Caution: Rock Climbing May Cause Shortness of Breath, Dizziness

Strangely enough, the most fun I had in LA also involved the scariest moment of my life.

Hanging in a seated position from a rope no thicker than my index finger, I look down to find another foothold. Instead, I see a hole under the rock my brother's standing on while he holds tight to that rope I don't really trust. I look left to see if there are any holds (hand, foot, elbow...) and have a fantastic view of the valley, the tops of the evergreens, and the mountains in the distance where the land meets the really big sky. I look up, to see the slightly curved top of the rock and the other rock, sharp and jutting out over the one I'm on, which is where the rope I don't trust is anchored. Above that, just sky - a beautiful clear blue I'd have appreciated from a different position and location.

I've been breathing fast and short for about half the climb by now, and I've convinced myself, muttering under my breath, to go just a little bit further at least three times. I've even blinked back tears. During the first part of the ascent, I was encouraged by my brother, and a stranger. She's very sweet, and she watched me as she belayed her Italian partner. I also still had a sense of humor. We joked for a bit about me using any excuse to get back down to the bottom, like when her partner asked to be lowered, and I said, "OK!".

And then, there's nowhere to go. Up until this point, the positioning of hands and feet has required thought but still had not reached "impossible". I look up at the rest of the rock remaining above me, and see absolutely no hand- or footholds. None. Look down again, try to find a lower handhold to move my right foot up a few more inches. Still, nothing.

I've already pushed myself way beyond my comfort level. In reality, I reached "outside the comfort zone" before I even started. I make one last attempt to find something, anything, reaching up and feeling the rock with my fingertips at arm's reach, and I slip.

The rope catches me before I fall an inch, and I sit quietly and hyperventilate while the harness, and the rope, hold me level. I look up one last time, and think, "I have absolutely no desire to reach the top of this rock. Why did I think I wanted to be there? Because I really don't. Want to be there, that is".

Now I have to get down off the rock, which means sitting back into open space and walking gently down the wall while my brother gives out a little bit of slack at a time. I take a moment to collect myself, wishing I didn't have to get down, because it's even worse that getting up, but knowing there's no other way. I reach the bottom, safe and sound, and try to pull myself back together while the strangers valiantly attempt to make me feel better.

Truthfully, I'm more proud of myself than I've ever been. Pushing myself beyond the edge of what's comfortable isn't something I do very often. I know my limits, and I stop when I reach them. Shoot, I never expected to climb one rock successfully, let alone start up a second one. I know why people love it. The puzzle, the physical workout, the mental workout... So I haven't crossed rock climbing off my to-do list forever, but it's definitely in last place.

Did I mention I have a phobia of heights?

LA Times Two

Just arrived in LA a few hours ago, and have already eaten a vegan garbanzo bean sandwich (think spicy egg salad with chickpeas instead), discussed sweatshops and how to avoid them - any suggestions? - and had a most excellent Korean (vegan) vodka with pomegranate and cardamom. Cardamom has to be one of my favorite spices ever. Yum.

Now I'm tipsy, it's 2am East Coast time and people are just arriving to play a strategy board game. Oh, dear.

When To Cut The Bride's Brother Off...

A funny story I forgot to tell a week or so ago, after I worked my second wedding.

The second was much more fun than the first. The wedding was Korean, and at the reception the crowd was mostly young. As in, I-should-probably-be-carding-you-but-it's-a-wedding, young.

So I made my first real Long Island iced teas. Without tequila. Still don't see the worthiness of that drink... I poured many, many shots. Of Jim Beam. And whiskey (shudder). All for the groomsmen, while my coworker poured an equal amount of kamikazes for the bridesmaids.

Late into the evening, the bride's brother sidles up to the bar, arm around the shoulders of his friend. Orders another shot of Jim Beam. I hold up my index finger in the age-old, "gimme one minute" gesture, sneak over to my coworker, who's been bartending as long as I've been alive. "How do you know when to cut someone off", I ask, not having done it ... ever, actually. His answer: "Use your best judgement..." Well, really, that didn't help. I talk to him a bit more, asking more detailed questions, until he suggests "you could tell him it's his last one." Ah! It's perfect.

So I put the glass up on the bar mat, look him in the eye, and say, "This is your last one". "Wha'?" he slurs. I repeat myself; he repeats himself. The friend says nothing, until they walk away, when he reminds the bride's brother that he's been cut off.

My coworker and I watch him weave and stumble his way off. He turns to me, says, with a little bit of a twinkle, "You made the right decision". I heartily agreed.

Uno, Due, Tre, Quattro, Cinque, Sei...

In light of this past weekend being Labor Day Weekend, and because my restlessness has not so slowly been increasing lately, I invited a couple girlfriends to go to a wine tasting in horse country yesterday.

The usual happened: saw great views of the hills, drank lots of nice wine, got tipsy, chatted... and then something unusual happened. As we were in the middle of tasting, and the table was right by a path, this couple walked by on the path. The lady was speaking, and it took me a moment to choose between Spanish and Italian, but the consonants were too hard for the former. She just about craned her neck to look at us, and after I mentioned to my friends (and within earshot of my tasting neighbor, who was standing about three inches from my elbow) that she was speaking Italian, I noticed that she was counting. Counting us. "Uno, due, tre, quattro..." I forget how many she counted before she would've had to completely turn around and walk backward as she passed us, but she never finished. We were a group of at least twenty.

In other news, I know vacation season is over, and most people (all people?) have already been on holiday, but some advice from the experts on visiting archaeological sites. I figure it goes well with the topic of my blog, which I've admittedly been ignoring lately, as being green really is all about preservation. Preservation of our planet, our lifestyle (those of us who are fortunate), and our heritage. Read it, and view it, here.

What's With Today, Today? - Lucas. Or, An Exercise In Catharsis

(On a side note - never thought I'd like teriyaki but have now determined to go to Chinatown in LA to try real Chinese for probably the second time in my life, and the first in a decade or so.)

Episode 1:
(She sits in her empty office, reading notes amid a desk piled high with unfinished filing. Enter an email, complete with "you've got mail" beep.)
Got an email from one of my two supervisors today, forwarded from my other supervisor, asking about the status on an official document of which I had physical possession. (It was sitting on my desk, gathering dust). Well, it turns out, unbeknownst to me, the status was a big Incomplete. Long story short, I had to draft a piece of official Navy correspondence, which I'd never done before, and do it quickly. Fortuitously, I had, months ago, cleverly printed out the SECNAV Instruction on Correspondence. The task itself, not so complicated, with a sample layout right in front of me. So I'm pretty pleased that I managed to pull an official correspondence I'd never written before out of thin air in about 20 minutes. It appears work well under pressure.

Episode 2:
(Two coworkers, female, walking up the street to the row of restaurants commonly used for lunching purposes. A third, male, runs up and begins to walk alongside.)
As a friend and coworker and I were walking to lunch, another coworker, who had already eaten and was on his way back to work, turned around and ran back to join us. Even though he'd already eaten, and was unwelcome company, he followed us for at least three blocks. I'm not one to be super nice to people I don't like (it's just who I am - I don't have that virtue they call patience), so I didn't say a lot, while my other coworker chatted with him. She finally, and pretty tactfully, told him we were on our way to a girls' lunch, which he didn't believe at first. Finally he got the hint, and turned around and left.

Really, it was too much.

Episode 3:
(An employee in the logo-ed polo shirt worn by all concession employees walks into her least favorite stand, already expecting a repeat of the slow and decidedly poor evening two nights past)
So I ran late today getting to my second job, because I needed an emergency milkshake, which temporarily replaced the Emergency Margarita, because I can't drink & drive/drink & work. Legally. I can't. I told my supervisor (enough with the supervisors already!) as much. I get there, and the only concession stand I work in during the season is closed, because there aren't enough spectators to see High School Musical. Surprise. I walk over to the other one, and ask the stand manager what registers are open. I'm a cashier/bartender, you see. I've been working here for five years now, and I haven't run (job description: get food for cashier) in probably three of them. The stand manager told me I was running tonight. I exclaimed, to which she said patronizingly (and this is her first season) "You were late, dear".

Here's where, if there are parallel words, like in that old show Sliders (anybody remember that one?), two worlds would have diverged. In an alternate universe, would have been thinking clearly instead of reacting to a Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day, I would have explained the situation to the stand manager. Now, after the whole incident is over, I know exactly what I'd say. Well, instead, I went over her head. She didn't like that, and though there wasn't anything she could do about it, she did question our supervisor. Figured out after he asked a couple more questions that somebody extra had showed up, and that's why there were extra cashiers, so I decided to go home, as I wasn't needed.

Now I'm off to make myself a morale-boosting gin and tonic, and hopefully a healthy dinner. Though that depends on what's in the fridge...

The end.