Ampersands & Such

Malibu Zuma

The other night, Rachel drove up the coast to hang out in the ‘Bu. She became so distracted and relaxed by the PCH view that she passed my apartment. Meanwhile, I lost track of time and had to frantically rinse the homemade toner out of my hair while she was parking her car. We’re quite the pair, she and I. Together, we’re like…

Tweezers & a Random Facial Hair.

Hatred & Tom Brady.

Oh my gosh, we’re like Freak the Mighty! (She’s probably the brain.)

I gave her one of my really long, lingering hugs (hair smelling included, obviously). I don’t want to brag about my creepy hugs, but if I play it right, I can make my own mom shiver.

We decided to get Lily’s burritos and take them to the beach. Burritos and the beach just go together, like…

T-shirts & Holes.

Smiles & Acne Scars. (These sound like book titles.)

We grabbed our wrapped burritos from Lily herself, and I commented on how fast it was. (It took four minutes.) (THIS IS UNHEARD OF.) She just smiled and wiped away a wisp of hair. “Summer is over. Now we get the real Malibu people… like you.” She waved us off.

Real Malibu person? Me? Aren’t real Malibu people the ones with leather skin and felt hats? Aren’t they the ones with Range Rovers and nannies? Aren’t they teenagers bringing back the nineties with a real vengence? (Scrunchies. Yeesh.)

I almost corrected Lily; I almost told her I’m not from here.I’m not of here. I don’t hold the salt and mountains in my bones! <—I don’t know either.

I’m not really from Malibu, I decided, and then I left.

My Rachel and I sat on Zuma watching the sun disappear. We talked about future dreams, about strategies to collect “secret family recipes,” and about the perfect karaoke song. (I think we need to open our own karaoke place where songs are at least seven years old and consist mainly of Spice Girls, The Cranberries, and U2’s lesser-known hits.) We made fun of the circling seagulls. We watched the surfers and a European family get yelled at by the lifeguard.

And as we ate our burritos and laughed and listened to the waves, a lovely thought flashed across my mind.

“Maybe I am a Malibu person… just a little.” Malibu and I, we go together like…

Baseball Caps & Sweat Stains.

Garlic & Everything.

Capital Letters & Ampersands.

Then a seagull stole Rachel’s ENTIRE BURRITO OUT OF HER HANDS, and we were traumatized for life.

living in malibu can be super cool

Sometimes it hits me that I live in Malibu, CA.

It’s sad to say that over the past 20 months living in Malibu–I can’t believe it’s been that long–that some really extraordinary moments have become almost routine.

The other night I was watching City of Angels (because it’s always a good idea to watch a Nicolas Cage movie, right?). In the movie, the angels all gather at the ocean to watch the sunset, and when that scene came up I sort of casually thought, “I live five minutes away from that beach. If they turned the camera, I’d see my neighborhood.”

Then I stopped, and shook my head at myself.

I live next to that beach? The one that’s right there on screen? What?!

How cool is that?!

I was momentarily overwhelmed with how neat living in Malibu is, and this is not a rarity. Moments like this happen all the time, and it’s up to me to recognize them and geek-out a bit. To not let them become routine! Because if I don’t get excited what am I even doing here?

Here are this week’s moments when Malibu struck me as a super cool place to live…

When this was a small blurb on the front page of The Malibu Times.

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When I spent the day here.

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When I sent this text message.

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I totally walked back to where he was and stared until he looked at me and smiled, and then I was angry I didn’t have makeup on because THIS IS NOT HOW I WANTED US TO MEET.

When I saw dolphins on my drive home, and then took a very bad picture of them.

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The point is that Malibu life can be surreal and freaking cool sometimes, and I think it’s completely necessary to recognize that.

But I also want to say that it’s necessary to recognize how magical moments (that don’t include an Orlando Bloom sighting because that’s on it’s own level) happen every day no matter where you live. Indiana is just as magical as California!

I hope you’re all acknowledging the super cool moments in your life because they are there, waiting for you to look!

 

my little mobile home

I call this, "View of Dog From Bike"
I call this, “View of Dog From Bike”

The Santa Anas were in full swing the other day, causing my thighs to burn on my bike as I pedaled into the wind to my trailer. This reminds me…

I live in a trailer, and I bike to and from my car. This is the Malibu life, people.  I don’t say this to complain because I love my little apartment, my bike, and my single bathroom sink that functions as face/dish/vegetable washing station. I get to watch palm trees swing in the ocean breeze as I bike to my car, and the place came with my favorite: a deal. My couch/table/kitchen island combo was all mine for the killer price of $150.  I even have a tiny deck and plastic chair with an ocean view (on a clear day). Ahhh, paradise.

The place isn’t without its drawbacks. It doesn’t have a kitchen, but you should see what I can do with a crock-pot and a blender.  And my sweeper (what Hoosiers call a vacuum) sucks up the berber carpet every chance it gets, and I have nightmares about dropping raw egg or meat juice on that carpet.  Knock on wood, it hasn’t happened in real life. I also have zero yard, but my neighbor did invite me into his kid’s tree house within the first five minutes of meeting me. That’s something, right?

Now, I’m 22.  I’m not supposed to be living like a queen, and most of the time, I feel pretty darn lucky to be sipping coffee on my deck as I read The New Yorker.  I feel like I need to come clean; I don’t sip coffee on my deck as I read The New Yorker.  I sip tea.

Really, I do feel lucky typing away on my couch inside and glancing back at my puppy on the deck as she enjoys the ocean view (no New Yorker in sight). I feel lucky experiencing one of the best scent combinations God ever made: ocean and laundry, which can be experienced any time my neighbors wash their clothes (so bi-weekly).  I feel lucky to have a roof over my head and strong water pressure because those are the things that matter in life.

I do love this little quarter of a trailer (oh, did I forget to mention it’s not an entire trailer), and I love that it has become my little home, the first of my own, really.  Not a bad place to begin, I think.

pretty views and pretty blooms

So the title doesn’t rhyme, but it sounds like it almost does, right?  Throw me a bone.

I live in a pretty place, and sometimes I forget how beautiful it really is and how much I dreamed of living here when I was younger.

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But like so many dreams becoming reality.  Living here, in California, is different than I imagined.  It’s busier and more expensive and more real.  Isn’t that what happens when what we wish for comes true?  It’s simultaneously more and less and different than you thought, but that’s because it’s not just a thought anymore.  The dream has been thrust into reality and that means it’s so much messier than you imagined.  But, can I just say, it’s so much greater, too.

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There is someone out there “who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.”  Isn’t that awesome?  Because I imagine some pretty great things.  I ask for specific, crazy, wonderful things in my life, and yet, everything I receive is so much better than anything I could think up to ask.  I’m not trying to paint a picture of perfection here because my life is FAR from it, but even if it isn’t perfect, it’s certainly beautiful.  Every day, here in California, and at home, in Indiana, life is beautiful as dreams manifest themselves in reality, and something greater, something more than we could ever imagine for ourselves, takes root in our lives.

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