Being Curious...

...is sometimes the key.

On the Road

Travel.

As a kid, I feel like I traveled quite a bit...though we barely left California and never left the USA. I was extremely to lucky to grow up where I did, where so much change -- in topography, climate, and culture -- in just a few hour's drive. Often, when thinking about "travel," many people automatically assume that means going somewhere international, and poo-poo domestic travel as "not real." And while I, too, think it is important to get out of your home country, that it helps you gains some perspective, I don't think people are inherently wrong or ignorant for doing so. We live in a huge and diverse country, hell, I live in a huge and diverse state...so even going to another part of my state can be a huge cultural shift for me. To me, travel is getting out of your comfort zone and home and experiencing something different.

Family reunion in Eureka...underneath a Redwood tree in my
aunt's backyard

This thinking, and appreciation of this type of travel, stems from how I grew up. Our vacations did not involve going to far-flung countries, or even cities or states very far away. Most of our travels as a whole family occurred within a few hours of home, and involved a car ride, wriggling in the back seat, and perhaps a punch or two -- this was before the days of any sort of entertainment in the car other than a book -- and an eventual arrival to the Redwoods or maybe the Monterey area or something. My dad's schedule (and, I think, general dislike of being too far from home) defined a lot of what we were able to do as a family of four.

I loved getting away from home for a little while. Hotels were the coolest thing when I was a kid -- there were pools! Unlimited ice in the halls! The chance to get some junk food from the vending machine RIGHT THERE! Then there was the camping -- which we still do to this day; when I was little we only did this one or two summer weekends a year, and it meant going to the River and playing with my older cousins, chasing after a kid named Neil with shaving cream for the Sadie Hawkins dance, and playing at this magical place called Piggy Park.

I do remember a few plane trips -- we went to Disneyland (every once in a while, my dad was able to join us), and once to this far-flung place called Austin, Texas, to meet relatives...I remember being on the UT campus and thinking it was the most neat-o place in the world and maybe someday I could go to school there and hang out in that huge library. But mostly I remember the car rides with the four of us.

Should I ever have kiddos, I'll be hauling them on some international travel. But equally important will be the local trips, visiting and appreciating the things we have right in our own backyard, and understanding how those experiences are vitally important to the people they will become.



This is a part of the BootsnAll Indie Travel Challenge. Each week, they give a different prompt...I'm starting a little late; this is in response to week 18, "Family Travel."


I'm working on catching up!

A'shopping We Will Go

Flea Markets are one of those things I've never understood. How people can get so excited about a glorified garage sale (my perception) was something extremely foreign to me. I am not much of a shopper, period, unless I have something specific that I need/want. It is...exhausting.

Nope, not a trunk.

Recently, I found myself in need of sprucing up my home a bit. I am bored with things, and hate some of the things I have, and just need to make some changes. One such change includes a new coffee table, which, I would like to be an old travel-style trunk. While this is something I guess I could spend some gross amount of money on at Pottery Barn, I wanted to find something more authentic (oh, and, I don't have even close to a gross amount of money). I had heard through the grapevine (and read on the interwebs) that this is the sort of thing I could find at garage sales/flea markets/antique stores.

Enter Treasure Island Flea Market.

This market is relatively new -- about a year -- and they are doing a great job promoting it. I have seen it referenced in emails, on buses, from friends...enough that I definitely took note of it (and I tend to not notice a lot). Treasure Island doesn't always feel super accessible -- you have to get on the bridge and, more dauntingly, merge back mid-way to get back home -- but it is only about 10 minutes or less outside of the City.

It was a lovely Sunday that my friends & I headed over. Driving through the Island, we noticed a proliferation of wineries -- also very new information! We spilled out of the car, four people and 2 dogs, and headed on in, prepared to be wowed.

At one of the first stalls I happened upon, I found some great trunks. Not being an impulse buyer (ahem), I decided to keep trucking on to see what else may be out there, and could I get the best deal. I was absolutely fascinated by 1. how common these old trunks seem to be, 2. what else was being sold there. One booth had the mixing bowls my mom owns -- white with green flowers that she got for a wedding gift in 1974 -- for 12$/each. Another had a bunch of junk items from my childhood for prices way higher than what we paid way back when.

And then we came upon this stall that was selling homemade signage with various inspirational quotes...and these cute, bicycle-like push carts. Both my friend A & I were entranced...oh, the things we could do with these carts. Again, not being impulse buyers, we walked away...but were drawn back moments later after talking each other into them. They are all homemade from recovered parts, and are super, super cute. To me, it was the kind of thing you see in wine country for some crazy price. These were very reasonable. I only wish the vendor had a company name or website or anything where I could recommend them -- a wife & husband, nice as can be.

With our major purchases under our belt, our energy was spent, and it was time to head off to drink some wine and toast our success.

Not sure if I personally would head back out there anytime soon, but it was a really fun experience. There were tons of people & pooches, a bike demonstration, and a whole "food court" of trucks. If I need something unique or more vintage, this would be a great starting (and possibly finishing) point. For now, I will content myself with my new bicycle cart and figuring out what to do with it.

Held the last weekend of each month. Admission is 3$, and they sometimes offer specials from the discount sites that include wine tasting and food from the food trucks.

Young.Fun.

Too funny not to share...and sadly parts are a little too close to home, even though I feel young!

5 for 10

5 years. Each year, the Presidio10.

see what I did there? I crack myself up.


It was a cool day, this April morning...a cool fog hung low over Chrissy Field, muffling the sounds of the announcer reminding us how to put on our toe tags (or, since that was too morbid for the guy who walked up, bent over, and fixed mine, the shoelace timer chip) and making sure we all were ready to start running, if only to keep warm.

After a...umm...stirring rendition of the national anthem, the countdown began and we were off running.

The course this year was super crowded. My friend A got a good lane and sprinted off ahead of us, basically kicking @ss on the race. We could see her running hard ahead of us and tried to cheer her on...but yells don't carry so far over the din of Golden Gate Bridge traffic. My friend R & I were left behind her, and some people who just would not let us pass -- including the woman who pretty much threw elbows to not let us pass her as we approached the finish line. I did appreciate the people who shouted, "On the left" as they bowled past us...I need to try that tactic next time!

Each time I run one of these races, and finish, I find myself a little amazed. Me. A runner. Not a very quick one, but as The Penguin said at a speech before my first half-marathon, it is about finishing to the best of your own abilities. I think back to the days spent struggling to run a mile at soccer practice, or the coach getting mad at me for perhaps cheating on a long run for lacrosse (or at least walking a lot of it), and if you had told that girl that she would be actually looking forward to a run, much less signing up for races, she would have smacked ya in the face in disbelief.

Of course, the carrot at the end of the stick was in the form of beer. Cold, delicious beer, served up by some handsome dudes. Can't beat that!