"There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called Yesterday and the other is called Tomorrow. Today is the right day to Love, Believe, Do and mostly Live."
Dalai Lama XIV
Dalai Lama XIV
The strawberry moon in my backyard last week. iPhone pics never do the moon justice but I still thought this was a pretty good snap!
Had a fabulous mini vacation weekend in Santa Barbara with Scott, his cousin, and his cousin’s wife. We walked around Scott’s crazy college town, got pelted with flour by drunk kids, walked along a beach covered with tar balls and fallen eucalyptus trees, ate delicious beignets for brunch, tri-tip sandwiches for lunch, mexican food for dinner, and reuben egg rolls (yes) for a late night snack, drank guava margaritas, and tried to hike it all off in the Santa Barbara mountains. This is a picture of Scott mimicking art (aka smelling his armpits?) at a gallery opening we attended, and I love it because it encapsulates what I love about him—his sense of humor, the way he’s always making me laugh, and his lighthearted approach to life and not taking it too seriously. Another weekend in the books that shows off California’s beauty and further cements my desire to never leave it!
Too early for a #tbt but the rain here has me wishing it was summer, when we spent a weekend doing nothing but standing/jumping off of a floating trampoline thing on a lake, trying not to fall off. I also miss my tan.
Our Friday sunset bike ride to Sausalito. We moseyed along, stopping often, and found this little park on the water. It was a serene, beautiful way to start the weekend. (I love Scott’s rolled-up pant leg!)
The other night I was eating blueberries for dessert and the last one was mushy. Niles apparently liked it.
“It’s called forgetting,” the girl said,
while the clerk
watched me and I blushed. “Until there’s nothing left.”
And a breeze entered
through the hole in the window.
“And then you’re out of time,” she said,
Some of the cards were face up on the floor:
climbing a craggy slope,
the Grand Canyon like a mouth
carved in the earth, a night-lit tower like a needle.
I was sweating now,
but I couldn’t speak.
And then I was running from the shop,
past the fountain and the check-in desk,
down the tiled hall to the pool,
where my father lay on a plastic beach chair,
reading a book about churches.
Sunlight flecked his chest.
His hair was wet from swimming.
“What’s the trouble?” he asked.
Was cleaning up my desktop this morning and found these photos from my summer trip to the Grand Canyon. Now it’s drizzly and chilly outside and I find myself “vacation-sick” and wishing I could relive this rafting adventure, the hikes, the heat, the cold Colorado water, wearing the same clothes for six days and not caring…ahh, the life! Never have I felt so connected to nature as I have the past two years living in the Bay Area and exploring the West.