Spork Says Goodbye

Spork was over last night ... ostensibly to tape a goodbye video to grandma. We didn't get nearly that far! He ended up writing it out, and translating it over the phone with mom. However, when it came time to tape, he decided to wait until the next night so that he could rehearse, and make it as coherent as possible. We agreed to meet at his work to tape it before I left for Salt Lake to do the deed, and he went on his merry way.

The next day, after finishing work, and resigning myself to the fact that I wasn't going to be able to go dancing after the taping, I headed up to Burbank. I called Spork when I got off the freeway, and we chatted until I made my way to the parking lot. Had to go through two security stations and three sets of elevators before I made it to him. I should have left the tripod in the car, but I thought it would be good to bring it along to get the best images. Oops! The dyed-redhair security guard was immediately on alert, and "escourted" me up to the Penthouse. Asked why I had equipment, and I easily told her. She seemed to believe me, but was still disquieted. Obviously she took her job very seriously. Well, we finally got up to Spork's floor. Turned the corner out of the elvator lobby, and ... "Boo!" Out popped my little brother from behind a door! I don't know who was more surprised, me, Red, or Spork! After a brief pause and some mumbled apologies (and stiffled laughter on my part), Red questioned my brother about his "activities." Apparently we were not supposed to do any unauthorised filming, but after hearing (again) that our purpose was to say goodbye to our dying grandmother in Japan, she overcame her reservations. Red still cautioned us to use only the conference room, and enquired after Spork's boss, but she left us alone.

Spork's message was simple and endearing. He recalled old memories and expressed love and appreciation in that charming way of his. I sometimes forget how good his Japanese is, a result of having spent the most time in Japan and California with Yuki grandma. I also saw how closely his features recall my father's at that young age. I think that Spork is having the hardest time with her illness ... partly because he has never experienced grief before, and partly because I think he struggles with a belief in the immortality of the soul and eternal progression. We'd spoken about it briefly the night before, but it takes more than a few words to work these things through. I hope that when he's ready to talk about it again, that he'll come to one of us.

It's a Wrap!

Woke up early. Body stiff and still feeling punished. Dan (who I've yet to meet) never arrived. We came to the conclusion that he was prevented from coming by emergency hemorrhoid surgery. Poor guy!

Drive home was swift and uneventful. Nap was marvelous, as was the smells of BBQ'd beans and ribs for the Safehouse dinner Wonder Woman was sponsoring! Now who do I see through my magical looking glass? I see Wonder Woman, Perky, BW, DW, Kerri, KL, HC, Laughtear, BFF, MeB, SEM, Gadget Boy and roommate, MoB, SEE, Ballerina, The Dot, JoC, White Boy, Minnie, PoetN, Drummer Boy, Stretch, weirdo guy I didn't know, and a few others than I can't name. I really love the Safehouse dinners! It just feeds into my theory that sitting down (esp to eat) adds a lot of depth to any conversation.

Most people left by around 9:30. SEE stayed to download more music onto the old (well, really it's new!) 'puter. I have more music than I can ever listen to ... but makes the compilation of mixed cd's very fun. I never buy any music from iTunes until I've checked to see that he's already given it to me.

Had to kick SEE out at 2230 so that I could drive Perky to the airport. Very very tired by the time I returned. Sleep is so wonderful. And that's a wrap for a wonderful, if not slightly punishing weekend.

The Beast Called Half Dome

Woke up early in the morning and started to prep for the Half Dome hike (17 miles, 4800 foot gain, extremely strenuous) ... water, snacks, trashbag for "mist" protection, etc. Dan still hadn't arrived, but it seemed that MdB was content to stay and lounge at the camp until he arrived, so the rest of us were soon set to go. A few minutes before leaving, I noticed my pump was low on insulin, so I quickly refilled.

I drove into the valley, all of us singing along to White Boy's 70's mixed tape (the one he made for FGITW's birthday a few years ago). Years ago I shuddered at anything even slightly affiliated with the 70's, and now I've discovered an affinity for corduroy, bellbottoms and tunes of the decade.

We started around 0900. The first part of the trail was very difficult for me, even though it was initially the same trail we had done yesterday. I told SaB and JuB to go on ahead ... twice. They were initially reluctant to part ways, but I was rather convincing. The thing is, I know I'm a slow hiker. I like to stop and rest, and I hate feeling pressured to keep up with fast hikers. I told them that I would continue on the trail until I reached the top, or met them on their way down. And really, the trail was sufficiently populated that I wasn't afraid of any untoward events. About 15 minutes after they went on ahead, I discovered the reason why I was so lackluster ... Hadn't turned my pump back into delivery mode. So silly ... I haven't done that ever that I can recall. So, switched it back, took a bolus, and rested for a few minutes before plunging on with a better sense of self.

The most difficult part of the hike up was the first set of switchbacks. Really, I didn't know if I would make it ... but the lovely thing about switchbacks (to take a Pollyanna approach) is that at every turn there was always a friendly and approachable boulder to rest on. At one point I stepped aside to let a mule train pass with a rueful smile; partly because I wished I was on one, and partly because I had to step carefully to avoid the rude offerings for most of the way out to the Nevada Falls!

People along the trail were very nice. Hi there, Morning, How's it going, etc. One girl who I jockeyed positions with asked me, "How far are you going?" I replied, "As far as I can get! You?" With a grin, she said, "Me too."

All at once, the trail leveled out. I could see a fantastic view of the Nevada Falls, and Half Dome in the distance. My first thought was ... "How beautiful!" The second was, "I'm supposed to get all the way over there? You've got to be kidding!" Passed by the weeping wall ... multiple tiny streams of water bouncing down the stone wall, creating a refreshing light shower for all hikers. The rest of the way to the Nevada Falls were uneventful.

Stopped for about 5 minutes at the top of the falls at 1130. They weren't fenced off like the Vernal Falls ... I guess anyone who makes it up this high is savvy enough to stay away from the danger zones. Passed the surprisingly un-odiferous outhouses, and continued on. Passed level, sandy paths that annoying stretched out a ways, and even descended for a bit! Passed the backpackers' camp and the ranger station.

Came to the second set of switchbacks and thought I was going to collapse! They were so steep, it was all my mind could do to flog the body onward. I ran out of water about half-way up (there really is no rhyme or reason for this half-way assessment, but it just sounds good). Got so thirsty that I actually drank some water from an obliging stone stream ... didn't even care if giarrdia (sp?) (not gonnorhea, as FGITW would have said) was in the cards. Even ate the apple I was saving for the top. Continued on, even though it started to lightly shower, and I heard thunder a couple times. I just felt that I had to keep on climbing (no matter how slow) until either 4pm or until I reached the cables.

During one of my myriad rests, a friendly hiker on her way down noticed my knee brace. She suggested that I might try poles, even one of which will apparently take up to 12% of one's body weight. I concurred that I would probably have to look into it, and soon after fond a branch that was vastly helpful ... either in reality, or in a Dumbo's feather way, I didn't care.

About 3:30, I met up with SaB and JuB on their way down. SaB had gotten to the meadow, and JuB had gone up the stairs. They offered to wait for me, and I happily left my day pack with them. Met my jockeying partner (yes, she did eventually pull ahead) on her way down ... said she had gone to the top of the stone hill, and encourage me onward. I made it to the top of the rock hill before the meadow. When I saw how far down the meadow was, I looked at my watch ... 1550. Decided I'd come far enough, especially if I wasn't going to try the cables due to the weather, took some pictures, and turned around. So, I didn't actually reach the top. This means that I'll have to do it again just so I can finish, but next time I'll have more water, more training, more time, and poles! However, it was the highest I'd ever gotten myself, and quite an accomplishment in and of itself.

Retraced my steps back to where SaB and JuB were waiting, and we made it back to the outhouses just above Nevada Falls. The facilities were a bit more pungently odiferous than earlier in the morning. We made our way a bit past it, and took a quick break. A really cute guy approached and said hi. Turns out that he's a fellow pumper. Brian, 30, from LA, diabetic since the age of 7. We chatted a bit about our endocrinologists (he recommended Anne Peters from USC) and meters, etc. His meter was tiny ... hooked onto the back of his pump. He recommended the Freestyle Flash meter by Abbott. Anyway, as we parted, he said, "It's always nice to meet a fellow pumper." I couldn't have agreed more. He ran by me later on in the afternoon. I didn't recognize him as he flashed by, but he called out my name and I quickly came to as I cheerfully shouted, "Showoff!" to his disappearing back.

As we descended the last set of switchbacks, I was once again amazed that I had even made it up as far as I did. And I was very grateful for my impromptu walking stick. I left it at the base of the trail ... an offering to anyone who would accept the help.

We made it down by 1945. The happiest moment was reaching the Happy Isles shuttlestop and sucking down water at the (potable) fountain! Nirvana! Almost as wonderful was taking showers in the valley. Water is such a wonderful thing! Mosquito bites were not a plentiful as I feared, but I'd gotten a fair sized one on my right inner calf, and behind my right ear. Drat!

Drove the long way back to the campground, made it by 2230. Dan had never arrived, MdB was asleep, and we were all too cold and tired to attempt any cooking. We contented ourselves with a handful of Frito's each, and turned in.

The Mist Trail leaves me cold ... brrrrrr!

When I woke in the morning, the B. sisters had arrived and set up. SaB, JuB and MdB, who I met via KeJ, who I met via KeM. from linkup! Isn't life funny and exciting? JuB drove us into the valley, and I rediscovered the Aerosmith song "Dream On" from one of her compilation cd's.

The sisters didn't have any plans, so I suggested that we try the Vernal Falls hike (3 miles, 1000 ft gain, strenuous). The first part of the trail is dry and forrested. As we took a brief rest under the shade, I was nailed on the shoulder by a very impertinent bird ... yuck! Grabbed a bit of nature's TP (ie: a leaf) and wiped off the rude offering and moved on.

I should probably state that I like trails that go up, have water along the way (or even better, at the top), and then descend. I slightly resent ascending trails that have descending portions ... it makes me feel like I've wasted energy when I have to regain "gain" that I've already put out for!

The last part of the hike is called the Mist Trail. I should have realized how "mist," in years of heavy rainfall, is a euphemism for drenching! The power of the falls was so great that all hikers were absolutely soaked about a third of the way up the stone staircase. It was vastly refreshing, and made for the most spectacular rainbows. When we finally made it to the top, the sun was a welcome friend and warmed our cold and tired backs with its golden rays. It was amazing to contemplate the plummeting waters and realize that I had propelled my body to "Such Great Heights" (one of my favorite songs).

When we made our way back to the car, it seemed much too light outside to return to the campground. Instead, we took the hybrid shuttle over to the Visitors' Center. The a/c was chilly, but we were all still drying off, so there was nothing to be done. At the VC, we waited to see the "Spirit of Yosemite" movie. The footage was amazing ... but the narration was ridiculous AND I was absolutely freezing! To make matters even worse, my t-shirt (which I had carefully packed inside my day pack) was slightly damp. I tucked my arms inside the shirt, and blew on my fingers to conserve heat. Add to this the fact that they kept on repeating, "The spirit of Yosemite ... this, that, yadda yadda" over and over. I thought I would blow a gasket! Luckily, the movie was only 30 minutes long. As soon as it was over, I bolted for the door and found a wonderful patch of sunlight to console me.

We shuttled back to the car, and took another jaunt over to the Yosemite Falls. Back at the camp, we closed the day by slathering on Deet, roasting hotdogs and marshmellows, and wondering if Dan would ever show up. We assigned him all sorts of duties (esp getting more firewood), and left a sign for him at the ranger station before turning in.

Happy 33rd birthday to me

Having a birthday after the actual party is a rather anticlimactic event. I celebrated with the friends last Saturday, and with the family on Sunday. However, I did receive a really nice e-card from EJ; he's so thoughtful. Funny. at first I didn't realize who it was from ... I didn't recognize the email since we generally correspond over linkup, and it was rather disconcerting to receive a message from Mr_Wrong!

So, having missed the Outhouse Intellectuals potluck the night before, there was nothing to keep me in LA today. I packed up the car and started the long trek north to Yosemite to meet the B. sisters for a little camping and hiking. Short stop at the homestead to pick up the cooler and give a kiss to my dad. It's about 150 miles up the 5, and another 140 miles on the 41 to reach the Wawona campground. Mountains turned into rolling golden dappled plains as far as the eye could see. As I continued north, dusty green trees appeared at intervals, looking for all the world like sparse dusty cotton balls stuck on short sticks. Splotches appeared on my windshield as inattentive bugs were mashed against my speeding (about 80mph) car.

Stopped at a gas station to fill up and look for the customary weird sunglasses and random music that seem to be my personal roadtrip tradition. I think this tradition has its origins from the New Year's trip to SF that I took with Joey and Thomas back in 1997. Almost bought an AC/DC tape, but then thought, I'll never use the tape again, and SEE probably downloaded the stuff onto my computer anyway. Also, I just couldn't bring myself to buy any of the Ray-Ban-esque sunglasses ... tradition just wasn't going to survive on this trip.

The landscape continued to change as I moved north-east. Pine trees appeared, tall and slender, arrowing up towards the heavens. Fresh green shrubbery and wild flowers made an appearance as the sun played among the trees, the rays sliding surreptitiously through the tangled branches. Paid my $20 entrance fee to enter the park, and I was in. Mike Davis' _Ecology of Fear_ came to mind as I passed mountain sides with grey skeletal trunks attesting to past fires, even as the brush greenly grew along the ground.

Passed through the tunnel, and got my first glorious view of Half Dome and Bridal Veil (possibly?) Falls.

Made my way to the village ... the restrooms more specifically. After a brief respite, I noticed a flaming mosquito bite on my left cheek and right hand. Any guilt or remorse I'd felt about the previous mashing of bugs withered in a fury of the need to scratch. Some day I want to ask God ... "Why mosquitoes?" Honestly, I'm not adverse to sharing a little blood, but it just seems patently unjust that the buggers want to leave one with disease and itchy bumps as a calling card!

Before leaving the valley, took a quick jaunt to view the Yosemite Upper and Lower Falls. Due to the heavy rainfall earlier this year, the falls were full, powerful and exuberant ... like a free spirit bursting forth from captivity. The white plumes seemed to shout, "We will not be contained!" as they threw themselves over the precipice. A beautiful start to a glorious weekend.

One of the places I go to for a bit of clarity

Went up to Temescal Canyon to do some hiking today. I mostly go when I feel strong enough to do it, or wish that I were. I always go alone ... that way I don't have to worry about keeping up with someone (because the ridge trail usually kicks my butt!), and I can go as slowly as I want. The trail is isolated enough that I never have to stay within visual distance of anyone, but sufficiently populated that I always feel safe. I usually am passed by at least one trail runner each time I go ... it's really rather humiliating to see them nimbly running up the path that I'm laboriously cloncking along on, but I comfort myself with the idea that as I am, they once were, etc etc.

The ridge trail starts with a series of steep switchbacks which gets me to the top of one of the ridges. My body generally gets me this far before it poops out. From here on out, it's really my mind that just lugs my body along. It takes me up and over and up and up and up ... then over and down, up, over, up, up and ... well, you get the picture. Let me clarify that in between all this "up" business, there are ever expanding views of the Pacific ocean. It's a huge basin of blue sky over an even bluer sea ... I can see clear up the coast into Malibu, and down to the outer reaches of the South Bay. And let me tell you, I take plenty of opportunity to catch my breath while I "appreciate" the grandeur and beauty of the scene before me (and I'm not talking about the palatial Palisades either). There's another set of switchbacks (but these are mostly shaded ... hooray) before the long last sunny trek to the highest point. Always glad to get there, not the least because there is a rock that is just perfect to rest my tired bum on and ponder a bit.

Today was a bit overcast in the morning. I passed several sluggish lizards trying to catch some rays, and even managed to touch a tail or two before they scurried away. Flowers in colorful profusion ... every color of the rainbow. The stream was full, and the waterfall (which I'm so grateful for, what's a trail without a little water to cool and soothe) was quite delightful.

Anyway, stopped at the top for a bit to listen to my inside voices, which sometimes get drowned out by the noise of everyday living. My excitement for all the fun plans I have for this summer. My sadness that a major portion of my family is moving to Utah. My incredulity at being yet another year older. My loneliness at having no romance in my life. My gratitude for supportive family and friends. My determination to accomplish many things this year. And so I exorcised the foreign voices that I needed to be rid of, and obtained a bit of clarity.

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing

What did Darcy say? "Every savage can dance." Foolish man. The point isn't just to dance, but to dance well! Exception being if you're a beginner ... and you've got it made, because there's no way that you won't end up being better than you started.

It's like a 3 minute date every time I step out onto the floor. I'm mostly a mid-tempo gal, but I must admit that sometimes it's so fantastic to do a really uptempo song with a solid lead. With some of my partners, I just know it's going to be good ... an exploration into the stretch and sway of music and body. With others I know it's going to be, well, not good. However, every beginner needs to dance with better dancers if they're ever going to get better, so I'm glad to do my part. And with some it's a total wildcard; when asked, I just smile and say, "Sure!"

Well, I've been doing lindy-hop for about 7 years. It's so addictive! Started with east coast swing, and couldn't get enough. Thank you to JuS. and AbH for getting those Saturday groups together at the Institute. Started going to the Derby, and was converted to the beauty of Hollywood style lindy. So smooth, sexy and complex! Again, thanks to WKun, GQ, MLQ, Stevo and DeP. THEN Deb and LiG got me into semi-private lessons with Erik and Sylvia and it seemed like swing Nirvana! Ultimate Hollywood style with some Bal-swing thrown in. Deb, LiG, Pea, Lenny, Victor, and Guy (that's not really his name, but I can't remember what it is right now).

Made the shift to groove dancing when Lindy Groove was born. My dancing loves now include Vic, Eric, Charles, Clint, Mark and Julius ... with an especially soft spot for MaB from Vegas. Anyway, I love Lindy Groove! Fantastic floor, all levels of dancers, and it's the only place where I can dance with a 16 year old and a 60 year old in the same night. Love it.

But don't think that the dancing exploration is over yet! Tried some west coast swing on my last trip to SLC (thank you B, J and the Murray Arts Center for making it so fun), and it may be my next new direction. Already Gwyn and I are planning a foray into the wild world of west coast!

Hello, my name is Dora, and I'm a dancing maniac. And thankfully so!

Ever have one of those "A haaaaaaa!" moments?

I really hate talking on the phone. Unless the other person is so entertaining that they can go for a while and keep me interested in the conversation until I mentally check back in. On the other hand, I love meeting in person or writing out long emails ... so much more visually stimulating!
Anyway, my sister is a phone talker. Yeah, one of those. So, she'd call me on my cell (which is almost never on, doubly so since it needs to be off while I'm at work in the hospital!) and leave a message. After which I'd email her. To which she'd reply by calling .... and you get the picture. She tends to call when things cross her mind, so calls can be rather randomly timed. Which is not bad in and of itself, but now she's gotten the parents used to the random calling, and now they're wondering why I don't call, how come I don't share more of my life with them, etc etc.
So, my online email buddy directed me to his blog the other day. And there I was, reading through a story about how an army exercise went sour when the port-a-potties were rigged, when I had that "A haaaaa!" moment. Why not do the blog-thing? I get to fill my love for long write-ins, family and friends get to clue in to my life whenever they want, and everyone is happy! And no, my head isn't so swollen that I can't recognize the self-centeredness of that statement, but remember that I did include the caveat, "whenever they want."