Day 18-Tomorrow is not just another day

My truck is packed and all I have to do in the morning is wake up, have breakfast and say my goodbyes. Everything is going to be a breeze except for that last part. It really does not make any sense as to why I HAVE to head back to Phoenix tomorrow. I have no job, my bills are paid, even after telling my boss I'll be available to help for St. Patrick's day I still don't know if he penciled me in on the schedule. My mom is showing more disappointment in me leaving in the morning, and even Dad, as stoic as he is, showed some signs of him not wanting me to head back.
In his efforts to have me bring back as much of "home" with me as he can make me, he pretty much picked clean his orange and tangelo trees into a huge box, some grape vines and a potted plant for me to put in the yard, even a 50 lb sack of his own compost to plant with (which I will say is pretty damn good dirt). I'll come back with more than I left with, whether it be the above items, or other food stuffs, or kitchen gadgets, clothes, etc...I always find a way to transplant stuff to Arizona.
There is a conflict of interests however. Dad says that in order to move back here, I have to find a decent job first. Job first, then the house. I can rent a apartment and store the extra stuff in their garage until a home becomes available, or even live in this house for the time being. As tempting as it may be, I don't want to turn into grandma's boy.
Mom on the other hand says to just say the word and not worry about a immediate job or a decent trade for my house in AZ. Dad's idea would be the safer idea, but Mom's idea has it's own benefits too.
Today seemed to feel like a condemned man's last day. A final breakfast (Dad made a special Portuguese blood sausage egg scramble, so now I can say that I've had it), a final walk with Jenny, packing everything up, a last dinner and a long sit watching a movie saying nothing. We don't have to say anything, we know what the other is thinking.
I stayed productive on this trip, did some intuitive thinking, only touched booze for 3 days(lightly) when Doug was here, experienced new things in my backyard as well as revisited some old standbyes. I enjoy and miss my family so very much when I am away. Here I am as true to myself as I can be. The rest of the time away is dealing with excuses for me not being true to myself or being able to relax and let go. Somehow that can't be healthy.
At dinner my Dad spouted out of nowhere, "When you get back, you call us. You call us more often. WE are your family, not everyone else out there. We stick together."
Considering his old school ways, this outburst of emotion has no choice but to ring true.
Twelve years ago, which felt like a week ago, I was nothing more than a young inexperienced hot shot punk who thought he knew everything and that the world should rise to meet me. Now a big part of me regrets taking that last step onto that plane bound for Phoenix. There were things I experienced that I wouldn't give up for the world as well as those I could have done without in Arizona, but I also missed a lot of crucial things back here. If it's fate I'm tossing this excuse out to, then it's what it has in store for me. IF I'm the master of my own destiny, then all I have to look for faults in is myself. If there is a higher power involved, it better get a lot clearer real fast less I stop thinking it be a possibility for existence.
I must get to bed now and toss and turn myself to sleep, hoping that I wake up in the morning with the superpower ability to stop time instead of the usual ass gas attack ability.

Day 17-A long lost family day

Today was a good day, one that seemed far to infrequent to me as a child. A day of spending the entire day with eachother, experiencing something familiar to us all, but changed so that it was all a new experience. As per his style, Dad is always reluctant to go somewhere or try something different, but he ends up breaking down and liking the experience. Today we all decided to head to Monterey and spend the day there. What was nice was that since it was a weekday during the off season, it was pretty much empty. The main touristy spot-Cannery Row, the aquarium and downtown were empty and some was under construction, which also deterred some travellers. We came anyways, almost not getting there after a useless traffic delay heading south with Caltrans shutting down half the highway for 2 miles to pave over a pothole.

I haven't been to Monterey in a decade, and even then, I don't think I appreciated the situation as much as I do now, and definitely the people I was with. What the beauty of the Aquarium there does is that it really does make your life seem insignificant when it comes to the whole. Yes, they take various parts of the vast seas and cram this endlessness into glass cages, but the diversity makes its voice thrust upon you. What is unappreciated is that the vast life of the sea, that took millions of years to evolve, is taking us about a few hundred years to destroy.

It stings a bit to realize something that you are connected to is hurting bad. I'm not trying to get all eco-tree hugger here, but the ocean is just something I've always had a connection to. What else do you expect out of a water sign that was raised near the ocean?

At least it's reflective on all points. Some things move so slow in life and take so much time that the end doesn't seem to exist. Others move by in time so fast that you barely noticed that it just happened.

Some things in life are hectic and over-structured but are necessary to maintain order. Others are meant to be enjoyed, carefree in their random dances.

Regardless, there will always be people in your life that will stand by you, even when you are wrong. They will break your fall, or let you fall just hard enough so that you can learn lessons.

We spent the afternoon at the aquarium, wandering from life exhibits to others, witnessing what diversity the world we never see has to offer. Afterwards, we wandered outside a bit, headed through downtown, and then took the long coastal route north on the 1 for it's aesthetic value. As if we had anywhere to be. We stopped by Duarte's in the isolated coastal town of Pescadero. This place was featured on Food Network, so we decided to give it a try. Thumbs up on the soup and the Ollaliberry pie, but I've had better calamari in many other places. To put it bluntly, if I was ever down on the coast beach hopping or passing by and craved a slice of pie, I'd stop. Otherwise, not. Over that late lunch, we discussed our past Portuguese family recipes in comparison to some of the restaurant owner's family inspired menu items. Apparently now I need to try my hand at making rice pudding.

We split up the coast to Half Moon Bay, stopped at the farm & feed store to get some of dad's pigeon feed supplies, and then headed home after a 9 hour, 220 mile loop around the bay area and central coast. We spent the remainder of the night eating a very late dinner and sitting at home discussing with eachother.

I started feeling depressed tonight. Depressed knowing that tomorrow would be my last day here in my current adventure before heading back to Arizona and/or other points. Even Jenny knows something is up as she has been buttering up everyone to excess the past day. Friday will probably be a hard day, and the first few days back in Phoenix will be moody and depressing. I've been trying to convince my folks to head down in the end of April, but Dad always seems to find an excuse, whether it be taxes or doctors or something else that amounts to nothing more than an excuse. Since they can't tolerate the heat any longer, if they don't head down next month, I'll have to wait until October till they can drive here. And don't get me started on their excuses for not flying.

I'm already pre-packed pretty well, and all I have to do tomorrow is tie off loose ends and then squeeze in as much time with my family as I possibly can.

Day 16-Defying feeling my age

Pictureless day today, just mental imagery. Today was an unexpected, but refreshingly physical day. After breakfast I joined Mom and Dad and Jenny on a long walk up to the pharmacy to pick up some meds for Mom. Dad and I engaged in a coin radar war...of which later on, I will win. En route, Dad found 3 pennies and I found 2. He won that battle. After we got back, I felt the need to expunge a bit more energy, so I drove up to Edgewood park again and hiked around the mountains for a few miles. It was a little busier than last time with more hikers, and down in the parking lot picnic area, a few families were having a get together. The group of kids were having a ball playing red light/green light. I can say I was a participant in many a game in my day. It occurred to me that when I had played here as a kid, and not necessarily that game, but I would notice random people coming and going through the park entrances and trailheads wondering what they were doing. Things come around full circle, because now I was that guy that I, and the kids today, were wondering about.
I got back, took a shower and grabbed mom to do some shopping at Ross and TJ Maxx. I picked up some cheap housewares at both places, so I am going to be coming back with some cool trinkets and stuff. We got back and Mom started cooking dinner before they headed off to choir practice.
Seeing that tomorrow we would be at Monterey and Thursday will be a family and loose ends day before I leave, this would be the last free afternoon I'd have back home. I guess that was motivating enough to not spend it sitting on my ass on the couch. We ate dinner quickly and I grabbed my ball before it got too dark and walked over to Woodland for a final time of shooting baskets. After about 45 minutes, the sun had set and it was getting dark. I did however, find a dime-Dad 3 cents, me 12...I win.
Parents gone to choir practice, I left real quick to pick up a few donuts at chuck's to make mom and dad happy. Once again, they are quite unbelievably tasty, and cheap. On their return, they got knuckles deep in the box of donuts, then we relaxed a bit watching Dirty Jobs on Discovery.
I get the feeling that I may be sore tomorrow. I know I have been the past 2 days from the bike ride and more hiking and walking and bball, so today might finally work off the remainder of the rust in me, or at least I hope so. At least it makes me tired, which is good, so I can sleep harder before waking up early manana to hopefully a good family day out, which is something we haven't done in about a decade.

Day 15-ingesting my own heritage

(The hoop at Woodland today)

I've been waking up to sunshine while I've been sleeping here. As in, light is waking me up, no alarm clocks, no breaking out in a sweat from being too warm, no landscapers mowing next door, just light. It's been nice to have days start out on a natural body rhythm. Plus it helps that I've been going to sleep usually between 1030-midnight mostly, so my 8 hours peaks at just after sunrise.

Today was slated out to be a light day. I was surprised that I woke up when I did as I was up til 130am watching I am Legend on my laptop last night. I may be in for the same as I downloaded the latest resident evil flick today. I got up and had a light breakfast, and then we all went over across the bay to Newark to stock up at the Portuguese market. I wouldn't classify it as a market, more of a ethnic bodega. The smell of salted preserved fish emanated. The place was extremely small, smaller than my kitchen in AZ, and looked aged, but it was pretty clean. We gathered up a truck full of goodies, some of which I'm bringing back to AZ. Portuguese sweet bread, rolls, cornbread, olives, figs, salted cod, passion fruit soda, fresh sardines, cookies and the ever elusive but delectable Sao Jorge cheese (St. George). Yes, it smells like rancid gym socks used to wipe up fromunda cheese, but if you can get past the smell, it is some of the tastiest cheese you can get, and some of the priciest. A pound cost $17.

We left there and headed home for a leftover lunch before Mom and I headed to Kmart real fast to pick up on sale coffee and some new placemats. Seeing that it was 72 degrees today and quite gorgeous, I remembered that I packed up my BBall for the trip, so I hopped on my bike and rode the two blocks to the former Woodland church parking lot to shoot hoops. Just like riding a bike, Woodland is a place I can't forget. Ryan or Doug and I were there near daily to play ball, toss a football, ride our bikes through, walk the dog through or drive into after a late night taco bell or donut run over the many years. The clouds were starting to roll in around 5 and dinner would be cooking soon, so I packed up and rode home.

We ate dinner an hour later and gorged ourselves on fried sardines, fresh bread, hand picked garden salad, potatoes, olives and a home cured onion/shallot and pepper pickle that dad made the week before. It was quite the feast. So much so that I knew I needed a walk after dinner, and Jenny was happy as usual to oblige. Up the road, through Red Morton, through John Gill and back home. A quick but comfortable and all too familiar walk, just with a different dog. The inner voice is pleased today.

Day 14-Questioning the process

"It is hard to tell of happiness. Time goes by, and we get comfortable too soon."

My parents wish me to stay longer, and I want to stay home longer as well. Granted, I didn't make solid promises that I WOULD be in Phoenix for St. Patricks day, I said I would try to be back around then.

Today I committed myself to that. I talked to my boss and said I'd be home this next weekend and would be available to assist at work for 3 days. I know people would like to have me back in phoenix, some have birthdays, some could use me for work, and some just miss me. Honestly, I don't care. It stings me greatly to make the decision to return, as if someone is reaching in my chest and squeezing my heart. I feel so much better here. I don't have breathing problems, my skin has cleared up and I actually look healthy. I've lost a couple of pounds, I eat better, sleep better, act better. Most importantly my family is here. I actually saw my Mom's face and felt her heart sink when I told her I planned to return to Phoenix later this week. It felt horrible to make her feel unhappy. Seeing that she has motivation to do things when I'm around, has someone to take her out, someone to talk with, to travel with and finally experience life a little more with. And then I leave and take that all away. It's a feeling that does not sit well with me. In fact it makes me feel sick. Angry also a bit, that the person she should be doing most of it with, my father, does not.

I'm getting around to my question here in a minute. First a discussion. Back in art school, one of the first things we were taught, especially about still life pieces was that still life's root meanings break down to life and death. I remembered that as I walked around the neighborhood at dusk. We set the clocks forward last night, so the sun was up well past 7pm. It was a warm day today, the kind of comforting warmth that melts the chill out of everything for a little, letting you know spring is coming. All the trees in the area are in bloom, everything is coming to life. Walking around in this warmth, the faint sweet smell of blossoms filled the air. I remembered then, that it is all temporary. Just like the existences of fruits and plants in those old paintings, as here in this photo of my father's fruit trees-8 months from now those blossoms will be gone, replaced by fruit, which if not eaten, will fall, rot, and return to nothing. This photo will one day disappear, computer mediums get old, burn out, memory turns faulty, computers crash. People age, live their lives, then die, hopefully replaced by the next generation. In essence, we are all recycled and replaced.

"Given a long enough timeframe, the survivability rate of everyone drops to zero."

So what is the point? I know I don't wish to expire. What makes ourselves different from every other living thing? Do you think a plant worries about it's own demise? Your pet dog? I don't think so. Maybe on a primal level all living things are concerned about their own survival, but we are different right? We have a intuitive brain, a psyche, a idea of self that goes above and beyond the primal.

So what are we to do to make our own pre-scripted recycling more accepted? An endless quest to achieve happiness no matter what the cost? At the end will the whole experience be priceless? Will the process be worth it? Or would it matter? If you are gone, what's the point? Point being that if your outside world causes an emotional reaction in you, which creates a thought, a feeling to appease you. At the moment of saying goodbye, will you feel regret or content? It pains me to think that my parents may go the way of the former. Then that's what could be important, for in essence, when all that is gone, so are you.

Day 13-Appeasing the inner voice

Here's what I've been pondering today. If this inner roommate of ours will be stuck to our sides incessantly yapping away, and we have absolutely no choice but to bear with it, we might as well make it as pleasant as possible. The idea is to not give it anything bad, stressful, controversial or negative in general. If this inner voice is positive most of the time, it may actually be pleasant to be around. I figure that it shouldn't be any other way. If it has to ramble on about something, it might as well be good. Chances are too, if its good enough, maybe it can, and hopefully will be appreciative enough to just shut up for a minute and enjoy the situation.

Today was a pleasant day as I spent the day at the beach. It was cold and windy, a typical winter day, and the fog was rolling in thick. I picked up a Prima Deli sandwich, loaded Jenny in the truck and headed for the coast.

I'll load some pictures in a day or so, but right now the server only let me load a video clip.

Unfortunately, I can't take Jenny to many more beaches. Besides her deep seeded fears of water, she hates wind and weather and loud noises. So, the beach on a blustery day isn't the best place for her. At Bean Hollow Beach, she wouldn't stop whining and barking for no reason. I ended up cutting this beach short and packed up to Pebble Beach where I left Jenny in the warm truck.

All the beaches were surprisingly crowded for bad weather, but I still managed to find a spot of my own to sit and eat my sandwich. I explored a while after eating, climbing and rambling over rocks and tide pools, taking pictures and videos and just enjoying the beach. I thankfully am one of those people that can enjoy a beach and the ocean under any weather. I call it admiration for a power that is greater than I. I spent a few hours out, took my time driving home, and stopped at a pair of markets to pick up groceries for the parents. After a few more hours at home we ate a good dinner, watched a flick and I retired early to finish watching the first half of Grindhouse that I downloaded on my laptop. I'll lose an hour of sleep tonight as Cali went on daylight savings, something I haven't had to do in the past 13 years in Arizona.

Day 12-conversations and memories with my internal roommate

It's been about 16 years since I made a 22 mile deathride. In fact, the last time I made this ride, I made it with the same bike I rode today, the 17 year old last generation steel frame bikes that is seeking retirement, especially since the high and low gears are virtually inaccessible. I'm stuck in the middle, which is utterly useless for nice flat straightaways or uphill. Conveniently for me, this trip was 11 miles mostly uphill and 11 miles downhill, which meant I'd be screwed both ways. I did it anyways. Up Alameda, up Woodside rd (by the way, that hill can kiss my ass), down the scenic Mountain Home Rd, over to Portola rd and finally up to the apex of Alpine rd where, unless you wished a asskicking beyond the current one, you could continue up the dirt road to the summit. Instead I chose not to and just relaxed by the same creek that Dirty Ryan and I used to frequent on our rides, have a sandwich by, or just to contemplate life at. The return was significantly easier, with the effervescent feeling of flight from going downhill, albeit, not as fast seeing I didn't have my 1-7 gears.





















(The view sitting down at the halfway point, Alpine rd)























(somehow helmets always made me look superfat)
I came home, definitely toasted. My ass and arms were numb. We made salmon on the grill for dinner. Afterwards, I took Jenny on a walk and thought more.
That's exactly what I did, is contemplate life. Through some research and personal thinking I've come to realize that life, for the most part is unalterable by really direct means, especially when it comes to finding your "self". The world and time will unfold in front of you no matter what, and you will automatically react to it.
Meet your inner roommate. One that you can never get rid of. He/she is that voice in your head. Whether you like it or not, they're always there, and mostly yapping away. Think about what it is in regards to yourself. Your inner voice, your thoughts, are not truly you. Your inner voice thinks about what is interacting in your outside life. For obvious reasons, your outside life isn't what makes you. Look at it from the inside out in stages.
Look up from your computer and find an object to look at, anything, it doesn't matter. Say its a painting. That painting is obviously not "you". Yet you react to it. You take an outside object and process it in your mind and react to it. In effect creating an alternate, justified and reasoned existence, an alternate reality to substitute for the current outside one.
Outside influences.
Reactions to those influences=emotions.
Your alternate reality sees the painting as pretty. The painting doesn't think it is pretty, you do, in your mind.
Outside influences
Emotions.
You react to those emotions by thought. Your inner voice says that " the painting is pretty." Are you a thought? No. Thought is a reaction to an emotion or outside influence.
Past or present or future, we all have a roommate that reacts by thoughts to the outside reality.
Think of it like this, next time you have a thought, or inner monologue, or whatever you like to call that voice in your head, imagine that voice manifested into a actual person at your side at all times yapping in your ear. You are the listener to your inner voice and thoughts. So who is the listener?
Outside influences
Emotional reactions
Thought/inner voice
Self.
If you can step back and listen to yourself, and have the ability to be aware of your thoughts, view them in first person, you have reached the self. It's you, your consciousness.
If there were no objects or subjects to react to, we'd have no thoughts, and with no thoughts, we would have no consciousness, therefore you should not exist.
Don't try to have a conversation with or try to stop your inner voice from talking. Anything you have to say to your voice would still be...wait for it...yes, your inner voice. Ask your inner voice if you are thirsty right now. Go ahead, ask. Whatever the answer, it's still your voice having a conversation with itself.
Annoying or frustrating concept right? Since you can't get rid of it or shut it up, you need to learn to live with it. By trying to get to the point of knowing that you are the listener, you should be able to become conscious and aware, and be able to realize your self, and for a time, be able to ignore that voice that runs your world and for once, be true to your self. By doing that, you can be true to others. If that entails inner bliss and thus making other people happy, then sign me and my voice up. My voice is tired and needs to sleep.

Day 11-Regrouping

I didn't sleep last night after returning from the city. I can't blame it on a duck overdose, if there is such a thing. Just one of those nights when you know that you have to wake up early to do something important and it starts to weigh on your mind as you touchdown on your pillow, enough so that you can't fall asleep. I believe I dosed for an hour or two, but mostly tossed and turned, and thought with my eyes closed. I remember vaguely of a very short dream that I had when I dosed, about entering a cave. In this cave there was stairs and a ladder being built allowing for my descent and eventual climb out. It wasn't ready the first time I entered it, but by the end of my dream and waking up, there was a ladder open. Whatever that means, its news to me.
Doug and I got up at 6 and were groggily making our way on the road by 630. A somewhat quiet ride to the airport. A few duck jokes, small talk and the like. We don't have the need to find something to talk about, we've exhausted a lot of topics in 4 days and besides, being best buds means that sometimes its ok to shut the hell up.
We peaced out at the terminal and I made the drive home and into bed. I slept easy now, and fell hard.
On waking, I had leftover breakfast, and then took Jenny on a long walk. Apparently good timing was in my cards today for I came home as Mom and Dad were walking out the backdoor to walk to the store. I felt Jenny and I felt able to walk an additional mile and a half to our already two. It was easy anyways as the folks walk slow. We made it to the pharmacy so mom could pick up her $200 supply of Lipitor and then to the market for bread and what nots.
On the return home we walked by a small 1700 sq ft old ass house for sale that looked like crap, half the size of my house, 40 years older and in a similar neighborhood for the mere price of $799,999. As if that $1 less is going to make me jump on it. With a trade with my house, I'd still have to take out a $500,000 loan. That's shitty.
I made steamed mussels and homemade garlic herb bread for them for lunch and then prepped for dinner afterwards. We also organized some of the kitchen and garage, and put out 4 garbage bags, 3 boxes and a few other odds and ends on the curb for a charity to pick up tomorrow. That's not even the tip of the iceberg either. There is so much stuff to go through and organize in this pack rat of a house. My place is condensed and immaculate to the point of anal retentiveness in comparison to here.
I made steaks on the grill again with stir fry veggies and a garden salad for dinner. Afterwards I stayed in and updated the computer, paid off a bill or two online and balanced some finances, and watched the end of a twisted movie called Hard Candy with the 'rents.
The past 4 days with Doug were unbelievably intuitive and fun, but had a little bit of wear along with it, and I think that tonight is going to be a welcome sleep.

Day 10- A bad day to be a duck

There's something to be said about a good greasy meal after a hangover starts to work its magic in your head. Not that I drank too much last night,I didn't get more than a buzz, but I was just a bit dehydrated going into the night to start and that wasn't a good thing.
I didn't get decent sleep anyways, but after getting up, Dad had leftover breakfast waiting, which was a welcome sight.
I was unaware that today would be a gastronomical extravaganza of greasy cholesterol goodness that would span multiple cultures and health warnings. Today my heart, liver and colon (tomorrow) hate me with a vengeance while my stomach and mouth fell in love with me all over again.
For lunch, Doug wanted to treat us all to a decent lunch, and we chose to go to the Basque Cultural Center in South San Francisco. My parents had eaten there before and were excited about returning. Both Doug and I were eager virgins to the Basque food experience and were immediately thrust into a typical gut bomb that would leave us fat, happy and desperately needing a mid-afternoon nap.
Doug had the pork chops with a peppery tomato concoction as a bed for them to lay on. Savory and spicy and definitely comfort food.
I on the other hand unexpectedly went for the smoked duck and prosciutto with angel hair pasta in a butter sauce. This coronary waiting to happen was the ambrosia like equivalent to having a butter and fat orgy in your mouth and then having 4 pornstars showup and ask to join in.
You could pretty much feel yourself getting fatter by the bite, but alas, it would take a team of rescuers with the jaws of life to extricate me from this plate.
As if that wasn't good enough, we all opted for dessert, and creme breule would be the frosting on my triple bypass cake.
We waddled out to the car in post thanksgiving dinner on steroids fashion and hurried home to the comfort of the easy chair/sofa/who cares just give me the floor nap time.
Having found the strength to arise, around 6 we got up and sat around the living room talking and watching cheesy movies for an hour before Doug and I decided to head out for his last night in the bay before heading back to the great dustbowl that is Phoenix at 8am.
We left and headed up to San Fran around 830 and decided to hit up North Beach and Chinatown for a cocktail and late night dinner.
Now for the unassociated, let me say that finding parking in the city is damn close to being inherently more frustrating than some of my ex-girlfriends. After driving around for 15 minutes, we finally found a spot, uphill, requiring parallel parking-which is an artform in itself. We walked the half mile from our parking spot (no joke) to the areas we wanted to go to. Our reward-a frosty pint from the Rogue Brewery. Pint, tasty, bartender not so much. We narrowed him down to a few choices;hungover, coming down off a coke binge, sick,or just hating life. We had one and done.
We walked through the bustling city, it's crowded streets, unique individuals, seedy shops and back alleys, bodegas and eateries. In 4 blocks, count 'em 4, we experienced 6 different languages of passers by, walked through 3 different cultural city centers and past countless restaurants and non-descript hidden bars and shops in our search for an acceptable chinese food spot.
We happened by a place called Sam Lo's, the front of which is about as wide as a buick slapped between two other shops and apartments. Where the hell was the entrance though?!! The restaurant proper is on the upstairs and you literally have to walk through the kitchen and up a thin staircase past 5 cleaver wielding meat chopping, wok frying, dishwashing family members. After walking through that gauntlet, you go up and pretty much into the attic seating area. There are only 6 tables and you are greated by grandma-san who speaks pretty much 10 english words. If you're over 6'4", you're screwed in here. You sit on a tiny makeshift table with kindergarten sized stools for your fat american ass. The walls are bare and you ponder why there are no cats in the area. All of this adds up and processes in your head, "why the hell am I here!!"
Your answer-the best fucking goddamn chinese food this side of Hong Kong.
Then came my plate, Chow Fat with whatelse?...Duck.
Oh dear God, just when I thought I dodged a heart attack earlier, I go for this suicide by fatty duck goodness. Fat and tender chow fat noodles, bochchoy stirfried with duck. What part of the duck? I don't know. Do I want to know? No. Best I don't probably. Hell, it may not even be duck for all I know. All I do know is that it was too incredibly good for my own good and I like it.
At least I was healthy enough to just order tea with it. Whatever, as if that tea stood a chance at reversing the 10 pound I probably gained today.
The true beauty of it, besides the $14 total bill, was that this off beat hole in the wall officially earned my respect and return visits after the initial shock of doubt, and once again, something that you will never, ever, find in Phoenix.
We took off, wandered the city for a bit, and then paid a final visit to the Pig & Whistle pub for one final pint as a sign of respect for the establishment. For when we will be there again, who knows. We split at 1130, and drove a silent ride home for our early wake up time. Silent because we knew that these experiences will be surely missed until the next time both Doug and I will be back here together.
Now if you will excuse me, I have a gut-bomb to slow brew with a ear to ear grin.

Day 9 update

Yes, as predicted, we headed out for the night. Pioneer, saddle room, orchid room, failed attempt at Hanky Panky, we hit up the town pretty good. We were waiting to hear back from my cousin Jen, but we heard nothing. I think we will try to hit up the city tonite, but not too heavy, we have to be up at 6am to get to the airport for Doug to head home to AZ.
Hit you up later on day 10 details.

Day 9- Burros, brews and the Bay Area

Today was the first official sleep in day, if you can call 930 sleeping in. We did get to bed late, so, the extra hour was welcome. We got up and tried to get motivated enough to head out and do something. We chose a relatively easy day of heading to Palo Alto and staying local.
Classes at Stanford were in full swing, so we decided to take a drive through campus. The campus loop only took about 15 minutes, which was perfect for our breakfast to settle.
FYI-In anticipation of going out tonite, I'm writing this early seeing I may not be in condition to write come after midnite. I'll fill you in if there are any events that happened post posting.
We headed to downtown Palo Alto, parked the truck and walked around downtown for an hour.
The Old Pro pub served up a quite tasty pitcher of Gordon Bierch Dunklewiesen. Liquid lunch in route and filling us up with motivation, we continued our walk and headed back to the truck.
We were starting to get hungry, but not hungry enough yet to the point of needing food. So what is there to do in a situation like that? Simple, find a place to chill, pass the time and nurse another pint. What place could that be but Cafe Borrone at 2pm. Perfect for chilling out in the 70 degree sunshine, enjoying a smooth pint of stout and spend 40 minutes people watching.
Pints gone, now we craze sustenance. Mexican food it was deemed. La Azteca to be precise.
Douggie got a burro, I got a carne asada enchilada and chile reileneo. A quick 10 minute drive later and we pulled into the picnic area at Edgewood park for lunch.
















































That's when it hit us. Considering the mileage and things we've done in the past 24 hours, we've covered over 200 miles, seen multiple different climates, flora and fauna, nearly every diversification of people and cultures, and spent nearly nothing.
There is nowhere that could compare to this part of the country. Here bullshit tends to melt away a bit faster. There is always something to do within a few minutes of leaving home.
After having lived here for 20 years, yesterday Doug and I both drove through and visited places that we had never been before.
That same feeling can't be replicated in Arizona. Arizona has it's own way, its own style that for reasons unknown, we don't really fit in and feel at home in. Even after not living here for so long for both of us, opon our arrivals we already know where to go and how to get there. Muscle memory takes over, we know where things are. It's like a blanket fresh out of the dryer on a chilly winter night, it just feels right.
Now excuse me as we are to head out and experience more memories of our home.

day 8-a quest for endurances

There are certain things in this world that cannot be, or would take a real effort to be destroyed.
One of such things is Dirty Ryan's special sock. We think, that due to his supernatural nature of his libido, that his superpower would be a ability to be anywhere at anytime. Yesterday, opon parking at the Pig & Whistle in SF, we found a special sock by by tire. Today we decided to head south near Santa Cruz to Big Basin State Park, a place I hadn't been in almost 17 years, if that.
We drove through the sleepy towns of Monte Sereno and Saratoga, where the average life speed is stuck in first gear. Up the windy and Dramamine pill popping highway 9 into the forest choked hills of the Santa Cruz mountains. For 23 miles I tested my driving skills on a nearly one lane road. Some skills you just never forget. We stopped for a rest stop in back of a lucky tree that needed watering and what do we find behind the rear of the truck??? The exact same Dirty Ryan sock. We just accepted the fact that Ryan was going to be with us in spirit on this trip as he worked his current life in Japan.




















(dirty Ryan joined us today)

We Got to the park after a long windy road and arrived to a pleasingly slow Monday morning at the park. Only a few cars, and no campers which meant the park was pretty much empty. We went inside the main cabin, got a $3 park map and the fanny pack mafia hit the trails to semperverius falls.




















(pointing to roughly the spot I was born-center of the tree states birth at 544 AD)


The hike was an easy 4 miles through a plethora of redwoods, most of which were wider than my truck and older than time itself. After about a little under an hour and one pit stop later, we arrived at the falls to relax for a few minutes.


























(Our destination point)




















We hiked back and settled in for a long drive up the California coast to Half Moon Bay.
We dumped out in Santa Cruz and headed north along a very rare crystal clear and windless coast this afternoon.





















We got into Half Moon Bay and got a quick cup of fresh chowder and hand battered calamari before heading back to home. Picking up a pizza for Mom and Dad in Woodside, we got back and joined then for a very light dinner. We were stuffed and relaxed. Around 8 we headed out for the night to see what mischief we could muster.
Clooney's in San Carlos was our first stop for a beer. There was a group of youngins wannabe representing their parents trust funds there all ghetto style. A pool shark showed up and started nervously schooling one of them. We decided to leave before it got too drunk and comical. We walked up to Orchid room and had one more. It felt more like a bar should be, dark, smokey, barflys abound, cheap booze. We sought after more entertainment so we headed south. Apparently Mondays are not good times for places to be open...even the Taco Bell closed early.
We Settled on the Saddle Room in Redwood City. We had a drink and a shot and craved food outside of the typical fast food crap. The irony was that we hit up a place that I worked across from at the ice cream store in Menlo Park-The Dutch Goose.
Aged well, peanut shells on the floor, tables carved into oblivion, video games, cold beer and damn good bacon cheeseburgers with extra pickles. One small pitcher and a few games of old school street fighter later, we headed up to Sharon Park to chat for a bit. It was dark and isolated lakefront park, but open the door for more welcome conversation. We talked there for a while discussing the intricacies of modern and past manhood touchstones before heading home on the onset of being able to see one's breath.
At home, a slice of leftover pizza and a bed awaited both midnight warriors.

Day 7-the therapist arrives

Today my boy came back home. Doug arrived to visit for 4 days. We left the airport at 1pm, and tried to head into SF to hit up a Mexican restaurant in the Mission district. Unfortunately after driving around for 10 minutes with no available parking, we split and decided to head up to our newly found favorite pub from our last visit.

We enjoyed ourselves for a few hours. We had ourselves a tasty order of curry fries and an order of fish and chips for lunch. We headed home about 4 and came home to start getting dinner ready for the parents.

Doug and I ate light because we were still stuffed, and we chatted with my parents for a while. Dad rambled on about casinos for a long time and Doug needed rescuing, so we decided to talk a walk around the neighborhood for an hour at 8pm. We walked up to our old elementary school and hung out on the jungle jim talking about whats going on in our lives.

It was a medicinal feeling to not only talk to a lifelong buddy, but to actually talk in a place that we both viewed as safe and welcoming.

We walked from John Gill and over to Red Morton Park, another childhood park. We sat and talked more, walked more, talked more. We walked up the block, down old streets, peeing on random bushes, and headed to home get in the truck and head up to Canada college to enjoy the view at night.

It was a breezy tonite, but crystal clear. We could see all the way across the bay into the surrounding bay hills that are now dotted with the lights of civilization. Our topics of conversation changed from serious to sheer high school stupidity and comedic moments. My sides hurt, but I couldn't help laughing.

We headed out after a bit, headed to Chuck's donuts to pick up breakfast for the morning, and headed home for a good nite's sleep.

Day 6- The dead live vicariously through the eyes of the living

I could easily be dead tomorrow. Or the next day, or the following week, or 58 years from now. It is one thing to learn from the past, but not to live directly in it. It's also safe to say that once you are aware of that fact, it would be inherently foolish to not exploit tomorrow for it's full value.
I inadvertently stumbled upon both thoughts today as I was out with mom.
Yesterday Dad has talked to my Godfather who was planning on tiling his new kitchen today and asked for my pop's help. That meant that the day would be free for mom to occupy her time with whatever. I suggested that we head downtown and stroll around. I ended up giving her a taste of freedom and social adventure she hadn't had in countless years.
We drove downtown, parked, and walked into the new Cost Plus. I think she felt a little overwhelmed with all the items that were out to browse though, so she settled on a few gourmet chocolate bars and we left to continue on. We walked up the newly restored Broadway, which is ironically devoid of most shopping, and instead is centered on theater, restaurants and nightlife. Trust me, Redwood City, outside of the 1930's-1952, there's still a reason why they call it Deadwood City.
Anyways, we ended up visiting the old courthouse building, circa 1902. Seeing it also is the county seat, they converted the old building into a museum for the history of the bay area, primarily the peninsula.































There was a good amount of information, unheard of history, and useful exhibits that explained a lot more of the past of my home than I knew before. After an hour of strolling around, we left and hit up the City Hall Cafe for a cup of coffee at the counter. It had been a very looong time since Mom had been to a counter, way back to when i was a tot and one of the last 5 & dime stores, Ben Franklin's, closed down in our city. We sat, enjoyed our coffee, chatted about the museum, why she likes history and associated topics, and then left for the car before the meter ran out.
We drove up to Trader Joe's, picked up 20 bucks of groceries, and then stopped by my Godfather's house to check on the work progress. As predicted, I knew that Dad couldn't be just a casual observer offering guidance, he was doing work himself. At least we know it was done right though.
We had to leave so we could get the groceries home and take out something for dinner.
Driving the mile home, I mentioned that I was going to head up to the cemetery before dinner to visit the g-units. Mom offered to come along.
I grabbed a pair of clippers, a pair of bromeliads and 3 fresh oranges and we left.
The cemetery was, for the better word, dead today. We only saw 5 other people in the few acres of property. We visited and cleaned up my mom's parent's site and my Dad's father and a cousin too. The flowers were pretty and I know the oranges are sweet, which they would have appreciated.
Visiting Grandpa Demelo, Mom talked to me about her and Dad's plots and where they are located up the hill. Apparently they have a side by side plot with an additional top area open for me if I choose to be cremated and join them. It was a eerie, business conversation.
We paid our respects and headed home via a scenic drive through Portola Valley and Woodside. Talking more in depth about the relationship between Dad and her, what things are wrong, brainstorming possible solutions. Solutions that would enable both of them to enjoy life more, and especially life together. Mom and I have a good time, and Dad and I have a good time when we do our respective things, but I am not the person that either of them married.
That's when one thing hit me. I see it as a possible outcome for one, or both of my parents to meet their end this way, and I really don't want it to happen, for them or I in that way. That is to die having lived a relatively unfulfilled life. It's one thing to live a life as a provider and to assist people, which is admirable, but somewhere down the line, one must also look after one's self.
Once you grasp a concept like that, the only thing that one has to understand is that ultimately, the conclusion is equal for all, a name carved in stone. Which is a very sobering experience to see.