New Rule: Four-Mile Loops From Now On Or I'll Break Your Face

What. Are. You. Looking. At.

We went on a great hike this weekend on Mt. Tam. And by great, I mean I only broke out into an Amazing Race style breakdown once. But it lasted for two miles. 

Sweetums was coming off a week-long conference, and me, well I've just been trying to keep my grip on reality.

Side Note: Sometimes I get a little melodramatic, and I just want y'all to know that I use words like "losing my grip on reality" and "breakdown" loosely these days. I'm totally ok.

So we needed an escape from the fog and a little Vitamin D boost to make the holiday weekend feel like a holiday weekend. Some friends told us about this hike, which looked awesome to me because I love hikes that make me feel like I'm actually in the woods, as opposed to those open, dusty, pollen infested meadow hikes. I'm not a meadow girl, never have been. I love dense overhead canopies, babbling brooks and little wooden bridges. (Which is why the Dipsea is one of my favorite Bay Area hikes of all time. If you're visiting the Bay Area, I beg you, go on a hike instead of Fisherman's Wharf. You'll thank me.)

When you talk about hikes, most people talk about things like loops and difficulty and exposure and hiking time. When Sweetums showed me our hike, I thought, "Oh, 6.5 mile loop... That sounds great!" And the additional description of:

"This loop is a tour de force of the mountain's magic: you'll experience dense forests, aromatic chaparral, rushing creeks, waterfalls, and flower-dotted meadows."

I was completely sold. And y'all, 6.5 miles is not that bad. My friends run circles around 6.5 miles for breakfast. I was a college athlete. I can walk 6.5 miles.

But when you factor in the climb, which they sheepishly called "a pleasant ascent" or "now the trail will begin a short climb," (and the fact that I was in college 10 years ago) 6.5 miles is a nice little workout. Thank goodness I got my hot pink and orange running shoes on.

The Start.

By the way, this is not a real hiking outfit. I just don't have it in me to wear cargo pants anymore. But I did see a woman wearing a hiking skirt, which I thought was a great idea. Is that ridiculous? By the way, if you google hiking skirt, you'll get stuff like this, which is ok I guess.

For the first three miles of the hike, everything was coming up roses. I was taking pictures every three steps, breathing in the beauty arms stretched and yelping, "Look at this, look at it! This is where we live!"

This is fog. And underneath it is San Francisco. Which is why we weren't in San Francisco.

We were a happy little family of hikers.

Did you know that chihuahuas can't really hike 6.5 mile loops?

We didn't think to bring her little carrier backpack, so we had to fashion a sling out of my sweatshirt to carry her the last three miles.



And then we argued over who was going to carry me the last three miles.

This is about the time that I started my own pleasant ascent.

I ran out of water and began panicking about dehydration. We still had two miles left, and my hips were starting to ache. At every little trickle of stream, I paused and debated scooping some up into my water bottle. I started thinking about the fact that we didn't have a pocket knife to cut off any arms that get caught under boulders when we fall. We didn't have cell reception or pocket flares, and all of the sudden every other hiker that passed us looked like Creepy Hiker Guy Who Wants To Kill Us. I was searching every inch of ground looking for bodies, either left behind by Creepy Hiker Guy or victims of dehydration. We were stuck in the vast wilderness COMPLETELY UNPREPARED!

We had no way of reaching the outside world, civilization. 

And the bugs. The bugs came around mile 5 and hung out until mile 6.3. They were everywhere. Buzzing and being all gnatty, they were going to choke me to death and set up camp in my ears and nostrils. I was losing it, losing my grip. Get these f'ing BUGS OFF ME!! I can't TAKE IT! I'M OUT OF WATER!! We're never getting OUT OF HERE! This trail leads to NOWHERE!

Honestly, I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

But of course it's called a loop for a reason. Luckily, we made it back around to the beginning in one piece, but it was touch and go there for a while.

Ginger was very happy to be back in the comforts of the car. She still hasn't forgiven us.

And me, well I made it out ok, too. 

But I stand firm that we will only be doing four-mile loops from now on. 

The payoff? The ride home. 

Gaaa. I still pinch myself that I live here. 

Succulent Rehab

I did some urban gardening this weekend, which basically means that I replanted the potted succulents that were dying on our back steps.

I planted them all last year when we first moved into this apartment. I was so excited because we finally had that long-coveted outdoor space that city dwellers die for. Although it's nothing more than a back door with a stoop barely big enough for a welcome mat, I love that it opens up to the clear blue sky.

San Francisco fog hovers over Twin Peaks
like a thick fluffy cloud blanket.

I got so excited about our new 'backyard' that I rushed out and bought $200 worth of succulents and colorful pots. I don't know if you know it, but in succulent currency, that's a shit ton.

I love my plants. I talk to them a lot. I stand and stare at them, willing them to love me back and to show it by growing a little. I squeal like a pig every time I see a new bud popping up.

Unfortunately for them, I also love a lot of other things, too. Like parks, reading, television and beer contests. So sometimes I forget that my plants need water. Luckily succulents are extremely resilient little suckers, and this weekend I spent the day trying to win them back over, promising that this was the last time. It would never happen again.

I've changed.

Don't you love it when they grow those crazy flowering things?!

They had grown so much over the past year, that I had to combine them in bigger pots. I really love seeing them swimming altogether in the same place. They get along so nicely.

Hello.

Sadly, not all of them made it to new pots. Succulents grow in all sorts of crazy directions, and when I was transferring them, these branches fell off. So now they're in mason jar rehab, trying to sprout enough to be planted in all of my leftover colorful pots.

We are so good together.

This week in DIY: Bert the magnificent, gin & tonic and a child with unusually large hands

Last night's premier of Project Runway (eatlovebert, btw) reminded me of how diy-ing my own clothing got me through the first 15 years of my life. I was a little raggedy ann out of necessity, hiding safety pins that held my jeans buttoned as I outgrew them at a pace too fast for my working class parents to keep up with. I secretly slept in my clothes after they were freshly washed so they would stretch out enough to be worn the next day. Surprisingly my mom never commented that I was already fully dressed for school when she woke me up.

I wore her t-shirts, two at a time (she's 6'1", can you imagine?) with the sleeves rolled up so it wouldn't look too ridiculous. Back then I wasn't thinking of how I could make an amazing outfit out of all of this, so much as I was hoping not to repeat an item of clothing in the same school week. OH THE HORROR! And cause for immediate mean girls expulsion.

Old Sweatshirt Becomes Super Cute Cardigan
Doesn't she look like Elle McPherson?
Source: dee*construction on Flickr

That Before picture looks just like a sweatshirt I would've stolen from my mom and worn. To school. As-is. To avoid embarrassment. Oy.

To me, do-it-yourself is the most basic human instinct, besides wanting to eat babies. And construction/deconstruction/construction is universally primal among my thought processes. 

When I'm cooking, I imagine the whole meal on my fantasy plate, then I break it down to the individual foods themselves, what pans I need and how to juggle them back together. I'm usually sauteeing while simultaneously thinking of what else is in the fridge that I could use. Grain mustard, radishes, seeds, lemons.

When in doubt, I always squeeze a lemon.

I can see myself making a gin & tonic right about now.
Source: (from top left, clockwise) closetcooking.com, donnahay.com/au,
joythebaker.com, theglitterguide.tumblr.com,

When I see a piece of furniture or artwork, I immediately think "How can I make that?" instead of "How much does that cost."

I love the scale of this frame leaning behind the sofa. The visual texture of the photos is the perfect conceptual compliment to the brick wall. Traveled, weathered and full of stories. Not to mention the Union Jack pillow, which could easily be made with old t-shirts and stich witchery. I hope I get around to this one.

Travel Photos in Large Scale Frame

Source: Apartment Therapy

I don't remember the first time I wanted to be Martha Stewart. I'm sure it was a closeted fantasy, because no self-respecting tomboy would be caught dead with a glue gun, and we didn't raise pheasants in our backyard.

Somewhere along the way, maybe when I bought my first sewing machine at 19 - an old White that was built into the table with a knee pedal I found for $25 at an estate sale - I knew I had acquired something golden. Something that opened possibilities for a cheaper, more interesting way of life.

 I had no idea what to do with it, but somehow I made a pencil skirt that DIDN'T FALL APART WHEN I WORE IT. The zipper was totally crooked in the back, but I pretended it was part of the design.

Yes, somewhere along the way, I became a Martha-ite. And probably even more secretly, I stuck with her through her unfortunate (but deserved) time on the rock.

Paper Pendant Lamps

Use simple paper shades and add layer upon layer of pretty goodness.

This is something I would do just for the fun of it. I don't actually have anywhere to put it.

Source: Martha Stewart via Apartment Therapy

Have you ever wanted to jam spoons into your eyeballs trying to find your other earring? One time I actually slapped myself in the face when I was trying to unjangle a necklace. Pull. Yourself. Together!

Drawer Pull Jewelry Holder

Source: onewomenshaven.blogspot.com

Do you realize that a person's options for jewelry storage are limited to those canvas closet things with plastic see through openings (which I have), stretched out pantyhose, ballerina boxes or tupperware?

One time when I was little, my dad got me a jewelry box. I didn't have any jewelry, so I just put rocks in it. My point is that it looked like a miniature china cabinet, and we weren't china cabinet people. We were bull-in-china-shop people.

It was small-tall and made from lacquered cherry wood. It had etched glass double doors that opened out, and it was mirrored in the back (so you could see yourself try on your jewelry, of course). It was so tiny, and I was an unusually large child with unusually large appendages. I could barely fit my hands into it, either to place or extract my rocks. I had to just toss them in there and turn it on its side to get them out.

Which just reminds me of how much I love plants. Look! She put plants in rocks!

Pressed Garden Leaf Stones
Source: sunsetgurldesign.typepad.com

And I love seeing plants in curious places, like clear containers.

Dinosaurs belong in their native surroundings.
Source: (from top left, clockwise) witanddelight.tumblr.com, madeit.com.au, oncewed.com

My friend Elizabeth gave me this one after I had surgery.

From Elizabeth
She got it at Iron & Eve Designs. IronAndEve@yahoo.com

(What surgery, you ask? Click over here to find out.)

What are your proudest DIY's of late?