summer is upon us.

I woke up this morning lathered in sweat, meagerly covered with a Harry Potter snuggie, feeling like I just stepped off a merry-go-round. Head reeling and bowels bubbling, I reflected on the evening prior as I decided whether or not it was a good idea to stand up and head to the bathroom.

Another night of graduation celebrations comes and goes, leaving in its wake the revelrous cloud of memories and relentless headaches that nag throughout the day, reminding you just how old you really are. I just don't bounce back the way I once did. Woe is me.

After peeling off the magically delicious slightly moist snuggie, I stepped outside and was abrasively confronted with this...

What a wonderland. My friend Taylor lives here. This is her life. Everyday. Although I'm jealous of the  view, I certainly don't envy the drive she makes everyday to get down from that haven. 

I recently acquired a job at a resort here in town that is preposterous in its luxury and expense. The man training me the other evening told me a story of a customer purchasing a $2600 dollar bottle of wine and proceeding to leave a $1000 tip for the server. I don't even know how to feel about that. Although I won't be working in the fine dining establishment, I have a feeling this job will be quite lucrative and allow for some adventuresome summer exploits on my days off. 

In other news, my nephew is getting cuter by the minute. See for yourself...

He's the reason I decided not to continue my pursuit of that campy teacher job up in Oregon. That would have been a magical experience but this little man has me tethered up here in southern California for a long time comin'.

I took part in Santa Barbara solstice celebrations for the first time since moving here 8 years ago. I got into it with a little dinosaur man that strongly resembled Michael Cera. The transgression of events can be seen below...

I can't really say why it happened. It just did. Blame it on the strange energies that rain down upon us in this longest day of the year. Believe me, shit got weird in this parade. The Wizard of Oz section of the parade had a giant Pikachu looking float acting as the centerpiece. Our whole clan sat on the sideline scratching our heads in bewilderment as we continued to try and figure out who was what and why they were doing what they were doing.

It was entertaining to say the least.

That's all for now folks. I'm off to don my long sleeve all black pants suit. It's altogether de-feminizing and leaves me sweating buckets as I greet these filthy rich people with my petty "Hellos" and "Good Evenings." It's gonna be a good summer.

strangers in coffee shops.

An old man named Lloyd just presented me with a caricature of myself. It's surprisingly accurate with the most pronounced feature of my profile being my hunched back. I always say I'm going to work on my posture, and yet I continue to resemble that homely man from Notre Dame. I believe his name is Quasimodo, which reminds me of the chinchilla I was asked to care for years ago; he goes by the same name and got lost inside my couch once. I digress.

I paid Lloyd six dollars for this masterpiece.

I should have given him more but that's all he asked for and I don't have a job. After the exchange, he proceeded to tell me a series of jokes and show me some more of his art. Yes people, I talk to strangers, but only when they're old with long scraggly beards and proclaim themselves to be beatnik artists that hang out with Robert Redford drawing things like Albert Einstein birthing the theory of relativity...twas literally a doodle of Einstein himself with legs spread coming out of his head giving birth to E=MC2. (The big 2 is supposed to be a little one. You know that, but I don't know how to do that on my keyboard. But hey, I'm a Master now, so nothing else matters). It was perverse and perfect. I admired his creativity beyond his artistic talent. What a character. Or caricature, I suppose.

I'm entirely submerged in M.Ed-ness. It's terrible. Awful. Horrible. No good. My name's not Alexander but I can relate dude. We've been having these three hour peer reviews in which we discuss one of our peers' thesis. That's 12 hours of life. This doesn't include the time spent reading the piece and making thoughtful comments. This also doesn't include the time spent making pages upon pages of revisions to said document after is has been reviewed. Pure drudgery I tell ya.

The final draft is due Monday. And then we wait. We ever so patiently await the date of our M.Ed. exams. The exam that consists of a 45 minute conversation about your 80 page year long tale of inquiry into the lives of elementary aged children.

I just want it all to be overrrr!!!

The graduation festivities were epic. Memorable. Awkward. Uncomfortable. I won't get into it. But the families won't collide again until I get married...so we've got awhile.

And now off to hike into the sunset. Don't worry, I've got my headlamp.

pleats, hoods, and tassels.

School is out. Out for summer. I just submitted my M.Ed. draft to the group of colleagues so fortunately forced into reading and reviewing it. Sixty four pages of pure majesty.

Right.

The entire M.Ed. process has been a suffocated haze of malaise. But I have since released the document into the hands of others. The next 6 days until my peer review will be spent lounging in summery waves of heat and salty water. Sun-kissed skin and tar-stained feet be mine, for yes indeed, it be summa summa summaaatime.

Forgive my DJ Jazzy Fresh Prince reference. I just love summer break.

And I get to have several years of them now as I embark on this teachery journey. Things are happening people. I'm throwing applications humbly into the laps of principals and district super-intendants all over the damn place. Things are happening. Who knows where I'll end up.

I've been hanging onto my ex for the past ehh...about 9 or so months. I finally cut the rope and let the hot air balloon fly away. I'd been keeping a journal for him. Lovesick and nutty female that I am. I thought it was a somewhat healthy means of hurdling over that broken relationship, but alas, it was a tether, knotting me up and keeping me from moving on entirely.

I left that journal on his windshield along with the concert tickets I bought us months ago. He has not even acknowledged their receipt. Perhaps a stranger wandered by his obnoxious yellow car and plucked the Ziploc bag out from under the wiper blade. Who knows. All I know is that releasing that journal has been the best thing for my emotional well-being. I am free.

And I'm graduating bitchezzzz!!

Sunday. Yes, Sunday is the day I will don my graduation gown, a garment that can only be likened to a parachute, a parachute that's been released from it's tiny little compartment, only to swaddle my body so unfortunately with its pleated majesty. I'll post a photo after the big day. You're gonna die.

And guess what...yeah, I'm a Master of Education, so I get to wear this weird hood like contraption that hangs off my back but loops around my neck like some sort of cottony noose. It's altogether awkward, uncomfortable, and comedic in its presentation. I envision the designers of these dastardly getups sitting perched behind some window pointing and laughing at all us hooligans. We're supposed to be looking prestigious and accomplished. Instead we look as if we're headed to some sort of flying squirrel camp, that or an exceptionally homely buffet. At least I don't have to worry about sucking it in for the photos. Letting it all hang out here people.

In other news, I now live with three males. This means lots of crusty dishes, over-flowing trashcans, and bro-ing out in the living room. Lots of bro-ing out.

Our dryer is broken so I now hang dry my clothes out in the backyard, little house on the prairie style. It's fantastic.

I watched the entire second season of New Girl in two days.

I watched two entire seasons of The Walking Dead in two weeks.

I'm more than half way through the fourth season of Arrested Development.

I used to hate TV. And then my iPad got the best of me.

I just accepted an overnight babysitting gig. 10pm to 6am. With a three week old. So that should be interesting.

I also just accepted a full time serving position at Bacara, which is a ridiculous resort here in town. Google it. It's nuts.

Summer is upon us and all I can think about is laying on the beach all day errday. Life is good people. Life is good.