There are a lot of things in life that I'm grateful for... but mainly this.
Year Of The...
About a year ago Bret and I decided that if we were to ever get married we would want to have a theme to every year of our life. Since we got married on September 1st, each year instead of "going back to school" we will celebrate our new theme. We 're going to incorporate the theme into weekend activities, birthdays, gifts, holidays, vacations, books we read, meals, and wherever we can in everyday life. We think that this will accomplish our overall goal in life (being weird).
YEAR OF THE GRANOLA
This year Bret and I are going to become granolas, this includes camping, hiking, rock-climbing, canoeing, eating GORP aka trail mix (we're going to start using granola lexicon too), reading books by other hippiesh people, do triathlons, wear chacos, have a no electricity week, be vegans for a week, ride bikes to work, and any other granola type activities... we're up for recommendations and/or guest lecturers to come visit us and give us their expertise.
The best part of the whole trip was when we came home and went into the city and it happened to be the "love parade", probably the best/sickest thing i've ever seen, women dancing on floats with their nippies painted gold and guys pouring champaign off of the float to the people on the streets. I always thought that love was how you felt towards your family and friends, I didn't know that you expressed it by taking off your shirt and getting low on a moving truck in public, apparently the city has a lot to teach me.
Here is a sample of the themes we came up with...
-Year of the Intellect: In this year Bret or I will study for the GMAT or gre, make complicated foods, read books about art and philosophy, learn to paint, learn a new instrument, travel to strange places, go see guest lecturers at Berkeley, and any other activity that seems like something intellectual people do
-Year of America: We're going to get really into America and hopefully drive cross country. We'll learn all America songs, visit national monuments, read books by American authors, become serious gardeners (america's #1 hobby), and eat American foods i.e. crock pot meals, hot dogs, corn on the cob, etc.
-Year of the fix-it: We're going to fix up either a VW van or a house, whichever fits better into our budget. We're going to read inspirational- fix-up books, do a lot of DIY projects, read domino and blueprint magazines religiously, visit man-made wonders (mount Rushmore and others), and other fixer upper activities. I won't bore you with any of our other brain-stormed plans but I will present this years theme...
YEAR OF THE GRANOLAThis year Bret and I are going to become granolas, this includes camping, hiking, rock-climbing, canoeing, eating GORP aka trail mix (we're going to start using granola lexicon too), reading books by other hippiesh people, do triathlons, wear chacos, have a no electricity week, be vegans for a week, ride bikes to work, and any other granola type activities... we're up for recommendations and/or guest lecturers to come visit us and give us their expertise.
There are some things that we will NOT being doing with our fellow granolas such as:
-getting a mutt dog and tying a bandanna around its neck
-smoking marijuana
-burning incense
-getting dreads (well that's still undecided)
- wearing ridiculous amounts of hemp
To kick off our year, we went camping in San Rafael. We had a good time eating tin foil meals and s'mores, setting up our tent, watching the lone lady at the campsite next to ours get high and go into her tent, hiking, making choclate oatmeal over the fire, and wearing Lindsay's rain slicker. Here are some pics from our weekend:
-getting a mutt dog and tying a bandanna around its neck
-smoking marijuana
-burning incense
-getting dreads (well that's still undecided)
- wearing ridiculous amounts of hemp
To kick off our year, we went camping in San Rafael. We had a good time eating tin foil meals and s'mores, setting up our tent, watching the lone lady at the campsite next to ours get high and go into her tent, hiking, making choclate oatmeal over the fire, and wearing Lindsay's rain slicker. Here are some pics from our weekend:
We have found that granola's do not have a woop hair do' so Bret now has a sidepart
The best part of the whole trip was when we came home and went into the city and it happened to be the "love parade", probably the best/sickest thing i've ever seen, women dancing on floats with their nippies painted gold and guys pouring champaign off of the float to the people on the streets. I always thought that love was how you felt towards your family and friends, I didn't know that you expressed it by taking off your shirt and getting low on a moving truck in public, apparently the city has a lot to teach me.
Honeymoonin' to the max
I would like to announce to the world that despite plane delays due to typhoons, eating during tsunami warnings, backpacking in 100 degree weather with 100% humidity (because we were too cheap to get a taxi), and even a plane wreck in Phuket, the Bakers have made it home safely. It actually wasn't until our last two days that we even got rained on (but I think Thailand is where the phrase originated, "when it rains, it pours"). For the most part we frolicked and giggled in weather and scenery that is seen in the photograph. We also ate our way through the country and justified any ridiculous activity with "it's our honeymoon".As any reader could imagine, we collected a whole boat load of memories. We will try and remember some of our favorite moments and gather up some pics from our trip which included backpacking across almost every inch of Thailand on trains, planes, boats, kayaks, bamboo rafts, rickshaws, elephants, pickup truck beds, and taxis. We even got to walk through the ocean when the tide was low with all our gear because the long tail boat man didn't want to go any further in fear he wouldn't be able to get back to sea. We almost didn't make it through the ocean because I was hungry and wet and probably had to go to the bathroom which led to me (whitney) being furious and cursing everyone in Thailand and Bret. But once I got in a hot shower and ate some fries and sweet and sour chicken I was back in happy honeymoon mood. We'll write more about our lives later, but just to give you a glimpse, in the first month of marriage we have managed to...
Shatter the hall window of our rented victorian house with our couch we hoisted up the stairs, there w was even a point where Bret was shouting "PIVOT, PIVOT"
Buy 10lbs of trailmix including mixes from Costco, Target, and Trader Joes (we're using our giftcards very i wisely)
Still not get a mattress and sleep on camping pads every night
Have my VW get very sick and need some mechanical help, but when I jogged over to pick it up, all our credit/ d debit cards got denied which led me to look very destitute. The car is still in the mechanics garage .
For those of you that don't want to wait for a post, you can check out all of our pics HERE.
P.S. I don't know why there is that W I D down the left side, just ignore it, or make it into an acronym
The Pristine Green
In celebration of our charming new abode, I have started a demo tape. The tape is named after, inspired by, dedicated to, recorded in, and fully representative of the new dwelling. Named after its membrane, the Pristine Green Demo Tape has deemed "The Devil's Armada" its first fruit. In order to give it a little taste click here or here. You can even click here if you want. Much like I am sharing the fruits of the Pristine Green Demo Tape, Whitney and I would also like to share the actual Pristine Green itself with whomever is within the sound of my cyber-voice. If you've read this, or are reading this, or plan on reading this, or have been told about this by someone who read this, consider yourself invited to visit Northern California and find shelter, diet dr. pepper, warmth, big muffins, and love within the walls of the Pristine Green.
2 Minute Warning
At the risk of losing all of my readership I will attempt to submit a blog entry that doesn't solely orbit around jumping pictures. The other risk, besides the fact that there will be no picture of airborne humans, is that the title sounds like an off-task classroom creation of a kindergartner. But I have to tell this story.
The other day I was fulfilling, no, magnifying my calling as the service co-chair in the Berkeley University ward by driving home from the service project to 'renew the zoo', a project to help upkeep the San Francisco zoo. I was taking a group home from the zoo when I encountered a '2 minute warning.' For those of you that watch football, a 2 minute warning is when play is halted with 2 minutes left in the game in order to warn the teams that there are only 2 minutes left in the game. Well, a 2 minute warning in this situation is a sudden pang that permeates your stomach region, warning you that explosive diarrhea will follow in 2 minutes. I learned this bodily alarm while eating things I shouldn't have in Thailand. Normally it's not that big of a deal because you just walk to the nearest bathroom and explode. But in this case I was still 30 minutes from home. I was confident that I could fend off the explosion until I got home. I was right, but it wasn't easy. There were a few times where I felt as if I'd fallen in the gall of bitterness and flames and would die if I didn't just let the cows out then and there.
I finally made it through the tunnel to the island (where one of the instances of near-breakdown occurred), and pulled up to my apartment complex. As I pulled up the the apartment complex I didn't have the patience to drive around the streets of Alameda looking for a spot barely long enough for my car, that I'd have to shimmy into for another 3 minutes, while the battle of the century is coming to fruition in my innards. I promptly decided to park directly in front of my apartment in the 'No Parking' zone, which I would find out later would be a catalyst to my demise.
I quickly parked and barely made it to the bathroom in time to unload similar to the fashion that Lloyd (Jim Carrey) did in the Aspen cabin in the film Dumb and Dumber. While I was recovering from the initial pressure-load and preparing for after-shocks, I heard Cruella Deville's voice in my apartment, searching for me in a frenzy. I found out a few minutes later it wasn't Cruella Deville, but her even more evil cousin, my land lady! And she was furious that there was a car parked in her sacred 'No Parking' zone. In order to display her disapproval she yelled in my face constantly, not allowing me to explain myself. Finally, after trying to butt in and tell my side of the story for what seemed like a whole lifetime of eating my land lady's spit/comeuppance, I figured out the only way to get through to her. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "I HAD EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA!!!" Needless to say, a silence came over my landlady that probably hadn't been seen since she last went to a funeral. I could tell for a split second that she felt bad for yelling at me, but only for a split second. I was already a little embarrassed having confessed my irregular bowel movements in a astronomically loud voice when I realized that at least 2 of my neighbors heard what I had just so shamelessly spilled all over the Taylor St. apartment complex.
The other day I was fulfilling, no, magnifying my calling as the service co-chair in the Berkeley University ward by driving home from the service project to 'renew the zoo', a project to help upkeep the San Francisco zoo. I was taking a group home from the zoo when I encountered a '2 minute warning.' For those of you that watch football, a 2 minute warning is when play is halted with 2 minutes left in the game in order to warn the teams that there are only 2 minutes left in the game. Well, a 2 minute warning in this situation is a sudden pang that permeates your stomach region, warning you that explosive diarrhea will follow in 2 minutes. I learned this bodily alarm while eating things I shouldn't have in Thailand. Normally it's not that big of a deal because you just walk to the nearest bathroom and explode. But in this case I was still 30 minutes from home. I was confident that I could fend off the explosion until I got home. I was right, but it wasn't easy. There were a few times where I felt as if I'd fallen in the gall of bitterness and flames and would die if I didn't just let the cows out then and there.
I finally made it through the tunnel to the island (where one of the instances of near-breakdown occurred), and pulled up to my apartment complex. As I pulled up the the apartment complex I didn't have the patience to drive around the streets of Alameda looking for a spot barely long enough for my car, that I'd have to shimmy into for another 3 minutes, while the battle of the century is coming to fruition in my innards. I promptly decided to park directly in front of my apartment in the 'No Parking' zone, which I would find out later would be a catalyst to my demise.
I quickly parked and barely made it to the bathroom in time to unload similar to the fashion that Lloyd (Jim Carrey) did in the Aspen cabin in the film Dumb and Dumber. While I was recovering from the initial pressure-load and preparing for after-shocks, I heard Cruella Deville's voice in my apartment, searching for me in a frenzy. I found out a few minutes later it wasn't Cruella Deville, but her even more evil cousin, my land lady! And she was furious that there was a car parked in her sacred 'No Parking' zone. In order to display her disapproval she yelled in my face constantly, not allowing me to explain myself. Finally, after trying to butt in and tell my side of the story for what seemed like a whole lifetime of eating my land lady's spit/comeuppance, I figured out the only way to get through to her. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "I HAD EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA!!!" Needless to say, a silence came over my landlady that probably hadn't been seen since she last went to a funeral. I could tell for a split second that she felt bad for yelling at me, but only for a split second. I was already a little embarrassed having confessed my irregular bowel movements in a astronomically loud voice when I realized that at least 2 of my neighbors heard what I had just so shamelessly spilled all over the Taylor St. apartment complex.
Jumping Pictures Part II
I thought I was going to blog about "cool" things like ambient rock n' roll shows, fresher than fresh CD albums, epic weekend adventures, and insightful philosophies on life. But instead I just want to publish jumping picture after jumping picture after jumping picture. So instead of being a poser and forcing cool posts, I will succumb to the urge and post another jumping picture entitled, "Engaged in Leaping."
I can't let the 4th of July pass without at least putting my two cents in about why it's the greatest holiday in any of the human cultures (trust me, I've studied every holiday of every culture). As a matter of fact, it's the best anything I can think of. Here's a textual montage of why I love the 4th of July; naming, beholding, nosing fireworks; tasting, savoring, barbecuing viscid meats of all sorts; laughing, sauntering, bonding with your blood and kin; delving, slurping, enjoying dripping, sweet watermelon with a bobby-soxer adorned in a patriotic ensemble that matches your own.
I can't let the 4th of July pass without at least putting my two cents in about why it's the greatest holiday in any of the human cultures (trust me, I've studied every holiday of every culture). As a matter of fact, it's the best anything I can think of. Here's a textual montage of why I love the 4th of July; naming, beholding, nosing fireworks; tasting, savoring, barbecuing viscid meats of all sorts; laughing, sauntering, bonding with your blood and kin; delving, slurping, enjoying dripping, sweet watermelon with a bobby-soxer adorned in a patriotic ensemble that matches your own.
Indecisiveness
I've led an exceptionally healthy life. It's not because of my diet, my exercise regiment, or my occasional lapse in memory to wash my hands after using the restroom (very occasional, ask Scott Leslie about that problem, he knows about it first "hand".) I've conjured up a hypothesis explaining why I've been endowed with such well-being. It's called "The Plague of Indecisiveness."
As trivial as the plague of indecisiveness may sound, it is a detrimental disease that can alter your lifestyle, impair your happiness, and rot the very purpose of your existence. If you know me past a casual acquaintance, or have done anything with me beyond exchanging a passing glance, you know that I'm the text book case of indecisiveness. I attempt to wait until an utter revelation before I decide on anything. Not everyone receives revelation like the subject in the following photo.
I hope one day to be cured from the bug of indecisiveness, but that day is not today. Even though I can't have all of you help me choose what to do with the rest of my life, what to wear tomorrow, or what colors to have at my wedding, I can have you help me decide what songs Long Live Sun will continue to develop and which ones they will throw away. I'm going to be posting new demos at www.myspace.com/longlivesun, and I wouldn't mind a little feedback on which ones to continue to develop. I know, I know, you're probably thinking, "who cares, why should we help you when we don't even listen to your music normally." But I beg you, I need your help. Indecisiveness consumes me!
As trivial as the plague of indecisiveness may sound, it is a detrimental disease that can alter your lifestyle, impair your happiness, and rot the very purpose of your existence. If you know me past a casual acquaintance, or have done anything with me beyond exchanging a passing glance, you know that I'm the text book case of indecisiveness. I attempt to wait until an utter revelation before I decide on anything. Not everyone receives revelation like the subject in the following photo.
I hope one day to be cured from the bug of indecisiveness, but that day is not today. Even though I can't have all of you help me choose what to do with the rest of my life, what to wear tomorrow, or what colors to have at my wedding, I can have you help me decide what songs Long Live Sun will continue to develop and which ones they will throw away. I'm going to be posting new demos at www.myspace.com/longlivesun, and I wouldn't mind a little feedback on which ones to continue to develop. I know, I know, you're probably thinking, "who cares, why should we help you when we don't even listen to your music normally." But I beg you, I need your help. Indecisiveness consumes me!
Jumping Pictures
Today I am here to confess. I need to get something off of my chest that has been weighing me down like those Dr. Martens with the thick soles used to. I am obsessed with jumping pictures. It's an obsession that started when I witnessed the epic collection of photos from Anna Gordon and Shannon Mehner's trip to London entitled "Soaring Through London."
I'm not really sure why I love jumping pictures so much. I just knew that I loved them when I noticed that all pictures that didn't contain an airborne human became extremely inferior and boring to me. I have conjured up a few hypotheses as to why I like jumping pictures. I won't bore you with the bulk of them, but the main reason is that I am possibly one of the least photogenic people west of the Mississippi River (due to my double chin and other reasons I won't get into). The jumping picture plants either an awe, a smile, or a perplexity that diverts the viewer's attention from the ability to be photogenic of the subject, to the wonderment of the photograph.
Now, less talk, more pictures.
I wouldn't have been this happy if I would have known I was only half done with my hike.
I'm not really sure why I love jumping pictures so much. I just knew that I loved them when I noticed that all pictures that didn't contain an airborne human became extremely inferior and boring to me. I have conjured up a few hypotheses as to why I like jumping pictures. I won't bore you with the bulk of them, but the main reason is that I am possibly one of the least photogenic people west of the Mississippi River (due to my double chin and other reasons I won't get into). The jumping picture plants either an awe, a smile, or a perplexity that diverts the viewer's attention from the ability to be photogenic of the subject, to the wonderment of the photograph.
Now, less talk, more pictures.
I wouldn't have been this happy if I would have known I was only half done with my hike.
You can only achieve this diamond shape jump right after engagement.
Jumping for joy that I'm with my favorite girl in the world.
The three muskateers, airborne.
Now just try and deny the fact that jumping pictures don't "rise" above the rest, that they aren't a step "above" the rest, and that they aren't still "soaring" through your mind right now. I rest my case.
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