Thunderstorms.

I'm currently sitting on my patio while our annual thunderstorm carries on overhead.  We only get like, one, a year so I consider this a big event.  

This morning had started off remarkably clear and sunny (HUGE streak of lightning across the sky- wait for it...) and the Tall One was even ready to submit to a longboarding session with me this morning before we drive the "bare" hour to Oak Glen for autumn good times.  Upon further review, it was a good thing we didn't surf because we would've been bobbing lightning rods AND it's pretty small surf.  If I'm going to get electrocuted, the surf better be firing.

(I'm moving off the patio to just inside the patio door.)

I also wouldn't mind going for a run, but I don't want to be a super fast jogging lightning rod, so I'll continue to sit on my patio or in the vicinity of it and drink my tea.

I like thunder!!!

An 11 on Creepy Factor Scale (1-10)

And here is reason #5,317 why I hate PETA and its bored followers: ew.

Always read thoroughly before freaking out.

I'm coming to terms with a newly recognized character flaw of mine- apparently, I need to have something to worry about, even mildly, at all times.  Nursing school provides me with ample opportunities, as does the Tall One and his total disregard for sunscreen (despite his illustrious Swiss/Scottish heritage) and confusion as to why we can't eat steak 7 days a week.  I'm a bundle of worry.  It's always there, a little fuzzy area of consternation tucked into the nether regions of my warped mind/imagination.

Which brings me to today.  Last week after lecture, a counselor from Admissions & Records (A&R for those hip to the Saddleback College lingo, which I'm not) talked with us about the difference between getting your Associate of Science degree for nursing (ADN) versus getting the certificate.  Both get me to state boards and the coveted RN title.  But the certificate would probably limit me to practice only in California, and there's other drawbacks.  I've assumed all along that because I have a Bachelor degree in Adv. General Ed (I mean, Liberal Studies), that I fulfilled all the general education requirements for the ADN.  And then this chick waltzed in and sunk my battleship.  So now, I've been stressing about the fact that I might have to take a class or two next semester in addition to my final nursing class.  I don't need that stress!!!!

So about 2 hours ago, I sat down at my computer, printed off the graduation requirements for Saddleback, busted out all my transcripts, and sat down to see how dire my situation is.  I had windows open all over my computer- class schedule, Westmont archive of syllabi, Saddleback academic history...ridiculous.  I spent close to an hour highlighting classes that fulfill the requirements for each area and praised God that I had taken Spanish 1 & 2 because it fulfills some Cultural Diversity requirement.  On the 4th and last page of requirements, I came across this nugget:

"A student that has completed a Bachelor's degree or higher at a regionally accredited college or university... has met the Saddleback College General Education requirements for the Associate degree; however, transcript evaluation must verify completion of a course conducted in Engligh equivalent to ENG 1A with a grade of "C" or higher, as well as an equivalent to a course applicable to the American Institutions requirement."

They've already accepted my Modern Grammar and Advanced Composition as well as all my courses that fulfill the American Institutions requirement.  I completely wasted an hour.  On the upside, I am well acquainted with the Saddleback College Fall 2008 class lineup.  Sigh.

I need to go find something new to worry about.

And now I have to go to Oak Glen.

This is verbatim from the official site of the Oak Glen Apple Growers Association:

Oak Glen is located in the picturesque San Bernardino Mountains, East of Yucapia and North of Beaumont, off I-10, a bare hour from Orange County and 30 min. from Palm Springs.

A BARE hour?!?  I am an adjective of time?!?  Well hot damn!  The Tall One and I are for SURE going now, we can be there in our own hour.

Sigh. Autumn.

Well, now that I've gotten over my unwelcome neighbors peeing in my Cheerios, let's talk about autumn.

That sigh in the subject is an ambivalent sigh, not the affectionate and heartfelt sigh one releases when thinking about the return of a long-lost friend.  A sort of "it is what it is" sigh.  As I sat on my friend's couch yesterday morning, wrapped up in a blanket with sunlight streaming in through the open windows and a cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, I realized that fall has arrived.  And for the first time, I'm just OK with it.

I admit, autumn and I are on great terms.  Autumn means that there are less tourists in the self-proclaimed Best Climate On Earth (and there are license plate frames all over San Clemente touting this ridiculous sentiment), kids are in school when it's offshore and chest-high at the beach, I can get on the freeway going north OR south at 11am on a weekend and go faster than 15mph, and it's still warm but with a cooling breeze.  And all the random varieties of apples start appearing in the stores, which is good because I'm sick and tired of the usual line-up of Red Delicious, Fuji, Gala & Granny Smith.  This definitely makes me happy.

But I had such an awesome summer that I'm reluctant to let it go.  

I surfed more than I could've hoped for, and many times it was at dawn in nothing but trunks and my wetsuit jacket.  I even surfed in just a bikini and trunks thanks to forgetting my jacket and I was still fine!

It was so much fun picking up to 4 ripe tomatoes everyday, a couple of cucumbers every week, seeing my bell peppers ripen to their vibrant shades of red and yellow, harvesting my single solitary butternut squash (and apparently I wasn't alone, this summer was filled with mildew for lots of growers- makes me feel better, I don't know about you), I even enjoyed having to kill caterpillars every morning so that I could have something to eat later down the line.

I learned so much about nursing during my externship, it was liberating and reassuring to realize that I've finally found what I like to do and get paid for it.  I mean, getting paid to take care of people, geek out on medical science and learn about life from your patients?  Holy crap, what have I been doing since college?!?

Harbor cruising with our bike posse and everytime we rode down Palisades to Doheny Beach thinking, "I am so blessed to live here.  I don't want to live anywhere else."

Eating at Swirlz frozen yogurt in Ladera with Kelley and her boys after walking the 2miles there in sweltering heat.

BBQ'ing in our backyard with the lanterns and tiki torches blazing, usually drinking the entire pitcher of sangria that I made.

This summer was all-time, and I don't want to let it go.  I know fall will bring its own memories, but they're going to be breezier and cooler than summer's and let's face it- I like it warm.  But I've got a soup swap in a couple of weeks, and soup truly is better in the fall.  I've somehow got to reclaim my knack for creating awesome Halloween costumes.  I need to talk the Tall One into a day trip to Oak Glen for some good apple times.  Heck, I just need to survive pediatric nursing!

So to summer, so long.  You've stuck around as long as you could, and I know you'll make an occasional appearance as an unseasonable heat wave between now and November.  I will be anxiously awaiting your return next year, try and kick spring out as soon as you can- spring is dumb.  I'll think of you often, and your daylight savings.  Now go and make the Southern Hemisphere happy.

Neighbors, Pt 2.

Not only does Indiana play John Mayer/hip-hop/house music at unfortunate times, they also like to BBQ.  Not with natural gas, or propane or charcoal- but with wood.  Our upstairs (because we have to leave the windows open for that fresh ocean breeze that allegedly supplants A/C) now smells like a forest fire.

And now, I can add cigarette smoke because they have company that sits in the backyard and smokes.  Which finds its way through our windows and our top floor.

I think I need to live in the middle of an acre where I don't have to look at people if I don't want to.

NOW I know why my folks live over an hour's commute from their work, up in the foothills of the Rockies in a log house.  Now I get it.

Neighbors suck.

Not all neighbors.  Just mine.  Obviously.

First of all, let me just say that school is going fine, I hate pediatric nursing, my midterm is tomorrow morning and at least there are only 4 more long weeks until this class is done.  Now that we've covered school...

Neighbors.  I've had issues with neighbors since I lived in some piece of crap apartment in Aliso Viejo where I was forced to listen to my upstairs neighbors do distasteful things to Metallica and Biohazard.  Needless to say, I wasn't home a lot.

Next was my first place in San Clemente, the 4-plex on Mariposa.  At that one, I got to listen to my drunk downstairs neighbor call his girlfriend vile things and throw things all around.  I called the cops.  He was hauled off.  His girlfriend thanked me, but about 2 years later I passed them in the produce section and they were back living together.  Of course.

After that was my extended stay in the coolest studio on earth.  I think it was there that my neighbor hatred escalated from low simmer to almost bonfire.  Where do I start?  The wannabe crusty San Clemente gnar-dog feebly holding onto his punk roots though he's pushing 44y/o?  Perhaps the sponge girl that got the aforementioned gnar-dog evicted, then proceeded to do distasteful things exactly 7 feet and one piece of 2in. faced insulation from me (she was finally evicted after 4 months unpaid rent)?  Or, the co-dependent, drug-dependent trainwrecks that screamed, swore, threw things at each other, "made-up" exactly 7 feet and one piece of 2in. faced insulation away from me, and the COUNTLESS times I heard Leann Rimes' whiny ballad "How Do I Live Without You" sung at the top of his lungs several times in succession by the unemployed loser husband?  And then, there were the people in the neighboring buildings...

And now.  Now, I live on the North side.  It's nice here.  Quiet, charming.  Until some damn renters from Indiana moved in next door and brought their damn surround sound stereo and hyper-vocal toddler and insist on leaving the sliding door open 24/7.  I've heard John Mayer sung at the top of my new neighbor's lungs.   What is it about people that do this that think the rest of civilization can't hear them?  Trust me, we do.  By the way, I hate John Mayer now.

I hope they only signed a 6-month lease.