Power Outages are Fun.

Last Thursday a (probably former) employee of the state of Arizona fiddled with a wire near Yuma and caused a massive power outage across Southern California and parts of Arizona.

I won't say it wasn't awesome. Because it was.

We walked through our neighborhood in complete darkness save for the light of the moon (and headlamp). The camaraderie amongst the townsfolk of San Diego was quite amazing. It took a power outage to force us all out of our houses and meet each other. We survived thanks to our gas stove/gas water heater and our arsenal of candles.

I won't say how many times we each walked into a room and absentmindedly flipped the light switch. I won't!

{dinner and scrabble by light of candle(s)}

{never been so glad for a gas stove and gas water heater}

Seriously?

Tragedy struck about two weeks ago when Francis' bike was stolen. Stolen. Some fool walked up to our bikes locked together, and to a tree, in front of a busy restaurant, in a safe part of town with bolt cutters and snipped our locks (two), walking off with the bike as if it were his own. We know he had bolt cutters because this shenanigan was caught on a security camera - not that the footage will help us find him, but it did show us how depressingly easy it was for this guy to steal it.

We were having dessert with friends. The post-dessert conversation moved outside where we realized with horror that the bike had been jacked. The next hour was spent in an adrenaline-fueled grid search for the thief so we could serve up some piping hot Street Justice.

No luck.

Bike theft is one of those things that happens all the time. Everybody knows someone that has had their bike stolen, if it hasn't happened to them personally. But despite how common it is, when it happens to you (or at least to us) all you can think is - seriously? SERIOUSLY? Who does that? 

Dick. 

Yes, it's just a bike (and lights, and helmet, and saddle bags, and handlebar extensions) - not a car. But it is F's main source of transportation. He rides everyday. That combined with him not being in a financial situation to replace it is enough to make a vengeful person like me scour craigslist like a madwoman all squinty-eye and suspicious-like, muttering to myself how I plan to take revenge.

And it wasn't even my bike.

I digress. If we find it, great. If not, bummer. We've been up to some other things too...*

{twilight portrait}

{happy hour}

{pier portrait}

{try as he might, I don't give him the satisfaction of an honest smile. muaha!}

{sister video chat! minus the lil'un}

{a week later sprig thing is still going strong}

*Like happy hour.
  Like stealing collecting bougainvillea from public property for home beautification.
  Like listening to a Beatles cover band from the pier outside the Embarcadero (cause we don't need no stinking tickets).
  Like video chatting with the latest sister-bird to fly the nest.

Nocturnality

Headlamps + 30 second exposure + lack of oxygen = magic.

Intermission

 Have you ever wondered what happens when you leave your camera unattended with two hoodlums?

Behold two thirds of my bridal party. I have chosen wisely.

the-four-day-weekend-saga-of-my-sister's-graduation, part un

I'll keep the explanations to a minimum and let the photos tell their own story. The weekend before last Fran and I headed up to my folks' place for a 4-day celebration of my younger sister's high school graduation with the whole family. We left after a Friday night of fun (and wine...about 12 bottles if we're being honest) with good friends.

Stay tuned for parts deux, trois, etc. 

{stocking up}

{playing Things. I give myself away by often being the most morbid}

{the aftermath of Things and 22 bottles of wine...if we're being really honest}

{Peter concentrating on his amateur sketch of his wife}

{AMATEUR!}

{I think everyone was pleased with his work}

{the artist hard at work}

{we were pleased}

{a true likeness}

thanks, blogger

Welp, I had a weekend post up yesterday (I have witnesses) complete with many photos that I edited during a late night, wine-fueled creativity surge. This morning, Francis went to check said post whilst I stood behind him (foot tapping and arms crossed) only to find that someone (aka blogger) deleted my post. Not okay. Only Hyberbole and a Half can help show my reaction....

I'll post the photos up again, hopefully to stay, but I can't promise photo captions. Blogger is lucky that post didn't mark my most eloquent weekend post description.Hmph.

Photos via this amazing blog.

My kind of chart

{found here via here}

Trail Mix?

Right, so here's what I do everyday. I pour myself a bag of trail mix in the morning to take to work as a snack (the Costco trail mix if we're getting specific). I then proceed to studiously eat only the m&ms out of the bag throughout the day. When I get home I dump the remains (also known as cashews, almonds, raisins, and peanuts) back into the large trail mix bag. In the morning I shake the bag up until a satisfactory amount of m&ms appear on the surface and I pour my new bag. Repeat. Every. Day. Until there are no more m&ms in the bag and I ask Francis to pick up more trail mix at Costco.

{photo via flickr}

Friday. And I'm alive.

It's Friday. And it's time for beach frisbee (summer is that you?) before a northbound drive.

{via Audry Hepburn Complex}

In other news, I'd like to thank a very special coworker who, no time wasted and no questions asked, gave me the Heimlich Maneuver when I choked on one of these today:

{via flickr}

True story. (Insert obvious Seinfeld reference here).