The jujitsu bike ride and campout was a lot of fun. Mr. W and I stayed at the campsite on our own Friday night, waved the other people in on Saturday morning when they dropped a couple of cars and their camping gear off at our sites, then they carpooled back to the Sensei’s office to bike back to our house, as Mr. W and I biked home to wait for the same group to meet us at our house. When they did, we all as a larger group biked down to the campsite again. Everyone helped each other set up camp and tents, and we hung out as a group of 12 or so for the next 24 hours. The next morning, people dispersed as needed with a few remaining to come home with us and hang out at our Lake for some swimming, sand volleyball, and kayaking. Photos abound from this event, and they’re plastered all over the social networking site we’re on. I’ve learned that the next time I go camping, I need to bring a makeup kit with me. Yuckers, man!

Wednesday was our second furlough day. I didn’t expect it to beat the way I spent our first furlough day last month — watching Dwaine bully bees at the beach — but it was close. It started with a dental visit 60 miles away in Pasadena. Dentist Andy is a childhood friend (we grew up together, he’s bridesmaid Sandy’s brother) and the best dentist I’ve ever had, so the usual angst that accompanied prior dental visits wasn’t present. They always take blood pressure before any work, and mine was something like 115/75 with a pulse of 58. “Are you falling asleep on us?” his dental assistant prodded me. I was this relaxed despite having discussed with Dentist Andy that he may have to pull out a wisdom tooth this visit. Actually, he never used the word “pull.” He characterized it as “you’d feel some pressure, and we’ll just roll it out.” How soothing. Turned out, as they were working, that it didn’t require an extraction so he just patched up the tooth. While I was laying on my back with metal all inside my mouth, Andy said some nice things about me. His assistant commented on how easy I was to work on and how cooperative (apparently some patients whine, complain, can’t hold their mouths open, keep moving their heads, etc) and how calm I was, and Andy said, “Cindy’s always been like that, though. If there’s something that needs to be done, she just, does it. You know how some people complain about life? Cindy just lives it. She knows what she needs to do in a very no-nonsense way and takes care of it.” I was touched but couldn’t comment on it, either in agreement or protest, or I risked splitting my tongue on the drill. It didn’t occur to me he knew me well enough (despite having known me 27 years of my life) to make such a statement about my personality, and I can’t even assess its accuracy, but I liked that he thought that of me. =) Totally made my dental visit. Less than an hour later, Andy returned me into the waiting room, where Mr. W was waiting for me. We figured that since this visit was all the way in Pasadena where we have rare occasion to be, he’d come along for the day and we’d hang out there.

So we strolled in Old Town Pasadena, wandered into interesting bookstores and mysterious-looking tea shops, bought some cannisters of rooibos looseleaf tea, visited new outdoor malls and entertainment centers, had lunch, walked through a Pacific Asian museum and learned things like how China silk is made and how the Indian god Ganesha got his elephant head. We didn’t get home til late evening, after the long drive and the Audiobook version of “The Time Traveler’s Wife” had put me to sleep. (I was farther along reading the novel than he was in the audiobook anyway, so I didn’t miss anything.)

Saturday, we went to another Lake concert event. The opening band is a new favorite of mine, “Plushgun.” Three young musicians from New York, full of energy, very friendly. I liked their music instantly. It’s something like The Cure meets electronica with a touch of punk, and it reminded me of what I call “Diana-music,” reminiscent of happy and carefree college days with college roommie Diana. (Obviously it wasn’t carefree to us when we were living it, but in retrospect, ah, those were the days!) I bought their newest CD for $10. It will now be my driving music, since I’ve found that I can’t stand any of the music I currently have anymore. I need new music free from prior associations. The main band, “No More Kings,” performed a category of music I’d never heard of before, “comedy rock.” They’d introduce songs like, “This is about what happened with the guy who got kicked in the head with a standing crane kick” (“I heard the devil whisper in my ear…Sweep the leg, Johnny! Sweep the leg, Johnny!” a la Karate Kid); “This song is about what happens after you die, and you inevitably come back as a zombie.” They were a barrel of laughs, with even a song about Kitt, the talking car in Knight Rider. The lead singer told us, “I used to make a cassette tape with my voice saying, ‘Hello, Pete.’ I’d stick the cassette into my car, so when I started the car it’d say, ‘Hello, Pete.’ And my friends would be all, ‘DUDE! Your car just TALKED to you!’ …But it would only work once per friend.” They also had a song about playing Dungeons and Dragons (“It’s a critical hit! I made 90 double damage with it!”). As soon as the lead singer informs us it’s about D&D, he turned to the band members and said, “This is the first time I’ve admitted to a live audience that this is what the song’s about, I’m such a geek.” But with the lyrics, people would’ve likely figured it out anyway. Both bands were a barrel of laughs.

Sunday, Mr. W and I went through a bunch of home decorating and home improvement warehouse stores looking for materials to build a zen garden. He’s always hated a little plot of dirt in front of our house right next to our front door. Plants don’t stay alive there and he finds the little quad an eyesore. I’d suggested a Japanese zen garden, and we scoured our local shops for items to put in there. He got six 50-lb bags of white playground sand, a weed liner to place underneath, a crystal gazing ball with bubbles and splashes of color in the middle like an artpiece which would represent a koi pond to us, a pair of Chinese guardian lions, a bone-colored statue of an Asian tower. When we got home, I knocked out on the couch (what is wrong with me and this lethargy?) and woke 3 hours later to his, “Look at the zen garden I made you!” He’d dug out the dirt, put down the liner, smoothed the sand over, set up the decorative items, and raked patterns of ripples all around the objects. Ideally we’d have a bridge, tall scraggly rocks and maybe a bonzai tree, but it was definitely a start.