The Doggy Days Of Summer

 

At last we have found a dog beach that doesn't reek of stinky poo and have you clutching your baby tight to keep her out of the galloping labradors' line of fire. It is called Arroyo Burro County Beach, aka Hendry's Beach and it is the beach that dogs and dog mamas and obbis dream of.

As usual, Camille set to work spreading her sand dreams all over my obsessively anti-sand world but I am starting to learn to live with the gritty reality that beach = sand = lovely family time. I have a bit of the OCD, what can I say?! I have recently found a beach blanket that has a one-way ticket for sand and I intend to get one as soon as our ship comes in.

All in all, the day was delightful except for the pair of couples that planted themselves between us and the beach and decided to have a big suck-face session. I mean come on people, is that necessary?? I guess no matter how Zen I strive to become, there will always be a part of me that remains the jaded San Francisco gal. It is endearing, right?

Finding Wonderland

My beloved Camille is two. How on earth has this happened? It really does seem like yesterday that I was uncomfortably hot and enormously pregnant wishing like mad that I could meet our little gem. Now she is out and disturbing the peace like nobody's business!

So, to commemorate the terrible-two occasion, Carley and I set out to create a Wonderland vision that would make Alice green with envy. It all started with colored tissue paper and a little OCD and turned into a party that we will never forget.

Of course there were hitches in our giddyup like the dislocated elbow sustained by our little angel and a San Francisco-esque fog that set in the morning of the party but in the end, all turned out remarkably beautiful and the guests made the fete even more amazing!

Now that I have had two years of birthday parties that fulfill my childhood dreams, I will be able to relent a bit easier if next year she wants a jumpy house and hot dogs.

Red Rover send Rango right over!

Yes, it true...having a child gives you the excuse to watch cartoons and animated movies exclusively without seeming like a complete weirdo. I have always loved a good Tom and Jerry or Scooby Doo marathon and now I get to watch them long after Camille has drifted off to dreamland. So having qualified myself as quite the connoisseur, let me just tell you that you should strap up those sneakers and make tracks to your nearest Blockbuster (oh wait, this isn't 1998!)...umm, okay...drag yourself over to your computer and put Rango into your Netflix queue. You will thank me for it, I guarantee.



Picture this, a motley crew of lizards and rodents as the cast for Deadwood, sans profanity, of course. I am telling you, clever, clever, clever! Loved every minute of it after my narcolepsy wore off (it's true, I think it has to do with finally allowing your body to stop moving for a moment...goes into complete coma, shut down mode for a few minutes). And the music, don't even get me started. Thank you Mr. Hans Zimmer and all of the Misters that make up Los Lobos. Camille couldn't help but climb off the bed and do a twirl or two when the owl mariachi band came on the screen. That's right, OWL mariachi. Not to be confused with EL Mariachi which also happens to be one of my faves...the original, not remake. Timothy Olyphant, who played Seth Bullock in Deadwood, does a mean Clint Eastwood impression for his part as the Spirit of the West. So much so, that I had to watch the credits to confirm it was not the Dirty Harry himself.



I'm not a movie critic so I will stop right here but my personal opinion is that Rango can sit on the shelf right next to my copies of Magnificent Seven, 3:10 to Yuma and box set of Deadwood and  hold its own.

Dinosaurs and Butterflies

I don't really have to tell you that two of the greatest things in a toddler's life are the massive mystery of dinosaurs (and the obligatory growling and roars, of course) and the gentle beauty of the elusive butterfly. Recently, we were able to bask in the glory of both at the Natural History Museum.

I will say this, though, do yourself a favor and buy your tickets online prior to your visit (as I suggested but was discouraged from doing so). It will help you avoid bickering "when will you start listening to me?" texts between you and your spouse as you sit and fry in the brutal sunshine while she hangs out in the shade with the baby...I'm just saying.

It doesn't get much better than this.

California Dreamin'

One of the best parts of life on the "outside" is that when the opportunity arises on a weekday, we can venture out on family day trips that would normally be out of the question on the weekend because of our extreme aversion to large crowds of people.

As sad as I am to admit, Camille has only been to the beach a handful of times in her little life because there is nothing worse that having to plop down with only 6 inches of sand between your blanket and your neighbors'. So on a very sunny Thursday, we packed up the bambino and headed out on a salt water adventure.

Of course, it wouldn't be a trip to the beach without an incident with a pervy, lurker but what are you gonna do? I did have to resist the urge to kick him in the wedding tackle when he mentioned to his friends that Cam was going to be a "heart breaker". That is not a compliment and you are only incriminating yourself as complete douche by saying that sort of thing about a child. But I digress...

As it turns out, the ocean is quite a scary thing if you are under 3 feet tall. But even though she didn't want to get her feet wet she had a blast frolicking in the kelp piles, examining the little crabs and spreading the joy of sand all over our blanket.