Extension of my Mother

Today is my beloved mother's birthday, she's as beautiful as ever and still has quite the amazing youthful glow for being the parent of a 23 year old. As I was growing up I never understood why everyone was so shocked and amazed that my parents were so young. I didn't even realize how quickly my mom must have had to get her shit together, wise up and mature in order to be such an incredibly dedicated and fantastic caretaker until I was 21(the age she birthed me at)  and realized that instead of worrying about to wear on a night out out or how to cure a hangover she was wiping my ass and nose and making sure I didn't put a fork into an electrical outlet (no easy task mind you).My mom is an amazing person in many ways, she's a creative thinker, intelligent writer and speaker, a theatrical artist, a true friend, a good daughter, a wonderful wife, an adventurer, a nature nut, a smart and savvy feminist, a fashionista, a spiritual and extremely intuitive woman, a person with a great sense of humor and love of laughter she's just a ball of super spunky fun. Along with all of these enduring qualities she is a mom through and through, if it wasn't awkward and childish I would probably still call her Mommy because she always has that warm loving energy that just makes  you want to scrunch up in her lap and have your hair played with and be read fairy tales, regardless of how old you are. It seems as though it was her destiny in life to be a mother and I feel blessed that I got the great privilege to be her one and only daughter, although I have shared her throughout my life with many other children and my own friends because as I said she has that extremely powerful Universal Mom quality. Whenever girls tell me that they're "Best Friends" with their mothers I find it really odd. I just envision Regina George's mom from Mean Girls serving cocktails and trying to get the dish to stay young and hip or a really sad girl who talks about the pro's and cons of her match.com choices over boxed wine and a batch of brownies every Saturday night and is afraid to make friends with her peers.

Can I get you guys anything? Some snacks? A condom? Let me know! Oh, God love ya. 

I mean don't get me wrong I definitely enjoy a glass of wine and a gal pal chat with my mom but I do have a social life outside of her. But my Mom is not my best friend. She is someone that I thoroughly enjoy spending my time with and I can talk to her about anything from advice on how to properly prepare chicken breast to if docuhing after sex is a good idea or not (its not in case you didn't know, the vagina is a self-cleaning organism and if yours isn't you need to make a gyno appt. stat!). I might actually be the creepier girl than those who claim to be BFF with their parent because I view myself as an extension of my mother. Her joy is my joy, her pain is my pain, I'm either following behind her on the path of life or running just a little bit ahead knowing she's right there behind me. So today I say Happy Birthday to my lovely Mom!! No matter where I am in the world she is my guiding light and I love her. And to my grammy who labored her 40 some years ago, I applaud you!! I actually applaud any woman who gave birth before 1980, shit was not all that in the pain management department prior to that I'm sure. And my Grams is of course a wonderful and amazing woman as well who I also love to bits and pieces. Now if this section didn't inspire you to hit your Mama up with a call I don't know what will! She may bug the crap out of you but she also brought you into this world and managed to put up with you for about 18 years plus, just give her a ring and say hey!

Now I'm off to snuggle in on this rainy night after having a lovely dinner over at Thinmint's prepared specially by her and hotrod. Chicken tetrazini, good conversation, R&B/ Lil Wayne pandora station and brownies does make a delightful evening. Sweeeeeeet dreams!!

I'm no Cowgirl, unless it's in reverse...

The First official day of our Mendocino Adventure-

The boyfriend can't stay in bed too much past 9-9:30 whereas I can stay in bed till about 1-1:30 without really being phased. So he took it upon himself to adventure out to Mickey D's and get the rare treat of a McBreakfast (rare because most people who truly relish McBreakfast aren't up and about before the crack of 10:30 to get it). I'm totally with the camp who wants breakfast all day...I don't think it would take away the specialness of a Mcbiscuit and hashbrown patty; I think it would actually enhance the experience to have it at any time I choose.

The only joy to waking up before 10:30.

Minus the egg.

 So he lured me out of bed with this delight, we toked up, threw our swimsuits on and took advantage of having a pool at the motel. 

It was no surprise that we were the only people using the amenities, we may have in fact been the only person to use them in the past several weeks. It looked as though there was a slight algae growing on the floor but what harm is a little algae gonna do? It wasn't black mold! Plus I was completely distracted from that issue because I was entranced with the jungle themed mural around the whirlpool which we almost fell asleep in. As you know pools of this kind do NOT have a lifeguard on duty so thank god we did not pass out and drown in the sad little motel hot tub, it would be a really worthless way to die and an awkward obituary write up. 

This fancy little whirlpool was almost my final resting place.

I really felt like I was transported to a tropical oasis.

It was very relaxing.

After our dip we layered up in warm clothes and decided to go check out some tide pools in the state park. I have a vague understanding of how the tide works and know that it changes throughout different seasons and times of day...I did not realize however that it would be extremely dangerous and we would be likely to get swept away if we went to wander around the tide pools in the middle of the afternoon on this particular day...according to the park ranger that's exactly what would happen and so we made a change of plans. We ended up taking a wandering walk down the gray beach instead. 

Here's a pictorial example of some of the exciting beach sights we saw:

The coast in all it's cloudy glory.

Some super weird sea vegetables.

Add caption

A smiling sea log.

I know it kinda looks like a turd...

Some seals sun bathing

After our beach adventure the skies started to clear up and we thought it might be a good idea to engage in a more exciting, adventurous activity. Unfortunately this activity ended up being horseback riding. Horses are not my pals and riding them does not usually bode well for me. Because of this I was very apprehensive about this endeavor. My apprehension seemed further warranted when we pulled up at the ranch which was basically a barn and a shack with a bunch of horses standing around and a bunch of trucks parked in the lot. We walked up to the shack assuming that it was the "customer service" and knocked on the door to no avail. The windows were dusted and there was not a soul in sight. Again it was reminiscent of some weird horror film, Texas chainsaw massacre maybe??  We decided to dip before a hillbilly could pop out of the barn and pull some weird Rob Zombie shit on us. 

After lunch we decided there really weren't too many other options available in Mendocino and so we called up the risky ranch to book a ride. This time when we arrived horse ridin' Hannah was ready to take us along with a mom and her two daughters out on the beach trail. While she brushed the horses and saddled them up we went into the awkward little hut to watch a rider's safety video. The video looked like someone had set a camcorder on a fence post back in '83 and gave a shitty example of how to properly mount and dismount a horse without kicking it and therefore scare the shit out of it and get thrown off. Immediately after watching the video we forgot all of the safety tips. So we headed back outside and hoped for the best. Horse ridin' Hannah was still brushing away. At the time I did not understand the importance of grooming the horses before riding them. I eventually found out why. After we geared up with our special ed. looking safety helmets  we stood around waiting to hop on our horses. We tried to guess which one would be ours. The mother and her daughters were especially excited about this guessing game. The horse that stood out the most was a giant male Budweiser horse who was chomping away and staring all of us down. He stood out even more when he popped a GIANT fucking horse boner to the shock of the little girls. There he was with his big ass horse dick staring all of us down...like "Yea bitches here's what I've got to offer". But as soon as the horse trainer came back our way he tucked it away like a super sneaky perv. So of course that was the horse the BF got. I on the other hand got a sweet innocent looking horse named Cloud. As we mounted the horses the trainer let us know that our horses would be doing what they please and would mill about eating as much grass as possible before the ride. She was not exaggerating. There was absolutely no controlling those bastards. They pulled us wherever they wanted to go. 

After everyone was saddled up we headed on our way. The beginning of the ride was fairly calm through the woods minus two Mendocino meth headed teens who popped out of the trees looking like the Columbine killers. Nevertheless we continued on our way. As we went Cloud made it clear that she was in control and would go at whatever pace she chose. I was just there as a prop. I couldn't ride next to the BF because apparently our horses were also lovers and in a tumultuous relationship. Every time we tried to get side by side they would bite at each other and rear their heads back, so we tried to stay in the single file line. 

Just as we got down to the lovely sunny beach I heard the horse trainer yell at me to pull back on the reins. I had no idea why and just as quickly as I tried to pull back I was going down...my horse was fucking laying down on the ground with me still on top of it!! I don't think I have ever acted so athletically and agilely as I did in that moment. I kicked out of the stirrups and jumped off that bitch as she began to roll around in the sand. After jumping off I ran up on top of a sandbank with my arms in the air, shouting in shock and confusion. The other riders were looking on with horror as my loving boyfriend practically fell off of his saddle laughing which I joined in on after my initial disbelief. I pretty march started to pee my riding pants laughing so hard at my misfortune and the fact that I had just narrowly escaped being crushed under a giant horse and turned into a paraplegic. 

Imagine me practically under this.

The horse trainers response to all of this was "I thought I brushed her enough!! I guess she was trying to scratch an itch...she hasn't done that to anyone in weeks!!" To which my internal response was "If a fucking horse regularly tries to throw off it's rider and roll around on the beach, why is it used at all?? Turn it into a bottle of Elmer's because that shit is not safe!!". Ultimately nothing about this scenario surprised me at all. As I said earlier horses are not my pals. I have had bad luck with them from the beginning. As a six year old I went with family friends to a stable for my first ride. I got a pony named macaroni who was apparently retarded. As we set off on the trail it took off at a full speed canter and tried to hop a fence. Luckily the guide caught up and pulled it to a halt before it could paralyze me and I got to trade horses. Basically nothing has changed between my first experience and what I have now decided is my last. 

After standing on the sandbank for a few minutes waiting for my horse to quit writhing around on the ground like a wild beast it finally stood up and I was expected to hop back on. This was probably extremely comical for all those watching. Not only was I just dismantled from this crazed animal but I was now (at 5'3) expected to hop back onto this super massively tall creature and keep on ridin'. And so I did...the rest of the ride I sat alertly as possible ready to ditch at any moment, holding the reins loosely because I decided this bitch was gonna do what it wanted. Instead of enjoying the lovely sounds of the waves against the shore all I had was the laughter of the boyfriend behind me. My horse continued to gallop up steep inclines of sand and shove her way to the front of the line budging the other horses. Eventually I got the last laugh when the BF's Budweiser horse got spooked crossing the road.  It was startled by a motorcylce in the distance and immediately turned into a bucking bronco, practically throwing him off. To see him almost shit himself atop the saddle was enough to make me feel not so bad about my own experience.

I expected a discounted if not free ride but this did not happen. I paid for my wild wild west experience in full. There is nothing romantic or fun or freeing about riding a horse. Its mostly an awkward, painful, unnatural and startling experience. I'm very relieved that these beasts are no longer a mode of transportation and I don't plan on using one as such ever again. 

This is how the ranch advertised our ride.

These are the asshole horses we actually got.

This photo is them at their happiest; eating and

not having anyone on their back,

The two on the right side were ours.

Easter- Jesus Peeps and Weird Plastic Grass

We wrapped up the Forced Family Fun weekend with an Easter Brunch. The pops, the BF, his aunt & her crazy ass Israeli significant other and my dear friend Mr. Meredith shoved an excessive amount of biscuits and other brunch delicacies in our faces. It was lovely to spend Easter with a Jew and a bunch of agnostics (or maybe they're  just too lazy to go to Church). Personally this holiday has never really been about the resurrection of Christ for me but more so about starburst jelly beans and cadbury eggs buried in that weird plastic grass. 

Getting away from family during the holidays

To teach children the true meaning of the holiday. 

Mmmm

 San Francisco is a pretty perfect place to be for the non-religious, it prides itself in being the alternative lifestyle capital of the country. In fact I would have gone to Dolores Park to watch the "Hunky Jesus" contest but felt too gluttonous to move around and be active in the world after the endless buffet we went to. I just had too many biscuits with gravy to function. That and I'm not sure how easily convinced my dad and the BF would have been to check out the scene.

I think the term "Hunky" is used loosely. Apparently I missed out
on a lot of pubes and low hanging balls. Maybe next year. 

So after a quick little weekend of Father/ Daughter bonding and fun my pops headed out. But before he left we shared a moment over a pancake breakfast. He told me he was happy for me and proud that I was on the path to success in this little city and advised me to stay put despite the challenges that may arise. As a guy from a small Midwestern town he knows the benefits to both having family and friends to root you down but also the need to take advantage of life's possibilities in the world beyond the homestead.  So despite the fact that I have battled against his fatherly ways for most of my life and found triumph in being an independent spirit, I must admit it brings a flutter of joy and a swell of pride to hear praise and gain approval from my father. 

Inappropriate Comedy Shows with Parents

Also on my dad's visit we decided to hit up a comedy show. After doing some research on different venues we ended up going to Punchline comedy club to see JB SMOOVE and lemme tell you this dude is fucking out of his mind and it is hysterical. Luckily my dad has a really out there sense of humor himself otherwise it had major potential to be extremely awkward to sit between my boyfriend and my father as JB is up on stage shouting how he is a big time CUMMA (aka he ejaculates alot) and acts out in full detail himself cumming all over a woman with the excess microphone cord as his prop. He was outrageous and inappropriate and totally off the wall. I would say its safe to bet that half of his material was prepared and the rest was him just going off on whatever the fuck he felt like saying at that moment.

Here are some examples of what I'm talking about:

I stumbled upon this one, apparently from back in the day. A young Smoove: 

You also may know him as Leon from Curb Your Enthusiasm and he was also recently in Hall Pass (which is one of the funniest movies I've seen recently):

Family Fun: by force or by choice, YOU'RE GONNA HAVE IT

So apparently this month is family fun month for Lola. Last weekend my dad came out to the bay for his first visit since I moved here (over a year ago, he really is a caring parent...I swear). This weekend is "Friends & Family" at my shitshow Dept. store job; the slogan for the event is "Friends & Family- If you're here today that's you!!" (My slogan is: "If you're here today and you're willing to spend over $500 you're a friend, if you're willing to go upwards of $1,000 we'll consider you family!! If you're just here to bullshit around then get the fuck out cuz we're not close like that). And finally this coming weekend my lovely Mama is headed out to the Bay for Mother's day weekend (she deserves more than a day). 

My good 'ol dad was excited for his solo weekend visit, it made him feel young and fun again. Typically he's a Mr. Mom constantly hanging out with my younger sibs. He's pretty good at handling them but they still give that back talk sass that only little white kids with too much verbal freedom can give. Its primarily my younger brother who does this. My little sister is pretty chill as an easy going tom boy in her puma suits. 

 So he shed the little buggers and the wife and came to hang with me and the BF.  I've always loved my dad, but I haven't always enjoyed him. There was a period between the ages of 13 and 18 that I sometimes felt like kicking him in the groin and spitting in his face. That sounds harsh but he often tells me that he wants to drop kick me in the chest (this is only humorous because we've never gone to the point of seriously inflicting bodily harm upon one another aka I was never abused as a child and I don't plan to abuse him when he's a geriatric old fart). 

So to entertain the old guy we took him to a Giant's game, Giant's as in the World Series CHAMPION Giants!! I'm still a little confused as to how they're the WORLD champions since they only competed with U.S. teams, then again I'm confused about a lot of things in baseball so I'll just add that one to the list. Unfortunately during this game they did not play like world champs and it was somewhat boring. Boring and hot. In San Fran there is almost always a breeze, especially at this particular stadium which sits right on the ocean. Because of this perpetual breeze its almost always wise to dress in layers as if you were going to be in a J. Crew ad for the fall season. A button up, a cardigan, a jacket, etc. And so we threw on some gear (I'm a fair weather fan admittedly but I still own some gear just to be fun and athletically fashionable) and added some hoodies and what not on top. Well it just so happened that we sat in the only area of the stadium that was about 25 degrees hotter than the rest, no breeze, just the hot sun beating down on us. It was so hot in fact that I stripped down to my bottom tank top layer and ended up getting sunburned. Unfortunately my epidermis is a very, very fair shade so this happens almost every time I'm exposed to direct sunlight for too long. Along with the heat came a wafting of a super sick smell that came upon us half way through the game. It smelled like somebody put a cabbage stew in a dirty sock and threw it in an oven. This resulted in us looking around trying to find where the mystery smell was coming from. Was it a fellow fan emitting bodily gas? Had someone shat their pants after eating too much sauerkraut? Did one of the annoying seagulls or pigeons that circle the stands keel over and die somewhere nearby? It was pretty horrendous but it's source was never discovered. This is probably for the best. 

My favorite part is singing "Take me out to the ball game"
the rest is kind of a guessing game as to what's going on.
Unless it's a home run. I'm not retarded.

Here's one of the more exciting characters on our team.
Brian Wilson aka "Fear the Beard". Yes he dyes it as
an intimidation tactic.

...And people get pretty excited about it.

And here's my guy TIMMY!! As you can see
we share a similar favorite recreational
activity. The difference is I get high and
sit around on my ass, he's a world class
athlete. Other than that we have a lot in
common.

Besides the fact that I got burned, they lost and we spend a large portion of the game looking for where the sock soup smell was coming from, we did enjoy our $40 worth of chicken strips and beverages (stadium prices are no joke. You could practically afford to buy a keg of beer for how much it would cost you to get a buzz going) along with some good clean American fun. Upon exiting the stadium I thought I'd throw my ice into the odd little trough in front of our seats so I could take my collector's cup home. Apparently it wasn't a trough in front of me but instead an open piece of the balcony, which I saw just in time to watch my ice chunks rain down on some poor bastard below. Oops, and I got the fuck outta there before a game day brawl could begin!

Later that night we decided to hit up a comedy show. After doing some research on different venues we ended up going to Punchline comedy club to see JB SMOOVE and lemme tell you this dude is fucking out of his mind and it is hysterical. Luckily my dad has a really out there sense of humor himself otherwise it had major potential to be extremely awkward to sit between my boyfriend and my father as JB is up on stage shouting how he is a big time CUMMA (aka he ejaculates alot) and acts out in full detail himself cumming all over a woman with the excess microphone cord as his prop. He was outrageous and inappropriate and totally off the wall. I would say its safe to bet that half of his material was prepared and the rest was him just going off on whatever the fuck he felt like talking about.

Here are some examples of what I'm talking about:

I stumbled upon this one, apparently from back in the day. A young Smoove: 

You also may know him as Leon from Curb Your Enthusiasm and he was also recently in Hall Pass (which is one of the funniest movies I've seen recently):

We wrapped up the weekend with an Easter Brunch with the pops, the BF, his aunt & her crazy ass Israeli significant other and my dear friend Mr. Meredith. It was lovely to spend Easter with a Jew and a bunch of agnostics (or maybe they're  just too lazy to go to Church). Personally this holiday has never really been about the resurrection of Christ for me but more so about starburst jelly beans and cadbury eggs buried in that weird plastic grass. 

Getting away from family during the holidays

To teach children the true meaning of the holiday.

Mmmm

 San Francisco is a pretty perfect place to be for the non-religious, it prides itself in being the alternative lifestyle capital of the country. In fact I would have gone to Dolores Park to watch the "Hunky Jesus" contest but felt too gluttonous to move around and be active in the world after the endless buffet we went to. I just had too many biscuits with gravy to function. That and I'm not sure how easily convinced my dad and the BF would have been to check out the scene.

I think the term "Hunky" is used loosely. Apparently I missed out
on a lot of pubes and low hanging balls. Maybe next year. 

So after a quick little weekend of Father/ Daughter bonding and fun my pops headed out. But before he left we shared a moment over a pancake breakfast. He told me he was happy for me and proud that I was on the path to success in this little city and advised me to stay put despite the challenges that may arise. As a guy from a small Midwestern town he knows the benefits to both having family and friends to root you down but also the need to take advantage of life's possibilities in the world beyond the homestead.  So despite the fact that I have battled against his fatherly ways for most of my life and found triumph in being an independent spirit, I must admit it brings a flutter of joy and a swell of pride to hear praise and gain approval from my father. 

I was gonna clean my room until I got high

So I'm sitting here looking at a vaguely blurry screen with a mean ass cotton mouth. I keep trying to get rid of it with all sorts of beverage options. I'm listening to some hooligan outside yell Happy 4-20!!!!! Down the last block and a half he's walked. I have been celebrating the "Holiday" so to speak. I don't feel quite as animated as him and therefore am not responding. That and the fact that its a dangerous game to play responding to a person in the streets in my neighborhood. There's a huge possibility they'll stop where they are and stay there yelling for the remainder of the night.


I've come to realize that this blog may make me sound like I'm a huge pot head which in some ways is accurate and in some ways is not. I'm sort of a pot head of convenience. If its there I'll smoke it. Conveniently I'm in a relationship with someone who has also been in a very long and somewhat serious relationship with Maryjane. Its always around and its pretty much in abundance. Its fun, its relaxing, it's enjoyable...why not smoke it? And I have been since I was 15. Shwag to kush its been a hazy, crazy, lazy road of memories with my crew to Sunday afternoons adventuring with my boo


I've made it past the level of scrounging some loose bills and change to grab a dime sack after school to using a delivery service to buy pre-packaged varieties of exotic blends. I've graduated from smoking out of cut up dasani bottles with tinfoil tops to technically advanced vaporizers. I've moved on from carrying vizine and a deodorizing body mist in my purse to cover up my devious behavior to sparking up at my own leisure in the comfort of my own home.


So I've celebrated this reefer holiday referred to as 4-20 many a time. I can't say I can recall in detail all the ways I've celebrated...I know one year I hung out at the park with some pals and a garbage bag full of candy and snacks. Another year I went to a house party where there was green in a variety of options-bowls, joints, blunts, vaporizers, treats, alcohol...or you could just walk in the front door and breathe in. I literally got so far out of my fucking element I thought I might go permanently insane. Things made me laugh to the point of not breathing and then I would feel sick and want to lay down in a dark quiet room. The next morning I woke up to go to work and my eyes would literally barely peel open, they were so bloodshot I looked like a strung out vampire...and of course I wasn't a fully functioning human being until another 12 hours had past.

According to wikipedia this is what we're all toking up for: Wikipedia knows all...


This year I celebrated with the boo and some pals. The boo and his boys rolled up plenty of blunts as me and my dear pal Mr. Orleans whipped up a nice batch of green rice krispies. Mr. Orleans provided the herbal butter. He had never even made a regular 'ol batch of Rice Krispies in his life!! I was shocked that he had been missing out on this American pastime. I gave him a sort of retarded introduction to it.


 Rice krispies are literally one of the easiest things a person can make. Its sort of like baking without having to bake. Its one of the first cooking projects you can do with a small child. It wasn't like we fucked them up. They actually turned out quite delicious. After melting the butter and whipping it up with the marshmallows I cut out the middle man (the mixing bowl) and just dumped the whipped mess into the pan and sprinkled rice krispies on top of it. I then proceeded to mix it in the pan with a large spoon flattening it out as I went. It resulted in some lovely bars with very concentrated buttery/ oily bottoms... But nobody complained. In fact the bars were not eaten but rather inhaled.

Green butter...now I know what Dr. Seuss was talking
about...

Mmm the weird little rice krispie elves always
seemed like they were on something but I think its
more along the lines of meth.

After we were completely hazy from our blunt rotation and the body high ensued from our treats we zoned out to netflix on demand. We watched the intense and subtitled martial arts film Ong Bak 3.

This is a fucking trip man...its a

trilogy. You really don't have to

watch them in order.

 And some comedy specials to lighten the mood. 

It was halfway through the first comedy special that I decided I need something more substantial and came up with the brilliant idea to make mac 'n cheese. I made a three box batch!! But just as the magnificent meal came to completion three of the six stoners headed out, leaving me, the BF and Mr. Orleans to the eating. I was pretty fine with that.

Nobody knows why but everybody agrees that shapes taste better.

And this is the best way to eat it. Just a dash of health!
I'm weird. I love peas. 

                                  

All in all the maryjane is a recreational lifestyle choice I enjoy partaking in. You either love it and appreciate it like this guy:

 You know nobody enjoys a rainbow quite to that degree unless they're a total hippie pothead. 

Or you don't: 

 "I think we're dead"

Bed & Breakfasts- Cute or Creepy

So after my debacle with horseback riding (FYI I will now refer to horses as WHOREses, because that's what they are.) we went back to our cozy little Bed & Breakfast to smoke some green and get sloshed on locally made Mendocino wine.

I'm only 23 so I haven't had too much experience in the world of B&B's, I think its primarily something restricted to couples who have been fucking for a while and are trying to make things more romantic/ serious, newly wed couples, couples who are trying to make it even though they're old and tired of one another or groups of couples who are considering swinging with other couples...oh and of course don't forget about the gals groups like book clubs or wine clubs that want to take their friendships to the next level (possibly one involving lesbian experimental behavior). And I think that this is exactly the type of people who should frequent these  of destination spots. I did tag along with my mom to a few B&B's as a youth. I think I would enjoy the cuteness and quaintness of sharing that experience together at this age more than I did back then.

These are the ideal candidates: 

They're not actually reading the news, they're looking
at the ads for tranny hookers to spice up their sex life

Don't let the love die before you do

Ultimately what I've concluded from personal experience and anecdotes from others is this: You have a 50% chance of going to a really charming and cozy B&B with a delightful no pressure breakfast (aka you can come and eat it or you can skip it) and a relaxing stay.

Slightly overgrown but still sweet garden arch
facing the ocean.

Charming little cottage at the Inn at Schoolhouse Creek

Mmmm worth waking up for

You also have a 50% chance of going to a really creepy and uncomfortable B&B where the owner basically operates it so they can show off their doll collections* or the thousands of blankets they've woven on their handcrafted looms and force you into awkward conversation at 7 am over some shitty tea and crumpets. Luckily we got the former experience.

This is Bed & Breakfast Barbara...an example
of the type of proprietor you want to avoid,
She has way too much time on her hands
and way too much information she's dying
to talk to someone about.

This place clearly has some angry spirits dwelling in it.

Bed & Breakfast Barbara will probably talk your
ear off about all their names and outfits.

This is what the angry spirits in the house want to do with
the Chatty Cathys and Peeing Pollyanna dolls and
Special Edition Sacajawea.

The Inn at school house creek is an adorable little arrangement of cottages with silly little names and unique little touches, ours was a  potbelly fireplace (which we didn't end up having enough energy to take an interest in), as well as a front porch (appropriate for glasses of wine) and a back porch (appropriate for bowls of maryjane). It also, for whatever odd reason, had a little fenced area with two mules behind the back porch. Mules are a lot more respectable than whorses simply because people don't ride them for pleasure but you can ride them if absolutely necessary or you can just throw some sacks of your belongings on them and have them Sherpa your shit around for you. It was also supposedly haunted, which of course got the paranormal detective in me all excited (no eerie happenings, which is probably for the best).

Unused but enduring nevertheless.

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Mules muling about.

Whimsical garden pic

So we lushed out on our complimentary wine and decided to throw on our suits and cottage provided matching robes (awww for cute!!) and take a late night dip into the hot tub and sauna. But what city dwellers forget is that when you're out in nature you have nothing but the stars as guiding light. There's no street lamps or flashing sirens or skyline...just the dark, the stars and the moon if she's out. This particular night was foggy and daaaark. The boyfriend instantly turns into the token black man in horror movies (he just wants to get the fuck out of the situation). So I'm holding the flashlight and he's holding me like a human shield against whatever dangers the dark night has in store. The flashlight beam only showed about 3 feet or less. It looked like we were getting ourselves into a Freddy VS. Jason situation walking deeper into the woods.

The journey at night

So we said fuck it and had a party in the normal sized bathtub back in the cottage instead, When we went to go find the hot tub and sauna the next morning after breakfast we were ashamed of our pussy ass behavior. We were less than 5 feet away from it the previous night, all we had to do was open a gate. Its probably for the best anyways; who knows there may have been some weird verts leering behind the brush. If the creepy maintenance crew of the B&B is any indication to the level of weirdness that roams the property the answer is yes there probably were.

The destination in comforting daylight

As we were packing up the car one such employee took it upon himself to stop down and chat with us about our plans for the day. We told him we were considering sea kayaking or hiking around to which he again took it upon himself to advise us into doing another activity...walking down along side a river on a path that mostly locals know about and like to use. We thanked him for the kind suggestion, got in the car and immediately decided that we was probably plotting to bind us to trees, steal our identities and dispose of us in that very river if we decided to take that hike. But after an inconclusive search for where the sea kayaking start off point was we ended up checking out the river path against our better judgement. Not only because of Mr. Megan's law but also because of this:

Notice specifically: "Keep children close, as mountain lions
seem to be especially drawn to them." So we had two
perverts on our hands

We felt fairly confident that we wouldn't be a rack of ribs dinner for any mountain lions however, because there was an older woman walking ahead of us with an ugly little fluff of a mini poodle who would probably be of greater interest and easier pray for any hungry big cats.





Big Beast
VS.
Little pieces of shit Poods
 

You can decide who will win that battle...

This little stumbled upon nature sculpture was either made by an artsy fartsy hiker or it was left as a sign from the weirdo back at the B&B to let us know he was around...

I embellished it with the blossom,

After the easy little jaunt down the river path we went to check out some sea bluffs and a giant sink hole. Sounds exciting, I know but it was actually quite beautiful and again with a hint of danger. There were multiple signs posted warning us to NEVER turn our backs to the ocean!!! It claimed that many lives were lost a year from people simply walking around, not paying attention and being swept off the cliff edge by a rouge wave. We decided to take the advice to heart and tried to stay as far away from the edge as possible. We only got brave on a very high increase of bluff that looked completely dry, untouched by any murderous waves. But as if God was wagging a finger us in warning, just a few minutes after we walked away we heard a loud crash and saw spray drench the edge of where we had just been standing. It wasn't powerful enough that it would have swept us away, so we didn't have the sensation of our lives flashing before our eyes but we did feel simultaneously anxious and relieved and took it back to the grassy, safe zone of the bluff.

The sink hole was a trip. It doesn't look to crazy but its basically the ocean coming underneath the bluff we were on to a place where the land just gave away and now there's a sort of little pond of ocean in the middle of it.

After getting our fill of small town/ nature adventures back to the city we went in our little shit mobile (it may not look to fly but it gets us where we need to go)

Down by the river. We left contact info. in the glove compartment in case we ended up getting kidnapped and tortured by the weirdo

Back on the windy road home we go...we saw where Paul Bunyan ashed his cigarette on the way.