ode to my grays

“Let me just get one,” he says, as he looks at me from above.
“Leave it. Otherwise it’ll grow in and stick straight up,” I reply, yanking my head this way, and that.

**

“Why didn’t you tell me about the streak/patch of grays?” I ask.
“I like your gray hairs,” she replies. She is earnest.
I am like fuckin’ Stacy London over here.

**

“There are just so many,” they say.
“I know.” I say back. I smile. I run my fingers through my hair.

**

“Should I dye it for the wedding?” I think aloud as I look in the mirror.
I pull it back. Worse. I put it down.

**

They are my battle scars. They are my experience.
They are my tales. They are me.

**

I’m not going to dye it, I think. Not me. I am proud.
I smooth down the curly ones, looking in the mirror.

**

There is a streak, in my bangs. It is five hairs, maybe more.
It is cool, I tell myself. Hipster even (though I do not strive for this status.)

**

You may give me gray hairs before my time…
(so kiss me when you come home, on my lips)

 

 

 

got my rubber sandals (got my straw hat)

Summer’s here! Despite the fact that it is sixty-two here and cloudy, I know that June Gloom is on its way out and soon the morning will start seventy-five and sunny.

To celebrate, I took the day off. (Well no, not really. My friend Brandon is in town, and I took the day off to hang out with him. I figured since I haven’t really seen him for more than a few hours in like five years, we could have a day together.)

Once this marine layer burns off, Brandon, Jeff, and I will hit the town, seeing the Hollywood sign, seeing if our feet match Will Smith’s, and posing in front of the Beverly Hills sign. Or you know, eating tacos from a truck and then going to Diddy Reese’s. Or seeing the ocean and walking Santa Monica pier. Who knows. Lots of options to be had.

In the larger picture, last night at book club Rebecca said, “Did you know that July fourth is next weekend?”

“No, it’s not. It’s…next weekend!? What? What are we doing?” I proclaimed.

“Dockweiler? Beach day? It’s the third.” Chaos ensued, but not before we got it hammered out that we’d be headed to the beach for the day. Like always. I love a good summer tradition to get things started off right.

Circa 2009. Look at all that American love.

2010. I love this photograph because I’m pretty sure they were only partially aware it was being taken.

What are all of you doing for the summer?

5 perfect days

Summer is here. And to celebrate, I spent some time yesterday day dreaming about perfect days of my life, ones that have mostly happened and ones yet to come, that hopefully will happen this summer…

Perfect day 1: To start, you’re there. Of course. We’re at the beach. We have books, a volleyball, a magical supply of iced coffees, a bathroom so close by we could throw a stone at it, an umbrella, and crossword puzzles.

Perfect day 2: You and I decide to see Third Eye Blind (or insert your favorite band.) In New York City, of course. So we spend the day wandering around the city, iced coffees in hand, walk Central Park, maybe go to a museum, and then head to our concert, where we are in the front row in seats, none the less, and there are Sam Summers to be had by all.

Perfect day 3: We’re at the winery. In Malibu. All of our friends are there, east coast, west coast, middle america, southern, everyone. And our families, if you’d like it that way. Private party, winery to ourselves. Have a set list of Mat Kearney, Jason Mraz, and a DJ. Celebrate all afternoon, into the night when the twinkle lights turn on and we dance under the stars, white wine in bulk, spinning under the clear sky until we’re tired and simply must sit down and eat some birthday cupcakes.

Perfect day 4: Farmer’s market. Then yoga. Then we head home, to our sprawling backyard where we can barbecue on our outdoor built-in grill. Burgers, corn, whip up a quick potato, macaroni salad. We swing in the hammock until our friends arrive, serve sparkling lemonade and pitchers of sangria, sit at our over sized picnic table and laugh while music plays in the background. Later, we all jump in the pool, then enjoy a bonfire in our fire pit, nestled in the backyard surrounded by old couches, and our friends jam for a bit, old 90s songs everyone knows the words to.

Perfect day 5: We get a huge group of friends together, and we hike into a national park that has climbing. We climb routes we can complete for hours, and hours, music blasting on someone’s boom box, shaded from the sun but enjoying the heat, stopping only for bagged sandwich lunches, and iced tea from our water bottles. We don’t hike out, but rather find a lake to camp next to for the night, and take a long swim before cooking dinner over a camp fire and then heading to bed. The next morning we hike out slowly, taking pictures of the flora and fauna on the way.

Don’t those sound delightful? What sounds great to you?

June sunshine: 5gts

1. It’s June. Tomorrow is Jeff’s 27th birthday, which begins my favorite week of the year: the week between his birthday and mine, where I get to boast being a whole three years younger, until I turn 25 next Thursday.

2. This photo of Hanson in London. (Thanks, Cricket :). )

3. You rattle my bones. (You taste like sunshine.) This song. Especially his monologue…”This is a dirty song.”

4. This article. NatGeo, you intrigue me.

5. New albums. Summer soundtrack = started.