California musings.
So my brief spate of updating got somewhat derailed by reaching California and finding, well, better things to do than blogging.
Shocking, right?
But for the sake of posterity--and also because I won't be able to write about anything else until I catch up. I give you The Rest Of The Trip.
Jetsetting to California
Compared with getting from London to Virginia, getting to California from Virginia went about as easy as you please. The night before the trip the brother and I stayed with our Aunt and Uncle (not to mention half a dozen cousins) and enjoying the general chaos that comes with a full house of lunatics.
I slept on a brand new airbed in the lounge, which was blissful, undisturbed peace. Well, except for when the youngest cousin wandered downstairs in his boxers with an aim to discuss Life, The Universe, And Everything. But that was kind of fun, too. I'd forgotten how much angst sixteen could bring. In a small way, I hope I helped a bit.
3am brought sleep. And the morning brought mellow activity. I caught up with my Aunt's general take on life, laughed with my uncle, hung out briefly with the cousins, and nudged my brother to pack.
Mid-morning saw the cousins heading off to wherever they needed to be. And the Aunt, Uncle, Brother and myself piled into a mini-van and headed for the airport.
"You got everything?" I asked the brother, for the eleventh time.
"Yes," he shot back, annoyed with all the big-sistering. "Jesus, drop it."
The half of you that know this story already will be laughing to yourselves. Life Lesson #68532: Never Trust A Younger Brother When He Says He Has Packed (Especially When He Has The Christmas Presents).
We got to Washington Dulles in a timely fashion, worked out the mysteries of American Airlines, and checked our baggage. The security on an in-land flight is much more relaxed than an international one, so we mosied through with much amusement, watching the unseasoned travellers flap about. I reckon the Brother would have collected half a dozen phone numbers from mildly frazzled pretty girls with no defences against a charming British grin if he'd had more time.
He still did pretty well, having said that.
We found the one tiny smoking lounge, a cramped, unpleasant, yellow-stained room, and I enjoyed my final cigarette. (JB being violently allergic to tobacco smoke is as good a reason as any to quit--and much better motivation than plain old health.) Then we wandered around for a while, poking into book stores and restaurants and generally doing what siblings do on trips: argue loudly.
And I got thrown out of another bathroom. Also by a small, Mexican cleaning lady. Apparently I'm giving off some subatomic Male Signal this month, because this keeps happening.
Sometime around three we caught a ridiculously tiny plane to Charlotte, NC, and then ran like lunatics through the airport to catch a likewise mini-plane to San Diego. Both trips were uneventful, if cramped, and I spent my time zoning out to music or reading. The brother achieved two phone numbers--one from a genetics student heading home for the holidays who wanted to know if I was in the army.
I realize my hair is short, but the army? C'mon.
Eight hours of accumulated air time later, we arrived in San Diego, collected our gear, and headed out to meet-and-greet area to look for JB.
Who wasn't there.
Given that she's kept me waiting for an hour before (and I can write this because she isn't here to tackle me) I wasn't terribly worried. But it was fun to wind the brother up.
"Well, y'know, traffic's pretty bad. We could be here for a while."
"How long's 'a while'?"
"Oh, three hours hours, maybe four. Nothing too bad. You packed a pillow, right?"
"You're so hilarious I could vomit."
After ten minutes of hanging around, we headed outside to enjoy some San Diego night air (a venture made less fun by the brother revenge-chain-smoking all over me) and JB appeared, all wide smile and pretty new hair cut.
It's incredible what three months can do for making you forget how drop dead gorgeous someone is.
We hugged, kissed, they both ran off to use the bathrooms (by that point, I didn't dare), and then we all piled into JB's car and headed back to her place. The brother met Cash (GIANT King Shepherd puppy!) and Lily (less giant pitbull!), and then I think crashing happened. There was possibly a movie, but the memory gets fuzzy at this point.
And that was day five.
You forgot WHAT?
Day six (the 22nd of December) was our pre-Christmas Christmas. We had it early because that made it easier on JB's family--and seeing as they were hosting the event, that was cool by us. It began with an email.
Hi, Dark,
Hope you guys made it ok. [Your brother] left a big pile of stuff in [cousin's] room. Do you want us to send it back to England? I don't think it would get to you on time in California.
hope all is well,
peace out, [Aunt].
"Hey, brother," I yelled, with fading hope. "You packed the presents, right?"
"Uh..." came the faint cry from his bedroom.
Life lesson #68533: You Are Not Allowed To Strangle Your Sibling At Christmas, No Matter How Much You Want To.
But all was not lost. The presents for JB's parents were in my luggage (which was less roomy, given that I don't travel with my entire life in one bag) so we didn't arrive empty handed. I asked the Aunt to mail everything to us, and JB talked me out brothercide, just about.
Aside from that, Christmas was fun. JB's relatives are hilarious. Her mother's all about the hosting; her sisters--one older, one younger--are a blast; her granddad is a sweet-looking old man with a repertoire of dirty jokes; and her father's pretty much an all round nice guy. There was also a lady, with her family, who'd been the former high-priestess of a coven.
Plus you can't go wrong with five dogs in one house.
We gave JB's Mom tea, and her Dad got Very English Biscuits. The brother came away with a collection of clothes, free surfing lessons from JB, and an egg-cup crotch protector from Cash.
Long story.
I got ANBU t-shirts from JB, and they rock. They say ANBU on the front, where the pocket should be, and my characters' names in kanji on the back. I'm wearing one of them right now, in fact. I also got a bright red hoodie from her Mom with Grumpy the Dwarf on it (which was subsequently exchanged for a camouflage-pattern hoodie, but still cracked me up), some fuzzy black pyjama pants, Nation by Terry Pratchett, and light-up Christmas socks.
Good Christmas.
Oh, and the brother also gave me the new Batman film and Hellboy 2 on DVD. So a very good Christmas.
We hung around, ate good food, exchanged stories, and generally had a fantastic time.
And that was day six.
Intermittent babble, Christmas Church, and surfing lessons.
I planned to update earlier in an effort to avoid the journalist's curse of forgetting what happened. But I failed, so you'll have to put up with somewhat fuzzy recollections.
Before the brother left, we had some fantastic fun. JB took us up to the mountains to see actual snow, and we played around with the dogs, went sledding on a boogyboard someone had discarded, and generally acted like gleeful idiots.
JB and the brother, being much more adventurous foolish than I, picked some fairly steep looking slopes to fling themselves down. I mostly cheered and lobbed the occasional helpful snowball. Though I did get talked into going down the steepest hill with JB planted firmly in my lap, which was about the best argument for choosing a personal saviour I've ever experienced.
We finished off the day with a side-trip to quaint little restaurant that claimed to be a pub. The food was good, the people were friendly, the view with all the snow was fabulous, but a pub it was not. I'm becoming convinced that America just doesn't get the concept.
Of course, America also thinks cheese should be squirtable, so clearly some internal wiring has gotten frayed along the way.
Backing up a few days, I forgot to mention actual Christmas. We didn't really do a whole lot--the presents hadn't arrived yet--in the actual spirit of the season, but we did go to see Seven Pounds in the cinema, which was a decent enough film, and rented a couple more from Blockbuster. At my request, JB and I also went to church.
See, here's the thing, I'm not particularly religious. My mom was, but it sort of got mixed in with all the crazy. And my dad wasn't. I went to a mish-mash of religious schools and non-religious schools and I've studied Theology, so I'm not completely without a background, but it's never been a personal choice of mine.
But when we were kids, we went to church at Christmas.
It was beautiful, too. Always. Magnificent buildings with vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows, filled to the rafters with singing and candlelight and people gathered together to celebrate something good. Birth and life and ritualized joy in the middle of winter, preferably with snow outside.
Putting aside theology and belief, that's what I like about church. So this year I wanted to do it again. And JB, bless her heart, puts up with my occasional forays into weirdness and found a place we could go.
Remember that former high-priestess I mentioned? She now leads a small, fairly liberal (I want to say Catholic, but I may be wrong) congregation well within driving distance of JB's place, so we headed there for the 7 o'clock service. We arrived a little late and got led to the front row (which seemed to amuse everyone behind us, so I reckon that was the traditional gentle punishment for latecomers), but we ended up with pretty much the best view in the house.
Candles, singing, bright decorations, a Christmas sermon peppered with good-natured humour, and tea and cookies afterwards. What more could you ask for?
Well, beyond getting to stand and hold my girlfriend's hand in God's House. I think that made me smile for the rest of the day.
Back to snow! The day after the mountain trip, we went down to the beach so the brother could get his free surfing lessons. Justin, JB's younger sister's boyfriend, got roped into providing both tutoring and a wetsuit while JB and I went off for a coffee.
For those of you that don't know, California may be Land Of The Sun, but the sea in winter is still cold. Justin, being a sensible man, had little neoprene booties to go with his wetsuit, but the brother just had bare feet and hope.
Still, for those of us with actual clothes on, it was hilarious.
And the brother managed to get up to his knees on the board, which I'm told is impressive for a first-time learner. (We did take a bunch of pictures, but they're all on JB's camera which is probably lurking in a box somewhere at this point.)
For another quick point of hilarity, it should be mentioned that Cash, JB's giant King Shepherd puppy, is about the wussiest of wussy dogs. Cute as anything and terribly eager to please, but a pansy on four paws.
He spent the whole week bossing my brother around. Endlessly.
Fun (if infuriating) my brother may be, but alpha-dog he is not. *snickers*
And on the 28th of December, we packed the kid up, retrieved all his clothes and presents from various places, drove him down to the airport, and shoved him onto a plane. I think in the process he managed to steal both my best jacket and a few other bits and pieces, but he left his cool new sunglasses behind, so a fair trade.
(Actually, JB got the sunglasses and I plan to get my jacket back, but the brother doesn't read LJ, so my plan is foolproof. Mwaha!)
And that was days seven to twelve.
New Years: You mean they ACTUALLY drop a ball?
There wasn't a whole lot of time to sit and enjoy the echoing silence left in the brother's wake, but JB and I managed to get some mileage out of it anyway. Mostly by talking about ninja non-stop, for we are that geeky.
Then we packed up two dogs, one bird, my stuff and her stuff, and headed off to her parent's place to house-sit for a few days.
Halfway there we turned around to get my stuff, which we'd cunningly left behind.
JB's parent's house is kind of the anti-thesis of JB's house. JB's house--apartment, really--is small and cozy and dishevelled, in a charming kind of way. A lived-in place. There're pictures and horse shoes and spurs on the walls, dog hair on the floor, a giant birdcage in pride of place in the living room, and about a gazillion books stacked all over. Two comfy sofas dominate the lounge, along with an art table, a computer, a TV, and a sturdy coffee table perfect for putting your feet up on (which she keeps the dog leashes in, natch). The kitchen is split off by an island, and is filled with an eccentric mix of California foods (avocado!) and dog 'n' bird stuff. And coffee, lots and lots of coffee.
There're also two bedrooms, one with a king-sized futon, and a pretty sizable bathroom, just for the sake of a complete report.
[As I'm writing this, kilerkki suggests that sketching out a description of your own home/room might make quite an interesting writing exercise. I'm inclined to agree.]
Her parent's place is bigger. And whiter. And cleaner. It's nice, definitely a family home with all the photos scattered around, but you're pretty afraid to touch anything, just in case it breaks.
Still, for a few days it was pretty neat to live in A not so Typical American Home. Once I got over the fear of accidentally destroying something, anyway.
JB had to work a fair bit, so I mostly spent my time hanging around with her mother's three mini-dogs (one Papillion and two rat terriers) and enjoying the gleaming extravagances of infomercials. They sell everything, including stuff I'd never realized I needed but suddenly wanted. I also got a bit of writing down, walked the mini-dogs (which was a sight to behold), chilled out online, and watched movies.
And slept. Oh man did I sleep.
JB and I also set up a bizarre system of notes, which was weirdly fun. She got up earlier than I did, and left me a quick sketch of whatever the day would bring. I tumbled into bed later than she did, and left a little salute to whatever lay ahead.
Yes, we are geeks. But adorable geeks, so shut up.
New Years rolled around somewhere in the middle of this, bringing a kind of exhausted joy with it. (Sleeping is hard, okay? And JB was doing ridiculous amounts of work). We flopped together in front of the TV, surrounded by sprawling dogs, and watched the ball drop in New York, making vague plans of where we wanted to live, given the chance.
All over, it seems.
Then we rang in New Years the traditional way.
And that was day thirteen to something.
Cons, friends, sex toys, oh my!
A comm with only four people isn't really a con, but messypeaches and nezumiko make up for short numbers by being made of awesome, so it works out.
They showed up bearing food and fun sometime after we landed back at JB's place, and spent the next couple days hanging out with us, watching films, writing drabbles, and planning evil. Momo showed me how to make Proper Cheese Sauce (which I still haven't attempted yet, but I'm working up to it!), and Nezu helped me plot an upcoming Ginta/Kakashi arc, for those interested in Fallen Leaves.
Actually, there's a lot of stuff coming up in Leaves, but I won't go into that right now.
JB had to work again, so Nezu and Momo took me out for steak (steak!) and sex toys.
No, really.
Okay, so the sex toys weren't for me, but time in an adult store is never wasted. Things that jiggled! Things that vibrated! Things that glittered! Things that scared the crap out of me!
My friends are entertaining people.
And after that--well, mostly we hung around and killed each other with laugh. Good times.
And that was day something to something.
All the rest.
After Momo and Nezu headed off, JB and I threw ourselves into packing.
Well, mostly.
Okay, so we packed, then we goofed off, then we packed more, then we goofed off more--you see the pattern. JB's moving to San Fran over a period of months (seriously), but she had to be out of her apartment about two days after I left, so packing was the theme! We sorted books, wrapped trinkets, organized and messed things up in equal measure...
It was weirdly fun, in an 'oh god, there's more?' kind of way.
Though I did mange to put half the boxes together wrong, which we only figured out after I'd packed them all. Cue a lot of unpacking and repacking.
Oh! And all the presents arrived. So I managed to give JB her gift (a matching set of earrings with as necklace), and got a brace of DVDs from the brother (Dark Knight and Hell Boy 2), which was nice.
I picked up an interesting book, too. Surviving Schizophrenia by E. Fuller Torrey, which is about the best book on the subject I've ever read.
Turns out my chances of becoming mentally hilarious between now and my 25th birthday are about 10-14%, which is a lot better than I thought. And then I don't have to think about it until my 40's. \o/
The last few days of my vacation were fairly low-key. Mostly just chilling out in-between packing and whatever errands JB and I had to run. We did go to the Dog Beach, which was awesome and freezing. (You will never ever see joy like dogs let off the leash at the seaside. They should find a way to bottle it and flog it as a pick-me-up.) The dogs are also a bit weird about chasing a tennis ball into the surf; I think I spent more time getting it back than they did, much to JB's amusement.
And we did the relationship talk thing, too, which was both terrifying and really, really good. This is my first long-term relationship, and JB's first one with another woman, so we run across the occasional interesting issue. Fortunately, we're both well-grounded, intelligent people, and haven't managed to get swamped yet.
The last day wasn't as hectic as I thought it'd be, but we did have to figure out how the hell I was going to get all my stuff home. I had a carry-on rucksack, a wheelie suitcase full of clothes, a food processor JB's mom had given me (for no reason other than sharing the joy of food processors), and a box full of Ash's clothes.
You're allowed to check on two pieces of luggage for free.
I had three.
Good thing the world has tape. We stacked Ash's box (which, by the way, contained three pairs of pants, two pairs of shoes, one razor, one belt, on set of suspenders, his Christmas present, a book, and seven shirts--how he left that all behind, I have no idea) on top of the food processor box, labeled everything, wrapped the lot up in black garbage bags, labeled those, taped everything together, and then JB got creative and fashioned a tape handle to go on top.
Voila! Two pieces of--seriously suspicious looking--luggage!
We threw it all into the car, I said goodbye to Bobbie Da Bird and the dogs, and off we went.
(For the curious, Bobbie Da Bird is an 8oz parrot lookalike of some description, and actively dislikes me. Through a cunning process of bribes and trying not to flail whenever he dive-bombed me, we managed to reach a semi-truce by the time we left.
JB, it's a good thing I really like you, because wow.)
Anyway, one car trip to LA later, we reached the airport, lugged everything to the check-in desk, and found I'd gotten lucky: there were enough free places left that I, with my standby ticket, could go straight through.
Good news! And bad news, because I may have been secretly hoping to stay a lifetime few days longer.
There was just enough time for us to sit down and chat about anything but the fact that I was about to leave, which takes some skill, then we kissed and hugged and almost made me miss my flight. (Which I still maintain would have been worth it.)
Then I had to get back on the plane.
And that was day something to home.
Shocking, right?
But for the sake of posterity--and also because I won't be able to write about anything else until I catch up. I give you The Rest Of The Trip.
Jetsetting to California
Compared with getting from London to Virginia, getting to California from Virginia went about as easy as you please. The night before the trip the brother and I stayed with our Aunt and Uncle (not to mention half a dozen cousins) and enjoying the general chaos that comes with a full house of lunatics.
I slept on a brand new airbed in the lounge, which was blissful, undisturbed peace. Well, except for when the youngest cousin wandered downstairs in his boxers with an aim to discuss Life, The Universe, And Everything. But that was kind of fun, too. I'd forgotten how much angst sixteen could bring. In a small way, I hope I helped a bit.
3am brought sleep. And the morning brought mellow activity. I caught up with my Aunt's general take on life, laughed with my uncle, hung out briefly with the cousins, and nudged my brother to pack.
Mid-morning saw the cousins heading off to wherever they needed to be. And the Aunt, Uncle, Brother and myself piled into a mini-van and headed for the airport.
"You got everything?" I asked the brother, for the eleventh time.
"Yes," he shot back, annoyed with all the big-sistering. "Jesus, drop it."
The half of you that know this story already will be laughing to yourselves. Life Lesson #68532: Never Trust A Younger Brother When He Says He Has Packed (Especially When He Has The Christmas Presents).
We got to Washington Dulles in a timely fashion, worked out the mysteries of American Airlines, and checked our baggage. The security on an in-land flight is much more relaxed than an international one, so we mosied through with much amusement, watching the unseasoned travellers flap about. I reckon the Brother would have collected half a dozen phone numbers from mildly frazzled pretty girls with no defences against a charming British grin if he'd had more time.
He still did pretty well, having said that.
We found the one tiny smoking lounge, a cramped, unpleasant, yellow-stained room, and I enjoyed my final cigarette. (JB being violently allergic to tobacco smoke is as good a reason as any to quit--and much better motivation than plain old health.) Then we wandered around for a while, poking into book stores and restaurants and generally doing what siblings do on trips: argue loudly.
And I got thrown out of another bathroom. Also by a small, Mexican cleaning lady. Apparently I'm giving off some subatomic Male Signal this month, because this keeps happening.
Sometime around three we caught a ridiculously tiny plane to Charlotte, NC, and then ran like lunatics through the airport to catch a likewise mini-plane to San Diego. Both trips were uneventful, if cramped, and I spent my time zoning out to music or reading. The brother achieved two phone numbers--one from a genetics student heading home for the holidays who wanted to know if I was in the army.
I realize my hair is short, but the army? C'mon.
Eight hours of accumulated air time later, we arrived in San Diego, collected our gear, and headed out to meet-and-greet area to look for JB.
Who wasn't there.
Given that she's kept me waiting for an hour before (and I can write this because she isn't here to tackle me) I wasn't terribly worried. But it was fun to wind the brother up.
"Well, y'know, traffic's pretty bad. We could be here for a while."
"How long's 'a while'?"
"Oh, three hours hours, maybe four. Nothing too bad. You packed a pillow, right?"
"You're so hilarious I could vomit."
After ten minutes of hanging around, we headed outside to enjoy some San Diego night air (a venture made less fun by the brother revenge-chain-smoking all over me) and JB appeared, all wide smile and pretty new hair cut.
It's incredible what three months can do for making you forget how drop dead gorgeous someone is.
We hugged, kissed, they both ran off to use the bathrooms (by that point, I didn't dare), and then we all piled into JB's car and headed back to her place. The brother met Cash (GIANT King Shepherd puppy!) and Lily (less giant pitbull!), and then I think crashing happened. There was possibly a movie, but the memory gets fuzzy at this point.
And that was day five.
You forgot WHAT?
Day six (the 22nd of December) was our pre-Christmas Christmas. We had it early because that made it easier on JB's family--and seeing as they were hosting the event, that was cool by us. It began with an email.
Hi, Dark,
Hope you guys made it ok. [Your brother] left a big pile of stuff in [cousin's] room. Do you want us to send it back to England? I don't think it would get to you on time in California.
hope all is well,
peace out, [Aunt].
"Hey, brother," I yelled, with fading hope. "You packed the presents, right?"
"Uh..." came the faint cry from his bedroom.
Life lesson #68533: You Are Not Allowed To Strangle Your Sibling At Christmas, No Matter How Much You Want To.
But all was not lost. The presents for JB's parents were in my luggage (which was less roomy, given that I don't travel with my entire life in one bag) so we didn't arrive empty handed. I asked the Aunt to mail everything to us, and JB talked me out brothercide, just about.
Aside from that, Christmas was fun. JB's relatives are hilarious. Her mother's all about the hosting; her sisters--one older, one younger--are a blast; her granddad is a sweet-looking old man with a repertoire of dirty jokes; and her father's pretty much an all round nice guy. There was also a lady, with her family, who'd been the former high-priestess of a coven.
Plus you can't go wrong with five dogs in one house.
We gave JB's Mom tea, and her Dad got Very English Biscuits. The brother came away with a collection of clothes, free surfing lessons from JB, and an egg-cup crotch protector from Cash.
Long story.
I got ANBU t-shirts from JB, and they rock. They say ANBU on the front, where the pocket should be, and my characters' names in kanji on the back. I'm wearing one of them right now, in fact. I also got a bright red hoodie from her Mom with Grumpy the Dwarf on it (which was subsequently exchanged for a camouflage-pattern hoodie, but still cracked me up), some fuzzy black pyjama pants, Nation by Terry Pratchett, and light-up Christmas socks.
Good Christmas.
Oh, and the brother also gave me the new Batman film and Hellboy 2 on DVD. So a very good Christmas.
We hung around, ate good food, exchanged stories, and generally had a fantastic time.
And that was day six.
Intermittent babble, Christmas Church, and surfing lessons.
I planned to update earlier in an effort to avoid the journalist's curse of forgetting what happened. But I failed, so you'll have to put up with somewhat fuzzy recollections.
Before the brother left, we had some fantastic fun. JB took us up to the mountains to see actual snow, and we played around with the dogs, went sledding on a boogyboard someone had discarded, and generally acted like gleeful idiots.
JB and the brother, being much more adventurous foolish than I, picked some fairly steep looking slopes to fling themselves down. I mostly cheered and lobbed the occasional helpful snowball. Though I did get talked into going down the steepest hill with JB planted firmly in my lap, which was about the best argument for choosing a personal saviour I've ever experienced.
We finished off the day with a side-trip to quaint little restaurant that claimed to be a pub. The food was good, the people were friendly, the view with all the snow was fabulous, but a pub it was not. I'm becoming convinced that America just doesn't get the concept.
Of course, America also thinks cheese should be squirtable, so clearly some internal wiring has gotten frayed along the way.
Backing up a few days, I forgot to mention actual Christmas. We didn't really do a whole lot--the presents hadn't arrived yet--in the actual spirit of the season, but we did go to see Seven Pounds in the cinema, which was a decent enough film, and rented a couple more from Blockbuster. At my request, JB and I also went to church.
See, here's the thing, I'm not particularly religious. My mom was, but it sort of got mixed in with all the crazy. And my dad wasn't. I went to a mish-mash of religious schools and non-religious schools and I've studied Theology, so I'm not completely without a background, but it's never been a personal choice of mine.
But when we were kids, we went to church at Christmas.
It was beautiful, too. Always. Magnificent buildings with vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows, filled to the rafters with singing and candlelight and people gathered together to celebrate something good. Birth and life and ritualized joy in the middle of winter, preferably with snow outside.
Putting aside theology and belief, that's what I like about church. So this year I wanted to do it again. And JB, bless her heart, puts up with my occasional forays into weirdness and found a place we could go.
Remember that former high-priestess I mentioned? She now leads a small, fairly liberal (I want to say Catholic, but I may be wrong) congregation well within driving distance of JB's place, so we headed there for the 7 o'clock service. We arrived a little late and got led to the front row (which seemed to amuse everyone behind us, so I reckon that was the traditional gentle punishment for latecomers), but we ended up with pretty much the best view in the house.
Candles, singing, bright decorations, a Christmas sermon peppered with good-natured humour, and tea and cookies afterwards. What more could you ask for?
Well, beyond getting to stand and hold my girlfriend's hand in God's House. I think that made me smile for the rest of the day.
Back to snow! The day after the mountain trip, we went down to the beach so the brother could get his free surfing lessons. Justin, JB's younger sister's boyfriend, got roped into providing both tutoring and a wetsuit while JB and I went off for a coffee.
For those of you that don't know, California may be Land Of The Sun, but the sea in winter is still cold. Justin, being a sensible man, had little neoprene booties to go with his wetsuit, but the brother just had bare feet and hope.
Still, for those of us with actual clothes on, it was hilarious.
And the brother managed to get up to his knees on the board, which I'm told is impressive for a first-time learner. (We did take a bunch of pictures, but they're all on JB's camera which is probably lurking in a box somewhere at this point.)
For another quick point of hilarity, it should be mentioned that Cash, JB's giant King Shepherd puppy, is about the wussiest of wussy dogs. Cute as anything and terribly eager to please, but a pansy on four paws.
He spent the whole week bossing my brother around. Endlessly.
Fun (if infuriating) my brother may be, but alpha-dog he is not. *snickers*
And on the 28th of December, we packed the kid up, retrieved all his clothes and presents from various places, drove him down to the airport, and shoved him onto a plane. I think in the process he managed to steal both my best jacket and a few other bits and pieces, but he left his cool new sunglasses behind, so a fair trade.
(Actually, JB got the sunglasses and I plan to get my jacket back, but the brother doesn't read LJ, so my plan is foolproof. Mwaha!)
And that was days seven to twelve.
New Years: You mean they ACTUALLY drop a ball?
There wasn't a whole lot of time to sit and enjoy the echoing silence left in the brother's wake, but JB and I managed to get some mileage out of it anyway. Mostly by talking about ninja non-stop, for we are that geeky.
Then we packed up two dogs, one bird, my stuff and her stuff, and headed off to her parent's place to house-sit for a few days.
Halfway there we turned around to get my stuff, which we'd cunningly left behind.
JB's parent's house is kind of the anti-thesis of JB's house. JB's house--apartment, really--is small and cozy and dishevelled, in a charming kind of way. A lived-in place. There're pictures and horse shoes and spurs on the walls, dog hair on the floor, a giant birdcage in pride of place in the living room, and about a gazillion books stacked all over. Two comfy sofas dominate the lounge, along with an art table, a computer, a TV, and a sturdy coffee table perfect for putting your feet up on (which she keeps the dog leashes in, natch). The kitchen is split off by an island, and is filled with an eccentric mix of California foods (avocado!) and dog 'n' bird stuff. And coffee, lots and lots of coffee.
There're also two bedrooms, one with a king-sized futon, and a pretty sizable bathroom, just for the sake of a complete report.
[As I'm writing this, kilerkki suggests that sketching out a description of your own home/room might make quite an interesting writing exercise. I'm inclined to agree.]
Her parent's place is bigger. And whiter. And cleaner. It's nice, definitely a family home with all the photos scattered around, but you're pretty afraid to touch anything, just in case it breaks.
Still, for a few days it was pretty neat to live in A not so Typical American Home. Once I got over the fear of accidentally destroying something, anyway.
JB had to work a fair bit, so I mostly spent my time hanging around with her mother's three mini-dogs (one Papillion and two rat terriers) and enjoying the gleaming extravagances of infomercials. They sell everything, including stuff I'd never realized I needed but suddenly wanted. I also got a bit of writing down, walked the mini-dogs (which was a sight to behold), chilled out online, and watched movies.
And slept. Oh man did I sleep.
JB and I also set up a bizarre system of notes, which was weirdly fun. She got up earlier than I did, and left me a quick sketch of whatever the day would bring. I tumbled into bed later than she did, and left a little salute to whatever lay ahead.
Yes, we are geeks. But adorable geeks, so shut up.
New Years rolled around somewhere in the middle of this, bringing a kind of exhausted joy with it. (Sleeping is hard, okay? And JB was doing ridiculous amounts of work). We flopped together in front of the TV, surrounded by sprawling dogs, and watched the ball drop in New York, making vague plans of where we wanted to live, given the chance.
All over, it seems.
Then we rang in New Years the traditional way.
And that was day thirteen to something.
Cons, friends, sex toys, oh my!
A comm with only four people isn't really a con, but messypeaches and nezumiko make up for short numbers by being made of awesome, so it works out.
They showed up bearing food and fun sometime after we landed back at JB's place, and spent the next couple days hanging out with us, watching films, writing drabbles, and planning evil. Momo showed me how to make Proper Cheese Sauce (which I still haven't attempted yet, but I'm working up to it!), and Nezu helped me plot an upcoming Ginta/Kakashi arc, for those interested in Fallen Leaves.
Actually, there's a lot of stuff coming up in Leaves, but I won't go into that right now.
JB had to work again, so Nezu and Momo took me out for steak (steak!) and sex toys.
No, really.
Okay, so the sex toys weren't for me, but time in an adult store is never wasted. Things that jiggled! Things that vibrated! Things that glittered! Things that scared the crap out of me!
My friends are entertaining people.
And after that--well, mostly we hung around and killed each other with laugh. Good times.
And that was day something to something.
All the rest.
After Momo and Nezu headed off, JB and I threw ourselves into packing.
Well, mostly.
Okay, so we packed, then we goofed off, then we packed more, then we goofed off more--you see the pattern. JB's moving to San Fran over a period of months (seriously), but she had to be out of her apartment about two days after I left, so packing was the theme! We sorted books, wrapped trinkets, organized and messed things up in equal measure...
It was weirdly fun, in an 'oh god, there's more?' kind of way.
Though I did mange to put half the boxes together wrong, which we only figured out after I'd packed them all. Cue a lot of unpacking and repacking.
Oh! And all the presents arrived. So I managed to give JB her gift (a matching set of earrings with as necklace), and got a brace of DVDs from the brother (Dark Knight and Hell Boy 2), which was nice.
I picked up an interesting book, too. Surviving Schizophrenia by E. Fuller Torrey, which is about the best book on the subject I've ever read.
Turns out my chances of becoming mentally hilarious between now and my 25th birthday are about 10-14%, which is a lot better than I thought. And then I don't have to think about it until my 40's. \o/
The last few days of my vacation were fairly low-key. Mostly just chilling out in-between packing and whatever errands JB and I had to run. We did go to the Dog Beach, which was awesome and freezing. (You will never ever see joy like dogs let off the leash at the seaside. They should find a way to bottle it and flog it as a pick-me-up.) The dogs are also a bit weird about chasing a tennis ball into the surf; I think I spent more time getting it back than they did, much to JB's amusement.
And we did the relationship talk thing, too, which was both terrifying and really, really good. This is my first long-term relationship, and JB's first one with another woman, so we run across the occasional interesting issue. Fortunately, we're both well-grounded, intelligent people, and haven't managed to get swamped yet.
The last day wasn't as hectic as I thought it'd be, but we did have to figure out how the hell I was going to get all my stuff home. I had a carry-on rucksack, a wheelie suitcase full of clothes, a food processor JB's mom had given me (for no reason other than sharing the joy of food processors), and a box full of Ash's clothes.
You're allowed to check on two pieces of luggage for free.
I had three.
Good thing the world has tape. We stacked Ash's box (which, by the way, contained three pairs of pants, two pairs of shoes, one razor, one belt, on set of suspenders, his Christmas present, a book, and seven shirts--how he left that all behind, I have no idea) on top of the food processor box, labeled everything, wrapped the lot up in black garbage bags, labeled those, taped everything together, and then JB got creative and fashioned a tape handle to go on top.
Voila! Two pieces of--seriously suspicious looking--luggage!
We threw it all into the car, I said goodbye to Bobbie Da Bird and the dogs, and off we went.
(For the curious, Bobbie Da Bird is an 8oz parrot lookalike of some description, and actively dislikes me. Through a cunning process of bribes and trying not to flail whenever he dive-bombed me, we managed to reach a semi-truce by the time we left.
JB, it's a good thing I really like you, because wow.)
Anyway, one car trip to LA later, we reached the airport, lugged everything to the check-in desk, and found I'd gotten lucky: there were enough free places left that I, with my standby ticket, could go straight through.
Good news! And bad news, because I may have been secretly hoping to stay a lifetime few days longer.
There was just enough time for us to sit down and chat about anything but the fact that I was about to leave, which takes some skill, then we kissed and hugged and almost made me miss my flight. (Which I still maintain would have been worth it.)
Then I had to get back on the plane.
And that was day something to home.