Week 17

     Golfing is a dirty, dirty game. You try to score a "hole in one" and they call the clubs "woodies". Oh wait, the clubs are called woods, not "woodies"...there I go again with my raunchy mind. I golfed for the first time this weekend! I joined my cousins, Richard, Mark and Leslie, and we went to a benefit tournament in Sac town. And since it was my very first time playing this sport it seemed only appropriate to suit up for the occasion and wear a dress. I never thought I would ever be a golfer, or enjoy playing golf, but it turns out that it is super fun.

    For starters, we arrived at the tournament and we were given  breakfast burritos, Bloody Mary's and even extra mini bottles of Skyy Vodka for the road! They had me at breakfast burritos. But it gets better. At every other hole there were snacks like spicy chicken wings, chips, cookies and brownies. Oh yeah, and there were ice cold beers in coolers too. And it didn't hurt that there was a golf cart that would zoom around and constantly deliver margaritas to us. Like I said before, I really like golf.

    And hitting the ball was a real hoot too. You put it on this peg, I reckon it's called a tee, and then you have a go at balancing your buzz, try and focus...then you hit the ball! You get as many attempts as you like and if the ball doesn't go as far as you had hoped, then you get to just kick it like a soccer ball down the green. And when someone is about to swing it is customary to cheer them on (just like in rock climbing), "Get it! You totally got this, come on!!" It's great to motivate your competitors. And screw the score cards; it's about lots of fun, team spirit and margaritas. I love golf. 

Yup, that's me! I'm a golfer! Swinging at the balls and wearing a dress with tennis shoes

And thanks to my good friend Sigal, who was visiting from Pennsylvania, I had another excuse to wear a dress earlier in the week! We went out on the town in Mill Valley and sipped whiskey by the fire. What a tough week. And I think I may of finally caught up to my expected-average dress count!

Week 16

    Yesterday I was convinced I wanted to move to Bend and today I'm daydreaming about living on the beach in Hawaii. I can never make up my mind; there is certainly no doubt that I am a Gemini.

  It's a hot afternoon and I'm enjoying my day off.  My mom and I decide that it is high time to soak up the sunshine with some margaritas and enchiladas. I put on a dress for our excursion, and this time it was not from my usual go-to and overpriced store, but a tiny shop in Napili, Maui. When I look down at my black and white tie dye dress I am immediately taken back to that place.  I close my eyes and can almost smell the scent of fresh plumeria in the air. I can imagine the bright aqua ocean and when I wiggle my toes I can almost feel the warm sand in between them.

    I couldn't get a husky in Hawaii. Given their furry coats and the heat I'm pretty sure that would be considered animal cruelty to bring my favorite canine to the tropics. And I don't think I would find many bearded lumberjacks in Hawaii, I would more likely encounter suntanned surfer dudes that never want to grow up (been there, done that, no thanks). I could either have a 2 bedroom, 1,000 sq. ft. duplex in Bend verses a 200 sq. ft tiny studio apartment in Hawaii. Yet I wouldn't need half my clothes in Hawaii, nor would I want to spend much time inside if I was living on a tropical island. I would either be painting on the beach or finding inspiration in a funky old industrial art studio. Do I want to sip Mai Tais on Front Street at sunset or sample craft beer on the Deschutes river at dusk? Do I want to climb to my heart's content at Smith Rock or wake up and snorkel with sea turtles?

   Ever since I went to the Big Island for the first time when I was 13 years old I've fantasized about living on the islands. When I was applying to colleges I visited University of Hawaii and met with their admittance staff. When I dated my college boyfriend for fours years I tried (and failed) to convince him to move with me to Maui after we graduated. And right before I turned 30, I was compelled  to move to Hawaii but then opted to take a 3 month vacation to Fiji and New Zealand instead (yeah, I know, serious hardship). Maui has been, and will continue to be, always be on my mind.
 
   Everything about me pretty much screams Hawaii. My bedroom is a complete reflection of my love for the islands, it's adorned with framed vintage Hawaiian menu covers and dried leis hang over my bed, a shrine to Polynesia. Any present I get from a friend is usually my favorite color, turquoise (the color of the ocean in Hawaii) or something relating to coconuts or beaches. Even my Christmas tree ornaments have a tropical-ocean theme, which includes seashells, mermaids, hula dancers and even a fisherman version of Santa Claus.
   
   But on the other hand, I own nine flannel shirts, a banjo, a turquoise truck, a mountain bike, a snowboard,  a crap ton of climbing gear, and I swear I can hear the mountain men calling my name, beckoning me north. And so why wouldn't I move to Bend?! When I search for potential housing there on craigslist, I make sure there's enough storage space for my kayak. I don't even own a kayak, at least not yet.  I feel exhilarated when I picture myself floating down the river in my new kayak and leading multi-pitch routes at Smith Rock. 

     I have a lot of dreams. I dream about living in Maui, starting each day with a walk on the beach and selling my art to all the tourists. I also dream about living in a cabin in the woods and meeting a wonderful man.  Has my chance to move to Hawaii passed me by, am I too old to do something like that? Was that something I should of just done right out of college? I'm already 30 years old, soon to be 31! Or, is it all just relative..and 20 years from now I'll be married with kids and regretting the fact that I never did just get up and go to Hawaii when I was young and single at 30? But I want to fall in love and settle down with a special someone. Wait, I have to rephrase that! I HATE the expression "settle down", because the last thing I ever want to do is settle. It's more like I want to "adventure-up" with someone. I want to find a romantic companion to share a lifetime full of adventure and love! I can't figure out if a move to Hawaii would get me closer or further away from fulfilling all my dreams.

     I was dancing around the idea of moving to Hawaii on my Oregon road trip, debating these very pros and cons along the way. Near the end of my trip, my friend Noelle and I stopped in the picturesque town of Astoria, made famous from that classic movie, The Goonies. It was pouring rain and after warming up with seafood chowder, we began to run back to the car. As we passed a tiny antique store, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I could of sworn I saw a lei, and I had to go inside. Yes, there I found three beautiful vintage Hawaiian leis and a grass skirt which I instantly knew I needed for my collection. I found Hawaiian treasures in of all places, Astoria! That was a very clear sign from the universe... I either need to go to Hawaii or decorate my Bend home with Hawaiian memorabilia.

 As I sip  my margarita, enjoying my tequila induced buzz, I look down at my dress and smile because at least I do know one thing. The bottom line is I want both. I want the tropics and I want the alpine trees. So now I just need to ponder that classic and age old question: what comes first: the chicken or the egg? What comes first: the sand and surf or the beards and beer?

Week 15

    I swear I don't have multiple personalities. But for one day I wasn't me, I was Vicky. Actually, it wasn't even a full day, it was more like a few hours. 

   

    It all started in Ashland on my road trip. My friend Noelle and I were exploring the town and found ourselves randomly strolling into a costume store. As we walked in, our eyes were immediately drawn to the many, many wigs that lined the tops of all the shelves of the shop. The wigs were dyed platinum blonde to autumn red, jet black, and every shade of brown you could imagine. And the styles seemed endless as well, everything from Jackie's bouffant, Einstein's fro, to Keri Russell's curls... and anything in between. I've never tried on a wig before (except for those cheap and tinseled, colored ones you find in Halloween shops) so I was very tempted to play dress up on my head. Noelle was as equally enthused, so we just went buck wild with the wigs. All of the blonde wigs pretty much made me look like a tranny so I ended up finding a short, brunette wig named 'Vicky' that made sassiness and spunk ooze out of my being. So I bought it,  it was cheap. And Noelle bought one too...because that's what everybody does on road trips, right? They dress up in wigs and go camping? 

    Noelle was bold and just rocked her blonde bob all week, which she pulled off with confidence and swagger. I finally found the courage to bust mine out near the very end of our journey while we were in  Hood River. Why, you may ask, would I wear a wig in a tiny and outdoorsy town known for it's orchards and fruit? Yeah, I'm not actually sure why.. I guess I figured that a better question was 'why not?'  As I walked down the street, a cute old couple sitting down for breakfast looked at us through the cafe window with dropped chins. I got a stare from a hot guy in a beat up old pick-up with pears in the bed. Two good looking chaps that wore fireman t-shirts gave us double takes over their morning coffee. I wasn't sure if it was because we were two young girls wearing dresses in Hood River, or if it was because we were two young girls in dresses and wigs in Hood River. The folks there probably just thought we were from LA (yikes!). 

    

   We giggled our way down the streets, and then discovered another anomaly: what appeared to be an evening/party dress shop in Hood River. To me, that seemed just as misplaced as Blackalicious performing in Bend. I realize now that Oregon is an interesting place (yet awesomely interesting)! Anyways, of course we had to try some on! I made it my mission to find the most gaudy and garish dresses in the place. And that wasn't hard to accomplish. I think that little dress shop would do quite well if it relocated to Vegas. But who knows, maybe after the sun sets, things get crazy in the Hood!

   

    After an hour, my wig was getting hot and itchy. It was probably 70 degrees and I was basically wearing what felt like a hairy beanie on my head. My Uggs combined with my thick socks were slow-roasting my feet.  After three hours I had enough and ran to the car. Five minutes later I was prancing back in flip flops with my own hair liberated and flowing free. Vicky was fun, but I like Sarah better. But I learned that every once in a while it never hurts to step out of my comfort zone, even if that means throwing on the 'Vicky' wig.  Next time, however, I think I'll avoid wearing a wig in hot weather or with wool socks.  My only regret is that I didn't buy the mullet wig: it had legendary potential. Just think...I could HAVE really scared some people with that one..or dressed up as Macguyver for Halloween! Yep, I missed that boat. Dangit!  

Oh no, I'm not in Vegas, I'm in a tiny dress shop in Hood River... but if I ever did have the desire to make a more lucrative career change and move to Sin City, I think I know where to shop for my outfits. 

Here I am wearing the only dress that counts for this week- another Anthropologie purchase. I'm beginning to wonder what dresses I own that aren't from that store? 

Week 14

   I have found myself in a completely different dimension; a strange world that I either created while tripping on hallucinogens or this place actually exists. It smells like Christmas trees outside. Strangers walk at a relaxed pace and offer unforced smiles. I see huskies everywhere. And there are bearded men in flannel by the dozens. And when I say 'bearded men', I'm not referring to the scary bearded men like the ones I've encountered in Ashland-where it looked as if they were smuggling snacks for later under layers of coarse, uncombed hair attached to their chins. No, the beards are nice here and clean cut too; I could of sworn I just saw the Brawny Towel guy walk past me. There are little boutiques that smell like Anthropologie- fresh floral scented candles and new clothes. There are art studios available for rent in old industrial buildings conveniently located by a bakery that permeates the scents of fresh croissants and cappuccinos.  There is beer, lots of beer, and breweries by the river that not only serve IPAs by the tap, but fresh lemon kombucha. And there's seafood paella, margaritas and tacos- tacos just as delicious as the tacos served in the Mission District in San Francisco(seriously,I'm not exaggerating). The only thing that is missing here is rap music or dancing, there is not a place to get down and dance like you're in 'funky' town.

   Yep, there must not be a big dancing vibe here, but it's the middle of Oregon, that shouldn't come as a surprise, right?  I came to this conclusion  my first night in Bend while I was wearing a dress. My friend Noelle and I heard about a local band playing at Mcmenamin's, a unique and trendy bar/movie theater/spa place. We sat down at a table and saw the American folk band, Juniper and Gin, playing with heart and soul, yet there were no other spectators dancing or even merely bobbing their heads! Was I in the twilight zone, and the people were replaced with aliens that had never heard of music before? Why was nobody dancing to such awesome music...especially with such a hot and bearded lead singer? After the band finished their set, I was determined to talk to the band and flirt with the lead singer..why not? I was in a dress! Turns out the whole band was pretty awesome and we all headed to a local bar that was clearly Oregonian because there were flower pots made of mason jars hanging off the wall. I decided after a few local beers and talking to Jason, that hot lead singer(who was a gentleman and unfortunately married with kids) that Oregon was awesome regardless if there wasn't much dancing. But maybe the lack of body-gyrating and gettin'-jiggy-wit' it  people just meant they needed me in this town, and I should just show the Oregonians how to shake their arses?

   But... then....as soon as I came to this unfortunate conclusion, and accepted it, I was quickly enlightened at the next bar. As we walked in the door, the DJ began to play Biggie's Hypnotize. followed by even more 90s old school hip hop. They do play rap music here! Maybe this place really is a figment of my imagination: trees, huskies, beer, climbing, bearded men in flannel and old school hip hop?

  And it didn't stop there. I was content with just some rap music blasted over DJ speakers, and really couldn't ask for much more.  Ever heard of that group, Blackalicous?? Yes, Blackalicous was in Bend. Blackalicous was in Bend. At 8 pm on Sat night I looked at my iphone and saw the posting and by 10 pm Noelle and I were dancing at the front of the stage in a tiny bar listening to their swift beats. There weren't many people dancing mind you, except for one girl named Bronzy that was indeed in her own world. But apparently I wasn't the only one that was surprised to see Blackalicous in town, because Blackalicous themselves were surprised to even be in Oregon, but fate brought them to me.  And with such an unexpected destination for hip hop I don't think the lead singer was ready for my moves either. While he was rappin' to Candy Rain, he jumped off the stage and started dancing with me. As I was grinding my hips he had to stop the music, and compose himself, explaining to the crowd he couldn't handle my moves. Yep, watch out Blackalious, some girls in Oregon do know how to dance..well, I'm from California, but soon I'll have all of the Bend-ians crumping and twerking..It is so going down!

Bending and breaking it down in Bend!