cindy's world

Today, my marriage turns one year old. We didn’t do anything spectacular over the weekend; his parents drove down for a quick visit to show off their new Prius. All of us had tried convincing them to get rid of their two clunkers and get something they didn’t have to continually sink thousands of dollars into to fix, and they’d always insisted they couldn’t afford a car payment at this point. But they did it! We’ll all have more peace of mind knowing they’re not gonna be stranded again in 115 degree desert heat in the middle of Vegas.

After my in-laws left on Sunday, Mr. W and I went to have dinner with my parents and my cousin Olivia’s family. It was nice to see my nieces again, they took some beautiful professional portraits on their recent trip to Asia that made them both look like beautiful fairy tale princesses. I should’ve gotten Nikki to send some to my phone. Maybe I can still do that, since the digital images were downloaded into her cell phone.

And this morning, of course, I am at work. We have no evening plans. It’s funny that people remember our anniversary; all week I’ve been asked by coworkers what our big plans are for the weekend for our 1-year. I told them “nothing,” and they all looked surprised. It’s expected to not be a big deal to Mr. W, but for me, it’s my first year of my first marriage and it’s an anniversary and women are all about anniversaries, right? Eh. I explain that I’m too practical to buy into Hallmarkish hypes, and that since we got married on our 3-year anniversary, we’ve been celebrating this date for 3 years already. So what’s a fourth year? Plus, our anniversary used to always fall on a Labor Day long weekend, and this year it didn’t as the long weekend is next weekend. Mr. W offered to do something for next weekend, but I wasn’t much help in the way of suggestions with my shrugs. I would’ve done the champagne dinner and eating the top layer of our wedding cake thing, but we don’t have that layer. At the wedding we gave permission to the Garden to cut and serve all 3 tiers since we didn’t need the extra calories anyway, but I found out afterwards that they’d saved the top tier anyway as there was enough cake to go around. Unbeknownst to me, they went to the groom to ask what to do with the top tier, and he told them to toss it. My grandma was nearby and not only is she not wasteful, but she had a huge sweet tooth, and offered to take the cake. He gave it to her and she happily indulged in our anniversary cake for the entire week following our wedding. I actually didn’t even have more than the photo-op mouthful of cake during the cake cutting, and wish I’d gotten to experience more of our cake, but I’m glad I don’t have to eat an entire cake at this time because I can’t afford the calories.

The reason I’m watching my weight is because I have upcoming events in which photographic evidence will be taken, recording the state of my waistline a year from my wedding, and I’m well aware of people’s bets and expectations that I will plump up immediately following the wedding. In the next 2 months, I’ll be attending my cousin Diana’s baby shower, cousin Jennifer’s bridal shower, bachelorette outing and wedding, taking a trip to Florida to meet up with Jordan and Flat Coke so we can hang out at Clearwater Beach (swimsuit!), then to Vegas to meet up with Jordan and her new beau for a weekend, then Mr. W and I will fly to Chicago from there with a road trip back to Vegas stopping by Yellowstone and other sites of interest. If I’m gonna splurge on something before all those events, it will NOT be on food.

It will be on a digital SLR camera. I’m considering the Nikon D90, Nikon D5000, and Canon Rebel (but unsure what models to consider). Any opinions?

Due to recent conversations, photos, videos and shows I’d happened to stumble upon, and things I’ve randomly read, I’ve had a hankerin’ for New Orleans food for months. Crawfish, in particular. I’ve never had boiled crawfish, but I’ve been curious. Mr. W felt like going out for dinner last nite, so we did an online search for local authentic Creole food restaurants near us. We found one about half an hour away near Newport Beach called “JACKshrimp.” Turned out their crawfish was seasonal, meaning only served during Mardi Gras. We found another menu item of interest, however. It is the restaurant’s namesake: “shell-on gulf shrimp in Jack’s savory spicy sauce with french bread for dunking.” Sounded like Killer Shrimp, one of our favorite restaurants that we don’t get to very often because it’s deep into downtown LA territory in Marina del Ray, so we decided to try JackShrimp in hopes that it’d be a good local substitute for Killer Shrimp. I still remember the first time I had Killer Shrimp, and the glowing faces of friends who shared that evening with me. JackShrimp’s broth didn’t really compare; it was very lightly flavored and did have some fire as an afterburn, but mainly was melted almost-frothy butter. If it’s bland to me, it must taste like water to everyone else. But low-sodium is a good thing, considering all the fat I was taking in. The serving was also smaller and cost more. We decided Killer Shrimp’s recipe is still king, except…

I found out yesterday that on my birthday this year, while I was busy feeling myself turn 1/3 century old and checking for white hairs and wrinkles (while being relieved that I didn’t find any) and making jello shots for my upcoming party, Killer Shrimp closed its doors for the final time. There is no more Killer Shrimp, anywhere. This was the last remaining branch. According to gossip on Yelp, the owner the business building opted not to let the restaurant renew its lease, and the proprietors of the restaurant have not indicated any plans to reopen elsewhere.

Oh, Killer Shrimp, there were imitators that didn’t come close to your succulent secret recipe, how can you now forever deprive the world the experience of you? There are friends whom I’d intended to introduce you to, and now they’ll never know the warmth that is the Cajun burning in their stomachs after an hour basking in your Creole love. I blame myself for only intending to bring these friends and not having taken more initiative to have actually brought them; I blame you for not warning us of your impending death; I blame my friends for not more readily availing themselves to me to embrace you. Why? Whyyyyyyyyy?! *shaking fist in air*

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.

Last nite, I met up with Ann and Michelle at Monterey Hill restaurant for dinner after work. (“You’re going WHERE? That’s a DATE RESTAURANT!” Michelle’s fiance Eddie had apparently complained to Michelle when she’d told him about our dinner plans. “Are you SURE you’re not meeting guys there?” Haha. Eddie’s in Taiwan right now with his family so he had to be jealous from afar.) It was the most geographically widespread dinner I’d been to in awhile; I was coming from Norwalk, Ann from Fountain Valley, and Michelle from Alhambra. All three of us had been to the nice view steakhouse before, but it’d been many years for each of us (we counted it by way of “3 boyfriends ago,” “5 boyfriends ago,” etc.). Ann and I arrived while it was still happy hour, so we each sipped on a glass of champagne while indulging in the bar’s free meatball and veggie appetizers as we waited for Michelle.

Michelle soon arrived and we were walked to our window table by the host. As soon as we sat down, Michelle pointed repeatedly somewhere to her left as she mouthed something that Ann apparently understood. I had Michelle repeat her miming so many times I’m surprised she didn’t just slap me. Turns out, I can’t read lips. Something about green monster? Was she pointing at two Asian men seated alone to her left in a booth? Or at the table with two women with the one man closer to us? Did people give us dirty looks as we walked in? “Green monster” meant jealousy, right? I asked Ann, who was seated to my right, what Michelle had said. Turned out she was trying to tell me The Incredible Hulk was seated to our right, a bit behind Ann. I turned and looked, and there sat Lou Ferrigno.

Michelle dug through her purse and soon a pink camera emerged. “We should go ask him if we could take a picture with him,” she suggested.
“Yeah, with all of us!” Ann said.
“But he’s trying to eat, he probably gets this all the time,” I hesitated.
“Yeah, I feel bad bothering a celebrity when he’s at a restaurant,” said Michelle, wavering.
There was a pause as we all reconsidered. And then Ann said, “Oh, he should be flattered! He’s a HAS-BEEN!” We laughed, but decided let him finish eating. Just in case we miss him, though, I leaned over Ann as she tried to lean back out of my way and snapped the above photo with my omnipresent cameraphone. “Geez, you’re not discreet at all!” Ann noticed. See her right shoulder at the corner of that photo. It turned out that Ferrigno’s party finished and walked out while we were doing our girl gabbing, so if I hadn’t snapped that photo, you all would’ve just had to take my word for it that we ate dinner with The Hulk. (With, next to, near, it’s just semantics, right?)

The three of us had a great time bonding and laughing over dinner. Here’s my dinner in particular:

I’d been craving lobsters for awhile. Thoughts of an old Rosarito, Mexico trip and the bargain lobster tail dinner I had there have been causing me to salivate for the past week. When the dinner bill came, the three of us Asian girls realized we had something else in common.
“Just tell me what I owe, I can’t do math,” Michelle said.
“I can’t do math, either,” I admitted, looking to Ann.
“I hate math, it was my worst subject,” confessed Ann.
“Mine too!” Michelle and I chimed in.
Michelle continued, “And people think just cuz I’m Asian, that I’m naturally good at math. And I’m really not.”
“I get that, too,” I shared. “People tend to push the tab at me.”
Ann and Michelle referred to their calculators as necessities.
“I took the most random courses in college just to avoid having to take math to fulfill my math and science GE requirement. I even took Oceanography,” I shared.
Michelle and Ann both looked up at me in surprise. “I took Oceanography, too!” they each said, and I had the feeling they took it for the same reason I did.
Michelle and I struggled through the bill some more and griped more about our pathetic math unskills, and I was vaguely aware of Ann next to me digging through her purse like a dog trying to bury a bone in its yard. Soon, Ann produced a small white thing in her fist and announced, “I have the PERFECT THING for this occasion.” We looked. It was a button that read:
I’m Too Pretty
to do Math!
We all shrieked in delight. We left making plans for a future slumber party with chick flicks, popcorn, wine, and jacuzzi at Ann’s place. (We were responsible drinkers that night; Ann and I stopped at our singular glasses of champagne, and Michelle nursed one glass of red wine the entire night.)

This weekend: bike ride and campout with the Jujitsu Peeps!

Last Friday, Mr. W’s Rocker Brother flew in from Vegas to spend the weekend with us. He happened to have the time off when our Lake featured the Robert Cray Band in the free sunset concert. I’d never heard Robert Cray’s music before, I only knew of him as a blues musician that Rocker Bro had paid good money to watch in concert before. Oh, and that Mr. W had been turned on to Robert Cray by his ex brother-in-law (who remains one of his best friends to date). Then recently Flat Coke & Flies mentioned that she liked his music as well.

On our way home from work Friday, an old pickup truck to our left on the freeway decided to change lanes abruptly to be in front of us. Unfortunately, that’s also where a motorcycle was. The truck cut off the street bike at an angle, not seeing him, and the biker ran his front tire into the side of the truck. The truck swerved back into his own lane, but it was now too late for the biker, who flipped his motorcycle forward, then flipped forward head-first over his bike, and landed on the ground. Everyone stopped in their lanes, including the red pick-up. The motorcyclist staggered on the ground, trying to get up, then fell back down on his right side. After ascertaining that no one was going to run anyone over, Mr. W ran out of the car and to the biker, leaning over him. I stayed in the car and called 911, gave the location on the freeway, and described the accident, asked for immediate paramedic help. I told the operator the biker is conscious as I see his foot move every few seconds, and that traffic was starting to flow again in the right lane but that the left two lanes were blocked by the red truck, us, and the biker in front of us in our lane. Another biker on a Harley rode up to the pieces of Yamaha street bike and offered assistance, and I later learned the Harley rider is a fireman paramedic. The firetruck arrived in minutes with CHP soon following in tow. That’s a bad way to start a weekend. Stats show motorcycle-related accidents have skyrocketed this year. Mr. W later told me the kid in the street bike thinks he may have a broken shoulder or arm as his right side was numb, but that he didn’t think he hit his head (he was thankfully wearing full protective head- and body-gear) and thinks he could just go home. Not the time to be stoic, Asian boy. The guy in the rusty red pickup truck was an older (maybe late 40s or early 50s) Hispanic man who was chainsmoking through the entire fiasco, and I was surprised to see he had a woman (wife?) as a passenger, who never got out of the car. I try to look over my shoulder when Mr. W’s making lane changes, just to check his blind-spots and prevent things like this.

Soon, Mr. W dropped me off at home to make dinner and he was on his way to pick up his Rocker Bro at the airport. I’d hoped he told his brother about this, as his brother’s primary transportation is also by motorcycle. But in talking with Rocker Bro afterwards, I was relieved to find that he appears to be very conscious of the road and other (blind) drivers, and that he rides conservatively. We chatted over lasagna, French bread, and pinot noir. Rocker Bro hadn’t eaten anything but breakfast that day, knowing I’d have lasagna ready when he arrived. He was VERY gracious in his compliments about my culinary skills and had three large helpings. (Spicy Italian sausage w/fat drained, 4 kinds of mushrooms, zucchini, black olives, spinach, onions, tomatoes, red bell peppers, fresh basil.)

The next morning is the Saturday of the concert. On concert days, we reserve spots on the Lake by using picnic blankets, and the Lake hands out different colored wristbands at random at 6:30 a.m., and then picks the sequence of people for dibs by randomly drawing of wristbands. My wristband, black 8, was called first so I went in and put my blanket down right smack stage center on the grass. Mr. W’s wristband was called 3rd and I managed to move my blanket over so that he set his down next to mine for a huge lot right in the center. Here’s a photo of the stage from our location:

We went back to the house, Mr. W made healthyish cinnamon-oatmeal-flax muffins for breakfast, and then we drove to the Lake to leave Mr. W’s car there for later (early prime parking). While we were there, the three of us kayaked for an hour and got some upper body exercise in. Then we walked back home for lower body exercise. I drove us to a late lunch of Fuddrucker’s in my car, we stopped by the store to get some alcohol for the Lake, went home and changed, then we bought some KFC grilled chicken and walked back to the Lake to watch the concert.

I loved the opening band, a bunch of old guys named The Missiles of October. We were amused as soon as the drummer walked onstage in his gray hair and gray mohawk that had the top half sprayed bright blue, put on his reading glasses, and sat at the drums. They were phenomenal, fun, energetic, and could sing and play. They received a standing ovation and did one encore song. I even went and bought their CD after their performance.

Then, Robert Cray. I’m not sure what happened. I fell asleep. Maybe it was because it got dark. Rocker Bro later said that Robert Cray isn’t as good live as he is recorded, that he didn’t seem to “feel” his music; it felt to Rocker Bro in the last concert he’d gone to, too, that Robert Cray seemed to just be doing a job. He still got a request encore and did an encore set.

I think Mr. W had a good time, though, because not only did he stay awake, but he had so many coffee martinis that I had to drive us home. Haha.
Sunday, the three of us drove to Dana Point beach and walked around the rocks trying to find tidepools to peer into. The tide was too high so all we did was do some balancing acts on the many rocks, admire the waves, chat, comment on the many shells and the precarious positions of rocks on the cliffs, and make our way back. I got thigh-deep in warm ocean water and was glad for my water shoes. We had a lunch of paninis at a local healthy panini grill restaurant, then got home right in time for my former jujitsu sensei, Ramon, to call and say he was around the corner from our house. He was test-riding this weekend’s jujitsu bike ride/campout event from his office to our house. I invited him and his wife (following him by car) to our house, we sat and had a drink as they cooled off in our backyard, and they were off to do the last leg of the bike ride, from our house to O’Neill Regional Park (the campgrounds). We soon took Rocker Bro to the airport for his flight home.

Great weekend, I hope he had fun!

A catch-up by points:

* Mr. W’s birthday present last Thursday was tickets to the Pageant of the Masters at Laguna Beach. He’d never gone, had wanted to for years, and was very excited. We had dinner first at 230 Forest Avenue Restaurant & Martini Bar, I had great Chilean seabass and he had a giant cioppino, and then we walked through the art exhibits before entering for the 8:30pm show. No photography was allowed as with most art shows and exhibits, but Mr. W insisted on bringing his camera, sneaking it into the theatre, and embarrassing me by taking photos while ignoring all my protests. I kept picturing his flash accidentally going off and our having to be escorted out and having his memory card confiscated. I tried reasoning with him saying that his photos in the dark aren’t going to be better than whatever he will find online at the Pageant’s website; I tried coaxing him to stop taking photos; finally I got mad and demanded he put his camera away. He finally grouchily obliged. I’m gonna have to remember that he likes to break the rules, and take precautions next time, such as hiding his camera.

* Mr. W’s son was at our house when we returned from the Pageant on Thursday. The next morning, which I was able to get off work, the three of us went to pick up Mr. W’s daughter, and the four of us drove to Vegas for Mr. W’s family reunion. The four of us also stayed in a large hotel room, Son taking a pull-out sofabed while Daughter chose to take the sleeping bag over the floor cushions. I had a great time bonding with the kids.
* We had a few family gatherings throughout the weekend; Friday evening the four of us went with my parents-in-law to Rocker Bro’s house, where Chicago Bro and his wife, two kids, and Rocker Bro’s daughter visiting Vegas for the summer were in or around the pool. I finally met Mr. W’s Chicago-based family for the first time. First impressions when I saw them: Chicago bro looks remarkably like Mr. W especially in profile; Chicago wife is prettier than I’d expected — something about her features reminds me of Amanda Peet; they have two attractive boys, the older (13?) looks like and has Neil Patrick Harris expressions which kept throwing me, and the younger (11?) is less rambunctious than the older and has a charming shy smile.
* The next day, Saturday, was family paintball day. I was impressed that all the kids, even Daughter, “suited up” to play. I never lost a game except for the first one, which Son and I agreed was an unfair win for the other side, as Mr. W broke the rules and charged onto our side to shoot Daughter point-blank. It was unsettling to know we had a safe-zone on our side, and then to hear Daughter saying, “Dad! What’re YOU doing here?!” *POP!* While I ran up to argue with the ref that Mr. W was off-zone, I was shot out by Chicago Brother. Daughter refused to play another game after that. Mr. W now agrees in retrospect that he should’ve let her shoot him, instead of destroying her shaky paintball confidence like that.
* After paintball we all had an early dinner at Aurelio’s, the Chicago pizza joint that Mr. W HAS to eat at every time he’s in Vegas, then the whole family regathered at Rocker Bro’s adult daughter Jessica’s new house and played in the pool. It was like Parade of the Paintball Welts. Gamer Bro looked like a red-spotted leopard.
* The day after that, Sunday, was family photos day. Mr. W and his Gamer Bro came up with the idea of going to a playground with monkey bars and jungle gyms for endless photo posing opportunities. It was a brilliant call. You guys know me and how much I love goofy photos. I didn’t get as goofy as I would’ve wanted, but others got sillier than they’re used to being, so it came out a wash. Mr. W’s parents, for example, climbed up a spiral pole thing and posed half-hanging from it. I wanted the four brothers to climb on some netting and equipment reminiscent of when they were kids together, and they did that, Mr. W hanging UPSIDE-DOWN from his knees. Kids were on monkey bars, slides, rocker horses. This made the smiles very natural and announced to the viewer, “We’re a FUN family!” Plus it kept complaints of “I’m bored, how long is this gonna take?” down.

* Monday, we had our usual departing breakfast at Silverton Casino Lodge, Rocker Bro and his younger visiting daughter joined us, and the four of us left to return to California, musing about how cooperative the Vegas weather had been. Despite expectations of 110+ temperatures during paintball and photos, the skies were always overcast when we needed it to be, which made for cooler running around outdoors and no sun-cast shadows on faces during photos.
* We’d convinced Chicago Bro’s family to drive to California to visit us since they were on the Westside, so Mr. W’s parents drove Chicago Family plus Rocker Bro’s younger visiting daughter down to us on Wednesday. I called a favor and got half-price Knott’s Berry Farm tickets for them and they played at Knott’s all day Wednesday. They came by the house Wednesday night and since Mr. W is still off-work, he brought them all to the Lake yesterday to kayak, boat, swim, play on the beach. After I got home, we all went to an Italian place off the Lake for dinner, then after getting back to our house last nite, I stayed up and had an hours-long bonding session with my newly-met sister-in-law, a continuing-school teacher of high school students. Today, they leave for Vegas and will likely be gone by the time I get home from work, and soon the Chicago Family will be returning to the Windy City.

I’ve figured out that I wait to blog until I have photos ready to illustrate my stories, which may or may not ever happen. So here’s the blog first and photos may be to come. Unfortunately we have no paintball photos because Mr. W made us leave all our stuff in the car, so that means no cameraphone, and Daughter’s camera was left behind. We do have family photos from the playground, tho.

Mr. W and I got back from Vegas on Saturday just in time to meet up with Vanessa and Jay at our house and the four of us had a great time sipping beer (the guys) and sangria (the girls plus Mr. W) at the Lake while Johnny Lang conducted his concert there. I have no idea who Johnny Lang is, even now. I was too busy chatting with my friends! Since we weren’t around to reserve center-stage spots this time, we didn’t have a great view of the stage and I didn’t take photos. I probably should have. After the concert, Vanessa and Jay came back to our house and hung out in our backyard on our new round outdoor loungebed, and told us stories of their current house renovation projects. They bought a home for a great price, but the work they’re putting into it made me dizzy. Mr. W and I talked about it a bit afterwards, were impressed with and happy for the couple’s home progress, but we were thankful we didn’t have to go through that with our house a year ago. I’m just not that handy of a person, and Mr. W had other priorities at the time (such as moving us in and getting married). Vanessa took photos of our entertainment backyard for “inspiration” as they start to design theirs.

Now, on to yesterday, my first furlough day. In the current world-wide financial straits and the California budget crisis, the Courts are trying to stave off lay-offs by spreading around the dollar cuts earlier rather than later. In our county, the courts will shut down most of their functions the 3rd Wednesday of every month. The categories of employees who are not exempt from this budget cut (me) have that day off without pay. Of course there was audible dissent among people about this, but I’d personally rather do my part and lose a day of pay a month than have 1/4 of our workforce laid off next year. Plus I looked very forward to my free day. This first one, Mr. W (who still hasn’t returned to work yet after his mid-February heart episode) and I met up with Dwaine and a friend of his, Sophie, at Huntington Beach.

We were all off work for different reasons. Mr. W is on workman’s comp/IOD; I’m on furlough; Sophie played hookie by calling in sick; Dwaine lied and said he was out of the office in meetings all day with clients and pseudo-worked off his Blackberry phone. It was a blast! We met at Sharkeez Bar on Main Street, had a few drinks, Dwaine claimed he could pull off wearing my girlie sunglasses and still look cool and I said the only way he could look cool in those glasses would be if two girls were also in the photo looking interested in him, and I was WRONG. See for yourself.

Hi, here’s me with my sensitive friend, Dwaine. He was at the Pride Parade in San Francisco last month.
After I retrieved my sunglasses from Dwaine, we laid out on the beach for awhile.

See that red bikini behind Dwaine’s right shoulder? That’s the best photo of me you’re gonna see from the entire beach day.

Dwaine decided to come by us and do a fobby pose.

Friends don’t let friends be fobs alone.

I stayed out of the water as ankle-deep in I realized I did NOT want to freeze my goose bumps right off my body, but the three of them frolicked in the waves for a bit. Back on the sand, Dwaine waged war with a bee as Sophie and I prepared to run should the bee dig its way out of the giant sand pile Dwaine pushed on it.

Of course Dwaine kept digging the bee back out just to see where it was, but when it came out he’d freak out, pour more sand over it, and pound it with a fist or a towel. And then he’d dig it out again to see if it survived, and wig out when it did.

I innocently dug around for seashells that Dwaine could take back to his mom.

After a quick and very delicious dinner at Dukes off the pier, we went our separate ways.

It’s too bad not ALL my furlough days could be like this. I already know this, because I went ahead and scheduled two dental appointments on two upcoming furloughs. *sigh* It was fun while it lasted.

It seems like lately, if I didn’t have photos of something I did or somewhere I went to post up, I just don’t have the time or spur to blog about it. I guess that means I’m not in need of writing therapy? There are a lot of things and people that excite me these days. (No, not like that.) Last week, I was “surprised” with a week off that I hadn’t planned for. I’d been on the wait list for the week after July 4, but due to my nonexistent seniority at work, didn’t expect to get it. I went into work on Monday and found a relief clerk sitting at my desk. Since I’d driven the 50 miles to work anyway, I stayed and took Tuesday through Friday off. Wednesday morning, Mr. W and I spontaneously drove to Las Vegas to visit his family. Entire new people have come into existence since we’d last been there, such as…

Lydia. She was born in the beginning of May to Mr. W’s Gamer Bro’s daughter, Jenni. On Friday, Jenni needed her mother Lisa to babysit Lydia, and Lydia showed up like this:

Say it with me! “Awwww!” =) On Friday night, Lisa and our other niece Jessica rescued me from a second night of watching Mr. W and Gamer Bro (Lisa’s hubby) play XBox games. The three of us chicks met up at a local night spot recommended by Dwaine, called The Blue Martini Lounge. I had not prepared going-out-clothes, so Lisa and I went shopping on the fly. I told her I didn’t want to outfit myself for any more than $10. She was a bit incredulous, but I pulled it off.

The outfit you see above cost me $8.50: $2.50 cami, $6 skirt. I also bought another sleeveless top that Lisa found for $2.50, so total expenditure on clothing that day was $12 with tax. Of course, in typical Cindy fashion, I find out AFTER I’ve fallen in love with the other sleeveless top that the logo written on the front of it, “World Famous Mustang Ranch,” is a well-known Nevada brothel. =P You know I bought the shirt anyway, but I wore the above outfit for going out that night and not the whorehouse shirt. This cami is safe, I thought, since it says “Miller High Life,” but just because it had the word “Miller” in it, I took the above photo with my cameraphone in the dressing room and texted it to Dwaine for approval. If I’m going to be sporting his last name, I reasoned, I needed his permission. He gave it with all his blessings.
Blue Martini was a swanky place, WAY overcrowded, so we walked around and checked out its happening 4 bars and curved right on back out. We decided to grab a few drinks at downstairs Yardhouse instead, and while the three of us milled around the front entrance, we were offered three complimentary tickets to a comedy improv show across the way from the restaurant. “This would’ve never happened to three guys,” Mr. W had grumbled when he found out. Look how close to the stage we sat!

^ Lisa and Jessica, the girls who rescued me.

Why is this post entitled “Vegas Trip #1 This Month?” Thanks for noticing! It’s because after we arrived in Vegas, we found out that Mr. W’s Chicago brother and their family, whom I’ve never met, were about to take a road trip to Vegas for the second half of the month. My parents-in-law want to take this rare opportunity for a family reunion photo, so we’re going BACK to Vegas for the last weekend of the month. Jessica and I planned for fun with a family paintball match on Saturday the 25th. Her friend had opened a paintball field and Jessica came through big time with free admission and free equipment rental for the family; we just have to buy their paintballs. I had been unsuccessful in getting Mr. W to play before, but this is for and with his FAMILY! He agreed to follow through. Imagine THOSE photos!

This is the Independence Day + Cindy’s Birthday celebration which took place on Friday, July 3, 2009.

The fun started at the Lake, where we hung out and had margaritas & beer. Once most people arrived, I shuttled 9 friends on the partyboat for an hour, chatting and enjoying the view. The three guys (Mr. W, Edgar and Eddie) decided to take out a sailboat. The three guys’ girls didn’t think it was the best idea, considering Mr. W had only sailed once before with the help of Mr. Englyng, and the other two had never set foot on a sailboat prior. “How hard could it be?” Eddie insisted in his USC tanktop which I would’ve thought he’d worn only to rub me the wrong way, if I didn’t already know that 90% of Eddie’s wardrobe and office supplies paid allegiance to the Trojans. On our way back in to dock, we saw this:

We pointed and laughed and took photos. This photo is courtesy Coworker Sandy, who was on my electric partyboat. Apparently the guys drifted into the fenced-off swim area so lifeguards had to go rescue them before they ran over little kids. I heard that a lifeguard teased Eddie, “That’s funny…I’ve never had to tow in a BRUIN before!” That’s RIGHT. Cuz we Bruins don’t get stuck. Edgar insisted what we witnessed was not an embarrassment; it was valet-service.

Around this time Vanessa had arrived, so she, along with Mr. W, Eddie (who probably wanted to redeem himself on water) and godson Evan hit the Lake in 4 kayaks. The rest of us stayed on land and chatted.

It was 12-yr-old Evan’s first time kayaking, and I hear he did very well. Now it was off to the house for the Cocktails & BBQ portion of the day.
While I tended bar…

…Mr. W tended to the food.

Don’t say we didn’t have pretty edibles.

Didja get a load of the jello shots? Peach: 25% vodka; lime: 33% vodka; strawberry: 50% vodka.
I had a blast making cocktails! People were very good about ordering experimentally off my prepared menu, which had 40+ cocktails and 10+ shots on it. My guests were VERY generous. I had so many Costco-sized bottles of alcohol that the best way I could pour was carefully tipping it into a shotglass while it sat on the counter.

Here the guys are holding B52 shots.

Vicky was very happy with her liquor intake. Here she’s holding up an Amarita. She already had jello shots, a double purple hooter, and some other stuff.

A few people (Dwaine, James, childhood friend Sandy and her date Michael) stayed into the night and we shared great conversations and laughter, although largely the topic seemed to revolve around Dwaine’s theories about single women. THAT was entertaining.

Most of the above photos are from Vanessa’s and James’ cameras. I think Coworker Sandy’s hubby has photos of the other 80% of the guests. 🙂

…and now I’m officially 33.

This has been a great weekend so far. Saturday we did a four-way celebration at Ruth’s Chris for an early dinner: Mr. W’s daughter’s high school graduation, Mr. W’s son’s 20th birthday, my 33rd birthday, and his belated father’s day. After dinner, Mr. W and I walked to the Lake and watched the free Chris Botti concert. It was uh-MAIZE-ing. Click his link and have a window open with your speakers on as you read this to get a taste of my experience. Our lake association has magical powers. Not only did we get Chris Botti to come give a great concert, but he brought along top-notch musicans to play piano/keyboard, electric guitar, drums and bass guitar. These are Grammy winning musicians. The sun set over the lake as the jazzy bluesy notes seemed to make the very water ripples dance in syncopation, and my husband and I lounged on our reclining beach chairs before settling down on our backs on the blanket to watch the stars. Mr. Botti, you have a new fan. And I love your personality and stories.

Today, Mr. W and I got out of the house early to meet Brad L. for breakfast at an authentic German restaurant in Anaheim, Jaegerhaus (correct name has an umlaut over the “a”). Brad’s in SoCal with his family for a wedding. We had a great time chatting about geoducks and cell phones over breakfast, and remarked how the last time we saw each other, we were all single. Then we came home and I made a batch of lime jello shots (whew, mental note to lighten up on vodka for the party batch!) as testers before heading off with Mr. W to meet my parents, grandma, and grandma’s youngest sister visiting from Taiwan, for dinner. Afterwards we brought a little artsy green tea cake to Grandma’s to hang out and chat.

They talked about wishing they had a camera to document the day, and then everyone realized they had cameraphones, so out those came.

You have to imagine me with MY cameraphone behind my parents doing the same thing.

I’m optimistic about the coming years. Brad gave us a great lead for an all-inclusive guided tour trip through Japan, and we’re looking into it. For more immediate things to anticipate, we’ve spent hundreds in preparation for my upcoming bday shindig, and I’m surprised and flattered at how many people are planning to attend. And soon, I have the jujitsu campout trip in mid-August to look forward to. Between then and now, many bike rides on my new hybrid bicycle (birthday present from Mr. W), and many kayaking outings at our lake.