It’s been almost two weeks since my birthday and already I need to update my 40×40 list – partially to mark my progress and partially to amend my list since I’ve already screwed up. (Too bad one of my items wasn’t to cultivate a practice of “self-forgiveness,” because I could totally check that box while blowing off the more difficult things on my list. Next year…)
So here are the updates – mainly to keep myself honest:
#9: Explore wine country with Alan. CHECK. You’re read about our adventures in Carmel, Monterey, and Hearst Castle – but we spent the last five days tooling through Paso Robles, Napa and Sonoma. I’ll blog about it soon, but the trip was all that I’d hoped for when I added it to this list.
#19: See the sunset over the Pacific. CHECK. Did this not once, not twice, but THREE times in the last week. Who’s a lucky girl?
Please note the Spartan t-shirt – worn the day we beat the Wolverines.
#10: Completely avoid Diet Dew every day for one month. IN MOTION. It hasn’t been a month since my birthday yet, so it’d be impossible to achieve this one, but I’m off to a good start. I’ve gone 13 days without a Dew. And I really had to avoid temptation on our trip because one of our B&B hosts had even stocked our mini-fridge with a can of Diet Dew for me.
#26: Review the books I read on Amazon.IN MOTION. I’ve actually taken this a step further – I’m reviewing EVERYTHING. This might be one of those unhealthy manifestations of my compulsive personality, because I’ve already earned a “Top Reviewer” badge on TripAdvisor – and I just started reviewing things a week ago. If there’s a “stalker” badge, I might earn that soon.
#27: Swim 50 miles. IN MOTION. I snuck in two miles before we left for vacation. Snuck might be a bad word choice, because there’s really nothing sneaky about flailing around in the pool, gasping for breath as you count laps and pray the lifeguard won’t need to intervene.
#23: Write 50,000 words toward my next novel. UMMM. I’d planned to do this by participating in NaNoWriMo (kind of like Movember, but instead of growing a mustache, you write a book – potentially as embarrassing, but not quite as creepy – unless it’s about mustaches). As it turns out, that was a horrible thing to attempt when starting a vacation. I found that I wanted to write blogs and jot notes about our vacation, so we’re going to need to revisit this one.
#33: Do an inversion every single day. UMMM. I’m amending this one. It should say, “Develop a daily inversion practice.” Because that’s the end goal, and it is REALLY HARD to remember to do something every day, cold turkey. Especially when you’re staying in a hotel and you really don’t want to put your head remotely close to the carpet.
So that’s my progress. And before you judge: How are your New Year’s Resolutions going? That’s what I thought.
Everyone bitches about Mondays. Even though I love my job, sometimes even I am guilty of it. But not this week. I’m pretty sure I had the best Monday known to man. Here’s why…
We left our motel in San Simeon at 8am. (In case you’re curious: there are still places in this world where you can enjoy a good night’s sleep near the ocean in a clean room with a fridge and microwave and remodeled bathroom for $55. I didn’t think it was possible, but there you go. Just do your research and book with Hotels.com.)
We attempted to stop at a place called Sebastian’s that was highly reviewed on TripAdvisor for breakfast, but – to our dismay – it isn’t open on Mondays or Tuesdays. Their loss – I’m sure we would’ve been their best customers ever.
To recover from this disappointment, I asked Alan to keep driving north for a few miles because I’d heard there was a place to see elephant seals, and I was hell-bent on seeing at least one seal after getting my hopes up about lifting one the day before. Knowing that breakfast wasn’t in the cards and since we both tend to have blood sugar crashes that get ugly, while Alan drove, I began doling out cashews and beef jerky.
Within minutes, we were screeching into a gravel lot behind a motorcycle gang (Alan says it was actually a “club” but I don’t think you should use that word in the same sentence as “seals”) to look for seals. If Monterey had left us high and dry on the seal-front, then San Simeon was our tonic. We peered out at the ocean, shading our eyes. “Alan! Look! Right there!” I pointed to a rock some hundred yards out where there were definitely seal heads in the water.
Then the old couple next to us pointed and said, “Look – right there!” and pointed down some thirty feet off-shore.
Then, as I looked more, I was like, “HOLY SHIT. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE.” Which normally would be an exaggeration when I say it, but this time it wasn’t. There were seals EVERYWHERE. We began counting and estimating and couldn’t keep up. There were thousands of heads bobbing in the water.
And then, when I moved a little bit, I saw hundreds of seals beached on the shore, snuggling, fighting and snoring. They smelled like an elephant house at the zoo, but they were fantastic to watch. MISSON ACCOMPLISHED. (As a side-note, I’m now curious to know who would actually try to pick up a seal. They were HUGE and – according to a sign – weighed between 3,000 – 5,000 pounds.)
After an hour of seal-watching, I glanced at my watch and realized we needed to hustle over to the visitor’s center at Hearst Castle if we were going to get the tour I’d already booked.
If you’re not familiar with Hearst Castle: Think of the movie Citizen Kane, or think of Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch. W.R. Hurst had this estate built during the first half of the 20th Century, and it is spectacular. Especially the swimming pools.
Here are a few photos from the tour to show you what I’m talking about:
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There was an older couple in a group who immediately caught our attention not only because they moved at a snail’s pace, but also because they were dressed in identical outfits: purple “Hearst Castle” t-shirts covered by hot pink fuzzy fleece pull-overs. Had we somehow managed to NOT notice them for these reasons, they certainly would’ve drawn our attention with the utter nonchalance they demonstrated while farting audibly as they walked. It was impressive. In fact, Alan and I coined a term so we could warn each other of their activity: HEARSTING – to audibly crop-dust an area while walking.
Back to the castle: it is NOT located right on the ocean. Instead, it’s up on top of a mountain a few miles away. I thought Hearst was batshit crazy to build up there instead of directly on the water, but the views are pretty great. What is NOT great is the drive getting up to the castle. It’s so shaky that the Foundation doesn’t trust you to do it on your own, so you have to park at the bottom at the Visitor’s Center, then ride a bus up.
That was fine on the ride up. They had a soothing soundtrack narrated by Alex Trebeck telling you what you were seeing out the windows. To wit: “Out the right-side windows, you can see zebras grazing – a hold-over from Hearst’s zoo.” And yes, there were really zebras out our windows just roaming around on the side of a mountain, eating dried grass.
After the tour, we hopped a different bus back to the base of the mountain. It is nothing short of a miracle that you aren’t reading about our fiery death in a newspaper right now. Our driver didn’t seem to know where the right tires of the bus were – which would be fine in a lot of scenarios, but not when you’re barreling down switchbacks without guardrails and a sheer drop-off to the right.
There were two specific turns where I white-knuckled on Alan’s arm, then tried to calm myself by looking at the faces of other passengers for reassurance. When the jaws of the people in the first few rows are also hanging open and women are palming their rosaries, however, you can’t find much comfort in the belief that perhaps your own alarm system is just faulty.
It was so bad that I joked with Alan, “They need to have Alex Trebeck come back on and say, ‘If you shit your pants during the descent from Hearst Castle…'” And because I was so overwhelmed with relief, I couldn’t even finish my sentence because I was laughing so hard I had tears coming out my eyes.
Relieved to survive the descent, we stopped in the quaint small town of Cambria for lunch, where we demolished some great fresh Mexican food. Then it was on to San Luis Obisbo for a quick look at the Mission. Directly in front of our parking spot was a public restroom. I used it as soon as we arrived, accidentally walking into the men’s room, where I encountered a sketchy looking guy walking out. We excused ourselves and I found the ladies room.
Later, as we were getting organized to leave, we sat in the car for five minutes. The guy was still loitering there, ducking in and out of the restroom periodically. I thought maybe he was in charge of cleaning it. Alan, however, came up with the more probable explanation: drug deals. Sure enough, in the five minutes we were watching, two different guys ducked into the restroom after a furtive glance over their shoulders and were back out faster than any human could’ve peed.
So now I’m suspicious of SLO’s motto, which proclaims it the happiest city in the United States. I think everyone is just on drugs.
Finally, we ended our day at a hotel in Pismo beach, right on the ocean with a great balcony. Falling asleep with the windows open, hearing the surf crashing? Not a bad way to end a Monday.
Our second day in California was started out a bit rough because of the time difference. Between the time zone difference (three hours) and daylight savings (lose another hour), we were four hours off our regular baseline. Maybe not a big deal for most people, but since I’m an early riser by default, I think Alan found it problematic that I was ready to start our day at 2am.
It ended up working out fine because we spent a few relaxed hours writing and drinking coffee before stepping out for the complimentary hotel breakfast. Fueled and ready to go, we headed to the Monterey Aquarium, which was one of Alan’s Top 3 things to do on this trip. (When prepping for this trip, Alan and I each defined our “Top 3” sites to see or things to do to make sure this trip would have a bit of something for both of us.)
The aquarium did not disappoint. We got there right as it opened, and spent the first half hour watching the sea otters. The big event of the morning was their feeding, so as the time approached, the viewing area started to get packed. Kids crawled through people’s legs to get up to the front near the glass. The guy in front of us was a douche who pretended he couldn’t see the kids and held firm with his front row vantage spot, so Alan and I opened a little aisle and helped the kids move up to the front so they could wedge themselves in front of him. AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHILDREN.
Four things about sea otters: 1) They’re larger than I think of them as being, 2) I’d like to have one as a pet, 3) I love how easily they float around on their backs with their legs crossed and their eyes closed, and 4) I’m glad their poop doesn’t resemble dog turds. Would’ve ruined the entire experience.
They have some really nice “touch pools” in the aquarium, where you can handle things like starfish, sea anemones, and bat rays. Of course, I’m too squeamish about textures to bring myself to touch anything (much to my naturalist father’s disappointment, I’m sure), but Alan petted a good number of things.
Interesting segue: They had an awesome jellyfish exhibit, and Alan took a slew of photos. At the time I thought he was crazy, but in hindsight, they’re actually pretty gorgeous. While I don’t want to encounter jellyfish while I’m swimming, they really are a testament to the natural art that exists in this world. I’ve decided to call them Nature’s LavaLamps from here on out. See?
My highlight of the visit was watching a school of anchovies. One word: Mesmerizing. Also, kind of justifies why I won’t eat them, so I can sound noble when I’m really just opposed to their fishy taste. Here’s a snippet someone else shot that can kind of give you the idea:
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After leaving the aquarium, we went to Point Lobos State Park and hiked for a couple of hours. The trails are well-maintained and follow the coastline, so you get some pretty epic views. When we entered the park, the ranger handed us a flyer. I assumed it would be a map of the various trails. Alas, no. Apparently the State of California is as OCD as I am and prefers to communicate rules. Looks at all the DON’Ts on this list:
Signs led me to believe I would see some seals and be tempted to try to lift them, so I spent our hike scouting for seals. At one point, I had Alan believing that there were hundreds of them in the waters below us, until his Lasik-vision kicked in and he showed me that it was just kelp and driftwood. Maybe the state should change its signs and encourage people to drag seals out of the water so they can get free hauling on driftwood and kelp?
These must be gang seals based on all their gun-shot wounds.
Once the hike was behind us, we took the Pacific Coast Highway down to San Simeon for the night. Everyone raves about Route One and the views. It was gorgeous and gave us a spectacular sunset view, but I was ready to hurl by the time we finished the two-hour drive because of all the twists and turns. I’m also pretty sure that Nova Scotia’s trail was as beautiful but had more generous shoulders and guard rails – which should never be underestimated.
When we pulled up to our hotel – nay, MOTEL – at 6pm, Alan said, “You’re shitting me. We’ve only been driving for two hours?” Indeed. This is how I make a week-long vacation feel like a life-time. It’s all part of the strategy. You’re welcome, sir.
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NEXT UP: We actually FIND seals, tour Hearst Castle, and almost plummet to our deaths when a bus driver forgets he’s not driving a motorcycle.
We arrived in California today for our week-long vacation. Everything went smoothly until we went to pick up our rental car. For some reason, the line at Hertz was worse than airport security. It took 50 minutes of standing in line before we were given a car assignment. But if that’s the biggest complaint you can lodge after a full day of travel? Not bad at all.
When we went to retrieve it, the car was NOT in slot 161 as promised on our paperwork – so a scavenger hunt commenced to find it. Finally it turned up – a grey Malibu with no pick-up in slot 282. Maybe this was karma’s way of paying us back for driving through a flash flood in Charlottetown, PEI last year and almost ripping the underbody off our rental.
Oh – I haven’t told you that story? Another time. Still waiting for the statute of limitations to expire.
Once we got our car, we zipped out of town, heading to Carmel, about two hours south of SFO on the Monterey Penninsula. If you’ve never been, it’s an adorable ocean-side town with cute shops, tasting rooms and restaurants that all look amazingly homey. The architecture probably has something to do with that – the town has a funky Bavaria-meets-smurf-cottages kind of vibe. Don’t believe me? Check out these photos.
We were starving when we arrived – with the time difference and the flight, it was approaching 7pm Eastern time and our last meal had been a 9am burger at the airport Five Guys. Fortunately, I’d happened to check TripAdvisor before we tumbled out of the car, so instead of blindly choosing the first place that looked halfway good (and there would’ve been no shortage), we made a beeline to Dametra Cafe.
It’s funny – neither Alan nor I were particularly feeling mediterranean food, but the TripAdvisor reviews were so overwhelmingly positive, that we felt we should give it a go. I’m so glad we did – if I were dying, I might make a special trip to this restaurant for my last meal.
Let me set the stage. The place is tiny. There are approximately 18 tables which can each seat two people. The decor is simple but warm – it feels like you’re a guest in someone’s overly large kitchen. Perhaps part of why you feel like you’re in someone’s home is because of the hospitality the owners show.
Bashar, one of the owners who also serves as the host, welcomes everyone who sets foot into the place as if they’re a friend, placing his hand on your shoulder while he looks around to see if they have a table for you. Unfortunately, the answer to this query is usually, “Sorry – we’re completely full. Do you have a reservation?” Alan and I somehow managed to snag the last unreserved table (probably because we arrived 4:45pm) and felt incredibly lucky every time we heard him turn away another couple.
This photo doesn’t do it justice.
After spending a ridiculous amount of time debating what to order, we decided to split two of the most basic Greek staples: spanikopita and chicken kabobs. It was the right decision. They were so different than any other version of those foods I’d eaten before that – had my eyes been closed – I wouldn’t have recognized them. The spanikopita was huge – imagine getting served two perfectly golden, flaky poptarts sprinkled with sesame seeds and filled with garlicky spinach hugging little gems of salty feta unlike any feta you’ve ever tasted. Delish.
They split our entree in the kitchen, bringing us each a generous plate with rice, Greek salad and a kabob of chicken, tomatoes and onion, drizzled with a garlic aoili. This sounds like a boring line-up, so you’ll just have to trust me when I say that it was amazing. The chicken was beyond tender, and I don’t know what they marinated it in, but it was magical. The homemade salad dressing and the aoili completely transformed the meal – and I’m normally very finicky when it comes to sauces.
Midway through our meal, as we were marveling over how something so simple could be so mind-blowingly good, we heard someone begin to tune what sounded like a guitar. Then, from the kitchen, Bashar emerged, playing some kind of Middle Eastern guitar, followed by two servers banging drums. They shuffled through the small restaurant playing and people rose from their tables to begin dancing. It was like a party had just broken out, and everyone was up for it. It felt like being included in a secret. Here’s a snippet:
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When we finished our meal, they brought us a plate with complimentary baklava drizzled with honey and whipped cream. I had no room for it, but managed to choke it down since it is tied with fried ice cream as my favorite dessert of all time. One our way out the door, we thanked Bashar for having us. “Every time you turned away someone, we felt so lucky that we had managed to snag your last table,” Alan told him.
Bashar countered, “No – the luck was ours. We were lucky to have you dine with us tonight.” And with that, he asked our names and said he hoped to see us again soon. And like a good host, he truly seemed sincere.
After dinner we walked down Ocean Avenue and it’s adorable cottages to the beach. We arrived just in time to catch the tail-end of the sunset as we smelled the wood smoke from various bonfires dotting the beach. Not a bad way to end our first day of vacation, though it does set a high bar for the rest of the trip.
Today is my 39th birthday. That gives me one year before I celebrate the most infamous milestone of midlife. And buy a corvette and get a trophy wife. Oh wait – sorry, women don’t do that. Got confused for a minute!
Seems like a good time for a bit of reflection to reconnect with my friends and family, my curiosity and creativity, and my health. In that spirit, I’ve created my list of “Forty by Forty” – a mini bucket-list to be completed before I turn 40.
Since these need to be done in a year, they’re not the grand items of a life-long bucket list. I’m not trying to see the pyramids or raft the Nile. (Hopefully those happen in the NEXT forty years.)
Because life is good. And it’s often in paying attention to the little things that that we live life most fully. Here goes…
See the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean.
Try sushi.I know, I know. I’m the only person in America who doesn’t like sushi. But it’s been ten years since I last attempted it, so I’m going to see if my palette has evolved.
Attend Nerd Nite DC.I’m a nerd and I’ve always been curious.
Become a certified coach.Already enrolled, so unless I screw up, this should earn a checkmark.
Take a “Girls Trip” with my mom and sister.
Practice yoga every day for one week.
Take an official walking tour of DC.I love walking tours. I live in a city that offers them. Why haven’t I done this before? No idea.
Explore wine country with Alan.We’ve booked our flight, so this should get a checkmark.
Completely avoid Diet Dew for one month.Ideally, I’d like to give it up for good. But let’s start with a manageable goal.
Get a library card from the Library of Congress.
Sponsor one classroom project each month on DonorsChoose.
Go Facebook-Silent for two weeks. This one already gives me palpitations, which probably means I’m addicted.
See an exhibit at the Phillips Collection. Unbelievably, I’ve lived here almost two decades and haven’t set foot inside this gallery, only blocks from my place.
Make a Halloween costume.
Find a StoryCorps booth and record a story. Ideally with my dad.
Get professionally fitted for a bra.No sense giving in to gravity just yet.
Get a new driver’s license. Actually, this is kind of a to-do list item. But still…
See the sunset over the Pacific Ocean.
Send one handwritten note of gratitude to someone each month.
Record a podcast with my friends. Not sure what we’ll do with it, but I’m pretty sure it will be hilarious.
Learn to change my bike’s rear tire.Although I hope I’ll never need to use this.
Write 50,000 words toward my next novel.
Complete a Century Ride. Preferably with my sister.
Learn why ziplines are so hyped.
Review the books I read on Amazon. I use other people’s reviews to shape my reading list – time to give back.
Swim 50 miles. Not all at once. I used to swim all the time, but it’s fallen by the wayside in recent years. Time to jump back in.
Roast an entire chicken.Yep, I consider myself a pretty solid cook, but I’ve never actually cooked an entire bird. WTF?
Compliment a stranger every day for a week.Different strangers… because otherwise that would be creepy.
Volunteer for a cause I care about.
Declutter my friendships. Prioritize the people who make time for me.
Do an inversion every single day. For non-yogis: this is basically just doing something upside down. Headstand, handstand, shoulder-stand – it’s supposed to be good for your lymph system and your perspective.
Update my resume.Not because I want a new job, but to reflect on my accomplishments.
Help Alan have a good 40th year.
No candy for a month. Ridiculous that I’m almost forty and still think Skittles count as part of the food pyramid.
Host a scavenger hunt.
Break a rule. Easier said than done when you’re compulsive and risk-averse.
Provide free sales coaching to someone who tries (poorly) to try to sell me something.
Contribute to Wikipedia. Not just in a financial sense. Edit an entry.
Go camping. I used to do it all the time, but haven’t since I got rid of my car. Time to bring it back!
What about you? If you weren’t designing a life-long bucket-list, but rather had to focus on something specific to do during the next year, what would make your list? I’m curious.
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PS: Here’s the Donor’s Choose project I just sponsored in New Orleans for October:
Most of our students will be first generation college students. These students don’t get much help from their families in the college planning process. Our students are from the inner city and their needs are many, academic as well as socio-economic. I took over a high school library two years ago that has a fair book selection, but no budget for new books and very few up-to-date books on ACT, college and financial aid, careers and scholarship information. Our library has one up-to-date college guide and one scholarship book that are constantly checked out. I want my students to see all of the possibilities and plan the best future possible.
pithypants 