I just bought James Morrison's "You Give Me Something" off iTunes. I just came to the realization that this guys voice is like a hybrid between Ray LaMontagne's and Justin Timberlake. The song is at the very least, cheesy and over-the-top but whenever I hear it in Starbuck's I secretly want to scream along:"YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU give meeeeeeeeeeeee sometttttthhhaaaaaaaaaaan'" at the top of my lungs to the poor, unknowing baristas. Like I said earlier, don't judge me.
Yesterday my parents hosted a bbq. It was such a good time. My cousins came over, whom I have so much respect for and feel constantly entertained by. Olivia and Luke are 16 now (almost 17!) and are growing up to be free thinkers, caring and honest, great sense of humor, good hearted people. They really are mature and beyond their years for 16, which is amazing because I think personally, where I was emotionally at 16, well... they seem to have their acts together. After burgers and cake we brought the frisbee downstairs and played for a bit. I saw my mom watching and she later confessed it made her nostalgic, the days when Sary and I would play hide and seek with the boys on the court. I can't believe I'm going to type this but, I think she wants grandbabies. But she's smart enough to know not to hold her breath just yet. Especially when some of us have only recently graduated from playing hide and seek on the court to playing kickball at the park.
I start school in a little over 7 weeks or so. If you want to hang out, call me before then. I have a feeling my schedule won't be as flexible or forgiving until I finish the program.
The A's lost tonight. That's eight in a row. If someone could make the call and be sure they turn things around when I'm there in person tomorrow, I'd be ever so grateful.
I just went through 37 pages of emails (I am an internet packrat. Never ever do I take time to clear out my inbox, until tonight). Let me tell you, doing such things can make you a little nostalgic. Communicating over the computer is not the same as boxes of physical cards and letters. Case in point, any friends you have met post-2000 means you probably have no clue what their penmanship looks like. But if they're your friends prior to the internet then you may recognize certain john hancocks', and recall sacred memories of note passing back and forth in class. By the way, we did some crazy origami note folding back then, remember? If I spent the amount of time on my math homework as I did unfolding those notes I'd be an astronaut by now. I digress. My point is, there were too many precious memories in that inbox, plans, anticipating the events, southwest flight confirmations, kodak gallery invites, words of encouragement and true care... So, now instead of 37 pages of emails, I have a meager 36.
My good, good, close and dear friends are down here for three more weeks, visiting up from Portland for the summer. It is always wonderful having them around because I get to see their kids, who are really young and call me "auntie", which feels really good. When a two-year-old thinks you're the cat's pajamas, it does only good things for you, including watching your language. Kids are sponges, that is in fact true. Although the two year old can't pronounce my name even remotely close to "Ma-ri-ka". It literally comes out as "Ba-ka", with the second syllable extrodinarily high pitched. This means I respond to what sounds like a chicken call: "Bawk-awk!" They're cute, very smart and well behaved kids, and it is a trip to see my friends evolve as more experienced parents. One day I should be so lucky...
I'll be in Santa Cruz in less than two weeks for sunshine and then a sweet, sweet Ryan Adams show. You are all invited!
Sidenote: For the record, Satsuma lotion offered by the Body Shop is my summer time favorite. And it shouldn't make anyone feel nauseous.
So this concert I went to last night was for a local band, who are so talented and so good in so many ways, but disturbingly wore ugly skinny pants. (Is there such a thing as pretty skinny pants? No. There's not.) They all had them on, and they were tight enough that I actually wondered what effect these pants could have on their unborn children. Is that wrong? Am I the only one who feels this strongly against this pegged pant movement? Or is this phenomenon only happening in San Francisco? British pop bands brought this on and that's fine but they were also pale... and quite British. Not to mention that look goes way back to the 60's.
I guess if you wait long enough any fashion can come back roaring with a vengeance. Which is scary.
I haven't posted since whining about Mason's lack of Calfornia tour love and then BAM! Whaddya know, Mason went and posted dates in California, at BIMBO'S none the less (one of the sexiest, prettiest venues in all the world)! I got tickets.
Everyone has a crazy uncle. Isn't that true? I got a whiff of which extended relatives of mine are. Are crazy, that is. It's unfortunate that the lesson was learned during such a difficult week. On a positive note, at least my parents and sister are sane and have a healthy philosophy on living. I've never felt so fortunate for that in all my life. This past week also reinforced the fact that my mom is my hero!
On a lighter note, baseball season has started, the weather is gorgeous, and I have tomorrow afternoon off so I'll be sunbathing... somewhere. Baseball season arriving means I'm really going to need to consider TIVO, because I can't stand leaving the game in a tight squeeze just to flip so I won't miss Blake or Melinda on Idol. These are the things I worry about when it comes to the tv. My priorities may seem askew but I'm just being honest; I care about the A's and Blake the beatboxer.
Mason Jennings just released yet another round of new tour dates and none of them are scheduled for California. Come on, Mason. Don't make me "myspace" you a messege about this right coast favoritism malarkey. That word just made me laugh; "malarkey". I like it.
