Dee-Rob

i don’t really know anyone who talks like this post’s title. Although, I do work with someone who has the cliche Valley Girl rhythm and intonation down so totally it makes me want to vomit with a spoon or jam a superheated metal rod in my ears when she speaks.

But, that’s not why I’m writing.

Last weekend, M. and I went to the county park that’s just up the street, and then we walked the very, very long, giant hill way home. Damn, have you ever seen scenery like these here pictures depict and could it be any where but here?

This weekend, though, was peak California. Sun. Convertible driving. Walks by the beach. The whole shooting match. And speaking of shooting match, it turns out our town is one of the only two in the county where you can legally buy your incendiary devices for the upcoming celebration of the U.S. of A. Better yet, it’s kind of a moral imperative to buy, since fireworks are a major fundraising tool for the locals. In the morning, we supported the local girls’ softball league (‘cuz maybe with such a league some little nerd girl like me won’t be pathetic 30 years later in city league play).

Here was our stockpile at the day’s start.

Later we passed some ridiculously clad folks jumping around the side of the scenic Cabrillo Highway with signs and gestures and arrows. Naturally, we had to head into the parking lot of the Moose Lodge and slap down some more money, this time to support the community theater in the incarnation of the Spindrift Players. And, thus, our arsenal is getting some place.

I is so going to blow some pyrotechnics up this Saturday. Fuck Guy Fawkes. This is America, and I’m going to get my libertarian California swerve on.

In the middle of buying gun powder and incendiary chemicals, I also swung by a local surf shop and got a wetsuit. The thought is that I may actually roll around in the famous surf of our surf town, if I slap on enough rubber to withstand the 50+ degrees of the water combined with 60s or 70s in the air. Next weekend we should be testing time. Ain’t nothing like rolls of black-clad flesh to make you feel like a bathing beauty.

Finally, to wrap up the all California all week and damn day long, there was the freeing of the bugs. Ladybugs.

My mint and sweet basil are sadly limp and ridden with holes. This morning, I pulled off a leaf and came up with aphids as a possible enemy. The enemy of my enemy is the ladybug. For $8 at the local Ace Hardware, I got to stroll home with a plastic container of the little buggers.

Toward nightfall, when they are rumored to be too lazy or something to fly, I let them go. Tomorrow, we’ll see if they like what my garden has to offer or take off to greener and more aphid- and mite-ridden pastures. For now, if ladybugs are lucky, we got a fuckload of luck in our backyard. I hope the sad, Sweet Basil catches some of the good vibrations.

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