Double word score on "crabby"

Important information part 1:
I love Scrabble. It is one of my favorite games. I am good at it.

Important information part 2:
One's second week of work can make one particularly vulnerable to frustration and sensitive to meeting performance expectations.

Relevant aside:
A friend was recently telling us about how no one will play games with her mother anymore because she is both a bad loser and a bad winner.

Possibly relevant aside:
Mini-marshmallows are delicious and nasty at the same time.

Last night, also known as the third time in his entire life that Eric has ever played Scrabble, Eric gave me a run for my money at Scrabble. It was mostly fun, except for the parts where I forgot that it was just a game and not the key to my self-worth and all future happiness.

In the end, I think it was a tie. I am a good tie-er.

I was either relieved or disappointed

Jamaica, Eric and I did the hike from the Palomarin trailhead to Alamere Falls on Sunday, about eight miles roundtrip including an iffy, trecherous scramble down (and eventually back up) a shale-y cliff. It was a perfect, clear sunny (though chilly) day and a spectacular hike.

The last time I did this hike, probably about eight years ago and probably at a warmer time of year, I shared the trail and the waterfall with a large group of nudists.

The first clue that something unusual was afoot was when a young man wearing a large backpack and no clothing passed me on the trail. Even in California, this is not something you see everyday.

Over the course of the next 20 minutes or so, several more stray nudists went by on the trail, causing me to believe it wasn't simply one dude who was just really hot.

Upon arrival at the beach, where the falls spill over a cliff onto the sand and run into the ocean, there was a large group of extremely naked people. Men and women, all adults and mostly in their 40s and 50s. Likely because I was one of the few non-naked people who hadn't fled the beach almost immediately upon arrival at the nakedfest, they asked me to take their picture (with their camera, obviously). Being friendly and agreeable, I obliged. It was...uncomfortable. And I remember it vividly; I could probably paint it perfectly from memory, if I could paint.

For better or worse, the most exciting thing about the hike today was, well, the hike itself. And that Jamaica brought some really good cheese.

Friday morning on Clementina

[Setting: 7:30am, on the stairs going from our apartment down to the garage, where we store our bikes. Eric is walking behind me on the stairs.]

Ellie: I'm putting my hair up when I get to work.

Eric: Huh?

Ellie: Just in case you were wondering if I were going to work with my hair looking so messy, I thought I would mention that I'm going to put it up when I get there. I can't put it up now because of my bike helmet.

[pause]

Eric: Yeah. I can see now why I should have been wondering, but I wasn't.

[And then we each put on our helmets, walked our bikes out of the garage, hopped on them and rode off in different directions towards work.]

Miyagi School of Dance

Wednesday nights are salsa lesson nights with our dapper instructor Eric. He is a good teacher and works hard to put things into terms we can understand. He doesn't use fancy dance lingo even though I am sure that would make him seem smart and cool. Instead, he likens movements to things like stirring a pot or throwing a frisbee, which we can all relate to.

In the first lesson we took with him, instructor Eric immediately won student Eric over with a hand movement he called "wax on." This was a big hit.

Last night, we were learning a new salsa move that required a swift downward arm motion leading with the wrist. Student Eric lit up.

"Paint the fence!" he exclaimed.

Teacher Eric agreed that that was a great analogy and seemed mostly pleased about it, though I think I sensed just a hint of resentment that student Eric came up with it first.

Improvisationalizationorama!

I truly do not know where to begin in describing my new improv class.

The teacher is an energetic and possibly clinically insane woman named Gerri who reacts hugely to everything that her students do, which includes grabbing her boobs constantly. If you sit next to her while other students are doing a scene, you must be prepared for her to grab your arm, maybe your leg, and maybe literally throw herself completely into you as she experiences - intensely - the emotions that the improvisers on stage are working with. This is not hypothetical.

I think she is extraordinary and I am very excited to be in her class. And I would like to pledge publicly that, no matter how strong my natural tendencies towards mimicry are, I will not start grabbing my boobs constantly. Only intermittently. I promise.

A bump in the night

Awoke at 5am last night to a loud bang with breaking glass on the finish.

Eric leapt up and crept around but we couldn't figure out what might have caused the unsettling noise which had sounded like it was coming from inside the bedroom.

What could it have been? Leading theories include (but are not limited to):

• Metal folding chair getting blown over on the roof just above our heads (ruled out)
• Top shelf closet item transforming into bottom of closet item, with breakage (ruled out)
• Hallway window getting blown in (ruled out)
• Disoriented Santa Claus? Or maybe just a disoriented fat guy in a Santa Claus outfit? (ruled out)
• Spirit or specter (inconclusive)
• Shared dream (whaaa?)
• Malicious Sprinkler evolved to Malicious Smasher (unlikely...but possible)

Had to leave for work* this morning with this mystery yet unsolved. My money is on shared dream until some more likely prospect emerges.


*I have a job!

Not just for 30 year olds anymore

On Saturday we helped a friend celebrate his 31st birthday by riding roller coasters and a variety of other spinning, flipping and gyrating rides that are not recommended if you drank more than two glasses of red wine the night before.

In sharp contrast to the two-bit carnival we went to for my birthday this past year, with its rickety single roller coaster held together with bandaids and old chewing gum, this was the real deal: Six Flags Discovery Kingdom in Vallejo, about an hour from San Francisco. Saturday was Opening Day.

We had been expecting a chilly, rainy day and so were pleasantly surprised when it was merely a chilly, excessively windy day. There was almost no one but us there so we could go on the rides again and again and, well, usually two times was enough. My favorite coasters were Medusa, a long one with lots of twists and upside down parts that I would recommend riding in the front row, and Boomerang, which we are pretty sure is named after the Eddie Murphy movie of the same name but I will leave it to you to figure out how.

During one of the beer breaks, we noticed an older couple sitting nearby enjoying a beer and an overpriced corn dog. They appeared to be there by themselves; either that or there were completely unconcered that the small children they were supposedly chaperoning were well out of sight. I prefer to think that they were there just the two of them enjoying a day of roller coasters and shitty food. (Note to self: getting older doesn't have to mean you get unattractive and boring; you can avoid getting boring.)