Dream-Travel Lags

Image: Cebu, Philippines

I was dreaming last night that I was taking a big trip to a tropical place, and that my son had to come on a later plane than me for some reason. Since he is only three and has never traveled anywhere, I was terrified he would get lost. I kept calling at every step to make sure he was a step behind me like he was supposed to be. It was so scary, and at one point I was screaming. I screamed myself awake, and Tony had to settle me back down.

Sometimes I wish that I didn't have such vivid nightmares, the ones that leave me trembling like that. Of course, if I couldn't dream that vividly, I would miss out on the beautiful dreams that I also have, the ones that nourish my abilities in my waking life. The ones that give me peace.

I guess I am just destined to be an intense dreamer. I just wonder: do I dream that way because I have an intense life, or is my life dramatic and intense because of the way I dream?

Dream: Showing up for Nursing Boards Naked

Plus Bonus Dream Subplot: Europe Won't Allow my Yankee Spices!

More wacky stories from the sideshow that is my subconscious.

I dreamed the other night that due to bad time management and stress, I showed up an hour late for my appointment for the NCLEX exam, plus I was naked. Plus, instead of a written test, it was to be a practical demonstration of cadaver dissection overseen by my old Anatomy & Physiology professor, Doctor Burke. He didn't approve of my lateness but didn't seem to notice the fact that I was nude. I had to dress in full isolation gear as if I was treating a patient with MRSA or TB, and go and quickly dissect a corpse without making a mess of it. In two hours.  Actually, I think that actually would be easier than taking the real NCLEX, but I digress...

One of the reasons I was stressed in the dream was that I had to pass on the first try, because I was moving to Europe to practice Nursing immediately afterward. It was in the back of my mind that the customs people had told me that I couldn't take my Dean & Deluca spices with me. Not like European countries don't have spices available, but I had purchased these at considerable expense and wanted to take them along. I was building an argument in my head that I should be allowed to take Herbes De Provence to freaking Provence! The nerve!

My dreams have been so jumbled up lately. I think I am finally processing all the changes I have been through since May. Life has been damn busy, and once I get past the NCLEX, things can calm down a bit. That is, if I let them. I am so accustomed to being in near-constant motion that I am not sure I know HOW to relax anymore. By the end of summer I hope to have fewer things hanging over my head and can enjoy the rewards of all this hard work!

Planet Los Angeles

Got back a couple of days ago from a vacation to Southern California, where I was attending to a long overdue visit to my good friend Eliz. She's got a cute little apartment just a few blocks from the beach in Santa Monica.

I will admit that due to my aversion to thronging crowds I had avoided going anywhere near LA for a long time. While I seem well suited to the city rhythms of San Francisco and Quebec, something about the frenetic, jerky movements of Los Angeles never did sit well with me. I lived in a terrifying neighborhood in Tujunga (near Glendale) for a formative year when I was twenty, and I knew it just wasn't for me. Lots of great stories came out of it, but mostly the kind that are scary as hell in the moment but hilarious later.

I might not have left if I had lived in Santa Monica. It is much more chill. If I could hang out and walk along the beach in the mornings and go to the farmers' market and pick around at the Main Street shops and never set foot in LA proper, that would be okay. During my stay I did a ton of walking. And talking. It was like moving therapy. Eliz and I had a ton of catching up to do, and we sorted out a few things for ourselves along the way.

I wouldn't want to have to do the dating scene there, however. That hasn't changed. There is something fundamentally flaky about single people in Los Angeles in particular. I was at a cocktail event on Saturday night and, from the outside, watched people mingle. I am so much more used to being on a deep, sincere level with the people I know well. It was a lot more work to have conversations on the surface of things with strangers. Of course, with a drink or two to loosen my tongue I managed just fine, but I wasn't looking for love or anything else, so my social needs were pretty simple.

We went to see Depeche Mode on Monday night, and they were awesome. The visual effects were stunning, mesmerizing. Of course, we were lucky to have seen them at all since a rash of shows had been canceled the previous week due to singer David Gahan's illness. The set was clearly designed to give him several breaks, but that was fine. When we were on out way out of the Hollywood Bowl at the end of the show, we saw a couple in a heated argument, and the woman gave the man what looked like a bone-jarring left hook to the kisser. It was pretty messed up, but I will admit with no pride that I was gawking until Eliz grabbed my sleeve and pulled me along.

The next day it was time to go home, so I had to face down the horrors of LAX. I was doing my best to be relaxed and patient with the super-long lines. But holy hell. I am pretty sure that you see the worst in people when they travel. Everyone seemed hostile and pressed and there were just so MANY of them. Overwhelming.

I feel like I just got back from a strange planet. Planet Los Angeles. The people there look like the rest of us. Wait. No, they don't. They are certainly thinner and tanner and wear very expensive ripped jeans that under ordinary circumstances would look like they were fished out of a dumpster. Those clothes are casually, meticulously distressed by professionals and cost more than my car. I can't really criticize because I have nothing approximating a personal style. The whole affair made me want to cruise over to the Patagonia outlet and stock up on practical, semi-sporty clothes that only need to be accessorized with a ponytail and running shoes.

I can't complain, though. I had a good time and got to see LA from an adult perspective. In some ways it was just as I remembered it. In others it surprised me and gave me a glimpse of why people put up with so much traffic on the 405. There is fun to be had there, and if it isn't fun, there is always Dr. Kush.

Well Played, Palo Alto

Image Credit: pork buns at the Three Seasons restaurant, Palo Alto

It is really strange that I have not been to Palo Alto for years, and this year I have gone to visit people there twice. I went to Gunn High School for Freshman and part of Sophomore year before moving back to Ohio. Then when I came back in 1987 I hung out with Audrey up there and dated a guy named Paul. Paul and his friends went to Paly (Palo Alto High School) a few years ahead of me. Many of my most beloved friends to this day were from that social group. Paul and I broke up after not very long, but I kept the friends, like any smart person would.

If I were a superhero, making fulfilling and lasting friendships would be my superpower. That might not seem as impressive as being bulletproof or stronger than a locomotive, but I would argue that it is a power that is useful more often. And being around my friends does make me feel pretty invincible.

Palo Alto isn't quite as I remember in some ways. It is certainly more populated with money than I remember. But then again, I was just some punk kid roaming around its streets with my punk boyfriend the last time I spent any appreciable time there. Seeing it as an adult is a little bit different. People that still live there tell me it just isn't the same. It certainly is well-manicured.

Seeing my friends is always a major treat, and I braved driving snow in the Sierras both ways to make this recent trip. I had to chain up my car and everything, which is a bit of a pain in the ass. It was totally worth it to gather together and laugh and have cocktails. I was on a lychee kick and had a couple of lychee martinis. That put the Christmas cheer in my cheeks for sure.

Of course, going to a dinner party in Palo Alto meant running into Paul, and as Fate would have it I ended up sitting across the table from him and his wife and son. It was a little awkward, but tacitly amusing. I don't think either one of us was expressley comfortable with the seating arrangements, but we got on amiably enough.

I stayed with my friend Ben while I was down there, which was much more genial than staying at a hotel, especially because he didn't mind me tinkering around in his kitchen. That is probably because he is a bachelor and relishes having a home-cooked meal or two. We had a good time, especially considering we are both sensitive people who tire of the crowd scene at roughly the same rate. When not partying, I had time to sleep in and read a book and generally relax.

I made some memories that are going to carry me through the next semester, I hope. The only thing I dislike about being in school full time is the fact that I have to turn down social invitations. School doesn't start again until January 26th, so I should be able to have some small measure of fun prior to that.

Well played, San Francisco

"When you tell people you are a hedonist, people just think you are some kind of pervert, but really, it is primarily about placing a priority on your own enjoyment." -Ted Thomaidis, while sitting on a bar stool next to me at Bourbon and Branch.

I couldn't have said it any better myself, Ted. Brilliant insight, as usual. And brilliant, I might say INSPIRED cocktails. That Elderflower is a revelation. The cucumber gimlet was fucking rad, too. What was the third one? The Aviation? I remember it was good but things were fuzzy by then.

Dinner at Fish&Farm was great, and I loved that raw oyster with the granita, yum. The chilled corn soup amuse buche was so intense it made my palate leap with longing. I had the duo of lamb and Ted had the fish & chips. I had to know any place Ted would take me would cook their pommes frittes in duck fat. That sazarac almost put me out cold, but it was outstanding. The rye was surprisingly good. It turns out that I do like whiskey, it is bourbon I'm not crazy about. Great company, and I don't know when I have laughed so hard for so long. My sides ached. I love that we drank enough to be at the "I love you, man!" stage. It leant itself to some earnest mutual appreciation.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Before all that drinking, there was more drinking with John at lunch. We went to Cafe Metropol and I had some Grey Goose L'orange cosmopolitans (2) and a nice cappuccino with lunch. We talked about everything and nothing, and generally enjoyed each other's company. Then we went into Teuscher Chocolates and got some gianduja truffles (my absolute favorite of all time) and champagne truffles. These we took with us to the bar at the St. Francis and ate them with some champagne. Decadence is its own reward, plain and simple.

After treating myself to a breakfast crepe at Honey Honey, I had a nice, easy drive home today. I'm only a little head-achey and tired, but I daresay I am blissed out. Hedonism like that makes me happy. I did all the fun things I like to do that break no laws or marital agreements. It was, in essence, a whole day and evening of pleasures at table. As you may know, that is pure heaven for me. Sharing a well-crafted meal and clinking glasses with a good friend whom I trust and adore (this applies to both John and Ted) is my number one recipe for a perfect time. I am so fucking fortunate to have both of them in my life. It makes me feel pretty special to have such amazing friends. They are my wealth. I am truly blessed.

I am spiritually realigned. I can face anything now. I have been emotionally petted and stroked, expertly fed, socially lubricated and ego-lifted. I could probably dead lift a car right now. I feel strong and funny and sweet and loving and beautiful (!) and capable.

Now I am finally ready for school to start. I am fortified.

Things I don't approve of-Road Trip Edition

We took a family trip down to the Bay Area this last weekend to visit my mother in Santa Rosa. Normally I am all for a road trip, but I usually take mine solo, and travel with Little A makes things much more complicated. It seems like everything takes twice as long with a kid. Before I dwell on the negatives, here's a list of the weekend's redeeming factors:

• Little A got some quality "grandma time"
• Highly gratifying cupcakes purchased at Dean & Deluca.
• Shopping for Little A's fall wardrobe
• Cool wildlife in the protected marshland next to mom's beautiful new house.
• Lovely scenery around the wine country, as pictured above

Now for the not so great stuff

• Little A gets bored in the car and keeps trying to get us to turn around and look at her, and gets cranky when the driver can't do it because they are, like, driving.
• Long drives and sightseeing schedule throw off nap/sleep schedules, making for a cranky kiddo overall. Various headbutting ensues. Adults get snappish. Kiddo engages in various acts of not so civil disobedience. Luckily no major public meltdowns, but every little thing was a battle of wills.
• Noisy geese among cool wildlife in protected marshland decide to honk up a storm at about 6 A.M. resulting in everyone getting up. I was the only one not really on board with getting out of bed that early on a Saturday.
• Possible food poisoning incident causes Tony to need the car pulled over by a busy freeway so that he could violently vomit on the side of the road, all over the lovely scenery. Then Little A started crying that SHE wanted to throw up. It took several hours longer than usual to get home.
• Roadkill-big dead deer edition. Bummer.
• Almost road kill-People edition. Big traffic backup and trying to assure Little A that despite the man on the stretcher and the crunched pileup of cars and the 4 ambulances and the fire truck, that everything was fine. She wasn't buying it.
• Getting home and needing to launch into massive loads of laundry.

That is all.

Getting Myself Kidnapped

I'm all about getting out of Dodge once in a while by myself and stirring up some trouble. I like the idea of getting myself kidnapped and having some new shit happening to me. It really shakes the cobwebs out of my brain. I need to do it more often, actually.

So, this weekend I am hitting the road in search of a little peace and quiet, as well as some fun talks with total strangers and coffee in a different city. I often make it to San Francisco, so this time I am going to Palo Alto, scene of many of my teenage crimes. It will be interesting to see if it looks any different to me. I seem to remember good bookstores.

I'm hoping to get a few ideas or do a little writing while I am there, too. I'm taking stuff with me to support that, but who knows? I might just hook up to my iPod and recline on my hotel bed all day just to get some rest. Either way, I'll be back home on Sunday, hopefully with renewed energy for my daily routine.

Wanderlust

I have 4 months until I go to school full time. It seems like that would be plenty of time to do stuff that I want to do and also buy textbooks and pay tuition, etc. Maybe it is. All I know is that I am hip-deep in scholarship paperwork and so many demands for money that I am feeling a bit pinned down.

What I really want is a long, solo road trip. I want to taste salt air. I want to get kidnapped after a fashion and have some new, fun shit happen to me before I have to buckle down for 2 years of intense study and 3 years of mandated payback work.

All of my time off from work has centered around taking A to doctor appointments and visits with her bio family. I haven't taken much time for myself. And when I did go to SF a while back, I got totally sick and that certainly minimized my enjoyment.

But planning any kind of trip, family or solo, gets hampered by the stack of mounting bills for this school project. One of my fall classes has 12 textbooks! Twelve! What the hell? Between that and my fervent desire to pay off my car, trying to carve out a lost weekend seems impossible.

You would think I would want more family time, but I have always hankered for alone time trips. Becoming a parent has not changed that desire. It might seem selfish and maybe it is, but my sanity is sometimes tenuous and a long drive clears the cobwebs like nothing else.

Lost weekend in San Francisco

I know I said I was going to write about this earlier in the week, but a profound bout of the flu has taken the smart ass right out of me. Since I really seem to like the list format, here are my impressions of the San Francisco Writers' Conference that I attended last weekend and my quasi-adventures in the City.

1. I want to give San Francisco the best oral of its life. Always good to start with a bang, eh? What can I say? I wouldn't go to a writers' conference if it was in Topeka or Columbus. When I got into my hotel (the Mark Hopkins, yay!) the first thing I did was shuck off my luggage and walk down to get a latte. There is just something about the San Francisco mojo. I was gripped by the strong urge to fall to the ground and kiss the sidewalk. Although I honor the other places I have lived in my life as needed steps in my journey, San Francisco will always be my special favorite, and the only city where I really feel in my element. I spent as much time as I could eschewing cab rides in favor of treacherously steep walks, even while sweating with fever. There is just something in the foggy air there that makes me pregnant with libidinous creativity. I just wanted to make out with strangers. Not that I would do it, but I had the big love for my fellow man.

2. I need better luggage. Staying in a REALLY nice hotel will really make you notice how banged up your luggage has become. I would never have noticed that my bag isn't all that great by taking it to my mother's house. Tucked on the luggage stand in the closet of my hotel room, it stood out. I'm not at all label conscious, but now I salivate over fantastic suitcases as if they were traveler porn.

3. 40 poems in 40 days. Since I didn't have a manuscript that was in any shape to pitch to agents, I took classes that focused more on craft. That is where the 40 days of poetry came from. I'm trying to pry open my creative psyche after slamming it shut in the fall. It is going okay so far. It is interesting to see the kind of poetry I write when I am not in the mood. I wrote one about Britney Spears on the first day. *shudder*

4. I'm still not the "cool" kid. I still don't have a clue how to pick a table when I go to lunch with hundreds of other people. It felt really awkward in a way that didn't really get better when I added alcohol. Add to that the Mercury Retrograde (more below), and I was really below par on my communication skills. I did meet some amazing writers. I really hope I will get to read their books one day. I also met some people even more misanthropic than myself.

5. Mercury Retrogrades suck ass. If my newspaper horoscope says I'm likely to get hit by a falling piano, I wouldn't let that stop me from leaving the house. But I believe in Mercury Retrogrades. The idea is that Mercury is the planet that rules communication, so when it retrogrades, wires invariably get crossed if not outright short-circuited. I have never had so many social plans go up in smoke. As a result, I had some good phone conversations, but trying to see my friends face-to-face was just impossible.

6. I wasn't my usual gregarious self due to the flu. There were long stretches where I didn't want to talk to anyone, so I sat in the back of my classes and sucked cough drops. I felt all funny and self-conscious, and to be honest, rather sorry for myself. Then I was feeling self-conscious about my "rejected writer" thing, because I worried that other people would worry that it was catching. Putting it mildly, I was better off sweating it out in my lavish marble bathtub than reading at the open mics. I read anyway, and got nice (and useful) feedback. At least I think it was nice, I was coughing too hard to hear most of it.

7. I got a new idea. In order to write this next idea, I need to compile some expertise or understanding of the works of Dante (the Divine Comedy) and firefighters. I think firefighters might be hard to write well about, since portrayals of them in movies tend to lack depth. But it occurred to me on the drive home that my protagonist (a man this time!) needs to have that for a job. I also need to watch the Showtime series "Dead Like Me" and a few pre-biblical references to make sure I'm not re-treading someone else's idea.

8. I got a new book. Writing the Breakout Novel by Don Maass. I heard this guy speak and had to run downstairs to buy his book on the spot. I was not alone in doing so. I also bought the companion workbook. I really feel that I need to work on the craft of writing in a more disciplined way. I want to dig deeper and get better at this. This guy's talk was what triggered my new idea. I may work on the other things I have on the back burner, but I want to see what I can do starting from scratch with a new perspective. I almost feel like I need to start with short stories before I work up to novel level again.

9. Dim Sum rules. Can't get it in Reno. I walked into Chinatown and found the place with zero white people in it and ordered up some bliss in dumpling form. The patrons and staff were all looking at me like I'd lost my way. My server asked me if I wanted a fork, and even though I said no thanks, she brought me one anyway. I refused to use it. Everyone was starting without trying to look like it to see if I would pick the fork up. No dice. It might have been the only fork the restaurant had, like in a glass case in the back on the wall. The sign next to it saying "In case of Caucasian, break glass."

10. I saw my old lover's apartment.
By some strange twist of fate, my mother is renting an apartment (for a short term) in the apartment complex where Iceberg lived when I was dating him, about 14 years ago. It gave me strange flashbacks. Not long ago I could have called him and had a laugh about it, but we have had a falling out. Therefore the memory infusion was as annoying as having a splinter under your fingernail.