Poetry Champions

I am proud to introduce to you, the poetry champions of 2013!!!! I can't even begin to describe how much I love this community. They have so much love for each other and so much acceptance. I think there's a lot we can learn from them.

This last weekend, they had their third annual poetry championship at the University's poetry center downtown. The excitement and anticipation in the air was palpable. If I thought about it too much, my stomach twisted up in knots. If I didn't think about it... it was no use. They told us at the workshop the night previous that we should take some time to ourselves before it started to be still and "center" ourselves. This idea really appealed to me. But again, useless. Poets intermingled, surrounded by white noise, as more people arrived. There would be no quiet time for me.

16 poets.
2 rounds.
Only 8 advanced.

I tried not to think about the competition part of it too much. Logan had said the night before, "Based on the math, your odds of advancing are pretty low [the numbers were slightly different, then with a projected 20 poets arriving and only 5 advancing.]. This first poem is your moment to shine. Make the most of every second. Don't rush it. Take a deep breath. Let your pauses hang. Be deliberate. And at the end, soak it all in." I think that was the best advice he could've given me. Just stop and preserve the moment. It only lasts for three minutes.

The poets were on fire! The poetry was fierce! And two of the judges shocked the entire audience (all hundred people, including the mayor, several board members, and many teachers) with some harsh scores--perhaps even the lowest TYPS has ever seen. Poets exchanged wide-eyed glances as low 7's, high 6's, and a 5 and a 4 were thrown out. Frustrating though it was, it threw an element of unpredictability into the game that made things interesting. It was a complete toss-up who would advance. No one knew.

When my time came, third to last in the first round, I strode up to the mic. I had battled all the self-doubt throughout the competition. Now, I wasn't concerned about advancing. I didn't care if I got a low score. I was just there to perform and have my Moment and I was gonna milk it for all it was worth.

I swear, I spit fire on that mic. It was the most flawless performance of Moss I have ever done. Completely from memory. All the poets were getting into it. Snaps abounded. The swell of pride when I perform really well is difficult to describe. I scored in the mid-range: a few 7's, an 8, and two 9's. I couldn't have asked for better.

It wasn't enough to advance, but I felt so assured in my performance, I didn't even care. A bunch of my poet friends told me, "Well done." and "Your poetry has matured a lot from when you first started."

During the break, my friend introduced me to her uncle who told me, "Your poem really spoke to me and I was wondering if you could email me a copy of it." He told me about his story and how he was in the midst of a divorce. My heart went out to him and the pain he was going through. I was so honored that my poem and my personal struggles could reach out and touch another person and inspire hope. It was beautiful.

The poets definitely brought it in Round 2 and I am so proud of every one of them. I don't remember who the top 5 were because they downplayed the actual place-winners. "The point is not the points, the point is the poetry." It didn't matter who got first, second, third etc. In the end, every single poet who competed, who got up there and spoke their heart, gave voice to their thoughts--each and every one of us was a champion.

Hiking Adventures

A couple weekends ago, Melissa, Nicole, and I decided to go on a spur of the moment hike! It wasn't my brightest idea, considering that Friday night was Secret Church and all of us volunteering for it were up until 1 or 2 am, but the hike was totally worth it!

Even though we were all really tired, it was a beautiful day. The parking lot was SO full! Everyone was outside enjoying the overcast skies out in the desert. I took my guitar (Amy the Yamaha) with me and we found a nice little nook by the creek. I strummed a few chords, hummed a little tune, (nothing too complex) and we talked about this and that.

We had such an enjoyable time together, that we are determined to do it again sometime! When, I'm not sure, but definitely soon! I love these girls so much and am looking forward to all the fun, exciting plans we cook up for summer! Summer come quickly!

Feast Your Eyes

If your name is Maike, stop reading this post, right now. ;)

Otherwise, you may continue and feast your eyes on glorious cheeses and lovely ladies.

A while back, Nicole was spending the night and the next day our cobbled lunch consisted of cheese and crackers, fruit, and bruschetta. We found ourselves discussing a mutual love for cheese, and then the idea came! We could host our own cheese party! We excitedly set out plans--cheese to have, people to invite, dresses to wear...

Getting ready for the cheese party.

She came over early to help clean up our patio, prep food, and set up our food table. We originally intended to have it outside on the back porch, but a rainy forecast and the prospect of mosquitoes kept us inside. She had also come over previous weekends to plan and go cheese shopping! (Pictures of which I will post in a separate post.)

We asked each guest to bring one unfamiliar cheese. Some people got a little excited and brought extra and between Nicole and I, we provided several different cheeses. All in all, we had seventeen different cheeses and only one duplicate. This included a number of semi-soft cheese (including three different types of Gouda), hard cheeses, bloomy cheeses, and blue cheeses. We had one Gorgonzola and a peaches and cream Stilton.

our table spread

The Duo Hostesses:

It was really nice to have Nicole alongside me in this, as it made it much much easier for me to relax and enjoy the party.

 Mom helped me print out "cheese evaluation" sheets so that everyone could rate the cheese based on appearance, aroma, texture, and flavor. It was really cool to see everyone's different taste preferences. Personally, I like creamy/smooth/buttery cheeses, so the Havarti, Fontina, and Goudas ranked pretty highly on my sheet. Nicole, on the other hand, really likes the hard/flaky/salty cheeses so the Asiago, Piave and Manchego ranked higher on her lists. The evaluation sheets opened up a nice dialogue of comparing and contrasting cheeses. Everyone liked the Havarti and the Peaches and Cream Stilton and virtually no one (except myself) liked the Gorgonzola. It became the "bad cheese." We would say, "Oh, Veronica's trying the Gorgonzola!" and everyone would stop and watch. I was the last to try the Gorgonzola, but I didn't think it was that bad. It was a little weird, but the flavor was...earthy and soft, almost damp. Maybe that doesn't appeal to everyone, but I thought it was alright. The other thing the evaluation sheets did, was they encouraged the guests to try every cheese and rate it. It created a safe and fun environment for trying new things--and as a lover of food, I'm all over that!

 One we finished tasting, we played card games for the rest of the night: Hearts, Bartog, Egyptian Rat Screw. Bartog is a new game we discovered in which you get to make up the rules! You start with a few basic rules and the winner of each round gets to add a new rule. Everyone caught on so well! We had loads of fun!

 Dad was our Master Photographer so we took lots of group pictures together!

 He even got a few candids:

Silly picture:

And last, but not least, we had to get a picture with Cam. He just wore a plain t-shirt, but we told him he couldn't have any cheese if he didn't abide by the dress code, so he threw on his favorite over-sized suit jacket and proceeded to enjoy cheese. But that wasn't enough. He had to take pictures with us too! (Which was a much bigger ordeal for him than it should've been.) But this picture is totally priceless.

Adventures with Stew the Stye

So I had an "unnoticeable" zit on my eyelid. The reason why I say "unnoticeable" in quotations like so, is because, to me, it is this blaring red angry thing on my eyelid that apparently no one notices! I told Christian about it and he said, "really? I didn't notice." =O Anyways, I found out this zit thing has a name; it's called a "stye." But I also gave it its own little name. You might even call it a persona!

His name is Stew. Stew the Stye. No, I did not pick the name Stew simply because of the alliteration involved (although that heavily factored in.). But for some reason it reminded me of the dad on Nickelodeon's Rugrats.

I've been trying to get rid of Stew. Needless to say (as getting rid of any normal zit much less a zit with a weird name in an even weirder place.), it has been slow going. Mom kept telling me to use hot compresses to draw the puss out. So I was doing that as best as I could.

We went to the doctor earlier this week (for other reasons; we just had him look at it.) and he decided it needed to be popped with a sterile needle. He was even nice enough to do it for me(!) It hurt SO BADLY!!!! I cannot express to you the pain of it. There are only two things I can say about it.

1. It hurt so bad, my eye was twitching and I was afraid he would accidentally poke my eyeball.

2. It hurt so bad and I was so traumatized by the aforementioned fear that I never want Stew or any of his little cousin friends to come back again.

AND, after he poked it with his needle, we still had to squeeze it and apply pressure to get the puss out! I wrote a mini rap about it. It goes like this:

I'm a stye in your eye,
And I make you wanna cry,
And the pain is insane,
I can't take this anymore,
I gotta get this zit out the door,
Gotta make it go away,
and if the zit could talk, 
I know what it would say,
"I'm a stye in your eye..."

At this point, the rap would fade out into nothingness and the rap would end. And I am aware of the fact that I am a terrible rapper, but what can I say? I'm a Christian white girl and I was having fun with it. (Until I started thinking in "rap mode," that is.)

THEN, this morning, I woke up and Stew was practically gone! It was like magic! Except it wasn't magic because I actually found a trick on the internet! (This is the part where you should be scared.) Here's the trick: you take a bandaid and you put the adhesive part on the pimple and leave it on for a long time. (Yes, I put a bandaid on my eyelid--I kept it on overnight.) When you peel it up, it's supposed to get the puss out or open it up or something- I don't know the science behind it.

So I peeled off the bandaid this morning and it hurt SO much! But it worked! Stew the Stye looks much much smaller!

The crazy things I do... But at least now you know, that it's really true that bandaids make everything better. (An old standby of mine that totally has a new meaning!)

Poetry Slammin'

 For those of you who do not know, Spoken Word Poetry is probably my latest and greatest....obsession. (I need a better word for these things.) ...Latest and greatest hobby. And it is really just poetry that is written to be performed. (Meaning, it is often more dramatic in nature.) Then, there are competitions called "Slams" in which poets perform their poetry amidst much applause, cheering, and audience judges. Rules include: the poem must be original, 3 minute time limit, and prohibition of props. Other than that, there are virtually no limitations on the poem's content, style, form, or tempo. It's pretty cool stuff.

My friends Kristin and Sabina introduced it to me earlier this semester, and I fell in love with it. I looked up poets on YouTube and started crafting my own and practiced my poems in front of a camera or my family or the old folks at Hundred Palms and the homeschool group...

Well, last night, I competed at a poetry slam for the FIRST TIME EVER!!!!! It was so exciting! I'm still replaying all the poems that were performed, in my head. Kristin and Sabina were out of town so I invited Melissa and Nicole, but they bailed on me last minute. And I thought, "you know what? I've been trying to go to one of these things since February and I'm going! Friends or not!" So that's exactly what I did. I went by myself. O_o 

The first ten minutes were the scariest. I was alone. I'd arrived early and the student committee was still talking. Those not in it, were mingling with one another--in a circle. It was a closed group to me. I sat by myself. I started to question whether or not I should've come. But after the committee finished, a couple girls- Megan and Kay introduced themselves to me and everything was brighter from there. 

I was there for a workshop and we talked about community. How we bring something to every community we enter and it is up to us to decide what we are going to bring. And we talked about TYPS as a community; what were we bringing to the TYPS community today? Then we did an exercise, answering questions and passing a long rope to one another. There were only four questions, but they brought us together in a way that I have never seen before.. We talked about our siblings, what poetry means, someone we've lost, and someone who makes us laugh. The third question in particular was profound. In sharing our pain, we were brought closer together. It was awesome! At the end of the questions, the rope had criss-crossed the circle, creating a web of connections. We talked about how it's those connections that make up a community. 

Then we did a free write on community and hung out. A few people practiced their poetry, asking one another for feedback. (this is about the time that I began to second guess the quality of my poetry, but I'd already signed up to compete.) I mingled and talked to a lot of people. They were friendly...and comfortable with each other. They were really touchy feely (not in a sexual way, but they just touched each other a lot. A lot more than homeschoolers do.)- which is something I've had little exposure to.

When the competition began, that's when the nerves sunk in. My stomach was doing backflips. I was fifth. I drank water like it was going out of style. But when I got up to the mike, I just performed. It was just me and my voice, and that's all that mattered. I performed, "Are You Happy Now?" first, and the poets were snapping almost the whole time. I watched the video of myself performing and I realize I could've paused more, but I was getting into it. Everyone cheered so loudly afterward. They all said it was great. Poets I deeply respect as better than me said it was really good. My new friend Meghan said she didn't cry a lot, but that almost made her cry. That it described her life exactly. Strangers in the audience- people I didn't even know told me it was beautiful. I was stunned. I scored really high as well. An 8, three 9's and a 10. I was so surprised and grateful for everyone's words. It was very validating.

The poem in particular (which is the one in the video above) is not a poem specifically about me. But it echoes my struggles with food over the recent months. The first time I performed this poem, was at Hundred Palms and it was difficult because my family and friends were there. I have put significant pieces of myself into this poem and it can be scary to lay yourself vulnerable before others. (Which is probably the reason why I chickened out and performed a different poem for CHET-SE's talent show in March) But it is a poem that is dear to my heart.

I ended up going to round two, in which I performed the train poem. It didn't score quite as high as the first, and it wasn't enough to get into the final round, but it was so satisfying to perform, I didn't even care. Except now, I have an impossible reputation to keep up. >.< They all said it was good the second time too, though their enthusiasm might've been a little less. I heard Meghan whisper a sweet low, "Darn." when they announced I hadn't made the top three. But I was too happy to worry about it. The other poets were outstanding; it was just as magical as watching videoes, only this time, I got to be part of it.

Afterwards, they had a rap battle in front of the cafe. It was so epic. Juanye was beatboxing, insults were flying, and teenagers cheering saying, "ohhhh!" with every great burn. It was cool. It almost made me wish I could freestyle rap. (almost!) When I got home, I just felt so...overstimulated, I guess. I needed to decompress, but not in a bad way. I just wanted to think. And I did. I couldn't stop thinking. *sigh* it was the most wonderful type of exhaustion I've ever felt. I felt encouraged, invigorated, inspired! It was such an amazing opportunity and I'm glad I didn't let my fear of being alone keep me from going. I realize now, that if I had gone with friends, I probably wouldn't have branched out to as many people.

I am so glad I took advantage of the opportunity to enter this community and be part of their family and I promised I would be back. It felt so amazing to just be accepted without having to prove myself,  (I think I did prove myself with my first poem.)  and I'll be working on some new poems for the next slam!

Pier 39 and Being a Bus Noob

Post-surgery, the week has rapidly progressed while the inverse has occurred on my blog. But that will change thanks to automated posting! But here are the pictures from when me and mom hiked from our hotel, through Ghiradelli Square, and all the way to Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39.

It was such a beautiful day, that I didn't even take a sweater with me!

One thing about San Francisco, is that those little crosswalk lights aren't fooling around. (Real quick on the subject of crosswalk lights we invented names for each sign: "green man of joy/life," "blinking hand of [imminent] doom," and "the red hand of death." just thought that might interest you.) If you want to cross the street, you'd better book it! So me and mom are running across Lombard street and her ankle pops! Oh no! What do we do now?

She took an Advil and roughed it out while on the wharf. But there was no way we were going to make it up that hill. So what did we do? San Francisco Public Transit System to the rescue!! That's right, folks. We took the bus.

Rumor has it, that my grandma didn't even get her license until well after she turned sixteen (her age shall not be disclosed here.), simply because the public transit in San Francisco was so amazingly GREAT that she didn't need her own car! Talk about being economical.

So we got our own taste of wonders of the San Francisco bus system. And I must say, it was exciting! I believe this was my first time ever riding a public bus that was not on its way to or from an airport. At first, I was quite self conscious about this, because I was quite obviously, a Bus Noob. Even Mim got a little confused as to which stop(s) to get off at. But nice ladies who rode the bus helped us out.

So we bought our tickets for two dollars each (only to find out I only costed 75 cents) and then, we got a ninety minute free transfer ride. (I am certain it was called something much cooler than that.) but what all this fancy schmancy stuff means (for you other Bus Noobs out there) is that for 90 minutes (or an hour and a half) after you purchase your ticket, you can get on any bus you want. After that, you have to pay another fare. But our bus driver was super duper nice and gave us two extra hours!!! So we ended up taking the bus and transferring three times (which inly would've been possible with the little Chinese lady who showed us which stop to get off at and which bus to transfer to next.) to the hospital where Grandma was. (I shall refrain from sharing details of the surgery and outcome here on my blog, but if you have any questions, comments, concerns, condolences, spare candy wrappers you don't want...whatever it is you have for me, you can talk to me in person, by phone, text, and/or email.)

The bus ride was a little hectic, not knowing what to do, but altogether a fun experience! I am now a bus advocate for life. Yay bus rides!

Chinatown and Beyond!

Our first morning in NorCal, mom and I hit a thrift store! (So the monster emerges!) We are only there for a few minutes as I needed a new purse (the strap on my other one was breaking), but mom promised we would go back- later.

So we're driving towards the Golden gate bridge and parts of it are shrouded in fog. I am now concerned about my wardrobe choices for the weekend. However, it seems to have worked out, as the weather man reported San Francisco to be quite warm. Yay! Concerns abated.

Grandma couldn't eat after noon, so went straight to our favorite Dim Sum house- called Banquet. It was crammed full of Chinese people all talking at once. The only table that opened up right away was a big round table that seated eight, but the server directed us there, so our little party of three sat down and began to order.

About fifteen minutes into the meal, another party of three joined our table! A little Asian family: a mother, father, and teenage daughter. And I thought to myself, "this is going to be interesting." As I watched our food mix together on the lazy Susan. They kept to themselves, speaking to one another in their native tongue. The girl kept getting worked up over one thing or another, laughing one moment and indignantly tittering in the next. It was rather intimidating with them sitting right there. I could just imagine them laughing at my poor attempts to use those chopsticks and chuckling at our "safe" orders.

We were the only white people in the whole restaurant. It was interesting. The nonsensical Chinese chatter was strangely comforting, but I also felt like an alien in that place. Outsider. Foreigner. White-y. As if my tiny 25% Chinese heritage meant nothing because my skin is not dark.

It is a very humbling feeling.

After we ate, we checked into the hotel. Grandma wanted to lay down and take a nap, so mom and I went on an adventure.

She took me to Chinatown! ^-^ It was incredible! The pictures of the tall buildings are in the financial district which we passed through on our way to Chinatown.

In Chinatown proper, there were so many neat shops! It's the year of the dragon, so the vendors pulled out the stops on everything. We went from shop to shop, looking at all the trinkets, buying some, passing over many more. As I ran my fingers through silky fabrics, I debated whether or not I could get away with wearing a Chinese dress without looking costume-y. I regretfully decided that I couldn't pull off the look. (the employees trying to sell the dresses were disappointed also.) But I did buy a beautiful summer scarf with blue flowers on it. It was a steal for four bucks.

We walked up and down the street, stepping into souvenir shops, and wok shops, and kite shops. The place was so exotic and alive with color and sound- dragon murals, the tones of Chinese employees talking to one another, and the rustle of people along the street. We passed a park where small groups of old men were playing games at tables and yelling in their familiar yet unrecognizable dialects.

Mom and I had a great time. And it was totally worth the sky-high parking fees and less than stellar (bad) boba tea we got. The sushi we got for dinner also helped the boba tea. But we've taken so many food pictures already, they deserve their own post.

Drunk on the Beach

 This is a funny story. And if you know my dad, he is probably the best storyteller in the family and listening to him tell it just does not compare to any way in which I would be able to tell the story. So, I recorded him telling the story to my mom on the phone and that is my skeleton for the following story.

So we went out to dinner with Aunt Nancy and Uncle Brian and the kids. Nice place in old town San Diego. And we decided to hang out at their rental house for a little while afterward. Not being loaded down with three children (boys under twelve, no less.) We beat them to the house and were locked out. So me and Dad are hanging out on the boardwalk and Cam goes off on the beach, which was right there.

And he's sitting on the beach, lies down in the little hollow where the boys' big hole used to be (now filled in by the wind.) And he's just watchin' the stars and hanging out.

A little ways down, there were these college kids who were obviously drunk and one of them says, "Look! There's a dude on the beach!" and they're laughing and pointing at Cam and being drunk. They let well alone for a little while and then Cam gets up and he's packing the sand down to make the hollow space more comfortable. One of the guys shouts, "He's digging his own bed!" And they all laugh at him like he's some kind of fascinating zoo animal.

Eventually they see us and they ask, "Hey! Is that your buddy?"

Dad goes, "That's my son."

"hahahahaha. I remember my first time..."

Dad mutters "whatever" under his breath.

"...Except I was naked!"

We just kind of ignored the guys. But dad was like, "I love drunk people I don't know."

So they're hanging out and they start dragging out the bikes to go cruising down the boardwalk. They come rolling towards us and the one guy (I know I keep saying "one guy" but there were a lot of them and hard to distinguish.) and he says, "Is that really your son?"

Dad's all, "Yeah, that's my twelve year old son."

"He must be really drunk."

And very calmly dad says, "Um, no. My twelve year old son."

"Is he okay?"

Dad says, "Yeah, he's find. He's just doing what twelve year olds do."

The guy says "Alright man." And they go off on their wobbly bicycles, while me and dad sat there chuckling and Cam, still laying in the sand, had not a clue as to the conversation that took place.

The Zoo

This is probably one of those posts which I will return to, once home, and add a bunch of (better) pictures from the real camera. I left my phone in the car on accident and didn't realize it til we'd gotten inside the park, so these pictures are from my dad's phone.

But we had a fun time at the zoo. We ended up riding the trolley around the whole park and snapping pictures of the animals. It was rather fortunate that they let us stand up on the ride (we sat at the top of a double decker bus), as the boys would've been dreadfully disappointed at the number of things they would not have seen. As it was, Jack in front of me kept scaring me, he was so close to the rail! I kept sticking my hand out to steady him now and again.

The monkey exhibit(s) were, by far, the greatest and most exciting. Simply because they were the most active animals and entertaining to watch. (Plus they are my favorite animal.) Alas, we did not get many quality pictures of them. ("Quality" being the operative word here.)

Dad brought me and Cam back to the hotel after the zoo. (We were pretty much fried by the time we reached the monkey exhibit and I'd seen what I wanted to see, so there wasn't much point in staying longer. We'll just have to go back. Brian, Nancy, and the kids ended up staying a while longer). At the hotel, we lounged around, attempted cooking popcorn in the room's crappy microwave, watched the tail end of Indiana Jones (Temple of Doom, if I recall) on cable, and I blogged on Bernard about the road trip until we left for dinner. (which is why I am blogging now, late at night, with my eyes drooping. It's amazing I can focus at all right now.)

I will probably add a few more details regarding the exhibits (because the place was huge and this dinky little post does not do it justice in any sense of the word) when I add pictures. For now, this will do.

Enjoy some pictures:

The Boardwalk

There were lots of interesting things to see and do along the boardwalk and down the street from Uncle Brian and Aunt Nancy's rental house.

After visiting for a little while and letting the kids romp around in the sand for a little bit, we took a walk together.

We saw flowers that looked like birds, a motorized bicycle "gang," a Pomeranian that looked like it was attacked by a hair dryer... We looked into a few shops and saw all manner of dirty t shirts. We stopped to admire the wave house (they simulated waves to teach surfing) and a rollercoaster. And it was as we hiked back that we realized how far we'd really gone. It turned out to be quite far, and we probably walked about a mile and a half just this morning. Fun stuff.

Road Trip!!

So maybe a six hour drive to San Diego for a day and a half's worth of fun wasn't our greatest idea ever... But in my mind, the adventure is worth it.

Things I have learned:

-Cameron does not like his picture taken.

-However, you can snap a picture of him if you wait a sufficient amount of time until he is busy doing something else.

-how to drive at high speeds on a freeway in the wind. (and all this at night)

-"Party Rockers" and "I'm Sexy and I know it" are by the same band. (for some reason, I didn't know this)

The trip was pretty exciting. I drove for an hour and a half into Yuma. Cameron composed his own rendition of "I'm Sexy and I Know It" only it was the window washing edition. (Think, "ahh girl, look at this window...")

Coming from Yuma, we met up with some snow!! Dad said it was like the millennium falcon scene in Star Wars. (But please don't ask me which scene that is, because I honestly don't remember.)

And because I don't have a "real" computer for the weekend and Bernard does not have a memory card slot, I am resigned to posting crappy cellphone photos to document this experience. And the formatting is a little funky, but I can edit it when I get home. This is what I get for blogging on an iPhone app when I'm on an iPad. (Unfortunately, there is not an adequate app for blogging made for the iPad.)

Dark cellphone picture of dad giving me "the look" for snapping a photo.

Hiking Up A Mountian

When my mom told me we were going hiking up "A Mountain" this morning, there was some confusion as to "Which mountain?"  But apparently, there is a mountain called "A-Mountain." And we went hiking up it!

And the reason why it is called "A mountain" is detailed in the above photograph: there is a giant plastic A- the university's logo- right at the top. It was pretty cool. The boys went up and climbed all over it. I stayed below and looked at all the graffiti messages written along the short little wall. Surprisingly, there were very few obscenities. I wrote a few snatches of messages here and there, perhaps to use in some poetry or story later.

It was a nice day out and the hike took about an hour. Then we all went to Stacey's house to hang out for lunch and swim and play with the cats. (I may not have mentioned before, but Stacey and her husband Bruce adopted Rooftop!!! ^-^ so we go over and visit lots.)

All in all, it was a good day.

Way off in the distance, you can see a little gazebo perched on that mountain. We went there. It was nice and cool and breezy under there.