She'll never pull that stint again

Who doesn't love a tea party?!

Nothing incredibly spectacular happened today. I was soo tired from work that I just passed out on the couch still in my swimsuit--I can tell it's going to be a long week already. But, I did find this hilarious website which kept me in stitches! I think has something to do with the use of vintage-inspired images to make a snarky remark. Here are a few of my favorite ones I would like to share with you, dolly. Enjoy!

I have one blue taffeta dress that I always end up getting something on.

I would love to serve cake this way!

Don't bother with college either, sweetheart

There are just some people that, for their own good to society, should be made aware of their wasted brain.

How true ;)

The day planner is always right

No need to be a productive member of society today!

As for the carrots, please consider buying the short rounded baby carrots.Perhaps you will find them less threatening

A few more pictures of things I have found up in Fishtail . . .
The Ranch has a whole collection of all kinds of things as you will see my darling from the following images.

First here you will see in all of it's majestic, plastic glory, my bouncy pony. When I was just a wee girl with cascading curls on the tip-top of my head wearing socks with lace-ruffle trim (I've always liked those socks. I think I will wear them again this fall with cute flats!) and spandex bike shorts I would ride my bouncy pony. I love her purple hair and hot pink saddle. Don't you?! It's just a shame prancey pony is now living in the barn loft with my doll house and the bat.


Next up my little puppet is a the tin candy bar sign from the barn shop. (I usually only go in there to use the vice grip. I place leaves and such in its metal clutches and tighten. It's interesting to see how things squish. Of course now that makes me sound like a lunatic, but I don't put in bunnies or anything. On another side note: We once found a baby ducky in the little pond all alone so we scooped it up and put it into the incredibly-large-able-to-fit-three-adults-sized bath tub and let it swim around. It was soo much fun and then we returned it so it could find its family. Sadly, I was too little to realize that this ducky was most likely out of luck. A not so lucky ducky, if you will) It's been given a home here for obvious reasons (wink wink!). Looking at the tag line "For Quick Energy!" I am under the assumption that this could have very well been traced with crack. Either way I enjoy its sunny yellow and valencia orange contrast.


And if the Clark bar were not enough to keep you going, try Upper 10, the nerdier-knee-high-sock-wearing version of the popular 7 UP. Yet, take note of the ridding crop, top hat, and gloves;we are talking classy soda here, people! Also look at the contrast between the 7 fluid ounces of 1930 to the monstrous liters available to us today. I personally am a proud supporter of the miniature cans of soda (you may have already guessed that from my previous blog on travel-sized soaps) because I find it physically impossible to drink an entire 12 oz can.

Every so often Caitlin and I join together to have a craft day.It's usually on Saturday morning and we make delicious breakfast foods and coffee to start the day.We will work on just about anything--crocheting, sewing, jewelry, cardmaking, etc. By setting aside some time we are able to focus on a project and find pleasure in each other's company (plus a few more, like today when Beth and Katie joined us!).


Today this is what I finished. It's actually quite a long necklace, it reaches all the way to my bellybutton, but I pulled it up by my neck so you could see the enamel focal point. I am not very good at keeping necklaces symmetrical so I don't even try. I string on the beads in a way that pleases me--that could mean piling many on or just a few and then the other side could reflect or oppose to suit my eye. This necklace is constructed from freshwater pearls, jade, and glass beads. The medallion is a piece of pottery which has been painted with yellows, greens and purples; it is smooth and shiny. To me, it appears to be a floral motif, but I suppose it is ultimately just an abstract collection of colors. I enjoy the organic quality of the necklace and how it has weight, yet is still delicate. I hope you enjoy looking at it as much as I enjoy wearing it!

Pure of heart: that phrase is classy and borderline cliche

When I read I always write in the margins. It does not matter if it is for academia or personal pleasure (doesn't that sound a little naughty), I will always, always make marks in my books. If I am lucky enough to have a highlighter on me I will go through and mark the phrases or passages that are important to the plot, are key to the understanding of the work, or showcase incredible written craftsmanship. I love to look back and easily know what is going on in the work from the quick notes along with finding it interesting to see how I interpreted the passage through my probing questions and arrows. Do you ever do this when you are reading?

Spiders in a Cup--the soon-to-be squel to the moneymaker Snakes on a Plane

I have had a unique addition to my water glass.

I watched him crawl up the side of the hexagon cut glass and then wrap himself around the lip. He remained still for about 7 minutes and then began circling the inside of the glass multiple times, probably about 4, until he stopped in relatively the same place.

Thank goodness I saw him or else it would have been an interesting sip!

I attempted looking for some information to identify this spider, but had a difficult time. Not just only because much of the information was concerning the more dangerous spiders, of which I think this is not, but I was creeped out by the pictures. Ironically enough this spider has been sitting in my glass for over an hour and I have enjoyed watching it, but photos like this, this, and this make me shiver involuntarily. (I know! Holy shit those are disgusting!! I'm glad you were brave enough to also take a peak at them. Now I don't have to be the only whose skin is crawling)

The Ranch: Fishtail, Montana

I have a great deal of reading to keep up on with school and I found a pleasant place to dive in. I stretch out on a sunflower tablecloth Grandma Bev made, unwrap the sweet treat I stashed in my pocket, put in my headphones and begin reading.

I find the best spot under the willow tree across the pond. I walk around the edge and catch a glimpse of something dive back into the water, possibly a muskrat.I walk past the "suckie hole" as it is affectionately called; this is a culvert placed vertically into the pond allowing water to be sucked into it following an L-shaped path into the creek. I stop and peer into the pipe--a few sticks create a lattice affect catching leaves and algae in the branches. Continuing on toward the tree I pass the cattails bursting from the soft cotton. I spread out the cloth and rest under the canopy created by the extending tree branches. It's shaded and cool, which is only enhanced by the breeze. A small black bird comes close by to gather insects in the grass. The damselflies skim the very surface of the water. (Damselflies are similar to the dragonfly save for their characteristic wing fold. A dragonfly's wings will always lay out horizontal whereas a damselfly's will fold upright when resting)


The algae carpets the surface of the pond. It varies from vibrant green to gray to black. The bloom moves in thick masses attracting insects. When going to the Ranch the one sent that I always associate with this place is not the sticky cotton pods or the acres cut lawn, but the Pantene in each bathroom. The classically clean smell of the shampoo is so incredibly refreshing after lying in the sun. I remember as a small child the smell of the soap and so each time I return I look forward to cleansing with the milky, white lather. Do you have favorite smells that transport you, or you look forward to, when you go someplace special?

my newest shoes

Well here are my cute, cutout, nude flats with the adorable flower on each! I particularly like contrast with my iridescent purple polish. And amazingly enough I have enough of a tan going,as much as a girl with alabaster skin can manage, so that the shoes do not completely blend into my skin tone. Although I do find the color most attractive for that very reason; it will be like I am not wearing shoes at all creating a long leg line.

Cliff Jumping

Yesterday I went rafting on the Stillwater River near Absarokee.


It is a nice day with clear skies and a fairly sunny forecast. I dress in shorts, a tank top and to save my skin from turning as red as a cherry I also pull on a sweatshirt (silly I know and a bit toasty too, but sunscreen just doesn't cut it when it comes to protecting my skin from the sun. And even when I do get sun I end up with weird patterns of burning. All around its better if I try to stay like a non-toasted marshmallow than be the burnt-to-a-crisp-no-one-wants-to-eat-marshmallow-so-just-let-it-drop-into-the-coals kind).


The rafting experience is similar to many I have been on before with the few intense and major splashes surrounded by calm and easy-going currents.There isn't a whole lot to it and you paddle only when needed to steer away from a tree or large rock in the path.Easy-peazy


The raft comes around a bend. We pull over to the side where it is calm and we can jump out. Daren, our guide, lets us know that we can jump off the cliff into the water, even showing us the footholds in the rock to get to the top. I'm already soaking wet (The last few rapids I really leaned into for full effect)and figure why not. What do I have to lose other than my life,right?(I know I could be the one who rather than gracefully jumps off the edge ends up tripping and hitting my head on the way down. It's not that I am so incredibly uncoordinated,I mean I am, but in moments of excitement I tend to lack the necessities for coordination altogether) Oh well, its a risk I'm happy to take. While climbing up the side of the hill my hands grasp at the lose soil crushing the fragrant grasses and my knees are scraped on the sharp ledges so that by the time I make it to the top my thighs are covered in dirt and my knees are red and scratched. The jump is a little further down a path. It feels wonderful to walk along the trail in bare feet.


The ledge. To reach it the trail slopes down and then the platform to jump from is another step down to the pointed precipice. I get a bit nervous here--what am I thinking? Really,I'm going to jump from this? I don't hardly even manage a jump from the curb in real life without twisting an ankle. Fuck it I'm going. I walk off the ledge and fall. My eyes are closed tight and my nose is plugged (This is my normal water immersion technique) soon ice cold water surrounds my body prickling my skin and I still continue to plunge deeper. It feels good.I let my arms float at my sides and my legs dangle below me. I never reach the bottom.


I have a go at this two more times before we leave. Nothing compares to leaping from the ledge with the knowledge that I can never reach the bottom. I will continually be in a free-fall state until I emerge.

I have dreams too ya know. I was happy stripping and doing tricks at the Hippo.

You might have noticed last post's title. It's my new phrase to describe anything just a little cheap and mostly slutty, like light-up acrylic stiletto heels, tanorexic skin and ratty blond hair (I saw it.I was afraid).I think everyone should use the phrase too.

Sunday
I wake again to the same overcast skies, but know that by the afternoon it will burn off with the emerging sun. We enjoy our coffee and pastries. The butter is amazing here—I don’t know what makes it so good other than it is sweet, fresh, and in the shape of a tulip (What could be sweeter than that?!).

It’s such a cool morning that we hop into our tennis shoes and start walking. We go through a few blocks of well-manicured neighborhoods (the streets are lined with beautiful trees, yet the trunks have been engraved with all kinds of graffiti. From fuck you to J+A in a heart, the ashen trunks of the knotted and gnarly trees are decorated. Do these idiots not know that they are slowly killing the tree! Each cut breaks down the plants network of highways within the phloem caring nutrients and water back and forth between the roots and leaves). We go through Rodeo Drive again. It’s quiet and cool—perspiration begins to gather on my arms and clavicle as the clouds part and we are on our way back.

We return to the hotel with hopes of going to the Getty Museum, but realize with the Fourth of July weekend it is closed. We are disappointed, but this only creates a reason to return, right!

We decide to head to Venice Beach and walk over to Santa Monica Pier. The concierge and the drivers all remark on how interesting it is going to be just to people watch while we are there. I am not too taken aback by what I see—it was quite the eclectic crowd and I believe it could make for an interesting study, but many of the people there could have very well been the sleeping-under-the-tree-guy or lady-talking-to-herself in South Park. I am frustrated though by the lack of ability for people to walk in a relatively straight line—seriously how difficult is it to follow the path of least resistance?! (This frustration could have been augmented though by my tightening hip flexors as we walk the sandy paths. Luckily the briny breeze refreshes me as we walk amongst the crowds). After the menagerie of Venice Beach we reach Santa Monica Pier with the large ferris wheel looking over the crashing waves. There is such a crowd of patriotic picnickers that we take a few moments to gaze out at the ocean scene and then move over a few blocks to the Third Street Promenade. We stop in again at Anthropologie with hopes that I will find a dress. With incredible luck and about 10 dresses later I find THE PERFECT ONE!!! It is a beautiful a-line dress with a low scoop neck, corseting details, and a watercolor scene in blues, grays, and browns. It fits like a glove, a beautiful glove! We take in lunch, pick up a bottle of wine, and then head back to the hotel.

Another late afternoon by the pool (Sadly the bar ran out of mint (how the hell does that happen?!) so no mojito today, but water with plenty of lemons is equally refreshing!). The same woman from yesterday is at the pool again; she is so familiar looking. I lean over to Debbie and whisper that I think she is the wife on the Sopranos. We agree that it’s Edie Falco from the Sopranos and also the current star of Nurse Jackie. I finish my book. It’s healing and very poignant. I am overwhelmed by how Williams deals with the cancer that consumes her family, but find it very relateable to reach out to nature for comfort and consistency.

Once again we meander back to the room drowsy from the sun. We decide to stay in for the night. We choose Date Night (a movie I have already seen, but so funny. Although I still want to see The Young Victoria, so if you have any reviews let me know) and room service—a classic tomato-basil pizza, a mixed green salad with vinaigrette, and pommes frites. What a fun night full of laughing while lounging on the couch. We even rewind through the movie just to watch the strip club scene again!

Our last night is perfect. Tomorrow we will be on a plane back to Billings.

That's a little porno quality

Saturday

As per usual I wake with the sun. It is an odd sky this morning, rather gray. But the window was open all night letting in the cool breezes of California air. (California air is different from Montana air in that there is a salty quality compared to the earthiness of Montana air). We lounge around under the still fluffy duvet and around 7am we are brought coffee. It is so cute on the sliver tray with a sunshine-yellow gerber daisy in the corner to brighten the morning. We continue to lounge around the room reading the paper (Just so you know the voice of Cinderella, Ilene Woods, died at 81 over the weekend) and our books (I’m wrapping up William’s Refuge and Debbie is devouring Lessing’s To Room Nineteen—its such an addicting read!).

By nine o’clock we are ready to explore the city! Jimmy, our closeted gay driver, takes us all over Beverly Hills, Hollywood and the LA area. We start nearby and drive around Rodeo Drive and the neighboring shopping streets all the while he gives us information about the city and asks where we are from. (Jimmy also gave us some great workout tips.haha) Interestingly enough there is a clear division between Beverly Hills and LA; the pavement literally changes from dark black asphalt to chipped and rutted gray. The street signs and fire hydrants go from white and silver to blue and yellow, accordingly. Here is also where the homeless population increases from about 40 to hundreds—Jimmy then points out “the dancer” as we dive by. He (possibly she—its really hard to tell with the bulging in some areas, but a fairly feminine face) is in all black spandex with combat boots and quite the teased hairdo. No music is playing; I think the androgynous person is warming up for a few big numbers. We dive past the ancient tar pit with surrounding park and then continue on to our next stop--the Hollywood Bowl. We get out and climb up the hill and into the natural amphitheater. The symphony is rehearsing for tonight’s show. I could stay here all day. It’s wonderfully empty and incredibly quiet, save for the music drifting through. But the show must go on and we are brought back to the car where we discuss vegetarianism.

Into Hollywood we go! (Historical fact: Built in the 1920s the sign originally read Hollywoodland and was used for marketing the growing subdivision within the hills) We of course stopped and looked at the sign, even taking the token picture (Although we did not get as creative as others around us—one chick positioned her “subject” with hands in the air while the she stretched out on the ground. I am guessing the picture will show the less-than-amused guy “holding” the Hollywood sign. How original!). Next stop: the Walk of Fame and the Chinese Theater. Jimmy offered to pull over so we could get out and take a look around, but it is so incredible crowded—I don’t need to place my hands in the imprint of a star badly enough to risk being trampled by the mobs of Asian Tourist groups and giddy, hormonal tweens.

While we are on this side of town we also drive through a cemetery. It was the most ironic and conflicting experiences. The Hollywood Forever cemetery is situated behind Paramount Studios and is the final resting place for many stars (I didn’t care enough to really remember who is being turned to detris). The monuments to loved ones are huge, pictorial and even gaudy. Numerous flowers and other trinkets edge the plots and each one becomes progressively larger and grander than the last. Yet, this is not just a place to pay homage to dear Aunt Louise, but also the local hangout for moviegoers. Along one of the walls a movie will be projected, usually the creepy-crawly thrillers (not surprising) and thousands of people watch on the lawn. I find it so interesting that a place usually designated for somber reflection is filled with massive monuments and is a theater on nights and weekends. One, it says something about how we view the ritual and memorializing of death and secondly, how we can easily replace the afterlife with box office best sellers.

Famous houses are the next item on the agenda. Jimmy drives us through neighborhoods while prattling on about who lives there and there and there. For example, in what is referred to as the Birdcage, I saw Leonardo Dicaprio’s and Keanu Reeves’ homes. Then in Toluka Lake we drove by Steve Carell’s and Miley Cyrus’ (gag me!) houses. (Jimmy knew a copious amount about Miley Cyrus. I think he may have read too deeply into Montana association).

There were many other places along the way with lots of informational tidbits. When the tour wrapped up we have Jimmy drop us off at the Farmers Market and the Grove. There we perused shops and had a bite to eat. My favorite stop was to Anthropologie. I just love their clothes, and bedding, and furniture, and kitchenwares. It’s eclectic, offbeat, and all around right up my alley. I try on a few dresses, well rather lots and lots of dresses because they are my favorite!, and some adorable blouses. The sales girl, Jenner, is a doll and picks out some neat items. I fall in love with a plaid, corseted blouse, a blue scribble top, and some nude cutout flats with an adorable flower! (Sadly we have them shipped back so I am awaiting their arrival!).

We are a bit tired. It was a lot of information to absorb in three hours, plus our shopping time. We head back to the hotel and change into our swimsuits. It’s about 4 o’clock and the traffic at the pool is winding down. The tanned cabana boys escort us to our lounge chairs and we order drinks. I come to find that I love a refreshing, minty mojito in the setting afternoon sun. Debbie also spots a familiar face. We are not exactly sure where to place her from though. Could it be a movie star?!(Wouldn't you like to know!)

A few hours later we make it back to our room warm and sun-kissed. We contemplate keeping our reservation with Koi and then decide to go to the Polo again—it’s really just too good to go anywhere else! Tonight we are greeted by familiar faces and make it a light dinner. I have the tortilla soup—its deep red with a strong smoky flavor from the cumin with smooth, vibrant avocado. Still enjoying the mojito, I have a cocktail of a mojlini, which is a wicked combination of the mint mojito and a peach bellini. I suck the fresh peaches after dipping them in the mint; it’s so sensual. We also share the Grand Marnier soufflé—warm and gooey with a rich cream sauce to drench each spoonful.

Another wonderful day spent observing, relaxing, and enjoying our trip.Tomorrow will be just as exciting.

We are running away....

Hello! I have made it back from my secret trip. Over the next few posts I will be recounting my special trip so please hold on while I chip away at it.


It was such a lovely trip. Four days and three nights of transportation--the metaphysical and emotional kind, not actual travel.


This trip was made possible (does that not sound like PBS commercial?), first by the creative influence of my cousin, J.R., and then put into action by my most caring and generous aunt, Debbie. Without her compassion and thoughtfulness this trip would not have been possible. I am blessed to have her think of me for such a special trip.

It all starts Friday....
I am rather anxious this morning considering I have my British Literature III final. Luckily, the night before I did most of the packing and only had the last minute items to tuck, or rather jam, into the full suitcase (considering I don't know where I am going I have to pack for all occasions, outside of the swimsuit and heels requirement). Then, I head to school early for my last minute study cram in the hallway. Boy did we cover a lot in the last portion of the class--three major periods leading up to the 20th century including British Imperialism, World War I, and the Irish conflict depicted through numerous pieces of poetry all leaching into one another. But, once those essays are out of the way, I quickly scoot out of the room (I was the first one done, even) and practically skip up the hill to my car! I was on my way...although I still do not know where.

Uncle Randy does give a bit of information away though as he hugs me upon my arrival. "Hope you have fun in California!" I didn't know if I should believe him or not. Is this a way to throw me off? Or is this truly my destination? Even if it is, California is a rather large state with many cities. My destination is still a mystery.

Finishing a few errands we zoom up to the airport, quickly scan our persons and luggage, making it to our gate with plenty of time. On a side note: I did end up having to leave a few of my miniature toiletries because I had too many in my ziplock bag. You will be missed tiny mousse.
We pack into tiny sardine plane for an hour until we reach Salt Lake City, Utah where we then upgrade to first class. Yeah, that's right first class. Flying in first class is spectacular! On the overstuffed seat lies a pillow and blanket. The armrest presents me with a miniature bottle of water (that made up for loosing my mousse to the clutches of airport security) and a pair of headphones. While we waited for the plane to depart music played--no, not elevator music, but artists like Holly Brook and even Jem. I knew I was meant to be there :) Our drinks came in a glass (I'm not talking that chinet shit from coach) and the stewardess carries around a special basket from which we chose our travel treat. Even the well-memorized travel safety procedures are not played out by the flight attendants with the fake seatbelt and oxygen mask, rather it broadcasts over the tiny tv situated in the backs of each seat (I watched "When in Rome" for this leg of the trip--it was pretty funny although a bit predictable. Once again the trailer gave away too much). Ahhh it is splendid.

We land. The secret trip destination: Beverly Hills, California (Kudos by the way for lasting this long without knowing where I was going. I'll still give kudos even if you skimmed through the first 6 paragraphs only to make it to this line)

A driver from our hotel picks us up and takes us the scenic route back to the hotel. We were staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Oh how glorious! The pink and green wash over me and the palm leaves covering the walls wrap me in luxury. Our room is cozy, comfortable, extravagant. I am taken aback by it all. It’s a bit overwhelming and I am even finding myself filling with tears. It is such a different environment; my heart feels weighted. Debbie, though, soon scoops me up and we begin exploring the hotel and then preparing for dinner.

The elevator doors open and we walk into the sexy Polo Lounge. We are truly spoiled by the service and food. We meet Nino, the sommelier, and quickly become good friends. The lounge is buzzing with people. There is a party in the back with many people coming and going and as we sit comfortably by the open window with a small candle casting a warm glow we curiously watch them pass. The chef sends out small samples of quiche, a creative selection of breads, and a simple, but classic, salad of tart strawberries, candied almonds, and peppery watercress starts the meal. Soon the waitress places a rectangular dish in front of me—a mound of jasmine-scented rice with a colorful stir-fry of sweet bell peppers, mushrooms, broccolini (my favorite!!), mild onion and chicken in a light sauce. We continue conversation over a decadent chocolate dessert as we wind into the evening. I am drowsy with the soft glow and rich food. Finally the chef wraps up the meal with an entremet of mango gelee alongside a strawberry marshmallow; it melts in my mouth.My head sinks into three, yes three, down filled pillows. A feathery, crisp white comforter floats on top of me and I drift to sleep. In the morning I look forward to exploring the city.

Ah my bags are packed and I am not only excited to hop on a plane and zoom out of here for a few days, but am anxious too for my final this morning. I believe I will do alright considering I earned and A on the first test and and A- on my paper. This five week class sure flew by; I have had a great time following British Literature from the Romantic age into the present (or about the late 80s haha). I have even been able to strengthen what began as classroom acquaintances into more meaningful friendships.
I still have no idea where this plane is taking Aunt Debbie and me, but I am looking forward to the experience!! I also picked up a new camera last night. Nothing too fancy pantsy, but nice enough to take quality pictures so as to capture every great moment of this journey. Not only do I believe it will rejuvenate me emotionally, but it will allow me to just be fun-loving and carefree in a new city with new people and activities. I am truly blessed to have such a generous Aunt! She has such a caring soul to think of me, to make me her travel buddy, for this oh so secret trip.

Is there nothing more annoying than toothpaste on your shirt?
I of course pull out my cute trapeze tank to wear in the balmy weather only to splatter toothpaste down the front.
If only the whitening crystals, or whatever they are, did not bleach out the spot making it incredibly obvious to you and every passerby that the simple act of dental hygiene became a difficult task.
Also, as if the toothpaste dribble wasn't bad enough, I blurred out the edge with my thumb! Also, also did you know that the same materials which go into toothpaste additionally go into making road paint reflective? Could you imagine the blinding white smile?!