Life 2.1

The title may sound like the latest ride at Disneyland but I assure you, it is not.

When I was a junior in high school, my brother was a freshman and I drove us to our early morning class. I also picked up two of our friends who also had the pleasure of getting their learn on at 7am. This entailed leaving the house around 6:30am and during certain months of the year, it was still dark, which didn’t help me wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. In fact, the four of us often rode to school in total silence. Me and three high school boys. Silence.

Until one morning when I was driving my little white ford ranger along Browns Valley Road. We were driving along in the aforementioned total silence until my brother, sitting in the front passenger seat, did his best impression of the teacher with the monotone voice from the Wonder Years.

“Deer,” he said, in the most matter-of-fact, flatline voice.

I swerved and still say I didn’t clip the deer, as I saw it scamper back across the street into the hills, but the boys think I maimed it. I would also like to state for the record that there was no damage to the truck that a deer might have caused.

I couldn’t believe that was my brother’s warning for a large four-legged animal about to hit me. And neither of the other two said anything either. Although, to be fair, I wasn’t sure they hadn’t gone back to sleep. I also couldn’t believe they thought I hit it. Clearly, if anything, it had almost hit me. But I digress.

Today, another deer got its revenge for anything that may have transpired with the previous woodland creature from 10 years. Because today, I rode my bike for the first time in approximately 17 years and the deer that I encountered on my ride clearly knew this.

A little side note, the reason for the cycling lapse was simple. I hated the mandatory bicycle helmet rule that became law when I was around 10 or 11. I hated it with a passion. The helmet was constraining, choking and didn’t accommodate my ponytail. When it became a law that minors had to wear a helmet, my law-abiding parents went out and bought Joe and me each a helmet. Ted was still sporting training wheels and his own helmet closely resembled a giant bubble made of styrofoam. My helmet, on the other hand was a neon pink Jammer that was the size of a melon to my pea-sized head. I literally gave up riding bicycles because I had such disdain for my pink Jammer and by the time I was no longer a minor and therefore free to ride with the breeze blowing my hair back like a shampoo commercial, I didn’t have time for bike rides.

Enter today. The first chance I’ve had to ride a bike while under no legal obligation to wear a helmet. I had already been for a run this afternoon but needed to deliver a flash drive of pictures to my aunt and uncle, who live about a 1/2-mile down the road. So I hopped on my bike thinking a quick little sport would cap off my workout. I was a little rusty and this particular bike has holsters for your shoes on the pedals. I was a wee bit nervous at the idea of my foot being locked in a shoe prison but I slid my shoes in and took a minute to get my balance and figure out the gears and off I rode.

Everything was fine on the way there. Except the huffing and puffing that went on trying to get over the Pinewood Hill. That damn hill still kicks my arse. But I didn’t have to get off my bike and walk it like I used to when I was 8, so I guess that’s improvement.

After I dropped off the flash drive, I hopped back on the bike to head home, as it was just getting to be too dark to ride. I went around the block to get momentum to take on the Pinewood Hill again and as I was zooming down Brookwood, feet ominously locked onto the pedals, I was ambushed by a deer!

He darted out into the middle of the road, stopped just short of my front tire after laying eyes on me and darted back in the direction from which he came. But not before I wobbled around from my surprise attack.

I regained my composure (and balance on the bike) and powered up my legs for the hill that laid before me but I’m pretty sure the deer went back to his little deer friends and shared that story about how he scored one for all of deer-kind.

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One of the things that I told myself upon moving back to CA was that I needed to take advantage of day trips and the fact that pretty much 2 hours in any which direction will take me to the mountains, the ocean, the forest or the desert. Not that I plan on going to the latter 2 but hey, it’s good to know I have options.

Since my parents were beach-bound Wednesday night, and I had Saturday and Sunday off, I joined them.

A little known fact is, that while I was born and raised in Napa, I actually lived in Santa Cruz (technically Scotts Valley but at the time, it wasn’t even a big enough town to have a high school) for about 18 months. Apparently that is the magical amount of time I can live away from this town.

We moved South when I was half-way through my 4th grade school year. This happened to also be the same year I got glasses. Glasses and braces and a new school. I like to call that the nerd-trifeca.

4th grade wasn’t bad since I got to Scotts Valley in time for softball season and I could at least hold my own on the field so that deflected from the fact that my glasses were the size of saucers and practically took up all of my face. 5th grade was even better because by that time I had made friends and it also happened to be the year that I hit my first (and only) grandslam. I think I also had my first “boyfriend” in 5th grade but all that meant was that he was under obligation to pick me for his team in kickball. But, it also happened that his family was part of the circle of friends my family made while in Santa Cruz. We would plan summer picnics at the beach and we would all pack our boogey boards and lunch and meet at the beach. Summers were good in Santa Cruz. We moved back to Napa right before 6th grade started but went back to visit during the summers for a while after moving.

Then my mom’s college friend offered to let us stay in her beach house down there, which was literally on the beach…we’re talking, ‘good morning ocean’ right-on-the-beach. That became our summer retreat but as we got older, we didn’t frequent Santa Cruz much. Summer baseball took up most of our time. But now as an adult (a term I use loosely, since I’m still under my father’s roof) there is no more summer baseball in which I’m having to play/attend.

So, right. My mini-break. My parents left for the beach house on Wednesday night and I met up with them Saturday afternoon, making the 2-hour drive with my laptop and verizon internet card in the passenger seat so I could listen to the Mets game until the the wheels fell off Johan Santana’s wagon and the Phillies broke it open in the 4th, at which point I went back to the radio to listen to the Giants game and to hear Kuip and Dave Flemming rag on Kruk, a new iPad owner. I LOLed.

I arrived around 3 or so and my mom and her friend were holding down the fort while my dad got a quick round of golf in. We lounged and enjoyed adult beverages while my mom’s friend went totally gourmet and whipped up some snacks. And by snacks I mean homemade potato chips with creme fraîche and caviar. No big deal. Just another day at the beach. I actually had never tried caviar before and I was pleasantly surprised to find out I liked it! The creme fraîche really complements the flavor of the caviar. Doesn’t that last sentence sound so fancy, like I know what I’m talking about? I totally don’t, but it tasted good when I ate it so I will attribute it to the flavor combos.

We enjoyed much food and drink and I made a valiant attempt to tan, so score one more for me. We followed the potato chips with homemade bruschetta, ribs, spiced sausages and some type of trout on a cucumber that was really good with a little shot of cayenne pepper on the top.

I didn’t go hungry on this trip.

We were joined by the brother of our hostess and his wife and we all enjoyed the appetizers on the patio with the beach as our backdrop. After we had eeked out every possibly bit of sunshine from the day, we moved inside and had an amazing dinner of homemade cannelloni with salmon and steaks in a morel mushroom sauce with good wine (always) and homemade mini cheesecakes for dessert. You know, just a little something whipped up while the other stuff was cooking. It was so delicious.

AND I learned how to make a roux, which I am really excited about. I could totally make homemade cannelloni now and I’m not even Italian. Point Colleen.

It was such a nice, relaxing evening at the beach. And I got to lay out in the sun which finally made an appearance this season.

Sunday wasn’t a bad gig either. While it was a little foggy, it burned off to reveal this:

Certainly not a bad view, right? After a relaxing morning sipping coffee in our house, we went next door where my mom and her friend set up our “brunch” which was the fanciest spread of leftovers I have ever seen. We had brie with a cherry-port reduction sauce, champagne, fruit, pasta salads, really good deli meats, gourmet olives, sandcastle cake and bruschetta. Delish.

Then we soaked up more sun until it was time to leave. I’m also pleased to announce that my legs, while still fair, will no longer offend. And sunglasses, although recommended, are no longer required to combat the glare off of said legs. That right there makes this a successful trip.

It was exactly what I had in mind when I told myself I needed to make more day/weekend trips. Thankfully, we have a someone who is nice enough to offer the use of a beach house to turn a day trip into a weekend getaway.

Now I need to go exercise away all the delicious food I ate.

No Comments | In: Social Adventures | tags: beach, gourmet, Santa Cruz, vacation, weekend. | #