be weird to just show up, but John had warned him, and it was really just so fun.

Lastly, at 8pm, we stopped at Marina Del Rey (my favorite George Strait song, and a beautiful beach) and just chilled for a little bit. And then headed home.
Freeways in LA SUCK, in case you're wondering. Besides being like 20 of them, they branch of a zillion times with no warning and its a little terrifyiing. And John completely saved my life in this aspect. He told us step by step how to get everywhere and then called about every 10 minutes to make sure we really took the turns we were supposed to. Thank goodness. We almost got good there at the end.
The ride home from LA was less eventful. After 16 hours, my body gave up on driving, and Ariana and I switched. We didn't make it home until 3, but it was definitely a day to remember. :o)

Once Again, Did Not Drown. Whew.

So the Triathlon was on Saturday morning. The reason I haven't posted since it happened was that I got home at 3am this morning from the longest, most memorable drive ever. But that's the next post.
Bekah is my friend from nursing school who helped me truly survive that experience. And Ariana is my friend from here. And they both somehow were able to do this with me and I love them for it.
So Friday night I got into San Jose. I had taken the I-5, which is possibly the most boring Interstate ever and if I ever think about taking it again please punch me. But it was fast, and I needed to get to the airport to get Ariana. I met Bekah at her place in Campbell, which is so cute, and then we drove to get Ariana. We all went to Outback to eat and then drove the 30 miles to Pleasanton where the triathlon was. We stayed at this fun Marriott and then crashed!
None of us slept that well, but we were up at 6:30, scrambling to remember all our stuff (including our bikes!) and headed out. We got there only about 40 minutes before the race started, empty stomachs and all. We went scouring for food, and at first only found GU energy gel. This is a picture of Ariana trying to not puke as she attempts to eat a Vanilla Bean GU for breakfast.

Luckily, soon afterwards we found fun size Luna Bars and Bagels. Whew!
Ariana's age group was first, then mine, then Bekah's.
I thought there was an age group between Ariana and me, but there wasn't. So I'm dropping off the cameras near the bikes when I hear, "Wave ages 25-29 starts in 2 minutes." Ahh!! I threw the cameras down, booked it across the sand, trying to put on my swim cap at the same time and jumped into the water. Only for them to then announce we had another 3 minutes. Give me a stinkin' heart attack. And then I waited for the race to start.
The only time I ever get scared during a triathlon is in the water before the race. It is literally everything I can do not to walk out of the lake and be like "check ya later!" Terrifying, actually. I quickly forgot everything I had practiced with breathing and just tried to calm down and make it. And I did. We all did, and did great. Bekah caught up to me for the end of the run and we finished the last mile together. Ariana got a sweet picture of us crossing the finish line, which I'm guessing will be on her blog soon. We took so many pictures and had so so much fun. Oh! Our times:
Ariana 1hr 8 min
Bekah 1 hr 12 min
Christin 1 hr 22 min
I think we're all a little hooked...

Breakfast in LA

As I was leaving, I asked the concierge for a good place with omelets. Quickly. Cheaply. And not too far away so I didn't get lost. Four blocks away, I sat enjoying a "Healthy Omelet" and Naked Orange Juice with (what felt like) an ocean breeze at Headlines Diner. Delicious!
p.s. I'm sorry if the ocean breeze thing is getting a little old. I live in a place that is STUPID HOT. The breezes in AZ do not have a nice crisp chill. I'm not quite over the excitement yet.

Hotel Palomar

I wanted to camp on the beach on Thursday night. But randomly my mom makes me promise not to do things that have the potential to jeopardize either my safety or my soul, and this was one of those times. So instead she said she'd pay for 1/2 the hotel I picked out in LA. Not such a bad deal. Here's a few pictures of this incredibly fun hotel with red mirrored elevators, snakeskin dresser drawers, and a fitness room with chilled towels. Nothing like a crazy single girl road tripping with 2 bicycles to shake up a fancy hotel with her 2 duffel bags and backpack. And lunch box. Instead of regular people luggage. :o) Fun times. And cute little valet boys. Yay!

Trip to Apple Pan

So the area I stayed in LA was really safe, and I got to take a beautiful walk a couple blocks south, first to the temple, and then to Apple Pan. The weather was gorgeous. The houses were all built 1950's-ish. They were so unique, each one. One lady had these huge Charlton Heston pictures through her front windows. There were so many roses and everything was so green. The weather made me absolutely ecstatic. 

Eventually I made it to Apple Pan. Apple Pan is a cute little countertop hamburger joint that also sells apple pie. It's exactly the same as it was in 1947. And darling. At first I didn't think people from LA were very friendly. Nobody was really talking, but I was all by myself and I wasn't about sit there and be bored forever. So I talked to Will on my left, who was about my age and had moved here from DC and was on break from a screening of the new Spike Lee film, and Andy on my right who wanted to hear all about my triathlon, too. 

Turns out I loved being in LA and had such a good time. I walked home holding my apple pie for Bekah in a blissful state. 

"It's La Bray-a, Dawg."

So John came over on Wednesday night to help me plan my trip to California. Being from LA, he had quite a few tips, like, for example, how to get around, where to eat, and how to pronounce the names of the streets. So when telling me how to get to Pink's famous hot dog stand, I said, "Okay, so I need to turn right on La Bree-a?" 

"La Bree-a? La Bree-a?," John says. "It's La Bray-a, Dawg. You're gonna die. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. You're gonna get lost."

Ok. It's true. I did get lost. It could have been worse. I saw Bel Air. I saw the Beverly Hills Hotel. And I saw all the sorority girls at UCLA and that gorgeous campus. 

But eventually I made it west down Santa Monica Blvd., past La Brea, and onto Wilshire, where I stayed an awesome night at the Hotel Palomar, happy at last in LA. 

John & I Ate Sushi

On Saturday night, John & I had sushi. On Friday night we were going to, but for whatever reason, we didn't. Oh yeah, I watched What Not to Wear instead. fun fun. Anyways, so we went to Kabuki. Mostly sushi restaurants are just cool in general. They like to look cool and be cool and this was no exception. I seem to eat sushi about twice a year even though I love it, so it's always an event. I seem to not be taking my camera with me very many places lately, so luckily my phone has come in handy for almost all of the last few posts. This is a picture of our AAA Box Sushi, my favorite. I always get sushi rolls, but we got just plain raw halibut, too, thanks to John. I had to kind of put it out of my mind what it was, but, really it tasted great. Dessert was mango ice cream with a little rice layer? around it, berries, and chocolate sauce. So delicious. So fun. 

Little Bakers

Brad makes me bread. My mom makes rolls. What happens when they get together? A kitchen full of little bakers. How cute!

T minus 61 hours

The race is in 61 hours. Bekah is waiting in CA. Ariana will fly in on Fri. And I will be driving the Pacific Coast Highway tomorrow. I will see LA tomorrow. I am SO EXCITED. 

Rollin' the Bel Air

My Altima's has been getting checked out at the shop the last couple days. So I've been rollin' the Bel Air. In case anyone was wondering if it ever gets old, it doesn't. Everyone still comes out of the car wash to watch me drive away. The Mexican landscaper still asks me "how many years it has." And when I drove to the bike shop, one of the employees there asked me if that was my sweet Bel Air in the parking lot. Yes, yes, it is. 

Today Brad's Cadillac stopped working while Bridget was driving it on the way to the temple. We thought maybe it ran out of gas, but that wasn't it. We jumped it with the Bel Air. The Mexican cleaning the parking lot said, "New Car No Good!!" hahaha. Even the police man who pushed the Cadillac for a block or two couldn't stop talking about his 1964 Impala and how he missed it. And how beautiful mine was. It was awesome. I love my Bel Air. And it Loves me. 

My First Philly Cheese Steak

I had this about a month ago. I don't like Cheese Whiz. But, you know, it was all right. And now I know what "Whiz 'n' Onions" means.

And This is Where I shower...

when I bike to work. Just an insight into my life. 

Hello Johnny....

So last Monday, I had a swimming lesson. With Johnny Tunstall, the Masters Swim Coach. Who is sexy. Did I learn anything memorable? Yes. Am I necessarily a better swimmer now? Maybe. But would I have given up this experience of seeing Johnny in his Abercrombie board shorts, 

Haviana flip-flops, and straw cowboy hat for anything? Nope! Good GOOD times. 

Here's a few pics of my new swimming pool, which is hidden deep in ASU campus, and blows my mind that somehow I get to sneak in and use it. Yay!

(I have since learned that I swim farther and better using one arm than using 2. I have considered writing "Go Nemo" on the back of my Triathlon Suit because of this. Go me and my gimpy fin!)

Fried Okra and Root Beer

So Ariana and I joined a CSA this fall/summer. It's a little agreement (I know lots of you know) where a local farmer shares some of his crops with you every week for a couple hundred bucks a season. Which is why we (and everyone else I know who's done this) decided to split the cost.
We were so excited about all the new adventurous food we were going to get to try. We didn't, however, plan on all the okra. We get okra every single week. A little pint of okra waiting to be enjoyed when, really, I've only had it in gumbo and I'm not all over making gumbo every week of my life.
And on Friday night I was starving. A 1:30 in the morning. Because usually this is my lunchtime. Ariana and I were discussing lunch potentials, and it was looking grim. Until I had a glorious idea. FRIED OKRA! Being from Texas, I really always have found it somewhat appalling that I had never tasted fried okra. I felt like a fake Texan, and it was time to remedy the situation. I found Paula Deen's recipe on Food Network (I mean, who else would provide a worthy recipe?), and Ariana ran next door to grab her cornmeal and 2 pints of okra.
We used ALL our okra and fried it to perfection. In 4 batches. (The second was the best, in case you were wondering. Best if it's not too crispy.)
And the thing is this. I was out of water. The cooler had run dry. I had bottled water. Warm. I did have 3 cans of root beer that had been sitting in the fridge for about 6 months. We don't drink a lot of soda around here.
Oh, but let me tell you what is excellent. Fried okra with a little Tony's and delicious cold root beer. In the time it usually takes for me to drink 3 sips, I drank a whole can. And it was AWESOME! mmmm....

Waves

Sometimes this blogging thing comes and goes in waves. I apologize for those who are wondering what the heck is wrong with me. Nothing, actually. Sometimes I do something I think is going to be exciting (like the Roosevelt Dr. experience) and it's not and then I think my life is all cooking and training and boring. And then I realize my life IS all cooking and training, but isn't boring at all, so here we go on a few little adventures from the last 2 weeks. Love yall.
(This picture is just one Brad took with the fun features on his camera)

Pornography & Masochism

This week was a little different. I was kinda feeling funky, and I only went to work 2 days. My parents were in town for Bridget's first temple trip. (Go see her blog! ) and left on Saturday afternoon, leaving the night up for exploring. 

One of the things on my 100 things to do list is to see the art galleries on Roosevelt. It's a little street on Downtown Phoenix that looks so so fun, and so Brad and I went. 

It wasn't exactly what I was expecting. For one thing, it was kind of lonely and deserted. For another, a little pornographic. I will be slightly scarred by one picture for a few years, I'm sure. There was one gallery with the artist just sitting in an empty room with "Fears & Anxieties" spray-painted on the wall. There were little paper cut-outs and scary rag dolls symbolizing sadness and fear. Basically terrifying. hmmm... Phoenix art. Maybe all the sun is getting to people. However, there were a few highlights. We did, for example, find this cool framing store:

Also, we found The Arizona Center. Is it that cool? Not really. But it is very pretty. And what's cooler is that I went to a Journalism conference here in 1997 and hadn't seen it since. So I tried to take matching pictures of the palm trees. Unfortunately, that was before digital pictures and I had a little trouble putting up the old ones. Heres the new anyways...


Overall, I wouldn't say Downtown Phoenix is "happenin.'" But there's a lot of potential and a lot of construction, and while I will be visiting Chase Field for a baseball game or the Art Museum soon, I probably won't be visiting any more art galleries in the near future....

I Ovulate On Cue Every 28 days

Trust me. I know this. Without a monitor.

I almost drew an "X" on my uterus (well, my lower abdomen, not my uterus. I'm not a surgeon and I have no anesthetic) for this particular post, but it's 2:43 and there's a chance I'm hungry and not thinking all that clearly. 

There are a few of you reading this post that I realize may curse my good fortune at the genetic clockwork I have inherited. And trust me, I am nothing if not grateful for the reminders I get that everything is working just perfectly. Because when one is 113 days from her 29th birthday, (and BTW, 478 days from her 30th),  she needs every possible guarantee that waiting to have sex will not jeopardize the possibility of potential offspring. Particularly when she is ovulating while being the most single she has been in two and a half years (having sent away her Christian army pilot and declaring their goodbye kiss their last) surrounded by people whom she loves but maybe not enough to try to pursue this husband thing. Or who perhaps are not thinking they would like to pursue this wife thing, as a matter of fact. 

However, there are times when the hormone levels (is this that clock thing?) get surprisingly overwhelming and seem to be spurring her on to an illegitimate creation. Or at least blur up everything in her head so that rational decisions become more intangible than on the other 27-ish days of the month.

Luckily, she is much too wise and smart in her old age to fall for something like that. 

So instead she continues on a quest for a legitimate breeding partner. She agrees that the close ones up until now have been quite wonderful. They have untapped unlimited potential and many excellent husbandlicious qualities. And she is so grateful to have been held and loved by them. 

And it was perfectly okay- this thought of children in her late 20's. Ideal, actually. But children in your 30's seems fraught with danger. Perhaps too many biology and nursing classes and time at the hospital. And if I simply inherit someone else's children, is my age just asking for Baby Momma Drama?

But the thought of forever is such a long time. And who will she finally decide should donate his gametes in the hopes of finally making their way to her "dusty old uterus" before her "eggs dry up and fall out"?

We can only wait and see....

and maybe watch PRIME again a time or two.