observations.

State hopping makes for some pretty stellar people watching via airport layovers. Currently in transit to Portland, Oregon where I will meet up with two marathon cronies I recruited years ago. Well they’re more partial toward the shorter version, the half marathon. Once united we will head on up to Northern Idaho…final destination, the resort style city of Coeur d’ Alene.

But for now, I sit on the floor tucked up against the wall, somewhere between a restroom and a trash can, charging my phone and computer in the only lonely outlet I can find. Airports these days are quite comical. People set up shop on the floor in any open cranny available, any means of juicing up their personal networking devices (me being one of those laughable people). Heaven forbid we lose power for the flight we can’t use them on anyway.

In waiting for my delayed flight out of Santa Barbara, I couldn’t help but be drawn to this couple sitting across from me. Very good looking. Him, tall and dapper. Her, petite and exotic with her jet black hair and nose ring. When I first came upon them she was sitting against the wall charging her devices, as per usual; and he was sitting across from me by himself. I eyed him for a moment, as he was tall and dapper, of course he caught my attention. Then he went over to sit with her and I realized they were an item (damn). Her body language spoke otherwise. Her crossed arms, pursed lips, and reluctance to take her headphones out spoke volumes about how little she cared for the hottie sitting next to her (at least at that particular moment). They spoke in hushed tones and were clearly in some sort of argument. She was pissed. Supa dupa pissed. Who knows why. My eavesdropping skills could use some work. But despite their 20 minute long convo and his gentle demeanor, her arms never came uncrossed and she didn’t sit next to him on our flight to San Francisco. In fact the seat next to him stayed empty. Our Twinkie sized airplane felt like an icebox with all that negative energy. I was just as uncomfortable as our slightly awkward male flight attendant with the muffin top who tried to engage the couple in a conversation. She shut him down entirely by saying she was tired and proceeded to shut her eyes while he was still talking to her. His expression was priceless.

I just don’t understand how some women can be such total bitches. I mean, who really knows what happened between those two, but for whatever reason she was not letting him off easy (nor the rest of us caught up in her cloud of angst). And they were on their way to a wedding. The weekend is just not getting off to a good start for those two. Her anger was so fierce it filled up the cabin airspace. I seriously felt afraid to move in the seat behind her for fear the dragon would unleash her fiery breath upon me.

Which brings me to an earlier portion of my day. The after school homework help portion where I hang out with five and six-year-olds for three hours. The past couple weeks have been wearing on me emotionally. My kids have become this cesspool of greedy little hatemongers who can’t seem to share a friendly word for the life of them. Words like share and friend have left their vocabulary. They’ve started ripping things out of each others’ hands, pushing, kicking, scratching even, their tone of voice collectively has become this over-bearing sassiness with hints of bossy and just plain jerk. I got emotional in our conversation on the carpet this afternoon; talking about how their attitudes toward one another affect me in a negative way. They could hear it in my voice (the near tears-ness); their solemnity was a little over-whelming. I’ve set up a zero tolerance policy with them in which any sort of tattle involving unkindness toward another warrants an immediate note home. Boom. Sorry I’m not sorry little ones. Be nice or your parents will know.

bare necessities.

This week has surely been a doozy.

Thursday evening marked the end of a 6 month theatrical endeavor and a milestone to add to my resume. I had my breakthrough performance as a play director, and they had a serious case of the sweats (let's be real, I did too). It was over a 100 degrees in the cafeteria that night and my friends left after 20 minutes because they couldn't handle the severe discomfort induced by shoving hundreds of sweaty Latinos into a confined space. Add the spotlights and the dancing children and you've got a recipe for heat stroke hysteria.

Some of us didn't have the option of leaving. Not that I would have, had I been given the choice. These kids are just too captivating. No seriously. I was told on two separate occasions that this was the best second grade rendition of The Jungle Book yet. And that's sayin' somethin' people. This is like the 5th year they've done the same play. You think they throw that accolade on everyone?

Well maybe.

But I'm gonna tuck it in my pocket full of things to be proud of, because I embarked on this journey with not a hint of experience in the field of directorship. Especially with a gaggle of 7-year-olds.

And I walked out of the sweaty heat cloud to applause and flowers. I might even consider doing it again someday. Minus the sweaty heat cloud. Seriously, screw this heat wave.

After Thursday's events, Friday tumbled in with a boat dive out at Anacapa Island. Ya see, I'm working on getting my scuba diving certification. So I rode on a boat for a little over an hour out to what can only be described as a magical place. The relentless flies weren't so magical, but the dolphins and the sea lions and the massive lobster, yeah those were all pretty magical. And I got to swim with them.

Scuba diving is a very weird thing. Breathing underwater is just nuts and I don't know if I'll ever be fully comfortable with it, but I faced a huge fear of mine in signing up for this certification. We went on three dives that day and I literally swam with a sea lion. He was so curious about us that he kept swimming around and around, playfully assessing the situation, as if to say "hey you, yeah you, you don't belong here." I know Mr. Sea Lion. I know.

There were massive fish swimming in my face and loads of sea urchins sitting there all ominous, ready to strike should I accidentally bump one. The second dive we discovered a giant, and I mean GIANT, crab. My instructor accidentally bumped an area near his home and he came out with ferocity, I could see it in his face but mostly in his defensively raised GIANT pincers. "Come at me bro!" His body language said it all. I was like, "nah bro, I'll pass on this one."And I swam away rull quicklike.

The third dive was my favorite mainly because we got to weasel our way through a ton of kelp and the rocky terrain was home to the biggest lobsters I've ever seen. Like cray cray big. Getting to swim amongst all these underwater creatures blew my mind. I am hooked.

Saturday made for a beautiful wedding extravaganza. My good friend Melissa married her boyfriend of 7 years in the Mural Room at the Santa Barbara Courthouse to the sounds of a sweet mariachi band (at 10:30 in the morning). The band followed the newlyweds and we followed the band down three blocks to where the reception was going off. Coolest idea ever. A wedding processional on a busy Saturday down a main drag of Santa Barbara. Too much fun. I also had too much fun with the bottomless margaritas. Oops. Made for a violent hangover come midnight. We won't get into the gruesome details of that one.

And today, well today has been a good one. Aside from the hint of a hangover that's still lingering, I finally used the winnings from the writing contest from so many years ago. Spent a total of $16 of my own money and $500 of someone else's and bought I think a total of 6 items from Merrell.com. That ish is expensive. I also visited the REI site and bought myself a new sleeping bag (a nice one!) and a SteriPen (for all my water sterilizing needs). Summer adventures, here I come!

Welcome to my life. My doozy of a life.

better for it.

It's funny to think that just a few weeks ago I was having this magical and romantic tryst, fully adventurous and unconventional in its transgression. And each time I click on my blog I am reminded of it, and hesitant to write something on top of it.

Probably for fear of losing those moments. For they are gone. He broke up with me. Which is all well and good. I am fine. Nowhere near as broken up as the last time, when I did the breaking up, and I spent upwards of a year trying to heave myself over the heartbreak. Although this one was a total blindside, I am better for it. In his words, I am not alternative enough.

Cool.

Now that's out of the way, on to bigger and better things.

I made a decision a week ago.

I want to finish the 50 before 30. As in, I want to complete my goal of running a marathon in every state by the time I turn 30. Which means I have 36 states to do in 3 years. A marathon a month is easy enough. And then I started thinking about how I have the entire month of July and most of August to fool around. Teacher sched does that for you.

http://secondcitynetwork.com/5-reasons-teachers-overpaid/

Read that. It's funny.

Anyway, I have tentative plans to run 4 marathons in 4 weeks starting July 13th (The Missoula Marathon), just 10 days after I get back from my solo trip to Peru. I figured rather than just doing one a month, why not do one a week, forget one a week (Mt. Sneffels Marathon), why not two in a weekend (Run With the Horses Marathon and Leading Ladies' Marathon). Yeah, that's how I like to get carried away.

Plans for Wyoming and South Dakota in the same weekend. Gettin' nasty wit it.

All the while, it will be me and my hammock. Camping, hiking, writing, running and spending time with myself. Meeting new people with Couchsurfing and exposing myself to new experiences. Maybe writing a book or two. Running marathons all the while.

Life is good. Life is full.

By the way, the play I've been directing goes off next Thursday night. Yeah, it's a second grade rendition of The Jungle Book. Gotta start somewhere. I went to a middle school production of Hairspray last night and it was surprisingly quite good. Rovenna, the young woman I used to bathe when she was 6 (I'm getting old), is now a Dynamite in Seaweed's gang. Yeah, she goes to a private school where they had to preface the performance with a disclaimer. "Yes, there are white kids playing black kids. Get over it." That was the jist of it (maybe not those words exactly). Anyway, it got me to thinking, I'm kinda into this children's theatre thing. I might be on to bigger and better productions, or maybe I'll just stick to my gaggle of 7 year olds. At least when I screw up, I can just blame it on the age group. "They're 7! What did you expect?!"

Also, I've gotten myself into some spoken word poetry these days. When I say gotten myself into, I mean I've just been watching endless youtube videos of poets performing their craft, falling head first into a pool of creative inspiration. I wrote a poem. And then performed it. Only for myself. But I recorded it (made a voice memo - no video yet). And I like it. And I'm going to keep doing that until I get the nerve to do it in public, or in front of a camera, for the youtube. Writing is fun.

I have big ideas and big dreams. He made me feel as if mine weren't big enough. He broke up with me, and I am better for it.