This is not a serious post by any means

"Prince Ali, mighty is he, Ali Ababwa!  Strong as ten regular men, definitely..." resounded through my bathroom this morning while I soaped up my hair.

Just kidding!  I don't sing in the shower.  Well, not typically.  Sometimes I do, but it's more like this:



But without that fantastic voice.  Picture a teenage male hitting puberty.  It's more like that, but slow and in Spanish, like this guy.  (Yes, I am female...so what if I have a rather masculine singing voice?)

However, today was different.  I was singing in English.  That infernal song, Sky Mall Kitties, was stuck in my head in the shower this morning.  Thank you, Aunt Becky.



PS.  Yes, I do randomly break out into the songs from Aladdin.  Often.  Just ask anyone who knows me.  Most of the time people just roll their eyes and walk away.  It hits me at the most random times.  But I have never had that song pop into my mind while scrubbing myself clean.

PPS.  Did you know that they make toilets that can play your music?  I think I need one!  And then I'd put in the Tarzan song by Aqua...Can't you just picture it?  Check it out:



My life would finally be complete.  What do you think?  Could you live without a toilet that sang to you?

Birthday treat update

The manfriend's birthday came for a visit.  Being the fantastic girlfriend that I am, I bowed my little head and slaved away in the kitchen.

If you want details on the food, check it out on my new foodie blog here.  I won't bore you with it all right now.

I'm just here to announce the winner from the poll...

With breakfast, we had mini banana split bites (minus ice cream, but with candles).  Cuteness overload.

That night, when the dinner plates were whisked away, coffee appeared accompanied by glass mugs of heaven.  It's also known as Tiramisu, but you know, heaven describes it pretty well.  I know we're into portion control right now, but, honestly, I think I should have made double...maybe triple the amount of Tiramisu.

Everybody needs a monkey

A hug is like a strange you haven't finished yet. - Copernicus

The Bloggess recently posted about buying herself a stuffed monkey.  It's an awesome post, and if you don't read it, you really are missing out.  So go read it, and come back here.  I'll wait.

All of this talk about monkeys makes me miss one that I befriended in Ecuador.  (They're so cute!)  Picture this:  The year is 2008, you're in a damp rainforest miles away from any kind of road or town.  Civilization is long gone, a day up the river by canoe, and the plants slowly creep towards you.  The sounds are rain and insects and the deep drone of bees.

Out of the green that invades the air, a shot of black appears and launches itself at you.  Say hello to Pancha.

Pancha

Pancha is a monkey saved from poachers in Cuyabeno rainforest.  She lives at the Samoa camp ground with the guides who saved her.  Because she has spent so much time with people, she has become tame...

She eats with the tourists (sometimes off your plate if you're not careful), plays with the tourists, and even drinks from the sink.

Seeking refuge under the table...for the moment

And guess where her favorite place to sit is....that's it, on your shoulder, with her tail wrapped around your neck.  From this position, she will launch herself towards different items that interest her.  Of course, she holds on...with her tail.  It actually feels like the tail is stronger than her arms, which it might be...I'll have to google that at some point.  At first it's really odd to feel her holding on with her extra appendage, but you get used to it the longer she plays with you.

Do you see how the tail wraps around the neck?

The person who loved her the most is very likely my nephew.  They became close friends while we visited the jungle.  When we'd get back to camp every afternoon, she'd eventually make her way onto his shoulder.

Anyway, the point is, if you read The Bloggess's article, that a monkey really could strangle you, even a really cute one like Pancha.  She will, however, probably use her tail, and you wouldn't know until it was too late.

Fortunately for Pancha, she is not a homicidal monkey.  Nor is she being sold in a store.  (Nor is she a klepto like the monkeys I ran across in Costa Rica...they'll swing down and grab your hat off your head, or try to take your backpack).  She is living free and happy in her home.

The day started walking...

The popol vuh.  Gold. Ancient pyramids.  Blood letting.  2012.

The Maya.

A vast civilization known for many things.  Intriguing people with the most accurate calendar ever created.

I have always been fascinated with ancient peoples, specifically, Aztec, Maya, and Inca. Widespread dominions that are frequently overlooked in history books.  We learn about Europe and Asia and take a mere cursorily glance at the Americas.  Oh, there were people in the Americas. They were summarily wiped out by conquistadores.  And off we go to talk about the colonization of the US and our history...not my favorite history lesson.

But...ah...but...that was interesting...

I'm a voracious reader. And I love to learn. Add in my interests in Latin America, ancient history, and travel, and we have a deadly combination.  C’mon, who doesn't like searches for gold? El Dorado?  Adventure? The mystery of things we will never be certain of appeals to my sense of storytelling.

It's therefore no surprise I'm addicted to travel memoirs.

In my readings, I happened across a Mayan phase:  "El día se fue del este y empezó a caminar."*  In Spanish, it has a certain ring to it, a combination of a song and a story whetting the imagination of what could be.  It isn't quite so beautiful in English, "the day went from the east and started walking" but it still holds mystery.

It's a beautiful description of the day as a journey.  It carries the hint of newness. I immediately wrote down this saying, and have remembered it ever since.

I like the idea of the dawn as the beginning of a new adventure, the day as my journey.  Life is formed by each day, by the small trips we take. Each moment wasted is an experience wasted, an adventure not taken.

I hate to sound too much like a self-help book, but I truly believe that we are meant to experience every moment.  Sometimes the experiences are exciting, like swan diving off a bridge, and sometimes they are more mundane, like smelling an almost-forgotten flower. Neither experience is more real or more valid than the other, they complement each other and add richness to my existence.

This phrase has become what you might call my mantra.  It reminds me to always look for the freshness in the everyday and spurns me to embrace the adventures that come my way.

My blog, in the end, was created as a new experience for me, an adventure, if you will.  It also serves to fill the need to share my random thoughts on life.  Since the whole phrase is rather long for a title, I decided to rewrite it shorter, but with the same spirit behind it.

And that is how the title came about, for all of you who were asking.

Here I leave you with one final Mayan phrase: in lak'ech

You are the other me.

*It was quoted in Spanish in my book.  I can't find the original Mayan translation, try as I might.

Almost sleepless nights

Image: Danilo Rizzuti/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Well, like 5 million people in this country*, I didn't sleep too well last night.  There's just something about sleeping with my window wide open to the trees and street that appeals to me.  I enjoy the sunlight in the morning, the early morning chill as the day wakes up.  Birds singing, as they usually do, also appeal to me.  So, I just can't simply close the window.  Sue me.

Or maybe I didn't realize it was open when I laid down and am just too lazy to get up and close it.  Or maybe it's broken and stuck open.  But hey, it's the little things in life, right?  But idiot teenagers skateboarding down the street and yelling about how awesome they are in the wee hours of the almost-morning do not qualify.  Maybe a smarter or less lazy person would get up and close the window.  But me, oh no.  I'll just drift back to sleep.  No problem.  Really, no problem.  I'm a gifted sleeper who can just ignore noises and fall back asleep.**

The real problem is that I was up late reading blogs.  Some of them are too hilarious to just flip by.  Ultimately, my sleep problem comes down to the fact that I was too engrossed in sarcastic online chit chat that had tears streaming down my cheeks from laughter.  Maybe I overdid it.  Just maybe.  It was only 1... 30...ish when I went upstairs to bed.  And I only maybe read more on my phone before I closed my eyes.
My friend has an early morning job, so I vaguely recall surfacing to consciousness when she got up and started bustling about.  Maybe an hour later, her cats were pawing at my door.  Not in a cute come-play-with-me fashion, but in an open-the-freaking-door-and-let-me-sleep-in-your-warm-spot way.  Needless to say, I fully ignored the banging.

However, as the world awoke and the street beyond my window filled up with cars, some quiet, some in need of new mufflers, and some blaring crappy rap music, my eyes worked themselves open.  6:30.  Not exactly the best sleep ever.  Let's see if I can do better.  7:10.  Alright, alright, I'm awake.  Just take that whiney country song away when the light turns green.

Yet now that I'm up and showered and have whiled away my morning waiting for my friend to have a several hour break from work, it's time to go exploring again and decide what can delight my taste buds today.  Walla Walla might be lacking in a few diversions, but food is definitely not one of them.  There are cafes, restaurants, chains, hole-in-the-walls, and bars with actually decent food.  But then again, there is the Green Spoon.  I might give in to my stomach's rumbling in a couple hours and hit up the Greek Veggie Sandwich again.  Delish.  I think I will.

*I totally made that number up.  If you're interested in the number of people who have trouble sleeping, go google or bing it or whatever you do.

**I don't actually have trouble sleeping, no matter what you believe after reading this.  My body just matches the sun and I'm dumb enough to stay up late and make myself sleep deprived.  I know it's my fault.  And I am blessed with the gift of barely acknowledging the world and drifting back to sleep quickly.  If you don't believe me, well, call me t 3:00 am and see if I get pissed.  Chances are 99% that I won't.