Death of the Wayfairers and Nipple Falls [An Adventure]

I escaped on Thursday after an eight hour shift to Mariposa.

After four hours of 2-lane highways, 7 mile stretches of construction littered with people who didn't know how to properly merge and pitch black night seeping in between my music, I finally arrived in Mariposa. I can't say Mariposa is a one horse town, but I don't recall seeing a stop light. I vaguely recognized the protruding storefronts in the darkness from my last visit circa 2002, although my journey resulted in going the opposite direction anyway.

Moral of the beginning of story:
a journey into the middle of bumfuck nowhere at the end of a workday tends to be far longer than it really should be.

Eventually made it to Casa de Granville, where Rew and I made cheesy scrambled eggs with toast and caught up on the past eight months since The Northern Renaissance Faire. Boggle was brought out for two games (apparently Trouble meets Scrabble?) until Go-Go arrived from Fresno. Food was unpacked and introductions were made to extended family and Mr. Bojangles (family lovable behemoth dog). We plotted out our attack for the next day (and a couple of fantasy treehouses, see picture included)
We tackled the Mist Trail successfully, despite sunburns and prominent nipples making their descent down from the top of Vernal Falls.

Long story long, and being rather long-winded, I conclude I must go back before the summer is over, at least for sanity's sake.

Planning my escape

Just for pure sanity's sake.

A girl can only take so much retail and smog.

Plundered the seaside boardwalk yesterday with good company and large doses of caffeine. Staring contests with sea lions were lost, along with a few grains of personal dignity when discovering that I had set my canvas bag into a mound of seagull shit.
Overall? A successful blustery Tuesday.

Onwards to employment!
Vague Caitlin Update #18: I'm currently trying to learn how to sew. My fingertips hate me.
Regards and poopsicles,
cait

The birds, the bees and Betsy or "You Know You're A Creep When ..."

On April Fool's I braved AMTrak and buses to get to Chico, California to embrace the college life I missed out on, and visit David Mellons before his impending graduation.
Chico has a way of existing outside of the space time continuum that is generally accepted by present day physics; four days dissipated and before I could take in everything (apparently alcohol was excluded, and resulted in my first blackout in five years), I was hungover on a bus and heading back home.
Also, I almost stole this puppy. Her name was Hailey. Biggest babe magnet in town.
I look forward to returning to raid Dutch Brothers Coffee, and hounding the pie vendor at Thursday Night Market for her marion berry pie recipe. Also, dear Chicoians, if you find my dignity laying around in the bar known as "The Bear" (I'm pretty sure it got left by the Monopoly pinball machine), please smack it upside the head, give it some Alka-Seltzer and send it home to me.

---

Today I sold your shoes I never actually wore (or fit into) to Buffalo Exchange; I got $10. I spent it on an iced coffee and a pack of cigarettes, and said hello to another burned out romance that works down the street.
It is what it is, gentlemen and ladies.

xo
see.eye

Author's Note:
My former host and forever hooligan has informed me that if my dignity had been left up in Chico, it would be at the U-Bar, not The Bear. Obviously, I was not aware.
Regards,
c

Uncle Tex

Moving back home with the parents has

• Made me eat healthier than I had when I was living on my own (although I do cook, it's nice to have two chefs for parents).
• Renewed the need to get the HELL back out there again, maybe out of the state or country. Go visit Shoko in Osaka. My 20s shouldn't be spent worrying about those damned student loans I had to take out just to finish my undergrad.
  
• Increased my chances of running into not one, but two kids from my graduating class of high school AND my 5th grade teacher all in one grocery store within a 20 minute span. One worked at said grocery store, and the other I recalled being an uptight gal who I don't remember even having conversations with. From the back I gawked at her FuckMe slingback white heels and rose-patterned strapless summer dress, and suddenly there was a face attached to it that I recognized. Awkward(turtle).
  
  ... Christ, all I remember from my 5th grade teacher were those godawful giraffe print dresses (not the pattern of giraffe hide, but actual giraffes just walking around on an otherwise perfectly nice dress. She had one with zebras, too) and the fact that she made us spend 3 months of our U.S. history on the Puritans. Therefore most likely solidifying my distaste for any kind of Puritan/Manifest Destiny dogma.
  

• Reawakened an obsession with 1950s cartoons, namely those done by Chuck Jones (directed "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", "The Dot and the Line", "Phantom Tollbooth", various Looney Tunes and Tom & Jerry), and good ol' Tex Avery ("Droopy" and "The Howling Wolf", co-creater of Looney Tunes, and the nameless redheaded siren). Thank you, Direct TV, I don't pay for you, but you've kept me up many nights with recorded caches of cartoons, movies, and Criminal Minds. ... The priorities in my life are astounding.
  

You may remember this from your childhood along with other various banned cartoons.
I think I blame Tex Avery for wanting to do various voices, facial expressions, and secretly wanting to be a redhead, ha.

In other news, I don't care if the online classes are eco-friendly, they're a pain in the ass. That is all.
Cheers,
c.i.