Tales from La La Land

I got a special request from some loser named Duckgirl to get Morgan Flint for a Q&A. This marks unchartered territory as he is the first Q&A with a current player. Hopefully I don’t get a call from the SID office for not setting up this interview with them.

As I’ve said before, I think kickers have an interesting role on collegiate football teams. Games can be decided by one kick. Maybe not every week, but it happens. I think this week in particular, the kicking game will be a big factor in the Oregon vs. Cal game. If things shake out the way I think they will, it’s going to be a close game. Oregon can’t afford to miss PATs or field goals this week.

Duckgirl seems to think Morgan should be kicking more. Perhaps he’ll get his chance this week.

Anyway, enjoy Duck fans.

Perhaps they are discussing a fake field goal play in which Morgan will make a TD pass. Probably not.

1. Introduce yourself: My name is Morgan (yes I realize that is a common girls name ). I grew up in Bend, OR (where there are actually seasons other than rainy and not-rainy) and I honestly have the most amazing family in the world.

2. How tall are you? And, I’m not talking about what the media guide says. Well, the media guide says I’m 5’9″, but I’m really more like 5’9(1/2)”, but who’s counting? Haha

3. What do you say about kickers who injure their ACL by celebrating a winning PAT? Good ‘ole Bill Grammatica, what an athlete…Haha. It’s sad that many kickers get labeled by ridiculous plays like that…but if you are celebrating a made PAT, then maybe the injury is Karma coming back to bite.

4. What is your dream play? Well, my “dream play” would be hitting a walk-off homerun, but on the football field I wouldn’t mind having a fake field goal, kicker-pass play either I keep trying to convince Bellotti that we need to put that in the playbook, but he hasn’t really bought it…..yet.

5. Who is the funniest person on the team? I think it’s a toss-up between Jaison Williams and Mark Speck. J-Will says the most ridiculous and hilarious things I’ve ever heard. Mark will do anything to make you laugh at any time, so he keeps things entertaining throughout long practices.

6. Is there any truth and logic to “icing the kicker”? Well during the time-out, I’m sure the kicker gets a little more nervous than he normally would, but when it comes down to the kick, after you line up and are ready, a kick is a kick….but I’ve never been “iced” before so I can’t say I’m an expert.

7. I am sure Matt Evensen is your peep and I love me some ME also, but can you shed any light on the missed PATs and field goals that don’t seem characteristic of him? Is there more logistics to it than the fans might know? Yeah Matt is an amazing guy, definitely one of the best on the team and a great friend. He has one of the best legs in the nation. He had an amazing Junior year, and I think he may just be putting too much pressure on himself to succeed, and potentially play at the next level. And to be fair, a few of the kicks he has missed were not his fault, although the blame is often passed to the kicker.

8. What do you do in your spare time? Well, sadly, I spend a lot of time doing homework, but I like to go bowling (my high-game is a 249, but I don’t like to talk about that much Haha), playing baseball, camping, watching sports, eating, and I LOVE watching movies, but I’m always up for anything.

9. Approximately how many hours a week do you spend on Facebook? Oh geez, sadly a few…I guess I am what you would call a “facebook whore” haha. I realized I spent too much time on Facebook when they changed the platform, and it kinda made me mad haha…..sad.

10. Approximately how many hours a week do you spend on the playbook? Playbook? What is that?….how many hours?….Well, this next hour, plus 11 more some time and I’ll have an even dozen in my career

11. What is your guilty pleasure television show? Well, I used to love watching The OC (Seth is my idol, and Rachel Bilson – if you’re reading this, will you marry me?). I like Grey’s Anatomy, and The Office is amazing, but I’m really more of a movie guy.

Well, here goes another wedding post.

I hate writing about the wedding because I fear I don’t come off as excited. Or bride-y. But, I have things on my mind and I figured I’d put them here and then feel better.

For starters, we’re now just nine months out. Which seems like a long time. Until you realize we were 13 months out about three seconds ago. The to-do list seems overwhelming, and I don’t do overwhelming.

I think sometimes people worry about the A-Ross factor and think they’re going to show up and be eating the rice that’s on the ground (which isn’t much because only mother thought to throw rice). Or that I’m unappreciative of the fact that I’m getting married and that this is a big fucking deal and I need to be more thankful that someone actually took one for the team and relieved said mother of the irrationality that is me.

Truth is, I don’t do things the way everyone else does and I don’t have the common vision. However, I DO have A vision. And even though it’s fairly simple, it requires a lot of work and logistical planning. Getting 150 of your closest peeps to be in one place at one time, and all be drunk and full enough to have fun is hard shit.

I’m tired. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. I have to be so “on” at work and so prepared and organized that I can’t seem to make room in my brain to organize my wedding.

But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to. In fact, I think this is going to be one of the best days ever in the world. All of my friends and family will be in one spot at the same time. So, I do want it to be something special.

It’s just that I do, in fact, feel overwhelmed at times. Just fear not, people. I’ve got actual information and updates coming. Just please do not spit on me when you ask if it’s black and white or black and ecru.

For those of you in long-term relationships you may relate to some of things mentioned here. If you are not in a long-term relationship, you will probably still relate, but said things are likely still cute or acceptable.

Let me begin by describing Laef’s snoozing routine. For starters, he must have his alarm clock walking distance from the bed. If his alarm clock is within arm’s reach of the bed, the chances of him turning it off mid-dream and waking up at half-past noon are 100 percent.

So, every morning at around 5-something, his alarm starts beeping. And Laef keeps sleeping. I wait for about one minute before punching him. He used to have one of those alarms that got progressively louder as the seconds went by, but seeing as he didn’t make it over to the dresser to turn it off until it was at its loudest possible pitch, and by then the neighbors were thoroughly awake, we did away with it.

To make matters worse, I sleep next to the dresser. Therefore, once Laef does hear his alarm, he must then climb over me to get to it. At this point I am awake even if Laef isn’t. I used to snooze, but have since adopted the “set my alarm for the last possible second” method.

The snooze factor comes after a long night of what Laef would refer to as snuggling. I refer to it as being pushed over to the edge of the bed with a 200-pound person putting me in a choke hold. When we first started dating, I like how cuddly he was. And, I still love cuddling, but the problem is that I can’t breath and his wandering hands (he never wakes up and has no idea he does such things) keep me awake.

Which brings me to Sanchez. It seems as though wandering hands or feet are code for play. We have tried to lock him out of the bedroom, but his cries or the sound of him trying to dig a trench under the door always break me. So, we let him in and sometimes he sleeps. And sometimes licks his ass so loud that you’d think there was a filet in there.

I can foresee the near future when we have kids and sleeping is no sure thing so I have to say that I’m glad I’m getting some good practice.

What’s your snooze practice?

I was going to follow my outline for my jobs blog and do a “My Life In Boys” blog, but I wasn’t sure how that’d sound. I know, I know, I don’t normally care how anything sounds, but you can’t play out a headline that easily. Gotta be more creative than that.

Anyway, I watched Secretary for the 1,000th time last night and turned up the final scene really loud so that Laef could hear what our wedding song will be. It’s a song by Lizzie West and I won’t bore you with all the lyrics here, but there is one verse that I find to be perfect for me:

I took the notes of past excursions
And I read them through once more
Only to find them all diversions
From the one true love in store

The way I hear it is that I had to have all these other experiences to figure out who I was and who I was supposed to be with.

Looking back, I realized that some of those experiences were painful, messy and embarrassing. And the person I am now would have never been in some of those situations.

Take for example my first-ever boyfriend. This little tryst started when I was a freshman in high school. Hardly the pinnacle of self-confidence and wisdom. We dated for three years. He finally broke up with me our senior year. Maybe it was that I cheated on him after a night of too many wine coolers. Or that I was so co-dependent he couldn’t take a shit without me wanting an explanation (hey, I never said I was proud of my teenage self). Or maybe it was my bangs. Yeah. They were bad.

Anyway, when we broke up, I. THOUGHT. I. WAS. GOING. TO. DIE. I was a raging mess and engaged in behavior that ranged from calling him everyday to driving by his house. Until one day he decided to date one of my closest friends just to prove that it really was over.

Seriously. That one was the most painful and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because I learned two things: 1. Have some fucking self-respect you pansy and 2. You won’t die. You’ll be just fine.

After that, I was single for a long time. Then I started dating a dreadlocked guy in the bay area. Totally sweet guy. But, I moved to Oregon because he moved to Oregon. I smoked pot because that’s what he did. And I ditched my cute jeans and high heels because we were always camping or hiking. We broke up when I woke up one day and realized that I didn’t even know who I was. I learned one thing: 1. Under no circumstances do you ditch friends, high heels, make up or tents for your boy.

BUT, that relationship brought me to Oregon and the rest of my life is pretty much history. I ended up at the UO, got a sweet job, met the best friends in the world, had my first relationship with someone that I could be myself with and didn’t sacrifice anything. Except for my liver. The only lesson I learned from that is: You shouldn’t date anyone that you refer to as loving like a brother. It’s just not right.

After that relationship I dated someone that I did not love like a brother, and by the end I didn’t even like him like a brother. I hope I don’t offend anyone here, but the ONLY thing I learned from that: 1. NEVER DATE AN ONLY CHILD.

So, with all of my lessons learned, I was enjoying being single when Laef rolled around. I knew there were certain things I just wasn’t going to tolerate and certain things that I would embrace. At 30, I was done making exceptions. I knew exactly what I needed and wanted and wasn’t going to take anything less.

Seeing as Laef was at the ripe old age of 22 when we met, he also knew what he wanted. And, it wasn’t exactly what my 30-year old self wanted. So, we broke up. I was sad, but I didn’t drive by his house and I certainly didn’t die.

I gave him space to miss me and, well, you know how it ends.

Thank goodness for past excursions.

I’m starting to think that even though I don’t have an actual two-legged child with a cute pot-belly, I should be considered a mommy blogger.

You see, we have this four-legged, pot belly bag of mischief that does things I am willing to bet rival that of a human two-year old.

Let’s start with the defiant behavior. Sanchez has started doing naughty things when he’s told no. It’s like he hears no and this fire alarm goes off in his head and he runs around frantically, jumping on the dresser, knocking everything off and acting like he totally meant to do it. Like, the shitstorm was completely planned and he tromps off like he’s just completed a triple lutz.

Don’t worry, shit for brains. I’ll clean it up. Oh, and I’ll get your diaper litter box too. Just keep shitting away giant clumps.

Speaking of which. We also have potty training/toilet issues. It would be nice if he could learn from daddy and really grasp the concept. Not only does he not learn from daddy, he seems to think the following is OK once daddy has left the premises:

Look, I don’t teach that shit. It’s not like he’s learning from example. I. PROMISE.

Then there’s his complete and total lack of recognition for all he’s been given. Take for example the night daddy was out of town. Considering Sanchez’s favorite hobby is sleeping in the reusable Ralph’s shopping bags, and that mommy is tired of being the lady who puts the fur-covered shopping bag on the conveyor belt at the grocery store, she decided to do a solid and buy him a fleece-lined bag made just for kitties.

In typical kitten fashion, Sanchez sensed mommy’s utter excitement over this gift and promptly ignored it.

Me: “Sanchez! Mommy bought you a $10 present while daddy was gone! Why are you not loving this?”
Sanchez: “It’s not big enough. And it will make me hot. Plus, I like cheap/free toys around the house.”
Me: “Who taught you to say that??!! Did your father teach you such things?”
Sanchez: “I’m just saying. Things like ping pong balls, socks, empty toilet paper tubes and oh, yeah, the toilet itself, complete me.”

Which would explain why I come home to this on more than one occasion:

Hey, yeah. Don’t worry about the random sock in the kitchen. I’ll get it.

Essentially, just another example of him acting like a real two-year old person who just sort of destroys things that get in his way. And getting a sick joy out of it.

But maybe his problems are a result of the fact that mommy once made him wear a Halloween candy necklace.

OK, OK. So maybe I don’t lick toilet water, but there’s a definite possibility that two-year old shenanigans are taught around this mo-fo.

No, honey, not the jobs you love. Because really, at the end of the day what I love is another job on the to-do list.

Anyway, I digress.

As I navigate through my latest profession I often ask myself how I manage to keep coming back for some good ol’ torture. Being an executive assistant has by far been the most challenging step in my long string of jobs. When you screw up, you make important people look bad. Important people do not like looking bad.

I realized over the past few weeks that I owe my job skills (ew! I said NOT those job skills) to my mother.

Yes, everyone. The apocalypse is upon us. I’m giving a shout out to my mother who worked her ass off for many years to raise four kids. I don’t remember her taking many sick days or vacations, but I do remember her getting calls at midnight from her boss. Her career was stressful, but her work ethic was quickly bestowed upon her brood.

It all started when I was a freshman in high school. For about a month, she would leave money for lunch everyday. Or she would give me money here and there to do certain things with friends.

And then one day she snapped.

Mom: “It’s time to get a job.”
Me: “What is that?”
Mom: “A job. Like you go work, make money and buy your own stuff. Oh, and I’m not leaving you money for lunch until you have a job.”
Me: “How do I do that? And, if I have a job, I don’t need lunch money. I need lunch money now. When I’m sleeping and enjoying life and have no money.”

I soon realized that she wasn’t fucking around. So I tramped around good old Jackson, CA until I found some little restaurant called Caffe Tazza.

This place had the best Italian lunches along with gelato and this weird thing called espresso (it was 1988 people, this place was cutting edge). I was in heaven. Until about one hour in. I was hired as a dishwasher. However, this place did not have a dishwasher to load. No, it was just me. And because my skills as a job-worker were infant, the dishes were soon stacked up all over the kitchen. I worked until way past closing, often sneaking into the bathroom to rest my aching back and legs. When I finally got done I came out of the kitchen and saw a mop and a bucket. The place needed to be mopped and it was all me.

I called in sick the next day.

Eventually I went back and learned how to work. I left that job and here’s how things have gone since then.

Job #2: Books and Beyond: So fucking sweet after washing dishes. I was like Hugh Grant in Notting Hill. I hung out in a mellow book store. I was promptly fired when I left one evening and did not lock the door.

Boss: “Um. Can you explain why we are closed, but there are customers just milling around?”
Me: “Uh. They broke in?”
Boss: “You’re fired.”

Job #3: Plaza Foods. And so began my string of grocery jobs. I was 17 and learning how to drink and steal alcohol from my employer. It was not good. I was hung over at the job more days than not.

Job #4: Contempo Casuals. Yeah, my first job out of high school. I worked at a mall and thought I was so fucking cool. Only problem is, um, the clothes at Contrampo look like this:

…AND I WORE THEM.

Job #5: Lucky’s Grocery store. This was because Contrampo paid about $6/hour and I was working like 20 hours a week. So, I took a 40-hour/week job bagging groceries. There is absolutely no way to look hot wearing a blue vest and black nurses shoes. It sucked.

Job #6: When I decided to leave the Bay Area for some dreadlocked guy and move to Oregon I was desperate. I worked at Subway. For a week. Do you really need an explanation as to why? Yes? Well, it was the fat assistant manager sighing in my ear every morning telling me: “You don’t know how to cut the bread! Where’s your visor? WHY aren’t you wearing your plastic gloves?”

Job #7: Albertson’s. Well, my resume spoke for itself. It was all I had.

Job #8: While pushing carts in the Albertson’s parking lot, the owner of a little coffee cart outside of the store asked if I wanted a job. Hell yeah. The cons: It was outside. In Oregon. Where there is sideways rain. I had to be there at 5:30 a.m. The pros: Tips. A LOT of them.

Job #8: I then moved to Eugene to go to UO. I got a job at the Starbucks in the bookstore. Again with the early hours and I got the boot on my car about eight times because parking on that campus is a fucking joke.

Job #9: My boy at the time got an internship in Bend so we moved there for a summer. I got a job as a golf-cart girl on a golf course. Let me tell you about rich golfers buying alcohol from a girl on a golf cart: They throw cash around like they have lots of it. I would come home with over $300 after every shift. I hope Laef doesn’t read this. He will assume that I am smart and have it stashed somewhere. Sorry, honey, before you, the words “saving” and “money” never went hand in hand.

Job #10: The Emerald (UO Newspaper). Where I was paid like 4 cents per word. I lived on Taco Bell and Natty Lite. Nope. I couldn’t afford Corona and I surely couldn’t afford PF Changs or anything normal. Not that I was complaining.

Job #11: THE University of Oregon. Which has pretty much fucked me because it was more like social hour than work hour. I worked with my best friends, watching sports and traveling around.

Job #12: UC Davis. I thought it would be like Oregon. It wasn’t.

Job #13: The Hilton. I was trying to become a chef. I made a wrong turn on the road of life. But, I did get to sneak Grey Goose from the Lounge on the 12th floor.

Job #14: Fox Sports. My first stint as an executive assistant. Too bad he didn’t quite prepare me. He was one of the very rare super nice ones. Except when he didn’t get first class on his plane rides.

Job #15: Some bullshit PR firm that paid $4/hour and wanted me to pitch the TRX.

Job #16: Here I am! Lucky number 16. Having about as much fun as I did when I was 16 working in a grocery store. HOWEVER, this is my first job that I’m actually making a good salary and have some pretty legitimate responsibilities.

I guess that’s how I survive. I have always had to work. I’ve always had some kind of a job. Some have sucked and some have been fun.

By the way, I think we should refer to the jobs that boys like as shopping. Wouldn’t it sound better if the convo went like this:

Laef: “Hey, you wanna go shopping?”
Me: “Why yes. Yes, I do!”

Hi Everyone,

I know what you are thinking. Way to pull an A-Ross and go three weeks without a Q&A. What can I say? I’ve been busy. And, a little flaky, but here we are again.

By the way, the Q&As will likely start to take different forms as I attempt to break the Oregon football player streak. Because, I have questions for people. And some of these people don’t play sports or write about sports.

So, if you see a Q&A with Sanchez asking him why he likes to play at 3 a.m. or with my mom asking why she calls at 7 a.m. on a Sunday, that is why. Curiosity is killing me these days.

Back to this week. There’s no better person to reintroduce the Q&A than Anthony Trucks. I don’t think you’d meet a more solid person both on the field and off. His son and wife attended practice most days and you’d never meet a sweeter family.

Not to mention, AT was somewhat of a badass. Period. But, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that by just having a conversation with him off the field. He also reflects linebackers Don Pellum in that he never seemed to be satisfied and continued to work hard even through his last days.

Trucks Family At Holiday Bowl vs. Oklahoma

1) Introduce Yourself: My name is Anthony Trucks, former University of Oregon linebacker. My senior year I led the pac-10 in sacks, tackles-for-loss, forced fumbles, and fumbles recovered, and was fifth in the conference in total tackles.

2) What have you been up to since graduating from Oregon?: Since graduating, I have played with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, The Washington Redskins, and, most recently the Pittsburgh Steelers. I tore cartilage in my left shoulder in the first preseason game and after extensive rehab I am having season ending surgery to repair it. Since I have been home I have started to build an athletic performance company called Trucks Training.

3) What do you miss most about Eugene? There are so many things that I miss about Oregon. Oregon is basically where I grew from boy into a man. I miss my teammates, friends, coaches, all the people of Eugene and the list goes on.

4) What do you miss most about being on the Oregon football team? The Oregon football team is unlike any other I have been on. The pride that I have for what our team accomplished is unmatched to anywhere I have been. I miss “Oregon Football”, period. The type of work ethic and camaraderie we had makes me wish I could play there forever.

5) Describe the feeling of running down the tunnel and into Autzen Stadium for the first time: The feeling of running down the tunnels gives me chills just thinking about it right now. I can feel the skin on my head tighten just thinking about being able to run out onto that field with the fans so loud that I can’t hear myself think. There is no feeling that can match it and none that ever will. Especially when that Harley engine roars up and you can almost feel your heart jump out of your chest.

6) You have an amazing family. Do you think your kids will be athletes? I just want my kids to do anything they want to. I would obviously love for my children play sports but that is a decision for them to make when the time comes. With that said my son Anthony Mack Trucks is going to be a MONSTER!!!!!!! LOL.

7) If you were stranded on a desert island, name three things you couldn’t live without: If I was stranded on desert island I would have to have my wife, son, and food. When I have more kids then they will take the place of food.

Do you keep up with the current Oregon team? If so, talk about the linebackers: I do somewhat keep up with the team and from what I’ve seen the linebackers are doing alright. But there’s always room to improve until we have an All-American playing out there.

9) Who would win a 40-yard dash: Coach Pellum or Brent Haberly? I dont know who would win. Habs would say he would, but D.P. is a tricky man he might just trip Habs before he got a chance to get off the line LOL!!

10) What’s your guilty pleasure television show? I cannot get enough Heroes and Fringe when it comes to TV. I’m into that Sci Fi futuristic type stuff.

Over the weekend I spent time in San Diego with friends. For the most part, my circle of friends is comprised of couples. I think it becomes a natural progression. I am hopeful that when I have kids, however, that my circle of friends is not solely the mommies at pre-natal yoga. I suppose there will be a few of those because they will relate to some of the oddities occurring in my body. They will also understand when I decline a shot of Patron. Many of my other friends will not.

Anyway, this weekend one of the girls hanging out is 27 and single. It makes me cringe to write that because I fear that some people see that as a negative.

The only thing negative about being single is having to date.

It’s such a process. And, there are a lot of freaks on the street. Plus, there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. A guy might decide he doesn’t like you because you part your hair on the left. Or, he becomes upset that your boobs, butt and other parts look nothing like the girls in Playboy.

At the same time, here are a list of reasons that I have actually found acceptable when deciding I didn’t want to date a particular guy:

1. His shoes are ugly
2. His shorts are too short
3. He has something in his teeth
4. He has mismatched sheets
5. He called me twice on the same day

The list goes on. I don’t even want to know the reasons why I was blown off. She has a gap in her teeth, she has skinny legs, she’s a lush, she’s kind of a tomboy.

Then there’s all the bullshit about how much you should act like you like someone. Or when you can call them. Or how much time you should spend together. When, really, in the beginning what you crave is to spend every waking moment together. But, we all torture ourselves by holding out. Pretending to be strong. Wasting time playing the game as opposed to ripping off each others’ clothes.

Luckily, I have gotten over some of my hangups. Consider this: When I met Laef he was driving a blue car with license plates that read: LAEF. True story. And, it never once made me cringe. Well, maybe once. Or, that he is what I would have classified as “too nice” 10 years ago.

And say you do agree to do the whole dinner date thing. Everyone pretty much knows within 1 minute if it’s going anywhere. Yet, it’s unlikely that people will just say that. No, you have to do the whole, “I’m sick” or “My friend just called and her boyfriend was in a car wreck.” Everyone knows both are bullshit, but the truth is too painful.

I don’t feel sorry for people that are single the way that the characters in Sex in the City seem to convey the message that most people think being single is a crime.

I do think dating his hard. But, relationships and marriage are also hard. Both take work and both have some moments that you’d rather forget.

The truth of the matter around these parts is that there are certain things Laef is not allowed to do. To be fair, I am also not allowed to know certain things. Like where Laef has our secret stash of cash in the house. I wasn’t even aware of this stash until just the other day when Laef pulled out $50 for us to go watch the Ducks at a bar.

Me: “Where…What…When…HOW did you get cash?”
Laef: “From our secret stash.”
Me: “Whe-
Laef: “You’ll never find it.”
Me: “So…what. Wait. We have money? In the house? Like, more than the stash of pennies stuck to the dresser?”
Laef: “You’ll never find it.”

FYI. Laef is heading out on his first track road trip this weekend. I am determined to find that stash even if it means I freak Sanchez out to the point he thinks I’m moving out.

Anyway. Under no circumstances is Laef allowed to grocery shop with me. I don’t know why, but I like doing it. And, like with everything else, I sort of have a system and a routine. I go down the aisles the same way every time and I plan my menus. When Laef comes, he wanders away, down weird aisles, and comes back with chewy nerds, frozen cheesecake, cinnamon rolls and 14 different kinds of ice cream.

It throws me off my game.

So, it is technically my fault when Laef relays the following to me last night after I asked him to pick up some milk and the ground turkey that is on sale at Ralph’s for $1.99. (We are trying to be good about buying things on sale and we use ground turkey fairly often so he was going to pick up a few).

Laef: “Hi! I get so many boyfriend points right now!”
Me: “Lay it on me.”
Laef: “Yeah, well, so, they were all out of the ground turkey. So, GUESS what I did?”
Me: “Left?”
Laef: “No! I got this thing called a rain check. Have you heard of this??? I got us this piece of paper and it says that we can go back tomorrow and get the turkey for the sale price!!”
Me: “Oh…good, yes. So, you asked someone if they were out?”
Laef: “A rain check. I got a rain check.”
Me: “I know. I heard you.”
Laef: “So, you have heard of this?”
Me: …

Another truth is this: I am a terrible shopper. I don’t clip coupons, I buy what I need when I need it and as much as I try to go to four different stores to buy the best deals, I am lazy. So the whole rain check thing hasn’t ever really come up in our house.

However, I can guarantee you that now that Laef knows this, he will be asking the Ralph’s lady every week. The Ralph’s lady who Laef tells me he kept standing in the aisle for five minutes to explain the rain check thing. Wish I was there.

Not.

Today was one of those perfect Sundays. I somehow made it through the Sunday edition of the LA Times, slept in past 9 a.m. and completed a decent-sized run.

But before all of my escapades, Laef and I decided to take a morning walk around Manhattan Beach. It was a beautiful day and we snapped photos of a variety of things that seem to encapsulate Manhattan Beach.

So, this blog isn’t anything other than photos of what was a perfect day.

For starters, someone doesn’t appreciate not being invited on said walks. His name is Sanchez.

We managed to snuff our guilt and head out. We walked directly down to the Manhattan Beach pier.

Here is a photo of us sitting on the bench where Laef proposed:

As we headed further, we noticed that a lot of people fish off the pier. Apparently, there is a lot of smelt to be had. I was completely enamored by this guy. He was catching five fish at a time. Consistently. He had a bucket full of them. So, I snapped his photo. He rewarded me by picking up a fish that had escaped from the bucket and throwing it on the ground as hard as he could. That was the low part of the day. Thankfully, there was much more ahead. I do not like live things hitting concrete.

From there, we headed up The Strand towards the 18th Street pier. This is the location of our wedding. Here are some photos of 18th Street looking down to the beach. Essentially, we will head down the street and down the staircase to the beach. We will try to be to the right of the pier so that the lifeguard tower isn’t in every wedding photo.

(Don’t worry, we’re not walking from that far up the street. We might take some photos coming down that street though).

We then we trekked back towards the house on some residential streets. Let me just tell you that Manhattan Beach residents do not skimp on their holiday decorations. I stopped taking photos of all the Halloween houses because there were so many. These rich ass people have the time AND the money to go all out. This house was my favorite.

They also had rad neighbors.

They also had neighbors that may or may not hate each other.

When we came home, Sanchez let us know how happy he was to be left out of the walk.

We then clipped his nails wrapped up in a blanket (thanks Auntie Annett and Uncle Ben!) to remind him who is in charge.

So, he whined and moaned to his friend, Kiwi the neighbor dog. Kiwi is outside 90 percent of her life and likes to look in our kitchen window. They talk about how miserable their lives are.

Sanchez: “This blows. What I wouldn’t give to roll around in some dirt.”
Kiwi: “Careful what you wish for. Those raccoons are some mutherfukers.”
Sanchez: “Well, do you get your nails clipped?”
Kiwi: “I’d love to be wrapped up in a blanket with a human.”
Sanchez: “Yeah. Humans are cool. They drink wine and watch football. It’s totally fucking boring.”
Kiwi: “I LOVE boring! Tell them to let me in!”
Sanchez: “Gotta GO! I’m not allowed to be on the counter. I’m not allowed to do anything cool!”

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. This little shit for brains is living the high life. SPOILED. ROTTEN.

As it stands at 9:29 p.m. Sanchez has his head completely inside my running shoe, Laef is on the computer and I’m about to watch Entourage.

I’ll take Manhattan – Beach, that is. Any day. We’re a happy crew.