San Onofre State Park Campground. Sardine Camping for the Seasoned Flea Market Vendors.

I imagine that's what it would feel like, sitting in your tent right in the parking lot, staring at the road and hundreds of other tents.

It's amazing to me that this place is booked often and hard to get into.  I was *lucky* enough to call when there was a cancellation, and booked spot #114.  Previously, Mr Snork had booked spot #94, but after paying we discovered it was a handicapped acc. spot, and you need to have a placard to check in. When I called to change the reservation, I was SO excited they had another spot that I took it, and considered myself lucky.  All the rest were booked.  Because, clearly, it's an awesome, super popular place.

Then I read some Yelp reviews.  (2.5 stars, I believe)   And then giraffy chanced upon some google images, and we started to have doubts that two tents could fit.  She has an 8-10 person, I think.  I have a 6 person with vestibule, so the footprint of an 8-10 person.   My other camping friend has a backpacking 2 person tent, so, presumably, she and her husband can camp in a tree if needed.  No concerns there.

The google image that tipped us off.  

It's a pricey site, at $35 a night, plus $15 second vehicle fee per night.  Plus, $8 reservation fee.  So, $108 for two nights.  But that's a small price to pay for two glorious nights by the ocean, and campfire.  I can't really hope for stars in our area, but I'll take what I can get.

Unless, I get this:

That's a drop off behind that picnic table.  

This is spot #114.  For comparison, this is my tent:

But let's rewind.  Spot #114 is actually one of the better spots.  Spot #113 next to it is the campground winner, with it's own little island of dirt and bushes.  And a faraway ocean view.  It could be bearable.

#113.  They have a spot for a tent that is not within 2 feet of the firepit.  Win.

#114 is definately jealous of #113.  And can use their firepit. 

But let's talk about spot #94, the original reservation.

WTF #94

That is a wall of dirt behind it.

A dirt wall that you can't climb.

And climb it you'd have to, to see any ocean.  Which is far, far down below.

The bench is a nice touch.  

 I guess the description does say you're in the bluffs.  But I feel the description should, somewhere in there say - "waaaaay closer to I5, and railroad (practically on top of) than the ocean.

I5 + railroad view from site.

 You would for sure not hear the waves.  But you do hear the I5.  And, I imagine passing trains.  The google images we had seen made it look bad, but you must realize that is actually much worse in person.

The depth perception is off in this photo.   It looks much larger than it is.  I'm standing maaaaay be five feet from the picnic table, and I'm touching the Dirt Wall Bushes.

I consider myself a pretty flexible camper.  I don't need bathrooms.  I don't need showers.  (They have flushable portapottys and cold outdoor showers).  I'm pretty excited when there's just a water spigot in the vicinity and a view of some sort.  And, I guess, a place for the tent.

So, back to spot #114.  Which, to be fair, has ocean view.  And instead of a wall it has a drop off, which I guess is a little better.  Unless you have a 2 year old to keep track of.  Which I do.   There's also one of may be 3 trees, in the whole campstrip, hanging right over the table.  Good for shade.

That picnic table there is chained into the ground, with about 6" of slack.  And is placed in the most inconvenient spot.   I *think* I could fit my tent sideways, in front of the picnic table.  Right in between the two fire pits. and in front of my car, possibly touching the picnic table and car.  There would be no room for a second tent of any size.  Or any room for Mouse to roam.  It was hard enough to keep her away from the fire pit at O'Neill park, with its vast space, trees, twigs, and pebbles (and passing horses)  to play with.  I'm pretty sure keeping her away from the firepit with only the immediate 5 feet of dirt around it available for play would be a weekend's job on its own.

I think what I'm really getting at is that you can't go there with children.  Once you pitch a tent, small as it may be, the play area is SEVERELY limited.  You're between a wall (if you're lucky) or a drop off, and the road.  With firepits everywhere.  And picnic tables.

 It makes me sad that the state is so greedy, they stuffed all these "camp" spots in this place.  Had they reduced the number of camp spots, it would still not be ideal, but at least, you could spread out laterally, pitch a tent not on top of the firepit, and have some space.  But California is greedy and has money management issues, so, they would rather stuff you like sardines into a dirt patch, and disclose very little about it online.  I notice other, actually nice places have things like thumbnail photos of each campsite.  San Onofre doesn't, because nobody would show up.  Instead, they have a very vague and inaccurate map, and advise you that "depending on size, 1-3 tents fit per site".  No site there fits 3 tents of any size.  They are liars.

I read in some reviews that spots 1-10 were the best.

You're on a bluff.  For real. 

I liked them.  The view is nice (note lack of dirt wall), you don't have drive far into the flea market - like jungle, but you do need a 2 person tent to pull it off.  And, as anywhere else on this campground, you have to cross fingers that yours or neighbors' fire pit sparks don't ruin your tent.

Some other considerations:  smoke -  you know how you end up shifting around campfire depending on where smoke is blowing?  Well, here you can't.  There's probably a tent, a picnic table, or a vehicle next to you.

The beach - is a hike.  It's pretty, and I bet it's great when you get down there.  Lots of rocks I hear.  Very little sand.

Noise - It's like camping with 90 people at once.  I can't even imagine.  The reviews agree.

Group camping sites were lovely.  With space, ocean view, and shade.  $225 a night as of Sept 2013.

Conclusion:  I think a couple spot in the place (1-10, 66, 113) could be nice.  For a couple, a small tent, a little getaway by the beach with ocean view.  Especially if you plan on going down to the beach for most of the day.  (Will people steal your stuff while you're gone?  Probably.)

 Most of the other spots are like a camping version of prison.  Some actually back up to chain link fence.  Which isn't a huge deal, but when your camp spot is 7 feet wide.. it takes away from the scenery.  Also, the park is a liar.  Their map is crap, and I feel they intentionally mislead people.  I hope that more photos of this depressing little dirt patch crop up on the internet, so that people know to plan elsewhere.

UPDATE:  Reserve America will apparently refund your cancellation fee, and your reservation fee if it turns out that you can not physically fit your tent in the spot.  Good.to.know.

Vacationing with Mouse

Mouse is a pretty traveled baby, with almost monthly trips to Chicago, Colorado, and NorCal, and a lot of flights in her tiny lifetime, so we weren't too worried about taking her to Maui.  Although, preemptively we looked up nanny services.  Because she can be vicious, and we weren't sure if we can swing her 24/7 for 10 days, all by ourselves.

She has exceeded our best expectations.  With the exception of the first night, she has been fantastic.  First night she woke up every 2 hours, and Mr Snork, terrified the hotel would throw us out, walked her on the beach, every couple hours all through the night.   After spending the next day delirious with no sleep,  Mr Snork relaxed about the possible hotel baby discrimination, Mouse realized he wasn't running to walk her on the beach at 2 am, and gave up.  Babies are crafty.

I was relieved to find out vacationing is almost the same, except there's a tiny creature who wants things.   Wanting things is her THING right now, and it's really the only thing she's good at, so we humor her, in hopes she soon develops other, less taxing hobbies.  (That, and we're whipped).   Sometimes we cave and stay home during happy hour and let her take a nap, and sometimes we pretend we're in charge and take her for a run in the stroller.  And she screams for 2 miles, to let us know she doesn't like it.   But, what travel partners are perfect?  At least, this one can be bought with crackers.   (For a few minutes at a time, so I really need to find a longer lasting alternative, or buy stock in cracker companies).  And she only snores a little.

Sunshade + blow up bathtub + baby UV suit =  HOURS of fun on the beach.   Mr Snork and I take turns snorkeling and diving for sea glass.   The beached parent invents games with rocks, monitors sand intake, build sand towers for Mouse to crumble, and bathes the Mouse in the ocean.  She loves it.  I haven't spotted obscene amounts of sand in her poop, so we must be doing OK.   Once we had to emergency evac - she rubbed her eyes as she played in the sand.  It was a little ugly, but she recovered after a shower and a nap.   For all the time we spend on the beach I'm surprised it only happened once.  All this playing makes her nap super hard.   This morning we spotted turtles from our balcony, and I dispatched Mr Snork to go snorkel with them, and make sure they aren't rabid or mean, or anything.  After he swam with them and cleared any human related psychoses they might have and they still stuck around, I went down and also had a turn.  Mouse slept through all that, but she's not much of a snorkeler anyway.  

 My mother emailed me and told me she had a dream of Mouse taking her first steps, in the sand.  Because she had a dream the night before Mouse was born, (that she would be born), we have taken the appropriate steps to let this dream happen.  We've walked her on the beach, and on the plush Hyatt lawns.  (We aren't even staying in Hyatt.  We go down there for the grass).  We've tried sunrises, and evenings, and live bands.  No dice.  As soon as we let go off her hands, she promptly nose dives for the ground.  Or sits back.  I'm thinking it was a dream glitch.  I have put hours into this, and all I have is a million pictures of Mouse butt scooting around on all fours, away from us and our aggressive need to teach her things.

The only thing Mouse consistently doesn't like (other than sitting in her carseat) is shopping.  She gets super antsy in the stores, dives for displays, chews tags, attacks things, and thrills Mr Snork every time we have to make a hasty exit.  No touristy loot for me.  I make do by looking at the windows, and making a mental note to Ebay things later.  I should make physical notes, but it would ruin Mr Snork's day each time.  This way, I'll reliably forget each thing once I'm three storefronts down.

We take her into Lahaina art galleries, and she pretends she's into art.  She's almost snobbish about it.        There were some silly paintings with a bear and rabbits, and the salesperson rushed over, telling us how perfect it would be for a nursery.   Mouse stared her down like, "Why would I want this ridiculous bear??  The place next door had a stunning bronze mermaid sculpture, so please leave my face, and take your nursery rabbits with you".     Like us, I'm pretty sure she's obsessed with Vladimir Kush,

and Fabian Perez.

Lucky for her, they're both available to stare at locally at Laguna Beach, because it might be a while before either one comes home with us.

Speaking of beautiful pictures - I tried, despite popular protests to take an ADORABLE picture of Mouse and Parrot named Pearl that hangs out in Lahaina, charges $30 per picture, and is an exquisite shade of greys and pinks.  As soon as Pearl, perched on my hand entered Mouse's line of sight, she started reaching for her with vigor indicative of plucking and other unfriendly behaviors.  Pearl freaked out and was replaced by a not-nearly-as-exciting dull green bird, who was a veteran and a trooper.  Our "Aloha from Maui" postcard choices consisted of 2 shots of Pearl scaling my arm in desperate escape attempts and 4 shots of Mouse glaring at the stoic green bird.  No $30 material in sight.   I guess 10 months is too early?  My plan is walk her past the birds daily, until the novelty wears off, and she can play nicely with them for a fraction of a second.  I have 6 days to accomplish this.  Mr Snork is hoping I fail and save him $30, so I'm double committed.

In Mouse's defense, she lets me take countless pictures of her, for free.  A lot of our time is spent doing just that, on the beach, on the resort grounds, under every plumeria tree or hibiscus bush I can spot, and in the wild.  Sometimes, Mr Snork mans the Mouse while I climb waterfalls and try to get artsy with the camera.   They climb waterfalls too, but prefer the outskirts of the waterfalls, with less slippery rock.    Mouse can also play with a pile of rocks by the river while we have lunch.  Sometimes, we all hang out in the shaved ice trailer by the road and eat the ice, watching the Sugar Cane Train go by.   Other times we hide, and watch her head bobbing in the pack and play, looking for us, when she's supposed to go to sleep.  Like right now.  

Backtracking.. Life's Repair

The weekend is coming up, and my weekends have been full of awesomeness, that I'm completely behind on capturing.  My best friend came out to visit (for the second time ever) from Chicago, on March 17th.  (THAT is how far behind I am on awesomeness).

I think this about captures it all:

Laguna Beach.  Sun.  Taking a Friday off.  My best friend of, like, 15 years, ever since I asked her if I could copy her math homework in high school.  

She has an awesome camera, that I now want.  DS..something.  Nikon.  Last week I wanted Droid, but I'm over it.  I totally want a cool camera again.  (You know, the one that has potential for really awesome pictures, if you know how to use it, which I won't, but I want it anyway).  So we took pictures.  Frolicked in the water.  Did it again Saturday.  

 I forgot to take a picture of our totally awesome matching tatoos.  H + J, forever, with a Cricky and Igget.  She's Cricky.  I'm Igget.  One is an iguana (an obsession of mine) and the other is a cricket (an obsession of her, if you will..)

I wanted an iguana, so bad, my whole life.  And, once, in Petsmart, they had them, just beautiful, with these little tiny green claws, and perfect little pointy nails, and beady little eyes and snouts.  I was in love. 

My mom wasn't having any of it, none at all, so I was on the phone, just crying my eyes out about unfairness of life, when Heidi promised that she would get me an iguana, for my 20th birthday.  (Which seemed like AGES away).  20 years came along, and we were rooming together at college, and didn't really have enough money to feed ourselves, let alone lizards, so, the pact was amended - I was really looking fwd to this, after all - 25th birthday.  This is like, 11-12 years of patient waiting. 

On my 25th birthday, I get a call..  Did I know iguana's grow to be, like a junior dinosaur size?  No, sure didn't.. 
Did I know they tend to me mean for life?  Kinda.  I heard this, but figured mine would be different, even though a friend had one that bit him all the time. 
Not so much said the shop guy.  I guess, they get so many iguanas back, that he was reluctant to sell them, to anyone but the most avid lizard afficionados.  Which, I am.  But, I consider my specialty the little 10cm lizards.  Anything over this size, I start to doubt my abilities.  And the idea of watching TV next to a 100 lb lizard cooled me off significantly.  So, may be when I'm 35.  I'm hoping a friendly iguana strain is bred in time for my birthday.

She took my car and went to San Diego, and took pictures of things I haven't even seen, having lived in SoCal for 5 years now.  Oops.  Like the lizard sculpture above. 

I wish my camera took pictures like this.  Sigh. 

But, mostly, we did a lot of beach strolling, in Laguna.  Jesse and I 'found' this little beach when we were reception beach house hunting.  We almost decided on this cliff house:

It was pretty cool.  And, cheaper than a state beach affair.  It's perched on this cool rock, and below it is the 'secret' little beach. Well, we thought it was secret, cause it looked that way in February.  But, come March adn the sun, turns out a lot of people found their way to it, as well. 

The water at this beach was super rough. 

And, despite my best college efforts, Heidi, apparently STILL can't swim.  I really, can't imagine.  I tried so hard.  I mean.  She grew up in Philippines.  It's, like, all island-y.   Way to not plan for apocalypse.  So, she's not actually happy in any of the photos I took, but I'm not picky about the subject's moods.  Color photoshop work is all her. 

Meanwhile, I tried my best, Victoria Secret Beach Shoot pose ..

I don't look nearly as playboy bunny-ish as I'd hoped.  I also had to keep my bandaged, blender-accident-mutilated middle finger up and above the water, so that was part of the problem.   I really hope she has a better one in the batch that she's saving and framing for a surprise birthday gift.  Meanwhile, more lizards, or close up of the above lizards, in case you didn't consider them enough: 

I miss her..  Stupid Chicago.  Sigh.  She named the Spring Break photo album on Facebook "Life's Repair".  I hope she got well rested and recharged before going back to the cold, the ick, and the med school madness. 

Thanksgiving, Ducks, and Whoops

I don't like turkey. I don't like any white meat in general, and turkey has so much of it, its annoying. I also find it tough and bland, and .. the list of its offences is really too long to indulge in. So, instead, like a good Russian, I make a stuffed duck on any qualifying holiday. Qualifying means it puts me in the mood to spend $17 on a bird. Spending $17 dollars on a fatty chicken like bird seemed appalling until a recent trip to Bristol Farms, where ducks come in at 9.99 per pound, so, $40-$50 a duck pre-tax. Jesse and I laaaaaughed and laughed our way out of the door, duck-less. I was on a duck research mission that evening, and found out that Whole Foods were $4.99/lb and Ralphs and Vons at 2.88 and 2.69 respectively. I got some nice fat 6 lb ones at Ralphs, and was pretty pleased. I still wonder - the ducks at Bristol Farms weren't frozen. What happens to these $40 ducks at the end of the night? I mean, do they toss them? Can I come in at 8:59 and make an offer? Are they available shortly thereafter at or around their dumpster? Just wondering...

Russian Holiday Duck:

a duck
4-5 apples.
a package of prunes
thyme, optional
salt/pepper

I wash the duck and trim as much fat as I can. Rub the inside of it with salt and pepper, and stuff with cored and sliced apples. I don't peel my apples, since they tent to turn into much when peeled. Prunes are mixed in with apples and going into the duck as well.
I prick the duck all over with a sharp fork, or skewers, if the forks are too gentle and child-proof, to help fat escape.
Stitched close with my best surgeon work, toss the excess apples around it, and toss in the oven at 375'F for 2.5-3 hours.



Ducks are super fatty, and as the fat drains out, it helps if the duck is elevated on a rack. I don't own such a rack, so Jesse kindly rolled some foil into thick bars, and the duck rested on 3-4 of these. This way, it's not swimming in a fat-lake when you take it out.


I must warn for $17, you are not getting very much meat. But what you do get is exquisite.

We had dinner with Jesse's family, complete with an enormous 26lb turkey. It was pretty magical, and I even found some turkey leg meat I didn't object to entirely. Afterwards, we headed to my Aunt Diane's for tea and pie, where my father and step mother were visiting from Northern California. The children had dug a giant hole on the beach to play in, and aunt Diane showed us some 90 year old toys passed down in the family.



Friday morning, despite my incoherent objections, Jesse stuck to our plan and threw me in the truck, shopped for camp groceries along the way, and we arrived at Spangler (Southern California high desert) to camp and ride.



Jesse got me a WR250 a few months ago, and I'm still breaking it in. I just discovered this trip, that it's true - if you take whoops at a high enough speed they don't rattle your wrists, shoulders, and neck, and instead, you almost glide over them.

It had rained at night, we listened to the rain and wind in our tent, keeping warm in a sleeping bag with 8 blankets "just in case". There was no dust the next morning. A little windy, but you can't pick your weather, and having lived in Chicago, I'm excited to be out and camping at the end of November. Riding was beautiful and dust free.



We met some friends from ThumperTalk, a message board where I met most everyone I know. There was a band playing - for $600 they got a trailer and will follow you anywhere. There was a sea of toyhaulers and trailers. Jesse and I camp the old fashioned way, but we aren't proud, and are happy to hide out in a trailer when needed, watch Star Wars, even, and have Dave's biscuits and gravy Thanksgiving Trailer Dinner Special. (Thanks Denise and Dave!!) Not to mention the bathroom. Sometimes, and especially in 40'F, it's just nice not to have your butt hanging out in the wind.

I am thankful. Super thankful for all the happy things and people and blessings in my life.

*pictures to come

I can't live there, but I love Chicago

This was our 5th! trip to Chicago this year. I think that's a record for me since I've moved away. Luckily, Jesse likes to make the trip too, despite sweating like feverish frog all thoughout the flight. He shakes it off sometime after the landing.

Halloween was a perfect time to be in Chicago, all the fall colours and overcast weather. I want to paint every picture that wee took. (Reality - I will probably paint one, in a couple years.)
In an unrelated topic - I wonder if I could paint and open a shop on Etsy. Etsy is pretty new to me; it seems a lot of bloggers I like have a shop on there. I haven't been on there long enough to figure out exactly what it's about, or how it's done (i.e - how is it different from Ebay) but that might be an awesome hobby. I'll log it on the List. I like an opportunity to play with colours, and soon I will run out of wall space. Between awesome finds and my own (or, my own shamelessly copying somebody else) we are quickly running out of blank wall space. Or bright yellow wall space, depending on the location.


On Saturday, the guys were supposed to rake leaves. It looked fun enough.
I'd totally jump in some leaves, but it occurred to me, in order for my giant ass not to bottom out and straight tailbone it into asphalt, the pile would have to be much bigger than I care to rake, and forklift and whatnot.



I napped, during this time. The one thing about perpetually overcast weather, is it's conducive to napping. Perfect for bears, and whoever else sleeps away 4 months, not so much for people who are trying, TRYING to lose and get under 135 lbs. Unlike a bear I'd have to get up and snack. Fat reserves are cool, but sometime during day 3 I would need some pancakes and meat.


It was also my grandmother's 74th birthday. I love that she's here. She's so warm, and seems to know everything about everything. And her cooking is magical. That, and I am her favorite grandaughter. Well, favorite grand child, really. I know, it's a terrible thing to say with 5 grandchildren, but it's true. I'm oldest and spoil-est.


She is pretty disappointed with the state of most fruits and vegetables here (she grows her own in Ukraine), but she made some Pumpkin "Kasha", or Mush, loosely translated. It's pumpkin cooked with milk and rice. To my surprise, Jesse took a liking to it.
Either that or he was desperate for something to eat that wasn't "Fish Eyes", which is what he calls a Russian Meat-Jello type dish. I guess it's redeeming enough that I've got him on my 28 tea-times-a-day scedule, so I'm not too butthurt. Russian Meat Jello (Kholodets) involves boiling hooves, or some other bones, for hours on end, then taking hooves/bones/cartilage out, adding meat bits, and some herbs. After it sets in refrigerator it's just like Jello with Gummy Worms, but not sweet, and meaty. Unfortunately, no pictures of my grandma's, but Google turns up enough disturbing images.

On Sunday, I took Jesse to a fancy Russian restaurant, LaMirage. I hear they had ice in the urinals. I wonder if this is a fancy thing very common in elite circles, but compltely foreign to me, like 20 carat diamonds, bidets, and eating small meals. Either way, Jesse thought it was cool.

We waited for his favorite wrestler, but dude got sick, so instead we got trainers and other people of no interest to me, but, Jesse seemed to make most of it. I made the most out of 3 hot courses (Hello, duck!!), vodka, and desert platter. If I have to wake up at 6 the next morning for a flight, I may as well be bloated, hung over, and severely underslept. Makes it easier to deal with TSA - who, on a super bright note, let all my bags through, the one with toiletries INSIDE, and 10 bags of pastries (Prianiki- Jesse's crack), AND the one with a grapefruit, a pomegranate, a 3 day old banana (I don't know why, and yes, I'm ashamed), more toiletries, all liquid, and extra pointy sharp tweezers. Couple years ago I almost got tossed out of O'Hare for throwing a fit when they "confiscated" the make-up they deemed too "liquidy".. (Chanel foundation) and few mascaras. I think they've been making it up to me, ever since. As well they ought.

First time for everything.

Every time I google something, I come across random babbling @blogspot.com.. People telling you what's up with sewing cushions, random babbling about their days, pictures of stuff they're obsessd with. I kept ignoring them, thinking I got my own babble, but then I happenned upon some interesting entries, and then I got sucked in. To complete the -off of bridge jumping appropriately I feel like I need one of my own now, so here goes.

I don't fully understand how these work just yet, or their purpose - but, may be one day I'll need to remember what day I dropped off my dry cleaning, and I'll turn here to look for the recipe of the salmon I made the day before, whose wine sauce stained the skirt I then neeed to dry clean. Who knows.

I'm also hoping I can track my various projects and failures in here, sewing, painting, furniture refinishing, dirt bike trips, and vacations.

For my very first entry - Tomorrow is Chicago!! to see my awesome, magical, warm and fluffy grandma, mom, and my best friend. Or a severe ear infection, depending on who calls to ask. The cruel irony of this is that there actually IS an ear infection, and I look not forward to flying with it. I'm picturing exploding ears, leaking brain fluid, may be blindness.. and that's before take off.

After take off I usually, and hopefully this time, will find mild comfort in watching my boyfriend.. exist during a flight. He turns an intriguing shade of tropical frog green, and gets about that clammy. Then he clutches the armrests and for the duration of the flight (SNA-ORD = 4 hours) he stares very straight ahead of him, intermittently picking up headphones and checking every available station looking for air traffic control. After that fails, he goes back to channeling panic + doom. He looks so intense I'm constantly surprised other passangers don't call him in. I guess we keep getting lucky.

I'm told the cab will be here 655am, (tropical frog likes to get places stupid-early) so I had better get to packing and my nightly cup of tea. And by pack I mean throw 2 shirts into a bag + ear drops + ipod. I could probably pack more, but it's only a 2 day trip, and in the event of unexpected cold Chicago weather/flooding/layovers, I'm always confident Jesse the frog has packed enough wardrobe to stay warm, mop up a small river, and stay warm and stylish for at least 2 weeks with no worries.