Raccoon?

Santa Cruz Chronicles

***

I haven’t actually physically seen him yet, but (apparently) there is a behemoth of a raccoon that patrols the sides of our house at night, as well as the backyard.  It’s kind of like our Santa Cruz house’s Loch ness monster, if you will.  And since no one’s actually seen it, it’s hard to say how big it actually is, which is a little frightening.  So frightening, in fact, that the other night (when I got in my car to run to the store) I climbed in through my car’s passenger seat because I didn’t want to walk into the pitch black area by the driver’s side, and stumble into some abominable creature.  That all being said, the giant raccoon will remain a(n) (more realistic) urban myth until it’s identified.  It’ll happen someday.  I’m just not particularly looking forward to that day.  

***

In other news, I found a great parking lot in the sketchier side of downtown where I can park for FREE for three whole hours, until 8 p.m. to 6 a.m., when there's no time limit at all.  So last night, I kind of tested the waters with this parking lot.  My shift down at the coffeehouse started at 4:45, so I parked in the lot at 4:35 and jammed to work by foot down the street a few blocks.  In my mind, what harm would leaving my car there for an 25 minutes do?  Low and behold, after briskly walking in the night toward the parking lot, there sat my trusty old car.  Either I lucked out, or someone's lookin' out for me.  (Insert smiley face here).  

Speaking of working at the coffeehouse, I'm really beginning to grow accustomed to the way they run their store.  Each store has practically the same mantra, but all the same, they each have specific ways they like to go about doing certain things.  For example, last night I closed.  My shift supervisor had asked me to bring in the outside furniture (tables and umbrella) but to lock all the chairs up with this rusty chain link lock thing.  So, that being said, I followed instruction and brought in all the furniture, after locking the chairs together outside.  Don't worry, I was able to get everything through the front doors with the help of some local bums who propped the doors open for me.  (Not creepy at all).  Just when I thought I had done everything to a "T," my shift supervisor chuckled at the fact that I brought the ENTIRE umbrella (stand and all) into the store, when I was really only supposed to bring the top of it in.  No wonder it was so heavy/seemed so labor intensive.  

Santa Cruz Chronicles - Just your average Saturday

08/18/12

***

So far I’ve been in Santa Cruz for almost two weeks.  I already feel like I kind of know my way around town, not to mention the quickest ways to reach my destinations by car, bike, and foot.  Also, I can almost say that I’ve established some basic running routes, which (like ones I have back home) I’ll forever know how long they’ll take me to complete.  So far, there’s “North Harbor,” where I run along the coast (via East Cliff drive), past the Walton Lighthouse, near the northern tip of Monterey Bay, and back to my house via local surface streets.  There’s “Natty Bridges” (aka Natural Bridges), where I basically run to the end of West Cliff drive, and continue on the trail/street that winds around Natural Bridges state beach until it runs directly into the UC Santa Cruz Marine science buildings.  Then there’s “Forrest,” which is basically just me running up Bay street, onto the UC Santa Cruz campus and into the intermittent forrest trails where the deers roam and green is the only color you see.  Lastly, there’s always the “Pier” or “Wharf” run, in which I run down the coast alongside the ocean, to the end of the pier and back.  That run in particular is the shortest of my runs, and is particularly relaxing when I’m in the mood for solid views and an ocean breeze.

***

Today was just your basic Saturday.  Except, the first of my housemates moved in, and we also had our washer & dryer installed.  Joy!  Washing my clothes in the comfort of our own home.  Who would’ve thought such a modern convenience could be so taken for granted!  Well, no more sketchy trips to the laundromat.  Although, it was getting to be quite the experience figuring out the minimal amount of quarters needed for one load to wash and one load to dry, and then having the town creepers asking if I needed any help.  Um, thank you, but (politely, of course) NO!  

***

I’ve noticed that on weekends, there’s massive youth beach volleyball tournaments down by the Pier.  I think the tournament may be affiliated with some volleyball club teams or whatnot.  Even though I’m far more into running than I ever was into volleyball (in my volley days), I’m still very much intrigued by the sport, and will sometimes stop to watch a few rallies while on my run.  Some of the young kids are quite talented to say the least.  Similarly, many people walking along the bluffs right by the coast will stop to gander at the surfers out there catching waves near the old lighthouse and surf museum.  The waves surge into the coast line at the most bizarre angle, too.  It almost looks as though they’re going to run right into the cliff overlooking the water, but if you get right up along the edge, it’s easy to see that the waves are angled in such a way as to scoop them up, away from the rocks, and more towards the shoreline.

Until next time... 

Santa Cruz Chronicles - day 8 

***

Some days are just plain uneventful, while others will keep you jabbering into the next decade.  Just the same, not all days are going to be great ones, either.  Today was one of those days.  Just wanted to throw that out there.  It didn’t start out so horrible, though.  In fact, today started off with an impeccable “discovery run,” as I’m beginning to call them.  I had no idea where I was going to end up today, but I knew I wanted to log a solid 70 minutes of running.  I took off in the opposite direction alongside the coast in which I’ve been running, and ended up passing the Walton Lighthouse at the northern end of Monterey Bay, near the Santa Cruz Harbor, which was like a little slice of home.  I stumbled upon a pathway that enabled me to run in an adjacent fashion to the boats relaxing in the harbor and ran that pathway practically into the ground until it ended.  By then, it was time for me to turn around and head back.  I made it back home a little quicker than expected, so I made the executive decision to both tackle and conquer “Death hill” a block away from my house (more locally recognized as Miramar Drive).  I kid you not, it is THE steepest incline I’ve ever run up, and I hardly exaggerate when it comes to hills.  (I may or may not have been referred to as a mountain goat once or twice in my day).

By the time I got to work around 10:45 a.m. and stepped on the floor to start my shift, I could tell that something wasn’t quite right.  Unfortunately, once I realized I was experiencing a massive stomach ache, thanks to Mother Nature herself, I had to pound out the next 5 hours at work with raging abdominal cramps, trying not to be a wimp and complain about it.  Oddly enough, I felt loads better after catching up with my mom on a phone call during my lunch break, and by the time I was free for the day, the aches and pains had practically disappeared.  Thank goodness. 

From the Trails to the Newsroom

Santa Cruz Chronicles - day 7

***

Every morning that I’ve been up in Santa Cruz thus far, I’ve woken up to my alarm so that I can get my run in before either going to work at the newspaper or Starbucks.  But just because I set an alarm, and am up and going before I’m even fully functioning, hardly has anything to do with whether or not I know where I’m going.  You see, I’m still in pedal-to-the-metal adventure mode.  Every run is an exploration, and I won’t lie... I kind of enjoy it.  Back home, I knew every run there was like every callous on my toes.  But up here, I’m definitely a newbie.  I may look like I know what I’m doing or where I’m going, but trust me.  You are very mistaken.  

I’m not sure what it is about them, but there is definitely something that draws me to trail-running.  I want to say that it’s their simple yet beautiful state of being that lures me in on a primal level.  But even that doesn’t sound quite right.  It’s almost too difficult for me to put into words.  What I can say, is that stumbling upon a new trail is like Christmas, or finding a hidden treasure.  Not knowing where it’ll take me, regardless of how long I may be out running, is what truly sparks my desire for trails.  Another thing.  When you’re running on the road, or pavement, or whatever you like to call it, you can see what’s coming in plain sight.  Trails, on the other hand, are a bit different.  Without your knowing, a trail may lead you up a mountainous incline, through an unexpected gaping ravine, or through patches of wildly majestic flowers.  The “not knowing” is what I think makes trails so enticing to me.  

All that being said, today I ventured out my front door.  It took me 8 minutes to get to the coastline, and then another 25 minutes to reach what they call “Natural Bridges.”  It’s a stretch of beach, where there exists these giant rock formations in the breaking surf, which have literally taken the shape of bridges over time.  Natural Bridges is a fairly well-known landmark up here in Santa Cruz.  Once I reached this hallowed ground (or sand, I should say), I noticed a small opening near the sand and some trees which looked like a trail entrance.  Low and behold, it was!  I was ecstatic. (Picture jumping babies in your shoes).  I spent the next 20 minutes of my run racing through these dirt trails like a wild animal.  Literally.  When there was a sharp blind turn, I got excited.  When there was quick uphill, I got excited.  When there was a downhill with obstacles on the way down,... yes you guessed it... I got excited.  Basically, I was simply in high spirits the entire run following my discovery of this one trail.  And the best part about finding a new trail, is that you can always go back to it and run it over and over again.  It almost sounds like a drug addict procuring a fix.  I suppose it’s entirely similar. 

*** 

Another highlight of today, was having the pleasure of interviewing a locally and well-renowned storyteller for an article I’m writing for the newspaper.  The interview went incredibly well, thank you for asking.  But what I would like to elaborate on, is the location at which we met, in order to host the interview.  The place was called “Hidden Peak Teahouse.”  It’s located just off of Cedar St. between Locust and Pacific Avenue, and let me tell you.  It certainly lives up to its name.  Let’s just say it took me a little while to find it.  It’s ambience was serene, and the the moment I entered the gates of this place, I was immediately greeted with more bamboo than I’ve seen in my lifetime.  I then began to hear waterfalls and the hushed tone of a carved-out bamboo flute.  It’s miraculous to think that just off the beaten path of a heavily pounded downtown sidewalk, a place like this can exist.  Now, I’m not too big into tea, but they have a fabulous deal on their “tea-of-the-day.”  For a mere 99 cents, you can soothe your inner yogi with a “big bowl” of a different tea that varies day by day.  Who knows, maybe tea will grow on me someday.  Either way, I’m sure I’ll be back to Hidden Peak at some point, if only to soak up some of its mystical and calm vibes when I’m in need of some soul searching or thought-collecting. 

Until next time...                       

City Girl?

Santa Cruz Chronicles - day 6 

***

I’m getting my walking legs back.  Just to clarify, walking legs are quite different than running legs.  One may be a speed-walker, or a speedy runner who logs many-a-mile.  But by no means, is one equivalent to the other.  I felt pretty sluggish on my run this morning.  But that was to be expected, considering that yesterday’s run was dangerously close to two hours.  Where is she even going with this, you may ask?  Well, since I now work in the bustle of the downtown area (both at the newspaper and at Starbucks), I’m finding that I’m doing a whole lot of walking and biking... “physical commuting,” as I like to call it.  

Now, for anyone who doesn’t exercise on a regular basis, the kind of walking and biking I’m talking about (basically commuting to and from work) would probably be a sufficient daily workout routine.  But I’m not that person.  Rather, I’m that person who gets up early to get that hour-plus-run in before work, to then have to physically “commute” to work.  Then, just add a teaspoon of dealing with whiny customers into the mix, and you have a near perfect example of a day-in-the-life of Melissa.  That being said, I’m just a tad more exhausted than normal.  Hopefully I’ll adjust to my new much busier lifestyle, but I’m not too worried about it.  Before long, I’ll be immune to it.  I just can’t let myself get to bed too late.  I think that’s going to be the trick. 

***

On a completely different note, I tried a totally different yogurt place tonight.  I wasn’t even planning on getting any tonight, but my sweet tooth was raging, therefore I had to oblige.  The place was called “Yogizmo” and it was only a few blocks from my house.  So far, I must admit, it’s the best I’ve had since trekking up to Santa Cruz!  Yes, there is a bit of excitement in that exclamation point that you see!  Despite the shop not having any kind of self-service, the yogurt itself was high quality, and the toppings were way up on the charts as well.  One thing that really struck my fancy... they had these things called “dark chocolate covered acai berries.”  I usually never stray from my usual yogurt toppings, but those little berry things were so intriguing, I couldn’t resist.  Also, to continue justifying the berries (as if I really have to), they’re apparently jam-packed with antioxidants.  Who really knows for sure but they tasted awesome as hell, so I’m not going to worry about it.          

Santa Cruz Chronicles - day 5 

***

“The Endless Spoon; In Search of the Perfect Frozen Yogurt (in Santa Cruz)” 

I’d be willing to assume that the vast majority of my acquaintances are aware of my slight obsession with frozen yogurt.  That having been said, I have taken on the challenge of finding a frozen yogurt shop in Santa Cruz, California that matches my all-time favorite yogurt joint back home in Newport Beach, California... America’s Cup.  It’s been five whole days since I arrived into Santa Cruz, and so far, I’ve been getting my bearings, exploring numerous places to run, and just exploring the area in general.  Back home, the question of where to go to get frozen yogurt never arose.  If I was going out to grab some “fro-yo,” it was to one place and one place only.  It was a mere perk that I would get to use my yogurt punch card to eventually get two bucks off my 10th yogurt.  It was always a fun day when you reached the end of the punch card.  

So far, I’ve experimented with two different frozen yogurt shops up here.  The first one I tried was called “FroYo.”  Talk about original.  It was your typical yogurt place where the yogurt attendant filled your cup with yogurt, but then you were in charge of topping your cup with the condiments of your choice, and to your desired extent.  First things first.  People need to realize that there are VAST differences amongst yogurt shops.  The first noticeable quality in a yogurt shop is whether or not it is “self-serve.”  I, personally, tend to prefer self-serve shops, because it puts me in control of how I build my creation.  The second thing, would have to be whether or not the yogurt attendant puts the toppings on for you or not.  Again, maybe it’s just me, but I find great pleasure in being the complete artist when it comes to frozen yogurt, and thus clearly prefer an entirely self-serve atmosphere.  In my mind, the places that do everything for you are (I apologize for the bluntness) a joke.  There’s absolutely nothing fun about the yogurt experience when you can’t have some physical contribution to the creation of your frozen yogurt.  

I stumbled upon the first frozen yogurt place while walking around downtown in search of a dresser just the other day.  But I actually had to search out the second frozen yogurt shop.  It was less than a mile from my house, AND it was completely self-serve, so I had to give it a try.  The place was called “Top A Lot Yogurt,” and I do give it credit for living up to its name.  My personal topping choices don’t vary too greatly, but from what I could tell, their toppings were adequate.  Their yogurt on the other hand was a little too much like greek yogurt.  Even their dutch chocolate yogurt was a little too tart for my liking.  But who can I fool... I can’t bitch about it too harshly, because I still ate it.  On a positive note, something that I did very much appreciate, was how they provided an endless stack of sample cups near the yogurt dispensers, so customers need not be a bother and nag employees for a measly one ounce paper cup whenever they wanted to try a flavor.  As much as I wanted it to match America’s Cup standards, it didn’t even come close.  Oh well, I’ll keep trying new and different frozen yogurt joints, and will be sure to keep you updated. 

***

In other news, I got a long run in today.  Now, what’s considered “long,” you may ask?  Today I logged roughly 16 miles in an hour and 50 minutes.  You do the math.  In my opinion, the best way to get in a long run in a new location, is to purposefully get yourself lost, so that you must find your way back home.  Chances are, by the time you find your way back, the run will be considered “long enough.”  That was certainly the case today.  Except, today, I discovered where I was much sooner than expected.  I guess you could say that I’m quickly getting the lay of the land up here.                      

Until next time... 

Santa Cruz Chronicles - Day 4 

Highlights

***

Highlight number one - 

I woke up this morning.  Without an alarm.  At the exact time I was planning to wake from my slumber.  And yes, I know what you’re thinking.  But when is this ever not a highlight to one’s day?! 

The real highlight number one - 

I encountered a pair of deer on my run this morning.  Real, living, breathing deer.  Since arriving up in Santa Cruz, and up until today, I’d only taken runs along the coast’s edge.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s gorgeous.  But I was already feeling the need to shake things up a bit because my intuition is at the top of its game, and I already know I’ll be running there an innumerable amount of times.  With that being said, I decided to venture through the UC Santa Cruz campus.  I literally spent the first half of my run climbing up the hill that is Bay street, to reach the base of campus.  Ironically (to some), the street that signifies the base of the UC campus is called “High Street.”         

To the best of my prior knowledge, I had heard that it’s basically a university inside a forrest, which is completely accurate, according to today’s run.  Also, by “forrest,” I mean dense, incapable-of-seeing-the-sun forrest.  The kind where you’re in awe by it’s natural mystery, but on your toes all the same because you’re not quite sure what you’ll run into.  On a secluded trail in the heart of campus, were two deer, simply grazing in the thick forrest brush.  When I first saw them, I just assumed that I was hallucinating.  But when I did a double-take, I quickly realized that I wasn’t seeing things, and that there were two very much alive deer in sight, and that in moments, I would be within feet of them when I run by.  It was breathtaking.  Nature usually is.  

***

Highlight number two - 

Today was my first day at my new Starbucks.  I’ll always be part of the team at 2700 West PCH at heart, but today embarked my first day as part of a new team.  It’s really very strange, and I don’t want to sound pompous, but people who work at Starbucks (whether it be at my old store, or the stores I’ve covered shifts at) are truly genuine, in their own ways of course.  But there’s something about the types of people whom Starbucks employs.  I’ve never not gotten along with another fellow SBUX partner.  One day I’ll dive into that topic a little more.  But for now, I’d just like to relish in how welcomed I felt today by everyone I met at my new store.  Amidst syrups flying, and espresso shots pulling, and milk steaming, my new co-workers were constantly making sure I knew where things were, and that I could ask them anything I needed to ask.  I’m slowly beginning to feel as though I fit right in.

***

Highlight number three -

I didn’t drive my car at all today.  Yay, for not contributing to the pollution of our environment! ... (and yay to saving gas and money!)  I rode my bike both to and from work today, and will certainly continue to do so, unless I have a closing shift and have to be at work past dark.  In that case, since I’m not a huge fan of riding my bike home alone, especially late at night, and especially in a foreign area, I’ll have to occasionally turn my car’s ignition.

Until next time...                

Santa Cruz Chronicles - Day 2 & 3 combo

08/09/12

***

I had the innate pleasure of experiencing an “I’m not in Kansas anymore” feeling yesterday.  It was the day before my sister, Coleen bade me farewell in my new hometown of Santa Cruz.  We were in finding-a-cheap-yet-sturdy-dresser mode, and couldn’t help but acknowledge the heavenly sound that found it’s way into our ears while walking through town.  Apparently I had been too engrossed in admiring the atmosphere around us to realize that the sound we were hearing was coming from a real live harp player.  Yes, a big one.  On the sidewalk.  Being the spontaneous giver that she has forever been, Coleen backtracked to drop a dollar bill into the harpist’s collection bucket, and then we were back on the hunt for that dresser.  

Long story short, we found a deal on a dresser at a very thrifty thrift store in the heart of downtown Santa Cruz.  Day two came to a quick yet memorable close as Coleen and I enjoyed a bite to eat at a place on the wharf called “Fire Fish.”  They had an impressive menu, to say the least.  And we would know.  We closely examined every single menu as we passed by restaurants, since we were simultaneously determined to find both a restaurant to eat at and the perfect sweatshirt for my sister.  The very last store on the pier was where we struck luck with sweatshirts, and then made our way back to, and ended up at Fire Fish since it struck our fancy so much.  After dinner, and en route to the movie theater to see a film Coleen had already seen three times, I was in dire need of some frozen yogurt.  Shocker.  Needless to say, my frozen yogurt standards are fairly high.  Some would argue that I’m picky about my yogurt, but it’s only because no frozen yogurt place will ever amount to “America’s Cup,” my premiere hometown yogurt joint.

***

Day three.  Thursday.  Today I took Coleen to San Jose International Airport, and am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I’m officially on my own.  It’s a strange feeling, really, because even though I’m more financially on my own than I’ve ever been, I feel as though I have the support of more people than I’ve ever had.  I suppose it’s one of those give and take things.  After dropping Coleen off at the airport and running back around my car and into the driver’s seat after a long hug, I made the solo drive back to downtown Santa Cruz for a quick grocery store trip, and then to meet with my new bosses: my editor at the paper I’ll be interning at, and my new manager at my new Starbucks, both of whom seemed incredibly amiable and easy to talk to from the get-go.  

After spending practically the whole day running amok around the downtown area, it was time to get back to my new house to work on organizing slash decking out my room a bit more, and then eventually head out on a real run before the sun went down.  I was originally going to leave my old race bib numbers in a box at home when I left, but something within me urged me to take them with me and pin some up in my new room.  Maybe it seems a little nostalgic, but maybe I like nostalgia.  Sue me.  I like being reminded of things that I’ve accomplished.  And races are great indicators and prime examples of accomplishment.  That being said, I pinned up a few bib numbers and then laced up my trainers to hit the road.  

***

Without sounding like a complete over-exaggerator, there isn’t anything like running along the Santa Cruz coastline.  I mean, running in Newport Beach and the surrounding Orange County area is special in their own peculiar ways, but there’s something completely compelling about running down West Cliff Drive, and overlooking gaping cliffs and the majestic Santa Cruz pier and boardwalk.  So far, I’ve only been on two runs here since arriving in town, and both of them have included running alongside the ocean.  It’s mildly addicting, and I’m going to eventually going to have to branch out and discover new and different routes.  The air is so crisp, it’s not even fair.  And it’s scary how pedestrians and automobile operators are so incredibly biker and runner-friendly.  A run along the coast will never be out of the question, but since I’ve already run there two days in a row, I intend on soon exploring the area around the campus of UC Santa Cruz on future runs.  How can I not?  It’s gorgeous.  Not to mention, it encompasses the most acres of any UC campus in the state.  Can you say “more mileage”?  

As always, tomorrow is a new day.  Each one has great potential.  I can hardly wait to begin my day with an early jaunt around the UCSC campus, followed by my first day at my new Starbucks.  I look forward to fresh faces, new acquaintances, and interesting stories to tell.                                    

Santa Cruz Chronicles - Day 1

Call it what you will, but today was a milestone.  It’s one thing to move out of your parent’s house and into your own place whilst still in college, whether it be a dorm room or a house with classmates or teammates or something of that nature.  But it’s a-whole-nother enchilada when you’ve already graduated from college and you’re moving out of that nest to pursue your... life. (silently screams to self).

  

***

The day began at 6:34 a.m.  It should’ve started at 6:45 when my alarm was set to sound.  But no.  My inner organs decided it was necessary that I find myself briskly making my way from my painfully still and horizontal state in my flannel bed sheets, to kneeling before the porcelain throne of nausea.  My mom said nerves were to be expected, but vomiting?!  I settled on the idea that it was merely my body’s physical response to “change,” and left it at that.  The only logical thing to do at that moment in my mind, post-boke, was head out on a run.  Isn’t that what everyone does immediately following inner bodily depletion?  It actually turned out to be a mildly emotional workout for me.  With the exception of one year spent in New York, I’ve been galavanting around the town I’ve lived in on foot practically my entire life.  That being said, one could possibly imagine the emotions I was experiencing while running around my hometown, simultaneously trying to grasp the fact that it was my last run there for who knows how long.  Subconsciously, I answered a long-time question of mine.  It is very difficult to cry while running, but yes, it is entirely possible to cry while running.  

After cleaning up, I spent a good hour or so walking aimlessly through my house, trying to remember and grab every last remnant of my things.  And after I was tired of pacing around, I finished stuffing my car like a bell pepper and pulled it out into the driveway so my mom could get a departure photo to accompany the other pictures she took prior to the departure.  

*** 

Before long, we (my sister and I) were putting the rubber to the road.  We decided that it would be well worth a little extra drive time to take the coast up to our final destination.  But after driving through Long Beach, and Seal Beach, and Manhattan Beach, and Redondo Beach, and any other beaches you can come up with, we eventually hopped on the Freeway to speed things up a bit.  However, not (entirely) to our surprise, the 405 Freeway was jam-packed and we were in stop-and-go traffic for a solid hour.  

Things got fun once we drove past Malibu and Pepperdine, and got further up into what we Californians call “wine country.”  The camera came out of it’s case, and pictures of vineyard fields and rows of grapes were taken.  We lost our radio station, so we decided to let my iPod be our musical guide up the coast.  I’d just like to point out how incredible it is how you can go so long without hearing certain songs, and then BOOM, the song comes on over the speakers, and it’s as if you had never skipped a beat.  Lyrics and all.  Unbelievable, really.                    

*** 

With roughly 2 hours to go, all was going very smooth.  Almost too smooth.  We had filled up the car with gas (not diesel fuel), and were maintaining peppy spirits to arrive to my new place at a decent time and then unpack and grab a bite to eat.  With just those 2 hours to go, all of a sudden, it felt as if a giant rock had hit some part of my car.  But it wasn’t a rock.  Nor was it a car, or anything we had run over in the road.  Out of the corner of my eye, my surfboard (that had been strapped down to the roof of the car) came very loose, and was flailing around like a leaf in autumn as we were humming down the highway.  We immediately signaled, pulled over into the dusty gravel, and analyzed the situation, with no real desire to climb on the top of my car and attempt to re-strap my surfboard to the top again.  All the while, cars and semi-trucks were billowing past us, honking, whistling, you name it.  They probably thought we were idiots of some sort.  After a few scrutinizing moments of deep pondering, we lifted up the back hatch of my car’s trunk and thought it would be wise to attempt to shove my 9 foot 6 inch board into the car with all my worldly possessions.  Low and behold, and much to our surprise, it worked!  I spent the last hour and-a-half of the drive into Santa Cruz a bit hunched over in the passenger seat while my sister pounded out the last 85 miles into town.  

To end my travel-rant on an upbeat note, my new house is quite charming, and my room has great character.  I’ve already been told that it suits me.  Here’s to the first of many nights out on my own, and to all those who helped me get here! 

Until next time.