cactus burritos

when i visited the desert a few weeks ago, i ate dinner with my family at a mexican food restaraunt. i judge mexican eateries by their ability to feed me a good veggie burrito. the one on the menu here was thin on veggies, thick on dairy. wasn't going to work. i asked them what vegetables they had in the kitchen that they could throw in, and she said, "mushrooms, tomatoes, cactus..."

you had me at cactus. after hiking around all day in the fantastic borrego springs landscape, i'd come to remember the latin names of the cacti i'd studied in college. i felt intimately connected. and yes, i wanted to eat it.

i had a great burrito that night, and raved about it to friends, who, a month later, coerced me into throwing a (what's the word for dinner party, minus the stuffiness, plus extra fun?) so that they could try cactus burritos.

i had a blast researching how to cook cactus. this is the website i ended up following: he gave a step-by-step tutelage. i also made beans and rice from, like, beans and rice (not minute rice and canned beans) which was a first for me. the whole thing was delish!

i asked everyone to bring something - chips and salsa; mexican beer; gluten-free tortillas; soda pop; and, specifically to one friend whose apartment has a litter of half bottles of liquor - some tequila.

after dinner, we took a celebratory tequila shot. dan has only 2 days left of work at a miserable job and then gets to start a great internship, and i finally landed 40 hours at the church. we took our shots out of plastic cups decorated with tinkerbell and strawberry shortcake - i live with an 8 year old - and toasted to bright new beginnings.

stage fright

tonight i enjoyed dinner with my favorite human being, finley. she's 15 months old now and growing so much every day. today, her mama mentioned something about stars, and she put down the spoon in her hand to point (she was very intentionally pointing) to her head, just above her ear. tammy, her mama, explained that she was making the motion for "how i wonder what you are," the second line of "twinkle, twinkle, little star". finley doesn't say more than 10 or so words right now (although she once said "hi stine", and there were several witnesses who will vouch for that), but she knows the song, can do all the motions, and even sings the words "up above" at the right time.

i got happy and sad watching her sing and dance in her highchair tonight. she's growing up so fast. i fast forwarded with tam, imagining her preschool performances. "will she still be cute when she says real words?", we wondered. i reckoned yes, because it will be a while before she can actually say them all right, and then, when self-awareness sets in, she might get nervous, and that will be cute. "nervous? her? she's such a glutton for praise!"

it's true. little finley cate, who goes by many names - her dad calls her "pretty girl", mom calls her "bug" or "bugaboo", i call her "favorite" (because she is), and everyone has fun adaptations of her given name - fin, fin-dizzle, fin-fin, f-star - charms anyone who meets her. she has a joyful belly laugh and her hair is always sweeping one way or the other, demanding commentary. she is willful as all getout but is, especially right now, always glancing over her shoulder for that affirmation from mom. the psychologists call it attunement, and it's her developmental stage. she needs that from mama. and she loves it from everyone else. she learned to clap early, i remember, and as soon as she did, it was as if she was asking for applause. her crowd, as it were, always responded (and continues to respond) obligingly - big claps that mimic the sign language for "praise" - and a chorus of, "yay, finley!"

just then, the most beautiful little girl came up to talk to finley, now climbing on (instead of sitting in) her highchair. she was 4, she told us, really eloquent, and her whole family, who appeared to be of eastern indian descent, stood behind her. she was so sweet to finley, but really wanted to get her to do a high five/low five combination that was just a little past her "twinkle, twinkle" routine. finley was more shy than usual, and kept focused on climbing higher on the chair than i was comfortable with, more or less ignoring the lovely girl. fin obliged her a few high fives, and a "bye" with a little wave as the girl and her family left.

"maybe she will be the preschooler who forgets the words and gets scared," i pondered, holding the highchair down with my foot so it didn't topple over under the uneven weight. tammy shook her head, laughing at favorite's meekness. "i know. she usually begs for attention like that!" i protected her head as she leaned over, almost completely out of the highchair, which i can still do with one hand. "so funny," i laughed as i leaned to keep her steady, "she finally gets what she's always wanted and she has no clue how to react. just like she'll do again when she's the star of the play at 7 years old."

there was a pause, and it felt like a hurricane had blown through my mind. a rain can cleanse and moisturise, and wind can blow away chaff, but this hurricane did both - an amazing combination of destruction & refreshment that left the sky clear in my conciousness. it must have registered on my face, becuase tammy stopped and said, "just like auntie stine at 26?"

the spot in the center of a soccer field

"just the girl i was waiting for," he said when i called.

so funny, how perfect those words are. and so fitting that they don't come from who i'd like, but instead, from the irish one, whose trust i've not broken. the other one, i ruined things, like i always do. sheesh. guys and girls can be "best friends" for only so long. but at least i've done good by this one.

he had a crazy plan in mind, when all i wanted to do after this day-from-hell (that's not fair, really, work was great - it was just a wretched morning) was chill. but i liked his idea.

we have played lots of games, this one and i have. he's better than me, at almost everything, and definately at the games. he's taught me a thing or two, and is a pretty good coach. games aren't just games to him, though. that's his element, where his mean streak comes out.

it was the other side tonight. we stood on the soccer field where we've shared lots of saturday pick-up games. the full moon was bright, especially when all the lights turned out. and he stood on the spot in the center of the field, back arched emphatically, and yelled, "fuuuuuuuuck!"

we both began a boxer's jump, feeling the momentum of his first yell. i couldn't form words, yet, but my frustration echoed his, and was pricked with shame. i took the spot, and it was all i could do to scream, desperately, "aaaaaaa!"

we both laughed and kept the bounce going. no one was responding - the park was empty, and the closest neighborhoods were still far away. "idiot!" i yelled, next, so loudly my voice couldn't sustain the last syllable.

i moved so he could stand on the yelling spot. "damn it!", he cried into the night.

we continued yelling at the top of our lungs for about fifteen minutes. i screamed to the stars about my horrible day and about the how the other one ceases to notice me. he stuck with profanities. and we both felt better.

he finally collapsed onto his back and watched the stars. i took advantage of the astroturf and turned somersaults. he talked about her, and i shared about him. i came to a few theological relizations, including "jesus is always messing with your buisness," which might have included a few more irish words when i said it. later, "christianity is not for the weak, not for the faint of heart. i really wouldn't recommend it to anyone." i did another somersault and he pointed out, "except for the alternative. where's hope, then?"

we do have hope. we have anger and frustration mounting to the point that his plan for the night is to "go to a park and yell cuss words", but we also have hope, because, in the midst of our brokenness is room for redemption. i took another turn on the spot, threw my chin to the sky, and yelled, "hope!" until my throat was raw.

fishnets, forever.

i would like to stay twenty-six forever. and poor. and single.

so, my friends are so talented it’s disastrous. let me highlight that nick (www.nickabrams.com) and erin (www.quillandsqualor.blogspot.com) deserve particular celebration right now.

nick had a show in OB tonight. i haven’t spent much time in OB. my brother grew up there – he and my mom lived on coronado avenue while he was little. okay, and, if my mom has her way, she’ll be living back in the same place in a month or so.

the hodge-podge gallery was great. i know what the kid’s capable of, and his stuff was fantastic, as i expected. loved having lots of our friends together. adored playing shuffleboard in an alluring way. liked wandering the streets of ocean beach. let me tell you, though, if you want to see the little beach community, you should wear shoes. I had to take mine off – my cougar boots – because as cute as they are, they’re not made for walking. so as we headed to his truck, i took advantage of the first bus bench i could to de-boot, and proceeded to walk in my fishnets. this required me to keep my eyes on the ground to avoid the really gravelly parts of the asphalt. i didn’t get to see much. but the boys told amazing stories and horrible jokes as we walked, and i loved knowing that no one was worried about me. loved hoping that maybe, the next time he grabbed my arm to lead me around something gross on the ground (“um, don’t step on that”), maybe he wouldn’t let go. and i simultaneously hoped he would. that nothing would change, and that everything can be the same as it is, forever.

snake in the road

my students have been writing poems this week. my favorite, by andre, is about a candy store. i'll post it tomorrow. i have had poetry coming out of every orifice recently. and not good poetry.

that having been said, i am going to tell a story, and i'm not going to make it poetic, and i'm not going to try to draw any spiritual conclusions from it.

i had the privelege of eating lunch with my roommate during a workday. we never get to do that, ever. this was the first time, and it happened because she came to my work (my classroom, that is) to meet my students and tell them about golf. that is neither here nor there, really, but it's all to say, i'd left work midday and was returning to campus to fetch my kids from thier lunchtime recess.

i was coming over the hill, and, in all honesty, i was putting my shirt on. i'd taken it off because it was hot and i was removing my undershirt, so i was in a frenzy to not approach my place of employment (for 6 more days, anyway) shirtless. i was fixing my shirt when i saw something in the road. it looked like the mirages you see on the 10 in the summertime. but seeing as it was only 75 degrees outside with an ocean breeze, i knew it wasn't that - and it was moving.

oh em GEE, there is a snake crossing the road.

oh em gee. OMG. oMg. oh my G. i freaked out. i freaked out as if there were not 2 tons of metal surrounding me, protecting me from the snake. as if the snake were more than 3 feet long, or closer than 20 feet away.

and then i grabbed the wheel and realized i was about to kill it.

and i braced myself. you know when you're about to hit an animal in the road and you brace yourself? i can't imagine hitting a REAL animal, like a deer or a cow - they can total a vehicle, right? but even when it's a bunny or a bird, you brace yourself and look away. i didn't feel anything, and i saw the snake slithering away in my rearview mirror, so i know he was safe.

i saw a snake in the road today.

the klondike bar

i haven't really been trying, but i've been staying out of man-trouble lately. a friend of ours laughingly asked me yesterday how my "guy situation" was, and i suprised him (and myself) when i answered, "yeah, i haven't really been thinking about that very much lately."

not that they (men) aren't in my mind at all. that would be silly. but for me? i've been pretty low-key in that department. and i say that because, yeah, i tend to meet guys a lot - my friends at church are all guys, the musicians i work with are predominantly male, and jenni's work friends are all boys - but i'm not "on the prowl" these days. and that's a good thing.

if that all sounded really defensive, it's because i want you to know i wasn't asking for this. i was just sitting outside the car wash up in oceanside, reading a horribly written article in a christian women's magazine. (i mean, seriously. the word of God speaks for itself so well, why do you need to butcher it by - i can't even describe what this writer did - the whole thing just made me want to throw up. and it made me want to write quality insights into an authentic life of faith. and i'm not saying i'd do it perfectly, but seriously.)

and i was tired, on the car wash bench, because i haven't slept much this weekend, what with all the fun and all. i worked for a long time at church this morning - doing some great stuff, but it was hot and i was tired and now frustrated.

my car was being detailed, and i was debating its progress as someone popped into my peripheral vision and held out something shiny. i instinctively grabbed whatever he was handing me (why? why is that my instinct? have you ever been to las vegas? don't take whatever people hand you.), and it was cold. i looked down and i had a klondike bar in my hand. before it even registered, he said, "i don't mean to be too forward, but it's hot outside."

there was a man, hitting on me, at a car wash, in oceanside, with a klondike bar.

the middle of the story is really lame, but i'll just tell you, i did eat it, and it was good, and i left about 30 seconds after he sat down.

and boys, please take note. you should totally give a pretty girl ice cream on a hot day.

hippie steve

wait. did i tell you guys that i ran out of gas, again? so i'm on the 101 north, just heading out of the city, right before the santa monica blvd. exit. i freaking feel meg run out of gas, and i'm all, oh crap. i pull over and just pray that she'll coast far enough (to ventura is what i was really hoping, but i would have settled for an ARCO.) anyway, she doesn't. i get to the offramp, actually halfway up it. why i didn't run out of gas on a downward sloping offramp, i can't tell you. oh, but luck awaited me. so i let the brake off and run out of meg hoping to push her up the hill and meggie tried to run over me! i flew back in and pulled the break, just barely saving our lives. then the two nicest mexicans ever jump out of a van and start pushing. (i yell, gracias! gracias! estan the best!, which of course means, you're the best, and if i'd had one more second, i would have remembered how to say the best (el mejor or los mejores) but hey, meg was flying down a hill.) then hippie steve (this is where it gets really interesting) jumps off of the corner of santa monica and the 101, where he's been standing holding a sign that no one reads. so the homeless guy and two mexicans push meg to safety. in this case, "safety" was a greek family market that i SWEAR was mob affiliated. the mexicans take off, and i'm standing with hippie steve. who says, "i'm hippie steve. i live, well, over there. (pointing to his corner.) he's dirty. (homeless people sometimes are.) he points to a grocery cart. he has cuttoff everything. and a bandana holding back curly hair that would be blond if it weren't so dirty. "and this is moon." this little black dog. "you ran out of gas. don't do that. you tell your boyfriend to keep gas in your car." (stine laughs, nervously.) "i know the guy at the gas station, give me your gas can. me and moon will be back in 5 minutes. wait here." so he takes off. the first thing i encounter is a little mexican man who asks me, "do you habe vun dollah? please?" i give him a dollar and say, "prometeme que usara este para comer, no para tomar." he says, "hablas espanol, senorita?" i say yes. in english. for good measure. next, the huge greek man who runs the market in front of which i'm parked comes out and says, (greek accent.) "can i gitchoo zometing to drenk? vhat happened here, ennyway?" so i explain my saga, including "the homeless man is getting me gas", and refuse a drink. meanwhile, hippie steve's been gone a while. he returns after a few more minutes, explaining something crazy regarding moon's attempt to lay down in the shade. whatever. he puts gas in my tank, and i hand him a 20 and thank him. "you just gave me a 20." he said, astonished. "you just saved my life," i tell him. "god bless you, steve." he says, "god blesses me every day." with that, i got into meg and drove to van nuys, (not before filling up my gas tank), and all i have of my adventure are memories and a bruise from where meg tried to run me over.