wish i was here

I know I promised pictures of Southern CA. I can't find my camera cord. I'm going to have to buy a card reader Monday. Speaking of photographs...

I logged onto flickr the other day and found out that one of my photos from our Nantucket vacation (four summers ago! Family, can you believe it?) has been nominated for a contest. I'm shocked. Truly. I don't consider myself a photographer at all, (especially with such a mediocre camera). Scrolling through my Nantucket album made me quite nostalgic, though.

I just so happened to check Urban Grace today. I've included some of her lovely photos, taken the same time of year (with a much better camera). All the photos below are from Urban Grace. Go to her blog to see more photos from her trip with her husband and to read what she has to say about Nantucket.

Check out that sun room.

I love the festoons and the nautical flags.

Roses on the rooftop?! This place is pure magic, people.

hot town summer in the city

I'm back after a week in Sunny CA. I spent the first half of my trip in charming (and hot hot hot) Pasadena, played for the day in L.A. and finished the last leg along the beach in San Diego. Needless to say, it wasn't long enough, and although I've got half a beach worth of sand in my suitcase, it's no where close enough to live off of until I return in September.

{Stories and pics to follow}

100 Abandoned Houses and 1 Million Dollars

You know that question, "If you were given a million dollars, how would you spend it?" The noble ones of the world give answers like, "I'd pay off my parent's mortgage," or "I'd buy prosthetics for all the three legged dogs in the world." Then there's my answer (a little less noble), "I'd join forces with this guy, somehow double our money, and save these houses." We'd pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into each, restoring them to their perfect and historic state. Then, the frosting on the cake (for what is a cake, especially a million dollar one, without frosting?) I'd furnish each house with the most delicious furniture. Yes, furniture so good you'd want to eat it. (Eating on it, however, would be strictly forbidden). If there was money left over, I guess I could take the mailman out to dinner...But only if.

*Isn't there something heart wrenchingly tragic in the most motivating way about the photo above? Two abandoned houses, one right next to the other? We must start there, yes?

To join my noble cause and try your luck at a possible

dinner with a mailman in Michigan, see here.

endless summer

On Mondays we go to the lake. Well, every other Monday. And once I think we went on a Saturday. Regardless of what day it is, we love Lake Day. Steph throws her kayak on top of the car, we pack some snacks, and head up the canyon where the water is clear, the sky is blue and the mountains are green green green. We take turns in the boat, Steph the ever-patient teacher, reminding us to use our hips to steer. We drive the opposite way down the canyon, the quiet way, where houses dot the roadside, instead of barriers and speeding cars. It may take longer, but we can roll down the windows and feel the mountain air as it mingles with the air down in the valley. It's our own endless summer, I suppose.

Under the Sea

I chose a lane inside today, instead of outside in the Olympic-sized pool. I wasn't feeling my normal Dara Torres-self. Maybe tomorrow. I decided to forgo the fashion show of those who come swimming, but never actually get wet. It's the same old summer scene of teens and tweens in bikinis and board shorts, rotating their lawn chairs with the cycle of the sun; and the latest prodigies of P90X strutting their stuff.

There is a cute guy in the lane next to me, but that's not why I chose it. He looks 30-something. Fit. He kicks with precision and he's not afraid to wear a swim cap. On the opposite side is an older woman. Elderly. Bedecked in full snorkeling regalia. You know, in case she encounters a friendly sea turtle or a school of fish at 4'5" deep. In a swimming pool. This queen of the Sea isn't really swimming. Instead she's doing an interpretive water dance with only a few motions, relocating the water which surrounds her, eventually ending up on the other side of the pool. She has a swim cap the color of a fresh piece of bubble gum halfway on her head. The space between her head and the top of the cap creates a small crown of air that could be used as a body-buoy, if need be. She's happy as a clam over there in her own little lane and her own little world, peering through her mask as she slowly scoots in the opposite direction.

It's while admiring my snorkeling slash synchronize swimming friend's cap that I realize I've forgotten mine, and the lecture my hairdresser gave me a few weeks ago plays in my head. Something about applying a UV and chlorine-protectant serum on my hair, along with the five other $90/bottle products she jotted down on my Next Appointment card. For a moment, I scheme a cap-seizing, (not to be confused with capsizing, though in this situation one could very well lead to the other). Just as I'm ready to put plan into action, I remember there's a cute guy in the lane next to me and, single or not, senior abuse isn't attractive to anyone.

I do a few warm-up laps and stretch along the wall, my legs dangling at 5' deep. Capless, with unprotected bangs flailing in my face, I begin the modified high school swim team workout my sister outlined for me several summers ago, making sure there's an extra oomf in my kick right as cute swimmer and I pass each other in our separate lanes. The Sea queen swishes about, pink cap regally situated a top her head. As she's splashing, beams of light stream through the windows and down into the pool, casting a yellow glow upon the water.

red white and blue

{image via flickr}

beautiful thoughts on freedom found at a favorite blog Sweat, Tears, or the Sea.